#it’s slow going with all the annotating | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nastyaromatherapy · 8 months

Note

can we get dark ethan where he takes reader’s virginity through non con? sorry if this request is too dark only if you’re comfortable with it 💜

Unwanted encounter (18+)

Ethan your econ partner, loves the idea of taking your virginity.

pairing - ghostface!ethan landry x cheerleader!fem!reader

one shot length, 2.2k+ word fic

warnings: non con, first time, minimal knife play, hair pulling, creampie, reader is smart w an airhead personality, pervy ethan

read more cut isn't working so sorry for that 🌚

Your professor partnered up you and Ethan for an Econ project. Ethan at first, was not at all thrilled. You were popular, didn't care much about grades, and had the douchiest boyfriend.

He on the other hand, actually wanted that A, and didn't have many friends outside of the core four. He wasn't that close with them either. You wanted that A too, he just wasn't aware of that. He already created a version of you that was untrue in his mind.

But when the day finally came, and he was over at your house, he realized how wrong he was about you. He realized that you were actually really smart, nice, and funny. You actually had a personality.

He asked to see all of the research you've conducted, and you showed him pages of notes. "You're smarter than you look y/n," he teased. You rolled your eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?" You asked, taking offense. "I mean you look like the average cheerleader that's fucked more then half of the football team."

You gawk at him and his incel driven ignorance. "I haven't even fucked my boyfriend on that team," you corrected, annoyed. "I'm a fucking virgin- you know nothing about me." He went silent not knowing what to say, but the thought of you never being taken like that before made him throb in his jeans.

"Fuck I'm sorry, it was just a joke." He apologized, voice getting quieter the more he spoke. "Joke," you repeated, clicking your tongue. "Just get the fuck out of my house, my boyfriend 'll be back soon. He's not going to be too happy with you here. He doesn't like dogs on the bed," you snark, pointing to the door.

He looks at the ground and apologizes under his breath again before leaving the room.

Your boyfriend didn't come home. He texted you, "Gonna be out a little later than usual, emergency with the guys." You believed him, Ethan knew he was out fucking some girl. Guys like him can't live with abstinence.

Ethan sat at home, jerking off to videos of you on the sidelines in football highlights. He groaned whenever your skirt lifted up when you jumped, exposing some of your dark navy panties.

He had to know how it felt to be inside you. How tight you would be, never been stretched before. He imagined your moans, begging to be slow your first time, loving the way he impaled your cunt.

He pumped himself faster, getting closer to the edge, imagining his hands were your soft, delicate ones. Then his mind wandered to other places, how would your lips feel, wrapped around his tip? He came just at the thought, shooting ropes onto his grey sweats.

He just had to feel you, he had too. So, he put on his black robe and mask, the one he planned to use to execute Sam, Tara, and the rest of their friend group with. But today, he had other plans.

He creeped to your rich boyfriend's house, seeing you in bed reading a book in the window. You were listening to god knows what with your airpods, bopping your head to the music while highlighting pages of the book. He gave your phone a ring, and he watched you doubled tap the earbud to answer. "Hello?" You asked with that sweet voice of yours he relished in. "Hello y/n," he asked using the voice changer. "Hi!" You respond bubbly and obliviously.

"Watcha listening to?" He asked huskily. "Ariana Grande," you giggled out. "Who's this?" You ask the mystery caller. "Oh only your biggest fan," he replied, voice smooth. "I look forward to seeing you every game, you're my favorite." You blush at his creepy compliment, continuing to annotate the quotes in the book. "Thank you, I work hard. But seriously.. who are you?" You repeat.

He chuckles to himself, "What? You want to see me? Want me to show myself?" You shake your head giggling, unaware of the danger coming your way. "No, I just need your name." You said.

"Need," he repeated. "Y'know what I need at a time like this? A warm cunt I can stretch out," he groaned. Bewildered, you check your phone to see who called, no caller ID. "Uh, what?" You awkwardly chuckled, growing uncomfortable.

"You're a virgin, right y/n?" He asked. You nodded, unaware you were being watched, but you did it subconsciously anyways. "You ever thought about it? Getting fucked by a cock?" He asked through the phone. "Of course I have. But it's never been the right time, y'know? I want my first time to be special."

As you spoke Ethan snuck his way into the house, making his way towards the room where you basked. "Trust me," he spoke, breath heavy. "It will be," he finished, stepping his way into your doorframe.

You screamed out, scared, shaking uncontrollably. "Oh my god! Get the fuck out I swear to god, my boyfriend will be back soon, and he will not be happy with you." He tilted his head, knife in hand. "And you think he's happy with you?" He asked, plunging onto the bed, mounting the top of you, struggling to hold you down. He started to graze the blade of the knife against your jaw. "Every weekend," he drags out, still using a voice changer through the mask. "He goes missing. He goes to the sorority house and knocks up a couple of sisters."

You tear at the news, not wanting to believe it. "You're lying!" You spit, trying to escape his grasp to no use. "No, doll. I am telling nothing but the truth." You reach up to try to pull the mask off to no use, he pinned your arms down onto the bed. He sighs and gets up off of you, pointing the knife at you so you stay put.

He places a camera on the dresser, facing the bed. "What'd you say we get back at him, hm? We make him a little movie, and he see's how good I fuck you?" He said, climbing back onto the bed. You cry, "Please no." You shake your head with tears streaming down your red cheeks. "Please fucking yes," he mocks, reaching up your nightie.

You gasp when his gloved hands grasp your body, making their way up to your breasts making you whimper. "Your boyfriend ever touch you like this?" He asks. You shake your head a no in response, sniffling a little.

His hands moved down to your delicate lacy panties, slipping them off swiftly. You gasp as the cold hair hits your pussy. He takes the gloves off of his hands and tossed them onto the floor before toying with your folds. You weren't soaking but you were getting there, wetness dripping out of your pussy.

He attempted to slip a finger inside but you were so goddamn tight. You whined having nothing ever been in there before, not even a tampon. He finally got one in and you moaned out, kicking your foot a little. "Easy," he whispered, trying to make room for another finger. You were much wetter on the inside then out. "Please, if you want to live just s-stop. My boyfriend will actually kill y-" You were cut off by your own moan when he slips in his second finger.

You moaned at his big fingers, extremely sensitive. "No, stop- Ethan," you moaned out. His face shot up when you said his name. You noticed his reaction. "You don't even have to hide it," you said breathily, chest heaving. "I've never told anyone I'm a virgin." With that he slips the mask off, revealing his cute but devilish face and sweaty curls. He bit his lip and curled his fingers deeper inside you making you screech.

You shook your head a no as you felt yourself grow close, but your body was going against your protests, molding itself against his touch. "Ethan please s-stop," you pleaded as your thighs started to clench. Your hips completely contradicted your words, bucking into his fingers before letting out a final scream and secreting fluids onto his fingers and your sheets. He inhales before leaning down and sucking your clit, extending your high.

You huff and puff, chest rising and falling. Ethan pops off of your clit and goes for your lips, kissing you. You don't kiss back, trying to retract your lips as much as possible. You couldn't deny he was a good kisser, but he broke into your house and fingered you against your will, and made you orgasm.

"Come on, baby," he grunts into the kiss. "You can't deny I'm the best you've ever had." You shake your head when he finally pulls away. "You're the only I've ever had! Please Ethan, I love my boyfriend, I don't want this." You cry, but he keeps groping you through your dress anyways, making you throb again. "Well maybe I don't care what you want. I care what your cunt does." He says, kissing at your neck as he continues to toy with your heavy, cloth covered tits.

Your nipples grew perky and you moaned as he sucked on that sweet spot on your neck. He left a mark on your neck and pulled away, then he started to pull down his pants. After that he took off the whole costume, leaving him naked on your bed. "You look so sexy in that dress, but you're going to have to take it off." You shook your head a no. "No?" He mocks. He picked up his knife from the side. "Guess I'll have to cut it off." Your eyes grow wide, not wanting to ruin the expensive gift from your boyfriend. "No!" You yell, stopping his actions. "I'll take it off," you say weakly, pulling it over your head.

"Good girl," he cooed. "God you're beautiful." He groans, pumping himself in his hand, eyeing your pretty, dainty tits. "Come on, try it," he urged, guiding your hand to his length. You wrapped around him perfectly, hand more gentle than his own. He groaned as you jerked him, feeling disgusted with yourself. On your boyfriends bed, giving your econ partner a handjob.

He groaned and grew more desperate, needing to be inside of you more than anything. He removed your hand from him. "Turn around," he spoke, motioning you to face the headboard. You choked on tears, complying worriedly. He pushes your face into your pillow and guides your ass up. He grabs the knife and grazes it along your back, making your spine shiver.

"Ethan please, we can forget about this, I swear." You beg, but it doesn't stop him. Ethan teases your opening with his tip making your mouth agape. You involuntarily start to push back against him, scooting your ass back to meet his cock. "Slut," he remarks, slapping your ass cheek leaving it a bright red.

He grips your ass with his hands, making you suck in air a little, before he pushes in a little more than the tip. You groan at the stretch, face contorting uncomfortably. He let you adjust a little, only using the tip for a solid minute. "Ethan please stop, it hurts s'much," you whined. "Hurts? I'm not even halfway," he chuckled out, continuing to fuck you with his thick, pink tip. You cried, stomach bubbling up from the stimulation.

Your wetness seeped onto his cock, making it easier for him to ease his way all the way in, slamming his hips against your ass making you bite your pillow, screaming into it. "That's it," he whispered, slowly thrusting in and out of you. You moaned into the pillow, arching your back.

He grunted and started to get rougher, slamming his hips against yours, every thrust making the bed frame hit the wall. He gripped your hair and pulled your head out of the pillow, your face covered with tears. You moaned, gripping the sheets behind you while taking him from the back. You felt yourself getting close again, stomach tightening as you felt the sensation of having to piss. He felt you clench around his length and whispered in your ear, "Cum on my fucking cock, slut."

In response to his words you screamed out as you came around his cock, leaving a creamy ring around his base. He let go of your hair, letting you collapse back onto the bed. He continued to hold your ass up, continuing to hit it roughly, groaning at every one of your throbs. You started to salivate a little against the pillow due to your excessive whines.

He wiped the sweat off of his forehead while panting, getting close. His thrusts through sloppy and less uniformed. "Gonna breed this pussy, and you're gonna wish I was in you every second of every fucking day," he spat out, huffing and not being able to hold back any longer. With a final thrust, he came deep in your cunt, shooting spurt after spurt inside you. After he pulled out, his cum dripped out of you followed by the sound of flatulence.

You laid there and didn't even realize how much time has passed. Ethan disappeared through your window that was now open with his camera with everything documented. Through the window, you saw lights of a car, and soon your boyfriend stumbled in, eyeing your cum dripping cunt.

1K notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 3 months

Text

How I think Jason shows his love includes…

Annotating/highlighting romantic passages or moments of high tension between two characters in the books he reads before passing them over to you. He’d even have the exact pages marked and when asked why that was, all he says is that they were the key pivotal moments in the story that he thoroughly enjoyed, and all with a cherry red face might I add as he intentionally leaves out the fact that he envisioned that it was the two of you in those moments as he annotated the books.

Will stand close to you for a plethora of reasonings but the main one being the fact that he wanted to be the first one you look towards when in need of anything. Comfort, protection or reassurance. Just say the word and Jason will do it without question like an obedient dog, he just wants to be someone you can hopefully rely on and trust in the future, only if you let him in first.

Jason just wants you to know that no matter what happens he will always be in your corner, uncaring for what the future will have in store for you both, whether it’d be good or bad. He’d willingly stick his neck out for you in any given situation, even if it meant putting himself in the line of fire, a few new scars won’t bother him if they were earned by keeping you safe and sound.

He doesn’t care about himself nearly enough as he cares about you and your well-being. He just doesn’t and it’s not until you were pleading with him to take care of himself, that he ultimately decided that to care for you was to care for himself as well; So for your sake he keeps himself relatively stable.

Not a great mindset but it’s Jason, he’s not exactly a practitioner of affirmations, journaling his feelings or having healthy habits.

Smiles more when he’s with you, even if it’s corny dad jokes or just bad jokes in general, Jason still smiles and might even let out a chuckle now and then.

Spends an unhealthy amount of time with you that it was impossible for you to be seen without Jason following close behind. Also Jason isn’t great with voicing his feelings in wanting to spend time with you, and instead just asks what you’re planning to do later on and whether there’s room for one more and takes it from there. He cuts out the bullshit and gets straight to the point of what he wanted to ask you.

Night rides on his bike.

Now this is mainly a boost for his ego as he loves feeling you clinging onto him for dear life as he speeds down the road with little care for the speed limit. He’s such a prick but will slow down if he see that your visibly distressed with the speed of which he was going, after all he was always going to prioritises your wants and needs above his own.

Teaches you the basic defence and even teaches you in the usage of weapons, and all for the sake of your own protection.

He doesn’t like the idea of you walking through the streets of Gotham amidst criminals and creeps alike without at least some form of defence. Jason doesn’t trust anyone with your safety except if their names happen to be Roy and or Dick. Other then that, Jason likes to be the one protecting you but had to accept that he wouldn’t always be there to do so, which lead him to constantly pester you into taking up his offer in teaching you self defence.

God knows what he’d do if something happened to you, all he knows is that it would be brutal, violent and bloody for sure.

It’s annoying at first, being pestered and all, but you understand Jason’s reasonings and went through with it for his sake.

Lastly Jason trusts you enough to bear his heart out to you and be vulnerable in your presence, so much so to the point that you knew stuff that he wasn’t as willing to disclose to even the ones he considers his closest friends and family. It’s not often that Jason bears it all to someone but when he does, he does so out of confidence that they wouldn’t use it against him down the line.

He hopes that this method could be applied to you as well and he thanks every god in existence when you open up your arms for him to fall into them in acceptance. He smiles as he closes his eyes, feeling warm and safe within your arms, forever wanting to stay here for as long as forever allows.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc x y/n #dc comics x reader #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic

581 notes · View notes

shotosjupiter · 4 months

Text

I BLINKED AND SUDDENLY I HAD A VALENTINE!

𖤐 sypnosis... you ask them to be your valentine <3

࣪𖤐 note... super fluffy! and al haitham being a little shit

𖤐 ft. tighnari, al-haitham, ningguang, kazuha, and ayato

𖤐 TIGHNARI blinks at you as you stood in front of him, holding out pink and orange tulips. you had researched them, of course, ensuring they represented love. he cocks his head to the side, as you exclaim, a broad grin stretching on your face, “be my valentine, nari?”

he nods slowly, but surely. despite his quieter reaction, you can tell from the subtle twitching of his ear and the slow pink blush creeping up to his cheeks that he’s pleased. tighnari clears his throat and offers you a bouquet that was tucked behind him, waiting for your arrival. he grasps your hand, gently but clearly asking, “and would you be mine?”

“yes! yes, i would love to be, nari.” you lean forward and press a kiss to his (turning) red cheeks.

𖤐 AL-HAITHAM raises an eyebrow at you. “i thought we were already each other’s valentines.” it sounds more like a statement than a question.

you make a face back at him, “no dummy, you have to ask. that’s how valentines work! what if i already had a valentine?”

“… but you don’t.” he responds, deadpanned.

you gape at him and his pure audacity. “i could! i could- i could be going on a valentines date with that guy right over there!” you gesture towards the general area of microbiology shelves where there’s a few scruffy students, busying themselves.

al-haitham glances back at the scholars, and turns back to you. he huffs out a sigh and turns back to his book, annotating something in the side pages as if this conversation wasn’t something he could be bothered with.

then, a note with a doodle of the two of you and a question: will you be my valentine? check one: yes or yes.

you grin, scrambling to write an answer back.

𖤐 NINGGUANG has already planned everything out since new years. she takes valentines seriously and is not to be played around with in such matters. she had committed your work schedule to memory and had taken the day off to dedicate herself to this mission.

she left a trail of rose petals going from your hallway all way to your shared bedroom. there laid the same petals, shaped into a heart. she had cooked your favorite meal, with the dining table set with even more flowers and your favorite drink. lastly, was a small gift of matching charm bracelets that laid upon the table, waiting for your arrival.

when you had arrived, you had rushed to her side after seeing all the decorations and effort put into this. you cupped her face into a searing kiss and then left a series of kisses all over face. ningguang giggled, pleased to see your happy reaction to her proposal. you grinned at her shyly and offered her her own set of flowers and a small cor lapis necklace you had gotten specifically made for her, asking if she would also do the honor of being your valentine. (spoiler: she said yes.)

𖤐 KAZUHA was a man who had to face a hard decision. which poem should he present you with to ask to be your valentine? there were simply too many choices, too many words, and yet, still nothing had the correct wording he had wanted. what was he to do?

it was one of the few days before valentine’s day where he was sitting by his desk, pushing his brain to find the perfect words to present you, when you came and sat right next to him. you grinned at him slyly, “i have something to show you,” and slid a decorated piece of paper towards him.

it was a poem. a beautiful poem asking him to be your valentine. kazuha looked up at you and smiled with laughter and gentleness in his eyes. “you had beat me to it - but yes. i would love to be your valentine, dove.”

𖤐 AYATO is similar to ningguang in which he had a plan prepared in the back of his head for a couple of weeks now. he had bought a necklace with the charm in the center being a sapphire surrounded by silver. the problem was trying to figure out when to present it to you and ask.

luckily, you managed to unknowingly offer him a solution when you asked him if he would like to take a walk with you around the estate. he nodded calmly, while internally his heart soared at the opportunity. the jewelry box was sat in his pocket always, waiting for the opportunity. now he just had to speak the words.

as the two of you walked, the sakura bloom petals billowing around you, creating an evermore romantic environment. you were chattering about the latest house gossip thoma had told you when ayato stopped and grasped your hand and turned you around pulling you into the net of his arms.

he stared at you for a moment as you fixed him with a questioning gaze in response to his behavior. he cleared his throat and showed you the sapphire necklace he had gotten before gesturing, “may i?”

you nodded and turned as you felt his cold hands delicately clasp the necklace on. the brush of his hands elicited goosebumps to raise by your neck before you heard the raspy whisper, “would you- will you be valentine, darling?”

you turned, a pleased smile on your face before leaning into kiss him slowly. you cupped his face gently, letting his soft lips come together with yours. you broke away from him for a split second to whisper back, “of course i will.”

412 notes · View notes

lindszeppelin · 2 years

Text

Show Me Your Wild Side

pairing: Austin Butler x Fem!Reader

summary: Austin has been your adoring boyfriend for quite some time now. On a rainy day spent inside, you two spend some much needed quality time together. pretty simple premise but will pack a punch...trust me.

rating: Mature, 18+. Minors, get yo self outta here! Avert your eyes.

warnings: oral (f receiving), fingering, handjob, dom and sub dynamic, edging/orgasm denial, thigh riding, over-sensitivity. maybe more i forgot to mention?

word count: 10.2k. listen, i didn’t come to play around.

a/n: Hey loves!! This is my first go at writing fanfiction in years, so do forgive any grammatical errors and things like that. I hope you enjoy!

tags: @elvisstyles

From the moment you first set your eyes on Austin Butler, you knew he was gonna be trouble -- but the best kind. He courted you properly like the gentleman he is, taking his time with you. Getting to know all the little details about you and making sure to remember important things you told him like names, dates, places you loved to visit, your favorite things. That sickeningly sweet honeymoon phase that usually fizzles out after a few months with most couples never went away with you two. In fact, your love story is still drenched in desire. The flame between you both never dying out, only getting stronger as time goes on. You were a perfect match.

Not long after he successfully wooed you into his life, he offered for you to live with him full time. He was bi-coastal, spending the majority of his time in California, but he had a little loft in Manhattan that complimented your already existing lifestyle. This was where the two of you would start to make a home that was yours. He didn’t complain when you took over half of the available bathroom sink space with your makeup and hair tools -- in fact, he bought you your own vanity table that you knew was far too expensive, but he wanted to show how much he appreciated you.

Your perfectly imperfect lives intermingled like something out of a fairytale. Suddenly you were not just two people coexisting in the same space. You were one in the same. It was the little things about one another that made the love deepen with each day. A prime example -- When he would get sucked into a new script he was reading, he had a pen he would use to take notes that would find permanent residence in his mouth, the cap of it being chewed to smithereens by the time he was finished annotating. The little gnawing noises and hums he made was one of his quirks that might drive anyone else batshit insane. But you loved him for it.

Slowly but surely, you managed to fine a routine within your busy lives. The weekends specifically were centered around one on one time with each other. No one else, no distractions, just you and Austin. The day would typically start with a slow, passionate love making session in bed, followed by breakfast and maybe some light reading. You two also loved to play board games and had stacks upon stacks high up to the ceiling of old fashioned games and puzzles -- he was a master Monopoly player, and you a wiz at Scrabble. As the day turns into evening, you would make a homecooked meal together, which he loved to do with you. Cooking was one of his love languages. He couldn’t get enough of your reactions to his creations -- how you sighed in delight at a new recipe he was trying out. It made his heart soar. And to cap off the night, you two either found yourselves dancing to records or you put on a movie. Some of the times you actually watched the film, but it usually ended with clothes on the floor and you two fucking into the early morning hours.

Today was one of these nights. You and Austin lay comfortably in your king sized bed, the blinds were open just enough so that the orange hues from the New York sunset were cascading over you. The pitter patter of rain landing delicately along the old rusty windows of your loft added to the relaxing ambiance. On the tv in front of you was A Street Car Named Desire, one of yours and Austin’s favorite films. You both had an affinity for classic films.

This was your version of heaven on Earth. Nothing else mattered but you and him exactly like this -- his arm draped along your waist pulling you into his side, his fingers lightly dancing across your silk nightie. Your head rested on his chest, his heart beating a steady rhythm became one of your most favorite sounds. This was perfection, and you wanted to trap time in a bottle so it could never be forgotten.

At some point during the night, you had dozed off into a peaceful slumber in his embrace. He didn’t really notice right away, as he was paying attention to the film. But he turned his attention away from the movie for a split second and looked down at the sight before him -- you asleep in his arms. He smiled warmly, wondering if he should continue to let you rest or rouse you. He decided on the latter.

“Y/N?” He shook you gently. The hand that was glued to your waist found its way into your hair, stroking your head with such care as he turned and kissed you awake on your forehead.

“Hmm?” You stirred beneath him and slowly lifted your head up to meet his gaze. You could look deep into Austin’s crystalline blue eyes all day. They sparkled with nothing but pure love and adoration for you, his girl.

“Sorry doll, I was just checking on you, You were silent for a long while.”

“Oh shit, did I miss the part where Stanley tries to win Stella back?”

He chuckled. His hand left your head and trailed it’s way slowly down your back, his fingers grazing your spine in a way that made you shiver at his touch. “ ‘fraid so baby. The movie’s almost over.”

“Damn, that’s my favorite part too.” You whined.

“I mean, between us both I think we’ve watched this film at least 1000 times. You didn’t really miss anything.” He reasoned.

“I know! But there’s something about that scene that I love. Sure, Stanley is an asshole. But it’s kinda romantic when he calls out for her, pleading with her to take him back. And she goes to him like she knew she would. Then he whisks her away in his arms.” You signed, somehow even getting more comfortable around Austin’s tall frame as you drape your leg over one of his. You always were a big hopeless romantic. And he was too, which made you somehow swoon over him even more than you ever thought was possible. Any book, song, or film to do with love was exactly what you were both into. And these classic films just knew how to paint the perfect picture of a love story that unfurls with such realism. It reminded you of what you cultivated with Austin -- an unbreakable, cherished bond.

You snuggled deeper into him now, and placed a tiny kiss upon his chest before your ear found it’s way back home to his heartbeat. The corners of his lips upturned in a content smile. He appreciates your sentimentality for the classics like he does, and your idealistic way of looking at the world.

“Yeah, you’re right baby I like that moment too. When I first started getting into acting as a kid I studied that scene far too many times. Probably annoyed the hell outta my parents. Brando is just phenomenal.” Austin could ramble on for days about his extreme love of film, but he stops himself short, leaving it at that. You thought it was so cute when he would open up to you about his passion for the arts. It was such a turn on seeing your man’s face light up about the subject. You wouldn’t mind listening him drone on about it until his voice was hoarse. And some days you did just that.

“mmm.” You hummed peacefully. He let himself stare at you for a little while and tried to commit this to memory. It was unfortunate that his hectic work schedule left you two with not a lot of time during the week. On those particular moments of separation, he would dive deep into the recesses of his mind for all the delicious remembrances of you and get off on them.

He made sure to remember your soft skin, your long hair cascading down your back that tickled his arm draped around your waist, the feminine floral scent of your perfume lingering all around him, sticking to his clothes. Your silk nightie riding up your thigh, showing him a bit of tantalizing skin. And of course, one of his favorite mental notes, the way your ass fit perfectly in the palms of his big masculine hands. It was intoxicating.

Austin eventually came back down to reality after being lost in his own fantasies and brought his other hand up to his face, checking the time on the vintage watch that adorned his wrist. It was getting really late and the film was basically over at this point. He took the remote beside him and switched off the tv. The room was now filled with a comfortable silence, the sound of the rain, and your combined breathing. Total bliss.

“What do you think, you wanna get ready for bed?” He asked you, in a low rasp that reverberated within you, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up to attention.

“No not yet...not yet. i don’t wanna move ” You squeezed yourself even more impossibly tighter to his body, melting into him. You definitely were not planning on letting him go anytime soon. He was okay with that.

“Alright, i’ll allow you to keep using me as your personal pillow for a little while longer.” He joked. He definitely was not complaining either. Austin could stay in this position for the rest of his life. And he was the comfiest pillow you’ve ever had the pleasure of resting on.

“Good, cause i like it here.”

“Me too.” He cooed.

Contentment. Pure, unadulterated contentment. You and Austin laid there in bed, happily enjoying each others company. As you allow yourself to just simply be with him in this moment, you fluttered your eyes closed and honed in on every sensation he was making you feel. Just as it was so intoxicating for him to be around you, he had you wrapped around his little finger. You were completely at his mercy. Even when he wasn’t trying to be sexy, he just naturally was. All the time. Never have you met a man that brought you to your knees as quickly as Austin. Just the faintest touch or a certain look from him could make you crack.

You focused intently on the way his finger tips were drawing lazy circles on your back. His calluses from many years of guitar playing were rough, but it elicited such an electrifying buzz, sending a chill of pleasure running throughout your body. This sensual act alone was enough to start the coil turning in your stomach. Your leg that was hung over his rose up just a little higher, daring to make contact with the part of him you craved. His jean clad thigh resting flush against your soft core stirred the fire within you. The lace panties you were wearing were sure to be drenched any moment, and yet again you’d have to toss them and buy yourself another pair. But what the hell, if that’s one of the prices you pay for being with this gorgeous man, then that was alright with you.

You bit your lip to stifle the tiniest moan that wanted to escape your lips. You wanted to devour him whole and send him reeling down the path of aching desire for you -- moaning your name, spilling inside of you hot and fast while he peppered your body with wet kisses, milking him for every last drop of his come. This was now your sole mission for tonight. You needed him.

Slowly peeling your upper body away from him, your large doe eye bore into his with intense lust. Your hand that was lovingly resting on his stomach was now making it’s way up to land in the crook of his neck. Your thumb tenderly stroked his jaw, and he flexed beneath your delicate hand. Austin didn’t even need you to utter a single word for him to understand what you wanted.

He was no match for the sexual prowess you beguiled him with. Your cheeks were flush, hot and red for him. That was one of your telltale signs that you were yearning for him, he knew your body all too well. You may be the sweetest little thing, acting all innocent around other people. But when it’s just you and him in a room together, the sexual hunger is so intense it drives you both wild with passion. He loved that special side of you that no other man gets to see. Only he can make you come in a matter of seconds, and that knowledge is powerful.

As he stared back at his beautiful girl gazing at him with an innate yearning for his touch, he too felt the embers inside of him start to unfurl. The energy in the room shifted, the primal desire to be inside of you was the only thing that mattered. Austin’s shaky hand reached out to cup your face tenderly. Adrenaline coursing through his veins. He needed you too, and now.

“Aus...”

As soon as his name left your lips, he was on you in a flash. Wasting no time in crashing his plush mouth onto yours. Your lips danced together in tandem, perfectly in sync with one another -- pushing and pulling exactly when warranted. It was so sensual and laced with want. He had one hand tangled in your soft hair, and the other one clutching onto your waist desperate for your curves against him. You shimmied a little higher up onto his leg, still not letting yourself get too close to his cock. You wanted to savor every bit of this feeling right now.

Each moment your lips met you relished in the way he worked his mouth against you. He was delicate, as if not wanting to break you, but yet pining inexplicably for you in every feasible way. His tongue probed your bottom lip, testing you to see if you would let him in. And you do, eagerly. Soon enough your sweet, wanton kisses turned hot and sloppy. The rich taste of bourbon from dinner was still lingering on his breath, and the seductive taste of his mouth on yours had you moaning into him. He happily swallowed every noise you made, and returned them right back to you. God you loved it when he let himself unravel into nothing but whimpers. Knowing that you were the one to elicit such delicious sounds from him made you instantly soaked.

With your leg still tangled over his, you roll your hips into a position where your core was directly in contact against his upper thigh. You reluctantly pulled away from his flushed, pouting mouth to prop your hands on his chest for leverage, angling yourself in such a way that your clit was rubbing right against him. As you rolled your hips you let a slew of breathy moans fall from your lips, looking him square in the eye as you grind your wetness against his leg. His chest heaves, so turned on by you mewling and writhing on top of him. To think that this is how you react with just his leg has him dying to have his way with your pussy in the most sinful ways.

“Fuck. So needy for me, baby.” He places his hands on your hips and grounds you even harder against his leg, picking up the pace just a tad. Your panties can no longer contain how turned on you are, and your juices starts to seep out into a giant wet spot on his jeans. He doesn’t care one bit. Seeing you fall apart in his hands makes him rock hard.

“Austin...I...” You have your head thrown back in euphoria. You could easily come like this in a matter of mere seconds. However, you definitely need more of him. You want every single inch of him all at once to fill you completely. But your brain is too fuzzy to relay any of this to him. Only his name repeated over and over again like a prayer is what you choose to latch on to.

“Come on baby, use your words.” He eggs you on, biting his bottom lip. He digs his fingers a little more into your hips, sure that it would leave bruises on your delicate skin. You try your best to muster up something to say but you’re still on cloud 9.

“I need...I need you.”

Amused by how completely blissed out you are riding his thigh, he lets out a devilish chuckle. “That’s a start,” He lets go of your hips with one of his hands, placing his thumb and forefinger on your chin, tilting your head down to meet his striking blue eyes that have turned dark with carnal lust. “How do you need me? Let it out.” He growled.

As much as you desperately need Austin to fuck you senseless into the bed and have you screaming, you still wanted to keep the sensuality going. Foreplay was his specialty, and he was a generous giver. He knew exactly how to use his fingers and mouth to have you crumbling beneath him. As you keep grinding down on him, your clit throbs at the image of his tongue lapping up your juices. This is what you needed.

“I need you...to eat me out.” You finally answered back eagerly. You were not beneath begging for Austin to take you. The submissive side of you loved to be unashamed at how desperate for Austin you were. And to him, there was nothing hotter in this world than seeing you beg for him.

His lips twitched into a smirk. He fucking loved how much you wanted him in every possible way. And if one thing was certain right now, it was that he was going to eat you out like he was a starved man in search of sustenance.

He swallowed thickly. “Sit on my face babygirl.”

Your heart thumped hard in your chest at hearing those naughty words come out of his mouth. Wasting no time at all, you pry yourself away from his thigh, briefly looking down at your handywork where you noticed that spot on his jeans. What was also plain as day was the fact that he was already painfully hard. Your eyes widen as you sucked your bottom lip into your teeth, admiring the outline of his cock.

You feel the blood rush to your chest and face, completely hot with need for his mouth on you. Remembering the task at hand, you swiftly stood up at the foot of the bed and took off your drenched panties, throwing them somewhere behind you, having no care in the world if you lose them later. Along with it, you shimmy your nightie off your shoulders as it pools to a heap at your feet. Austin sits up on his elbows, his eyes roams your body in an obscene way, admiring your beautiful naked form in front of him. His cock twitches in his pants.

Seeing him so hungry for you gave you a momentary flash of courage during a moment where you would otherwise be shy as a wallflower. “Like what you see?” You said dreamily, making sure to skim you hands down your shoulders and cup your perky breasts. His stifled moan was the answer to your question.

Austin made quick work of the t-shirt he was wearing, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor without a care. Your mouth went slack as you admired his gorgeously toned body. This man was to be the death of you.

Noticing your obvious staring, he smirked and raised a cocky eyebrow, giving you a taste of your own medicine. “Like what you see, darlin’?”. God, did you ever. He may have won that little innocent moment of power play, but the ball was now in your court to make a bolder move.

Like the sex kitten you know you are, you crawl your way onto the bed, giving him a show as you sway your hips like an enchantress. His hands roamed the peaks and valleys of your divine figure, shivering beneath his fingers. As you climb up the bed your let your breasts get tantalizingly close to his face, just to keep teasing him further. He absolutely was not about to let the opportunity go by though. So before you could get out of his reach he languidly let his tongue capture one of your nipples, rolling it into his mouth. He spent ample time lavishing your breast before moving to the other one.

“Baby...” you moaned. The sensation was delicious, sending a new wave of wetness pooling between your legs. He grazed his teeth against your nipple ever so gently before letting it pop out of his mouth. The breath hitched in your throat. He knew your breasts were extremely sensitive to his touch, but he loved teasing you in every conceivable way, making you squirm. “Austin!” You shuddered.

“Sorry sweetheart, I couldn’t resist.” His hands found their way to the backs of your thighs, giving them a firm squeeze. “Now get moving. I wanna taste you.” And with a gentle tap on your ass for encouragement, you were off. You didn’t need to be told twice.

You made quick work of moving your self up to the top of the bed. Once there, you swing your legs over and around Austin’s shoulders, getting yourself settled into this new position.

His hands take hold of your hips, resuming their previous position and digging into your flesh once more. He slides down a little so his face is in direct alignment with your dripping core. You shake in suspense, anticipating his needy tongue on your folds at any moment.

He licks his lips, fully taking in the glorious sight above him. “That’s it, let me see that perfect pussy.” His voice oozing with sex. He’s so eager to have you smother him completely and drown in your juices. His hot breath underneath your wetness makes you quiver. As he places chaste kisses on your inner thighs, you grasp onto the wall Infront of you in preparation for the onslaught you’re about to receive.

Austin would and probably could swallow you whole right now. But he was holding back every urge in his body to resist making you come too fast. So he decided that he would take his time with you.

You practically saw stars when you felt his tongue lick one long flat swipe across you and flick up to your clit. He was savoring your taste. Teasing you. Enraptured in how your luscious folds felt against his mouth. Your perfect swollen bud between his lips. He adored you completely. Your hearts were beating at rapid fire in your chests. The passion was palpable and hung thick in the air.

With no time to waste, Austin began a steady pace of broad, sensual strokes against your pussy, making sure to flick up the tip of his tongue on your clit before diving back down into your folds. Over and over and over again his firm tongue glided effortlessly through your slick. He greedily slurped up every single drop you had to give him. You were already like putty in his hands.

“Ooh, Aus...your tongue feels so good.” You arched your back and started slowly riding his face. He moaned against you, encouraging you to use him however you want to get yourself off, the vibration sending shockwaves of extra pleasure straight to your aching clit. The stubble on his face was scratching against your thighs as he ate you out, making you hiss at the burning sensation. But it was overwhelmingly delicious.

He couldn’t control his carnal urges anymore. In no time he worked his mouth faster against your sopping cunt, diving his tongue deep into your folds, licking and sucking every inch of you as you rode him. A few times he let a wandering hand travel to his erection as he palmed himself through his pants to relieve the pressure building inside of him. And occasionally, he dipped the entire length of his tongue right inside of you, exploring every single nook and cranny to drive you insane. Your walls instinctively clenched around him, sucking him as far as he could go. “Fuuuck yes baby...” You groaned.

It was absolutely primal, you were being sent to the precipice with every swipe of his tongue. The obscene sloshing noises of your soaked pussy and his wet tongue was absolutely pornographic. It was music to both of your ears. You were in complete awe of the way he utterly worshiped your body. Austin always made sure to do right by you and treat you like a goddess. And it showed in the way his mouth engulfed your pussy in a fervor.

You couldn’t help yourself, you had to look down and see what this man was doing to make you feel so good. You moaned loudly as your eyes were locked with his in a soul snatching stare that set you ablaze. This turned you on like no other. As you ground yourself harder against his velvet lips you swear that you saw him wink at you.

He clung onto your hips, almost afraid that you would float away on this intense high. You gushed around his mouth and he hummed against you. After giving some generous attention to your folds, he had his sights set on your clit. You were a goner. He set a dizzying pace as he maneuvered against your sensitive bundle of nerves, sending you into a frenzy of needy moans.

Austin new exactly how to pleasure you, and he took pride in doing so. He mixed his go-to techniques all at once to bring you to your peak. He first brought your clit into his mouth and shook his head back and forth vigorously, coating his face with your slick in the process. Then he went to flicking with just the tip of his tongue at warp speed. The last ingredient to this orgasmic recipe was deliberately switching things up by slowly lapping at your bud. This man has the most talented mouth on the planet. You felt like your heart would explode out of your chest if he kept this up.

The coil in your stomach was impossibly tight, letting you know that your crashing orgasm was on it’s way. He just kept going to town on you ferociously, unrelenting. Ravishing you like you were his last meal. He brought your clit into his mouth and masterfully sucked away, his tongue lapping and collecting all of your juices in his mouth, groaning against your pussy...it was all swirling into a cacophony of otherworldly, indescribable sensations.

“Fuuuuck, Austin...” You moaned, head thrown back in ecstasy.

One of your hands trailed it’s way down to his mop of dirty blonde locks between your legs. His curls were plastered to his face with sweat from exertion, and you gripped him for dear life as he devoured your sweet cunt. He loved this, because he gave your ass a smack in approval. You were so love drunk on him, and he on you. You didn’t know exactly how much time you had before you collapse on top of him, but you knew it wasn’t very much longer. Your walls began to flutter around his tongue.

“I’m gonna fucking come all over your face.” You squealed, feeling the wave of your climax attempting to pour out of you and suffocate him.

The high pitched moans that were cascading out of your mouth like a waterfall was his signal that you were close. He could play nice and let your juices drip down his chin as you rode out your orgasm. However, even though that idea sounded amazing, he had other plans for you this evening. And Austin certainly was not about to let you come so quickly. A part of him felt bad for doing this to you right now, but only a little.

As you were in the throws of passion, chasing your high and your impending climax, Austin swiftly pulled his lips away from you. Your clit coming out of his mouth with a wet plop. You felt the wind knock out of you, like you were hit by a freight train at 100 miles an hour. Being on the edge of reality and crashlanding back down to your Manhattan loft was jarring to say the least. Trying to gain hold of your senses, you looked down at him. The look on your face flashed with multiple feelings - but mostly annoyance, horniness, and utter confusion. You literally were seconds away from coming.

Austin peppered kisses along your inner thighs and looked up at you through his long lashes. His breath was heavy and labored, eyes half-lidded and pupils completely blown out with with a raging fire behind them. Swallowing any remnants of your juices left in his mouth, he threw you a playful smile from below.

“Sorry doll, but you’re not coming just yet.”

Seriously?! This man had you on the very brink of a powerful orgasm, and he took it away from you just as quickly as it came. Your mind was a jumbled up mess. How can he just..do that without warning?! You definitely heard what he said, but it went in one ear and out the other. All you were really focusing on is your throbbing clit begging for release, and the fact that you couldn’t have it.

“Austin, please! That’s not fair!” You whined.

“Well, life isn’t always fair baby. We’re playing by my rules tonight. Now hop off me.”

Exasperated, you refused to move. In fact, you really couldn’t move even if you tried. Your legs were like jelly beneath you. Your thighs clamped around his head for so long that the thought of moving now sent a harsh wave of pins and needles prickling down your lower extremities. A part of you wished that this was some kind of sick joke and that he would finish what he started. But alas, that wasn’t about to happen. He was for real.

Austin noticed your reluctance to do much of anything, and doubled down on his command. Something wicked inside of him was brewing, and you were now on the receiving end of his games.

“Hey,” He says firmly, smacking your ass “Quit being a brat and get down here.”

As much as you strongly wanted to protest, you let out a loud sigh and followed his orders. Gathering up whatever strength you had left, your shaky legs gave way under you as you swung them off of Austin’s face. A string of his saliva trailed along with you as you rolled onto your back. As you collapsed onto the bed, you tried to gain some kind of composure. It seemed a little cruel that he would pull the rug from underneath you.

But as quickly as your head hit the pillow he was on you in a heartbeat.

Austin straddled either side of you as he pressed his body against yours. You instinctively went to wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him close. But he was faster than you, forcing your legs apart at your sides, capturing the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs with the palms of his hands.

You were no match for how strong he was, no matter how you tried to buck yourself free from the confines of his vice grip, it seems like a fruitless effort. He hovered over you, his breath hot on your neck.

“Uh uh, not so fast. I have...other plans for you.” He growled. You knew that he was going to have his way with you tonight according to how he saw fit. As badly as you wanted him and your own release, you came to the realization that fighting back would be useless.

Relinquishing any power you had left in that moment, your thighs gave into the weight of his hands. He opened you up as far as you could go, exposing the heat of your core to the cold air. Your drenched pussy was on full display for him in an intensely erotic fashion.

“That’s my good girl. Now, you may not like my rules. But be forewarned. Disobey them and I won’t give you what you want. Follow my rules, and you’ll be rewarded. Understood?” Your eyes widened at this display of dominance. It wasn’t all too often that you and Austin played this dom/sub dynamic. But you couldn’t deny how hard and fast he could make you come by simply taking what's his. As frustrating as it was that he was keeping you on the edge, it was also exhilarating.

Finally understanding his game and playing along, you nodded in accordance to the guidelines he set. This pleased him, but he knew that you probably would break his rules and he’d have to find a way to punish you. But for now, he knew he had you under his spell.

“Good.” He slowly released his grip on your inner thighs and got up off the bed. Standing in front of you, he places his hands on the fly of his jeans. He knew you wanted to see his massive cock spring free, but he purposefully pulled down the zipper at a snails pace. Your chest rose and fell sharply, the anticipation building.

After what felt like an eternity, Austin allowed himself to push his pants and boxer briefs down his legs. He toed both garments off to the side and stood there intently watching your reaction.

A soft moan fell from your lips as you took in the sight of his thick cock standing to attention. He was definitely the biggest you’ve ever had, compared to your previous lovers. And you were craving for him to stretch you and fill you completely. The fact that you knew you couldn’t have him right here and now was agonizing. And he knew this, which he used to his advantage.

Looking down upon you with intense lust in his eyes like a predator watching their prey, he took his aching cock in his hand, smearing the bead of precum on his tip and spreading it over himself. He lazily pumped himself a few times, his eyes trailing up and down your body and eventually settling on your needy cunt. The sight of his saliva and your wetness smeared across your pussy and thighs, flushed red like the most beautiful rose, created a newfound thirst for you that needed to be quenched.

He licked his lips and pumped himself faster, flexing his toned biceps as he stroked himself. He was putting on a show for you, exactly like how you were moments ago for him. This was torture. “Fuck...” A staggered moan falling from his lips.

Watching him just stand there like the sexy man he was, touching himself and ogling at your pussy, was too much for your feeble willpower to handle. To relieve the pressure, you let one of your hands slide down your stomach, about to touch your clit. But he was quick to stop you.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch yourself, you hear me? That’s an order.” He snapped. That alone got you so wet. Him being aggressive like this turns you on so much. Although you so badly wanted to touch your needy clit, you figure that the sooner you followed his rules the sooner you could come. So you once again, you obeyed. Your hands left your stomach and idly fell on the bed. You were a good girl and you were gonna show him.

Satisfied with you actually listening to his order, he took his hand away from his throbbing cock and crawled back onto the bed. Instead of moving directly on top of you, he settled down next to you, propping himself up on his forearm. Your legs were still spread wide for him, and he ensured you stayed in this position by moving his leg over one of yours to hold you there with his weight.

He took his free hand and palmed your face, gripping just hard enough to accentuate his authority.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?”

You nodded.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded a little harder. He chuckled under his breath.

“You want me to touch you, don’t ya?”. That was obviously rhetorical.

You nodded even harder.

“I know darlin’, I know what you want...I always know what you want...”

And sure enough, he knows exactly what you want. He collides his lips with yours. It’s all teeth and tongue. Its raw, passionate, and needy. Desperate. You both moan into the kisses, starving for each other. The hand on your cheek travels down your throat, giving you a tentative squeeze, reminding you who was in control. Austin turns his attention to your breasts. He cupped them, the fullness of your tits sitting perfectly in his large hand. He let his thumb skim over your nipples, ghosting them with light circles making them instantly hard under his touch. Sighing in delight, you tangled your hand in his golden hair, bringing him closer to your crashing mouths.

You scream internally when he finally moves his hand, albeit agonizingly slow, down your stomach. It was close but not close enough to where you want him. He takes his time in getting there inch by scorching inch to your core. Austin enjoys toying with you a little too much for your own liking, but he knew it riled you up in the best way.

His long middle finger skipped past your clit and went down to collect the wetness from your weeping hole before sliding it up your slit. This elicited a deep moan from the pit of your stomach. He spread your juices all over your folds, tenderly, knowing this was driving you wild.

“Austin...” You whined into his kisses.

Finally, he caved in and allowed himself to give you a taste of what you wanted. With your slick dragging along his fingers, he places circles on your clit. In a double whammy move, he also took your bottom lip in his mouth and bit down at the same time. Both of these sensations caused a strangled moan to erupt from within you.

Releasing your lip from his teeth, his tongue licked the shell of your ear. His breath sending shivers down your spine. “So fucking wet for me.” He mused.

He trailed hot kisses down your neck, finding the area he knows is your weak spot and ravishing it with his mouth. Your legs splayed even further out from your sides, giving him more access to your pussy in a display of submission. He was playing you like a finely tuned instrument, the music being the beautiful sounds falling from your lips and your dripping core.

After a few teasing circles on your clit, he went back down to play with your pussy lips with more fingers. He probed your entrance with his middle finger, both of you hissing at this newfound sensation.

“Goddamn baby, still so tight for me after all this time.”

He pushed his finger as far as it could go, brushing against your g-spot. Another strangled moan cascaded out of your mouth and into his ear, savoring every second. “Oh yes...”

He slowly began to leisurely pump his finger in and out of you, taking your pussy for a test ride before adding a second finger inside you. The feeling of your walls contracting and stretching around him was intoxicating. He wanted so badly to replace his fingers with his cock, but he had to show restraint. Not now...later.

“Aus!” Your head was thrown back against the pillow. He watched as his fingers slide in and out of you effortlessly, your tight walls hugging around him. He was power hungry off of watching you fall apart in his arms.

Austin wasn’t about to ease up on you. He went faster, fingering you like his life depended on it. Slamming into you, applying just the right amount of pressure to your g-spot. Your pussy was making loud squelching noises in no time.

“You like that baby, hmm? Being fucked mercilessly by my fingers?” He groaned in your ear.

“Yes!...just like that...” You screamed.

This man would be your undoing. Here you were, completely at his mercy, letting him use your body in however way he saw fit. As much as he was in the drivers seat right now, you wanted to show him how good you could be. You were playing a dangerous game, but your mind was already made up on the card you were going to deal right now. You were lost in the pleasure, and you needed more of him.

You couldn’t stop your hand from gliding over his toned chest and abs, earning a lustful sigh from Austin. Bolder yet, you instinctively went lower and lower until your fingertips brushed against the tip of his cock. His jaw flexed, tightly shutting his eyes, biting his tongue and swallowing back a moan. While he was having his way with your body he mostly neglected himself in favor of getting you off first. Your hand making contact with his hard cock drove him wild.

As you dipped your toes in the water to see if this was acceptable to continue, he looked down at you. No longer could you see the icy blue eyes you so lovingly adored. They were completely black. If looks could kill, you’d be dead in this very moment.

You knew what you were doing was okay when he rolled his hip in your hand, asking for you to go on, your fingers sliding along his shaft. He was pleading with his stare for you to touch him. His pulse quickened, waiting with baited breath for you to give him more.

You knew better than to go any further with a dry hand, you weren’t a sadist.

He huffed when you briefly pulled your hand away from his length, but his eyes widened when you went to spit generously into your palm. You felt him throb strongly against your leg. He knew he would be a done for as soon as your delicate hand milked his thick cock, but he also reminded himself that he was still in control -- his fingers were still buried to the hilt in your pussy after all.

The guttural, loud groan that erupted from within him when your slippery hand wrapped around his pulsing shaft made your walls clench stronger around his fingers. You could have come just from hearing your man fall to pieces in your hand, literally. The pillars of power were now balanced.

You started jerking him off, rotating your wrist expertly up and down his shaft and paying particular attention to circle the tip as you squeeze just the right amount of pressure.

Austin threw his head back and closed his eyes, blissed out on his cock finally being lavished with attention. “Goddamn it Y/N...my girl, my best girl.” He thrust his hips into your grip to get even more friction.

All bets were off now. You may have gained the upper hand with how good you were stroking his cock, but you ignited something within him. He was about to turn animalistic on a dime.

Somehow beyond your comprehension, he started brutally fucking you on his fingers even harder than before. His fingers were long, and your cervix was already feeling the beating it was getting by how sinfully hard he was thrusting into you. A thunderous growl erupted from his chest.

A strangled cry got caught in your throat. “Oh my god, Aus! Fuck!” You could have cried at how intense this feeling was. Your were riding off the back of your previously denied orgasm, and now you felt the familiar waves of another one lurking around the corner. He hasn’t even properly fucked you yet and he has you eating out of the palm of his hand. Both of you were caught up in the feeling of each other.

Now you were a woman on a mission. Not only were you going to get your climax, but you were going to have him chase his. The speed at which you were working his cock increased, making sure to give extra attention to his red tip.

He tried his damndest to gain control of the situation, but you were jerking him off in a way he couldn’t help but give in to. For a split second his brain almost allowed himself to surrender, forgetting this game he started and take you right now, or come in your hand and be done for. He could honestly take either route right now.

But he couldn’t faulter that easily. The gears in his brain started turning. As much as he wanted to focus on his pleasure, he flipped the situation back around to his favor. He started something he had to follow through with.

“You’re my filthy little slut aren’t you?” He gritted through his teeth. You almost screamed in ecstasy when his thumb finally starting rubbing furious circles on your aching clit. “I know you wanna come baby...I know you’re close...so close”. Goddamn him, you both knew he was right.

With his fingers sloshing around in your cunt, relentlessly pressing into your g-spot making your toes curl, and his thumb working your clit, it was only a matter of seconds before you collapsed around him with an earth-shattering orgasm.

“P-Please...please” You pleaded, begging him with a string of loud squeals. Surely he wouldn’t let you go without another release. This had to be it this time. You gave his cock a harder squeeze, spurring him on, which earned you another deep, lustful groan he couldn’t suppress.

He bit his lip as he got off on watching his masterful hand bringing you to the edge all over again. The ungodly noises emanating from your mouth and your pussy was wicked. The ball was completely in his court, and unfortunately for you it was game over.

Austin’s fingers pumped into you once, twice, three times before he finally slid them out from you, your slick pouring out from your hole and getting the sheets underneath you drenched.

It seems like the universe was laughing at you in this moment.

Are. You. Kidding me?

Your eyes sprang open and you peered down to your pussy where you saw Austin bring his fingers covered in your juices up to his mouth where he licked them clean. You fell back against the pillow, your chest heaving from having been denied a second orgasm. Frustrated didn’t even begin to describe how you felt right now.

He made sure you locked eyes with him as he slowly sucked on his fingers, a boyish smirk appearing on his face, well aware of the torture he was inflicting upon you. “You taste like fucking heaven.” He purred. At that point he was twisting the knife further in the wound.

“I hate you so much right now.” You sighed in agony, defeated. You released your grip on his cock and ran your hands over your face. This felt like your own personal hell.

“You love it.” he said smugly.

As much as you didn’t want to admit to yourself that you were actually enjoying this, it was far too late for that. He was keeping you on edge for so long, denying the thing you so desperately ached for. But in the heat of the throws of passion, you were enjoying yourself. Yet again, he wasn’t wrong. There was an obvious pattern forming here. Your body was shaking at how badly you wanted to come, how close you were. Is it even possible to be this turned on?! Clearly, the answer was yes. But the real question was, when would he give you what you wanted? It surely wasn’t right now.

As you lay there pondering all of these questions, he moved onto his knees and placed himself in-between your legs. You could clearly see that your handjob did the trick -- he was leaking like a faucet about ready to burst. You were sure that Austin couldn’t contain himself for much longer either. The two of you were thoroughly enjoying this cat and mouse game.

He took hold of his cock with one hand and teasingly rubbed the tip through your slick folds, punctuating your clit with a few brisk taps. The moan that fell from your lips was almost blood curdling. He was so close yet so far from being done with you.

“Look at you, so strung out for my cock.”

As you writhed on the bed, clutching the bedsheets for purchase, he trailed hot kisses from your navel all the way up to your neck. Each and every touch of his mouth on your body reignites the already blazing inferno within you. His final destination lands him at your ear, where he takes your earlobe between his lips and gives a little nibble.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you wont even remember your own goddamn name.” You shiver at his hot words. He doesn’t let up on rubbing his cock against your pussy, he’s just getting started. “But first things first...”

Before you had time to react, he had his other hand wrapped around your throat. It wasn’t hard enough to choke you, but it was firm.

“What’s my name?” He growled.

Instinctively his name falls from your lips. “Aus-” but before you can finish, he applies more pressure to your neck, halting the air from entering your lungs.

“Wrong answer. Try again, darlin’.” The previous times you and Austin explored a more dominant and submissive role in the bedroom, you remembered the conversation where he specifically requested that you don’t refer to him by his name. He wanted a title. He liked exploring this illustrious form of power play with you, but obviously he would never take it to far extremes. Suddenly, the correct answer sprang back into your memory.

“Sir.”

He flashed a crooked grin. “Atta girl”. As he released your neck from his grip, he got himself situated in the right position. He hovered over you, leaning his weight onto his forearm propped up by your head. Your heart beat loudly in your ears, you knew what was coming and your walls immediately clenched.

Austin took hold of his cock and aligned himself perfectly with your weeping entrance. His brow furrowed, his jaw slack as he pushed the tip inside of you. The pair of you moaning loudly at the intense feeling of pleasure cascading over your bodies. And then slowly but surely, he filled you up completely to the brim. Your tight pussy eagerly swallowed him whole, taking every single delicious inch of his massive cock.

There was a look in his eyes of pure ecstasy, of your dripping wet walls enveloping him to the hilt. The wild desire was evident on his face, but also he couldn’t hold back the unbridled love he had for you. He cherished the way your pussy enveloped him every single time he took you.

He didn’t give you too much time to adjust to his size. You couldn’t hold back the loud moan you roared from the depths of your soul when Austin started slamming his cock into. Tonight was not a night for soft niceties. This was about burning, aching, primal fucking. His breath was hot on your face, never once looking away from how your beautiful features contorted with intense pleasure.

“Oh F-Fuuuck!” You sobbed, head thrown back. Your nails dug into his biceps, trying to ground yourself in any possible way. He was fucking you so raw but so good. The feeling of your walls accommodating his girth was sinful for both of you.

“That’s it baby, take my cock.” He groaned. Austin was pounding into you, unrelenting. He kept a rhythmic and steady pace, your juices coating him like a warm blanket and letting him back in every time he thrust into you.

Getting lost in the overwhelming feeling of you, Austin captured your lips in a zealous kiss. His tongue working against yours, exploring the crevices of your mouth. He cupped your face. and your hand tangled through his hair. He pined for your release, expertly working your pussy in a way that only he can do.

Your legs wrapped tightly around his hips, trapping him even closer to you, pushing him deeper into the expanse of your heat. Austin suddenly pulled away from your flushed lips and sat back on his heels, grabbing hold of your hips as he elevated your ass off of the bed to meet his cock, snapping into you at a furious speed.

This new angle had you spiraling, his cock was ramming into that sweet spot deep inside your pussy in a brand new way that had you gushing around him, gasping for air. Your tight walls giving him an encouraging squeeze.

“Oh my god! Yes! Just like that.” you scream. The pleasure was forming with tenacity in your stomach. If you felt like you were floating only moments ago, then you were sure that your soul was leaving your body at this very moment. As he was riding you hard into the mattress you admired how drop-dead sexy he was. You studied this adonis of a man fucking the life out of you -- sweat was dripping down his furrowed brow, blonde tendrils fell down the slope of his forehead, his plush lip sucked into his teeth. You felt tipsy on his visceral sexuality as his throbbing length macerated the juices in your pussy. It was absolutely dirty.

You were sure that all of New York City could hear you two caught up in the feeling of each other's bodies. But you didn’t give a damn.

Austin knew all too well that he would be on the brink to spilling into you if he didn’t control himself. So he flipped the switch yet again. He quickly pulled out of you, suddenly leaving you missing the feel of him.

“Get on your knees. Face down, ass up. Now.” He said hard and fast, he needed to be back inside you as quickly as possible. Austin guided you along as his hands smoothly flipped you over onto your stomach. Your face was buried in the pillow, your arms tucked in by your side and your ass high in the air on full display for him, just like he wanted. You were a good listener when you wanted to be.

He couldn’t help but smack your voluptuous ass before he took hold of his cock again, running the tip over your slit, before bottoming out in your pussy in one fluid motion. You both moaned at the sudden intrusion and his thick cock back where it belonged. You were truly dickmatized.

He tightly clutched your hips as he brutally fucked you. Somehow his dick reached the depths of your pussy that you never even knew needed his upmost attention. Eagerly, you matched his his thrusts, slamming your hips back against him. This earned you a deep groan from him.

“Goddamn, such a good girl riding my rock...”

Your strangled moans were trapped between the pillow, your knuckles went white from keeping a vice grip onto the bed sheets. If he kept this up you knew you were on your way to your third impending orgasm. You just simply couldn’t get enough of him. He filled you wholly in the most naughty way, knowing exactly how to hit your g-spot every single time. It got all too much for you to bear, and tears sprang to your eyes threatening to spill over. Your senses were on fire, overstimulated by everything this man had to give you.

Somehow reading your mind, Austin balled your hair in his fist, making a makeshift ponytail, and pulled, jerking your head back towards him. You gasped for air as you finally could breathe properly without the pillow suffocating you.

“Who does this pussy belong to?” he groaned.

“You. F-Fuck, it belongs to you. My pussy is yours, Sir.”

“That’s right baby. It’s mine. All mine...”

Thrust.

“All mine.”

Thrust.

“Mine.” He snarled like a ferocious animal marking their territory. Your pussy was like the most addictive drug. He shuddered at how greedily your walls were milking his cock. He could have you like this for the rest of eternity.

He let his tongue lick a hot stripe up the side of your neck before releasing your hair from his grip, your head falling forward like a ragdoll completely at his whim. As you turned your head to allow yourself to watch Austin railing your pussy, you bounced yourself back against his cock.

The waves of pleasure were starting to roll stronger with each stroke. You hoped that you had acted like his good girl - no, his best girl, to get rewarded. One solitary tear fell down your cheek, his cock was expertly sending you to the path of no return.

“Please...I-I can’t...I’m so close”. You pleaded with strangled moans. In all honesty, he was dangerously close too. He sputtered inside of you, his fingers digging even harder into your flesh.

“I know, baby”. He mused. As much as he loves tormenting you, keeping you at the precipice, he desperately yearns for both of your releases. He needs to feel you explode on his cock, your wetness spilling out onto him. And he needed to paint your walls with his come.

His thrusts became sloppy, his hips snapping with a violent force, grazing your cervix in a deliciously painful way. Austin would at long last give you what you craved. In a devastating finishing move, he took two of his fingers into his mouth, coating them generously with his spit, and strummed your clit with determined ferocity.

“You wanna come, baby?”

You screamed at the sudden contact to your throbbing clit. “Y-yes!! Please, sir, please let me come...”. You were hell-bent on coming if it was the last thing you’d do. As he was playing with your clit you bounced yourself harder on his cock, trying to coax both of your climaxes.

“Do it. Now. Come all over my cock.” He howled through his clenched jaw.

Finally, you saw the finish line that was so far out of your reach the entire night. You let out a string of strangled crying moans, forcefully coming all over him. Your walls fluttered around him, engulfing his cock with your wetness. You came so hard you swear that you practically squirted. Your vison went white and you nearly passed out from the magnanimous orgasm he gave you. And he was in heaven. Watching you come undone was his kryptonite.

“God, Y/N! I’m gonna fucking come...” He roared loudly, head thrown back in bliss.

Mustering the last bit of strength you have in you, you coo to him seductively.

“Fill me up, Austin. Come inside me.”

And with that, he chases his orgasm right after you, snapping his hips one final time and coming so hard he sees stars. He groans an enchanting mix of profanities and your name until he collapses on top of you, unable to hold himself up anymore. He was dead weight, but the feeling of his body brought you a sense of comfort.

You both lay there for a while, a pile of sweaty limbs entangled on the bed, until he musters up some strength to lift himself off of you. Austin takes hold of his cock and slowly pulls out, watching his come seep out of you. He gathers what he can and pushes it back in, wanting every part of him to stay trapped inside your pussy for as long as possible. You moan at the intrusion from his fingers.

This was surely the most intense sexcapade you two have had to date. How the hell can sex with Austin keep being so fucking mindblowing?! This was one for the books. You sighed at the loss from his cock, your empty pussy still craving him inside of you. But you knew that you’d be feeling helplessly sore for days to come.

Austin rolls over to his back, running his hands through his hair and trying to catch his breath. Making love to you was the only exercise he ever needed. A massive, stupidly beautiful grin was plastered on his face. The alpha male energy that took over him has now subsided, and the gentle Austin was back.

As you turn over on your side to be drawn back into his loving arms, you rest your head on his chest. He brought your lips to meet his in a tender kiss, marking the end of the best sex you’ve both ever had.

“I didn’t hurt you at all did I? I probably over did it at times. Sorry, baby. You just get me so worked up.” He spoke softly.

“No not at all Aus. Honestly, being manhandled by you is such a turn on.” You nuzzled into him. He chuckled contentedly, placing another chaste kiss on your lips.

“Will keep that in mind for next time.”

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #ausitn butler fanfic #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #austin butler smut #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #austin butler x you #austin butler x fem!reader #austinbutleredit #austin butler x y/n #austin butler elvis #austin babe-ler #what other tags go here? idk

4K notes · View notes

babyonboard · 2 months

Text

in sickness & in health | Don Hume x f!reader

Summary- nursing Don back to health. Part 1?

Warnings- fluff, talk of being sick (fever, nausea, etc.)

Word count- 2.2k

Fiddling with the thermostat, silently begging it to go lower, you glanced over your shoulder. Don was laying in bed, his eyes closed and his breathing slow. The sweat on his forehead was visible, and you could see that his eyebrows were slightly furrowed in discomfort. Giving up on the temperature, you decided on another course of action.

This was not a part of your plan for your trip to Germany. You had been ecstatic to receive an invite, of course you would be there as a nurse, but you didn’t think they would actually need you. Yet, here you are, desperately nursing the stroke of the team to health. Now, it felt like it would be your fault if he didn’t get better, it would be your fault if they lost. You were beginning to wish you never accepted this position.

You should be in the audience of the olympic opening ceremony right now, where you had originally intended to be. Yet, here you were, digging through the bathroom to find a washcloth.

“Here we go.” You spoke under your breath, pulling a washcloth out of a drawer. You wet it with cold water, praying that this method would lower his fever.

Don stirred when you sat on the side of the bed. “Hey.” You whispered. He mumbled a response that you couldn’t make out.

You set the wash cloth on his forehead, his eyes cracked open. “How are you feeling?” You asked softly, brushing his hair away from his forehead.

“Mmm.” He hummed. “Not that good.”

You nodded and subconsciously continued to stroke his hair. “You think the medicine from earlier helped at all?”

He shrugged lightly. “A little.” His voice was low and husky, his eyes half lidded.

“What else can I get you?” You noticed how warm his head was, wondering if his fever had gone down at all.

“Nothing.” He said, closing his eyes again. “I’m okay for now.”

“Nothing at all?” You asked. “I could get you something to eat. Anything in the world.”

He stirred. “I don’t think I can eat right now. But thank you.”

“Okay.” You agreed. “Let me know if you change your mind.” He nodded softly and even though the conversation was over, you stayed for a moment. Observing his face, he truly did not look good. Your heart sunk a little, you only have a day and a half to get him feeling better before the race.

Despite his protest, you still went and got him food, he hasn’t eaten all day. Some crackers and a little bit of juice won’t hurt him. He was awake when you got back, sitting up in bed, reading a book. “Hi.” You smiled.

He gave you a classic Don nod. No words, no smile, but you knew he was hard to crack. You didn’t know Don personally before all of this, but you’ve seen him around before. He’s shy, always trying to fade into the background, but that’s never how you saw him. He always stood out to you, his sweetness, his quiet charm, that was the Don you knew. So you didn’t take his quietness personally.

“What are you reading?” You asked absentmindedly.

“Oh… um…” He stuttered. The embarrassment drained whatever color the sickness had left his face.

You looked at the book, and realized it was yours. “Oh, I don’t care.” You waved your hand. Although it is your copy of The Great Gatsby, annotated and all, he could read it. The sweet, lanky boy in the bed could have ripped it up and burned it and you would still tell him you didn’t care.

“Sorry.” He closed the book and set it on the nightstand. “Just bored.” He croaked, scrambling for an excuse.

“Don, you can read my book. It’s okay.” You smiled. He folded his hands and looked down at the bed. You had no idea why he was so flustered, but that wasn’t your main concern right now. “I brought you something to eat.” You extended the small plate of crackers to him. He stared at it, then at you. “Don, you need to eat.”

He took a breath in, then silently grabbed the plate. “Thanks.” He spoke quietly.

You nodded, then sat on the end of the bed. Much to your delight, he slowly began to eat the crackers. It was silent while he did so, and it never crossed your mind that it might be weird to sit there and watch him eat, but you couldn’t help it.

“I saw the boys in the lobby. Opening ceremony went well.” You spoke into the quiet room.

He nodded. Once again, no words.

“They were all asking about you. Wondering how you’re doing.” You smoothed out the quilt, accidentally running your hand over his leg as you did so.

“What’d you tell them?” He asked, seeming concerned.

“I told them you’ll be okay.” You looked at your lap. That could most definitely be a lie. If he kept at the pace he was going now, there is no way he would feel better by the race.

“I will be.” He reassured you, almost sensing your hesitance. You nodded in response, and it was quiet again. “Thanks for helping me, by the way. Probably would’ve died by now without you.” He cracked a small smile.

That was the first time you had heard Don make a joke, let alone smile. “Of course, Don. That’s my job.” You smile at him, his deep brown eyes holding you in a trance. “I’m… more than happy to do it.”

“Happy?” He blinked. “I’m sure you don’t like doing this.”

“Do you know how many girls would kill to be in my position? Taking care of the stroke of the olympic team?” You giggled.

His brain scrambled for a response. “I… that’s just not true.” He shook his head out of insecurity.

“No, Don, it is.” you spoke assertively. You weren’t lying. Don was a hot topic of conversation, right behind George Hunt, of course. “Girls love you.”

He couldn’t tell if he was lightheaded from his fever or the thought of you talking about him with your friends. “W-what?” He stuttered out.

“Yeah.” You confirmed. “You’re the sweetest guy on the team, everyone knows that. You should’ve heard everyone after you played the piano at the victory party. They love you, truly.”

He blinked a few times in disbelief. He must be having a fever dream. The doll who sat exactly 6 rows behind him in his biology lecture was sitting on his bed, her hand on his leg as she told him how many girls love him. He could hardly form words.

It made you giggle, his shyness. You could see the blush in his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “All I’m saying is, I think I’m a pretty lucky girl.”

Words failed him, his brain failed him, all he could focus on was the way you squeezed his leg over the blanket as you talked. He hardly even heard you ask if he was finished eating. You took the plate from him and set it on the nightstand, exchanging it for your copy of The Great Gatsby. You held it out to him, his eyes meeting yours, hoping you didn’t see the slight shake of his hand as he grabbed it from you.

“I’m gonna go shower, but I’ll be back. Do you need anything before I go?” You asked.

He shook his head and looked down at the book in his lap. While you were gone, he was able to read a few chapters, but he found himself paying more attention to your annotations than he did the words of the actual book. He particularly liked the smiley faces you wrote next to the scenes you liked. He found himself rereading Gatsby and Daisy’s kiss scene that you had underlined in purple ink. It made him blush, thinking about you reading this part. He ran his fingers over the purple ink over and over again, thinking about your hands delicately underlining it.

His eyes grew heavy as he read, and he eventually thought it would be a good idea to get some rest. He fell asleep thinking about the kiss scene, switching out the characters with himself and a certain nurse who happened to be taking care of him.

The lights were off when you returned, and you could hear his heavy breathing, indicating that he was asleep. Of course, you wanted to let him get his rest, but you needed to take his temperature one last time before you went to sleep. Trying to wake him up as gently as you could, you rubbed his back softly. That didn’t work, so you moved your hand up to run through his hair. His eyes cracked open at the feeling of your fingers twisting in his hair.

“Hi.” You whispered, scratching his head lightly. “Can I take your temperature?”

He nodded and hummed a yes, and you brought the thermometer to his lips. You tisked your tongue when you saw that it read 101, it had only gone down one degree since this morning. “It’s still pretty high.” You whispered, not surprised by the lack of response from him. “I’m gonna stay here for a little longer, make sure you're okay.”

He sleepily nodded and closed his eyes again. You ran your fingernails softly up and down his back. The room was quiet, but you could hear some light chatter and music coming through the open window. By the way he was breathing, you could tell he was no longer sleeping, but you continued scratching up and down his bare back, hoping to bring him a little bit of comfort in his sick state.

There was no way Don could fall asleep, not with the weight of you sitting next to him, especially not with the feeling of your fingers on his back. Despite his fever, he swore he had goosebumps from the feeling. He would get this sick every day for the rest of his life if it meant he got to keep receiving this treatment from you.

You have no idea how long you sat there scratching his back, occasionally making your way up to his hair to scratch his head. It went on for a while before Don spoke up begrudgingly, saying “You should get some sleep.”

A deep sigh left your mouth. Yes, you should sleep, but you felt a duty to watch over him. “I need to stay with you for a little longer.” You reassured in a whisper.

Maybe it was his fever messing with his head, maybe it was because he felt so bad that you had to stay up with him, but Don did something out of pure instinct, knowing that you needed to sleep. He lifted the blanket that was covering him and scooched over in the small bed, making room for you. He nodded as a gesture for you to lay down. “You should sleep.” He said softly.

Your heart swelled at the sight. With no protest, you slid right next to him under the covers. Don could hardly believe what he just did, but he couldn’t be happier that he did it. Neither of you were sure what to do, of course both of you wanted to wrap the other up in your arms, but neither of you did. Just laying there, next to each other, hearing the other breathing and feeling the heat radiating from the other's body was enough.

On something of a confidence streak, Don noted the absence of your hand on his back. “Can you keep scratching my back?” He said softly.

Saying nothing, you smiled and ran your hand up his back. His reaction was noticeable, his whole body relaxed and his eyes fell shut. He unintentionally fell asleep almost immediately. The exhilaration of laying in the same bed as Don kept you awake, but you were more than happy to lay there rubbing his back until you fell asleep in the hazy hours of the early morning.

#don hume #the boys in the boat #don hume x reader #don hume imagine #don hume fanfiction #don hume fanfic #don hume fan fiction #don hume fic #the boys in the boat imagine #the boys in the boat fic #the boys in the boat x reader #the boys in the boat fanfic #the boys in the boat fanfiction

193 notes · View notes

rosewaterandivy · 2 months

Text

the verbal thing comes and goes

Summary: eddie's first study(ing) date with an appearance from hawkins own lothario.

Warnings: eddie’s senior year 2.0, no Upside Down, scary smart debate team captain reader, NHS president and tutor nancy wheeler, ap music theory nerd and general nuisance robin buckley, pretentiousness alert - you have been warned!

W.C.: 1973

Eddie’s early, for once in his life.

He stands on the Wheeler’s doorstep worrying the strap of his backpack with his thumb. It’s Thursday, and he’s nearly done with his second read-through of Notes from the Underground. Turns out, reading Russian literature and annotating it at the same time is a bit of a commitment. So much so, that scribbling in his Hellfire notebook has fallen by the wayside.

He has highlighters now (yes, plural); who the fuck does he think he is?!

A guy who wants to stay in the same English class as you, that’s who.

Which brings us to his earlier than usual arrival for the study group.

He pushes the doorbell and hears the chimes clang from inside the house. There’s a bit of grime on his cuticles, he’d been fucking with an oil change for the van a few hours ago. Luckily, there’s not a smear of brackish fluid left on the pristine white button.

Mike loafs to the door and opens it with his usual fanfare, which is to say, none.

“What’re you doing here?”

“You mean at your house? Where your sister is? Who’s in my group for this English project?”

Each rhetorical question brings Eddie incrementally closer to Mike and inside the house, who backs away slowly, dead eyed stare and all.

“Psh, get outta my face twerp.” Eddie says, ruffling Mike’s stupidly long hair.

The door shuts behind him and Mike inclines his head toward the stairs, “Think they’re waiting on Buckley, you can head on up.”

Mr. Wheeler grunts in agreement from his lay-z-boy recliner in the living room.

Briefly, he wonders if he should take off his shoes. There’s a pile by the door and carpeted stairs, even Mike is wandering around in socks. And Eddie doesn’t want to be rude, or responsible for whatever mud he’s probably tracking in.

After toeing off his Reeboks, he takes the stairs two at a time and follows the sound of voices down the hall.

It’s an idyllic scene.

Namely, that Nancy has one of the most certifiably girly rooms Eddie has ever had the misfortune to see. But also, that you’re seemingly dressed in pajamas which consist of men’s plaid boxers, socks scrunched around your ankles, and an oversized t-shirt with a warped Tweety Bird face plastered on it. Your hair is up and off your shoulders, tied back with an obnoxiously bright scrunchie, and your face is freshly scrubbed.

It looks like a sleepover, if the legends are true, but neither you nor Nance are currently jumping on her bed and hitting each other in slow motion with pillows, a dusting of goose feathers filling the air.

“Hey Munson,” you greet, patting the spot next to you, “Take a load off.”

Well, shit, he’s certainly got a load alright.

He slings his bag to the floor and leans back against the foot of Nancy’s bed, taking a seat next to you.

“Didn’t realize this would be an all nighter Wheeler.”

Nancy glances up from her notes at your soft laugh. But before she can reply, there’s a clatter from below and Mike bellowing something about food.

“Oh, Rob must be here,” she says with a smile. “She said she was bringing pizzas or something.”

The three of you make your way down to the kitchen, where Robin has been cornered by Mrs. Wheeler. Her blue eyes are wide as she clutches the edge of the pizza boxes, nodding along politely with whatever Nancy’s mom is going on about.

“Oh Bucks,” Eddie says, swooping in to take a box before she can crush it, “For me? You shouldn’t have!”

Robin looks relieved, mouths thank you from where she’d been stopped by the counter. She’s just come from her job at Family Video and is still wearing the stupid vest to prove it. It’s got cheesy buttons like ask me about our newest releases! and Eddie has half a mind to do so.

That is before Steve Harrington comes swanning into the room with a few cans of soda. He stops short, surprised with Eddie’s presence at the Wheeler’s kitchen table. But then you trot in the room, lost in conversation with Nance and he sees Steve’s eyes blow wide as a blush warms his cheeks.

He’s looking at you because of course he is. The universe can’t seem to cut Eddie a break without throwing King Steve a bone(r).

It’d be comical if it wasn’t so typically teenage tragic.

For Eddie, that is.

“Oh, uh, h-hi,” Steve stammers in greeting, “I just grabbed whatever since I didn’t know what you’d like.”

It’s all Eddie can do not to roll his eyes.

Buckley had mentioned Steve not having as much swagger with the ladies as of late, but damn, Eddie didn’t think he’d have to witness it.

Still, it’s not as though he feels sorry for the guy.

Not when you give Steve a smile in thanks, but nudge Eddie’s shoulder with your hip.

“Outta my spot Munson.”

The contact of your thinly veiled hip against his jacket has got him spinning. If he wasn’t wearing the damned thing, he could’ve felt the warmth from your skin. He grunts and shoves over, sticking to monosyllables until he can get himself together.

Mrs. Wheeler eyes him briefly before stepping out of the room, a lingering glance that says watch yourself as she settles in the living room.

Seated around the table, various hands grab for slices of pizza that land in greasy splotches on paper plates. Robin is talking a mile a minute about someone who returned Fast Times stopped at a very pivotal point in the film.

Steve rolls his eyes and pops the tab of his soda. Leaving Eddie to beg Mike’s earlier question:

“What’re you doin’ here?”

This said between bites of pizza, stringy cheese decorating his lips. Spying his predicament, you toss a paper towel at his face and continue listening to Robin’s tales of Family Video.

“Could ask you the same,” Steve replies with a measured tone.

“English project.” Eddie pauses to take a swig of Mountain Dew, “Now you, Harrington.”

“Rob doesn’t drive, so I dropped her off.”

“Dropping off implies leaving, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He’s adopted a curt tone, as if he’s offended by Eddie’s rationale. So he decides to drop it for now.

And sure enough, Steve eventually does leave. Right after hauling in Robin’s overstuffed backpack and trumpet.

Eddie notices how Steve’s eyes linger on you, flitting to and fro, and tries to tamp down the roil of jealousy in his gut.

It’s only once the group is back upstairs and working on the project, the door minduflly cracked open at Mrs. Wheeler’s behest, that he feels himself relax. After all, he can’t dedicate too much of his time to feeling like a possessive meathead with Nancy delegating.

Currently, you’re all huddled over your novels and passing around copies of notes on each text. Nancy’s are neat and tidy, Robin’s are a downright mess, but yours are something else. Color-coded with a key in the upper right-hand corner of the page, not a smear of ink to be found. It’s like the Holy Grail of notes.

They also smell faintly of your perfume.

Eddie’s notes aren’t as batshit as Robin’s, but there are plenty of sketches to be found in the margins. He hopes they’re acceptable, he’s never really willingly taken notes over a book before. Much less, painstakingly copied three sets of said notes for distribution.

He’s more familiar with a different type of distribution.

Speaking of which:

“Shit, I gotta go.”

He hastily packs his bag while Nancy lists off his task for the project. You’ll see each other in class, obviously, but there won’t be another study session until next week. NHS is rolling out their individual tutorials, and she’s got stuff for the school paper. Debate team meets weekly for practice in addition to their class, you’ve got to start prep for research on a few topics. Robin has band shit and life shit, as she calls it, so everyone is pretty much swamped until then.

Even Eddie, with his tutoring from Nancy and Hellfire meetings and Corroded Coffin practices and shows. And, apparently, there’s another meeting with Mrs. Meloy next week to see how he’s “adjusting.”

He says his goodbyes quickly and dashes down the stairs, surprised to hear the sound of you behind him. He turns, tugging on his shoes, inquiring, “Nance forget to tell me something?”

You smile with a shake of your head, “Nah, just thought I’d see you off.”

“Ah, yeah. Prime time for creeps, good lookin’ out.”

He gets a laugh out of you, which lights something in his chest with a dull warm glow. Shouldering his backpack, he makes way for you to open the door and follows you onto the porch.

The last of the summer sun eeks across the sky leaving bands of creamsicle orange and pink behind. You glance up, exposing the delicate tendons of your neck, the elegant slope of it. And it’s all he can do not to press his lips to the sweat gathering in the hollow of your throat.

Eddie clears his throat instead and stands there awkwardly as you enjoy the summer evening. The air is humid, and a dampness permeates the otherwise pleasant moment. You sigh softly, having taken your fill of the sky for now, and turn your gaze to him.

He feels like an ant under a magnifying glass might, not used to the attention and fearful of what’s to come.

“I expected you would’ve called by now,” you say casually, with a fond pull of your lips, “But you’re just full of surprises Munson.”

He scuffs the toe of his sneaker against the pavement and shyly glances down. He notices the weight of his bag now, the sweat beginning to bead along his skin. It’s uncomfortable and his van is within sight, he’s so close and yet so far.

All because you’re staring at him, attempting to have a conversation with the guy who said he doesn’t read much and yet had some of the finest penmanship and annotations you’d ever seen littered all across your copy of Dune.

He’s surprising and you like surprises well enough, but Eddie is becoming more and more of a mystery to you which is somehow even more appealing.

Of course, he knows none of this.

All he knows is that a pretty girl in a Tweety Bird shirt and boxers is looking at him with a secret smile on her face, and he feels like he’s hurtling toward oblivion or humiliation.

“Maybe I lost the note?”

Lies. It’s squirreled away in his most prized possession, a battered copy of Tolkein’s Fellowship of the Ring.

“How tragic,” you tease, “If only we had been taught to memorize things like phone numbers and addresses.”

“Yeah, that would be something.”

You laugh, “Oh, wait. Lucky for you I have it right here.” You tap your temple with a manicured nail, and pull a face as if you’re about to snarl but your eyes are bright and teasing.

“Look,” Eddie says, a laugh falling from his lips, “Maybe I was giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

“Oh really,” you drawl, arms snaking across your chest. “When a pretty, smart girl gives you her number and offers up her time and expertise, you, Eddie Munson, think twice?”

“Generally, from past experience, yes.”

You kiss your teeth and let out a soft tsk. “Well, don’t.”

“Think?”

The smile you give him could launch a thousand ships.

“About this? Not even once.”

And with that, you turn on your heel and walk back into the Wheeler’s house leaving him dazed and more than a little confused.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #fic: ibciyd #eddie munson fluff

172 notes · View notes

unlirise · 21 days

Text

i started using the pomodoro technique today and i'm proud of the amount of progress i made especially for the tasks i assigned myself. i'm still recovering from academic burnout so the progress i'm making with my thesis is slow. but, some progress is better than no progress at all!

i encountered some issues with my scope and limitations which forced me to re-pivot. as a result, i had to revise chapter 1 and 3, and i was able to do the former.

the university errand i had to run gave me an opportunity to go to the library. most of the time, a change of space is all i need to actually get some work done. it really is true that you associate certain spaces with rest and others with work. as much as i want the dorm to be a place of productivity for me, it just wasn't going to happen. i always play games, watch movies, and rest on my bed. the library and the dorm's study area, on the other hand, were places i always went to when i want to make significant progress on my academic commitments. those were the two places i mostly stayed in, which helped me to cross off those items on my daily to-do list. so now, this is what the list looks like:

rise's tuesday tasks:

ask for tutorial form from the registrar

finish revising chapter 1 of my thesis

annotate areas for revision in chapter 3

batch cook pasta for the week

on top of that, i was able to do some extra reading on the conventions of policy analysis! those are the notes that you see above. my thesis is essentially a policy analysis with how i'm looking at the effectiveness of the execution of national protocol. reading through it, it made me consider a career as a policy analyst. i want to practice writing policy-analytic papers and see if it's something that resonates with me. beyond graduation, i'm still majorly unsure about what i want to become. i want to keep my options open.

#university #uni student #college #uniblr #study blog #student life #university student #uni life #uni blogging #studyspo #studying #studyblr #study with me #student #study notes #notes #liberal arts

122 notes · View notes

spidernuggets · 4 months

Text

As someone who wants to read books and novels, whether it be classics, romance, action, horror, etc, but has a difficult time doing so because it takes a long while to do so; to read the whole sentence without misreading anything and then processing what the sentence is implying, and gets so frustrating all the time, I absolutely adore people who make headcanons that Jason Todd reads to you!!!

So I present

Jason Todd Reading to You HCs/Reader who Struggles with Reading

(Starts with Reader who struggles w reading and regular Jason reading to you HCs begin after the border)

Before it became a habit of Jason reading to you, he always rambled about the new books he has been reading.

He's always either adoring the writing or complaining about love triangles or is intrigued by the plot or questions a character's decisions.

And his rants make you interested, and soon enough, you ask more questions based on whatever he is talking about.

He opens certain pages, pointing to a quote or paragraph, and then showing you hus annotations to the side.

I think Jason would either a) have 2 copies of a book. 1 softback for annotations and 1 hardback for a clean copy. Or b) a clean hardback book and a notebook marked with the book title, the date he read it, and the chapter and page that he's referencing his thoughts from.

Seeing as you're so interested in his thoughts, he recommended you some classics he thought you might curious about.

You're excited, happy that your boyfriend is opening up his nerdy, literature side to you, and you promised him you'd finish the book as soon as possible.

But when you cracked open the clean hardback- the copy of Little Women that he wouldn't let anyone touch, your heart started racing.

You barely finished chapter one in three days. And when Jason asked during the day how it was going, you lied, saying it was great so far. This caused Jason to be suspicious as your reaction was far more bland than how you'd react when he was telling the basis of the story.

So when you claimed that you had finished it, he asked for your opinion. And when you did tell him what you thought of it, he thought that your answers sounded very familiar. And he realised that what you're saying was paraphrased from his annotations.

He laughed, telling you that you don't have to agree with his opinion. But when you didn't laugh back or state your own thoughts, he grew concerned.

You admitted that you only read the first chapter, and he said it was fine and to take as long as you needed since everyone reads at a different pace. But you shook your head, telling him that it could take you your whole lifetime to finish reading one book.

You sat with him, explaining that you find it difficult to read, that it takes you time to understand what the story is telling and what it's describing.

Jason thinks for a moment, and during this, you think that he now sees you as unintelligent and slow.

But he speaks up, offering the idea of reading to you instead. He noticed that you obtain information better when it's being spoken to you. You remember all the little details of the book when Jason went on his long rants about it.

But you tried to quickly turn down the offer, saying that you don't want him to baby you.

But he kisses your forhead in reassurance, promising that he's not babying you. Telling you that he's happy to read to you. Ecstatic even.

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

You and Jason are wrapped in a not too thick, not too thin blanket. You're sitting upright, Jason's leaning against the headboard as you lay on his chest.

He's got the clean copy open instead of his annotated one, so you have the freedom of developing your own outlooks on the novel as his finger glides across the sentences.

He lets you interrupt him every time you have a point to make or an outbirst reaction to a plot twist or unexpected scene.

He keeps those reactions in mind, remembering to pull out a new notebook, marking the pages with the book title, the date he read it to you, and the chapter and page that you referenced your thoughts from.

You hate to stop reading before the end of a chapter, so you try to stay awake as much as possible until Jason finishes the cirrent chapter, no matter how spft and soothing his voice is.

Your favourite part of your day is waiting for Jason to come home from patrol, sitting patiently on your shared bed, with the book on your lap while you watch the movie or show adaptation of the novel.

And when Jason does come home, he rolls his eyes, shutting the screen that's playing the film, scolding you that the book is way better.

He tells you to sit tight while he quickly changes out of his gear, putting on sweatpants and staying shirtless before scooching you over and sliding into bed beside you.

He takes the book from you, opening to where the bookmark laid- the last chapter you finished before continuing on with the story.

And when Jason finishes off another chapter, he notices you sound asleep.

He softly kisses your cheeks, forhead, then lips, bookmarking the book once more, before adjusting the two of you in a more comfortable position and holding you in his arms, whispering to you that you'll continue in the morning, before falling asleep with you.

208 notes · View notes

oddinary4bts · 6 months

Text

Sinful Lust | ch 5 (myg & jjk)

☆summary: On a rainy night in May, everything is bound to break. Hearts that once beat as one, now break in time with the tide. What will be left in the end?

☆pairing: bisexual boyfriend!Yoongi x female!reader x Jungkook

☆rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

☆genre: mostly angst, smut, snippets of life!au

☆warnings: mentions of what happened between Jungkook and OC in ch 4, cheating, cursing, momentary trip to the hospital, mentions of bullying and getting beaten up, mentions of alcoholic parent, mentions of domestic abuse, explicit content: protected sex in a semi-public environment, fingering, squirting, anal sex, car sex

☆word count: 8.3k

☆a/n: This one is really sad. We learn more about Jungkook's past, and we see everything crashing down. Please don't hate me for this :') Annnnd thank you @moonleeai as always for beta-ing this fic <3

☆a/n pt2: I do not own BTS or any of the members. I do not know what they are like irl (I do not claim to know their personalities, sexual orientations, beliefs, etc.). This fic is just a work of fiction, so please keep that in mind while reading

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

May is rainy. You watch the world outside – it’s turned grey weeks ago, and the sun has yet to show up. Or at least it feels that way, and you’re slightly annoyed as you once again look out the window, only to be greeted by drops of water racing each other on the glass.

You don’t mind the rain. You never really did. But you don’t like feeling like you’re not doing anything, and the book you’ve been trying to read since you got home from work just isn’t cutting it.

Or maybe it’s the fact that Yoongi is once again going to be home late tonight. You don’t know what project he’s been working on – whenever you’ve asked questions about it, he was super evasive. But like clockwork, every night for three weeks Yoongi got home late after work, claiming that he is too tired to do anything with you.

You don’t blame him. He’s been working crazy hours, but you just miss his presence. Now, whenever you get to actually spend some time together he also invites Jungkook, and you feel like your relationship with Yoongi just isn’t what it used to be.

When you brought it up to him last week, he said that he was too tired to talk about it, and he kissed the side of your head before rolling to the other side of the bed. The dismissal was clear, and it’s been making you feel dreadful, like every breath you take is missing just a little bit of oxygen, making your lungs burn and heart beat harder in your chest as it tries to compensate.

You know what changed everything. You saw it in slow motion – that night you’d woken Yoongi up because of Jungkook. That same night you had fucked Yoongi on Facetime while Jungkook watched and guided the two of you.

Yoongi hasn’t looked at you the same way since then. You hate it, hate the distance that’s wedged itself between you and him, but you don’t know how to fix it.

No amount of cuddling or affection or loving words seem to be enough to bring Yoongi back from the place his mind wandered to when he saw what you and Jungkook had been texting about.

It was a mistake. You know it today, and you wish you could take it back.

Wish you could take the whole ordeal back.

But you can’t, and you’ve been trying to be better. To treat Yoongi better, to make sure you don’t overstep the boundaries, though you reckon that night you went flying over the line at the speed of light.

You sigh, leaning your head back against the couch. You’ve been trying to read your favourite book – the one Yoongi bought for you on your first date, annotated in the margins with all of his thoughts on it. But every time you see his handwriting, every time you read what he left behind, your heart just hurts a little more.

You’ve suggested calling off this whole thing with Jungkook. Yoongi laughed and said that he didn’t want to stop. It was strange to see him like that – like he isn’t the same man you once fell in love with anymore. But then again you reckon you haven’t been the same either.

How could you be the same after experiencing Jeon Jungkook?

Jungkook, too, has changed. He doesn’t smile with you as much as he used to, and sometimes you feel like he’s forcing himself. Like he doesn’t want to be there, but just like you and Yoongi, he doesn’t know how to stop.

It’s a mess. Everything is a mess, and you wish you’d know how to fix it.

But you don’t, and so you force your eyes to skim over the lines of the book, reading words that used to be familiar and now feel like excerpts from a different life.

*****

Yoongi likes the rain. It’s calm, soothing, and he feels like the world stops rushing when it’s under the clouds. Like he can sit back, relax and enjoy the coffee on the table in front of him. He’s ordered it black, and though it’s a little too warm, he still enjoys every single sip he takes of it.

Jimin isn’t here yet. But Yoongi doesn’t mind – he likes watching the droplets of water racing on the window. It keeps his thoughts busy, keeps them from running back to you and Jungkook and the night you fucking sexted with Jungkook while he was sleeping next to you.

His first thought had been to be mad at you, but then he’d figured he could twist this to his advantage. Because he knew you and Jungkook both felt guilty, and it now shows in the way you take care of him.

And maybe he is sick and twisted for enjoying the sex life like this, but he reckons he deserves it after you’ve cheated on him.

He’s aware he should confront you. Should tell you how it made him feel, even though you were quick to make sure Yoongi was involved too. The situation just broke some part of him, and he highly doubts it will ever be fixed. For now, he’s just content as he sits back and enjoys what’s left of the relationship before it goes up in flames.

He never knew he was such a petty person. Or maybe getting involved with Jeon Jungkook just brought out the worst of him. Which, he reckons, he should have expected. Because Jungkook has a tendency to do that to all of the relationships Yoongi has seen him involved in.

It’s no wonder he’s never had a girlfriend.

The bell by the doors of the café rings, and Yoongi knows it’s Jimin before he’s even looked towards the entrance. Maybe because he’s too aware of Jimin now – he’s been searching for the man in every room, every crowd, ever since that night that changed everything.

He has to confront you. He’s aware that lying about staying at work late isn’t all that better than what you did. But Jimin is like the rain – he’s soothing, calming, and maybe it helps with fixing the jagged pieces of Yoongi’s broken heart and trust, and he likes keeping that part of his life to himself.

At least for now.

Jimin’s smile is blinding when he sits in front of Yoongi. He’s got a tote bag, and he pulls two books out before he even says hello.

“I got us some reading for tonight,” Jimin finally says, and he shakes the water from his hair. And then the smile falls into the soft one that renders Yoongi unable to think as he says, “Thank you for the coffee.”

Because Yoongi memorized Jimin’s coffee order the first time they got coffee together. It came far too naturally to him – you’re the one he used to remember everything about so easily. But things have changed. You’ve been slipping down a slope, and he knows the end won’t be positive.

“Thank you for the book,” Yoongi says right as he takes the one Jimin offers him.

His blood turns to ice in his veins. He tries not to let it show on his face, even though he freezes right on the spot, as if he’s been suddenly sent straight to orbit with no atmosphere around him to keep his body warm anymore.

It’s the book he and you read on your first date, five years ago. He’d filled it with notes for you, and he knows you keep it in the first drawer of your night table, as if it’s a Bible you like to read to fall asleep every night.

“Something wrong?” Jimin gently asks, his smile slowly wavering until it disappears entirely.

“Sorry…” Yoongi apologizes, though he doesn’t really know what for.

He’s not entirely sure Jimin is the one he should be apologizing to right now.

“It’s just…” he adds when Jimin doesn’t say anything, looking confused. “That’s my girlfriend’s favourite book.”

Jimin looks alarmed. His eyes widen, and he tries to take the book back, though Yoongi holds onto it.

“I’m so sorry,” Jimin says. “I thought… my granddad said it was a good book, so I figured why not?”

“It really is,” Yoongi quickly replies, hoping it would bring back Jimin’s easy smile.

Jimin gulps, looking down at the copy he saved for himself. “Well…” He chuckles, and it’s a little awkward. “I guess we can say your girlfriend has good taste.”

There’s a deeper meaning behind Jimin’s words. Yoongi hears it right away, and something stirs in his chest. Blush creeps on his cheeks, and he tries to push it away, as far away as he can, but he finds he’s too weak to do so.

“She does.”

At that Jimin looks up to meet his gaze again. “Do you still want to read it, though? I know things haven’t been great with her…”

Yoongi has been confiding in Jimin. He hasn’t been able to speak to anyone from his group of friends, mostly because all of them are friends with Jungkook too. They don’t know about what’s been going on, and Yoongi doesn’t want to tell them either.

Though he thinks Namjoon might know, even if he’s never said anything about it.

So he’s been confiding in Jimin instead. Every night that they meet for coffee, or those that Yoongi goes to help at Seojun’s bookstore. It’s been like therapy for him, though he reckons Jimin might not be the person he should be confiding in.

Not when the crush he has for the man feels a little too real.

Another thought that he pushes away, or tries to. He’s not sure that it works, but it does chase Jungkook and you out of his thoughts.

“We can read it if you want,” he tells Jimin. “I promise it’s worth the read.”

Jimin offers him a careful smile. “Sounds good.” He pauses, cheeks tinting with pink as he looks down at the coffee Yoongi got for him. “Next time I’ll let you choose the book.”

*****

Jungkook shifts, keeping his features cool and composed as the shutter of the camera goes off. He tilts his head to the side for the next picture, then looks away. He’s been at it for what feels like hours now, and he frankly can’t wait to be done.

Though the work has been a well-deserved reprieve from his churning thoughts.

He moves into another pose, staring down the camera with a slight frown on his features, head tilted back. The camera shutter goes off again, and he’s about to move into another position when the director yells, “Cut!”

Jungkook breaks into a smile, though he doesn’t really know why. Maybe because he actually likes this – the posing, the modelling, feeling as if he’s the shit for a moment.

It helps him forget that you are Yoongi’s, and not his.

Jungkook walks away from where they were shooting, and the fashion designer that chose the outfits for the day approaches him, a smile on her lips.

A pretty smile that matches her equally pretty features. Boring though – they’re lacking something that he can’t quite put a finger on.

“You did great,” she compliments him as they near a table with snacks and water bottles for the staff.

Jungkook grabs a water bottle, opening it and taking a long, refreshing sip. “It was all you,” he flirts back, though he wasn’t quite sure she was flirting to begin with.

When he notices her features turning a light shade of pink, he knows he hit his mark.

“Please,” she says, scoffing as she shakes her head in a self-deprecating manner. “I barely did anything.”

He smirks. “Give yourself some credit, you did a good job.”

She wets her lips, the tint on her cheeks darkening. “Well then, thank you.”

There’s a silence as he drinks some more, and she grabs a quarter of an egg sandwich that she bites in with her head turned away from him. He imitates her, grabbing some for himself, only then realizing that he’s famished.

So he eats his fill with her next to him, in a silence that ought to be uncomfortable but isn’t quite so. And maybe it’s the way she eyes him, like he’s the dessert, that leads him to suggest heading somewhere quiet.

He sees the debate, the conflict in her eyes, because clearly this would be unprofessional. And she’s pretty, wearing a fashionable outfit that looks like she belongs in a lawyer office more than on a photoshoot. It hugs her frame right, and when she turns he gets a good look at her ass, at how the fabric stretches on her…

And he feels his dick slowly hardening.

“If we get caught, I’ll lose my job,” she answers, voice low as her gaze falls to the floor as if she’s ashamed.

As if she didn’t approach him for this in the first place.

“Then you’ll have to keep silent, mmh?” Jungkook fires back, voice low and sultry.

He sees the instant she folds. It’s in the way she bites her lips, and somehow the gesture is too familiar, sending a pang through his heart as you take over his thoughts.

Yet he follows the woman, watching her ponytail swing left and right with every step she takes. She leads him to an unused dressing room, and he catches sight of the rainy world outside as she locks the door behind them.

A rainy world, to match the rainy thoughts that have been clouding him.

She takes a step towards him, and though he’s faced away from her, she touches him, hand moving shyly on his back. He’s not sure he likes the shyness – he prefers your confidence, the way you touch him like he’s yours.

And maybe he is. Maybe he’s been for a lot longer than he’ll ever admit to anyone.

He turns around, forcing his lips into what he hopes is a lustful smirk. Eyes slightly narrowed, he looks down at the girl, and he realizes he doesn’t even remember her name.

He doesn’t care. He still crashes his lips on hers, pushing her back until she hits the door. And a moment later they are naked from the waist down, and her legs are around him as he pounds into her, her fingers digging in his shoulders as she lets out breathy sounds.

She feels good. He can’t deny it – her pussy squeezes his dick just right. But once again there’s just something lacking, and frustration slowly takes over him until he carries her to a desk, so that he can put her down and fuck her harder, trying to get rid of the frustration.

But it never goes away. No matter who he fucks, the frustration clings to him like a second skin, like he’s been cursed and will forever be haunted.

So he fucks the girl, holds her waist possessively even though he doesn’t give a shit about her. His eyes trail to the world outside – the raindrops are rolling on the window, partaking in a race he’s never understood.

He doesn’t mind the rain. Prefers cloudy or sunny weather over it, only because it makes riding his bike more fun, but he doesn’t mind the rain. He just feels as if the world goes too slow when it’s raining, as if his thoughts are one second away from catching up to him.

They always are. Always are far too close for comfort, as if he’s about to lose the race. And he knows he is – he feels how everything has been shifting between you and Yoongi. It all changed that night you and he sexted while Yoongi was asleep. Yoongi has been more demanding, colder, and Jungkook can tell that Yoongi’s detaching himself from the situation. Perhaps as a coping mechanism, so that he won’t feel the emotions.

Jungkook envies his friend for being able to do so, as his own emotions have been choking him. Until he can barely breathe, until he doesn’t even feel the girl as she squirms under him.

He doesn’t come. He gets bored before he does, pulling out so that he can finger her instead, mechanically. He does it until she comes, until she squirts all over the floor, and then he tells her he has to go. Tells her thank you, and tells her that he’ll reach out to hang out again soon.

He won’t. It’s just something he found helps with ghosting in general. Which, he knows he’ll ghost her.

He’s ghosted everyone that got close to him after he’s started fucking you and Yoongi. Because no one ever compares to you, and he frankly doesn’t even want to find someone else.

He leaves the girl behind, leaves that dressing room to find his, where he takes a quick shower before changing into his own clothes. He grabs his motorcycle helmet, curses the rain as a few minutes later he’s rolling on the streets.

And when he’s home, he immediately uncorks his whiskey bottle, pouring himself a large glass that he drinks watching the rain outside, wondering why is it that he got attached to the only thing he’ll never have.

*****

It’s almost midnight when you realize that Yoongi might not be coming back home tonight. You texted him twice in the evening, and though your messages were delivered he still hasn’t read them.

You know he never checks his phone when he’s at work, but you highly doubt he’s still at work at this hour. And though you’re wearing one of his shirts, he’s never felt as much of a stranger as he does right now.

You try to forget it by looking at pictures of moments passed, of days and nights with him years ago when you believed he was the love of your life.

And though you still believe he is, you��re realizing that he doesn’t feel the same about you anymore. That somewhere between that first night with Jungkook and today, Yoongi changed.

You’re not stupid. You know exactly what caused the change, and you can’t help but hate yourself for it. To hate Jungkook, to hate Yoongi, for accepting to get involved with Jungkook. You should have known better – should have chosen someone you didn’t know.

Fear takes a hold of your heart, and you sit up in bed.

Is Yoongi with Jungkook, doing to you what you did to him weeks ago?

It hurts. You reckon it hurts and it’s hard to breathe, but then again you could never be mad at him for doing something with Jungkook without you being there. You think it’d be normal that the two friends got closer after having fucked – you yourself got a lot closer to Jungkook. But the thought still makes your blood feel like liquid acid, burning up your insides until you force yourself to grab your phone.

You go to your text messages as you worry at your bottom lip, pulling at the bit of dry skin you find there. Even through the anxiety that’s slowly taking hold of you, you make a mental note to do a lip mask soon, to help with the dryness.

It’s the only normal thought you are bound to have tonight, isn’t it? Because you immediately text Jungkook, asking if he knows where Yoongi is. And through a blurry vision you wait for his reply, your teeth now nibbling at your nails in an anxious manner you thought you’d gotten rid of years ago.

To your surprise, Jungkook replies in under five minutes.

[00:07 am] Jungkook: no clue [00:08 am] Jungkook: is something wrong

You don’t know how to answer. You think everything went wrong a while ago. You think Yoongi is sand slipping through your fingers, or perhaps he’s turned into the void between the stars where there used to be light. You think that though spring is reigning over the world outside, winter has found the land of your soul, and you’re not sure it’s ever going to leave.

[00:09 am] You: idk… [00:09 am] You: he said he’d be at work until late tonight but it’s past midnight… [00:10 am] You: he’s just an accountant, wtf would an accountant do at work so late at night

Jungkook’s reply takes a while to come in. As if he too needed to take a moment to analyze the situation, to face the gravity of it. Or you’re the only one that feels like the ground has slipped beneath your feet, and you’re about to go over the edge of the cliff.

[00:16 am] Jungkook: I can pick you up and we can go see if his car is at his job

Your eyes slide to the world outside. You haven’t pulled the curtains shut before lying in bed, as if you’d see Yoongi coming home this way even though you live on the upper levels of the building. But you do notice that rain seems to have given way to fog, though it isn’t thick enough to make driving in the night dangerous.

But would it be a good idea? To go chasing the night searching for Yoongi?

And then an entire other scenario takes a hold of you. Steals the breath from your lungs, makes your whole body hurt as if you’ve been set on fire.

What if he’s hurt? What if he got in a car crash on his way home, and he never made it?

What if he’s lying somewhere in a ditch, just waiting to be found?

You don’t fight the tears. Don’t fight a single one of them as they come pouring, just like the rain earlier today.

[00:18 am] You: would you mind?

Jungkook’s reply comes right away this time around.

[00:18 am] Jungkook: ofc not, I’ll be there in 20

So you get dressed, putting on a pair of black sweatpants along with a thick long-sleeved sweater. You stand by the door as you wait for Jungkook to arrive, almost hoping that Yoongi will be the one to cross the threshold first.

As you wait, you watch yourself in the mirror. You look distressed – eyes bloodshot from the tears that keep coming and going, dark bags under your gaze from the lack of sleep. Because of course you haven’t been sleeping well.

How could you sleep well when you’ve been feeling the love of your life slipping through your fingers?

Jungkook gets here faster than twenty minutes. You don’t want to ask how fast he was driving, especially not as his first reaction when you open the door is to pull you to his chest, holding you tight against him. Your tears free fall again, and you grab a hold of his jacket in your fists, clenching them on the fabric so hard you think it might rip. If Jungkook cares he doesn’t say it, instead lowering his head to rest his cheek on the top of your head.

“I’m sure he’s okay,” he tells you, voice velvety soft in its reassurance. “He’s okay.”

That second sentence feels like it was uttered more for Jungkook than for you. You reckon Jungkook does care for Yoongi. Probably more than as a friend, now that he’s been sleeping with you both.

“He has to be,” you reply, lips trembling.

Jungkook holds you tighter and he turns until his lips softly land a kiss to the side of your head. In the heaviness of the moment, it grounds you, and you pull away just enough to look at Jungkook.

His big eyes meet yours, and you wish you could read him. Though you think you’re starting to be able to, and you don’t want to see what’s in his eyes. So you take a step back, and he sucks on his piercing, before nodding once.

“I brought an extra helmet for you,” he says, and he hands it to you.

You look at it as if it’s a foreign thing to you. And it is – you’ve never ridden a bike before.

“You came with your bike?” you ask, carefully drying the tears that slipped on your cheeks.

He nods. “I do have a car but it’s at the repair shop right now.”

You let out a noncommittal sound as you grab the helmet, testing the weight in your hands, wondering what it’ll feel like on your head. Jungkook watches as you do so, still toying with his piercing mindlessly.

“Ready?”

You take a deep breath, pushing away the image of Yoongi dead in a ditch from your mind, before nodding your head.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

*****

Yoongi didn’t see the time fly. When the café owner told him and Jimin that they were closing for the night, Yoongi’s gaze had widened. He’d been so into the book, rereading it for the first time in years, that he really hadn’t seen the time fly.

But he doesn’t really mind. He should, he knows he should, but Jimin is great company, so he doesn’t. He walks behind Jimin outside, avoiding puddles left over by the rain earlier. The rain has ceased now, but the world smells of it still, and the pavement reflects the orange glow of the streetlights as if it’s a mirror.

“Good thing it’s not raining anymore,” Jimin comments, looking over his shoulder at Yoongi.

Yoongi cocks an eyebrow. “You don’t like the rain?”

“I do,” Jimin answers as he turns back to look where he’s going. “But I don’t like driving in the rain, you know?”

Yoongi mindlessly walks a little faster until he’s able to walk side by side with Jimin, and his cheeks burn as their hands brush against each other. He pretends nothing happened, and so does Jimin.

And even though his heart is thundering in his chest, Yoongi says, “Yeah, driving in the rain does suck.”

“Don’t take me wrong though,” Jimin adds quickly. “It was all worth it tonight.”

Yoongi gulps. “It was?”

There’s silence, and Yoongi thinks about you for a time. He wonders if you’re waiting for him. He’s seen your texts, and maybe he’s an asshole for not replying, but he feels like something changed today.

Or maybe something broke, he’s not sure. He just knows that he can’t bring himself to answer you, and he also doesn’t want to go home right now. It does make him sad, for a fraction of a second. Because once upon a time you meant the world to him. You just don’t anymore.

“I like spending time with you, Yoongi,” Jimin says, voice soft, as he brushes his hand against Yoongi’s again.

Yoongi instinctively pulls his hand away, yet he still answers, “Me too.”

It’s the truth. He does enjoy every second he spends with Jimin. Perhaps because Jimin is easy, easier than you. Easier than this whole mess that is Jungkook and you and the threesomes.

Jimin stops, and Yoongi follows suit a step ahead. He turns around to look at Jimin, and the slightly pained expression on Jimin’s features feels like his heart has been stabbed, and he almost instinctively rubs at his chest, over the spot that aches.

“Why are you staying with her?” Jimin asks.

Why? Why indeed. Yoongi doesn’t even know – maybe he’s just too bad with confrontation. Maybe he doesn’t want to break your heart – though he knows Jungkook would be quick to fix it. Maybe it’s the familiarity of his life with you that’s keeping him from doing it. Maybe it’s the fear of losing something that was once great.

He really doesn’t know.

And as he stands there, holding Jimin’s gaze, Yoongi realizes something. Something he probably has known for a while, but refused to acknowledge. He’s stopped loving you a long time ago. Because you’re not the one that he loves anymore.

No, that person is Jimin.

Even though it breaks him, Yoongi closes the space between him and Jimin, grabbing the younger man’s cheeks softly as he presses his lips on Jimin’s.

Jimin is quick to kiss him back, to sigh against Yoongi’s mouth as he takes even a step closer. Jimin’s hands grab at the lapels of Yoongi’s coat, pulling him flush against him. Yoongi wonders if Jimin can feel the wild beats of his heart in his chest, where his fists rest against him.

When Jimin sighs again, Yoongi slips his tongue between his plump lips, and this time Jimin lets out a breathy sound that electrifies Yoongi as if he’s been hit by lightning.

He doesn’t think about you then. Doesn’t think about Jungkook either. All there is in the land of his mind is Jimin, and Jimin’s kiss is healing.

Jimin’s presence in his life has been healing since the very first day Yoongi saw him.

“Come home with me tonight,” Jimin breathes when they pull away.

Yoongi rests his forehead against Jimin’s, still gently cupping the man’s cheeks. “I can’t.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything for a moment, just keeps holding on to Yoongi. And Yoongi wishes the moment could stop – he feels the guilt slowly creeping in on him.

“Why did you kiss me?”

Because he wanted to. Yet Yoongi can’t bring himself to tell Jimin. Not when he thinks of you at home, waiting for him, not knowing that he’s been out at night falling in love with someone else for weeks now.

“I need to go home…”

Jimin bristles, and he steps away from Yoongi. He looks hurt, and rightfully so. Though Yoongi doubts Jimin’s pain even comes close to what you’ll feel when he’ll tell you what happened.

If he tells you.

“Alright then,” Jimin says, and there’s bitterness in his tone. In the way he furrows his brows, features turning harsh, cold. “Go home to her.”

It occurs to Yoongi that Jimin has probably been jealous of you for a while now. Has probably wanted Yoongi for longer than Yoongi has even wanted him.

Would he be a fool to let him slip away?

Would it change anything if he kissed Jimin again?

He tells himself he’s just trying to smooth the lines between Jimin’s brows when he does so. When he pulls Jimin flush against him, and their teeth collide as they kiss languidly. Jimin tastes sweet, even as the taste of coffee lingers in his mouth. It’s not as bitter as it should be – not when Jimin kisses so damn well.

So Yoongi lets himself forget about you for a time. Lets the part of him that’s been aching since that night you and Jungkook sexted take control. Maybe he’s trying to get revenge. Maybe he’s trying to hurt you like you hurt him. He doesn’t know.

Maybe he’s just stupid – he could have broken up with you before getting together with Jimin. But he thinks he’s made his decision weeks ago now, that first time he hung out with Jimin saying that he was staying at work late.

So when Jimin once again asks Yoongi to come home with him, he says yes. He follows Jimin to his car, though they only make it to the backseat. And as Jimin rides his cock, moaning as his fingers dig into Yoongi’s shoulders, rain starts again, drowning out the sounds of their passion.

*****

Yoongi’s car wasn’t in the parking lot of his job. Jungkook refused to tell you what he thought was going on. Not as you started crying again, and asked if he could drive you to the nearest hospital. Because the second Jungkook saw that Yoongi’s car wasn’t there, and you admitted that Yoongi had been coming home later and later every day, Jungkook knew that Yoongi has been cheating on you.

So Jungkook agreed to drive you to the nearest hospital, and you’re halfway there now. Your arms are wrapped around his waist, and you’re a comforting warmth behind him. He wishes he could stop your heart from breaking, wishes he could take the pain away so that you wouldn’t have to experience it at all.

Fuck, even he is hurting. Because Yoongi and you ending means you and him will end too, and he doesn’t think he’s ready to let that go. So when they tell you that they don’t have anyone under the name of Min Yoongi at that first hospital, and you ask to go to another one, Jungkook drives you.

He tries to enjoy your closeness as much as he can, even as rain starts again, though it’s barely even pouring. He drives carefully, slower than he usually does on his bike. And when your arms tighten around him, he hopes you can’t feel his heart breaking in his chest.

You don’t declare yourself defeated until after the fourth hospital. Jungkook waits with you in the lobby as you sit on a bench, head hanging low. You’re not crying, but he can almost hear your thoughts where he’s standing next to you.

They’re even louder when he sits next to you, and you shift infinitesimally closer to him, as if you need his support.

Voice small, you say, “What if he was kidnapped?”

And Jungkook reckons maybe you’re refusing to face the truth. Like a coping mechanism – you’d rather paint Yoongi in a thousand different perspectives instead of one where he’d cheat on you. It shows Jungkook just how much you love your boyfriend, and for a moment he’s struck dumb, wishing that that night five years ago he’d been the one to approach you at the bar.

Even if you had clearly declined giving your number to him. He doesn’t know if you remember, and he’s pretty sure now is not the right time to ask.

“Maybe he’ll answer me,” Jungkook carefully says, and he feels stupid for not texting or calling Yoongi before.

And so he grabs his phone as you watch him, hope etched on your features. He feels like he’s a monster, like he’s about to take your heart and throw it to the rocks at the foot of the metaphorical cliff you’re standing on.

Because he sees it. He sees the pain in your features, sees the way you’re holding onto one last thread. He doesn’t want to be the one to cut it, but then again he’d be there to catch you.

He’s been waiting to catch you. It’s selfish, terribly so, and he looks away from you to call Yoongi.

Yoongi picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?” he lets out, sounding a little breathless.

You freeze. You freeze, unblinking, as if you were on a screen and Jungkook pressed pause.

“Hey, hyung?” Jungkook says.

There’s some mumbling on the other side of the line, all the confirmation that he needs to know Yoongi is indeed cheating on you.

“Why are you calling?” Yoongi asks, and he sounds annoyed.

Jungkook hates himself for what he says next. “Are you okay? Y/n is worried about you.”

There’s a pause on the other side of the line. As if Yoongi is holding his breath, as perhaps he’s faced with the consequences of what he’s doing.

“Yeah, everything is okay. You can tell her I’m heading home.”

Jungkook nods, still not looking at you. He’s not ready to face the destruction head on. “Okay, I’ll let her know.”

And then Yoongi is hanging up, not saying anything else. Jungkook doesn’t move, sitting in silence in the artificial light of that hospital lobby, watching people in scrubs and casual clothing walking around as if the world has not just stopped for you next to him.

“He must have been at work, then,” you murmur. “Maybe we just didn’t see his car.”

Jungkook hears his heart shattering on the tiles of the floor at the innocence in your voice. He says your name like you’re a fragile porcelain, like his hands are too clumsy to ever dare to hold you.

“Please,” is all you say.

He understands. So he asks, “Do you want to head home?”

“No.”

He nods, and he finally looks at you. Finally looks at your pale features, and the utter lack of feeling in your eyes. It hits so hard he thinks he gets a concussion from it, and he watches you, mind spinning in pain and sadness.

And though he wants to apologize, wants to say that it’s all his fault, all he manages to say is, “There’s a place I go to when I need to think. Do you want me to take you there?”

You meet his gaze, and he realizes you weren’t focusing on him before. Because now that you do he feels as if a train just ran into him, and he wishes he wouldn’t be able to feel. Yet he feels – feels for you and your broken heart. For Yoongi, who sacrificed you, and for what?

“Sure,” is all you reply.

So even if it’s raining, Jungkook starts driving you to that place where he went to weeks ago, where the sky meets the ocean and he can just stop thinking for a moment. He makes sure you hold him tight, though when the rain doubles up you’re forced to stop under a bridge, the last one before you’ll exit the city proper.

You climb down from his bike, and Jungkook watches you as you stand to the side. You don’t remove the helmet, as if it’s shelter for your broken eyes, and he doesn’t force you to. He removes his, puts it on the seat and then stands closer to you.

He just now realizes that your clothes aren’t made to ride in the rain. So he removes his jacket, handing it to you.

“Put this on, you’re going to catch a cold.”

You don’t move, and so Jungkook walks behind you, gently draping it over you. He shivers as he moves back in front of you, and he watches the reflections of the streetlights in the visor of your helmet as you just stand there, entirely motionless.

“We’ll keep going as soon as the rain stops,” he tells you. He grabs his phone from his pocket, going to the weather app. “Which should be in about twenty minutes.”

At that you turn towards the pillar of the bridge, and then make your way to it so that you can sit with your back to it. There’s something so defeated in the gesture that convinces Jungkook to make his way to you, sitting next to you even though he reckons it probably is unsanitary.

He can always wash the clothes later. He’s not sure he can afford to wait to keep you from breaking so thoroughly that no amount of fixing would bring you back.

“When I was a kid,” Jungkook starts, not knowing where to go, “I got bullied a lot.”

You don’t react, and he’s not sure if you’re listening. He just needs to fill the silence with truth, and so he decides to give you a piece of himself he’s never given to anyone before.

“Like a lot,” he continues. “It got to a point where older kids would beat me up. And my parents didn’t really want to do anything because they wanted me to fit in. But one day my father told me to punch them back.”

He remembers everything with vivid clarity. He remembers being nine years old, terrified to go to school because he wasn’t sure he’d survive the day. He remembers the stitches he’d needed on his cheek when they’d punch so hard it cut his skin open. He remembers the taste of the blood in his mouth when his lip split with the force of the punches. He remembers everything in such vivid clarity that he feels as if he’s been taken back then.

“And so I did,” he adds. “I punched back, and I quickly realized that I was good at it. So I started boxing.” He pauses, looking towards you. “But I wanted to be an artist. I wanted to paint, or maybe to sing. I’ve always loved singing.”

At that you do move. You take off the helmet, and the sight of your bloodshot eyes as tears roll freely on your cheeks makes him want to reach out, to hold you.

But he doesn’t dare do it, doesn’t want to take advantage of you.

“I’ve never heard you sing,” you say, voice raucous from crying.

He shrugs. “I don’t sing in front of people.”

You nod, and then fall into silence as you just look to the side. Jungkook looks in the same direction, watching the rain fall on and on, endlessly. It doesn’t seem like it’s going to let up anytime soon, so he figures he needs to say something else, to find something that might take the pain away from your eyes. And so he thinks about the rest of the story, thinks about what he left out from what he just told you.

“My dad was an alcoholic,” he admits, and your face turns towards him so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if you got whiplashed. “He beat my mom whenever he got too drunk. Never once touched me or my brother. But when I was old enough, when I finally knew how to fight, I protected her.”

What you do then entirely undoes Jungkook. He feels raw, like everything inside of him opens up, and he’s just left with this downpour of emotions, something that matches the rain beyond the bridge, this safe haven he’s found with you.

You put your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him. To hold him, to keep him from breaking. Or at least that’s what it feels like.

It feels like you’re his salvation, and he knows you’ve always been anyway.

“He beat me so hard I ended up in the hospital,” Jungkook continues. “We fled the day I got out. My mom, my brother and I. We never once looked back.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

He shrugs. “Please don’t be. I’m okay now.”

You don’t answer anything to that, just hold him tighter. And Jungkook watches the rain, listens to the soothing sound of it, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. He doesn’t know why he chose this moment to reveal his demons to you – why he chose to make this about him. He feels horrible for it, but when you look at him next, he wonders if maybe you needed to hear something of the sort.

Needed to know that though there are horrors in this world, one can always make it out of it if they keep pushing on.

“You’re a beautiful person, inside,” you tell him. “I should have realized before.”

The lump in his throat grows too big for him to swallow it, and a tear rolls down his cheek. You dry it with infinite softness, and then you share a look. It seems to last an eternity, but you eventually glance away, and he thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe.

“Looks like the rain has stopped,” you say as your gaze stops on the street beyond the bridge.

Jungkook snaps out of the moment, looking in the same direction. “Seems so.”

His voice is rough, raw and filled with emotions he never expected he’d face with you. Yet he did, and he’s not afraid. He just hopes he can bring you comfort tonight, so that you aren’t afraid, too. So that you know that, even though the next few days are going to be hell, you don’t have to face them alone.

“Where is that place you wanted to show me?”

He smiles through the emotions, through the pain and the fear and the memory of what you and Yoongi are – were. Of what he and Yoongi are. Of what they will be when you’ll eventually go home to Yoongi. Though he doesn’t think you’ll really go home to Yoongi. After what Yoongi’s done…

The fear doubles up, freezes up his blood. Because what if he’s the one you leave behind? What if you forgive Yoongi, and Yoongi forgives you? He knows you both love each other. Or at least he knows you love Yoongi.

Will you even break up with Yoongi?

And even if you don’t, does he want to leave you alone tonight?

He chooses not to, getting up and offering you a hand. You take it, and he pulls you to your feet. Holds your gaze as you stand right in front of him, not letting go of his hand. He looks at your lips, remembering kissing you. Remembering every searing kiss, every embrace he’s hoped meant more.

Did they mean anything to you? Only time will tell.

You step back, letting go of his hand, and take off his jacket so that he can put it back on. He wants to refuse, but you’re adamant. So he gives in, puts it back on, and then you’re back on the road, heading to the ocean. Jungkook didn’t realize how much time passed until you get to the spot overlooking the sea, and the horizon is slightly lighter than the sky overhead.

You stand by the ocean, wind whipping at your hair, but the rain is entirely gone now. The air is warmer than one would expect for a late night or early morning of May, though the ocean mist is freezing. You don’t seem like you care: you stand by the water, watching the waves hit the rock as if you’re a queen overlooking her subjects.

And Jungkook watches you, unable to tear his gaze away from you, until you start crying again. But you cry in silence, don’t let the sobs shake you, as you stare at the horizon. As you watch the sun as it slowly rises, painting the clouds in liquid gold. You watch the beauty of nature, while Jungkook watches yours, wondering if this is one of his last moments with you.

He’ll let you go if that’s what you want. If, in the end, you and Yoongi choose each other.

So he watches your features, watches you break, watches you compose yourself until the clouds are no longer gold, and you ask him to go home. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of, only that he feels like the clock is about to hit its last second, and he wants to hold on.

But he’ll let you go.

*****

You watch the sunrise from that cliff over the ocean, listening to the waves crashing against the rocks. You understand why Jungkook brought you here – there’s some sort of serenity in the air, like your life is inconsequential.

Like breaking and healing and breaking again are just part of the cycle of nature, of life. Like the sunrise – it doesn’t stop. Every day it comes back, a promise that no pain can last forever. So you embrace the pain. Let it tear at you. You’d expected to break in screams and yells and sobs and curses, but you break in tears, silently rolling down your cheeks. You break in watching the sunrise, peacefully, just an astral body fully unaware of your woes.

And you also break for the man next to you. Who offered you a piece of his soul tonight, so that you wouldn’t be alone. Though his pain is different, older, there’s some sort of comfort in knowing that you alone don’t hold the weight of the universe.

And as you watch the sunrise, you realize that everyone suffers. That the human experience stems from suffering, as it’s the only way you can also know happiness. The only way you can taste the salt on the wind and think ‘Shit, I’m alive’.

The world is beautiful. And though going home will be hell, though facing Yoongi will be hell, you remind yourself that you’re alive. You prepare yourself for the ride home, breathing in the sun and the wind and the ocean. When you’re ready, you turn towards Jungkook, and ask him to bring you home.

He looks troubled, but perhaps he notices the serenity on your features. Perhaps he’s too felt the soothing balm of the sunrise, of endings and new beginnings. Because he brings you home, his bike purring under you as it eats miles and miles to the city, and then some more to your home.

Jungkook drops you off outside, and you give him back the helmet you’ve been using all night. He takes it, putting it safely under the seat. You watch him do so, and ache fills your heart once he climbs back on his bike.

He looks at you, and your gazes connect through his open visor.

“Thank you for tonight,” you tell him.

You think he gulps, but you’re starting to be a little too tired to interpret him. “Of course,” he says. He adds your name, before continuing, “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

You smile at him, though you reckon it’s etched in sadness. Etched in heaviness. You wonder if his heart shares the burden, if he feels just like you do. And you wonder if he too has been breaking all night.

“Thank you,” you repeat.

He nods, and you watch him blink a few times. You’re fully aware he’s blinking back tears, yet you don’t do anything. Just watch him.

“If you need me, I’m just a call away,” he says.

You can’t say anything. Because you don’t think you’d be able to be with him, to find comfort in him. Not when he might have been the catalyst to this whole shitshow. So all you do is nod, and he looks at you for a moment longer until he finally decides to go.

He pulls down his visor, turning towards the street. And then he’s gone.

As you watch him go, farewells hanging in the air, you tuck him into a corner of your heart. Somewhere safe, somewhere nothing ever happened between you and him. Somewhere untainted, pure, and then you whisper, looking at where he disappeared, “Goodbye, Jungkook.”

Prev | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

:((((( gosh this one is so sad :') (it might only get worse from here). What did we think? Did we like it? Let me know!

Taglist (add yourself to the taglist here) (strike-through means dumblr isn't letting me tag you):

#sinful lust ch 5 #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #yoonkook x reader #yoongi x you #jungkook x you #yoonkook x you #sinful lust #sinful lust series #btswritersclub #yoongi #jungkook #yoongi fic #jungkook fic

306 notes · View notes

wanderingconstellations · 7 months

Text

This was rotting in my drafts.. but here you go.

Fem reader with small tits.. yes, I'm giving y'all representation. Teasing Wanderer who wouldn't give in to your horny fantasies. Public-ish..

This was rushed at the end.. So sorry, I'm exhausted from writing four writings at 1AM in the morning 😞

He would've been lying that he didn't find it cute how you get so easily riled up, and the fact that he can see your nips poking through your shirt. That gives him a chance to further tease the hell out of you. By teasing, the it's actually him pinching your nips out of nowhere and rubbing your folds through your panties.

You're just so embarrassed, doing something so filthy inside the library, so shameful, but it feels so good, so so good, much better than putting your mind on studying.

"Focus, you have an exam tomorrow. I'm sure you don't want to fail it do you?"

You don't, but he's rubbing n' touching you, how can you focus at this state? You're practically leaking out of your panties, even more from his words.

Your hands tremble as you do your best to read and collect all of the information about the reading as much as you can, you're mind is filled with filthy, lewd thoughts, how can you even focus when he's rubbing your clit under your skirt at such a painfully slow pace?

"C'mon, you can do it. You're doing great."

Absolutely not. You're practically sweating right now, biting your tongue and hoping no one sees you reduced into such a pathetic state. Your fingers tremble as it tries to get a grip on your pencil, weakly dragging it along and underlining certain sentences, making annotations.. and what else? You can't even think properly because of his stupid, long fingers that are roaming n' gripping at anywhere.

"I-I can't.. I can't focus.."

"Can't? I know you can, just keep going. Rewards are only after your studies, sweetheart?"

With a grin, he moves your panties aside, just for him slowly push his fingers into your heat, letting it envelope his fingers. You gasp and practically whimpered at the feeling.

Rewards.

Oh you just want to be fucked right now, so so bad. It wouldn't be a surprise if you just.. unzip his pants and bounce on his cock for some time.. that would've been nice.

“R-Right..” you mumbled, mind hazy with the thought of his cock inside of you. You're so worked up.. how can you handle all of this torture! Too bad this was gonna go on for hours..

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin smut #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact x you #smut brainrot #wanderer x you #wanderer x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact fanfic #wanderer x reader smut #wanderer smut #wanderer imagines #wanderer #genshin impact wanderer #genshin drabbles #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x female reader

272 notes · View notes

usiel21 · 6 months

Text

The Trauma of Enid Sinclair.

After her fight with the Hyde, Enid can't forget that night, seeing Wednesday covered in blood, the knife wound that was going to kill Wednesday haunts her dreams. Every night. Her dreams filled with an image of Wednesday dead, slumped over, knife sticking out of her gut.

It fills Enid with a ruthless determination.

Every morning at home she wakes up and does 100 push ups. No exceptions and then goes for a run.

The six full moons over the two month period should be ones of joy, but she spends each one, alone, away from the pack, hunting. Honing her instincts. Each one culminating in a kill so bloody and so savage that even her mother can't bring herself to criticize it, the deers and a singular bear have been mauled beyond the point of reason. She leaves the carcasses on the back porch with the other kills.

Her brothers begin to fear the savagery that their little sister is now capable of.

The return to Nevermore is a quiet one, her heart sings in elation at seeing Wednesday again. Seeing that she is alive but still recovering.

But Wednesday is far from stupid, she notices the changes in Enid immediately but doesn't comment on it, she finds herself silently counting every push-up and every sit-up. The colour of her roommate is still there albeit jaded.

Enid takes an almost obsessive interest in the investigation revolving around her stalker. Enid studies outcast bestiary encyclopaedias. Making notes and annotations to them. Specifically notes on where the arteries run, where vital organs are located and how far she would have to cut in order to reach them.

Enid wakes up in the night, pads over to Wednesdays bed and carefully presses her fingers to her pulse and hovering her hand by her mouth, feeling the slow outtake of air. She would heave a sigh of relief before going back to sleep.

Thing tells Wednesday everything, the notes, the checking to see if she's still alive. But still she make no comment on it.

The first boy that tries to ask Wednesday out doesn't even get a chance to speak to her, Enid is already there.

"She's not interested, back off" the last two words come out as a growl as her fangs descend and her claws elongate. Once the boy runs away terrified she sheepishly turns to look at Wednesday who only gives her a curt nod in return, it makes Enid preen all the same.

People soon learn that Wednesday is off limits. Well almost all of them that is.

Xavier fucking Thorpe.

It happens on the third botany lesson of the year, with the new teacher, Miss Reeves. Enid watches with intensity and a boiling, bubbling anger as Xavier attempts to flirt with Wednesday, who shows no interest in return.

Yoko notices it first, the extended claws, the yellow eyes but has no time to stop it as Xavier makes a play to hold Wednesdays hand. The other girl flinches away, disgust evident on her face. And Enid sees red, every emotion, every bit of fear, every piece of anger coming to the forefront.

Xavier has no time to react as Enid bolts over her table and tackles Xavier to the floor. The boy screams 'What the fuck?!" as he hits the floor.

the half-transformed wolf snarls and growls above him.

"DO NOT TOUCH HER!" She screams down at him. "Miss Sinclair!" Miss Reeves roars but gulps and takes a step back as the wolf's eyes round on her, a genuine murderous intent gleam there. But Enid backs off but doesn't back down instead she turns until Wednesday is behind her, keeping the her precious raven safe, all eyes are trained on her, all of them now threats to Wednesday.

And all that runs through her head is a singular, terrifying thought.

Protect Mate

Until she feel's Wednesday's hand tentatively come up to brush her fingers.

"Enid, I'm okay, it is okay." Wednesday's soft whisper comes from behind. She whines and whimpers as Wednesday's touch is like a spark upon her skin, so gentle and so soft. Yet Enid doesn't back down, it just gives her an even more greater reason to protect and defend.

Wednesday's whisper is barely audible but regardless everyone hears it.

"My sweet and savage wolf" Wednesday whispers, taking her hand. "Stop...please." the last word is almost pleading. And it shakes Enid out of her kill rage, the claws retract and her face returns to that once sweet girl that everyone would describe as being like sunshine. She ducks her head away, ashamed and mortified. But their eyes meet conveying everything she can't say.

Wednesday's sharp eyes turn to Miss Reeves.

"Inform the rest of the teachers that Enid and I are returning to our room. I will handle this in what way I deem fit." She pauses "If the new principal does not approve then inform him that anyone that messes with Enid will incur the wrath of the Addams clan."

Wednesday pauses to look down at Xavier.

"Touch me again and I won't stop her next time."

Xavier incredulously looks at the girls joined hands and at Enid who is now clinging to Wednesday's arm like a koala bear. But wisely says nothing.

"Come, mi sol" Wednesday gently says, leading Enid from the room.

Miss Reeves rounded on Xavier "You foolish, idiotic boy!" Xavier nearly choked on the words that died in his throat in protest "You know better than to touch a werewolf's mate!"

The walk back to the dorm is a quick and silent one. Until Wednesday locks the door behind them as Enid retreats further into the room.

"You must hate me so much right now, Wends" Enid mutters tearfully.

Wednesday steps forward.

"Why would you think such a ridiculous notion Enid?" Wednesday questions.

"Because of what just happened, Because I'm a shitty friend... because i'm a failure." Enid says, all but breaking down. The tears come thick and fast, every bit of despair, every fear finally letting itself explode.

"If i could have wolfed out you wouldn't have been stabbed!" Enid wails. Wednesday can't say nothing other than watch Enid rip herself to pieces with guilt that isn't just.

"If I had beaten the Hyde faster, if I had been better!" Enid laments "If I had known Thornhill had taken you if I wasn't too busy sucking face with Ajax! I could have stopped it!"

Wednesday moved towards Enid until she was right in front of her, their eyes met.

"If you died I would have died with you." Enid confesses softly.

And Wednesday had never been told something so terrifying. Enid turned away and continued to sob. Wednesday moved until she was right in Enid's personal space.

"But i didn't die, I'm right here Enid. Look at me." Wednesday said. Shimmering Blue eyes met hers and Wednesday held out her hands. Enid's shook as she placed them into the ravens.

"Do you think i care for you so little that if you died against the Hyde i wouldn't have met him in battle knowing that i would come to you even in death?"

Enid's lip quivered at Wednesday's words. Wednesday stepped closer.

"Do you think i could ever hate you? Even when we first met I found I simply couldn't as much as i wanted to."

Enid whimpered.

"Do you think I love you so little..." Enid's eyes widen at the proclamation. "...that even death would have been able to keep me from you?"

"Wends..." Enid can't help but utter, hearing the most loving and romantic thing anyone has ever said to her.

"Your not the only one that lost a part of themselves that night Enid, I lost a part of myself to you and I never want it back"

"That is literally the most loving thing anyone has ever said to me..." Enid whined, bringing their clasped hands to her chest.

"This is not the way I wished to tell you..." Wednesday said, casting her eyes to the floor.

"It was perfect Wends." Enid said stepping closer as Wednesday looks at her again "I..." Enid begins, her words hitching in her throat. "...I..." Wednesday steps closer, they're both so close now that they can feel each other's breath.

"Yes Enid?" Wednesday prompts softly. Enid composes herself enough for the briefest of moments. "...I... I love you!"

And Wednesday is the one that takes the final leap of faith by pushing forwards, their hands clasped tightly together between them at chest level, capturing Enid's lips blissfully with her own, the spiderweb window directly behind them.

Enid cries during their first kiss. The wolf, exhausted half drags Wednesday to her bed, before collapsing upon it with Wednesday in tow, their bodies entwined. Her final thoughts as she drifts off a comfort as she tucks her face into the seers neck.

Mate safe.

Mate in nest.

Mate warm.

Mate happy.

Mate alive.

#wenclair #they're so gay #these are just meant to be small drabbles that somehow end up being 1500 words long Lmao

263 notes · View notes

ghostlyfleur · 7 months

Text

steve harrington is a secret hopeless romantic. at least he thinks he’s secretive…. his girl sees right through him, though. she knows better, knows her boy like the back of her hand.

her stevie is long love letters spritzed with perfume that he’s too shy to actually give to you, he’s your lipstick stains on the collar of his shirt, his lover’s scent clinging to him. steve is the color yellow most times, warmth and light and affection, but with his baby he turns red, passionate and desperate and devoted. he is hand holding, shared clothes, wearing his girl’s ring on his pinky finger, heart lockets. written by women, described by taylor swift’s lover album. completely enamored with his baby, loyalty and commitment clear, heart-eyes, forehead kisses. the definition of a puppy boyfriend. head pat, belly rubs, back scratches, butterfly kisses. steve is intimacy, morning sex, make out sessions in the backseat of his car. going down on you for hours, turning his hearing aids up to hear your moans better. your favorite flowers sent to your door with a note filled with his devotion, his adoration. the flowers you give him are kept safely in between pages of your favorite book that became his favorite once you gave him your annotated copy. date nights, drinking wine in the bathtub, cuddling under the night sky. stargazing on the hood of his beamer. slow dancing under the refrigerator lights. talking the ears off of anyone who’ll listen about his beloved. his angel. his best girl. his. your picture on the visor of his car, his bedside table, taped to his mirror, inside his wallet. hand in your back pocket, arm around your shoulder, your smaller hands holding onto his fingers. pinky promises, late night talking and early morning love confessions. dinner at candlelight, picnics surrounded by wildflowers, forehead to forehead touches. kisses. all the kisses. steve harrington is love, reds and pinks and rose gold, ready to kneel at your feet, to worship your body, to shower you in praise. heart racing at the sight of his baby. pulling you closer for a kiss by the necklace he gifted you with an ‘s’ on it. heart-shaped chocolate boxes, teddy bears, red roses, flower petals on the floor, on the bed. the princess treatment. helping to put on and take off your heels. opening doors, hands at the bottom of your spine, carrying you around, piggyback rides. the promise of forever.

251 notes · View notes

wanderersbell · 1 year

Text

between the pages

wanderer x gn!reader

genre: modern!au, meet-cute, fluff

warnings: none

word count: 2206

✧.* a/n: sorry i haven't posted in forever teehee i had to use all of my effort to squeeze this out of my brain ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა

try as you might, it’s impossible not to notice the new customer perusing the bookshelves in the old, worn down shop you’ve taken a job at over the summer. compared to the aged shelves and creaky floors, it’s like seeing a shiny new car in the middle of a junkyard, pristine and vivid against the washed out backdrop.

it’s pleasantly cool inside away from the sweltering july heat so for a moment you’re sure he only ducked in to cool off, but he actually appears to be looking for something as he approaches one of the towering displays.

you watch discreetly from the counter as the boy slides a book out and opens to a random page, little specks of dust floating up from the pages and around him, visible only because of the sunlight from the window in the back that casts its glow right above him.

you cringe a bit at the sight. no matter how often you dust, it never seems to go away, which you suppose is to be expected of such an old little shop. he doesn’t seem to mind though, hardly even seems to notice it as his violet eyes stay fixed on the words in front of him.

he’s beautiful, so much so that you almost wonder if you’re hallucinating the first time he pushes through the door and takes in the towering shelves lined from wall to wall. he has an air of grace that shows through his calculated movements, almost like a robot that’s programmed to be perfect.

but he’s very much real when he finally finds what he’s looking for and brings it up to checkout.

“borrowing or purchasing?” you ask automatically, praying silently that your voice doesn’t sound weird. up close, you realize he can’t be much older than you, and that somehow makes him all the more intimidating.

his eyes are sharp and cold as he meets yours, practically the textbook definition of unapproachable.

“borrowing.” he replies. his voice is a bit softer and higher pitched than you were expecting, but there’s a hint of roughness to it that almost makes your skin prick with goosebumps in a way that you try to ignore.

as you turn away to find the notepad for him to write his information down on, his eyes drift to the whiteboard next to the counter. ‘book of the week’ is written at the top in blue marker, with the title of a novel underneath.

there’s a half written annotation on the board that you were in the middle of jotting down before he walked in. in your opinion it’s messy, unorganized, and impossible to understand. just a jumble of thoughts that you scribbled down as they came to you.

you’re the only one who ever adds anything every week and most people coming in hardly spare it a glance, but when you find what you’re looking for and slide it over to the customer you notice his eyes flitting over your scribbles.

it almost makes you feel self conscious of what you’ve written. it could be worded so much better, and your handwriting looks so much nicer when you slow down a bit, but you hadn’t anticipated anyone actually bothering to read it.

he shifts his attention back to you as soon as he realizes you’re looking at him and he takes the notepad and pen from you without a word.

you fidget with a stapler while he fills it out, suddenly becoming aware of how fast your heart is pounding behind your ribcage. when he’s done he hands it back to you, you hand him the book, and then he turns to leave without another word.

your usual ‘have a good day’ gets caught in your throat for some reason so all you can manage is a small, awkward wave that he doesn’t even notice as the door swings shut behind him.

when you glance down at the ‘borrow’ list, the first thing you notice is his handwriting, somehow equal parts neat and messy. the tops of his letters nearly loop together but blunt angles prevent it from being considered neat. the other thing, is his name.

‘kuni.’

he seems to have chosen not to write his full name, which technically isn’t allowed but also isn’t really that big of a deal at the end of the day, because his phone number is still written where it should be and your boss never checks the list anyway.

the entire thing was such a normal, boring interaction that had it been anybody else you probably would’ve forgotten about it by the next day—but this lingered on your mind throughout the rest of the week.

the following week when he returns the book, he exchanges it for another one. there’s a new novel listed this week, and you don’t even process the fact that kuni pulls his phone out to write down the name of it because your eyes are glued to the red eyeliner lining his lower eyelashes. it’s stark against his pale skin, so perfectly drawn that you once again find yourself questioning whether or not he’s even real.

you almost choke on your spit when his gaze flicks up to meet yours and you quickly slide the ‘borrow’ list over to him, completely missing the way one of his eyebrows quirks up in mild amusement at your reaction.

it takes him a bit longer than last time to write his information down because he pauses to skim over your annotation for this week's book, which is much more presentable this time around.

if you weren’t awkwardly staring at your feet still caught on the fact that he looks like he walked straight out of a painting, you would’ve noticed the flash of an impressed expression on his face, but you keep your eyes pointed down until he sets the pen back into the tin cup to the side with a clink.

when he grabs the book and silently turns to leave, you take a grounding breath.

“have a good day.” you blurt out to his retreating form, internally thanking the heavens that the words come out even and not too quiet.

kuni doesn’t stop walking towards the door, but he turns his head to the side and lifts his hand up in acknowledgement.

“you too.”

you don’t work fridays and the shop is closed on the weekends, but when you return on monday, kuni’s book is already filled out as returned, meaning he must have stopped by on your day off.

you feel a bit bummed out at the fact that you missed him when he came back, but he had replaced it with another so all you can do is hope he’d show up again sometime before friday.

much to your surprise, when you turn around to erase last week's book and change it to another, there’s something new written on the whiteboard.

just off to the side of your previous annotation are notes, scribbled in a slightly familiar somewhat elegant chicken scratch. it takes you a second, but when you realize it’s kuni’s handwriting your heart jumps into your throat.

his notes branch out from what you have written in response, taking in your thoughts and then challenging them with a counter argument that has you thinking from a perspective you hadn’t been able to see before.

after being frozen on the spot for a bit longer, you grab and uncap the marker and start scribbling a response to his response, trying to ignore the excitement thrumming in your limbs.

to think that someone else would take an interest in the featured books, and even bother to pick apart your annotation and invite you to think harder about the story was almost hard to believe.

especially because it’s him.

anyone else might feel a bit bothered having their opinions countered so bluntly, but you’re so stuck on the fact that you have someone to indulge you in this interest that it never even crosses your mind.

when you finish and stand back, an entire half of the whiteboard is taken up by two people’s handwriting where it once would have been nearly empty. instead of erasing it to add the new one, you move to the other side of the board and add the new week’s novel, as well as your thoughts on it that you had organized over the weekend.

still feeling elated by the unexpected happening, the rest of your shift goes by in a flash until an hour before the store closes when kuni finally shows up again, all intimidating sharp gracefulness.

it’s not until he walks up to the counter after wandering off to find something to check out that you finally realize it’s not the featured book he’s returning, and he had actually never even checked out the book that was listed on the whiteboard last week.

you had wanted to say something about the notes, but the way he doesn’t even acknowledge that they exist has you clamming up and doubting whether or not he was even the one who wrote them in the first place. out of the desperate desire to not embarrass yourself, you decide it’s best left unmentioned.

“thanks,” you say almost hesitantly as you add the book to the return pile to put away later and pass him the clipboard so he can cross his previous entry off the list and add a new one.

if only you had been paying attention instead of being lost in your own doubt, you would’ve seen how he eyed the whiteboard and the way a corner of his lips turned up a fraction at your messy reply, but his back is turned and he’s already leaving by the time you look up again.

and you would never know it, but a while later across town a boy with the pretty red eyeliner walks into a library and checks out another book, one that had been hastily written down on an old whiteboard where a pretty person that made his hands sweat with nervousness works.

this continues for another two weeks and another two books before you finally muster the courage to mention it to him. one of the things he had written under your annotation didn’t make any sense to you, and you can’t help but ask the next time he comes in.

he clearly wasn’t expecting you to know that it was him, because he looks absolutely taken aback when the words come out of your mouth.

“what did you mean about the protagonist's actions mirroring the dialogue in the first half?” you try to say this as casually as possible, but your hands are wringing each other behind the counter as you speak. “i mean, i noticed that the emperor almost perfectly predicted what would happen, but it was still super vague.”

it takes kuni a few seconds to gather his bearings before he responds in stride.

“it was in the story one of the elders told.” he explains. “the one that describes the man who had to pass three trials before he could figure out how to lift the curse.”

“oh!” you gasp, finally understanding what he had written. it was such a small section that you had completely overlooked it so you can’t help but feel a little amazed by his attention to detail. “i never caught that, good eye.”

“mn.” he responds stiffly.

in the silence that follows afterwards, neither of you know what to say for a moment. the annoying fluttering is back in your stomach and even though you want to say a million things, not a single word forms on your lips.

“did you know it was me the whole time?” kuni eventually asks, eyes burning holes into the counter.

“yeah, pretty much.” you admit sheepishly.

if you didn’t know any better you would think the tips of his ears looked a little red as you slid the clipboard in his direction, but you decide not to point it out and instead clear your throat and give a pathetic attempt at pushing the conversation forward.

“so did you read the new one?”

you don’t realize how stupid that question is until it’s already out of your mouth given the fact that it’s monday and you had just added the new one to the whiteboard about an hour ago, but he pretends not to notice that and glances behind you to see the title.

“not yet.” kuni replies. “i’ll get around to it tomorrow.”

you can’t stop the smile that takes over your face at his words as a rush of warmth and anticipation fills your chest.

as soon as you begin to internally debate whether or not to ask him where he’s been getting the weekly recommendations if he’s not borrowing them from here, it’s almost like he knows you’re waiting to bring that up because he’s already halfway to the door after he scribbles his information down on the list.

“do you already own all of these books or-“

“see you next week.”

you can’t stop the tiny pfft that slips out as the door swings shut behind him. and just like that, the store is empty again.

#favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #genshin impact x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader

532 notes · View notes