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seungkw1 · 16 days

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white t-shirt — csc

💿🎧 white t-shirt - jonghyun 🎶🤍

♡ pairing: bf!seungcheol x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni], pwp ♡ wc: 2.3k ♡ warnings: dom!cheol, sub!reader, size kink, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex (stay safe y’all), nipple play, creampie, dacryphilia, sexting, brief wrist pinning (f. receiving), gendered petnames (good girl, babygirl) ♡ a/n: i went insane no fewer than 15 times while writing this. hope u enjoy <3

1:32am

You didn't mean to rile up your boyfriend when you sent him that picture.

It was late at night. You should've been asleep already, but the bed felt empty without him. Seungcheol had only been gone for a few days, off on a trip with the boys, but you missed him. Normally, you spend your nights trying to escape from his immense body heat - an impossible task, as he insists on clinging onto you, wrapping his strong arms around you, holding you tight against him as he drifts off to sleep. But you're having a hard time sleeping without his touch.

It's only one more night, you remind yourself. He'll be back tomorrow. But it isn't helping.

So in his absence, you do the next best thing you can: put on one of his t-shirts.

The shirt is thin, a simple plain white tee, buttery soft, and most importantly - it feels like him. You plop back into bed, cozying up under the sheets, ready to sleep. However, his scent against your skin is arousing, and you find yourself longing for him even more. Your hand leisurely slips downward, resting between your inner thighs. The coolness of your skin contrasts with the heat radiating from between your legs. You try to resist, but your fingertips drift toward your core. They arrive at the delicate fabric of your underwear, just barely grazing over your clothed slit. You inhale sharply - you knew you were wet, but the sticky spot that has formed reveals just how fucking much you need him right now. Your middle finger ever so slightly presses against your clit, your other hand moving to your breasts, lightly pinching your hardening nipples through your borrowed shirt. You let out a quiet whimper. As turned on as you are, you'd love to get yourself off, but you don't want to do it yourself. You want Seungcheol here, touching you, worshiping your body with his fingers, his mouth, his tongue. You feel your cunt throb at the mere thought of him.

You sigh. Rolling over, you reach to grab your phone. You didn't want to bother him too much while he was with his friends, but your neediness is winning right now.

You open up your messages. You click the top thread, labeled “Cheollie ❤️”, and open up the selfie camera. It's dark, but the moonlight seeping through the curtains illuminates you just enough. You position the phone above you, placing your body in full view. Your nipples poke through the thin, sheer fabric, showing off your tits nicely. You lift the shirt up slightly, revealing your tummy, but also displaying the visible wet spot spreading on your panties. Perfect.

The screen flashes as you hit the shutter button. You type out a quick message.

missing you babe 😘

You hit send. You don't even know if he's even awake at this point, but almost immediately the typing bubble pops up. He types for a good minute, then the typing stops. But no message. You wait, staring at the screen, another minute passing before he starts typing again. Finally, a response.

you can't just send me a picture like that out of nowhere. look what you've done.

His message is followed by a slightly blurry photo: him, in the bathroom mirror, pants hastily unbuttoned and boxers shoved aside, his thick cock fully erect.

Another message follows.

we were in the middle of a game. i had to run off and hide because of you.

You grin, pleased with yourself. You wanted to tease your boyfriend, make him excited to come home to you. Instead, you've made him incredibly horny - and you want to see just how far you can push him.

i take it you like the pic then? ;)

brat. i saw how wet you are. you need me that bad babygirl? so desperate for my cock that you can't even wait til i'm home tomorrow?

i need you babe, i wanna cum so bad

don’t you dare, love. wait for me.

i’ll be waiting ❤️

good. no touching yourself. only i’m allowed to make you cum.

You say goodnight, then and roll over - but you're certainly not sleepy now. Your mind wanders, thinking of your boyfriend, fantasizing about how good he's going to fuck you tomorrow.

You pull up your phone one last time to check the time, calculating the hours until he’ll be back - far too many.

It's going to be a long night.

—

3:34pm

Your eyes are glued to the little gray circle with a C on it as it gets closer and closer to your apartment on the map. Cheol is almost home.

Thank fuck. If you have to wait any longer, you’re simply going to explode.

You reread the text he sent you earlier in the day:

omw home baby, i'll be there in a couple hours. wait in bed for me, wear the same thing as last night.

So here you are, laying on the bed, in nothing but his t-shirt and your underwear, which you can already feel getting wet again. You've been obedient, ignoring every urge in your body to touch yourself - but that's only made you even hornier.

Finally, you hear the jingle of keys as the front door unlocks. You hear your boyfriend enter, taking off his shoes and setting down his things. Then - footsteps, growing louder as he approaches the bedroom. He slowly pushes the slightly-ajar door, standing in the doorway and taking in the sight of you, nearly naked, waiting for him in bed - just like he told you to. He gazes down at you, practically licking his lips, his eyes brimming with desire. You give him your best doe eyes as he saunters toward the bed.

“Such a good girl for me, doing exactly as I told you,” he praises as he takes your face in one hand, rubbing your cheek gently. You say nothing, but tug at his arms, trying to pull him onto the bed - but he resists, standing tall as he stares lustfully into your eyes.

“Oh, but you're still in trouble for what you did to me last night.”

You bite your lip as you grin, beaming at how much you managed to provoke him with only a single suggestive photo. Before he can stop you, you slip your hand onto the thick bulge in his sweatpants. He groans as you stroke his cock through his clothes; he lets you do so a few more times, savoring the sensation, before grabbing you by the wrist - pinning you to the bed as he climbs on top of you. He interlaces his fingers with yours as he holds you down, locking lips with you as he kisses you with aching necessity. His soft, plush lips tug at yours as he places his weight on you, pressing his hardened cock into your core. You cry out as his erection rubs gently against your clit, giving you the stimulation you've been craving.

“Cheol,” you moan under your breath. “Missed you so much.”

He kisses your neck, humming in your ear. “I know, baby.”

His lips trail down your neck, sucking tenderly at your skin, until he reaches your breasts. He takes one in each hand, squeezing them as his thumbs repeatedly brush against your perked nipples. He positions his mouth right above one of them - you feel the warmth of his breath before he latches on, sucking gently on the bud through the thin t-shirt. You moan softly as his tongue creates a wet spot upon the fabric, making your nipple even more visible. He rubs the first nipple again as his mouth moves to your other boob, sucking more intensely as you begin to wriggle underneath him. He takes his time, going back and forth between each bud.

“Cheollie,” you whine, “gonna cum already if you keep doing that.”

His mouth pops as he unlatches, glancing up at you amorously and giving you a sly grin. You are putty in his hands at the slightest touch - and it turns him on so badly.

He tugs at the shirt - you lift your body off the bed, allowing him to pull it off of you. Throwing it aside hastily, he returns to your now-bare tits, kissing and licking them some more before his lips continue down your body, planting deep kisses on your stomach. He arrives at your cunt, situating himself comfortably between your legs, ready to devour you. His tongue licks a fat stripe over the growing wet spot on your underwear, the lightest of touch causing your back to arch slightly. He sucks on your clit through the fabric a few times before he grabs your underwear, pulling them off of you hastily, your soaked cunt now exposed and ready for him to eat.

He wraps his arms around your thighs as his tongue meets your pussy, licking up and down your folds. You whimper as he swirls around your clit, kissing and softly sucking on the sensitive bud. He slips his tongue into your cunt, pushing its way into your hole - his nose pressing deliciously against your clit as he tastes all of you, the vibrations from his moans making you see stars. You place your hand on his head, running your fingers through his hair as he goes down on you, your grasp growing stronger the more intensely his tongue works against your cunt. As you pull his hair he begins to grind into the mattress, needing relief from how painfully hard he’s become. He worships your pussy, eating you out as if it was his last meal on earth, savoring every drop of your juices as you writhe under him, overwhelming pleasure pulsing through your entire body.

“Cheollie, ‘m gonna cum.”

He removes his face from your cunt, taunting you with his lips hovering just above your clit. You lift your hips, trying to put your pussy back in his mouth, but instead he slips two fingers into you. You cry out as he curls his fingertips upward, reaching your g-spot with ease. He keeps pressing the sweet spot as he slides in and out of you, his thick fingers stretching you out as he fucks you.

Not as much as his cock is going to stretch you out, your subconscious reminds you.

“Please,” you whine, looking down at him, “need your mouth on me.”

He glances up at you, his big brown eyes meeting yours, drunk with lust.

“Beg for it.”

“Please baby.”

“Please what?”

“Please make me cum.”

He smirks at the sight of you, tears welling in your eyes as you plead desperately for his touch.

“My baby’s so pretty like this,” he coos, his bottom lip brushing lightly against your pulsating bud.

You yelp as he dives back into you, his mouth latching onto your clit as his hand increases its pace, his other hand pressing against your tummy. Any remaining thoughts in your head vanish - your mind overtaken by pleasure, overtaken by him. You scream his name out as the white-hot sensation in your stomach builds, your body starting to tremble as your orgasm takes over. Seungcheol continues sucking your throbbing bud as you cum on his fingers, shaking from the powerful rush of dopamine exploding through your body. You’ve never cum this fucking hard in your life.

You haven’t even caught your breath by the time he crawls up on top of you, his cock lined up with your entrance. You moan as he slides the head inside, your drenched walls stretching around his size. He slowly begins to thrust into you, filling you up, your pussy taking his entire length with each stroke. His body presses against yours as he buries his head into your neck, his cock pumping into you, fucking you deeper with each stroke. He groans as you tighten around him, his voice low and gravelly in your ear as his orgasm draws nearer.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growls, “pussy so perfect for me, fuuuck…”

Tears stream down the side of your face as you take his cock. Your nails dig into his back as you cling to him - sending him over the edge.

“Please,” you beg, “cum inside me."

“Oh god,” he moans, his body beginning to tremble as he bucks his hips into you. “I’m cumming baby…”

His cock throbs in your cunt as he releases. You whimper as he fills your pussy up, his hot ropes shooting up into you. He slows his pace, coming to a stop as he comes down, his still-twitching cock resting inside you. His lips tenderly suck at the delicate skin on your neck as you wrap your arms around his broad torso, squeezing his body into yours as tightly as you can. Eventually, he lifts his head, his face meeting yours with a kiss on the lips. He gazes at you, enamored. You lay there, breathing deeply together as you recover from your highs.

Seungcheol strokes your hair softly. “God I missed you.”

“Don't leave me ever again,” you pout playfully.

“I can’t,” he replies, shaking his head. “Not if you’re gonna send me pictures like that. I nearly came in my pants.”

You grin lazily at him, head still spinning from your orgasm. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

Cheol kisses you again, cradling your face in his hand. He grabs onto you as he rolls over, pulling you on top of him. You feel his cum dripping out of you, spilling onto his still-erect cock. He grabs you by the hips, pulling you toward his face.

“C’mere,” he instructs, licking his lips at the sight of you about to straddle his face. “I'm not done with you yet.”

—

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hoshifighting · 5 months

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Ways to Have a Man in the Palm of Your Hand.

Synopsis: In the flow of uncertainty that defined your situationship with Mingyu, you decide to take action, making Mingyu start chasing after you like a loyal puppy.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, overstimulation, degradation, begging on knees, oral (f. receiving), fingering– he watches reader fingering herself, handjob, dick riding, penetrative sex, humiliating, manipulation and etc.

Your life connected with Mingyu's since you both first met through your groups of friends, and a situationship had emerged between you two. It was just sex, with no strings attached and no promises made.

Yet, as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, it became challenging to keep your heart safe from the unpredictable tides of emotion.

Mingyu had a way of making you feel special. He'd surprise you with homemade dinners, he was attentive, considerate, and made sure to put your self-esteem on the highest with his skillful photography.

The tall and good-looking guy wasn't just amazing during sex; he was an enigma that both fascinated and frustrated you. Mingyu could vanish for days, leaving you on blue. But just as you were about to write him off, he'd resurface, as if nothing had happened. It was a maddening cycle, and yet, you found yourself caught in its web.

Mingyu: Hey! Been swamped asf with work lately. Let's grab coffee or something stronger soon? Let me know when you're free!

You couldn't help but scoff as you read Mingyu's message. His casual tone and nonchalant invitation stirred a mix of irritation and amusement within you. Swiftly typing a response, you questioned his unpredictable appearances.

You: Are you planning on always popping up out of nowhere like this?

Mingyu: I always come back, don't I? So, when are we catching up darling?

Despite the inner conflict and your ego's warning signals, there was an undeniable allure to Mingyu's charm. His words, laced with playfulness, had a magnetic effect that bypassed rational thoughts. With a sigh, you found yourself succumbing to the familiar pull.

The room was filled with the echoes of skin slapping as you both lay on Mingyu's bed, your eyes locked as you two moaned out loud, the crescendo of pleasure punctuated by the rhythmic thud of the bed against the wall.

Mingyu lays beside you, the heat of the moment still lingering between your bodies. You rose from the tangled sheets, picking up your scattered clothes. Mingyu's gaze remained fixed on you, an intensity that betrayed a deeper connection than the situationship allowed.

"I really like spending time with you Y/N"

"Me too Gyu."

[...]

Seungkwan leaned in "Okay, spill. What's the latest drama with Mingyu?"

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Honestly, I can't figure him out. It's like a cycle. We talk every day for a month, hang out, fuck, and then poof! He disappears for a week or more. I don't get it."

Seungkwan chuckled knowingly. "You know, maybe you should try something. Do the same to him, but take it up a notch. Make him miss you even more."

You furrowed your eyebrows, slightly taken aback. "Seungkwan, I'm not into playing games or being spiteful. It's not my style."

He waved his hand dismissively. "No, no, hear me out. It's not about being spiteful. It's about making him realize what he's missing. Mingyu knows you'll always be there, right? So, he takes it for granted. Maybe he needs a taste of his own medicine."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. "And how exactly do I do that?"

Your mouth hung open as Seungkwan delivered his comprehensive lesson in the art of emotional tactics. The confidence in his advice left you both amazed and slightly apprehensive. Unable to contain your curiosity any longer, you finally asked the burning question.

"How on earth do you know all of this, Seungkwan?" you inquired, eyes wide with disbelief.

Seungkwan leaned back, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, my dear friend, when you've been in the game as long as I have and witnessed enough romantic dramas unfold, you start picking up on patterns. It's like a survival guide for the heart."

You raised an eyebrow, still processing the information. "Survival guide, huh? And all this contempt, playing hard to get, and hurting egos – that's your secret weapon?"

Seungkwan chuckled, "Not a secret weapon, sometimes, a little strategic move can make all the difference. Trust me, I've seen it all."

With Seungkwan's advice resonating in your mind like a strategic playbook, you approached the next phase of your relationship with Mingyu, with a newfound determination. It felt like diving into a complex homework assignment, each step carefully calculated to shift the dynamics in your favor.

As you decided to implement the first step, a newfound sense of liberation washed over you. You stopped responding to Mingyu's messages immediately and resisted the urge to initiate contact. It felt strange at first, but there was a sense of power in reclaiming your time and not being at his beck and call. Mingyu's messages awaited your attention.

The challenge of making Mingyu realize he could lose you sparked a newfound determination. Your calendar filled up with plans that didn't involve Mingyu. Mingyu, accustomed to your constant availability, seemed to sense the change, though he couldn't quite pinpoint it. He might have been the object of desire for many hoes, but your indifference challenged his accustomed narrative.

After all, a man is not more important than your personal goals, right?

All while allowing Mingyu to observe your life unfolding without him. The realization that you were not waiting by the phone for him sparked a large curiosity.

Throughout the process, a mix of emotions surfaced. Doubt, at times, whispered in the back of your mind – was this the right approach? Seungkwan's advice, unconventional as it was, had brought a shift in Mingyu's behavior. Now, you wondered how Mingyu would respond to the transformed version of you – a person who refused to be taken for granted.

Mingyu's relentless messages flooded your phone. The janitor, a silent witness to the unfolding drama, discreetly shared the news of Mingyu's visits to your condominium entrance. Three times he had appeared, seeking a glimpse of you, only to be met with the absence of your presence, the deliberate distance, and the air of indifference were beginning to provoke a reaction from him.

You were determined to see this journey through, to understand whether Mingyu's renewed interest was genuine or a fleeting reaction to the perceived loss of control.

The persistent pings of Mingyu's messages had become a constant background noise in your life, infiltrating your workdays and even interrupting the serene moments of your brunches.

"Free today, Ms. Busy?"

"Pls respond to me. :(("

"Why are you acting like this?"

"Wtf…"

"Omggg, when are you going to answer me properly?"

"I'll invade your house."

"Y/N-ieeee, pleaseee!"

"I really want to see you right now."

"You make me so confused :("

The encounter at the pedestrian crossing unfolded in a scene of unexpected tension. Mingyu, spotting you in the midst of your Sunday morning run with Seungkwan, seized the opportunity to bridge the gap that had grown between you. As you halted, waiting for the light to change, Mingyu approached, a mixture of eagerness and confusion etched across his face.

"Hey there! Fancy meeting you here," Mingyu greeted, attempting to strike up a conversation.

Seungkwan, standing beside you, looked on with a side-eyed glance, a smirk playing on his lips as he sipped casually from his water bottle. As the pedestrian light shifted to green, you seized the moment to extricate yourself from the short encounter. "Sorry, Mingyu, I really need to finish my morning walk. Catch you later," you excused yourself, leaving Mingyu standing there, perplexed and surrounded by the bustling activity of the street.

He couldn't shake off the confusion – Why weren't you responding as before? Why weren't you as available as you used to be? Did you at least still like him? It dawned on Mingyu that the game had changed, and he wasn't sure if he understood the rules anymore. The pursuit, once fueled by the expectation of your constant availability, now seemed to slip through his fingers like grains of sand. The reality of being just one among the many who sought your attention was a bitter pill to swallow.

[...]

The doorbell's unexpected chime disrupted the tranquility of your self-care routine, with moisturized skin and a mind ready for a cozy movie night, you approached the door, curiosity dancing in your eyes.

As you swung the door open, the sulky face of Mingyu greeted you. A momentary pause hung in the air, your eyes meeting his in silent expectation. Before you could utter a word, Mingyu stepped inside, dropping to his knees and hugging your legs as if seeking solace.

Surprised by his sudden display of vulnerability, you widen your eyes, caught off guard by the intensity of his reaction. The door lingered ajar, and you managed to close it, arms crossed, a mixture of confusion and caution etched on your face.

Mingyu, still hugging your legs, looked up at you with pleading eyes, his voice laden with remorse. "What did I do, Y/N? Why are you treating me like this? I'm sorry."

"Hm?"

He looked up at you, his eyes brimming with a mix of confusion and regret. "I just… I don' understand. I miss you," he admitted, his voice trailing off.

Your initial surprise transformed into a mix of emotions – disbelief, a hint of empathy, and the need to assert your newfound boundaries. Crossed arms and a measured gaze met Mingyu's desperate expression. The sudden intrusion into your personal space prompted a silent assessment of the situation.

"What did you expect, Mingyu?" you countered, your voice steady but laced with the weight of unspoken questions. "You disappear, then reappear, and now you're kneeling in my living room. What's going on?"

"I messed up, okay? I thought I could keep things casual, but I didn't expect to feel like this. I miss the way things used to be between us." he confessed, his voice carrying a raw honesty.

"You ask me to come to your house, and then after you get what you wanted, you let me go. Do I look like a food delivery or something?" you confronted Mingyu, your words cutting through the charged silence that hung in the room.

Mingyu's eyes widened at your accusation, shock and a hint of hurt registering on his face. "No, no, no, Y/N, it wasn't like that."

You raised an eyebrow, a mix of skepticism and frustration evident in your expression. "It feels like you only want me around when it's convenient for you."

Mingyu, still on his knees, looked up at you, his eyes pleading for understanding. "It's not like that. I just... I didn't want to push you. I thought you preferred it this way."

You sighed, the weight of the unresolved tension palpable. "Mingyu, I can't read your mind. If you want me to stay, you have to say it. Communication goes both ways."

"Y/N, I'm truly sorry. I'll do whatever you want. I didn't see you as just a fleeting thing, and I want to be present."

Mingyu's earnest apology hung in the air, a plea for understanding and a promise to change. As he laid his face on your bare thighs, expressing his sincere regret, you cut through the moment with a tsk sound, a dismissive gesture that left him wide-eyed and caught off guard.

"Poor boy, begging on his knees for attention. What a shame," you remarked, a hint of teasing in your voice as you observed his reaction.

Mingyu, his hands now gripping each side of your thighs, sat back on his feet, his expression a mix of surprise and a subtle flush coloring his cheeks. He hadn't anticipated this response, your playful teasing catching him off guard.

"You didn't see me as a fleeting thing?" you continued, your tone mockingly contemplative. "Well, Mingyu, this is quite a sight – you, on your knees, practically begging for my attention. I'd never do something like this."

His widened eyes met yours, uncertainty and a trace of embarrassment flickering in them. Mingyu's bit his lip, cheeks flushing deeper.

"I'll do whatever you want, Y/N. Just tell me," Mingyu replied, his hands still holding your thighs.

You let out a soft chuckle, running a hand through his hair as you continued your teasing. "Oh, Mingyu-ah, the mighty one on his knees. Maybe you'll learn to appreciate what you have when it's not handed to you on a silver platter. Now, let's see if you can keep up with your promises."

As you spoke, Mingyu's cheeks continued to flush, a complex dance of emotions playing out on his face. "How can you forgive me?"

Mingyu's question hung in the air, a genuine plea for forgiveness. You paused, considering the weight of his words, before adopting a more serious tone.

"Get up," you instructed him, your voice carrying a command that seemed to catch him off guard.

Mingyu, without hesitation, rose to his feet from his submissive position. His eyes fixed on you. An arched eyebrow and a smirk played on your face, savoring the moment of dominance as you instructed him to follow you.

The atmosphere grew charged with anticipation as Mingyu attentively trailed behind you, his eyes inevitably drawn to your body covered only by a shirt. The click of your bedroom door signaled a shift in the dynamics, and when you turned to face him, his eagerness manifested in an attempted kiss.

Your finger halted his advance, a calculated pause preceding your question, "Do you think you deserve to kiss me?"

Mingyu, his eyes reflecting a mix of longing and remorse, shook his head no. Your smirk deepened as you delivered a verdict that left him whimpering.

"Then you won't kiss me today."

A whimper escaped Mingyu's lips, a sound that echoed the frustration and desire that simmered beneath the surface. The unexpected turn of events had left him yearning for a connection, yet you, in your assertive control, denied him that solace.

As the tension hung in the air, Mingyu's eyes glistened with unshed tears. The dynamics between you had taken a surprising turn, a power play that left both of you navigating the intricate threads of desire, forgiveness, and the consequences of a maybe – ex-complicated situationship.

With a commanding tone, you instructed Mingyu to kneel once again, a subtle smirk playing on your lips. He obeyed, sinking down to his knees with a mix of anticipation and eagerness. The air in the room crackled with a palpable tension as you laid down the terms.

"If you act like a good boy, maybe I'll forgive you," you declared, your voice carrying a hint of authority.

Mingyu nodded earnestly, a silent pledge to abide by your terms. As you proceeded to remove your shirt, next your pantie, allowing it to fall to the floor, the atmosphere became charged with a new layer of intensity.

"How much do you want this pussy Mingyu?" you inquired, the question hanging in the air as you observed Mingyu's reaction. His shoulders slumped, a subtle expression of desire and longing evident on his face.

"A lot," he moaned, the words escaping his lips with a mixture of need and surrender. Your legs spread open, an invitation too tempting, as he feels his mouth waters at the view.

"Open your mouth," you commanded Mingyu, your voice carrying an air of authority. He complied without hesitation, anticipation flickering in his eyes.

As he held his mouth open, you slid two fingers inside, the intimate contact a subtle exploration of boundaries and desire. Mingyu's tongue teased your fingers, a provocative dance that elicited a hiss from you.

"No teasing," you admonished, a note of warning in your voice. With a swift motion, you delivered a little slap to his chin as you withdrew your fingers from his mouth. The air crackled with a newfound tension, a moment that blurred the lines between control and submission.

Mingyu furrowed his eyebrows, as he watched your fingers slowly disappearing inside of your cunt, your fingers and your slick gushes out of you, and all he can do is watch. He sits patiently on his feet, watching your fingers leaving and entering your pussy in a too provocative rhythm. His bottom lip quivering to the desire of eating you out.

"Please Y/N…"

"What?''

"Please, let me eat you out, it looks so good…"

To tease him even more, you fastened your fingers, moaning while your cunt sounded like Mingyu's favorite song, wet, luscious, mouthwatering, appetizing, tempting. He cries out, his hands together on his lap. "Please, I beg you, I missed you so bad."

The room was charged with a blend of anticipation and surrender as you stopped, taking a moment to look at Mingyu's mournful face. The desire in his eyes was palpable, and the silent plea for what he had begged for lingered in the air.

With a subtle nod, you allowed him to fulfill his request. Mingyu, starved and eager, approached the task with a concentration that hinted at a deep desire to please you. As he held you with a gentle yet fervent touch, mouthing your pussy, licking you clean, his focus on your pleasure was unwavering. The way he clung to you conveyed a fear of losing you, made you mewl as he sucked your clit, you held onto the sheets, a silent anchor in the sea of sensations. Mingyu's devotion and the way he concentrated on your pleasure only intensified the building release within you. Like a wave, you're cumming all over his mouth and chin, he hums in response flickering your clit with his tongue.

"Enough." You breathe out, closing your legs. "Strip, and lay for me."

Mingyu rose from the floor, a determined look on his face, seemingly oblivious to any discomfort his knees might be feeling. The sounds of his clothing being discarded echoed in the room, punctuated by the soft thud as he settled onto the bed. The mattress shifted as he moved closer, his warm touch caressing your arm.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, his voice a low murmur, a hint of curiosity and desire lingering in the air.

"Don't touch me," you instructed Mingyu, your tone carrying a note of command as you climbed onto his lap. Leaving him momentarily frozen, his hands hovering in the air, uncertain of where to go.

The close proximity of his cock intensified the wetness between your thighs. Mingyu, eager and responsive, looked at you with a mix of desire and restraint, his hands now cautiously placed together on his chest.

The atmosphere crackled with a blend of dominance and submission as you straddled Mingyu, humping your wet pussy against his cock, your movements deliberate and provocative. His moans in response to your degrading words only heightened the intensity of the moment.

"Oh my god, look at you," you cooed, your voice a mix of mockery and desire. "I just stopped paying attention to you, and you came fucking begging me to talk with you. You're humiliating, Mingyu."

His moans, a symphony of pleasure and submission, filled the room. Mingyu's response to your degrading words conveyed a complex dance of desire and self-awareness. The acknowledgment that he deserved the degradation.

The room filled with a momentary hush as you sank your hips, Mingyu's length now fully inside. He shut his eyes, a silent surrender to the sensations that enveloped him.

The unspoken admission hung in the air—though you wouldn't openly admit it, there was a trace of longing, a subtle acknowledgment that, despite the complexities, you had missed him a little. The air became charged with a mix of desire and restraint as your hips rode him, his length fully fulfilling the connection between you.

His angry tip brushed against that special spot, sending a surge of pleasure through both of you, cause now, you were so tight around him. "I'm going to cum, f-fuck"

"You better not."

The charged atmosphere intensified as you edged Mingyu, denying him release, while simultaneously relishing in the control you held over his pleasure. He gasped for air, his eyes clenched shut, a desperate attempt to hold back as your dominating presence and the sensations of your movements threatened to overwhelm him.

Your hips moved with a purposeful intensity, driving him to the edge, and his body contorted in a desperate attempt to maintain control. The struggle was evident in the way his breath hitched and his eyes rolled back, succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure that surged through him.

"I-I can't hold it anymore," he stuttered, his voice strained with the effort of restraint.

"If you cum, I will-"

The moment of release was inevitable. Mingyu's hot cum filled you, triggering your own orgasm, he cried out your name, making your wall clench harder around him.

As Mingyu managed a string of apologies, you allowed him to slide out of you, leaving his lap coated with both of your arousal, your legs damp with his seed.

The scoff echoed in the room, a mix of amusement and assertion. However, your actions spoke a different language. As you tighten your legs around the sides of Mingyu's legs, restraining his movement, your hands take control, pumping his cock fast. The focus on his red tip elicited a loud cry from Mingyu, his back lifting off the mattress in response to the overstimulation.

The wet sounds filled the bedroom as the intensity of your touch drove him to the edge. Mingyu's hands gripped the pillow beneath his head, a desperate attempt to anchor himself in the whirlwind of sensations that consumed him.

As Mingyu's body trembled under the heightened sensations, he felt a knot tightening in his abdomen, a sensation he hadn't anticipated. The overwhelming intensity built up to a point where he couldn't contain it anymore. A primal scream tore from his lips, his body convulsing in the throes of another orgasm.

His cum pooled on his abdomen, a physical manifestation of the powerful release that coursed through him. You observed his trembling body, struck by the raw intensity of his response. Mingyu's reaction seemed to surpass any previous experiences, his vulnerability and ecstasy on display in a way you hadn't witnessed before.

"Sorry, I came without your permission…"

"Enough with the sorry's, Mingyu," you said with a soft smile. "Let's just take a bath."

As the warm water cascaded around you, cleansing away the external worries, you both found solace in the simplicity of the moment. Emerging from the bath, you lay on the bed alone, the silence speaking volumes. Mingyu, holding his shirt, stood in contemplation. His gaze met yours, and he released a breath he seemed to have been holding.

The room felt charged with unspoken emotions when Mingyu finally gathered the courage to ask, "Can we sleep together tonight? Can I stay here with you?"

His eyes held a lot of shyness, and for a moment, you felt a genuine change in the air. You bit your lip, a subtle smile playing on your lips. In response, you patted the bed twice, a silent invitation for him to join you.

Mingyu threw his shirt away with a smile, a blend of shyness and excitement. He settled on the bed, maintaining a cautious distance, uncertain about what the night held. Your gaze met his, and you turned to face him. His eyes sparkled, and with a newfound boldness, he closed the gap and hugged you tightly.

"Don't be away from me again," he whispered, his voice tinged with vulnerability. And for the first time in those weeks, you let yourself savor the sweet taste of his pink soft lips, making him melt in response.

You smiled, your palms sliding gently along his back. The walls that once stood between you seemed to crumble as Mingyu embraced you, his actions speaking louder than any words. In that moment, it felt like a page turned, and a new chapter began.

Well, Seungkwan, you knew a lot. The five ways to have a man in the palm of your hand indeed.

2K notes · View notes

bloompompom · 2 months

Text

˗ˏˋ guilty pleasures ˎˊ˗

☆ content: eren jaeger x female reader, modern au, reader cheats on her loser boyfriend, dirty talk, praise, pet names, masturbation, pussy job, just filth, written very fast my apologies, mentions of alcohol, explicit language, explicit sexual content, reader discretion advised 18+ ☆ word count: ~4.2k ☆ a/n: just a warm-up that got out of hand

Your boyfriend sucks. That isn’t an opinion, either. It’s a fact. The sky is blue; what goes up will always come back down; your boyfriend is and will forever be a jackass.

At least, according to your friends, Eren in particular. Sometimes according to you, too—let’s not leave that part out, it’s important.

Countless times, your boyfriend had driven you to wit’s end and back because yes, you always took him back. You aren’t the type to leave a kicked puppy out in the rain or a groveling man lying on your doorstep. He’d come crawling back, looking all lovesick and apologetic, and you’re ashamed to admit it hasn’t failed him yet.

Listen, Eren is just your friend. He doesn’t know the ins and outs of your relationship any more than the next guy. What he knows for sure is that your boyfriend generally sucks as a human being, and he knows you know it, too.

And it’s about time he does something about it.

Tonight’s as good a night as ever to make a move. Eren’s roommate, Armin, insists on hosting a game night every other week-ish to ‘get the gang together,’ as he likes to say. But game nights are hard. No one likes to learn rules. So game nights soon devolved into movie nights, which turned into drinking nights after no one could agree on a movie.

That’s the plan for this evening: drinking the beer Jean brought along with a few leftover seltzers from the last time they got together, and spending some time with you. Alone.

You walked into the apartment huffing and puffing, pissed over whatever your boyfriend did or didn’t do. You’ve spent most of the night wallowing in the displeasure, trying to hide it, but it’s not working; Eren can tell you’re furiously texting Sasha every little detail despite sitting across from one another.

If you were to ask any of your friends, they’d say they previously believed you and Eren would date. You had that energy about you—still do, frankly. But then you met your boyfriend and you’ve been seeing each other ever since. On and off, of course.

Eren dated other people, too. And sure, he liked them, but that’s all. Finding happiness with something (or someone) is difficult when he constantly sees the greener grass on the other side.

He used to believe it was a timing thing, the reason you never hooked up. It made sense back then. But now, Eren knows it’s not a timing thing because he’s single and you can dump your boyfriend any time you want—if that’s what you want.

Eren can pry. He can be forthright and ask what you’re texting Sasha about. But that’d get him nowhere; you’d undoubtedly reply, ‘Girl stuff,’ and let the subject die there.

He noticed you don’t talk about your boyfriend problems when he’s around. Not that he expects you to. He would have written it off by now if he hadn’t heard you confiding in Armin about it. Jean and Connie, too. How frustrating it is that you never tell the one genuinely curious person. The one who wants to know and wants to show you how much better things could be, with him.

So Eren does just that. He catches you at the right moment, once it’s just the two of you. Armin was in bed and Sasha already left, taking Jean and Connie with her. The only guests remaining are you and Mikasa—she’s been sitting heavy-eyed on the couch for the last twenty minutes and would probably be out cold in the next ten.

Then there’s you, all squirmy beside him.

“Are you cold?” Eren asks. He knows you’re not, but he also knows you’d never answer the more direct ‘Are you okay?’

“I’m fine,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, “I’m just—”

“Having a long night?” Eren guesses.

You merely sigh, but it’s weighty enough that it sounds like you’ve been holding it in for a while, like you must’ve needed it.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

It’s vague, but you still feel you said too much.

You fiddle with your fingers, hands resting in your lap. You focus on that rather than the fact that you can no longer bring yourself to meet Eren’s eyes; it’s too much, it makes your insides burn uncomfortably hot.

You can’t deny how Eren makes you feel. Even more, you can’t deny that you came over tonight with him on your mind—the sort of thoughts you shouldn’t have while tangled up with another guy.

“Is there anything I can do,” Eren slides closer to you, “to make your night better?”

Yes, you think. Yes, yes, yes.

You shake your head, gaze fixed on his leg pressing against yours.

“It’s not your problem to fix,” you try to assure, but it lacks any sureness. Instead, it’s demure and… inviting? You almost made it sound like a dare.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t try,” Eren says, always up for a challenge, especially if you’re the prize at the end.

You’re better than this, you tell yourself. You’re above this.

At the same time, you can’t help but think: what would your boyfriend do if the roles were reversed? You’ve argued about his fidelity before—hell, you argued about it hours ago—and you have no more clarity than you did from the start.

Maybe you haven’t been perfect, either. Maybe there were times you should’ve told Eren to cut out the flirting and even times you shouldn’t have reciprocated it. You thought it was harmless then, that you’d never end up exactly where you are now. You also never imagined how invigorating, how right, it would feel.

Eren places his large hand on your thigh, tentatively at first, light despite the guilt weighing down on you. When you don’t stop him, he becomes confident. He slides his hand higher, squeezes you gently. It’s chaste, something that could still pass as friendly if not for the way it made you weak.

I am absolutely not above this.

That’s how you ended up in his bedroom. Eren whispered for Mikasa and when she didn’t respond, he took it as the all-clear—that no one would know if you decided to head somewhere more private. Eren snuck you down the hall, shut the door behind you, and had you to himself, for the first time.

Your heart thrums in your ears. It’s adrenaline, anticipation, a rush you never want to end. You hardly hear him when he asks, “How can I make your night better?” He nears you in a step. “What would you like me to do?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” you murmur. He wants to hear you say it: that you want him. You want his mouth on yours, maybe on your neck, his hands on your chest, smoothing down your hips and between your legs. You don’t give him the satisfaction of it.

You lean into Eren without a word. He moves with you, meeting you halfway. You lead, he follows. You’re the one in the relationship, not him.

You tilt your chin high to meet him. He catches it between his fingers, gently guiding you to him. Your noses brush; your lips don’t, but you’re so, so close. Close enough for your lashes to flutter softly against his cheek, for you to feel every one of his hot breaths as they break over your lips. It’s intoxicating. It’s not enough. But you can’t make yourself seal the fateful gap between you.

“I can’t,” you regretfully stammer. It physically hurts to say the words. You wound the devil sitting atop your shoulder.

Eren doesn’t say anything, only pulls away from you. You don’t feel in control of your hand when it snatches a fistful of his shirt. You keep him there, still as close as before, eyes flitting between his pupils, big and blown, and his lips. He remains frozen, silent. He lets you decide where this would or wouldn’t go.

“I don’t—fuck, I don’t know what do to,” you bemoan. Your head is a spinny, screwed-up mess. Screwed up from forbidden fantasies and raging hormones and the pool of warmth spreading in the depths of your stomach—all from him.

“What do you want to do?” Eren asks in a low voice.

It’s coaxing, cloying, but it’s needful at the same time. It’s a voice you’ve never heard from him, yet it’s familiar. It’s reminiscent of the same need burning inside you, so hot you think it might create a hole, one perhaps only he can fill.

You lick your bottom lip only to find your mouth has gone dry.

Eren nudges the tip of his nose against yours. “I can tell you what I want to do, if that would help.”

He nuzzles lower, beneath your jawline. He doesn’t kiss you there—no, he wouldn’t do that. What he does is worse. It’s teasing. His breath fans over your ear and sends a shudder down your spine. He needs you not only to hear but to feel every word, every dirty thing he has imagined doing with you.

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he breathes against the side of your face, warming you from the inside out. He clasps his hand over yours, then slips it between your legs. “And I want to watch.”

Eren touches your hand, encouraging you to rub. You feel the heat of your cunt through your clothes, like there’s a fire in your belly. You finally let its flames engulf you and god, burning never felt so damn good.

You’re dizzy, you’re flustered—how could he possibly say that with such calmness? More than anything, you’re dumb to everything except the boy in front of you.

“Can you do that for me?” he asks, smooth and soothing. “I’ll only look. I won’t touch, I promise.”

It’s a lousy excuse for a loophole. Actually, it doesn’t even qualify as a loophole.

Eren leans back, holding your shoulders in his hands. He looks you in the eyes and again, he insists, “No touching.”

Loophole or not, you can’t find it within you to care. You trust him, you think. Either that or your brain short-circuits because you can only repeat back, “No touching,” as you bob your pretty little head.

Eren smiles down at you, runs his knuckles down the side of your face. It’s gentle, it’s praising, it brings—no, it yanks you back to him.

“Lay on the bed,” he says.

You do as you’re told, laying back on your forearms. He tugs your bottoms off with ease and reveals a pair of pale blue panties—a telling color. When you spread your legs for him, he can see how you’ve stained them with your arousal, soaked and ruined after some innocent teasing.

You touch yourself without him having to ask. You trace over the damp patch and play with your clit through the fabric. He sees how easily your panties slip between your folds, how fucking wet you are, and has to stifle a curse.

Eren drops to his knees, nestled between your legs at the foot of the bed. He has a hand on either of your thighs, almost white-knuckling the plush skin.

“Look at that.” You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or your pussy. “You like it when I talk to you, huh? When I tell you what to do?”

You whine at the words, rub your clit faster. You want to come.

“So needy. What’s the rush?” Eren tuts. He climbs onto the bed, propping his back against the headboard. “Make yourself comfortable.”

As he says it, his hand travels lower. Dangerously low. It draws your attention to how hard he is, his insistent cock tenting in his sweatpants. He palms over it once, then twice, then grips himself through the fabric. Fuck.

You stare with too much interest. The corner of Eren’s lip curls into a smirk when you have to close your hungry mouth. He’s just as greedy, though, just as riled up as you. Even the touch of his own hand has his arm muscles tightening and twitching.

You crawl over to his side and try to relax into the pillows as best as you can. Your shoulders droop, your knees fall to either side, but there’s a tremble to your hand as it returns between your legs. Your touch remains feather-light, almost a tickle, as you dance a finger along the hem of your underwear. You watch lecherously, with your head lolled to one side as Eren mirrors you—you’re still leading. His thumb dips below his waistband.

This still counts as ‘no touching,’ right?

Eren shoves his hand down his sweatpants. You can’t see it when he takes his cock in his hand, only the outline of him slowly working over his length underneath the fabric.

Your eyes ask the question your lips wouldn’t dare to ask. Eren responds, “You first.” His eyes flicker to your crotch—your panties, more specifically.

Your fingers stutter and pause. You’ve already dipped your toes into the corrupt waters, so you might as well take the full plunge.

You tuck your underwear to the side, pinching them in the crease of your thigh. Your fingers are almost cold against your wet, hot skin and you shiver in response, letting the feeling wreck down your spine. You clench around nothing, whimpering just as helplessly.

“Fuck,” Eren breathes, an incidental hiss.

He pushes his sweatpants and boxers down in one go, and his cock slaps his front. He aches for anything more than his hand, but it’s all he has right now. It’s agonizing how what he needs is so damn close, but out of reach.

He pumps himself faster, tightening his grip around the sensitive tip to mimic your cunt.

He can only catch glimpses of it. Your panties persistently get in his way, and when they aren’t, you’re having to tug them back to the side. Your gasps and moans turn to little grunts, your frustration staving off your orgasm even further.

Eren goes to grab your underwear but stops himself short.

“Take them off,” he tells you, somewhere between a request and a demand. If this is his one chance to be with you, to see you, then he’s going to see all of you.

You listen. Your hand slips from between your legs and a sticky string connecting your fingers to your cunt snaps. You hope Eren didn’t see it, but you’re sure he did based on the impatient sound that comes from the back of his throat. You lift your hips from the bed and shimmy your underwear down your legs. Then you kick them to the floor.

You don’t settle back into the bed before Eren says, “I want to see more of you,” because this still isn’t enough. “C’mere.”

He adjusts you to his liking until you’re in front of him, lying back on your elbows, spread, with your feet caging his hips. It’s a vulnerable position, you admit. One where you’re completely bare and completely on display and there’s no shying away. You may have even found it embarrassing if not for how turned on you are. The urge to come is nagging, simmering for so long that you fear you may boil over and do something you’ll regret later.

“Shit.” Eren’s in awe of the sight before him: your glistening cunt, swollen and practically begging to come, and the dreamy expression on your face. It’s the sexiest you’ve ever looked, and he’s not even sure it’s intentional. Your eyes are as alert as they are moony, as confident as they are flustered; a doe locked in his headlights, willing to eat out of his palm despite her better judgment.

“Spread yourself for me,” he murmurs. You do it with two fingers. “God, look at you.”

So pretty. What a shame it was that such a pretty pussy would go unfucked tonight.

Eren leans back again, this time with a complacent hand tucked behind his head. He spits into his other, then slathers it over his length, unblushing to how your eyes follow every fluid movement.

“Go ahead,” he says, still calmly fisting his cock. “For real this time. Make yourself come for me.”

The encouragement travels straight to your core. You sink your middle finger inside first, then you add another. Your walls pulse, sucking the digits in further. You curve them, drag them in and out, in and out, until you find a pace that has your thighs threatening to snap shut. You pull out of yourself one last time and, with properly wetted fingers, you return to your neglected clit. It only takes a few slick circles before your breath quickens.

“Yeah, just like that—fuck.” Eren feels his cock throb against his palm. He slows, pulling and tightening his grip, still pretending his hand is anywhere near as soft as your pussy. “You’ve listened so well. You deserve to come, don’t you think?”

You moan something incoherent.

“Tell me,” he says, smug and urgent, somehow at once. “Tell me what a good girl you’ve been. That you deserve to come.”

Slippery, unforgiving sounds fill the room, from the both of you, but you’ve already shed any shred of decency you had left. You dipped your toes first, and then you took a fateful dive. But now, the current has stripped away any semblance of control you had—or thought you had.

You’ve become a passenger inside your own body. Every motion feels wild and unpredictable, yet intimately inevitable. It’s a kaleidoscope of feelings and sensations. It’s strange and exhilarating. It’s this raw and primal surrender to only what’s physical and nothing more.

Flowery language aside, you know one thing for sure: as much as you enjoy hearing him talk filth to you; he enjoys hearing you just as much.

“I’m a—ah, I’m your good girl,” you moan shakily. Your skin becomes unbelievably hot, your fingers stuttering, struggling to keep up with your neediness. “I d-deserve to come.”

His good girl.

Eren’s stomach lurches, abdominals tightening. He nearly comes.

What a fucking gift you are. How lucky Eren feels to witness how you get yourself off when no one’s around, how you like to tease yourself—maybe even pretend he’s the one teasing you.

You bring a hand to your chest, gingerly caressing the tips of your fingers along your nipple that pokes through your shirt. You slide the hand over your breast before groping it fully.

“Can I see your tits?” Eren blurts. Once again, there’s no use for dancing around the truth of the matter anymore: you both wanted to get off.

“You first.” You giggle a little, all breathy, then restate, “Take off your shirt.”

Eren smiles at you before stripping, revealing a cute flush creeping up his chest. You stick to your promise, peeling your shirt off and tossing it aside. You skipped putting on a bra this evening because it was supposed to be a quiet night-in with friends, but it worked out pretty well for this, too.

You graze your fingers over the peaks of your breasts, bouncing just so with every rub, rub, rub of your opposite hand. You bite back a harsh gasp, but little hums escape past your teeth, anyway.

Eren’s thighs twitch. He fights the urge to buck his hips, to fuck up into nothing. His pants turn strained, exasperated. He thinks he might be numb to his hand at this point. He could use his spit again, but why should he have to when you’re right there, as desperate as he is?

Your name’s a raspy plea on his tongue. His hands smooth up your legs as he coos, “I need to feel you, baby.” His thumbs stroke your inner thighs, growing extremely close to the apex between them. “Need you to help me come. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?”

Eren’s hands wrap around your ankles, pulling a yelp from you as he drags you toward him.

“I won’t put it in,” he promises. You’re so close he can feel the heat of your cunt against the underside of his cock. His hand somehow looks small in comparison as he holds himself at his base. He angles his cock until it’s about as close as it can be without touching you. “Please.”

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, but even more frantically, it pulses between your legs, loud and demanding. It’s as impossible to ignore as the man before you. Hot and horny, with messy hair and pretty pink cheeks and an even prettier cock that leaks at the mere thought of touching you, staring at you like he wishes to devour you whole.

You nod, and Eren doesn’t hesitate to push his cock between your slit. You watch him do it, sitting higher on your elbows. Even with the faintest amount of pressure, your jaw goes slack.

He rocks his hips, gliding his cock through you, up and down, with the ridge of his head nudging your clit. Your skin prickles despite the thin layer of sweat you’ve accumulated.

You raise your hips, dragging your pussy over him, and bring yourself back down to the bed. His cock jolts. You feel it. You repeat the undulating motion again and again, effortlessly, because you can’t recall a time you’ve been wetter. So wet he slips out a time or two. He takes advantage of it once, tapping the tip of his cock against your clit.

Eren gives a low chuckle when your head falls back between your shoulder blades. “What a pretty little mess you are.”

You tilt your hips so he’s back in place, hitting your clit just right, over and over. It doesn’t take long for your legs to shake, swaying like they may give out. He steadies you, resting his hand on the divot of your hip.

“Oh, god—Eren.” Your voice pitches on a broken moan. “I think I’m gonna come.”

His hand curves around your side, his fingers digging into the fat of your ass. He uses the grip to keep you moving, to guide you through it. He barrels you down the hill toward your release, and you can’t stifle a single cry as they spill from you.

“Yeah, that’s it. Let it all out, baby,” Eren encourages, saccharine as always but airless. Though his own release is imminent, he refuses to allow it to happen before yours.

He flattens his fingers against his cock, pressing and adding delicious pressure. He proves how heavy, how hard, he is for you—how much better he’d feel inside you. The mere thought of it makes you groan. You push back on him instinctively, arching your back as you teeter on the edge of your undoing.

“So fucking hot,” Eren grunts, thrusting as if he were truly fucking you. He meets you each time you bear down on him, his pelvis slapping against you as his hips rise from the bed. “So fucking hot.”

That familiar feeling fizzes in your stomach, swarmy and radiating through you. It sparks in the tips of your fingers, even in your toes, and then your orgasm rips through you. Your entire being tenses, fists knotting themselves into the sheets and eyes screwing shut. The pleasure is white-hot and leaves you with stars behind your eyelids.

Eren urges you to open your eyes. “Keep ‘em on me while you come.”

You try your best; you don’t let your eyes roll back. What’s hidden behind your fluttering lashes is pornographic. Your soaked thighs—his soaked thighs. You don’t even want to think about the blankets below you.

You curse and cry his name. You look ruined, with eyebrows pinched and pulled together, your mouth hanging open like you want to scream out your orgasm. Eren crudely imagines how wrecked you’d look, how much better you’d feel, if you were coming with him inside you.

Your knees snap together, thighs sealing shut around his cock. He continues to fuck between them, against your pulsing, oversensitive pussy. Your body is spent and shaking, and he is right there with you. The sinewy muscles of his chest flex as he builds toward his climax.

“God, fuck,” Eren pants. “I’m gonna come, baby. Gonna come all over this pussy.”

When he does, it’s with his head thrown back and a beautiful groan. His body is flush with yours, his cock spilling across your legs. Come drips down the creases of your thighs, smearing with the last few pumps as he draws out every drop. He can’t believe he could feel so good from something as pathetic as grinding.

Your body lies limp, sprawling across the bed with your legs still draped over him. You wait for some post-horny clarity to smack you across the face, but the only slap you feel is the truth: you deserve better. You aren’t going back.

You stay there, waiting for the rise and fall of your chest to settle. One moment, you’re staring at the ceiling, then blink, Eren’s above you, taking your cheek in his hand. His fingers curl around the side of your face before he places his mouth on yours. He’s soft, both how he feels and how he kisses you, with lips slotted perfectly against yours, coaxing them open with his tongue.

You finally let him touch you this way; you kiss him back. You wrap your arms around his neck, and you wish for the moment to stay, just for a little longer.

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren one shot #eren smut #aot x reader

1K notes · View notes

fortheloveofleon · 7 months

Note

So, what if reader as spider person do smth WRONG like bad wrong, miguel got pissed (an understatement) and they run from miguel, they manage to hide from miguel for a good while but miguel eventually catch them, some fight happens and miguel has had enough he broke some bones and made sure the other spider person also couldn't do anything (the venom thing). The rest is up to you!

WICKED GAMES

⊱ Pairing: Yandere!Miguel x Spider!Reader

⊱ Summary: You decided to test Miguel’s limits and took something that didn’t belong to you. So, what’s the obvious response when the most terrifying Spiderman finds out? You hide. Unfortunately for you, Miguel enjoys the “seek” part a bit too much.

⊱ Contents: 18+, Yandere!Miguel, Dark Content, Scary? Content, Jealousy, Dub-Con, Non-Con, Dom!Miguel, Hate-Fucking, Face Slapping, Orgasm (M+F), Primal Kink, Biting, Creampie, Choking, Man-Handling, Hair Pulling.

Heavy footsteps fall to the concrete with each stride you take, lunging forward in a panicked haste. Soft breaths tremble in your lungs. The tightness in your chest grows and grows as you head further through streets.

Iridescent lights flicker above your head, and the smell of metal is making your eyes glass over. Even whilst slinking through these dingy streets and crooked alleys, you still haven’t entirely made out where you actually are.

And it’s all your fault.

Is it that bad you wanted to be treated like an adult?

You’re a grown woman. A Spider.

But Miguel refused to see you as such, always keeping an eye on you “just in case.”

You were sick of feeling like glass, and you were determined to prove yourself, so you made a wrong decision that just felt so right at the time;

You stole a portal watch from his lab.

Your naïve belief of thinking Miguel wouldn’t find out only made matters worse, and made him fucking livid when he did.

Thanks to a tip from Hobie back at Headquarters, you’ve managed to get a head start. So here you are, jumping from universe to universe, world to world, trying to escape the consequences.

After what seems like hours of running, you’ve arrived in some sort of warehouse, dead and silent. Dripping pipes and crunching glass are the only sounds accompanying your heaving breaths.

But just when you thought you’re safe, a sudden whirring noise rings through the air, echoing around you.

There’s a hovering gash, pulsing and glowing, omitting a flurry of blue particles. A burst of sparks, red and orange, rip open this cosmic, hexagonal wound to reveal a vacuum of time and space.

You make out a burly shape slipping out of it.

The portal leaves as quickly as it came, disappearing in a flash of light. A masked figure stands on the deserted warehouse floor, unmoving.

Using your webs, you pull yourself up to the beams of the roof, hiding and looking down.

You already know who it is.

Pulling the navy mask from his face, wavy hair ruffled and eyes dark, Miguel looks around the seemingly vacant room — you’re nowhere to be seen.

“I know you’re in here,” he drawls out, voice heavy. “It’ll be a lot quicker for me, and easier on you, if you just come out now.”

You say nothing, waiting with bated breath.

So does he.

He clicks his tongue, eyes rolling in irritation.

“Fucking…fine!” the brunette tuts, teeth gnashing together, chest heaving as he sighs. “You want to play a little hide-and-seek? Be my guest.”

Right now, you’re barely paying attention to his rambling; your gaze remains locked on a chance of escape.

Embedded in a wall across the room, is a vent.

You might get to it. If you’re quick enough.

Doing your best to stay quiet, perched on the balls on your feet, you slink across the metal beam, using only the webs of your palms to move with haste.

Shuddery breaths slip through your lips as you pull yourself closer to freedom.

“Oh, I forgot to mention one thing,” Miguel‘s voice echoes out from somewhere down below.

But, stupidly, you pause.

You take the chance to peek down, and the sight makes your heart fall — Miguel is stood by a light switch, one sharp finger resting against the button.

He’s looking straight at you, eyes crinkled in a humourless smile.

“We’re playing by my rules.”

And suddenly, the room flickers into a sea of black.

You manage to bury your scream somewhere between your chest and throat. One hand remains slapped over your mouth, tears pouring silently. You cling to the rafter, pressing your whole body down, swallowing wordless pleas.

Cold metal grunts beneath your nails. The sounds of creaking and shuffling echo around you, calling out in the dark.

Then, it’s eerily silent.

Hallowed breaths shake from your ribs. Your throat burns, and you blink rapidly, trying to find some sense of direction in this surrounding inky abyss.

But it’s no use; you need to get out here now.

You muster up the courage to drop to the floor, perching on the balls of your feet. Droplets of water splash around you, and force back a squeal, fists clenched, adrenaline rushing.

You swivel around, waiting for the reach of a clawed hand.

Still, nothing.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel’s fighting back to urge to pounce on you right now, forcing his hand away from his crotch. But the look of pure anguish on your face has his cock harder than ever.

You’re pivoting on your feet every second, trying to make out where he can be.

It’s like he’s everywhere.

“Y’know, I had to force LYLA to show me your location on the Quantum Map?” his voice travels.

Gasping, you turn, swinging at the dark. White, hot thrill pulses through veins, pulsing through your body, tempting you with a high you can’t find anywhere else.

“Threatened to dismantle her software,” Miguel chuckles. You can hear the smirk in his tone. “It was funny, you should’ve heard her beg.”

“See?” you breathe out, head swivelling. “Even your personal AI knows you’re a fucking psycho,”

“That’s a pretty ballsy thing to say for someone who’s scared of me,” the dark calls out. The sound of deep laughter chimes around.

You swallow hard, blinking — it’s not a secret.

You are scared of him.

A majority of people, in the Spider Society or not, are scared of Miguel. He’s used to the looks of agitation, the fleeting glances, the scurrying.

But for some reason, he takes great pride knowing he can make you twitch.

“Do I scare you?” he whispers, humming your name. He sounds so close, words brushing your ear.

Behind you, a heavy claw reaches out of the dark, running gently up your spine — a warning.

The movement has you rushing forward, scrambling away, hiccuping out a scream.

You start to run, panicked.

Where to, you don’t know, but you’re running, fast and blindly.

Shoes hitting the floor with each step, you stumble and drag yourself forward, staggering through this maze of black, feeling the walls for any sign of exit.

Miguel follows your movements, waiting for his moment to strike, hard and true.

He watches the way you pull the mask from your face, breathing heavily in frustration, nimble hands tugging at the bolted doors and windows.

He smiles, seeing the panic settle in on your features when you realise you’ve run out of web fluid, leaving you stranded on this warehouse floor.

Suddenly, he hears nails scratching the concrete. He watches on as you grope the floor blindly, feeling out for something.

“No,” you whisper to yourself. “S-shit, fucking shit!”

Then, it clicks. Finally, the last domino has fallen.

Miguel grins in the shadows, eyes resting on the puddle by his feet. A soft glow shimmers against the water, revealing something digital and sunken.

You’ve dropped your portal watch.

How could you have lost it? It was just on your wrist. How could have been so careless, so stupid? Now, you’re trapped.

No longer relying on your silence, you begin to kick hard at the chained doors, grunting and groaning as the iron jangles.

Right now, you don’t have the time to fucking critique yourself, you need to leave.

“Fucking. Open!” you breathe out, booting at the metal. The head of the lock begins to bend, the doors shaking under the weight of your blow.

But just as hope begins to beam, a sudden crackling thud booms above you.

You turn.

The end of the warehouse is flooded in light, fluorescents humming. As you peer down, a tall figure crouches, and stands, facing you.

Miguel’s grinning hard, fangs and claws on show.

Your stare, eyes wide, and begin to kick harder at the door.

Bang.

The second light follows, illuminating the ground with a musky yellow. That figure in the distance grows closer and closer.

You can hear his feet pounding against the floor.

Bang.

Just as the third light shines down, the door shatters out, and a scream crawls up from your throat.

Miguel lunges at you, fangs bared, tackling you to the ground.

Heavy hands wrap around your throat, crumpling your shrieks to mere cries as the pair of you topple.

You’re cursing, kicking, flailing as much as you could, pummelling at his chest, arms, anything you can reach.

The larger man has settled himself between your legs, pinning you to the floor.

“C’mon, tú zorra, keep hitting me,” he grunts, goading you with a grin. “Fucking see what happens.”

In the tussle, you manage to punch him hard in his ribs, releasing an audible crack.

Miguel sucks in a breath, cold through the teeth as his brows . His jaw is set, tense and square. Rich brown eyes growing ever darker.

Before you can even think, a fist locked in the tresses of your hair, yanking hard. Pain burns at your scalp as Miguel tugs your head to the side, exposing the flesh of your neck.

A flash of teeth, a shining wink of a blood-tinged fang. Then he bites down.

Hard.

The world blurs for a quick second.

You feel flesh tear, and the smell of hot, wet metal fills the air. Miguel is almost growling against you. Canines shift beneath your skin.

Something, warm and sticky, is dripping down your neck. The room feels so clammy all of a sudden.

Vision softening, everything is a wave of colours and sounds. You can barely slur out your confusion as Miguel’s hands run along the shape of you, ghosting your clothed cunt.

“Y’wanna act like a bitch, huh?” Miguel hisses — you feel fabric tearing, pulling against your skin. Goosebumps decorate your body as you lay half naked on the ground.

“Looks like I’ve gotta remind who fucking owns you.”

Two fingers push against your mouth, and you’re too weak to fight against them. Saliva escapes from the corners of your lips and covers your chin as Miguel’s digits press against your tongue.

He tastes like blood and salt.

Your eyes flutter shut as you moan around his fingers, blinking out tears.

“You pathetic little slut,” Miguel’s huffing out a laugh, grasping your face, thrusting his middle and forefinger back and forth, grinning as you choke.

Miguel feels your fingers careening against the stiff muscle of his forearm creeping along his shoulders to find home in his hair, ready to pull again.

He jolts, moving quick to pin them against the floor with one heavy hand— despite the Rapture flowing through your bloodstream right now, he wasn’t dumb to let you even attempt to get a hold on him.

He tears his fingers from your mouth, slamming his lips to yours, tongue pushing past your teeth.

You couldn’t even find the strength to fight back right now — all you can feel is him. His body on you, hands groping, his mouth melding against yours.

Miguel finds your futile efforts quite cute. But your struggling isn’t helping you at all, and it’s only turning him on.

He’s grinning against your skin, pressing soft kisses against your jaw, down your neck. The sudden switch has you tense, wary, like a deer in headlights.

“Turn over.” The sentence wasn’t a request, but a demand.

One that he wasn’t patient enough to wait for.

Within a second, he’s got you flipped over, face pressed against the cold flood, arms pinned behind your back. Your bare ass sticks up in the air, and Miguel strikes the skin hard.

Choked pleas fall from your lips, but that doesn’t stop him. One, two, three more times you feel the roughness of his palms against your ass.

Your skin is singing in pain, every nerve set aflame at each swat.

“Ngh, God! I’m sorry! ” you squeal out, “I’m sorry!”

Miguel’s jaw is set once more, eyes steely as he stares straight at your glistening cunt.

“Oh, you’re sorry?” he breathes out, each word dripping in ridicule. A rough finger presses against the hot wetness building between your legs, sticky and sweet.

“No, you’re not. Not yet.”

A loud cry escapes you as Miguel plunges his cock, swollen and hard, deep in the sweltering heat of your cunt. Sharp pain throbs within you for a brief second, pulsing between your leg.

Fangs bared, Miguel groans at your grip. “Fucking hell.”

Tears drip down your face, darkening the concrete as each drop falls with every surge of his hips, the fat of your behind smashing against his abdomen.

“Oh, my G-God,” you stutter out sacrilege, nails biting in your palms. “Fuck, Miguel.”

As much as you want to hate this, hate him, you can’t control how your body feels. Your hips appear to have a mind of their own, pushing back in his grip. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix with each move, walls hugging his length with a tightness he’s never felt before.

There’s a sweltering mix of pain and pleasure, sweetness and salt, swirling inside of you as he’s hitting every goddam spot. Right now, you’re in limbo, on edge, just waiting for that one moment to push you into bliss.

And Miguel knows it. He can feel it. Smell it. Taste it, practically.

Yet, he’s seething.

How dare you enjoy yourself after making go to all this trouble? How do you have the fucking gall to find joy in this?

Heavy grunts escaping through his gritted teeth as his stray hand releases abandon your clasped wrists, only to grip at the back of your neck and push your face further into the ground.

“Dumb. Little. Slut,” he spits, emphasising on each word with a further thrust of his cock, drilling faster, harder, in the hot, wet mess of your cunt. “‘Course y’fuckin’ enjoying this. Never known a girl more hungry f’dick than you.”

You could only hiccup out small pleas as the taller man berates you with scorching insults, accompanied with a mocking laugh that melts into a moan.

Miguel wants to last longer - truly, he does. Nothing is more a sight for sore eyes than the pleading, whimpering mess you are.

But the sounds you’re making and the feeling of your walls tightening in on him, pulls him closer and closer to release quick than he intends.

He can’t help himself.

“Take it, hah, you…fuck…mi corazón.”

You whimper, eyes slinking shut as you breathe out a choked, “A-anything for you.”

With those last three brazen words, Miguel gives one final thrust, leaning over you to bite down on the curve of your neck as he comes — you’re both seeing stars.

It feels like you’re melting, from the inside out.

You can barely comprehend anything but these ebbing waves of sweet pleasure humming from between your twitching legs as you come, your plumped lips caught between your teeth so hard, you can taste blood.

Miguel’s rolling his hips in time with yours, panting, whimpering in your ear as he rides out this high for as long as he can, whispering sweet nothings and broken promises against your body.

You can feel this white mess sticking to your thighs, smeared against your abdomen, dripping with small plinks onto the cold concrete.

Miguel presses open-mouthed kisses down your back, running his tongue over the indents his fangs left in your skin.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet.” A hand returns to the nape of your neck, clutching at your hair.

A familiar wave of dread washes over you.

“Just wait till we get back to the lab.”

1K notes · View notes

soapoet · 8 months

Text

Your first time with them (18+)

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: Bad seed by Beach weather

Your first time with your person is like the reward of a good hunt, the prey finally caught, and the chase coming to an end to make room for the feast. It may have been an extended game of knowing looks and eyes burning with desire across the room. It may have not been appropriate then, and for some this could mark the end of a right person wrong time scenario. Either one of you may have ended a relationship the other was anticipating, knowing their door would be the first to be knocked on once these prior entanglements had been cut loose and moved on from. There really seems to be no surprise here, as you were already intimate through longing stares. Those wandering eyes frequently looking to catch glimpses of prized skin you knew was inevitable for you to claim.

Time seems to be a scarce currency after this dreadful wait, so none is wasted. The push and pull dynamic that was there all along finally expresses itself physically, with almost aggressive passion, as though the two of you are getting back at each other for the wait. You both want everything all at once but try to pace yourselves to the best of your abilities, hard though it seems, considering you both want to sink your teeth into each other. Clothes, another irritating barrier it seems, come off on the way down halls and over thresholds, desire and desperation painting the bedroom walls long before you finally collapse into the sheets to claim and to be claimed.

You are both active participants, and this is not an act that happens to one at the hands of the other, but a dynamic escapade leaving you both breathless. Movement crafted in perfect synchronicity as though your bodies were meant to partake in this dance together all along. This could go on for quite a while as you're making up for lost time, and the need to merge with each other fully, to make two become one, becomes all-consuming, and the pleasure intoxicating like the finest, most exquisite wine. This is truly all those illicit daydreams becoming realised at last, hands and eyes and lips and tongues demanding to find and imprint upon everything you could not before, back when it was forbidden or impossible to make true due to unfortunate and frustrating circumstances. This release of anticipation, the thrist quenched at last, lends so much stamina and passion, the desire to continue on and on and on, to dive back into the linens when your breaths are caught time after time, to again and again chase down pleasure and lay claim to the hills and valleys of flesh you've yearned for.

02.

Shufflemancy: Dress by Taylor Swift

The chemistry was undeniable for quite a while, wasn't it? Though it was thinly veiled in confusion and many doubts and what ifs, the both of you could see it all along. Just how perfectly you could fit like puzzle pieces together in an intricate web of art. It seemed to be but a matter of time before the sparks would cause everything to catch on fire. You may have spent a bit of time in mutual pining, and worse yet, the both of you were well aware, though doubts clouded your judgement. Certain you were deluding yourself, reading much too far into it, there always had to be some rational explanation, and yet, each and every time you two would meet, those doubts and their noise were nowhere to be seen. The only music playing which you knew for certain were the feelings you held for the other, and how every glance and word and the language spoken by their physical body told you that it was true. That the feeling was mutual.

Something that stands out to me is that there is next to no physical contact prior to the first time with your person. You spend quite a bit of time in each other's presence, though somewhat sparce, few and far in between, and when you do the air in the room seems ablaze as your minds mingle when you speak. But physically? You may sit or stand close enough, but there is almost like a barrier between you, a yellow tape saying do not cross, invisible to all but the two of you who seem so aware of this ravine without a suspension bridge. Once contact is made it is done in earnest. Pressure previously held back now boiling over in an overwhelming mess. It may be that both of you struggle to find the balance between rough and gentle. A desperate explosion of need once the leash has been let go of and you two may finally lunge at each other, tugging and pulling at fabric and limbs to quickly tie yourselves into a double knot.

For some of you this can occur first inside an official building of sorts, or where this display of affection and desire appears improper or ill-advised. An office, a classroom, dormitory, studio, somebody else's home, or any place where there are people not too far and the chance of getting caught is high and your actions considered very risky. There will be a pause and an interruption to these advances, mostly due to your own sensibilities. Nervous smiles and quiet sorry's exchanged for the sudden charge and uncontrolled eruption of passion, and even quieter arrangements made to continue this journey in a better location at a better time. Even then, once truly given privacy and freedom to explore each other, few articles of clothing make it off your bodies as you embrace, because the need has by then grown immeasurable and requires immediate release, and may be rather rough around the edges, with desperation leaving behind many marks across flushed skin.

03.

Shufflemancy: I'm with you by Vance Joy

How delightful and sweet it can be, the intimacy between two who have journeyed through life together for long enough to truly know and trust each other. This connection feels quite pure and quaint, but giddy and bright like a fizzy drink. There is a firm and stable foundation which the two of you stand upon, always able to lean on one another, with so many secrets to share and jokes no other could understand whispered, or simply relayed in knowing looks. For some, this is a lifelong friend, a bond built upon over many years, and for others this is one of those friends who you meet seemingly once in a lifetime, wherein two weeks is all it takes to feel as though you have spent decades side by side.

So what then, when those delicate feelings begin to grow and bud and bloom? For a while you may both hide those petals, certain that though they are so soft and delicate, they would cut and tear that which you have built together. It slowly but surely grows past any veils you try to hide them behind, and the two of you both notice, yet dare not say. This line right between friendship and something more, such a scary one to cross, a terrifying leap of faith to take when the concern is that something so precious could shatter upon impact and forever change and make strangers out of dear friends and could-be-loves who could not.

One of you will finally blurt it out. It may be a little sudden, even awkward in its delivery, yet so endearing in its honesty. The dynamic between the two of you at last called out for what it is, and what it has become over the past weeks or months, or how it perhaps always was but neither dared to rock the boat in fear of ruin. And it is met with such relief. Intimacy may not even happen right away, just a gentle hand finding its match and lips brushing against the other. So cautiously exploring uncharted territory. Intimacy itself will feel a little silly too, like the many barriers, buckles and zippers and hooks and all suddenly appear so complicated and in need of instruction manuals. Many giggles are shared as you fumble through it together. Your first time is very sweet and romantic, a little bit of a mess as you stumble through this sudden shift of what you have now become, but happy accidents nevertheless, and one which feels like a sigh of relief and gentle bliss as you spill and blend together like watercolour on paper.

04.

Shufflemancy: Don't delete the kisses by Wolf Alice

Oh my dear, you may feel quite nervous about the mere thought of letting someone close to you like this. To bare it all before another, such a frighteningly vulnerable position to put yourself in. You could have avoided this for a long time, some of you even wonder if there perhaps was something wrong with you, faulty wiring, or worse yet, feeling altogether broken beyond repair. You may have quite a few concerns for a variety of reasons. For some of you it could be a haunting past or terrible past lovers, and for others, excruciating insecurity and inability to relax and let the currents take you away, much too preoccupied with worries about how you look and sound to be in the moment at ease in your own skin. For a few, all the aforementioned reasons mixed into one.

A huge amount of trust is required before your defences ease up and you agree to lower the drawbridge to your castle. Your person could be your first, or at the very least the first to make you feel safe and allowed to have a say in the script. This could ultimately be your idea, a concept entirely new to you, as you are the one to pursue an intimate touch and allow the other in. Regardless which role you fall into, you feel more in control and it is less intimidating when you know that the reins are in your hands, with a lover who is so careful and gentle with you and knows you so truly, wishing you no harm.

Your first time with this person very much serves as a mark in your timeline as a huge leap of faith and overcoming fear and insecurity. They make you feel beautiful and safe, like a priceless figurine of glass, an heirloom meant to be handled with great and gentle care, respect, and devotion. Everything is slow and steady, and very sensual. Very much a feast to all the senses which will be firing all your nerves and make you feel weak and leave you trembling. It is as though time stops to make a bubble for just the two of you, to have no need to rush, to make sure the both of you are alright and enjoy every featherlight touch and sweet caress. A lot of eye contact is made, in particular when you make it over the hill and find that love has a face and it is right in front of you, and you're held close with such tender care you may shed a few tears.

05.

Shufflemancy: Take me to church by Hozier

Very peculiar energy, slightly confusing, much like the connection itself. You or your person may at the time be experiencing a very tumultuous period in life. Something is cruelly weighing heavy on you and you're feeling worried and hopeless and lost, and seeking any sort of lifeline to hold on to. And that lifeline quickly turns out to be the other person, akin to a buoy away from the shores, something to cling to in crashing waves when your body tires and feels unable to stay afloat and much less swim back to land. For some, it is possible that this stress is sourced from this person specifically due to the state of your connection at the time.

Feelings have grown but the roses around your heart carry thorns, so though they are striking in their beauty, they threaten to wound you more and faster and deeper when you are around them and they make your poor heart flutter. For some of you, this time may not even be the first time, instead the first time it feels special, carrying a purpose beyond mere pleasure. This could be a casual thing, the reunion with an ex, a friends with benefits scenario, something which was never supposed to be more than what was bargained for or supposedly left in the past. Yet somewhere, at some point in time, lines were crossed but no renegotiations took place, and for a time, which may have felt agonisingly long, you were left suspended in the air amongst the clouds of uncertainty and doubt.

Things really come to a head, as suddenly both internal and external circumstances add up to far too much to bear, and you simply crumble to pieces before them and they are fortunately quick to catch you and attempt holding together those shattered pieces. A confession through sobs, not even in the safety of a cozy bedroom but possibly in a car, a stranger's home, a storage room, or someplace else that makes this revelation of the roses blooming feel that much more misplaced and unsafe. Yet it is met with such grace and the aching heart taken in a protective embrace and the thorns pushed aside. Though the circumstance feels strange and the timing poor, it happens. One pair of hands desperate and in need of closing the gap between you, nails breaking skin whilst drowning and gasping for air like you're truly going to sink. The other pair gently but firmly taking command of your body and keeping you sane and there in the present, afloat and safe and breathing heavily, pinning you down with the weight of a body you'll come to see akin to a blanket made for anxiety, as now this person truly sees you and hears you and cares for you so deeply you might cry from a bittersweet mix of the relief of a survivor and the joy of victory.

06.

Shufflemancy: Break my heart by Dua Lipa

Quite a thorough person, eh? In all that they do, your person is meticulous and strives for perfection. Intimacy is no exception. This person is likely to be more traditional, and wine and dine you for a while at first and really take their time because they look for the perfect mate, a life partner. They wish not to make mistakes and choose poorly, because it would create such an unnecessary mess of heartbreak and wasted time and effort. Though they seem a little on the chillier side, they are romantic and have a taste for finer indulgences. And thus, intimacy with you is certainly a planned event well in advance with everything just right as if the occasion is an offering to a deity worth worship.

The wait, the slower pace of the connection itself, may be to you as new, refreshing and welcome as it is frustrating. You could've experienced previous encounters which burnt quick and fast but also faded just as swiftly, so the careful and by-the-book attentive diligence of this person is so promising and makes you feel quite special. Yet you feel the ever-increasing desire growing almost painful at the very core of your being. Nearly frightened by the power which the other holds over you. The almost urgent need for friction, for the warmth of the flame, only held back by the certainty of knowing they'd only deny you and your rushed advances because they want to take their time to fit you into their life and create the perfect step by step choreography to your romance.

Until finally, dimly lit rooms with cascading golden hues reflecting off of silks, soft tunes from the other room where a pair of empty glasses stand, as you fall into soft sheets and dainty petals. There, at last, devoured whole, consumed by desire and claimed by what you've yearned for so earnestly for so long you could've sworn you were going mad. Release, the green light to finally leap off the edge and let yourself be at the mercy of freefall. This person is observant, and determined to learn of every freckle, every nook, and send shivers skipping across your skin wherever they go on their quest to map you out like a tireless explorer on an adventure and in search of treasure. They communicate so clearly and seem so intuitive, as though they have a degree in your body language and are going for a doctorate through trial an error, and finding just the right pace and pressure to send you to the skies above to unite with the stars.

#pac reading #18+ tarot #energy reading #intuitive reading #love reading #love pac #pick a card reading #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #tarotblr #soapy.post

1K notes · View notes

maxtermind · 14 days

Note

Imagine that the reader, Charles, Lando and Carlos randomly get the idea to go to Costco and try some viral food they saw on TikTok so when they go to buy the product, Charles grabs a separate cart and when the guys ask him why if they are only going to buy one thing, he says that the reader always ends up buying too many things and then has nowhere to put them so Charles is used to carrying an extra cart because he knows his girlfriend is a compulsive shopper.

retail therapy

★ : feat :: charles leclerc x reader ★ : genre :: fluff; crack ★ : word count :: 1.4k ★ : a/n :: i've had this in my drafts for so long. i'm so sorry love, i unfortunately suck and forget to schedule the post. thanks for the fun request <33

You found yourself in the expansive parking lot of a large store on an otherwise ordinary Saturday afternoon, accompanied by Charles, Lando, and Carlos.

The mission? To grab the viral food product that TikTok had unanimously declared a must-try: Shin Ramyun. It was supposed to be a simple in-and-out operation, but Charles had other plans.

”Why'd you grab an extra cart?” Lando asked, one eyebrow raised in confusion as Charles nonchalantly pushed the second cart alongside his own.

”We're only buying one thing,” Carlos chimed in, clearly perplexed.

Charles sighed dramatically, casting a knowing glance at you, who were busily scrolling through your phone to find the exact aisle where the magical ramen resided.

”You guys don't understand,” Charles began, shaking his head as if explaining a basic concept to toddlers before whispering so you wouldn’t catch it. ”Y/N always ends up buying too many things. It's like she has a radar for… unnecessary purchases.”

”Hey!” you protested, looking up from your phone. ”They're not unnecessary. They're uh- useful in unexpected ways!”

”Like the 50-pound bag of gummy bears?” Charles retorted, smirking when he saw your eyes widen. ”Or the industrial-sized jar of pickles you bought last time?”

”They were on sale,” you defended, crossing your arms. ”And you love pickles.”

”I love them in moderation, not in bulk.”

”You take that back, mister!”

Lando and Carlos exchanged amused glances, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth.

”So, what's the plan?” Lando asked, eager to get the show on the road.

”Simple,” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. ”We go in, get the Shin Ramyun, and maybe... just maybe... see if there are any good deals.”

Charles rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. ”And this,” he said, gesturing to the extra cart, ”is why we can't have nice, quick shopping trips.”

You entered the store, greeted by the overwhelming scent of bulk goods and free samples. You navigated through the aisles, Charles dutifully pushing one carts, while Lando and Carlos alternatively pushed the other.

”Okay, the Shin Ramyun should be in aisle 12,” you announced, leading the way. ”But we should definitely check out the electronics section first. You never know when there's a sale.”

”We're here for food,” Charles reminded you, though his tone was more resigned than stern.

”And electronics,” you added cheerfully. ”Come on, it's right this way.”

Lando nudged Carlos, whispering, ”Ten bucks says our bill will be over two grand.”

”Mate, talk around five and you're on,” Carlos replied with a grin.

Sure enough, as you wandered through the electronics section, your eyes lit up at the sight of a massive flat-screen TV on sale.

”Look at this deal!” you exclaimed, practically bouncing with excitement. ”We could totally use a new TV.”

The boys behind you just shook their heads and to appease them, you slowly started, ”I’m just saying that the bonus I got last week has got to—”

”You guys have a TV,” Lando snickered.

”Yes, but not this TV,” you said, gesturing dramatically. ”Think about movie nights! Think about the sports games! Think about—”

”Think about where we're going to put it,” Charles interrupted, though he was already losing the battle. The allure of a good deal was strong, even for him. You could see it in his eyes that he was already almost convinced.

”Fine,” you huffed anyway, moving along. ”But we're coming back for it if we have room.”

Lando and Carlos exchanged looks, trying to stifle their laughter.

”You guys are a mess,” Carlos said, shaking his head. ”This is better than Netflix.”

”Just wait until we hit the snack aisle,” Lando added, trying to be discreet but you caught it. ”That's when things get really interesting.” He just gave you a nervous cheeky smile in return as you glared.

As you made your way to aisle 12, you inevitably got distracted by various items along the way. A giant jar of Nutella? In the cart. A set of high-end kitchen knives? In the cart. A year's supply of toilet paper? In the cart.

Charles dutifully followed, pushing the now significantly heavier cart with an air of resigned amusement. ”See?” he said to Lando and Carlos. ”This is why I grabbed an extra cart.”

Finally, you reached the aisle with the viral TikTok food product. There it was, Shin Ramyun, in all its spicy glory, stacked high and tempting.

”Here it is!” you said triumphantly, grabbing several boxes and adding them to the cart. ”Mission accomplished.”

”Can we leave now?” Charles asked, though he already knew the answer.

”Not yet,” you replied, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. ”We need to check out the outdoor section. Summer's coming, and we could use some new patio furniture.”

Charles groaned, but there was no real annoyance in it. He knew this was just how your trips to the store went. Besides, there was something endearing about your enthusiasm for finding deals and stocking up on... well, everything.

As you wandered through the outdoor section, Lando and Carlos tried out various patio chairs and loungers, providing a running commentary that kept everyone entertained. You found a particularly nice set that you insisted would look perfect in your backyard.

”Think of all the barbecues we could have,” you said, looking at Charles with pleading eyes.

Charles sighed, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. ”Fine, but this is the last thing. I mean it.”

”Promise,” you said, kissing him lightly while your friends fake gagged in the background.

You made your way to the checkout, carts overflowing with all manner of items. The staff recognized the boys and immediately started asking for photos and signatures as you guys waited for your turn.

That’s when Charles moved around and squeezed,”Gotta run to the toilet, I’ll be back in two?” He leaned down to whisper.

You shrugged and nodded your head, instead discussing Lando's new apartment with him. Failing to notice how Carlos was nowhere in sight either.

The cashier raised an eyebrow but didn't comment as she rang up the seemingly endless stream of products.

She was on the last few products when you heard Lando sigh under his breath and as you turned around, you saw Charles and Carlos carrying the box of the TV that you were eyeing.

Your own eyes widened as you jumped up and down and screamed,”No way, I love you!” Charles just snorted as skipped towards him.

He set the TV down and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm hug. ”I couldn't resist,” he admitted, his voice soft. ”Your excitement is contagious.”

You beamed up at him, feeling the love and warmth in his embrace. ”You always know how to make me feel loved.”

Charles kissed your forehead, his eyes twinkling. ”Cmon, babe. It’s like breathing for me now”

Lando and Carlos approached, carrying the last few bags and boxes. ”You two are adorable,” Lando teased, nudging Carlos. ”A bit nauseating, but adorable.”

As you left the store, pushing your heavily-laden carts towards the car, Lando and Carlos couldn't help but laugh.

”I owe you ten bucks,” Lando said, nudging Carlos.

Charles wrapping an arm around you. ”What do you think we can do with our old TV?” You smirked before looking over at Lando and Carlos who were loading the car.

”You know the way Lando bought a new apartmen—” Your boyfriend threw his head back and laughed before you could even finish.

”God, baby, I love you! Compulsive shopping and all.”

You smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling. ”And I love that you always bring an extra cart. Just in case.”

”So, what's the first thing we do with all this stuff?” Carlos asked, squeezing the last box into the trunk.

”Easy,” you said with a grin. ”We head home and have a fun game session with some Shin Ramyun and a movie on our new TV.”

Lando snickered. ”Sounds like the perfect end to a perfect shopping spree.”

”And if anyone asks,” Charles added with a wink, ”this was all part of the therapy. Sometimes, a little retail indulgence is just what the doctor ordered.”

”Retail therapy,” you said, snuggling into Charles as you drove off. ”It's cheaper than real therapy. Sometimes.”

Charles laughed, kissing the top of your head. ”And way more fun.”

(grid masterlist \ masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

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aft3rhrs · 6 months

Text

— game over ღ

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: exes to lovers

warnings: yandere, mentions of blood and murder, kidnapping, restraints, corruption, manipulation, obsession, angst, implied imprisonment, dub con, praise, degradation, dirty talk, hints of fear kink, spanking (like once), rough sex, creampie, implied multiple orgasms

The floor creaked quietly under a pair of heavy boots. You kept your eyes on them as he moved towards you, too stubborn to look up, and too frightened not to tremble.

"Oh, sweetheart," Yoongi cooed, crouching down in front of the bed. "I'm so sorry it took so long. Can't have the cops tracing my steps, can I?"

His fingers felt cool as he grasped your chin, and yet they did nothing to soothe the heat blooming through you. He smelled like snow, his cheeks rosy from the unforgiving bite of winter air.

Tilting your head, he kissed your taped mouth with utmost tenderness, like he wanted to leave a love note on the silver.

"Cold?" He murmured, noting the chills that erupted down your arms, his fingertip tracing their journey to your elbow.

In the golden glow of candlelight, with nothing but the pearly tape adorning your body, somehow, you weren't cold. Only uncomfortable, left sitting in the same position for what seemed like hours — knees bound to your chest, wrists tied together — though that was certainly the least of your problems.

"I'll untape your mouth now. Don't scream."

You shut your eyes as he reached upwards. A quick rip followed, the sting making you wince.

"Sorry," Yoongi soothed, stroking your hair, "Sorry, baby."

You didn't scream. It was pointless. He drove a long time to get here, civilization outside the tinted windows dwindling mile after mile. You had no doubt there was nowhere you could go, no one to hear your pleads for help. You'd sooner freeze to death trudging your way through the snow.

The arrogant smile playing on Yoongi's lips was infuriating. He looked like he could devour you, a cat that has finally caught its mouse.

"Good girl," he praised lowly, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger.

Your stomach flipped.

"Let me go."

It came out as a whisper.

His eyebrows raised, head cocking to the side. Probably not the smartest thing to come out of your mouth, but what else were you supposed to do? Accept your fate as his little pet?

Yoongi released the soft strand, as if he got burned.

"I've been locked up for half a year... And this is how my girl greets me?"

His girl.

Why was he doing this to you? You barely dated for a few months before he chopped up two men who have been bold enough to bother you. Parts of their bodies were still in the process of being found all over the south of Seoul.

Were you going to end up the same?

You swallowed the knot in your throat, willing your heart to stop pounding. No words came, your thoughts too frantic to make sense of.

Yoongi clicked his tongue.

"The usual bratty attitude I can handle. But silent treatment? I can't fucking stand it. Your stupid little friends had enough time to convince you I wasn't good for you, huh?"

"You did that yourself!" you suddenly shouted, eyes brimming with tears. They spilled over, dripping down your collarbone. "You killed people, kidnapped me like some fucking lunatic!"

Yoongi stared at you as you sniffled. Once the dam broke, the fear broke loose too, pouring all over your lungs, making it hard to breathe. Panic started setting in. You had no idea if your outburst was going to be punished, even though in the short time that you knew Yoongi, he had never caused you any harm.

If you ever knew him at all.

He narrowed his eyes. You hated the vulnerable position he forced you into, hated how his gaze felt like a phantom touch.

"I didn't kill any people. I got rid of trash, and I did it all for you. To protect you."

He buried his face in his hands, hiding the shine of his own tears.

"Fuck. Are you actually scared of me right now? I would never hurt you."

What did it matter? Nothing about this love was healthy, and you longed to rip your heart out of your lungs to numb the feeling. You couldn't do this; couldn't let him taint your morals, or at least, couldn't let him see that he started.

All you had to do was convince him, and then yourself.

It didn't matter. It didn't matter. It didn't matter.

"I hate you," you whispered.

Yoongi froze for a moment, then looked back up at you slowly. You stared right back into his eyes through your wet lashes, no longer disturbed by their dark depths. A flash of uncertainty passed through his expression, promptly replaced by a cryptic calmness.

He hummed, shrugging his jacket off.

"Let's play a game, then."

Your stomach jumped when he placed his palm on your shoulder, slowly turning you away from him.

His lips inched towards your ear, hot breath brushing over its shell.

"I don't believe you, not for a fucking second. But I'll entertain you."

You stared at the shelf in front of you, the melted candle wax and golden jewelry laid out beside red roses. The bouquet looked small and miserable after you threw it at him.

You felt just about the same; small. Helpless as he hovered behind you, his intentions unclear, your fate even more so. Your pulse quickened as seconds ticked by.

A loud gasp escaped you as he pushed you forward. Your head spun from the suddenness of the action, cheeks instantly burning and knees trembling.

You fell face first into the silk sheets, ass up, like a little doll for him to use. He had to hold on to your hip so you didn't tumble. You've never felt so powerless before, so stripped of your dignity, or so hot when you heard him unbuckle his belt.

The adrenaline rush intensified your emotions, made your throat close up. Only a whimper passed through your panicked breathing.

"Look at that," Yoongi murmured. "You're dripping already."

You flinched as you felt his finger run down your folds, clenching needily. Everything was happening too fast—

"I missed you too."

No preparation, no warning; one moment you were empty, and the next you were full.

He groaned, leaning over you, dropping his forehead onto your back, and his hand in between your thighs.

The stretch hurt. You could feel his cock twitching inside you, hard and thick as you pulsed around it.

No mercy, no patience; he started fucking into you, choked groans and wet smacks filling up the room. His fingers quickly parted your slick folds, rubbing into the little nub between them to ease the pain.

It worked — it bloomed into a searing pleasure that made your tummy and your vocal cords quiver, soft, helpless whines fleeing your lips.

"Fuck," he cursed, his voice broken, "fuck, you were made for me."

You shivered, finding yourself unable to fight against the restraints he put on you. Nevermind the tape; it was your soul that was truly imprisoned, and that made everything ten times worse.

His lips touched your ear again.

"If you don't come," he whispered, panting softly, "I'll let you go. But if you do, you will stay with me forever, do you get that, baby?"

Was this the game?

Fear clutched your heart in its iron fist, mingled with your most private, forbidden desires and desperate needs, made your eyes and your pussy wetter.

He reveled in it all.

"Go on," he taunted, "show me how much you hate me."

You did hate him.

Because nothing else made you feel like this, no matter what your friends said, no matter what seemed right or wrong. The blood on his hands dripped like an offering, all for you, a threat and a promise that predators loved, too, that they'd kill to protect their own. There was no life for him without you.

You urged yourself to hold on, to not give into your weaknesses. But it was hard when you were already tightening around him, on the brink of delirium and craving more.

"Yeah, there she is," Yoongi breathed. "My dirty little slut. My good fucking girl."

You cried out, your entire body tensing up. His cock throbbed inside you, rutting into you faster.

"Almost there? Are you gonna gonna let me keep you, baby? Chain you the fuck up like a good bitch?"

He was so close, playing dirty just to tip you over the edge, just to prove that you belonged to him. Hands curling into fists, you made an effort to focus, whining out a "no" that sounded pathetic even to your own ears.

"Yeah," Yoongi moaned. "Filthy fucking liar."

His fingers dug deeper into your hips, the hard grip marking your skin, planting the memory of this moment beneath it. Bruises would blossom tomorrow, and he wished he could see them all over you, a violet garden that grew from his love. Yet all he could do was slam into you faster, abuse that little spot inside you that his cock reached with way too much ease.

"Stop fighting it," he grunted, landing a sudden slap on your ass. "You're mine."

The harsh sting, the cursed words, the heat — it was all too much. The tension stirred and coiled in your abdomen, making black dots dance around your vision. Your cunt squeezed his cock desperately, barely allowing him to continue fucking you.

As if you were under water, everything became blurred, and soaked, with tears, with sweat and the orgasm rushing through you, encouraged by his filthy groans. So wet you didn't even realize he was coming too, until he stilled entirely, spilling inside you as you limped.

You listened to his breathing slow, your body thrumming, head pulsing with blissful nothingness. Too high and too weak to do anything but breathe with him.

A kiss was pressed into your spine.

"Mm... Should I give you one more chance?"

At that, you seemed to come back to your senses, breath hitching and eyes open wide.

Yoongi smirked, running his fingers along the tape softly.

"Let me grab a knife, pretty. I'll get you nice and comfy."

You almost flinched when he leaned over you again, his cock jerking and hardening in your sensitive hole.

"You did so well," he whispered into your ear. "Such a good, little bitch. I'm so in love with you."

A weak shudder went through you, ending with an ache right in between your legs.

Yoongi nuzzled your neck.

"Yeah, there you go. Don't you worry. We have all night to play."

Was it fair to play games one was destined to lose? Probably not, but unfortunately for you, that made it all more exciting to Yoongi. He wanted you to see yourself fail over and over, realize there was no running from your love.

It seemed you were about to.

He slipped out of you gently, biting his lip and watching his cum dribble out of you. His hand slid down to your ass, giving it a few, tender pats.

"Sit tight, sweetheart."

With that, he left you on his bed, again, ruined and aching and beyond lost. You heard him rummage through his drawers somewhere in the cabin, heard your heart beating in your own skull.

For some reason, you had a feeling this was just the beginning of a whole eternity. Hit play. Lose. Repeat. Try another level. Until your bones turned to dust and you were wrapped up in each other six feet under the ground. There was a sadistic side to Yoongi that seemed to enjoy the process, the struggle, the conquering of your mind.

Not surprising in the slightest; all dangerous creatures liked to play with their prey. Even more so when they loved it... And Yoongi would never stop loving you.

taglist 💌: @baalsgurl1913 @httpsbts @hoseokshobagi @pynkgothicka @ar14dna @sweetempathprunetree @blueberryarchive @messyjk @themochiverse @minyoongiboongi @chimmisbae @crisle19 @bangtans-momma @bnagtanx1306 @get-that-brain-working @babycandy111 @shyygrl

#again sorry to the person I couldn't tag ❤️#yandere bts #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts smut #yoongi smut

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mopopshop · 1 month

Note

if you aren’t comfortable writing this, ignore it! but would you be able to do emily engstler nsfw head cannons?

I got you twin 🤞🏾

Emily Engstler NSFW Headcannons

she’s a top, like biggest top to ever top all tops

but she likes to switch it up every once in a while

strap game is actually insane

she was never shy about it at first like she knows how to use it and she’s PROUD

as good as she is w strap, fingering is… no words, actually insane how good she is at it

strap is like honestly overwhelming, you can barely breathe after and she’s so cocky about it

backshots warrior

riding and missionary tie for second tho

guiding your hips w her big ass hands (the hand tats too OMLLL)

sucking the strap>>>

loves eye contact

“eyes on me, mamas”

grips your jaw to make SURE u looking

isn’t a crazy talker in bed, she says the right things at the right times

and she’s not big on like degrading nicknames, i feel like the craziest she would go is tease or brat

mamas, princess, pretty girl, baby >>>

certified munch every day all day

loves when you pull her hair

she’s into public sex to an extent, like fingering shes all for but eating you out or vice versa in public is a little too much for her 😭

gets horny out of literally nowhere, like you turn her on sm it’s crazy and you don’t even have to be do anything

The two of you had just been chilling in Emily’s car in front of the Mystics practice gym. You’d been basking in comfortable silence when you felt Emily’s hand grip your thigh, her thumb rubbing it.

Nothing out of the ordinary but slowly you feel her hand moving higher until her hands getting dangerously close to between your legs.

“Baby..” she whines

“Hm?” you turn to her, meeting her eyes. They’re low and she’s smirking, immediately catching on to what she’s insinuating.

Feigning annoyance, you scoff “I know damn well you’re not tryna do that right now”

Her hand continues to rub on your upper thigh as she leans in to speak lowly in your ear “So you don’t wanna…?”

“Emily!” you smack her arm, laughing “You’re quite literally about to walk into practice”

just so down bad for you

her snapchat “my eyes only” is filled w pics of you

she likes to record and take pictures during (entirely with your consent of course)

goes absolutely feral when you send her nudes

she’s private about yalls sex life though, she’s not one to kiss and tell

she doesn’t brag abt y’all’s escapades to her teammates, maybe once in a blue moon to hailey but even that’s pushing it

talks you through it when you cum DEFINITELYYY

“i know mama, you can cum”

“it’s okay baby, cum for me”

“you feelin good?”

“oh you sound so pretty”

“tell me how it feels”

strap game is so crazy it has you walking funny for a while after

foreplay is a must every. single. time.

loves when you dig your nails into her back

the scratches on her back after>>>

changing in the locker room is always entertaining bcs they’re visible to the rest of the team and they stay asking questions

very attentive when it comes to aftercare

like she’ll cuddle with you right after, make sure you get something to drink, shower together and cuddle some more when you’re dressed

she’ll make sure she’s glued to your back and that you feel as much comfort as possible

as much as I enjoyed writing this, this does not mean i’m good at writing smut so if y’all ask i don’t think i’ll do it, not cause i don’t want to but because i srsly suck ass at it😭😭😭

also so upset that i can’t watch the mystics game, can’t find anyone who’s streaming it so just praying that they’ll post highlights after

let’s pray that emily and aaliyah got some playing time 💔🙏🏾

#women’s basketball #ncaa women’s basketball #ncaa #wlw #emily engstler #wnba #emily engstler x reader #emily engstler headcannons #aaliyah edwards #uconn wbb #washington mystics

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astermath · 1 year

Text

second chance ₓₒ⋆:

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve decides to ask out the girl who he keeps seeing around hawkins with her nose in a book. he’s a little surprised when he gets brutally rejected, only to find out his “king steve” era is haunting him more than he expected. he attempts to make it up to you and show you he’s changed, even if it takes him a couple of tries.

word count: 4.8K (oops)

warnings: cursing, no use of y/n, bullying, regular size font below!

notes: first time writing for steve YES I HAVE FALLEN IN LOVE WITH HIM! YES IT IS THE FAULT OF ALL THE GOOD FIC WRITERS ON HERE! and thus,, I had to participate,, I hope I got his character down, I might write more for him so let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further steve harrington related content!

tagging some writers who have absolutely inspired me to write this with their own incredible fics, be sure to check them out <3 @hungharrington @sunshinesteviee @ghostlyfleur @lilacletter @stevenose

As a teenager, you’d grown to hate Hawkins. It was a mundane, small town with boring people, not much to do, not to mention the weird supernatural rumors you’d hear about every other week.

But nothing was worse than your high school, Hawkins High. There was a strong social hierarchy, with you firmly placed at the bottom. You were a class A nerd, getting good grades, and always reading to distract yourself from your lack of a social life. So naturally, you got picked on a lot. At first it was just some girls in your class, laughing at your big glasses and the way you dressed. But as you got older, you’d caught the eye of so called “king Steve” and his goons.

You’d heard plenty about him by junior year; how rich his parents were, how he was the best at sports, how every girl practically dropped to their knees when he entered a room. He’d started noticing you when his friend Carol pointed you out, sitting alone on a bench outside school, waiting for your dad to pick you up. His finger had pushed your book down so he could look at your face, and you were soon met with his all too cocky grin.

“Watcha readin’, four eyes?” The ego was nearly dripping off his words, making your stomach turn.

“None of your business.” you pulled your book away, keeping a finger between the pages you were on. “Doubt it’s near your reading level anyways, Harrington.” You may have been nerdy, but you were no pushover. If they wanted to be condescending, then you’d play their game right back at them.

“That’s no way to treat your king, is it?” Tommy chimed in, like a parrot on his shoulder. You were sure that guy would be nowhere without his friend’s reputation, considering he had the personality of a wet sock.

“My king?” You repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t you just leave me alone?” You tried putting your book away, but Carol had snatched it from your hands just before you could reach your bag.

“Oooh, is this your diary or somethin’?” she flipped it open, shit eating grin plastered over her face as she ran her nail over your name written on the opening page.

“Do you mind? Give it back!” you’d reached out to grab it from her, but she’d already tossed it back to Steve, who was now holding it high above his head.

“Come and get it sweetheart,” He smirked. “Might have to get real close for it though.” Tommy laughed like a hyena at his taunting, and you swore you would have punted him if they didn’t outnumber you.

You scowled, ready to just grab your bag and make a swing for it. “Over my dead body, Steve.” You spat his name, and he grinned at your response.

“Ahh, shouldn’t have said that.” He dropped the book down into the muddy puddle in front of you, stepping on it to make matters worse.

You watched, mouth slightly agape as tears welled up in your eyes. Carol cackled while you stood frozen, clutching your bag as you watched the pages soak up the filthy water under his foot. You had every reason not to like Steve, he was like every movie’s description of a high school bully. But he’d destroyed something personal of yours. So now you had every reason to hate Steve.

And the bullying never stopped there. He’d laugh when Carol put her gum in your hair, when Tommy would bump into you extra hard in the hallway, when you’d turn around every time you saw him.

So when graduation came, you couldn’t be happier to get out of there and go to college.

Except your dad got fired from his job. And so, after just a year of college, you’d abandoned your dream of majoring in English literature and returned to the sad, miserable old town you grew up in.

So you’d taken on a job in your local bookstore, hoping to make enough money to rent an apartment anywhere else soon. You spent the rest of your time reading and writing, usually outside to get some inspiration. You weren’t surprised to see a lot of familiar faces, though you’d never actually spoken to most of them. College was expensive, and a lot of people from Hawkins were just going straight into working than bothering to study. Or maybe some were in the same unfortunate position as you, tragically locked to your hometown.

You were sat outside the backside of the mall, listening to people’s conversations around you. Though you were never much of a socialite, you were very interested in the way people interacted with one another, especially if they were from completely different backgrounds than you.

Two books sat besides you, knees brought up close to your chest as your papers leaned against your legs. You messily wrote down strings of sentences and words of inspiration, a description of what you were seeing too, every now and then. You were an aspiring writer, hoping your literary skills would one day break you out of your current situation, but with the current state of the world, that’s all you could really be. Hopeful.

You were daydreaming about the life you’d build for yourself, finger running over the tip of your pen. You were so involved in your own train of thoughts, you almost hadn’t noticed the sudden new presence besides you.

“Watcha writin’, pretty girl?”

The voice sounded familiar. A little too familiar for your liking, actually. You kept your eyes on the page, hoping you conveying your disinterest was working in driving the guy away. You sighed, clicking the pen a few times. “Do you really care, or do you just wanna bother me?”

You could hear a faint chuckle, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t sound nice. Still, you were working, and you preferred not to be disturbed when you were.

“You got me there,” the guy spoke, and you could tell he’d moved a little closer, because you could now smell a sliver of his cologne. “Was never one for books, but I’ve been wanting to read more. What is this, Pride and Prejudice?” He picked up one of the books, and you turned, about to take it from when your eyes landed on his face, freezing midway when you finally realized why he sounded so familiar.

Steve motherfucking Harrington.

Same cocky smile, same brown eyes, same somehow always perfectly styled hair, and probably same asshole altogether.

You squinted slightly, not sure if you were hallucinating or not. “... Steve Harrington?” You question, and you could tell he doesn’t quite know how to react at first.

Truth be told, Steve had changed. A lot. All the things he’d gone through, the connections he’d made, the ego checks he got, it made him a new man. Or so he definitely liked to believe. But he was also painfully aware of his reputation, his old persona still haunting him sometimes. Still, he’d never seen you before, so he hoped it was a relatively positive image you had of him.

“I guess my reputation precedes me,” he smiled, and you think it’s the first time you’d ever seen him genuinely smile. Not the smile he gave you when his friends were teasing you, no, this one was much softer. “Or maybe... We’ve met before?”

And then it clicked.

Steve had no clue who you were.

Sure, you’d developed a better sense of style over the years. You no longer needed braces, you had grown into your body better, and your glasses fit your face a lot more. But you didn’t think you changed that much. Besides, your personality had remained the same. You were still the sharp tongued, book loving, nerdy girl he’d bullied back then.

It was true, he didn’t recognize you. He was almost certain you were new in town, telling his best friend Robin that if he knew you, he’d definitely recognize a face that pretty. She had no clue who he was talking about, this mysterious girl he’d seen reading and writing all over Hawkins, so she just told him to make a move. So he did.

“So uh,” He leaned his arm over the backside of the bench, facing you. “I was wondering if you’d maybe like to go out sometime. Y’know, catch a movie, go to the arcade, whatever you’d like to do for fun, uh...” he flipped the book open on the first page, reading your name aloud. And then it clicked for him too. You weren’t new here, and you most certainly knew him. He looked back up at you, already getting ready to apologize when you snatched the book from his hands and got up.

“Go fuck yourself, ‘king Steve’.” You scowled, shoving your stuff in your bag and angrily walking off.

He had to admit, that stung, hearing you use his old nickname like that, and then watching you storm off. He was starting to realize that there were more consequences to his high school endeavors than he’d initially imagined, that he couldn’t just move on and pretend that he was a new person now. He had to make things right. Starting with you, the pretty girl with the glasses.

“And-- and then, wait for it-- I look into the book, right?” Steve stands behind the counter of Family Video, hands motioning vividly as he tells his friend about what had happened the day before.

Robin nods, mumbling some kind of “uhuh” as she continues to organize the shelves.

“And it’s her! It’s four eyes!” He exclaims, looking expectantly at his colleague, hoping for a big reaction.

“I’m sorry, who?” Robin’s face contorts in confusion, turning to face him with a hand on her hip.

“Shit, uh, she was like always reading and stuff, and she had these-- these glasses, they were way too big for her face, and--”

His sentence was cut short by the jingle of the door opening, and the two of them looked to see you there, who was clearly not expecting a welcome committee. Your gaze crossed Steve’s, and for a moment he felt like you were about to kill him with just your stare. You rolled your eyes, scoffing audibly and started looking through the shelves.

Robin looked at Steve, mouthing a “is that her”, to which he nodded stealthily. She replied by smiling approvingly, as if she now understood exactly why he wanted to make things right. You were really pretty, she could definitely see that.

You damn near slammed down the tape you wanted to rent for the day on the counter, avoiding eye contact as you looked through your bag for your wallet.

“Are you already registered at Family Video or—“

“No.” You cut him off, head snapping up.

“Alright,” Steve nodded, slightly intimidated. “I’ll just need your name and phone number for the registry.”

You stared at him for a few moments, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. Did he really think you were that stupid?

“Are you fucking—“ You looked over at his colleague. “Is he fucking with me?”

Robin shook her head slowly, slightly intimidated. Though she could see why he had to work his way up to talking to you, she had to admit, it was quite funny seeing Steve actually struggle talking to a girl like this.

“We need it in case you don’t return the tape.” He gave you a thin lipped, awkward smile as he got the keyboard out to type it in.

“Fine,” You huffed, “but if I get a personal call from you, I’m changing numbers.” You started to list your phone number and complete your registration. You just wanted to watch the Breakfast Club for christ’s sakes, this was taking ages…

“That’ll be 10 dollars,” he put on a sweet, almost customer service-y smile, “please.”

“Yeah, fine, just—“ You rummaged through your bag, brows furrowing when you still couldn’t manage to find your wallet. You were certain you had it, although you did grab your stuff in a bit of a rush that morning. “I swear it’s here, it’s just under all this other stuff…”

You were about to dump the contents of your bag onto the counter when Steve held up his hand, pulling out his own wallet. “It’s fine, I got it.” He deposited 10 dollars of his own into the cash register, sliding the tape back over to you along with a receipt. “Courtesy of Steve Harrington.”

You looked down at the tape, and something in you wanted to smile. You were still getting used to this, guys doing nice things for you because you were pretty, but it was different from Steve. You were mad at him, and rightfully so. Te, measly dollars wasn’t going to cut it.

You muttered a “thanks”, stuffing the tape in your bag and waving Robin a quick goodbye before speed walking back outside. Your cheeks burned hot, and you hated to admit it, but it was a really cute gesture from Steve.

“She seems nice.” Robin said, watching Steve’s expression falter with a bit of an amused grin.

Steve leaned his face into his hands, watching you leave through the window. “The nicest.” He sighed, lowering his head to rub his hands over his face. “I’m gonna have to give that another try though.”

Robin chuckled, going back to the task at hand. “Good luck with that, casa nova.”

And so he did. He kept trying. It wasn’t just because he wanted to prove something to himself, he was genuinely intrigued by you. Even back in high school, he wondered what was going on in that head of yours when you’d daydream in class, or when you were writing during breaks. But he knew he’d never hear the end of it from Tommy if he talked to you, so he chose the easy way out. Coping by making fun of you. At least that way, he never had to prove to anyone if he liked you or not.

But it wasn’t fair, not towards you, of course. He never should have treated you that way, and this was his chance of making things right. And maybe finally finding out what was always happening in that pretty mind of yours.

You were stacking books on the shelves at your job, humming a tune to yourself. You liked your job, you always got to buy books at discounted prices and read whenever it was quiet. It was a nice step-up to what would hopefully become a real writing job one day, having your own books sold in a place like this.

“Excuse me,” a voice stirred you from your daydreaming, “I’m looking for something new to read.”

You turned, and as soon as you once again caught sight of Steve, your customer service smile faded into a scowl. “You stalking me now, Harrington?”

He put up his hands in a defensive position. “Woah, jump to conclusions much?” He chuckled nervously. “No, I uh... Robin told me you worked here. So I decided to drop by.” He followed closely behind you as you walked to the back to start stacking the shelves there.

“So what are you really doing here, besides bothering me?” You turned, a book clutched to your chest. It reminded him of how you used to walk the halls, always with a book held over your heart. It was almost poetic, now that he thought about it. He knew books were your comfort, so it only made sense you’d always keep one near.

“Like I told you,” he leaned against one of the shelves, hand slipping down just a tad which almost made him lose composure, “I’m looking for somethin’ new to read.”

You raised an eyebrow, and you had to admit, he had your attention. “You?” You scoffed, followed by an almost mocking chuckle. “Shit, I didn’t even know you could read.”

He pretended to be hurt, hand over his heart as he said your name in an offended tone. “I’m wounded! I’m trying to explore more literature and here I am getting judged!”

You couldn’t help but giggle, blood rushing to your cheeks from embarrassment. You were supposed to be mad, not humor his flirting, no matter how cute he was. “I uh... Well, I read this book not too long ago. It’s about two lovers who travel the world playing the music together, and one of them dies, so the other has to like, find their own sound...” You realized you were rambling a little, wide eyes looking up at him. “Or... Something like that.”

“Yeah! Yeah, that-- that sounds great. Cool. Totally.” He tried his best to brush off how your eyes were making him feel. So pretty, even when behind your glasses, he could tell how much emotion they held.

“Cool, cool,” now you were the one trying to play it cool, fingers fidgeting with the hardcover you were holding. “I’ll, uhm-- go check our stock really quick.”

He let you do your thing as he looked around the store, flipping through the pages of random books he found. Truth be told, Steve hadn’t read a single book ever since he stopped being forced to because of high school. Not because he hated reading, he just... Wasn’t very good at it. He’d often mouth along with the words, sentence by sentence, sometimes even whispering them to himself.

You returned not long after, strangely enough, with nothing in hand. “So, I think we ran out, but uh...” You adjusted your glasses. “I can lend you my copy.” You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling nervously. “If you want.”

Steve was quite surprised by your proposal. He knew how precious your books were to you, but giving one to him? The guy who’d stomped on your own personal property not even that long ago? Damn. Maybe you were just that nice. Which made him feel even worse for treating you like shit.

“Totally! Yeah, uhm, I’ll take good care of it. Like, seriously, I’ll protect it with my life.” He grinned, and you hated how infectious his smile was.

“Good,” you handed him your copy, and he could tell it was well loved. “I better not find any mud on this one.” He nodded at your comment, swallowing down his guilt at the memory. There was a bookmark at the front, and he could tell by the dozens of sticky tabs sticking out that you were serious about your reading. So he decided to be serious about it too.

“You can give it back whenever you’re done.” You smiled awkwardly, subtly letting him know he could read it at his own pace. “Just come drop it off when you’re ready.” He was about to thank you, when you raised a finger to interrupt him. “In the exact same condition, Harrington.” Though your gesture was sweet, he could tell you still weren’t fully on good terms with him. That was fine by him, he was glad he was making any progress at all, really.

“Yeah-- yeah, for sure, no problem.” He stood there for a few seconds, book held under his arm as his other hand busied itself running through his hair. “I’ll uh... I’ll see you around.”

You smiled at how nervous he seemed. “Yeah, totally, see you around Steve.” You gave him a quick wave and went back to stocking the shelves.

Steve heart swelled with a familiar feeling as he walked out. He knew you were pretty, gorgeous even, but seeing you smile, and say his name like that... Man, he felt like an even bigger idiot for being such a douche to you back in the day. You were being so nice, and you had absolutely no reason to. He stood outside, thinking of your sweet voice and cute glasses, and clutched the book to his chest.

Huh. That did actually feel kinda nice.

And so he walked home like that, the entire way, with a tight hold on the book. He’d rather die than let it get damaged now.

One of the first things he did when he got home was go to his room, sit down on his bed and open the book. On the first page, you had your name written, and it brought him right back to when he first saw you again. Something inside him feels superficial and shallow for only talking to you now that you look different, but all the circumstances were different too. You’d both grown, matured, he just wished you’d give him more of a chance to show it.

But in a way, he supposed this was the first step to earning your trust.

He’d spent almost the entire night reading, smiling and even chuckling at some of your annotations. He was glad there was a key at the start, so he knew which color meant what. He’d even grabbed a dictionary from downstairs because he didn’t understand some words, but was eager to learn more. Reading your comments made it feel like you were right there with him. They were funny, making him crack a grin at how outraged you could be at some of the characters’ decisions.

He imagined your face when one of your comments mentioned you’d cried, and his heart twisted at the thought. Because he knew what you looked like when you cried, thick tears running over soft cheeks, lashes wet. He’d be lying if he said you didn’t still look pretty, but man, he was now more insistent on proving he’d changed than ever. Maybe his budding crush was helping that a little too.

A little more than a week later, he’d returned to the store you worked to return the book. Frankly speaking you weren’t sure if was actually going to bring it back, let alone in the exact same condition you’d given it to him in.

“So, what did you think?” Your face beamed a sort of excitement you’d only see when your interests were being discussed, and this was definitely one of them. Besides your boss, you never really had anyone to talk to about books. Though Steve was more of an unconventional choice, you enjoyed the conversation nonetheless.

What surprised you even more was that he’d actually read it. Like really, really read it, including your annotations and comments. It warmed your heart to know he had put actual time and effort into enjoying the whole thing, and he looked pretty cute talking about it too.

“But the ending broke my heart, seriously—“

“I know, right? How could she not have forgiven him for not leaving behind the music sheets? It was clearly to help her move on!”

“Ugh, I know! Man, you get it.” He laughed softly, fingers running through his chocolate colored hair.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” You laughed along, the noise in your throat slowly dying out as you got a bit too caught up in the sight of him. Steve Harrington was a handsome young man, that was common knowledge. There was a reason all those girls were always swooning over him, and you hated to admit that you could see where they were coming from. But you didn’t like the overly cocky, flirty side of him you knew in high school. You like this side, the soft, considerate, attentive Steve you’d been getting to know a little better.

Yeah, you were growing fond of him.

Which is exactly why you’d said yes to hanging out with him at the park the day after. Just “hanging out”, in his own words. He’d been careful not to make the same mistake he did the first time he talked to you, rather easing you into spending time with him one on one. He’d hate to break your trust now that you were finally able to look at him with something other than anger in your eyes.

It was already quite late when the two of you met up. You’d been busy with work, and him with helping out Dustin, so once the two you arrived at the park, it was already dark. You didn’t mind, though. Less chance of other people bothering you.

You settled on a more secluded area, Steve had even been nice enough to bring a blanket to sit on. You were initially just going to discuss the contents of the latest book he’d borrowed from you, but you had a feeling something else was left to be said.

And he was well aware of this too.

So when you were staring up at the sky, moonlight illuminating your features in a way he’d only seen described in the books he had read, he figured he couldn’t keep talking to you without clearing the air. You deserved that much.

“You know,” he cleared his throat, “I thought about what happened a lot.”

You bring your gaze over to him, tilting your head slightly. “My my, whatever could you mean?” You said, teasingly so. He knew you wanted him to just say it. And who was he to deny you of a justified apology.

He took a deep breath, fingers running through his locks. It had become almost a nervous tic to him.

“I’m really sorry about everything I did.” He said, in the most genuine tone he could muster. “Seriously, I-- I’m just kind of... ashamed, really.”

You could tell he was struggling to look at you, and you wondered how much thought he’d given this already.

“You never really realize how stupid and insignificant high school shit seems until you get out in the real world, you know? Like-- none of it matters, none of that popularity, shit, and-- and I wish I’d just realized that sooner because now--” He caught sight of your eyes and for a second, completely lost his train of thoughts. He realized he wasn’t getting to the point, suddenly understanding Robin’s need to nervously ramble entirely.

“Point is, I’m really, really sorry for the way I treated you.” His hand inched closer to yours, itching to grab it to emphasize his point. “I’ve changed a lot, and I hope that’s become at least slightly believable.” He smiled nervously, all kinds of possible responses you could give running through his mind.

They all came to a halt when he saw you smile.

That sweet, kind smile he’d seen back in high school and avoided because of how it made him feel.

The same smile that was currently reducing him to a nervous teenage boy with a crush.

“It’s okay, Steve.” You spoke softly, and the words came as a mercy to his overbearing thoughts. Your hand moved over his, and you ran a thumb over his knuckles. His hand was soft, warm, and a little clammy from what you could only assume to be the nerves.

“I’m not gonna make you beg for my forgiveness, don’t worry.” You chuckled, and his heart damn near melted at the sound. He secretly wished they could bottle whatever feeling your laugh gave him, so he could keep it with him in times of need.

“Really?” He tilted his head, brown locks falling in different ways around his face. “Because, like-- I’ll do it. Wait--” He got up on his knees and reached besides the blanket, plucking a stray flower from the grass and kneeling in front of you. He cleared his throat in an exaggerated way, before addressing you with your name. “My dearest, will you please forgive me for being a top shelf douchebag to you before?”

You couldn’t contain your laugh, feeling your face heat up at the sight of him kneeling in front of you. “Steeeeve!” You exclaimed, hands coming up to cover your face. “Okay, okay, I forgive you!”

He chuckled along with you, reaching out and gently tucking the flower behind your ear. “Alright, well--” he sat down again, now significantly closer than before, turned towards you. “would you perhaps do me the honor of going out with you then?”

You bit your lip, pretending to think about your answer as he looked at you in anticipation. Instead of answering, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his plush lips. It was better than you’d imagined, his hand finding its way on your cheek as he melted into it. He made a soft, almost pleading noise, once you pulled away, and you swore he’d never looked prettier.

“Sure, I’ll go out with you.” You brushed a lock of hair out of his face. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

He grinned. “I’d hope so, after a kiss like that.”

“Shut up.” You muttered, before connecting your lips again.

He would have done so either way. Because you’d officially rendered Steve Harrington speechless. And painfully in love.

#aster writes stranger things #stevemath #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #king!steve x reader #steve stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fan fic #steve harrington fic #steven harrington writing #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington fan fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n

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moonstruckme · 9 months

Note

Ok James but him and his slytherin girlfriend seem to come out of nowhere and the boys are supportive but are more mad at James for not telling them? Idk I loved your other fic SO MUCH

Thanks for requesting <3

part 1

cw: mention of injury, no details or anything though

James Potter x Slytherin!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You hesitate outside the doorway to the infirmary at the raised voices coming from inside.

You don’t need to be here, strictly speaking. James told you his injury wasn’t bad, and he has his friends to help him if he needs it, but…you can’t settle yourself down. You hadn’t liked the way he’d limped off the field, nor the tiny grimace on his face when Sirius had wrapped a bracing arm under his shoulders. It would be just like James to downplay how hurt he is to make you feel better, and the longer the game had gone on without him the more your guts twisted themselves into knots over the idea that he was in pain.

You’d seethed at yourself and your stupid soft heart all the way to the infirmary, where now you’re frozen just outside like a coward. Something inside you is coiled tight with tension at the idea of going to see James Potter, on purpose and in public, even though that’s dumb because now everyone at Hogwarts knows about the two of you anyway. Your sappy display on the quidditch pitch made sure of that. But now that you have official and widely-known claim to the girlfriend title, you have just as much right to see him as anyone else. You shove your anxiety back into your stomach where it belongs and open the door.

As soon as you’re inside, the voices become clearer. “—like this isn’t a big deal. The Prophet’s going to be all over the two of you by tomorrow, and we had to find out with every other fucking bloke at the school!”

“Pads, you don’t think I would have told you if I could?” James sounds exhausted, and something mutinous throbs in your heart. It’s followed quickly by the more familiar twinge of irritation at the use of those moronic nicknames they all have. “She made me promise not to tell anyone, including the both of you.”

They’re talking about you. Of course they’re talking about you. What else could possibly be more important after James has fallen a good twenty feet off his broom than his dating life? This is why you hadn’t wanted to tell people. Hogwarts wears away at private lives like dementors at souls, and the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin is too strong for your relationship with James to have any hope of remaining untainted once the gossip mill got ahold of it.

Your instincts are screaming at you to turn around and leave before they catch sight of you, but you force yourself to keep walking. If you start letting what people think about you and James affect you now, you’ll never be able to get past it.

Remus is the first to spot you, going still as if you’ve come to hex him, but James’ face splits into a lopsided grin that has the knots in your gut loosening very slightly.

“Especially you,” you say to Sirius as you brush past him, perching by James' pillow and weaving your fingers into his curls. There’s a wrap around his middle. It’s very hard to appear calm and blasé when you feel like you’re going to rupture something if he doesn't promise you he’s okay right this instant. “You’d have had all of Gryffindor talking about us within an hour.”

Sirius bristles but visibly shoves his temper aside, his voice matching your coolness as he says, “If I’d told anyone, Y/L/N, it would have been to inquire about whether anyone’s noticed you gathering ingredients for amortentia recently. James doesn’t keep things from us. Artificial infatuation is the only explanation for why he’d tolerate you and your secrets.”

“Oi,” James says, but you pat his head placatingly. You can fight your own battles.

“That how you got this one?” you jut your chin towards Remus, who’s looking somewhat entertained as he watches the two of you spar. “If I’m ever in need of the recipe, Black, you’ll be the first person I come to, but I don’t need to resort to such measures myself.”

Sirius glowers at you, and James sets his hand on your shoulder just as Remus wraps a pacifying arm around his boyfriend. “Alright, I think that’s enough,” the taller boy says in his usual calm manner, and though Sirius is still tensed for a fight, he allows himself to be drawn into Remus’ side.

James nods in agreement. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys, really. I thought I’d get a chance to before everyone found out, but…” He turns up his palms helplessly. “Things didn’t go as planned.”

“We’ll get over it,” Remus says, Sirius quietly fuming beside him. “Won’t we, love?”

Sirius looks up at Remus' face, which is clearly a mistake, because he softens like butter in the sun. “Yeah, yeah, just gimme a bit,” he grumbles halfheartedly. “Anything to keep our Prongsie happy, right?”

James beams, so clearly relieved at the settlement of the conflict that you feel a bit guilty for participating in it. He kisses you on the cheek, chuckling against your skin. “You stink.”

“Some of us stuck around to play the whole game,” you reply.

“Ouch,” James says, but he’s grinning. “Couldn’t really help that, could I?”

You give him a look to let him know you haven’t forgotten how his negligence had gotten him hurt. “Debatable.”

You hear Remus chuckle but don’t take your eyes off James’ face, inspecting it for signs of the pain you suspect he’s hiding. “How bad is it really?” you ask, softening your voice even though there’s no chance of his friends not hearing you.

James worries his lip, big brown eyes looking into yours guiltily. “Pomphrey says I broke three ribs and bruised my tailbone pretty badly. Minor concussion, too, but nothing serious.”

Sounds serious enough to you. You ghost a hand over the back of his head as if you’ll be able to find and fix his hurt. He leans into your palm though, so it’s not for nothing. “I’m sorry I walked away out there,” you all but whisper. “I should have stayed with you.”

James eyebrows pinch together. “Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he promises just as softly. He knows what it costs you to talk like this in front of people, like you’re turning yourself inside out for them to judge and stab at as they please, but James has no such reservations. He dots a kiss, feather-light, at the top of your cheekbone, wrapping an arm around you protectively. “Thanks for coming, I mean it.”

You clear your throat. “Yeah, and in my fucking quidditch gear,” you say in your normal voice, attempting to banish the heavy mood. As if your heart isn’t still beating, hummingbird-fast and fragile, in your throat. “We both need to change and shower, and then you should rest. Did Pomphrey say you could leave?”

James nods, still looking at you like you’ve cracked open in his hands (he might be right; it feels like you have, and it wouldn’t even be the first time today). He rubs your upper arm affectionately, but his voice is easygoing when he says, “Yup, I’m good to go.”

Sirius steps forward, as though to remind the two of you that he is, in fact, also present. “Great. We’ll walk you back to the room.”

You turn to him, not quite ready for your time with James to be up and aching for the opportunity to dote on him in private. “That’s okay, I can take him.”

Sirius’ eyes narrow. “You can’t even get into our dorms.”

“Please, like Gryffindor’s riddles are so perplexing.”

“I don’t need an escort,” James interjects. He pushes himself up with a grimace.

You halt him with your hands on his shoulders and Remus says, “Don’t be stupid, Prongs, you can barely walk.”

“I’ve got him,” you say firmly. Sirius stares you down, but you don’t flinch from his stony gaze. You know he doesn’t trust you. You don’t think he’d willingly trust any Slytherin. Since you’ve been at Hogwarts, the talk in your house has always been that Sirius Black shuns his family because they’re all Slytherins. Although James assures you there’s more to the story than that, it’s still obvious to anyone that he considers his friends his true family. He won’t entrust just anyone with James’ safety. But maybe that’s one thing you can agree upon.

He must see something of this in your face, because after a minute Sirius relents, rolling his eyes. “Fine,” he says. “I wanted to stop by the kitchens anyway.”

James is looking between the two of you curiously, aware that something has transpired but not quite sure what.

You don’t give Sirius a chance to change his mind. “Alright,” you say, gripping James' forearms and helping him to stand. “Let’s go, pretty boy.”

James drapes his arm across your shoulders gamely, and the two of you start out the door. “I don’t think that’s the insult you think it is.”

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vicocaaisha · 2 months

Text

The Arrangement

Baek Harin x Reader Fic.

Sypnosis: Because of your father's social status, you were forced to marry the one and only Baek Harin. What happens if Harin caught you meeting up in secret with her archenemy?

Warnings: SMUT, mature scenes, stalking, choking. If you're a minor, stay away!

Your father laughed at Harin’s offer while you scoffed at her antics. What a ridiculous offer you thought to yourself.

“I’ll give you my blessing to marry my only daughter, heiress of all my running business” You stared at your father with a look of disbelief on your eyes.

“What?!” was all the word that you could say that time as you process this crazy mess you’re ending up with.

Baek Harin, the princess of your class. You didn’t like her because of the game she created during your first year. Although you are in grade A, you still didn’t like the fact that your other classmates were being bullied because of their status in the class. But what can you do? You didn’t have the guts to protest that her game is crazy. Especially since your father is good friends and in partnership with her family.

“I was looking for you, why aren’t you eating?” Doah snapped you out of your thoughts. Doah is your bestfriend out of the fake friend group you have with Harin and Dayeon. You’re only in a friend group with them because of your dad being close friends with their parents also. You didn’t want to disappoint your dad; who’s always out of town or in abroad attending some business meeting.

“I’m just finishing reading this.” You answered in a quiet manner even though she knows that you’re just avoiding the bullying commotion during lunch.

“You know, you won’t ever beat me in a quiz bee so stop studying and eat with me.” Doah tried to joke, which made you laugh because her being a nonchalant and posed person sucked at delivering jokes.

“Nice hearing you making a joke, Doah. But I don’t have an appetite to eat.” You replied.

“I brought you an onigiri; I made it. Please eat it, you haven’t eaten today.” Doah gave you the onigiri and a chocolate drink before leaving the library room.

You were seated in silence as you opened the wrapped onigiri. You looked at your watch. 40 more minutes. You really hate that your classmates are getting bullied, and you just watch or sit in silence while they are suffering. You hated being a bystander.

“Y/N.” a voice came out of nowhere that shocked you. As you look towards the door, you see Harin standing wearing her designer cardigan or whatever, but she looks pretty– no– wait. Why are you thinking this way, even though she looks good her attitude is something else.

“What?” Honestly, you had a crush on her when you first met her through your dad attending some party of his friends. She was there, she was the one who offered you to transfer school so that you two can get closer but things have changed. You despise her for this hierarchy game.

“Come to my penthouse tonight. I’m hosting a dinner party tonight since Mr. Seo wanted us to gather..” Harin said in her usual monotone voice.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You rolled your eyes and just continued reading.

It was a mistake coming here.

Your father is such a social climber. You didn’t even want to partake in any of their conversation because as usual, Baek Harin is the star of night. They are always asking her how’s our friendship or whatever.

“If only I had a son, I would definitely ask him to marry you, but sadly all of us only have daughters.” Your father said with a disappointment evident in his voice. You’re aware that your father didn’t like you at all, that's why he’s always leaving you on your own. It’s because of you being open about not wanting to inherit all of the business he has all over the world.

“Y/N is pretty and kind. I like her and I think there’s nothing wrong with me marrying a girl, right dad?” Harin said, looking directly at her dad as if she’s staring right through his soul, which her dad only nodded to and you noticed his discomfort.

“Y/N and I are already close. Plus, this will benefit our company if I marry Y/N.” Harin said with a glint of mischief in her voice. You just scoffed, disliking the topic. You can’t do much anyway, you’re the only child of your father.

Your father laughed at Harin’s offer while you scoffed at her antics. What a ridiculous offer you thought to yourself.

“I’ll give you my blessing to marry my only daughter, heiress of all my running business” You stared at your father with a look of disbelief on your eyes.

“What?!” was all the word that you could say that time as you process this crazy mess you’re ending up with.

“That’s a good arrangement then. We’ll further discuss this when both of you finish high school.” Your father said happily and while you can’t even comprehend what’s happening. You can’t oppose your father's wishes because he might disown you; Harin knows that, and she’s pushing you to your limits.

It has been a week since that dinner happened. You haven’t talked to your father since, and you’ve been avoiding all three of your so-called friends. During that week, there was a transfer student in your class who also has been bothering you to help her since she’s in grade F. She must have sensed your guilt about all this crappy game.

Lately, you have been meeting her too. Outside of the school and during night time. You learned from Suji that she wants to take down the game and you liked that, but the thought of Harin learning that you’re backstabbing her, especially now that you’re “engaged” with her might cost you your father’s trust and his business.

Little did you know all of those secret meetings, someone has been eyeing you.

You had just finished talking to Suji about her plan on taking down the game. You were now walking towards your house, listening to music. You're living on your own because your father was out of town again. Since you’re hidden from the media that you are a famous business man’s daughter, your house doesn’t have a security guard at all.

“Y/N” someone called you from afar as you were unlocking the door of your house.

Your heart dropped when you saw Harin walking towards you. What is she doing here? Does she know what you have been doing behind her back? Is she stalking you? So many questions flooded your mind and all you could do was stare at her.

“What have you been doing these past few nights, my fiancee?” She asked, still walking towards you and taking a puff from her cigar.

You tried to gain your composure and crossed your arms, “Are you stalking me?” you asked bravely.

“Do you think I’m playing some dumb games with you, Y/N?” she laughed maniacally and she is now in front of you.

“Whatever you're saying, Harin. Go home and leave me alone.” You said before trying to get into your house but suddenly you got yanked out by Harin.

“Have you been cheating on me? With that school trash?” Her gripped on you tighten. Here’s the problem, Harin never treated you this way. Even if she’s getting Dayeon get beat up on purpose by her dad or Doah getting eliminated from her competitions because they are getting on her nerves. Harin has always tolerated your angsty behaviour towards her, but tonight she’s different.

She got you pinned against the wall, “Harin– No! It’s not what it looks like.” you said as you struggled against her hold.

You felt Harin blow a breath on your neck, which tickled you but aroused you the most.

“Y/N, do you think I’m some dumb mouse you can use for your father’s gain?” She whispered through your ears.

“H-harin, I’m sorry. Please let me go, I swear I’m g-going to stop meeting with Suji.” You said as you were trembling.

“Will your father be happy once he learned what you were doing behind my back, my dear fiancee?” God, you are now regretting everything you’ve done. You should have stayed quiet, maybe, just maybe, your father’s hard work isn’t on the line.

“No– I swear, Harin! I’ll do everything, please!” You pleaded.

“Everything?” Harin was now eyeing you up and down, but you didn’t notice as your eyes were shut because of fear.

“Yes! Please, H-harin, forgive me.” That was all it took for Harin to kiss you. You can’t process what’s happening and all you could do was to moan, a loud one, when she kneed your core.

All of the pleasure you were feeling from riding her thigh were soon to be gone when she let go of you. You were out of breath, head feeling dizzy from what’s happening. You hated her guts and yet you’re here yearning for her touch? What has gone into your mind, you wondered.

“Your room. Now.” A demanding tone was all you heard that made you run into your room.

Anticipation and the ache at your core were all you felt while she was undressing you on your bed. You can’t contain your whimpers anymore every time she kissed a part of your skin, you were very sensitive.

“H-harin, I haven’t done this before…” You confessed with a sheepish smile as if she could see you in your room having the moonlight as your source of light.

“Even better.” was all she said before diving right to your buzzing core. Soft whimpers were coming right out of you, you’re trying to suppress your moans because of not being sure whether your maids are sleeping in or not.

She was marking you all over your neck, she might have felt the sense of owning you when you’re all marked up. She was thinking when you’re coming to class and Suji sees you with all of the hickeys she has given you, her jealousy is long gone now. She is your first and she wanted it to be your last.

Suddenly, without a warning Harin inserts a knuckle deep inside you. You gasp in pain, it definitely is your first time, and it doesn’t help that she has long fingers. All of this sensation is new to you because, hell, you didn’t even touch yourself before. You just ignored the feeling of arousal whenever you felt it.

“Feeling good?” You heard her say, but you only wince as she added another digit into your pussy. You can’t contain your moans anymore, which you tried to block by putting your left hand over your mouth.

She noticed it, she removed your hand and pinned both of your hands swiftly, “Let me hear it, baby.” was all you heard before moaning her name loud. The pain subsided and all you feel is pleasure.

“You’re so tight, love.” Harin is now staring at your fucked up face.

“A-hh! Mommy! R–ooh, right there!” You didn’t even notice that you let that word out of your mouth, either way, Harin liked it.

She held your waist tightly as she added another finger on your pussy. She is now getting rougher with you, with lust and jealousy she felt when she saw you secretly meeting up with that Suji girl.

“Were you asking Suji to fuck you like this? Do you think she can fuck you like this?” God, you didn’t even see Suji that way, you were just busy taking revenge on your so-called fiancee. You were so busy losing your mind with pleasure that you forgot to answer her question, and instead, she squeezed your throat and with that you were gasping for air.

“Answer me, Y/N-ah,” She was now fingering you faster and you felt like you’re going to pee or something.

“No! I only want you, m-mommy!” Satisfied with your answer, she rubbed your pussy as she felt you clenching on her fingers. She knew, you’re near from finishing.

“A–ah! Stop, please! I feel like I’m going to pee! Oooh!” But she didn’t stop and whispered, “That’s okay, love. Just let it go.”

Harin hits a spot that makes you climax. You held onto her clothes tight as you were cumming on her fingers. You can’t control the sounds you’re making anymore and you just sound incoherent. Harin hushes you and kisses you as she removes her fingers after your body relaxes.

Harin opened the night lamp beside your bed. You were almost knocked out. Your face being puffy and red, your messy hair, and hickeys all around your neck, Harin felt like she owns you now.

“I love you, Y/N. You’re mine and mine only.”

Hope you guys liked it!! First time writing a smut, lol. Please request! I'd like to practice my writing for school. I'll also do other characters from pyramid game!

#jang daah #baek harin #pyramid game #sung suji #pyramid game x reader #baek harin x reader #jang daah x reader #seo doah

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lovebugism · 1 year

Note

Play wrestling with bff Steve and getting giggly when he just straight up manhandles you 😭😭😭

✶ ┄ SORE LOSER !

summary: steve harrington doesn't like to let you win until he realizes how good it feels to lose. pairing: best friend!steve harrington / f!reader word count: 1.6k warnings: a lil bit suggestive towards the end, but nothing crazy a/n: i got super carried away with this lol i kinda just took this request and ran with it and well... here we are :) enjoy!

Steve never lets you win.

He thinks it’s letting you off too easy.

The boy’s competitive to a fault. He can’t stomach a loss, even if it’s in something as meaningless as a carnival game you only wanted to play for the giant dinosaur plushie that’s half the size of you.

He always ends up giving it to you when he inevitably wins, wearing a big smug smile on his pretty, pink lips. You take it from him with a pout. The childlike scowl is quelled only by the funnel cake he buys you after.

It doesn’t matter what it is — a game of monopoly, trivia questions on the ends of popsicle sticks, taking in the groceries — Steve finds a way to make all of it competitive. He wants to have the most fake money and little fake properties, he wants to shout the answer before anyone else can, he wants to carry more heavy plastic bags than everyone else. Just to say that he did it.

If you put this much effort into school, you’d be in college right now, Harrington, you’d tease.

Not my fault you’re a sore loser, he’d retort. I’ll let you win the next one, sunshine. Promise.

He never does.

You and Steve play-wrestle like a couple of kids. It usually comes out of nowhere. You’ll make fun of him, he’ll shove at you, and you’ll shove back harder. Then it just turns into a game of who’s stronger than who — and it’s always him. Obviously.

You try your hardest to prove your strength, pushing at him with nimble fists and wriggling something fierce in his hold, but you come out red-faced with a participation ribbon laced within his taunts. And even though he’s got several inches on you and quite a bit more muscle, he never lets you win. Ever.

He manhandles you, perhaps a little too rough at times, but it wasn’t like he had to be kind to you. You weren’t dating or anything, you were best friends — this is what a couple of pals do, right?

They play fight on the carpet of the other’s movie room after being told their closest confidant would murder them in a game of fuck, marry, kill between Anthony Michael Hall and Robert Downey Jr. with zero hesitation.

Friends totally force the other onto the ground by grabbing at the bottoms of their thighs before kneeling over them, wrenching their wrists in their grip and pressing their hands to the ground on either their head.

It’s the definition of being best buds. Truly.

For the first time, you manage to get the better of him. You’re pressed beneath his weight, breathing heavy and rapidly tiring, and you wave the white flag of surrender.

Just when Steve's letting you up and swiping a hand through his mussed hair, you force him onto his back and straddle his waist — like he always did to you — and giggle with mirth at the idea of finally beating him.

He doesn’t find a similar enthusiasm in it, though. His tune changes almost immediately.

You beam down at him, the words of a taunt on the tip of your tongue, and you notice how his cheeks flare pink. His honey-colored eyes widen and his mouth falls softly agape. He glows red in embarrassment and you think he’s just upset that he lost, but he sounds like he’s panicking. The words rush out of his mouth — “Alright, shit, fine— you win, sunshine. Get off, alright? Off, off, off.”

His hand swats at the side of your knee to hurry you off him.

“Alright, jeez!” you concede with the roll of your eyes, halfway annoyed that he just can’t let you win anything. “You don’t have to be such a sore loser about it, Harrington—”

You understand his haste in that moment, when you feel him brush your inner thigh. Like, all of him — as in, the boner trapped in the sweatpants he’s wearing, all rock hard and raging in its cotton confines.

Suddenly, you’re just as bashful and panicked as he is.

Your eyes lock at the rock hard realization but neither of you can think of anything to say.

Do you apologize? Do you act like you didn’t feel anything? Do you trust your voice to make a stupid joke so you can move on and forget any of this ever happened? You’re not quite sure.

And in the five-second silence, Steve just wants to die. Internally, he’s praying for a strike of lightning to take him out on the spot because he’s never been more embarrassed in his life.

He’s certain that he’s grossed you out, or worse, made you irreversibly uncomfortable.

In the mess of thoughts running through his head, he tries to rush out some apology that might soothe the awkward air. Your laughter does all the work for him before he can.

It bubbles like sunshine from your mouth, filling the silence and allowing Steve to breathe again. He finds himself chuckling under his breath with you, though he’s still red-faced about it.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Keep laughing, sunshine,” he chides with the roll of his eyes, though a smile hints at the edges of his mouth. He rises on his elbows to look at you. “What was I supposed to do? Your tits were in my face and your ass was on my dick— sorry for being human!”

“Sorry, alright? I’m sorry,” you manage through hearty giggles. You settle finally at his side and look over at him, still grinning. “Want me to leave so you can… take care of it or whatever?”

He knows you’re joking but he shakes his head anyway. “Nah, it’ll go away. Let’s just… finish this stupid movie.”

“Stupid movie? You picked it!”

“Yeah, so I could see Kelly Lebrock in a bikini!” he argues back, more thankful for the familiar bickering than he ever thought he’d be. “But you made me miss it!”

“It’s not my fault you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

“Watch it, sunshine,” he grumbles, half-heatedly. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“I think you’re the one who needs to worry about finishing, Harrington,” you joke and giggle when he shoves you.

You would’ve helped him, if he wanted you to. You know it’s uncomfortable and that it’s partially your fault. You also know that all of those are just excuses to cover up the fact that you’ve always wondered what his cock looks like.

He’d need only ask you, but you know that he won’t.

Even if he did like you in that way, it’d just make things all complicated. And that was totally the opposite of the effortless relationship you’ve developed with him. The kind of effortless where he can be rock hard next to you, and you’ve both decided to just move on from it.

Steve, meanwhile, spends the rest of the movie not watching a single damn minute of it. He’s too busy trying to calm himself down like a teenage boy and figuring out he can get you on top of him again without being too obvious about the whole thing.

He decides he might just start swallowing his pride and let you win sometimes.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #st drabbles #stevie drabble

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kamiversee · 3 months

Text

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 41 || The Cute Bartender

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, very cute fluff, & teasing.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3.6k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——YOUR QUESTION REMAINS unanswered for quite some time. To constantly weigh out your options of who would be a better lover for you is going to take time.

But, as of right now, even if you wanted to choose Gojo over Choso, he's already made it clear he's not allowing that. He doesn't think he's good for you and, in case you forgot, you're technically supposed to hate him.

That being said, your choice is already made for you.

But none of that is important right now. You were allowed a break until the semester began again but, since your university's winter break was a span of two, almost three months, you were honestly ready to finish the list by late January.

Even though you said you were taking a break from the men, you still kept in contact with them. You'd text Choso on some days but he'd often scold you about how you wanted a break, which only made you want to talk to him more.

Then, you even had your phone calls with Gojo which consisted of him doing the same damn thing-- pestering you by saying 'As much as I love listening to you talk, sweets, you're supposed to be taking a break from me' which, was just as sweet as the messages Choso would send.

Yeah, you were definitely falling for both of them in your own way and nothing could stop that. Even so, you were ready to get back to the list.

There was one name left. You couldn't believe it. As of now, you were laid out on your bed, your delicate fingers curled around a pen as you went down the list of yours. Reading over each name reminded you of your experiences with them, whether it was good or bad, and you were surprised you finally made it this far.

At one point, you doubted you could even do this. So many lessons have been learned, so many personalities and so many situations have been experienced. It's almost, emphasis on almost, beautiful when you think back on it.

To go from a broke and regular college student to one whose life is filled with drama, good (for the most part) sex, and men who've somehow managed to fall for you. It's the kinda thing you never imagined for yourself.

Just one semester ago, you were worried about even landing a job and now look at you; you've managed the money from Gojo better than ever so you're truly set for quite some time.

With a sigh, you place the pen down beside your journal and trace your fingers over the final name; Nanami Kento. Once you sleep with him it's over. It's almost bittersweet to think about.

As you stare at your journal, you think you have a plan for it once the list is complete. A plan that you've talked to Gojo about and he's agreed to-- the two of you are going to burn the list.

Neither of you want any physical evidence of it so you think burning it once it's complete will prove to be a nice way to say goodbye to the memories that come with the list. Nowhere in your text messages or his do you two discuss the list explicitly, just in case someone were ever to go through your devices, and the only time it's been talked about aside from in person is over phone calls.

But, you're not worrying about that getting out. Someone would have to dig really deep to find the recordings of you and Gojo's phone calls. Like, to the police deep to find them. Or hacking your cell. But, you have no reason to worry about that, right? Gojo said he's not involved in anything illegal and you trust him (to some extent).

So again, it's bittersweet to think about this list finally coming to an end. It was like a game you had to play and knowing that the end credits were about to roll soon just made you feel odd inside. Yeah, you wanted it to end but as it was actually happening, it was like leaving a chapter of your life behind.

After all, you'll never be able to undo what's been done. You can't go back and change who you've slept with or how.

So, with that final little thought, you sigh again and then shut your journal. Getting up to put it away in its locked drawer compartment, you wonder what it'll be like to finally meet Nanami.

You have a good feeling about him.

And no, not one of those good feelings that result in disaster but, an actual good feeling. Something about the thought of this tall, blonde, and sexy man whose facial expression holds a stupidly attractive seriousness at all times just makes you feel calm.

You feel like you're going to be dealing with someone so mature that it'll ease your mind, kind of like how your mind was at ease when you first met Choso.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

And you had every right to be in good spirits about meeting Nanami because the man did, in fact, turn out to be one of the best and lightest experiences for you.

Despite how difficult he may seem, Nanami is just a man you couldn't catch at the right time. That was the only reason why you ever considered him to be 'hard' to seduce. And no, it's not some magical effect you had that made your efforts work, it was this genuine and raw connection that formed when you met him.

It was surely a night to be remembered.

A simple pair of black heels lightly clacked against the floor as you walked with your head held high into that damned nightclub-- the same nightclub in which you couldn't run into Nanami at the right time for the longest. This night was different though, as you had arrived before him for once.

It wasn't planned or anything but, your arrival to the building was before he'd gotten there. The dress you wore to accompany the heels on your feet was just as simple and was shaded in the same color; black. It was moderately tight-fitting and hugged your body just right.

Unlike some of your past dresses, it didn't make you feel like you were going all out and you thought you blended in nicely with everyone else that was there. Around your neck was that same necklace Gojo gifted to you on Christmas as you never really had the heart to leave home without it on.

Your excuse for wearing it all the time was because it was really pretty. It had nothing to do with Gojo of course. Or at least, that's what you tell yourself anyway.

Making your way to the bar, you took a seat in an area you knew Nanami to typically sit at and then you scouted the area for either him or the cute brown-haired friend he's always with. Finding nothing and no one, you sigh and decide to order a drink.

After which, you gave yourself thirty minutes before you'd leave and try again in another two weeks. You didn't even tell Gojo you were starting back up on the list yet so it's not like there was any pressure for you to seduce Nanami tonight, maybe that's what made everything so different.

Your nails tapped across the bar as you waited and at some point, you even made conversation with the cheeky bartender. The thing about this bartender is that you've seen him talk to Nanami plenty of times and you're pretty sure they're friends.

He had this really cute face and pretty brown eyes that made you feel safe in a strange way. Every time you see him he's got this beanie on top of his head and his clothes are always baggy, something you saw his manager scold him about a few times at one point.

Either way, today was your first time actually talking to him and you learn that his name is Ino Takuma and that he actually recognizes you, having paid attention to the few times you've been there.

"Are you waiting on someone, beautiful?" Ino had questioned you.

Oh yeah, and he's also been complimenting you nonstop from the moment you two began talking. It's in a friendly way, you think. It doesn't seem like he's flirting, just being kind, which you like.

You smiled at the man, "Is it that obvious?"

He makes this silly face in thought and you note how expressive he is. "Hmmmm, I mean for me, yeah. But that's only because I see you come here around the same time every two weeks."

"Yeah?" You meet his eyes with a smile on your face and he holds the eye contact for at least five seconds before he looks away. He's adorable. "So, you've really been paying attention to me all this time?" You ask before going to take another sip of your preferred drink of the night.

Ino laughs and the sound is so joyful it almost heals something in you. "I mean, nooo..." He drags out, smiling through his words before he shrugs, "I pay attention to everyone. And plus, how could I forget a pretty face like yours?"

You're still staring at him and you don't think you've ever paid attention to how much someone avoids eye contact before dealing with Choso. After that man, it's so obvious to you now when someone gets nervous to look you in the eye for too long.

"Is that a compliment, Ino?" You ask softly, the use of his name making his ears flush a cute shade of pink.

He clears his throat and wipes down a part of the nearby counter. There are not that many people at the bar tonight so that gave him the leisure to speak to you. "...Yeah," Ino replies, trying to focus on his small task instead of your eyes gazing at his face.

You hum. "Thank you," You say before moving to rest your chin in the palm of your hand as you rest your elbow on the bar.

Ino finishes his little task and then places the cloth he used elsewhere, finally looking at you now that your eyes have gone elsewhere, "He'll be here soon, by the way."

You blink and your eyes flick up to Ino's face, confused by his words, "Who?"

He flashes that friendly smile at you, "Nanami."

You're not sure if you should pretend not to know who Nanami is or if you should ask how Ino knows you're waiting on the man. For now, you swallow, "Nanami?"

Ino moves his hand up and over his head a bit, "He's like this tall, blonde," The brown-haired male gestures toward his eyes, "Wears these funky glasses sometimes?"

You bat your eyelashes at him in confusion, "Okay... Why uh, why're you telling me he'll be here soon?"

"You know him, don't you?" Ino asks, his thin and well-kept brows furrowing a bit as he innocently tilts his head.

"I know of him, I suppose," You answer vaguely, "But, why'd you think I know him?"

His shoulders raised a bit, "Cause' he asked me about you."

You swallow the sudden nervous lump in your throat, "H-He asked about me? Why? When?"

Ino chuckles at the worry in your face. To him, it just seemed like you were nervous in a shy sort of way, "He just asked me if you came here any other times. Like, times when he's not here."

"Why?" You ask.

"I dunno'," Ino shrugs casually, "I think you caught his attention." He adds on with a little wink.

Your lips pull into a straight line, "I highly doubt that."

"Why? You're pretty," Ino compliments yet again.

"Thanks but I've seen Nanami enough times to know that I have not caught his attention. Trust me, I know how men operate when their attention is caught." You scoff as you glance over to the dance floor and watch some of the people there.

Ino doesn't seem to understand what exactly you mean by that and his brows furrow, "You caught my attention, and yet this is my first time talking to you." He points out.

Almost naturally, as if you'd grown accustomed to flirting, your gaze trails back over to the cute bartender and you smirk, words slipping out of your mouth without thought, "I've caught your attention? How so?" You ask, unintentionally adding a sultriness to your tone.

He gulps and his eyes avoid yours yet again, "I mean you are an attractive woman. S-So I just mean it in that you catch more people's eye than you think. A-And uh, y'know, not everyone's gonna approach you first because sometimes attractive people make others nervous..." He stammers out.

He's so ridiculously nervous and it's the cutest thing. You lift your head from your hand and cross your arms over the counter, leaning forward a little and your chest unknowingly growing more visible as you do so, "Am I making you nervous right now, Ino?" You whisper.

Okay, now you're purposefully teasing him.

He chuckles, kinda awkwardly, "N-No? Pfft... I'm not nervous. Y-You-," He clears his throat, "You're not making me nervous."

You raise but a single brow and keep your gaze on him, "You can't even look me in the eyes while we talk."

Ino suddenly looks at you, meeting your unwavering gaze and sweating a bit. "I'm lookin' at you now."

You stare long and hard, right into those brow irises of his and he tries to stare back but, he can't help but glance to the left or right for a split second before trying to keep his eyes on yours.

A slow and taunting smile spreads across your features, "Barely." You point out.

He rolls his eyes and sighs, "Whatever. I wasn't nervous I'm jus' not good with eye contact."

You tilt your head at him and narrow your eyes, "That's not true."

"Eh?" Ino's brows push together, "How are you gonna' tell me..." He says with a pout.

You giggle, "You manage eye contact with everyone else just fine."

He moves for a nearby empty glass someone's placed down, and glances at you as he does so, "So you've been paying attention to me, then?"

Of course, your eyes have hardly left his. It's fun teasing someone like this, "A bit, yeah."

Ino moves with the empty glass to place it with other dirty ones, humming a little nervously, "Oh..." As he does so. Then, you watch him pick up a clean glass and move to make a new drink right in front of you.

"Is that okay?" You murmur. Your voice has this purposeful flirtiness to it and it does not go unnoticed, "Am I allowed to pay attention to you, Ino?"

He gulps, "Course' you can."

Your eyes drop to the glass in his hands as he pours alcohol into it and you smirk, "Ino..."

His gaze flicks to your face for a moment, "H-Hm?"

"You're shaking." You point out.

Ino nearly fumbles the glass in his hand entirely and you watch him miss the cup for a moment, a bit of the liquid he'd been pouring trickling onto his hand and then the floor, "Shit," He curses.

You chuckle slightly at first, earning a little pouty glare from the man.

Then as he goes to clean up you hear him mumbling to you, "That's not funny..."

Your chuckling proceeds to elevate into genuine laughter, "Yeah it is," You snicker, "You're adorable, holy fuck."

Ino's face is a little red as your words hit his ears and he drops down to clean the mess on the floor. After which, he pops right back into your line of vision, seeing you still laughing at him and pouting yet again.

"I am not 'adorable'," Ino grumbles.

You giggle, "Yes, you are."

He shakes his head and sighs in this sassy kinda way, "Am' not."

"Are too," You argue.

His eyes meet yours and despite being embarrassed, he's got a little smile back on his face, "Nuh-uh."

You nod, “Yuh-huh."

Ino then rolls his eyes, still smiling, before he puts all the items he had in his hands down to the side. You then watch one hand drop down into his pocket before his phone is pulled out. Ino unlocks the device and then places it in front of you, sliding it closer to you with an empty contact slot on the screen.

"Put your number in here," He sighs, smoothly requesting your contact info like it's nothing.

You raise a brow, "Are you asking for it or are you demanding it?"

Those almost innocent brown eyes of his trail over to yours and he holds eye contact for a longer moment, "I'm asking. I like talking to you so, can I get your number?"

"Hmmm..." You hum playfully, purposefully taking your time to answer, "Is this to be friends or something more?"

He's still looking you in the eyes, "Uh, friends? I'm not sure I could even handle a woman like you."

You raise a brow.

"I mean that in a good way," Ino clarifies.

You shrug and move to enter your number in his phone, "Thanks. I was only asking that 'cause I uh..."

He tilts his head and watches your fingers tap across his screen, "...Have a lot going on?"

"Something like that, yeah." You answer before you finish adding your info and then slide the phone back to him.

He picks up his cell and pockets it before shrugging, "I see, well, if this makes you feel any better, I always try to get people's numbers after a nice conversation with them."

You frown playfully, "Aw, so I'm not special?"

Again, he's flustered, "W-Well, I mean you are b-but I just-"

"Ino," You snicker, "I'm just teasing you, relax."

He rolls his eyes again and sighs, "You're driving me crazy."

For one last time, you tilt your head and give him this flirtatious look, "Am I?"

Ino looks at your expression and gulps, "Yes ma'am."

Okay, is it weird that a part of you wishes he was on the list too? Holy shit is teasing this man fun. Even so, you've got enough men to worry about in your life and you don't need to add to that.

You chuckle and your expression returns to something more platonic, "Alright, I'll stop then."

"Please," Ino begs quietly in a joking manner.

That makes you laugh again and this time, he laughs along with you. Then, you watch him go back to preparing that drink from earlier and he does it flawlessly this time, his nerves calmed after you stop all your teasing.

As the drink is finished, you sip on yours and then a pleasant smell slithers into your nose. It's cologne, a strong but ridiculously pleasant scent filling your nostrils. You blink a few times as you take in what you're smelling and for a second, you wonder if it's coming from Ino because he got kinda close as the drink he prepared was placed next to you.

Your question is answered within the next second though because you hear a voice that accompanies the scent. A deep, sexy, and soothing voice that makes your posture straighten due to how surprisingly close to you it is.

Nothing more than a simple, "Thank you," Was voiced but even so, it was extremely attractive.

Then, you curiously turn to where the voice came from, which was to your right, and you're met with your last target; Nanami Kento.

There he was, in the flesh, right next to you. Like, literally sitting in the barstool next to yours. And that drink Ino made? Yeah, it was his. Your eyes were all over the man, drinking in his features shamelessly.

The man seemed to be more muscular than you thought he was as the blue button-up shirt he wore clung to his body so delectably. The sleeves were rolled up near his elbows and you could see how muscular his arm was, veins decorating his skin as they became visible from his elbow and down.

The shirt was just hugging his body and you couldn't help but stare. Then, for a moment you look down at his pants. He wore these khakis that were just as fucking tight as his shirt and you swear you didn't mean to look at his crotch but because of the way he sat it was like your eyes were there before you even rendered it.

God, his pants hugged his thighs and you just drink in the way his hips push up slightly as he adjusts the way he sits. Holy fuck, you had to force your eyes up because you swore you could see his manhood, or at least imagine what he's hiding beneath those clothes of his.

So, your eyes went back up to areas more respectable to look at, such as his shirt, which you noticed he had enough buttons undone to reveal a teasing amount of his chest. His collarbone was so sharp and defined and you could only imagine the rest of his body.

Then, you trailed up just a bit more to his neck, then his jaw which was sharp as fuck, to his defined cheekbones, and then his eyes-

And shit.

He was already looking at you.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

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