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#so I have to wait u til they leave for the night again
wlntrsldler · 24 days
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fratboy!luke save me…
save me fratboy!luke
u get it….
im obsessed with him. soooo part three under the cut 🫣
part 1 | part 2 | part 4 | part 5 (final)
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tagged lukecastell4n.
yn_yln: save a horse…
lukecastell4n: ride a cowboy 🤠
yn_yln: my cowboy 🩵
trideltumm: had a blast at rodddeo with you 🙈
liked by yn_yln.
poseidonsfavchild: did shame leave too when u left for college ? what is this caption ?
bethchase: LEAVE UR SISTER ALONE
gr0verunderwood: LET THEM HAVE FUN
poseidonsfavchild: they’re getting too comfortable on this app 🤮
chrisr0driguez: me when
lukecastell4n: WHEN UR BALLS DROP AND U FINALLY ASK HER OUT
yn_yln: LITERALLY TOMORROW IF YOU JUST MADE A MOVE SHE LIKES YOU TOO
clarisselarue: …?
chrisr0driguez: i’ll kill u both.
silenabeauregard: omg ur hat is so cute can i borrow it
yn_yln: always!!!! 🩷
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tagged yn_yln, charliebeck, and others.
silenabeauregard: greeks take on the city
yn_yln: best triple date everrrrr
lukecastell4n: we couldve been goin on so many if u confessed earlier chrisr0driguez
clarisselarue: fr
chrisr0driguez: my girlfriend is mean to me :(
clarisselarue: you like it tho
gr0verunderwood: yeah im starting to agree w percy on this one, can yall text each other pls
yn_yln: 💀
silenabeauregard: 😭
charliebeck: we need to do this again!!!!
yn_yln: YESSSS
lukecastell4n: second that
liked by silenabeauregard.
clarisselarue: last night was a movieee
lukecastell4n: i have the video when chris ate shit on the electric scooter 😭
clarisselarue: PLS SEND
chrisr0driguez: PLS DONT I HAVE A CHIPPED TOOTH ALREADY I DONT NEED ANY MORE REMINDERS
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tagged lukecastell4n.
yn_yln: we got married 👰🏻‍♀️👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻
poseidonsfavchild: HELLO? WE SKIPPED A FEW CHAPTERS HERE
yn_yln: its a frat wedding percy calm down
poseidonsfavchild: greek life confuses me
bethchase: same. its nothing like what they taught us at camp
silenabeauregard: real ring when 🤨 lukecastell4n
lukecastell4n: can we get a degree first damn
poseidonsfavchild: i’ve never seen any of yall open a book, are u even gonna graduate ???
lukecastell4n: can’t wait til for the real thing ❤️‍🔥
liked by yn_yln.
chrisr0driguez: my best man spot better be secured
yn_yln: fix ur tooth first
clarisselarue: LMFAOOOOO HELP
bethchase: that dress is so pretty yn!
yn_yln: thanks beth! miss u! 🩷
ksigumm: tridelt top srat 🤫
liked by yn_yln, trideltumm, and others.
lukecastell4n: kappa sig’s sweetheart top tridelt 🥱💯
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ilovemychunkycat · 9 months
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OH GOD I LIVE FOR AFAB SCARA PLEASE MORE
im so happy you guys are liking my posts 😭🩷
relationship: afab!wanderer x dom!amab reader
tw: fingering, breeding, mommy kink(ish), biting, orgasam denial, overstimulation
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You've always pondered about one thing, something that you've been wanting to try ever since you started your relationship with Wanderer.
Could you get him pregnant?
It was a stupid question, sure. He's a puppet, the chances of him being able to reproduce would be nearly impossible.
Nearly impossible. Doesn't hurt to try~
Wanderer is spread infront of you, and you thought tonight was the night to ask.
"Wanderer, can I get you pregnant?" He was startled by the question, staring at you wide-eyed.
"Wha-What?! Archons... could've gave me a warning first!" He grumbled, glaring at you.
"Sorry dear, I just couldn't wait for it." You grinned sheepishly, cupping his cheek.
"Whatever, I'm not sure.. but I guess we could try."
"Yay! Thank you love!" You hold him tight, pecking his cheek. Wanderer blushed, squirming in your grip.
"Can we just get to the- OH!" You sunk your teeth into his neck, drawing blood. The metallic taste filling your senses.
"Hey! That's going to leave a mark.." Wanderer grunted, pushing you away. You only grinned, pulling away from his neck.
You pulled down his pants and underwear, "already wet, huh?"
"Well I.. HMM??" You sunk 2 fingers into him, catching him off guard.
"Stop- hhn! Doing things without w-warning!" He huffed, bucking his hips in your grip.
"You seem to like it though~" You cooed, resting your head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent.
"Whatever.." He blushed, he hated being called out.
You shoved your fingers especially hard into his prostate, arousing a large moan from him.
"MMGH! [Name]!" He shivered, feeling the coil in his stomach near to snapping, but he didn't have the power to tell you. Releasing a loud whine, he came over your fingers.
"Now, who gave you permission to cum?" You pulled your fingers out, sucking the rest of the juices off.
"M sorry- Can u p-please forgive me..."
"Of course, but only for tonight." You smiled at him, kissing him softly and pulling away.
"Care to help with this?" You gestured at your pants, smirking.
"F–Fine.." He pulled your pants down, your cock slapping his face, having you groan at the sight.
"I would totally ask for a blowjob right now, but I have different plans." You pinned Wanderer down, sinking into him.
"[N-Name!] I can't! To much-" He whined, digging his nails into your back when you hit his cervix.
"Cmon hun, you can take it. Your a good boy, aren't you?" You moved, both of you moaning in unsion.
"Fuck- your tight.." You groaned, speeding up your movements.
"[Name]! Please slow down- I'm gonna-"
"No, not yet. Not til I cum, got it?"
"Y-Yes.." He whimpered, holding you closer.
You slammed into his cunt hard, cumming without warning. The feeling had Wanderer cumming also.
"You gonna be a mommy, holding my child." You whined, moving again.
"[Name]! It hurts...! Please!" His pleas were caught on dead ears as you slammed into him, not planning to stop til you know it will get him pregnant. Orgasam after orgasam came.
"M c–cum—MGGH!! cumming! P-Please!" Wanderer came, clamping down onto you, leading to your orgasam too.
"Haah.. Your gonna be a pretty mommy, all f'me.." You slurred.
You got up to get some rags and water, and when you came back he fell asleep.
You guess you overdid it a little to much?
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heyyy girlie can u plz write a Miguel x femreader where reader is drunk? Thxxxx
hii bby!! love it!! thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌
one too many
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miguel o’hara x fem!reader
wc 572
✧.┊MASTERLIST
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"All right, that's it," Miguel sweetly instructs, helping your drunken state out of the car. "Right leg first... that's it, now put it down,"
"It's too heavy," you groan, head falling back to rest against the seat.
"What's too heavy, mama?"
"My head," you mumble, rubbing your temples. "It's too... big," 
"That's what happens when you order a bottle of tequila," he lowly chuckles, slipping his arms underneath you and bringing you to his chest. "If you think it hurts now, wait ‘til tomorrow." he grins, kissing your forehead as he carries you towards the house.
Since Miguel had been working more than usual this last week, he knew it was only fair to take you out on a date to make up for lost time, to apologise even. Work was important to Miguel, but you're much more. He never wanted to take you for granted, so dates were imperative to show you how much he appreciated you.
So this evening, after a week of missed dinners and late nights, he took you out for dinner and drinks at one of your favourite bars. You didn't drink often, but that didn't mean you weren't partial to the occasional beverage. Since you weren't a regular drinker, your alcohol intolerance was low- extremely low compared to your towering and muscular boyfriend.
"Okay, you think you can sit here and wait for me?" Miguel rhetorically asks, gently placing you at the edge of the bed. "I'll only be a minute," he says softly, trying to slip out of your grip. 
"I don't want you to leave me again," you sadly smile, loosening your hold around his forearm.
"Cariño... baby,” he sighs, crouching to the floor between your knees. "I'm sorry. I should've been here, it's just—"
"I know," you interrupt, looking down at him as you play with the framing strands of hair around his face. "I just miss you, that's all... I miss having you around,"
"I know, mama. And I'm sorry," he says, his lips lining in a soft smile. "I haven't been here,"
"It's okay," you nod, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks. "You're here now," you say, speaking as though your goal was to comfort him. 
Miguel doesn't say anything. He smiles, looking up at you. "What would I do without you?" he whispers, pushing the hair away from your eyes, tucking the rogue strands behind your ears. "Hermosa," he adds, kissing the tip of your nose as he stands. "Let's get you ready for bed, hm? How does that sound?"
"Good... very good," you laugh, kicking off your heels. "This dress has been killing me,"
Chuckling. "I’m sure,"
Miguel helps undress you, working gently to remove the uncomfortable fabric from your sleepy form, giving you moments of privacy between- even though it was nothing he hadn't seen before. 
He cautiously removes your makeup, delicately swiping the cloth over your face, being extra careful around your eyes. He adds a thin layer of your favourite moisturiser, then dresses you in one of his t-shirts before carrying you to the top of the bed, tucking you under the covers.
Miguel returns a few minutes later with sweatpants draping from his hips, two glasses of water and a pack of paracetamol. He sets the glass and medicine on your nightstand before sliding into bed beside you, immediately pulling you to his chest. 
He kisses your forehead, adjusting you in his arms. "Goodnight, querida."
— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —
artwork is by shuploc
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nikolais-eyepatch · 2 months
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HI AFSA!!!
UHM, okay so i read that your in need of some requests??? if so, i'm your gal!!!!
may we get some dazai x gn reader, where the reader is clingy but is shy to start getting cuddly with dazai because they don't want to upset him with their clingyness??
tysm, have a wonderful day<3
omggg hiii! I love this sm sounds like me...I'm screaming rn , love u! stay safe love! Help this is kinda good-
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Im gonna make this into hc's! and maybe a scenario? mhm yeah prob.
starting off I'm gonna go like this, you and dazai are cute together! you show obvious signs of caring of his well being verbally (for now) while he does it physically.
at first he dosent mind
as long as you love him and let him he's fine! Is what he tells himself...
but soon he starts getting touchy...and he notices that your tense, but he excuses it
you guys, it's dazai
he's one clingy man, he loves everything about you, your face, laugh, personality- he loves you!
but it gets to a point where he's like 'huhhh?!!!'
so whenever he intiates his touches he notices you just shy away, was it him?
eventually you talk it out and he has a whole 'what? no! don't be shy, doll! just do whatever feels right!' he lowkey says that cuz he cant wait til its mutual
now the two of you have established that problem! yippe!
only problem...he wont take his hands off you!
work? Hes distracting you with whines and pouts about how come you don't love him! Course you do, he's just dramatic!
eating? he's making you have some sort of contact- hand touching isnt enough- he needs to be on you or have you on him!
Like he won't even let you use the bathroom atp ( 🙄 )
Since u decided to be affectionate back whenever your litterly not touching for a hot sec he's so over the top! Ughh!
"Oh so you don't love me, belladonna?! I see how it is!" Dazai whines as you get off the bed trying to cling on to you, complaining.
" samu? What do you mean? " you question as you unwillingy get out of bed to try and retrieve the blanket that mysteriously ended up on the floor; most likely due to the man on your bed shuffling in the night.
As you pick it up and carry it as you walk to the bed you see an annoyed dazai as he crosses his arms and stares at you and you without saying know what he means.
With a loud sigh you comment "only for the blanket" as you get in the bed and wrap yourself around the blanket as you offer some to Dazai
He still doesn't budge as he stares at you and you just state at him as you inch closer and you put an arm around his waist as he sits on the bed meanwhile with you laying down, cold and shivering...man you should really turn on the heater, falls cold.
You then feel him slightly move as he decided to finally join you; though once he does he buried your head into the crook of his neck as he puts his chin on your head then slightly tilts his head as he smells the familiar scent of your shampoo then whined "bella...your so cruel...leaving me like that...you shall make it up by doing this with me.." Is the last thing you hear before you drift back to sleep again as you feel his hold get tighter and a sudden shift in movement as you feel a soft warmth on your forehead as you hear something along the lines of 'you're forgiven ♡'
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ghostbeam · 6 months
Text
empty til she fills | fuyumi todoroki x reader
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You’re beautiful, really. It’s truly no wonder why they chose you for the job, every line and curve and fold. They’ll never be able to capture you the way you really are. Nothing compares to the real thing.
Her eyes gaze over your neck, down your chest, over your stomach, your thighs. That familiar hunger sits in Fuyumi’s stomach, aches in her jaw. She wants to bite you everywhere that she can, really make you bleed. But Fuyumi doesn’t feed from anything but animals, and it’s not like you’d satisfy her hunger anyway. She’s given up on that feeling a long time ago.
Notes: Hiiiii everyone!!! This is the first installment of vampire empire and it’s all about fuyumi!!! It’s much shorter than I thought, but when it was done it was done u know? I love her I think she should be allowed to go apeshit and drink blood and not hold back if she wants to!!!!!!! Let her fuck!!!!!! Anyways yeah thanks for reading!! (title from vampire empire by big thief) u can listen to the playlist for the whole anthology here! Also I made a Pinterest board!
Warnings: 18+, minors dni, f! reader, explicit content, dark content, angst for like the briefest moment, violence, vampires, detailed descriptions of blood and gore (on both reader and another person), murder (u kill someone! It’s offscreen tho), blood kink, biting, drinking blood (fuyumi drinks from reader, u both drink from the dead man), biting and drinking from already open wounds, fingering, oral (reader eats fuyumi out!!! Yay!!!) (bloody), bloody sex, reader is sort of a masochist, soooo many commas, a line completely stolen from fascination (1979) cause I had to ajsjsjsjs, perspective changes between u and fuyumi like a lot idk I’m sorry she spoke to me<3
words: 4.3k
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Fuyumi has always been a little unsure of what to do with her hands. When she sits, when she walks, when she kisses, while she waits. Where does she put them? Where do they go?
It’s the same, squeezing porcelain clay through her fingers, molding and shaping and running a wire through the middle and cursing when it doesn’t topple over. She’s bad with her hands, but she loves it, lumpy mugs and all. 
And her mugs are lumpy, most of them break in the kiln, but whatever she’s proud of, she sends to her brothers. 
She’s never been much of an artist, and all the years she’s lived (many, many years), none of it ever interested her. But when you’ve done everything, there’s no harm in trying. And so even though her pots and bowls end up twisted and misshapen on the wheel, she tries and tries until they’re at least a little bit useful.
The truth is that there, in the studio, surrounded by people who do all the same things that she does, mess up and try again, break things when they don’t turn out, or smash fragile wet clay held together by careful hands, Fuyumi feels human. She makes mistakes. She screws up. It’s something she’s never been allowed to do before. 
Plus, you’re there. 
The anatomy class pays you to model. Sometimes, she sees you run around in your long robe, buying snacks from the vending machines or remembering something you left in your car. She’s completely enamored with you, with your humanity, how free you seem. She’s envious, in a way, but really she just likes you, wants you—wants to bite you. Which is dangerous for Fuyumi because she stopped feeding from humans ages ago. 
You collide on a Saturday night, left alone in the studio, separated by one wall. Fuyumi works late because she doesn’t sleep, and one of the owners of the building had given her a set of keys to lock up when she leaves. When she opens the door to the pottery studio, you’re out in the hallway, slapping your palm against the door next door and murmuring soft no’s as you peak through the glass. You have half a mind to just bust the thing down, except now you’re not alone in the hallway. 
Fuyumi. The pretty vampire with streaks of scarlet through her ivory hair, cute glasses perched on her nose, and hands you think about way more often than you should steps out of the pottery studio. You’ve caught her staring at you before, and you can’t tell if it’s because she knows of the similar condition you have in common, or if she’s as interested in you as you are in her. 
You both pause, caught staring at one another. The only thing on Fuyumi’s mind is that you’re probably completely naked under your robe. 
“I—um, got locked out.” You say, finally, blowing air you have no need for out of your throat like a breath. It must be nerves. “My clothes are in there. My everything is in there.”
“Oh!” She shakes her head free of the thoughts of your bare body. Then a realization, “I have a key!”
You move out of her way and let her unlock the door, jiggling the key in the lock and pushing it open. You grin, press your hands into her shoulders and let out a squeal of delight. “Thank you!”
“Yeah, no problem.” She speaks, willing herself not to melt at the feeling of your fingers digging into her flesh for a moment. She turns to leave, satisfied with the interaction, enough to hold her over for a lifetime, maybe. Your hands on her shoulders, your robe against your skin, your neck. 
“Fuyumi!” You call, and she feels like maybe she’s dreaming, or maybe she’s hearing things. But when she turns around, you’re looking at her expectantly. “Would you wait for me? I don’t really wanna walk to my car alone at night.”
It’s a good excuse, you think. Fuyumi’s got that bleeding heart (or lack of one). She won’t leave you alone. 
“‘Course! Yeah, I’ve gotta lock the front, anyways, so—yeah, I’ll wait.” She nods, stepping back into the room and letting the door fall shut behind her. She watches you untie you’re robe at the middle, and she spins on her heel, facing the door again. She hears you chuckle, and it makes her feel a little silly. You’re naked for, like, four hours every day. It’s not like you would care if she watched. 
But Fuyumi cares, because she doesn’t want to see you naked for the first time like that. She doesn’t want to see you naked and know she won’t be able to touch you. 
“Okay, you can turn around, now.” You speak now that you’re dressed. She turns and you walk toward her, locking elbows. She leads you outside, locks the door with your hand against her arm like she’s yours, and walks you to your car. 
“Guess I’ll see you next week.” She tells you, pulling away from you to walk to her bike. You call her name and it’s deja vu.
“Do you want to go get coffee?” You ask, stopping Fuyumi in her tracks yet again. She turns.
“It’s eleven o’clock at night.” Fuyumi says like an idiot. 
“I just—I wanna keep…hanging out.” You say, and well, so does Fuyumi. Of course, she does. “Your bike’ll fit in the trunk. I’ll drive you home after.”
So, she says yes, stuffs her bike into your trunk with the back seats folded down, and ducks into your car. 
You drive like a maniac, and you listen to your music way too loud, and Fuyumi hopes she doesn’t look as terrified as she feels despite knowing she can’t die in a car accident. But you can, she thinks, so yea, she’s terrified. And you drive like this all the time?
But you both make it in one piece, skirting into the parking lot of a diner with a yellowing neon sign out front. Everyone knows you inside, greeting you with happy smiles and asking you questions about your life, details Fuyumi hopes to know after tonight. 
You take her to a booth in the corner, sliding in next to her instead of across, thighs pressed up against each other as a waitress brings you both a mug of hot coffee. You order apple pie with ice cream, and Fuyumi envies the fact that you’re even able to eat it. Since becoming a vampire, she’s lost any appetite for anything that isn’t blood. 
“So, when were you turned?” You speak, licking vanilla ice cream off the back of your spoon, head resting on you fist as you stare at her. If Fuyumi had a working heart it would be beating out of her chest right now. “I don’t think you’re all that old. You actually seem pretty young. Tell me, maybe in the mid nineties, early two-thousands?”
Fuyumi opens then closes her mouth, unsure of what to say. How could you have possibly known (besides the fact that you got the decade way off)?
“I was turned in ’87 by an old boyfriend who couldn’t control himself.” You shrug, revealing the information like you hadn’t just told her that you, the little human she’s been so fascinated by lately, are a vampire. 
“You’re a vampire.” She says—a statement—not a question, because of course, you’re a vampire. 
“You didn’t know?” You ask, softer. She shakes her head, stares at the booth in front of her. She feels your fingers underneath her chin, and she’s not sure how she never noticed it before, but you’re hands are freezing. She lets you guide her to look at you. “Hey, are you okay? Did I freak you out?”
And it’s not that you’re a vampire. It’s not even that you’re a vampire that she was convinced was human. It’s that she wanted to bite you, wanted to feel that pop and gush, drink from you what’s not actually even being pumped through your body anymore, blood that’s lying dormant in your veins. And the thing is, she still wants to. 
“I think I’m just shocked.” She speaks, willing herself to calm down, accept the situation, adapt. “I haven’t met another one of us here in town. It’s new, but it’s…good. I’m actually a little excited about it.”
“You don’t sound excited.” You observe, letting your hand fall to her thigh. 
“I am—no really. I am.” She grins, leaning toward you. “How come you can eat real food?”
You think maybe she still hasn’t processed everything yet, the smile on her face a little unnerving. And there’s something in her eyes, raw, dangerous, hungry. It makes you shiver. “I never lost the appetite.”
“It tastes good to you?” 
“So good.” You nod, unknowingly moving a little closer. Two girls pressed up against each other in a booth in a dark corner. Two vampires. Two monsters. 
You’re there later than either of you expected to be, fingers intertwined, hands brushing away stray hairs, and words whispered against ears, tucking your face into her neck when you laugh at something inappropriate. 
When you leave, Fuyumi tugs on your hand, interlocks two fingers as you walk to your car. You drive just as bad, but she doesn’t think she minds it this time. To die by your side, and all that. 
When you drop her off at home, you scribble your number on her wrist with a green glitter gel pen and resist the urge to do something drastic like kiss her or invite yourself in. 
Fuyumi realizes she’s left her bike in your trunk, her only mode of transportation to the studio besides walking. She eyes the green glitter on her skin and opens her phone. 
left my bike in ur car:/ pick me up to go to the studio tmrrw? Read 2:22am
be there at 10 sent 2:24am
u can sit in on my class sent 2:25am
She does sit in on your class the next morning. You hold her hand and show her where to sit, a view of both the artist’s sketches of you and the actual you draped over a couch. It’s probably inappropriate to sit there all horny in the middle of this art class, but you won’t stop looking at her. You know exactly what your doing, mimicking the rise and fall of your chest like you’re breathing when she knows you’re not. 
You’re beautiful, really. It’s truly no wonder why they chose you for the job, every line and curve and fold. They’ll never be able to capture you the way you really are. Nothing compares to the real thing.
Her eyes gaze over your neck, down your chest, over your stomach, your thighs. That familiar hunger sits in Fuyumi’s stomach, aches in her jaw. She wants to bite you everywhere that she can, really make you bleed. But Fuyumi doesn’t feed from anything but animals, and it’s not like you’d satisfy her hunger anyway. She’s given up on that feeling a long time ago.
When the class ends, Fuyumi leaves to make more misshapen mugs, taking a few out of the kiln she thinks she’ll give to you. As the sun sets, both of you get ready to leave, and you’re at the door to the pottery studio by the time Fuyumi is done cleaning her space. You’re a little disappointed you missed watching her on the wheel, her pretty hands shaping the clay like you’ve seen her do many times before. You knock on the door frame, and she looks up at you, grins. Her hair is tied up, pieces of hair falling over her face, her cardigan falling down and exposing her right shoulder. You can’t get over how pretty she is, a little messy.
“Hi.” You speak.
“Hey. You ready?” She asks, throwing her bag over her shoulder and walking towards you. You always want to watch her walk towards you—never away.
“I’m ready.” You nod, intertwining your fingers with hers when she makes her way towards you. You drive Fuyumi to your house, your arm over the console and your hand on her thigh. 
Your place is small, really just big enough for you. The walls are a mauve color that Fuyumi decides she likes, tiny star shaped twinkle lights hang over each window instead of curtains, a bundle of violets stuffed inside a beer bottle sit on your coffee table, books and dvd’s and records all stacked against one another with what seems to be no sense of organization in your bookcases. It’s really not much for a vampire.
She sets her tote bag carefully on the counter, red and white checkered, pulling two of her signature misshapen mugs from inside. One painted blue with tiny yellow stars and the other lined with terribly drawn strawberries. 
“These are for you.” She tells you, turning to face you as you’re bent over your stereo, looking for a station you like. Bits from the past stick with you like a refrigerator magnet. Fuyumi wants to remember the look on your face when you turn around and see her gift for the rest of her life. 
“I love them!” You gush, rushing over to pick both of them up. “They’re perfect. One for me, and one for you. We’ll drink blood from them with our pinkies up and cheers to LeFanu.”
Fuyumi laughs, says nothing about the blood. “I’m glad you like them.”
You turn around, opening one of your cabinets open with a finger, setting the mugs down on the counter and moving two snoopy holiday mugs on one shelf towards the back. You set the gift down in their place and wave a hand over it like your presenting them on a gameshow, “I’ve replaced the snoopy mugs with them. That’s a big deal, you know.”
“I’m honored.” Fuyumi grins, moving around the counter to stand near you. 
“You should be.” You lean a little closer to her, let her hand brush against your hip, hook her fingers in your belt loops. You nudge your nose against hers, and she takes that as a sign to kiss you. 
Chapped lips meet yours, hungrier than you expected, much less soft than the girl before you. There’s a burning in your gut, her hands, those hands you’ve payed so much attention to, pressing into your hips, pulling you flush against her front. You let out a moan when she swipes her tongue against your lip, your bodies pressing closer and closer like you’ll become one person. She moves her leg in between your thighs, pressed up against you, and your mouth falls open in a gasp, one she wastes no time taking advantage of, all tongue and teeth, all her, her, her. 
The two of you end up on your couch, unable to make it to the bed. If you had to wait any longer, you think maybe you’d both explode. She eats you out, there in your living room, makes you come three times in a row, familiar hungry eyes never stray from your own. 
She doesn’t talk about the vampire thing. Ever. She goes quiet when you bring it up, busying herself with something else like washing the dishes in your sink or trying to find something to watch on tv. You mostly let it go because you know Fuyumi. You know how fascinated she is by humans, how she envies them, how that envy and fascination is the very reason you’re together now. 
And maybe it should hurt you, the fact that believing you were human was the one reason she’d been so interested. But you know her, bleeding unbeating heart and all, she loves you. She loves you and your monster, she just doesn’t love her’s.
It’s difficult to drag the body through your house alone, vampire strength being something you hadn’t been blessed with once you’d turned all those years ago. Fuyumi sent you a message that she’d be at the studio late and would probably just end up going home instead of coming over. You figure you have time to drain this guy of all he’s worth, pack him up into little tupperwares in your fridge and be done with him by morning. 
You’ve done this a million times before, dragged a body out to your back yard, fed from it until your satisfied before saving the rest. It’s enough to last you a couple of weeks. It’s a good system. 
You don’t hear the sliding door open, you just hear Fuyumi say your name. You look up at her, blood on your mouth, your neck, your hands, fangs poking out underneath your top lip. You’re sure you look terrifying, but it’s the look on her face that scares you. 
It’s disgust, and betrayal, and anger. It’s tears welling up in her pretty, gray eyes and her mouth falling open and closed at the sight of you. 
But Fuyumi, well, Fuyumi wants to join you. It’s taking everything in her not to fall to her knees and sink her teeth into the neck of this possibly innocent man. She wants to drink and kiss you, and drink, and touch you, and then drink some more, this time from your neck. But Fuyumi doesn’t kill for blood, and she thought that neither did you. 
“I can’t believe you.” Her words are quiet. If you both hadn’t been outside on a completely silent night, you don’t think you would have even heard her. 
“Fuyumi…” You begin, standing up from where you’d previously crouched down, blood on your hands falling against the concrete in sticky splatters. She takes a step back like she’s scared of you. 
“You killed him.”
“Fuyumi,” another step.
“Stay there.” You stop. It’s not supposed to be like this. She’s supposed to love you. She does love you. You have to tell yourself that. 
“I’m a vampire. What did you expect? This is who we are.” You try to explain. 
“It’s not—it’s not who I am.” She shakes her head, flashes of red appear behind her eyes, the teeth of her brothers, her hands covered in blood the same way yours are now. Laughing, hollering, arms tangled together, the last time they’d all been with each other, the last time they were happy. 
“It is. It is who you are. Fuyumi, you’re starving.” Your words seem to do something to her, her mouth falls closed. A decision is made, and her feet take her closer and closer to you and the body on the floor. 
She wraps her hand around the back of your neck, thumbs through the blood you’re covered in and kisses you. She licks the blood on your lips, moaning from either your tongue or taste, you’re unsure. You pull her close, blood smearing against her white t-shirt. She pulls away from your lips, kissing your jaw and your neck, poking her tongue out to lick up the mess. You place your hands on her cheeks, pulling her back to look at you. 
“Come here.” You whisper, pulling her down as you crouch to the ground. “I want you to drink—I want to share.”
She lets you pull her down, taking your hand in hers, slippery, slick. You move away from his neck, leaving it open for her, urging her. This is what she wants. There’s something about drinking from your bite in the man’s neck. You’ve been here, you’re bite is her bite is her blood. 
And, god, is it delicious. She drinks, lets it fall down her throat in large gulps, dripping down her chin and neck. A sound escapes her throat, guttural, everything she’s deprived herself of having, here in between her teeth. She watches you while she drinks, eyes looking up through white lashes, reaching a hand out to hold you by the wrist, grounded. She pulls away, heaving, even though she has no need for breath. Her lips, saturated in red, begging to be tasted.
“You’re beautiful like that,” You speak, squeezing her hand, “with his blood on your mouth.”
She kisses you, all tongue, her fangs catching on your bottom lip. She pulls away and pushes you down, lets you bite the other side of the dead man’s neck, pets your hair as you drink. It goes on like this for a while, kissing, drinking, touching, whispers of please and oh, god and both of your names over and over until you’re a jumbled mess of words and sounds and blood and guts. 
You stumble, half naked through the door, Fuyumi’s hands and lips all over you. You don’t make it to the bed, a habit the two of you have seemed to form, falling down on the hardwood, limbs all tangled. With her shirt already discarded outside, you thumb the hooks of her bra open, throwing it to the side. Blood has dripped from her throat down between the valley of her breasts, and you lick it up, feeling her back arch as she hovers above you. 
She kisses your neck, almost frantic. Her fangs brush against your skin like she might sink into you, but she doesn’t, just kisses you so sweetly. 
“Can I bite you, please?” She moans. “I need to—I’ve wanted to—”
“Yes.” You interrupt her, throwing your head back against the floor and baring your neck to her. She wastes no time sinking her fangs into your flesh, blood pouring into her mouth. Coppery and sweet, a hint of licorice and cherry—Fuyumi thinks she can’t get enough. You gasp, hands grabbing at her waist, fingers digging into her sides enough to leave a mark. You’ve never felt pain like this, all agony and bliss. 
She smiles at you, bloody, when she pulls away. A part of you is her’s now, nestled between her ribs, living in her stomach. You taste yourself on her lips, hands pulling at her jeans, your leg moving between her thighs to grind against her cunt. 
You flip her onto her back, sucking on her neck, venturing down her body. You pull her jeans from her legs, along with her underwear, spreading her legs. She’s so wet, thighs sticky with arousal as you run a finger through her folds. A whine escapes her lips as you thumb over her clit. With your eyes on her, you press your tongue to her entrance, watching how her face contorts in pleasure. It reminds you of the way she’d stared at you while drinking from the man, hand clutched to your wrist, not once daring to look away, With one hand, you reach up to do the same, bloody fingers circling her wrist as you devour her. 
She writhes, arching her back and grinding against your face, a mess of slick and blood pooling in your mouth as you bring her closer and closer to orgasm. 
“Please!” She cries, “please! Oh my god!”
Her moans only spur you on as you speed up the movement of your tongue, squeezing her wrist as you let her move her hips against your mouth. She comes with a strangled cry of your name, legs shaking around your head, falling limp against the floor as you lick at her swollen clit. You pull away, rising from your place in between her thighs to hover over her.
“Like that?” You ask her, placing soft kisses against her jaw. She manages a soft mhm before moving her face to kiss you.You run your hands up and down the sides of her body, “so pretty…”
“Let me touch you.” She begs, pushing herself up onto her elbows. You nod, letting her maneuver you so you’re on your back again. She kisses you again, swirling her tongue against yours, tasting herself. In a way, part of her is yours now, too.
She slips her hand into your underwear, gasping at the feeling of how wet you are. You take the opportunity to lick into her mouth, moaning against her lips as she slips two fingers inside of you. She pulls away from your mouth and eyes the open wound on your neck. You lock eyes with her, nodding in approval, allowing her to bite you again. 
She bites and curls her fingers inside you at the same time. A choked scream escapes your throat at both sensations. You move your hips as she pumps her fingers in and out of you, her throat bobbing with each drink she takes from you. It’s overwhelming, and so satisfying, being the consumed for a change. 
Her thumb brushes over your clit and you jolt, gripping her waist as she brings you closer to the edge. 
“Kiss me!” You cry, “Fuyumi!” 
She pulls away from your neck, watching how the blood flows from the wound, continuing her movements against your pussy. You pull her down to kiss you as you come from her fingers. You’re both moaning against each other, passing your blood between your tongues. She pulls her hand from between your legs, stares at the pink-tinted slick and how it webs between her fingers before wrapping her lips around her fingers and sucking them clean off. 
She smiles down at you, hair a mess, glasses-less as they’d fallen off much earlier. You press your palms against her cheeks, admiring her. This Fuyumi is hungry, and bloody, and the furthest thing from human. You love her like this. You’ll be her’s forever, if she’ll have you. 
You pull her into the shower with you, washing the blood from her hair and her back, taking turns and watching the blood swirl down the drain. She cleans the wound on your neck, and places a bandage over it, though you know it’ll be healed by morning. You place her glasses back onto her face. The two of you fall into bed, finally, arms and legs tangled together, huddled closely. She rubs over the bandage on your neck. 
“Next time, I wanna bite you, okay?” You ask, nudging your nose against her. She lets out a laugh you’re excited to hear for the rest of your immortal life and nods. 
“I can’t wait.”
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capricornlevi · 2 years
Note
❛ i’m not jealous. ❜ + AOT Jean 👀👀
ahhh thank u my love! i love jean too much so this turned from a drabble into a fic lmao he awakens something in me 😭😭❤️
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jean kirstein x f!reader (wc 5.5k)
brief mention of reiner x reader, nsfw content (fingering, handjobs, vaginal sex, semi-public sex, 'hold the moan', praise kink), alcohol use (all sex sober & consensual)
nsfw - minors/ageless blogs do not interact!
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"Your turn."
You don't hear Jean's voice at first, his words drowned out by the raucous cheering of the others sitting on the living room floor. It's loud in here, almost deafening, and he's sitting at the other end of the circle with six or so people sitting on either side of you. He repeats himself, but again, his words are lost to the sound of your friends reacting to the last round of spin-the-bottle.
The whole party had agreed to the game after surprisingly little convincing, and you've sat watching everyone take their turns for the last half-hour. You haven't been selected yet. Eren's spin was a close call having landed only a couple inches to your right, but you agreed without objection that it definitely stopped in front of Mikasa.
Any hope of you hearing Jean’s voice disappears once your friends start to cheer loudly once more. You let out a little laugh and a clap at seeing Eren's obvious blush after he shuffled back to his place in the circle. It’s sweet.
You're sitting cross-legged, a beer in one hand and your phone in the other, trying (in vain, since Connie keeps accidentally pushing you as he hops up to grab drinks) to text your roommate to tell her you won't be home til tomorrow (Mikasa's offered you the couch, and how can you say no when the party's just kicking off now?)
Before today, you had never really liked the idea of spin-the-bottle. It always seemed like a cheesy, immature game that people only play as a last resort, when the party has become so dull that the only other option is leaving. But surprisingly, tonight is starting to get fun; you can’t deny that the game is contributing to that. Everyone's at that stage of tipsiness where it's all flushed cheeks and laughter without anyone getting too messy. All of your friends are approaching the game lightheartedly, and you can’t help but feel you were too cynical at the start of the night.
Nobody here is actually dating one another - officially, at least - so the potential for hurt feelings is kept to a minimum.
You're distracted by an elbow to the ribs, deliberate but not forceful, just enough to get you to pay attention to the person next to you. You turn to Connie, brows furrowed as you try to see what he wants from you.
"Apparently it's your turn," he informs you, eyes shifting to the opposite side of the room as he speaks. "So I've been told three times now."
Setting your phone down on the floor (a safe distance away from your beer), you smile at the eager faces looking over at you. They must have been waiting for you to take your turn for a couple of minutes now.
You crawl to the centre of the circle without further hesitation and with a flick of your wrist, you spin the green-glass bottle that's been the centre of everyone's focus this evening.
It makes a light clink as it spins and your heart rate quickens unexpectedly. The room has gone quiet with anticipation as it has done for earlier rounds too, but you suddenly feel a lot of pressure for a reason you can't quite ascertain.
It spins for what seems like twice as long as everyone else's turn, but finally it starts to slow down, the whirling sound of the glass on the wooden floor getting slower and slower ...
The bottle clinks to a halt in front of Reiner.
A boorish cheer rises from the others in the circle and you grin. Reiner isn't the worst option … on the contrary, he's actually one of the better ones. He’s handsome, sure, but you know the two of you don’t have any prospect of a romantic future - you had gone on a few dates in freshman year and soon learned that it's difficult to get him to stop talking about the gym for more than five minutes - so sharing a quick kiss shouldn’t make things weird between the two of you.
It’s not the first time you’ve done this, after all; he’s a decent kisser if memory serves. He'll do fine.
That being said, you try to ignore a strange feeling brewing in the back of your mind. It's subtle but it's there, gnawing at you - not exactly a feeling of disappointment, you don't think. Even if it is disappointment, it's certainly not because the bottle landed on Reiner.
You think it’s because the bottle didn't land on someone else.
Shaking off that feeling, you shift your legs so you're sitting comfortably in the centre of the circle. Reiner rolls his eyes when he sees you're waiting for him to come to you, but he obliges anyway.
"Hi," you say with a little laugh, unsure of how else to greet him.
"Hi," he repeats, grinning back, and once he sees that you’re ready he doesn’t wait for even a beat longer. He leans down to press his lips against yours.
As spin-the-bottle kisses go, it's good. Reiner knows what he's doing. He moves his lips against yours gently but firmly, and he doesn't push it by trying to slip you some tongue or anything. It's not heated or passionate, but it's nice. It's fine, just as you thought.
About ten seconds pass before you pull back, the cheers of your friends ringing in your ears.
That strange, inexplicably disappointed feeling is still there as you slip back to your space in the circle, eyes scanning the group as you take your place on the floor once again.
As chants of 'you're next' start to ring out again, you're relieved to see that it's Connie who's being summoned. The fact that he's next to take a turn means he can't try to annoy you about the kiss, and it means you have time to knock back the last of your beer before texting your housemate.
However, when you've settled back down and taken a steadying breath, you don't pick up your phone. Instead you glance around the circle in front of you again, properly taking stock of everyone’s reaction this time.
Eren's still blushing - that's kind of adorable, actually - and Reiner is looking surprisingly reserved next to him. He’s not too smug, thankfully. That would be annoying.
Sasha and Niccolo are cheering with their bottles, their arms thrown affectionately around each other. Next to then, Armin is laughing at some joke that Hitch has whispered into his ear.
Your eyes land on Jean next. He looks ... well, you're not really sure how he looks. He's wearing an expression you haven't seen on him before.
He certainly doesn't look happy but he's not angry, either; an almost-sullen look is written on his face, his features are neutral but his eyes are glowering as he meets your gaze across the room. His expression is uncharacteristically impassive.
He’s usually animated, chatty, confident; now, he’s near-impossible to read. You’d never thought Jean would be anything but an open book, but you cannot for the life of you determine how he’s feeling.
You quirk the corners of your lips up into a soft smile just to see if he responds, and he glances away.
It's not harsh, it's just the action of someone who’s stuck in his own reverie, but that strange feeling still weighs on you.
___
The hours pass quickly and the party slowly starts to die down. Because of the size of the group, you had just played one round of spin-the-bottle, but a few well-timed suggestions for other games (flip cup, Kings, amongst others) means that you're kept busy for most of the night.
It provides a welcome distraction for whatever unsettling realisation you had while sitting in the circle; that maybe, somewhere deep down, you could imagine kissing one of your friends.
That you want to kiss one of your friends, and that you’re torturing yourself with the thought that maybe he wants to kiss you too.
Checking your phone screen, you're informed that the time is now well after three a.m. This makes sense considering almost everyone who doesn't live here has now left, leaving the room more empty than you’d seen it in a while.
The apartment is shared by Mikasa, Sasha, Eren, and Connie, all of whom are now trying to pluck crushed-up solo cups from the kitchen floor so the mess isn't as bad tomorrow.
Apart from them, you and Jean are the only two remaining. Turns out Eren had offered Jean the couch too, unbeknownst to you or Mikasa, and it was too late for him to call a cab at this point.
Neither of you had discussed what you’re going to do about it.
"Guys, we can clean up," you offer, going to take the plastic bag from Sasha so you can pick up where she left off. "It'll give us some time to sort out who's taking the couch."
Sasha’s brow furrows. “Are you sure?"
“Positive.”
"Yep, sounds good," Jean agrees then, following your lead. "I can take the floor, anyway. All I need is a pillow and I'm good."
You look at him, unsure. You don’t want him to have a sleepless night for your sake. “Really?"
"I've slept worse places," he replies with the faintest of smiles. "Eren and Connie don't let me forget it."
"He passed out under an oak tree after a party last semester," Eren pipes up, answering your question before you even have to ask it. "Woke up covered in leaves."
"Maybe the floor isn't so bad, then," you acknowledge, though still throw him a quick glance - an 'are you sure?' sort of look - and he nods so as to put your mind at ease.
"As long as you're okay with it?" he asks. “Since you’ll be here too.”
You agree.
“Sounds good to me.”
___
"Are you gonna help me clean up, or just stand there eating that shitty pizza?"
Your playful taunt doesn't do anything to convince Jean to set down his meal. You shove a plastic cup into the bag for dramatic effect, and all it makes him do is laugh.
It's a nice sound. Unfortunately.
"They said they wanted to make a start on the clean-up, not finish it," he mumbles through a mouthful of pizza. "You're going overboard."
"I'm being considerate," you reply with faux indignance. "And I'm not tired yet."
"Then have some pizza."
"It's cold, Jean."
"It's best when it's cold!"
You pull a face. "It's not."
"Then stick it in the microwave," he responds without hesitation.
"It'll wake them all up!"
"With the noise you're making now they'll barely even hear it," Jean retorts, leaning down to pick up your bag and shaking the contents to demonstrate his point. Turns out that the sounds of your clean-up are considerably louder than the microwave would be.
"Okay, okay, stop," you chuckle, plying the bag from his hand to stop him from really pissing off your hosts.
"So, pizza?"
"No, I don't wanna go to sleep with garlic breath."
"No garlic on it. I had some before the- that game thing, earlier. And Connie didn't complain."
You laugh at that. "I'm good, still."
Jean sets his pizza down, arms crossed across his chest. That expression from earlier is back. It’s a little unsettling; he’s back to being closed-off, and you don’t know how to react. You’re so accustomed to seeing Jean’s emotions written all over his face.
"That game was something, huh?" he begins. His tone is conversational but you decide to err on the side of caution with your response.
"Yeah, it was fun, I guess."
He nods shortly. He’s looking a bit braver now, eyes peering over at you curiously.
"Yeah, I guess,” he repeats. He shuffles his feet just a little as a beat of silence passes. "So, Reiner and you-?"
He doesn't finish the sentence but trails off like it's a question. You set the bag down with surprise, turning to face him properly now. Mirroring his posture, you cross your arms over your chest. You smile, but likely look as perplexed as you feel.
"What do you mean 'Reiner and me'?"
Your own question isn't hostile, it's just curious. You have no idea where this is coming from.
Jean is starting to blush now, a soft pink hue forming on the bridge of his nose as he tries to form an answer.
"Just ... that was some kiss, I guess."
"Fairly standard," you say dismissively. "Nothing too special."
"Standard?"
"I mean, yeah, standard. For a game of spin-the-bottle, y'know?"
"I-"
He's acting funny. You've never seen him like this; the awkwardness, the staring when he thinks you're not looking, the fact he's dwelling on your kiss with Reiner ...
The realisation hits you out of nowhere as you gasp, interrupting him with a gleeful exclamation of -
"Jean, you're jealous!"
Far past a light blush at this stage, Jean's face is red with embarrassment ... and something else, maybe, but you're not certain. You don’t want to let hope cloud your judgement.
"What are you talking about?" he asks, playing down your excitement.
You're smiling now, confident still that your assumptions are correct. His reaction betrays him.
"Well you're acting jealous, anyway.”
He huffs a breath of air through his nose, shaking his head as if in disagreement (but really, you’re sure it's just to buy himself a little time.)
"I'm not jealous."
Even his outright denials aren't convincing you, and you think he knows that he's losing. He looks thrown-off. Every time he tells you that he isn’t jealous he gets closer and closer to blurting out the truth.
So you decide to put him out of his misery and throw down the gauntlet.
"I saw you looking at me after."
Your words take a moment to land with him. He blinks at you, genuinely surprised, but makes one last attempt at denial.
"After what?”
"After the kiss."
His arms are by his side now and you do the same, not wanting to seem unnecessarily intimidating.
You’re not trying to tease or annoy him.
All you want is for him to admit it, so you can do the same.
Because you wanted Jean to kiss you then. You want him to kiss you now. Maybe you’ve wanted to kiss him for a long time now.
He clears his throat and you meet his gaze head on. One of you will need to take the bait.
When someone finally gives in, it doesn’t come in the form of words. Neither of you says anything out loud.
Instead, Jean takes a step closer to you, testing the waters. Knowing that it isn’t fair for him to take all the action, you move closer too until you’re within touching distance.
He runs his tongue along his lower lip, slowly and carefully, and you look at him through your lashes.
You both snap at the exact same time.
Your mouths join together so quickly the breath is knocked from your chest, so desperate for closeness that you fist your hands into the fabric of his t-shirt to try and pull him closer.
He kisses you messily but it’s just what you need; the momentum built so quickly that just a soft peck on the lips wouldn’t suffice. Encouraged by your reaction he runs his hands along your lower back, fingertips skirting the waistband of your jeans as you slide your fingers up into his hair.
You can feel his smile against your lips. Bolts of excitement rush straight to your chest, increasing tenfold when his tongue pushes into your mouth with a gentle confidence.
Jean is no longer withdrawn, self-conscious, uncertain. This Jean knows exactly what you want from him.
It starts with gentle licks against your tongue, deliberate and tantalising, then grows in intensity until you’re pressed against the countertop, making out with him like two desperate teenagers. He makes little sounds of approval as you run your hands all over him, unsure of where you want to touch next; it all seems so good. You want all of him.
Turns out, this must have been a long time coming.
You kiss him like you’ve been thinking about it for years, since you first met him at freshman orientation. Years of friendship had pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind, but they’re all coming out now, erupting in a haze of want and lust and a need to taste more of him.
You can feel something hard press against your hip as he keeps your body pressed against his. Even through several layers of clothing you can tell he’s impressive, the firm thickness straining against his jeans making your mouth water as you lower your hand to rub it.
Jean exhales low and gravelly, his breath coming out shaky as he tries to keep his hips from bucking against your hands. You’re stroking him now, eager to see more of his reactions to the lightest of touches. He’s so pretty like this.
You both reach the point of needing more, the teasing having reached a threshold where you needed to do something about the throbbing between your legs; rubbing your thighs together had helped just a bit, but you wanted his touch. You need more stimulation, and the look on his face shows he’s ready to give it to you.
There’s just one obstacle …
“We need to be quiet,” he mumbles, pulling away for just a moment. His lips are so kiss-slick and perfect that it takes phenomenal amounts of self control to not lean in and take him into your mouth again. “We need to be really quiet, y’know…”
“I know,” you whisper back. “I know. Probably better to … to move this to the couch. Further away from their bedrooms.”
“Good thinking,” he agrees. You pull back, missing the heat of his body as soon as you do so but the thought of what’s coming next is more than enough motivation. You take his hand and he grins at your eagerness, guiding him into the living room and waiting for him to sit down on the couch before climbing onto his lap to straddle him.
“God, you feel good,” he says, quiet as he can as you pepper kisses along his jawline. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”
“Like from earlier-?”
He lets out a breathy laugh. “Longer than that. But yeah, earlier … I wanted you - fucking hell, keep your mouth there - I wanted that bottle to land on me. I wanted you to sit in the centre of that circle and look at me like you did in the kitchen just there, all giggly, like you know exactly what I’m thinking about doing to you.”
“What were you thinking about doing?” you ask, rolling your hips against the bulge in his jeans. He groans and the sound goes straight to your cunt, the wetness between your legs becoming more distracting. You decide to put him (and yourself) out of his misery just a bit, unzipping his pants and taking him out of his underwear.
He’s thick and heavy in your hand, his cock throbbing noticeably when you run a finger along the prominent vein on the underside. You circle the head with your thumb and watch as his breath goes stuttery again, all words having vanished from his vocabulary completely.
But you’re not ready for him to stop talking. You liked what he was saying - liked it a lot - and you need to hear more.
But you won’t go about it without giving him encouragement, of course.
“Tell me what you wanted to do,” you whisper as you start stroking him in earnest.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, lips pulled tight as he tries to keep quiet. He only speaks once your movements start to slow.
“Keep going … please,” he begs softly, “I’ll tell you. Just please keep doing that.”
You resume your pace and he starts speaking.
“I wanted to … wanted to be the one who got to kiss you. Wouldn’t have been like your one with Reiner, though; maybe it’s a good thing it didn’t land on me, because I wouldn’t … fuck … wouldn’t have been able to keep from slipping my tongue into your mouth. Wanted to touch you so bad,” and with the last part of the sentence, he unbuttons your jeans with one hand and starts to tug them down.
You raise your hips from his lap to allow him access, and once he has a better grip he pulls your underwear down as well, baring your wet cunt to the cool air as you sit back down on his lap. The warmth of his skin against your thighs makes you tremble and he notices, slipping that same hand between your legs and sliding his index finger up through your puffy folds.
His thighs are thick and broad and so there’s room for you to keep working him in your hand as he starts playing with you, his legs keeping you spread open for him. He rubs the pearl of your clit with his thumb just as you had teased him a few moments ago, and now it’s you who is unable to articulate any of your thoughts.
“You wanted me to touch you earlier?” he prompts, seeing the already fucked-out expression on your face. When you don’t answer he starts to move his hand away so you open your mouth without even thinking your answer through.
“Yes, I wanted you to touch me,” you gasp when you feel two fingers push inside you, “I wanted you to kiss me in front of everyone then take me back to the kitchen and … fuck, I wanted you to bend me over. I wanted this inside me,” and with a firm upward stroke Jean’s hips buck against you.
With his middle and ring-finger now fucking you open, he uses his thumb to circle your clit with a steady pace that matches your grip on his cock. He keeps going, keeps hitting that place deep inside you that makes you see stars, your wetness and the slick sound of skin touching skin all you can hear.
You’re trying to keep quiet but he’s making it exceptionally difficult. Every twist of his wrist, every flick of his thumb, it’s all so carefully planned. You’re ready for him - you’ve been ready for a while - but it’s near-impossible to verbalise it without letting a moan slip out.
Here you are, spread open on your friends’ couch, with only a couple of walls in the way to stifle any of the lewd noises you’re making … but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re burning for him, your core already tightening around his fingers, and Jean’s cock is flushed with arousal, precum dribbling from the top and coating your palm.
Wordlessly you shift your hips, nearly crying at the loss of sensation when his fingers pull out and you still the motions of your fist. He glances up and you know he’s thinking the same thing you are.
“They keep a box of condoms in the bathroom cabinet,” he says, voice hushed and low, “saw it last time I stayed over.”
You nod and lift yourself from his lap, laying your back down against the couch so Jean can walk to the bathroom. He tugs his pants up over his hips but shrugs off his shirt; you do the same, enjoying the flattering look on Jean’s face as he takes in your naked body for the first time.
He hesitates as if torn between wanting to stay here looking at you bare and wanting beneath him, or going to get the condom so he can actually be inside you - both options have him in a chokehold. He wants to be two places at once.
After you smile up at him, doe-eyed and almost innocent, he makes up his mind. He heads to the bathroom and after a few quiet shuffling noises and the sound of a foil wrapper tearing open, he returns to you, pulling you in for a searing kiss. Any remaining items of clothing are shed as you spread your legs, pulling him down to lay on top of you, the heat of his body against yours driving you insane.
He’s all lean muscle and strength but he’s so gentle with the way he handles you now, resting his palms on your hips as he positions himself to finally fuck you. He meets your gaze one more time, scanning your face with a look that is as enticing as it is heartwarming. He wants you to be comfortable. He wants this to be good for you.
“Ready for you,” you murmur, grabbing his shoulders as you reassure him of how desperately you want this. “Want you inside me.”
When he first pushes in it’s a stretch, even though you’d only been seconds away from coming all over his fingers. He’s so thick it takes a moment to adjust, wiggling your hips as he pushes in so slowly, eyes not leaving your face as he does so. It doesn’t take long for the pleasure to overcome the feeling of being stretched.
By the time his cock is fully seated inside you, hips pressed flush together, he’s looking far more wrecked than you are.
Jean’s biting his lip, hips jerking forward in short shallow motions as he tries to keep from fucking into you before he’s ready. You know from the grip on your waist that he’s trying to hold back, not wanting this sensation to be over too quickly.
When he pulls back and thrusts back in, you can’t help but let out a mewl of pleasure; you know you shouldn’t, it’s too risky, but the noise escapes you before you can even think twice about it.
Jean clasps a hand over your mouth, using the other as leverage on your waist to keep fucking into you.
“Gotta keep quiet for me baby, okay?”
You nod, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes as you try to cant your hips to meet his thrusts.
“I know it’s hard,” he whispers, kissing the apples of his cheeks, “I wish you could keep making those little noises, you’ve no fucking idea what they do to me … but we’ve gotta keep it down. For tonight, anyway. Can you do that for me?” You nod again. “That’s my girl.”
The words make you tighten around him and he looks at you desperately, pulling his hand away for just a moment as he slots his lips against yours again. You think at first he does it just to make sure you’ll stay quiet, but you can feel the vibrations of moans caught in his own throat - the kiss is as much for him as it is for you.
He keeps up his pace throughout, his cock hitting the same spot that his fingers toyed with earlier, and the stretch has faded entirely into a gorgeous fullness. Every time you think you can’t hit another crest of pleasure without coming, he’ll shift ever-so-slightly and the change in angle will make you tighten your grip on his shoulders.
Already your nails have left little crescent-moon indentations on his skin. He doesn’t seem to mind though, letting out a broken sigh when you drag your nails down at a particularly strong thrust.
You’re close. You’re so close, teetering at the edge and seconds away from collapsing into it, and you still have no idea how you’re going to keep quiet.
“Jean-“ you begin, the tremble in your voice tipping his off as to what you need.
He brings his hand back to your mouth but instead of covering it with his palm, he takes the same fingers that were fucking you before and slips them between your lips. You open your mouth for him willingly, tasting yourself on his skin, and then you’re finished.
The makeshift gag of his fingers in your mouth are barely enough to keep you from crying out. All you can feel is the warm glow of pleasure running through your veins, radiating from your core out to your whole body, making your body feel weightless and your mind go utterly and completely blank.
You want to scream for him. You want to him to know exactly what he’s doing to you, but you can barely keep your eyes open.
When the spasms of your orgasm have slowed to a gentle throbbing, you open your eyes just enough to see Jean tip over the edge himself.
You’re so, so glad you opened your eyes, because the sight before you is so gorgeous it nearly pushes you to come again; Jean’s pretty face twisted in pleasure, his pupils blown out and his brows pulled together as he thrusts into you one more time before coming as deep inside you as he can.
It feels almost cruel but you can’t resist; you suck on his fingers as he comes, making his eyes darken even further.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeats like a mantra, as if it’s the only word he can say to hold back screams of his own, “fuck, you’re so … still throbbing around me, fuck, fuck.”
After a moment, he stills inside you. Pulling his fingers from your mouth, he rests his head against your chest, breathing heavily as he tries to collect himself. It’s not much help since the raise and fall of your breathing is just as strong as his own, but it’s comforting having him so close.
It takes even longer to come down from it fully; the intensity of your orgasm made your legs feel weak under your, and it’s difficult to sit upright when Jean finally pulls out. Once he’s cleared up the condom and returned to the couch, you’re still laying flat on your back, face warm to the touch and covered with a faint sheen of sweat.
You feel spent and messy, too tired to care about appearances, but he pulls you in for another kiss that makes you feel so important, so valued, so safe with him.
Once he’s helped you pull on a t-shirt and some shorts that Mikasa had left out, it doesn’t take long to fall asleep in his arms. You don’t even consider how your friends might wake in the morning and find you like this, head resting affectionately in the nook of Jean’s shoulder.
Sleep finds you before you can even start to worry about things like that.
The next morning, you wake to find no sign of Jean. You bolt upright in a panic; there’s a folded-up blanket on the floor along with a pillow, and his shoes are lined up in the corner of the room so he’s still here somewhere. He hadn’t left, at least. You’re not ready to leave things so open-ended with him.
You’re just about to go searching for him before a familiar laugh echoes out from the kitchen as Sasha finishes telling some story from last night. From the sounds of it, Jean, Eren and Sasha are preparing some coffee; the smell of it wafts in to the living room and wakes you up fully.
Connie steps into the living room with two mugs in hand, greeting you with a cheery “hey, you’re up!” as he hands you one of the drinks prepared just how you like it.
“Jean took the floor after all?” he inquires. You mumble something unintelligible as you take a sip of the coffee, blowing it slightly to cool it down.
Connie takes a seat on the couch, and you suddenly feel immense gratitude for having the sense to spread Jean’s hoodie on the seats before you two ...
“Glad he’s doing better this morning,” Connie notes, interrupting your thoughts. “He got over his jealousy, apparently.”
“What do you mean?”
He turns to you, an eyebrow quirked up. “You really don’t know?”
You shake your head, hearing the sounds of Eren, Jean and Sasha preparing breakfast in the kitchen.
“I think he got a bit bummed out after spin-the-bottle yesterday,” Connie says, voice quiet even though there’s no chance anyone could hear him. “He couldn’t even talk to Reiner for two hours after.”
“And why’s that?” you ask, keeping as straight a face as possible.
Connie glances over at the kitchen once more for good measure, before leaning in close and whispering.-
“He’ll kill me for saying this, but he’s got a bit of a crush on you.”
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crappymixtape · 1 year
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i hate you ( not )
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REQUEST → anonymous, 500 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION ❝ love a good enemies to lovers smutty fic – anything works, just lots of sarcasm and name calling to build up the tension • 18+ | ( 3.6k – a nice lil mountain of angst that rolls down into a big ol’ valley of smut, steve x reader )
I H A T E Y O U ( N O T ) 🎶 dopamine, julius black
“Are you seriously following me right now?” you didn’t even bother looking over your shoulder as you shouted over the crunch of Steve’s shoes in the gravel behind you trying to catch up.
He was fucking impossible. Always finding a way to get under your skin. Telling you the way you stocked the shelves at Family Video was wrong. Making fun of your beater of a car. Chewing his chips so loudly in the break room you thought it’d make you go certifiably insane. Always obnoxious, but easily dealt with til now. When he’d gone too far.
A party down at the quarry. Too much beer and smoke and haze and the crack of the bonfire against the inky black sky. You were trying to talk to a boy you’d run into at the store, a cute boy. One that didn’t smack his lips or slurp his soda. One that didn’t look at you like you were the bane of his existence and it had been going so well for once.
Had been.
Until Steve.
“Yeah, they’re so fucking good live. Maybe I can take you next time they’re in town?”
“I’d love that,” your stomach flipped over, grin pulling at the corners of your lips as Liam looked down at you through his dark curls. Smiled at you warm and soft. Eyes deep and green, like the trees along the fence line at night and god, it was just nice to be treated like this for once.
“You don’t even like them,” Steve’s voice cut in as he stepped up next to you beer in hand, and your cheeks burned. Bright red, embarrassed and angry.
Liam looked over at Steve, confusion pinching between his brows and then glanced down at you.
“Oh, I thought you said–”
“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” you insisted, turning your back to Steve and trying your best to smile up at Liam, but the warmth on his face had faded.
“Okay,” Liam said, drawing out the vowel. Drinking the rest of his beer he tossed the can into the fire and jammed his hands into his pockets, “Well. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Wait! A-are you leaving? You just got here,” you protested, trying not to sound desperate. Liam was so sweet and all you wanted for once was just to have a nice time, but he was already turning to walk back up the hill.
“Yeah, sorry. I gotta be up early for work. I’ll call you,” he said, but you knew he wouldn’t as he forced a smile. Gave you a small half wave before heading across the gravel of the quarry and up to his truck.
“But–don’t you want to–” you stopped yourself short knowing it was useless. Steve chuckled behind you and you felt heat rise in your chest again.
Eyes squeezing shut and hands balled into fists, your nails pressed half moons into your palms as you spun back around to Steve. The glare you gave him wiped the grin right off his face and his lips twisted into a scowl.
“What?” he asked stupidly and you huffed a sound of disbelief.
“What d’you mean, what?” you shot back, taking a few steps toward him, “You just fucked that up for me. On purpose!”
“I did you a favor, that guy’s an idiot,” Steve grumbled and you laughed then. A hollow, humorless one that pushed itself from your lungs.
“You’re a real dick, Harrington,” you said, stepping up to him in defiance and he crowded down over you. Looked at you like a challenge. Eyes lit up bright in the firelight. Melted caramel. Amber. Whiskey and honey and you didn’t shy away from it.
“Oh, yeah? Well you’re no ray of sunshine, princess,” he was close enough now you could feel his breath warm over your cheek and the air grew thick, too hot, and it had nothing to do with the summer heat or the fire.
“Asshole,” you half whispered, using what little resolve you had left to tear away from him and stalk up the same hill Liam had toward your car, leaving Steve behind in a lurch.
You could hear gravel crunching behind you, the slip and slide of rock on rock punctuated by Steve’s sharp breaths.
“Are you seriously following me right now?”
“Yeah, if you just–Jesus Christ–slow down!” Steve’s feet skidded as he nearly tripped, but you kept going, digging in your purse for your keys.
You didn’t want to stay, didn’t want to hear whatever bullshit excuse he had loaded. You couldn’t. Not without ripping into him. Fumbling your key in your hand you jammed it into the lock just as Steve caught up, hands on his hips as he sucked in gasps of air.
“C’mon. Can you just–can you just gimme a minute?” he asked, out of breath and tone edging on pleading, but you resisted turning around.
“Why the hell would I do that?” you asked against your car door.
“Shit, princess. D’you really hate me that much?” his tone was even softer this time and you shook your head.
“Only as much as you hate me,” you snapped.
Finally getting the lock undone, you tried to wrench the door open, but Steve’s hand stopped you. Pressed into yours and kept it shut.
“God, what’s your problem?” you turned to hurl daggers at him, but the words died in your throat when you realized just how close he was.
Toes bumping into yours, hair falling all messy across his forehead, chest still heaving with the effort of jogging up the hill and everything blurred. Dizzy and spinning and even though you hadn’t been the one running, you couldn’t catch your breath.
“I don’t have one,” he said voice low and you felt your lips fall open at the way it made your stomach twist.
The anger that had settled in your chest shifting into something else. Something that felt dangerous. Swallowing thick you tried to shake your head, shake him, and you pulled your hand away from his.
“Sure seems like it,” you mumbled, mouth firmed in a line, trying so hard to stand your ground.
His brows pinched together. A mixture of frustration, uncertainty. Struggling to put words to the feelings that were squeezing in his chest, just as conflicted as you were. He looked at you through the long sweep of his lashes, eyes searching yours and bit at the inside of his cheek.
He thought he’d been in love with you the minute you walked into Family Video. Wearing your cut off jeans and an old baggy Hawkins High basketball jersey. Hair pulled up away from your face so that he could see the soft curve of your shoulders, the baby hairs that curled at the nape of your neck. You looked grumpy, frustrated, and the frown twisting across your lips drove him crazy. So did the heat in your tone as you talked to Keith, telling him you wanted was ‘a stupid job’ to pay for your ‘stupid bills’ and god if he didn’t feel stupid for staring.
There was no way you didn’t have a boyfriend. You were too hot. Too funny and sharp and cool. Hell, even if you didn’t have a boyfriend he figured there was no way he’d have a chance, so he did what he always did. Acted like he didn’t care. Needled you, pestered you, got under your skin. Got a little mean with it, but he hadn’t expected it to backfire. Hadn’t expected you play back and fuck if it didn’t make it worse.
Took to calling you Princess because he loved the way you glared at him.
Ate half your lunch just so he had an excuse to walk you across the street for a bag of chips.
Said you did things wrong just so you’d shove at him, tell him ‘if he was so good at it why didn’t he show you?’
And when he finally figured out you were single he felt like he’d fucked up. Like he’d taken it too far and there was no way he could be what he really wanted to be for you. No way to tell you how badly he wanted to take you out. How badly he wanted to treat you right. Hold your hand and call you baby.
Hey, baby.
How much he wished he could press his lips into yours and see if you tasted all sweet and tart at the same time. Sour on the outside, sugar on the inside. How he wanted to run his hands up your legs, feel you under him, tell you things that’d pull sweet sounds from your lips, but now you were here at this stupid party. Now there was Liam and he couldn’t help it.
Anything to keep him away from you and now he felt like he was answering for everything.
“See?” you insisted at his hesitation, huffing a sigh and turning back into your car, but Steve grabbed at your hand and spun you around again.
“S’not you!” he said a little too loud, cheeks burning with his admission and he bit his lips between his teeth, “It’s everybody else.”
Your face shifted skeptical, a little cynical, but he was so damn close. Too close and you tried to pull in a breath. Tried to hold onto your anger, but it slipped through your fingers like water. Scattered like wishes on a breeze as the scent of his cologne made you go all hazy. The look in his eyes pouring into you like kerosene on a fire. Made you want to grab fistfuls of his shirt in your hands and feel the full weight of him on you and–
“I don’t see what that’s gotta do with me,” you sniped, trying to keep your tone short, but it came out softer and he took the opportunity and ran with it.
“Everything, actually,” his lips tugged up into a small sheepish smile, but dropped again as he realized there was more to say. “I know I’m a dick–”
“You think?” you cut in and he leveled you with a look.
“Thanks,” he muttered and it pulled a little grin from you, but the next thing he said wiped it off your face, “M’sorry,” and your stomach flipped over at the way he was looking at you. “I just…I wish it were me,” he said, lifting a hand to your cheek and tucking a few stray locks of hair behind your ear.
Wish it were me. Your heart was racing.
“Wish what was you?” you whispered. Afraid to hear the answer. Holding your breath as he leaned in. Nose nearly brushing over your cheek. Close enough to kiss you if he wanted and god did you want him to.
“The one askin’ you out,” he whispered back and it struck you silent.
How was that possible? He was awful. Annoying and irritating and obnoxious and now he was telling you he wanted to ask you out?
“So ask me, Harrington,” you murmured and watched as his brows lifted in surprise, lips parted into a little ‘o’ as his brain raced to catch up.
“Wai–what?” he stumbled over his words and you pressed a hand to his chest.
“Ask me,” you said again and he huffed a laugh, tongue jammed into his cheek as he looked back down at you.
“Okay,” he managed, licking over his lips as he gathered himself back up, “C-Can I take you out?”
“Mmhm,” you murmured, nerves giving way to confidence and you pulled him down into you a little closer. Pressed your lips against his ear and whispered, “Kiss me.” And it nearly knocked him over.
Pulling away you looked up at him, whispered his name like a question and it blew his pupils wide. Dark at the center and fringed in gold and it was enough to make him lean back down. Soft and tentative at first, but bolder and braver when you sighed into him.
An exhale. A release. A realization of what you’d wanted this whole time and it made you grab his shirt in your hands, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and the sounds you pulled from each other were greedy.
More more more.
Hands splaying out over his chest you slid them up his shoulders and into his hair, pulling it lightly as his tongue licked into you and the moan he loosed made you press your thighs together.
“Shit,” he hissed, fingers pressing into the plush of your hips, mouth dragging hot down your neck and across your collarbone. Kisses messy and slipping on your skin and god you needed him. “Christ, princess, you drive me crazy,” he admitted and you grinned, all smug and holding the upper hand, but then he slotted a leg between your thighs and you lost it.
You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Felt like he was the only thing keeping you from falling away and it made you hold onto him tighter. You could still hear the laughter and the music down at the bonfire, but it sounded so far away. Both of you hidden in the thick, indigo shadows that fell out under the stand of trees, dark enough to not care what you were about to ask.
“Steve,” you pulled away just enough to speak and he stopped, both of you panting short breaths into the space between you.
“Sorry, can slow down if you want–”
“No–shit–” you squeezed your eyes shut to focus, “Don’t stop.” Swallowing thick you opened your eyes again and looked right up at him, “Just get in.”
Hands slipping against your car you fumbled to open the door to the backseat and half shoved him in before piling in after. When you closed it behind you the small space was suddenly filled with the sounds of your breaths. Quick and nervous and anticipating.
Steve sat on the bench, just as anxious as you were, and watched with heavy lidded eyes as you climbed over him. Straddled him with a leg on either side. Your dress hitching up and bunching at your hips and all he could do was grab onto your thighs for dear life. Pressing a hand into the seat behind his head you bit your lip between your teeth and pulled in a steadying breath.
“Here,” you whispered, taking one of his hands and sliding it between your legs. Making him feel the heat that had pooled there, showing him what he was doing to you and he groaned. A filthy sound that fell from his lips as he pressed his fingers against your soaked panties.
“Fuck,” he rasped, already wrecked from feeling how wet you were. “Okayokayokay. So fuckin’ hot, babe. Shit,” nonsense fell from his lips and you had half a mind to laugh at him, but his fingers were pulling your panties aside and touching you not your panties and it pulled a gasp from you.
At the sound his eyes darted up to look at you, make sure you were okay and you put your hand back over his. Moving his fingers in slow circles as they slipped against your slick.
“Like that?” he asked eyes still on you, keeping up the motion as your hand fell away.
You tried to say yes, but it melted into another moan and he leaned in to press a kiss to your neck. Mouth open and messy. Licking against the softness of your skin and sucking a bruise on it.
“Tell me,” he said into the hollow behind your ear, trailing kisses as he went, your hips rocking against his fingers as his circles grew tighter and faster.
“Like that–ye–yeah–yes. God, don’t stop,” you stuttered over your words hands moving to grip onto his shoulders as he slipped first one then two fingers inside of you.
He filled you up better than you could at home, your cheek pressed into your pillow, tears welling up in your eyes in frustration as you struggled to reach the spot you wanted. The hot drag of him sliding in and out in and out made you see white, made your tighten your hold on him and as you loosed another moan he bucked up into you.
You could feel how hard he was through his jeans against the bare skin of your thigh and it only made you want him more. “Steve,” you leaned forward and pressed your forehead to his, “Please tell me you have a condom.”
His fingers stopped moving and he loosed a heavy sigh, swallowing down the nerves that had pushed themselves into his throat. “Yeah, course, lemme just–” lifting his hips, and you, from the seat he yanked his wallet out of his back pocket.
He had stopped carrying them around after high school. Felt like it was fucking juvenile, but one time after Steve had watched you leave work, put his returns in the wrong spot and upside down, Robin had thrown one across the store at him. “Here, dingus,” she’d grumbled, “Don’t be an idiot.” And he’d been so embarrassed, afraid to tell her he didn’t think he’d ever need it, but he silently thanked her now. Always saving his ass.
Gently nudging you back into the headrests on the front seats he put his wallet down and fumbled his fingers against the button on his jeans. He was hard as a rock and when he undid his zipper it sprang out without any encouragement.
You couldn’t take your eyes off him as he ripped the foil of the condom wrapper between his teeth and thumb. Of course he drove you crazy at work, but you couldn’t deny you’d thought about him when you were alone in your room. Touching yourself beneath the sheets. Fantasizing about what it would be like and now that you were seeing it for real your heart hammered in your chest, legs slipping together as you grew wetter by the second.
He wrapped a hand around his length pumping once, twice, three times before rolling the condom down from tip to root and looking back up at you.
“Y’okay?” he asked, hands moving to hold onto your hips and you realized how ridiculous you must’ve looked.
“Mmhm,” you murmured and let him pull you slowly back into his lap.
“Gotta tell me if you aren’t,” he whispered and you nodded as he gave you a little smile, brushed your hair out of your face and looked just a little longer. “So pretty,” he said softly, words lighting a fire in your chest, and you pressed a kiss to him again. Sucking on his bottom lip and letting it go with a dirty pop and he thought he was going to come right there on the spot. “Sh–shit, okayokay,” he breathed, pressing his tip against your entrance, hesitating just a little and you helped him the rest of the way, pushing down slowly.
You watched as he filled you up, stretched you out until he was buried deep inside you, the tight fit making you squirm over him.
“Ohhh god, so tight, feel so good babe, Christ,” he rambled and you chuckled a little until he hit the soft, squishy spot at the back of you and you moaned loudly. Fell forward onto his chest and rolled your hips forward, silently begging him to move as if he could do anything else. “I got you,” he promised.
Hands gripping your hips again he slowly turned and lowered you down, your back against the seat bench, his arms on either side of you to hold himself up. Murmured soft, dirty things under his breath as he crowded over you, started rocking his hips into you, the wet sounds of you filling up the car.
“Wish you’d asked me sooner,” you whined, wrapping your legs around his waist and he gave you a smug little smile.
“Yeah? Worth the wait?” he asked, breath hitching in his throat as he picked up the pace, fronts of his thighs slapping against the backs of yours.
“Shut up,” you gasped as he bottomed out inside of you. Tangling your fingers into his hair you pulled and it dragged a groan from him as he started to fuck you faster. Slipping a hand between your legs you drew tight, messy circles over your clit, pushing yourself closer and closer to the edge. “Ste–shit. Steve, harder,” you practically begged and the pleading tone in your voice sent him.
“Harder,” he said back, it was all he could muster, wrecked and chest heaving with each breath he sucked in, fucking into you with heavy thrusts, “M’so close.”
Opening your mouth a so close almost fell from your lips too, but the coil in your stomach had been so tightly wound that the combination of your fingers over your clit and Steve finally made it snap.
You clenched tight around him as you both rode out your climax. Head pressed against the seat and eyes rolling back to look out the window at the stars. The moon as it hung lazy in the sky. Steve spilling sweet words of praise into your ears and bringing you back down to earth. Wrapping you up soft and warm in his voice.
He rested his forehead against yours, both of your brows dewy with sweat, and let out a contented sigh as he softened inside you.
“Wish I’d asked you sooner too,” he murmured, poking fun at himself with your words from earlier and you leaned up to press a kiss to the corner of his lips.
“Worth the wait,” you finally agreed and he grinned.
God damn, was it worth the wait.
crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist
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364 notes · View notes
vargskelegore · 1 year
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okay wait—shuri and reader at a college party??
STOPPP OKAY WAIT this has always been on my mind... what if it was a 90s THEMED COLLEGE HOUSE PARTY!!!!! LIKE WHAT!!!!
i’m currently writing this headcanon while listening to let the beat hit ‘em by lisa lisa & cult jam and crush on you by lil kim ft. lil cease & biggie.... but my other playlist is a great example of what i think would be played at this party: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3aVTa1pDTD4dUcUPcgQJY8?si=bcb0cd1b5c64493a
again, i switch between 2nd and 3rd person when i do headcanons. so sorry if its confusing!! and as always, this is black reader.
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imagine reader is getting her the perfect outfit for it tho..
reader is a cheapskate and would absolutely take her to the thrift store
tbh reader just like me fr
anyways the perfect 90s outfit is made for shuri at the thrift
we talking about a whole ass tracksuit as we have seen before
not that goofy shit thats usually costume pieces, a real ass vintage tracksuit
WITH THE SHADES LOL
fine as hell.... giving stud zaddy amen.
as for reader, i think they are channeling their inner lil kim... change my mind.
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reader is a bit of a thickie in my eyes so its just perfect
especially since they’re a majorette
so fast forward to the party itself
shuri just does not leave readers side bc reader knows this stuff better than her
it’s all fun and games til reader is approached by one of her fellow majorettes
“girl i think you should go do the dance battle!”
shuri is quite literally about to choke on that damn punch (reader told her ass not to drink it but because shuri is shuri, she did it anyway.)
“..shuri are you okay with me going down there?” reader has these puppy eyes, they’re a bit worried about leaving her alone, but shuri reassures them that its ok
“no, it’s fine! go have fun-- i’ll just be here.” she has this cute ass smile on her face and thats all reader needs before she goes out on the dance floor.
the song that’s playing??? why you get funky on me by today (obviously from the house party movie soundtrack, duh!!! that movie is iconic)
the dance battle is against this freshman 
that’s actually pretty good at dancing
but reader is better, obvi. they’re the leader of the majorettes.
that battle is pretty intense.
and if you thought shuri wasn’t looking
why would you think that
you already know shuri was staring mad hard at reader behind those shades.
we talking ‘why is the room suddenly getting so hot????’
shuri you know damn well why.
anyway, this dance battle is obviously something reader wins.. why wouldn’t they???
when reader goes back over to shuri, she is trying SO HARD to make it seem like she was casually watching
the tension between them now? unreal. crazy. reader definitely thinks its giving slowburn fanfiction.
and of course come & talk to me by jodeci is playing. u must be out of yo damn mind if u didn’t think it would.
everyone else is on the floor dancing but reader and shuri are just standing in a corner with cups in their hands, staring at each other.
who tf is gonna speak first now????
“...”
“...”
“i hope you enjoyed the-”
“i thought you did really well.” not reader and shuri speaking at the SAME TIME. so cliche but needed.
the giggles that escape both of y’alls lips??? ugh unmatched so cute
that entire time shuri is really wondering if this’ll be more than just a friendship. because she hates to admit it, but shes falling for you HARD.
every night she goes to bed thinking about reader but this just made it worse.
now shes gonna be thinking about reader and their gyrating hips (not like she wasn’t already tbh, reader is a majorette after all and shuri goes to every damn game LOL)
as the night is coming to a close, you two leave the party at around 2 am.
shuri drops you off at your room first before walking to her own dorm.
the moment shuri gets into that bed, shes cursed with those thoughts about you.
and don’t think reader wasn’t thinking the same.
the tracksuit and shades combo had them in a chokehold.
more than reader would like to admit.
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hueninv · 1 year
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[☁︎] RUN AWAY.
cbg x afab!reader
say you love me, til’ the end of the world : an apocalypse au
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[☆] summary: beomgyu that is known as the “nice kid” and you who has always been #1 in academics have always been together, close friends that stuck to each other no matter what. Compared to the beomie you see at school, life back at home was nothing but a chaos magnet. Having an abusive father while being the only son to “protect” his family from him was a burden no one should carry. though with you, time and his worries freeze for a moment and he could be himself again for a short-lived moment more. when a plan to skip school goes wrong, you and beomgyu find yourselves encaged in a city filled with cannibalistic yet intelligent creatures, as the government calls it. though there is no denying that we all know they’re zombies. Yet one question remains unanswered, how will we survive this hell house?
[!] warnings: abuse mentioned, overthinking, separation anxiety (ish), lowercase intended, angst/comfort, confused feelings for reader, illness (reader is sick), fluff if you squint, cursing, and probably friends to lovers! (please let me know if i missed anything)╰(*´︶`*)╯♡
[ a/n : ] english isn’t my first language so sorry about any grammar/spelling mistakes 😵‍💫 this is literally the first time i’ve ever written a fic pls help (*´ー`*) also this story is narrated through gyu’s pov!!! anyway please enjoy 😇 lobe u and sleep well <3 @angelbythewindow
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The feeling is back; though it’s not as bad as before, it still hurts. I haven't felt much joy for days. I miss my home. I miss feeling the warmth of my mom’s arms. Her arm’s weight ever-so-slightly grounding me, and how her gray hair fell over my cheeks when she kissed me goodnight. I may not be in a house, but I feel trapped in a mansion full of empty rooms; built to cage me in. I am familiar with this mansion, as a child I would have frequent dreams of living in it. The gray flat walls would often collapse as the dream came to an end. It made me realize that my dream of moving far away and taking my mother and sister with me was something only a child could hope for such thing when a dream is just a dream next to money. I evenually came I accept my defeat and explore the mansion a little more. As I grew more fond of the layout and it’s interior, I found some rooms would be best to leave closed off. For example, that one lonely room I neglect; it's a room of regret, though it just seems to keep getting fuller everytime I step foot inside. The moment I twist that icy, silver knob, I sense the shadows of each corner turning to face me. I know they’re all staring in my direction because they’re waiting—not for me, but for the guest I bring every time. My room has been greeted every night for years, and even when I protest, he still manages to sneak inside.
I get sick to my stomach every time I look at him; I once tried ignoring him for weeks. Yet he didn’t give up; it’s hard to look past and ignore the person you hate more when it’s yourself. I wish my reflection vanished for eternity. I'm tired of staying alive when I can't even live my life. I'm only breathing out of fear of losing myself to fear. I wonder if one day I will ever find someone to help me break down these walls and bury my pain deep under the foundation of our new estate. Will I even be alive when that day comes? I may not have the answers to these questions now, but I’ll maintain my composure and continue to be on the search for the map of hope. I should concentrate on obtaining rest; I'm so snagged in my mentality that I haven't had a good night's sleep in days. This pandemic is damaging my former fixed sleep schedule because I'm constantly concerned. Somebody contaminated might be in desire of some food, making us their next meal. Not just that, but y/n has a fever. All this anxiety has made her ill; she's fragile and vulnerable, and I hardly hear her endearing voice when she talks now. What kind of friend would I be to leave her alone while unattended and sick?
I clutch a moment to push away my worries and shift my concentration to the moonlight seeping through the slim crevices of the blinds. The crescent moon is high above and intertwined with the twilight blue of the sky. I adore the dark hour because there’s no one expecting anything from me, all thanks to their sleep. I relish the smiling moon for just a second more, allowing its glistening effect to shine on my face one more time before I turn my back to it. The room is silent, only broken by the rustling of my sheets. The cool air is shut out once I pull the blanket over my body. The overwhelming feeling of tiredness creeps slowly up my body. Each of my limbs shuts down as I sink deeper into relaxation. Then, as the weary sensation reached my mind, I heard a small peep. It comes from the bed that lies a few feet away from me. I forced my heavy eyelids to catch sight of the source of what I heard.
“Beomie,” a hoarse whisper called me. “Gyu, are you still up?” I could sense y/n’s eyes glaring at my face, trying to make out if I was awake. “Beomgyu.” Another faint whisper prompted me to reply.
"I'm here," I said quietly, not wanting to disturb the silence. “Do you need anything? I'm here to help if you need it.”
“I’m cold,” a complaint i believe. “Can you hug me, gyu?”
There was a brief pause.
What did she just say...?
It brought me back to what our friendship was like before the outbreak. We haven’t hugged in months. Affection used to be shared frequently, but the people we let into our inner circle started to misunderstand it. If our situation was anything like how they thought it was, I’m sure it would’ve been obvious. I was frustrated that I couldn’t show my love to the people close to me. After talking about it together, we just stopped showing affection in that way. If we wanted to prevent the comments, saying “stop” wouldn’t do anything. We had to act because we wanted the trouble to be over.
“Gyu, are you there?” I caught the tone of desperation in her voice. My brief pause might have convinced her that I fell asleep.
“I’m going, don’t worry.”
I leave behind the forgotten feeling of exhaustion in the warm mold I shaped into my mattress. The cool breeze from the classic hotel air conditioning gently coated my back; the new temperature gave me goosebumps. Soon after, the gentle breeze was replaced by the warmth of similar materials. Although this bed was identical to mine, something else filled it with comfort. Someone, to be exact. I'm not at home; I'm not in a delusory disguised mansion, but I am at peace. Home to the sweet spot which y/n saved for me in her heart.
In my eyes, y/n is the sun that beams down on my world. The biggest glow and warmth in my life. When I reflect on myself, I am filled with sadness and discontent. Like a withering flower in need of a sun to thrive. Otherwise, the sunflower which represents me would dangle on the shrub during a cloudy day; wondering when the sun’s glowing warmth will soon come out again.
In all honesty, I'm nervous about hugging y/n again. I don’t have any bad intentions or reason to behave in a manner that’ll make her uncomfortable. I just don’t want it to be awkward. If I have to, I’ll set my goal to behave as if I were a dog that was commanded to carry around a fragile egg without breaking it.
The thing is, I understood that she wanted to feel someone embrace her, but how was I supposed to do that? Yes, we’ve hugged before—plenty of times, of course. Though nothing was like this, it felt intimate..? Like something a couple would do. Don’t get it twisted though! I don’t have feelings for y/n. In the past I may have had trouble distinguishing between platonic and romantic feelings, but that isn’t going to get in the way of our friendship. I don’t care if you think I sound sick in the head to say this, but I'd truly sacrifice and get rid of anything to stay with y/n. We need each other. How can I live without her? Especially now, it's only us in this wide, flat world.
♪───O(≧∇≦)O────♪
“How am I supposed to hug you?” Right now, my only priority is to keep my friend comfortable and relaxed; after all, she is ill. So to make sure she is comfortable enough in my arms to sleep, I need to know how she wants me to hug her.
A sigh freed from y/n, “gyu, if you don’t want to hug me that’s fine-”
"No, come here, please." though not intended, I jerk on y/n shoulder roughly as I hastily grab her by the arm and pull her towards me.
“Ow!” y/n squeaked, I couldn’t help but quickly apologize. “Sorry, sorry!”
But then it gets quiet again.
“so...now what?” I wondered if it would have been more enjoyable if it weren't so uncomfortable or awkward.
“You put your arms around me,” her tone picking up in a sense of annoyance.
“Okay.” This is a bit new to me, so I couldn’t help but concede. I wrap my arms around her timidly. I haven’t done this before. We’re arranged face to face, our arms loosely draped around each other as if I’m afraid to touch her again. But I’m not! I miss feeling the way y/n’s lavishing aura just coated me when we embraced each other, we were becoming one. As if we met in the center of something new: peace.
I want to say something, but the charged air is just too stifling to cut through. I wait until I see her eyes, then I close my eyes and just try to go to sleep. Or at least pretend to sleep until she does.
But then I speak up, not in the quiet voice I used it before. “Is this helping?”
“Not really. You keep shaking your leg, it makes me feel like there is an earthquake going on right now."
“Oh sorry.” I apologized; I didn’t even realize I was doing it. “It's a habit.” I’m even more stressed now. It feels like I can't move a muscle or even breathe deeply enough to not disturb her. I don’t want to make the situation more awkward, so I just lie perfectly still.
God, this wasn’t how I planned it.
“It’s okay.” y/n sighed and pulled away. “I’ll just get a drink.”
"Oh, okay," I say as I felt the weight from the spot on the mattress next to me shift.
I blew it.
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i’m sorry if it wasn’t good it’s my first time writing a fic 。゚(゚´Д`゚)゚。 btw this is only the first part of the fic!! another part might be uploaded in a few days? not sure but i’ll just see how the response is or if i just feel like it. okay loves sleep well ♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪
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woundlingus · 12 days
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I think u said a while ago that getaway car is lokiel coded and it took me til now to realize how right you are. Any other lokiel song recs?? 👀 (Or any song for that matter 💕)
Oh I would LOVE to answer this because yes of course
Black Sheep, Metric (personally I love the Brie Larson version but the original has a more… I don’t know, tang? A more bitter edge? Original for Lokiel, Brie Larson for easy listening)
Loki @ Gabriel
“Hello again, friend of a friend, I knew you when our common goal was waiting for the world to end. Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend, you crack the whip, shape-shift and trick the past again”
Good Looking, Suki Waterhouse
Gabriel @ Loki
“Play casino holes of my eyeballs. Roll the dice on my thighs. You stop for breath and I sped up just to impress you. The skyline falls as I try to make sense of it all, I thought I'd uncovered your secrets, but turns out there's more.”
Promises, NERO (change in genre but you’ll have to trust me on it)
Gabriel @ Loki
“You got me so wild, how can I ever deny? You got me so high, so high I cannot feel the fire. And you keep telling me, telling me that you'll be sweet, and you'll never want to leave my side, as long as I don't break these- Promises, and they still feel oh so wasted on myself.”
Big God, Florence & The Machine (lyrically this sounds like a love song but you have to hear her sing it so bitterly to get it)
Loki @ Gabriel
“You need a big god. Big enough to fill you up. You keep me up at night. To my messages, you do not reply. You know I still like you the most, the best of the best and the worst of the worst.”
Too Close, Sir Chloe
Loki @ Gabriel
“Bringing party favours, dollar bills rolled nice and neat. Party boy, you’ve took too much it’s time for you to leave. I want to want you baby, but you’re making it so hard. I try and bite the bullet and just take you as your are. You get so close, take the one I love the most. I think it’s time for you to go.”
Bedroom Hymns, Florence and the Machine
“Spilt milk tears, I did this for you. Spilling all over the idle, the black and the blue. The sweetest submission, drinking it in. The wine, the women, and the bedroom hymns.”
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Since you’re a sabriel lover too I’ll drop Mean it, K.Flay
“So when I say I love you I want to mean it, ‘cause I say a lot of things that I don't mean. And when I say I want to I want to mean it, ‘cause I know not to say yes to just anything.”
-
And because I’ve been really into this one lately I’ll drop it anyway, Brutus, The Buttress for Asmodeus and I can’t clip it because it’s truly the entire song start to end if you think about his relationship to Lucifer
And I need to stop now or I’ll literally never shut up
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w3ath3r-0f-sw34t3rz · 4 months
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taylor parts that live in my head
gold was the color of the leaves when i showed you around centennial park hell was the journey but it brought me heaven
myyymyyymyyyyymyyyyyyyy lover<3
but you keep my old scarf from that very first week
love you to the moon and to saturn
I JUST KNOOOWOWWOOW UR NOT GONE NO U CANT BE GONE N O
additionally: every instrumental part of haunted
IF YOURE OUT THERE IF YOURE SOMEWHERE IF YOURE MOVING ON IVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU EVERY DAY SINCE YOUVE BEEN GONE I JU
a beautiful boy who died
you never gave a warning sign (i gave so many signs)
and in the end in wonderland we both went mad... OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
the intro to i knew you were trouble. that shit gets me going
cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned everything you lose is a step you take so make the friendship bracelets take the moment and taste it you've got no reason to be afraid you're on your own kid. yeah you can face. this you're on your own kid. you always have been
at least i had the decency to keep my nights out of sight // only rumors bout my hips and thighs and my whispered sighs, oh lord
the instrumentals in the moment i knew i lose it every time😭
on the way home // i wrote a poem // you say 'what a mind' // this happens all the time
TROUBLE TRO U BLE T R O U B L E
bold was the waitress on our three year trip // getting lunch down by the lakes // she said i looked like an american singer
whispers of 'are you sure' // 'never have i ever before'
OOO OO OO OO OOOOOOOOOOO (it's nice to have a friend [in case you couldn't tell])
'I LOVE YOU' AINT THAT THE WORST THING YOU EVER HEARD HE LOOKS UP GRINNING LIKE A DEVIL ITS
BIG REPUTATION BIG REPUTATION OOOOO U AND ME WE GOT BIG REPUTATIONS
have i known you 20 seconds or 20 years
if you love like that, blood rUNS COOOLLLLLLDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD
you drew stars around my scars
every speaking part in wanegbt. like. ever.
YOUR MIDAS TOUCH ON THE CHEVY DOOR NOVEMBER FLUSHED AND YOUR FLANNEL CURE THIS DORM WAS ONCE A MADHOUSE I MADE A JOKE WELL ITS MADE FOR ME HOW EVERGREEN OUR GROUP OF FRIENDS DONT THINK WELL SAY THAT WORD AGAIN AND SOON THEYLL HAVE THE NERVE TO DECK THE HALLS THAT WE ONCE WALKED THROUGH 1 FOR THE MONEY 2 FOR THE SHOW I NEVER WAS READY SO I WATCH YOU GO SOMETIMES YOU JUST DONT KNOW THE ANSWER TIL SOMEONES ON THEIR KNEES AND ASKS YOU SHE WOULDVE MADE SUCH A LOVELY BRIDE WHAT A SHAME SHES FUCKED IN THE HEAD THEY SAID BUT YOULL FIND THE REAL THING INSTEAD SHELL PATCH UP THE TAPESTRY THAT I SHRED
no one sees when you lose when you're playing solitaire
the entirety of enchanted
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fratrafecameron · 8 days
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I let out a wicked laugh as I watch you walk into the bathroom, leaving your sweatpants behind knowing your gonna tease me but that's not how this shit works.
I get up from the bed, walking to the bathroom as l take off my shirt, dropping my sweatpants before I see your gaze in the mirror. "Rafe-" you scold but i take your words pressing your lips against mine. I lift you up, walking with you to the edge of the bed as I take you little red panties, pushing them to the side.
I slide inside, pressing myself between your skin and lace, thrusting my thick cock between you wet pussy lips and your panties, nudging your clit with each stoke.
"Rafe what the hell?" You whimper as I stimulate your clit, denying you penetration.
Youre not getting my dick until we get on the plane... you forget about that? Im not waiting til tonight. m'gonna cum in these pretty little panties now, and I'm gonna cum in your pussy on the plane, then your gonna wear these all day. Ur gonna be a fuckin mess. *I laugh wickedly* stop me if youd like angel
that’s so fucking rude *i gasp, frowning as i look at you* you’re such a fucking tease *i grumble, knowing i’m not one to talk. i bite my lip, letting out a whine as i feel your head brush against my clit, latching my mouth onto your neck, sucking and licking the sensitive flesh*
c’mon, you really don’t wanna shove your cock inside me, hmm? you’re going to be that stubborn about it? baby… *i whine, my eyes rolling back as i feel you brush my clit again, your cock covered in my slick.*
just know i have as much control over this situation as you do *i breathe, looking at you* i just choose not to do anything about it… for now *my brows furrow, my mouth parting as your cock nudges my clit again*
you’re such a fuckin’ asshole *i smirk, my hand latching onto your neck like a magnet, squeezing the sides a bit as another moan escapes my throat*
Why are you actin’ like a cock starved whore princess? U not get enough dick last night *i smile and wink, biting my bottom lip as i continue to stroke.
Could finish in your pussy if you want. That way u can feel it drippin out of you… i know how much you like that *I groan as the sensetive head of my dick nudges your clit, your thigh starting to tremble, your pussy incredibly wet*
I hear you moan, just furthering my pleasure. So what is it gonna be baby girl *I grunt* panties or pussy?
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whyzowl · 2 years
Text
Home For An Hour
It’s another evening dining in, though the phrase lends an air of sophistication that doesn’t belong in Eskel’s apartment whatsoever. 
There are fifteen messages waiting for him on his phone. Seven of them ask, with increasing levels of obscenity tacked on, why the fuck he doesn’t take his phone with him everywhere he goes.
Eskel snorts and types back a few responses to the remaining actual questions. 
‘Went fine’, he answers on a private thread, and gets an immediate response that has him grinning so broadly the right side of his face throbs.
‘Oof’, it reads. 
Then, ‘That bad, huh’ pops into view.
The group chat highest on his list of recents predictably dings to life, and Eskel hears the tone behind it clear as day.
The sender is Lambert. 
’playing fucking favorites you fucker I am literally in the same room as this bitch’
Eskel types back with a speed he’d blithely deny if they were having this conversation in person. ‘Geralt’s got better punctuation than u do’
‘*you, u unedicated sus scrofa and what does that have to do with it’ Lambert texts, and Eskel snorts so suddenly he has to grab a tissue.
Geralt’s next text pings into the group chat this time. ‘why does that look like it says scrotum’ 
‘*?’ Lambert texts back snidely. ‘u tell me’ pings in next, followed almost instantly by a block of text that’s clearly been copied off of an internet search: 
‘The domestic pig (Sus domesticus) is usually given the scientific name Sus scrofa domesticus, although some taxonomists, including the Redanian Society of Mammalogists, call it S. domesticus, reserving S. scrofa for the wild boar. It was domesticated approximately 5,000 to 7,000 years ago.’
‘plagariasm’ Eskel types, getting off his bed and shuffling towards his kitchen without looking. ‘For shame’
‘dont knock it til u try it college boi’ Lambert shoots back, sending a GIF that has no relevancy whatsoever directly on its heels. 
‘is that a dick’ Geralt texts threateningly.
‘if u got to ask u got problems’ Lambert retorts.
Eskel sets his phone down with a roll of his eyes that marginally worsens the headache he’s had for the past few days. The device continues to vibrate merrily as he sets about prepping the Ramon packages he’s resorted to. He doesn’t actually add the somewhat radioactive-looking powder they include; just salts the boiling water a bit and tosses in his own spices. It’ll be bland, but a flavorful meal would probably nauseate him at this time of night anyway.
His kitchen doubles as a living room, which doubles as his dining room; a partial wall blocks the two off from one another in theory, but the ‘partial’ part is a bit too well-suited for it to do anything more than take up space. All Eskel has to do is round the partition and sink into the single couch he owns, deftly avoiding a spring that’s been slowly twisting upward through one cushion ever since he bought it. 
He takes a slurping bit of Ramon — a bit more messily than he would if anyone were around to see, but, well… no one is.
The chat has exploded since he closed his phone and started cooking, but for all that he has to swipe several times to catch up there is, predictably, not much substance. The last thing that’s been sent gives Eskel pause, though.
‘you heading home next week?’ 
It’s Lambert asking. It’s a bit odd to that he’s sent it in the group chat instead of a private message. Geralt’s silence is a bit odd too.
Eskel types out this answer more carefully than his earlier ones, mindful of the change in tone. He takes another slurp of Ramen, setting his phone aside slowly and ignoring it when it quickly buzzes again.
Later that night, after he’s showered and finished three hours of wrangling with his paper that he had planned to spend catching up on sleep, Eskel finally succumbs and checks the chat before bed — which is a terrible idea, since it’ll only leave him restless. 
Sure enough he stares into the screen for several minutes before finally putting it down again, and then stares up at his darkened ceiling for another twenty afterward.
‘Can’t.’ His own text had read. ‘Sorry. Tell Vesemir I’m bringing apples from the market for Thanksgiving.’
‘alright sure’ Lambert’s text had read back. Geralt hadn’t sent anything, but that said enough on its own. 
______________________________________
Eskel wakes to his alarm blaring discordantly. Why he hasn’t changed it — or better yet chucked the clock entirely, since he doesn’t bloody-well use it when he’s got his phone — Eskel doesn’t know. It’s from his old room, so maybe sentimentality’s gotten its hooks deeper in him than he’s realized over the years.
He moves blearily on automatic. 
A hand swipes over the right side of his face, sleepily massaging away the prickles of pain in his scarring. He stretches as fully as he dares on the little bed, arms and toes surpassing the edges, head rubbing up against the metal rungs at the top. It would be so easy to let himself fall limp afterwards, relishing in the warmth of his blankets and the fuzzy relaxation soaking into him from crown to feet…but the alarm does have a point. 
Eskel does himself the cruel injustice of rolling directly out of bed, kicking off blankets an ignoring a rather violent return of his headache. 
He thuds onto the floor on all fours, feet braced and hands shoulder-width apart. There are a few cracks in his spine, but otherwise nothing protests when he starts his push-ups. The following planks are hell, but it’s part of the routine, and the satisfaction he’ll have by the end will make it worth it. Not to mention it’s actually necessary for his continued health and well-being.
There had been a trainer at the last gym he’d visited who’d snorted when she heard him say so, then given him a very apologetic look. “I get that,” She’d said. “I do, I promise. But seriously, you’re not going to die if you miss a few.” 
Eskel had grinned and said nothing to correct her.
He finishes the last set just as the clock marks half-past five. Breathing is difficult; he’s been low on energy the past few days, and it’s starting to show in worrisome places. He’ll need to fix that. 
The wood floor is warm where his palms press against it now, and he braces on hands and knees until his heart-rate slows. Then he gets up, opens his door, walks to the kitchen, and pours himself a healthy jug of water. By the time it’s half-empty he has to force himself to finish it.
He’s moved on to doing battle with a bowl of cereal, stomach rolling at the thought of eating while there’s still work on the hellish paper to be done, when someone decides it’s far enough past six he must be awake enough for a call.
His phone buzzes incessantly. Eskel quickly abandons his half-eaten bowl to answer it. 
“‘lo?” He manages through a mouthful. It’s not bad manners, exactly; there are only a few people who know he’s awake this time of day, and even fewer who are themselves also awake — and they won’t care if he speaks through oats.
Sure enough, Geralt’s voice comes through the speakers, still rough with sleep. “Thought you’d be awake.” 
Eskel would grin, but he refuses to lose his mouthful. That would be disgusting. “Yup. Wh’t’re ‘ou doin’ up?” He asks, every other word a garbled mess.
“What’re you eating?” Geralt dodges the question deftly, which means this is pleasure not business.
Eskel grins. “Fear-ee-ull.” He articulates beautifully before finally swallowing.
“Mm.” There’s a shift of cloth on the other end before he hears Geralt’s door squeak. 
Eskel’s grin nearly splits his face in two, but he doesn’t care. “Going to get some?”
“Mm.” Dull snoring echoes through the speakers, and by the tone and pitch Eskel would wager quite a bit of money that Lambert’s left his door open again back at home. 
He’s along for the ride as Geralt makes his way through the house to the kitchen, closing his eyes and tracking the familiar sounds he can hear while trying to fill in the ones that are too soft to make it through. The hallway’s creaking follows the same pattern it always does when Geralt walks by, and for a moment Eskel has to close his eyes a bit harder while his chest aches at the sound.
“Miss you.” He says into the silence.
“Miss you too.” Comes back immediately, gruff and raspy. “Wanted you home next week.”
“I figured. I’m the life of the party.”
Most people wouldn’t identify the huff that answers that as a laugh, but Eskel’s not most people. 
“So long as the party ends by eight, maybe.” The tone is sly, teasing.
“Oi, watch your tone young man.”
“Pretty sure I’m older’n you.” Geralt says, and Eskel can hear his grin. The kitchen door squalls on the other end, and after a few soft bumps Eskel hears the rustle of what he assumes is a cereal bag. Then there’s crunching.
He laughs outright, loud and long. “No milk? That’s disgusting.”
Geralt crunches louder. “Milk is f’r th’ weak an’ poorly endowed.” He grinds out.
“You know, you’d think you’d lay off that one since when last we measured—“
Geralt proceeds to choke and cough on the other end, and Eskel gives up the fight for his self-control. He laughs hard enough that tears prick the corners of his eyes; hard enough his sides ache and his freshly strained limbs scream at him. 
They both wind up wheezing out the last of their giggling together over the phone, and Eskel gets himself down onto the floor so he can flop onto his back. 
He grunts thoughtfully to himself, sobering. “I’m just…fighting with my research paper. Gotta turn it in before next week, and I won’t have time to travel.” He says, staring up at the ceiling.
“I know. You’ve been bitching; we all know.” Geralt says, stilted and gruff again.
Eskel stills, watching the lights overhead flicker almost imperceptibly. “Yeah.” He says hoarsely. “Sorry about that.”
“That’s not—“ Geralt starts, sounding pained, but Eskel cuts him off.
“Shut up, not feeling guilty.” He reassures, smiling in a coaxing maneuver Geralt can’t even see, so it’s a toss-up who it’s actually for. “Just wishing I spent more of my phone-calls chatting about the things I actually want to say, not the shitty stuff I need to get off my chest.”
There’s silence for a moment.
“Like what?” Geralt asks finally, softer.
Eskel takes the opportunity he’s been wanting to seize for months — the chance to meddle — much as a maestro takes up the baton. It suits rather well as a metaphor, he thinks. Maybe he should get back to work on his paper while the muse lasts. 
“Like whether white or yellow looks better on Ciri,” He says innocently.
The sheer frustration that bleeds through the phone gets him chuckling again.
“She looks good in literally fucking anything.” Geralt says with all the patience of a well-poked dragon. “I don’t understand why they’re making such a fuss over-“
“Because it’s a professional ballet and your daughter’s the star. They’re obsessive.” Eskel interrupts. “Don’t let it get to you — either of you.”
“Ciri nearly told the seamstress to fuck off. The only reason she didn’t get to it was because Lambert got there first.”
“I’d say good on him, but again, that seamstress is probably paid to hold up at least twelve swatches before deciding on a color.” Eskel says, “Though I could be wrong; what do I know about ballet?”
“You showed Ciri how to go on her toes. The en-pointe thing.”
“Sure, but I knew that from trying to steal Vesemir’s whiskey off the top shelf, not off a balance bar.” Eskel grins wolfishly in the privacy of his own apartment, one arm thrown back so his fingers can play at the frayed edge of his rug. It’s not the same as the one at home, but it’s pleasantly rough against his fingers.
Geralt hums in that way that means he’s trying not to let on that he’s having fun; which he can only do over the phone because when he’s face-to-face he’s got a lip-twitch that always gives him away.
“Who do you talk to?” Geralt blurts suddenly, and it’s so unexpected — both the fact that Geralt’s blurting and that he’s asked the question at all — that Eskel actually blinks for several seconds before answering.
“You know, I’m pretty good at parsing your particular brand of conversation, Wolf, but I’m going to need a few more specifics this time.” He says, exasperation warring with amusement in his chest. The amusement wins, as it usually does. “I talk to loads of people.”
He can almost hear Geralt’s shrug, though he has no doubt that if he were with the man in person there’d still be no visible sign of it. It’s usually more of a shift in his attitude than anything else; a change in breathing, a flick of his eyes to glance sidelong. 
“Just. Wondered. You know,” Geralt says, and judging by his tone he’s far more distressed at just how little that fails to clarify anything than Eskel is. “Friends?” He says, and immediately huffs a short breath of relief that means yes, that was the right word. 
“Friends,” Eskel says slowly. “Hm. Not really.”
“Hm.” 
“Yeah.”
A voice comes through the phone tinnily, the speaker a bit too distant from Geralt’s end to be heard clearly.
“Morning Lamb-chop,” Eskel says loudly, as if the volume will carry over through the connection — which he knows it won’t, but Lambert will definitely be able to tell that he tried. 
Lambert’s voice comes a bit clearer this time. It’s uncharacteristically level and articulate, which conversely means he’s definitely not gotten the amount of sleep he prefers. An odd deviation from the norm, that. 
“You monosyllabic fuckers are a cocklebur up my ass.” It’s said almost conversationally, if with a bit of gravel and rasp. 
“Hey,” Eskel protests.
“No one can sleep with a cocklebur up their ass.” Lambert goes on to clarify, slowly and emphatically, just in case they missed the point. “Had three pillows over my head and still heard pretty-boy stammering like a school-girl.”
“You know, you could always get your own house.” Geralt says, as if it’s a novel solution he’s just stumbled on. 
“There’s an idea, then you and the menace could ride Vesemir into an early grave and then- oh wait, that’d mean even more work and less sleep.” Lambert shoots back sarcastically. “You know, that seems so obvious now in hindsight. If I hadn’t realized it right away — if I was the sort of assfaced moper who would overlook that sort of thing — I’d seriously consider the possibility that I had dog-balls for brains.”
Eskel gives in to the laughs straining his ribcage, throwing back his head and guffawing loudly. 
He hears a scuffle over the phone, which just makes him laugh harder. 
“Fat ass-“ Lambert hisses, and Geralt growls, his more competitive side on full display even with over three-hundred miles blocking Eskel’s view.
There’s a clatter as Geralt’s phone drops — presumable out of his pocket — but Eskel can still hear what’s going on relatively well.
Well enough to hear Geralt bite out: “Least I have an ass.”
Lambert, who has arguably the best ass between the three of them, sputters indignantly as only a man woken far too early and finding himself facing criticisms of his ass can. That is to say, profanely — although to be fair, Lambert would find a way to do most things profanely with or without the incentive.
There’s another slight clatter, as if someone’s picking up the phone. Eskel can’t tell if it’s Geralt or Lambert; the sounds of undignified scuffling are ongoing. He wishes he could see them; both are nearly evenly matched in hand-to-hand combat, Geralt is bigger and Lambert’s better at finding weakspots, but both are unrepentantly underhanded with each other. 
He’s not sure he could keep himself from jumping in the middle of them to add his own particular brand of violence to the mix, if he were there.
The next voice that comes over the speaker is neither Lambert’s nor Geralt’s, and Eskel immediately stiffens, grin slipping.
“Eskel?” Comes Vesemir’s calm voice, the tone at odds with the sudden bellow that Eskel hears in the background. Something about ‘oily-ass eel’. 
Seconds crawl, measured by the quickened beat of Eskel’s aching heart.
“Yeah,” He finally manages, and it’s a little thin. “Yeah, I’m here.”
For a few seconds Vesemir just breathes, and Geralt and Lambert keep brawling, and Eskel just— stares up at the ceiling, listening with everything he has. 
“Good.” Vesemir says. “You eaten, yet?”
It’s like he never left — like he’s in the kitchen at the ass-crack of dawn and the light will come spilling in through the windows any second, carrying the sounds of birds and goats and one very stubborn rooster with it. 
“Yeah, I ate.” Eskel answers, each word feeling a bit heavier than usual on his tongue. He swallows, re-centering his focus. “Cereal.”
Vesemir grunts, then there’s a pause. “Geralt,” He begins, and Vesemir’s very good at deadpanning but there is without question a note of resignation in his tone this time. “Why isn’t there any milk in that bowl?”
The scuffling dies down immediately.
“I didn’t need it.” Geralt says flatly. “Tasted fine.”
“Fucking sociopath.” Lambert sneers. 
“You ingested your own fingernail last night.” Geralt says incredulously. 
“Oi — waste not.”
“That’s disgusting.” Eskel says, lips twitching a little more weakly than before.
“Speaking of bad taste, your goat ate Geralt’s sock yesterday.” Lambert responds. “She’s living on borrowed time as we speak.”
Eskel groans, sliding one hand over his eyes. “Lil’ Bleater, no…”
“She’s not here,” Geralt says, and he’s definitely taken another bite of milk-less cereal, because it’s very crunchy and muffled suddenly on the other end. “And don’t worry, I made her throw it back up.”
There’s a collective groan at this; Eskel finds himself alongside both Vesemir and Lambert. 
“Where did you make her vomit it back up?” The question is somewhere between a threat and an accusation. Lambert sounds like he already knows.
Sure enough, Geralt growls. “You know where,” He points out. “You complained about it for hours.”
“About what?”
“The stench.”
“You mean the fucking dead carcass reek I thought was coming from under my bed?”
“I thought you knew.”
Vesemir’s huff comes through the speaker; an amused noise, equally fond and rueful. Eskel hears a higher pitch entering the chaos on the other end of the phone, too distant to make out the words, and gives up the fight against the ache in his chest as Ciri comes close enough to croak a sleepy: “Uncle Eskel the goats are having kids and you lied because it’s not beautiful at all.”
He throws an arm over his eyes, blocking out everything else and pressing the phone close against his ear so he can focus only on there and them. 
“Yeah little lion,” He chuckles weakly, wetly, “But aren’t they the cutest?”
It does what it’s meant to; Ciri launches into a spiel lauding the baby goats that gets steadily more and more articulate. In the background Vesemir starts making eggs and Lambert starts criticizing his method. Geralt sits at the table to wrap his entire body around Ciri — which Eskel knows because she squawks at the interruption and Geralt hums happily at the sound-
-and for another hour, Eskel’s home.
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solesommerso · 2 years
Note
u should dead ass write a tan x street one-shot on GOD
Stay the Night | victor tan x jim street
Genre- hurt/comfort, romance
Warnings- breakup at the beginning (street and Chris), arguing
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~
“You’re breaking up with me!?” Chris throws her hands up across from where Street sits at the island in his and Lucas kitchen. He sighs to himself a moment, he knew this wouldn’t be easy.
“Chris we just aren’t working and you care more about your work than us.” Street runs a hand through his hair while Chris smacks her teeth angrily.
“I’m helping people everyday just like you, it’s normal to care about that.” Street closes his eyes, they’ve been over this one too many times.
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t care about your work but you’ve blown me off to do things that could’ve waited. You don’t even tell me you’re not going to show up til I call you five times.” Chris turns around and groans loudly.
“I just get focused and forget.” He’s heard that before.
“But it never changes! And we argue every other damn day when you actually come home.” Chris faces Street quickly with a scoff.
“Oh so it’s my fault that we’re breaking up?!” Street has to clench his jaw to not just get up and leave.
“I never said that, it’s just not working and besides I’m- I’m developing feelings for someone else and it’s not right to lead you on.” Chris rolls her eyes at Street.
“Whatever man, hopefully your next girlfriend can deal with how clingy you are.” The door slams behind Chris leaving and Street stays sitting there a moment. So much for his plan of trying to be friends afterwards, not that he even really wanted to, Chris has been getting more and more cold as the months go on.
Not to mention the growing feelings for Tan that quickly started to show up again once he learned about Tan and Bonnie’s divorce. He never got a solid answer on what pushed Tan to file for the split up but Streets almost positive he had something to do it. They’ve been spending more and more time together, really leaning on the other while the team went through the crazy changes of the past year without Chris and new recruits filtering in and out. Then Tan let himself be open about the divorce as far he really could, Street did the same with the fights him and Chris have been having.
Maybe that’s why he’s standing in front of Tans door with a hesitant knock and shaky hand. Streets not sure why he’s shaking, he’s not upset at what Chris said, he’s heard way worse come out of his mouth but it could just be seeing Tan with the knowledge of them both being single. The pair having feelings for one another is no secret just a little tucked away box as it was never the right time.
“Street? What’s wrong? You never show up without calling.” Right he didn’t even tell Tan he was coming over.
“I broke up with Chris.” Tans eyebrows raise as he nods slowly then motions Street inside with the door clicking behind them.
Street swallows as he scans Tans loft over, he’s been here so many times, the couch has his body imprinted into it from the nights he’s fallen asleep against Tans shoulder, the nights where they sit overly close and don’t mention the small smiles each has, not bringing up how Tan always wraps an arm over Streets shoulders or how Street leans into it easily. It’s Tans loft, it’s safe and comfortable.
“Are you okay?” Tans eyes are filled with worry as he places a hand on Streets shoulder gently.
“Is it bad that I’m relieved?” He gives half a chuckle that has Tan smiling.
“Not bad, it means that you made the right decision.” Street nods firmly, he’d never doubt Tans advice.
“So, what do you want to do? You’re freely single, we could go clubbing or maybe hit up tinder-.” Street shakes his head before Tan can continue.
“Do you wanna cook and listen to music?” Tan gives a blinding grin as he nods then takes Streets hand to pull them both over to the kitchen. Looks like Tan was in the middle of making something as there’s already pans set out on the stove and utensils out.
“Cooking without me?” Tans shoulder bumps into Streets with a huff of air out of his nose.
“Just grilled cheese and some bacon.” Street quirks a brow at the seemingly random food combo.
“Oh shut it, it’s all I had.” He hums to Tan while Tan moves to play music on his speaker he keeps secured in the corner of his counter after having to grab it from upstairs one too many times when Street came over and the pair decided to dance around like idiots. It’s something they’d never admit to the team but secretly love.
Soon enough ‘We Are Young’ by Fun. is playing and Tan has abandoned the finished sandwiches to be spun around by Street.
“Carry me tonight!” Street sings loudly as he twirls Tans back into his chest so he can wrap both their arms over it and sway back and forth.
“Just carry me home tonight!” Tan replies, tipping his head back against Streets shoulder so they can make eye contact.
“Would you ever carry me home?” Street laughs at Tans ask while shifting so they’re facing each other but Streets arms over Tans shoulders hold them together.
“Oh I’d totally carry you home.” Street says seriously and Tan shakes his head.
“Mmm sure Street. You’d totally leave me if I fell asleep at a club.” Street gasps fake offended.
“I would carry you like you were worth a million dollars!” Tan looks unimpressed as he hums.
“Hopefully we never test that theory.” Street pulls Tan in closer til they’re chest to chest with a little smile.
“And would you carry me? Since you’re oh so sure I wouldn’t.” Tan rolls his eyes playfully.
“I would totally carry you, it just might not be that graceful.” Street laughs with a nod.
“Glad we have an understanding that if one of us was to fall asleep out at a club we’d be carried home.” Streets chuckling gets shut short when Tans forehead presses into his and Tans arms snake around Streets waist.
“What if I don’t want to go to club? What if I just want us to stay here?” Streets breath hitches as the tone of the conversation falls serious and his eyes can’t help but land on Victors lips.
“Then I’d tell you to ask me to stay the night.” He’s trying to be his normal flirty self but the hesitation in Streets voice has to be obvious to Tan.
“Stay the night?” Tan questions as his eyes drop away from Streets in anxious energy.
“Yeah, I’ll stay the night.” They both break into grins before Tans all but throwing himself to kiss Street as hard as he can. It only gets broken up by chuckles and grins that fill the couples chests with adoration.
“Street!” Tan squeaks when he’s suddenly thrown into Streets arms to be held bridal style.
“Like a million dollars.” Street smirks while bouncing up the stairs to Tans bedroom and more giggles erupt out of Tans chest as he holds himself against Streets chest.
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mctwilight-mcd · 2 years
Text
GUESS WHO FINISHED THE STORY SHE WAS WRITNG? 
me. it’s me. that’s probably why you’re reading this.
Anyways, here’s some cute agent 12 for u all to feast upon. I’m making a cut because this is  2,809 words long and I don’t want you all to hate me.
enjoy. (Title taken from ‘It’s Time to Dance’ from Prom)
But 'til That Day Comes, I Say Cue the Drums, It's Time to Dance
~ ~ ~
It had been a long night. Laura always hates these parties. Too many people, most of whom are drunk by the end of the night. Too tight dresses with too big skirts. She’s dying to be in a suit instead. The watchful eyes of her father all night long. Needing to pretend to like the boyfriend he set her up with. It’s all exhausting.
All night she’s been busy. All night, she’s been waiting to dance with Sophie. Laura doesn’t think she’ll get the chance as she watches Sophie’s glowing pink tentacles twirl across the floor, blue dress flowing around her perfectly. She’s being spun from one man to the next, smiling the whole time. Laura knows she’ll never be able to hold her like that. Not tonight, not ever.
Laura sips her drink while she leans on a pillar. The courtyard is strung with fairy lights and leaves blow in the light breeze. She watches them swirl around the short inkling, adding to her ethereal glow. She’s too distracted to notice the presence of a young man beside her.
“Long night?” Laura chokes on her drink in surprise. She then turns to look at her visitor. Of all the people to catch her, it had to be Serafin.
“For the love of cod, a little warning next time!”
“Sorry! Couldn’t help but notice you hanging here by yourself.”
Laura takes a long sip of her drink. “If you’re asking me to dance, I’m gonna have to say no.”
He chuckles. “Not a chance Laura. You barely even dance with Katashi and the two of you are dating. No, I came over here because you look lonely.” There’s a pause while he sips his drink. “I also wanted to ask you a question.” This gets Laura to perk up. Serafin’s questions are often funny in nature, sometimes close to riddles or jokes. It wouldn't hurt to let him ask.
“Shoot.”
“Why have you been staring at my girlfriend all night?” Well, no one said Laura Shouriki was never wrong.
Laura freezes. She would have choked again if she had taken another sip. She is so busted.
“She’s a good dancer and I was bored.” The lie does not convince Serafin.
“I agree, she is a good dancer, but you’re lying.” He looks her dead in the eyes. Then he grins. “I think you like her.” Laura’s whole face lights up green. She tries to hide her blush. Sure, Laura’s had a crush on Sophie since they met. It doesn’t mean she’ll get in between Sophie and Serafin. She just hopes that he didn’t tell anyone else.
After a few moments, Serafin bursts out laughing. Laura snaps her eyes to him, shooting him a wicked glare.
“Relax, relax! I’m not mad.” He gives Laura a genuine smile. “I’ve been picking up on it for a while. She seems much happier when you’re around and vice versa. I’m glad she has someone who loves her like that.” That makes Laura pause.
“Don’t you?” He chuckles.
“I love her as a friend. She’s an amazing person, but I don’t like her in that way. You’re not the only closeted homosexual in our age group.” That gets her to laugh.
“Alright. I’ll admit it. I do have eyes for Sophie. Who’s your pick?” It’s her turn to smirk at him.
“Why, your boyfriend of course!” Laura bursts out laughing, soon being joined by Serafin.
“You like Katashi? Mr. No nonsense, straight as a pin Katashi?”
“I will have you know that he can never sit without crossing his legs and has many posters of male idols in his room. The man is fruity, I tell you.” Laura takes another sip of her drink as she chuckles.
“You make a compelling argument my good sir.” They both continue to laugh, leaning against the pillar behind them for support.
“Did you two talk about it?” Laura asks. “How you don’t like her that way?”
Serafin nods. “Ya. She feels the same way. You?”
“Ya. Tash knows to fake it. I give you my blessing for what it’s worth.”
“Thanks, and same here. Our parents paired us with the wrong people it seems.”
Laura holds up her glass. “Cheers to that.” Their glasses clink as they both knock back the rest of their beverages of choice.
The song that had been playing during their conversation slowly comes to an end and a round of applause echoes through the courtyard. Serafin leans over to whisper in Laura’s ear.
“Mr. Fruity at 12 o’clock, heading our way.” She looks up and sure enough, Katashi is making his way over to the pair. “I’ll make you a deal. You go dance with our lovely disco ball over there, while I keep the gay man busy and keep the parents off our tails.”
“Deal.” She whispers back, just before Katashi reaches them. He clears his throat and extends his hand.
“Laura, may I have this-” He’s cut off by Serafin grabbing his hand. 
“Katashi! Great timing! I was about to come looking for you! I need to talk to you about something.” He starts pulling Katashi through the doors to the interior of the house. “Nice speaking with you Laura! See you later!” 
“Bye!” she chuckles. Katashi can’t get a word out before the doors close behind them. Laura swears she saw a bit of blush on his face. She sighs, then turns to the crowd.
Sophie is hard to miss, tentacles glowing under the night sky. Laura briskly walks to her, dodging around people as she goes. No one has approached her so far, but Laura can see a young man walking in Sophie’s direction. She speeds up ever so slightly and manages to get there first. 
“Hey.” The luminescent squid whirls around to meet her eyes. 
“Oh! Hi, Laura!” She smiles and Laura’s hearts skip a beat. She can’t help but smile too.
“Can we talk?” She asks softly, setting her empty glass down on the refreshments table beside her. 
“Sure. Here?”
“I was thinking somewhere a bit more private.” Sophie’s smile grows bigger. She extends out her hand.
“Lead the way.” Laura takes Sophie’s hand in her own and starts to pull her further from the house and the party. She starts to pick up her pace, jogging and eventually running, pulling Sophie beside her as they run through cobblestone passageways between ferns and bushes. Their laughter fills the night around them as the wind flies in their faces. 
Soon, they reach a dip in the foliage, camouflaged to only be seen if you know where to look. Laura pulls the other girl through the small gap and into an open space under a canopy of trees. Fireflies light up the air around them and the smell of fragrant flowers drifts on the breeze. They’re both out of breath and panting as they take in the area. Laura feels butterflies in her stomach as she watches Sophie’s eyes light up in wonder. Still not letting go of her hand, Laura tugs Sophie to a small stone bench off to the side so they can catch their breath.
“This is gorgeous Laura.” She sighs as she takes in the scenery. “It’s also very private.” They both laugh.
“Indeed it is.” They sit there for a moment.
“So, what did you want to talk about?” Sophie sets her purse to the side as she swings her legs towards Laura’s and takes both her hands, looking into her golden eyes.
“Oh! I just wanted to see how you were doing. It’s been a long night.” Sophie sighs and hangs her head.
“Believe me, I know! Not many people approach you to dance, but I have 10 at a time asking for my hand. I’d been trying to come find you but I kept getting tossed around. I’m exhausted and my feet hurt so bad in these heels. Sorry I couldn’t talk to you earlier.” Laura slips one of her hands from Sophie’s grasp and sneaks it under her chin, lifting her face so Laura can stare into her crimson eyes.
“Never apologise for something you can’t control.” They both blush as they lock eyes, quickly turning to look straight ahead, one hand still laced with the other. “Anyway, I’m assuming you’re too tired to dance with me right now but-” Laura is cut off by Sophie turning back to her and bringing Laura’s hand near her chest.  
“I’d love to.” She smiles and stands up, pulling Laura up with her. “Just let me-” She fumbles as she slips off her heels, setting them by the bench. “There. Much better.” Laura laughs as she does the same. Slipping her hand into her dress pocket, she pulls out her phone. No messages from her father or Serafin. She opens it and selects a song she knows they both love to dance to, setting her phone down on the bench beside them. Sophie’s comment about having pockets in her dress is lost as the tune begins and Laura takes her hand. She guides them both to the centre of the space. Laura’s other hand finds Sophie’s waist as Sophie’s sets on her shoulder. For the first time that night, they are both happy to be dancing.
The pair twirls and spins and sweeps across the grass. As the music builds, Laura slides both hands to Sophie’s waist and lifts her in the air, twirling her around before setting her back down again. They laugh as they drift through the clearing, getting lost in the music and each other's eyes. All too soon, the song is over and the girls come to a rest. 
They breathe as one for a moment. Sophie leans towards Laura, snaking her hand from Laura’s shoulder to the back of her neck. Laura comes with the pull and she can feel Sophie’s breath on her cheek. Sophie leans to close the gap and-
“Bbbbbrrrrringgggggggg” Just like that the moment is broken. Laura can see the sadness in Sophie's eyes as she slowly steps away, heading to the bench to fish her ringing phone from her purse. Her eyes go wide as she sees the name. She answers the call.
“Hello mother.” Laura’s intake of breath is just quiet enough to not be heard through the phone. Sophie slowly slides her phone down as she hits the speaker button, putting a finger to her lips as she does.
“-phie darling, where are you? It’s getting late and you and Laura have a photoshoot tomorrow.”
“Laura and I stepped away from the party for a bit.” Laura nods her head at the response. 
“Oh. And what of Serafin and Katashi?” Sophie looks to Laura for an answer. Laura walks up to the phone. 
“Serafin wasn’t feeling too well so Katashi walked him home. I can do the same for Sophie. We’re not too far from your house.”
“I see. That would be wonderful. Thank you Laura. Marcus and I will continue to mingle a bit before heading home as well. Be safe.” 
“We will. Bye mother.” The phone goes dark as Lucy ends the call. They both let out a sigh of relief. Laura runs over to the bench and grabs her phone. Scrolling through her contacts until she finds the one she’s looking for. She hits the call button and immediately puts it on speaker. Sophie gives her a questioning look. The phone picks up.
“Hello?”
“Serafin! Thank cod! Is Katashi with you?” Sophie gives her another weird look.
“Yes… he is. Why?”
“He needs to walk you home right now. Me and Sophie need to bounce and we told Lucy that Katashi already took you home.” Sophie’s eyes light up in recognition. 
“Because you’re not feeling well apparently. Good job on that, I had no clue you were lying.”
“Thanks.”
“Laura managed to lie convincingly for once?! Also hi Soph. Ya we’ll get right on that.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem, but you owe me a favour for calling at an inopportune time.”
“I’m fine with that. See you tomorrow.” She reaches to hang up the phone.
“Laura, wait.” She stops. “I just wanted to tell you… THAT I WAS RIGHT OK BYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” He hangs up.
They stare dumbfounded. Sophie eventually turns to Laura. 
“What was that about?” Laura sighs.
“I’ll… let him tell you later.” Sophie just shrugs and goes to pick up her purse.
“I guess we’re walking back to my place then.” She offers her hand to Laura. “Would you mind leading the way, fair lady?” Laura chuckles as she slides her hand into Sophie’s palm, interlacing their fingers as she does so.
“I would be honoured, my beauty.” Sophie blushes.
“Are you calling me beautiful?” Now it’s Laura’s turn to blush. She turns her head away, but still mutters,
“Yes.” It’s quiet, but Sophie hears it nonetheless.
The two walk together in silence. Hands interlaced. Once and a while, one will make a comment about the scenery or how vibrant the stars are tonight. Soon enough, they arrive at Sophie’s estate. 
“Well,” She says, sighing. “This is me.” Their hands stay interlaced.
“I guess it is.” Laura turns to Sophie, tracing her eyes over the intricate glowing patterns of Sophie’s tentacles and the glowing freckles on her skin. Then Laura’s eyes fall on her lips. Sophie notices and Laura shifts her gaze away, cheeks lighting up in green. Then she remembers something.
“Before you go,” She turns to Sophie. From her pocket, she pulls out a small, green box wrapped in a purple ribbon, matching Laura’s ink colour exactly. “You can open it now or later. I don’t care, but… I got this for you.”
Sophie unlaces their fingers, much to Laura’s dismay, before carefully taking the box in her hands. She smiles, showing her fangs and looks up at Laura. Crimson meets gold as the two 15 year olds lock eyes. Sophie slips the box in her purse and wraps her arms around Laura’s shoulders, one hand finding her neck and the other, her cheek. She leans in slowly to let Laura move away if necessary. She doesn’t.
They close the gap and all Laura can think is, “Wow! I’m kissing Sophie, I’M KISSING SOPHIE!” Eventually, the both need to breathe, and break apart. Sophie looks back at her house and slides her arms away from Laura. As she leaves, she stands on her tiptoes and gives Laura a light peck on the cheek. 
“Goodnight Laura.” She whispers in her ear, then turns and leaves, entering her house. Laura stands there for a moment, still processing what just happened. Then a huge smile slides across her face. She quickly pulls out a compact mirror and fixes her lipstick, noticing the small mark on her cheek.
Without a care in the world, Laura skips back home, humming as she goes.
When she gets home, she immediately rushes to her room, avoiding all the house staff and locks the door behind her. She collapses on her bed as she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. She pulls it out and opens the two new messages from Sophie.
The first message is an image. In it, Sophie is in her room, hair down and  flowing behind her. Lips pulled back in a smile, lipstick still smudged. On her neck sits a glittering, silver necklace that swirls like vines across her collar. Set within the metal are dozens of yellow sapphires, ranging in size from as small as a pea to as big as her eye’s iris. 
The second is a text message saying,
Thank you for the necklace! I love it! 💛
Laura smiles and sends a message back.
I’m glad you like it. Yellow suits you.
Sorry I forgot to say it before, but I
Hope you have a good sleep!💚
She sends the message and then clicks her phone off. She starts undressing and changing into her pyjamas when she hears her phone go off again. Laura picks up her phone, seeing another image from Sophie. In this one, she’s also changed into pyjamas, a loose fitting shirt and long pants, both silk per her mother’s standards. She’s still wearing the necklace, but her makeup is off and her tentacles are braided over her shoulder. Her ink colour, instead of the glowing pink it was before, has now switched to a no longer glowing, buttercup yellow that fades to brown at the ends. It matches the necklace perfectly. 
Laura sends hearts in her own ink colour back her way. She’s about to put her phone away when she gets one more message. A simple kiss emoticon from Sophie. Her heart flutters as she sends one back and promptly silences her phone so she can get ready for bed. 
Both girls dream throughout the night about the party, the dance, the kiss and the new relationship they are building. They’ve only known each other for 3 months now, but they know one couldn’t live without the other.
Luckily for Laura and Sophie, this is not the end of their story. This is just the beginning.
Happy Birthday Girls!
BTW! I made art for this a little while back! We don’t get a description for it in the story cuz it’s from Laura’s POV, but Sophie might have been watching Laura have a gay panic outside her house
Here you are!
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destructive-ilya · 7 months
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long ass messy explaining of today:
well he hit/choked my mom for just trying get our stuff to leave like he had a tantrum we do for leaving a light in our room on at night w us in it and didn’t like taht she barked AT HIS SCREAMING then because he got arrested when he came back (me and dog locked out could remove our stuff had to wait until officers came to like help/oversee) he screamed get out off property then started throwing rocks and bricks at me and nova , keep in mind busy city suburb she has no collar or leash atm (inside and also all of our stuff) so the only safe place is in gate until we can all leave together(either to take her seprate but safe which is why from 9/10am-2pm i was trying to find smth) if she was out that gate she’d be gone. his sister JUST lost a dog in a car accident at same time as he was trying to force open gate while i begged not to shes get out and officers and my mom onw that second to get our stuff and remove us someone else walking by had a dog get out of their leash and he was trying help them “cause i just lost a dog this way” EXACT SAME SECOND
then he like ran off, at the throwing bricks point called 911 (cause i was supposed to anyway so we could remove stuff ) when i was on phone i gave wrong street twice in the panic so it took forever at this point i’m at 2% then officers come plus my mom with water (have had none except the two i asked some guys behind their gate for eternally grateful) and guy has disappeared (hiding out friends place hoping we just leave (everything we own?)) my mom calls him and officers talk to him he says half hour doesn’t get there for a full one and while waiting trying to figure out what to do for nova that’s best for her and maybe we could see again, they decide we could put her in a car and take to station with us u til we could get a shelter, then he shows up and chucks like only a couple things out and when officers walk through HE JUST LIES saying all of ours is his. upwards of thousand dollar worth of food maybe more considering spices (he had border nothing except what we’d given before we even went just cause he had nothing) my toiletries?? a tub of irreplaceable items , photos of my papa who died, birthday card, pictures sent to me, art and drawings given to me/done in treatment, my mom’s computer, a water bottle, a sport bag with my stuffie in it, and some of my clothes and some other things cooking supplies, my dogs food what? for his cat? (he doesn’t deserve that cat, absolutely love not fault on)
and he can do that, they knew he was lying but it’s his residence and it’s like there isn’t anything to do besides sue, i wanted my things back. had to have officer go back for a back pack cause it had my wallet and a cash app card w my name and my mothers meds so i mean he gave that over eventually , and then with like a bunch of stuff just thrown in his back yard we needed to like figure out what had what’s gone and what throw away cause can’t bring that much, and as going throw officers are like we don’t want to stand rushing over you while you go through causing forgetting things, so just call 911 when your done and we’ll come escort you and dog then, they leave, maybe 5 or 6:30, phone is dead now, got rid kf two thirds then he did come out while sorting for his garbage , like yeah we’re in way but it’s almost 8 we were calling that second and finishing up, he’s screaming off property and shit talking again, we were where we were supposed to be i said i’d just deal with his trash if it was so heinous n he didn’t want us touching. he wasn’t supposed tp b there til we had left . so we wait for officers it gets dark and cold and drizzly 5hrs go by nothing i’m just watching creepyass bugs on pavement after i magiver a leashe waist harness thing for her anyway something happend and all cars were redirected no one came until 2/3 am and they were SHITTY mostly mom talked to upfront , nova had been laying falling aslee but she did bark at them cause ya know middle of night she has no food no sleep watched some shit w all of us taday, and they’re like no. and can’t at night anyway no resources too late. so now we’re back in old apt w border nothing comparitive go 24hrs ago just until morning and it’s 4am and i STILL HAVENT SLEPT
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