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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

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Don't Speak 42

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Almost lost this chapter bc my computer went nuts.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You hit delete chat in the conversation settings. You leave it just as blank as before and close out the app. Just like Dr. Kemp said to. He can’t be there right away but he has a better plan. You’re not good at those anyway.

All you have to do now is wait out Andy. He’ll be going to work come morning and you’ll be alone. Then you can take your things, the things that are really yours, and leave. Finally. You realise that’s exactly what you’ve been longing for. A way out.

The hard part is still ahead of you. Freedom is still just out of reach. You have to pretend that everything’s fine but you’re realising, you’ve been doing that for a while.

You shake off your nerves and roll the tears back behind your eyes. You can cry later. Even as your cheeks strain and your nose tingles, you resist. Not yet, not yet.

You finish tidying up the tablet, trying to leave it as you found it. With not much else than your drawings. You close the cover and bring it with you as you turn off the lights and head upstairs. You sop up the mess in the bathroom and leave it dark.

You hesitate to approach the bedroom. You hear Andy’s snores, low and steady. Your skin crawls. You enter and put the tablet on the small side table where you charge it. You hang the damp robe and face the bed.

For the first time in your life, you want to hurt someone. You’re not afraid of being the one hurt. You really want to hit him and kick him and just let out your fury on him. You can’t and you won’t. You’re not who he told you you are. And you’re not strong enough for that. You’re still too small, too weak.

So you near the bed and climb under the covers. You move slowly as you pull the duvet to your chin. He snorts, making you wince, and sidles up behind you as he wraps his arm around you. You go rigid but fight through the ice that threatens to encase you. He can’t know, he can’t know.

“Mmm, where were you?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Had a bath,” you squeak, putting your hand over his. You want to rip him away but instead, you squeeze, holding him tighter. “Sorry.”

“Nmph,” he grumbles and nuzzles your crown, just as quickly drifting back into his rhythmic snores.

You exhale little by little. You close your eyes but just as quickly open again. You know you won’t sleep. You can’t. Not with him as good as on top of you. Not knowing what awaits you in the morning. But mostly, not with that needling guilt in the nape of your neck.

Amber.

You betrayed your own sister. You treated her like a villain. You demonised her. You ostracised her. You left her!

You don’t know if she can ever forgive you. You can’t blame her for that. Worse, you don’t think you’d let her forgive you. You don’t deserve it.

You feel brittle as you bite down on your cheeks. No crying, not yet, you remind yourself. For once, you have to do things right. You have to follow through. It’s up to you now.

🕊️

“I didn’t know you could make crepes,” Andy smiles as he cuts into the roll, compote fruit and syrup oozing out.

You do your best to mirror him, making a show of nibbling away at your own food.

“I found a recipe,” you tap your tablet, not far from you.

“That’s great. You’re… doing better.”

“I’m trying,” you assure him, “I hope it doesn’t make you late for work.”

“Hm? Oh, no, breakfast with you is worth it,” he pops a bit into his mouth and hums. You regret not spitting in it, repulsed by the thought when it came to you, but now, not so much.

He can sit there and lie to you. It makes it easier for you to do the same. He’s been lying this entire time. Making you feel like you’re a problem. A burden. No, you were a thing to be used. To be exploited. He never liked you, the girl he calls dove, he only liked what he could get out of you. And he got off on it.

He took Amber from you. He did that. Yes, you’re stupid for falling for it but he knew what he was doing. He lied to you. And you know exactly how he did it.

He took all that therapy and twisted it around on you. You wonder why he even bothers with Dr. Kemp when he’s not trying to change. More than the narcissist he branded your sister, he’s a psychopath. You found that on the internet too.

Bitter, angry, hateful. You’ve never felt this way before. You’ve never truly loathed anyone. Not even your grandfather. His fists were nothing compared to Andy’s emotional battering.

“Well, don’t let it get too cold. They get gummy,” you force a smile, only fed by the thought of what comes after. Of what you’re going to do when he leaves.

Run.

🕊️

When Andy leaves, you’re in the kitchen tidying up. You left all the dishes in a stack to make a convincing show for him. You’ll be busy all day scouring the skillet and the fruit stuck to the inside of the pot, along with your plates and the cutlery. Oh and the mess you made of the counters.

The door closes but you don’t break your charade right away. You give it ten minutes. Fifteen, just to be sure. Then you tiptoe down the hall and look out the window. The tire tracks are already snowed over.

You don’t hesitate. You’ve never been more certain of anything in your life. This is your chance. You spin and race upstairs.

You search the closet and the dresser, everywhere for the bag you brought there. It’s gone. Along with all the clothes from your old life. All that was you. Andy took them along with everything else.

Whatever. You grab a few pieces of the more practical slant; turtlenecks, some leggings, a pair of jeans. Socks and underwear. You work quickly, with intent. Just enough to get out, not a lot. Not too much. As little as you can. You don’t want to keep too much that will remind you of this place.

You rush back downstairs after you change. You grab your tablet and message Dr. Kemp, the chat log still blank. You delete each message once he responds. You can’t be too careful.

‘He’s gone. When can you get here?’

His reply isn’t long; ‘ten minutes, been waiting a block away.’

‘I’ll be outside.’

You close the cover of the tablet and stare at it. You hover it over the countertop but stop yourself. No, you earned this. It’s yours. Andy never did pay you for the painting. Not in full.

You hug the tablet and go to retrieve the bag you found in the front closet. A tote bag with faded floral print. You don’t wonder where it came from. You don’t want to think too hard about him or this place. They’ll soon be long gone.

You pull on your boots and your coat. That’s all he’s left you of your former existence. You don’t suspect you would have them for much longer if you stay. You shudder and grip the fabric handles of the bag.

You open the front door and step out into the drift. The snow floats down in fluffy flakes. As you step off the porch, it collects on your lashes. You make slow progress, lifting your knees high as the unshoveled walk makes each step a task. As you come up to the curb, a distant rumble comes from down the avenue.

You shield your eyes against the steady snowfall and squint. You think it’s Dr. Kemp. You’re not sure. When you saw his car, it was dark and you were more focused on other things.

He rolls down the snow-carpeted road cautiously and pulls in the next driveway before turning around and coming up along the curb. He grins at you through the passenger window and the doors unlock with a loud thunk. You grab the handle and pull.

“Hey, sweetheart, I’m here. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Thanks, doctor, I… thank you. I…”

“You sounded scared, how could I say no?”

You nod and look over your shoulder at the house.

“Let me deal with Andy when the time comes,” he insists, “come on, it’s hell out here. Get in.”

You nod and haul your bag onto the floor ahead of you and put the tablet on top. You stop yourself before you release the device. You look at Dr. Kemp. He stares.

“You alright?” He asks.

“I forgot something,” you say as you let go of the tablet. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll be two minutes,” you hold up as many fingers, “promise.”

“I trust you, sweetheart,” he assures with a smile, “I’ll be here.”

You take and breath and close the passenger door gently. You whip around and stumble back up the walk, stepping into the holes you left on your way out. You burst inside, not carrying for the melting snow you leave in your stead or the undone dishes, or anything about this place. There’s only one last thing that needs to be done.

You take the stairs two at a time as you complete your final chore. You barrel back down and don’t bother with a final goodbye as you head back out. For once, you feel accomplished. Like you’ve done something and you don’t give a heck what Andy feels.

You don’t look back, you just keep going. You falter but not from doubt, only the snow. You get back to the car and rip the door open, climbing in with a heave. You fall into the seat as you snap the door shut. You lean your head back and sigh.

“I’m ready to go now,” you say.

“Great,” he shifts into gear, “put your seat belt on, sweetheart, the roads are awful.”

You do as he says as you catch your breath. Your skin is buzzing from more than just the cold. You fold your hands as you try to settle your nerves.

“Good girl,” Dr. Kemp praises, “we’ll be home soon.”

🕊️

It’s real once you walk through the front door. You look around at the home decor and nearly fall apart. The stringent, almost sterile walls of Andy’s house haunt you. It’s only then, with something to compare them to, that you realise how much you dreaded them. How much you despised them.

You look around and take in every inch. The brown leather bench beside the door, a tall coat rack on the other side of the entryway, a mat for your snow laden boots, and a runner rug with the honey coloured curlicues on a deeper shade of brown. There’s a faint smell of cedar in the air.

“Ann made up the guest room for you,” he says, “and the kids are at school so they shouldn’t be a bother.”

You stop short, your hands on the collar of your coat. You look at him, dull with shock. Your cheeks tremble as you gulp.

“Ann… your…”

“My wife, yeah,” he says coolly, “she’s excited to meet you.”

“She is?” You blink, “I uh…” your eyes flit all around, “I’m so sorry, this isn’t–”

“It’s fine,” he intones, “really. She understands how vulnerable some of them a safe space.”

It’s like a slap in the face. You don’t know what you expected or why you expected it. He’s your doctor, you’re his patient, a crazy person. How did you forget that?

You glance down at his hand, his left hand. There’s a gold ring on his finger. It wasn’t there before. Not in your sessions, not at Thanksgiving. Never. Why wasn’t he with his family during the holidays?

“I thought I heard the door,” a woman appears from the other end of the hall, “oh, this must be her.”

You bat your lashes, fighting to hold yourself together. Don’t cry yet.

“Uh, hi,” you squeak as she struts down the hall.

“Hello, hon,” the tall blonde pulls you into a hug as you cower.

“Ann,” Kemp clears his throat.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I forget–” she lets you go, “I didn’t scare you, did I?”

You only shake your head. Your eyes are dry and itchy. You can only look back at her before slowly glancing at Steve. Your cheeks twinge and your lips pinch. He never told you about her. Why would he?

You feel like your chest is empty. There’s an icy whirlwind inside of you, flowing through you, sending a shiver up your spine. This is the worst thing you've ever felt. What is it?

“Ann,” Kemp says, “she's had a long night.”

“Oh, of course, you take her up to the guest room,” she backs off, “you take your time, hon, do whatever you need to do.”

You nod and mouth a thank you, unable to get any noise out. She goes back the way she came and you turn, focusing on undoing your coat. What have you done?

“I guess I should've warned you, huh? What with your… issues,” he rubs the back of his neck. “Just let me know if it gets too crowded around here.”

“Okay,” you croak.

You bend to wiggle free of your boots. You don't know what to do. You just want to be alone.

He leads you through the house. Into a cozy front room and to a staircase curled up to the second floor. You follow behind him, the tote bag dangling from your grasp.

He opens a door as he faces you. You try to hide your emotions but you can barely keep from frowning. He rests his hand on the door frame.

“This is you. I'm down at the very end,” he points over his shoulder, “if you need anything…”

“I'm sorry.”

“Sorry? For…”

“Coming here.”

“Sweetheart, I wouldn't say yes if it was a problem,” he coos as he reaches to caress your shoulder, “I wouldn't be a very good doctor if I don't make sure my patients are safe, huh?”

“I guess not,” you murmur.

“Look, you just get yourself situated. Try to relax. I know a lot's happened but you're strong. You can do this,” he leans in, “I believe in you.”

He kisses your forehead and you wince. His hand goes to your chin as he pulls away. You stare up at him.

“I meant it when I said you're special,” he hums.

“I…” you turn your head away from him, slipping free, “I need to lay down.”

“Sure,” he smirks and drops his hand, “I'll check in when I can.”

You turn into the bedroom, slouching through as you sense him behind you. You feel him watching, as if waiting for something. You refuse to look back.

“Just relax, sweetheart,” he purrs, “you're exactly where you need to be.”

The door shuts and you gasp as the bag falls from your hand. What does he mean?

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #don't speak #steve kemp #fresh #au #library au #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #defending jacob

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peterthepark · 2 years

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imagine enemies to enemies with benefits with eddie bc y'all despise each other but oh man does it make for good sex 😌

nah bc sorry i just have many thoughts abt this:

tags: 18+ graphic smut, hate sex, filth be warned, enemies to lovers hello best trope!!!!

Eddie doesn’t want to admit he’s jealous. He really doesn’t. It’s not because you’re the new girl in town, with her own (successful is an exaggeration) rock band and supposed trail of male groupies, and definitely not because you’re showing him up at his only apparent talent ever — guitar. No, definitely not. Surely, he isn’t jealous of your gorgeous head of hair and badass stick-and-pokes. Hell, everything about you just screams ‘Eddie Munson 2.0’, but with an 80s femme fatale look that’s so, so much better than whatever he’s got going on.

Cherry bomb, alright. Riot girl to the max. Anarchistic feminist. Chains, leather, platform boots and ripped fishnets with pretty knees.

He isn’t jealous. But he’s allowed to not like you.

He’s allowed to not like you, but on the contrary, he’s also allowed to fuck you even if the admiration isn’t there. A dilemma quite chaotic for the times. A mutual agree-to-disagree and untamable bratty behavior. An exchange of hate accompanied by a soulful exchange of sex. It’s a win-win, with the weirdest odds ever.

Eddie sports a scowl as you straddle his lap. He’s manspreading in the back of his van, blankets and pillows strewn about as his arms rest along the leather seats in the front.

“You liked my gig tonight?” You quirk an interested brow, hiking your denim miniskirt over your hips as you line his manhood up with your entrance.

He scoffs, an awful joint dangling from his lips as you tease the tip of his cock. “Abhorred it. The Billy Idol cover? Eardrums went poof! Bled everywhere.”

“Aw, bunny.” You chuckle, holding his intense stare as you lower yourself onto him. You reach back and cup his balls, pouting as his jaw ever-so-subtly clenches at the sensation. “Next time… I’ll be sure to sing some Ozzy, dedicate it to my favorite man in the crowd.”

Eddie’s head falls back, his hands instantly gripping onto your hips for leverage. “O-Oh?” You roughly bite at his earlobe, not enough to draw blood but enough for him to feel the sting. “And who might that be?”

“Mmm… Jim Hopper.” You whisper raspily, tits bouncing in Eddie’s face as you set the pace. “Sorry, Munson. It’s the daddy issues.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up and ride me harder, Y/N.” He flicks his blunt aside, harshly pulling your mouth down to his. His fingertips are nonetheless bruising to your skin, rings digging into your soft and sweaty flesh as you grind onto his lap. He can’t help but moan into the kiss, grunting against your glossy lips when you squeeze around him. “F-Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight.”

“And you’re not nearly putting in enough effort as I am.” You smirk, nails digging into his back muscles as he abruptly maneuvers you onto your side. With his cock still buried deep inside, Eddie’s hips snap up into you, juices coating the insides of your thighs as he spreads you open. “Shit! Mmm, okay! Okay, I take it b-back. Ow, fuck, that’s my cervix.”

“Sorry, sorry. Christ, stay still. Fucking hell, man.”

You bite down on Eddie’s knuckles, screwing your eyes shut when he finds that spongy spot inside you once again. “Hey, first to cum has to buy t-the other person a milkshake.”

“D-Deal.” He breathes out, clasping a hand over your shoulder and tugging you against him with every aching thrust. His eyes roll back into his head when you start clenching rhythmically around him, a trick you’ve learned over the months of fucking Eddie behind everyone’s backs. “Stop that, you.”

“Stop what?”

“Your — Y/N, please… this… can’t take it when your cunt is — is milking me like this. S’not fair.”

You grin back at him, wheezy and out of breath. “Oh, I know it’s not fair. That’s why I do it.”

“Y/N…”

“Milkshake sounds so good right now, doesn’t it? Just get it over with and cum inside me so we can do a round two in the diner bathroom.”

Eddie laughs in disbelief, thrusts stuttering and hands shaking as his dick starts to pulse inside you. “You’re such a pervert, you know that?”

“Yeah, go talk to a mirror. It’s why you like fucking me in your van, hot stuff.”

It’s safe to say that Eddie bought you that shake at the end of the day. And perhaps, he’s never hated anything more than having to share a burger and fries with you, coupled with the fact you just couldn’t stop talking his ear off about anything and everything.

Although, he’d be a liar if he said that he hadn’t enjoyed the road head you gave him on the way back home.

Maybe an Eddie Munson 2.0 was good for something after all.

#did i go a little off on this #yes #sorry #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #fic request

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ampresandian · 2 months

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My (unofficial) PJO season 2 episode 5 script part 4/4 (part 1 | part 2 | part 3)

The last part! Thank you for reading I just couldn't get the vision for this episode out of my mind and had to write it down.

Images of script and copied text (bc I'm lazy and don't want to write out alt text) under the cut, just in case I didn't tag enough spoiler warning or people aren't interested <3

Annabeth Tries to Swim Home

CUT TO: INT. DARK VICTORIAN HOUSE – NIGHT.

Continuation of first scene/flashback. CYCLOPS is grinning at YOUNG ANNABETH menacingly. Behind him, the fire rages, and LUKE, THALIA, and GROVER are tied up in the corner. Annabeth’s attention is taken up by the large monster speaking to her.

CYCLOPS: (in her father’s voice) Annabeth. How nice of you to join us. Now, Annie, don’t you worry.

Annabeth draws her knife. As he speaks, the Cyclops approaches her.

CYCLOPS (CONT): I love you, Annabeth. You can stay here with me. Don’t worry. You can stay forever.

He reaches out for her. Annabeth stabs him in the foot, keeping hold of her knife as he reaches forward and grabs the door in shock. She runs around him towards her friends.

The Cyclops rips the door of its hinges and throws it across the room with a roar.

Annabeth reaches the older kids.

THALIA: Annabeth! Thank the gods you’re okay.

YOUNG ANNABETH: (determined) Hold still.

Annabeth cuts the ropes around Thalia’s arms and legs. Thalia takes up her sword and stands defensively in front of the others.

THALIA: Cut them free, Annabeth. I’ll hold him off.

Annabeth turns to Luke and Grover as the Cyclops roars behind her. She saws at their ropes as Thalia goads and fights the monster.

THALIA (CONT): Come on, ugly! Can’t you take me?

She slices at him with her sword. Now free, Luke can barely stand, Grover supporting him. They all turn to watch Thalia defending them against the monster.

Suddenly, the Cyclops roars, and Thalia’s sword can be seen buried in his eye. As he rears back, she pulls it out, turning to her friends.

THALIA (CONT): Come on. We have to go.

Annabeth leads the way through the house, back the way she came through the servants kitchen into the orangery. They escape through a side door, standing in the storm.

Sirens and howls can be heard, the sounds of the monsters they have been running from closer than before.

THUNDER rumbles as they look around desperately in the dark. Grover sniffs.

GROVER: Come on. This way.

They walk away from the house. The Cyclops roars again from within.

CUT TO: EXT. POLYPHEMUS’ ISLAND – DAY.

SHEEP hooves/underbellies walk across the screen as POLYPHEMUS calls them. Under one of them hangs PERCY.

ANNABETH: (invisible) Just don’t let go!

Polyphemus drags aside the boulder sealing the cave. He addresses each sheep as they pass.

POLYPHEMUS: (patting each sheep) Hasenpfeffer! Einstein! Widget! Widget? Heavier, huh?

WIDGET stops in front of him, Percy clinging to her wool.

POLYPHEMUS (CONT): Soon you will be big enough to eat! Go on, Widget!

WIDGET enters the cave, followed by the rest of the flock.

ANNABETH: (invisible, from outside) Hey, ugly!

POLYPHEMUS: (looking around wildly) Who said that?

ANNABETH: Nobody!

POLYPHEMUS: Nobody! I remember you!

ANNABETH: You’re too stupid to remember. But Nobody remembers you!

Polyphemus throws a boulder, aiming for the invisible Annabeth.

ANNABETH (CONT): Your aim hasn’t improved!

POLYPHEMUS: Come here! Let me kill you!

ANNABETH: You can’t kill Nobody! And you’ll have to come find me!

Polyphemus yells, running down the hill to find Annabeth. Percy drops off Widget, glancing back outside at the island and the Cyclops before moving further into the cave.

CONT: INT. POLYPHEMUS’ CAVE – DAY.

Percy moves through cavernous hallways, turning a corner into a dead-end room of sheep memorabilia. He backs out, going back the other way and turning right instead of left.

He turns corners through a set of “rooms,” something that might be a bedroom, a room full of bones, and another room full of sheep memorabilia. He turns a corner and trips, catching himself against the cave walls with his hands.

Righting himself, Percy looks around, breathing heavily. He looks back and forth, choosing a hallway and running into another room, full of wool and smelling of sheep. He covers his nose as he looks around the room, faced with three separate doorways.

Percy makes a choice, going through the left opening. Down the hallway, he finds a room with a spinning wheel and loom. GROVER and CLARISSE are inside, trying to undo Clarisse’s ropes.

CLARISSE: It’s no good. You’ve been working at it for hours!

They spot Percy.

CLARISSE (CONT): You’re supposed to be blown up!

PERCY: Yeah, good to see you too--

GROVER: (hugging Percy) You came!

PERCY: Yeah, of course, dude. Now, Clarisse, hold still.

Percy takes Riptide out of his pocket and cuts Clarisse’s ropes.

CLARISSE: (rubbing her wrist) Where’s Annabeth?

PERCY: You’re welcome. She’s outside.

CLARISSE: Great, come on.

PERCY: Wait. Was... It was just you in your lifeboat?

CLARISSE: Yeah. Everybody else... I didn’t even know you guys made it.

Percy looks down at his sword.

PERCY: Okay.

GROVER: Come on, guys. We need to go help Annabeth.

They move back through the cave, Grover guiding them. As they come back into the first room Percy ran through, they hear a loud crash.

Annabeth screams.

POLYPHEMUS: I got Nobody!

Percy, Grover, and Clarisse move to the doorway, peeking through to the main room. Polyphemus is standing at the doorway, holding his arm up. He shakes his fist, and ANNABETH’S CAP flutters to the ground, revealing Annabeth, hanging upside down from his hand.

FADE OUT. THE END

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sluttywonwoo · 1 year

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thinking about wooyoung getting jealous of something dumb and innocuous (bc we know he would) and just going absolutely feral on you the second you get home from the party before apologizing with his mouth between your legs and tears in his eyes 💖

“baby, don’t cry,” you soothe, running a hand through wooyoung’s hair.

“can’t. help. it…” he pants between licks to your clit. “you’re so good to me and i…”

“woo,” you say sternly, pulling him up by the hair you were just playing with so that he’s forced to look at you. “don’t beat yourself up over something silly.”

“it’s not ‘something silly’,” he protests. “i was out of line.”

“but you’re making up for it now.”

he sulks. “i guess.”

“everyone gets jealous sometimes,” you assure him.

“but does everyone call the person they’re jealous of a cunt in front of, like, a dozen other people in his own house?”

you pause, considering the point he’s making while trying not to laugh. truthfully, what had happened was kind of funny, but you knew that laughing about it right now would only make wooyoung more upset.

“drunk people say stuff they don’t mean all the time,” you reason.

“oh, i definitely meant it.”

you scoff. “i’m sure it’ll blow over, babe. he probably won’t even remember it tomorrow.”

“i don’t care whether he remembers it or not,” wooyoung clarifies. “i care about you. i embarrassed you in front of everyone— and when we first got home i-i was so angry i couldn’t think straight and i was so rough… i ripped your skirt…”

“you didn’t embarrass me. and i can easily sew it back up, woo.”

“you shouldn’t have to.”

you release the grip you have on his hair and bring your hand down to cup his cheek.

“baby, i’ve forgiven you. forgive yourself.”

he nods, turning his face in your hand to kiss your palm. when he draws back, your fingers are wet with his tears but you barely notice because he’s lowering his head between your legs again.

he stares up at you for a moment, big brown eyes taking you in. “can i still make it up to you?”

“you don’t have to,” you say softly. “i can still feel your cum dripping out of me, it’s not like you haven’t already made me feel good tonight.”

“i want to,” he insists.

“if you’re sure…”

“i’m sure. please, i need it.”

“then i’m all yours.”

“i’m sorry.” he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “i’m sorry.” another on your hip. “i’m sorry.” a kiss on one side of your pussy. “i’m so sorry, baby.” a kiss on the other. “i’ll be a good boy for you.” one on your clit. “please call me your good boy…”

#this got really emo out of nowhere #answered #emily 🌸#ateez smut #atz smut

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romanarose · 1 year

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Full

Santiago "Pope" Garcia x reader

Summary: At a fundraiser, Santi can't help himself, you look too good

Dedicated to @dameronscopilot as my official induction into the SSKK club (Santiago's shitty knees kin club) make sure y'all check out there stuff bc its top notch!!

WARNINGS: semi-public sex, fingering, oral, butt stuff

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

“Santi- hmp- here?” You were pressed up against the wall of the dinning hall bathroom , the poofiest red dress you’ve seen since Santi’s second cousin’s quiñce ruffles against the walls

“Look’n too good” Santiago Garcia mutters into you as he devoured your mouth, his hands frantically feeling, groping, searching over the corset, trying to feel you. “You much clothes” he grumbles, frustrated. Santi goes to undo the laced up back but you smack him away, making him pout at you.

“Aht aht aht! It took both Millers to squeeze me in this tight!” You played hard to get, but really you wanted him just as bad. It was rare you saw Pope in anything outside of t-shirts and a baseball cap, and although you loved what dark washed jeans did for his ass, him in the tux was driving you mad. You run your fingers through his hair, admiring the touch of gray that graced his beautiful head.

Santi whined at your admonishment, mouth attempting to taste what parts of your breasts he could access. “Too much fucking clothes.”

You knew he was going to cause you problems as soon as you stepped out of the bedroom with a “ta-da!” from Benny and a pair of jazz hands that Ben had put Frankie and Will up to. The dress was dark red, matching your lipstick that was now all over Santi’s neck. You’d need to text Will to bring your purse in when this was done so you could remove the evidence of the make out session from his skin.

Santi licked desperately into your mouth as his hand tried to find your core through the layers and layers of tool. “Jesus Christ, this thing is huge”

His lips never left your skin as you felt the strong muscles on his back. You’d love him no matter what he looked like, but you had to admit his strength always reassured you. He made you feel safe, protected. “I feel like a Victorian hooker” you giggle against him.

He growls in frustration “That’s it!” Santi all but shouts, getting on his knees on the floor.

“Santi no!” You try to grab his shoulders to stop him. “You’re goddamn knees!”

“Don’t care, need you” He mumbles, and crawls under the massive dress.

You can’t help but grin at how desperate he is for you. “Fine, but I’m not returning the favor. I’m not giving you a blowjob on the bathroom floor, Santi”

“Don’t care, need you” He reiterates, finding the center of the dress and you see him sit up under the pile of red. When his large hands finally find you, you swear you hear him chuckle at how wet you are. He lifts up the dress, popping his head out, giving you a pitiful look. “Tights?!?! You just had to wear TIGHTS?!?!?” He whines, eyes pleading, like he couldn't believe you’d do this to him

“Oh my god, baby just rip them!” You laugh, and he grins, going back under the dress.

With ease, he rips the tights open and his mouth in on you at super speed. Fuck, no matter how many times you’d felt it, you’d never get used to the feeling of him tasting you. He always ate you like his last super. His knees were going to kill him though. You made a mental note to draw him a bath with Epsom salt tonight to soak in. Your thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of a cool knife to your skin and you gasp.

“Santi!” You call out as he cuts off your underwear with the jackknife he carried at all times.

“Can’t take it baby” he says under you. “I’ll buy you new ones” He promised before his mouth reattached to you, two fingers sliding up into your dripping cunt. “Always so wet for me”

“O-only you Santi” you were practically turning to jelly already. "Only for you."

“Such a good little slut for me, letting me take you right here when I need you“

“Ah!” A fresh wave of pleasure settles in your stomach at those words, you feel him grin against you as he surely feels you clench around his fingers, pumping in and out. But you needed more. The dress, the room, it was too stifling, you needed more of him. “Please Santi, please” You rut against him, not sure what your asking for.

“Fuck yeah baby, take what you need, fuck yourself on my fingers, I’ll take care of you, I’ll always take care fo you.” His tounge ran circles around your clit, and you whimper when you feel a graze of his teeth.

“FUCK! Do that again!” You pump yourself on his fingers, and he adds a third, filling you up. “Christ baby…” You pant, throwing your head back as he suck hard on your sensitive mound. You nearly scream when he bites your inner thigh, fingers spreading out inside you. But you need more, more, more of him. It’s never enough, no amount of him is enough.

“Love those sounds you make, let them know you’re mine.”

You suddenly remember where you are and shut your mouth, covering it with the back off your hand.

“Well don’t stop now” he teases, but you continue to fight the sounds of pleasure threatening to escape your mouth. That wouldn’t do for Santi. At all. The hand that was gripping your thigh lets go, and you hear him suck on his fingers, a sight you wish you could’ve seen. Santiago’s middle fingers traces the rim of muscle on your backside, making you fight back a whimpers, “I want to hear you” He begins prodding at the entrance, careful and gentle as he continued working your cunt and clit with his other hand. Dexterous, this one. When his finger slipped in the tight muscle, you could no longer hold it back.

“Fuuuck Santi” You relax against the wall, hands feeling around his head and shoulders despite being covered by the dress. You were close, so close, so full. Full of love and of him. You wished you could take him in your mouth, have every hole filled by him. “More, Santi, more” You whine, hips bucking.

He could feel you almost there, walls fluttering around him. “More?” He asked tentatively. You had only ever had one finger in your ass.

“Santi please? Please Santiago I need more, I want more” You buck your hips up against the mouth he had on you, pleading.

He kissed the crease between your leg and mound, tender and soft. “One more” He repeated. With another suck on his finger, he slowly inserted a second finger in your ass and you all but shout at the feeling.

He slows “You okay?” Santi checks in.

“Y-yeah, don’t stopmmm feels so good” your breath is shaky, barely getting the words out.

Santi presses soft kisses against you. “Okay, just try to relax, sweetheart”

You do as yours told, focusing on the feeling of his mouth on your clit. You relax onto him, taking him fully. Two fingers in your ass, three in your cunt, and you finally feel like you have enough of him. “Move, please” You finally feel full.

He did as he was told, pumping you fully, paying careful attention to the signs of your body. When the coil inside you snapped, he pulled the fingers out of your holes, leaving you feeling empty, but you knew what he was doing.

“SANTI!” You shout, not caring who could hear you. Everyone at the event could know, for all you cared.

“I got you baby, let go, I got you” he coaxed as Your legs gave out, and his strong arms pressed your hips against the wall, keeping you upright as he ate you out through your orgasm, cleaning you up of every drop.”

When he was certain you could stand on your own, he popped out from under the dress, face grinning like a made man, dripping with your slick. “Fuck baby… That was something. You’re incredible” He started, to get up, but grimmanced. “Fuck.”

His knees.

“Oh baby…” You scoop down, kissing him as you reach under his arms and help him up.

Red flushes his face now, despite what you had just done. “That’s fucking embaressing. Gotta help your old man off the fucking floor.” He’s dodging your eyes.

“Oh honey, no, don’t be embarrassed. You just held me up against the wall because I couldn’t stand” A chaste kiss on his lips “You’re my strong, handsome man, okay?”

Santi looked at you, eyes so full of love he looked ten years younger. He hated getting old, but you didn’t mind growing old as long as it was with him. “Okay.”

“C’mon, let me repay the favor” You’re hand goes to his pants, only to find a wet spot.

He blushes, but this time he’s grinning. “That’s already been taken care of, sorry, couldn’t help myself”

You laugh a loud, boisterous laugh. “Don’t be sorry, that’s fuckin hot.” You kiss him deeply, letting him know how appreciated he is “Okay, let’s get you cleaned up and we’ll tell them I spilled a drink on you.”

“Will’s never gonna believe it” Santiago smiles at you.

“Those boys know way too much about our lives as it is, this is nothing new"

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

tagging a few people who might enjoy @welcometostayingawake @in-between-the-cafes @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @dameronscopilot (bc we were just talking about butt stuff)

HOPE Y'ALL ENJOYED!!!! love me some butt stuff and idk what it is about a guy coming in his pants but weeeeeoooooo its hot to me.

#santiago garcia #santi garcia fanction #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia smut #santiago garcia x reader #oscar isaac

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eyeofthechasm · 2 months

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Hi so

Ive got more writing ! More Renzo loop AU bc that’s all I’ve really got saved rn BUT. There’s Loop. Surprise

This ones from kinda a while ago & got retouched a little today so. Maybe not the greatest in the world? It’s pretty long too so get ready

Act 3(???) spoilers post the whole “say its name” thingy. And incredibly vague act 6 spoilers but like. Only if you squint really really hard.

You jolt in place, cough after cough ripping through your lungs.

You looped. You’re back; back in Dormont, back by the fences overlooking the surrounding forestry. You’re back, but you still feel it.

Your Country’s name mangled your throat. You can’t breathe. You’re struggling. Everything burns. Everything burns and you can’t b-

People are looking. They’re looking, staring, all at you. You’re making a scene, you’re drawing attention, stop it, stop stop stop stop stop s

You wave your hand, dismissing the concerns of the others, and hold the drink in your other hand up into view. The message delivers flawlessly. The onlookers relax. The eyes are off you.

Good.

…

Your throat burns. Your head hurts. Everything aches. You need to lie down, probably, but there’s no time.

You need to talk to Loop.

Once you recover a little, you very casually make your way over to the favor tree, careful to not draw any attention to yourself. Along the way, you catch sight of Siffrin sleeping in the field; peaceful, as if nothing had happened.

Good. You were sure he’d be fine, but…still.

You rush your interactions with Mira and Isabeau, despite their prying about your wellbeing. After all of that, you can’t get caught in a conversation with them without risking some slip-up.

Plus, your being is completely well. They don’t need to worry about anything.

It’s not like they’re gonna remember it, anyway.

———

You collapse on the tree stump. Loop’s already there. Their eyes are narrowed in…what is that, worry? Curiosity? Mockery, maybe? You can’t tell.

Silence stretches between you. It’s never been so quiet here. Loop isn’t even looking at you anymore, only the ground, like you. Thinking. Hard.

….

It kinda reminds you of-

“So,” they pick their head up. You jump at the break in silence. They’re..serious, despite the upbeat tone. Scarily serious. “You’re…uh…”

[“From the Country,”] you finish for them, the effort clawing at your throat. [“I…guess, yeah. Siffrin, and…and the King are, too.”]

“Yeah, yeah, I had a feeling about Siffrin, but you...”

They narrow their eyes, studying you. Particularly, they focus on your face: eyes, lips, nose; all of your distinctive features

Your throat tightens.

“…you were…unexpected.”

…

Ok. That’s totally not ominous. Not at all.

[“…what -“]

“Soooo~, wasn’t that fun?”

They change the subject before you can even blink, which just makes your head spin. Right back to usual, too, as if they weren’t just staring into your blinding soul.

“I told you that’d be a bad idea.”

You can practically smell the smirk they’d have if they had a mouth.

You sigh. [“…I’d..assume you already know-“]

“I do~.”

[“…yeeaaaaahhhh.”]

You sip your drink. It’s…lukewarm coffee, at this point. You nearly forgot what it was. You never bother to drink it anymore.

It tastes terrible, but still, it helps.

[“And…what does that-“]

“That’s for you to figure out!”

Could they stop with that?!

“No can do, stardust~.”

Right. Good gods. You’re never getting used to that.

You clear your throat. [“What did all of that even give me, anyway? Like what-what was the point? Besides…y’know. The obvious.”]

Loop ponders for a moment, a star-studded finger tapping their chin like a cartoon character would.

“Well…it gave you insight to your oh-so mysterious Traveler and your enemy, and…”

Silence, once again. They give exaggerated taps to their chin area.

This is getting irritating...

“…oh! Of course, how could I forget?”

They sit up, crossing their legs. Their voice rings through your skull once again…

[You’ve unlocked MEMORY OF HERITAGE! You’ll never forget this!]

[This memory grants you and your Traveler the ability to read your country’s language again! Have fun~!]

Ow. That…hurt.

“Sorry, sorry~!”

They’re not.

#this was actually rlly fun #like not my absolute top tier work probably BUT. it was fun #Lorenzo ISAT #in stars and time #isat #in stars and time spoilers #isat spoilers #isat AU #In stars and time AU #in stars and time writing #isat writing #Isat OC #isat loop #technically

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revengeismygender · 2 years

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Okay I know this is primarily an OFMD blog but y’all are going to have to endure my Stranger Things word vomit for a little longer.

I’m thinking about criticism or eye-rolling I’ve seen about certain stranger things ships, especially byler but also a lot on fruity four posts or elmax posts. I feel like one of the biggest arguments people make is “it’s so dumb that people have to make every single character queer like it’s so unrealistic that all of them in the friend group would be queer.” And I’m not just talking about posts that are gathering evidence or whatever and trying to prove that byler or whatever is real and will definitely be canon, I see it on just silly fan art or cute ficlet posts that are obviously not canon too.

And it’s made me realize that people are seriously out here not having any queer friends or even knowing a significant number of queer people in real life.

Like, real life is not media where studios are just filling quotas with one single queer person or POC. There are diverse friend groups in real life. Most of my friends in real life are queer! It’s not weird to be in a group of people where everyone is queer. Now, do I think that stranger things is likely to make all these characters (or any of them lol) queer? No way. But like I’m not necessarily arguing that these ships are realistically going to happen in canon, I’m just saying it’s fucking weird to jump on someone’s cute drawing of the fruity four (which obviously can’t be canon bc RIP Eddie) and say that it’s unrealistic for four queer people to be friends. Maybe in your life pal.

#stranger things #steddie #ronance #fruity four #elmax #byler #queer people exist y’all #in the 1980s and now

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1moreoffkeyanthem · 4 months

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my wife my life, i have ojv brainrot -- will you please go into crazy amount of detail about what the style boys look like to you in the ojv? what kind of outfits they like to wear? comfort sweaters/shirts? <3 also i love you i am waving $50s and shouting louder than everyone else to be noticed i'm the ride or die bi disaster ojc kenny of the irl

ASHFVGKKVHLJK MY DARLING WIFE HI AND FUCK YEAH!!!!! Helllll yes!!! Ok ok I’m bouta go *rm Jersey voice* AWF!! (This is gonna be so long im sorry)

So OrangeJuiceVerse style my BELOVEDS!!! Ohhhhh my god these two own my entire goddamn soul! And smh they’re so pretty in their own right!!!

OJV Stan… he is a fucking stereotypical DREAM MAN! Kyle is down astronomically bad. Like I’m talkin tall dark and handsome, total sweetheart, inherently boyish charm that just makes everyone adore him! His heart of gold and that deep melancholy he sometimes gets behind those sapphire eyes make him all the more alluring! So this is what our affable Everyman looks like to me:

He is TALL (hit his last growth spurt between sophomore and junior year), like tops off at a lil over 6’2 and is the second tallest of the ojverse Star Seven also he’s BUILT AS HELL?!? In high school his physique could be attributed to the myriad of physically demanding hobbies he cycled through (football in particular when he started dreaming of going pro rip to that) and work on Randy’s Fuckass Farm (fuck u randy). But when he’s older he gets softer, sure (best pillow ever) but keeps working out JUST so he can hold every animal ever like a BABY!!! If you want an approximate art reference of young adult OJV Stan, @bunytime ’s drawings on here for SURE! Like he is tall and strong and BUILT FOR HUGS!!!

Blue blue BLUE eyes like not scary stare into your soul but this soft deep shade that reminds you of calm waters and gemstones peeking from the depths of the shadows of his brows. Just gentle waves and clear dusk light.

Ojv Stan didn’t go through the ever popular bleached hair headcanon, most of my Stans didn’t, but this one bc on the brink of a SadSack episode he mentioned getting Kenny to pierce his ears and dye his hair and (this was before they were dating) Kyle was like NO!!! Bc he always loved Stan’s classic all american look and knows him well enough to know that he would’ve hated it a few days later.

DIMPLES!! TWO OF EM!! And his smile is SO sweet his whole face splits omg my sweet boy!!! And he has tiny, almost imperceptible random scars in various places from childhood tomfoolery, especially on his hands bc he sometimes rivals Kenny in recklessness, and those hands are so rough but so TENDER when they touch you and he’s so aware of his own size and inherent ruggedness that completely juxtaposes his personality and it’s so!!! (God forgive me I’m thinking about nsfw ojv style hcs now)

Aight so OJV Stan IS greasy to some extent, c’mon he’s very Boy, but (this is important) only when he’s having a rough time mentally. Like he’s one of those people where while his horrendous lack of style doesn’t change much, you can tell by the stubble and the gross hair when he’s not doing well. Uhhh later down the timeline he has a beard tho. The bear jokes definitely emerge.

And for his style choices ohhhhh my god this man CANNOT fuckin dress!!! I’m constantly putting ojverse Stan in my clothes bc WHAT is this guy doing wearing the “Bigfoot is real I made s’mores with him” shirt and he is GENUINELY confused when he can’t wear jeans to something formal. His socks are STUPID and GIMMICKY and never match, and his wallet has a million keychains HIS BACKPACK omg like every stereotypical veggie boy he has alll the vegan loser pins and patches. Animal activist Stan forever.

A very casual dresser tbh, t shirts and jeans, sweatpants, hoodies (that have mostly been confiscated by Kyle) like he truly sucks at clothes unless he’s going stupid abt a Halloween costume. He kinda relies on Ky to know what looks good on him irl, bc Kyle is VERY reactive when he’s dressed a certain way and Kyle climbing him= ah yes I look Not Disheveled right to jail for both of them.

Oh KYLE!!! From Stan’s pov??? OJV Stan is a huge fucking fantasy loser and he only knows the word “ethereal” bc he’s a nerd and it describes Kyle. On GOD OJV Kyle is so pretty!!! Like Stanley Down Bad Marsh is ENTHRALLED!!! Always, like since he knew what beauty was, beauty was Kyle.

Ojverse Kyle keeps his hair a little past his shoulders since like freshman year of high school, his HAIRRRRR lord those gorgeous red curls, Stan simply cannot get enough of them, that ponytail, the half bun, the little braids Marj used to do when she and Ky would hang solo… dear god Stan will not shut up about his beautiful elf kings hair. Like hair wise if u want a reference picture the homie @grimsbane ‘s long hair Kyle EXEPT

My guy, OJV Kyle is TINY. Not as short as Kenny and Tweek, but close and definitely skinny to the point where if he misses a meal EVERYONE is on his bony ass bc 1) diabetes and 2) they all know his past with eds and no one’s gonna let that shit get its claws on him again! Unfortunately, OJV Kyle has a really hard time gaining weight, but as an adult he’s fully recovered, just kinda slim and at risk of health problems from the damage he did, but he’s mostly ok.

Ky topped off at 5’7 and was the tallest of the m5 in 7th grade and then EVERYONE but Kenny surpassed him WHICH he was pissed abt for a while. But he kinda stopped caring once he and Stan got together bc Stan wasn’t thattt much taller at first (and then this mf got huge) but Kyle was… VERY INTO THAT! It’s so unserious bc when they’re older Kyle’s like dude just fuckin toss me around and Stan WILL NOT because he’s NERVOUS and also traumatized from the ONE time he reinjured Kyle’s bad knee during Super Best Spicy Time (yes that’s what his loser ass named the sex playlist) but when Ky gets in the mood he wants to be manhandled frfr (I will do a nsfw headcanon post prolly) like the SIZE DIFFERENCE kyle is so spicy 100% calls the shots out here climbin Staniel like a tree.

He’s pale as fuck, cannot tan at allll this dude will not go outside without sunscreen bc he IS Sheila’s son and had it drilled into him that they are pale redheads and uv rays are not their friend, BUT his freckles are faint and so prettttttyyyyy he doesn’t even hate them bc Stan loves them and Kyle loves Stan (losers) he’s got a little group of them on his left cheekbone that Stan INSISTS looks like a heart aaaaaaaaaa

Good lord those eyes. Like you look into them and you are LOST in the most beautiful woods you have ever SEEN!!! I’m serious his eyes look like a forest, green and threaded with occasional brown like tree trunks and they are MAGNETIC!!! He is POINTY too like his features are sharp but his eyes are comfortable and it’s just a beautiful balance.

I’m fully of the belief that this lil redhead is a CHRONIC CLOTHES STEALER!!! Sneaky lil fox like if he’s comfy at home he’s 100% wearing Stan’s lame ass “earth day 2013” hoodie or some shit BUT!!!

His actual clothing is VERY much hot professional dark academia vibes the sweaters, the reading glasses, that hair, like he’s so cute in his button ups and when he stops wearing cargo pants so much in college (man likes pockets change my mind) Stan is SALIVATING bc he can see the sbf’s lithe legs better and he wants to SNAG him smh down horrendous. Kyle wears a lotta green, bc we ginger losers know that’s our COLOR and he looks GORGEOUS in jewel tones what a PRETTY BOY!!! Favorite item of clothing is DEFINITELY Stan’s Peace Love Pine Trees hoodie!!!

They do have friendship (lovers) bracelets that Kenny made them btw

Ok I THINK that’s what I got for now on what they look like but lord knows I’ll probably be more insane later NINA MY BELOVED WIFE THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS

#south park #sp headcanons #asks #this made me so happy #style #them #ao3 shit #my shit #OrangeJuiceVerse #stan marsh #lmm voice: look at my son #kyle brovlofski #look at this I learned something today ass bitch #ojv

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dontwritemeoff · 2 years

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Soulmate AU with June; pt 1

This is based on a post by @lifesanenigma about a soulmate au where you can feel your soulmate’s emotions and ‘reach out’ to them and such. (Go read their post abt a damon version of this bc its super good and explains the concept better!)

TW: crying, mentions of death but it’s not described

I couldn’t remember the exact age gap between traveler and June so I just took a guess lol, I also took some creative liberties with June’s adolescence since we know almost nothing, enjoy your pain!

June has never understood why sometimes “his” emotions overtake him, and Jules’ don’t. He’ll be in a resting period after experimentation when he’s suddenly overtaken by an intense feeling of disappointment and neglect. While those feelings aren’t exactly unfamiliar to him, he doesn’t understand where they’re coming from and why.

As a child of only 8, he doesn’t have much contact with the other experiments (other than his own twin brother), his parents claiming that with the circumstances of their birth they need to be isolated for “statistical significance.” Or something like that. Either way, once he gets Jules and himself out of there he was never going to learn any science or take part in any more experiments.

...

Then he’s fourteen and allowed more contact with the others in captivity while Jules is allowed less. He knows that his brother is sick, he’d always had more trouble with the orionite, but he can’t get himself to accept the fact that his brother is dying. He feels deep and intense despair with each day that passes where he has to watch Jules fade away before his very eyes. While he does nothing, can do nothing.

Meanwhile, the youngest child of King Fenris is finishing their general studies, having just turned twelve. Each day you feel more and more despondent and you know that it’s your soulmate. As a royal child and ostensibly one of the most educated people in the system, you’re aware of your connection to your soulmate. Have known for years in fact, and with every ounce of your being have tried to send comfort back to whoever was on the other side. It was a hard skill to learn, but Nerissa had helped as much as she could with explaining in a way that wouldn’t overwhelm you. But she was busy, and often not available to work through the difficult times. You’d cry in your room as quietly as possible, in order not to draw the attention or ire of the palace staff or god forbid your siblings. The intensity of your soulmates emotions had grown stronger over the years and you felt like you might be ripped apart from both the guilt of being as powerful as you were and yet unable to help them and the isolation you felt while processing them on your own.

June is talking to another experiment one day, an older man who was reacting to the orionite much like Jules, his skin becoming more taught to his face by the day, the sickly green of his veins pulsing just beneath pale skin.

“I can’t keep watching Jules die, we need to get out of here. We always said we would. At least at night I can manage to feel some sort of comfort. I don’t really understand it, but if I try to quiet my mind enough I can feel some warmth just under my skin. I always have been able to feel things that don’t really feel like my own. Jules’ hasn’t though. I wish I could give that skill to him.”

“That’s the power of a soulmate,” the old man says, wistfully smiling at June as if remembering a similar feeling from his past.

“What do you mean by that?” June asks, eyebrows narrowing in confusion and skepticism. Maybe the old man had devolved into insanity more than he thought.

“Your soulmate of course- ah. You’ve lived in this lab your whole life, I suppose your parents wouldn’t have told you about them.”

“Told me about what??” June asks more impatiently, waiting for the man to get to his point.

“There’s a wonderous phenomenon that occurs, between soulmates. One is able to feel their emotions, and if strong enough intentionally send emotions along. Though some find it invasive and try to block either sending or receiving emotions. I always enjoyed it though.”

“Wait-” June says, mind racing with seemingly thousands of thoughts, “Does that mean my soulmate can feel my sadness, and they’re intentionally sending me that comfort?”

“I would say so, yes.”

“Oh god, no, I can’t have them go through that. They don’t deserve a soulmate like me.”

The man looks sadly at June, trying to find the right words to say.

“You have so much kindness in your heart, anyone would be lucky to have you as their soulmate.”

“But I’m so destructive, I can’t control myself sometimes. I would never want to hurt them. They deserve someone like Jules.” His eyes widen when he remembers something.

“Wait, Jules was never able to feel like I did. What does that mean?” His voice shaking like he already knew.

“That means he doesn’t have a soulmate.”

June sobs into his palms, knowing that his brother was going to die in that facility.

Across the system, on Goldis, you feel your heart nearly break in two and fall to your knees in tears in the middle of the library, drawing the surprise of your siblings. You knew that something terrible had just happened to your soulmate.

End of part 1!! Stay tuned for part 2 :)

#andromeda 6 #andromeda six #june x reader #june a6 #june nyux #june x traveler #i wanted to just get something out so i figured i'd split this into like 3 or 4 parts

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catcze · 2 years

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NSFW!! 18+ ONLY !!

⠀ [ ᝰ ] Giving them head

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

!!⠀Feat : Kazuha, Thoma, Childe, Xiao, Ayato (separate) x GN! reader

!!⠀## : headcanons, smut, some fluff ig? just bc Thoma is here lmao

!!⠀CWs : dick sucking duh, sub! reader, rough but not, like, super rough, allusions to asphyxiation, cum swallowing, a bit of dacryphilia, some cum play, also atm I hc Ayato to have the makings of a mean dom so do with that what you will. Like all my works, this is safe, sane and consensual.

Do not perceive me— Midterms haven’t been sweet to me, so this is how I choose to de-stress. I’m just here to drop some unedited porn then dip, babe.

⠀ ᝰ Kazuha

Relatively passive unless you ask him to do something.

Keeps a hand on the back of your neck, but he doesn’t use it to push or pull or anything unless you ask. Mostly just keeps it there, drawing encouraging circles into your skin and making you shiver.

Composed for the most part. Hums with pleasure when you lick the precum off of his cock, and full-on groans when you take him down to the base, hollow your cheeks and suck.

He lets you do your thing, take your time, set your own pace, but if you tell him to take control, he will. If you ever tease him too much though, he won’t hesitate to push a little more, stroke a little harder, say your name in a low tone. A warning, and if you still don’t comply, that hand at the back of your neck tightens and pushes— sliding you all the way down his cock until your eyes tear up from how deep he is in your throat.

Loves it when you keep him in your throat when he finishes, enjoys the feeling of you swallowing every drop that he gives you like you just can’t get enough, like you’re hungry for his cum. If you open your mouth and show him how well you swallowed all of him, he’ll smile, stroke your cheek, watch how you lean into his touch, and ask if you can take more.

⠀ ᝰ Thoma

Also pretty passive tbh. He’s not super demanding, just letting you enjoy yourself on his cock.

He’s noisy when you get him going— presses the back of his hand to his mouth to stifle his gasps, groans and whines of your name, but it’s useless and every noise he makes just makes you take him deeper, makes you suck harder.

Super heavy on the praise. Gives you pets, strokes your cheek and wipes away any tears, cooing about how well you’re doing and how good you’re making him feel. Most of it gets interrupted by his gasps and groans, and his voice is heavy with arousal, but it’s all the better, really, hearing how frazzled he is just from you giving him head.

Frequently checks in asking if you’re okay, like a sweetheart. When you nod slightly, eyes blinking up at him with your lips around his spit-soaked cock, he thinks he could cum right then and there, and actually has to bite his fist to prevent himself from cumming early.

Speaking of, after he cums in your mouth, he likes seeing it pool there. Enjoys seeing you fight the temptation to swallow, keeping the taste of him in your mouth just because he told you to. And after he tells you to swallow, he kisses you long and deep, reveling in the way he can taste himself on your lips and groaning into the kiss.

⠀ ᝰ Childe

He’s a cocky bastard, but the attitude can be hot.

Has the typical hotshot attitude going in— smirks, laughs, praises you when you choke on him. Pulls on your hair a bit, if he knows you won’t yell at him for it later.

But if you deepthroat him, and I mean deepthroat him, taking him to the base, letting your drool spill out past your lips and simply holding his cock in your tight, warm throat, Childe practically melts. Feels the blood rush up to his face and down to his cock— he can’t rip his eyes from the display, seeing you bob your head up and down him and take him alll the way back in your throat. Has to swallow heavily, has to grip the sheets beneath him because fuck, you’re an absolute dream

Really enjoys seeing you touch yourself while you suck him off— he’ll laugh breathlessly and maybe tease you for it, but he finds it really hot that you’e getting this worked up over sucking him off. If he’s feeling particularly horny, he takes your hand that’s been between your thighs and brings it up to his lips, licking and sucking at your fingers to taste you.

When he cums, he likes that shit messy. Likes it when you give him a couple more sucks and licks, spreading his cum and saliva all over his cock. He’s a sucker for watching it drip past your lips with his cock still in your mouth, seeing it spread across your chin and the way you try to be tidy but ultimately fail. There’s just something about you trying to keep it clean, but having such a hard time because of how the cock on your mouth just makes things so difficult for you.

⠀ ᝰ Xiao

I’m willing to bet my firstborn that Xiao hasn’t got any action in whole millennia, so so much as touching him sends shivers up his spine.

For him, the tip of his cock is the most sensitive. Mouthing and kissing his head, licking up his precum and humming your approval makes him swallow and fight the urge to cum early. He’s not necessarily loud, but he’s very reactive to just about anything you do. Licking up the length of his cock has him shivering, stroking him languidly makes Xiao take a deep breath and gasp. Honestly, anything you do sends electricity through his veins.

Sweetly, he keeps your hand in his the whole time you go down on him. He was… hesitant when he first proposed it, unsure of how to bring it up, but he said that anytime you want to stop, you just had to squeeze his hand. It’s… honestly, it’s really sweet, and when ever you stroke your thumb against the back of his palm to reassure him, he gives you a squeeze back.

Likes it when you take things slow. Lick a stripe up his cock, let your tongue trace one of his veins and keep your eyes on his while you do so. Mouth at the head, hum against his skin and revel in the way his thumb traces patterns on the back of your hand— the first sign of his fraying control.

Pulls out just when he’s about to cum, and lets you lick and suck at the head until he does. Enjoys seeing you open your mouth and try to catch it— likes seeing the way some of the white pools on your tongue, how some lands on your face, how some lands on your body. How it paints a picture that only he can see.

⠀ ᝰ Ayato

He’s not out yet, but he also gives me cocky bastard vibes. Though the more shit-eating, teasing kind.

Idk how I feel abt him out of sex, but I’m ngl I’m getting potential mean dom energy from him? The kind that likes it when your eyes roll back from his cock hitting the back of your throat, or when you cry and choke on him when he thrusts into your mouth. Maybe I’m projecting my love for composed, refined ppl who are freaks in the sheets but it is what it is lmao

If he gets impatient, he gives you a warning— ‘take a deep breath’ —before he takes control himself. Pushes you down his length and holds you there, with his cock sitting in your throat and his head thrown back from the pleasure until you tap his thigh, a whimper and whine traveling through his cock. Then he’ll let you up, only to push you back down again once you’ve caught your breath.

Likes it when you hold his cum in your mouth, when you show him with teary eyes how good you’re being for him. Likes it even more when you hold still for him, even as he pulls the corner of your lip down and watches a stream of his cum and your saliva trickle past your lips, his eyes focused and sharp and hungry as he watches.

Likes it a lot when you look up at him with his cum running down your face, just waiting for him to do something. And when he smears the cum at the corner of you lips with his thumb, low laughter bubbling from him as you watch him in anticipation, he presses his thumb back into your mouth. How he tells you with that deceptively sweet smile to be good and suck, and how the sight of you doing as you’re told makes his cock twitch, already aching for another round.

#Catcze.Lingerie 💦#Genshin smut #Kazuha smut #Thoma smut #Childe smut #Xiao smut #Ayato smut #Cw GN reader #Catte’s Works 🦩

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 2 years

Text

I Hope I Never Lose You, Hope It Never Ends

Summary: Spencer and Reader are roommates, but she's harboring a secret that has the power to ruin everything good she has.

Content Warning: Kissing while drunk

Word Count: 3.6K

Note: I made this Boyband Reid for Nat bc she's been helping me trudge through this. This fic has taken me nearly two months to get through, so I hope you enjoy it. I appreciate hearing your thoughts on this! I have a couple fic/mini series that I am excited to get out too!

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I Hope I Never Lose You, I Hope It Never Ends

The weather has gotten cold enough for you to draw shapes on the windows. You breathe out warm air, making the window fog up and drag your finger over the condensation. The melted snowflakes sparkle from the glow of the Christmas lights. You try to soak it all in. The smell of Spencer’s shampoo, that smells like something familiar, as he dozes off on your shoulder, the feel of the frosty air on your skin when you wait for the cab, the sound of laughter at the bar when Spencer would pull you in closer and closer. His hands would flirt with your skin, barely grazing to be considered touching at all, but leaving your skin warm nonetheless.

A sudden brake jolts Spencer from his alcohol-induced snooze. He stretches his long legs and lanky arms in the cramped cab. The seat cushions are ripped, patched together with duct tape, and the heat doesn’t work and it seems like the driver is hitting every single red light. And yet it’s probably the most romantic place you’ve ever been. Spencer’s hand rests on your knee and you move close to him, hoping that if he questions your uncharacteristic affection, you can use the excuse of being cold in the taxi cab.

“Do you think it’s weird that we’re still roommates,” Spencer asks, the lingering worry filling the silence. The question catches you off guard; in the 5 years you’ve been living with Spencer neither one of you ever mentioned the strangeness of the situation.

“No, do you?” you ask, suddenly wondering if your arrangement with Spencer is weird. It’s not like you can’t afford to live on your own, even though it started that way all those years ago. Now it’s more companionship, but somewhere along the lines the companionship morphed into love.

You can’t exactly pinpoint the moment you knew you loved Spencer. Loving him is as natural as breathing. You can’t remember a time before you loved him and you sure won’t know a time when you don’t love him.

“I mean we both hate change so us not being roommates would mean that we’d have to move. And moving makes me anxious and when I’m anxious it makes you anxious. So it’s like a big pile of anxiety that neither of us handle well,” you say, your nervous rambling uncharacteristic when you’re around Spencer.

“I guess so,” Spencer says, “It’s just, I’ve been thinking about it a lot. And I really can’t imagine a future without you there with me,”

“So what does that mean?” you ask, daring to put your heart out there. It might get fractured into a million little pieces, but it doesn’t matter. Your heart was always his to break.

“What do you mean what does it mean?,” Spencer says, his head still heavy on your shoulder as the taxi takes you home to Cornelia Street, “I’m so drunk that your metaphors are really confusing, Y/N,”

You chuckle, seeing Spencer let loose is always a good thing to see. From the first time you’ve met him, he was nothing but a tall wall of bricks. Yet, slowly he allowed you to peel away the heavy bricks. One by one till all that remained was the real Spencer, the very same Spencer with the messy brown hair and sad eyes. The Spencer that you loved and the Spencer that’s been through too much.

“It means, Spencer,” you say, darting your eyes towards him as the cab stops at the red light, “that you can’t say things like that,”

“Like what?” Spencer asks, clearly so drunk that even though he’s the smartest person in all of this city, he’s the dumbest in this cab, “Come on, Y/N. You know what I mean. You always know what I mean,”

“Just forget it, Spence. We’re both drunk and tired. And I just really want to go to bed,” you say, turning to face the window. He doesn’t reply after that, getting the message that you want to be left alone with your thoughts. He does, however, reach down for your hand, squeezing it as he brings it to his lips. Spencer leaves the tiniest kiss on the back of your hand. His lips barely touch your skin, so you’re not sure if you can even consider it a kiss. You don’t pull back. You love him too much to pull away from his kiss, even if his kiss will be the death of you.

You watch as the cab rushes by the people on the street. Hopeful couples that linger on street corners just because they can’t take another second without holding hands or being close in some way or another. Elderly people, with decades of experience, still holding hands. You crave that familiarity, the way they love without hesitation, without pause. And you just might be brave enough to think that one day you can find it with Spencer, even if today you can hardly look him in the eyes.

The first thing you noticed about him was the way he ended his sentences like it was a question. It was a clear sign of lack of self confidence. Why someone who looked like him didn’t lack confidence was lost on you. From his perfectly pink lips that had a perpetual purse to his soulful brown eyes that flickered to a charming green in the sunlight, the man who sat across from you was nothing short of beautiful.

“Besides, the odd hours will mean you’ll hardly see me,” he chuckles wryly, “And I’m clean, my Aunt Ethel said that makes me husband material. Not that you’re looking for a husband. I mean, I’m not going to be making messes,” Spencer says, flushing crimson as he attempts to save himself from embarrassment.

“That’s good to know,” you say, looking down at the table between you. Spencer fiddles with his fingers, clearly unsure if you’re going to approve of him becoming your roommate. In the split second that you look at him, you know it’s truly impossible to take him in for all he’s worth. You aren’t sure if you’ve ever met someone so attractive, not just physically but emotionally as well. He has an almost vintage quality about him. From the powder blue Volvo that he showed up in to the clearly homemade sweater vests he wears, you look at him and know that he’s going to be the death of you.

“I bake. I mean, I like baking. It’s relaxing and I’m pretty good at it. Well, it’s actually pretty much just chemistry. You know, knowing the temperatures to bake cakes at or how much baking soda is needed for cookies,” Spencer says, his voice trailing as he rambles, “But yeah, I like baking,”

“That’s neat,” you say, forcing a smile as you look at him from across the table. Gesturing to you half eaten chocolate doughnut, you tell Spencer, “You know if your chocolate doughnuts as half as good as these, then I’ll let you be my roommate,”

You break the chocolate doughnut in half again, handing it to Spencer. He smiles, the layer of awkwardness and insecurity still there. You sit together, finishing the doughnuts and coffee and it’s like an outer body experience. Soulmates, the one, the love of your life. The idea that there was an individual out there in this universe that is perfectly suited to you and you are perfectly suited for them hurts your brain. Love, you always assumed, was never in the cards for you. Yet, sitting there eating stale chocolate doughnuts and drinking overly sweet coffee, you have a sneaking suspicion that the tables may have turned.

In hindsight, you should have known that living with Spencer would only end in heartbreak. You weave your arms through his, holding each other up as you climb the stairs to your apartment. You can feel his side flush against your body and you can’t help but revel in. He feels so solid and strong next to you, familiarity warms your entire body. It’s the kind of safe feeling that you know you’d love to get used to.

“You smell like lavender soap,” Spencer whispers, his nose grazing your cheek as he smells your hair. You hold your breath, not daring to breathe when you feel him so close, “Sometimes I steal your shampoo,” he confesses, his face so close to your face you swear you can feel his lips move against your cheeks.

“Is that right?” you ask, attempting to come off coy when in reality you’re dying inside. You arrive at the door to your apartment. Spencer leans against the door as you rummage through your purse for your keys. Unable to find them, you look up at Spencer in frustration, only to find him smiling like a Cheshire Cat.

“Looking for these,” he says, his voice dropping low as he smiles. He looks so beautiful in the awful hallway light. He must be really beautiful to look like he does while bathed in ghastly fluorescent light. You grab the keys from his hands, noticing how perfectly your hand slips into his. Letting go quicker than you want, you take the keys from his hand to unlock the door. It’s quiet in the hallway, way past the bedtime of your neighbors.

“Did you steal those from my back pocket?” you ask, watching Spencer with a narrowed gaze. You’re not sure if it’s him that’s swaying or if it’s you that’s moving. Whoever it is, the alcohol at the bar is to blame.

“Yup,” he says, his mischievous smile making your cheeks hurt from returning the smile. Your thoughts darken at the very idea of Spencer’s hands slipping into your pocket to swipe your keys. As you unlock the door, you can’t help but wonder what his hands would feel like against your skin without the barrier of your jeans.

Silently, you walk into the shared apartment. Spencer shuffles in, clearly more drunk than you are, on account for the difficulty it is for him to take off his shoes. He hops around, one arm searching for stability while the other flails around ready to brace his fall. Spencer, in all his endearing qualities, was never graceful in the five or so years you’ve known him.

“Spence,” you whine, giggling through a smile as you rush over to catch him, “It’s a good thing you didn’t bring that bartender home. One of you would have probably broken a leg or something,” you tease, even though it hurts your heart to joke about Spencer bringing someone else home.

It stings your soul to imagine a day when it’s not you Spencer rushes home to talk to when his days are hard and long. It’s a fatal wound to realize that one day these apartment walls will be painted over and you’ll only have the memories of Spencer to occupy your dreary heart. It breaks you to know that he’ll never be yours and it breaks you all over to know he can never be the one to glue you back together.

It’s like the room is spinning because all of the sudden you feel your head grow dizzy. All you can smell is the sweet strawberry daiquiris on Spencer’s breath and all can see is his brown eyes in the moonlight. For now you’ll live with stolen glances and innocent touches and familiar teasing.

For five years now, you and Spencer have been a team. You’ve filled in the blanks as you went; through all the wrong ones and all while still hoping to fall into the right arms. And Spencer may not love you back, but you’ll settle for loving him in secret if it means you’ll never lose him. It’s a cyclical torment; being petrified of watching him walk away when you’ve never had him in your arms in the first place. You’re too scared to lose him to have him. Because you’ll never walk Cornelia Street ever again.

“Y/N, I’m too drunk for cryptic puzzles,” Spencer laments, sitting on the edge of the armchair. You stand in front of him, eyelevel. The moonlight casts a halo around his head, reminding that he's an angel heaven sent.

You never believed in angels. Or a heaven. Because life was hell if it was a life where Spencer couldn’t love you back.

“The woman at the bar,” you repeat, staring at his shiny eyes, “You know Mandy. Or Brenda. Whatever her name was. She was really into you,” you tell him, scoffing internally at his look of confusion.

“The one that kept asking to see my badge?” Spencer asks, the double meaning totally lost on him, “What makes you think she wanted to come home with me?”

“She was fawning all over you!” you shout, the booze in your system making you forget civility, “Spencer, open your eyes. She wanted you to take her home…and,” you can feel your face heat as the conversation nears that forbidden territory you never wanted to cross for fear of reality setting in.

Giving you a quizzical look, Spencer’s bemused expression usually amuses you, but now, drunk off something stronger than what’s at the bar, it’s like looking into his eyes in a mirror image of a life that you never could live. After spending five years in a dark night, you think to yourself what’s another year or two or even another five? As long as you don’t have him in the way you dream of, you can’t lose him in the way you fear.

“And what?” Spencer repeats, his voice sounding like he’s swimming deep under blue waters. In the mysterious moonlight, he’s painted an ocean blue, but the kind that’s treacherous and reckless. But then again, you don’t want another shade of blue but him, “Was she like, flirting with me?” Spencer asks, spitting out the word flirt like it’s a disease that he’s immune to.

“You had to notice, Spencer. I mean she wasn’t exactly subtle about it,” you tell him, being subtle about the woman’s lack of subtlety when flirting with Spencer. You’re used to people flirting with him when you go out, in stereotypically beautiful women wanting him has increased ever since he traded in his long curls for something a bit shorter and conventionally handsome.

You’d be kidding yourself if you didn’t admit you loved his new haircut. But you’ve loved him in all his forms and you’ll love him in all the ones that fall like a shadow. You always loved Peter Pan, the boy that never grew up, never lost his dreams. And sometimes you think you’ll be haunted by those dreams that never could. Peter lost Wendy, like you’ll lose Spencer. And you’ll forever wonder if he’ll search for his shadow in grocery lines.

“No, Y/N,” Spencer says, your name sounding like the sweetest thing on his lips. You wonder the countless ways he could say your name; some more sinful and some sweet and some nestled into the happy medium you long to know, “I didn’t notice,” he finishes, something in the tone of his voice making your words catch in your throat.

“Because you probably had too many strawberry daiquiris,” you tease, smiling as you thread your arm around Spencer’s neck, holding him loosely and lovingly. You hope that he can hear it in the silence, the secret message that you’re desperate to reveal.

“No,” Spencer says, shaking his head as his eyes twinkle with the reflection of the Christmas lights.

“Then was it Emily and Shannon’s antics? I mean those two are so ridiculously in love it’s sickening,” you say, the pain of watching Spencer’s close friend and her wife love each other without pause hitting you in the very place Spencer owns, your heart.

“No, even though Emily does turn into a girl with a crush when Shannon is around,” Spencer admits, his voice playful in contrast to your strained one.

“Then why didn’t you notice her flirting with you, Spencer? I mean she was pretty and seemed nice enough, I suppose,” you reason, even though you’re lying through your teeth to the only man you swear you love, “And she was really into you,”

“I didn’t notice, Y/N,” Spencer starts, slowly wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling closer to him so you’re wedged between his legs. Somehow, your bodies fit together like a perfect mold. You want to close your eyes so you can pretend that you’re dreaming, because if this is all a dream then it will be real.

“I think we covered that much, Spencer,” you laugh, wrestling with your emotions as you try to quell the thumping in your heart. You close your eyes and you smell Spencer’s cologne. You close your eyes and you still see the Christmas lights that will stay up till well past January. You close your eyes and you can almost imagine what it would be like to kiss him till you’re tired of kissing him.

But then. But then you open your eyes and you can see the imaginary life you’ve built crumble into dust. You open your eyes and you can see yourself stuffing your things you’ve collected over the years into boxes too small to fit your heart and your pain. You open your eyes and it’s all gone, nothing but a heartbreak that will never mend. You’d never walk Cornelia Street again.

“Do you want to know why, Y/N?” Spencer asks, the playfulness in his voice gone and all that remains is a curious timbre that leaves you desperately wanting to figure the unknown parts of him out.

“Yes,” you whisper back, hoping that you’re sealing your fate, hoping that he’ll be the one that whispers the sweet everythings in your ear at night, “Please tell me, Spencer,” you say, hoping that like you, his name is the sweetness thing on your lips.

“It was you,” Spencer confesses, those three little words having more impact than another set of three little words, “It’s always been you, Y/N. From that day at the diner with the chocolate doughnuts to all the nights that we’ve spent on the roof, just you and me. Right now, where are you holding me up because I’m too drunk to think straight. God, Y/N, it’s always been you. I don’t know how you haven’t seen it,”

Red. Yellow. Green.

You used to ask the traffic lights if you’d be alright. If it was green then yes. If red then no. But that fickle yellow light always would say to you ‘I don’t know,’. In the moments that you stare at him, it’s like you’re driving past millions of greenlights, the road ahead screaming in color the loudest yes you’ve seen.

“It was me?” you ask, terrified of his answer and hating the pause in your voice, “You were…”

“Distracted by you,” Spencer says, finishing the one sentence you’ve always wanted him to complete. His hands on your waist burn like a promise of something more. Spencer shifts forward so he can rest his forehead against yours. Your noses brush, sending electric shocks throughout your body. You always thought that couples would be silly and a tab bit gross for thinking that touching their lover could do things like that to them, “I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you since I’ve known you, sweetheart,”

“Spence,” you whisper, feeling your heart soar into the sky as those little words process in your mind. It flies high above the sky on angel’s wings. And you don’t care if it falls and shatters, because you’ll have someone to stitch it back together, “It’s a little hard for me to wrap my head around you loving me,” you reply, “But even if it’s hard to understand, it’s the easiest thing I’ll ever do,”

“Let me show you,” Spencer says, his beautifully haunted face mysterious and elegant in the blue moonlit shadows, “Let me love you like you deserve,”

Standing there, with Spencer’s arms around your waist and your arms hooked around his neck you feel as if you could fly. You nod, the iota of doubt that courses through your system dissipating as Spencer’s hand comes up to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes against your skin, treating you as if you’re made of glass. The world disappears when he finally kisses you. You let him set the pace for the kiss, wanting to memorize the way his soft hands and even softer lips feel against you.

Slowly, Spencer breaks the kiss and his eyes come into view again. For a second they look scared. You’re at an impasse. The forbidden bridge crosses and burns in one simple touch. The words shared and hearts swapped could never be undone. It’s natural to be hesitant, to question, to wonder.

“Kiss me again,” you command, smiling as Spencer chuckles darkly as you tug the hair at the nape of his neck, “Kiss me again and again till all the other kisses are washed away. Because they mean nothing compared to you, love,”

“Love,” Spencer whispers, a teasing smile and a playful tone breaking across his face, “I think I like the way that sounds,”

He kisses you again, letting himself get lost in the motions. His lips slip past yours, stealing your breath and heart in a single move. Part of you wants to curse your past self for not having the courage to do this sooner, but the more romantic part of you wants to enjoy him for all he’s worth. Spencer, still kissing you, stands to his full height. His hands move down your body, slowly guiding you to the worn out couch.

You’re not sure where this will lead tonight, with both your hearts and souls bare to the elements. But what you are sure of is that Cornelia Street is home.

Thank you for reading! Share you thoughts here. Any reblogs, comments, and likes are so appreciated.

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festive · 2 years

Text

Mitsuya x Fem!Reader x Draken 18+ MDNI!

A/n: LMFAOOOOOO I WROTE THIS BC ME AND @atskic KEPT THIRSTING OVER THEM ON TWT. Now that this is out, back to my taiju x reader shit.😩

cw: v*ginal penetration, anal, threesomes.

Damn, how did things end up this way? You questioned to yourself. All you remembered was having a few drinks with Mitsuya and Draken, now here you were - stripping yourself out your clothes in Mitsuya’s bed room at an agonizing slow pace.

Having enough of your teasing, Draken throws you onto the bed and Mitsuya follows shortly after. Mitsuya’s hands work fast as he’s undoing your bra, while Draken’ ripping away at your panties. Finally leaving your bare naked. Leaving them to strip out their clothes as well.

You felt hot, you weren’t sure if it was the shots of tequila, or if it was because you were currently being sandwiched between two handsome - who were now positioning their leaking cocks at each of your holes.

Both men slam into you at an insatiable pace, moving in sync with one another. Mitsuya filling up your aching cunt with his long cock, curved to perfection rubbed so that it rubs against your sweetest spot easily. While Draken, being the ass man that he is filled your tight asshole with his painfully thick length.

Mitsuya moves his arm around to cup your cheek, forcing you to look up at him. Oh sweet Mitsuya - looking down at you with such a soft gaze that you couldn’t help but to admire him. Then, he’s forcing you into a heated kiss and shoving his tongue down your throat while his hands play with your plush ass, spreading your plump cheeks all the while.

Draken, on the other hand, wasn’t as sweet. He tucked his head into your neck, biting and sucking at the flesh hard enough to draw blood. His large hands roughly grab at your breasts as he continues ramming into your ass; pinching and twisting your nipples while he calls you a variety of vulgar names.

Mitsuya lets out a soft moan as he feels your walls clench around his cock.

“I think our sweetheart right here enjoys being degraded, Draken.” He says.

Draken can’t help but to let out a small chuckle before his grip on your hips tighten (that was certainly going to leave bruises later.)

“Yea, you like that little slut? Like being degraded and used like the cock sleeve you are?” He whispers into your ear, slamming into your tight little hole even harder.

You try your hardest to reply but considering how drunk you were on the pleasure of being stuffed full - all that came out your mouth were muffled sobs and moans.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed across the room mixed in with the sounds of dulcet moans and desperate grunts.

Your legs began to shake as you could feel yourself coming undone. God, you looked so fucked-out right now. Your eyes were shut with tears spilling out from your lids and down upon your cheeks. Your poor, bruised, and battered lips were parted slightly open - allowing your drool to spill out. Just the sight of you looking so fucked up was enough to have both men spilling their thick, hot loads into you.

As both men pulled their softening cocks out of you, Draken couldn’t help but to spread your cheeks apart and take a picture of his seed seeping out of your thoroughly-used hole. Saying something along the lines of “saving it for later.” Or whatever. (You couldn’t really tell since you were so exhausted.)

He gets up but not before placing a gentle kiss upon your forehead as he heads to the bathroom to go get some towels to clean you all up with. Mitsuya ends up gathering you into his arms and pulls your body flush against his as he praises you about how you were so good for them tonight.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #mitsuya smut #takashi mitsuya #draken smut #ken ryuuguji #draken x reader #mitsuya x reader

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seita · 3 years

Text

— types of doms.

kuroo, kenma, yaku, bokuto, akaashi, + konoha.

+ details what type of doms they are!

— kuroo tetsurou.

› hard dom and a little mean

› he looooooves punishments so the bigger brat you are the more fun it is for him

› not for you tho bc he will make you cry your little heart out

› call him daddy, sir, or master!!

› you’re his babygirl when you behave but you’re his stupid little pet when you’re bad ):

› very into degredation and dacryphilia

› thinks you’re prettiest when you’re crying about how his cock is too big and how it hurts <3

“you wanted to act like a little brat but you don’t want to take your punishment?” he clicked his tongue, shaking his head, “that won’t do at all, kitten. you know better than to disappoint me.”

he grinned when the last words immediately made you cry, “i-i’m sorry, sir! i’ll do better! please punish me!”

the sound of you begging for him to punish you made his cock twitch in his pants. you would have drooled at the sight had you not been forced to your knees. they hit the hard floor with a thunk and it made you wince.

he made a mental note to make sure you were okay afterwards.

but for now, he pulled his cock free, “i’m going to fuck your throat and if you even think about pulling away, you won’t cum for a month.”

— kozume kenma.

› lazy dom

› he’s not strict nor does he care for punishments

› you can call him whatever you want but he likes how his nickname comes off your tongue when you’re cumming

› kind of mean bc he likes to watch you struggle to ride him

› he’s into neglect; he likes to ignore you and watch you cry for his attention

his eyes were glued to his phone, scrolling through twitter. even the pretty sounds of your whimpers wouldn’t draw his attention away.

you rocked your hips against his, his cock throbbing inside you as your cunt clenched around him from the stimulation of your clit. as you were whimpering and crying about how good his cock felt, his breathing wasn’t even fast.

he appeared completely unaffected.

it made a sob rip through your chest. you wanted his attention so bad, you wanted to see that your tight little cunt felt good.

with renewed vigor, you began to bounce, using his knees behind you as balance to easily lift and drop yourself down his length.

“ken!” you sobbed when he didn’t even twitch.

the sound of his nickname from your lips made him look up at you finally. tears were making tracks down your cheeks and it made him throb inside you again, “a-am i doin’ good?” you asked, seeking his praise.

his gaze softened for a second before he suddenly looked back at his phone, fighting a smirk when you sobbed again, “go faster and then we’ll see.”

— yaku morisuke.

› hard dom!

› likes to be called sir

› expects you to be a good little service sub and do everything in your power to pleasure him

› makes you worship his cock and balls daily <3

› his punishments are so mean ):

› he’ll ignore you and humiliate you until you’re crying in his lap and begging him to forgive you

› and the best way to do that is to take his cock down your throat like a good little girl <3

“i thought you said you could take it, princess?” the name sounded derogatory, condescending and made your skin crawl. you knew he was disappointed; you’d promised you could take him all the way down your throat and you kept choking and pulling away, leaving his cock to throb at nothing.

precum drooled from the tip to the floor, making him glare at you.

“are you stupid? hm?” he snaps, “see, this is why i think i need a new little pet to fuck. since you can’t seem to appreciate my cock properly.”

his words make your eyes widen frantically, shaking your head, “n-no sir! please, i can do it, i really can! l-love your cock so much...’s just too big...”

he hums, fisting your hair once more, “you can take it, if you really wanna show me that you’re my good girl...you’ll take my fucking cock down your throat.”

— bokuto koutarou.

› service dom from hell.

› literally will do anything and everything to please you

› call him daddy <3

› he’ll call you puppy <3

› doesn’t rlly do punishments

› his form of punishment is fucking you until you’re completely dumb on his cock and sobbing for him not to make you cum anymore

› will overstimulate himself because of how desperately he wants to fuck you

“puppy’s cunt is so wet,” he pants, burying his face in your neck, “creamin’ so much around me. you’re daddy’s good girl, yeah?”

“yes, daddy! lo-love your cock s’much!” you whine, nails biting in his biceps.

he doesn’t even notice, too absorbed in the lewd sound of your wet little pussy taking his fat cock. he’d already milked orgasm after orgasm from you and you could barely tell up from down at this point.

“i’m gonna cum, puppy,” he whines, “can daddy cum in your little cunt? please, puppy?”

“yes!” you squeal, “please, want your cum so bad, daddy, please-”

“alright, pup,” his voice grows tighter as he slams his hips against yours, mouth opening in a loud throaty moan as he cums, filling your sensitive cunt right up.

he doesn’t stop, however, even after his cum is fucked out of you. even when he starts tearing up from how sensitive his cock was as he continued to fuck you, intent on filling you up until his balls simply couldn’t anymore.

— akaashi keiji.

› soft dom <3

› doesn’t care what you call him, whatever you want works <3

› he’s a bit of tease

› likes to edge, deny, and ruin your orgasms

› because he likes to hear the way you cry for him to make you feel good

› knowing you could reach down to rub your clit but you want him to do it makes his cock hard

› uses very soft petnames for you like honey and pretty baby <3

“ah, you got tighter,” he mutters, mostly to himself, rocking his hips slowly against yours, “are you about to cum?”

your mouth falls open and you nod, tearily staring up at him in a silent plea for him not to pull away.

but he does. and you sob, kicking your legs as your body twitches sporadically.

“shh...” he soothes, offering a sweet kiss to your forehead, pushing his cock back into your tender little cunt, “you’re doing so good, just a little more and i’ll make you cum nice and hard...”

“p-please, keiji, it hurts!” you sob, clinging to him as you cry, “w-wanna cum on your cock so bad, please!”

he smiles, “you can take a little more,” he assures, letting you pull his chest flush against yours so you can cry against his neck, “you’re such a good girl, letting me edge you like this. you know it’ll be worth it.”

you really do but that doesn’t mean the build up isn’t hell on earth.

— konoha akinori.

› he can either be the meanest dom imaginable or the softest service dom for you

› another one who doesn’t have a name preference but he likes when you call him sir when he’s being mean and daddy when hes soft <3

› will call you bunny or little one <3

› sort of a sadist tbh

› into physical punishments like spanking

› will also slap you bc he thinks you’re so pretty when you stare at him with watery, startled eyes

› but he also loves when you cling to him and tremble in his arms when he makes you cum <3

“daddy...” you pant, eyes rolling back as his cock reaches that sweet little spot deep inside you, “feels good...”

“i know, little one,” he grins, “i can feel you squeezing me...you’re gonna cum soon, aren’t you?”

you nod and open your mouth to say something but you cut yourself off with a little squeal when he suddenly folds you up into a mating press.

“yeah, there we go...” he pants, “you’ll cream nice and hard for me in this position won’t you?”

when you don’t answer for a second, he reaches down and slaps you across the cheek. it makes you sob and your cunt clench down even tighter. suddenly, you begin trembling and your eyes roll back, making him moan.

“fuck, you’re cummin’ now, huh? all cause i slapped you?“

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq x reader #hq smut #kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #ken me x reader #kenma smut #yaku x reader #yaku smut #bokuto x reader #bokuto smut #akaashi x reader #akaashi smut #konoha x reader #konoha smut #afton.headcanons

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

Note

Gene... My baby mama... I need... More alt!dream... Whatever you got fr. I just need more I'm.. I love him (probs not as much as you) but I love him

You're in luck bc I'm running on rip fuel for him. [ALSO I WROTE THIS BEFORE EVERYONE DID THE TECHWEAR STUFF FOR HIM I'M SORRY. I'LL GET IT IN NEXT TIME. I PINKY SWEAR.]

𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐃. ♘ 𝐚𝐥𝐭!𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 (𝟏𝟖+)

pairing: alt!Dreamwastaken x fm!reader

warnings: smut (18+), language, semi-public sex, light mentions of needles, domination

previous part ♘ fanart that i can't stop crying over

recommended listening: Hi Frequency by Vague002

The bus swayed slightly, your grip on the cool bar tightening to keep you from knocking into Clay as it turned. The dark city outside the windows bustled with sparkling lights, catching your eye every few seconds. As more people filed into the cramped space, Clay grabbed your hand, looping your arms around his waist and smugly grinning as you fought not to blush. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Will this be your first time in a parlor?” He asked, voice low and raspy as he whispered to you, not wanting to disturb the other members of society who just wanted to get home after a long day of work.

You nodded your head, making him chuckle. You knew it would be a different experience, mainly because it was taking place during the tattoo shops “after hours,” which Clay had only briefly explained the benefits of attending. “What are you getting done again?” You asked, moving so your hands were holding onto his arm instead, fingers brushing against the exposed skin peeking from beneath the cut-up shirt under his dark jacket.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t decide. Why don’t you pick?” He joshed, smirking at the way your eyebrows raised.

“I don’t want to be responsible for a mark on you,” you murmured, making him snort.

He hooked his fingers into the neckline of his shirt, stretching it down enough to reveal the litter of hickeys peppering his skin that you had left the night before. Your eyes widened as you swatted away his hand, looking around carefully in hopes that no one had seen them. He looped an arm around your shoulders, loving the fact that you were so worried about the crowd when all he wanted to do was fluster you.

He pressed his lips to your cheek, the warmth of his body encompassing you. “I love it when you get all blushy,” he teased. “Seriously though, you should pick. I won’t look at it if I don’t like it,” he snarked.

You groaned lightly. “Clay, come on.” He brushed his lips against yours.

“I trust you, sweetheart,” he cooed almost mockingly, his nose moving to press into your hair.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying your best to remember what was already on his body. You thought about the impending reality that whenever he saw the new tattoo, his mind would linger on you, and for some reason, heat traveled to your ears at that thought. “Um… what about a bird?” You asked, voice uneasy as if on eggshells.

His face twisted into a pleased smile. “A bird?” He repeated. You shrugged beneath his arm, making him chuckle. “I like that. George likes doing bird tattoos too, so you might just make his night,” he added, his praise and approval making your stomach fill with confidence. He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your shoulder. Your mind began to forget what the two of you probably looked like to the other people as his scent invaded your senses. “Will you hold my hand while I’m in the chair?” He joked.

You scoffed. “Are you gonna cry?” You teased, making him chuckle.

“No, I’m just clingy,” he answered without skipping a beat. Your grin was hidden in the soft corduroy of his jacket.

The tattoo parlor was nothing like you had expected. The door was locked behind you after a bouncer let the two of you in, the man leading you two up a staircase and into a dimly lit room. The sound of heavy metal music and the buzz of tattoo guns swirled together, echoing off the dark brick walls. You slipped your hand into Clay’s as he talked to the receptionist, your eyes attempting to focus on one detail instead of letting the atmosphere overwhelm you.

The thick layer of smoke above your heads made you scoff, realizing it was coming from the opposite corner of the shop, a hookah lamp sitting on a coffee table like an outstretched octopus. The people around it seemed to be discussing something rather intense, their haircuts sharp and defining almost as if they stepped out of some kind of alternative fashion magazine. There were three tattoo artists, each with a white lamp focusing on their work as they carried on to the beat of the music.

Clay’s description of the place flashed into your mind, making you realize just how off the cards the parlor actually was. Clay took a toothpick from the receptionist’s desk, taking it between his white teeth before being waved down by a shorter man with dark hair across the floor. You followed closely behind him as Clay greeted the man; you quickly realizing that this was the famous George.

As Clay shrugged out of his jacket, George pulled out a binder, standing beside you as he flipped to a page with scattered drawings of different flight poses of birds. Your eyes drifted away from the page as Clay’s arms came into view. His old t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off was doing wonders for his biceps. Before you knew it, the two of you agreed on a mix of a few designs resembling a crow and Clay was laying on his back with his hand tucked behind his head. The spot he was filling was in the dead center of the flesh of his upper arm; a spot that George had grumbled about being awkward to reach, especially on someone as large as Clay.

You watched closely with curious eyes as George began to tattoo the design on Clay’s arm. Clay’s other hand was wrapped around the back of your elbow as you leaned on the chair at Clay’s side. His finger pads drew circles into your skin as you asked George about how he got into tattooing, making small talk here and there.

You liked George, mainly because he was quiet until he conjured up some kind of relentless backhanded comment. His tattoos revolved around a giant tree stretching from his back and down his arms. You wondered how long he had to sit for it and what the healing process was like. As he worked, his teeth played at his snake bite piercings, his dark eyes focused intently on the work in front of him.

Clay switched his toothpick to the other side of his mouth, his hand tightening around your arm with a small groan as George reached a sensitive spot. “Don’t be such a pussy,” he grumbled, continuing his work. He stopped, cleaning off some of the sprayed ink and filling a new cap with grey. “You have any work, pretty girl?” He asked you, voice low and charming.

You shook your head, earning a small tsk from him. “This is the closest she’s been to a tattoo gun,” Clay prided, making George sarcastically raise his eyes.

“A total virgin, huh?” He joked, winking at you. “Dream’s not corrupting you, is he?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek trying not to blush. “I’m trying,” Clay leered, smirking at you with his smug ego hinting at his lips.

George bit back a laugh. “Don’t get horny in my chair,” he muttered, eyes trained on the lines he was scaring into Clay. “Speaking of, I heard you got busted up by Punz, and by the looks of it… seems right,” he commented, gesturing to Clay’s eye that seemed to have started fading finally.

Clay let out a dry laugh. “His ribs are still healing,” you added, making George smirk with a shake of his head.

“You know what all that’s about right?” George asked you, taking his foot off the pedal to grab more paper towels from his desk. You looked up at Clay whose jaw tense as he chewed on the toothpick. After you shook your head, George continued. “Punz’s sister is stupidly in love with Dream,” he plopped back in his seat, swiveling his chair, and drawing a hand through his locks, revealing the bleached undersection. You had the fleeting mental image of him tying his hair back to reveal it.

He pulled on a new glove. “Madly in love, huh?” You pried, twisting your chair closer to Clay’s shoulder. Clay rolled his eyes at the fact as if he had been bugged about it for years. “You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend, Clay,” you teased, and he looked up at you with a tired expression, making you bite back a giggle.

After George finished, you followed Clay through the door, breathing in the fresh air; or as fresh as it could be in the midst of the city’s industrial square. Clay’s fingers knitted together with yours as he led you down an alleyway, flicking aside the toothpick. You chewed on your lip in anticipation before he pinned you against one of the walls. His devious grin sent shivers down your spine as you looked up at him.

You swallowed. “Shouldn’t you take it easy? Let your arm heal a bit?” You asked, voice coming out in a soft whisper as his lips pressed against your neck. “Won’t it hurt a bit with your ribs, too?” Your heart hammered in your chest at the fact that someone could turn the corner and catch the two of you.

He chuckled against your skin, slipping his hands beneath your skirt to grip your ass. “I like the pain,” he mused, tongue grazing against your skin as he pulled your hips against his. He kissed you hungrily as if not being able to press his body against yours for that hour was too much for him. His hand dropped to wrap around the back of your knee, moving his own leg to prop your thigh up against his hip as your hands dug into his hair.

The friction from his jeans made you moan into his mouth as his hand moved beneath your shirt, fingers fitting beneath your bra to palm your breast. He mumbled praises against your lips at how good you made him feel and how beautiful you were.

He turned you, your hands planting against the coarse brick as he ground his hips against you. You bit your lip, trying not to be loud enough to draw attention to the two of you, which seemed to be the last thing on Clay’s mind as you heard him unbuckle his belt behind you. You could practically picture his cocky grin, controlling eyes set as his hand gripped onto your hips, shoving your underwear to the side. “You were so much fun to show off tonight,” he chided darkly, lips brushing against your shoulder. “Such a good girl.”

As he pushed into you, one of his hands moved to knot into your hair. He moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him, tugging on your hair as he pulled your hips back against his. A low grunt tumbled from his lips as he set his rhythm, basking in the fact that you were secretly ready for him to ruin you as soon as you stepped into the parlor.

His fingers moved to wrap around your neck, the thought of his tattooed hand tightening around your pristine skin sent shivers through your body and heat flushing your cheeks, the tension in your body tightening. As he pressed you closer against the wall, you thought about the power he had over you; his height and build would make it easy for him to break you if he wanted, yet even as he pounded into you like he wanted you to forget your own name, the restraint he showed was enough to send you over the edge if you let yourself divulge in the thought.

Clay pulled out of you, only to turn you, your shoulders hitting the wall again with a soft thump as he hoisted you up ever so slightly, thrusting up into you as his hand dig into your thigh, the other resting against the brick beside your head. Your arms looped beneath his jacket, raking down his skin as you held onto him.

He groaned as your thighs tightened around him, making his hips stutter as if he were trying not to let himself finish too early. He dug is face into the crook of your neck, burying his teeth in your neck to stifle his grunts of your name. Your head tilted back against the brick, hand moving to tighten around the wrist that was beside your head for some kind of anchor.

His hand wrapped around your waist, driving himself deeper into you, brushing the part of you that needed him the most. You moaned, carding your fingers into his hair as he pressed his lips to yours roughly, wanting to taste your pleasure as it washed over you from his movements.

You tugged on his hair, making his cock throb inside of you, him finishing inside you with a low groan, his hips snapping against yours to stimulate a reaction from you. The feeling of his sloppy pleasure as his movements lost their rhythm sent your hips grinding against his, his teeth marking your shoulders as a reminder of his work on you.

Your toes curled, finally reaching your orgasm as he murmured dirty expressions of him ruining your pretty clothes against the wall. As he pulled out of you, your knees felt weak, threatening to buckle beneath you. You tried not to give off how much he had trashed you, but the warmth snaking down your thighs and your bliss-ridden mind proved otherwise.

Long story short, the bus ride home was rather interesting.

Dream Taglist: (follow this link to be added :))

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @unstableye @tinyegg @behzzyboo @darphobic @twist3dtinkerbell @sparkletash @lindsayhunz @shroomieissmall @mintmochiii @clubfairy @aroyaldarknessblr @camerondiaz48104 @madsbbg @victory-is-here @rat-poisin

#dream x fem!reader #dream x reader #alt!dream #alt!dreamwastaken #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken smut #dreamwastaken fanfic #dream smut #dream imagine #dream x you #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt smut

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angelguk · 3 years

Note

OMg angst thoughts for jock couple...one of them (probably oc) most likely got stood up for a date bc jk has trainings so oc goes on a spiral thinking abt what if theyre just in this relationship cos its comfortable for them and like theyve known each other the longest and maybe theyre dating bc of some twisted ver of stockholm syndrome n oc gets all 😔😔💔😡 and starts ignoring jk for some time

i have been mulling over this for awhile (i think you also sent a follow-up angst ending but lets set the scene first shall we)

pairing: jock!jk and oc

warnings: angst, poor communication, oc being insecure and jk being clueless (and kind of an asshole)

soundtrack: antidote by gas dapperton

(titled — bite the hand that feeds the heart)

You’ve tapped your phone on roughly ten times now, narrowed eyes staring at the time with each lighting of your screen. Every minute that ticks by sinks deep into your heart, clawing something open there, ribs struggling to keep your feelings contained. But you can feel them swelling at the brim of your gaze, eyes blinking harsh under the subdued tawny glow of streetlights. You kick you shoes against the ground to speed up time, pressing your back into the hard brick wall behind you, searching for some sense of support. Even with your mindless excursions, the time still drags on, shifting from ten to fifteen to thirty idle minutes waiting for your lover.

He turns the corner the second you decide to give up and go home.

“Hey!” Jeongguk’s hair dances in the night wind, delicate curls lifting gracefully. “Sorry–sorry! Coach kept us late for a team meeting and then Yoonoh wanted to borrow my notes and then I found out I had an essay due which I had no ide–”

“It’s okay.” You cut him off with an iciness, kicking yourself off the wall, your dark sweater coddling your frame. Autumn was seeping in, once vibrant green trees falling into hues amber and gold. This was your favourite season, the slow quiet onset of winter warming your heart. But that feeling is absent now, your face sent in a scowl as you trudge towards the nearest convenience store, eyes focused on the bright white luminescence of it not bothering to check if Jeongguk is following you.

You can’t see it but he’s staring at the back of your head strangely, lips twisting down with concern.

When he grabs your arm, easily linking it with his, you nearly shrug him off.

“Hey,” Jeongguk tries, tone ginger. “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to be late, but today was he–”

“You could have texted.”

“I–I I know, I just for–”

“It’s fine, Jeongguk,” you snap, finally giving into the urge to shove him away. “It’s fine. You just keep doing this and I hate it.”

You steady walk forward is interrupted by him yanking you back, twisting you around to face him.

“Doing what? Is it my fault that I’m busy all the time?”

“No,” you spit. “I understand that. But you keep thinking I’m just gonna be around waiting for you forever, Jeongguk and that’s not fair!”

The sigh that drifts from his lips irks you. Like you’re the inconvenience to him when all you’ve done is rearrange your world to fit him at the centre.

“God what is your issue? I’m late a couple times and suddenly I’m the villain?” His eyes are hard, jaw set like this has been stuck in his throat for a while and the words are ecstatic to be let out.

“Literally fuck off,” it’s there already, the edge you’ve been slipping on since this all started. At first it was a quiet worry, mulling at the back of your head, but lately, ever since Chayoung opened her big fat mouth it’s grown louder. Insistent to be heard, demanding to break this gentle thing in your hands. “You’re being a dickhead right now.”

“Me?” Jeongguk huffs. “You’re the one complaining about something useless.”

“Useless? My time is useless to you?”

You see it flash in the honey of his eyes, quick enough that you might have missed it had you blinked. “What the hell is this about?” Jeongguk whispers. He’s reaching out for you, hands looking for an anchor. “Why are you so cryptic all the time? Why can’t you just tell me what the problem is?”

Maybe he’s right, because you’re not being honest here. But admitting it to him means admitting it to yourself and you’re too afraid to do that. Too afraid to lose the most precious thing to you, to your heart.

“Cryptic? If you even fucking listened to me for one sec–”

“I do!” Jeongguk returns, eyes narrow. “You just say things and never mean them.”

That gets you, heart stopping dead in your chest. You suddenly wish you could take it all back; the kiss on the rooftop of his apartment, the nights you spent in his bed learning the taste of him, the murmurs of love you’d left on his skin. Because did they mean anything? Did you even truly love him?

That question burns in your head, splits your heart right open, bleeding through the cracks of your ribs.

“You should go home,” you finally murmur. Jeongguk blanches, doe eyes wide.

“What–what? Y/N what the hell are you talking about?”

“Go home,” you repeat, twisting your head away. You can’t look at him cause if you do you’ll cry and you don’t want Jeongguk to see you like that. He grabs your shoulder, you rip his hand away. “Go home, Jeongguk! I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

For second there’s a moment of silence, you take it and start walking forward, up the to convenience store. A whisper in your head tells you he’ll follow, force you to talk to him, share the secrets mauling your heart. But then you hear the scrap of his sneakers against the pavement, fading away instead of drawing close. You walk until you’re at the top of the hill, frame illuminated by the stores bright lights. You look back then, hoping he’s still there. Your gaze finds an empty road instead, copper leaves skipping through the breeze. He’s gone, left you alone to drown in this, like the louder voice in your head knew he would.

#au: jock!jaykay #jungkook x reader #jungkok angst #well....#not all sunshine and rainbows for this couple unfortunately #hope i got ocs sudden realisation of... do i love him or is he just familiar to me right #bts x reader #bts angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario

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