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writingouthere · 2 months

Text

exboyfriend!Sukuna x f!reader.

cw: smut, outdoor sex, angst, controlling behavior.

Your date was a disappointment.

The guy wasn't an asshole or anything, but at some point he'd talked about cryptocurrency for ten minutes straight without you saying a word and there was no coming back from that.

"I had a great time," he tells you as you stand on the subway platform after finally escaping the restaurant. You nod noncommittally and wonder if this is the part where he asks for your number. You're calculating the risk/reward of giving him a fake number and having him potentially call it while you're still right in front of him when you hear a familiar laugh from behind you.

"I doubt it," the voice says and you close your eyes. Maybe if you wish hard enough you can develop teleportation and not have to deal with this.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" your date asks, his voice only wavering a little as he looks at your ex-boyfriend. Honestly, you admire him. The sight of the tall, heavily tattooed (alleged) criminal was usually enough to make people cross the street to avoid him but not this accountant? Investment baker? Dentist? Fuck, he'd talked about his job for thirty minutes and you had not been listening. You would have guilty if you weren't actively judging him for not even noticing your lack of engagement.

Whatever, he probably wasn't brave, he was probably just an idiot.

Sukuna seemed to agree as he laughed again and put his hand on your shoulder.

"I'm her boyfriend."

Your date looked at him, looked at you, and seemed to be weighing if this was worth one mediocre date. He seemed frozen for a second until Sukuna took a step forward and the guy's previously dormant survival instincts seemed to awaken and he booked it down the train platform.

Once he was out of sight, you took Sukuna's hand and dropped it off your shoulder like a fallen leaf that had got stuck on your jacket.

"Are you following me, now?" You wouldn't have put it past him. You turn to face your ex who looks not only unrepentant for his little routine but vindicated. Or maybe he just looks vindictive, you can never tell.

"Are you going on dates with any loser that asks?" He tosses back and you roll your eyes.

"You didn't even meet him."

"So, he wasn't a loser? And you weren't deciding if it was worth giving him a fake number and having him call you right then?"

You hated that he knew you so well.

"He seemed the type to call," you concede and Sukuna scoffs.

"Absolutely, that fucker is. Women have been giving that dumb fuck fake numbers since he was begging for them with his little Nokia flip phone."

"Is Nokia still a thing?" you ask and Sukuna glares at you.

"Do I look like Google to you? Hey, don't try to district me, princess. We were talking about how you seem to have gotten it into your mind that you can cheat on me with any guy with a pulse."

"I'm not cheating on, we're not together," you tell him as your train pulls up. You don't bother protesting as he follows you on it, even though you know the old apartment you used to share is in the other direction from your new place.

"The fuck we're not," he seethes. The other riders look at you and you see one or two guys deciding if it's worth trying to get involved but you're more concerned about the teenage girl who looks ready to fight this asshole for you. God, you loved women.

"You're making a scene," you tell him and he looks ready to make the scene Oscar worthy before you give him the look that used to make him not call your friends' babies ugly when you went to birthday parties.

"Where can we talk then?"

"I'm not taking you to my place," you say and he sucks his teeth.

"Then let's go home."

"You mean to your home."

Sukuna looks furious but you're not in the mood. You had just spent the past two hours on a terrible date, which made you think about how dating was just going to be like this until you found a new boyfriend or gave up, which then made you think about your break up and how up until a few months ago, you thought you would never go on a first date with anyone ever again.

You hated that Sukuna had put you here and you hated that you still loved him.

"I'm not leaving until we talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about."

You're so tired, Sukuna is so close and it's been so long since you got to smell him or feel his warmth. Your apartment was still barely furnished but everything in it was new and it still didn't feel like home. The one sweatshirt of his you'd let yourself take had stopped carrying his scent weeks ago, and just being close to him now, it made something in you relax. Like you were finally home.

"There fucking is," he hisses and now he's so close you can make out the scar on his jaw and the fullness of his lips. You used to tease him that you'd never met a man whose lips were as soft as his. He may have looked like tough shit, but you would never catch him out of the house without lotion and chapstick.

You wondered if he was still using the cherry chapstick you had bought him at the grocery store the week before you'd broken up.

"Are you going to marry me? Are you going to give me a baby?"

"Princess-"

"Then there's nothing to talk about," you say and you thank whoever's watching that the train is pulling up to your stop. You get off and Sukuna is right on your heels.

"You don't even want those things right now, why the fuck does it even matter?"

"I want them eventually and if you're not willing to give them to me, then I just don't think I need to keep wasting my time."

You're roughly dragged into a nearby alley and tossed against a brick wall. Sukuna's hand cups the back of your head, taking the force of the slam and you hate that he watches out for you even when he's being a controlling jackass.

"Being with me is wasting your time? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Not your girlfriend," you snap back. "Let go, I want to go home."

"Fuck you," he tells you and you're about ready to fight him, grown scary man or not when he leans down and his lips are on yours.

They taste like cherry chapstick.

His hand on the back of your head tightens, his thumb pressing against your neck and making you shiver. His other hand is pressed tight to your jaw and when you gasp against his mouth, he presses down as if he can hold you open and consume you so you can't leave him again.

His muscled thigh is in between yours and you can feel the rough texture of his jeans, the same pair he wore to work, the same pair you'd put through the washing machine a thousand times, rub against where your legs are only covered in tights. The shorter than usual skirt meant to entice your date, and instead it was being taken advantage of by your ex-boyfriend.

Sukuna let go of your face so he could put his hand underneath the fabric of your skirt.

"New outfit?" He teases as his hand slides to the top of your tights.

"Got it for my date," you snap and he growls at you before he rips the seams of your tights. Before you can complain, he's dragging them down your thighs and diving into your panties so he can get to your cunt. The underwear is new too and a pained noise leaves you at the sensation of them snapping against your inner thigh, both at the pain and the thought of how much they cost.

"I still have those blue ones you like at home, the ones you wore for my birthday last year," he tells you as he slides his finger down the seam of your cunt. You're wet and it annoys you because orgasming has been a bitch to achieve since you had to start giving them to yourself again.

"You can keep them," you tell him and he bites your lower lip between his teeth, they'd always felt too sharp for a man and you know you're a twitch or a less than playful nibble away from a busted lip.

"They're not really up for wearing anymore anyway."

You want to ask him what he means by that as he kisses down your neck and thrusts one finger into you, the slide almost unholy.

"So fucking wet, your cunt was always better at talking than you were."

The sensation of being filled even though it's not enough it's not enough begins to itch at your need to be satisfied as your mind fills in the gaps of his previous words.

You can imagine Sukuna in the bed you used to share, the dark blue sheets and the comforter covered in a black pattern that had reminded you of the marks that covered his body. One hand holding your favorite pair of panties and the other his big cock, that sometimes you missed even more than him.

Did he use the panties to jerk off with, the fabric just an expensive tissue for his cum? Did he hold them to his nose and pretend he could still smell your pussy on them in the bed that used to smell like both of you? You had tried watching porn and reading smut, the stuff you had relied on before you were together, and nothing compared to what it felt like to come from his fingers, his tongue, his cock.

The only times you had touched yourself when you were together were when Sukuna had wanted to watch, his commentary pushing you to the edge. He had always known what to say.

Good girl, now try two fingers for me. Not enough? Do you need my cock? Fucking slutty princess, eh?

No matter how demeaning his words were, you had never felt true shame because his desire for you was always apparent. Sukuna never held back praise where he felt it was deserved, and he had always been quick to let you know that what you were doing was pleasing him.

"Pay attention to me, princess. I'd hate to think I was boring you." The words are laced with cruelty and the added pressure of a second figure is harsh, too soon, and still not enough.

The hand in your hair tightens, but the grip still careful not to mess it up beyond repair. Something you'd been adamant about in the beginning days of your relationship. The gentleness of it, of him, makes you cry out.

Since Sukuna was the only one who still seemed cognizant of how you were in an alley, only a right turn from being on a public sidewalk, he was quick to catch your moan in his mouth. Nearly purring in reply, a ridiculous thing for a ridiculous man to do.

"Fuck, that's it. No one else can make you feel like this, this cunt is fucking mine."

"Yes," you hiss out in agreement. Pleased with your concession, Sukuna's thumb swipes over your clit as he continues his punishing rhythm with his fingers. You can hear how wet you are as it echoes off the brick around you. Even though it's cold outside, you feel almost too hot between the warmth of his body shielding yours from the world around you and the heat that's continuing to build up in your core.

"So close, I know you are. Beg me, princess and I might let you come," he whispers in your ear and you would feel embarrassed of the whine you let out if you weren't so close.

"Please, Sukuna. Please, let me come!"

"I don't know. Not sure if I should reward you since you've apparently being going around giving this pussy to fucking anyone."

You shake your head. "No, I haven't slept with anyone since we broke up."

Sukuna kisses you so hard, you're grateful for the hand behind your head because you know his knuckles must be bruised from the force he kisses you with. Sukuna pulls back, a string of saliva connecting his lips to yours and you hate that you find that hot. That this whole thing is hot.

For a second, the softness in his eyes takes your breath away and you almost forget about where you are and what you're doing and why it's the worst idea you've ever had. He's just Sukuna, the love of your life and you miss him so much.

You think he might say something crazy like he loves you or even propose but then the softness is gone and he just grins at you.

"Alright, come then, you've earned it."

With permission granted, Sukuna focuses his attention on your clit in just that way you like in the way that only someone who's done this hundreds of times could do. He's definitely leaving hickies around your collarbone and neck, but for now they feel good and when you come, you bite your lip knowing it will be bruised. A reminder of how you're an idiot when you look at it in the mirror tomorrow.

Still soft with your orgasm, you reach down to return the favor but Sukuna grabs your hand.

"I'm not walking around with cum in my jeans," he tells you, kissing your palm. Typical of him, to end something crass with something sweet. You sigh as he puts you back down on the ground. You pull up what remains of your tights, the fabric uncomfortable on your quickly drying thighs. Your ripped panties lie on the ground and Sukuna looks at them forlornly before shaking his head, dirty alleyway panties apparently being too much even for him.

Sukuna grabs the bag you'd dropped when he'd kissed you and gestures for you to exit the alley. A few passersby give you strange looks but you figure if you were going to be arrested for public indecency, it would have happened already.

"I guess we're going to mine," you say. "I live like another two blocks this way."

"I know," Sukuna says already heading that way.

You blow a piece of hair out of your eye. "Of course you do."

When Sukuna actually types in the passcode to your building you almost lose it, but you're tired and honestly you had kind of expected to just come home to him already in your apartment at some point. Sukuna had never been great at respecting boundaries. Or the law.

You unlock the door to your apartment, it takes everything in you not to ask if he already has a key. You don't want to know. He follows you in and the two of you sit at the dingy two person table you have set up by one of the only windows.

"Cozy."

"Fuck you." He smirks in that way that has always made you want to punch him and you're reminded that you're currently wearing shredded tights.

"Sukuna, you wanted to talk. So talk."

The smirk leaves his face and he looks at his nails, pressing his thumb against the one on his pointer finger and then looking through the 'o' formed there. "You left."

"I did."

He looks at you. "Why?"

"You know why," you say, tired again.

"Sure, you want to get married at some point. You want a baby at some point. I don't see what that has to do with us, right now."

"Because right now leads to that some point. It doesn't just happen. There are things I want, that are important to me. If they're not important to you, then I need to find someone who has the same priorities as me."

"Because I'm not your priority," he says and this is the rehash of an argument you'd had a thousand times. Sukuna was selfish and possessiveness and while that had always granted you a certain security, it had also been a chain you'd constantly worn around your ankle. You weren't going to defend your time at work or with friends to your boyfriend. That belonged to a different time, to different women and it had been a nonnegotiable early in your relationship that he figure that shit out with himself.

"Sukuna, I love you but I'm not going to give up what I want for my future because you don't want it. You don't have to want it, in fact I appreciate that you've been honest about it-"

"So appreciative, you left me," the words are almost snarled and you sigh.

"That's not fair. You can't be mad I want something else, the same way I'm not mad that you want something else. It's not a character flaw to not want to get married, or to not what kids. It just means you have a person out there for you who shares that view. Because it's not me."

"Why can't it be enough to just have a life with the two of us?"

"It's not about whether or it's enough, it's about me wanting something else."

There's a pause. Sukuna claws at the dents already in your battered table and deepens the grooves as you try not to flinch at the sound of his nails bearing down on wood.

Finally, he responds. "You know, I spent my childhood, my teens and a lot of adulthood raising Yuuji because our piece of shit parents couldn't be bothered and let me tell you. It's fucking hard. It is constant and they need so much for you. I didn't do anything but work and watch him for almost two decades and I don't want to do that again. I want my own life."

"I understand," you tell him. "That was a lot, even if you did a great thing by taking him in."

"It wasn't because I was nice. You seem to be forgetting that I'm a murderer. And you want me to fucking watch Bluey with some brat."

"You may not be nice but you do right by the people you care about. I also don't think you've murdered a baby, it would probably be okay."

"That's more incidental than a conscience choice," he says and you know he has to hear how ridiculous he sounds.

"Alright. I respect your decision but for what it's worth, we're not kids anymore and you wouldn't be doing this alone. I think Yuuji turned out pretty great because he had you, and I think any kid of our would be lucky to have you as a dad."

"You would really do all that with me," he says and his voice is as close to wonderous as you've ever heard it. "You really are a lost cause."

You try not to react, remind yourself that this is always how Sukuna responds to affection. He'd laughed at you the first time you'd told him you loved him. You'd punched him and broken your hand on his chin. He'd told you he loved you in the ER as the attendant resetting your hand looked on in horror.

"I think that's enough for today. Thanks for stopping by and for the orgasm, appreciate it," you say, rising from the chair. You walk the short trip to your door and open it. "Hope you have a safe trip home."

Sukuna stays seated. "That's it?"

"Yeah, Sukuna, that's it."

"And if I said I could do this, I could give you those things."

You think about it and look him over. How his hands twitch as if only his ego is preventing them from clenching. The clear trauma that was informing his previous stance.

"I'd say take some time and maybe talk to someone. I don't want to do this with someone who can just bring themselves to bear it. I want them to be as excited as me."

"That's asking for a lot from a guy."

"But someone will do it." Sukuna looks angry again and when he steps in your space, you push him gently away with your hand. He goes to hold it and even the familiar scrape of his calluses against your skin can't make you waver.

"Bye, Sukuna."

Sukuna looks at you, waiting for you to give in you know but you won't.

He leaves without another word.

When the door to the stairwell slams shut, you finally let yourself cry.

----------

It's been a month since you've seen Sukuna and you're on another date.

The guy is unoffensive. He gave you a hug when you met up and he'd made a joke about the plethora of other couples at the restaurant. You two started playing a game where you tried to guess how many dates each couple had been on?

"Three, she's finally figured out she can't put up with how he chews no matter how nicely coiffed his hair is," your date says as you take another sip of your drink.

"That's a second date, his chewing is a commit or quit type of deal and she looks ready to go. Bet they didn't eat together on their first date."

"Is he telling the plot to Dune, he has not stopped talking since we sat down," he says and you giggle despite yourself.

You've just started on the couple both looking determinedly at their phones by the window when your phone rings.

"Sorry, I need to take this," you say and he smiles.

"No worries, I'll let you know how many times she misses her mouth while looking at her phone."

You wave as you go to stand outside. You take a deep breath and then answer.

"Hey."

"Hey, princess. Bad time?"

"No, just, what do you want?"

"Well, I'm planning this first date with this girl and I'm having trouble figuring out how to explain something."

You want to throw up, what kind of test is this?

"What do you want to say?"

"Well, I've heard that it's important to be straightforward with your intentions, so you don't waste anyone's time."

"And what are your intentions?" You manage to spit out and he laughs, his smugness almost seeping out the phone.

"Well not anytime soon, but eventually I think I'd like a little brat. You know, prove to Yuuji that he wasn't a fluke."

You heart is pounding and you hate him. You love him.

"Uh huh."

"And I guess it would probably be easier to do that if we just got married. You know, taxes, healthcare, I still don't have healthcare but my wife will and I've heard you can add people to that."

"This proposal is the fucking worst one I've ever heard," you say, trying to ignore the fact you are now crying in front of a restaurant. People walk by giving you pitying looks, probably think you got stood up.

"It's not a proposal, it's a framing of intent."

"Why do you talk like such an old man, we are almost the same age?"

"Why do you talk like such a brat?"

"You know-"

"Probably," he says and you laugh despite yourself.

"So when is this date?"

"Tonight," he says. "You can wear that dress you're wearing, it looks perfect on you."

"Are you fucking here, you creep?"

"That's no way to talk to your future husband and no. That place is a shithole, I'm at our usual."

"Good, I've missed it. No one makes my drink the way I like it," you tell him and he hums.

"Well, it will be waiting for you when you get here. So get here soon."

"Alright, I'll see you soon."

Sukuna hangs up and you stand there. There's a perfectly nice guy inside. One who makes you laugh and who maybe one day you could grow to love.

But there's another guy across town who is sitting at your favorite restaurant, ordering your favorite drink. His lips taste like the organic chapstick, he claims to be too tacky to be worth wearing but keeps it in his pocket anyway. He built all your furniture and let you paint your bathroom green even though you live in a rental. He's held your hair back when you were sick and cleaned it up even as he bitched at you for the mess and done a rather cruel impression of you retching.

There's another guy that you love.

So you go back into the restaurant to tell your perfectly nice date that something has come up.

Maybe you're a fool, but what else could you do?

Maybe this will be a series, idk. Being an adult is weird. This is def ooc but you know, let me work through things and call them fiction. That's what this account is for.

#jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk #sukuna

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20-th-centurygirl · 5 months

Text

work for it

jude bellingham x reader

a/n: based on this because i can't get over it

summary: jude slides into your dms and what follows is something you could have never imagined

navigation masterlist

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

instagram:

judebellingham started following you

surely not? why was the jude bellingham following you??

yourusername added to their story

↳ judebellingham: 😍😍

yourusername: hello 🤨

judebellingham: hey

judebellingham: just wanted to say i think you're gorgeous

yourusername: thank you 🫶

judebellingham: anytime

you couldn't actually believe what you were seeing. jude bellingham calling you gorgeous? what sort of dream were you living in? you tried not to get too excited, you'd heard all about his reputation and he'd probably never give you a second thought. but you were wrong.

2 days later

instagram

judebellingham: hey

judebellingham: how are you doing

yourusername: i'm doing great

yourusername: how are you doing? i saw your last few madrid games and you played great

judebellingham: thanks. i'm good

judebellingham: maybe you should come to a game one day 😉

the next 6 months that followed were a dream. you'd exchanged phone numbers with jude a month after your first conversation and you'd spoken every day since. you'd congratulated him after every win and comforted him after every loss. facetiming eachother became your nightly routine and you couldn't believe how lucky you were.

but you tried to take it all with a grain of salt. jude had a reputation of being a player, something you already knew and had been reminded of by your friends. you were more than a fuck and you wanted jude to know that.

jude: hey love

jude: i've got a big game and i was wondering if you want to come and then stay over with me for a few days? i really wanna see you again

you: i'll try to come but i don't know if i'll be able to get the time off

jude: just let me know so i can get enough tickets x

you didn't really know how to react. you loved meeting jude for the first time, but the idea of going over to stay with him scared you. you'd started to really like jude, and worried that he only wanted to get you to come over to him so sleep with you.

you knew all about his reputation, and you didn't think you knew him well enough so you slowly distanced yourself from jude.

jude: can you come? we haven't spoke in a few days and i need to know

you: i can't come sorry. the next weeks just super busy for me :(

the following week consisted of you and jude barely speaking. you felt bad about it, you didn't mean to upset him but you didn't want to get your hopes up. you'd heard about footballers and the way they had casual hookups then ignored girls. you didn't want that. you were worth more than that and you didn't want to get hurt by jude because he didn't have the same intentions as you.

but jude was on the exact same page as you. he didn't understand why you'd just basically disappeared, had he done something wrong? did he make you feel like he was rushing you? he'd tried to call you, but you didn't answer, instead texting him a simple "sorry i've been busy lately" and leaving him alone.

at first jude tried to appreciate that you were just abit busy. he knew you cared alot about your studies and work and were independent, but he couldn't help feeling a bit hurt. nothing in your routine had actually changed, and jude had started to get the impression you were ignoring him on purpose.

you wouldn't answer his calls and barely texted him, so he decided to come to you. he messaged one of your closest friends that he'd met before and asked her to help him suprise you.

the pounding on your door abruptly woke you up, and you swung it open with a scowl on your face until you saw who was behind it. your eyes locked with judes, and you couldn't actually believe he was infront of you holding the biggest bunch or roses you'd ever seen.

jude's heart melted at the sight of you. your hair messy, a duvet wrapped about you and a tired grin on your face. "jude?"

"hi" his voice was shakey but he smiled widely regardless.

"what're you doing here? come in you're gonna get ill"

he stepped in, shutting the door behind him but he didn't dare move any further. "i'm sorry. if you want me to leave i will but i just wanted to see that you were ok. we've suddenly just stopped speaking and i was worried that i pressured you. i'm sorry if i made you think i was pushing you to get too serious to fast. i just really like you"

"seriously?"

"yes"

"jude i'm so sorry. i didn't wanna upset you i just got scared. i know all about footballers reputations and yours and i just didn't wanna be another girl that you just sleep with then ignore" you felt mean saying it. super mean.

"what? look i've done that before but you're so so different. everything about you is so perfect. your laugh, your eyes, how kind you are, the way you always see the best in people. i've known you for six months but i feel like i've known you all my life. you're literally perfect. i'm sorry if i made you feel like i didn't see you that way. i will do whatever it takes to prove to you how much you mean to me" he brought his hands up to cup your cheeks and you leaned into them, the warmth of his palms and his words making love wash over you.

"i really really like you jude" you mumbled, and he grinned wide "good cause i really really like you too"

"y'know, if you can still get me tickets i'll come to your matches"

"don't feel like you have to baby"

"i do. i want us to spend more time together jude"

he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. "d'ya wanna go and get breakfast tomorrow? it can be our first proper date" he lightly pinched your side, melting when he felt a smile form on your face. "i'd like that"

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fic #football imagine #football one shot #footballer drabble #footballer imagine

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undercoverpena · 10 months

Text

iii - just say that you need me

javier peña x f!reader | chapter three of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. an: the amount of people who look forward to tuesday's makes me grin. for those who are new, i don't have a tag list. wordcount: 2.6k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

You should say yes more.

to you or to my pop

To your pop. I know you wouldn’t say no to me.

you sure about that

I’d bet my next paycheck on it.

for you I’ll say yes to him once

Good. Now we have that out the way answer what the worst date you’ve ever been on was

shit. going with the hard hitting questions today

Just getting you to share, open up

probably when I first came back from colombia someone from my town where I live

They a bad host, bad dinner guest? Gimme more Javi cmon. You said you’d entertain me.

baby, im trying to entertain you but you told me to stop

I said stop flirting while I’m eating and answer the question

she wouldn’t stop asking me for details on escobar

Ah. Yeah I can see how discussing that would be a mood killer.

yeah didn’t wanna go in the first place either

So if we ever meet, do not ask about your Colombian experience. Got it.

you can ask, doesn’t mean I’d tell you

Ha! Good to know. I wouldn’t though. If you wanna tell me, I think you will.

thanks, what’s yours?

Well I was stood up when we first began texting. Think that’s pretty bad, enough.

he’s an idiot because only an idiot would stand you up

You haven’t seen me, remember

statement still stands

Stop being so charming.

you still eating

No.

then I can flirt

Most of the time, he ignores the mail.

Lets it pile up on the entryway dresser until his pop makes another reference to it. Unlike his pop, he is never in a rush to open them, knowing no good comes from the contents inside.

The same people contact him. The bureau being one. Sipping his coffee as he glares at the usual federal sign on the envelope, wondering how many more times they’ll try asking him to come in for a chat.

This afternoon, though, the envelope isn’t brilliant white, but rather off-cream.

Peeling a bit, thumb digging in as he drags it across, the ripping sound filling the small space. It’s only as he opens it does he realise who it’s from.

His eyes stare at the letter, taking in the number—the one in triple digits with his phone provider logo in the top corner. The number which is making him feel sick, the more he stares at it over and over again.

“Fuck.”

Folding it, he swallows.

Shit.

Motherfucker.

He stuffs it away, tucks it under magazines and other leaflets, as though by keeping it out of sight, it’ll go away.

But it's there.

The edge of it sticking out. He even blinks, and the number is there, tattooed on the back of his eyes. Taunting him—the price of speaking to you.

It's not that Javi can't afford it. He’s had a chunk of money sitting, gaining dust, in his account since he came home. Only able to force portions on his pop as and when he felt he could get away with it.

But this was a lot. More than he’d bargained on, more than he even knew he could spend simply by replying to someone.

There's a chance your day won't be done just yet—his day beginning far earlier than yours even began—but he pulls his phone out, fingers pressing into the keys.

so apparently talking to you is costly Oh, you've had your bill. I feel I should ask whether I'm worth it?

It’s instant—the way you make the nauseous feeling vanish. How you force it to slide back to where it came from, and in its place, warmth spreads. All accompanied by a smile on his lips.

He doesn’t want to show his hand too much. Better at concealing, playing the long game when standing face to face.

This requires a skill he hasn't yet gained. Simply focusing on not sounding ridiculous, or over the top. Unnecessary. Like some of the desperate men, he's happened to arrest over the years.

Even if his chest flutters and his mind screams, of course. Wants to ask, isn't it obvious? But he chooses something easier, uncomplicated.

yes just didn’t expect it I had my phone bill the other day. I get it. did your heart fall out your ass No. But I will be eating ramen for the next month. We can stop texting so much though, if it’s costing too much. would rather my bill be double than stop talking to you You’re such a flirt.

He drains the rest of his mug, leaning back in the chair—hearing the sound of approaching boots from his Pop’s side of the house. Fingers typing, all hurried and determined

Don’t forget I’m out for drinks and a movie. I remember don’t worry

He remembers as soon as you remind him.

Realising it's the reason you're able to reply right now. You’d been telling him almost every night for the past week. All worried, as though hating the idea of breaking the nightly tradition the two of you have concocted.

In a way, Javi should have assumed the bill would be high with the number of texts the two of you have been sending. How frequent it’s been—how nice it’s been.

Nice things do usually come with a tag.

you decided on sweet or salty Verdict is still out. You sure about waiting to do the crossword? if we don’t do it tonight, we’ll do two the next day You sure? more than sure have a great time

“Y’sure you don’t fancy coming with me, Jav?”

He thinks of it, tapping his phone against his palm as he thinks of your text the other night. The one about him trying to say yes—something curling in his chest as he realises he’ll be alone, alone if he doesn’t.

A sentiment he didn’t mind on paper, but now confronted with, rather despised.

“Alright, yeah. Can—can I get changed?”

Mid-grabbing his own jacket, his Pop turns, surprise knitted into his wiry brows. “Y-yeah, sure, I’ll….”

“I’ll meet you at the truck?”

And he does. All without complaint. Plaid shirt on, a smile being forced as soon as the truck pulls off the drive. He doesn't even complain about the radio choice or the fact his Pop always takes the main roads when he could cut down the dusty roads.

When he arrives, he doesn’t mind how many hands he shakes, one after the next. He tries not to grit his teeth as each person says the usual things, they’re proud, he’s grown, when is he settling down? Each time he laughs it off. Spanish rolling from his tongue as he smiles and winks.

It’s performative.

The old version of him coming out from a hidden place.

Always there, ready, as his hand shakes another person's hand—one he’s already forgotten the name of. Someone he’s sure he’s met before, too.

It always happens. The small-town boy who took down drug cartels has become somewhat of a celebrity tale. A thing to gawk at when he visits the store. Chucho's boy who ran away to Colombia and now hides away on the ranch.

For the amount of time it's been, he'd foolishly expected it to die down—but it hasn't. Not enough, anyway.

After enough time, he excuses himself, sneaking down the corridor near the bathroom. Leaning against the wall, fingers trying to rub out a knot that hasn’t yet appeared in his skull. The one pulsing, threatening to build behind his eye.

He’s unsure what he wants to do, what he needs. Retrieving his phone, just clicking around, before finding himself on your texts—feeling better for it.

Reading them back, smirking at some, smiling wide at others. A shape forming in his head, little details he’d amassed to make up you. A person he was pretty sure meant more to him than evening company, but it seemed tricky to delve too far into it.

That is until his phone vibrated.

Just wanted to tell you I miss you. Even if that’s weird.

His fingers hover over the keys, a retort quick—there in his touch.

Slowly he presses it out, hearing the click even over the bar’s music as he double and triple taps each button he wants, until it forms what it is he thought:

not weird, you drunk I’m tipsy, not drunk. Still mean it. good cause i miss you too

you never said how the movie was

As someone who flies a lot, I shouldn’t have watched it.

that bad

Will probably have to hold the hand of my seat mate the next time work makes me fly.

I’m sure they won’t mind

Depends on the length of my nails I guess.

some people don’t mind nails clawing in certain situations

You trying to tell me you like nails down your back, Javi?

if the situation is right, yes

What about in your hair?

now who’s being a tease

I’m learning so much tonight.

and your putting images in my head

I’d love to know what I look like in it, since you haven’t seen me.

beautiful, you look beautiful

My face is burning.

your day been ok

Yeah, was fine. Work has been rough.

you want to talk about it

Not really, it’s stupid anyway. Plus, would rather do the crosswords and hang with you.

you do have two to make up to me

Best get giving me the clues then, Javi.

four letters, begins with f

Is this a Javi crossword or a real crossword

baby, cmon

Fuck?

fork

someone’s in a dirty mood

You’re such a dick. Give me a real clue.

There's not a point in time where he can track how his thoughts went from nothing to you. But, he thinks about you all the time.

Has been doing so constantly for the last two days, at least—the occasional vibrations from his phone making his lips twitch and his mind wander. Javi’s brain exploding with wonder at what your reply could say.

Sometimes, he tries not to check immediately. Test—see—how long he can go before he does. It’s not been going well.

An excitement dashing through his veins that fills his chest, warms his neck and makes a ridiculous grin appear (one he’s caught accidentally in the mirror).

The back and forth has been quicker—for as costly as it was—outside of routines and work. His fingers have even improved in the speed of tapping the same key to get one single letter.

Each text makes him feel like he learns a new nugget about you, gathering a new piece of the puzzle—an idea of you forming in front of his eyes. One he likes—craves more of—wishing for other tidbits similar to how you like coffee after breakfast, not before.

That you don’t care for birthday cake, but love cookies.

morning hermosa hope you managed to grab the coffee

He doesn’t expect to hear from you.

Remembering that your time management in the morning isn’t to be admired. You are someone who is either awake too early or too late—never in the middle.

But, when he finishes. Sweat clinging to every muscle, he’s surprised to find nothing.

Even a little disappointed.

finished up for the day, unsure whether to lounge around on the porch or push the boat out and lounge in the barn

You’ve become such a part of his day, his shoulders sink when he steps out of the shower to see nothing.

His heart slips down inside his chest, resting unsteadily on his ribs as he checks and checks. His fingers fluff his hair as he runs his fingers through it before finding a strand, twisting, and twisting.

I’m probably worrying about nothing but just let me know you’re ok

A part of him had worried this would happen.

That he would allow the attachment to grow—ropes and threads wrapping around him—and it would be taken from under his feet.

He has a history of becoming hooked—usually combining itself with his need to help, to make someone’s day better, easier.

And on paper, he knew it was odd. To care for someone he hadn’t ever even met. But he cares all the same.

Copious amounts, in fact.

Far past an, ‘I miss you’—something else entirely, not that he’d admit as much.

hermosa I’m really getting worried now

He doesn’t want to call.

Doesn’t want to invade your privacy, your space. But it’s knotting inside of him. The things he’s seen, rushing to the surface, pecking away, making him overthink.

His mind conjures ideas that you’re hurt, wounded. That you’re crying, alone. Each flash of his past has the curated blob-of-a-face he’s created for you, written over it.

His fingers twitch, hand moving to his pocket before remembering there are no cigarettes to be found there. He quit. Ages ago. Felt better for it—for the most part—until now.

Now when all he wants is to focus on the taste, the way smoke swirls with the warm Texas air—

Hey, I'm so sorry, I had a bad day. Just didn’t check my phone. shit hermosa, you scared me. almost called you. Really? yeah Would you? what call you Yeah?

[Dialing number…]

you declined I did

His heart sinks, crashes, and plummets.

Then a new vibration, one that travels down his fingers to his wrist, suddenly staring at an instruction: Give me your landline number, be cheaper. For both of us.

Glancing into the living room, he taps the number in for you. Hating each precious second he wastes by having to delete a letter that should be a number.

Pushing the chair back, hearing it screech as he hovers. Nervousness thumps through him, making him shake, vibrate.

Staring, willing the phone to ring.

Even as he tries to collect himself, his mind has already begun running away from him. Hearing his pulse thump in his ear, thump, thump—

And then it’s ringing—you’re ringing.

His voice shouts out he’ll get it as he picks up the phone from the hook.

“Javi… that you?”

Grinning, he laughs, light and airy. “Hi. Yeah, it’s me.”

Silence blankets his ears and the air, thumb circling a knot in his forehead.

Smiling, he changes the phone to his other ear. “Knew you’d sound pretty. You have a nice voice.”

“Shut up, Javi. I’ve said three words.”

“And a few more.”

He hears you suck in a breath as heat rushes to his ears, feeling the edges of his lips curl into a smile.

“You wanna talk about it or talk about something else?”

He hears you take a breath another breath. Different this time, all accompanied by a shuffling sound from your end.

“Something else. If that… that’s okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Alright, lemme… lemme think for a second—“

You clear your throat, “You have a nice voice, too, by the way.”

Pausing, he bites the inside of his cheek. “Like you imagined?”

“Better, honestly.”

“I could have called you. I have this additional thing on our plan—so my Pop could call. When I was away.”

“From when you were in Colombia?”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he nodded. “Yeah…”

“Well, if this conversation goes well, you may get a new number to add to your phone book.”

“That so? Who’s flirting now.”

You laugh, sweet—fluttering its gorgeous wings down the phone to his ear as he readjusts the phone.

Dropping his voice, he turns more to the walls. “So, what you wearing, baby?”

“Oh my god, Javi.”

He doesn’t even mute his laughter, just lets it flow from him—rushing through the house. Not even caring if his Pop can hear him in the next room.

"I'm wearing nothing."

"Hermosa, you tease."

You laugh, and it's different. It's rich, and makes the room glow around him, without you even being here.

"I'm not really, I'm in a baggy t-shirt."

"Not as sexy, but I'm sure I can work with it."

You snort, "Javi, stop."

He wonders if your cheeks are warm. He hopes they are.

Leaning against the wall, he smirks, if only to himself. "I like how you say my name, Hermosa."

an: thank you so much for all being wonderful, i heart you

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ivyjupiterwrites · 2 months

Text

I just had the funniest thought of what if there was a Con of sorts going on, and you were dressed up, saw Ghost and asked him for a picture cause you thought he looked cool/was a part of what was going on.

There's you, dressed up as your favourite character, cutely approaching and interrupting him talking with the rest of the 141. You look like a field mouse wandering over to a bunch of barn cats-- cautiously yet fearing for your life despite proceeding.

"Uh excuse me...Hi," you began, and they all ceased their chatter to turn and look at you. Now that the skull masked man was leering at you, he was a lot more intense than cool but you fought through your nerves, "You look really cool, do you mind if we get a picture together?"

Ghost has zero idea what is happening.

Looks over to the boys--which I feel like the sgts would be nodding their heads in different levels of enthusiasm even though they know he doesn't do photos and Price would just be smiling so wide.

"Sure...." his response takes a nerve wracking, awkward moment, but after looking at you thoughtfully he figured what could it hurt? You looked really adorable in your costume peering at him, and though this could be against his better judgement, you seemed very nonthreatening.

So thus one of them grabs your phone, and you scooch up beside him. Now that he's not having an internal debate over the whole picture thing, Ghost is noticing just how nervous you are. There's the the faintest tremble to your being, and you look like you're being held at gunpoint, not happy.

"C'mere." he shifts himself to narrow the distance between the two of you, going as far as to throw an arm around you for one. "I don't bite."

"Yeah you'd have to take yer mask off," Soap snorts at him from the sidelines, gaining your attention. "and we all know that's not happenin'." huh?

"Affirmative." he gruffly replied, the two of you now finishing up he sees you looking at him curiously. "Too handsome lovie, wouldn't wanna blind ya."

"Oh." the little 'o' that came to your face was well worth it, and exactly what he had been trying to get out of someone with his smart ass comment. He got even more handsome? Well then. "Well... Thanks."

"Cheers." Ghost nods to you, the rest bidding you farewell and you scurry off with bright red cheeks. It was the bravest, stupidest, most dopamine inducing scenario, and you're sure you'll never recover. "Wonder what that was about?"

It's now when the guys are laughing, I feel like not Price but the sgts at least would know about the Con going on and the mix up.

"That was probably top ten best things I've ever seen."

"Wonder what she thought you were dressed up as?" Gaz questioned with a raised brow, but

"Hell Rider probably, that's'ou people usualy think'e is." Soap laughed as Ghost shot him a displeased glare, he was himself goddamit.

"I think they liked you," Price's comment gained him Ghost' attention, head snapping around from shooting Soap looks.

"You think so?"

"You're really dumb Lt." not being able to get enough of the socially inept man, Soap and Roach were having a real good laugh over him. "You should've gotten their number!"

bonus:

"Oh shit." an hour or so later Roach is patting himself down, and finds your phone nestled away in his pocket. He had just slid it in there after taking the photos, with you being so anxious, the both of you had entirely forgotten about it.

"You weren't supposed to keep it!" the deadpan he does to this stupid comment by Soap.

"Looks like you're going to be able to get that number after all."

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robynrocksforbrains · 10 months

Text

I love you ×9

Ok so I am probably not the first person to notice this or point it out since I've only been a byler for like six months... BUT I did maybe go a little crazy about this. So I'm gonna talk about it.

So a few days ago I was thinking about the mlvn endgame argument "well Mike said 'I love you' nine times". And like, first of all, saying "I love you" doesn't undo a year's worth of deliberate lying and miscommunication. That's not how relationships work. Their issues are still very much real and very much not going anywhere because they're not even TRYING to do anything about them. But also... I was thinking: why nine times? Why that number specifically? Was it just random? Is there maybe anything to indicate that nine is significant? Is there maybe a scene in the first episode of s4 that tells us how we should react to the monologue?

So, the DND basketball montage. Great stuff. Amazing foreshadowing. Everyone loved it.

I got to thinking about it. Decided I needed to know what Mike's roll was. I kinda spiraled about it on twitter because I could not see it clearly and I couldn't tell if it was an eight or nine. Desperate times called for desperate measures so I recorded my tablet with my phone and found the perfect frame.

IT'S A NINE

CLEAR AS DAY! IT'S A NINE! GREATEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!

Anyway, I don't know how DND works. I don't know why this roll evoked the reaction it did from the party - most significantly, Mike's very disgruntled reaction (I don't mean The Party™ I just mean literally the party that is playing this campaign) I genuinely don't know what the fuck is going on in this game. But what I do know is they wanted us to associate this roll with failure. That's why it corresponds with a missed basket in the basketball game. That's why Eddie gets this ooo that sucks for you guys look on his face. That's why we hear a chorus of "nooo" from the party. That's why Mike says "no no no" and looks extremely upset. I don't know anything about DND, but I can read context clues.

So I'm not going to try to understand what's going on in the game, I'm just gonna go off what I think they wanted us to subconsciously pick up on.

So they show us all of this. They associate Mike with the number nine in the first episode and then that number shows up AGAIN in the last episode.

The monologue cannot be associated with anything but failure. Whether that be mlvns failing relationship, or their very real failure to save Max (at least before El revived her), and their failure to save Hawkins. The monologue does not stand apart from that. It is completely interwoven with these failures. If you have average media literacy, you know that. Even before I was aware of just how important byler is to this entire story, before I was aware that they've been setting up byler endgame since day one, you would never catch me thinking that the monologue was supposed to be received positively by the audience. You would never catch me saying mlvns love saved the world. (Although that's because I genuinely forgot about mlvn a few weeks after I watched s4). I think I received the monologue in the way it was intended to be received. I didn't fully understand it, or why they would execute it the way they did, but I still received it in the way I believe it was intended to be.

So I know the general agreement among bylers is that the monologue kinda sealed the deal for mlvn bones. Like I'm not saying anything new really. But I genuinely do think that Mike's roll in episode one, the reactions to it, and the missed shot it corresponds with were meant to foreshadow the monologue and how they wanted the audience to receive it.

This is fiction, everything means something. Everything is thought of. The timer (and maybe scores, I genuinely can't remember) in the basketball game had significance. Other rolls in the DND game had significance. Why would that be any different for Mike? Especially when his roll was a nine and that number shows up for him again when he says "I love you" nine times. And both of these things are associated with failure.

Not that we need any other reason to interpret the monologue as a less than good thing. It's just the way that it is, it's pretty easy to figure out how they wanted us to take it. But they still did give us a hint. I think it's really cool.

#byler #byler endgame #will byers #mike wheeler #anti mileven #mileven bones #mike's monologue #i hate the concept of cornplating because now every time I notice something I fear I'm just cornplating #but whatever #if this is a stretch it's not a big one #i think it makes sense

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poeticandors · 2 years

Text

Touch Me

Steve Harrington x F!Reader

Part 3 of the TOUCH series

Summary: After the previous night, you make the decision to push yourself even further with your sexuality, or lack thereof. The only problem is, you want to ask Steve to help you. Would he be willing to help, or push you away?

WARNINGS: 18+ Content (Minors DNI), sexual language, outercourse/Dry humping, cursing

A/N: Thank you all SO MUCH for all the wonderful, positive reactions to this series. You guys are all amazing, thank you for waiting patiently. ALSO. A lot of you guys requesting to be tagged arent showing up, so some people got removed from the taglist. Also, apparently there is a limit so the taglist is closed. I wish I could tag every single one of you guys bc you are all amazing! 🥺

GIF belongs to @harringtonswiftie

Part 1 Part 2

Even though it had only been a day or so since you last saw Steve, you were anxious to see him. Not in a ‘I miss you’ sort of way, but more of a ‘I have something important to ask you’ way. Okay, maybe you did miss him a little. He was your friend, after all. But you didn’t miss him in that way.

You decided to call in for work, begging Robin to switch hours with you and throwing in a lunch date so that you would be able to have more time to properly think this over. You weren’t exactly sure what the right way to ask Steve if he would be the first person you had sex with.

Should you give a presentation with pros and cons? No, he definitely would fall asleep in the middle of it.

Should you try to… seduce him? That… could work. But, no. You couldn’t do that.

In the end, you decided that just meeting with and asking him in person was probably the smartest way to do it. If he told you no, then that would still be okay. You could both move on, and maybe you could even find someone else who would be willing to have sex with you.

But… there was also a part of you that was confident he would agree. He did help you feel good that first night– he literally encouraged you and held you close while reaching your first ever orgasm. Not only that, but he even told you it was okay to pleasure yourself while laying in bed next to him while he did the same for himself. After both of these events, he didn’t once make you feel ashamed or kick you out. He really acted as if what the two of you did was a common occurrence.

Picking up the phone, you dial the number for Family Video, praying that Keith doesn’t answer the phone. The last thing you needed when you were trying to talk to Steve was to hear Keith’s monotone voice on the other end, questioning you as to why you switched with Robin. When the line on the other end picks up, you hold your breath for a moment.

“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve speaking–”

“Steve, it’s me,” you answer quickly, thankful that he was the one who answered. That meant you could have a quick phone call with him.

“Hey, babe. Robin told me you switched shifts with her. You alright? You’re not sick or anything, are you?”

His concern touched you. Steve was a wonderful friend, truly. That’s why part of you was hesitant to ask him in the first place. You were worried about what Steve would think if you did ask him to have sex with you. Was losing your virginity truly worth more than losing him? Steve was special to you. There was no way you were going to risk that. Which was why you needed to be smart about the choice you were making.

“No, no. Nothing like that. I’m fine, just… needed some time to think.”

“About?” He muses. In your head, you could picture Steve leaning across the counter, holding the phone with his shoulder as he talks with you.

“Umm… just stuff. Anyways, could you maybe come over after your shift? My parents are still gone and I thought we could… hang out.”

“Yeah, sure– hold on. No- No, I’m talking with–” The line on the other end soon sounds muffled, as if Steve was covering the end of the phone. There is a sudden shuffle, and you furrow your brows.

“Damn it, Robin!” You hear Steve in the background.

“Hey!” Robin’s voice soon fills your ear. “Not to be, like, rude or anything– actually, scratch that. I don’t care. But, Steve actually needs to do his own job himself because I am not stacking those videos for him.”

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes. “I was just about done talking with him, anyways.”

“Yeah, mmhm. We both know that you guys could spend hours on the phone together.”

You smile, lying back on your bed. It was true, you have definitely spent an ungodly amount of time on the phone with him. It was so easy to talk to Steve, even when you were both just bullshitting.

“Could you just… tell him to meet me at my house if he didn’t hear me ask?”

“Sure. I’ll tell him. Oh, shit– Keith is coming. Bye!”

Before you could reply, Robin hangs up and the line goes dead. Sighing, you put your phone back on the receiver, and stare up at the ceiling. It would be another four hours or so until Steve got off, so you had plenty of time to prepare for his visit.

The only thing you hoped for was that your relationship with Steve wouldn’t be at risk by asking him this.

++++++++++

Okay, okay… relax, you pace the floor of your bedroom, waiting for Steve to show up. You were nervous–completely fucking nervous. It wasn’t too late to just call Steve and tell him to stay home, was it? You still had time to just call and tell him you were suddenly feeling sick, that he was right all along when he asked if you were. The sound of your doorbell ringing told you otherwise. There was no turning back from this, now.

Breathing out, you head to the front door, plastering a smile on your face as you open the door.

“Hey, Stevie.”

“Hey, you,” he strolls into your house, looking around before turning on his heel back to you. “Missed you at work. You said you wanted to talk to me about something?”

Straight to the point, of course. Steve looks down at you and you really wished he didn’t. His features were soft, his brown eyes gazing as he waited patiently for you to respond. Why was your throat feeling dry suddenly?

“Yeah, um… let’s go to my room.”

Steve shrugs, following behind you as you both climb up the stairs. You swear that your heart was going to fall right out of you the closer you got to your bedroom. With each step, you realized that there truly was no retreat. Was this such a good idea after all?

As the both of you walk into your room, you breathe out as you turn to him. “Okay… maybe you should sit down for this, Steve.”

“Jeez, you’re not dying, are you?” He asks as you motion for him to sit on your bed. He does so, and leans back on his hands as he looks up at you. His eyes held a slightly concerned gaze, which was almost masked by the quirk at the corner of his mouth. “Because I would be truly devastated if that was happening, sweetheart.”

“No, no… this isn’t anything like that. Just… okay.”

Steve watches as you begin to pace back and forth in front of him, avoiding his gaze. He tilts his head to the side.

“As entertaining as this is, the suspense is killing me. Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Yes, yes, I’m just…” you stop yourself, inhaling and then slowly exhaling as you turn to him. “Okay. Before I start, I want you to know that what I’m about to ask you may… Well, I just don’t want you to freak out or anything. Also… you are free to tell me no to any of this. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Now I am really interested in where this conversation is going.” He leans forward, his elbows on his knees.

“I’m being serious here, Steve. Tell me no when you are absolutely sure you don’t want to do any of what I am asking.”

“Okay, okay—“

“And just know that our friendship is more important than any of what I ask you and I would rather—“

“Babe, I get it. You don’t have to worry about losing me because that could never happen. Seriously. I’m all ears.”

You don’t have to worry about losing me because that could never happen. God, why did Steve have to make this even more nerve wracking with that simple statement? It was really hard to believe that when he hadn’t even heard what you had to ask him yet.

Exhaling, you press your lips together before you move to sit next to him. You can feel Steve’s gaze on you, as you try to look anywhere but him at the moment. Just spit it out, you close your eyes. Why couldn’t you just say it? It was supposed to go smoothly– Steve was so easy to talk to and yet you still couldn’t bring yourself to say one damn word, let alone look at him.

Steve says your name softly, and you finally bring yourself to open your eyes as you gaze upon him. Why did he have to look at you like that? As if there wasn’t anything in the world you could tell him that would push him away. You could hardly collect your thoughts the longer he stared at you. What were you asking him again?

Blinking, you clear your throat as you shake your head slightly. “Sorry, lost in thought. Um… okay. So, you know how I am… well, I’m not as experienced when it comes to sex as… you are.”

Steve’s expression tells you that this was not at all where he thought the conversation was going to go. He blinks, before straightening up, and you take this moment to continue.

“Anyways… yeah. We both know that I am not as experienced as, well… you. Or a lot of people for that matter. I mean… the only thing sexually I have done, you have been present for both occasions. So, I just… I wanted to ask you if maybe… you could teach me more?”

Steve’s gaze is serious now– as if he is taking every word you said to him and trying to see if you are either being serious or playing a trick on him. After a minute of processing, he finally opens his mouth to speak.

“When you say ‘teach you more’, do you mean…”

“I mean have sex with me. Teach me how to have sex and how to do other things.”

“Right. Got it, yeah. Just checking.” He pats his hands on his thighs once before pushing himself to his feet. It’s his turn to pace your room, and you watch until he finally turns towards you. “Jesus, okay. Let me get this straight. You want me to have sex with you and to teach you how to do other things, right? That’s what I got from this?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Like a friends with benefits kind of shit?“

“…Yes.”

“Why? I mean… Why me? Why are you asking me?”

Because I want to make sure that these feelings I have are only lust from not having much experience and wanting more, you think. I want to make sure that the only reason I have been thinking about you every second of the day since that first night is because it was you who helped me. Because I want to make sure and if it were anyone else I probably would be doing the same thing I am now.

“...Because I trust you, Steve.” You answer softly. “I mean… I trusted you the other two times when I… yeah. You were there and I just felt really comfortable with you. And the obvious being that you’re my best friend, Steve. Why wouldn’t I ask you?”

Steve nods and leans against your dresser, crossing his arms. “Right, okay.”

“Look, I know how this all sounds,” you stand up, pacing the room again. “You must think I’m crazy. Maybe I am crazy? I just thought maybe you could help me out like the other two times because you did in fact help me. I don’t think I would have ever done what we did if it wasn’t for you. I know friends don’t ask other friends to do this, but I–”

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

Steve’s comment as you stop in place and look over at him. He gives an indifferent look, his shoulders relaxed as he stares back at you, now gripping the edge of your dresser. Did you actually hear him right or did you imagine it?

“I… what?”

“I said I’ll do it. I’ll be the first person you have sex with,” he shrugs, unbothered.

“Oh, uh…” you actually weren’t prepared for that answer at all. You were sure that Steve would’ve let you down gently and suggest that it was a bad idea. “Are you- are you sure? I mean… you can say no. If you think it’s a bad idea, then you can definitely say no.”

“I know I can say no. I just don’t want to.”

“But… why?”

“You’re asking for my help, sweetheart. Can’t just turn you down, can I? What kind of friend would that make me?”

“I would’ve understood if you said no. I mean, I don’t want to make this weird between us.”

“Why would it make things weird? You said it yourself, you trusted me. Right?”

Responding with a nod, you look over at Steve. “Yes. I trust you.”

“Okay, then.”

“...Are you sure about this? I mean, I think it’s asking a lot–”

“Honey, I promise you that my answer won’t change. I’m honored, actually, that you trust me to be the first person you have sex with. I feel as if I’ve hit the fuckin’ jackpot or some shit,” he places a hand over his heart, giving a playful smile.

Feeling a small sense of relief, you begin to relax a bit more. Now that the hard part is over, you feel as if the rest of this conversation could go a bit easier.

“Okay. Okay, cool. Thanks for agreeing to help me.”

“Of course, babe. You just tell me when–”

“Actually, there were a few things that I really wanted to focus on. Like a list of things I want to do when, you know… you teach me.”

“Okay, like what?”

“Like… I mean, obviously having sex. But also… like how to pleasure you– I mean, how to pleasure any man I guess.”

“...Like hand jobs and blow jobs?”

“Yes, exactly. I do want to try those. With you.”

Steve turns away to scratch his neck, but you don’t miss the blush that creeps up along his skin to his cheeks. “Alright, um.. Anything else you want to do? Or don’t want to? I’m letting you call the shots. It’s your choice, all I want is for you to feel safe and comfortable with me.”

“Right. Thank you, Stevie. I really appreciate that,” you smile softly. Steve really was the best person to ask for this. Never, in all the years of knowing him, did he ever make you feel uncomfortable. But the fact that he wanted to make you feel comfortable with all this made your chest warm.

“So? Anything you don’t want to do?”

“Um… maybe we can figure that part out later on when we actually do stuff. But… I do think there should be some other rules we set between us.”

“...Rules.” Steve repeats, giving you a fixed look.

“Yes. I mean, I think that rules should be in place just so that we don’t make things complicated for the both of us.”

“Okay, fine. What type of rules are we talking about?”

“Well, I mean… obviously no one can know about this. We should keep this between us. Not even Robin should know about this.”

“Right, sure. Anything else?”

“And… I don’t really think that there should be any cuddling after sex. I feel like we should just do it and be done with it. And definitely no kissing. At all.”

You thought long and hard on this rule. It only made sense, kissing led to feelings and feelings led to complications– the whole point of this was to determine that your feelings for Steve were nothing more than sexual desire. You had kissed others before, and while you never developed feelings for them, this was different. If you were to kiss him… it could ruin things between you.

It wasn’t as if you hadn’t thought about kissing Steve. Even before this, you may have had a stray thought or two at the idea of kissing him. Hell, you literally came to the fantasy of Steve kissing you everywhere not too long ago. Of course, you never would act on that if it meant losing him.

“I’m sorry. You said no kissing?”

When you glance over at Steve, you’re somewhat confused at the expression on his face. Steve stares at you as though his bullshit meter was going off in the red zone. You weren’t sure why, though. It was a sensible rule, wasn’t it? Steve didn’t want to kiss you, did he?

“Well, yeah. I mean… it only makes sense–”

“It’s a shit rule, is what it is.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look, babe,” he pushes off of the dresser, walking towards you. “I’m just stating the facts. You’re no kissing rule is bullshit.”

“Steve–”

“I mean, you can’t really expect to feel good during sex when you don’t do this shit leading up to it. Kissing and foreplay–” he snaps both sets of fingers on each hand. “those are probably the best parts about having sex. Those are the first steps leading up to having a good fuckin’ time in bed.”

“So, what? You’re saying you do want to kiss me?”

“I’m saying that you asked for me to help you with having sex and teaching you different things. Kissing is a very important step that leads into that.”

You sigh, looking away from him. “Steve–”

“You said you trusted me, right?” He takes your hand, and you let him. “Trust me with this. Let me show you. Please?”

What he says has you quickly turning your gaze back to him. He only stares back down at you, a soft look dawning his face as he does so. You don’t mean to, but your eyes move to his lips and they just looked so soft.

“Are… are you asking to kiss me, Steve?” You whisper, meeting his eyes with your own.

“I’m asking you to let me show you that kissing and foreplay can feel just as good as actually fucking.”

You should say no. You should tell him that you were going to stick to your rules, and that the kissing would only make things more difficult. But you don’t.

Instead, you stare up at him, completely taken aback by the way he looks down at you. He waits patiently for your answer, doesn’t push or pry at what is going on inside your head. It’s quiet, but your room isn’t filled with any sense of awkwardness– it’s almost a serene type of quiet, one that you realize you would never fully enjoy with anyone else other than Steve.

“...Okay,” your voice comes out in a small breath.

Steve licks his lips and he takes a step closer to you, your hand still in his. He scans your face as if searching for any hint of uncertainty, where you realize in that moment you have none. You don’t feel the need to pull away as he cups your cheek with his other hand. You don’t feel the need to step back and change your mind about the whole situation as he starts to lean in. In fact, it was the complete opposite.

You wanted Steve to kiss you.

“Is this okay?” His breath fans against your lips as his words come out in a small whisper, and you find yourself only nodding in response.

The anticipation slowly takes a toll on you. You hope that Steve can’t hear the way your heart races in your chest. You’re not even sure if time is slowing or that Steve is actually moving that slow. But when his lips finally press against yours, you lose all sense of, well… everything.

Holy shit. Holy shit. You were kissing him. You were kissing Steve Harrington– King Steve, your best friend, Stevie. Not only that, but he was kissing you.

His lips were warm and soft against yours, and although they had felt the same as they had when he had kissed your cheek or when he kissed your neck mere days ago, this was completely different.

Steve breaks the kiss and pulls back just barely, checking you over as he keeps his hand on your cheek. “Is this still okay? Do you want me to stop?”

Should you say yes? Should you stop things from going further than they already had? But that was the whole point of this, wasn’t it? To go further and explore deeper into your sexual desire. Steve did say that kissing and foreplay were the most important step.

“...Don’t stop.”

Just like that, he presses his lips to your without hesitation. He releases your hand and brings it up to grab the other side of your face, tilting your head as your lips part slightly, allowing his tongue to slip inside just barely. While his hands stay holding your face delicately, yours stay awkwardly by your side. You weren’t quite sure what to do. Should you grab onto something of his? Should you grab his face? His arms?

Finally, you settle on sliding your hands up his broad chest. His muscles felt firm under your touch, and you felt him take another step closer to you, his lips never once breaking apart from yours. From that action, you take a step back, and Steve follows until you realize you are both walking back towards your bed.

You gently settle onto the mattress, scooting back as Steve crawls over you, his lips still on yours. With both his and your shoes kicked off and long forgotten, you lie back onto your bed as Steve keeps most of his weight off of you. He brings his arm up, bracing it next to your head as his hand lightly brushes against it, his other hand trailing down your side.

Steve was a phenomenal kisser. With each movement of his lips and tongue against yours, you felt sheer delectation flow throughout your body. All this from just kissing? Perhaps Steve was right, kissing did feel good.

Kissing Steve felt good.

Steve moves to settle between your legs, which automatically part without a thought. For a moment, you feel his hardness brush against you just right and a short spurt of pleasure shoots through your body before Steve suddenly pulls back just barely, and you miss the feeling of his weight on you. He trails soft kisses along your jaw, nudging your head to the side as he starts to kiss your neck.

As he does so, your breath hitches, and you dig your fingers into Steve’s sides. The feel of his lips against your neck is insanely good. You remembered how his mouth felt when he held you close the other night he came over, helping you reach your pleasure in this exact same spot on your bed. That same feeling was slowly building up between your legs even now.

“Shit, baby…” he mutters against you, your eyes rolling back.

Steve’s tongue lightly flicks against your skin and you move your head more to the side to give him more access. Without thinking, your hips slightly buck up, and you brush against the bulge in his pants. Steve moans deliciously against your throat at the same time you let out a small gasp, and he soon brings his hips down to meet yours again.

The motion has your head spinning— feeling Steve’s hard cock rubbing against your still clothed pussy. Shouldn’t you both take your clothes off? That’s how this was supposed to go, right? He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps grinding down against you, and brings his mouth back to yours as he kisses you deeply.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed. You were too lost in the sensation of Steve’s mouth kissing, licking and teasing your own mixed with his body pressed against yours, a rhythmic pattern of his hips rocking slow and deep. Every now and then he would hit that spot you craved pressure the most, and you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter.

Moaning into his mouth, you bring one hand up to grab hold of his hair. This elicits a groan from him, and he continues to ground down harder against you, causing you to open your legs up more. You needed to feel more of him. It didn’t matter that you were both still fully clothed, the sensation was still fantastic, and you felt yourself beginning to crave more and more of his touch.

“Steve…” you mutter against his mouth as he hums, moving to kiss along your jaw again.

“Does this feel good, baby?” He whispers against you, and you shiver at the low timbre of his voice. “Want me to keep going?”

“God- yes.”

Steve pecks your cheek before he presses his lips against yours again, and he takes hold of you as he suddenly rolls you over so you are now on top of him. Breaking the kiss, you look down at Steve as he sits half propped up against the pillows, his eyes blown and lips swollen.

“What… why did you–”

“Just wanted to change positions. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Oh, umm…”

Steve leans up, trailing slow, light kisses along the base of your neck, and it’s as if your brain short circuits. You feel his hands settle at the low of your back, keeping you pressed against his chest.

“Did you like that? Feeling me rocking against you, baby?” He murmurs against your skin just under your jaw. Your eyes close, and you tilt your head back slightly as you feel him leave open-mouthed kisses now.

“Y-yes–”

A gasp escapes you, as Steve’s hand moves from your back to your ass, and he guides you to roll your hips down against his. One of your hands falls flat onto his chest, and he gives you that signature Harrington smirk as he gazes up at you.

“Go on then, honey. Make yourself feel good.”

Your eyes flick down to his lips, and you quickly press your own to his. Steve brings his other hand to cup the back of your head, keeping you in place as you begin to deepen the kiss. Steve squeezes your ass, motivating you to move against him, and you begin to do so. That wonderful feeling is soon back as you grind against Steve, feeling his dick rub against you as you try building that pleasure back up from moments ago.

Steve keeps kissing you, his hand soon moving down to the base of your neck. Everything about his touch just feels so fucking good. From the way his hands squeeze and roam along your body, to the movement of his mouth. Even the grazing of his teeth against your bottom lip felt enjoyable. You soon lose yourself once again in the feel of your bodies pressed together heatedly on your bed.

You bring one leg up, half straddling Steve’s lap as it opens you up further, and drag your pussy against his hard cock. That does it for you. With each movement of your hips you manage to find that perfect flow, hitting your clit each time you roll against him.

Steve groans against your mouth, bucking up against you as he tries matching your motions. You feel his dick begin to press harder against you– you didn’t think that was even possible with how hard he already was. Both yours and Steve’s breathing soon became heavy against each other's mouths, and you could taste your shared breath as you both worked to tip over the edge.

Steve shifts under you just barely, but that small movement makes sure that with every drag of your hips, you are hitting that sweet spot even more. You begin to move even faster, lost in the desire for release and Steve helps guide you against him.

“S-Steve…” you breathe out against his mouth. “I-I–”

“Fuck, this feels good. Keep going, baby. I know you’re close to coming.”

Hearing those words sent your mind in a spiral. Steve was feeling just as good as you were in this moment. He didn’t want you to stop until you were satisfied.

One of your hands moves next to Steve’s head, gripping the pillow tightly as you ground your hips over and over again. Small cries escape from your mouth and into Steve’s as he motivates you to keep moving. The white, hot feeling begins forming inside you, and you begin to lose all sense of control as you feel it start to build more and more until finally it bursts.

“Oh… oh, Stevie…”

A flurry of supernovas explode one by one behind your eyelids as it happens, and you let out a loud moan as you press yourself against Steve. Though your movements are sloppy, Steve takes it upon himself to keep rocking his own hips up into yours desperately, pressing down on your ass to keep the pressure against him. Not only that, but you feel him become tense underneath you, and a deep groan from the back of his throat releases— along with your name.

You were positive that Steve just came while moaning your name mere seconds after you did.

His groans soon lead into a small whine– a sound you have only once heard released from his mouth the other night when you witnessed him orgasm next to you. The sound was intoxicating, and you can only hope that you have the chance to hear more of those sounds after this. It was because of you he made those noises. You didn’t realize just how much you craved hearing them until this moment.

With slow movements, you and Steve begin to float back down to Earth, until the both of you finally stop the rocking of your hips. Your forehead falls against his as you keep your eyes closed, and you feel his breath fanning across your skin as he softly pants. He keeps his hold on you, not once moving his hands.

It’s you who pulls back first, and through glazed eyes you look down upon Steve. His slightly parted lips were even more pink and swollen, and you longed to kiss them once more. His eyes were glossy and blown with lust as he stared back up at you. Warmth consumes you the longer you stare down at him, and you find yourself too scared to be the first one to speak.

“So?” Steve breathes out, and you blink back to reality.

“So… what?”

“Can we both agree that your no kissing rule is bullshit now?”

You let out a scoff, slowly pulling back, and Steve lets you. “Sure, okay. Maybe… you are right.”

“You know, people are often surprised when I am,” he grins, running a hand through his hair. “Does that mean you’re getting rid of the rule?”

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you ponder for a moment. Kissing Steve had felt amazing. If this was how it felt each time, why shouldn’t you get the opportunity to kiss him every and any chance you get to?

“...Okay. We won’t keep the rule.”

“Great,” Steve nods, relaxing back against your pillows.

As you shift off of Steve, you feel the dampness between your legs, and before you could stop yourself, your gaze trails down at the wet spot over Steve’s crotch. Steve notices and you quickly look away.

“Sorry about that.”

“No, don’t be. I should… probably go home and fix this–” he motions down to his crotch. “up, anyways.”

Steve gets up and you watch as he stretches his arms above his head. The bottom of his shirt lifts, and you gaze at his lower abdomen, only for goosebumps to travel along your skin. He looks back to you as you lift your eyes back to his.

“So… maybe tomorrow or something we can continue on with this arrangement. You tell me what you want, and we can go from there. Sounds good?”

“Oh… yes. Yep, mmhm,” you nod.

“Cool, cool. Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, Steve.”

Steve grabs his keys from your dresser and tosses them to his other hand, before he looks down to you. In an instant, he leans down and cups your cheek, pressing his lips to yours. Though astonished, you find yourself leaning into the kiss as he deepens it. When he finally pulls back, you can only stare up at him, breathing out softly.

“...See ya, sweetheart.”

With that, Steve finally takes his leave and you can only sit in place on the bed as you watch his form. Shit… this was really happening, wasn’t it? Steve agreed to have sex with you. Lying back on your bed, you stare up at the ceiling, thinking back to the feeling of being pressed up against Steve in such a sensual way. You could only wonder just how it would feel when the two of you were naked and pressed just as close together as he fucked you.

This doesn’t mean you’ll be in a relationship with him, you think to yourself. He was your best friend, and you were not going to ruin things. Sighing, you bring your pillow over your head, groaning against it only to realize it smelled just like Steve’s cologne. You breathe in the scent, delighting in the familiarity as you relax into your bed, rolling onto your side as you think about what just happened moments ago.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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eclecticqueennerd · 6 months

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Bad Idea Right?

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*inspired by the song ‘Bad Idea Right?’ by Olivia Rodrigo.

*Language, smut, violence, breakup, alcohol consumption* Billy Butcher x reader

It’s been a few months since you left the boys. The direction Butcher was leading the group was a surefire plan to get you all killed and you wanted nothing to do with it. Convincing Butcher to take a moment to mull plans over instead of going in guns blazing was a tall order, one that ultimately made you decide that a relationship with him was not worth your life. You tried to convince the rest of the gang to leave but all that got you was a bunch of noes and a broken heart. Butcher, even with all his asshole ways, held your heart in his hand and it hurt to walk away from him. At least you have Annie keeping you company.

-Wyd 2nite?

Tearing your eyes away from the TV as you lounged on the dingy bed of your motel room Grace Mallory stashed you in, you typed out your response to Annie.

-nm, u?

-wanna meet up w Kimiko n go out?

-yass!

You and Annie meet up with Kimiko just outside of a nightclub. After you gather and exchange hugs, you go in and begin drinking and dancing to the heavy bass playing on the stereo. Multicolored lights flash all around you as you allow yourself to succumb to the party atmosphere. After the song ends, the three of you spot a booth off in the corner of the club and make your way there, stopping at the bar to refill your drinks. The three of you catch up. Annie was still in Vought Tower, Kimiko still working with Frenchie and The Boys. Kimiko gives a recount of how everyone else was doing in the group, including Butcher.

‘He really misses you.’ Kimiko signs. ‘We all really miss you. You should come back.’ You shake your head.

“No, I think it’s better for me to stay away. Butchers gonna get someone killed.” You could feel vibration coming from your phone in the pocket of your dress. Lifting it in front of your blurry eyes you blink a few times to clear them. You try to make out the name but it’s an unknown number, you declined the call.

“Besides, he probably hates me now.” Vibration came from your phone again. *Decline* Another call from the unknown number.

“He doesn’t hate you, y/n. I don’t think-” Annie begins to say but then you interject,

“I’m sorry, I gotta take this. This asshole keeps calling me.” Walking out of the club, you answer the call and before you can talk, you hear a gruff voice on the other line,

“Y/n?” You’d recognize that voice from anywhere. The last time you heard him speak was four months ago when you told him you were breaking up with him.

“Y/n, you there?”

“Butcher?”

“I need your help.”

“What happened?”

“I’m hurting real bad. I need you to come help me.”

“If you’re really that hurt-”

“Y/n, please.” You hear the desperation in his voice. He never begs for anything; he must be down bad. You let out an exasperated sigh and then *click*.

“Butcher? Billy?” You look at the phone screen and see that the call has ended. *ping* An address pops up on your phone. You sigh again. Tapping the edge of your phone on your forehead in frustration, you make your decision. You meet up with Annie and Kimiko and tell them that you’ll catch up with them later, you’ve got something you have to deal with. Rather, someone. But you didn’t dare tell them that.

Hailing a cab and telling the driver the address, you kept thinking this was not a good idea. From what you heard from the gang; Butcher did not take the breakup well. He broke things, drank more, and pushed everyone to their breaking point. MM had to leave the group to regain his sanity, only to return shortly after leaving. Kimiko recounted that Butcher was better when you were around. So why the hell was he calling you if you caused him so much pain? Watching the progression of your map marker reach its destination on Google Maps, your heart began to beat harder in your chest. The car stopped outside of a tall brick building. Tipping the cab driver you made your way in, texting Butcher and asking which level and unit he was in.

Trekking up the steps, heart pounding in your chest, the blurriness in your eyes from the booze now cleared, you made your way to his door. *knock, knock, knock* The door swung open, and across the threshold was Billy Butcher. Still the same handsome man you turned to putty for not too long ago. He stood before you shirtless, clad in green sweatpants. Your mouth went dry, and the screaming thoughts in your brain telling you to march right back down those steps ceased. The two of you just stood there, staring at each other.

“You uhh… gonna let me in or what?” Butcher blinks and then makes an opening for you to slip through. Hearing the soft click of the door shut behind you, you take in the emptiness of his studio apartment. The only furniture in the room was a pull-out bed with tangled sheets, coffee table covered in empty alcohol bottles and a box TV on a beat-up nightstand. You feel guilty for a moment as when the two of you were together, the apartment you lived in never got to this state.

“You said you were hurt?” You said as you turned around to face Butcher. He just stands there, holding a sweating beer bottle in his hand, eyes scanning you up and down. His eyes settle on your cleavage. You snap your fingers to get his attention. It works.

“What did you need help with?” Butcher explains that he needed to be patched up on his back. Turning him around you see that it’s scratches with some gravel lodged in the deeper lacerations. Most of the wounds were superficial, and none of them needed sutures.

“Jesus what did you do tonight, Butcher?”

“Got in a tussle. You gon help me or not?”

“Yeah, turn around.” As you begin cleaning the wounds on Butcher's back, your thoughts then return telling you that you should not be here and you should have gotten MM to clean his back up. After using a tweezer to pull out the small bits of gravel from his back, you grabbed a paper towel and doused it with hydrogen peroxide.

“This is gonna sting.” Before you got a reply out of him, Butcher hissed at the light dabbing you placed on his wounds with the paper towel. As he hissed, you saw the muscles in Butcher's back tense, reminding you of the times he had you on your back and was fucking up into you, head cradled in the crook of your neck, giving you a perfect view of his shoulders and back. You shake your head.

“Okay all done. Be more careful next time.” Throwing the used items in the trash bag and make your way to the bathroom to wash your hands in the bathroom sink. Splashing cold water on your face, makeup be damned, attempting to slow down the growing desire in your core. Walking out of the bathroom, you spot a Hawaiian shirt on the floor, torn and bloody. You look down to inspect it.

“Aw man, this was the shirt I gave you for your birthday. It’s fucked.” You see Butcher pouring two glasses of amber-colored liquor, and he offers you a glass.

“My favorite shirt.” He replies. You shake your head to decline the drink, but Butcher, being who he is, insists. Yanking the glass out of his hand and downing the amber liquid in one gulp, you set the glass down on the counter. You give him a brief goodbye and walk toward the door. Butcher grabs your wrist; you turn and see a silent plea in his eyes. Your brain screaming at you to fly down those steps and out of the building, your heart telling you to be in his arms again. He’s not good for you, he’ll get you killed.

Fuck it, it's fine. You pull Butcher down into a feverish kiss. His mouth met yours with as much passion. You both shuffle to the edge of the pull-out bed, and you push Butcher backward. He falls back easily, letting you take the lead. You go to remove your dress when Butcher places his hands on yours and assists you in pulling it over your head. Once the garment was removed, you straddle Butcher and continue kissing him with the same fiery passion as before, his hands roaming all over your exposed form. You sit up and rock your hips against his, generating some friction for your needy core. Locking eyes with him, you see that Butcher's hazel iris is now covered by his pupils, eyes entirely covered in black. After a few more hip gyrations, Butcher pulls you back down to kiss you. He poured everything into the kiss, tongues, and teeth clashing. You pull away from Butcher and help him lower his sweatpants. Once free, you grab ahold of his throbbing cock and pump it a few times then line it up to your core, rubbing the tip along your slit. Butcher moans. As you sank down on him, you feel your cunt stretch to take all of him in. Once at full hilt, you take a moment to pause to get used to feeling him inside you again. Butcher sat up and rubbed your cheek with his thumb, wiping a few tears you didn’t realize were falling.

“I’ve missed you luv.” Butcher said as he stared into your eyes. It was as if he was looking into your soul, searching for something. You leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss on his lips as you began moving yourself on his cock. Butcher groaned, wrapping one hand around the back of your head and wrapped the other around your waist. The two of you moved in sync, you grind your hips to meet his light thrusts, gasps and moans filling the apartment. You feel the coil in your belly begin to tighten, Butcher felt it too. He then flips the two of you over to where you’re lying on your back and he’s positioned above you, grabbing your legs to wrap around his waist. He buried his head in the crook of your neck as he began to quicken his pace.

“Billy, don’t’ stop… I’m close.” You pant. Butcher takes his right hand and begins to rub circles around your clit, which pushed you over the edge. Butcher follows shortly after, spilling his cum into you with a roar. The two of you lay on the bed, fighting to catch your breath. After a few moments, you get up from the bed to get dressed. Looking for your dress under the bed, Butcher reaches his hand out and gently places it on top of yours. You look up at him and he says,

“Stay with me.” The internal struggle was real at this moment. Your brain tells you to leave, that this man was no good, but you loved Butcher. In the end, your heart won the battle, and you climbed in next to Butcher, snuggling up next to his side. Butcher whispered sweet nothings into your ear, promising you all the things that he said he would do from now on, and that he loved you. Silence fell between you. Just before Butcher fell asleep, you said,

“You know, Annie was proud of me for getting out. She’s gonna be pissed to hear that we’re back together.” Butcher turns his head to look at you.

“What’re you gonna tell her?”

“Oh, I dunno… maybe that I tripped and fell into your bed.” the two of you chuckle before falling into a restful sleep.

#the boys #billy butcher #the boys amazon #karl urban #billy butcher x reader #mothers milk #kimiko the boys #the boys series #william butcher #annie january #billy butcher fanfic #billy butcher x you #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher x y/n #Youtube

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roosterforme · 1 year

Text

Airplane Mode Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley manages to secure a seat on your flight once again, he has to fight against the clock to make sure you understand he's sincere.

Warnings: Fluff, adult banter, swearing

Length: 2900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This is part 2 of 2! Here is Part 1! Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun!

Bradley was just about to dock in Japan. He was so anxious to turn his phone on after nine days at sea. Not because of all of the junk mail and app update alerts, but because there was a small chance he had a text message from you waiting for him.

"Come on," he whispered, hoisting his backpack and small duffle higher onto his shoulders. But as his phone booted up, it was becoming obvious that there was nothing from you.

Bradley sighed. He had been hopeful where he shouldn't have been, and now he just felt disappointment.

He took a taxi to his hotel, got settled in his room with a huge platter of sushi, and then looked up tickets for a flight back to San Diego. His mission had been successful, but he was happy to have it completed.

His finger hovered over two flight options for the following day. He could leave in the morning and get back to his own bed faster. Or, he could get the flight that left Tokyo tomorrow evening and hope like hell that you were working. He knew the Navy would reimburse his economy ticket, but he wasn't taking any chances. He paid for the first class upgrade with his credit card; it would be worth every penny of the additional six hundred dollars just for the chance to look at you again. He selected the same spot next to the window, right across from the fold down seat.

Then he turned on the TV, found a Japanese soap opera, and pretended it was the same one you liked. And then he slept like a log, his body still not used to this time zone and the horrible beds he had been sleeping in. When he woke up, he got to the airport way earlier than was strictly necessary, so he drank some Japanese beers and bought himself a bunch of snacks to pass the time.

He was so antsy. And for what? Just to be disappointed? You had tucked his phone number in your pocket. Unless you had accidentally washed the napkin with your clothing, you had intentionally decided not to contact him. So even if he saw you again, it was going to be a strictly 'Bradley can look, but he may not touch' scenario. Because the last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable by becoming one of the creepy guys who probably ruined whole itineraries for you.

When it was time to scan his ticket and make his way aboard the waiting aircraft, he tried his best to relax. He was greeted by a male flight attendant, but he could see ugly loafers just below the curtain, and his heart skipped around. He quickly stowed his bags and took his seat, keeping his eyes on the curtain the entire time.

It seemed to happen in slow motion, the way you pushed the curtain aside. You were smiling and talking to the other flight attendant as your eyes drifted across the interior of the aircraft until your gaze settled on Bradley. He was frozen to the spot, watching your eyes flutter closed, your eyelashes brushing your cheeks. You bit your lip and grinned at him.

"Welcome aboard, sir. Can I get you anything before we take off?" you asked him, repeating the exact words you had spoken to him last time.

You just laughed as you took a step closer to him. "Do you really want me to answer that?" he whispered as he looked up at you. "I haven't stopped thinking about you in the last ten days."

Your lips parted in surprise. "Oh?"

Bradley nodded and really took a good look at you. You had styled your hair differently today, but everything else was just the same. His memory hadn't done justice to the soft curve of your cheeks or the shape of your lips. In person, you were a work of art.

You stepped further out of the aisle as more passengers shuffled along, coming to stand so close to Bradley, that he had to look way up to see your face. "I may have looked up the passenger manifest for this flight last night," you told him with a teasing tone to your voice. "And I may have picked up this flight instead of flying back tomorrow. I was hoping you were Bradshaw comma Bradley."

"That's me. Bradshaw comma Bradley. And I claimed the best seat in the house." His heart was skipping along to an unknown song, a new one that he would love to play on his piano for you. "But you didn't text me."

"Ah, no. I did not," you replied, taking a small step away from him. You looked embarrassed now. "I wasn't sure you really expected me to. Thought maybe you charm a different flight attendant on all of your trips."

Bradley's eyes went wide. He had come on too strong last time. Made it seem like he did this shit on a regular basis. His heart was still pounding, but the song was far less pleasant now.

"You think any other flight attendant is half as lovely as you are?"

You just shrugged and smirked at him. "I don't know. You tell me." You turned to greet some more passengers, leaving Bradley staring at your backside.

"Don't be a creep," he muttered to himself as his eyes drifted down your legs and settled on your loafers again. And to his dismay, someone took the aisle seat next to him; the flight was completely sold out. How was he supposed to flirt with you this time, while seated next to a stern looking man who was reading the Wall Street Journal. And this time you had to divide your attention between the two men while you did your safety briefing about the exit row.

Bradley had to wait until everyone was settled and you were getting into your fold down seat for take off, before you even looked at him again. As soon as Wall Street Journal dude put some earbuds in, Bradley sighed in relief. "I can guarantee they are not."

You gave him a puzzled look.

"The other flight attendants. None of them are even half as lovely. I've never once flirted with any of them. None except you. I haven't given my phone number to a woman in months. You even got me thinking about your loafers. And I was kind of crushed when I turned my phone on at the docks and only had emails from my great-aunt Sandy to read."

It looked like you were trying not to laugh, and Bradley could physically feel himself striking out with you. But then you softly said, "You were so smooth. Got a little scared."

As the plane lifted off, Bradley smiled. "But you checked the flight manifests."

"I did," you agreed, tucking your face to the side in embarrassment.

"Do you still have my number?"

Your eyes popped up to meet his. "Saved in my phone. As Bradshaw comma Bradley."

His smile grew in size. "I watched a Japanese soap opera last night. Not sure if it was the one you like, and I was very confused about how the characters knew each other, but I'm a little bit obsessed with it already."

You took a deep breath as the plane reached cruising altitude. "So you don't just flirt with everybody?"

"Of course not," he answered immediately.

"And if I texted you to see if you wanted to hang out next week when I have time off?"

His eyes went a little wide. "I would drop everything."

"Okay," you said with a smile as you stood to help someone who called for you, and your knees brushed against his leg.

Bradley's eyes followed you before settling on Wall Street Journal dude who was already looking at him.

"Nice one, son," he told Bradley with a nod of his head.

A laugh escaped Bradley. "Literally unbelievable, right?"

"Quite," he replied before turning his gaze back to his newspaper.

Bradley settled himself against his seat, listening for your voice as he occasionally heard you over the sounds of the plane and passengers. He knew of a decent sushi place near his house with a takeout menu. He'd figure out how to get Japanese shows on his TV at home. He could already picture how you would look on his couch. He wondered if you wore your loafers with jeans.

You didn't take Bradley's drink order, rather you delivered him an unprompted cosmopolitan with his dinner. And when you brought him a second one as it was getting later and darker, your fingers met his.

"I'm sorry I didn't text you. I wanted to."

He grinned as you collected his dinner tray along with Wall Street Journal dude's tray; he had dozed off with his meal half eaten.

"You can make it up to me by texting me when we land so I can have your number."

You nodded and rolled your eyes. "I'll make it up to you. Now stop flirting and let me work. The guys in 3C and 3D are a handful."

Bradley's brow scrunched up. "Is there a guy giving you a hard time?" He was already about to stand up, but you planted your palm on his chest and eased him back against his seat.

"No. Nothing like that," you promised. "God, you're sweet."

Bradley just gaped up at you, so close he could feel your breath on his cheek as you let your fingers trail up to the collar of his Top Gun sweatshirt. When you grazed the scar on his neck with your fingertip, he was practically panting.

"You'll tell me if they get out of hand?" he asked, voice deep and raspy.

"You gonna rush in and protect me?" you asked as you released him to continue gathering up the trays.

"I told you I would flex for you, Baby."

You actually giggled as you collected the rest of the dishes and shot Bradley a wide eyed look. "You sure did." Then you were gone, behind that curtain and out of his sight.

It was getting late, but Bradley wasn't tired in the least. He was currently dedicated to watching you shuttle dinner trays and glasses back to the galley as each first class passenger seemed to be dozing off. Every time you passed his row, you smiled at him.

When you didn't emerge for quite some time, Bradley stood and stepped gingerly over his sleeping seatmate and made his way toward the lavatory. He paused at the curtain, which had been left open several inches. You were standing in the small galley, stacking the catering trays and depositing them into the slotted metal cart. He watched you work for a few beats, your movements methodical, your expression a little dreamy. He was hoping he was the cause of that.

Bradley pulled the curtain aside a few more inches, and you turned to face him, an expression of professional caution fell into place that immediately melted away again. "Bradshaw comma Bradley. Welcome to my office."

He laughed and ducked his large form inside the galley with you, letting the curtain fall mostly closed behind him. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I was just on my way to the restroom."

Bradley was silenced as you set down the last tray and then reached for the front of his sweatshirt, bunched the fabric up in your fist, and used it to pull him closer to you. When your lips brushed against his in the sweetest kiss, it sent him reeling. As you started to pull away, he dipped his head closer to yours, and you kissed him a little harder.

"Lavatory is that way," you whispered, your nose brushing his mustache as you pointed to Bradley's left.

"Oh. Right." He wanted to keep kissing you, but when you released your hold on his sweatshirt, Bradley backed out of the curtained off area and let himself into the tiny bathroom. He looked in the mirror to see that his cheeks were flushed and he was grinning.

He washed his hands and did his best to fix his hair and straighten out his clothing, and when Bradley walked past the galley again, you were waiting for him.

He drank you in from head to toe, loving the way your hip was leaning against the counter as you traced your lower lip softly with your fingertips. With wide eyes and parted lips, you reached for him at the same time he tucked himself inside the small space and pulled the curtain closed.

Your lips mashed against his, and Bradley groaned as you threaded your fingers through his hair. It took him a second to get his hands on you, but when he did, you melted into him. He ran his hands softly from your hips to your waist, wrapping them around you and pulling you closer.

Bradley had goosebumps as you raked your fingers down the back of his neck, and you were nibbling on his lower lip, teasing him with your tongue.

You pulled away from his lips with a soft gasp, but you continued to stroke your fingers along his neck and through his hair. "I've never done anything like this before."

But you didn't even give him a chance to respond before you were kissing him again, softer this time, your nose bumping his as you nipped at his lips.

"Shit," Bradley gasped, squeezing your waist as your lips drifted over his cheek and across his jaw. "I'm about to go bankrupt following you from San Diego to Japan every week."

You laughed and started to back out of his grasp. "I'm sorry I didn't text you. It's the first thing I'm going to do when we land."

Bradley licked his lips, already missing the feel of you as he released your waist.

"You should go sit down before I get in trouble," you whispered, running your fingertips across your lips again. "You're definitely trouble, Bradshaw comma Bradley."

But Bradley stroked your cheek with his thumb until you dropped your hand from your lips, and he kissed you one more time.

"Nah, I'll be good for you."

He laughed as you shoved him out of the galley, and he made his way back to his seat. Patiently he sat and waited, and soon you were silently folding down your seat and tucking your knees between his long legs, like they belonged there.

Bradley leaned forward and held out his palm. When you let first your fingers and then your entire hand press against his, he whispered, "I'm taking you out for lunch when we land."

"Are you?" you asked, laughing softly.

"Yeah. I'm dying for a first date."

You were silent for a beat before you said, "I'm free."

Bradley held your hand until the sun started to brighten the cabin. You bustled around, taking care of everyone until it was time to land. And when the plane was firmly on the ground, Bradley watched you pull your phone out of your pocket.

"I'm turning off airplane mode, and then I'm going to text you," you promised.

Bradley scrambled to turn his phone on as well, and when a text arrived with your last name and first name separated by a comma, he saved you to his contacts and smiled as you stood to help passengers with their bags.

Once again, Bradley waited until everyone else deboarded ahead of him, preferring to stay and watch you next to the rest of the crew. He wanted to kiss you, but he forced himself to leave after you told him, "Thanks for flying with us."

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

You took your time cleaning up and organizing the first class galley and disinfecting the space. As soon as Bradley had deboarded he texted you back, asking if you would like to get sushi for lunch with him. Of course you would. You'd been thinking about him since you first laid eyes on him ten days ago.

And the kisses! What had come over you! It was so unprofessional! But you couldn't seem to help yourself. He was so big and handsome. He smelled good, and he kept looking at you like you were perfect. A girl can only handle so much chemistry before something boils over.

You would kiss him again as soon as you saw him. That was already settled.

After grabbing your bag and your badge, you deboarded, telling the captain you'd see him again in a few days, and you glided up the jetway with a smile on your lips. When you exited out into the terminal and saw Bradley waiting for you next to a kiosk that sold sunglasses, your smile erupted into a giggle.

"Are you waiting for me?" you asked when you were close to him.

"Of course," he replied with a bright smile, and you dropped the handle of your bag and wrapped your arms around his neck. He held you close as you kissed him, and when the kiosk owner yelled at the two of you for bumping his display, Bradley took you by the hand.

"Let's go get some sushi and get to know each other better."

You walked with him out into the San Diego heat, hand in hand.

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

Thanks for reading! Hope you loved it! Thanks again to @bradshawsbitch for the insider scoop and for being lovely!

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction

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universecorp · 3 months

Text

Hearbeat pt.2 Teaser

Summary: After starting a situationship with your best friend from high school, things start to become complicated. Especially when you start to catch feelings.

Jaehyun x Reader Haechan x Reader (In pt2 and 3 )

w.c.: 2.3k

Genre: Comedy, smut, and angst

Warnings: Sexual themes, small argument

PLAYLIST: ♡

Sitting in a Dennys at 2:00 AM is not how you expected your night to end. You and Donghyuck had spent the better part of an hour talking and getting to know each other. He was easy to talk to, and funny, you didn’t feel like you were forcing any of your reactions which made you feel a lot more at ease than usual.

“Wait, you're Haechan? The streamer?” Donghyuck nodded, shoveling a scoop of hash browns into his mouth. “That’s so fucking crazy, my best friend loves your streams. We used to fuck and I remember one time he got the notification for your stream and stopped mid fuck to watch you.” Donghyuck nearly choked on the strip of bacon he was munching on.

“Please tell me you’re joking.” You shook your head. “That’s so sick, did he at least like pick up where he left off while watching?” Another shake.

“I had to push him on his back and ride him.” Donghyuck laughed loudly, catching the attention of most of the other late night eaters, but it was clear he didn’t care.

“Now that I think about it, there was this one time I read a comment and it deadass said ‘I was fucking my girl and stopped to watch.’ I thought it was probably a troll, but that might’ve been him.”

You scoffed, shaking your head once again. “There’s no way that was him, he would never refer to me as ‘his girl’ it would be kind of funny if that was him though.” Donghyuck hummed in agreement, it was all he could do since he didn’t even know Jaehyun.

There was a small awkward silence filled only with the sounds of plates clinking and light chatter from the other patrons. Donghyuck looked like he was having a debate with himself befofe hr finally opened his mouth. “Look, uhm, I don’t usually do this, I honestly don’t usually take my hookups to pre-breakfast either, but I was wondering if I could get your number?”

You were a bit shocked. You thought maybe this was normal and Donghyuck was just one of those nice guys who treated his fucks to post coiatal meals. Hearing otherwise brought a bit of heat to your cheeks.

“So uh… is that a no? Don’t leave me hanging here.”

“Oh no, wait no, I mean yes! Yes… you can have my number.”

“You’ve been smiling at your phone a lot lately. You and big head aren’t fucking again right?” Minjeong was doing your nails on the floor of your dorm, and you were definitely making it hard since you were texting Donghyuck with the hand she was trying to get you to dry.

“Of course not. I’m texting a new guy, I met him at that party me and Jae went to.” Minjeong perked up at the mention of a new guy. Talks like these reminded you of being a teenager, but they were always relaxing. You seriously owed Minjeong some girl time anyway with how far up Jaehyun’s ass you had been for the past year.

“So what’s his name?”

“Donghyuck, he goes here obviously, also get this, ” Minjeong leaned in “he’s that streamer that Jae likes a lot.”

“No way!?” Minjeong gasped, she accidentally swiped a little polish on your finger, but you didn’t mind.

You nodded, smiling basically ear to ear. “Yes way, and he’s so cute. He’s telling me how he wants to take me on a date this weekend!” You closed your phone to give Minjeong your undivided attention while she swiped acetone over her previous mistake.

“I’m happy for you, I know I was kind of an ass with all the ‘I told you so’, but I really just wanted you to be with someone who treats you for what you’re worth.” You knew that, but hearing it felt really good. You always knew Minjeong was just looking out for you, but she also knew that whatever you felt for Jaehyun wasn’t going away like magic. Even now you sometimes felt a twinge of what you used to when he did certain things, but it wasn’t as strong as it was a month ago.

“It’s ok Minnie, I know you only had my best interest.” You brought your nails hand up to blow on the wet polish. “Look on the bright side though, I went through all that and now I've learned my lesson. No more wasting time or energy on people who don’t deserve it.”

Minjeong jostled your shoulder, “That’s my girl.”

A week later you were with Donghyuck in his apartment, playing a co-op game called “it takes two” that he specifically bought for the date. He turned on his twitch to stream, but he left his mic off to enjoy the moment with you. He was ticking so many boxes and even Minjeong gave him the stamp of approval when he met her a couple hours ago. Everything today was perfect, he bought you flowers, ordered from your favorite takeout place and even surprised you with slippers for you to wear around the apartment. You had been seeing each other for about a month now so you figured he would be asking you to be his girlfriend soon, but you were in no rush. His gestures meant the world to you and even then just his presence was enough for you to feel satisfied.

Now the two of you were snuggled up side by side, controllers in hand and your head on his shoulder. Nothing could ruin this moment, nothing except your phone which had been buzzing on the nightstand for a good two minutes. “Hey babe, I can pause if you wanna get that?” You looked up at Donghyuck with a small pout before shaking your head. You felt bad that whoever was calling you clearly didn’t get the memo that you were busy.

“We can keep playing, I’ll talk and play, m’sorry.” Donghyuck waved it off as he waited for you to answer your phone. You rolled your eyes slightly when you saw Jaehyun’s photo, but still answered the facetime call. “What’s up loser?” You sounded less than enthused, but he should’ve expected that since you ignored his calls for two minutes.

“God what crawled up your ass and died weirdo and why aren’t you showing your face?” Jaehyun scoffed as if his facetime screen wasn’t paused.

“Just the fact that you’ve been calling me for two minutes. What the fuck did you want? I’m kinda busy.” You cursed under your breath since you and Donghyuck failed the game stage for the fifth time.

“First of all, I wanted to see if you wanted to grab dinner and come watch a movie, I’ll buy obviously. Second of all, if you’re gonna lie about being busy at least make it believable, I can hear you playing a game in the background.” Jaehyun had some fucking nerve assuming you would lie to him about being busy, but you weren’t gonna fight about it. You were gonna be civil. Even though Donghyuck had heard the way you and Jaehyun talked to each other before, he was a little annoyed that the other man was accusing you of lying.

“Jae, I’m on a date and we’re playing a game, so I actually am very busy.

“Wait… are you playing ‘it takes two’?” Jaehyun didn’t know about Donghyuck. He knew you had been on dates, but since he didn’t ask who with, you didn’t bother telling him it was Donghyuck A.K.A. his favorite streamer.

“Yeah, with my date.” You knew you sounded like a bitch, but you didn’t care. Jaehyun had barely been hanging out with you and even then it seemed like he only wanted to when he was bored. You were trying to follow Minjeong’s and your own advice and stop wasting time on people that don’t deserve it.

“If you’re actually playing a game with your date, show your face and his, then show the tv.” You were so close to hanging up on Jaehyun, but when you saw the screen pause and suddenly your phone was being held up by Donghyuck.

Donghyuck didn’t look happy. All of the irritation must have been building up to a point where even Jaehyun looked concerned. “Look, Jaehyun, I get it, you’re bored. I’m sure you miss having Y/N at your beck and call because you knew she would drop anything for you before.” Jaehyun opened his mouth to speak, but one glare from Donghyuck had him closing it immediately. “Those times are past and whatever sick game you’re playing at needs to stop. Got it?” The silence on the line was loud, Donghyuck knew he made his point. “Good. Now I’m going to go back to playing games with my girlfriend, enjoy the stream Jaehyun.” With that he pressed the end call button with a sigh and immediately after you were straddling the man.

“Girlfriend huh?”

Donghyuck set his controller down and placed his hands on your hips, it was all he could do to look cool despite the blush rushing his face. “Yeah uhm… I was going to ask you later during pillow talk after some earth shattering sex, but this is cool too I guess.”

You giggled, placing a kiss on his cheek. “This is cool too, don’t worry. We can still have earth shattering sex but now as boyfriend and girlfriend.” It was Donghyuck’s turn to giggle now. “Do you want to keep playing, we could even turn on the mic?”

Haechan shook his head, “No I think it’s time for that earth shattering sex we were talking about.” You bit your lip trying to suppress a laugh, he was so goofy and hot at the same time, you didn’t understand how anyone could be capable of that.

“I think that can be arranged…boyfriend.”

“He told you off?” Mark nearly yelled, catching the attention of several of the other students in the library.

“Dude keep it down, we’re in a library.” Johnny reminded before focusing back on his music theory assignment.

“Sorry, he told you off?” Mark asked again this time in a more suitable whisper.

“Yes, and she didn’t say shit bro, she just let him.” Jaehyun grumbled, taking a chip from the bag Johnny had managed to smuggle in.

Johnny was pretty unamused with the entire situation, given that he asked if the two men wanted to study in the library, but had basically been talking the whole time. “Have you ever thought that maybe she’s over how you treat her. I know you think you’re like bestie of the year, but you literally evaded her feelings for at least 6 months just so you would have an easy fuck.”

Jaehyun scoffed, “Remind me to stop telling you about my problems.” Johnny simply rolled his eyes before training them back on the score in front of him.

“I mean he has a point. You knew she caught feelings a while ago, and your agreement was to break it off, but you kept everything up. Plus you were the one who kept fucking with her and being all domestic, she’s probably traumatized.” Jaehyun shot a glare at Mark; he did not come here to be ganged up on.

“She can’t be but so traumatized since she spends all her time with Haechan, or Donghyuck, whatever the fuck his name is.” Mark and Johnny looked ready to hit their heads against the table, but clearly this was a delicate situation that needed to be nurtured and cared for so that Jaehyun would actually get some sense.

“Jae, buddy, pal, old friend if you will.”

“Get to the point Johnathan.”

Johnny sighed, “See the point is, she’s in a relationship now. You had your 15 minutes of fame where she basically avoided getting into something because she was holding out hope for you. Now, she’s tired of waiting. She wants something that makes her feel loved and worth it and frankly, your bare minimum effort of taking her back to your place to watch a movie and then fuck, isn’t cutting it.”

“Bars.” Mark fist bumped Johnny, adding an explosion sound effect at the end.

“You guys are losers. She didn’t seem to be complaining about the movie and fuck a couple months ago.” Mark cringed and Johnny simply shook his head at the way their friend could so shamelessly talk about you like that.

“Jaehyun, listen to yourself, you sound delusional. She may not have been complaining, but that’s also because if she did you would’ve had to break all of that off. You’re acting like she broke up with you when the two of you weren’t even together in the first place.” Johnny’s volume was starting to increase, but he couldn’t help it, he wasn’t the closest to you, but he refused to let Jaehyun disrespect you like this. “Also you literally only text or call her now when we can’t hang out. Do you think that makes her feel good?” Jaehyun opened his mouth, but Johnny cut him off. “Don’t answer that because I know you’re about to say some bullshit. You need to get with the program and stop treating her like some play thing that you decide to pick up everytime your other toys are broken!” Johnny finished closing his laptop and packing up his belongings.

“Dude, where are you going?” Jaehyun groaned before looking at Mark who was following in Johnny’s actions. “You too? Come on!”

Mark just shook his head, slinging his backpack over his shoulder before speaking again. “Dude, you have some serious soul searching to do. We don’t mind if you vent, but the way you talk about and treat her is sick.” Jaehyun just clicked his teeth in response to the younger man.

“Whatever.” Jaehyun stood up from the table and stormed out of the library.

“He needs to get laid.”

“Totally.” Mark agreed.

Taglist: @snapcracklen, @peachesmilk

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kira-broflovski · 1 year

Text

main 4 boys hcs: seeing you come back after you moved away

note: this set of hcs is really similar to a kyle fic i have in my drafts already 😭 but im glad you guys are enjoying my writing :)

STAN ☆

when he heard there was a "new girl" in school he didn't think much of it, and you weren't in his first class so it didn't really bother him.

he didn't even recognise you when the teacher called your name for the register in his second period class. was it really you?

"Y/N?" He whispered out of shock.

"Hi, Stan." You had whispered back with a smile, making a familiar sense of nausea come back to him.

the two of you spent the whole of class chatting; catching up.

^ that landed stan into detention, but he didn't care. you only didn't get detention because the teacher didn't want to scare you off on your first day.

stan didn't care though, it was totally worth it when he got your number and socials.

he couldn't resist texting you while he was in detention. your presence through the phone was enough to keep him going, and the endless conversation made the hours go by quickly.

after you got closer, he invited you to a soccer (football) game that he was playing in this weekend. of course he spent most of the game showing off when he spotted you in the crowd, and he worked hard to make sure his team won.

when he scored a goal, adrenaline was coursing through his veins. without thinking he ran up to where you stood in the stands and kissed you on the cheek, to then run back and continue playing.

that was only the beginning of the romance.

KYLE ☆

he went to school that morning, he was confused as to why people were talking about you.

i mean, you moved away from south park years ago. did people really miss you that much? he couldn't blame them, he probably missed you the most out of anyone.

it wasn't until lunch when jimmy went up to kyle.

"Your little girlfriend is back. Aren't you gonna talk to her?"

"Huh?"

"Dude, Y/N?" Jimmy was surprised at Kyle's confusion. "You don't know?"

"Know what?" Kyle was starting to worry people were playing a cruel joke on him.

"Oh my god, Y/N is b-back." Jimmy began, "I thought you would be the first to know?"

"No?" Kyle looked at his friends in disbelief. "Where is she right now?"

"She's outside talking to-"

poor jimmy couldn't even finish his sentence before kyle sprinted outside to see you. he really hoped it wasn't a joke, otherwise he'd never recover from being made to look like such an idiot.

he ran outside to find you just saying goodbye to butters, and he couldn't believe his eyes. he was so happy to see you he almost cried.

he called your name and you looked over at the familiar voice. you were so relieved to see none other than kyle broflovski himself.

"we should probably leave them two lovebirds alone for a little while."

KENNY ☆

kenny heard that a family had moved into the house you used to live in, and he was pissed off to say the least.

he treated your old house like a sacred ground as nobody had lived there since you had moved out.

he sometimes snuck into the back garden when he needed to get away from everything, or when he really missed you. he made sure any plants you had grown yourself were still alive, in the seemingly unlikely event you did return.

what he didn't know is that your family owned this house and didn't let anybody move in because you all knew you'd return to south park at some point.

he marched over to that house to see exactly who it was, but he noticed that there wasn't even a moving van, just two brand new cars.

To say the least, he was fuming. He was ready to raise hell on these people. Even if it wasn't actually called for, and he was just upset his memories of you would be ruined by them.

He didn't even hear commotion inside, telling him that this new family had already settled in. How dare they!?

The door opened and he was ready. He looked up at the mystery person only to see... your mom?

"Oh, Kenny! It's so good to see you." She smiled down at him. His burning anger turned into complete confusion. "Y/N! Your old friend is here to see you already!"

he could feel his heart racing again, but this time out of anticipation.

when he saw you, he felt that sense of peace you always gave him and he immediately felt his cheeks get hot when you pulled him into a welcoming hug.

after all that time, when he would spend hours just sitting in the garden he now knew it was worth it.

and after all those hours of catching up, you walked him all the way home and even up to the doorstep.

you said you were glad to see him again, before you kissed him on the cheek and made your way back home.

"WOOHOO!!"

ERIC ☆

i imagine he'd be like kyle where he wouldn't realise until somebody said to him you were back. only difference is he would attempt to act as if he didn't care.

you were in all of his classes when kyle asked if he had seen you yet.

of course this confused eric and claimed kyle was just being stupid again when he said you were back.

"Shut up, Kyle! You're just trying to make me look stupid in front of everyone." Eric shouted.

"I swear she's here, ask literally anyone in our grade and they'll say she is back!"

It was constant back and forth, until Eric heard somebody say his name.

To which he screamed, "what!?"

you couldn't tell at the time, but he felt bad for screaming in your face like that.

he remembers having a massive crush on you, but he got angry that you left without telling him.

when he stared straight into your eyes, he couldn't stay angry for long.

you gave him your new number so you could catch up when you had more time, and he simply watched as you walked away.

"I told you so, fatass!"

#south park #south park boys #south park x y/n #stan marsh #stan marsh x reader #kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski x reader #kenny mccormick #kenny mccormick x reader #eric cartman #eric cartman x reader #fluff #headcanons

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sharksupermacy · 8 months

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k. (pt2.)

k. (pt2.) - jihyo x idol! reader

synopsis: part 2 of k.

genre: angst?, communications actually????, yes ik your response would never fly in asia, mentions of soojin (DO NOT THROW HATE ON HER), swearing, 1.1k words pt1. pt.3

the reason was simple. you had gotten a good enough score on your CSAT to be able to go to any university you desired. So you had set your heart on attending Seoul National University for a M.D. of psychiatry. Maybe it was your desire to know why jihyo had made the decision to break up with you without your approval, or maybe you just wanted to find another way to make people smile. whatever the case, you still got accepted to SNU program in psychiatry.

psychiatry was fun aside from the endless nights of studying, writing papers, and consuming energy drinks. it was still your first year when you started selling some of your songs to JYP for money and when cube entertainment reached out to you.

the email that changed your future again read as follows:

dear y/l/n y/n,

we hope this email finds you well. we were wondering if you were willing to participate in our new upcoming girl group project. although we cannot tell you the names of other members at this time, we can confirm that this will be a seven-member girl group. we heard wonderful things about you from other trainees and entertainment, and we would love to have you on board this project. If you wish to know further details about this group, please come in soon, as this is a limited-time offer.

futher thanks,

cube entertainment staff

you had a dilemma. as much as you wanted to live a normal life as a psychiatrist helping people, something inside you was yearning to take this opportunity to debut. after all, it was what you had trained for over 4 years at JYP for. two hours later, you had reached your final decision. taking up your laptop, you typed out a simple response to the cube team, forever changing the future you had laid out for yourself.

when is the closest available appointment

sincerely,

y/l/n y/n

sent.

time skip (abt a year)

you weren't going to lie that the past years had been brutual being put through evaluation after evaluation, but hey. you had six awesome girls to rely on, and better yet, you had a name to call all of yourselves. (G)I-dle. man, what a name soyeon came up with, and better yet it fit all seven of you very well. it was worth every ache to just debut with this group... i wonder if this is what jihyo felt when she made her debut. you and soyeon even made a song together that ended up on the album, which was kinda cool.

as soon as you knew it MAMA's rolled around, and you knew that your group excitement couldn't be contained when your arms started hurting from being smacked on the arm so many times by yuqi who was beside you when the news came. as the leader and soojin tried to calm the two youngers down, you were with minnie, and miyeon where a question that threw you off so much was asked innocently by miyeon, "do you think twice will be there?"

she looked at you, knowing that you were a JYP entertainment trainee who probably knew the most, if twice were going to be there. after all, you guys must have been friends. you responded, scratching the back of your neck a little, and tried to say in a nonchalant way "i'm not sure, but they probably will be there since it's MAMA's."

the older nodded and went back on her phone; however, minnie looked at you for a second, taking note of your unusual response to miyeon. then going back onto her phone, you, on the other hand, were sweating buckets, thinking of maybe seeing your ex at the award show. you still haven't unblocked her number, or any of twice for that matter... but then the thought hit you.

you haven't unblocked any of twice yet... maybe you should unblock one. you felt bad for dragging all of your and her friends into the messy part of your relationship. debating between the latter, you ended up unblocking one person, mina. you weren't exactly close with her, but you saw the text kept ringing one by one. 216 messages. 125 missed calls. HOLY FUCK- you thought. you didn't even talk to the girl that much, and the last one was on your debut date, May 2 2018.

peguin minguin: happy debut date! hope you're will do well!!! i'm cheering you on!! fighting!!

you bit your lip, trying to hold back your tears from reading the message, before excusing yourself to the bathroom. typing the response to mina.

traingle goof: thanks mina! I hope your yes and yes promotions are going well!!! i'll be cheering from the sidelines for you!! fighting!!!

returning back to your room after sending that message, trying to help soyeon and soojin calm the youngers down.

mina pov:

it was another tireless day of promotion, and with our schedule being so packed by JYP, i was ready to just straight out pass out on to the bed. a thought passed by me to check my phone just in case anything important happened or someone texted me. while scrolling through the notifications quickly, something caught my eye, traingle goof , no way. i screamed causing jeongyeon and nayeon to run quickly to me. jeongyeon gave me the good look up and down and nayeon well she was tired and asking what i was screaming about. i showed them the text. "no fucking way," nayeon says while being hit by jeonyeon who didn't see.

however, the face on jeongyeon face when she saw the message was priceless; her jaw dropped wide open. she grumbled out a reply, "i don't understand why she would contact you out of all people. she wasn't really that close to you."

i understood her logic for thinking that way, and sure, we weren't really close, but we still understood each other. hell, they were closer than i ever was. i walked over to sana, who seemed to have almost just slept, until i shook her a bit and showed her the messages. she shot up almost immediately, asking me in japanese if the message i showed her was fake. she started texting y/n again, asking if she had unblocked her again. no response. then she turned back to me, asking if i could text her. so i typed out a simple response to y/n

penguin menguin: thank you! are you and your group going to MAMA this year? maybe the j-line and 2yeon could meet up with you guys!

a response was sent. now all she had to do was wait. little does she know that a figure saw a flash of mina screen when walking by.

a/n ok why is this actually like taking more than 2 parts than i thought it would be i promise it will be 3 chapters manifesting it will be. anyways yea MISAMO STREAM IK THEY'RE PROMTIONS PERIOD IS OVER BUT LIKE PLS THIER ALBUM IS LITTERALLY SO PERFECT

#park jihyo imagines #jihyo x reader #park jihyo x reader #twice x reader #twice imagines

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ykiwrite · 1 year

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letters to wednesday

"Don't even think about it."

You didn't even had a chance to say anything before she cut you off.

"What? I didn't make a noise-"

"You want me to dance with you, correct?"

It would be a lie if you said no and she would by all odds saw right through you. The dancefloor was overflowing with people, couples every now and then, teachers, even soloists. The observer she is, Wednesday must have caught you eyeing everyone and everything, smiling to some or dying in embarrassment.

Two of you occupied the farthest table possible in the dance hall because she insisted it's for the best and she has zero interest in watching this nonsense so it's better not to witness at all. Neither did Enids convincing help, it only added fuel to the fire when she said you two looked like a black hole in the corner ready to draw in anyone from afar due to matching black dresses no one dares to glance, let alone look at you for too long. That was the best compliment she got today, other than that it was dreadful. Too much of bright colors, lights way too bright, music was obnoxious and she regretted everything leading to this point. All she did was silently count the minutes until it's acceptable to leave without looking too rude which was unusual for her. Since when did she care? Would hate to admit it but ever since you came along she noticed the unusually big number of situations she found herself in if it weren't for you she would avoid.

"How did you- okay well, maybe? Would it kill you to dance with me?"

"Yes, i'd rather take death as an option."

"Come on, it doesn't have to be long. Just a few minutes."

"Absolutely not, it's humiliating and the song choice is beyond acceptable."

"We didn't move from this table ever since we arrived. Plus, look at us. We both match and you can't deny we look the best out of everyone there. Let me remind you this black dress i had to wear because you wouldn't come to the dance if i didn't equals you owing me."

"The only thing i can agree with you on is the reason why we look so stunning is because of me. Otherwise you would pick some rainbow colored dress Enid made you wear."

"Wednesday please. It's not every year this happens."

"Good thing it doesn't. It shouldn't even happen at the first place."

Just like that you realized it's probably not worth it chasing after her stubborn self. Taking a glance once again for hundredth time around the room, leftovers on every table, alcohol of which you have no idea how it got imported, Enid most likely gathering a new gossip worthy stories in the corner, teachers talking with new faces you never seen before, it was starting to get dull and boring. Wednesday could recognize that face of yours clearly, it's her most known one after all. Except when she's with you but only she knows that.

"Where are you going?" Wednesday questioned as you got up from your loyal seat you swear left your figure on it from how long you've been sitting.

"Just outside for a bit. It's getting hot [in] here anyway. I'll come back in a few."

Cold, almost freezing stone did justice outside. Although not being as comfortable as that chair from the inside it was bearable for a quick stop. Pulling out your phone thinking Wednesday is not completely crazy when she says humanity is too dependent on it nowadays. She has her own way of thinking and you did appreciate the dynamic of you two. Somehow and for whatever unknown way you two work together. It was never a plan, much less expectation to fall in love with someone. Your only goal was to get out of this legal prison as soon as possible. Now you're not coming out alone after all.

As she writes her novels on the old fashioned typewriter, you are not far behind following her with a laptop on your lap making frequents visits to AO3 and Tumblr doing your own writing. She's not interested in that fanfiction stuff anyway. If anything you two certainly excel at together is shared, concerningly over detailed knowledge of serial killers. You are convinced that's on top of the list of reasons what made her adore you.

"This is not what a short break looks like."

Turning around only to be met with Wednesdays far better expression than it was looking at that dance inside. You must have lost track of time once you checked your phone.

"It's getting to an end anyway."

"Enid told me i should give this a chance. Precisely, you a chance. According to her we could ‘close off this dance in a style’ or whatever's the meaning behind that" she said taking a empty seat next to you.

It was your out of the ordinary silence Wednesday made a remark of. Out of everyone in this school you are record holder for most spoken words with her that are not necessary life threats or morbid and existential philosophical quotes. That's something to be quite proud of. Which also means she can read you well.

"So, do you not want to go back inside?"

Shifting your gaze that found a spot on the moon to her, you were about to answer but stopped the moment your eyes met hers. Is this the thing Kafka wrote about, you wondered. All those letters made sense.

Wednesday was ethereal. Too shallow word to describe her. Yet you didn't allow yourself to let it be known out loud. What would she think, probably another saying of yours that caught your attention amongst all the things internet offers. No depth behind it, no genuine emotions, thrown into the sentence just because with no backing whatsoever.

You weren't aware Wednesday grew to love it. You weren't aware your cold and frightening girlfriend took interest in your ramblings over the months. You didn't know you were far better therapist than that woman she escaped from ever was. What do you think the main topic of her parents calls was?

"You can say it" broke the silence.

"What exactly?"

She sighed as she took your hand, surprisingly warm hands that saved the warmth from inside intertwined with yours lifelessly cold.

"Shall we go?"

"Dorms?"

She nodded, overly prepared and ready to leave this place once and for all.

"Yeah. Let's go watch some documentary on unsolved murders." you proposed. Few steps ahead of her, hands never changed the positions from before when she tugged you to a halt.

You shot her questioning look as she shortened the distance to the point of her breath hitting you as she whispered "This is an exception, for you only."

Gently grabbing you before pulling you in for a embrace. It felt comforting, enough, odd gesture but all you can wish for. With your eyes shut tight it felt like eternity passed.

"That's all i'm getting for sitting 5 hours straight today?" you said through laughs.

"Maybe more at the dorm but don't be too greedy."

lack of wednesday fics is wild

#wednesday imagine #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader

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not-eli · 5 months

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Some peeps asked for Heather character analysis and that's literally what I live for so let's go

pay attention this is long.

Heather is portrayed since the very beginning like the perfect example of the word brat. Her literal first line is, "I'm calling my parents, you can't force me to stay here!"

Even though this could hint that she has a very close relationship with her parents, at the same time in the extra clips for the parents from home we understand that her parents aren't really so caring for her, since they were celebrating at the thought of her leaving.

Even if this can seem controversial, there's a perfect explaination for this kind of behaviour:

As an example, my cousin is a goddamn brat (so glad my family doesn't know about my blog), always whining and asking for my aunt's phone, even cussing in front of his parents, and he's about 5. The thing is, due the desire of not hearing him protest my uncles tried to please him in everything, giving him what he asked so he would stop crying.

i think that Heather's parents kind of did the same: They complied with her every request so as not to hear her complain, not because they cared about her but because they wanted her to keep quiet. Heather of course got used to this and that's literally all she knows. She knew that if she conplained, she would get what she wanted.

We also know that her parents used elettro shock therapy on her in order to "make her nicer" which also hints that they didn't have a goddamn clue of what to do with her.

Furthermore, in tda when she thought she was about to die she wrote her will where she left most of her possessions to her mother. Plus, when Chris offered the team a chance to talk to the person they were closest with, who was the person suggested to Heather? That's right, the mother.

When she "opens up" a little to Harold she asks, "do you think it's good to be hated by everyone?"

I think that her bratty behaviour, maybe even in order to gain a little of attention from her parents, led people to stay away from her and to cope she became even worse, trying to convince herself that it wasn't her, it was them.

In an extra clip (cannot find it) we learn from her younger brother that she was used to be seen as "unattractive" when she was younger, which adds to the whole "no one likes me but who cares" thing.

I have the feeling that she closed herself off for so long to avoid being seen as weak, someone who can't provide for herself. We know that her number one objective is winning and only winning, she wants the money and for what? To start a life of her own, show the world that she's Heather and she's so worth it.

However, we sometimes caugh some moments of weakness: When she broke down while teaming up with Harold, when she looked upset when Lindsay and Beth stayed away from her (who, to remember, were the only friends she made on the show), when she comforted Courtney after the whole cheating thing and lord, even when Sierra the creepy crazy girl got hurt she showed to care for her. Also, did you see how happy she looked when Cody called her "the good guy"? (well not exactly but you get my point) or when she won?

And when she fell for Alejandro, she probably thought that was stupid - why falling for a boy that will just slow you down, break your heart?

Heather is hated by everyone, it's true. But deep inside she's just a girl that never understood how the world really worked. She never got how she had to actually behave in order to be liked. When she and Alejandro had that lovey dovey honeymoon phase she genuinely looked so happy because he was treating her like a literal queen. In my opinion, she finally felt respected and that was enough for her. Until Chris mentioned the money that is.

She deserves to win again :(

@math-is-math

@cass-hector-simp

#my fingers are dying #alejandro x heather #aleheather #td heather #she deserved better #:(#character analysis

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gothfoxgirlboy · 2 months

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Look. Beyond all the shittiness of this website there's exactly 2 things that made the website worth it. The first is privacy. You don't have your blog linked to your phone number or any of that shit. But the second and probably more important is the community. People used to constantly interact and send asks or comment their own thoughts.

This website has become tragic. Interaction is abysmal. I have nearly 2k followers and for the entirety of February I am asking for 100 nice comments throughout my probably 100+ stories. I'm asking for less than 5% if my followers to interact. I'm asking for 1% of my followers to leave 5 comments over the course of 29 days. And I had other ways to add to this count. I don't doubt that like 5 years ago I would've gotten my 100 comments in the first week at most. Now I'm not sure I'm going to make it to 100 comments.

This isn't just me asking for attention. This is arguably asking for some of the bare minimum interaction, For My Birthday to get free content for my followers. Even last year I got a dozen or so birthday messages but this year I only got like 4.

If we don't have interaction on this website we really have nothing. I've seen plenty of artists, writers, creators, and more lament how they don't feel like the website is worth it.

Seriously. Send an ask to a mutual, drop on comment on a post and tag someone in a post you think they'd enjoy. Do at the very minimum one of these every week.

#the catboy nyas

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setsugekka · 1 year

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『paradise lost』 ; 07

❝ nobody has to know ❞

↳ an old acquaintance comes back around at a time when you’re even more in relationship limbo than usual, you know your actions will have consequences should they ever be found out, but maybe the risk is worth the reward.

⎯ ୨previous୧ ⎯ ○ ⎯ ୨series mlist୧ ⎯ ○ ⎯ ୨next୧ ⎯

『 pairing 』 : park seonghwa x fem!reader

『 genre 』 : romance, angst, explicit sexual content.

『 rating 』 : mature

『 word count 』 : 9.2k

『 warnings 』 : really poor decision making probably, rough sex, consensually recorded sexual acts, oral sex (m), penetrative sex, dirty talking etc they are pretty emotionally careless with one another, horror scene of a twist ending (angst)

“hey lol”

When the text comes through, past the jarring initial response of hopefulness and wishful thinking of who it could be, your next immediate reaction is to hide the screen...turn it the other way, from potentially prying, curious eyes on the other side of the bed.

The problem with that being: you are alone, in your own apartment, not at Hongjoong's as was once common place.

Rolling over in bed and lying on your back, still staring at the screen — reading the time, 2:45am, you hate the fact that you're awake, struggling to sleep these past few nights now on your own, but even more than that, why was he texting you this late, and after so long.

Realistically, it hadn't been that long since your first contact with the man, though. A year or so back at a mutual friend’s graduation party — the tall, pretty guy with the long black hair in the front, sides and back shaven short — you recall being wholly unsurprised when he tells you that he does some modeling, far more so when he tells you that he's pre-med. Not that a gorgeous man can't be both, of course.

Hitting it off, you exchanged numbers and texted occasionally, but with busy schedules (mostly on his end) it was next to impossible to meet up, and as a result, texting would die off as well.

You hadn't expected to hear from him again; ever, really.

>you: don't think I know you well enough for you to be booty call texting me at 3am

A playful response back, but also testing his motives. The typing bubble pops up almost immediately, and a reply comes through just as quickly.

>Seonghwa: very funny. what a warm welcome. 'wow Seonghwa so great to hear from you it's been so long!' awww thanks, it's nice to hear from you, too.

You roll your eyes at the conversation he begins having with himself, already beginning to type back to him.

>you: men usually text this late for one thing, you know that as well as I do.

>Seonghwa: well I hope that 'thing' is picking out an outfit for a thing I have coming up because that's actually what i'm texting you for. I need your assistance tomorrow.

>you: tomorrow? thanks for the heads up dude...what if I have stuff going on?

>Seonghwa: i'm not above begging. I just got back in town like 45 minutes ago okay i'm working with the best that i've got. we can use the time to catch up. plsplspls.

Rolling your eyes again, you confirm a time and a place with him, receiving numerous different heart and smiley emojis back in response before shutting your phone off and setting it back down on the empty bed space next to you.

Being back in your own place feeling so foreign to you now.

Your mind wanders back to Hongjoong and what it is that he could possibly be up to at this time of night; no doubt out with friends, drinking, smoking, partying — dealing with his emotions the one way he knows best — not. Almost certainly drunk past the point of making good choices and quite probably bringing someone back to the very place you had made yourself so comfortable only days ago.

Screwing your eyes shut tightly, you try to force back the mental image of exactly how your best friend likes to deal with his problems — a couple of stiff drinks and being over, or under, someone else.

Grabbing your phone again, you shuffle through your texting app to bring back up your conversation with Hongjoong, last message sent four days ago — four days since that conversation in his kitchen, him disappearing off to who knows where in a huff after the fact and you texting him that you're taking some of your things and spending some time back at your place.

With no response from him, of course.

“hey lol”

You chuckle at yourself lightly at the fact that you're really considering sending him the same thoughtless text that Seonghwa had just sent you minutes ago, before backspacing it all entirely and locking your phone again, gently tossing it off and towards your side in a hearty exhale of desperation, exasperation...

Missing him.

And of course you know, you've known that you're in love with Hongjoong. You're in tune enough with your feelings to know it, despite being entirely unwilling to admit it to him — not without something more concrete, not without him giving up and giving in just a little. You don't think it's a lot to ask of him, to put his hurt, and his worry, and whatever it is that clings to and harms him so deeply — to take a leap of faith and just say the words, the words that are so painfully obvious to the both of you.

That maybe he isn't necessarily in love with you, not yet — but he wants you, wants you all for himself. To be had and held by no one else. Is it too much to ask, to hear the words from his mouth without using them as a means to an end to make the both of you come?

A man so aware and enlightened, only willing to use his words when he knows he can take them back — not completely, but any deeper meaning behind them.

‘All talk, of course, it doesn't mean anything.’

Much like the first time.

And in spite of conversation number one not going according to plan, you find your chest empty at the loss of him next to you — wherever it may be that Hongjoong finds himself on this night, it's with your heart alongside, tightly in hand.

You only hope that he's thoughtful enough to be aware of it, to not make any rash decisions; for all intents and purposes perhaps—

For him to be better than you.

“So, what are you looking for, exactly?”

Stepping through the large, perfectly polished glass doors just behind the man that you've met with, you look around momentarily — luxury brands and department stores far from something that you're uncomfortable or unfamiliar with, it's not all that often that you find yourself shopping about in such places, given Hongjoong's interest in the more 'far out' of fashion trends, as it were — this, a place for people with money, and who want to look like they have money.

It reminds you of Wooyoung, mostly. Expensive, untouchable. The opposite of Hongjoong in every way.

“Not a suit but,” he slowly answers, head only slightly turning back and looking as if he's even more out of his depth than you are. “Something...nice.”

“Not giving me much to work with, here.”

Seonghwa stops in the middle of the fragrance department, you nearly bumping into him from behind at the abrupt halt — looking around, you watch him intently, as if awaiting his next command on where it is that the two of you should head off to.

Hair still the same, black and swept off to the side of his face, sides shaved and neat — you take a second to enjoy the view, beautifully effeminate features, perfect teeth, and when he opens his mouth, such a deceptively heavy, deep voice.

Enough to knock anyone off their game, even just a little bit.

But the truth was, that Park Seonghwa was kind of a fucking nerd.

Not in the typical way, perhaps like Yunho — ex-pro gamer, but more in the sense of being a little awkward in a way that one might not expect upon laying eyes on him. Easy to assume a cold, tough personality to the man, but not so much the case at all.

He was awkward. Sexy, but definitely awkward.

“Is just a button down shirt nice?” he finally asks, making eye contact with you again after scanning the expanse of the room.

“It really depends on where you're going, was there no dress code?”

“Business casual, I think it said.”

“Oh!” you chime, all of the day's problems solved with ease at the description. “That's easy then, yes, you can get away with a nice button down. See? When you give me information to work with...”

A few strides into the direction of the men’s section, the both of you fanning through different colors and brands of shirts, Seonghwa finally pipes up in a lull of quiet from the typical, dull small talk.

“So,” he says plainly. “Are you seeing anyone?”

You're thankful for the way that he cannot see nor hear the way your heart drops at the question alone.

Swallowing hard, eyebrows furrowing just for a moment as if to collect your thoughts, you finally reply. “Um, yeah. I guess. It's kind of complicated, though.”

“What does that mean?”

And in most situations, you wouldn't want to open up about the situation. Still too new and raw and painful to the touch, but the lack of the ability to do so eating you up inside in such a way that the pain drawls on endlessly — Seonghwa probably isn't the right person for this discussion, but frankly, you're not really sure who would be.

You just know that right now you're dying inside, so it has to be somebody, and well...he's offering.

“I've been seeing this guy for the past bunch of months, we're actually best friends, or were— before all of this,” you begin, sighing between the statements and emotional exhaustion from it all evident. “He's obviously into me, just like I am into him, I'd love to just...be in a relationship with him but he can't...talk, say the words. Be vulnerable.”

“Real tough guy, huh?” Seonghwa quips as he pulls a navy blue shirt off of the rack to check the size and fit against himself.

“Not really, that's what really gets me,” you start again. “He's really not that sort of macho, out of touch with his feelings kind of stereotype dude that you'd expect, but I guess anyone can have their problems with intimacy.”

“You're sure he wants what you want?”

The question comes out of left field, especially from the man just across the rack from you — and despite not needing it, you do take a moment of pause to think the question over before giving the same answer you would have either way.

“Yeah, I'm sure.”

Seonghwa sets the shirt back onto the metal tubing from where it came before leaning forward onto it with arms crossed and chin pressed against them to look at you.

“Then he kinda needs to shit or get off the pot, ya know? Tell him to grow up.”

“I don't think it's that easy. If it were that easy I think he would have by now, there's something else there holding him back.”

“Are you fuckin' other people still?”

The question gives you whiplash, the velocity at which it leaves Seonghwa's mouth and proverbially slaps you right across the face something you never could have expected — paired with the fact that yes, it was something you had considered...

But coming from someone with completely fresh insight on the situation—

Perhaps you hadn't been as safe and accommodating as you could have been, after all.

“I mean,” you stutter out, eyes darting away from his own and back down into the slew of button down shirts before you. “Yeah, we're not exclusive or anything, so...”

Who is it that you're trying to convince, anyways? That everything that you do is okay.

The idea that right and wrong can coexist simultaneously. That someone's right is someone else's wrong, or someone's right and wrong all at once.

Of course you are allowed to do that, and shoulder the consequences of your actions, you shall. Not a punishment, merely a result.

Choose wisely.

“Obviously,” Seonghwa says, pulling back to stand straight again. “But if he has feelings for you and you know that, and he knows that you know that, and yet he knows you're fuckin' other people still...I mean, I can only speak for myself I guess, but I would not be jumping to bare my soul to someone who's probably got a date to get her back blown out twenty minutes after, ya know?”

It's funny in delivery. The truth behind it making you wince all the same.

“You told him?” Seonghwa asks, shortly after amending the question. “That you have feelings for him? Want to be with him?”

You nod silently, carding through a rack of shirts that you've long since stopped paying attention to.

“Then I maintain my stance that he's gotta get a grip,” he says with a shrug, finally settling on an item and holding it up with confirmation. You smile gently at him.

“You threw yourself into the fire, he's gotta meet you there eventually.”

Stepping into the apartment and gently shutting the door behind you as you kick your shoes off, you hear the sound of Seonghwa casually tossing his keys onto the kitchen counter only a few feet away as he steps further ahead, bags set down behind the couch on the opposite end.

You stop and take it in for a moment — another new place, new sights, new smells, a new man.

And sure, Seonghwa wasn't new. Not in the typical sense of the word. He wasn't a random guy that you had just picked up that evening with every intention of drowning your worries in anything that he was willing to give you to help you forget, if even for a moment, but he wasn't...well...

He wasn't comfort. He wasn't home.

He wasn't Hongjoong.

Checking the screen of your phone again for notifications — notifications that you know have not arrived, for if they had, you would have felt them, you attempt to swallow down the knot in your throat. The feeling of being forgotten, of potentially being moved on from.

Did he even care anymore? Was it too little, too late, before you had even known it?

Vaguely, you can hear Seonghwa's deep voice ring out towards you, but the words fail to make their way to you. Not in any real, meaningful way — instead, past words spit like venom once again swim around and consume your memories, making their bed in your mind like a disease you may never find yourself rid of.

‘After all, you didn't know I was going to be there that night.’

“Hey,” you hear, Seonghwa finally breaking through the heavy thought clouding your mind. “What is going on up there?”

Lightly tapping the top of your head with his index finger, you lightly swat his hand away, awkwardly laughing and trying to shake off the way the memory makes you feel even now — the same way it felt then. As if no time had passed between at all.

“I'm fine.”

“Thinking about him?” Seonghwa chimes, teasingly mocking you like you're a girl with a crush.

It's not wrong, but hurts far more than he seems to be aware of, even in spite of the conversation earlier. You're unsurprised by this, as he never had come off as one quick on the emotional uptake of others.

A little self-centered, and a lot into himself. Med student, model — you figure it just sort of comes with the territory, perhaps, and truly — you had known him not to be the one to confide one's deepest, most vulnerable thoughts and feelings in, for those hands however skilled they may be, know not what to do with such items.

Opting to ignore the comment for as long as you can, instead eyes trailing along the medical books, papers, diagrams strewn about on the coffee table in front of the couch...only a few feet away from a few rather expensive looking garments carefully laid out across the top of a lounge chair — you find it charming, in some bizarre way — the juxtaposition of Seonghwa's lives carefully balanced on a thread via a man with no time to spare, and seemingly little knowledge about anything else.

You wonder if there's anything there, really, beyond medicine and beauty. Albeit, the path of medicine such a selfless act in and of itself, almost jarring in comparison to knowing the man; barely able to carry on a serious conversation, or offer a consoling word.

And hilariously, through all of the split second introspection, you come to the ultimate conclusion that you're not even all that sure you even like him that much.

“No,” you eventually answer, shuffling the thoughts from your head with finality. “Thinking about what we should eat.”

“What are you in the mood for?” he hurriedly responds, jumping up and into one of the stools next to the counter, phone in hand. “I'll order whatever.”

“Kind of want a pizza, actually.”

“Done.”

You find this to be the easiest conversation that you've ever had with the man, relief washing over you a bit and, for once, not feeling an undercurrent of battle with every word that is exchanged between the two of you, but you remember after all — you're there for a reason.

“By the way,” you say suddenly. “Need a tape measure, do you have one?”

“Ummmm, yeah, should be in my bedroom. The big white dresser? Not sure which drawer. You can go in there though, don't worry, won't find anything crazy.”

The words aren't all that comforting, you find, in spite of the fact that he's quite evidently trying to be. The promise of not finding whatever insanity the man may have hidden somewhere in the apartment something that you are thankful for, but as you step into his bedroom, the looming feeling of alarm washes over you just as quickly — that previously mentioned undercurrent of battle, now replaced with uncertainty. Not worry, so much, but with the crashing acknowledgement that perhaps you don't really know this man at all.

And you know that it's really none of your business. Not even a little bit, but he had you go in there, and knew what you would find—

—It seems only fair.

“Uh, Seonghwa?”

Long eyes looking up from his phone and straight towards you, dark hair dangling at one side of his face, it takes a long moment for the realization to hit him — so used to his version of normal, that you realize then and there, he had not actually thought about what it was he had been sending you off and into upon informing you where to find the tape measure.

That he obviously should have gotten off of his ass and retrieved himself.

“Oh, oh God,” he groans, eyes darting side to side and most importantly, far away from your own. His discomfort adds to your comfort instead, finding pleasure in the way that he is for once the one in the compromised situation between the two of you.

He was always awkward, but this was way better.

“Okay, ummm, I guess—“ he pauses, eyes screwing shut as if immediately trying to disappear himself from his own apartment, only opening them again upon accepting his failure in doing so and with lips forming a straight line, Seonghwa exhales heavily from his nostrils.

“—It's kinda...what it looks like.”

“The camera,” you plainly state, thumb over your shoulder and pointing back from where you had come from. “Want to tell me about that?”

Sighing, Seonghwa simply slumps forward with his head buried in crossed arms on the counter in front of him, words muffled. “No, but I guess I'm going to.”

“I mean, I won't say anything,” you comfort, shrugging and setting yourself down on the couch behind him. “I'm just already in here so if you're going to like, murder me for the dark web or something then I'd like to know ahead of time.”

You hear Seonghwa chuckle in response, probably thankful for the lighthearted banter in response to your findings. “Okay well, if that's what it looks like then it's not that.”

“What are you, a camboy or something?”

The chuckle in your voice as the words exit your mouth are evidence enough of the fact that you're still trying to make banter of the situation.

Seonghwa's silence in reaction, however, tells you that you're right on the money with your guess.

“Oh my God,” you chime out, a bit louder than you had anticipated. “You are.”

“Can you keep your voice down,” he hurriedly replies, pulling himself up and around to face you with the utmost urgency across his features. “These walls are paper thin, God.”

“Sorry, just—“ you pause, still taken aback by the discovery. “I was joking, I didn't think you really were. Not that there's anything wrong with that.”

With a heavy inhale, and equally heavy exhale, Seonghwa groans in anticipation of having to explain himself even further.

“It's good money, and it's fun,” he explains, standing up and heading over towards you on the couch so that the two of you can finish up the reason that you had gone over there to begin with. “The modeling is good but sometimes I don't take jobs because the travel just takes up so much time, it's hard to juggle with being a med student, so camming sort of supplements my income when I don't take jobs.”

Watching Seonghwa's face as he explains — cheeks and ears flushed red and the complete inability to make eye contact with you as he talks about it, laughing through it awkwardly even though nothing humorous is being said — you hate to admit the way that you find it charming, that perhaps in all of the ways that he is unattractive to you, there's still this. Goofy, uncomfortable, incredibly regular, like a little kid entirely too big physically and especially in life to handle all of the things being thrown his way.

An incredible juggling act, perhaps shocking that he didn't turn out worse.

So awkward, for a guy that jerks off on camera for who knows how many strangers.

“I think it's kind of cool.”

And for the first time since the conversation topic had been breached, Seonghwa's eyes meet your own, albeit briefly. A silent thankfulness for your understanding, for your willingness to accept him.

“You want to get into it? I'll fuck you on camera, we'll make a killing.”

Ah, right, there he is. Spoken like a truly insufferable prick.

“You wish, moron,” you say, flat in tone and forcing him to spin so that he faces away from you. “Get down on your knees so I can measure you out and get this fit right, and if you don't behave I'll have you out there looking ridiculous on purpose.”

Tape measure in hand, you extend the length enough to cross the width of the man's shoulders, making note of the number and dialing it in on your phone laid just next to you on the couch cushion, Seonghwa's head turns just slightly as if in attempt to look back at you, despite not having the range of motion to do so to any reasonable amount.

“Are my shoulders wide?”

You roll your eyes.

“They're a perfectly normal width, Hwa.”

“Wider than What's-his-face's?”

There's that burn in your chest again, and you can't tell if Seonghwa just doesn't get it or doesn't care, at this point.

Swallowing hard at the question, hoping and praying that your voice doesn't break as you force out a light response to an absolutely painful topic, you manage well enough.

“Yes, he's not a model.”

“He's short? Small?”

At this point, you're glad that Seonghwa can't see you — the way that you chew on the inside of your cheek or lip at the mere mention of Hongjoong, and now especially at this bizarrely competitive way that Seonghwa seems to be...having a go at him, despite not even knowing him, it's unappealing, unattractive, and downright right fucking annoying.

“Yes, he's small,” you answer, this time with far less effort to conceal your irritation at the line of questioning. “What does it matter to you, anyways?”

Shrugging suddenly as you continue on with what you had gone there to do to begin with, he sighs. “Just trying to lighten the mood, surely this guy isn't all that, and especially not if he can't even tell a girl he likes her.”

You kind of wish you could disagree.

Appreciating Seonghwa's mismanaged attempt at making you feel better in some way, you allow yourself to let the anger fall to the wayside a bit. The man just before you clearly only good at so many things — matters of other people's hearts, maybe not so much.

Which you sort of knew already.

Silence finally taking the room as you move to measure the length of his right arm, you're delighted by it. The fact that no words are currently exiting his beautiful mouth. You consider for a moment that perhaps beautiful men are far more often better off not using their words.

Wooyoung sort of springs to mind.

Paradise crashes down pretty quickly, though.

“He got a small dick?”

“Seonghwa.”

Swatting the back of his head gently, the man chuckles at your response. “What!? I find it admirable that you love him despite his flaws if that's the case.”

“You have got to shut up before I walk out of here.”

“Okay, okay, I was just jokin’—“

It's an almost pleasant bit in the evening, interrupted by the sound of a notification coming through on your phone, and as the screen illuminates, you only have to glance at it for a second to recognize the length of text — the name — that comes through on the screen.

You take pause, not only due to the unexpected nature of it, but given your current circumstances and just — everything. The feelings all rushing back to your chest, throat tightening in an instant, heart feeling as though it could beat straight through your rib cage at any given moment, you can only assume that Seonghwa doesn't hear the sound, or thinks nothing of it at first, before taking notice of the way that you freeze behind him, arms stuck in statuesque figure as you stare down at the device next to you with thoughts racing a mile a minute.

“What?” he finally questions, moving to turn more and take in the scene behind him, first looking to you, but following your eyes down to the object as the screen dulls again only seconds later. “Oh, is it him?”

You nod, slowly allowing your arms down and swallowing down a dry throat.

“Just ignore him, come on, we're having fun,” the man with you insists, grabbing you playfully by the arms and flailing them about for you. “He can wait a few hours more, don't let him ruin your night.”

Snapping back to reality, you blink, then turning your attention to Seonghwa — eyes bright and eyebrows down turned as if pleading for you not to ruin his good time, you take control of your arms once again as you reach towards your phone.

“I'm just...surprised, he's texting me—“ you say, inhaling deeply before unlocking the screen. “I can't ignore him.”

“You can, come on, we're having a good night!”

>Hongjoong: hey. i'm sorry. we should talk. I want to talk. about the conversation we had a few days ago. when you have time, obviously.

The message hits you in the chest like a freight train, for so many reasons, but the pointed willingness of the apology quite possibly being the most gutting of all.

Hongjoong, a man never above an apology, so you're unsure why it is that this one in particular hits you in such a special way — that he leads with it, that it feels so strong, so meaningful, so much.

And the acknowledgment of the failed conversation, of course.

Looking up from your phone, you meet the sad, puppy dog eyes of Seonghwa — pouty and evidently beyond bummed at the inevitability of the way the night will end — a child starved of play dates, his one moment cut short just like that.

You flash back to the night that you met Seonghwa, and how sexy you thought he was. The reason that you exchanged numbers with him to begin with. Truthfully? A quick fuck was ideally in the cards.

How unfortunate now that you've gotten to know him.

“Nah, I don't think so!”

Before the words really register to you, Seonghwa has your phone swiped from your hands, pulling it from your reach and back behind him — holding it far and away from your own as you attempt to swiftly grab it back from him but with no avail. Repeatedly calling his name to give it back, the man only laughs as you try to best his long limbs without closing too much of the space between the two of you — something that you would like to avoid.

And that he would not.

Pulling forward and nearly off of the couch entirely with Seonghwa leaned back and away, you attempt to reach behind him for your device, still far out of reach, but it's when the man quickly leans back in again without your ready — lips firm against your own and free hand cupping the side of your face to pull your further into it that you find it so easy to melt into the feeling without so much as a second thought; the warmth, the inviting plush of his mouth with a kiss not rushed, or needy, but passionate and soft.

You meet his motions briefly, before pulling back and away from him entirely.

Hand still gently pressed into the side of your head, fingers lightly curling into the hair that resides there, you take in the way that Seonghwa's features soften so much just in that moment — as if a man now knelt before you that you'd never met before. A new man.

He delicately pulls your face back towards him, and you hate the way you allow him to.

Only centimeters from your lips, Seonghwa whispers into you, voice heavy and laden with obvious desire that, if laid dormant all of this time, you had not noticed it until only now.

“If you're really gonna give the fun up for this guy,” he begins, pressing his lips to your own again and so gently that you almost couldn't even feel it. “Then what's wrong with one last one for the road, huh?”

Another kiss.

You're melting into it far too quickly, so easy for Seonghwa to lull you into this sort of comfort that only minutes prior you never would have thought him capable of — a new side of himself, so sensual and inviting and deeply, you wished you weren't curious about what else there was that he had to offer you.

“—He'll never have to find out.”

Okay, fuck it.

Scooting backwards on the couch a bit further, parting your legs to allow room for him in between them, Seonghwa leans into you even more, mouth heavier against your own, with more intent now. Your eyes dart down, in view of the hand clasping your phone still — the buzz of another notification ringing through your ears, knowing precisely who it is that's attempting to contact you — it takes everything in you to muster up the courage to ignore it, cast it aside.

Cast Hongjoong aside.

Seonghwa stands, carding his fingers through long, black hair as he does so before reaching for his belt buckle and beginning to undo it right in front of your face — your eyes fixated on the obvious tenting in the front of his pants at the promise of a fuck that neither of you should particularly be indulging in, but especially not you.

You can. You're allowed.

“Have you thought about this before?” you ask, curiosity getting the best of you and desperately needing to cut through the silence of only your thoughts.

Seonghwa chuckles, still looking down upon your features as he pulls the leather apart, fingers then moving to the button — it's happening a little faster than you needed right now, but also, perhaps that's exactly what you need.

“Of course, every guy thinks about fucking every attractive, female friend they have — at least a little bit.”

An unfortunate byproduct — everything reminds you of him.

Pressing his jeans down slightly and pulling himself from the black fabric of his briefs, he strokes himself slowly, gently, for your viewing pleasure — only inches from your face, eyes still engrossed and watching you as you watch him.

You wonder if this is how he does it for however many viewers he brings in.

“Don't think about him,” he says, bringing the hand up that still clasps your phone and turning the screen towards your face. “Unlock it, just for a little fun.”

“Are you crazy?” you bite back, leaning away from him altogether, but the man before you still lazily pumping himself only snorts a bit and shrugs before answering you back.

“It's your phone, think of it as a bachelorette gift from me.”

The confidence in his tone, while irritating, is intriguing — you wonder briefly who and what he's done to make himself believe that video recollection of you sucking him off could be something that you'd watch back later, holed up in the bathroom late at night with nothing or no one better to do and only a fond memory of something that you had no business partaking in to begin with.

Though, come to think of it; when you put it like that, the appeal was certainly beginning to present itself.

You snatch the phone from him and plug in your pass code, handing it back to him just as quickly — as if the faster it's done the less either of you will have to acknowledge the acceptance, but the grin on Seonghwa's face says everything as he evidently pulls up the camera app and angles your phones lens down and towards your face.

“Lemmie see you work, baby.”

You're certainly not proud of the way the sentence is felt straight between your legs — not entirely sure if it's the words themselves, the man, the camera, or the deviousness of the act as a whole — taking him into your dominant hand and replacing his as he pulls away and instead runs fingertips through the hair at the top of your head, you carry on with the work that he had started on himself. Heavy and warm, long, thick enough but not anything that would take any exceptional prep to work up to, you quickly (and unfortunately) have to settle on the fact that the guilty fuck is doing more for you now, in this moment, than you'd ever really like to admit to yourself.

Pulling yourself forward on the couch more to situate yourself best for taking him, you angle your head down as to run your tongue against the tip of his cock — wet, showy circles across it and looking up to see the effect on him — bottom corner of his lip pulled between his teeth and slightly hooded, brown eyes gazing down upon you.

And the camera, of course. You're making a show of it.

Moving upwards again, you take Seonghwa fuller into your mouth, properly for sucking him off — too big to take the entirety of but you're thankful that he doesn't seem stuck on the necessity of it, hands in your hair and on your head for the sake of being there rather than with intent to guide or pull you onto him, he allows you the ability to take him at your own pace and depth, languidly bobbing along his cock with wet, swollen lips as airy, devilishly sexy groans topple from the beautifully plump ones that had just been kissing you only moments before.

Kisses testing the waters: ‘How horrible are you, really?’

Even with cock in mouth, or especially with cock in mouth, you can't help but have the thoughts spring to mind — how wrong it is, how fucked up it is.

How you're only doing this with promise that Hongjoong will never know, because if he were to, you wouldn't.

But the knowledge of it devastating him not enough to stop you from pulling the trigger on the act, either.

Is this love?

“Feel so good, look so pretty like this,” Seonghwa says, the words nearly startling you from your thoughts despite the act still taking place. “Like a big dick? Hm? Mouth looks so small around me.”

You know he's playing it up for the camera, likely because it's what he's used to doing — talking the viewer through to their finish — he's assuming that someday you will, in all actuality, make yourself come to this little snippet in time at some point in the future.

Depending on how it turns out, you can't really promise that you won't, either.

Picking up your speed along him, hand following suit to make up for the amount of him that you can't fit into your mouth, Seonghwa groans at the extra friction, head falling back briefly to take in the feeling of you swallowing him whole, as best you can.

“God.” And it's nearly a whisper, eyes falling back down to yours once again. “Wanna come all over that pretty face of yours.”

Arousal pooling between your legs much quicker than you'd have ever hoped, the promise of him emptying on your face — while enticing — not exactly the finish you were looking for, but just as you pull off of him slowly to voice the concern, Seonghwa locks your phone screen with an audible click and tosses the device to a plush chair sitting adjacent to the two of you.

“Kinda short but should do the trick if you're hard up for time, here, stand up.”

Somewhat confused but following the man's lead all the same, Seonghwa pulls you up and off the couch before seating himself down where you had just been, cock still hard and all present — you finally come to realize that it was all for show, that he had no intention of finishing then and there.

What a magnificent actor, you think to yourself.

“Take your pants off,” he then instructs, sitting with his back against the couch and hand around himself as he resumes stroking himself at the visual, you wasting no time shimmying out of your clothing for him to watch — lips slightly parted and eyes so strong and intensely situated on your body and all of its movements. Once down to your panties, you look at him again, unsure if meant to strip in totality.

“Should I...?”

“Up to you,” he says, suddenly grabbing towards you and pulling your hips forward and against his face as fingers quickly make their way between your legs and into the sides of the fabric there — but pausing to look up at you again, the dastardly grin is really what sends home the words themselves, thereafter.

“Depends how dirty of a fuck you want it to be, the more clothes the better then.”

And you don't really have time to answer the question, had there ever even been one, before his lips press hard against your pussy and tongue making quick work of the quest for your clit — nearly toppling forward, hands falling to his shoulders for leverage as your knees just about give out from the sudden contact, lewd, slurping and sucking sounds resonating through the apartment as Seonghwa wastes no time tasting you — and just as quickly, the feeling of a single finger slowly pressing into you as you stand before him.

“God, fuck, Seonghwa—“

He hums in acknowledgment of the name, two, three slow pumps of the digit, you feel him add a second. Delicate hands, but by no means dainty — fingers with thickness to them and the feeling of fullness is immediate as he continues the suction on your clit with earnest.

Your own fingers digging into his shirt and the flesh beneath it, head falling back and feeling almost dizzy at the onslaught of sensations, clenching your eyes shut, he pulls his head back from you to look at your features. “Good?”

“Yes,” you whimper out, heavy and barely audible at all. Seonghwa chuckles at the scene before him.

“C'mere.”

And you know he's being annoying when he does it, the words paired with the curl of his fingers deep inside you as he ushers you forward, pressing hard against your g-spot as he does and it's everything you have, all of the strength in your legs to not completely fall forward and against him — but slowly pulling his fingers from you, he instead brings his hands to your waist, steadying you to ease you down and into his lap. Another kiss, this time much heavier and needy and messy from both sides — panties slick and wet and pulled apart messily, allowing you to feel the faint press of his bare shaft against you as the two of you pant and bite at each other's mouths, you want him, and you want him bad.

The coming to a head of so many different thoughts and feelings all at once: the longing, the missing, the sadness, the desire. The allure of being in places and arms where you shouldn't dare be, all the while wishing you were in the ones that you should.

It was good, he made me come, I prefer you.

I prefer you.

You want Seonghwa to fuck you raw.

And you know that the strongest factor in favor of it is the fact that it would be so easy. That the both of you are already right there, so simple, and you shouldn't, and all the while knowing it's sort of why you want to.

Maybe somehow you can undo all of the work that Hongjoong's done if only you allow someone else to do it all over again.

“Seonghwa,” you whisper against his mouth, hips pressing forward and against him, swallowing up the hiss that escapes his lips as a result of it and loving every second of it.

“Condom.”

Nodding, the man reaches down and into his pants’ pocket — still conveniently wrapped around his thighs and pulls for his wallet, metallic package quickly found and ripping it open with his teeth, he nods for you to pull back a little off of him to grant him room to roll it on — watching intently as he does. Settling back comfortably, large hands finding their way up and around your waist again to lift you gently, to hover over him before your descent down — the two of you make eye contact only briefly as one of his hands edges down and between your legs to pull the side of your panties away just as before.

‘Depends how dirty of a fuck you want it to be.’

You quickly dart your eyes away from him, opting to close them instead as you sink down along his length — faster than you might normally and barely allowing yourself any time to adjust, you wince at the stretch, the length, the pull of him against your insides — not completely ready to take him yet.

But ready to get it over with, get out of there, and carry on like this never happened.

Rocking your hips against him, you start out at a relatively quick pace, one hand on his shoulder and the other between your legs to rub you into your orgasm as fast as possible, not even wanting to leave it up to him to get you there — screwing your eyes shut tighter, allowing yourself to feel the way he pulls you down to take his cock; a little hard, a little rough — but it's kind of what you want, what you need, given the circumstances.

In some ways, Seonghwa may as well not be there at all.

“H—harder—“ you whisper, desperately trying to get the friction you need from him out of the position but being starkly limited in availability, you only hear Seonghwa laugh at first, in response to your demand, before stopping the both of you altogether and nearly pushing you off of him.

Your first thought, is that he's pissed. You're not sure why, or what happened, and before being able to get the question out of your mouth, you find yourself face first into the couch cushion and lengthwise on the couch, with Seonghwa already pressing back into you from behind.

Moaning out at the new, different kind of intrusion, Seonghwa leans forward and over your back, hand nestled in your hair before tightening only enough to get your attention.

You said 'harder,' not 'rougher,' — 'rougher' was the next command on the agenda, though.

With a hard, sudden snap of his hips into you, you whine out loudly in response. Then another, and another following — crying out at the feeling, just teetering on the edge of being too much, too painful, you finally hear the words from behind you through gritted teeth.

“I'm fine with being your guilty little fuck,” he says, still snapping his hips harshly between every few words. “Use me to forget him? I can do that.”

Hand still pressed against your head, Seonghwa adjusts his positioning behind you just enough that it gives him better, easier access to continue his relentless drives into you — hard and fast — your hand once again buried between your legs and now orgasm much faster in its approach, you whine out with every full thrust of himself, nearly pulling all of the way from you before plunging back in.

“Feel good? You like that?” he asks, breath heavy and husky and sounding almost bitter in the exchange.

It almost turns you on more, knowing that he's angry with you for this, hates you for it.

“Yes.”

“Yeah? My cock feel good to you, baby?”

So vulgar and with a tone so hateful, you know he's trying to make a point. The reminder that it's him and not Hongjoong. Making you pay attention to it. Not letting you disassociate from the fact. Forcing you to be present and in the moment no matter how much you don't want to be — not entirely, at least.

“Say it,” he adds with a particularly harsh thrust, and you give in right away. “Yes, yes, fuck, Seonghwa—“

“That's right, good girl. Close? Wanna come around my cock for me?”

A moan first ripping through your lips, fingers desperately attempting to grip into unrelenting cushions, you feel Seonghwa's own curl harder into the skin of your hips with every second that you don't answer him.

“Yes, I do, fuck, please I'm close—“

Continuing into you, he quiets long enough to focus on getting you there; fucking into you hard and fast and all of the way through it as you cry out at the way your orgasm finally takes you, you barely even notice as Seonghwa suddenly exits from you, pulling the condom free of himself and stroking himself through his own orgasm — translucent white strings of his cum painting your already stained panties and backside.

A fitting end — filthy and used and an amalgamation of things that never quite should have taken place to begin with.

Slowly, tiredly flipping back over to face him, Seonghwa avoids eye contact at first — the easy excuse of needing to toss the condom away in a rush able to pull him from the situation long enough to steady himself and his feelings before coming back — pants now pulled back up and into place before sitting down on the couch next to you again, eyes away from you as you awkwardly reach for the garments you had left on the floor onto ten or so minutes prior to now.

And then, your phone.

Buzzing lightly against the plush of the chair, you can't help but allow your attention to draw to Seonghwa in light of it all — but the man turns his head from you gently, instead opting to reach for the device as the one closest to it and handing it to you without ever making eye contact.

Talk about guilty fuck.

And of course it's Hongjoong. It's always Hongjoong. The vibrancy of the name on the screen in juxtaposition to the scenario that you just took part in and the way Seonghwa isn't helping in making it feel okay, feels like a knife to the chest.

Maybe, just maybe, it's not okay. Maybe it hasn't been for a while.

“I need to get—“ you quietly clamor out, your existence feeling like a disturbance in the man's home, but unable to leave until you wash the remainder of him off of you. Seonghwa turns his head to you briefly, finally realizing the situation and quickly — awkwardly, pointing you into the direction of his bathroom.

And it's unfortunate the ways that hurt people sometimes expel that pain. For Hongjoong, it's a spitfire tongue and thoughtless words — precisely as he thinks and feels in the moment but with every intention to hurt the recipient just as much as he, himself hurts.

For Yunho, it's repetition — the starry-eyed hope that if given the ability to go back in time, do the same thing over again, maybe do something differently, that he can forge a different outcome of the same situation.

For you, it's actions — thoughtless and selfish and entirely self-absorbed. Desperate for the acknowledgment that the choices one makes along the way are good and right, objectively so, even if at the expense of the ones we love around us.

And for Seonghwa, it's revenge.

Coming back from the bathroom, as best cleaned up as you can manage, you find Seonghwa standing in the kitchen — arms crossed with a glass of unknown liquid in hand as his eyes coldly fall over your figure. A far cry from the man you had arrived there with, but knowing all the same when you had worn out your welcome — you certainly don't feel bad about being kicked out after the sex, truthfully, you couldn't get out of there faster if you had tried to.

“I'm gonna get out of he—“

The sound of your phone vibrating stealing your attention away, but not because of a message notification.

Rather, a phone call.

Phone on the glass coffee table, face up, and not where you had left it when you went off to the bathroom — glancing down at the phone call as the tail end of it comes through, only to find it add itself to a slew of three other missed call notifications.

And all from Hongjoong.

You slowly look back up and towards Seonghwa, still silently perched in the kitchen — watching you, but with nothing to say. Slowly, he brings his hand from the side of his arm to take a sip of the beverage...

But not before ever so gently tipping it towards you.

Cheers, indeed. And 'fuck you, too.'

Panic setting in immediately, before you even have a chance to call Hongjoong back, another call rings through, and gathering your things, shuffling towards the door with little else on your mind beyond getting the fuck out of that apartment and away from that man, you pick up the call finally.

“Hongjoong, I— hold on, just—“

You haven't even heard a word from him yet, pulling the phone back down from your face to swipe through your apps at lightning quick speed, desperate to locate your texting app but not all that ready to lay eyes on precisely what it is that you expect to find.

And you do, of course.

The last thing in your messaging conversation with Hongjoong, the video Seonghwa took of you with him less than an hour earlier.

Not even bothering to acknowledge Seonghwa further as you leave the apartment, barreling down the staircase as quickly as possible with your bag slung over your shoulder, you're finally able to situate yourself enough to bring the phone back to your face.

Inhaling deeply, pausing from exhaustion and pressing your back against one of the concrete walls, you huff out his name. “Hongjoong—“

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

But the tone on the other line isn't angry, not in the way that you had anticipated. It's not a man furious, violent, aggressive in any sense of the imagination — but rather, a tone dripping with desperation, with tragedy, with pain. This question posed, to avoid the other, obvious question that lied bare and rubbed raw behind it: Why would you do this to me? Why would you hurt me like this?

“Look, I didn't send—“ you pause the line of thought, realizing that the details of who or why it was sent to him mean little, and truly the only thing that matters is why were you with him.

And why does Hongjoong mean that little to you.

“Hongjoong, I'm sorry, it was a mistake, I fucked up—“

“I've been texting you all night, is that why I couldn't get a hold of you?”

“Look, please, we should talk—“

“We should talk? I've been trying to get a hold of you all night to talk!”

“I know,” voice breaking with the words, the burning creeping up quickly and pulling yourself together again enough to continue down the stairs and out of the building and in a ride share towards Hongjoong's place, you continue to plead with him. “Please, Joong, I'm coming over. Please, let's talk about this.”

‘About this.’ The concept of ‘this.’

The unmatched, unswallowable feeling of impending nothingness. The loss of something — someone so great.

Everyone has a breaking point.

When silence greets you on the other line for far too long as your car carries you towards his home, a home that the two of you not too long ago once shared, you can almost hear the way that Hongjoong has to swallow down his feelings, the gut-wrenching twist of the dagger that you so ceremoniously planted directly into his chest.

“I don't know why you're tormenting me,” he whispers through broken voice, otherwise calm words falling onto your ears like death itself.

“So fucking jealous when I slept with your friend, before we even started getting involved—“

“I know, Hongjoong, I know please—“

His voice turning whiny, more broken and pointed. “—It was fucked up then, and it's so fucked up now.”

Throat burning, ears on fire, you know it's on the tip of his tongue if he can muster up the courage to do it, to say the words, to do the deed himself.

I don't love you anymore, goodbye.

But he doesn't, and in an effort to cut him off before he can, you make the quick decision that it's enough with the bullshit, and enough with the games. Emotions have been worn and dragged through the mud enough up until this point for the both of you — and for no reason at all. You know what you want, and you've always known what you wanted.

Him.

“You can come to the apartment to get your shit but I won't be there—“

“Hongjoong—“

He silences, you await the inquiry that apparently won't ever come, and it gives you pause again. Veins running ice cold and breath thin, you figure now more than ever before;

It's now or never.

“I love you.”

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

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