#people are only ever going to want the hot normal acting successful me they know now. they don’t care about where i came from | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

koqabear · 11 months

Text

Pretty Privilege (and its complications…)

♫: California Gurls, Katy Perry // Icky, Kard

“You love your boyfriend more than anything; so much so that you decide to pay a visit to him while he‘s on duty, a perfect excuse to gawk at his perfect form and charming self. Unbeknownst to you (like always) the act only causes Taehyun to stress, forced to watch you attract attention like a magnet and have people flirt with you left and right— even your understanding boyfriend has his limits, you know.”

lifeguard!Taehyun x fem!reader

Genre: established relationship, beach au, fluff, smut

Word count: 9.6K

warnings: bimbo/ditzy/feminine mc, mc is called a queencard bc idk, mc gets horny every three seconds, mc has nipple peircings and insane pretty privilege, (I have nothing to say for myself.) everyone in this damn beach wants her, she gets hit on by both men and women. alcohol consumption, (no one gets drunk) use of pet names (baby, my girl etc.) and the words boyfriend/girlfriend, lowkey public indecency.. teasing, possessiveness, a little jealousy.

smut warnings: dom!taehyun, sub!mc semi-public sex, marking, thigh riding, degrading, possessiveness (again!), rough sex, biting, breast play, grinding, oral (f. rec) multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, strength kink, tae picks the mc up, praise, dacryphilia, creampie (lemme know if I should add anything!)

Notes: alternate title: my strange addiction (kang taehyun) this fic is nawt meant to be taken seriously!! (I blacked out halfway through writing and editing this) Can you tell that I have tropes that just have a deathly chokehold on me? Embarrassing…

Kang Taehyun feels his heart stop the moment he sees your car pull up.

A peaceful, thirty-minute break quickly turns into a meditation session the moment he sees your hot pink Porsche convertible pull up, straight from a Barbie movie as the fuzzy dice that hang from the mirror bounce around— even from the top of the hill where the parking lot is at, he’s still able to spot you with eerie ease.

You’re as energetic and bubbly as ever as you exit the car, laughing with your friends as you fail to notice Taehyun’s heated stare; your friends however, are much quicker to catch him, sharing knowing looks amongst themselves and laughing softly.

His face feels hot as he quickly looks back down, his gaze downcast as he goes to scroll on his phone as a distraction— like instinct, he opens Instagram, your newest story popping up on his feed as he finds himself gulping nervously.

Beach day!! >v< the picture is captioned, your bright smile practically blinding as you pose with your friends— you practically steal the spotlight with ease however, especially when you’re wearing a pink halter top with a Hawaiian flower pattern that exposes your breasts perfectly, the dip allowing your gold necklaces to rest in between.

God, Taehyun sighs, running a hand through his hair as he hears your bubbly laugh from a distance, it’s so difficult having such a hot girlfriend.

A hot girlfriend who’s practically an influencer, he adds, counting down the minutes before he has to go back on duty as he remembers how successful your social media page has become. You didn’t mean to do it on purpose— you simply wanted to document your life and style like any other person would— but it seems as though you attracted much more attention than you anticipated.

A few hundred thousand followers and plenty of sponsorships later, however, you quickly found yourself titled a true “queencard”— not that you wanted to be, anyway.

You took your newfound “fame” with a grain of salt however, living your life as normal and continuing to document your lavish and busy lifestyle— in turn, Taehyun asked you to keep your relationship on the more private side.

It wasn’t that Taehyun didn’t want to be seen with you; if anything, he adored showing you off, enjoying the way no one could take their eyes off you whenever you entered a room— off his girlfriend. He was very vocal about the love and pride he held for you, but he also preferred to keep his life away from the media. And like the angel you are, you accepted his wishes without any hesitation.

Like Taehyun, you absolutely adored your partner; you were quite obsessed with him, honestly. If he’d let you, you’d fill your feed with him, your camera roll that was already filled with pictures of him begging to be posted as your mind told you that he could be an influencer as well— because who were you kidding, he’s so smoking hot.

“Girl, you need to stop staring before you start drooling,” Chaewon says, helping Wonyoung unload the bags from the car as they begin to laugh and tease you. You simply whine at her comment, biting your lip before you force yourself to look away; how could someone look so attractive by just scrolling on their phone?

“I can’t help it,” you cry, taking a beach bag from Wonyoung in order to help, “he’s just sooo hot!”

“And you let us know every time,” Wonyoung laughs, nudging your side as she gestures toward the beach before her, “don’t you at least wanna get closer?”

Like an eager puppy, you nod, getting a head start as you walk down the steep path towards the beach; you can hear your friends yelling at you to be careful, but all you can currently think about is Taehyun— Taehyun and his rippling muscles, Taehyun and his tan skin that’ll be left exposed to the hot sun, Taehyun and his chain that you love to tug on when he’s on top of you…

Oh my god, you realize with dread, your thighs rubbing together as you stop to wait for your friends, I’m so horny right now.

The curse of having such a hot boyfriend— you literally got soaking wet from the very thought of him.

The last thing you would do is have your friends realize, however, much too embarrassed to let them in on your more intimate thoughts as you scan the beach, looking past the groups of people for a good spot to settle down; lucky for you, you find a spot between the lifeguard tower and a concessions stand.

“Here here here!” You yell, running towards the spot without hesitation as your friends are forced to keep up; you ignore the feeling of the sand slipping into your sandal pumps, much more distracted by the fact that you’ll be able to see your boyfriend on duty.

Taehyun, ever the innocent victim of your antics, remains clueless as to where you’re setting up at the moment; he sits at the tables on the other side of the concession stand, still scrolling through his phone as he counts down the minutes before he’s on duty once more— sighing, he looks up from his device, his eyes scanning the hill before him as he inevitably finds your car— he can’t help but frown once he sees that you’re no longer there.

Where could you have run off to, he wonders, walking over to the headquarters in order to go back on rotation— he’s unable to stop thinking about you, already dreading how much of a distraction you’ll be to him as he makes his way over to his platform— only to stop, his breath stuttering as he sees the very sight he’s been dreading. (See: fantasizing.)

You’re wearing that same denim mini-skirt that always drives Taehyun crazy— actually, you’re not even wearing it anymore, his teeth sinking into his lip as he watches you strip innocently. The bikini bottom you wear matches your top, the same pink with the Hawaiian flower pattern; the shameful excuse of a bottom barely covers you, yet you don’t really seem to notice as you tie a sheer beach skirt around your hips.

Dangerously, you pull your shirt over your head; and if Taehyun wasn’t flustered enough by your bottoms, the matching top definitely did the trick— how it barely managed to cover you almost impressed Taehyun, his mouth drying as he took note of the way you tied all the strings into cute little bows, adorning your hips and back as your friends complimented you over the cute set— puffing your chest out proudly, Taehyun swore he almost fell to his knees as he took note of the piercings that poked through the thin fabric.

Oh god. He’s screwed.

You and your friends are quick to set everything up; you’re eager to lay back against the towel as Wonyoung runs to the ocean, yelling at the two of you to go with her as she laughs with joy.

“No thanks, I’ll stay here,” you say, getting comfortable as you stretch under the sun, the warmth making you smile as you reassure Chaewon, “Actually, I think the place over there has a mini bar— I might go get a drink.”

With one last goodbye and a yell along the lines of get me one, I’ll meet you there! Chaewon leaves, sand kicking up behind her as she begins to chase after Wonyoung; the two look beyond happy as they enter the water, the sight endearing as you finally get up.

Unbeknownst to you, Taehyun watches like a hawk; he couldn’t get his eyes off you even if he wanted to, the sway of your hips and the shining sun on your skin much too enticing as he watches you leave, bitterly taking note of the way the men nearby begin to drool over you.

Taehyun isn’t an insecure person— he’s far from it, and he knows damn well that you’d choose him over any other man on this beach. But he’s also tempted to run after you, to claim you as his and show everyone just how much you like him— but he remains professional, feeling his ears turn red as he snaps out of his lewd fantasies.

You haven’t even talked to him, but he’s already feeling desperate for you.

Being a lifeguard has its perks— today’s perk comes in the form of his tall seat, being able to get a good look at the whole beach, and you. More specifically, the way you cutely lean against the counter of the bar, pouting like always as you take a second to stare at the menu.

“So…” you trail off, pursuing your lips before you’re smacking your lips, tapping your ID rhythmically against the wood as you feel the worker staring at you intently, “I’ll just have two margaritas. And a water. Please?”

The worker before you is bright and quick to work as he nods, stumbling over his feet for a second before he’s making you your drink; you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone work so fast as he hands you your order, sliding over an ice cold water bottle as well.

“Thank you! How much do I owe you?” You exclaim, placing your purse over the counter as you begin to dig for your wallet; only for him to interrupt you, stuttering out a quiet Oh, wait, as you look up at him with innocent doe eyes, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s on the house,” he smiles, watching as you can only let your jaw drop at his words; unsure of what to do, you glance back at your order, left speechless as you take a second, only to look back up at the worker in surprise.

“Really?” You ask breathily, tilting your head as you lean in closer to read their name tag— Jay simply nods, smiling sweetly as they reassure you that you don’t need to pay, “Oh, you’re so sweet!”

You’re laughing at the way Jay turns slightly red, surprised at his kind act as you ask one last time if it’s really okay— he reassures you once more, opening his mouth to say something before another customer is approaching, taking his attention as he reluctantly leaves your side.

Taking a sip of your drink, you can’t help but feel the smile stuck on your face as Chaewon finally appears to join you; she’s soaking wet as she stands with you under the shade of the bar, thanking you with a cute smile as she takes the margarita you hand her.

“How much? I’ll pay you back,” Chaewon says, gesturing at the drink before her as you simply shake your head in response.

“No need. It was free!” You say, giggling at the way Chaewon looks at you incredulously.

“Free?” She echoes, watching as you only nod eagerly in response, “how?”

“Dunno,” you say, licking at the rim that’s dusted with sugar, “that Jay guy was just really sweet!”

“Or attracted to you,” Chaewon muses, nudging you playfully as she gives you a mischievous grin— she laughs as you shake your head defensively, painfully unaware of your pretty privilege as you fail to notice the way Jay glances back at you, clearly hoping to talk to you again.

“I got this for Wonyoung,” you say, gesturing to the cold water bottle that’s currently dripping over the counter, “gonna go give it to her, wanna come with?”

Chaewon shakes her head, gesturing to her unfinished drink as she tells you to go ahead; watching you go ahead, she waits for you to get out of earshot, turning to the employee before she’s narrowing her eyes at him.

“Can I get a water please?”

Without another glance, Jay nods— “That’ll be one-fifty.”

Barking out a laugh, Chaewon grins, proving her theory right as she watches Jay turn red from the realization that she caught on— being friends with you proved to come with more benefits than she realized, she thinks, biting back another smile as she goes to drink her margarita. Turning around, she watches you fondly— and more specifically, the way you begin to walk past the volleyball game that’s going on, making your way back to your setup as the men playing begin to take notice of you.

“Hey baby,” a man calls out, drawing your attention as you simply hum politely in response, “Why don’t you come play with us?”

You can only muster out a soft laugh at that, shaking your head as you ignore the way your body begins to heat up from all the attention; shyly, you refuse their offer, unsure of what to say as you feel their eyes taking you in slowly.

“Oh, I’m not that good,” you say, shaking off their amused laughs as you hold Wonyoung’s water bottle close to you, feeling the perspiration drip onto your forearm, “I probably wouldn’t be very useful on your team.”

Your response is genuine; you know you’re not good at volleyball after countless failed attempts to learn, much more content sitting on the sidelines and watching your perfect boyfriend absolutely dominate during his games— the thought is enough to have you fighting back a fond smile, brought back to reality by the way the man talking to you takes a step closer to you.

“ ‘s okay, I can teach you,” the man grins, spinning the volleyball expertly in his hands as his teammates nod in agreement. You’re unsure of how to refuse them now, but a sudden sharp whistle is taking all of your attention as your head whips to the source of the sound.

You practically feel like an overexcited puppy as you spot Taehyun, on duty and scolding a group of teenagers for who-knows-what. Without another thought, you run over to him, leaving the group of men who can only call for you to wait— their words fall deaf on your ears as you feel your heart beating faster, calling out his name and watching as he finally spots you running over to him.

“Hyun!” You say, waving cutely as you watch him smile fondly at you— you think your heart could burst as you practically jump into his arms, feeling him stumble back from the impact as you throw your arms around his neck fondly.

“Taehyun!! Baby, hi!!” You say, bouncing on your feet as you pull away to pepper kisses on his cheek; all he can do is laugh as he falls victim to you, muttering a soft “okay, okay” as he pats your back fondly.

“Baby, baby, I’m still working,” Taehyun reminds you, watching you pull away with a small oh right, that tumbles from your lips. His hands are still on your waist as his fingers trace over the fabric of your beach skirt, and you can’t help the way you burst into giggles as you take him in.

“What, what’re you laughing at?” He asks, brows raising as he tilts his head curiously; you can only shake your head, wiping the bottom of your lip as you attempt to calm down.

“My lip gloss is all over you,” you say, watching as he simply laughs at your comment, his dimple on display as he reaches up to rub at his cheek— it barely works, but he doesn’t seem to mind much as he finally lets go of you.

“Did you get yourself a drink, pretty?” He says, nodding his head at the water bottle you hold in your hands; you nod, smiling happily as you recount the events that happened in your head.

“Yeah, the worker there is super sweet,” you gush, glancing back at where you see Chaewon still leaning against the counter, waving at you happily as you’re quick to return the gesture, “he gave me my drinks for free.”

“Did he now?” Taehyun asks, raising a brow at you as he watches you nod innocently. Glancing back at the shop, he sees Jay, who can only avert his eyes and hide from his sight. Looking back at you, his gaze softens as he takes in the way you practically glow under the sun, “that’s very nice of him.”

Taehyun wishes nothing more than to be able to go back off duty and enjoy his time with you; instead, he needs to wait another four hours before he can properly show you just how happy he is to see you— unbeknownst to you of course, much too eager to be outside on such a nice day as you ramble about things with no clear end in sight.

“I need to go back to work, baby,” Taehyun sighs, smiling at the way you begin to whine immediately, “I know, I know— I wish I wasn’t working today either.”

Bringing you in closer, he places a soft kiss on the tip of your nose before he’s taking a step back, the dazed smile you send him enough to have his heart fluttering as he returns it without a thought.

“ ‘m just happy I get to see you.”

His words clearly affect you as you attempt to stutter a response, hitting him with a whine the moment he tries to laugh at you fondly— you can tell he’s reluctant to leave, but the same group of teenagers as before seem to be causing a ruckus once more as he sighs, bidding you goodbye before he’s off.

You can only stand and stare with dismay, pouting as you watch him turn his back to you— his toned, broad back, with a waist so small you’d do anything to wrap your arms around it— or even better, your legs…

You groan as the same dangerous train of thought begins to hit you, your eyes squeezing shut as you force yourself to turn around— to walk straight to where Wonyoung lays without glancing back at your boyfriend, the task much harder than you’d think as you hear his sharp voice scolding the group of teenagers.

He sounds so hot, you think to yourself, wanting nothing more than to run away with your man and have him fuck you stupid behind the concession stand, oh my god, I want him so bad.

“Wow, this thing is freezing,” Wonyoung says, taking the water bottle from your hands gratefully. Watching as you slump down next to her, Wonyoung pauses, trying to guess what might be wrong before she follows your line of sight.

“Ah,” she mutters, taking a long drink from her water before she sighs, “Are you sad you can’t talk to your boyfriend?”

“He’s being professionalll,” you groan, throwing a hand over your eyes as you lay back, the pout forming on your face second nature at this point, “I just wish he’d stay over here!”

“It’d be a danger to the public if he just stopped doing his job,” Wonyoung reasons, watching the way you reluctantly agree with her, “plus, it was your idea to visit while he was on duty.”

“I didn’t think he’d look so fucking hot!” You admit, crossing your arms over your chest in defeat as Wonyoung simply laughs in amusement. Opening your eyes, you’re surprised to find Chaewon looming over you, a smile on her face as she takes her seat on her towel beside you.

“You always think he looks hot. Also, the bartender over there totally wants you.” Chaewon pipes up, calling Wonyoungs name as she gestures to the water bottle in her hands before gesturing back to the mini-bar.

“Don’t tell me,” Wonyoung says, staring down at the item in her hand as Chaewon nods in confirmation, “wow, that’s pretty impressive.”

“It’s nothing, he was just being nice!” You refute, ever an airhead and your friends simply shake their heads in response, “It’s true!”

“He didn’t bother looking back in my direction once you left,” Chaeryeong points out, glaring playfully at Wonyoung who laughs at her comment, “not to mention, those guys playing volleyball were literally drooling over you.”

“Wait, I saw that— I was kind of scared for a second,” Wonyoung admits, Chaewon nodding along as she confesses that she was about to jump in when you finally managed to escape, “you’re so lucky you managed to leave before things got weird.”

To be honest, you stopped listening around that last part— well, it’s not like you weren’t listening, it’s more like you weren’t really contributing to the conversation as you take notice of Taehyun, more specifically the way he’s playing with a child around the shallow end of the ocean, watching as he manages to make the child laugh, his eyes bright and fond as he takes good care of the toddler.

The sight practically has you melting, and you’re forced to bite your lip to suppress your smile— but then again, you’ve never really been good at hiding things— especially with the way you find your friends looking in the direction you are, the two of them sporting knowing smiles as they exchange a look.

“Oh girl,” Wonyoung sighs, going to lay on her back as she puts on her sunglasses, “you’re drooling again.”

Shit, you totally were.

-♡-

The next three and a half hours pass by painfully slowly— for Taehyun, at least.

It seems that you’re finally able to take your eyes off him after a period of adjustment, and he’s able to watch from his post as you enjoy yourself in the ocean, splashing around with your friends as the three of you have fun and remain carefree.

Carefree is probably one of the last words Taehyun would use to describe himself at the moment— it was a given that being a lifeguard was unpredictable and difficult, but being on duty while having his hot girlfriend that attracted attention like a magnet there with him was next-level.

He couldn’t even begin to count the number of times someone managed to hit on you in the past hour— from what he saw, at least— it was ridiculous, really, even more so because you were never able to pick up on it. Ever.

Taehyun couldn’t take his eyes off you for one second without a new person approaching you; he chalks it up to both your beauty and the fact that you’re one of the most approachable people Taehyun has ever met.

He’s never been happier to own sunglasses than today— or else you definitely would’ve caught him watching carefully as a random woman your age offered to put sunscreen on you, your friends back in the ocean as you opted to take a moment to rest under the sun instead.

“Your swimsuit is so cute,” she told you, her voice filled with a flirty lilt as it managed to travel to Taehyun’s ears; you had been as clueless as ever, holding your top up with your hands as you allowed her to untie your string and lotion your back— he tried to give this random stranger the benefit of the doubt, but it was really difficult to with the way she massaged you gently and leaned over to speak into your ear.

“Are you single?” The implications of her words barely registered in your head before thoughts of Taehyun were overpowering your brain, a smile involuntarily tugging at your lips as you tried to hold back your giddy giggles in order to answer.

“She’s not.”

You could feel the woman’s hands still on your shoulder as the two of you looked up, your smile only widening as your eyes met Taehyun’s— at least you think, he was currently wearing sunglasses. (Which he looked really hot in, of course. You think you would’ve jumped on him by now if it weren’t for the risk of you flashing the entire beach.)

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman behind you said, laughing nervously as she quickly went to stand; you couldn’t help but be confused by the way she hurriedly said goodbye to you, but all your questions were answered once you turned around to meet Taehyun’s irritated face, his brows pulled together in a frown as he let out a soft tsk.

“Hyun, are you jealous?” The question is enough to have him snap out of his daze, blinking wildly behind his shades before he’s pushing them up and onto his head, pushing his wet hair back and exposing his forehead as he did; looking down at you, he can’t help but soften at the sight of you and your cute wide eyes, letting out a soft chuckle before he’s patting your head fondly.

“No, I’m not.”

You watch as he settles down behind you, taking the previous woman’s spot as he murmurs for you to turn around. You’re facing forward once more, taking in the pretty sight of the beach as you shift on your knees, sitting back on your legs as you wait for him to do something.

“You looked pretty jealous,” you muse, looking down to watch as he takes the sunscreen bottle that was left at your side; the smell of the lotion fills your senses once more as you hear him open it, squeezing some on his palm as the sound of his airy laugh reaches your ears.

“Well, it’s not exactly nice to watch another person feeling up my girl,” he reasons, watching as you straighten up at his comment, “why didn’t you ask your friends for help baby?”

“Mmmh, they’re busy and she offered to help,” you confess, shivering at the feeling of the cold lotion against your shoulders, “and she was not feeling me up.”

Unbeknownst to you, Taehyun can’t help but feel frustrated at your comment— your naivety made it difficult to make a point sometimes, and this was one of those moments as he was unable to stop the deep sigh that escaped him.

“She wasn’t?” He asks, and you can’t help but gasp as you feel his touch become further; fingers digging into your flesh, massaging your shoulders tenderly as he leans in close to whisper into your ear, his hands roaming your body so slowly you think you might melt, “so what do you feel now that I’m doing it?”

Horny.

“I… I feel like I’m in the wrong,” you admit, stuttering softly as he begins to come back up to your shoulders, his dainty hands going past your collarbones and down your arms; slowly, he makes his way down, leaning forward as he does so until he’s pressed firmly against your back— his firm chest against your back, his hands reaching for your own as he interlocks his fingers with yours.

You can feel his hair tickle against your neck as he presses a slow kiss against the back of your shoulder, biting your lip as you fight back the desperate whine that threatens to escape from you.

“Glad you realize,” he laughs softly, letting go of you and sitting back as he takes a moment to inspect the beach; you can’t help the sadness that fills you as he begins to stand, only to pause as he notices your dejected state.

“Do you need any more help?” He asks slowly, watching as you nod happily before you’re laying down across the towel; he thinks he might lose his job as you look back at him, batting your eyes prettily as you send him a coy smile.

“Do the rest for me?”

Taehyun hesitates. On one hand, it wasn’t very professional of him to lotion up his incredibly gorgeous girlfriend while on duty— not that the public was aware of the fact that you two were together, anyway— but on the other hand…

“How could I say no to you,” Taehyun sighs, kneeling at your side and taking the lotion bottle from you as he decides fuck it— he has half an hour left anyway.

Your skin is warm to the touch; both of you are sighing in contentment the moment his hands meet your skin, massaging the lotion into the rest of your back as he tries to remain as professional as possible.

You, on the other hand, are not doing that great.

If there’s one thing that tests your self-control more than anything, it’s Taehyun— especially Taehyun that has his hands all over you, his touch firm and soothing as he begins to massage the back of your thighs— if he sees you squeeze them together, he doesn’t bother to let on, your mind fogging with horrible and lewd thoughts that would have your boyfriend red and flustered within seconds.

The last of your resolve crumbles the moment his fingers ghost over your waist; dipping under the skimpy string of your bikini bottom, reaching toward the back before he begins to cop a feel— you can feel your breathing begin to pick up as he’s moving up, tickling against your sides before he’s reaching past your top; fingers massaging against the sides of your breasts, cupping what he can before he’s squeezing coyly. Flustered, you bury your head into your arms, listening to the way he laughs teasingly, his hands drifting away just as quickly as they appeared before he’s going to ask you if you’re alright teasingly.

“I need you,” You whine, the words muffled against your arms as you dig your head deeper into your arms.

“Hmm?”

This seems to be your last straw; sitting up, you scramble to keep your top on as you turn around to face Taehyun, taking him in in all his sun-kissed glory, sure that you look beyond flustered and destroyed by now.

“Taehyun, I need you so bad,” you whine out, scooting closer to him as you watch his eyes widen with your unhinged rambling, “I’ve been trying to be good this whole time and distract myself, but it’s so fucking hard because I’ve been wet from just looking at you— Hyun baby, I’m so hmmf—!”

Taehyun is impressed by how easily you’re able to fluster him— he’s sure his ears are completely red as he presses his palm firmly against your mouth, taking in the way you look at him with wide, teary, and fucked out eyes.

He takes a deep breath in order to control the dangerous feeling of desire that flows through him.

Exhaling deeply, he takes a second to look at the clock posted by the headquarters— he feels his body relax with relief as he slowly pulls his hand away from you, giving you a warning look before he gestures at the time.

“Fifteen minutes,” he says, leaning in and muttering the words in his deep, glorious voice, “can you be good for me for another fifteen minutes?”

You think you might die if you don’t take him right now.

“Yeah,” you breathe out shakily, watching as Taehyun laughs at your pathetic state.

“Good,” he says, standing up and getting ready to leave before another lifeguard realizes he’s been talking to you this whole time, “just wait for me, baby.”

You’re a bit dejected as you watch him leave you, back to being his perfect and professional self as he spots abandoned swimming equipment from the rental shop; he can feel your heated gaze on him the entire time, forced to stifle a laugh as he glances back in your direction curiously— you’re shamelessly staring, a pout on your face as you carefully re-tie your top once more.

Please, you think to yourself, choosing to lie back against your towel and clear out your thoughts, your eyes fluttering shut as you take a deep breath, please let these next fifteen minutes pass quickly.

-♡-

Taehyun knows the exact second his fifteen minutes are up— only because you trot up to him like an excited puppy, your beach skirt flowing in the wind as you wave at him excitedly.

“Will you let me clock out at least?” Taehyun asks, letting out an amused laugh as you immediately attach yourself to his side; you give him a quick nod of your head in response, telling him to lead the way as you refuse to leave him anytime soon.

“Missed you so much,” you say, eyes sparkling as Taehyun can only throw his head back and laugh in bewilderment at your comment, “I’m serious! It’s hard to keep my hands off you, Hyunnie.”

“Don’t worry, I feel the same,” he hums, slowing his steps to place a gentle peck on your cheek, “Wait for me? I’ll only be a moment.”

Nodding happily, you tell him you’ll go get him a drink— you know he could use it, taking in his tired steps as he walks back to headquarters with a sigh— turning around, you spot your friends already at the bar, waving you over as you make your way to them happily.

“He’s finally off?” Chaewon asks, watching as you nod with a bright smile on your face, “that’s good. You two can spend some time together now— especially now that the sun is beginning to set.”

“Not that you weren’t already,” Wonyoung teases, watching as you try to defend yourself with useless stutters as she continues to poke fun at you.

“I— can I just get a water?” Giving up on trying to win the argument, you turn back to the same worker from earlier, watching as Jay jumps in surprise the moment your eyes meet his.

“Oh, of course,” he mutters, placing the ice-cold refreshment before he clears his throat, face turning red as he avoids eye contact with you, “you don’t owe me anything, we’re closing soon and the register is already locked.”

Letting out an embarrassed laugh, you can’t help but glance at your friends, feeling your face become hot as they send you sly looks; Jay seems to be just as flustered as you, bowing politely before turning around and resuming his closing tasks— biting your lip, you suppress another laugh, your friends already mouthing things along the lines of I told you so, as you simply push them playfully, looking around to see if Taehyun has come back yet.

“This for me baby?” Taehyun’s hand is warm on your waist as he appears behind you, looking over your shoulder and smiling as you eagerly hand him the water bottle in return.

He’s quick to drink, much thirstier than he realized as he practically begins to gulp it down; he can feel your stare on him the whole time, fighting back a smile as he closes his eyes in an attempt to ignore it.

He looks like a model, you think, watching him fondly with hearts in your eyes; the day hasn’t looked nicer than it does now, the beach almost empty now that the sun has almost set and the weather growing cooler as the waves crash against the shore, the golden rays of the sun practically leave Taehyun glowing. Playfully, he pushes you away, unable to hold back his laugh any longer as he scolds you to stop staring! You can only laugh sheepishly as you try to deny doing so, but you know he’d never believed you from how clingy you’ve been with him all day.

“You’re so sweet Jay,” Taehyun smiles, the said male practically jumping out of his skin at the mention of his name; turning around slowly, he laughs awkwardly, meeting eyes with Taehyun, who snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you closer as he tilts his head teasingly, “for not charging my girl. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jay stutters, eyes downcast as he feels his face burning from the attention, “figured it was for you, so I didn’t bother ringing it up.”

Taehyun only hums in appreciation at the man’s comment, slightly irritated at the way he’s able to lie through his teeth so easily; turning away from him, he takes the chance to look at you, smiling fondly and leaning in for a chaste kiss that has you melting against him.

“Gross. Get a room you two,” Chaewon scoffs, covering Wonyoung’s eyes playfully as the two tease you endlessly.

“Gladly,” Taehyun smiles mischievously, rolling his eyes at the way your friends gag in response, pulling you against him as you steady yourself with a hand on his chest, “mind if I steal her away from you guys for a bit?”

“Go ahead,” Chaewon says, waving the two of you away with ease, “bring her back in one piece, please.”

I’ll try, is all Taehyun says, pulling you along and laughing at the way you eagerly follow along with one last goodbye to your friends, clueless to the way Taehyun’s jaw ticks with annoyance as he pulls you away from your friends— and right towards headquarters, making his way to the back of the building, secluded by trees and the hill you came from.

“Tae, what’re we doing here—?” Your sentence is briefly cut off with Taehyun’s mouth against yours, the kiss harsh and desperate as you quickly become a mess of spit, moaning weakly against Taehyun’s mouth as he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip.

The string of saliva that connects you two as he pulls away has you whining breathily, steadying yourself with two hands placed firmly on his shoulders as you allow him to corner you, walking backward as his firm hold on your hips forces you to be pressed against the wall.

“You drive me so fucking crazy,” he growls in frustration, attaching his lips right under your ear as he begins to suck— you’re gasping in response, clinging onto him desperately as you already feel your knees become weak. Pulling away from you, his dark gaze meets yours, heated and sharp as he takes in your fucked out state.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to have my pretty girl get flirted with by everyone that lays their eyes on her?” He asks, shifting your hips towards him as he slots his thigh between yours with ease, “to just watch it happen because she’s too much of an airhead to realize what’s happening in front of her?”

The whimper that escapes you from his words is downright embarrassing; but it’s enough to have Taehyun’s lips back on yours, eager to keep you quiet as his fingers begin to play with the strings of your bikini.

If there’s one thing Taehyun is an expert at, it’s pleasing you with every part of his body— which is exactly why he’s able to have you turn into a mess under him in seconds, flexing his thigh and bouncing it as his strong hands force your hips down on him more; he’s controlling your every movement, his grip on you bruising as you wonder if it’ll leave a mark on you later.

“You’re already wet,” Taehyun muses, feeling the way you claw at him uselessly, throwing your head back against the wall as you try to set the pace yourself, only to fail miserably, “barely took anything and you’re already dripping all over me.”

The pleasure becomes overwhelming as Taehyun begins to litter kisses all over you, biting at you softly as he slowly begins to make his way down to your breasts; with a breathy moan, you jut out your chest, the sight making Taehyun let out an airy laugh as his eyes flicker back up to your face to watch your expression carefully.

“Such pretty tits,” Taehyun grins, kissing on top of the fabric as he watches your eyes flutter shut, his eyes flickering back down to the metal that pushes against the thin top, “which ones are you wearing today baby?”

“The ones you got me,” you reply, biting your lip as you open your eyes, clouded with lust as you grind a little harder against Taehyun’s thigh, “the heart ones.”

His warm mouth against your breast is enough to have you letting out a sigh of contentment; a hand immediately threads itself in his hair as you feel his tongue laving over your nipple through the fabric, tracing the jewelry carefully as you jut your chest out to him in response. His hand comes up to slip itself under the fabric of your swimsuit, grabbing your breast and squeezing teasingly before he begins to circle your other nipple.

You feel dizzy, his touch practically everywhere as your eyes flutter shut, trying your best to keep your noises to a minimum as you bite your lip— but it’s useless, especially with the way he’s practically on you, his warm body on yours as you’re able to feel his erection against you.

Whining hopelessly, you let go of his hair, allowing your hand to trail down as you get a good feel of his body— his strong muscles, his abs that flex in anticipation as you begin pawing at his swim shorts.

“Please please please,” you cry, slipping a hand past the barriers and stroking his dick slowly, your hips picking up the pace as you hear him groan lowly into your ear, “please fuck me Hyun, I need you so bad and I’ve been waiting so patiently for you…”

“Have you?” Taehyun asks, relishing in the way your hand struggles to keep a pace, shivering slightly at the way you tighten your grip on him for a second, “because all seen today is the way my little attention whore of a girlfriend can’t survive if my eyes aren’t on her for a second.”

“Did you have fun seeing the way everyone else drooled over you?” He asks, pulling your hand away from him harshly before he’s stepping in between your legs, hooking one of them around his waist before he begins to grind against you, “did you like seeing me jealous, sweet thing?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you gasp, feeling him prod against your entrance as he unties your beach skirt with deft fingers, the cloth fluttering to the ground as he begins to grind against you harder, “I didn’t know—!”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” He mocks, taking pity on you for a second before his gaze is hardening again, “you never know, dumb little thing.”

It’s almost shameful how hard your pussy clenches at his words; you’ve made a mess of your bottom as Taehyun groans, eyes catching the way you’ve left a damp spot already.

“God, you really can’t control yourself, hmm?” He asks, cooing at you softly as he takes in the way you’ve already begun to tear up. The sound of distant voices has him pausing, and you feel as though you’re afraid to breathe as your wide eyes meet Taehyun’s.

“Did Taehyun leave already?” The voice is immediately recognizable as Taehyun narrows his eyes, listening to Yeonjun, one of the other lifeguards on rotation today, talk to someone else.

“Yeah… he left a few minutes ago,” Jay responds, and you can’t help but raise a brow as Taehyun takes a step away from you, about to mouth what are you doing? before he’s sinking to his knees before you, throwing a leg over his shoulder as you can only watch helplessly.

“With that one girl?” Yeonjun asks, your eyes widening as you glance over in the direction the sound comes from; you’re quickly brought to the man in front of you as he begins to litter kisses all over your inner thigh, biting the skin softly as he murmurs eyes on me. Shakily, you nod, letting out a shaky breath as the conversation from the two filters back to you two once more.

“Yeah, you saw her?” Jay says— Taehyun’s nimble fingers are undoing the ties of your bottoms with such ease that you can’t help but gasp as the fabric slips off, your pussy left for display as your boyfriend takes in how needy you are with a satisfied smile.

Taehyun’s tongue is warm and teasing as he circles it over your clit, letting his spit coat you freely before he’s pressing firm kisses against your bud— you're forced to slap a hand over your mouth as he begins to suck on it, his tongue running over the sensitive bud as you feel your thighs shaking around his head; his hair is wet and ticklish as it touches the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and you’re forced to concentrate in order to not let an embarrassing sound slip from your lips.

“Man, of course I did— she was fucking hot,” Yeonjun’s confession is enough to have Taehyun working harder, fingers prodding at your entrance and eagerly stretching you out as you choke back on a moan— in any other situation, you would be loud enough that Taehyun would have to stop to tease you about it, but the thought of either of them hearing you was much too mortifying as Taehyun began to slowly pump his fingers.

Your body said otherwise, however.

“I saw you give her those drinks for free,” Yeonjun teased, and you listened to the way Jay simply groaned at the reminder; you, on the other hand, were forced to remain quiet, your eyes rolling to the back of your head the moment Taehyun added a third finger, picking up his pace and bringing you closer to your high as you began to rock your hips against his face subconsciously, feeling his tongue beginning to wander as it licked all over your pussy— curling his fingers, you sighed, feeling the way he flattened his tongue against your clit before he began to pump his fingers once more.

“I thought I’d try to make a move on her or something,” Jay confesses, the embarrassed tone to his voice not lost on you as you feel yourself grow hot— your hand presses harder against your mouth as you reach down to thread your fingers through Taehyun’s hair, pulling him closer against your pussy as you subtly try to communicate that you’re close; he seems to get the hint as he does his best to keep his ministrations up, your eyes squeezing shut as their conversation continues to flow into your ears.

“But that was before I knew she was his girl,” Jay says, sighing as Yeonjun replies with an incredulous seriously? “Yeah, you should’ve seen the way he looked at me when he caught on, man. I was scared for my life.”

You’re sure you know how Taehyun was looking at him— at least, if it’s any resemblance to the way he looks at you now, his eyes filled with pure possessiveness and anger that it has you coming undone in seconds, a weak moan escaping through your hand as you squeeze your eyes shut. Taehyun helps you ride out your orgasm diligently, the lewd sounds of his tongue cleaning you up making you flustered as you cover your face in embarrassment.

He’s sucking teasing marks all over your inner thighs once more before he’s standing back up, prying your fingers apart gently as he whispers for you to look at him; your eyes are needy as you blink up at him, and Taehyun swears you’ve never looked more beautiful as you practically glow before him, his eyes darkening at the reminder that you’re all his— his coworkers could only dream of getting close to you, let alone having you in the position he does now.

“My pretty girl,” he sighs out, smiling at the way you throw your arms over his shoulders, bringing him in closer until you’re pulling him in for a tender kiss— it doesn’t last long however, your breathy whines making Taehyun press against your cunt once more, feeling how much wetter it’s gotten as he begins to kiss you senseless.

“My girl,” he repeats, pulling away to trail his kisses down to your neck, beginning to suck carelessly as he feels you reach down to pull his cock out, “all mine. Mine.”

His sudden possessiveness is new to you as you can only remain pliant under him, allowing him to do whatever he wants with you as he finally aligns himself at your entrance; biting your lip, you bury your head in the crook of Taehyun’s neck, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel him tease you— rubbing the head of his cock up and down your slit, feeling the way you clench around nothing as he grinds against you subtly— it’s enough to have you digging your nails into him, whining into his ear that you need more as you feel his tip begin to nudge at your clit; you think you might lose it as you feel his precum drip all over your cunt, your hips shifting toward him involuntarily to try and chase the feeling.

Your mouth is falling open the moment he’s entering you; stretching you out, sliding in inch by inch as he feels your pussy fluttering around him uncontrollably— he can feel the way you’re gasping against his skin, and he’s hooking your leg over his waist once more as he presses you firmly against the wall of the building.

You’re shaking like a leaf against him; whining for more, biting and kissing at his skin absentmindedly as you grind against him, your cunt dripping and sucking him in as the thought of keeping quiet slowly escapes your mind.

It’s enough to have Taehyun tugging you back, pulling on your hair teasingly before he’s planting his hand firmly over your mouth— his eyes never leave yours, the conversation of the two men nearby muddled in your ears as Taehyun begins to move.

It’s slow at first, the grind of his hips against yours allowing his cock to hit deep into you, the wet sounds of your cunt around him making you feel slightly shy before the thought is completely thrown out the window— you could care less of what’s happening around you as he begins to thrust roughly against you, your body rocking from the motion and your eyes threatening to flutter shut as you feel his cock hit against your sweet spot; but you refrain from doing so, much more entranced by his gaze as he slowly begins to pick up the pace, the sounds that come from you getting more difficult to muffle as you feel yourself getting overwhelmed by the pleasure.

The reminder that there are two people that could hear you has you looking over to where they stand, feeling your heartbeat pick up from the anxiety as you eye that direction carefully— you’re quickly snapped back to reality the moment Taehyun is jerking your head back to him gently, tightening his hold on you as his gaze darkens.

“Eyes on me,” he whispers, rolling his hips just the way you like as though to make a point.

Eyes on him. Eyes only on him, you think, struggling to think anything coherent as his hand reaches up to pull your breasts out from your top, the flesh spilling out and beginning to bounce freely from the way Taehyun is fucking you— the heart jewelry that adorns your nipples shine at him, the sight making your boyfriend let out a weak moan as you feel him twitch inside you.

“So lucky to have you,” Taehyun sighs, reaching over to your other leg as he briefly lets go of your mouth— not before taking one of your hands and placing it over your mouth, pressing his hand firmly over your own as he gives you a stern look— and he hoists you up, leaving you completely at his mercy as he begins to bounce you on his cock, the feeling making you slap your other hand over your mouth as you eyes roll back from the pleasure.

“Stupid little airhead, only has eyes for me,” he rambles, laughing quietly to himself before it breaks out into another moan— he’s practically driving you into the wall behind you as he fucks into you roughly, able to set a much faster pace as he watches your tits bounce in his face lewdly, “god, so glad to have you all to myself— you’re perfect, cute little pussy was made for me.”

You clench down on him at that, feeling as though you’re going crazy from the pleasure— that, and the way your boyfriend looks, feeling your nails dig into your cheeks as you take in his messy, wet hair, his tan skin and muscles that flex from using his strength on you, and his face that’s contorted with pleasure as his lips become bruised with how much he’s biting on them— in an effort to keep himself quiet, he hovers over you, placing his head directly next to yours so he can moan and whisper to you freely.

“Wanna cum?” He asks, feeling the way you’re beginning to clench uncontrollably; frantically, you nod, tears beginning to pool in your eyes as you look at him with pure desperation in your eyes.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he grins, knowing that you’re too fucked to even speak correctly, “mine, and only mine.”

You’re trying to choke back on your sounds as you wonder if doing that is even possible— then he slows down, grinding into you and burying his cock as deep as possible as it begins to kiss your cervix— coyly, he leans down, his hair tickling your collarbone as he wraps his mouth around your breast; circling your nipple with his tongue lewdly, covering it in his spit and tracing over the heart-piercing before he’s blowing air on it— you’re shaking from the feeling of him, unsure of how you’ll do what he asks without blowing your cover completely.

“Hyun…” you whine out quietly for him, sniffling as he slows down his pace, almost stilling inside you as he watches fat tears run down your cheeks with cruel eyes, “Hyun, I’m only yours— I only want you, no one else, promise I only think of you, love you so much…”

The way you’re hiccuping from the effort to choke back on your sounds has Taehyun groaning, taking a deep breath in order not to come before he’s pressing his lips firmly against yours— then he’s resuming his pace, watching as you quickly quiet yourself as your body bounces from how hard he’s fucking you.

It’s too much— you’re falling apart the moment he’s bringing a hand over to circle your clit, supporting you against the wall and holding you up with his other arm as he watches you fall apart, his mouth opening in a silent moan as you tighten around him, pleading breathily for him to cum inside as you do so.

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up?” He asks, riding out your orgasm as he buries his head into your neck, “have you dripping with my cum while other people try to flirt with you? Give you a little reminder of who you belong to, fuck…”

With one last harsh thrust, he buries himself deep in you, finally coming undone and filling you up with his hot cum as you moan against your hand— the harsh bite he leaves on the juncture of your neck has you whimpering weakly, hands becoming limp and falling against his chest as he presses the rest of his body against you, holding you up as the two of you pant and try to regain your composure.

“You’re too good to me,” Taehyun finally sighs out, placing soothing kisses over the place he bit you, listening to the way you laugh softly in response. You’re throwing your arms over his neck as one of them moves to his nape, pulling him away from your neck and bringing him in for a sweet kiss— you’re reluctant to part as you speak, unable to hold back from pecking him between your words as you do so.

“You’re too good for me,” you say, pausing to give him a kiss, irresistible as always as he laughs breathily at your words, “you’re always putting up with me.”

“Not your fault you’re irresistible,” Taehyun smiles, watching as you grow shy under his comment despite the fact that he’s still bottomed out inside you, “I still love showing you off.”

“I wanna show you off too, you know,” you pout, hitting his chest gently before you’re pausing, biting your lip uncertainly as you tilt your head, “if you’re okay with that.”

Taehyun realizes quickly what you’re referring to, unable to stop the fond laugh that escapes him as he takes a second to think.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

It takes a second of you celebrating cheerfully to finally sober up and ask Taehyun to put you down— your legs are wobbly as you feel your face grow hot, his cum immediately leaking out of you as you whine in embarrassment for him to not stare— he can only shake his head in amusement at your antics, helping you clean up with the only thing he’s able to find at the moment.

“Wait, that’s my favorite beach skirt,” you whine, not putting up much of a fight as Taehyun kneels before you, your leg thrown over his shoulder as he cleans you up, placing gentle kisses along your inner thighs as he does so.

“I can wash it,” he replies, unable to hide his grimace as he tucks it away in his pocket; the sight is enough to have you giggling, readjusting your swimsuit and fixing your appearance before you’re hiding behind Taehyun, asking him if his coworkers are gone yet.

“The coast is clear,” he hums, scanning the nearly empty beach as he spots your friends sitting by the ocean, chatting idly amongst themselves.

“You don’t think they heard us, right?” You ask, blinking at him innocently as the belief that you did a good job keeping quiet runs through your head— the sight is enough to have Taehyun soften, letting out a sigh before he’s nodding his head.

“Yeah. You were so good for me.”

Taehyun knows better, though— but he doesn’t really mind, because now he knows that he won’t have to worry about either coworker flirting with you the next time you come to the beach.

1K notes · View notes

hockeyboysimagines · 1 year

Text

Bitter

Chapter 9

Warnings: Mentions of sex, alcohol, pregnancy, angst, some fluff.

PSA: A lot of people have asked me where I got the inspiration for Kaitlin, and I haven’t ever really answered it. I knew a girl who did exactly what Kaitlin is doing. In real life she was successful in derailing the wedding and ultimately broke up the people getting married. It was actually really horrible but I did base Kaitlin off of her. If you guys want a more in depth explanation let me know. I’d be happy to tell the story.

One more after this one guys😭😭😭😭Next chapter will be Mat and Leighton’s wedding!

Enjoy!!

Beau was gone when Ginny woke up the next morning, and if she was being honest she was glad he was. His cologne still lingered on her sheets as she rolled over and sighed, eyes closing again.

She felt so tired, both physically and mentally and she couldn’t decide which was worse. There was too much happening and most of it was completely out of her control. She’d only ever been not in control of a situation one time in her life, and that had been a long time ago.

Her phone buzzed twice and she pulled it towards her, seeing a message from Mat.

M: Hey. We want you to come over for lunch today? Let me know if you can make it. I have practice and Leighton’s been asking for you.

G: Of course I’ll be there. Tell her I’ll see her in a few hours.

M: Thanks Gin. Love you.

G: Love you🤍

She rolled over again and pulled herself up, leaning her neck back and forth before she stood, stretched and made her way to the bathroom to shower. It was going to be a long few days, as the wedding was fast approaching and there was so much to do. The thought of it exhausted her as she cranked the water to hot and let her clothes fall to the floor.

But she would do it because Leighton needed her.

*********

Kaitlin examined the black eye and swollen nose in the mirror. She had thought for a moment about pressing charges and having Ginny arrested, but then she remembered she’d been harassing and sabotaging for months and could get in trouble for that. She had a little more than two weeks to go before Mat and Leighton got married and she was running out of ideas. She was angry still, but it had faded a little over time and even though she had a vendetta, she felt like maybe it was time to let it go.

Maybe.

*********

Leighton didn’t bring up Beau when Ginny got to their apartment. She acted as if everything was normal, until Ginny brought him up. Even though the confrontation had been mostly forgotten due to the devastating news about Leighton’s pregnancy, Ginny still felt a little guilty for lying to her.

“Ginny can you be honest for a minute? Do you have feelings for him? Actual feelings?” She asked gently.

“I don’t really know.” Ginny sighed and leaned back on the sofa “I’ve never actually had feelings for someone.”

“Okay feelings aside, do you want to be with him? Not just sleeping with him, but actually having a relationship?”

Ginny but her lip and nodded “I do.” And then she felt tears come to her eyes “God this sucks.”

Leighton smiled and nodded “It does, but if you do feel this way you should talk to him. He thinks you hate him.”

“I kind of do. Or at least I did. I don’t know I guess I never really gave him a chance. I was so determined to dislike him, I never got to know him, until that night in Manhattan. I realized that maybe he wasn’t so bad, and it snowballed from there. But it was supposed to be just sex. No feelings involved.”

“There’s different ways to get feelings Gin. Some are fast and easy, some take a while. And if he’s what you want, I just want you to be happy.”

“Thank you best friend. I don’t know how I’d survive without you sometimes.” Ginny said the last part a little fearfully, eyes flicking down to Leighton’s stomach, where a visible baby bump had appeared.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Leighton said with a small smile.

Ginny leaned over and let her head fall on Leighton’s shoulder and sighed.

Leighton gave her a pat on the arm “Guys.” She said with a sigh.

“Their the fucking worst.” Ginny replied with a small laugh.

************

Ginny wiggled into an Emerald green dress and ran her fingers through her curls. She was due at the pre-engagement party for Mat and Leighton in a little over an hour, and she had pulled out all the stops.

She was admittedly a little nervous to see Beau, but also a little excited. She hated to say it, but she missed him. Even though it had started as a no strings attached, strictly sex type of relationship, she grew to like him for more than that.

While it scared her still, she had started to imagine a world where maybe she could love him, or at least care for him enough to explore the thought of him being a constant in her life. Love still scared her, but it was becoming less intimidating by the day.

She sighed and adjusted her dress in the mirror. Stepping into her heels and grabbing her clutch. She was ready to admit her feelings to him, to come clean about it all. To finally tell him she actually liked him, and that yelling at him was a mistake. She didn’t mean anything she said, and she wanted to try again.

She left the apartment, full of optimism and hopeful that he felt the same. She hadn’t really thought about what she would do if he said he wasn’t interested. She would deal with that if it happened.

She parked, took a deep breath and walked towards the the bar they’d booked for the party. Some people were already there, but not him. She found Mat and Leighton, conversing with them briefly before Leighton excused herself to pee.

After she left Mat turned to Ginny “Are you doing okay?”

Ginny shrugged “I guess. I’m just stressed i guess. Too much happening. Leighton, Beau, Kaitlin. It’s just been a lot.”

“Agreed. So what’s going to happen with you guys. Leighton hasn’t said much about what you guys talked about at lunch.” Mat had purposely avoided talking about Leighton and Ginny didn’t blame him.

Ginny looked at her feet and sighed, drumming her fingernails on her glass “I don’t know.”

“When’s the last time you talked?”

“Two weeks ago. He came over after I found out about Leighton, but we haven’t talked since then.” She said a little sheepishly. She hadn’t told anyone about when he came over after she found out about Leighton, simply because she had already stressed Leighton out enough and didn’t wanna add to it.

“Does he make you happy Ginny? Because if he makes you happy then you should give it another try don’t you think? You deserve happiness.”

Before she could answer she heard someone say his name and a wide smile stretched across her face as she turned.

She saw him enter from across the room, and before she could help herself she made to step forward before she froze. Trailing behind him, fingers intertwined was some girl, who had clearly come with him. She was smiling widely as he introduced her to his teammates.

Her throat felt like it was closing, and what could only be described as rage was boiling inside of her, bubbling like a volcano that was about to explode.

“Ginny.” Mat put a hand on her arm and she whipped around, yanking it away. Mat took a small step back, remembering how angry she’d been at him just a few months ago, when she’d thrown the frame at him. But that was nothing compared to this. She was almost unrecognizable, her face was twisted with rage, eyes burning into him in a way that made him almost uncomfortable.

“Did you know?” She asked quietly.

Mat gaped at her before she snapped at him “Did you know?!”

“Of course not.” He said holding his hands up.

She had a white knuckle grip on her wine glass, and for a minute he thought it might shatter. Her cheeks were as red as her hair as she downed it, and stared a hole through Beau until he turned and met her eye. He looked at his feet, and bit his lip, guilt all over his face.

Ginny turned on her heel and disappeared somewhere, and Mat let his head fall back and looked at the ceiling exasperated.

“Can we have just one day without drama? Just one?” He mumbled to himself eyes closed.

“Have you seen Ginny?” He opened his eyes and turned to find Lauren looking slightly concerned.

“She went that way, but I’d give her some space right now…”

“Yeah that’s why I’m looking for her. Is she okay?”

“Not really. I should go talk to Beau I think.”

He walked towards him and pulled him aside “Are you out of your mind? You brought a date when Ginny was gonna be here?”

“Why wouldn’t I? We were never exclusive.”

“Dude come on-“

“Look I tried with Ginny okay. She made it very clear she wanted nothing to do with me anymore.”

“Really? That’s why you guys were together just two weeks ago? I don’t get you. Just a few months ago you were hell bent on me breaking up my marriage, and you were right about that. You spewed all this nonsense about listening to my feelings and here you are not listening to your feelings.”

“How do you know what my feelings are?”

“Oh come on man. It’s all over your face. If you wanna lie to everyone else that’s fine, but don’t lie to me. Not about this.”

“Even if I wanted to be with her, she wants nothing to do with me. Did you see that look she just gave me?”

“Because you showed up with some other girl. And because she was about to give you another chance.” Mat said the words before he could stop himself. It wasn’t really his place to tell him that, but he wondered if maybe that was the only way to get him to stop being so dense.

He looked dumbfounded, mouth slightly ajar “She was?”

“Yes. What’s wrong with you?” He asked brows furrowed. Beau then felt guilty. His dream girl, who he both hated and loved at the same time was coming around to him after everything that had transpired between them and he had showed up with some other girl he had zero attraction to, because he wanted to spite her.

Mat shook his head and walked away, leaving Beau with Kerrie and his teammates. They looked awkward as they interacted with her. Now that they knew about Ginny, they were confused about why he had showed up with someone else. Sydney was looking at him with a frown, before she sipped her drink and excused herself, and he was sure she went to find Ginny and Leighton.

Elsewhere Leighton had found Ginny at the bar, 4 shots in and ready for another.

“Whoa.” She remarked as Ginny downed another one “What’s the matter?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” She said quietly, jerking her head in the direction of Beau and the girl he’d brought.

Leighton sucked in a breath “Ginny…Ginny I’m so sorry. I had no idea-“

“It’s fine. It’s not your fault. It’s mine actually, for being so fucking stupid.”

“Your not stupid.”

“No I am. What was my one rule? Don’t ever be vulnerable. And what did I do? I broke it and look where it got me. Never again.” Ginny felt a tear come to her eye and then gave Leighton a tight lipped smile “It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” She turned and walked away from the bar and disappeared into the crowd with her wine glass in her hand.

“Ginny.” She turned and froze. Beau was standing there, eyes soft, looking at her apprehensively.

“Can I talk to you?” He asked lowly, hand coming to rest on her arm. She laughed, and yanked her arm from his grip.

“Can you talk to me? No you can’t fucking talk to me.”

“Ginny please I-“

“Who is she?” She asked pointing at her. Several of his teammates had stopped conversation and started listening.

“She’s- she’s just a girl I know.”

“A girl you know? Okay Beau. Get away from me.” She didn’t look angry, but she looked sad and disgusted.

“Ginny can we just go somewhere and talk. Please?” He blocked her path. She squinted at him and smiled a little, eyes narrowing. As he took a step closer, the smell of alcohol was apparent and he realized he was talking to drunk Ginny, not sober Ginny.

“No. Let’s talk right here.” She said voice rising. Her face was flushed as she pointed at Kerrie.

“I bet she thinks wow what a winner he’s great!” Ginny said spilling a bit of wine over the rim of her glass as she swung it in her direction. She took another step backwards as he tried to take the glass from her hand and quiet her.

“And I’d be willing to bet you fucked her right there on that kitchen counter. Where you used to fuck me remember?” He stepped forward trying to hush her again but she just got louder.

“Ginny stop.” He said as she reached forward grabbing the shirt, fisting the fabric in her hand.

“ I know you think about me when your with her.” She slurred as more wine tumbled over the rim of the glass spilling on to the hardwood with a slapping sound. Lauren and Sydney both watched sadly as Ginny unraveled in front of them, and the entire bar. It was sad, to see her finally lose it. Beau, Leighton, all of it had finally made her fall apart, something she had never done. Her mistake of being vulnerable had finally come back to bite her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it from spilling over.

Kerrie had noticed this now and was frowning, eyes growing glassy as she watched them interact. She had been hopeful that maybe Beau decided he liked her, but as she watched him with Ginny she started to think he’d only brought her to get back at her.

Beau gripped Ginny by the wrist and attempted to steer her into the privacy of the hallway, eyes searching the room for Leighton. She was watching them, Mat behind her. She looked sad, knowing that Ginny had finally hit rock bottom. She came forward just as Ginny was about to speak again, and put a hand gently on her shoulder. Ginny turned to look at her, and while no words were spoken, her eyes told her she needed to stop. She had tears in her eyes as Leighton pushed her forward and into the bathroom giving him a look he could quite read before closing the door. Kerrie had disappeared from her spot and he ran a hand frustratedly through his hair and made his way to the bar avoiding the eyes of his teammates. He sat down, and felt a presence at his side and a hand on his shoulder. Mat was looking sadly at him.

“I fucked up bro.” Beau said quietly, leaning forward to let his head fall into his hands. This was all his fault. All of it. Even if things were truly over between them, it was wrong to bring Kerrie. It wasn’t fair to her, and it wasn’t fair to Ginny. And it wasn’t fair to Mat and Leighton.

Mat nodded and sighed sitting on the stool next to him “Look man. Ginny is....different. I think she got used to leaving guy’s broken hearted. I don’t think she’s ever been on the receiving end of it. It’s gotta be hard for her. I’ve never seen her fall apart this way.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt her I just...I thought if I moved on first it wouldn’t hurt as bad when she did.”

“Take it from someone who’s tried that. It doesn’t work. I was engaged to Kaitlin and I still loved Leighton, I don’t think I ever really stopped I just pushed it away. You gotta talk to her.”

“I don’t think so. That might make things worse. I have a lot of apologies to make. To you, to Leighton, to Kerrie. Ginny most of all, but I don’t think she’d even want to see me.”

Leighton appeared next to Mat, wetness under her eyes.

“Where is she?” Beau asked quietly.

“I sent her home. Please don’t go and see her. Please.” Her voice broke at the end, lip trembling “She needs to be alone.”

“I understand. I’m sorry. For all of this.”

“It’s not your fault, but this is just too much.”

He nodded and Mat put an arm around Leighton’s shoulder “Don’t get upset. You aren’t supposed to get stressed.”

“I’m gonna go. I promise I won’t go see Ginny. Sorry again.”

They both nodded and watched him leave.

“Are you okay?” Mat asked gently, turning to face Leighton fully.

She shook her head, tears spilling out of her eyes “No I’m not okay. I can’t take much more of this. Ginny, Beau, Kaitlin. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Ginny and Beau will work themselves out, and as for Kaitlin, I’m going to handle that. I promise.”

**********

He kept his word. After he put Leighton to bed, he quietly left the apartment, and made his way across town to Kaitlin’s. He sat in the car for a minute, rehearsing his words in his head. He wasn’t sure anything he said would make a difference at this point, but he had to try.

The parking lot was quiet, the only sounds being his footsteps as he made his way up the stairs and to her door. He knocked three times, and after a few minutes she opened the door. She looked both surprised to see him, but also not, and then she smiled.

“Mat. Hi.”

“I need to talk to you.” He said flatly moving past her and into her apartment. It was small, much smaller than the one they’d shared. Kaitlin was still by the door, smiling at him like she used to as she closed it.

“How are you? I miss you.” She said moving towards him, but he held out a hand to stop her.

“Don’t. I’m not here for that. I’m here to tell you to stay away from my wedding, stay away from my friends, and stay away from Leighton.”

“Mat I-“

“No. I’m talking. I’ve let this go on for too long, because I felt guilty about what happened. But what your doing now is going too far.”

“You have no idea about going too far. Going too far was saying someone else’s name on the altar.”

“And I’ve apologized for that. Why can’t you let it go?”

“Because I still love you.” She said. She had started to cry, tears staining her face. While he normally would have felt bad, it only made him angrier.

“Did you cheat on me with her?” Kaitlin asked voice breaking. She had long suspected that he had strayed from their engagement, but she’d never been able to confirm it.

Mat hesitated a seconds, biting his lip “Yeah Kaitlin. I did.”

“When?”

“The day after we moved up the wedding. And it was wrong of me. I should have been honest with you from the start. And I’m sorry.”

“I knew it.” She wiped under her eyes and shook her head “I knew you did. What other reason would you say her name instead of mine. That’s why I’m doing all this. Because you ruined my life.”

“So because we didn’t work out, you’re going to ruin my life?” He asked. What he did was wrong, but that didn’t make what she was doing right either.

“Didn’t work out?! That’s what you call that? Because I call it sabotage-“

“No what your doing now is sabotage Kaitlin! I mean this is insane! Trying to stop my wedding?”

“Did you ever love me at all?” She asked tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Yeah I did. You don’t have to believe that but I did. And I’m sorry that I hurt you Kaitlin I really am but…but I love her. And I want to marry Leighton. It’s over for us.”

Kaitlin flinched and sniffled but nodded “Yeah I know it is… I think it was over for us a long time ago.”

Mat was silent a moment before she spoke again, voice cracking “I’ve always known I wasn’t really the love of your life. Even before she showed up here. I could feel I was never getting 100% of your heart, like there was a part of it I would never see. And it was my fault for sticking around. I just thought that maybe you could learn to love me someday or that maybe your hate for her would be enough to make you stay with me. That was my mistake. I could see it in your eyes when you told me she was here. That your feeling shad changed.”

“I’m not here to rehash the past Kaitlin. I’m here to tell you to stay away from my wedding, and away from my fiancé. It doesn’t matter what you do. I will move my wedding across the country, but I’m still going to marry her. It’s over.” He said coldly. He didn’t feel the slightest bit bad about it either. He had apologized enough for what he did and he wouldn’t allow her to guilt him into anymore of it.

Kaitlin nodded “I know. I’m done with all this. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. And I’d like to apologize to Leighton too.”

“You aren’t going to talk to her ever. Stay away from her. I mean it. I wish you the best, but this is the last time your ever going to see me. Goodbye Kaitlin.”

He walked past her and for a second she looked like she might reach out to him, but she didn’t. Instead she let him walk out the door, and out of her life for good. As he walked towards his car, a weight that had come to rest on his shoulders melted away and stayed in that apartment. He had made his peace with the situation and he wouldn’t revisit it.

He would always be thankful to her for helping him heal during the lowest point in his life. But anything beyond that was done. He was finally going to marry the love of his life, and she was what was important to him now. Not Kaitlin, not the drama and not the past.

He felt relieved and at peace as he made his way back home. The apartment was quiet as he stepped inside, took off his shoes and made his way to their bedroom. Leighton was facing away from the door on her side, and stirred as he slipped into bed next to her.

“Hey.” She said softly eyes still closed. He placed an arm gently around her waist, hand coming to rest on her stomach “Where have you been?”

“I was out. Keeping my promise.”

************

“Jesus Christ.” Beau said picking up a box and heaving it one the kitchen island “You have a lot of stuff.”

“Think of it as conditioning before camp starts.” Mat said ripping the tape off a second box.”

“What is all this? None of it’s labeled and I don’t want to accidentally unpack your underwear or something.”

Mat chuckled and nodded over his shoulder “It’s already unpacked.”

“Priorities.” Beau said snapping his fingers and reaching over to start unboxing stuff “Let’s see.” He said peering inside “Looks like bedroom stuff. A lamp, T.V remote, socks, and…” he trailed off digging in the box “Who’s this?”

Mat turned to see him holding up a frame. His smile faded a little. It was something he took with him everywhere, and while it felt a little silly he just couldn’t part with it. He cleared his throat “That’s Leighton, my ex girlfriend.”

“You keep a picture of your ex girlfriend in your bedroom? Sounds like more than an ex girlfriend to me.”

“She was. I uh-I asked her to marry me once.” He smiled but it was a sad smile “She said no. I haven’t seen her since then.”

“Oh shit. I’m sorry Barz I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine. I’ve kind of come to terms with it I guess. But for whatever reason I can’t let go of that picture.”

He reached for it and held it in front of him looking down at it. She was so beautiful, smile wide as he leaned into him, arms wrapped around his middle. Her eyes were twinkling, happy. They’d been so in love, so excited for their future together. Those people had no idea that in a year their life would be completely separate from each other.

“Do you…wanna talk about it?” Beau asked teaching into the box to unpack everything else.

“There’s not much to talk about. She’s gone you know? It happened and it took a long time to come to terms with, but I’ve mostly gotten over it. It’s time to move on.” He sighed and recounted some of the details on what had happened. By the end of the story, Beau was looking apologetically at him.

“I don’t know how you do it buddy. That’s part of why I’ll never fall in love. I couldn’t go through that.”

“Sometimes you’ll do anything for someone you love. Even let them go. You never know, you might fall for someone some day. Someone unexpected.”

“Nah. That’s not my thing. Love doesn’t find guys like me.”

37 notes · View notes

thediaryofa20somethinggirl · 25 days

Text

week one

week one of i don't even know. i just want to write.

the week started with a two-day fast; a cleansing of my stomach as i thought she was swollen. my binge eating disorder is slowly taking more and more control over me; before bed snacks of oatmeal and dried tart cherries, empanadas, eggs with hot sauce, and multiple oatmeal raisin cookies. i then wake up with a stomach almost triple its normal size. to make me feel better i pretend im pregnant. i give her a name, and i tell myself to be strong for her. i then kill her with three laxatives, three digestive enzymes, and three pills of apple cider vinegar - making my stomach feel cold, shitting her out the next day. i told myself that monday would be the last binge. i relapsed both thursday and friday this week. we will try again tomorrow, saturday, and i will win and loose weight and regain control. guilt and regret isn't productive. im too focused on getting better, to spend an unreasobale amount of time umination on how much of a shit person i am. its the only option. tomorrow starts the goal of daily exersize, besides being at work. i am delaring my success now.

family came to visit this week, from Monday morning to Thursday morning. family i havent seen in almost 4 years. family i haven't talked to in 5. family that my mom resented, even till the day she died. i wonder if those feeling have changed.

one thing my mom taught me, was that change is work but growing is work too. if you want to grow with someone, and make something out of the relationship you have with eachother, you need to not only be able to be vulerable and talk about hard and uncomfotable things. you have to be willing to change: for yourself ALWAYS for yourself, grow for others, change for you. i need to change for myself, be more vulerable with myself, and work through hard things - not numb myself with drugs and sex. not distract myself with work. no more waiting for tomorrow. i’m changing today, im changed right now and i am going to act as if i already have. oprah taught me that life is filled with good and bad. the two can't exist without eachother. the perfect pair, the most effortless way of being perfect pair.

i’m realizing that this is life; periods of good and bad. maybe this is just that bad part, the part that is needed to give me perspective understanding. as much as dealing with what i’m dealing with has been extremely isolating and exhausting, it’s offered me perspective, depth. i know things that people who’d through hard things only know. i wake up with a different sense of awareness and go to bed that much more full. im holding onto the idea that the good part will be coming later, hopefully soon. i’m the one who decided what’s next.

that’s what’s stressed me out the most this week; thinking about what’s next. i need my mom; not only to help me get over her passing, but to help guide me. to give a sense of belief in myself. selfishly, if i needed a boost of ego, i could ask stupid questions and fish my mom. most of the time i just have to stalk her facebook to remember who the fuck i am. also reminder that i’m HER daughter, and that is more worth than i need. i taking pleasure in the study of how similar our faces resemble our blood relation. looking at photos of her at my age now, making me giddy at the naive thought of us being twins. hoping that this innate obsession of our mother daughter friendship warrants our existence in our past lives, with promise for reunion in the next one. oh, please wait for me!

i keep picturing myself, interviewing with Oprah talking about the hit release of my first-ever book; the motivations behind it, and hopes for the future. how i create my art for me and only, being completely selfish with it. however, throughout this interview, i have no idea what the book it is that i wrote. that’s my goal; to write a book. but i have to start with the idea. let’s make that the goal for next week.

the more you lead with love the more love will follow.

the mantra of the week, the thing i keep telling myself to overcome any anger i have toward anyone - to be at peace with maybe just meeting you at wherever the fuck your at - and not taking anything personal. protecting my peace and not giving u the power of my anger.

however, i avoided my family as they visited; refusing to cause confrontation as my filter is broken and needs constant fixing, charging. and since my mom died - that filter has been gathering dust in the corner. i simply don't give a fuck. and i felt that in my bones, the pure social sphere of having a stranger in my house only 3 weeks after my mother died, loosens my tounge and hungers my asshole to begin to eat my underwear. acting on emotion rather than logic, and avoidance is my way of still digesting these angry and tense emotions. fiercely defending till the end. i dont fuck with sweeping things underneath the rug.

so how did i stay away, and avoid? i spent my time working, and when i wasn't working i was attempting english homework, that i have still yet to finish. Saturday, i keep telling myself, Saturday is when I finish. i'll keep you updated. since i haven't finished, i was procrastiating my time, putting it elsewere; filling three hefty trash bags full of colored clothing - only to be replaced will an all black wardrobe with few white, grey and navy accents. i want to feel chic again. i want to feel myself again. i wonder what i'll wear tomorrow.

i spent my day off deep cleaning, and getting my eyebrows done which also are installing small pulses of i don’t give ANY fucks energy throughout my face and walk. my eyebrows are bushy but clean, and i am unstoppable.

today at work, i decided to wear an oversized dad sweater, that houses a mid-size picture of a beautiful garden; greenery with accents of white birdhouses and benches as characters in the scene. it made me feel a sense of humidity, a strange feeling which motivated me to support the 99c purchase. the oversized dad sweater that housed a photo of a humid garden accessorised with two nods of praise; one from a boy who i can only describe as the purest man of florida; small calfs followed by the thunderous suprise of thick thighs - a solid lap to sit on. his legs were dressed with mid thigh athetic shorts, making his thighs appear hairless and even more thick than expected. because of small his calfs looked. he wore a plan black t shirt, allowing his pecks to make an indentation to were the shirt falls. his feet were exposed - something common in florida, something every proud floridian embraces; the ability to be walking almost barefoot. something that i rarely do, almost never, even at the beach - as my feet may not be ugly but crave the dressing of an 80's chucky socks followed by a chunky sneaker. his feet were dressed in a clean, almost new looking of black unrecogonizable sldies. clean enough to be expesniive looking, but plain enough to be bought at the dollar store. a physical representation of things that cost money don't always mean they are better. "sometimes things that are expsive are worse." his toes were clean however, inspected for judgement rather than enjoyment, giving the impression that he puts effort into his heigne; a signal to flirt.

when he made his way to the cash register, i didn't allow the anxiety of his attractivesness show; keeping my voice calm not letting myself rush, embracing the akward silence of the slow register in the store, and no desire to talk. we locked eyes multiple times; him showcasing to me piercing blue eyes that look even more piercing, on the backslash of his sunkissed skin - another florida staple. almost like makeup. a handsome face, a manly face, i thought. the only thing that i didn't get to perceive was his hair - mainly as it was covered with a black bass pro baseball cap. something that reminded me of my grandpa; large and flat brimmed. i couldn't tell if his compliment was a sign of flirting or just being nice. maybe he just wanted to fill the silence of my lackluster desire for conversation. maybe he just said it to say it. i will never know, and i have to move the fuck on.

the second compliment also came at the cash register; this time from a girl. flirting with girls is something, i really never do. i tend to get more intimidated in the sense of my questioning if a woman could ever be attracted to a girl like me. i don't and didn't allow that thought to win this time, especially coming off of florida mans encounter.

shes a regular, seeing her only days before. her style consdiently mirrored that her florida man co star; housing her body in all black, giving emphasis of her silver butterfly knecklace that rests perfectly in the center of her chest - making me think of my tattoo. making me feel warm in my cheeks, and itchy in my toes.

her smile was clean, something i could suck on and feel refreshed; a crystal clean glass of iceless cool water. eye contact lingered, and i couldn't tell if she was flirty. the words ill see ya next time are now an obsession; playing on repated for the whole night, even now as I type the reencounter of our meeting.

that was the most interesting thing that happened at work today. that and we almost caught a woman stealing; a young white woman with a puppy named Chanel and a doggy stroller. her face reminded me of Amanda Bines, in the snese that it was the canvas for a small heart tattoo that also sits under the left eye. she was nice to me, especally as i tried to help her finds books. i could tell she was trying to steal, which made me second guess the genuineness of our conversation; trying to take advantage of the fact that i am nice. i really gave her the benefit of the doubt, until she lost her wallet last minute; leaving $350 worth of business and self help books on hold for tomorrow at 11am. my shift starts at that time. ill let you know if i see her again. i really hope to.

well that’s it for this week, for now. my goals? get my homework in and be caught up. go a whole week without cutting myself. to go a whole week without binge eating.

mattea

#diary #dear diary

3 notes · View notes

bitchlessdino · 1 year

Text

If y'all were curious and / to the people that are tagged lol

I posted 1,774 times in 2022

That's 1,744 more posts than 2021!

746 posts created (42%)

1,028 posts reblogged (58%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@/woozi

@/97-liners

@/bitchlessdino

@/huiranghaes

@/dokyeomblr

I tagged 1,636 of my posts in 2022

Only 8% of my posts had no tags

#nan talks - 434 posts

#asks - 345 posts

#anon asks - 204 posts

#anon - 121 posts

#seventeen smut - 88 posts

#seventeen - 76 posts

#seventeen fanfic - 60 posts

#seventeen imagines - 60 posts

#seventeen scenarios - 48 posts

#ship game - 43 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i hate knowing bc of how the world is now there a very low chance i’ll never see this person in real life or in concert to truly appreciate

My Top Posts in 2022:

and they were roommates pt.2

find the first part here, part three here

A svt.hub collab

Pairing: camboy!chan x afab roommate!reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 2.2k

tags: pet name (kitten), oral, 34 +35, dirty talk, mentions of sex tape

Summary: Wanting sex is a natural feeling, it just so happens that gratification could be found in the next room with a shitty webcam and an infectious laugh.

author note: thank you @chogiwapadada for helping me proofread this thing and thank you guys for the endless support. the fact that this was on the top page for the seventeen tag is insane and y'all made such a big deal of this and therefore i thank you guys so much. but josh if you see this, no you don't go away, please. i am always constantly overwhelmed by the support and hopefully you guys enjoy this one too!

tag list: @sapphichui @librarian-stacks @dontflailmenow @gyuldaengie @minniemole @greysdarling @romromthedeer @yoondae @dinosbestie @boo-tycall

You may be wondering, what happened that night when Chan fapped to the thought of you in front of a live audience, not forgetting to invite you when he’s made a mess of himself. Did you really take up his offer, stormed out of your room, and had the most mind-blowing sex with your roommate you ever had?

Of course, you fucking didn’t, are you kidding?

What you actually did was finish off independently in your own rooms and did not speak another word to each other for the rest of the night.

You were awkward roommates at the end of the day and who knows what kind of shit would happen if you decided to pursue these escapades any further. No matter how hot and incredible Chan/Dino looked naked, there was no way you’d potentially ruin your convenient living agreements with your roommate who obviously makes enough money for the both of you (a lot of thanks to you I guess). So, what was the tactical decision after learning your roommate is a popular and successful sex worker?

Act as if nothing happened. What live show? What’s Dino? What even is Svthub? You don’t masturbate, that’s icky.

Yeah, you’re having a hard time believing that too. But what else were you supposed to do?

You could hardly look Chan in the eye the next day. Fortunately, he paid you almost no mind being that it was his weekend too. However, last night’s show was not as easily forgettable for you as it was for him. You could still picture the momentum and force that took hold of his body that managed to power his personal gratification, killing every functional cell of your entire being. His smile was already so pretty on a normal basis but how it twists desperately when he gets closer and closer, and his whines get louder and bolder, you could just cum then and there.

It fucking drove you insane he was just sitting there on the couch, laughing at cartoons as if nothing happened. It, in fact, confused you, even more, making you consider whether last night was even a dream because of how contradicting Chan and Dino really were, but it’s him. That laugh is his, that smile is his, that body is his, and that semi-hard cock poking at his gray sweatpants was definitely his. How were you so stupid that you didn’t notice sooner?

You press your lips in a firm line when you notice him turn his head at you, urging you to swallow the built up drool in your mouth.

“You wanna go grocery shopping today,” he asks, “I think I remember there was a sale for something I’ve been needing for a while.”

Like he needs to participate in any sales from the income he grew overnight.

“We went shopping last week,” you pointed out.

He nods agreeingly, “yeah, but I think we can afford it. I kinda got a huge bonus.”

Yeah, because Chan’s horny roommate couldn’t control themselves.

“Sure. Just let me get my bag.”

He claps his hands in rejoice and waits for you on the couch. When you’re both ready, Chan grabs the house keys and you’re the first one to head to the front door. Turning the knob, you swing the door open and at your feet was a package labeled to your roommate. You curiously pick it up from the ground, “Hey, Chan—”

“Uh, that’s mine,” he snatches it, nervously chuckling, sticking it in a vacant spot on your shared bookshelf.

You narrow your eyes at him as he pushes you out of the apartment and locks the door behind you both. “What was that?”

He shakes his head dismissively, flicking his hand in feigning lack of care. “Just treated myself. Got here earlier than I expected.”

Next day shipping, hmm?

See the full post

750 notes - Posted June 26, 2022

Bad Habits (M)

Pairing: fwb!seungcheol x fem!reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 3.2k

tags: dom!seungcheol, sub!reader, daddy kink, spanking, overstimulation, degradation, dirty talking, pussy slapping, pink!cheol, fingering, reader being in denial, light tit play, light edging

Summary: To take your love life seriously, you need to cut ties with the one person holding you back. Too bad he comes back to you like a bad habit.

author note: I feel like it's been a really long time since I posted smth longer than 1k bc I have been fucking drained and I am so tired of being an adult like I don't wanna be here. I am so happy I got this done but I feel like it is so much tamer than I wanted it to be like I kinda have been having a soft cheolrot and all i wanna do is cuddle his ass. Btw I'm gonna try working on more stuff next week, maybe post multiple short pieces here and there next week bc i will be on vaycay with no internet access from April 9th to 17th, so yall will see me inactive.

His face, his body, his words; everything about him was fucking mind-blowing, and how he blew out your back was indescribable. Seungcheol was the top picking of casual sex.

It was mutual that things stay sexual and only sexual, but how this one guy had you wrapped on his finger was something that you had to go to your therapist for. You worked your schedule around this man. Every time he’d text you, you’d drop everything and make sure that he had your full undivided attention. Often he showed how grateful he was while simultaneously showcasing how strong those thighs underneath you while you grinded on top of him or how fast and powerful hips were slamming full force into your cervix. His big hands always gripped the flesh of your ass as he fucked you from behind. Much often, your face would be buried in his pillows while you muffled your loud moans.

“You fucking like that, baby?” He muttered under his shallow breaths.

You turned to your cheek, trying to look back at him. “Y-yes, fuck, just that. Your cock is good fucking my pussy.”

“You take it to f-fucking good,” he praised, both palms clashing against your ass cheeks like a pair of cymbals.

You arched your back at the strike of pain, your teeth digging into your bottom lip while you let out a hoarse moan. “Mmm, daddy.”

Seungcheol was like a well-oiled machine. He ran beautifully, pressing into your core in a steady rhythm, audibly degrading you to filth, filling you with a sense of accomplishment. “You’re such a good slut for me. Is my little cumslut enjoying how I fuck your filthy hole?”

“Mmmh, yes. I love how you fuck me, daddy. You always know how to make me feel so good.” His hands smoothed against your side, not losing his pace, fucking you until the sunrise, only to have you do it all over again the next day.

He was insatiable and you found it addicting. Eventually, all things had an end and that end for you was when one of you had decided to take control of your life again. It had been a long time since you were in a committed relationship and to you that meant differently now that you were older. At this point in your life, you needed some romantic consistency and you weren't going to get it stuck in your college ways.

“I don’t want to just sleep around anymore.”

“I told you, y/n, I’m not looking for anything serious.” Seungcheol reminded you.

He shielded his body with his once abandoned white tee, getting ready to go about his following day. Being in your home, you laid comfortably nude in your own bed.

“I know. That’s why I’m ending things between us, Cheol. I want to get into dating again. I want us to stop sleeping together.”

With his back towards you, he halted midway pulling up his pants, almost contemplating, before pulling them back up all the way. “Did you meet someone?”

“No,” you admitted, “I just want those other things to come after sex.”

You watched him nod, before turning back to you. “Okay…So this is the last time then.”

You nodded.

“I wish you would’ve told me that. I could’ve made it a bit more…celebratory.” He joked lightly, a dark undertone in his voice.

You looked at him intrigued. Your upper body slipped from the covers, hanging the delicious fruit that would at times be suckled on or bruised with hickies by his cherry red lips. Seungcheol’s throat went dry by the simple gestures, mesmerized by the beauty every time you displayed it, wondering if there will be anyone else like it once you leave. He finally met your eyes, tempted by your siren gaze. “We still can, if you want that is. The day is still young.”

Seungcheol gathered his thoughts. A speedy gulp of saliva ran down the narrow pipe of his throat as he fixated on how you shifted in bed. Revealing more and more skin, you leave nothing to the imagination. This was a momentary crucial decision, he could decide to leave and help himself to what else the world had to offer starting now, or—“Fuck it. Get on your knees for me.”

Seungcheol took his time that night, making sure you felt every inch that craved your attention, just as you took your time finding a permanent romantic partner. You’ve had your fair share of dates back in your college days but this was a long time coming and you were no spring chicken anymore. It’ll be the first time in a while that you've put yourself out there. How you came upon Seungcheol was pure coincidence and convenience, not expecting it to have lasted as long as it did. Now you’re finding yourself finding something to occupy that time in your life, a time where you put your energy into someone else.

You start to remember how tiresome it is getting to know someone and making an effort to be presentable. By now, you’d have several dates, all varying types of people, and all varying different types of disappointment. None of them made themselves second-date worthy and all lacked an attractive quality. Maybe you were being picky, but none of them drew you like you wish they had. Some were nice, sweet even, while some were simply a waste of time, but there were none you willingly thought twice about.

You waited even now for possibly another awful date. You both agreed upon a bar, thinking of a night letting loose with drinks would be a good start to whatever this is. Whoever this person was, their impression was already off given that you’ve waited a good half hour for them to arrive. Additionally, they began to be unresponsive, leading to the point that tonight was likely another failure of date.

See the full post

817 notes - Posted April 1, 2022

Healthy Bodies (M)

Pairing: fem!reader X chilhoodfriend!soonyoung

Genre: smut, slice of life

Word count: 6.2k

tags: plot before smut, mentions of body image issues, supportive besties, mutual pining, estranged friends to lovers, soft dom! Soonyoung, sub!reader, unprotected sex, oral (giving and receiving), rough to soft, passionate sex

Summary: There's no one that could relate to your struggle of being a former fat kid like your one and only old friend. So, what’s to happen when you reunite with him before a 10 year high school reunion.

author note: I have no answer to why the hell this is so damn long or why the hell it took as long as it did to get finished, but this image has been in my head for FOOKEN MONTHS I TELL YOU. I’d like to say it was worth it finally having out now. An in perfect time bc this pic from the photoshoot is so gorg and FITTING. While I do love the photoshoots and promotions we’re given PLEDIS/HYBE need to fucking chill out on all their employees getting fucking sick. If one member is sick, quarantine all of them. Having one sick means they’re all at risk of covid, this is why they are all getting sick one by one. TLDR; CHILL THE FUCK OUT ENTERTAINMENT COMPANIES. I might re-edit this btw idk

Only you and Soonyoung knew how bad it was in high school as overweight teenagers, only having each other to rely on as you bonded over your struggles and exchanging traumatic stories over street food. So when you heard about your 10-year high school reunion, you were so eager to see your chubby buddy again that you planned a small reunion of you a few days before the big gathering. It would be the first time in years since you’ve both graduated, saying you’d keep in touch when you both pretty much forgot each other all this time, caught up in your education. Luckily returning your thoughts, Soonyoung agreed to meet up with you, reciprocating the same excitement.

A lot of things have changed since your pubescent years and you’ve managed to make a name for yourself in, surprisingly, the fitness industry. Your name is plastered all over street benches, office buildings, and even college campuses. You were essentially the picture-perfect image for all things fitness. Seriously, you were on the cover of All Things Fitness magazine for July. To say you were excited to show off your success to the one person who’d understand what you’re feeling would be an understatement. You were dying to see the reaction of your estranged best friend for the first time.

“Y/n?”

When you looked up to the sound of your name, the sharp, familiar eyes attached to the not all familiar toned and lean figure approached your table with a bright expression on their face. You blinked up at the stranger, taken back by his stunning figure. You recognized him from the many fashion catalogs you’ve graced your eyes on at the salon when you get your bi-monthly treatment. You knew him by name, by eye gaze, and by every detail of his ripped-up body he had a habit of showcasing on every pictorial he was on, but how the hell did he know you.

You pointed at you dubiously, “Do you know me?”

“Y/n. It’s me. Soonyoung.”

You got up from your seat, your eyes growing wide enough to make you think like you were missing all the skin around your eyes. “Kwon Soonyoung?”

“Nice seeing you too, Mochi.” He quickened his pace and wrapped his arms around your waist, hoisting you up in the air.

You returned his embrace, involuntarily groping his broad shoulders and firm back through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, all at once hearing the beat of your heart pound tenfold. His hand met the small of your back, lightly rubbing against it, breathing in your expensive perfume that you said yourself ‘reeked of success.’ “God, you even smell great.”

Soonyoung released you from his hug, holding on to you by your shoulders. He gazed back at you like you were the most precious thing he’d lay his eyes on, while you stared at him like a stranger. Kwon Soonyoung and Kwon Hoshi were the same person and you had no idea.

“Ho-Soonyoung! You look incredible.”

He offered you a side-grin. “Speak for yourself. You’re gorgeous.”

He planted a kiss on the side of your cheek. Eighteen-year-old Soonyoung definitely would not have done that.

Falling out of your spell, you shook your head, gesturing to the empty chair. “Uh, sit. Sit.”

Soonyoung got comfortable opposite you, not once his eyes tearing apart from your appearance. You mentally traced over his sharp jaw and down his toned frame, looking just as majestic as they felt. There was not a trace of the braces he had during graduation, besides his perfectly straight teeth, and his hair was parted in a style that accentuated every pretty feature he had. He really grew up to be so gorgeous.

“How is that you look so…”

“Different?” He finished, “You’re looking at the other side of the same coin, Mochi. You look different too.”

“Yeah, but, Soonyoung. Not like you.”

He chuckled, taking a sip of his iced water. “Thank you. If you weren’t my best friend, I would have a really hard time looking you in the eyes right now.”

“This is freaking me out a little bit right now because you, Soonyoung, are Hoshi.”

He grew shy, a pinkish glow tinting his cheeks. “Yeah, I’ve been doing well for myself, so today’s my treat.”

“Oh, you know I’d never deny a free dinner, but you’re not the only one doing well for themselves.”

A sexy chuckle escaped him. “Alright then. You buy dinner, I buy the drinks, and we both get to talk about what’s going on in our lives, hmm?”

See the full post

844 notes - Posted March 9, 2022

for you, always

Pairing: wonwoo X fem!reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 1.4k

Tags: smut with some plot, ex!seventeen member, pining, exhibitionism, cunnilingus, implicit consent, unprotected sex, phone calls

Summary: Heartbreak recovery requires patience, incentive, and Jeon Wonwoo.

author note: hello welcome back to horny hell. we have lemonade and abandon kittens to adopt, kittens being pussies, and pussies being my {redacted}. I have no real serious notes beside the fact that I feel like grown so many good relations being on here and I hope we continue to connect and reconnect for a long time.

It was initially a means of getting over your ex. He would call all the time, get back together with you, only to break up all over again. At some point, it had to stop.

Wonwoo was sick of every little pity party you’d throw at his place and he was running low on his stock of monthly supply of snacks in a mere week. Of course, there was the matter of your emotions, which were unstable and unpredictable, the worst kind to manage. You would throw tantrums, cry excessively, and experience the ups and downs comparable to an amusement park ride.

That was when he proposed an idea. He’d check on you, and hold you accountable for every time you get too close to your ex. Originally, a flick on the forehead seemed enough, you then began to get insufferable, fighting back. Other times you’d scratch at him like a cat, trying to retrieve your phone that he’s stolen from your grasp. It was until finally, he found a strong enough method to hold you back.

Pinning your hands on either wall, unable to even twist your wrist to face your phone screen. His hands were stronger than you had anticipated, hardly moving an inch, while struggled, and then you stopped completely. Wonwoo’s eyes pierced into yours like a knife, salvia shooting down his throat, but having complete control over the situation.

“Wonwoo—”

“Can’t you just ignore him when you’re with me? What good is it keeping him around?”

“I’m not—”

“You haven’t looked up from your phone all afternoon, stay with me here!” He points out, shouting.

Your lips quiver. Unable to tear your eyes away from him. “I-it’s, it’s not easy!”

“Can’t you see I’m doing the best I can to help you forget about him?”

You feel tears brim your eyes, helpless and irrational, pounding the back of your fists at the plaster of the wall you’re still restricted to. “Can’t you see I’m trying? I can’t help but…miss him. Just…let me take the call, hmm? Hmm?”

He shut his eyes painfully, fingers tightening around your wrists in frustration, hearing you wince in pain. “…God, you’re so stupid.”

He pulls himself forward, his head drawing closer, and soon his lips on your face. The way they moved against you was sweet and slow as if to let you know that everything is ok, and eventually, everything will be. He loosens the grip on your wrist, causing you to drop your phone to the ground, cracking its screen. Your eyes flutter in anticipation, melting in his open arms. His arms tighten around your torso and you grasp his neck. Your bodies gravitate to the bedroom and Wonwoo never leaves your side.

This single event would lead to several endless night of involved with your dearest friend. Many of those nights including hands in each other hair, lips on each other’s body, hours lost in space, and more than enough orgasms to tattoo Wonwoos name on your tongue, and he loves how you would say his name. How he’d worship your body in return like religion, never ceasing to give every inch of you his undivided attention.

And this went on for as long as you needed. Wonwoo gave you all the distraction you needed, to the point that this entanglement started to work and you wouldn’t even think about calling up your ex.

“Mmh, Wonwoo.”

Your fingers interlocked with his hair, capturing his dark locks before tugging, his soft grunts escaping before his lips tug at your folds and close around your entrance. The way his arms would encapsulate around your thighs and push your sopping cunt closer to his face was exhilarating. The gears in your stomach churn like they were shifted to overdrive, mesmerized by the owner of those same eyes that a week ago scooped you from your disgraceful state and ravished you until the following morning. You were eternally grateful.

It is then you hear a buzz in the background of your pleasure, to which Wonwoo urges you to check who it was. You palm over the sheets and barely clutch in your hand and your eyes perk up at the sight of the dreaded name. “It’s S-Soonyoung.”

Wonwoo scoffs, “Good. Pick it up.”

“B-but—”

“I know, but I think you’re ready. Go ahead.”

You hesitantly accept the call, holding up to your ear. “Hello?”

Wonwoo mouths the word, ‘speaker,’ and you follow suit. You both hear your ex-boyfriend's voice bright and clear on the other end, talking to you as if nothing has changed.

See the full post

888 notes - Posted May 27, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

and they were roommates

A svt.hub collab

Pairing: camboy!chan x gn roommate!reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 2.2k

tags: mutual masturbation, nipple play, dirty talk

Summary: Wanting sex is a natural feeling, it just so happens that gratification could be found in the next room with a shitty webcam and an infectious laugh.

author note: so I hope you guys are liking the collab so far. its been in the works for a while and this has been one of the most fun projects i've had in a while since i get to meet so many new writers. I was in a harsh drought for a while and I'm just glad this collab sparked up some interest in writing again. Here's a link to part 2

You fall to the bed with your legs clenched together, soaking in your guilty arousal, whimpering as the images of the adult video you stumbled upon replayed in your head. In detail, you could remember the soothing tenor voice as he gasped out terms of endearment, teasing his audience before releasing thick milky fluid up his bare and toned abdomen. The white sunk into the valleys of his stomach, his hum echoing in your ears through your earbuds before letting out a soft thanks and leaving the prerecorded video with an ending statement he does in every video, “Hope you’ll cum again soon. Bye.”

You hardly entertained the idea of cam shows since high-level production porn was easily accessible and needed no monetary compensation for most sites, but this guy was intriguing enough to stay and watch. He seemed like the perfect combination of gentle yet demanding, even with his awful username (what kind of name was Din0dicksd0wn anyway). You thought of him so much, that you couldn’t help but imagine your mouth wrapped around that hard gorgeous cock. And then there was the matter of his familiarity, which frightens you for countless reasons you don’t want to get into.

He didn’t show his face at all in the videos, maybe a peek at his smile if he slouches, but everything about him was a mystery besides the fact he went by Dino and his laughter could uplift any spirit dead or alive. His seductive internet presence increased your screen time usage and now leaves you anticipating the next time he does a live show, where you’d have a front seat.

You kept your promiscuous thoughts to yourself as you wanted your roommate to come back with food, remembering how you work better on a full enough stomach. Promptly, he returns to your place of residence with food and a big goofy smile on his face. “I hope you like extra cheese!”

You smile thankfully at the young man, who is urging a filling burger to your lap and you enjoy your late dinner together. Now with your mind on the way to being nourished, you had to think of a way of doing some ‘finger painting’ with your innocent roommate from hearing or interrupting. “Don’t you have any plans tonight? What are you doing at home on a Saturday?”

He halts his chewing, looking over at you with frightened eyes, “Oh, just, nothing. I don’t feel like going out today ‘tis all.”

“So you’re gonna be home all night?” You rephrase with subtle disappointment in your tone.

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” he adds, “after eating I was gonna tuck in early. Work has been really tiring this week. How about you? Are you staying home?”

You gulp, readjusting your burger in your grip. “Yeah, I thought I might sleep too. I guess it was a rough week for the both of us.”

“Yup.”

Silence fills the air, neither one of you could look at each other. Chan awkwardly finishes the last of his fries and picks up after himself, offering to help you with any of your trash before he leaves. He sees you shake your head in response.

“No thanks, Chan. I’m good.”

Chan politely smiles, turning away from the living area and washing up before he starts to head to bed. You sigh quietly, crumbling up the paper wrapper and washing up in the kitchen sink with the bathroom occupied. Being home all day, there was no need for you to shower, just good teeth brushing. However, looks like the toothpaste you keep by for cases like this ran low, meaning you had to bother Chan for another awkward encounter.

You speed up to the bathroom door and turn the knob open without thinking, wanting the interaction to be fast and over. On the other end, your roommate was already stripped of his work clothes, dawning a perfectly sculpted body that you could recognize immediately from a singular mole on his loser torso. You immediately clasp your hands over your eyes, blushing hard enough to taunt a bull, and his shrilish scream is all you can hear.

“Occupied! You knew I was in here!”

All you could see was black, but from the audible shuffling, he had to be covering his important bits. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I had to get toothpaste.”

“Ok well, get it and leave, please.”

You sheild your vision from his build and hastily grab the toiletry, shutting the door behind you. After running away, you brushed your teeth at the kitchen sink, lost in your thoughts. The fact of the matter dawned on you, making you feel a long list of emotions that included guilt and longing.

Even knowing the fact, it didn’t matter, you were still going to watch the damn stream. You’d only ever have to watch once and never again, for the sake of your sanity.

You plug your earbuds in and hand down your pants as you lay in peace, waiting for the page to start up. You remember Chan leaving the bathroom in a hurry, without a second glance your way, which only heightened your suspicion. When his username appeared as live, along with its stream, it was the same man you climaxed to hours ago, living, breathing simultaneously with you.

The same shaped mole was on his torso leading up to friendly accompaniment of his genitals that only grazed your vision mere moments ago, and a smile once again peaks through the top of his screen. You internally melt.

“Good evening. I hope you guys had a nice day. Mine was…eventful. I hope you don’t mind me talking about my day.”

See the full post

1,005 notes - Posted June 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #that's insane #i love you all so much that have been here on my journey #i hope all of you still stick around bc y'all truly make this site a livable place

7 notes · View notes

consistent-self-destruction · 1 year

Text

Growing is so so so stupid hard.

I'm happy, then I'm not.

I know myself, and then.. I don't?

I don't know I just felt like writing I guess. Godbless my silly little girlblog. Although, this is more like - if a girlblog was a wretched beast, which is like one of my alternate personas I think (going back to the great debate of if I even know myself).

I'm 18 now by the way! I had drafted a post venting about how my birthday was shitty until my emotions about it all got too complex to even comprehend, much less type out - so I abandoned it.

Anyways currently I am brain scramble. A manic mix of emotions and influences and thoughts just colliding at each other in agonizingly slow inevitable crashes. I guess you could say my own human complexity is on the brain.

I'm thinking about how I listen to Saweetie and feel like a girlbloss who needs to delete tinder, ghost bitches, and enter my selfish and successful era. I like to be in that mindset when it comes. It feels motivating and in my best interest. It feels like a positive shift from the obviously negative connotation to losing myself to distracting people places and everything else that's unimportant.

But then I listen to Billie Eilish and lean into my sadness because it feels like a friend holding me close and rubbing my back.

I'll listen to Melanie Martinez and suddenly I want to hyperfeminize myself and be absolutely insane!? And it's a mood, it's a vibe like sometimes it is so much fun to just let go of everything and let yourself act in a character of craziness. Smudge your makeup and yell at your mirror and be dramatic! Call yourself hot and then cry about how untrue it feels in the same second! It's a fun release of energy in a way?

And these are all radically different moods from one another, but they all feel real to me - and I guess that's just because they reflect different shades of the human range of emotion. It's everything humans just.. feel. It's normal to feel these things and the only thing that makes it feel weird is the aesthetics surrounding the emotions I suppose.

But anyways, the thing itching my mind isn't exactly that I feel these things - but more about when I lean into them, and how much. What does it mean for me as a person in terms of how it affects my growth, wellbeing, and excellment? What does it mean to my identity? There's a lot to it and I don't know if I have the brainpower to think and write about it all - unfolding it with every typed word. But, let's see.

First of all: in regards to growth, wellbeing, and excellment (I've googled this word and can't tell if I made it up.. anyway;)

I think I have a few "moods" or "eras" that I fall into while moving in life. First, there's the fresh slate era: A time of promise and hope for productivity and coming success. My expectations are high and for once, so is my motivation. I'm probably listening to a lot of positive music like classical instrumentation, songs that remind me of childhood like steven universe, anything upbeat, and afrobeats that make me want whine my hips and dive in waterfalls. I'm waking up early, having breakfast and consistent meals, and engaging in productive habits. I feel good :)

Then, there's the absolutely-falling-apart-but-not-at-rock-bottom-yet era. This is absolute mania lol. I am losing my mind. I wake up when I can and either sleep for 15 hours straight or run my days on not a blink of sleep and only one powerful pop-your-pussy 3 hour hyperpop playlist. I'm eating whenever I feel like (three goldfish to be exact, 5 packs of fruit snacks, and whatever else I salvage that is not a real meal). I have a hard time maintaining hygiene habits and my room is an absolute warzone. I have no motivation to clean or be clean (things that require energy - be honest.) and I spent hours upon hours unhealthily online feeling like a racoon living in a dumpster. My confidence manically falters between "you are the cutest thing ever, someone should kiss you" to "you are a disgusting fucking rat why would anyone even touch you." I feel like this literally just depending on my appearance. If I haven't had the energy to take care of my appearance and DO look bad, then yeah - I feel bad but like. To the extreme. And if I manically get the urge to get all cute and dressed up LITERALLY JUST to FEEL SOMETHING (pls.) then ofc I feel good, but again - to the extreme. Like I'll be dancing and grinning in the mirror and being an absolute weirdo ditz, nevermind that my entire life is falling apart around me as my only focus in that moment is get cute feel fun embrace mess and chaos. I am running away from all my responsibilities and consciously burying myself in distractions and digging my grave because I feel energetically incapable of facing my own reality. This is an entire part of me that I feel way too often. It obviously doesn't feel good - but it's easy to romanticize with so much media context that promotes the concept of "crazy girls" and the whole "psycho but pretty" thing. In a way, I think it just feels like a character for me sometimes. Except the problem is that I'm allowing myself to play a character, that should be fake, but is literally destroying my reality. The problem is that when my life starts to fall apart, I only run from it more by putting on this character that feeds off chaos and it's self destructive. I'm aware of that, but I'm having too much fun escaping reality with a romanticized chaotically free version of myself to care. How the hell does freedom feel exactly like decay?

And lastly, there's the era that runs somewhere between reflective and rotten. It usually is after the era of mania. I'm burnt out and at my lowest point. I don't even have the energy to be manic anymore. I'm still not taking care of myself but now it's truly worse because without the mania, there is no hyper-energy to even try. I'm always in bed. Always. Everything is a mess, I'm a mess, and my reality is a mess. I can do nothing but think myself into spirals or (and this is the rotten side) not think at all. Only lay and dream and further escape reality. I have finally decayed into my most rotted form. I can only reflect. I'm usually listening to a lot of r&b during this time because it's my one true love and always always always comforts me. However I do have some periods where I will exclusively listen to sad indie or softened indie rock (still sad). This is a very somber, still, and almost dead feeling for me. I lean into the sadness again, because it feels strangely comforting and necessary in a way. Sometimes I feel like I need to lean into my sadness because it's all I have. I have to feel it because it's there and otherwise won't go away. I have to love it into leaving me.

Anyways, those are all the major character arcs I experience as I go through life. And while only one of the is very obviously good, and much better for my wellbeing, I still can't help but feel attached to the other two? In that - again, they are sentiments that are so easy to romanticize, to the point where going into those mindsets feels like a weird part of my identity? Like yes! I can be crazy and manic sometimes and other times I can feel retrospective in the reflection of my own darkness. And it all feels so real and so me, just in the fact that I experience it. But is it really me? Am I actually insane or do I just feel insane? Am I really a loner or do I just feel alone? If I refuse to indulge in the last two "eras" of myself, am I denying parts of my identity - even if they're bad parts? Is it better to only live to embrace the best part of yourself to prioritize your wellbeing, or is it better to embrace the good parts of you as WELL as the bad? Is embracing the good and bad counterproductive if it is draining in nature to coexist in contrasts?

I don't know man. Anyways onto the point of where this stands for my identity, there are sort of two parts to this: the things I experience, vs my spheres of influence.

Everyone really experiences the same range of human emotions. But with the rise of media consumerism, the way that we view or perceive various emotions are heavily influenced by the media-made aesthetics they align with. Which is why when I feel certain emotions, I listen to certain artists that feel aesthetically aligned to that emotion - or think of certain characters, films, colors, products, objects, etc. And the problem with this is that in addition to aestheticized emotions, it has become a trend for people's identities to be built on the basis of content and products they enjoy consuming. For example - the type of artists and music you listen to, is considered a part of your identity and who you are. But at least, my personal issue with this is that I listen to different types of music depending on my mood. Hyperpop and bimbocore for the mania, classical pianos and violin for when my mind actually decided to be healthy, r&b all the time - and sometimes I'll have very specific niche days where I'm just in the mood for specific artists. There are Melanie Martinez days, Blackbear days, Billie Eilish days, Selena (Quintanilla tf.) days, etc. etc. And the "aesthetics" surrounding these artists all feel central to my identity because they align with emotions I experience in real life (or in the case of Selena at least - I grew up listening to her because my mom is Belizean lmao). I am someone who likes all things pink and girly and lace and hyperfeminine! I enjoy the visual aesthetics of all things vintage and childhood that Melanie Martinez draws out - and while I don't have much of the actual things in that aesthetic in my life, the fact that I *would* and would like to, makes it feel like me. Same thing with Blackbear - who often references the party girls he meets who are wild and free and just don't give a shit about anything. Again, so real so me. I spent my first semester of college going to parties literally every weekend and the freedom of unhinged femininity is exhilarating. I love it, feels so real so me. And then there's silly little billie with all her depressing ass songs bye. Again, so real so me. And that's only a few artists! There are so many others who draw out very specific emotions from me and it feels so real that I can't tell if it's actually me or not - especially if they touch on things I haven't done yet or don't have but would LIKE to do and have.

I guess all this goes to say that the life of a fangirl is so incredibly hard. I am a walking mosaic of everything that has every influenced me. My parents, my mom's culture and it's music, endless and endless musical artists, and my own media consumerism of aestheticized content. With my life being a composition of so much influence, it's hard to tell if all of that combined is who I am, or if it's all a DISTRACTION to figuring out who I am. It's confusing because your influences are what raise your identity. It's your parents and everything around you that helps you find out who you are. But when you resonate with everything and everyone, can you really figure it out with all the noise? And this is especially frustrating when I think about myself as a creative! I like to paint, draw, make crafts, play with fashion, and a lot more - but the easiest way to describe this is with songwriting. I recently hit a wall with songwriting in that, during my junior year of highschool, I was doing NOTHING but churning out SONG after SONG after SONG. It was a wildly expressive time and even tho the emotions were dark at the time (reflecting an rotting era), it felt so relieving to be able to healthily release it all and do it so easily. Most of the songs I wrote during that time fell somewhere in the sound of soft indie angst / soft sad indie rock, etc. It was reflective of the music I was listening to at the time, but writing in that style also felt insanely natural? And came to me easily. But then I sort of exhausted myself, writing in that same style and I yearned to write in the style of other genres I enjoy. I wanted to write an r&b song REALLY badly cause it's my first love. I wanted to write indie jazz like Raveena or a cute steven-universe-like diddy. I tried my hand at them, and it didn't flow as naturally as the indie-esque songs, but I got a few out. Then I just stopped writing for a while because I'd exhausted my creativity and felt uninspired. When I finally did have urges to pick my guitar back up, I'd still feel uninspired and it got frustrating. I'd have the urge to write and know what I want to write about, but I wanted to make it sound like a Summer Walker song, and nothing I was doing was working. It was insanely frustrating. Then I stopped trying to write like Summer Walker and just tried to write at all. But none of the chords sounded right. I couldn't find a sound I was satisfied with - it either felt wrong or too similar to my other works. I started to feel like I was running in circles, doomed to make music that all sounds the same because I've exhausted my range of possibilities with chords OR just constantly chasing sounds I enjoy, trying to recreate them without success. It made me realize that I don't know what my sound is. I don't knowif my sound is naturally indie-ish or if that's just a product of listening to it often and finding it most expressive. And I'm struggling to branch beyond that sound because I don't know enough chord possibilities and I don't play any other instruments. So that's just an example of what I mean when I say that the issue of influencers in finding identity is even more disruptive to creativity. I don't know what my authentic creative style is because I'm struggling through trying on OTHER people's creative styles that connect with me. Again, the same applies with my general identity - in terms of style and characteristics, and more. I thought I knew who I was but now I realize that I'm way more confused than I thought. I can engage in so many different shades of life because I like to explore and enjoy every space. But when you wear different styles everyday and range between wild party girl to all things sunshine and peace caribbean hippie - how do people even describe you? If you took away my interests and influences, who would I be? All I know is what I like (a lot of things) and what I don't like (also a lot of things but not as much). I guess that's enough for now. Knowing your identity 100% is hard work, but it's enough to at least know what you like and don't like.

- 1.6.23 | 6:51 AM -

0 notes

iwadori · 3 years

Text

Why you and the haikyu boys broke up (Atsumu,Oikawa,Kageyama,Kenma,Akaashi,Sugawara)

Part two: Osamu, Iwaizumi, Daichi, Ushijima

Genre:angst

masterlist

Atsumu: “god yer so clingy and annoying”

You and Atsumu have been dating for years and every year was worse then the last. Atsumu became more distant and standoffish as your relationship progressed.

“‘Tsumu, where were you said that you’d be back by-“

“Gosh Y/N, just leave me alone, I don’t need you doting all over me like your my mum or something” he said harshly making you flinch

“Well I wouldn’t keep acting like your mum if you weren’t being such a child, you dick”

“God Y/N, yer so cling and annoying”

That was the last thing he said to you, well the last thing you heard, since after that you were gone. You definitely didn’t care for Atsumu anymore and you definitely didn’t care about his mutiple messages and calls asking begging you to talk to him.

You were done and you silently asked yourself the question “who’s the clingy and annoying one now ‘tsumu”

Oikawa: “If only you supported me like she did then..”

You and Oikawa, the classic ‘highschool sweethearts,’ with him being the athletic trailblazer with you at his side through it all, always known as “Oikawa’s girlfriend”

Being known as that, at first you didn’t mind, since being attached to the Oikawa name in any aspect was something to brag about (especially when you’re a teenage girl.)

But as you got older you didn’t want to be just somebody’s “girlfriend,” you wanted to be Y/N The doctor or Y/N the lawyer, journalist or whatever.

And Oikawa wasn’t particularly fond of the idea.

As the time went on, with you now studying and preparing for your new found dream job (which you were over the moon about.) Oikawa became unbearable, late nights out, always hiding his phone when you were about, he had this odd scent about him one that was different to usual.

He was cheating on you. You knew it, but since there was no physical proof and because you loved him so much accusing him of such a thing could ruin everything.

You didn’t need too though. Since one night, when Oikawa was supposedly meant to be at an away game. He was away, but in someone else’s pants... in your bedroom.

After being caught he pleaded for you to hear him out and when you wouldn’t he said “if only you supported me like she did then I wouldn’t be cheating on you”

That was definitely the final straw, you became the best doctor that Japan had ever seen, and you didn’t know what happen to Oikawa and that girl.

You may of heard through the grapevine that she definitely cheated on him a month into their relationship, but what do you care anyways.

Kenma: “gosh y/n I’m not your therapist”

Kenma and you were childhood friends before you started dating. You were two peas in a pods.

You worked perfectly as you being the talkative one always talked and him being quiet just always listened.

That’s how you worked and it was fine, right?

Well of course it wasn’t, well at least till when you were a few years into your relationship it wasn’t. Kenma was obviously a popular gamer and kind of a businessman, he wasn’t as free as he used to be and neither were you and you both knew that.

So when you did have time to hang out you most certainly made the most of it, doing what you normally did: you talk, he ‘listens.’

Even though Kenma wasn’t listening anymore, who knows when he stopped listening but he probably hasn’t heard nor cared for a thing you’ve said since you were 5.

“Gosh Y/N I’m not your therapist” he said after you were telling him about a terrible day you had “ I don’t even know why we’re still together, or together at all... “

“Fine, if that’s how you feel I’m gone”

“Wait Y/N I didn’t mea-“

You slam the door blocking out the rest of speech which you didn’t need to hear since obviously ‘you aren’t his therapist.’

Akaashi: you’re just too much of an idiot too understand.

When you and Akaashi met, it was in one of your classes, and you first noticed him when he was answering in a question in class.

Hot and smart was what you thought when you first laid eyes on him

What you didn’t know by the time you got together was that ‘hot and smart’ translates to the biggest patronising mansplainer ever.

Akaashi has a way of belittling you and dumbing you down, you didn’t know why he was doing it. Heck, you didn’t know he was actually doing it until he actually said “you’re just too much of an idiot to understand.”

The other times it was subtle, but obvious enough to leave you sad and uncomfortable afterwards questioning every aspect of yourself.

One night, you don’t tell him what your doing, you pack up your crap leave the rest of the months rent on the kitchen counter along with a note saying ‘I’m breaking up with you,’

You knew that sooner or later that day you’d get a text from him and you did which read:

Akaashi: what do you mean I’m breaking up with. Why ?

Y/N: oh I guess you’re too much of an idiot to understand.

Kageyama: you don’t work hard enough Y/N

You were dating the best setter in Japan. It always felt surreal when you said that to yourself, or when someone said that to you.

Since ‘how could you’ get ‘someone like that.’

That was the question that many people asked, since of course ‘Tobio Kageyama was only worth the best of the best,’ and to them you most certainly wasn’t that.

You got comments like that all the time online, but you didn’t care but one time you were scrolling through Twitter and so a post about you and the comments were all talking about your body.

This crushed your heart, as the comments they were making were vile so this definitely hit a tough spot.

When Kageyama came home and saw your distressed state he rushed to your side to see if he could help. However once you showed him what you were crying over, his tone of voice changed as he said,

“They aren’t wrong Y/N, ever since we got together you’ve definitely not really been looking after yourself lately”

“What is that supposed to mean” you retort

“ I mean, you don’t work hard Y/N, you don’t work at all... as of lately you’ve just been bitching and complaining and mooching off of my success whilst you let yourself go.”

Ouch.

“If that’s how you see me, then so be it” you say gracefully standing up and exciting the building. You were done with Kageyama and you both knew that, there was no going back after what he said, especially since you could tell he was thinking that for a while now.

Sugawara: your not the girl I fell in love with

Sugawara and you were described as the “perfect couple” by people that didn’t know you. Which you always faked a smile a compliment, knowing certainly well you weren’t.

You’ve loved sugawara ever since you met him in your first year. But you knew, you always knew he didn’t love you back.

Kiyoko Shimuzu, her name was. A pretty name for a pretty girl. All the boys were in love with her (some more vocal about it then others) but sugawara even though he wasn’t shouting his love from the rooftops, you caught the looks of adoration he gave her when she was simply walking by.

You dated him anyways, maybe he could sense your desperation or maybe he needed a distraction. You didn’t know why he decided to ask you out and you didn’t care, he was yours and you finally ‘won.’

Well you were winning up till you got a certain invite in the Mail:

You are invited to the wedding of Tanka Ryunnsoke and Kiyoko Shimuzu.

Even though sugawara looked happy at the idea of his two dearest friends marrying, you could tell he was heartbroken. And he knew that you knew.

That is why, on the day before the wedding as you were packing your bags to go, it turns out he was packing his bags too. But for a completely different reason.

“I’m leaving” was all he said at first heading for the door.

“Where? Why?” You aksed

“You know why Y/N, you’ve always known why And itll do more harm then good if we keep this charade up any longer”

“But I love you” you cried latching on to him

“And I love you, but you were not the girl I fell in love with and I don’t think that love will ever stop”

You knew he was right and you let him go, crying over your one true love.

An: I kinda heavily like this one, (maybe because it’s hard to write on my phone and this style is definitely not what I’m used too so I’m appreciating my efforts.) what do you guys think ??

ALSO MY PHONE WONT LET ME DO READ ORE AND ONCE MY LAPTOP WORKS TOMMOROW I WILL DO IT SO SORRY!!

Taglist[bold can’t be tagged]: @sakuxxi @iimoonii @hamdehlesmis @Shoyosupremacy @meadowsinjapan @iambashfulperson

1K notes · View notes

sukirichi · 3 years

Note

wine: ingredient 44 + sugar 7 + spice 12 for gojo satoru *slams table* thank you for feeding us kind maam

for sukirichi’s milestone event:

the meal order : 🍷 + 44 (hate sex au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) + 12 (praising kink) your dinner has been served! also bruh LOL you’re a choso simp this is hilarious spspsps

— who are you to deny him when he only wants to worship you?

gojo satoru x fem! reader

contents/warnings: nsfw, slight angst, reader is hot girl shit, gojo long schlong, hate sex, car sex, spanking, riding gojo, slight angst, praising kink taken to a DIFFERENT LEVEL (i want to make people question the extent of their praising kink), body marking, rough sex lol it’s always rough in my stories, unedited

Your friends pushed you out of the club, all of you laughing, hands clutched around your waists as loud, drunken giggles fill in the night air. It was a wild night; your friends invited you to the club to take your mind off your stupid boyfriend. You thought you’d end up moping around, too much of a buzzkill to ever let loose because it wasn’t that easy to stop thinking about him, but even you were surprised when you started grinding with people on the dance floor just three drinks later.

The gals were more than delighted to see you enjoying your night, only dragging you out the club when you nearly shoved your tongue down another man’s throat.

Scratch that – your friends called you to hang out because you lied about having a shitty day at work. You’ve had your fair share of shitty days, but you were one of the most prominent lawyers in your firm, no one dared gave you a bad day. Your subordinates knew that if they even looked your way without your permission, you wouldn’t hesitate to dump paperwork on them, or assign them to the nastiest cases just to piss them off.

Yeah, you were sort of a bitch, but you didn’t care.

It took a lot to get where you were now. It wasn’t easy to be a woman in a male-dominated workplace and you were forced to strip your softness off, replacing it with hard armor and sharp tongue concealed under bold red lips, a tight pencil skirt that accentuated your curves, and a pair of black suede pumps.

You deserved all your success. You were smart, stunning, confident, powerful – so then why did you feel like shit around your shitty boyfriend?

The answer was loud and clear. It bothered you to no end that he wanted to keep your relationship a secret because his family was too different from yours, coming up with a shitty excuse that you were just “too different.” He never bothered explaining, and every time you confronted him about, he’d only wave his hand, distract you with those delicious and soft lips of his until you forget it over and over again.

You were okay with it at first. It wasn’t a really serious relationship; you only started dating him because you saw yourself a lot in him – confident, self-assured, maybe even a little cocky – plus, he was extremely attractive.

But the longer you spent time with him, you were beginning to fall in love.

Yes, you, the ice princess of one of the most respected law firms all over the city was beginning to soften up at a certain blue-eyed man who had magical hands.

But tonight – tonight you’d forget about him.

Your stomach was heavy with expensive liquor and you were nearly staggering on your knees, the only thing preventing you from falling were your more sober friends. The others were holding you close to keep you upright, while one of your friends moved to a quieter part of the block to call an Uber for you. Your friends were all happily married, some with children, so they couldn’t really stay out too late at night and chaperone you all the way back home.

You were well-aware you were being a bother, but fuck, couldn’t you lean on someone for just once? Sighing, you leaned closer to your warm friend, mumbling something about wanting to forget about everything you’ve been through.

“There, there,” she patted your head comfortingly, “You’ll be fine, babe, you’re a strong woman. I know you’ll get through this.”

“But I hate it,” you drunkenly admitted, lips trembling the more you thought about him, every stupid little thing about him – his soft white hair, those pretty blue eyes he always hid under shades even at night, his large, calloused hands that always felt so rough when keeping your legs open for him and you couldn’t even start talking about his cock, he was just so blessed and perfect in every little thing that you hated it. You hated him. “I don’t like this feeling,” you sniffled, “I feel like I’m being looked down on, that I’m being pushed to the side. I feel unimportant, like I’m not good enough.”

“Who said you aren’t?”

You froze in your friend’s arms, eyes meeting with those blue ones you could never get enough of. As if noticing your silence, your friend immediately covers you with her arm, glaring at your boyfriend. “Do we know you or something?”

“No,” Satoru replies coolly, brows furrowed in the state you were in. You turned away from him with a scoff, arms crossed on your chest. Why did he have to be here out of all places? Wasn’t he busy with work or whatever family shit he apparently couldn’t tell you about even though you’ve both been dating for a year and a half now? He just wasn’t giving you a break, and the hairs on your arm stood up when he said, “Not that you have to, but may I please drive Y/N home?”

“She’s not going anywhere—”

“She’s a friend of mine,” he insisted, turning to you with a pleading look in his eyes. You almost melted. Almost. “I need to talk to her about something.”

You rolled your eyes and stepped forward, your friend’s arm latching onto yours. You could tell she was worried from the way her gaze darted back and forth between you two. Satoru was, after all, clearly uninvited, and he didn’t seem like your type either. You always insisted you preferred refined man, men like his friend Nanami Kento, but alas, you were stuck dating this one instead.

“It’s fine,” you told her with a fake smile, “I’ll call you later when I get home.”

You never got to call her – simply because you didn’t make it home. The moment Satoru closed the car doors behind you, you both got into a heated argument. Satoru hated silences and always made sure the car was filled with music, but this time, he didn’t notice there weren’t any songs when you opened your mouth.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the anger and pent-up tension of not being able to hold him and kiss him in public like normal couples did, in addition to the fact Satoru never explained why he insisted on keeping you a secret – whatever it was, you just snapped.

“I don’t even understand why I’m still dating you!” you huffed, legs crossed on top of the other as you gazed out the window. Lips trembling, you tried so hard to not cry, especially not in front of the man who was breaking your heart. “This is hardly a relationship when I’m not free to call or text you as you please, when I can’t go out with you on dates and we’re always hanging in my apartment. I’m your girlfriend, Satoru, we’ve been together for a long time but I honestly don’t even feel like it. What the hell are we dating for then?”

Satoru clenched his teeth, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “How many times do I have to tell you that I love you,” he said coolly, acting unbothered and unaffected as ever, but the clench in his jaw said otherwise. “If that’s not enough—”

“Of course it’s not enough!”

“I’m trying here too, okay?” Satoru slammed on the brakes and parked on a desolated spot, hands running through his hair while he breathed heavily. Once he’d calmed down, he shook his head, refusing to look you in the eye like a man. “I’m trying my best. It’s just hard. It isn’t as easy as it looks.”

“What isn’t easy as it looks? Dating me? Letting the whole world know I’m yours?” when Satoru didn’t respond, you scoffed, patience running low and thin. “You’re pathetic, Satoru. Dating you was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, and I thought I was a smart woman.”

With a shake of your head, you slung your purse over your shoulder and reached for the car door. You were about to leave when Satoru suddenly pulled you towards him, his lips slamming into yours. Like always, you fell into his trap, into the blissful pleasure that was his lips and his hands, and you hated it, hated him, hated him so fucking much because you were so tired of his entire existence.

You wanted to let him know he was insufferable.

You wanted him to feel the pain and misery he put you through.

“I fucking hate you,” you snarled as Satoru kept fucking into you, the entire car windows fogged and the vehicle shaking. “I wish I never met you, you asshole,” Satoru, displeased, only buries himself deeper into you, as if they would erase his mistakes and shortcomings.

Satoru’s large hands snake to your waist and onto your breasts, expertly tweaking them between his fingers. Your head fell back to the crook of his shoulder, your back pressed against his hard chest as Satoru trapped you in his strong arms, impaling you on his cock over and over again. “You’re lying,” he whispered into your neck, tongue and teeth playfully sucking at the tender flesh. His grip on your hip was bruising and possessive, and your breasts bounced fervently at how he snapped his hips upwards to feel your walls coat him and hug him tightly and warmly. “Why would you hate me, sweet girl? Don’t I always make you feel good? Don’t I remind you enough that you’re the best fucking thing ever?”

You didn’t respond right away, your breath taken away with how you could never get enough of this, of him. He was right no matter how much you denied it. Despite being terrible in everything else, Satoru knew and respected you, even admired your dominance and intelligence when other men were intimidated by it.

No, he worshipped you. He made you feel like you were a divine goddess when he tugged at your hair to tilt your cheek to him, his tongue slithering to your lips to taste himself on his tongue from when you previously busted his nut with just your mouth.

Lipsticks smeared on his cheeks and crescent moons on his pale thigh from your nails, Satoru looked wonderful beneath you like this.

He was beautiful, so damn beautiful, but it didn’t change the fact he’d put you through hell these past few weeks.

No, it wasn’t just the past few weeks. Things were always complicated with him. He was perfect in everything else but when it came to you, he made it a mission to hide you and your relationship, changing your contact name to a totally random one “just in case.”

Your mind was confuzzled and you felt like you were on the urge of breaking apart from both his ministrations and his confusing treatment over you. Before you knew it, you were kissing him back fervently with the intensity of your hatred over this man.

Your hand reached his to guide it to rub at your clit, and Satoru, eager to make you feel good as always, happily obliged. Satoru kept bouncing you on his cock until you were too overwhelmed to speak, crying and mumbling incomprehensible words.

Him, only him, would ever have the ability to let the sharp-tongued and intelligent woman who never bat an eye in court lose her wide vocabulary, falling apart in his arms while his long length abused your puffy lips.

“You made me feel like shit,” you finally admitted, tugging at his hair until Satoru is lowly groaning at the slight sting. But did you care? Of course you didn’t. You wanted to hurt him too.

“How so, sweet girl?”

“I can never have you the way I want,” you answered through gritted teeth, moaning out when Satoru suddenly thrusted too deep, hitting your most sensitive spot that had you quivering in his hold. “You don’t—” you gasped, “You don’t understand what I feel, how you make me feel like I’m never good enough for you. That’s the reason why you don’t want anyone else knowing, right? ‘Cause I’m not good enough for you, never gonna be good—”

Satoru didn’t let you finish your words, shutting you up with his cock instead. The vehicle shook uncontrollably with your mating sessions, and Satoru silences you by pulling at your leg to press it on his chest instead.

The sudden switch in positions had your muscles tensing and stretching, adding only to both your pleasures with the new thrown in factor of slight pain. You felt Satoru kiss your neck down to your shoulders, scraping his canines until you were absolutely lost. You gave in, you gave up, head lolling back next to his loving lips that murmured sweet nothings.

“Not true, sweet girl,” he reminded you, flattening you on his cock and making you roll your hips while you slid up and down his pole sensually. Unlike the previous pace, the slow sensation of your pussy hugging his cock with your arousal letting him slide in easily allowed you to feel every part of him, almost mind-wrecking at how good he’s able to make you feel even after such a long time of having him already.

“You’re the sexiest and most intelligent woman I’ve ever met, the best, the absolute blessing of my life, and I just want to protect you, sweet girl. You’re too precious for me to lose,” Satoru kept mumbling over and over again.

You could no longer process his words functionally, not when he’s slamming you down his length like that and burying himself in you as if he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Satoru’s hands were still curious, appreciative and gentle as he runs his hands, dipping into all your curves and pressing into your most sensitive spots the way you liked it.

“You’re always so good for me so no, sweet girl, never gonna let you go, not when you’re so perfect for me,” Satoru eased your worries – temporarily – with his words, and you’d believe his lie, you’d fall into the same mistakes over and over again because you were just that weak and powerless when it came to him. “You’re made just for me, sweet girl, you’re the prettiest and your pussy is the prettiest – I worship you, I adore you. You’re so divine.”

You blamed it all on your ego.

He praised you so well, made you feel so good and always placed you on top of the world when he’s inside you like this. Even if you knew he’d knock you down the pedestal just hours later, you opened your doors for him all over again.

Satoru knew this too, because he rammed inside your walls and ruined everything that you held firm beliefs in, his large hands smacking your ass to urge you to bounce on him like you weren’t made for any other purpose than to be the woman he adored.

You lied to yourself – you always did – but did you care? So what if you couldn’t be the one he really loved? What did it all matter when you were the one he worshipped?

For the sake of the praise and the compliments, you’d let him fuck you and play with your heart over and over again. It was a toxic routine you’d never get tired of, and you no longer complained, forgetting about everything he’d done and every heartbreak he caused you because he was there, whispering into your ears how good you made him feel and how you were the only one made to take him, and you didn’t care. Not anymore – not when you were worshipped.

2K notes · View notes

shurisneakers · 3 years

Note

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically. “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up.

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.” He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

946 notes · View notes

uomo-accattivante · 3 years

Text

Excellent article about bringing a re-make of Ingmar Bergman’s Scenes from a Marriage to fruition, and the twenty-year friendship that Oscar Isaac and Jessica Chastain share:

There were days on the shoot for “Scenes From a Marriage,” a five-episode limited series that premieres Sept. 12 on HBO, when Oscar Isaac resented the crew.

The problem wasn’t the crew members themselves, he told me on a video call in March. But the work required of him and his co-star, Jessica Chastain, was so unsparingly intimate — “And difficult!” Chastain added from a neighboring Zoom window — that every time a camera operator or a makeup artist appeared, it felt like an intrusion.

On his other projects, Isaac had felt comfortably distant from the characters and their circumstances — interplanetary intrigue, rogue A.I. But “Scenes” surveys monogamy and parenthood, familiar territory. Sometimes Isaac would film a bedtime scene with his onscreen child (Lily Jane) and then go home and tuck his own child into the same model of bed as the one used onset, accessorized with the same bunny lamp, and not know exactly where art ended and life began.

“It was just a lot,” he said.

Chastain agreed, though she put it more strongly. “I mean, I cried every day for four months,” she said.

Isaac, 42, and Chastain, 44, have known each other since their days at the Juilliard School. And they have channeled two decades of friendship, admiration and a shared and obsessional devotion to craft into what Michael Ellenberg, one of the series’s executive producers, called “five hours of naked, raw performance.” (That nudity is metaphorical, mostly.)

“For me it definitely felt incredibly personal,” Chastain said on the call in the spring, about a month after filming had ended. “That’s why I don’t know if I have another one like this in me. Yeah, I can’t decide that. I can’t even talk about it without. …” She turned away from the screen. (It was one of several times during the call that I felt as if I were intruding, too.)

The original “Scenes From a Marriage,” created by Ingmar Bergman, debuted on Swedish television in 1973. Bergman’s first television series, its six episodes trace the dissolution of a middle-class marriage. Starring Liv Ullmann, Bergman’s ex, it drew on his own past relationships, though not always directly.

“When it comes to Bergman, the relationship between autobiography and fiction is extremely complicated,” said Jan Holmberg, the chief executive of the Ingmar Bergman Foundation.

A sensation in Sweden, it was seen by most of the adult population. And yes, sure, correlation does not imply causation, but after its debut, Swedish divorce were rumored to have doubled. Holmberg remembers watching a rerun as a 10-year-old.

“It was a rude awakening to adult life,” he said.

The writer and director Hagai Levi saw it as a teenager, on Israeli public television, during a stint on a kibbutz. “I was shocked,” he said. The series taught him that a television series could be radical, that it could be art. When he created “BeTipul,” the Israeli precursor to “In Treatment,” he used “Scenes” as proof of the concept “that two people can talk for an hour and it can work,” Levi said. (Strangely, “Scenes” also inspired the prime-time soap “Dallas.”)

So when Daniel Bergman, Ingmar Bergman’s youngest son, approached Levi about a remake, he was immediately interested.

But the project languished, in part because loving a show isn’t reason enough to adapt it. Divorce is common now — in Sweden, and elsewhere — and the relationship politics of the original series, in which the male character deserts his wife and young children for an academic post, haven’t aged particularly well.

Then about two years ago, Levi had a revelation. He would swap the gender roles. A woman who leaves her marriage and child in pursuit of freedom (with a very hot Israeli entrepreneur in place of a visiting professorship) might still provoke conversation and interest.

So the Marianne and Johan of the original became Mira and Jonathan, with a Boston suburb (re-created in a warehouse just north of New York City), stepping in for the Stockholm of the original. Jonathan remains an academic though Mira, a lawyer in the original, is now a businesswoman who out-earns him.

Casting began in early 2020. After Isaac met with Levi, he wrote to Chastain to tell her about the project. She wasn’t available. The producers cast Michelle Williams. But the pandemic reshuffled everyone’s schedules. When production was ready to resume, Williams was no longer free. Chastain was. “That was for me the most amazing miracle,” Levi said.

Isaac and Chastain met in the early 2000s at Juilliard. He was in his first year; she, in her third. He first saw her in a scene from a classical tragedy, slapping men in the face as Helen of Troy. He was friendly with her then-boyfriend, and they soon became friends themselves, bonding through the shared trauma of an acting curriculum designed to break its students down and then build them back up again. Isaac remembered her as “a real force of nature and solid, completely solid, with an incredible amount of integrity,” he said.

In the next window, Chastain blushed. “He was super talented,” she said. “But talented in a way that wasn’t expected, that’s challenging and pushing against constructs and ideas.” She introduced him to her manager, and they celebrated each other’s early successes and went to each other’s premieres. (A few of those photos are used in “Scenes From a Marriage” as set dressing.)

In 2013, Chastain was cast in J.C. Chandor’s “A Most Violent Year,”opposite Javier Bardem. When Bardem dropped out, Chastain campaigned for Isaac to have the role. Weeks before shooting, they began to meet, fleshing out the back story of their characters — a husband and wife trying to corner the heating oil market in 1981 New York — the details of the marriage, business, life.

It was their first time working together, and each felt a bond that went deeper than a parallel education and approach. “Something connects us that’s stronger than any ideas of character or story or any of that,” Isaac said. “There’s something else that’s more about like, a shared existence.”

Chandor noticed how they would support each other on set, and challenge each other, too, giving each other the freedom to take the characters’ relationship to dark and dangerous places. “They have this innate trust with each other,” Chandor said.

That trust eliminated the need for actorly tricks or shortcuts, in part because they know each other’s tricks too well. Their motto, Isaac said, was, “Let’s figure this [expletive] out together and see what’s the most honest thing we can do.”

Moni Yakim, Juilliard’s celebrated movement instructor, has followed their careers closely and he noted what he called the “magnetism and spiritual connection” that they suggested onscreen in the film.

“It’s a kind of chemistry,” Yakim said. “They can read each other’s mind and you as an audience, you can sense it.”

Telepathy takes work. When they knew that shooting “Scenes From a Marriage” could begin, Chastain bought a copy of “All About Us,” a guided journal for couples, and filled in her sections in character as Mira. Isaac brought it home and showed it to his wife, the filmmaker Elvira Lind.

“She was like, ‘You finally found your match,’” Isaac recalled. “’Someone that is as big of a nerd as you are.’”

The actors rehearsed, with Levi and on their own, talking their way through each long scene, helping each other through the anguished parts. When production had to halt for two weeks, they rehearsed then, too.

Watching these actors work reminded Amy Herzog, a writer and executive producer on the series, of race horses in full gallop. “These are two people who have so much training and skill,” she said. “Because it’s an athletic feat, what they were being asked to do.”

But training and skill and the “All About Us” book hadn’t really prepared them for the emotional impact of actually shooting “Scenes From a Marriage.” Both actors normally compartmentalize when they work, putting up psychic partitions between their roles and themselves. But this time, the partitions weren’t up to code.

“I knew I was in trouble the very first week,” Chastain said.

She couldn’t hide how the scripts affected her, especially from someone who knows her as well as Isaac does. “I just felt so exposed,” she said. “This to me, more than anything I’ve ever worked on, was definitely the most open I’ve ever been.”

“It felt so dangerous,” she said.

I visited the set in February (after multiple Covid-19 tests and health screenings) during a final day of filming. It was the quietest set I had ever seen: The atmosphere was subdued, reverent almost, a crew and a studio space stripped down to only what two actors would need to do the most passionate and demanding work of their careers.

Isaac didn’t know if he would watch the completed series. “It really is the first time ever, where I’ve done something where I’m totally fine never seeing this thing,” he said. “Because I’ve really lived through it. And in some ways I don’t want whatever they decide to put together to change my experience of it, which was just so intense.”

The cameras captured that intensity. Though Chastain isn’t Mira and Isaac isn’t Jonathan, each drew on personal experience — their parents’ marriages, past relationships — in ways they never had. Sometimes work on the show felt like acting, and sometimes the work wasn’t even conscious. There’s a scene in the harrowing fourth episode in which they both lie crumpled on the floor, an identical stress vein bulging in each forehead.

“It’s my go-to move, the throbbing forehead vein,” Isaac said on a follow-up video call last month. Chastain riffed on the joke: “That was our third year at Juilliard, the throb.”

By then, it had been five months since the shoot wrapped. Life had returned to something like normal. Jokes were possible again. Both of them seemed looser, more relaxed. (Isaac had already poured himself one tequila shot and was ready for another.) No one cried.

Chastain had watched the show with her husband. And Isaac, despite his initial reluctance, had watched it, too. It didn’t seem to have changed his experience.

“I’ve never done anything like it,” he said. “And I can’t imagine doing anything like it again.”

###

#oscar isaac #jessica chastain #scenes from a marriage #hagai levi #michelle williams #elvira lind #behind the scenes #article

321 notes · View notes

bigtittydemonwife · 3 years

Text

The pasta’s love language Part 1

Jeff The Killer

Protectiveness

this is the most obviously way the bastard man lets you know he cares about you

Behind the asshole tsundere attitude and I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude about life lays another smaller asshole and buried deep under that lays the small boy that picked a fight with three bullies to protect his loving brother

Weather it’s him decking o**enderman for being creepy or saving you from a tricky last victim it seems Jeff always knows when your in trouble

So low-key about it you never really notice his eyes on you until you’re being helped, and even then you never notice how they never leave

Jeff is like a dog, but not the loving wagging tail dog, the asshole that stands on your feet with his sharp claws, rips open your pillows and terrorises the mailman so much your mail is delivered by drone.

but he is also the dog that late at night sneaks onto your bed and whenever there’s someone strange approaching you on the street at night stands in front of you and bares his teeth

Physical Touch

Jeff’s love isn’t soft

Jeff’s love is as rough as he is

Jeff’s touch is soft head-pats after you put someone in their place

His touch is high fives after a successful mission where your hands linger together

His touch is quick side hugs before he goes off to go do something stupid

Cheeky neck kisses in front of others to make you flustered

fingers running though your hair or down your sides whenever he gets bored

easiest way to get cuddled by this man? after a mission when he’s too tired to act like a tsundere

Jeff is funnily like a cat in this regards, his cuddles are fun but he has to want to, otherwise it’s deemed as unnecessary

Defensiveness

Jeff isn’t a rational man

So when he gets jealous his first response is to just stab the guy and run

Ass a traumatised stubborn teen Jeff is quick to anger but he toe’s the line (aha reference) at when people disrespect you

Is he an asshole to you all the time?

Yes

Is he the only person who can be mean to you?

Yes

Despite what everyone thinks Jeff does understand the difference between mean teasing and just being an asshole

And if your someone like me who shows your love to people you care about by teasing and being mean to him he’s gonna understand if your friends are the same way

What he does not accept is anyone who dares treat you like your lower than them

thats when he pulls out his knife and commits stabby stabby

Ticci Toby

Physical Touch

Unlike Jeff when Toby is in love he’s a touchy feely person

And once again unlike Jeff when it comes to cuddles Toby is most likely to be the one to initiate cuddles

On a good day Toby recharges with touch

Most of the time he’s all over you

His favourite way to cuddle is him on the bottom with you on his chest and your face buried into his neck

If you cuddle with him like that theres a 97% chance you are not leaving any time soon

He loves to hold your hands alot, Toby hands are an eternal mystery as sometimes their cold as fuck and others their super warm

After a really bad day when he’s had his alone time and recharged (which can take as long as a week) he just wants to lay with you a bit

this usually happens when he’s burnt out (missions do not help)

on days like that he wants to be held in your arms and rest his head on your chest

that way as he falls asleep he can hear your heartbeat and know your safe and alive

Compliments

Toby is an asshole, but he’s a lovable asshole

And on a good day when he’s happy and in love he’s acting like a lovestuck school boy

He’s the type to give you either the cutest nicknames or the weirdest

One day he’ll call you love the next Mustard

His compliments are the sweetest thing ever because of how special they are

instead of complimenting something basic about you (well not basic but well seen by everyone) he compliments you on some of the most obscure things that you didn’t think anyone noticed about you

“I love how fast you talk when you get excited”

“I love easily you get along with sally”

“Your eyes glow in the sunset, it’s really pretty”

Ben Drowned

Space

Ben is an antisocial person.

He’s not bitter about it but most of the time he prefers to keep to himself

Ben understands if his partner isn’t like that, but one of his ways of showing love is giving them space to be their own person

While Ben does love to spend time with you and share interests and hobbies

He is a human demon? ghost? thing that loves alone time

And by giving you space and your own time alone it’s his way of letting you still have freedom to be you

Ben recharges his social battery with a quiet atmosphere so alone time or cuddle time is his favourite thing to do with you when he’s down

Don’t get me wrong he loves cuddles

But that doesn’t mean he’s going to be clinging to you 24/7

Acts of service

Ben is a patient person

Despite what people think all his years of gaming have taught him a lot about taking his time and how easier it is to get things done when he’s chill

So he’s quite alright with doing things for people when they need help

But even so he’s still his own person

So he doesn’t usually do it for free unless it’s for someone he really cares about

And that’s when you come in

Ben is basically ready to do anything for you

Will Jeff call him a simp? Yes, will he care? No

In the end of the day he’s getting ass and Jeff’s not

Anyway

You could ask him to hack the government for you and he would

But basic shit is him bringing you snacks he stole from Jeff’s room when your hungry

He just likes making you happy

Physical Touch

Ironically enough in complete contradiction of the first one Ben actually loves spending time with you

Not all the time, otherwise in his opinion the time he gets with you will feel less special

But when either of you have a bad day he likes to either cuddle you and take a nap or hold you while you both/ he plays video games

Ben’s a ghost? Thing so his body is always cold

That’s one of the reasons why he loves holding you so much is feeling your warm body against him

He likes to nap on your tiddys because 1) he’s perverted and 2) he likes to hear your heartbeat

He finds the sound of it fascinating

Sometimes he feels his pulse just because the shock of not feeling anything is fun to him

Ben is probably one of the easiest pastas to date

He’s like a house cat

Just give him attention and water and he can fend for himself all good

Eyeless Jack

Giving Gifts

Jack in love is a very very confusing thing

Not because he’s contradictory but because the way he flirts sometimes ties into his demonic animalistic tendencies

For example

His gifts to you can sometimes be very sweet things that instead are normal gifts like flowers or chocolates but instead small things like breakfast in bed after a stressful mission (He may or may not use his acting like a doctor as an excuse yes EJ is the mansions doctor fight me bitch)

and then other times it’s organs like a heart or an eyeball, bones or a skull (sometimes animal) and sometimes even teeth, if your lucky most of the time once more they just belong to some pour animal in the woods

and they say romance is dead

Jacks way of showing love is sorta a mixture of how some birds gift their mates things to flirt and how cats give their owners dead animals

He’s cute I swear

Acts of Service

Unlike Ben jack isn’t going to drop everything to please you

but once again the way he shows his love is more casual(?) (I mean he gives you dead things to show his love that ain’t casual)

and if he’s in a good mood/ had a good day then more often than not you’ll find yourself being spoiled in a completely Jack way?

You’re thirsty? He made you both coffee/ tea/ hot chocolate

You’re on a mission and it’s raining? Take his jacket (not like he’s gonna die from the cold)

You’re hungry? Take a snack from his secret stash that no one else is aloud to go through (though most of the time it’s filled with organs)

Jack hates it when his lover is stressed so he likes to do whatever he can to help them out

Physical Touch

I hate to sound stereotypical but Jack does this the most because he is extremely touch starved

Trust me he’s not into PDA at all but behind closed doors he’s finding any excuse he can get to touch you ( with your consent )

he loves sleeping together because usually at night he’s reading or trying to piece together his broken parts

But when he’s holding you in his arms, and whispering how much he loves you in your ear when he’s sure you’re asleep he feels like he doesn’t to be whole

that he can’t expect you to fix him at all, but being with you is enough to make him feel like instead of being broken, being fractured is alright

But weather it’s his hand on your cheek on your hands laced together Jack likes to feel your skin against his

fucckkkk I’m tired, this like took three days, you’re getting a part two when I don’t feel like my head’s trying to kill itself and no I did not spell check this nor will I ever as spellings for pussys and people who graduate school

873 notes · View notes

hanemiso · 3 years

Text

Operation: Dairy For Dazai

>>>a dazai osamu x reader<<<

request: "omg i love your post about Dazai and his possibility of having lactose intolerance hahaha, i wish you could do a fanfic out from that"

a/n: um this is such a great idea??? this was so much fun to write omg i hope y'all like it! also i know dazai doesn't necessarily drink coffee with milk and sugar/creamer, but for the sake of the story he does! also sorry if the gif looks weird, i couldn't find his weird little run anywhere else.

synopsis: no one has seen dazai drink milk or consume dairy of any kind...it's up to the agency to figure out if dazai is lactose intoleralnt or not!

warnings: one swear word, dazai not being able to handle dairy

"hey atsushi, you ever notice that dazai doesn't consume dairy?"

"what do you mean, y/n?" atsushi asks, glancing up at you from the computer.

"think about it. have you ever seen dazai drink milk? eat cheese? buy ice cream?" you press on, raising your brows.

atsushi takes a second to think before responding with, "now that you mention it, no i haven't...why are you asking anyway?"

"i think dazai is lactose intolerant."

you now have atsushi's full attention as he rolls closer to your desk and furrows his brows. he looks around the room for the brunette you're talking about before turning back to you, "you think so? i don't know...maybe it's like a dietary thing."

you deadpan, "you really think the man who goes out of his way to try new attempts at committing suicide--the one who came into the office with a hallucinogenic mushroom from a random mountain--is concerned with his own nutrition?"

atsushi goes silent and nods his head in agreement.

"come on, atsushi. i mean, why would that be the one thing out of his entire diet that he'd choose to cut out?"

"that's true, i've seen the kinds of things he eats...but why is this something you're interested in?"

"because, atsushi, the thought of THE dazai osamu even having one slight weakness--and the fact that it very well may be dairy, of all things-- is amusing. you don't find it interesting? that he can survive things like bullet wounds and getting kidnapped without any problem, but a glass of milk could completely ruin him?"

atsushi was beginning to take interest in what you were talking about. you had a point, he couldn't deny that. they don't know much about dazai and his life as it is. just as it began clicking in his brain, kunikida walks over to your desk to tell you both to get back to work. at the sound of his footsteps, you turn towards him and before he can say anything at all, you ask him the same question as atsushi. kunikida has a smiliar reaction and response to atsushi, which just adds to the curiosity of dazai's possible dairy problem.

"i don't pay attention to that idiot's diet anyway, nor do i care." he says matter-of-factly.

anyone could tell that kunikida was slightly interested, just by the way he was continuing to linger by your desk as you continued talking about it with atsushi. soon enough, tanizaki had joined the conversation; then ranpo and kenji, and soon everyone in the agency other than fukuzawa. everyone was huddled around your desk, sharing memories of dazai's lack of dairy consumption. it was then decided that this theory of dazai being lactose intolerant would be put to the test when dazai returned to the office.

ranpo had come up with the idea, it wasn't too elaborate but a simple plan that could trick even the likes of dazai into drinking a glass of milk. during the discussion of dazai's dietary habits, it was also brought to everyone's attention by kunikida that it seems dazai doesn't have a high spice tolerance either. with that in mind, the plan was for the agency to have a joint dinner tonight, with curry on the menu tonight; spicy curry to be exact. dazai always flirts with you in the office, so it was your job to distract him by indulging in his pick-up lines and such. once he takes a bite and realizes it's too spicy for him, he'd try to find water to alleviate the pain, but coincidentally there is no water in sight. because of this, he'd be forced to drink the glass of milk you hand him. of course, if this didn't work, for dessert you'd give him a cup of coffee with milk and sugar (he uses non-dairy creamer in his coffee anyway).

you and kyouka set up a table to put the bowls of curry on, while atsushi and kunikida began bringing in the curry. tanizaki, naomi, and ranpo were in charge of getting the desserts to really sell the image of a nice gathering. kenji and yosano were in charge of tinkering with the water pipes to close off any possibility of access to water. this task was treated with such care, as any mission brought into the agency would be. each and every one of you were interested in learning about this side of dazai; are you going the extra mile for such a minuscule detail of someone's life? yes, but will it be amusing to find out the truth? also yes.

soon enough, dazai is spotted out the window. the truth is about to be revealed, and you are all nervous but excited.

"remember guys, act natural! operation: dairy for dazai starts now!" you exclaim quietly.

you can hear everyone take a deep breath and begin "talking" amongst themselves as dazai walks in. he stops in his tracks as he eyes the table holding all the bowls of curry and widens his eyes in surprise.

"oh? what's this?" he asks, gesturing to the table.

"y/n suggested having dinner in the agency tonight, so we got some curry and desserts." atsushi explains.

"have a bowl, dazai-kun." you smile at him as you hand him the bowl of spicy curry.

"ah, you're too nice, my belladonna!" he exclaims and grabs the bowl.

so far so good, you think.

you can feel the tension in the room as everyone waits for dazai to take a bite. the conversations carry on amongst people, but no one was truly paying attention to what was being said. the gazes of each member of the agency shifted to dazai as he raised the spoon up to his mouth. you could hear the sound of everyone in the room holding their breaths, even kunikida was sweating.

once the spoon had been placed in his mouth, everyone froze in place. you and atsushi tried to pretend to not be paying much attention to dazai, but it was so hard not to when all of a sudden he stopped chewing. you both slowly turn your head towards him and see his eyes go wide once again. he hurries to the nearest trashcan and spits out the spoonful, quickly turning and looking for a cup of water on the table.

"w-what's wrong, dazai-san?" atsushi asks, also sweating.

"h-hot! spicy curry! atsushi-kun, i need water! please!" dazai exclaims.

you run to the table and pretend to look for a cup of water before grabbing the glass of milk and hurrying towards dazai.

"sorry dazai-kun, i couldn't find any water, but i heard milk helps with the pain!" you hold out the glass of milk.

it feels like time stops as dazai sits there, breathing shallows breaths in attempts to stop the fire in his mouth, and contemplating whether he wants to try his luck with continuing to gasp for air or drinking the milk. he hates suffering, after all. in his mind, all that matters at this moment is extinguishing the flames dancing on his tongue. he grabs the glass, just as planned, and drinks a couple big gulps. everyone is now turned to him, asking if he's okay.

"i'm...fine." he says between pants.

now it was only a matter of time. the dinner continued as normal, but dazai wasn't as social as usual. he sat down with you and atsushi as you continued to talk about different missions.

"oh yeah, dazai-kun, do you remember--" you turn to look at him but realize he's staring at the ground intently as sweat beads on his face, "dazai?"

he blinks once and tries regaining his composure as he looks up at you with his usual smile, "yes, belladonna?"

"are you feeling alright?" you ask with concern laced in your voice.

"of course i am!" dazai tries to reply cheerily, but his bright tone is cut off by a rumbling in his stomach that makes his face twist.

he tries replacing his expression with a smile again, but it looks more pained as another low rumble emits from his body. at this point, everyone in the office is stealing glances. he looks back at the ground as his eyes widen yet again, and only two words are uttered before he takes off running to the bathroom:

"oh shit."

everyone stares at the door, processing what just happened. it was so silent, the only sound you could hear was dazai's rapid footsteps echoing down the hall.

"i knew it." you smirk a bit to yourself.

but your feeling of victory is brief as the horrid smell invades your nostrils. your poor co-workers get assaulted by the same stench, and you all are forced to evacuate.

operation: dairy for dazai was a success, but at what cost?

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

BONUS: how chuuya found out about dazai's lactose intolerance

chuuya was the only person who knew of dazai's problem with dairy, but the way he found out was purely accidental and scarred him.

the event took place when they were 17, and they were both stopping for a drink at a local cafe after a mission. the mission wasn't too bad, but it was early in the morning and chuuya wanted coffee. dazai told him it would stunt his already lacking growth, so chuuya wasn't in the greatest mood; he never was around dazai.

"i wanna sit down so you can order for me!" dazai claps his hands together.

"hey! i don't wan-" chuuya begins to protest but dazai cuts him off while walking away.

"you know what i like!"

chuuya grumbles in annoyance as he heads to the counter and orders two drinks. in his fit of anger, he accidentally ordered two coffees with milk and sugar, but failed to notice as he brought the cups to the table dazai sat at. he narrows his eyes as he sets the cup down in front of dazai and sits across from him. chuuya stares out the window to try and tune out dazai when he hears dazai ask him something quietly.

"is there...milk in this?"

chuuya scoffs and replies, "what's wrong, can't handle a bit of milk?"

he was obviously joking, but the sound that emits from dazai's body in response makes him realize it was no joke. dazai quickly stands and runs to the bathroom while chuuya sits there in disbelief, but with the hope that the rest of the day won't be ruined because of it.

that was wishful thinking though, as they frequently had to stop at public restrooms on their way home and chuuya had to deal with the rancid odor that followed dazai as closely as his own shadow.

taglist: @justmycupoftea93 @loveliestmolly @darlingimawitch @b-i-t-t-i-e-s @browneyespinkhair @silverstar22x @stupidfrogfreak @anotakugardener @jhopesstickeredcarrier @joyfulartisanstudentlamp @spacedoutcoffeebeans @puddingowo66 @kaeyapng @beomluvrr @imobsessedwithskkanditshows

#anime #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd #dazai osamu x reader #bsd dazai #dazai's dairy problem #dazai x reader #bsd atsushi #bsd chuuya #bsd kunikida #bsd ranpo #bsd tanizaki #bsd kenji #bsd yosano #bsd naomi #bsd kyouka #bsd x reader

166 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Curse-breaker (Chapter 4/4)

- ao3 -

“You know him, right?” Jiang Cheng asked Lan Xichen. He was trying not to appear as nervous as he felt in asking, but he was pretty sure he was failing. “Nie-gongzi?”

Lan Xichen smiled. “I do. And thank you for calling him that, he prefers it.”

There were those that had started calling him Curse-breaker, as if it were a proper title; Jiang Cheng had heard it said a few times, and while he didn’t personally disagree with the moniker, which seemed appropriate, he also knew better than to just drop it into a conversation.

Luckily. He was trying to make a good impression here.

“What’s he like?” Jiang Cheng blurted out, then immediately wanted to kick himself. “I mean – it’s just – I didn’t see him much when he visited the Lotus Pier –”

He was making it worse.

It was only that he’d never quite met anyone with so much presence as Nie Mingjue: taller even than Jiang Cheng’s father, with that strange eye that seemed to see everything and anything. His features were generally set in a neutral expression that made him seem almost unworldly, like some god untouched by human concerns, but which sometimes softened a little when he approved of something – or someone.

Jiang Cheng could feel his cheeks going red, and tried to suppress it.

“Mingjue-xiong liked you,” Lan Xichen said, and Jiang Cheng lost the battle at once, his whole face heating up until it felt unbearably hot. This was worse than the time that Nie Mingjue had come to the Lotus Pier and told his parents to value Jiang Cheng more or else, and then his father had come in with a smirk and a snarl and somehow made them do it. “He said so.”

“He did?”

“Oh, yes. He said you were talented and faithful, with a good heart, and that we’d see great things from you.”

Jiang Cheng was going to die.

“That’s nice,” he said, with an effort. “I thought very highly of him, too. He’s…great.”

Wow. ‘Great’. Was that really the best he could do?

Lan Xichen studied him for a moment, then nodded. “He really is,” he said, and sighed. “I had the same reaction, you know. He’s…a lot.”

Jiang Cheng felt seen. “I know,” he said effusively. “He’s just – you know?”

“I do,” Lan Xichen said. “Just –”

He waved his hand in the air. Not even making some sort of gesture, just a meaningless sort of wave, but for some reason Jiang Cheng understood him completely.

There really just weren’t words sometimes, when you wanted to describe things or people that inspired feelings that went beyond the merely describable. Nie Mingjue was one of those – Jiang Cheng had known that Lan Xichen would understand, and sure enough, he did.

And to think that Wei Wuxian liked Lan Wangji better!

Really, his shixiong might be more talented than Jiang Cheng in many ways, ways that were often a matter of jealousy, but Jiang Cheng clearly had better taste.

“Oh, there you are,” a voice said, and Jiang Cheng tensed and turned to look – but it was only Wen Qing, so that was fine. “Lan-gongzi, Jiang-gongzi, I was sent to spend some time with you.”

She probably meant that she was sent away so that the adults would have time to talk about issues they thought were too sensitive to involve the younger generation, or else they just wanted to start drinking earlier in the afternoon than usual and didn’t want her judging them from a medical standpoint. Either might be true – Wen Qing was widely acclaimed as one of the most talented in their generation, as terrifying with her needles as other people might be with their sword, from more or less the first moment she’d finally been allowed to join the rest of them on equal grounds.

They greeted her, trying to stand up to be polite, but she waved them down irritably and took a seat instead. “What are you two talking about?”

“Nie Mingjue,” Lan Xichen said, and Jiang Cheng nodded. “We were just commenting on his many admirable qualities.”

Jiang Cheng nodded a second time, even more emphatically.

Wen Qing looked at them both with that critical eye of hers for a long moment.

Then she sighed in a huff. “He’s really all that and more, isn’t he?” she said.

“He is,” Lan Xichen said.

“He’s just –” Jiang Cheng tried the same gesture as Lan Xichen earlier, and was gratified when Wen Qing started nodding herself in total agreement. “Right?”

“Right.”

Nie Mingjue was aware that many people liked to stare at them, but they had assumed it was because of how unusual they were – even putting aside the eye, which was their most obviously not-normal feature, their behavior was not always in line with regular people’s. They didn’t show their emotions on their face as easily, being more naturally inclined towards sternness, and their manner was both sharp and incisive, straightforward and blunt; they had missed critical years of social development while lost in what amounted to seclusion, too busy solidifying their sense of self, consolidating their we into an I.

(They were still trying to figure out gender, a process complicated by the fact that it hadn’t made much sense to either of them to begin with. They were starting to suspect it would be better to just give up on it entirely.)

It turned out, according to Nie Huaisang, that that was not why all those people were staring.

“When you say they like me…”

“Sexually or romantically attracted, usually both,” Nie Huaisang said. “You have a lot of would-be suitors. Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng, Wen Qing, Wen Ning, Jiang Yanli –”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to use their names directly like that,” Nie Mingjue said, though they weren’t sure about that. They’d forgotten more etiquette than they’d ever learned. “Also, isn’t Jiang Yanli getting married to Jin Zixuan?”

“He’s another of your admirers. As is Meng Yao…no, sorry, Jin Ziyao. You know he secretly thinks that you killed Jin Guangshan for him, right?”

They’d killed Jin Guangshan because he was rotten through and through, and he didn’t even have a qi deviation or a tormenting heart demon to blame for it. He just thought of people as things, even the ones he supposedly liked, and acted accordingly…they hadn’t really thought through the consequences of killing him when they’d done it, having long ago forgotten the concept of political considerations, but it was really amazing what could be covered up or excused if multiple sect leaders put their minds to it while the rest just breathed a sigh of relief that Jin Guangshan was gone.

“That seems like too many people,” they said. “They can’t all be my…admirers.”

“You think that’s it? I haven’t even gotten to Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian – both at once, if that’s your preferred flavor – and even that feral child Jin Ziyao found in Kuizhou…you know just the other week, he loudly declared that you were better than sweets and the entire room sighed all at once in agreement?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not. There are even rumors that say that Sect Leader Wen might be interested…”

They shrugged.

Nie Huaisang squinted at them. “Da-ge. Did you know about that one?”

“Sect Leader Wen is not subtle,” they said dryly. “But if it makes you feel better, his interest is purely a matter of cultivation, and also our father has already hit him for even making the suggestion.”

Nie Huaisang didn’t look impressed. “Are you sure it’s purely a matter of cultivation? Would you be able to tell if it wasn’t?”

Nie Mingjue considered how little they’d recognized any of the other people who were purportedly interested in them. “No,” they admitted.

“Hmm. What about Teacher Lan?”

“What about Teacher Lan?” they asked, suspicious.

“Nothing, nothing. Just something I read somewhere…”

Probably one of those spring books that he was always sneaking around, they concluded.

“Though…you have been going out of your way to meet up with Teacher Lan more often recently…”

“He’s helping me figure out some of the bureaucratic intricacies of changing succession,” they said. “He’s had the most experience, having to do it twice – once to get his brother out of the line of succession, and another to get him back in. He’s a good teacher.”

He was, too. For all of Nie Huaisang’s tall tales about Lan Qiren’s strictness and overly-rigid insistence on orthodoxy, the man himself had a very calming presence, still and tranquil. It made them think of a musical instrument and, using the Nie cultivation method as a base, start to think strange thoughts…

Though not the sorts of thoughts Nie Huaisang had in mind.

“I mean, I guess. Even I learned eventually, and – wait. Why do you need to know about how to change succession? You’re already the heir.”

“That’s the problem,” Nie Mingjue said. “I need to figure out how to abdicate my position in your favor.”

Nie Huaisang gaped at him.

“No, I’m not joking,” they said, because they knew their little brother. “I’m not suited for politics. I don’t think I ever was, and after everything that happened, I’m even less suited.”

They really weren’t. Too blunt, too sharp, too concerned with justice, too inhuman – they were good at fighting, in the sense that they knew how to be a saber as well as a human and could wield sharpness in the same way, a slash from their fingers being enough to cleave a man in half, but that wasn’t what being a sect leader was about.

No, Nie Huaisang would be much better at it.

“Da-ge, you can’t do this to me!” Nie Huaisang wailed. “Do you know how much work it’d be? Anyway, you can’t – our father’s already promised all of Qinghe Nie to your future spouse! So there!”

“Then I just won’t ever get married.”

“What?!” Nie Huaisang waved his hands wildly. “You can’t do that! You – you – do you know how many hearts you’d be breaking?!”

“So you’ve informed me,” Nie Mingjue said dryly. “It’s all right, Huaisang. I rather like the life Teacher Lan has made for himself, traveling all around and coming back every few seasons to teach something. I want to fight evil, and there’s a lot more evil out there than there is in here.”

Or, at minimum, there was more evil of the sort they were allowed to just stab. That was apparently frowned upon, in politics – there was a reason they said they weren’t suited for it.

“You’re not suited for fighting evil with a blade,” they added while Nie Huaisang was still spluttering. “But you can do wonders with people, if you’re given enough time to plan it. Being sect leader will put you in the position that will let you fight evil best, in your own way.”

“Not everything is about fighting evil, da-ge!”

“Isn’t it?”

Nie Huaisang didn’t seem to have a good answer to that.

After a while, he finally said, “…you really think I’d be good at it?”

Nie Mingjue pulled their younger brother in for a hug.

“You’ll be magnificent,” they promised.

They liked travel, just as they’d suspected they would.

People always recognized them – the eye was very distinctive, and they were also very tall – and immediately rushed over to share all their problems. They were very happy to help. Some of them they could fix personally, generally the ones that were stabbable, while they had a wide enough set of acquaintances to deal with many of the others: those who needed healing to go to the Lan sect or Wen sect, depending on whether problem was mental or physical; those that needed advancement to the Jin sect or Jiang sect; mysteries to be solved to the newly established Wei sect over in Yiling; and anyone with anything more abstruse than that over to Nie Huaisang personally to sort of.

Their little brother liked a good puzzle.

As for Nie Mingjue’s part, they liked fighting evil, and they liked helping people, too, if they could manage it, so it all worked out quite well. The road could be a little lonely at times, all alone with no one around, but it wasn’t really that bad. They were welcome at just about every cultivation sect and most of the other places they’d passed by, so it wasn’t like they were lacking for company if they wanted it.

It was only sometimes that they wished that there was someone else who might want to share this type of life with them.

It was a difficult life, always roving and never satisfied, intent on fighting evil for an eternity and prizing the doing of it over normal things, everyday things; they knew that they couldn’t ask someone else to take on a mission so absurd as stamping out all evil in the world, and so they didn’t. Who would be so foolish as that? Not everyone could leave behind all their responsibilities and ties to the world the way they did, passing instead through their beloved one’s lives by chance like a leaf tossed in the wind – nor should they, if those ties gave them joy.

Take their current mission, for example. One of Nie Mingjue’s earlier trips had taken them from Yiling to the Baixue Temple, with the highly unorthodox Wei sect’s equally unorthodox head disciple, Xue Yang, tagging along with them so that they could – in Wei Wuxian’s words – beat some sense into his head, and it had been on that trip that they had met Song Lan, who was thoroughly charmed by the idea of a sect established on principles of brotherhood rather than blood.

He'd also been rather charmed, they thought, by Xue Yang himself, and the interest had been mutual.

(They were getting better at recognizing that sort of thing.)

So Song Lan had gone off with them, with Nie Mingjue dropping both him and Xue Yang back in Yiling, and when he’d gone back again another time they had seemed very happy. But Song Lan had been thinking about his master and martial brothers back at home, and he’d asked if Nie Mingjue would be willing to carry along some letters that he didn’t dare trust to the post.

Nie Mingjue, suspecting a request regarding marriage was involved, had readily agreed. Sure enough, once they’d dropped it off, the entire Baixue Temple had all but exploded in excitement – they’d barely managed to make it out of there in time to avoid being dragged into all the fuss.

And now they were wandering around nearby, shaking their head in amusement at all the noise they’d left behind, looking for something more interesting to do. Some evil to fight, or something like that.

They found both.

“Well, that was exhilarating,” they commended to the cultivator in white that had worked together with them to defeat a rather astounding number of evil creatures in an effort to save some rogue cultivators who’d gotten in over their heads. Nie Mingjue’s reputation was already ridiculous, and was only going to get worse, they knew, but really this was a lot even for them. They wouldn’t have been able to manage it without help.

“It was,” the cultivator said, and smiled at them. “My name is Xiao Xingchen, disciple of Baoshan Sanren. Who are you?”

“Nie Mingjue,” they said. They thought they’d heard of Baoshan Sanren before, but they weren’t entirely sure – they had a tendency to forget things that weren’t that important to them. They thought it might be something to do with Wei Wuxian’s mother –something to do with the immortal mountain, and a doom that fell on those who descended from it…?

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did those rogue cultivators call you Curse-breaker?” Xiao Xingchen asked.

They thought about it for a moment, then shrugged.

Xiao Xingchen laughed.

It was a warm sound.

“Where are you going?” Nie Mingjue asked. “I can escort you, if you like.”

“Don’t you have things of your own to be doing?”

“Not really,” Nie Mingjue said. “I want to eradicate all evil in this world, a task that’ll take me a lifetime – and evil can be found anywhere. Why not with you?”

Xiao Xingchen ducked his head. “I don’t have a destination either,” he admitted. “I came down from the mountain because I wanted to help save all the people in the world.”

Nie Mingjue blinked. That was nearly as stupidly idealistic a goal as theirs.

“Well, then,” they said, and smiled. “In that case, why don’t we go together?”

It would be nice to have company, unrestrained by any obligations tied to the mortal world, and in return they could show Xiao Xingchen everything there was to see – introduce him to all the people, eat all the food, fight all the battles. And if in the end it turned out that that doom people talked about in regards to the mountain really was a thing…

Well, they’d see about that.

After all, Nie Mingjue had a bit of experience with curses like that.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #jiang cheng #lan xichen #wen qing #xiao xingchen #my fic #my fics #cursebreaker #hey remember when I asked for help in deciding the ship

124 notes · View notes

nice-kill-tanaka · 3 years

Text

🌄Kyoya + Rival Fiance🌌

Summary: Had you two not been paired off since you were young, your intellectual spats would have been much more...uncouth...to say the least. But, being maritally connected might be the needed push for you to realize your collective potential.

A/N: Outlet for needless unresolved sexual tension™️?? Yes please!

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

👓Kyoya Ootori👓

You met Kyoya when you both were around twelve years old

Your respective fathers had reached a long-lasting stalemate in their efforts to merge their companies in a way that was satisfying to both sides. And this was a last ditch effort to successfully complete the deal crucial to your father’s company in particular

Your parents were reluctant, as you were their only child. But, cautiously decided to go through with it after you gave your (albeit, slightly uninformed) consent

It was a dinner for yours and the Ootori families alone. One to finalize the deal. One to introduce the young future “lovers”

You sat across the table from one another, exchanging glances of matching intensity and analytical intent

You knew next to nothing about the quiet boy in front of you. But, you did know that he, just like you, were used to being the smartest person in the room. And, if not the smartest, the most observant

Your first words at that dinner never went beyond greetings and farewells. Very suffocatingly cordial for what was supposed to be two young and bright kids brought together for what their parents described as the “greater good”

Make no mistake, you both knew that this arrangement held more benefits than a successful business deal

But, something about your future husband made you want to intellectually step on his neck (Lovingly of course ❤️😚🔪). And it was the same sentiment vice versa

Up until you and Ootori (The name you insisted on using to address him) started attending the same school, neither of you could pinpoint why the competitive tension between you two was so strong

But, you and Ootori do figure it out eventually, through learning about each other’s pasts

I’ll put it like this:

Unlike Ootori, your gifts were never overshadowed by well-off or talented family members. Though praise wasn’t a frequent thing either. You were always subconsciously told to improve though. Through that, you were almost always the one on top. And you knew it. You liked it there, sure, but you were never complacent. You wouldn’t be caught dead being surpassed because you didn’t bother to try

You were the monarch, and you stayed that way through working, soaring to higher levels than your adversaries could ever imagine

Kyoya, being the eclipsed moon to virtually everyone’s sun, had to learn how to flourish in the background. He knew that a lot of the time, he was the most capable person in the room, but other people didn’t recognize that. So, he had to make his mark through craftier methods

He was the one with his sights set on your throne. The only one able to conquer it. And you knew that

In summary your relationship is a constant back and forth between Kyoya using his silent cunning to surpass you, and you reclaiming your place with pure drive and spite. You were the one he wanted to overthrow, and he was the assassin you wanted to outsmart

“Hm, I wouldn’t have expected the fleeting top student to score so far below me. I suppose this is part of another big plan, Ootori?”

“Well, L/N, I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that the class average is unusually higher than normal. You’ll have to work a little harder next time to maintain your far lead won’t you?”

Or:

“That’s the third time you’ve eaten lunch with the Tsuin sisters this week L/N. I didn’t know you were looking for new friends.”

“Networking is never a bad thing Ootori. I got their parents’ company to invest in our fathers’ partnership in less than a week. But sure, call it ‘looking for new friends’.“

Something like that 😂

The thought of becoming personally involved outside of social performances never left your minds. But, the lack of cooperation between you deemed the option unnecessary

You and Kyoya were still strictly rivals when you both met Tamaki Suoh

You, for one, never quite understood Tamaki and his motives. Especially when he proposed an idea he had for what he called a “host club”

When Tamaki spoke to you individually, he suggested that you become the club’s manager, since you politely declined becoming part of the act

The second time you spoke with Tamaki, it was with Kyoya, and you quickly realized what was going on

Though, you weren’t sure what made Tamaki think you and Kyoya would make a good team. You knew the potential was there, but pride was another big hurdle to clear

But, through a bit of convincing (and Tamaki’s puppy dog eyes), you and Kyoya agreed to partner up in running the technical business aspects of the host club. Kyoya as the vice president, you as the manager

Things were a little rocky for the first week or so of business. Both you and Kyoya had the same end goals in mind, but the friction was in how to go about it

Your approaches were more straightforward. Practicality and efficiency were what mattered to you. Sure, you didn’t mind playing the long game. But, if you didn’t have to, you wouldn’t

Kyoya’s approaches were intricate and methodical, designed for the sake of the long game. He was willing to wait for everything to fall into place, even if it wasn’t the best for the short term

But, since you knew Tamaki wouldn’t be much help to your dilemma, you and Kyoya had your first genuine conversation

“We do get things done eventually. But, only after a disagreement on our approach.”

“I suppose you’re right, L/N. Functioning the way we are now would only hurt us long-term.”

“So, is that an agreement to collaborate?”

“Of course. Besides, if we’re to be married one day, working as one unit is something we’ll need to learn.”

Kyoya gave you a cunning, yet teasing smile as he walked away. The club, undoubtably hearing what he said to you

You raised an eyebrow and gave a dumbfounded glance at your rival, who you just let stalk away without hearing your reply

This was the first time either of you verbally acknowledged your arranged marriage. Or, at least, met it with something other than dismissal and a nasty look towards the other person

Your ears and the skin between your eyes burned with heat, though you were sure it was only from Kyoya exposing your arrangement to the entire club. You had never felt so flustered by him, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to welcome the feeling yet

Kyoya on the other hand, wondered why he said what he did. It was something that slipped out in an attempt to make you all hot and bothered with no chance to reply. A small victory for him. But, what did he actually think of marrying you?

...Well, to be honest, he kind of liked it

Being able to marry someone on his intellectual level meant things would never be boring. Especially with you being so self aware

Besides, two minds for business meant neither of you needed to inherit something to be successful. You two could build your own economic empire from the ground up and still have time for vacationing on the weekends

((Ignoring the fact that Kyoya also finds you physically attractive. So, you guys would legit be the prettiest couple in Ouran))

From then on, your relationship became like a shiver of sharks. Dangerous individually, but when you see them together?

Pick a god and pray.

With your combined cunning and observational skills, no one can pull a fast one on the host club

Your little jabs at each other slowly became more playful, leaving the other with a burning face and a ghost of a smile

Even Honey-Senpai began religiously shipping the two of you

“Kyo-chan, Y/N-chan, can I be the ring bearer at your wedding?”

To which you both stare down at the cheeky little boy, then back at each other, aware of what he was doing. You smirk with endearment, and speak first:

“Well, that’s a big responsibility, Honey-Senpai. You think you can handle it?”

“You can’t get any cake on your suit, remember?”

Honey-Senpai faltered immediately at Kyoya’s last statement

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

[🌌Take this for your travels, bud. Don’t worry about paying me or anything, everything’s on the house! Though 🍁likes🍁 and ☘️reblogs☘️ are appreciated!🌄] — Reagan

#extra supplies #caravan commodities #ohshc #ouran high school host club #ohshc x reader #ohshc headcanons #kyoya ootori #kyoya ootori x reader #kyoya x reader #ootori x reader #sorry this is kinda long 😅

589 notes · View notes

babymetaldoll · 3 years

Text

I just want you (Chip Taylor / Reader)

Requested: Yes

Word counting: 3.5K

Summary: What would it be like to be married to Chip Taylor? Would it include a lot of women trying to hit on him?

Warnings: Cursing, spoilers of 68 Kill.

A/N: Hello, beautiful people! sorry, I've been a little absent here, but writing my series has taken most of my time! Also, I feel a little blocked, and my personal life has been a mess. But, here it is: my first Chip Taylor fic. Have you guys seen 68 Kill? I love that movie, and I love Chip so much. He deserves the world. I hope you guys like this little story!

Masterlist

---

It wasn’t like I didn’t know my husband was handsome, ‘cos you had to be blind not to see his face was made by the gods, and all of his features were simply perfect. I just didn’t know every woman would flirt with him everywhere we were all the time.

And they weren’t even subtle about it. No. They made it very obvious when they looked at Chip each time they stopped by his work. They wanted him.

After all those years together, a part of me had made peace with that. I couldn’t stop them. He was hot, he didn’t want their attention, but he wasn’t rude or anything like it. Chip Taylor was a very polite man who was also very blind to the attention his looks gave him.

Chip owned a small pet sitting business that had started to really take off in the last few months. He had some savings that he used to buy a house when we first started dating. He lived there until we got married, and then we bought a bigger place outside the town. That’s when he decided to turn his old home into his own pet sitting business. And it was a hit. Chip is fantastic with animals. He is great with everybody, but pets just… melt with him. I think they can see the kindness of his soul.

Chip Taylor deserves the best things in life ‘cos he is the best man I’ve ever met. I’ve loved him since the day it took him almost half an hour to walk over and talk to me in the bar we met.

- “Every time a pretty face pops up, my brain turns into a potato- he explained, flustered ‘cos he kept stuttering as he asked for my number.

He was too sweet. Too cute. And he loved me. He had a ring that said so. But again, that didn’t stop most women who met him from flirting with him.

- “Here he is. Little Rascal had a great day today”- Chip walked to the front yard with a french bulldog, who kept barking, trying to get an extra treat from him. I smiled from a safe distance, reading a book sitting on a porch while Chip met with the dog owner. And she was as excited as Rascal was.

- “Hi baby! Did you have a good day today?”- the lady held the leash and caressed her dog’s head a few times before returning her attention fully to my husband.

- “Thank you for taking care of him.”

- “You are very welcome, Kim. It’s my job.”

- “No, it’s more than that. Rascal hates strangers, and he has been an angel with you since day one. I tell you, Chip, you are someone special.”

I know my husband blushed, ‘cos he is terrible with compliments. So he just shook his head and scratched the back of his neck. His shirt raised, showing his very toned midsection. And I swear, I had to force myself to stay put on that chair, ‘cos the way that woman looked at my husband was enough to make my blood boil. I wanted to run over and push her away from him. I wished I could tell her to get her dog and get the fuck out of our property.

But no. I didn’t. Instead, I tried to keep on reading, which was honestly impossible. But at least I didn’t move from my chair. I just stared at that scene, trying to control the urges of smashing that woman’s head against her car.

- “So, do you have plans for the weekend?”- the woman asked him, smiling flirtatiously

- “Not really.”- not the smartest answer, I’ll give you that.

- “Great! that means you can’t say no! I am having a small get-together at my place this Friday. You should totally come.”

- “Thank you, Kim, but...”

- “I’ll text you my address. I’m not taking no for an answer!”

Chip was awkward, he felt pushed to say he’d go, but I knew he didn’t want to. If he did, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Besides, he wouldn’t usually make plans without asking me first. A part of me wanted to run and help him out of that awkward situation, but I knew he had to do it on his own. Yes, he was a grown-up, but after knowing everything he had gone through before we met, a big part of me wanted to take care of him constantly. I didn’t want anything wrong ever to happen to Chip. He didn’t deserve anything bad.

- “Thanks, Kim, really, but… I think I should ask my wife first”- he whispered and smiled kindly at the woman, who didn’t hide the disappointment from her face. I have the feeling she never actually saw the ring on my husband’s finger.

- “Wife? I had no idea you were married, Chip”- he chuckled and nodded as the woman tried to act normal again. But she couldn’t.

- “Yes, I’ve been married for the last ten months.”

- “Just ten months? Well, she is a lucky woman…”

- “Thank you”- Chip petted Rascal’s head and added- “But I am sure I am the lucky one to have her. I still can’t believe she actually married me.”

- “Come on, Chip! Any woman would be happy with a man like you.”

And that was when that woman crossed the line and rubbed my husband’s arm for longer than necessary. He froze and looked at her, not knowing how to get out of that situation. Chip is a sweet soul who still has some significant issues when it comes to setting boundaries.

I jumped from my chair and walked over quickly, with a big smile on my face. The woman turned to me and raised an eyebrow, clearly not knowing who I was.

- “Hello, sorry to interrupt you, boo, but it’s getting late for our date.”

We didn’t have a date that night. But well, now we did.

Chip frowned, confused, and waited for me to explain a little more what I was saying. But, instead, I just smiled and held his hand, making sure that the woman’s hand was as far from him as possible.

- “Hi, nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N), Chip’s wife.”- I said and waved.

- “Kimberly, nice to meet you.”

- “So you are Rascal’s mom. He is a sweetheart”- I kneeled and petted Rascal’s head behind his ears, right where I knew he liked it. Kim just nodded and smiled.

- “Ok, we should go, it’s getting late. Bye Chip”- she waved quickly, walking to her car. My husband said goodbye and wrapped an arm around my waist as I stood by his side and rested my head on his shoulder.

- “We are not going to her “little get-together,” by the way”- I whispered, and he chuckled.

- “Good, ’cause I didn’t want to go either. I actually had plans for the weekend, but I didn’t want to discuss them with her.”- I looked at him, raising an eyebrow, and felt his big hands caressing the lower part of my back.

- “Which plans?”

- “I’m planning to stay in bed with my wife the whole weekend, watch movies, kiss her a lot, and maybe asking for pizza.”

- “You had me at ˝stay in bed,” Chip Taylor”- I giggled and kissed his cheek- “She was flirting with you, by the way.”

- “I don’t care if she tried to flirt. I only have eyes for you, moonbeam”- I chuckled at the cheesy nickname and felt his lips on mine. They felt warm and soft and filled with love.

But it wasn’t always so easy to shake off the thoughts of a woman flirting with Chip. Unfortunately, sometimes it was harder to remain calm. Some women were more aggressive with their flirting. Some were actually way hotter than me, and sometimes that makes you doubt yourself.

I didn’t know Liza or Violet, so I never knew if they were prettier, more intelligent, or sexier than me. I couldn’t compare or compete with them either, ‘cos they were dead. But some random women made my life a little more challenging from time to time.

- “Chip? Chip Taylor?”- a soft woman’s voice interrupted our conversation and forced my husband to turn around, feeling now also her hand on his shoulder. We were at our favorite bar, having a drink, celebrating the end of the week and another successful month of Chip’s small business. We were chatting about our days, sitting at our usual table, when interrupted.

- “Anna Davis? Hi! How are you?! Long time no see!”- my husband stood up and hugged the stranger like long-lost friends reunited. I had never heard of any “Anna” before. I was trying to remember if I did.

- “I haven’t seen you in ages! What are you doing here?”- Anna said and laughed- “I can’t believe it’s really you!”- and so, they hugged again.

- “Hi”- I waved from the table and smiled at the two of them as they moved apart.

- “I’m so sorry, babe. (Y/N), this is Anna, my neighbor when I was in middle school. Anna, this is (Y/N), my wife.”

- “Hi, nice to meet you”- she shook my hand and smiled at me for a second, and then turned to my husband again and continued catching up.

Chip looked happy and excited to see her. He didn’t have many friends, he still didn’t know how to trust most people, probably why he decided to work with animals instead. He had a good relationship with Jim, the boy who helped him clean, and with a few classmates from the community college. But that was it.

- “I can’t believe you are here!”- Chip was beaming- “Are you with someone?”

- “My friends were leaving. I’m visiting one of my best friends, who moved here a few years ago. But she has to work tomorrow morning, so she wanted to go home.”

- “Do you wanna sit with us for a while?”- Chip asked her and turned to me smiling. Of course, I couldn’t say no. Well, he didn’t actually ask; he just looked at me, and I moved my chair to make room for one more on the table.

- “I would love to! Thank you!.”

I loved the idea of meeting Anna, at first. I didn’t know many people from my husband’s past, basically just his parents. The fact she was his friend growing up sounded amazing, and it meant I could finally talk with someone who knew him when he was a kid and could tell me more stories about my husband.

But Anna had other plans. My husband blinded Anna. She basically ignored me, and he was so excited to see her and talk to her, he didn’t even notice I was being left out of the whole conversation.

At first, it was ok. Chip wanted to catch up with Anna, know what she was doing with her life, and all that. So he asked for her parents and family. Apparently, they were pretty close growing up.

- “Remember each Friday we had a secret sleepover?”- she asked and laughed. My husband nodded and sipped his drink.

- “Yeah! I would sneak into your house and watch a movie.”

- “You know, my parents knew you were coming to hang out after curfew. They just didn’t think it was wrong”- she added and laughed- “I’m just glad they didn’t know about the day we tried smoking for the first time!”

Chip burst into laughter, and so did Anna. I just stared at them and sighed. Neither of them explained the story. They were just too caught up in each other to even notice I was there.

Yes, I was feeling jealous of Chip’s long-lost childhood friend. I knew it made no sense, but somehow, he completely forgot I existed when she was there. Yes, it was probably ‘cos he was surprised to bump into her at a bar on a random night after so many years.

But the more I looked at her, the more I realized she was gorgeous. She had long legs, beautiful golden hair, green eyes. The girl could go to a freaking beauty pageant and win it. Besides, Anna wasn’t acting friendly, if you ask me. She kept rubbing my husband’s arm, repeating how excited she was to see him, and saying over and over again how good he looked… it was a little too much.

- “I tell you, Chip, you haven’t changed a bit!”- Anna smiled and looked into his chocolate eyes, and I swear she nearly sighed. I couldn’t blame her. He is dreamy. But he is my husband, and it felt wrong.

- “Neither have you,”- he added and turned to me for a second. I looked kindly into his eyes, knowing he was happy, and that was enough to make me feel happy too.

- “Can I get you another drink, moonbeam?”- he asked me and stood up.

- “Yes, penguin, please”- Chip nodded and blushed as I called him by his favorite nickname and then turned to Anna.

- “Another?”

- “Sure!”

And suddenly, we were on our own.

- “So, how long have you been married?”- Anna asked me and looked at me innocently.

- “A little over ten months.”

- “Just married! Congratulations. You must still be living the honeymoon!”

- “Yes, we are.”- I giggled and turned to look at Chip, waiting for our drink at the bar. It wasn’t hard being stuck at the honeymoon phase with him. Every day, he made every day feel like the first day we were together, even after three years of dating and ten months married.

- “We used to date when we were kids,”- Anna simply said and chuckled - “It was very childish, but I was his first kiss.”

- “Really?”- I smiled at her, making my best not to look jealous at all. “That’s so cute!”

- “He is adorable. He was the sweetest boy growing up.”- Anna added and kept her eyes on Chip. But for a few seconds, I could see the longing in them, and my struggle not to show how jealous I was got a little harder.

- “So when was the last time you saw Chip?”- I asked and kept my eyes on her, reading her expressions. It took her a few extra seconds to stop staring at him to turn and look at me.

- “When I moved out of town when I was fifteen.”- she sighed and chuckled- “Seems it was a lifetime ago.”

- “Ok, here are your drinks,”- Chip appeared and smiled- “Plus, I ordered some more nachos, ‘cos I’m getting hungry.”- I chuckled and held his hand upon the table, playing with his fingers between mine. Chip looked at me and opened his mouth to say something when Anna interrupted him.

- “Remember that summer you broke your arm ‘cos you fell from the tree in Shawn’s backyard?”

And my husband laughed, forgetting what he was going to tell me.

I stood in front of the mirror and tried to fix my makeup. I looked tired. I was tired. It was Friday night, and I wasn’t twenty-three anymore. I was weary, and all I could think of was getting into my bed with my husband and getting good twelve-hour sleep.

But he and Anna were still talking and having a blast together, remembering the good old times. Now, if you ask me, I had the feeling Anna wanted to do more than just talking to my husband, but he was oblivious to any of her intentions. That was until I walked out of the bathroom and saw Anna’s arm wrapped around Chip as they were dancing.

She was dancing with my husband, and he was laughing. Ok, that hurt. It hurt a lot.

I sat at our table and drank what was left of my drink. I stared at them for a moment and evaluated my options. I could storm out of that place, maybe make a scene and yell. But no, I trusted my husband. I knew he wasn’t trying to hurt me or even cheat on me with her. No. He was naive and a little awkward. But by the way Anna’s hands moved on his body, clearly, she wasn’t naive at all.

- “Oh! I’m sorry!”- Anna said laughing when they reached back our table- “I just asked Chip to dance with me ‘cos I love that song.”

- “That’s ok”- I smiled at her and held my husband’s hand tight upon the table.

- “But Chip is such a great dancer! He really knows how to move!”- Anna was asking for it. She wanted to be smacked. But I behaved.

- “He really does,”- I answered and smiled

- “I hope you are not jealous!”- I turned to her and frowned, pretending to be confused

- “Of course not! Why would I?”

- “I don’t know! It’s just that… he was mine way before he was yours and…”

- “He isn’t mine”- I cut her off, and for once, my voice stopped being nice and friendly- “And he is definitely not yours. He is not a dog, Anna, he is a person, and the only owner of his soul is himself.”

Anna stared at me in silence, and Chip wide opened his eyes, surprised by my tone of voice.

- “What I’m trying to say is that… I met him when…”

- “I know what you are trying to imply Anna, you’ve been trying to do it ever since you sat at our table. You feel like you need to prove something, but you don’t. Really.”

Chip held my hand tight and kissed it sweetly. He didn’t say anything to me. He just looked at me with apologetic eyes as I cut him a short smile.

- “Ok, I think I better go now”- Anna stood up and just waved- “It was great seeing you again, Chip.”

My husband smiled and waved as Anna walked away. Then, when he was sure she had left the place, he turned to me. I sipped what was left of my drink and sighed.

- “Sorry if I was rude”- my words were a whisper only Chip could hear.

- “No, moonbeam. You weren’t rude at all. I’m sorry.”

- “Chip Taylor, you didn’t do anything wrong”- I leaned and kissed his lips softly, cupping his face with both hands.

- “I feel like I did.”

- “No, boo, really. She was… clearly trying to get under your belt.”

- “I shouldn’t have danced with her, but she pushed me...”- Chip excused himself and kissed my hand again, as I still held his face and caressed her cheeks with my thumbs.

- “Yeah, you should work on that “No” thing a little harder,”- I whispered and chuckled.

- “Sorry if she made you feel jealous. I had a huge crush on her when we were kids.”

- “She said she was your first kiss”- Chip opened my mouth, but no word came from it for a few seconds.

- “Funny, I told her that just ‘cos she said I was her first kiss, but actually my first kiss was with her cousin Alice.”

I couldn’t hold back the laughter as Chip looked at me with guilty eyes as if that was the biggest secret he had about his past.

- “Well, I bet if I run, I can still catch her!! I need to tell her the news!!”- I said and stood up, just to feel Chip’s arms around me, protectively.

- “Let her think that. We all know who all my kisses belong to now.”

Chip held me tight and close to him as his lips rubbed mine slowly. I felt my head spin as his tongue slowly touched mine, deepening the kiss. I couldn’t help but moan at the sensation of Chip’s sweet and passionate kiss. He made sure to make me feel how much he loved him every time he kissed me. In a weird way, Chip’s kisses always felt like our first and last. I think he was always trying to show me his feelings, ‘cos his previous trauma taught him he didn’t know when a kiss could be the last.

- “I love you so much, Mrs. Taylor,”- he whispered, and the title made my knees feel weak- “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

- “I love you more, Mr. Taylor,”- I replied and kissed his lips sweetly one more time- “And just between you and me, I am completely yours.”- I confessed and giggled nervously.

- “I am yours too, moonbeam. You own my heart, and I only want you.”- he whispered and kissed me one more time.

- “You just want me?”- I repeated, and he nodded, looking into my eyes filled with love- “Of all those women who wanna do you, you just want me?”

- “Which women?”- he asked me, clearly confused

- “A lot of women out there keep giving you the fuck eyes.”

- “What?! No way”

- “Do you think Kim invited you to her house for a small get-together? She wanted to get under your belt, penguin.”

- “But I am your penguin, that means I am not looking for any other woman. I just want you.”

- “Just me,”- I repeated again, and he nodded.

- “Just you, Mrs. Taylor”- I sighed, pleased, and closed my eyes for a second “Wanna go home?”

- “You still have to dance with me,”- I pouted, and he held my hand.

- “Whatever my wife wants.”

General Taglist

@spenxerslut @ash19871962 @babebenhardy @meowiemari @archer561 @all-tings-diego

#Chip Taylor #Matthew Gray Gubler #68 kill #chip taylor x reader #chip taylor x fem!reader #Matthew Gray Gubler Fluff #fluff #matthew Gray Gubler fanfiction #fanfiction #68 kill fanfiction #babymetaldoll writes

273 notes · View notes

dustofbrokenheart · 3 years

Text

The Lost Boys: Call 911

GIF by lostinsantacarla

Paul x Reader

Word Count: 2,550

Summary: Reader is out on patrol as part of the Santa Carla PD when they respond to a call out at the wharf.

Amid the riotous flare of fireworks and fire crackers, it was difficult to make out the quickly approaching cop car but Marko prided himself on being observative.

Paul, Paulie, P-Man, his forever partner on the other hand…

Grabbing Paul by the front of his tank, he pulled the other vampire down to hiss in his ear. “We got company. We bail on my signal, got it?”

The honey blonde nodded distractedly, mesmerized by the bright bursts of colors overhead. The reds and blues and whites and pinks mixed with the curtain of smoke, creating a kaleidoscope against the inky night sky.

He only heard part of what Marko was gripping about—something about a signal—but it wasn’t his fault he was having so much fun.

Another of their fireworks went off from behind Max’s Video, making him laugh even harder when some empty pallets became collateral. They splintered into pieces, the crunching sound of the wood masked by the other explosions.

Nothing said summer time fun like launching some Big Boys at the video store. It was a rockin’ light show and piss-off-Max scheme all wrapped in one. The crochety, old douche in question would no doubt have some choice words for them later but Paul wasn’t thinking about that; the only thing on his mind was blowing shit up.

In fact, he was so into it that he wasn’t prepared for the sharp punch to his ribs. He flew into the wall as Marko ran past, scampering to get airborne. “Go, go, go!”

The back door to the store opened with such force that it banged into the wall with a loud crack. Paul could sympathize. Two officers came through and before he could even think to pick himself up and run, they were on him.

The rounder of the two sat on his back, putting all his pounds into pinning Paul down. Normally, he would’ve thrown him off and maybe, probably, killed him, no sweat.

But.

There were too many people around that could catch him in the act. There’s no way Max would step in and not even Paul was stupid enough to slaughter that many people in plain sight.

Marko, he whined through the bond. A little help, bud? I’m kinda stuck.

All he got back was a manic cackle.

Paul squawked in outrage, knowing that the other would not be lending an assist. That traitor was all too content to sit back and laugh at him.

Whatever.

Screw him then.

It’s not like Paul had never been hauled in before anyhow.

“You know,” he grunted to the cop on his back, “It’s a good thing you’re not fat or anything, otherwise this would be more difficult.”

The knee dug into his back even harder and his head was pulled back by his hair. It didn’t hurt that much but still! He worked for hours to make his hair look good!

“Police brutality! I have rights, you know!” he yelled. The cop was starting to get on his nerves.

His face was shoved back into the ground and he ate gravel, sputtering to get the pebbles and grime out of his mouth with mixed success. The taste lingered and the only way to get rid of it would be to wash it down with something—

Hmm. He hadn’t planned on feeding that night but some pig blood would take care of it nicely.

He attempted to at least think of an isolated spot to rip out his throat without getting caught. Maybe in the cop car. Maybe he could drag him to the bushes outside of the station.

Oh! If the guy stopped for doughnuts, he could steal the car—doughnuts sounded good though. A nice chocolate glaze with sprinkles or something filled with strawberry jelly! The corner store on the boulevard had the best selection this time of night. He needed more hairspray, too, as long as he was at it, a magazine or three—he shook his head.

Come on, self, get it together!

“I’m going to find the one that ran. Officer Y/LN, you take this idiot back to the car and sit tight until I get back.”

Roughly, he was hauled to his feet and he had been so focused on the tub of lard that had him on the ground that he forgot two cops had burst through the door.

He planted his feet and refused to be moved as he glanced at the second one. It was like pushing at a stone wall, the other at his back unable to shove him into motion.

Immediately, Paul realized his mistake.

Why was he so occupied with that other asshole when he could’ve been looking at you, been pressed up against you the entire time?

The saying was that everyone loved a person in uniform and Paul was no exception. You made the normally dull standard navy uniform look good, the short sleeves showing off your arms and the pants managed to cup your ass in the tastiest way.

He’d cup your ass even better, if you gave him the chance.

Even the serious, disapproving scowl on your face was hot. What he wouldn’t do to get you to make that face with you on top of him, manhandling him any which way you wanted.

Screw his little feeding plan. He was willing to spare your partner in exchange for getting to know you better.

A big happy smile stretching across his face, he finally moved, dragging your partner rather than being forced forward.

“Hey, sexy,” he said with his signature wink, the one that always got him what he wanted with people. “Name’s Paul.”

To his disappointment, you didn’t respond and merely took control of his handcuffed hands as they were passed over.

As you lead him back through the video store, he pulled his arms to the left, acting like he was trying to resist. Just like he expected, you corrected him with a strong, tight grip that sent a rush down his spine.

“Ouch, babe, not so rough,” he purred. “I’m very sensitive.”

He glanced back quick to see your reaction and his bottom lip pushed out in a pout. You still wore a straight face that gave nothing away. No clenched jaw, no embarrassed tightening of your eyes. Definitely no hint of an amused smile.

Gods, babe. You were really testing him.

Guess he’d have to try harder.

***

You were new to the Santa Carla Police Department. Very new. New as in it was your first incident on your first night on patrol.

It was just your luck that you’d ended up with airhead who’d set off a whole fireworks display right outside of a crowded store, which could have serious injury, and was now trying to flirt his way out of it.

Hell—was he pouting?

For a city of its size, Santa Carla PD had a surprising number of job openings. You were new to the area, having moved because it seemed like a nice, sunny California beach town and you were in need of a change.

You didn’t have any prior experience but you’d passed all the screenings and tests and expected the job offer they made. It had benefits, the pay was good, and, importantly, it was legal which seemed to be in short supply around these parts.

That last part was a surprise, especially with the high number of missing people’s cases; you’d think that more places would be desperate to fill jobs, too.

Steering the suspect towards the check out counter, you flagged down the owner who had been the called in to the station.

He turned towards you with a smile on his face and greeted you politely. “Hello, officer.”

“We caught one suspect, sir. The other fled the scene and my partner went after him. I’ll get started on the report—are you planning to press charges?”

The smile was suddenly no where to be seen and he casted a glare at the handcuffed blonde.

“But of course. I’ve told this degenerate and the others in this gang to stay out of here a hundred times before. They’ve gone too far this time.”

The suspect merely shrugged his shoulders and winked at you which set the owner off further.

“That! That right there is what I’m talking about. No respect, no conduct. How is a father supposed to parent if he gets no respect? Maybe they’re missing a motherly influence,” he trailed off.

A motherly influence? Okaaay, then.

Clearing your throat, you tried to bring the conversation back to topic. “Yeah…Well let me put him in the car and then we can get started on the report. Have a good night, sir.”

That should’ve been the end of it but of course the blonde had to open his big mouth. “Bye daddy!”

Max’s hand came down heavy on the counter and you jostled the boy away before he managed to start a full-blown confrontation.

“You surely have a big mouth for someone who’s being arrested. Don’t make things worse for yourself.”

His head perked up and you had to really plant your weight to keep him from turning around and sending you flying into a display in the process. Definitely stronger than he looked.

You noted that piece of information just in case he tried anything else.

“Aww. Are you worried about me?” he cooed. “Don’t be. I trust you to protect me, officer.”

“Any one ever tell you that you’re ridiculous?”

“All the time,” he nodded happily.

The profile of the suspect was coming together in your mind. Clearly, he was simple.

Happy and excitable, and yes, even pretty, but simple.

There’s no way he had been the mastermind behind the firework plot; that honor was likely saved for the one who escaped. He probably hadn’t agreed to do it with malicious intent either. Unfortunately, his inability to think things through had landed him in trouble and he was your problem now.

When you got to the entryway he even tried to the door open. “After you, officer.”

With a resigned sigh, you prodded him forward. Again. Really, this guy was worse than a puppy. A puppy could eventually be trained to listen but seeing as how he was late teens/early twenties, it was doubtful he ever would.

“You said your name was Paul?”

The p in his ‘yep’ popped.

“Last name?”

“Just Paul. I wouldn’t mind getting your name though.”

There’s no way you were telling him that. He would be that much more insufferable if he knew. And try as he might to hide his full name, that would come out when you booked him at the station.

“Well, Paul. You’re being charged with public endangerment and vandalism. Under California law, those are both misdemeanor crimes so most likely—”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved away your words with a flick of his head. Annoyed, you yanked on the cuffs, causing him to moan. “I do appreciate a good pair of handcuffs.”

“You—!” You had to stop yourself from calling him a little shit out loud. No one would’ve stopped you, but you felt weird about it, almost like it would come off as being unprofessional.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to bring your voice back down. “Saying crazy things is only going to make things worse for you.”

“Promise to punish me if I don’t?” Another wink was flashed at you.

It was at that point you noticed he had long lashes for a male. They fluttered like butterfly wings whenever he blinked. Except you had a job to do and really shouldn’t care about how pretty he was.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that it took you by surprise when he leaned in close. Acting on tactical instinct, you threw him against the police vehicle, his torso pressed against the hood with legs spread wide.

The position was designed to be as uncomfortable as it looked so that there was little to no chance of him bucking you off. Good.

“Need I remind you,” you said gruffly, “That you are under arrest. Don’t test me.”

“You should most definitely frisk me,” he panted.

You sincerely hoped it was pain, and not from pleasure, but from your brief encounter with Paul, it honestly could be the latter. Your own heart was pounding in your chest as well but that was due to the adrenaline pumping through your system.

Or so you maintained.

Still, he had a point. Frisking was standard procedure to make sure the suspect was carrying anything potentially dangerous, or illegal. Hell. You were going to have to give into this particular demand, weren’t you?

Wanting to get it over with, you tried to be as fast as possible while still be thorough.

His muscles were surprisingly cold as you felt up his arms and then his back. It was summertime and when most people had problems overheating, it didn’t seem to be an issue for him.

You dreaded going anywhere near his ass but it had to be done. He even insisted on ‘helping’ by pushing his cheeks further into your hands by curving his lower back as you patted down his pants pockets.

“Check the front too. I could have anything down my pants, ya know.”

That didn’t sound suggestive at all. His flirtations were so over the top is was near comical at that point. You couldn’t let him know that though. You were the authority figure in this situation.

“Alright smart guy, the frisking is over with. And surprise, surprise there was exactly nothing in your pants.”

“You wound me, babe.” If he had use of his arms, his hand would’ve definitely been placed over his heart.

Standing him upright, you opened the door to seat him in the back. That had been the plan any way.

One second you held his metal clad wrists firmly in your grip and in the next, he twisted himself away effortlessly.

He spread his hands apart and although they each had a shiny steel band around them, the chain that had connected them broke off with a metallic clink.

Just like that he was completely mobile and he wasted no time.

In another imperceptible move, he covered your back with his front, his breath tickling you.

You couldn’t hold back a shiver.

“It’s been a pleasure, officer, but I really should get going. I’m just too cute for jail.” He rolled his head and his nose traced the shell of your ear with a deep inhale. “This was fun though. Let’s do it again, hmm?”

He shoved you into the back seat and luckily your reflexes were fast enough to catch yourself before you face planted into the leather seat. Thrashing like mad, you spun around as fast as you could but it was no use: Paul was already gone.

Stumbling out, you looked back and forth hoping to catch a glimpse of what direction he went but it was useless. Not only was that little shit stronger than he seemed, he was also faster.

Noted.

With a sinking realization, you knew you were going to have to explain this to your partner.

Oh, you were not looking forward to this…

Worst first night on a job ever.

_______________

Hope you enjoyed Paul! I feel like this is goofy and over the top but I guess that’s basically Paul’s vibes in a nutshell. Marko has definitely gotten Paul arrested before and Max has definitely called the cops on them before too haha. Thanks for reading <3

#the lost boys #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys imagines

122 notes · View notes