#I still think they’re fucking stupid like use a phone???
Text
keep it quiet ๋࣭ ⚝
☾₊‧⁺...ft. : g. satoru + g. suguru + n. kento + h. hiromi + f. toji + k. shiu + k. choso + r. sukuna + h. kinji + t. fumihiko + t. aoi
☾₊‧⁺...cw : college au, 'we have to be quiet' trope, unprotected sex
☾₊‧⁺...synopsis + a/n : this is based off an old ask from my old account that i just HAD to redo but for the jjk men : "which of the jjk men would fuck you when visiting your parents in your childhood home?"
who teases you the whole time ↴
g. suguru ; oh, he’s an asshole, acting like an innocent angel when in reality he’s slipped his hand into the back of your sweatpants several times today, giving your ass a squeeze when your parents weren’t looking. you nearly curse him out when he ‘squeezed past’ you, his hand on your waist pulling you against him as he makes sure you feel how hard he is through his pants. so it's no surprise when he whisks you away and has you pressed against your bedroom wall.
“do you hear that? those dirty noises you making from me fucking you? bet you wanted this all day, didn’t you, princess?” “didn’t mean to go that deep…but might do it again, just like this. oooh, I like that noise you made, pretty girl, make it again for me.”
g. satoru ; satoru can sense you getting needy, pulling you to your bedroom the second your parents bid the two of you good night. it's technically his fault, just a few minutes before your parents said goodnight, he excused himself to the bathroom. you were confused when your phone buzzed and you saw a message from satoru, opening it just to see a picture of his hand wrapped around his dick.
“didya plan this, baby? hm? for me to fuck you until you cream on my cock in your parents' house? so needy, my pretty little baby.” “such a whore f'me...you can’t stop thinking about my dick, look at how wet you got just from that picture. bet it feels good being stuffed with it now, right, baby?” "oooh, she's creamin' all over me, so pretty, i can't stop, can't fucking stop, so fucking pretty when you're all messy like this."
f. toji ; he acts like it’s not him who had you against the wall with his hands up your shirt and his tongue in your mouth literally seconds before your parents came back home from the store. the two of you are on edge, and the second your parents tell toji he is free from helping in the kitchen, he drags you away to your old bedroom down the hall to continue what he started.
“you're not talkin', but fuck, you’re making so much noise down here, they’re gonna know, sweetheart.” “you gonna cum, mama? aww, pretty thing's gonna make a mess of my cock while your parents are down the hall waiting for us to come eat? fuck, do it, baby, cum all over my cock like a good girl.”
r. sukuna : it's some family get-together your parents invited you to, but you can barely focus on saying hi to everywhere with the way sukuna is draped over you, arms around your waist as he presses his hips into your ass as you talked to your parents. the moment you have the chance, you make some excuse about showing sukuna your childhood home, dragging him inside to your old bathroom.
“you really wanted me, didn’t you? my pretty whore, sucking me back in, your squeezing me so tight.” “had to pull me away into the bathroom to fuck you stupid. tch, desperate slut." "you know your parents are literally right outside, what if they come back in? mm? come on, let me really fuck y'deep, give ya what you want.”
h. kinji : he just wants to get on your nerves, seeing how bold you were acting in the car earlier about being your parents’ best kid, telling kinji what an angel you were in your parents’ eyes. sure, you still are the biggest sweetheart kinji has ever encountered but...little angel? oh, he couldn't wait to prove to you how that’s changed.
“’little angel’, huh? pfft, if only they knew what a slut their precious girl is. what if they walked in right now, seeing how their ‘good little angel’ is taking her boyfriend's dick like a dirty little slut?” “right there? is that where it feels good, cupcake? ohh, shit, baby, did you cum already? aww, you can keep going right?” "i know, i know, 's too much, 's too much, but you're takin' it like a champ, hun, just keep cummin' and let your man fuck you good, baby, pretty please?"
who is loud and doesn't care ↴
t. fumihiko : if you want to keep him quiet, you better kiss him or put something in his mouth to shut him up because he’s so lost in how good you feel that he can’t keep his volume down, knowing that your parents are probably watching tv downstairs.
“i-i can’t stay quiet, ‘m sorry, if we get caught i-i’ll make up to you, just-just lemme go faster, pretty please?” “ah, i know i said one more but can’t stop, n-need to cum again!" "’s already leaking out of you, hohmygodd...g-gotta fill you again, keep you nice and full of my cum, fuuuuck, ‘m gonna cum again!”
t. aoi : it's those damn sweatpants. the second he changed when you got to your parents’ house, you can fucking see his dick print when he sits down, the way he has to spread his legs not helping. you drag him into the bathroom with the intent to fix it, just to see this motherfucker isn't wearing underwear.
“aww, bunny, ya didn’t have t' lie. if you wanted me to fuck you so bad all you had to do was ask.” “saw you starin’ at it, you're not very subtle...you happy now that 'm fucking you full, bunny? shh, don't whine, babe, 's okay.” “so loud, they're gonna know i’m about to stuff you with my cum. hey, don't cover your mouth, it's alright, i'll buy 'em somethin' to make up for it, bunny.”
k. choso : as you sit next to him at the dinner table, you can feel his leg bouncing, rubbing up against yours. you press your hand to his leg, looking at him with a concerned face when you see how choso is sweating a little, his ears pink. all it takes is one glance down for you to see he got himself worked up.
“i know, 'm sorry, 'm so sorry, b-bad timing but i need you. i’m so fucking hard. g-god, you're just so pretty and-and i gotta fuck you, i promise i'll do it nice 'n' good, you'll love it so much, baby.” “h-huh? fuck, i knoww, g-gotta be quiet but you feel so good. can i go harder? please? i know it’ll make noise, but need to go harder, wanna cum in you, wanna fuckin' stuff your pretty cunt full of my cum, babyyy.”
who manages to stay quiet ↴
h. hiromi : hiromi didn’t know what happened until you sat him on your bed, locking the door behind you before getting in his lap and pulling him into a deep kiss. he doesn’t know how thin the walls are so he opts to keep your lips on his so your moans don’t reach your parents in the living room.
“shhh…stay quiet, sweet girl. i know it’s a lot, but you have to be quiet.” “i can…see a little bump whenever i fucking slide back into you...god. what if i press down on it- oh fuck, don’t squeeze me like that, fuck.” “you’re squeezing me so tight, sweetheart, does it feel that good? yeah? hey, hey, shhh, come here. kiss me, don’t be too loud, kiss me when you cum.”
n. kento : kento is hushing you the whole time, not questioning the way you shook him awake while whispering his name. poor thing, he can instantly hear the desperation in your voice, the want and need to take care of you helping him wake up quicker. but your parents were above your room, so kento knows he had to keep you quiet.
“nonono, let me take care of you darling. i don't mind, you just focus on staying quiet, i’ll make it all go away.” “mhm, i know i’m hitting your spot, angel, but you have to stay quiet. i know it feels good, i knowwwww, but stay quiet for me.” “shh, shh, you can do it, cum quietly like a good girl, i've taught you how to be a good girl, right? come on, be good, be a good girl for me, cum for me.”
k. shiu : it's 4am when he wakes you up, mumbling something about not being able to sleep. you don't even get the chance to ask him what's wrong before he pulls his pajama pants down, his cock slapping against his stomach as a thick stand of precum dripping down the base. he needs help otherwise he’ll be up all night.
"mm, angel, you're being too loud. be quiet for me, don’t need your parents hearing us.” “stop making so much noise before i fuck your mouth instead, or is that what you want?” “i should've had you like this in the first place...poor thing, always so noisy when my cock hits you this deep, right? mmn, just keep your ass up and your face in the pillow, baby, sound so pretty all muffled.”
all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work
#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo smut#toji smut#suguru smut#nanami smut#gojo satoru x reader#geto suguru x reader#nanami kento x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro smut#hakari kinji x reader#kamo choso x reader#choso smut#higuruma hiromi x reader#higuruma smut#sukuna x reader#sukuna smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut#takaba fumihiko smut#takaba fumihiko x reader#todo aoi x you#todo aoi x reader#todo aoi smut#𖤐 ── lxnarblabs.
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
promise ring
#: tattoo artist boyfriend!geto, fluff, gn!reader, implied college au, gojo cameo
wc: 1.4k
tw/cw: unusally suggestive (my brain was in the gutter…), the f word (f*ck, a couple times), use of pet names (baby, sweetheart)
“ya like it up there?” geto chuckles, setting his book down above his head. he’s lying on his back, using his hands as a pillow, as he watches you. your legs are straddling his waist and you’re tracing the tattoos that decorate his chest. you hum, curling your fingers to scratch softly at his skin. “mm…” he groans, “mercy, baby, they’re healed but still a little… mmh… tender...”
“yeah?” you tease, letting your fingers slide lower down his abdomen, “then what about here?” you’re inching closer to his waistband when he flips you over, caging you underneath him, his hand pulling you close from the small of your back. his gaze drops to your lips and he licks his hungrily.
“fuck around and find out,” he grins, “you fucked around, so now you get to find out.” you didn’t get a chance to retort as geto quickly closes the space between you, trapping your mouth with his and hands wandering every part of your body. he’s lifting your shirt, the tantalizing skin of your stomach peeking through, and trails kisses down from your jaw to your neck, collarbone, and then chest, looking up at you before continuing any further. “this okay, sweetheart?” he presses a kiss against your stomach, “do you want me to stop?”
your fingers find his hair, keeping his head in place, and you arch your back, chasing the feeling of his lips brushing against your skin again. “no,” you breathe, “keep going.” too caught up in the pleasure rippling across your body, you don’t register the sound of the door unlocking.
“what the fuck- suguru, why didn’t you- ohhh, i see… nevermind! carry on!” gojo quickly turns on his heel and walks out, the door slamming shut behind him. geto lets his head fall into the crook of your shoulder, sighing when you leave a few comforting strokes on his hair, before heaving himself up to retrieve his roommate. after he leaves, you sit up, fixing yourself, and bring your knees up to your chest, waiting for their return.
“honestly, satoru, why do you have a phone if you don’t even use it?” you hear geto grumble as he unlocks the door.
“i’m sorry! i just didn’t see it! hey y/n.”
“yeah, yeah. whatever… sorry ‘bout that, baby,” he says, sitting down beside you, “looks like we got ourselves a guest.” he glares pointedly at gojo, who crosses his arms in response and sticks out his tongue at geto.
“this ‘guest’ also happens to pay half of the rent here, you know,” gojo huffs, muttering, “i should’ve stayed in the library longer…”
“yes you should’ve, why didn’t you?”
“because i was getting hungry and tired,” he shoots back, “anyways, let’s get takeout. what would you like to eat, y/n?”
“oh, uh, how about sushi?”
“i want ramen.”
gojo hums, “okay, sushi it is. sprite okay with you, y/n?” tapping away at his phone, gojo quickly finishes putting in the order and rises from his spot on the couch. “i ordered it, and it's gonna be 30 minutes. please keep the noise to a minimum… i’m gonna take a nap, wake me up when it’s here.”
geto scoffs, rolling his eyes, as you laugh. the door closes behind gojo with a soft click. geto pulls out his ipad, opening the application he uses to sketch tattoo designs. you lean your head on his shoulder, peeking at the screen, and look at his drawings—this one looks to be a spine tattoo.
“is that for you?”
geto sighs, “for a client. he wanted something symbolic, has something to do with his girlfriend or something like that…”
you notice the wrinkles forming from his furrowed brows, “hm... so, what are you thinking about?”
“...tattoos based on relationships are dangerous,” he murmurs, adding more lines to his design, “and if things go wrong, it gets very difficult. i don’t understand why they would do that to themselves. don’t you think it’s stupid?.”
“i think it’s pretty sweet actually,” you say, “you’re making that conscious decision even while knowing the consequences. pretty telling about their determination and loyalty, don’t you think?”
geto hums, still touching up the design, “...if you say so, baby.”
—
“feel free to talk about something. it might help with the pain.” geto smiles sympathetically at the man lying down in the chair.
“what… would i even talk about?” the man asks through gritted teeth.
geto wipes away at the excess ink, examining his work, “what about why you’re getting this tattoo? you said it had something to do with your girlfriend?”
some of the pain seems to disappear from his face, and a shy smile stretches across his lips: he’s obviously lost in thought about his girlfriend. “it’s a reference to one of those k-dramas that she’s been watching lately. before we got serious, we were watching this one called ‘guardian’ something… the title is too long for me to remember,” he chuckles, “but the flower the guy gives the girl—buckwheat flowers—it means ‘lover,’ and it got me thinking about my relationship with her. and it just hit me, like, it’s her. i want to spend the rest of my life with her.”
“buckwheat flowers…” geto murmurs softly, “they mean ‘lover,’ you say?”
“yeah. at least according to the drama they do. didn’t really google it to check. and so that’s why i wanted to get that bouquet tattooed on me. it also has her favorite actor, so naturally she really loves the show too.”
“i see…” geto stops working on the tattoo completely, “i know i already asked you this before we started, but are you really sure about this tattoo? what if… things go wrong? it’s not too late, i could improvise the design right now and get you something that you might be happier with in the long run.”
the man blinks, “no, but i understand your concern. it must be frustrating to spend hours on tattoos only for it to become meaningless the next day…” geto stays silent, staring at the quarter-finished tattoo, so the man continues, “i love her, and i’m choosing her. you know that ring ceremony thing that those engineer people have? how the ring is supposed to remind the engineer of their obligation or something like that? i want the tattoo to be like that. i want it to remind her that i’m choosing her and that i’m promising her my forever, and i want to remind myself that she’s who i want and that the thing we’ve built together is worth it for me.”
“i… never thought of it like that,” geto admits, picking the pen back up and preparing to start work again, “should i continue?”
“...how about a 5 minute break?” the man asks, tone hopeful, beads of sweat trailing down his forehead.
geto laughs, “you got it.”
—
“hey, what’s this?” you grab at geto’s hand, peering at his latest tattoo, “a line?”
“a band,” he corrects, “got a little bored at the shop today, so i just did it.”
you look up at him quizzically and he shrugs. it was a simple black stripe that went around his ring finger. flipping over his hand, his palm facing you, you continue to study the tattoo, when your eyes widen at your newest discovery. “suguru…” your voice comes barely above a whisper, and a hand comes up to cover your mouth, “my initials?”
geto glances away, cheeks flushing, as he scratches at the back of his head sheepishly, “yeah, i uh… yeah.”
“weren’t you the one who said that people who tattoo something of their partner’s are a different level of idiotic?” you say, quirking an eyebrow and a playful smile curling the corner of your mouth.
geto hid his face in his other hand, “don’t remind me...”
you thumb the tattoo thoughtfully, “were you thinking about me?”
“i’m always thinking about you.”
you smile at that, meeting his steady eyes, “when you did it, i mean.”
“i don’t think that changes my answer,” geto says, raising an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes.
you pretend to glare at him, straightening up and crossing your arms over your chest. “...just shut up and kiss me already,” you tell him, and he obliges immediately, pulling you in close and kissing your lips sweetly. coaxing your mouth open, he turns his head to deepen the kiss. he presses his forehead against yours when he pulls away, your lips parted still as you catch your breath.
“my forever,” he tells you, voice barely audible, but you can still hear him clear as day, “it’s yours.”
you smile, “i know.”
he wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you close, and rests his head on your shoulder, “and your forever is mine.”
“it is.”
koi's notes: okay but did they get the sushi though??? 🧐🧐 anyways dedicated to @omgeto and a huge thank you to emp and mothe (@planetxiao) because i love and appreciate y'all so very much
#s.k.#sort: jjk#jjk: fluff#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x you#jjk x reader#jjk x you#geto suguru fluff#jjk fluff#geto x reader#geto x you
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
old habits (die hard) ❀ cl16
in which charles charles has a knack for fucking things up, and you have a talent for slowly letting him back in
find part one here.
contains: social media au, ex!charles leclerc x fem!reader, angsty charles and yn living her best life, toxic relationships maybe, mentions of new partners, charles is a confusing man, charles is a jealous asshole
note: i don’t think this is the final part lmao it’s kinda left of a cliff (if u saw me repost no u didn’t)
your phone 📞
charlie
hey
i miss you
a lot
read, 11:23 pm.
charlie
please don’t be like that y/n
i’m serious
you
charles you literally have a girlfriend
charlie
she’s not my girlfriend
you
do you think i’m stupid? like actually
charlie
no
but she really isn’t, we’re just talking
and hanging out i guess
you
oh my god
charlie
love, you know i miss you
you
yes, because finding another girl right after saying you only want to focus on racing sends me such a great message
you’re confusing as hell
charlie
i know, i really messed up.
i shouldn’t have broken up with you in the first place
but the season was getting so intense and i really want this championship, i thought it would be better for us to put it on pause to save us both the trouble
you
so what’s so different about her that makes her an exception?
charles
alex is easy for me
you
so i’m difficult?
charles
that’s not what i mean
you
no it is what you mean
i’m difficult for showing up to your races and being there when you need me
or when i’m there for you when you dnf? or when ferrari fucks up your strategy?
i was willing to stay friends with you after i did all that and you still broke up with me because i had hopes we would make it work and get back together
charlie
i do want to get back together
you
no you don’t
you moved on so quickly like i was nothing
charlie
you also got with someone too
you
because i didn’t want to look like an idiot seeing all the news after telling my friends i had hope
charlie
yeah but posting him in your bed??
you
so you’re just saying all of this because of that guy i posted?
wtf is your deal charles
fuck you
❀ instagram ❀
liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, alexalbon, and 70,331others
yourinstagram larger than life (in madrid)
view all comments
lilymhe oh my god
lilymhe you scandalous girl
yourinstagram oops?
landonorris he better watch his hands
yourinstagram he said “fuck off”
landonorris i’ll punch him in his face
carlossainz55 mariposa 🦋
yourinstagram 🥺
user are these two dating???
4zaferrari no they’re just friends, this is someone else
kikagomes sexy sexy pair 💋
yourinstagram you’re sexier bebe
pierregasly get away from my girlfriend
yourinstagram get off my page maybe?
alexalbon show me the man
yourinstagram no you’ll just steal him
user loved watching your vlog the other day
liked by yourinstagram
user seeing yn happy is so great but i can’t be the only one missing her and charles right??
user where are you going next omg!!
yourinstagram no idea!!
lando.jpg updated their story 1 hour ago
seen by yourinstagram, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 1 million others
yourinstagram replied to this story: i did not give permission for you to post this young man!
❀ twitter ❀
your phone 📞
charlie
you put him in your vlog? and you’re still posting him?
are you dating
y/n
are we seriously doing this right now
why are you stalking me
charlie
i’m not stalking you, i just care
fuck just answer the question please
y/n
i’m barely posting him, his face wasn’t in it
and no, we’re just seeing each other right now. yk summer flings i guess
charlie
you know it hurts me to see this y/n, please love
y/n
i don’t care, we’re not together anymore
you texting me is hurting everyone, your “friend” included
charlie
she knows we’re not dating
please just come back to monaco y/n
we can talk face to face
can i call you right now?
you
i’m with carlos and lando
charlie
are you also with that guy
you
yeah
charlie
will you finally tell me who he is?
you
does it really matter?
let’s just talk when i’m back in monaco please
and let me enjoy my vacation in peace
charlie
when are you back?
you
i’ll let you know
charlie
okay
i love you
you
yeah
love you too
❀ instagram ❀
yourinstagram updated their story 10 mins ago
❀ twitter ❀
tags: @1655clean @i-wish-this-was-me @sunny44 @leclercdream
#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 smau#f1 x female reader#f1 x you#cl16 x reader#cl16 imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc social media au#f1 x black!reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
asking best friend!stray kids what you are pt.2
all characters depicted in my writing are from my own imagination and do NOT in any way represent nor reflect the people in real life :)
➩pairing: ot8 x gn!reader
➩genre(s): angst, some fluff
➩warnings: strong language, mentions of sex, some of the boys are still mean, some unhappy endings
➩wc: 9.4k (9433)
➩author’s note: i am so serious if anybody talks to you in a way to undermine, condescend or just simply belittle you and make you feel stupid, pls pls pls cut that person out of your life. even if they’re doing it as a ‘joke’. it never ends well. ily all and you deserve the best of the best, always <3
➩parts: part one
chris | 1.2k (1201) words
After the fourth ring, you swipe the little phone symbol across your screen and the time starts. You watch it go from one second, to the next, and the next, before a deep elongated sigh pulls you out of your trance.
You put him on speaker, afraid of the way you’d react if you were to hear him so close to you in your ear. You can’t handle that right now.
“Y/n?” His slightly distorted voice says. You don’t reply, placing the phone down in front of you as you sit and fiddle with the rings on your fingers.
“Come on sweetheart, say something please. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Chris asks softly. Akin to a parent who would try and get their child to confess to stealing cookies out of the cookie jar.
You run your hands down your face. You’re annoyed with him, most definitely. But you can’t deny the butterflies that start to flutter in your stomach when he addresses you like that.
It’s not fair.
The line is painfully silent for another two minutes. Chris patiently, or rather stubbornly, waiting for you to speak.
“This…this is harder than I thought it’d be.” You say, your voice croaking slightly as this is the first time you have spoken in a while.
“Okay. Try not to think too much about it. Just speak your truth, unload it all.” Chris encourages.
You take a deep breath and run your hands up and down your thighs to stop them from clamming up.
“You hurt my feelings. You are continuing to hurt my feelings. I feel as if I’m the only one who is missing out on an inside joke that everybody seems to know but me.” You halt, waiting to see if he would have a rebuttal. Except he doesn’t and his silence spurs you on to continue.��
“I thought we were practically dating. I thought that night would be the night that you would ask to be together as a couple. You know, exclusive?” You chuckle bitterly. “So imagine my surprise when you decide to ignore me for a week. Do you know how shitty that felt?” You ask him.
You can just about hear his breaths. They’re soft and collected. Yet the more you wait for his response that he doesn’t seem to be giving, you are becoming the opposite of that.
“I asked you a question.” You say curtly.
“I can see how that would make you feel shitty, yes. For that I am sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but I felt like I fucked everything up for us.” You think he sounded genuine enough when he said that, so you elect yourself to be quiet so he can continue.
“I should’ve stopped it. Doing it knowing I wasn’t ready for it to happen—like that anyway—was not fair on you. I wouldn’t say that it has complicated things per say, but it has led me to think about a few things.” Chris finishes.
You sit there, the flaps of the butterfly wings now causing the bile to travel upwards and out. You reach over and grab your water bottle from your bedside table and chug as much as you can.
“Think about things like what?” You will yourself to say, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand at the water that managed to escape and drip down your chin.
He doesn’t reply which does not settle your nerves. Especially not after that last sentence he said. Silence is not your friend at this moment.
“Chris—”
“I think that we should be together.” He practically vomits out.
Your eyes widen and your eyebrows shoot up to the top of your skull.
“What!”
“Y/n?”
You both speak at the same time.
“Oh sorry you go ahead.”
“Sorry, you first.”
You hear a small chuckle over the line as you speak over each other again. He stays silent this time, letting you talk.
“Are you serious? Like you really mean that? You aren’t playing me for a fool right?” You ask quickly.
“Yes. Yes. No,” You release a silent scream. “I really do want us. I have always wanted us, but this—you—made me realise that we should’ve made it official a while ago. There were only so many more excuses I could pull out of the bag to mask me taking you out on dates as just ‘best friends hanging out doing questionable things’.”
Of course, you knew this as you are smart. The excuse he gave when he took you to a rooftop restaurant with candlelights everywhere was certainly not ‘for practice when I get a partner’. Him having your favourite meal prepared and the playlist the two of you made playing in the background? Dead giveaway.
“Plus it is also totally unrealistic that you as my best friend would splash that much cash on me unless it was because you lost a bet. So I had a feeling I knew something was up. Which I guess is why I got a bit too excited and jumped to the conclusion that we were already a couple.” You say scratching the back of your neck.
“Not true! I would always buy you things.” Chris corrects.
“Yeah but you’d always complain whilst doing so. So when you stopped complaining, something had clearly shifted.” You clarify.
You can envision the eye roll he does paired with the sigh he releases making you laugh.
There’s another silence that fills the space, albeit this time it is comfortable. Until he sneezes down the line and you catch yourself smiling warmly as you bless him.
“What happens now? Do we get a level up on our relationship or something? Or do I magically spawn in your arms and you cuddle me until I fall asleep? I’m thinking that sounds like the correct thing to happen next.” He teases.
“Of course that’s what you think.”
“Hey, I don’t make the rules, I just work here.” He says in a seductive drawl.
“You’re still very much in the dog house. Honestly, I feel it’s only fair for me to leave you waiting a week to even see me.” You speak without a hint of sarcasm.
It goes quiet over the phone again. You look down at your rings, twisting them around your finger gently.
“Okay…I guess that’s fair.” He finally responds.
You release a breath you weren't aware you were holding, nodding to yourself in agreement.
“You’re one hundred percent certain you want this? Want to be together past just best friends?” You clarify.
“What do you not trust me already? Y/n I want to be with you. I have wanted to be with you. Our communication just wasn’t great. But we will work on it together. Okay?” Chris speaks gently down the phone.
“Okay.” You say softly.
Though it will take a day or two for you to get over the fact he didn’t message you for a week, you feel as though a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.
Whatever the next step of your relationship with Chris is, you’re just relieved that you get to do it together with no more misunderstandings.
minho | 1.0k (1032) words
You and Minho decided that it would be best for you to discuss your relationship over lunch. He even offered to pay which you certainly were not going to turn down.
You have been hyping yourself up in front of the mirror for about twenty minutes since Minho said he was en route. If Minho texting you earlier was any indication of how this conversation will go, then you are sure you aren’t silly for practising breathing techniques and how to not make a fool of yourself on a whole.
You’re getting your jacket when you hear his knock at the door. You know it’s him because he only ever knocks in a pattern.
Opening the door, you’re glad to see him greet you with a smile on your face. Though that’s how it has always been in your relationship. Even when you fight, you always know to resolve the issue with a smile and to never yell at each other.
Even though you could tell he was anxious, he was masking it well. Throughout the drive, playing your favourite songs. Even now in the café ordering you your favourite meal when he caught you scanning the menu acting like you didn’t know what you wanted already.
Safe to say, the both of you calm each other down, which makes this conversation much easier to have.
“So, let's address the elephant in the room.” You start, taking a sip of your milkshake.
“I first want to say that whatever we choose to do from this point on, you are not allowed to leave me. Well, you can’t anyways because I am always going to be in your life.” He says with an unwavering smile on his face.
You hold back your smile and nod, letting him carry on.
“No I do mean it. I just think that we’d be better off just being…us. You know what I mean?” He says using his hands to emphasise.
“Mmm, let’s dig a little deeper. I just don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us. Obviously what we shared was nice and I don’t think that we should regret it, right?” You say with a tilt of your head.
“I agree. I had a think about it whilst I drove to your house to pick you up and I don’t think it was fair of me to question what we did. In terms of making you think that I felt that it wasn’t right of us to do.” Minho explains. He looks around before leaning in slightly. “Especially since that was the best sex I have had in months.” He throws a wink your way and you have to stop yourself from taking a bow.
Him saying that feels as though numerous weights have been lifted off of your shoulders. You were most anxious about whether he either hated it or thought it was a mistake. So you’re now glad to hear that neither of it was the case.
The waiter comes over with your food and you thank them. You’re about to pick up your fork and take a bite of food to fuel your courage but you’re abruptly tutted at.
“Just because we are in the midst of an important conversation does not mean we skip tradition.” Minho says, raising his eyebrow at you.
You place the fork down and put up a peace sign as you pose. He takes out his camera and snaps a photo of you with both his and your meal in the frame. He then puts his middle finger up and poses with an over exaggerated bored expression. You chuckle to yourself before taking the photo.
“You said that we moved too fast assuming that we were moving in the first place. Do you still think that now?” You say before taking a bite of your meal.
He finishes his mouthful as he furrows his eyebrows and thinks about your question.
“Well I mean, I’d be an idiot to say that I didn’t think that it wouldn’t be going anywhere. But for us right now, I don’t think we should be moving at all.” He speaks.
The food you are swallowing seems to get a little stuck as you start to quietly choke. All the while Minho grows increasingly embarrassed at your lack of ability to stay alive.
“Okay calm, people are starting to look over.” He says to you, pouring you a glass of water from the jug on the table.
You take a few gulps and tap your chest.
“Damn. You shouldn’t say things like that when I’m mid chew.” You scold.
“My apologies, from now on I shall wait until the food has made its descent to the pit of acid in your stomach.” He lightly chuckles.
“So what I’m hearing is that all things considered romantically, we should stop. So we just continue on as friends?” You clarify.
He nods.
“Hit the nail on the head.”
“Right…I mean I guess that works. After all, we were friends before we got curious so I’m pretty sure we can just laugh about it and carry on.” You smile albeit quite painfully.
“Yes of course! We were just curious…” Minho adds, a painful smile also etched onto his features.
Can you just laugh about it and carry on? Even when it felt so natural? So…right?
There’s a silence pregnant with awkwardness as you and Minho avoid each other’s gazes and continue to eat.
Akin to a supporting artist having a cue to interact with the leads of a movie, the waiter comes over to ask if everything was alright with the food.
You both bombard him with praise and he seems a little taken aback and hurries away to the next table.
You don’t lie to Minho often, much like he doesn’t lie to you. However, in this café it seems the two of you are egregious liars. Which explains the way you both see right through each other.
You know that it’s only a matter of time until something happens again because unfortunately you have crossed the line. Let’s just hope you can go at least a month before you’re entangled in each other's arms again.
changbin | 1.1k (1120) words
One, two, three knocks on your door. You approach it slowly, looking through the peephole to see Changbin standing in his big puffer jacket and gloves.
You consider letting him stay in the cold a little longer, but the goodness in your heart wills your hand to open the door.
“Come in quickly, it’s cold.” You order.
He doesn’t dally with his movements, coming inside quickly as you shut the door behind him. It’s quiet as he takes off his shoes and coat, giving you a mildly awkward smile that was still dulcet.
“I was just making breakfast, would you like some?” You offer, walking into the kitchen.
“Oh, yes please that’d be nice thank you.” He says, following after you.
The atmosphere feels a little strange and you aren’t used to it. Changbin hasn’t yelled at all since stepping foot inside and usually you would’ve threatened the duct tape on his mouth by now.
You engage in some aimless chit chat with him whilst you cook. You figured you would ease into this conversation rather than just immediately diving head first.
“I like what you’ve done with the place.” Changbin admires as he looks around your kitchen.
You turn to him, bewildered.
“I haven’t changed my kitchen since I moved in here, bin.” You establish.
“Really? Oh. I thought there was something different about this place in the week and a bit that I have been gone.” He says with genuinity.
“Why would I have changed my kitchen around in the week that you’ve been gone?” You ask.
He shrugs, stealing a blueberry from the bowl when your back is turned from him.
“I don’t know. Some people dye or cut their hair when they’re upset. I figured since you like your hair too much, you would’ve changed the next best thing.” He solidifies, feeling much too content with the way his brian works.
You on the other hand aren’t sure whether you’re being tested or if this is truly how he is choosing to behave.
You plate up the food and as you’re about to slide his plate over to him, you pull it back.
“For every question answered, you get a mouthful of food.” At this, Changbin gawks.
“This seems illegal in some form or another.” He sulks.
You open up your phone to your conversation with him.
“So it says here that you didn’t want to mess up our friendship, but emotions were running high and we weren’t thinking about the consequences. What consequences would that be?” You state.
He looks at you quizzically.
“Why do I feel like I’m in court right now? You’re reading the text messages out like evidence and I’m scared.” He says laughing awkwardly.
“You answer the question. You get to eat.” You redirect. He clears his throat before he begins.
“Well the consequences would be, erm, how us sleeping together will create ripples in our friendship whether we like it or not. I mean I’m not saying I regret it fully…but maybe a tiny bit?” He says fiddling with his hands.
He opens his mouth wide as he awaits your end of the deal. You pick up the fork and scoop up some food before you feed it to him.
For people who aren’t a couple, you sure do act like it.
“Why is that?” You press further.
“Because I didn’t want something like this to happen. By that I mean, if we were going to go all the way, then we should have established what we were prior. Even though our friends may think we are a couple, it wasn’t exclusively spoken about between us.” A beat. “But now I think that by letting ourselves get carried away, we missed the opportunity to settle things out with both of us clear on where we stand in our relationship.” He finishes.
You decide to give him two mouthfuls for that answer to which he hums happily in response.
You cannot doubt that what he said makes sense. You should have spoken about what you guys were before engaging in something as intimate as sleeping with each other.
Yet for two people who have already gone to second base countless times before and couldn’t control the libido this time, you also understand where things got messy.
“I think I get where you’re coming from now.” You say, eating your own mouthful.
Changbin nods in acknowledgment before stealing a handful of blueberries.
“But you also said that you still wanna be my best friend. Is that still true? Do you think we can get past this?” You ask apprehensively.
Changbin’s eyebrows furrow in disbelief.
“Of course! To both of your questions. Look at us, we’ve lasted this long. Yeah so I’ve been inside you, that’s fine! At least we had a good time, right? We can say that we’ve done it and gotten it out of our system.” He exclaims.
You pull a face at the last sentence and he is immediately scrambling to reword what he means.
“No, I don't see it as a throwaway act! I meant that because we had been stopping at second base because we were too scared to take it all the way, we finally reached the goal.” He stammers.
You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms.
“No I don’t mean that sleeping with you was the goal, if anything it was off the pitch.” He tries to explain.
A single tilt of your head was all that was needed in order for him to slam his head into his hands and mutter a ‘I give up’.
You shake your head and slide the plate over to him as you move across the island to sit on the stall next to him. You place an arm around his shoulder as he sighs.
“I don’t want to lose you as my best friend too, bin. Let’s just take it one day at a time, yeah? What happened, happened. Now we both know where we stand about our friendship, it’s okay.”
He lifts his head from his palms and looks over you with his big black eyes.
“You mean that? Like actually? We’re good?” He asks. You laugh slightly.
“Yes bin, we’re good.” You reassured him.
“Oh thank God. Does that mean I can still call you my sweet—”
“One day at a time.” You say sternly.
The both of you smile as you finish the rest of your breakfast. There’s a twinge of hurt that you feel for you and Changbin not going forward as a couple, but you would rather this than to lose him forever.
So for now, you’ll cherish what an amazing friendship the two of you have and will continue to have.
hyunjin | 1.1k (1113) words
“Y/n open the fucking door.” You mimic Hyunjin’s last text message to you aloud as you walk down the stairs.
You were by no means rushing to get to the door, if anything, you think that standing right by it for a good two minutes or so to really irritate him would make you feel much better than you currently do.
Hyunjin continuously banging on the door pulls you out of your stubborn demeanour. If not for your neighbours, you’d have let him continue to bang against the door until his knuckles bruised.
Yet it seems your night couldn’t get any worse considering you’ve just taken a fist to the face. Perhaps that was your fault for catching him off guard when he was vigorously knocking as he appeared to have ‘knocked’ your face instead of the door.
“Oh fuck! Y/n!” Hyunjin yells as he cradles your face in his hands. You appreciate the gesture, you do, he was still your best friend after all. But if this wasn’t the cherry on top of the cake then you don’t know what is.
“Yep, good to see you too hyune.” You groan.
You scrunch your face as your hand moves to soothe your forehead. Shrugging out of his hold, you step inside of your home, trusting that he would follow suit and shut the door behind him.
“Y/n darling I am so sorry. I promise I didn’t mean to knock against…your forehead.” He speaks with utmost genuinity as he shadows behind you.
You don’t say anything as you just grab yourself some frozen peas wrapped in a tea towel before moving to your living room to make yourself comfortable on the sofa as you wait for him to explain everything.
You’re thankful that he seems to be getting the hints tonight. He takes his place beside you, worry etched onto his beautiful face.
Damn his prince-like features…
“Explain yourself then, since texting wasn’t working for you.” You spit. He bites his lip nervously and fidgets with his hands before his eyes look from the bag of peas until falling onto your own.
“When…when I said I didn’t want you as my best friend, I meant because we can’t just go back to being best friends after that. It would just kill me knowing that you aren’t mine even after the night we shared.” He starts.
You sit still and listen, switching hands since the frozen peas were adding to the chill you already had from the conversation that loomed over your head.
“I don’t want you as my best friend because I want you to be mine. I want to be yours. I want us. Together.”
You wince. There’s a small part of you that just doesn’t believe him. You place down the now damp tea towel that holds the slowly melting peas.
He looks at you, trying to read your reaction, but you were giving nothing away.
“I just wanna know what was going through your head all those nights we spent together. We may not have had sex, but we did everything else. The cuddles, the kisses—when you familiarise yourself with every inch of my body—it would make sense that I thought we were something more than just best friends.”
He breaks eye contact, his interest now on the rings he adorns on his fingers. You can tell he is trying to think of something to say, so you wait patiently.
“I understand if you feel like I may have been using you.” He acquiesces in meeting your gaze, but he persists. “It hadn’t really occurred to me that you may have thought of us as more than best friends. Granted, instead of sitting in my uncertainty I should have just asked you. Then that night happened and it hit me. Afterwards, I just knew that I shouldn’t have let it get that far.”
You feel nauseous. You can’t decipher exactly what that was supposed to mean. You look over at the now wet kitchen towel.
“So you do regret it?” You pressed, your voice soft.
He holds his hands out and shakes his head as he quickly refutes his words.
“No of course not! I just meant that I know I should have asked you about us before that happened. I didn’t want it to be the case that you felt that I was not serious about us. ‘Cause having sex with someone is serious and I never wanted you to think I was playing around with your feelings.” He finishes.
You sit there thinking about what he said. Maybe he was being sincere. Maybe he really does want what you thought the two of you had for the past couple of months.
“How can I know that you aren’t just saying this? That you feel somewhat obligated to make us a thing because of the fact we slept with each other?” You ask.
“Because I was too much of a coward to say this earlier.” He speaks without missing a beat.
He scoots closer to you on the sofa, his hands providing warmth in yours. You don’t mean to dither, but you can’t help but weigh all the options. Hyunjin tilts his head to try and meet your eyes.
“I know you’re thinking about all of the things that could go wrong. About all of the things that could go right. What I could be for you in a day, a week, a month or even a year.” He cups your cheek, his thumb gently stroking beneath your eye. “But just be with me in this present moment. Think about what I could be for you now.” He says quietly.
After some time, you lift your head to meet his gaze, the faintest smile on your lips.
“Okay.”
Hyunjin’s eyes widened in shock and by the look on his face, you were certain that he thought you were going to reject him.
“O-okay? You’re sure?” He presses.
“I’m sure. I can tell you truly meant what you said and I think this would be the better outcome for us. I don’t think I could picture my life without you in it.” You admit.
“Then I promise you won’t ever have to picture it because I won’t leave you. I won’t leave you, Y/n.” Hyunjin declares.
You lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips. You aren’t sure whether your head is throbbing from your injury or the thrill that comes with you and Hyunjin finally being together.
You just hope that Hyunjin is able to keep his promise that he won’t ever leave you; and that in the end, you made the right decision.
jisung | 1.1k (1115) words
You and Jisung sit on your sofa with a cup of tea in both of your hands. It’s been ten minutes since he has arrived and not one word has been said between the two of you.
That’s how things usually are between you and him though. You don’t particularly need to say anything to know what the other one needs.
However, you fear that your senses haven’t quite been tingling like they ought to be. Since what you thought was commonly shared between both parties has seemed to only be dumped into one.
An unrequited love is always bound to end in heartbreak and you’re sure that is how today is going to end.
“Is it just me or do things feel a little odd?” Jisung says breaking the ice, but in a way which has submerged the two of you in ice cold water.
“Well I think I would be a little more fraught if things didn’t feel odd.” You add.
You aren’t exactly happy with him at the moment either. In fact you think it’s in his best interest to explain just what he meant in those text messages.
“Explain yourself then.” You say not beating around the bush.
Jisung places his mug down before turning to you.
“I wanna start by saying I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I worded what I was trying to say in those texts. You aren’t stupid Y/n, I promise. I’m the one that’s being stupid.” He meets your gaze and you give him a single nod.
“The truth is, I don’t think I’m ready to have a relationship with you.”
If your feelings are hurt, you will yourself not to show it on your face. Except your face goes pallid as you feel the knife stab directly into your beating heart.
“Then why make it seem as if we were? Why not shut it down? Better yet, why use me to get your rocks off and make me think that I am going to amount to more than just your best friend?” Your voice croaks, unable to hide the emotion you’re feeling.
He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.
“I can’t give you a definite answer of why I did all of that right now.” He says quietly.
You can’t help the scoff that falls from your mouth.
“What the fuck Ji? Why are you even here then? What are we even doing?!” You say starting to grow more upset.
His eyes widen slightly as he looks at you. He places a hand on your arm and is surprised when you don’t shrug him away.
“I promise I don’t mean to vex you, I just don’t have an answer because I don’t know. I just know that us having slept together made things seem…real. Like we were actually happening. When in actuality we weren’t and never will be.”
That was a punch to your gut so hard that your body viscerally reacted to his words and hunched over slightly. You can’t believe what you’re hearing.
This can’t be the Jisung that you were friends with for so long. No, he would never say something so outright.
It’s as if he hasn’t even registered what he just said because his face is that of worry as to why you are stunned silent.
“Jisung,” he winces at the use of his full name. “What did you expect to happen between us? Be honest, don’t say that you don’t know.” You speak gently.
He thinks for a moment, his hand slipping from your arm as he uses it to fiddle with the zipper of his jacket.
“I just expected for us to play around and not take it to the next step. I just wanted a bit of fun with my best friend. That’s not so bad is it?” He confesses, looking at his feet.
The knife is pushed deeper.
You honestly aren’t sure how to react. What to say or even do. So you sit in silence.
Minutes go by and all you can hear are the hum of the electronics in the room and the breathing of Jisung. He always has been a loud breather.
A clearing of the throat pulls you out of your trance.
“Please say something, anything.” He pleads. You slowly turn your face towards him.
“What would you like me to say Jisung? I have just found out that my best friend—you—has been using me for shits and giggles and being a total ignorant asshole while he does so.” You retort.
He shakes his head as he frowns at your words.
“No, no I’m not the bad guy here. I didn’t use you just for that. Why would I do that Y/n? You mean more to me than that.” He runs his hand through his brown locks, getting frustrated. “Look, I don’t think we should blow this too much out of proportion. We did something that we shouldn’t have and now we just have to move on.” He says.
“You don’t mean that.”
“You’re my best friend Y/n. You know me inside and out. Maybe I haven’t been so transparent with you lately. I just think that I need to figure out some stuff on my own because clearly everything I say is hurting you and I hate the way I hurt you. Fuck, just seeing your face now, knowing I was the cause. I can’t do this. Not anymore.” He says solemnly.
You blink. The tears trickle down your cheeks as you take into account what he is saying.
No. This isn’t your Jisung. Just give him some time and he’ll be back. He’ll come back.
“What are you saying to me Ji?” He places a hand on your cheek before standing up and putting on his shoes.
You immediately get up and follow him to the front door.
“Jisung.” You whisper. He opens the door and steps out, stopping and turning to you once more.
“I’m always gonna be in your corner Y/n. Okay? Always.” Jisung says as he smiles sadly at you and turns away from your door.
Watching him leave feels like the knife is twisting uncontrollably. You shut your door, not wanting to see him in case you’ll do something stupid like run and stop him from walking out of your life.
You’re angry, you’re hurt, you’re confused. You’re in a state of shock. Was that a goodbye? Will you ever see him again?
You cover your mouth with your hand as you sob quietly as reality sets in. You had just lost the man you had fallen for, your best friend.
You aren’t sure if he is ever coming back.
felix | 1.0k (1077) words
The sun is setting and you find yourself in the familiar skatepark which you and Felix frequently visit to hang out.
This was a first, you getting here before him. It felt uncanny, especially since the skatepark is an empty void. It’s not like you’re here at the late hours of the night which is what you guys usually do, so where are the people?
As you sit atop the ramp wondering this, Felix climbs up and sits next to you.
“Hey Y/n.” He greets. No remark about you being here before him for a change. You face him and greet him with a small smile.
“The sky is pretty this evening. Any particular reason for why you wanted to meet at our spot earlier than usual?” He asks you.
“I knew the sky would be worth seeing from here today. I also wanted to be able to see your face when you lie.” You deadpan.
He audibly swallows at this which makes you chuckle and start to swing your feet.
“I’m kidding. Just wanted to watch the sun go down.” You tease.
It’s silent, bar the birds chirping and the rustle of the leaves as the wind dances through the trees.
“So about what happened with us,” Felix starts. “You think that we are more than just best friends?” He asks. You hum in acknowledgement.
“I thought we were more than best friends for a while. You know, since this whole shebang started. The sex was just what I thought was you being ready to take our relationship further. Though that was foolish of me to think and not double check with you.”
Felix, now turnt to face towards the sunset, is quiet as he takes into consideration what you have just said.
“It wasn’t foolish.” He says ever so quietly.
Your legs still their movement as you turn to look at him. His face is being kissed nicely by the sun right now, his freckles practically glowing.
“Of course it was foolish Felix. Or else we wouldn’t be here now.” You smile as you tip your head back and close your eyes, letting the last of the sun’s warmth seep through your skin.
“No. It wasn’t foolish because I was ready. Okay that’s not entirely true, I caught feelings months ago but I only became sure about them during that week I was away.” He softly speaks.
You drop your head and look towards him. His eyes are still glued to the vast blanket of orange and yellow across the horizon.
“But that’s not what you said in those text messages. You said that you think that boundary shouldn’t have been crossed in the first place. Yet now you’re saying this? Forgive me Felix, but I’m finding it hard to believe what’s coming out of your mouth.” You sigh.
He finally turns and looks at you, a small scowl on his face.
“I know what I said in the texts Y/n. I don’t go back on my word. I do think a boundary was crossed and as best friends it shouldn’t have been.” A beat. “Though that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel something towards you. That’s why I’m so confused.” He turns his head back towards the sky, the deep shade of blue starting to make itself evident.
“Like I said, I didn’t expect to catch feelings for you and then have sex with you.” He finishes.
You lay down, watching the dark grey clouds move.
“Do you remember much of that night?” You ask.
“Of course I do. How could I ever forget. I mean we are literally sitting on the ramp that it happened on.” He reminisced.
“Remember when I told you that I was yours and you were mine? That was probably said in the heat of the moment, but I meant it Felix. I’m not the kind of person who says things for the sake of saying them. Plus, I’m not focused on anybody other than you.” You say, closing your eyes again as the cool air brushes against your face.
Though your eyes are closed, you sense that Felix was staring at you. You hear his clothes rustle before you’re wrapped up in his arms.
He is cuddling you.
“Doll, I’m sorry. I didn’t just say those things because we were high off oxytocin. You really mean so much to me. I don't want us to argue, I just want us to be together. For real. No hesitations, no take backs. Just you and me living how we do, but together as one.”
You can feel something wet drip into the crook of your neck. You know it’s not raining so you figure he has started to cry.
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings Y/n. It’s not what I wish to ever do to the person I love.” He sobs.
You open your eyes as you hear his admittance. The person he loves. The person he loves.
“You love me?”
“I’m in love with you. I was trying to make sense of if I truly meant it over that week and I reacted like I did earlier because I know you didn’t love me back. I was embarrassed.” He confessed.
You turn over in his arms as you grab ahold of his face. It’s dark now, but a nearby light creates a twinkle in his eyes.
“I want you to be sure that this is what you want. You don’t have to promise me forever, but promise me that this is truly what you want until it isn’t.” You say gently.
His bottom lip wobbles slightly as he takes a deep breath in then out.
“I am sure. I promise. I love you, I’m in love with you. I want us to be best friends. I want us to be lovers. I want it all. I want you.” He whispers against your lips.
You smile, wiping his tears away with your thumb.
“Okay, me too. We’re locked in?” You hold up your pinky.
“We’re locked in.” He connects his pinky with yours and pulls your face in to kiss you softly.
The two of you lay there in each other’s arms for the rest of that evening until a security guard ushered the two of you away.
As you walk hand in hand down the street, you’re just glad that you have this ball of sunshine all to yourself. For as long as time allows.
seungmin | 1.5k (1518) words
You were nervous. More nervous than you expected yourself to get. Which is probably how you find yourself scrambling to get your phone, sending Seungmin a message to say that you don’t want to meet up and would rather just call.
His reply after reading your message was to immediately dial you up, leaving no time for you to think about what you’re going to say and how you’re going to say it.
You answer the phone with baited breath.
“Why didn’t you want to meet me? You nervous or something?” He says very straightforwardly.
Yes.
“No. Just realised that I have things to do and I can multitask if I speak with you over the phone.” You lie.
You hear him sigh on the other side of the line.
“I’d rather you weren’t multitasking whilst we are having an important conversation about us. Pay attention.”
Your jaw clenches as you bite your tongue.
“Fine. Since you want to be such an adult about this, why don’t you do us the honour and start us off?” You quip.
“You already know how I feel about that night. About us blurring those lines between friendship and something more. We shouldn’t have. Having said that, I value our friendship too much to let something like that fuck it up.” Seungmin says plainly.
You roll your eyes, not understanding what exactly he means by that.
“Okay…but you do realise that us sleeping together has changed everything, right?” You say unwavering in your tone.
“Wrong.”
You waited for him to finish what you hoped would be a longer sentence, but all you could hear was the minor feedback from the other end of the line. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you try again.
“What do you mean, wrong? Things can’t go back to normal after that night, shit, after everything that’s happened between us.” You exclaim.
“And I’m not saying they have to—”
“You are absolutely not still using me as a way to blow your load Seungmin.” You interrupt harshly.
You hear him groan on the other end of the phone to which you decide to put him on speakerphone and place him on your bed. You wipe your face with your hands in frustration as you wait for him to speak.
“I’m not going to do this with you if you’re going to be angry for starters. Especially if you’re going to be interrupting me. Got it?” He asserts.
You release a huff of air, choosing to stay quiet in regards to what he has just said, but you reluctantly agree.
“Fine, sorry. Carry on.” You say as nicely as you can muster up.
“What I’m saying is I care about you Y/n. I don’t think it’s fair that people have also been feeding you troubles about our friendship. It’s between us and not them. They don’t know what the fuck is going on and I’ll be getting on their asses for that later, but right now my focus is on you.” He explains.
You stay quiet, noting the fact that he is now outside and walking.
“Seungmin, you can’t seriously fault our friends for noticing something you were determined to ignore. We were doing things couples do!”
“But we aren’t a couple. That is what I’m trying to get at Y/n.” He says exasperated. You hear a police siren go by on his end of the line which muffles the last part of his sentence.
“Then why even do all that with me? Of course I was going to catch feelings. I’d be stupid not to!” You exclaim, resting your head in your hands.
He’s quiet. The only sounds to be heard is the distorted traffic. You sit there unmoving, wondering why he isn’t speaking.
A loud series of knocks on your door jolt you out of your trance.
“One second, someone is at my door.” You alert Seungmin. Putting on your slippers, you rush to the door. You open it and you feel your face run cold.
Seungmin huddles over, catching his breath before he makes a show to end the call between the two of you.
“I am not having this conversation with you over a fucking phone.” He pants.
He lets himself in, your mind still boggled at the fact that he chose to fast walk over here just to have this conversation. You’re both touched and terrified. Touched because he seems to really care about talking about your relationship in person. Terrified because this is getting much more serious than you thought it was.
It’s times like these where you wish you and Seungmin hadn’t planned to live so close together. Now you have no choice but to face him in the flesh.
In the time that you were finally able to come to your senses and shut your front door, Seungmin had taken off his shoes and jacket and was standing behind you waiting.
He grabs ahold of your hand and leads you to your own bedroom.
“Seungmin, I don't want to have angry sex with you.” You blurt out. You could’ve sworn you heard him chuckle, but he’s already sitting you on the edge of your bed.
He places his hands on your shoulders and imitates taking a deep breath in and out.
“No, that is not what I’m here to do.” He crawls up to the top of your bed and sits resting against the headboard. “I am here to make amends and stop what shouldn’t have started in the first place.” He says calmly.
You have to hold your stomach to try and soothe the impending vomit that is about to ascend up and out of your mouth.
“I’m gonna be honest with you Seungmin. What you did, knowing you never wanted it to happen or go this far, was not cool. I’m not saying you’re to blame for the whole of it…but as someone who was catching feelings and seemingly thought you were as well, I genuinely thought that us continuing to be intimate with each other was because you liked me.” You finish.
As you sit crossed-legged at the foot of the bed and Seungmin sits at the head, you start to feel this strange disconnect between the two of you.
Seungmin sits there silent, clearly thinking of something to say in response.
“I…I think I didn’t stop it because it felt good.” He says.
“Good because it was us or good because you had someone to calm your sexual frustrations?” You ask.
The way he hesitates to answer and hold eye contact with you tells you everything you need to know.
You let out a scoff, getting up from your bed and starting to pace laps in your room.
“I cannot believe this. You were the last person who I thought would do this to me.” You say, pointing an accusatory finger at him.
“Y/n you know I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I-I care about you!” He says now getting up from the bed.
He goes to reach out and grasp your arm but you step out of his way, causing him to stumble slightly.
Not only are you fighting your tears, but you are battling your inner turmoil. Something like this would deem him unfit to stay in your life, no?
You couldn’t possibly still be his closest friend if he truly just used you for pleasure, right?
“Y/n please look at me.” He says, his hands now balling up besides his legs.
“I can’t do this anymore. I want you to leave.” You speak barely above a whisper.
“What?”
“I want. You. To leave.” Your voice cracks slightly, but you turn around to face him. His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open, as if he isn’t quite sure that this is what you mean.
Taking the initiative, you walk out of your bedroom and to your front door. You hear his footsteps behind you, murmuring a few ‘waits’ and ‘calm downs’. Grabbing his jacket, you shove it in his chest and step back.
Your arms are wrapped around yourself for comfort as you keep your head held low.
Seungmin silently puts on his jacket and shoes and reaches for the door handle. Yet, as he is about to open the door, he pauses midway through his movement.
“Leave your house or leave you forever?” He says disconcertingly.
You lift your head up, his back facing you. You assess him for only a moment. His hand that strangles the door handle shakes slightly and his other hand grasps his jacket.
“Both.” You choke.
He doesn’t miss a beat. Swinging open the door and leaving without looking back.
Just like that, all those years of friendship cut abruptly due to the confounding circumstances that conspired between the two of you.
Some could say it was rather quixotic of you to expect that you could actually have a relationship with Seungmin.
Though you would just say that perhaps falling in love with your best friend was never the right path, but one you were unfortunate enough to take.
i.n | 1.2k (1257) words
You can’t control the way you feel. You’re hurt. You’re beyond angry. You’re hysterical. How dare he talk to you like that? How dare he disregard everything the two of you have been through because he wants to stay your ‘best friend’?
You well and truly can’t promise that you won’t blow up on him when he gets here. That’s if he even bothers to show up. He’s already twenty minutes late and you’re sitting in the cold, on a park bench, drinking your hot chocolate.
“Y/n!” Jeongin calls out to you as he walks over to sit beside you on the bench.
“Where’s mine?” He says, his voice laden with sarcasm as he points to your drink. He quirks his eyebrow at you as he assesses your mood and it certainly isn’t one accommodating his jokes at the moment.
Breathe…breathe…
He turns to face you, one leg crossed beneath him as his arm rests on the back of the bench, his gloved fingers tapping a beat on your shoulder.
“Are you feeling better now? You’re gonna talk this out with me like the adults we are, hm?” He smiles.
You turn to face him, unable to mask your ire.
“Just best friends huh?” You speak for the first time in a while.
Jeongin stops tapping your shoulder to run his fingers through his hair. Tugging his coat closer around him to provide some sort of warmth to not only protect himself from the bitter chill of the air, but the icy look in your eyes.
“I admit, crossing those lines with you was never my intention. Being that I didn’t kiss or sleep with you because I wanted a relationship with you. I guess I was just lonely, you were available…tensions were high and we couldn’t control ourselves.”
You actually feel your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. This is not the Jeongin you knew and loved as your best friend. No, he was far nicer than what you’re currently faced with.
You are rendered speechless. The only thing you can think to do is take another sip of your hot chocolate.
It would be ideal if your hands stopped shaking.
“You get where I’m coming from though right? Like I said, I care for you. More than anybody else I know, but what we did was a mistake and that’s okay. We’ll know to never let those boundaries be crossed again alright?” He says placing a hand on your thigh.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Y/n–”
“Jeongin get your hand off of me, now.”
The smile that you used to adore, now falls from his face. His lips thinning as his jaw clenches and his gaze hardens.
“I genuinely thought that you had reason to be so pissy at me, you know, due to your work being so busy and all,” You laugh bitterly. “But you really are just a fucking asshole.”
He rolls his eyes and moves to get up before your hand reaches out to stop him.
“Sit the fuck down, I’m not done with you. I’m only going to say it once.” You say acrimoniously.
Heeding your warning, he sits back down, his hands finding solace in his lap.
“See, I was speaking with Hyunjin when you were supposedly too busy to talk to me and he gave me some pretty good advice.” You say finishing the rest of your drink and setting it aside.
“What are you doing asking him for advice? He has no business knowing what goes on between the two of us, let alone an argument.” He spits.
Ignoring his disapproval, you elect yourself to continue.
“He said that you don’t deserve me in your life. That a best friend would never, should never treat me like that–”
“Oh bull-fucking-shit! He is only saying that so that he can gets his filthy hands on you himself.” He interrupts, shaking his head as he looks beyond the lake at the horizon.
“I agree.”
Jeongin nods his head in approval to your words.
“You don’t deserve me in your life.”
His head snaps to yours as he sits up straight, clasping his hands together as he tilts his head.
“What?”
“I am not your little fucktoy for you to use whenever you get sick of your hand. I’m not the easy option because I’m the closest you can get to getting off without people catching on. You know because we’re best friends, right? No one will suspect a thing, right?”
You have started, gone past the point of no return as you lay into him and rightfully so.
“I thought you had calmed down from earlier? What, did you discuss with Hyunjin all of the things to say to me before I got here? The fuck does he know? He doesn’t even know you like I do!” He exclaims, his voice raising in pitch.
You gawk, unable to believe how he just bypassed what you said to talk shit about his friend.
“This isn’t about Hyunjin for fuck’s sake! This is about us! Or rather the lack of.” You stand up, taking deep breaths as you pace in front of him back and forth. “You keep talking to me like I’m some fucking child. Like I can’t comprehend the words that are coming out of my mouth.”
You stop in front of him, sighing.
“I don’t want to be in your life anymore. I’m done.”
His eyes widen as he grasps ahold of your hands, his thumbs rubbing over your knuckles.
“You don’t mean that. You’re just angry. You want me to apologise? Okay sure. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have used you like that and let it get that far knowing I wasn’t ready for a relationship.” He begs.
You feel your eyes start to well up with tears. This isn’t how you imagined a six year friendship to end, but alas, here the two of you are.
He stands now, moving his hands to cup your cheeks, his eyes darting between yours.
“Come on. Let’s not act rash now Y/n. It was a mistake.” He keeps trying to reassure you.
You shake his hands off of your face as you take a step back.
“It wasn’t a mistake for me. It never was and never will be because I didn’t just see you as someone who was available. I’m serious, I won’t be treated like shit. Not anymore and certainly not by you.” You affirm.
He lets his hands fall to his sides, his fists clenching.
“So this is it huh? You really wanna leave me, leave six years of friendship because you got your feelings hurt?” He asks.
“Fuck you, Jeongin. Don’t contact me ever again. I’m finished.” You say scoffing a laugh.
You pick up your empty cup and start to walk away, not bothering to turn back to see how he reacts. Only then do you let the tears run marathons down your face.
Little did you know, his fists unclenched and his hands were brought to his face. He collapses onto the bench, watching your figure get smaller and smaller until he can no longer see you.
It was in that moment, where Jeongin only just realised how royally he had fucked up. His head falls into his hands as he takes deep breaths.
The smoke caused from the cold air and the warmth of his mouth floating along the sky. Much like you, floating out of his life and disappearing. Lost to the abyss of a forever memory in his heart.
a/n: the plate is still full i fear because why do i hate this so much AHSGAIA SGAISBSKSVG (i apologise. i said i would deliver, but the package got lost in transit)
ʚ hope you enjoyed ^.^ you can support me by liking, commenting and reblogging! it is heavily appreciated ᵕ̈ ɞ
i do not permit my work to be translated or reposted in any way, thank you.
© 2023 diddybok
general taglist: @spacegirlstuff @chengmeiauau @elisiexoxo
taglist: @straykeedz-recs @baribaaari @weareapackofstrays @19marka @antoniorhinothethird @maexc @babrieeee @hanstarrs @lazystar @tehyunnie @siyah-staryis
if you would like to be added to the general taglist or removed, let me know in the comments, send an ask or message me!
#stray kids#skz#stray kids fanfic#skz fanfic#stray kids x gn reader#stray kids x reader#skz x gn reader#skz x reader#stray kids x you#skz x you#skz fluff#skz angst#another day another slay#stray kids seungmin#stray kids felix#stray kids jeongin#stray kids hyunjin#stray kids changbin#stray kids bang chan#stray kids lee know#stray kids han#skz ot8#stray kids ot8#stray kids fluff#stray kids angst#i am sliding down the wall in the corner of the room#take it from me please
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
SECRET — lee jeno
𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄: secret
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lee jeno x fem!reader
𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: smut, fluff (at the end), established relationship, kink discovery, relationship development
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: jeno has a secret he can’t tell anybody, not even you.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: sub!jeno, dom!reader (it’s their first time reversing roles so they’re both exploring how it feels like), implied masturb*tion, n!pple play, kinda hand-free org*sm/coming untouched, an*l fingering, riding, overstimulation, praise kink, minor degradation, size kink (but reversed??? reader is not bigger than jeno but somehow jeno feels small and likes to feel like that), ch*king, names used for jeno (baby boy, good boy, pup/puppy, pretty boy), names used for reader (ma’am, miss, mommy), big d!ck jeno, there’s nothing wrong with being a sub but jeno has issues because he has to always be strong so it doesn’t feel right for him, count the times I say ‘please’ in this (not my fault jeno is the bestest boy ever), aftercare (and kink discussion)
𝐖𝐂: 10.202k
𝐀/𝐍: a gift for my love @yellowgirllsblog, I converted her to subjenoism so I’m on a mission to let more of you see the light of the day and appreciate sub!jeno more. ps: you will never catch me call twitter ‘x.’ enjoy and if you do, please reblog and leave feedback! love u!
Jeno has a secret.
Once you’ll find out what it is, it won’t seem a big deal, but to him, it is.
It’s so big, so stressful, and so shameful, he can’t even talk to you — his sweet, loving girlfriend — about it.
It’s stupid, really. Deep down Jeno is well aware of how dumb it all sounds, but every time he faces it, it looks like a big mountain he can’t climb — and that will probably crumble on top of him, smashing him on the ground.
Stupid or not, big or small, it haunts him every day. Yes, every day. At first, Jeno thought it was just a temporary thing, something that piqued at his curiosity for fun, but soon enough, he fell down the rabbit hole. Looking back at it now, he probably was buried deep in the rabbit hole since forever but he —and the perception others had of him— did a good job at polishing the place real nice and don’t make him realize where he was.
Jeno accepted he is far gone a while ago, but he still can’t wrap his head around it. How is that possible? How could he, out of all the people, like something like this, be like this.
And that’s why he keeps it to himself, praying that if he doesn’t act on it, if he pushes it out of his mind, it will just leave. He’s strong, and fit, and he pounds into you every night, giving it to you like you want it. He can’t be anything else other than this, nothing but a confident, strong man that can’t be vulnerable.
But it turns out that pushing it out of his mind is not as easy as it seems. Jeno might be weaker than he realizes when he keeps going back at it, sipping on it at small doses, almost as if whatever he is holding in it’s a drug he doesn’t want to get addicted to — not knowing he already is. But for now — and forever, he thinks — this is just a fantasy, he can’t get addicted to something that is not real, to a version of him, no matter how authentic it feels, that can’t come out. But he slips further every day, hiding in your shared bedroom with his laptop or phone when you’re at work and he can have a bit of time to himself, when he stares at the box with your toys and lets time pass by because he doesn’t dare to do the next step, and lastly when he fucks his fist with your used panties and calls your name… or well, how he wishes he could call you.
And then clarity hits him again, making him groan as he rushes to the bathroom on wobbly legs, throwing your stained panties inside and starting the washing machine while he questions himself; why? He feels pathetic; masturbating over you as if he needs to fantasize about you, as if he doesn’t have you every night, and every day, and yet, it’s still not enough, it’s not how he wants you. But he feels guilty, he feels like he won’t be enough if he confessed to you, if he let you know his secret. And most of all, he’s terrified he’ll lose you. This version of him is not the one you picked, is not the one you love. And he’d damn himself forever if he lost you for something so silly.
So, he sighs, takes a deep breath, and then exhales deeply, rubbing his teary eyes before pushing his tired body up from the wall to walk back to your bedroom and fix himself.
Jeno has a secret, and he will take it to his grave.
Your boyfriend has been acting strange for a while now. At first, you figured he was stressed because of work, but now, you don’t think that’s the only reason.
Your brain goes crazy, imagining the worst-case scenario, the top one: he wants to break up with you. So, you start acting strange, too. Panicking, over-analyzing everything, and mostly, bracing yourself for the worst. Every time he starts talking to you with a serious tone, you fear that those words will come out of his lips, especially when before starting the conversation he stares at you for minutes and thinks so loudly you can almost hear his thoughts.
But the worst never comes, this goes on for weeks, and even if your boyfriend does act strange, nothing of his weirdness leads to a breakup, literally nothing can make it plausible, and even your brain gives up keeping you up at night with the fear of you losing him.
Jeno has never been so touchy. His hands are always on your body, any excuse is valid to let his fingers wander on your skin; if he needs to help you pick up something, if he needs to reach for the remote, if he has to leave for work, anything as long as he gets to feel your warm body.
And that doesn’t shock you much, Jeno has always made it clear how much he finds you attractive and how obsessed and in love he is with you and your body, but well, not like this. His fingers seem almost fearful, and so are his lips when he kisses you, and even something about his eyes doesn’t seem quite right. And then there are those unsaid words that you can see pending from his lips, and yet, they never come out. Every phrase Jeno starts is followed by a stutter and a quick shake of the head, other times his cheeks turn bright red as he zones out and you have to shake him out of whatever he is thinking, and then he goes back to act though and shrug it all off as if nothing happened.
You don’t get it, and every time you try to ask if something’s wrong, he acts surprised and tells you everything’s alright. You don’t buy it, but you feel that if something’s annoying him, he will come talk to you when he’s ready, so you leave him alone.
Jeno has a secret, and you have to find out in a way you don’t like.
You don’t like to roam around and stick your nose in things that aren’t yours, honestly, you hate doing so because you would hate if somebody did that with your things.
But you’re bored, laying on your bed, waiting for Jeno to come out of the shower, and your phone is somewhere in the living room, and you’re bored.
Picking up his phone to play some games is not an invasion of privacy, it’s the only thing you do with his phone, and Jeno is fine with it — he even lets you download those ugly, ads-filled, games that pop up in ads of other annoying games, he doesn’t get them, he hates the graphic of most of them, and he doesn’t understand how you can survive so many ads, but it’s fine, anything that makes you happy because you saved the King from drowning, cleaned a hotel room or built a pretty land.
You would’ve minded your business if it wasn’t for one of those stupid games and ads, causing the app to crash and make you huff.
You’re pissed as you click the left bottom on the bottom of his screen to see all the apps and go back to your game, hoping it won’t die again, you’re so caught up that you almost miss the other window of Twitter and some other apps he used before.
But well, what you see is too shocking to make you go back to the business of your hotel.
You freeze, and a lump forms in your throat as you blink speechless with your mouth wide open. You feel the world could collapse under your feet but then you shake your head.
Dumb asshole, it’s fine. He might be bisexual, he’s not using you as a beard, right?
But you still stare at the video in shock, the only focus is on the naked man with a choker, moaning while the vibrator edges him, and the playful touches on his nipples make his hips rut.
And when Jeno comes out of the shower you’re still dumbfounded. Your eyes look up, and his smile drops as soon as he sees your face, it looks as if you saw a ghost, and he fears something has happened to you, but he barely manages to let out ‘are you ok?’ before you stop him.
“Are you gay?” You ask, nothing of the more rational questions you came up with before passing your lips.
He giggles nervously, eyes skimming you. “What?
You feel a lump in your throat and then reply. “What is this?” you lift the phone, video playing on mute, you can’t bear to hear the moans again. “Why are you watching porn and why are you watching porn focused on men? If you want to try something out you can tell me, but please, tell me I’m not your bearding girlfriend and this wasn’t all a lie.”
“A lie?” Jeno screams, feeling his heart pump hard in his chest. “It’s not and I’m not gay, I might be bi, but I never wanted to question much about it but... Wait, would it make you love me less?”
“No, God, no, but I don’t understand this,” you squeak, voice breaking a bit for the confusion you feel and also because his face dropped even more.
“It’s nothing,” Jeno says, abruptly taking the phone from your hand and closing the tab. His hands are shaking, he can’t believe he’s so fucking stupid, how could he not think about it? He always makes sure to close everything so that you can’t find out.
“Nothing?” You ask, eyes wide and a bit of sarcasm in your tone. “Why are you watching that kind of video...”
“I — I... It’s just something dumb the boys sent me,” he justifies, scratching his neck, but his eyes are everywhere except on yours.
You would believe him if only he wasn’t so evasive with his answers and body language, he’s a nerve wreck, he has to be hiding something. “Is it? Why would they do it?”
“I don’t know, you know they’re dumb,” he says and then pauses, biting his lips nervously before he gathers the courage to speak. “Did you watch it?”
You furrow, mumbling for a few seconds before replying as if it was obvious. “Yes.”
“All?”
“Yes, it’s not that long,” you reply without getting where he wants to go with these questions.
Jeno nods and bites his lips, strategically avoiding your gaze.
“Jeno...” You call and he hesitantly raises his face. “Are you sure you’re not lying to me? If you like men and only them it’s fine, I would be heartbroken, but I want you to be happy, and I —”
“Stop it! It’s not that,” he snaps, face burning red when your eyes meet and you’re looking at him with curiosity. He feels doomed, you don’t even get it so how can you be into it?
“Oh.” You gasp. “Oh.” It clicks. Your mind replays the video, catching the details you missed, and you get it. He wants those things to be done to him. He doesn’t want a man; he wants you to do that to him.
Jeno stills, fearing the worst from you. “I’m not into it, that video just came up and I was curious,” he tries to save himself but it’s too late.
“No,” you stop him, “you are into it. Don’t lie to me,” your tone drops a bit, and you study his reaction, he trembles, and his face reddens even more. You’ve never seen him so embarrassed and vulnerable in all those years you’ve dated. Jeno, Lee Jeno, blushing bright red and stammering on his words right in front of your eyes. You’re dreaming, that must be it, maybe you have a fantasy you’re not aware of yet and this is your brain poking the thought into you.
But you shake your head, rub your eyes, and he’s still there.
“Jeno?” You call his name again when he gives you his back, quickly trying to find his clothes and make this less embarrassing, considering the only thing covering him is the white towel he put on before. “Look at me,” your voice comes out stern when he doesn’t listen to you and with a big step forward you have him trapped against the wall. Your fingers reach his chin, lifting his face resolutely.
But Jeno still doesn’t reply; you see his Adam’s apple move in his neck and you feel his breath get discontinued, but nothing comes from his mouth.
You have two choices; play the game he wants you to play or have a serious conversation about this. You’d rather go for the last one, you’re not so sure you’d be a master at doing what he wants you to do, but it seems like there’s no room for a decent talk right now.
You cup his chin, squeezing it enough that his lips pout, something he always does to you. His eyes widen, and his hand immediately wraps around your wrist, yet he doesn’t try to push you away.
“Tell me, Nono,” you coo, voice low and teasing, “do you want to be teased like that?”
He shakes his head, quick movements causing some still damp strands of hair to fall on his eyes, “No, no, I don’t.”
You scoff, shaking your head before leaning closer. “Why are you lying to me?”
He mumbles, struggling to talk for the embarrassment and the hold you have on his face. “I’m not,” he cries out.
“Oh, really?” You ask, letting his face go, making him lose his balance now that he can’t hold onto you. “Then you have nothing to hide, right?” He nods, biting his thumb and looking at you like a dog with his tail between his legs. “So, I guess you won’t mind if I took your phone right now, right?”
His eyes widen and his thumb falls from his lips. “Bu-but wh-why?”
You burst out laughing, holding your stomach in an exaggerated mocking move. “Bu-but wh-why?” you taunt him, imitating his high-pitched trembling voice. “Phone, now.”
Jeno’s not sure how to feel. This is what he wanted, right? And you don’t seem… mad. So why does he feel so embarrassed as he grabs the phone and hands it to you?
You smile and then open Twitter. You notice he has two accounts and when you scroll through the likes, the retweets, and more, you’re speechless. Well, now that you have him in front of you, so pliant, shaking, and red in the face, it’s not surprising anymore, but the Jeno you’re used to is not like this.
Men tied up and edged until they whimper and beg to come, rough face sitting, pegging videos, and captions about ‘good boys’ being used as sex toys by their ‘dominant mommy’, are all you see. You sigh and throw the phone on the bed carelessly.
“I’m sorry,” Jeno cries out, falling on his knees right in front of you. “I didn’t mean to disappoint you. I don’t need that, I swear I don’t, I can still be your usual boyfriend, I’ll fuck you so good, I promise I —”
You shut him up with a kiss, it’s rough and quick, enough to leave him surprised and, momentary, speechless. “Will you stop mumbling no-sense?”
“But I —”
“No, shh,” you say, thumb on his lips to keep him quiet. “Did I say anything? Did I look disappointed?” You ask, tilting your head to the side and he shakes his head. Honestly, he has no idea, he was too worried panicking to actually pay attention to your reaction. “Did I ask you to apologize? Do I look disgusted to you?”
“N-no,” he mumbles, but his eyes are still leaking tears.
“No, exactly,” you reassure. Your hand moves to the back of his neck, wrapping around the long hair at the nape before tugging and yanking his head back. “Now can we be serious and face this or do you want to keep crying at my feet?”
That shouldn’t make his dick twitch in the — now incredibly tight —towel but it does, still, he hopes you didn’t catch it, and nods swiftly.
“Good,” you smile slyly. You saw it, but that’s something you’re going to deal with later. “Stop lying and be honest with me. Do you want me to do this to you?” Your other hand moves down on his neck, creeping on his toned chest until it reaches his hard nipples, and when you brush one, he whimpers. Jeno tries to hide it, closing his eyes and pressing his lips together, but his body is reacting on its own, and it has never been more of an open book.
You never paid his body much attention, always letting him do anything to you, so this is… new, and interesting.
Your fingers play with the other one, rubbing against the sensitive tip and watching him struggle to keep it all in. “Sensitive much, aren’t you?”
He nods quickly, head falling down but you tug it back again, making him groan lowly.
“Head up,” you order, leaning down to come face to face, breath fanning against his, “and answer me. Do you like it when I play with your nipples?”
“Yeah — yeah, I like it,” he breathes out, leaning in to kiss your lips but you pull away.
“Ah, ah,” you click your tongue, shaking your head, “not yet, baby boy. You’ve been naughty, keeping important things from me. So now you’re going to earn it, alright?”
Jeno nods faster than he would want to, hips shaking on his heels in excitement like a dog wagging his tail.
You think it’s cute, he’s cute. And you still don’t quite know how to do this, how to be on the other side, but something inside of you makes you feel confident enough to think it’s worth giving a try. You like to be on the receiving end, so you have to give him what you usually like to receive. Also, you’ve encountered femdom content before, even liked it, never explored it much, but this might be fun.
“Words.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
You raise a brow at the title, but you like the way it rolls from his lips, and it makes your body react, pussy clenching around nothing and stomach twisting in anticipation.
“Good boy,” you reward him. You love being called a good girl, so you think he’s going to like that too, and he does. His smile grows bigger, cheeks tinting red again, and most importantly, his dick reacts, twitching against the towel.
You think it’s time to set it free, so your hand grabs the hem and pulls the white clothes off him. Jeno whimpers, hands quickly going to cover his hard, throbbing dick — well, trying to, it’s too big to hide anything.
You laugh at his lame attempt, slapping his hands away. “Getting shy now? I’ve seen it and felt it countless times, don’t you agree? Or, I don’t know, have you forgotten? Maybe your brain stops working when you’re… like this,” you finish with a teasing look from his head to his bent knees, rubbing against the hard floor and becoming red.
Jeno shivers, shaking his head, but for some reason, he feels even more embarrassed. He’s not used to being in this position, and all the times he imagined to be here, he didn’t think you would be like this. You’re not much shorter than him, but you are, and now you’re towering over him, your gaze is piercing through his soul, and your voice is sultry like it has never been. He wanted this so badly but even if he fantasized for months, now, he doubts he can take you.
You sigh, rolling your head. “How many times do I have to say it? Words.”
Jeno frowns momentarily, he knows you’re having a ball because usually, he wants you to talk back to him even if he’s fucking the fourth orgasm out of you. But his ‘anger’ doesn’t last. He nods, and then apologizes. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, ma’am. You can see it.”
“Of course, I can,” you say, kneeling to his eye level, “it’s mine.” Two of your fingers brush on his hard cock, tracing the thick vein that run on the side, the one that rub your sensitive walls so good when he’s pounding into you.
He nods quickly, swallowing hard to don’t moan shamelessly, and then stutters on his words. “You-yours. You can do — do whatever you want.”
You smile widely and tilt your head because it’s not a dominant smile. You might like this a lot. You might like this more than you anticipated. There’s something thrilling about having him like this, in your hands, to play with, to tease, to edge, to push to the limit. He’s yours, like always, and yet, in a way he has never been.
“Tell me what you want me to do?” You order, those videos are not enough to give you the green light. You need to hear it from him, a bit because you’re lost on your path, but also because you need to hear him describe those things out loud and beg you to do that to him.
Jeno thinks his face might burn up in a second. Sure, if he ever dared to bring this up to you in a conversation, he would’ve had to explain it to you, but he would’ve been dressed, not hard, and his brain would’ve been functioning. Now he’s none of these things. Yet, he tries.
“I — I want you,” he starts, wetting his lips. but he fails to find the words. You want explicit things, he knows it, he can see it in your eyes burning up with desire, but he wants to be honest first, at least now that he has a bit of rationality left. “I want to be your good boy. I want to — to just give up control for once and let you do everything. I want you to control me, to move me around, to make me feel light, to make me feel like I’m… nothing but not really nothing, I want to…” he gulps, forcing himself to keep eye contact because he wants to be good, but it’s not easy. Nothing happened yet, and he’s already a victim of the electricity that’s running in the air. “I want to don’t think. I want you to fuck my brain out until I forget who I am, I want you to tell me what to do, to order it to me. But I also want to feel safe… taken care of.”
It takes you a while to metabolize everything he told you, especially the last part, and you put a reminder in your brain to discuss that later. But now you kiss him, finally giving him what he craves. You wanted to make him wait a bit longer, but you feel like he needs it. It seems that all of this has been bothering him more than you think, and he needs comfort.
“And I’m going to give it to you, if you trust me,” you say when you pull away, softly caressing his cheek with your other hand.
“I do, I trust you,” he replies, hips rubbing against your hand. You give him a quick, stern look and he stops, smile dropping.
“Get on the bed and you won’t have to hump my hand like a puppy in heat,” you order and he’s quickly — stumbling and almost falling — on his feet, walking to the bed.
Once he’s laying on the bed, you follow him, crawling on top of him, your legs trapping him down. You leave kisses on his neck, and as a response his head rolls back, leaving you more room to paint his skin with bites and kisses. And while he’s distracted with that, your hands reach his nipples. His hips buck up and he whimpers.
He’s so sensitive, you can’t believe you didn’t discover this before.
Your fingers play with his sensitive buds, at first, you just rub your fingers on them, but then you get more adventurous studying his reaction. Jeno likes it when you pinch them between two fingers, it makes him hiss and moan, while his hips grind against you. He also likes it when you roll them, low curses escaping his tortured pink lips.
After a while, you decide to pay attention to his whole chest. You won’t lie, you always loved his tits, but you appreciated them from afar, when they were wrapped under the skintight white shirt he loves to wear, or when they played hide and seek under his loose tank tops. When he fucks you, your hands always wander somewhere else, busy trying to hold onto his arms and back for dear life. But now, your hands caress his skin, cupping them as you try to hide a giggle and stay in your role — you definitely need to work on your dominance — and tease his nipples every now and then.
“Fuck,” Jeno bites his tongue, dick rutting against your body, droplets of white shamelessly dripping from his head, staining his length and abs.
“You’re so sensitive it’s almost pathetic,” you try out, testing the waters. You fear you might trigger him, but instead, he moans louder at your words, throwing his head back more, and his dick throbs. “I’m barely touching you and you’re already a mess. You dreamed this so long, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he whimpers, his hips still grinding against you, desperately chasing for release, but you pull away. “No, please,” his voice breaks and tears swell at the corner of his eyes. Jeno is so fucking pretty like this, you have to fight back the urge to reach for the phone and snap a picture.
“Just relax, and focus on the parts I’m touching,” you say, kissing him to shut his whines down. “Let me take care of you.”
And he would, he does, he wants you to take care of him. If only this wasn’t so embarrassing, whimpering and squirming just from having his nipples played with. He wants to hold it in, he can push back an orgasm, but all his good intentions fly out of the window when your mouth wraps around the left sensitive one and your fingers pinch and twist the other one.
It’s not his fault he’s so sensitive.
“Oh God,” he cries out through gritted teeth, knuckles going white for how hard his hands are clenching around the sheets. Jeno feels dizzy, your mouth sucks harshly on his sensitive spot, quickly moving from one side to the other, never leaving him with no stimulation, your fingers are just as swift at taking the place your lips left. “Please, please, fuck,” he begs, hips stuttering messily, and legs parting as his body jerks with pleasure.
“Be a good boy and come for me,” you mumble against his skin, eyes looking up at his. And that’s the last drop for him; the realization that you saw him — and made him — this weak, even the slight humiliation he feels with it.
Jeno comes undone. Long, whiny moans and whimpers slurring out of his plump lips as his body stills before breaking into violent trembles, it’s powerful and overwhelming, and it makes him cry. Mumbles of your name follow when you don’t stop, fingers and tongue moving quickly on his nipples.
“Please, please, stop,” he cries, trying to push you away, “can’t take it anymore.”
You pull away, snickering as you watch the cum drip down his body. His chest is heaving, and his body is slumped against the headboard.
“Was it good?”
Jeno nods, his movements are slow, and his eyelids are almost close, but he still makes out your face, and smiles shyly. “More,” he begs and then adds, “please. If you want to.”
You smile, he’s so polite. “Are you sure you can take more?”
“Yes, yes, I just — I needed to calm down,” he explains, running a hand through his hair that covered his eyes messily.
“Lay on the bed,” you order before standing up.
He follows your order, feeling his body ache as he gets in position, but it all fades in the background when his gaze falls on your body, watching you move to throw your clothes on the floor.
“So,” you’re on top of him, you got rid of your skirt and top, the only clothes on your body are your — drenched — panties and the bra, “what do you want me to do with you?”
Jeno thought the embarrassing part had passed, but, lord, if he was wrong. Because he’s not prepared in the slightest to ask you what he’s about to ask. You will break up with him, this will be the last straw.
“Pup?” Your voice brings him out of his delirium, and he coughs. “You with me?”
He nods, struggling to find the words. “Please,” he whines, “don’t — don’t leave me.”
“Leave you?” You ask, a small frown forms on your forehead while your head lightly bends to the side to look at him. You almost look so innocent and harmless like this, but you’re not. You have all the power and control, and Jeno loves this and hates this at the same time. Maybe all of this is more mental than what he thought in the first place, or maybe he needs to relax, stop worrying so much, and just beg you. Beg you to fuck him, beg you to turn him into a brainless mess in the same way he had done in these past few months: pleading with his face smashed against a pillow to muffle his pathetic moans and his fist wrapped around his cock or his fingers inside of him, fooling himself that was you doing that to him.
“Please, fuck me,” he breaks, eyes panicking and looking around the room before you grab his face with a strong old on his chin.
“Say it again,” you order. Your face is relaxed now and the pout on your lips is rapidly swiped away by a sly smirk.
“Please, please, fuck me, ma’am?” He asks, eyes softening as he looks into yours. He’s such a good boy, so obedient, so, so good. So, you’re about to give him what he wants, and what you want, grabbing the base of his hardening dick and teasing it against your pussy, moving the crotch of the panties to the side, but he surprises you.
“No,” Jeno cries, voice breaking again, “not like this. Not now.”
You stop, stilling and looking at him, eyes blinking as you try to understand what he means. “Not like this? And how do you want me to fuck you?”
“I — I,” he stutters, flashes of warmth heating his body up again, not that it ever really stopped, to be honest, it just keeps getting worse.
“You — you?” You urge, mocking him, mimicking his voice with a condescending tone.
He frowns offended — and his dick throbs, but he won’t pay attention to that — but then goes on. “I want your — your fingers.”
“Oh,” you say, a smug grin on your face. “A handjob?” You know what he wants, you know where he wants it, but what you want, is to mess up with him.
“No, no,” he whines, shaking his head, reaching for your hand with his before you slap it away, making him groan in annoyance. “Please.”
“Please and no, are those the words that a good pup says?”
“No, miss, I’m sorry.”
“Good, then use your big boy words and tell me what you want. Details, or I won’t give it to you.”
Jeno swallows, inhaling deeply before confessing. “I want your fingers in my ass, please. I want you to fuck me with your fingers, miss.”
“Oh, now that’s clear,” you say, smiling tenderly and patting his head. He melts under your touch, and you keep a reminder to yourself to head pat him more often. “Good boy, telling me exactly what he needs.”
You get up to grab the lube from the drawer but when you open it, it’s not there. You scowl, scratching your head as you try to remember if you finished it and didn’t buy it again, but you don’t use it that often, so it can’t be.
“Where the hell —” you stop when, turning around, you see the blue bottle peeking from under the bed, you kneel to grab it and see that it’s badly closed. “You fucked yourself before?” You enquire, tilting your head, watching his face flush bright red even more, he tries to avoid your gaze, but you trot to him and force his face on you. “You were so desperate you couldn’t help but fuck yourself with your fingers?”
“I’m — I’m sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to,” he justifies, throat dry and heart beating fast. He doesn’t want to disappoint you, he would’ve waited, he wouldn’t have done that, but he needed that, he was terrible at putting this fantasy behind and he needed a release. But he’s still you’re good boy, right? You’re not mad at him for this?
You scoff, clicking your tongue, crawling on the bed. “You didn’t mean to, sure… fucking yourself behind my back, pff,” you scoff. “Tell me, were you thinking of me? My fingers deep inside of you? My hand wrapped around the base of your cock?” Jeno nods eagerly as you pour lube on your fingertips. “Were you calling my name? Whimpering like the desperate puppy that you are? Calling me ma’am and miss, maybe even mommy when you fuck yourself good enough,” all throughout the talk your fingers slip deep inside of him, making him gasp and hold onto the sheets under him.
“Fuck,” he curses, not expecting you to push two fingers inside with no warning. But the surprise turns into bliss in the beat of an eye. Your fingers are slender, and yes, they’re not as long and thick as his are, but they are yours. And you’re so good at moving them inside of him, curling them up, moving them with a firm rhythm, reaching the bottom, and then pulling out, that he has nothing to complain about. “Feels so good,” he somehow manages to let you know. You think it’s cute, his voice doesn’t sound like the usual, it’s whiny, trembling, and full of desperation. His eyes are watery, and you think the red on his cheeks won’t disappear soon.
Jeno is lost in the pleasure, thinking he has never felt better, he’s almost relaxed, lulling in the sensation that sends sparks down his spine. But you want to give him more and your other hand folds his balls, making him hiss and shaking him out of that haze.
“It’s alright, baby boy,” you reassure him, but he’s not sure. Especially when you spit on his dick, adding to the mess of his cum, and run your hand on his length. He wishes you would keep doing this, but instead, you torture him; while your fingers work him open, your hand focuses on his frenulum, massaging his most sensitive spot until he’s a crying and trembling mess again.
“No, no,” he whines when your lips start kissing his leaking tip. “Sensitive — I’m…” his voice breaks and dies in his throat when your lips wrap around it. He has you everywhere and he’s not used to this. He’s not used to feeling so much and giving so little — in his mind, to give you nothing, but to you, he’s giving you a lot. This vulnerable side of him is much more than anything else. “I — I can touch you, I can —”
You shut him up with a slap on his thigh. “You can lay there and take it,” you say firmly but without stopping your movements.
He nods quickly, lips pressed in a thin line, but the pleasure is so big that his moans and whimpers just rumble in his chest.
“Moan, Jeno,” you call him out. “I want to hear you moan for me.”
“But —”
“But?” You scold, glaring at him and stilling your fingers inside him. “Are you going to talk back to me and tell me what to do?” He shakes his head quickly, mumbling apologizes. “I think so, do you want to be my good boy?”
“Yes, yes, please,” he cries, hips bucking up, at first you think he’s doing that to feel your fingers but he’s just that desperate. He truly acts like a puppy too excited to be your good boy to even think straight, his body moving on its own. If he had a tail, he would wiggle it like crazy.
“You want to be my good pup?” You ask again, your fingers pull out and then push in, dragging a low gasp from his lips.
“Yes, I want to. Want to be your good puppy, please.”
“Then do what I tell you to do,” you remind him, your hands go back to his cock, throbbing on his abs and leaking pre-cum. It’s almost… funny how big he is —body and dick— and how helpless and powerless he looks, begging for attention as if he couldn’t just take it from you, ordering you, fucking you. But he lays there, pathetically drooling on the pillow, while his dick drips on his stomach and his ass clenches around your two fingers.
His sounds are like music to your ears, and the vision in front of your eyes makes your pussy drool more, you can’t believe you’re so turned on when fifteen minutes ago you were almost throwing a tantrum for this. But Jeno looks like the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, and you wonder if he feels this way when it’s the other way around. All you know is that you’re mesmerized, eyes stuck where your bodies connect, his hole fluttering around you, the lube squelching in and out, and his toned, strong legs spread open just for you. Then they move up, the way his dick is throbbing in your hand and spills pre-cum, his chest rising fast, his hands clenched around the sheets. And his face, his eyes are closed but you know they’re rolled back behind his eyelids, his lips are swollen and dark pink, parted open to fill the room with the most desperate whines, his hair is a mess again, scattered around the pillow and his forehead.
“Fuck, fuck,” he whines, lifting his hips from the mattress when you hit him deeper and your hand starts moving faster on him. “Feels good, feels so good, you’re so good, you’re — you’re perfect, I love you, I love you,” he cries out, head rolled back as he lets the pleasure rush through his body.
You smirk at his words, the desperation and devotion behind his voice making shivers run down your spine. “Are you going to come?” You ask, already knowing the answer, watching him nod quickly. “Yeah? Will you be a good boy and come from my fingers only?” Your hand leaves his dick, eliciting a disappointed noise from him, but his breath gets cut off when you add another finger inside of him.
“Please,” he cries, the stretch of the three fingers making his hips move even more from the mattress, only to stop when your hand, flat on his stomach, keeps him pinned down.
“Stop squirming, or I won’t make you come and keep edging you until you pass out.”
It should be a threat, but it doesn’t even sound so bad to him, but not now, maybe one day, now he wants you, and wants to come as soon as possible. So, his hips still, the nervous twitching passing down to his leg but it’s fine, it doesn’t get in the way.
“Good boy,” you praise, patting his head, and making him smile. “Be even a better boy and come for me.”
You don’t have to tell him twice before his orgasm erupts, his body shakes before stilling completely, spurts of white spilling on his stomach, even reaching the sheets as his cock throbs in release and his hole flutters around your three fingers that are still pumping in and out at a fast speed. Slurs of curses roll from his tongue, and so does your name, while his chest rises fast before his body slumps against the mattress.
“Please, please, stop,” he cries out, feeling overstimulated.
You listen, pulling your fingers out and cleaning them on his thigh before leaning forward to kiss him.
“Want you, mommy, please,” he pleads, tears rolling down his temple while his hands look for the warmth of your body. “Please, fuck me, need to feel you.”
“Calm down,” you say, giggling at his cuteness and eagerness and get rid of your panties, throwing them behind with no care, and then follows the bra.
Jeno feels less embarrassed now that you’re exposed too, and gets lost in your body for a few seconds before he bites back a moan when your warm and wet skin makes contact with him. “I — I can fuck you, I can make you feel good, too,” he promises. “Be your good boy and fu–fuck you well.”
You smile tenderly, teasing him as you grind your hips rubbing your pussy on his dick that’s resting on his stomach. “Oh, I know you can.”
“Please, please,” Jeno cries out more. His dick is incredibly sensitive, it’s painfully aching, begging to be wrapped by something after all this teasing. You barely paid it any attention this whole time. “Let me be your good boy, use me,” his voice breaks and he almost chokes on his words as his pleading eyes stare at you for mercy. “Use my — use my cock as you please. Use me like your toy,” he says, “your good toy.”
It almost breaks your heart; he needs validation so badly and you feel genuinely bad for never noticing this before. You just thought he was always so strong and confident; you didn’t think he needed reassurance so much.
“Here, pup,” you say, sinking into him.
Jeno’s head rolls back, his hands clasping around your waist, but his hold, even if it’s strong, is different from all the other times before.
“Fuck, mommy, feel so good.” The way your warm walls wrap around him send him straight to heaven, you’re wet and fit perfectly around him.
“Yeah, you too, baby. You feel so good,” you curse through gritted teeth. He might be a mess underneath you, whimpering, crying, and begging, but that doesn’t make his cock shrink. Jeno’s big, and you should be used to it by now, but somehow it still feels like it splits you open every time.
“Please, fuck me!” Jeno laments loudly, bouncing his hips against yours, but a stern look from you makes him stop and apologize, “So-sorry, fuck me, please?” This time his voice is soft and polite, a desperate edge but with no eagerness behind — yes, there is, but he tries hard not to show it.
“Oh, fuck,” he screams when you lift your body up and slam back into him. You’re a lazy rider usually, and to be more honest, you’re just never a rider, 90% of the time riding his dick is a punishment to make you work for it, but now… well, you kept your skills well stored in. “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” he whimpers, hands clenching hard around your waist until his knuckles go white.
“What? You wanted me to fuck you so badly, and now? Bit more than you can chew? Is this too much for you, pretty boy? You can’t take it?”
Jeno shakes his head. “No, no I can, ma’am, I can,” he whimpers, biting his lips harshly.
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” you hum in satisfaction. Your hands fall at the sides of his head, your smaller body somehow still hovers over him and makes him feel smaller than ever. Your intense stare pins him to the mattress even more, making him shiver. “Give me your hands,” you order, but Jeno doesn’t listen — he doesn’t even hear, too lost in you to pay attention to your voice. “God,” you huff, rolling your eyes back, “I really have to do everything on my own because you’re just that dumb.” You forcefully grab his wrists, pushing his arms over his head and keeping them locked against the bed.
“No, I’m — I’m sorry, I — I wasn’t.”
“Yeah, you weren’t,” you mock, stilling before starting to pick up the pace again, “you weren’t listening ‘cause you can only focus on how good I’m making you feel, right? Stupid, dumb puppy can only think about his pleasure.”
“No, no, please, forgive me,” he begs, tears streaking down his face, and words coming out between gags and moans.
“Can you fuck back into me? Or are you too fucked out to do that?”
“No, no, I can. I’ll be good, I’ll be good for you, miss,” he promises, lifting his hips to meet you halfway, but his body feels so heavy and his brain is mush, unable to send signals to his muscles.
Your head rolls back and your hands wrap tighter around his wrists, you find yourself grinding against him, rubbing your clit every time you bottom all the way down. But Jeno’s thrusts are sloppy and messy, he’s not even that bad when he’s about to come. “Stupid puppy,” you taunt, slapping his ass. “Can’t even fuck me after all the pleasure I gave you.”
Jeno sobs, literally, loud cries coming from the back of his throat making him almost choke, and you’re about to stop everything in worry before you realize that’s not because you went too far — partially, maybe, he’s not really happy to be said he’s bad — but because he’s close again and he loves the way you talk down to him and slap him.
“Are you coming again?” You ask in utter surprise because you can’t believe it.
But he shakes his head, he’s fighting against himself to hold it back, and for the sake of having at least an orgasm too, you stop your movements.
“I won’t — won’t come,” he mumbles, lips quivering. “Can’t you… can’t you just use me?” he wails. “Please, I’m too tired. Just… use me like a…” The last words are a slur lower than a whisper, and his head turned to the side doesn’t help you hearing what he said.
You tilt your head to the side, cupping his chin to force him to look at you. “Repeat loud and clear if you don’t want to regret it.”
Jeno gulps, nodding vigorously, but his voice still shakes, and his cheeks burn red again as he repeats. “Use me like a dildo, please.”
“Oh… so, this is how you want to be good to me?” You ask, grinding your hips against him, the stimulation is bare for you but so much for him that you trigger whines and whimpers out of him.
“But it will feel good, even if I don’t move, you know it,” he tries to reason, pleading with his glossy eyes. “I can eat you out after, or — or now, whatever you please, miss.”
“Whatever I please, uhm?” You ask, grinning.
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll do whatever you want.”
You smile, caressing his face, smearing the wet mess around before your hand pats his head. “You’re lucky I want you exactly like this, like a toy.” You start fucking him with no warning, and a gasp rips from his vocal cords before he starts moaning again.
His eyes roll back at each of your hard thrusts, and you see his hands itch because he can’t touch you, but you don’t loosen the hold on him. You feel strong, a kind of power you didn’t even know you had in you, and you don’t want this to stop.
Jeno’s entire body trembles when your hand wraps around his neck, squeezing just enough to dim the flow of air in his lungs. It’s hot but unexpected, just like it’s unexpected that he almost comes on the spot.
“Oh, oh,” you hum in delight, the corner of your lips lifting as you stare at him. “You like it…” Jeno tries to deny but you can read his body; you felt his dick throb inside of you, his eyes flicker to you in light panic before rolling in his skull again, and his breath falter. “Don’t deny it, it wouldn’t be the most pathetic thing you get off to,” you mock, making him blush again. “It’s alright, you can be my naughty boy, I won’t judge.”
He can only hum, and now that you look better in his eyes, you see there’s something completely different behind them. He’s in a completely different headspace, and you fear he won’t last much longer.
It’s the same for you, the thrill and adrenaline can only push you so far, you’re not used to this, bouncing your hips harshly on his cock and having control, your thighs are starting to scream, and your brain doesn’t want to pay them attention but you both know you’re both at the finish line for this first time. Not to add, you’re in desperate need of an orgasm.
“Ti-tight,” Jeno gasps when your hold on his neck loosens enough to let him breathe in normally again, just the time that he can take a few breaths before it fastens again, it’s not too tight, it’s your first time, you don’t want to end with him passed out on the floor, but it’s enough to do its job.
“Yeah? Too tight for you? Can’t take it?”
He moves his head randomly, frenetic movements as he moves his lips to talk, useless. Your cunt is sucking away every coherent thought in his mind, the only thing filling his brain: you and the need to release.
“Don’t talk, don’t need it. I know you’re too sensitive, wanted me so much only to shake underneath me because I’m fucking you too well. Can’t even form a coherent thought in that stupid, little brain of yours, can you?”
He shakes his head, tears streaming down, but you kiss them — lick them — away.
“It’s alright, I don’t want you to think. I like it when your brain is empty. Your just my pretty boy, right? Pretty, good boy that let’s mommy fuck him?”
His nods are eager, and without even realizing his tongue lolls out. You pout at the view, patting his head when you let go of his neck, making him breathe. “Good pup. Just look pretty for me.”
“Pre-pretty,” he whimpers before a fucked-out smile paints his face.
“Yes, baby, you are,” you kiss his lips, petting his hair another time.
“Co-come, wanna come, please. Let me — let me come, ma’am,” he cries out when he has enough air in his lungs and sense in his brain. “Be-begging. I’m beg — mmph,” his words die in his mouth and his eyes squeeze tight when you voluntarily squeeze harder around him.
“Begging? Is this how a good boy begs?” You ask, looking at him sternly, not that it lasts long, because when his eyes open into yours, you fold.
“’M sorry, so-sorry,” he apologizes, “please, miss, let me come, let me come inside of you, let me fill you up. You’ll — you’ll feel good, I promise,” his words are all slurred out together, spit drips from his lips down to his chin and neck, and his body is burning up, if it didn’t mean to edge and denying an orgasm to yourself too, you would probably push him farther, curious to see how far he can go. But for now, it’s fine, he’s a good boy, he deserves it, and so do you.
“Please, please, please, ma’am.”
“You’ve been so good, baby. You can come.”
When you give him the green light, his body explodes, his hips even shyly chase the orgasm up against you, fucking back into you lazily. His head rolls back and as soon as your hand sets him free, his hands find your hips, holding them tight, hissing and groaning when you hold yourself up on his chest, nails digging into his skin as your body keeps bouncing up and down, riding your orgasms.
Your body collapses on his, exhausted and boneless just like his, and his arms wrap around it right away while he still sobs and whimpers in the crook of your neck.
“Shh, it’s alright, you’re alright,” you whisper in his ear while your hand caress his hair, wet again but not with water.
“Don’t — don’t pull out,” he whines when you lift your body, “nooo, don’t leave me.”
“I’m here,” you reassure him right away, carrying his body with yours so you lay on the side and can pull him in a hug. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good,” he mumbles, hiding between your chest and neck. “Tha-thank you, mhh, thank you for —” his voice breaks and his sobs get a bit louder as he hides more in your hold.
“Hey, it’s fine, take your time,” you say, still soothing him with circular movements on his back and soft rubs on his hair.
Jeno wants to talk, he has many things to say, damn, even an explanation to give to you, but he feels his body is heavy, he feels on a cloud, and you are the softness all over him, he feels safe, something he’s not used to feeling. You didn’t get mad at this, you won’t get mad if he falls asleep for a while, right? If he lulls in this sense of comfort and the aftermaths of what happened.
And almost as if you read his mind… “You can sleep if you want,” you say, kissing his forehead gently and rubbing his nape.
And he has no strength to reply as his body falls into a deep sleep.
When he wakes up, he’s not naked anymore, a big white shirt is around his body, covering just enough so he’s not completely exposed. The mattress is stripped from the dirty sheets and there’s a glass of water on the bedside table, but you’re not next to him.
Jeno almost panics, feeling the post-nut clarity made you run away scared and disgusted, but then the door opens, and you’re there. And it’s the same you he loves deeply. He can breathe again.
“Oh, hi, babe,” you greet with a big smile. You’re holding something in your hands and you’re wearing one of his shirts. “Feeling better?”
Jeno gulps, nodding and smiling at you, words are hard to find.
“Still too fucked out to talk?” You joke, slumping on the bed next to him, handing him the package of his favorite snacks. “Figured you needed some sugar after all that whimpering and squirming.”
“Oh, please, shut up,” he says, hiding his red face behind his hands.
“Hey, you were cute,” you say, grabbing his hands to move them out of the way. “I — I liked it. Did you?”
He nods quickly, okay maybe he’s still a little into that headspace.
You smile and then pout. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it. I’m always so loud and open about everything I want to try and… it never crossed my mind you might have different needs. I don’t know if you’re hiding anything else, but you can talk to me about everything. I love you and even if I might not be into something I won’t let it be the reason for a break-up, or a fight, or worse, making fun of you,” you say, grabbing his hands. “We can always try and then see the outcome. I mean, all that dominance before was improvisation, I was nervous as fuck too, I just tried to act like you usually do, tell me I was good,” you say, scrunching your face as you wait for his opinion.
Jeno laughs, it’s a genuine laugh, and you can almost see the weight being lifted off his chest. You still feel guilty for not making it feel like you could be a safe place for him, but it’s over now.
“You were really good,” he reassures you. “And… yes, I was a bit afraid of your reaction, but it was also something that had to do with myself. I’m — I’ve always been the strong one since I was a kid and then growing up it also turned into being this big ass man with muscles, so the pressure didn’t help.”
You nod in understanding. It makes you feel a bit less guilty, but you feel like there’s something else. “Is this all?”
“I also always have to be confident, but… I get insecure. I just feel like people are so used to me never making mistakes that they don’t even see my struggles or how hard I work for things, so all my hard work goes unnoticed. But I… I want to be… praised, I want to be told I’m doing good, I want people to tell me they’re proud of me.”
You cup his cheek gently and then kiss his nose, making him giggle. “I’m so proud of you, I tell you that, don’t I?”
“Yeah, you do, you’re the only one,” he says, leg bouncing nervously as he tries to find the words. But you’re holding his hand, rubbing circles on his palm and that’s calming him down a bit, or maybe not because he feels like he’s about to cry again.
“Hey,” you caress his chin and then rub your thumb on his cheek, your touch is soft, and his brain shuts off once again. It’s like he’s taking back all the wasted time he had to act tough and don’t melt in your touch. “I’m here, alright? Take your time.”
Jeno nods, small hums slipping out of his lips before he finds the courage to talk. “I don’t know, sometimes I just… I want to feel small. And I want to be the one getting cuddled and petted, and just taken care of. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love doing that for you, but… I always see you being so carefree when you’re with me and sometimes I get… so, so jealous because you can… you can loosen up, turn your brain off and no one will judge you. But if I do it, if I get… vulnerable in your hands, I don’t know what people will say.”
You caress his cheek before your hand runs in his hair, not only because it’s covering his handsome face again, but also because you learned he likes it a lot, and as expected, he smiles. “Do people need to know?”
He tilts his head and furrows in confusion. “They don’t?”
“I doubt people care about our sexual life, or what we do in our home. So, this can be our secret, at least until you’ll feel comfortable enough to let loose even outside of these walls. If you’ll share this with me, it will be less heavy, right?”
Jeno nods, smiling and pushing back tears.
“Hey, crybaby today, aren’t you? Come here,” you say, pulling him into a hug. He holds you tight, still afraid you might slip from his hold, and breathes deep your scent.
When you pull away, Jeno’s looking into your eyes and you hum to signal him he can talk.
“Thank you, I don’t know what I would do without you. Seriously, you made me feel safe and not judged, it means the world to me.”
“It’s the way you make me feel always, I’m glad you could feel that way too. And I proved I can protect you even if I don’t have all your muscles,” you joke, lifting your arm and flexing your not-trained bicep, making him laugh. “But seriously, I would never judge you, and I really love this version of you, so, unleash it more often.”
Jeno smiles widely, his eyes turning up in his usual half-moons, and then he lays on the bed, tapping the space next to him. You beam and crawl next to him, pulling him closer again, his head rests on your chest while your hands caress his hair and you just relax in the silence of the house.
“I love you,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head, his hair tickling you for a second. “And I’ll love every version of you, in any universe.”
Jeno still has a secret, but luckily, he has you to share it with.
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @rbf-aceu ; @shiningnono ; @jaeminsbebu | general taglist: @froggyforyoongi , @wingsss45 ; @tddyhyck ; @technologyculturedneo
© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).
#nct fanfiction#jeno smut#lee jeno smut#sub!jeno#jeno hard hours#jeno hard thoughts#nct dream smut#sub!nct#sub!nct dream#nct smut#dom!reader#sub!idol#nct dream hard hours#nct hard hours
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
invidia ii
a (very belated) christmas present for my beloved wife @iwaasfairy who has, for two years straight, begged me for more shinnosuke content. i hope you like it bby!
kuroo tetsurou x female reader, kuroo shinnosuke (oc) x female reader
part i
w.c 3.1k
tw: noncon/dubcon, slight daddy kink, (forced) infidelity, yandere themes, nsfw, smut, age gap, i guess hints of breeding kink, dilf kuroo
“Why did your parents split up?”
Mid-way through pulling on a pair of old, grey sweatpants, mopping at beads of water from his shower still rolling down his bare chest, Shinnosuke throws you a curious look, but shrugs easily enough.
“They weren’t ever really ‘together’ to begin with. They tried the whole co-parenting thing to start with but mom… they never loved each other. Hell, I don’t even think they liked each other most of the time beyond–” he breaks off, his nose wrinkling in distaste. It almost makes you laugh. “Anyway, dad always said she had one foot out the door from the start. Dad was the one who stuck around to raise me.” There’s no animosity in his tone, he says it like it’s the simple truth. You’ve never met the woman, never having shown up to any of the Nekoma games, his graduation, any of it. You’ve seen a picture or two, overheard the odd phone call, but for as long as you’ve known him, the only real parent in Shin’s life has always been his dad.
If there’s anyone he idolises, it’s his father.
Which is why the words that he says next – casting aside the damp towel in the general direction of the laundry basket (boys) and sauntering on over to join you in bed – take you entirely by surprise. “We’ll go visit her in Golden Week. I want her to meet you.”
And again, the words are just that; words. Shin kisses you, a sweet peck on your lips, and wastes no time in scooping you back into his arms and settling back with a contented sigh. They’re just words, but there’s this look in his eyes when he says it that makes you think he means something more.
Your stomach flutters.
—
‘You really wanna break his heart like that, kitten?’
—
“Still not feeling any better?” Shin asks, brushing your hair back to feel your forehead. The beginnings of a frown start to take shape, teeth gently burrowing into his bottom lip, but he straightens and sighs, and that hint of discontent smoothes over like it had never existed in the first place. He strokes your hair again and offers a small, sympathetic smile. “No temperature, that’s gotta be a good sign, right?”
You’re a coward.
“It’s not my head, I just…” don’t have any visible, plausible symptoms for the fake illness that’s currently keeping you curled up in Shin’s bed. Away from the creep who’d smiled and fucking winked at you Christmas morning. “I just feel off.”
“Poor baby,” he coos, laughing when your face screws up and you swat at him.
Right now, swaddled in his hoodie, his fingers carding through your hair and that stupid, impish, almost believable grin beaming down at you, you want to forget. To pretend.
Because there’s a pit in your stomach. A bitter, gnarled, seething mass. This moment right now, in Shin’s bed, it’s like glass, paper thin and already cracked, it can’t possibly last, and yet you’re clinging to it so desperately, head buried in the sand, willing yourself to pretend, from one heartbeat to the next, that what’s happened won’t break the two of you.
That your stomach doesn’t threaten to upend when you catch sight of those hazel eyes peering down at you – the same shape and shade as his father’s.
You shudder out a breath, and what little levity there was between you two gets sucked out with it. Shin’s expression gutters.
Yeah.
His fingers don’t leave your hair, though. Playing idly with the strands as though the suffocating tension in the room doesn’t exist at all. “Dad’s taking us out to dinner tonight,” he tells you. Reminds you, because you knew all of this beforehand. Everything but the party. “Do you want me to run by the pharmacy to get you something?”
Another tap at the fractured glass.
That’s Shinnosuke all over, isn’t it? You might’ve been the manager back in the day, but it was always Shin who kept an eye on his team, on you, to make sure everyone was good.
“No,” you shake your head. “I’ll–” the words get stuck in your throat. “I’ll see how I feel in an hour or so. ‘m still a little tired.”
“You want some tea, sweetheart?”
‘Shh, sweetheart, you gotta keep it down.’
A cold sweat breaks out on the nape of your neck. No. No, no, no, no–
“Baby?”
You flinch like he’s slapped you, jerking away from the hand he’s wound in your hair. The startled look he shoots you borders on wounded, but you’re already squirming towards the edge of the bed, stumbling to your feet like a newborn foal. “Bathroom,” you manage to eke out, your voice sounding far too strangled and hoarse to pass as anywhere near the realm of fine.
Shin doesn’t follow, doesn’t so much as utter a word – all kicked puppy confused – as you throw the door closed behind you and collapse back against it, a sweaty, ashen mess.
He usually calls you love. Baby. Princess when he’s being a little shit.
Sweetheart’s a rare one.
Your heart races, a runaway train pounding in your chest. His eyes, his touch, sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart.
Another shuddering breath in. Out.
Fuck.
There’s a knock – not at the ensuite door, the sound’s too muffled for that, and you didn’t hear Shin’s footsteps (though you’re not sure you would, over the pounding in your ribs) meaning that the knocking’s at his door.
There’s only one other occupant in the house. Though you try your damndest to fight it, there’s no stopping the wave of panic that stabs through you. Shin’s door creaks open, soft voices barely creeping through the gap in the door, and your fingers go rigid, nails clawing at the black and white flooring as though you can ground yourself by breaking through it instead.
You don’t realise you’re crying.
Not until the droplets splatter on the tiles by your feet.
—
You should’ve left days ago.
After Christmas, when you’d ducked out from under Shin’s arm and lurched for the nearest bathroom, when it’d finally clicked for him that you violently hurling your guts up wasn’t the result of a simple hangover, you’d tried. Short of admitting the truth – and swinging a bat at the bees’ nest – convincing Shin to leave his dad’s place goes about as well as drawing blood from a stone.
He’s even less thrilled about the prospect of you going back by yourself, leaving him to spend what’s left of the week with his dad like they’d planned.
There’s only so far you can push without breaking something. You, probably. You and Shin, almost definitely.
Even so, you might’ve had more of a backbone if he hadn’t been so… Shin. All coaxing and concerned. Logical to a damn fault.
‘You don’t wanna be stuck in a car driving for hours when you’re feeling shitty, love, and besides, dad’s place is bigger than ours. Comfier. You’ll probably be on the mend by tomorrow anyway, so there’s no point in us heading back.’
If you weren’t trying to salvage what’s left, or maybe clinging to the idea that you can – and want to – then it would’ve been easier just to go.
You wouldn’t still be here, stuck in the house of the man who’d– who’d raped you.
You wouldn’t be avoiding your boyfriend’s eye.
You would’ve screamed the whole house down before Kuroo Tetsurou ever bent you over the kitchen counter.
But the gentle extrication in the early hours of the morning, Shinnosuke’s lips brushing against your cheek, the sleepy rasp of his voice as he mumbles a quiet, “Love you,” before slipping away – you barely stir, cozy and safe and content.
He loves you. Shin loves you.
A while later – minutes, maybe, or hours, it’s hard to tell when you’re still in the grips of sleep – the mattress dips under Shin’s weight, and those strong, sculpted arms seek your warmth again, you only sigh and lean back against him.
“I love you,” you whisper, not yet willing to open your eyes and face another day of lying to him.
The arm slung over your waist curls tighter, his face nuzzling into your neck. The kisses he leaves there aren’t affectionate, exactly, they’re not gentle, when teeth catch, nipping sharply at your skin, only to be soothed by a lave of his tongue.
And the laugh that rumbles at your back – a shade off your boyfriend’s – is anything but nice.
“Yeah? Fuck, you’re sweet in the morning.”
This time, you don’t hold back. You shriek, kicking out like a wild thing – or you would have, if Kuroo’s hand hadn’t clamped down on your mouth, if his weight hadn’t shifted so that rather than lying curled up behind you, he’s half on top of you, pinning you down to the mattress with a thigh lodged between yours.
“Uh-uh-uh, we were doing so good, kitten. Don’t you wanna be daddy’s good girl?”
Your only answer is a ragged noise, torn from somewhere deep inside of you. He chuckles again, grinds against you, his cock a thick, unignorable presence pressed at your ass. There’s nothing but the thin cotton of your sleep shorts separating it from you, and from past experience, that barrier won’t do much to deter him for long.
Kuroo rolls you onto your back and slots himself nicely between your legs. Naked, you realise with a fresh stab of fear.
You scream the moment his palm leaves your lips to capture your wrists, scream for Shinnosuke – for anyone – so loudly that it feels like you’ll bleed for it. Let him come running, find you pinned and squirming, terrified beneath the man who raised him.
Let it be the final crack that obliterates everything.
If Shin sees you like this, utterly petrified, on the verge of being raped again and still thinks it some kind of a betrayal, let him choke on it. You don’t care anymore, you just want someone to stop this.
(Shin wouldn’t, would he?)
But Kuroo only snickers. Leans over to lick along the edge of your lashes, where hot, glistening tears are already spilling over, trickling down to disappear in your hairline. “Your boy’s not here, but we don’t have long ‘til he gets back. You’ll forgive me if we bypass the foreplay this morning, right, sweetheart?” You shudder, goosebumps prickling where his breath washes over you, and you squeeze your eyes shut and violently – pointlessly – shake your head. “We’ll have to save eating your pretty little cunt for next time.”
All too eager, he hungrily captures your lips again and yanks down your shorts, taking your panties along with them.
Christmas morning, you’d been shoved face down over the kitchen counter while he’d fucked you from behind. You’d give anything for that distance right now. At least then you hadn’t had to endure his suffocating warmth, having him squeeze and grope at your tits over your old, threadbare tee.
You wouldn’t have to writhe away from his mouth while he rucks your bare thighs up either side of his hips, dragging you closer.
Even with your eyes screwed tightly shut, you can’t pretend that this isn’t happening as Kuroo spits and a heartbeat later the thick head of his cock slowly – agonisingly slowly – splits you apart.
You forget how to breathe.
Eyes popping open and back arching up into his chest, your fists clutch desperately at the sheets of Shin’s bed, trying to squirm away, only the grip he has on you makes sure there’s nowhere for you to escape to. He’s big, long, mostly, and you’re too tight to take him easily, especially without any prep. The spit doesn’t help any, and Kuroo doesn’t care, groaning out in pleasure as inch by inch he pushes himself deeper, until at last he’s seated firmly inside of you. “Good fucking giiiirl,” he purrs, a kiss pressed to the tip of your nose.
A tiny, drawn out whine is all you can manage when your lower half radiates pain.
“Gonna fuck this perfect pussy nice ‘n full,” he tells you. “Give you everything you need, sweet girl. You can take it. I know you can, you just gotta breathe for me.”
But unlike last time, he doesn’t allow you the luxury of a minute to adjust. His hips draw back and punch forward, jolting another mewling gasp from your lips. And again. And again. The pace isn’t violent so much as intense, like each thrust ignites something inside of him that burns for more.
He clasps your wrists in one hand, pants into your open mouth between frenetic kisses, groans out your name in that shuddering gasp.
“Mine,” he pants, beads of sweat dripping from his chest, his chin, rolling down onto you. “You’re daddy’s girl– fuck!”
Your cunt reacts accordingly, flexing around his cock, easing its passage so that the wet, lurid sounds of him fucking you quickly fill the air. A betrayal that has your cheeks flaming.
The muscles in your thighs burn, Kuroo all but forcing them back towards the bed, his weight driving into you with fervour. A quick adjustment to the angle of your hip and his cock hits a spot deep inside of you that has you choking on a moan of your own, a burst of bright, sizzling pleasure bleeding through the pain.
Kuroo grins ferally at the sound of it. Drops his weight on an elbow and bucks into you, hitting it again. Your inner walls twitch, squeezing and slick, dragging noises from you that make you wanna burn with shame – that, or cut yourself loose entirely. You can’t muster resistance when he swallows them down, sucking on your tongue, moaning into your mouth. His momentum turns rabid, his hand no longer encircling your wrists, but entangled with them, pressing them down to the mattress. “Almost… there…” he grunts, gasping as he curls over you, abs flexing.
A shudder rolls through him, his hips faltering just as something vital shatters inside of you, toes curling, white hot pleasure exploding from your core, rippling through your whole body like the aftershocks of an earthquake. With your pussy spasming around his cock, your body taut and locked with pleasure, Kuroo hurtles off that cliff right alongside you, a strangled noise somewhere between a moan and a growl escaping him as he pumps your cunt full of his seed, all but collapsing atop of you afterwards.
It takes a minute before he peels himself off of you; pushing himself up, braced on elbow so that he’s not crushing you entirely, Kuroo waits, buried inside your warmth, for you to stop trembling with the after effects of your orgasm, for his cock to soften and both of your breathing to even out.
Waits for those glazed over eyes to focus back on him and once again fill with tears, stroking a hand through your sweat-dampened hair as he does so.
“You should go take a shower before Shin gets home,” he says after a minute or two, his voice a low purr. “He can’t be far off.”
But aside from rolling off you to allow you up, Kuroo makes no moves to follow you, or so much as get up off the bed. Naked, his cock soft and glistening with your juices, one knee propped up, he watches you stumble like a newborn foal into the bathroom (only half managing to close the door behind you) with damn near predatory intent, a smirk teasing at his lips.
It’s where Shin finds you a short while later, curled up on the floor of the shower, shaking through silent sobs.
—
Shin doesn’t let go of your hand the entire trip home.
Uncharacteristically sober, he says little aside from the occasional murmur to check in with you – always unanswered – and keeps you tucked close, as though a fraction of distance between you might pry you from his side entirely.
The hours pass in a haze of… nothing. Your tears dry. Numbness takes over. You move like a robot, Shin guiding you every step of the way until you cross the threshold of your apartment.
He never asks what happened. You suppose the smell of sex in his bedroom and the bruises and love bites scattered over your body tell the tale well enough. Shinnosuke’s never been stupid. He’s not dense.
He’s not heartless, either.
In the sanctity of your tiny, shitty bathroom, you shower again. A proper shower this time, with the water turned up full blast, scrubbing viciously at your skin– or at least, you do until he steps in and takes over. You’ve never thought of your boyfriend as particularly gentle, but he pries the loofah from your hand with a delicacy you didn’t know him capable of and takes care of you, cleaning you up with a tenderness that borders on reverence.
You pretend not to notice how his eyes (so like his, sharp and hazel) narrow into a scowl every time he spots another bruise, another mark left by his father. Once or twice his fingers begin to ghost over them, burgundy fingerprints on your thigh, a love bite sucked into the delicate skin above your collarbone, only to catch himself, swallowing tightly and resuming his task like he’d never faltered in the first place.
When you’re done, he dries you both off and helps you into fresh clothes – a pair of comfy sweatpants and an old hoodie of his and guides you back to the living room, setting you down into his lap on the couch.
“I–” his voice is hoarse. Quiet, especially in the stillness of the apartment, and when you glance his way, he awkwardly clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “I went to the pharmacy. I thought– I thought…” he trails off again, dropping his gaze. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”
Your heart twists, and it’s your turn to comfort him. Or maybe you’re comforting each other, shifting slightly in his lap so that you can wrap your arms around him and draw him in close, burying your face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the fresh, clean scent of him. “No. I– it wasn’t…” but the words don’t come. You flounder.
What are you supposed to say? It wasn’t his fault? Wasn’t yours?
You should’ve said something earlier? Should’ve fought back harder – against both of them, should’ve grown a spine?
A beat passes in the tense, thick silence, and when it becomes clear that you’ve got nothing for him, he makes an odd sort of huff that sounds almost irritated. You frown a little, but you don’t fight it when his arms pull tighter around you, when his cheek comes to a rest against your hair and his hands seek yours, curling around your wrists and stroking at the skin there.
“We’ll get through this,” he vows. “I love you, this doesn’t change anything. It won’t change anything.” His lips meet the crown of your head in a soft kiss. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”
#yandere haikyuu#yandere kuroo#yandere kuroo x reader#yandere kuroo tetsurou#yandere kuroo tetsurou x reader#oc: kuroo shinnosuke#tw: noncon
522 notes
·
View notes
Text
Eddie stares up at his ceiling bored out of his mind. He’s not technically completely on bed rest from the bat injuries, but he’s not allowed to do anything too strenuous. It’s ridiculous though really. He’s basically all healed with his ugly scars that make up a good portion of his body, but whenever the kids see them, they tell him to lay back down.
It’s stupid really. This is not how he thought playing the hero would end. Well… honestly he hadn’t thought that far ahead before, but now…
He groans and sits up ignoring the way his side slightly aches, but he needs to call the one person who actually knows what’s he going through. He makes his way down the hall and to the phone where he dials a number he had memorized months before.
After the second ring there’s a voice that answers, “Harrington residence.”
Eddie sighs, “How do you overcome the never ending boredom of our condition? I can’t be laying in bed all day, man.”
There’s a laugh on the other line. “It’s good hearing from you. How are you doing?” Steve asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
It somehow pulls a smile on his face in the way only Steve can. “Not great, man. Better though now that I’m talking to you,” Eddie flirts shamelessly.
“Same here. But hey, I’ve actually been spending some time in my pool. The doctor told me that swimming isn’t too strenuous as long as I’m not doing laps back and forth like I used to. You should stop by sometime. Exercise usually gets my mind off things. Even floating around in the pool helps.”
Eddie let’s Steve’s voice wash over him and soothe all the aches in his body. Swimming or floating sounds nice, but being around Steve sounds even better. “I’ll stop by sometime then definitely.”
“Let me know if you need a ride or anything, alright? No shame in that.”
Eddie tried to hold back a sigh. He hates that people feel the need to take care of him after he’s handled himself all these years. “I’ll be fine, but thank you. When should I come by?”
“Literally whenever you want, man. I’d appreciate the company,” Steve replies sounding almost desperate for Eddie to stop by. It makes Eddie smile.
“I’ll see you some time soon then,” Eddie replies with a smile.
“Sounds great,” Steve says like he’s smiling equally as much as Eddie.
Eddie lets his heart yearn a little longer as he hears Steve breathing on the other line. He doesn’t want to say goodbye, he just wants to stay in this moment as long as he can. He hears a shuffle on the other line then the steady breathing again.
These are the moments that confuse Eddie the most. Whenever they call and they just linger on the line when they know the conversation should end just like the linger in each other’s space whenever they’re physically around each other. It makes Eddie’s heart race, but he tries to fight it. Steve isn’t into him like that. Sure, he stares at his lips a lot and lets him flirt with him and even sends him winks but… it’s not like that.
Steve deserves someone gorgeous. Some girl that isn’t covered in scars and missing their left damn nipple. Eddie sighs.
“You okay?” Steve asks. Eddie nearly jumps as he forgets Steve is still able to hear him on the other line.
“Yeah, man. Just…” Eddie trails off and runs a hand over his face before pulling the phone down and thudding his head back against the wall. “I think I love you,” Eddie mumbles, making sure the phone is far away and muffled against his stomach. He pulls it back up and continues. “I just have to go, but I’ll definitely take you up on your offer if it still stands.”
“Pool is always open for you, Eddie.”
The way he says his name sends chills down his spine. Fuck. “Thank you. I’ll talk to you soon I hope.”
“I hope so, too. Bye Eddie.”
“Bye Steve,” Eddie says and hangs up as soon as he can and gasps for air. Damn Harrington for making him so breathless.
He makes his way back to his room and digs through his drawers for his old swim trunks that he prays still fit. He finds them and pulls them on. He frowns.
They fit okay, but that’s not the problem. His scars are exposed in a way that make him want to cover up completely and never let Steve see this side of him. He feels… he sighs and looks away from his scars. He grabs the nearest shirt he can and tugs it over his head. He can just swim with it on. The scars of his ankles and legs are fairly small and less gruesome so he’ll be fine exposing them.
He turns to look in his mirror but stops. He knows if he sees himself, he won’t go to Steve’s. He knows the man won’t judge him but… looking won’t help convince him of that.
So, without taking another moment to consider, Eddie grabs his keys and wallet, slips on his shoes, and heads out of his trailer. It’s weird to be out in daylight with his scars partially on display, but he needs this.
The drive over is fairly quick. He bypasses the front door and just starts heading to the backyard. He hears the water splashing a bit before he’s greeted with the sight of Steve slightly wading around the shallow end.
“Hey,” Eddie calls out, startling Steve. “Sorry,” Eddie says with a smile, “When you said anytime, did that mean today?”
“Of course, of course,” Steve says making his way to the steps of the pool. He may have said something else but all Eddie hears is his own conscious chanting Speedo, Speedo, Speedo.
And it is a lovely sight. Christ.
Eddie’s eyes fight to try to stay up. It helps when Steve snatches a towel off a nearby chair and wraps it around his waist. “Sorry,” Steve says sounding unapologetic.
“Don’t be,” Eddie flirts.
Steve winks and flirts back, “Sadly today wasn’t a skinny dipping day.”
“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie mutters under his breath. He hopes the water is cold.
“I’ll grab an extra towel for you, just give me a minute,” Steve says with a smile and heads inside.
Eddie takes a few deep breathes, removes his shoes, and sits by the edge of the pool, dipping his feet in. It’s warm.
The back door opens and Steve returns with a towel and two beers. Eddie makes grabby hands at the beer and Steve complies by opening one and giving it to him.
The cold liquid makes Eddie feel a little more alert as he stares at his feet in the water. He feels like his wet shirt against his body is going to be a harsh, uncomfortable reminder of swimming in the lake behind Reefer Rick’s place. He sighs and slowly starts removing his rings one by one before setting them by the poolside.
He slowly starts sliding forward into the pool but is stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder. “Gonna take your shirt off first?”
Eddie scoots back and sits on the edge. He takes a big swig of his beer before shaking his head. Steve sits next to him and softly says, “I’m not pressuring you or anything, but it’ll feel nicer to not have wet clothes clinging against the scars.”
Eddie sighs and puts his head in his hands. “I don’t want you to see them,” Eddie says honestly.
“Why not?” Steve asks not offended or pushing it, just prompting him to continue.
Eddie sits up and looks at his feet in the pool again. “I’m scared of your reaction. Scared that you’ll find them hideous and find me hideous. I hate those damn gasps every time one of the kids sees my shirt lift or someone sees part of my face when I go out. But to see it all at once… is a whole new beast.”
Instead of responding, Steve slips into the pool in front of Eddie, the water coming up to his hips. He grabs Eddie’s hands and places them on his scars. “And what do you think when you see my scars?” Steve asks.
Eddie glances up at Steve’s eyes and hesitantly looks down. His heart skips a beat as he stares at them. He traces his fingertips lightly over them. “I think of the way you got them. The way you sacrificed yourself for us and risked everything for everyone else. The way you got blood on my vest but I didn’t care. You still somehow managed to defeat Vecna with those wounds still open. God, Steve. They’re absolutely gorgeous.” And he means it. Every word of it.
Steve’s hands come to the hem of Eddie’s shirt and slightly tug up. Eddie releases a deep breath and lifts his hands over his head, letting Steve pull the shirt off. When he’s free from it, he sees Steve staring down at his torso, eyes flicker over the scars before he slowly rests his fingers on them. The skin is sensitive and Steve’s fingers are cold and slightly wet, so Eddie shivers.
“You wanna know what I see?” Steve asks. Eddie’s tongue rests on the top of his lip as he nods. “I see the marks that show the way you sacrificed yourself to try to save Dustin. To distract the bats from the rest of us, which saved the us and helped us defeat Vecna. The marks that almost took you from us which destroyed everyone. The same ones that bond us, and are used as an excuse so I can reach out to you when I want to. They’re the marks that remind me of everything that you are. And they’re absolutely beautiful, Eddie. You don’t ever need to hide them around me,” he finishes his little speech settling between Eddie’s legs with his hand resting over the scars on his face.
Eddie feels a single tear slip down his face and wipes at it. “Thank you,” he breathes out and rests his forehead against Steve’s. He knows in this moment that he has to tell Steve. And with all the honesty that he’s already laid out he’s able to confess, “Steve, this might ruin things between us, but… I’m in love with your scars as much as I’m in love with you.”
Steve pulls away and searches Eddie’s eyes before huffing out a laugh, “Damnit, you beat me to it. Because I am absolutely in love with you - all of you.”
Eddie smiles so wide that he can feel the scars on his face tug up before he slips into the pool and seals his lips over Steve’s. His arms come up and trace the scars on Eddie’s side and Eddie mirrors him as he kisses and kisses and kisses him.
When they pull away to catch their breath, Steve says, “Let me show you how much I love all of your scars.” Then, he peppers kisses over each of Eddie’s scars, and Eddie thinks he might be in heaven.
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
An idea: poly!ghostface- the boys are out about to go after a victim when they find they’re missing something/something broken (the phone isn’t working or their voice changer doesn’t have batteries whatever you want is totally cool!)
They realize- afab!reader the needy little whore did it on purpose so they’d have to come home to her and give her attention like they don’t give her attention 99% of the time.
Which of course they do and they are very very grumpy angy bois. All like “oh you missed us you wanted our attention you know you’d get it when we came home but you had to ruin our game and now we gotta take our energy and anger out somehow”
Followed by some smutty degradation, spanking/punishment, good ole fashion filth lol
Side note i think you have one of the easiest to understand request rules idk some people just make them complicated but yours is great!
needy little whore
ship: billy loomis x fem!reader x stu macher
summary: exactly what the ask above says!! :)
warnings: degradtion, spanking, a bit of knifeplay, rough/unprotected sex, face-fucking
word count: 1.3k
You knew that you were asking for trouble, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
It wasn’t that Billy and Stu weren’t giving you enough attention. In fact, to the average person, they would be considered abnormally clingy. It didn’t bother you, though, because you were the same way.
You would have survived one night without them, but you were feeling mischievous that night. You wanted to piss them off so that they’d take it out on you, because angry sex with Billy and Stu was a whole new level of adrenaline.
So, you stole the batteries out of their voice changer, and then hid all the other batteries in the house. You weren’t stupid: You knew the reason they wouldn’t be hanging at Stu’s tonight, and you didn’t mind that as much as you minded their attention being elsewhere.
Since Stu’s family was rarely home, you would often hang out there even when Stu wasn’t around. He didn’t care, and had even given you a spare key.
You watched the two boys head out the door, black backpacks surely stuffed with everything they’d need to carry out a brutal crime.
You popped in a VHS of Nightmare on Elm Street, then made yourself comfortable on the couch, wearing the most revealing pajamas you had. You had seen the way the boys looked at you before they left, and smirked to yourself.
You only made it about twenty minutes into the movie before you heard a car pull into the driveway outside. Anticipation built inside you, but you stayed put, looking innocent as ever as Billy and Stu burst through the front door, both looking absolutely pissed.
“What did you do?” Billy demanded.
You looked up at him with your sweetest expression. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t play stupid, Y/N,” Stu said. “You’re fuckin’ lucky we tested the thing first.”
“You trying to get us caught?” Billy asked, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up from the couch. “You know we can’t fuck you if we’re in jail, right? Is that what you want?”
You shook your head. “No, of course not—”
“Ruining our game just cause you wanna get fucked, huh?” Stu said, closing in behind you. You were trapped between them now, Billy still holding your wrist as Stu pressed himself against your ass; he was already hard, and you bit back a moan at the realization.
“I just—”
“Couldn’t wait til we got home?” Billy smirked, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You would have gotten what you wanted later, but the needy whole just couldn’t wait.”
Stu gripped your hips from behind, breathing against your ear. “Well, we gotta get our energy out somehow. But now it’s all gonna be focused on you, baby. We’re gonna fuckin’ destroy you.”
You whimpered as they manhandled you back onto the couch, the film still playing in the background.
“Look at these slutty clothes,” Billy practically purred. “Barely covering anything…”
Stu pulled a knife from the bag he’d been carrying, the blade glinting in the light. “Bet you won’t mind if we take ‘em off,” he said, using the sharp blade to cut the strap of your top, then doing the same to the other side.
You opened your mouth to protest, but Billy stroked your hair and whispered, “We’ll buy you somethin’ even prettier, m’kay?”
Before you could offer a response, he shoved his fingers into your mouth, and you sucked on them reflexively, making him chuckle.
“Such a fucking slut,” he said.
Stu pulled the remnants of your tattered clothes off, leaving you naked as Billy pulled his hand back, admiring the strings of spit on his fingers before licking it off. He and Stu were completely fucking depraved, and it turned you on more than you could handle.
You were quickly pushed onto all fours on the couch, and you could barely contain your excitement at the idea of them fucking you. But that was wishful thinking. Instead, a hand came down on your ass with a hard slap! making you yelp.
You turned your head to see that it was Stu who had hit you, and you pouted at him.
“Oh, don’t give me that pathetic face,” he said. “You thought we were just gonna give you what you wanted after that? Not a chance, baby. We gotta punish you first.”
He laughed as you whined in response, clearly enjoying your frustration.
They took turns spanking you, slapping your ass without mercy.
“Count them,” Billy had ordered.
Each number left your mouth between pained groans and squeaks, stuttering over nine and eleven and thirteen, but when they hit twenty, they stopped, apparently satisfied with your teary face and marked-up ass.
“Think we should give the whore what she wants?” Stu asked.
Billy hummed, considering it. “I doubt she learned her lesson, but I wanna fuck her too bad to care right now.”
“Agreed,” Stu said, and you stayed on your knees as the two of them stripped out of their clothes hurriedly, bickering about who was going to take what place.
“You always get to fuck her, let me—”
“Her mouth is just as good—”
“Do I get a say in this?” you asked.
“No,” the boys replied, grinning at their synchronized speech.
You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched them play a rigorous game of rock-paper-scissors for who got to fuck you, and your laugh only grew when Stu won, and Billy flipped him off.
Some nights they would take turns, but after the spanking that they’d given you, they were gracious enough to not push your limits too far.
You were already wet, but Stu took some time playing with your pussy, fingers fumbling through your folds to rub at your clit, and you bucked your hips uselessly, moaning at his touch.
Billy walked to the other end of the couch, grabbing you by your hair and smirking down at you. “You gonna let me fuck your throat, slut?” he asked.
You nodded, opening your mouth for him without needing to be asked. He chuckled at your obedience, and wasted no time in pushing his cock between your lips.
As he did so, Stu was lining himself up with your entrance, his grip impossibly tight on your hips and he entered you, slow at first, before immediately picking up the pace, snapping his hips rhythmically. Every time he thrust forward, it made Billy’s dick go further into your mouth, and the sounds of their moaning filled your ears as they used you like the needy whore you were.
Your eyes teared as you focused on breathing through your nose amidst the pleasure of Stu’s cock inside you. Before you met them, you could never cum from penetration, but both Billy and Stu had a way of fucking you so good, rough just like you wanted, that it had become more common for you to orgasm from it.
“So fuckin’ hot,” Billy murmured, almost to himself. “Perfect fuckin’ mouth.”
“Such a slut,” Stu added. “Taking us both at once. Gettin’ off on it, too.”
You whined at their words, floating from the mixture of praise and degradation.
Stu came first, and Billy followed shortly after, and the three of you collapsed onto the couch together, sweaty and tired.
Stu leaned over to you and kissed you, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You had a suspicion it was partly so that he could taste Billy’s cum, but you kissed him back anyway.
“Get a room,” Billy joked, making Stu giggle.
Nightmare on Elm Street was almost over, and you were sticky and exhausted.
“You wanna get cleaned up, baby?” Stu asked.
You nodded, and before you could say anything, he was carefully leading you to the bathroom, his arms supporting the majority of your weight.
Billy went upstairs to grab you some clothes to borrow—a pair of his pajama pants, and one of Stu’s t-shirts. It was all too big on you, but it was comfortable and smelt like them.
You fell asleep to the sound of Billy and Stu planning another night to carry out the plan that you’d ruined. Maybe next time you’d take the burner phones off their chargers.
#poly!ghostface#billy x reader x stu#stuilly#billy loomis x reader#stu macher x reader#ghostface x reader#billy x stu x reader#poly!ghostface x reader#slasher smut#slasher fic#ophelia's fics
574 notes
·
View notes
Text
spoiled.
-- bonten x reader
🖤 — Tokyo Revengers
📝 — platonic relationship with everyone, cursing
:a/n — it's just some bonten execs spoiling the hell out of our Y/N
-- 1, 2
Surprisingly, a week after the incident with Sanzu drugging you to sleep, the upper echelons who loved throwing their work to you started to make their work themselves. Well, still with your help because they’re clueless as fuck as to how make a proper report. You almost wanted to tell them to fuck off and get the work done yourself but that just meant you’re okay with them dumping their work on you.
“Ran-san, that line is inappropriate.” you say for the nth time that afternoon. You’re hungry and tired and Ran decided to be a dumbass, purposely making mistakes in his report just so he could spite you with that lazy ass grin.
How badly you want to punch it off him.
“It’s my report, I will write whatever I want, doll.” you looked at him straight in the eye and,
“And your life is Mikey-san’s. If you want your cause of death to be because of a report containing inappropriate phrases, then go ahead and do so.” you deadpanned. He’ll be reporting this to Mikey and the other executives, after all.
“Touche.” he says, sighing. “Doll, can’t you just do it instead?”
“Change that line, Ran-san.” you point at his screen, ignoring his question. He groans and you smile fondly when he’s not looking.
He’s unbearable sometimes but you know he’s doing his best.
“What do you want for lunch, sir? I’ll buy it right now. It’s past lunchtime and you need to rest, too.” he looks at his watch and hums. “Let’s go have lunch, doll.” he says, standing up, not even bothering to turn off his laptop.
‘My treat.’ goes unsaid. Of course, you’ll protest when you get there but you know he’ll just use his position and label it as an order just so he could treat you.
All Bonten executives do.
“Y/N, come to my office.”
You blink at your phone screen, surprised at Kakucho’s text. He rarely texts you so you’re worried that something might have happened. Without hesitation, you bolted out your office in a hurry for your boss’ office.
“Sir, I’m here.” you announced after knocking, not even waiting for Kakucho’s response before opening the door. He’s sitting on his chair, wide eyes looking up at your dishevelled state. “Did you run?” you clear your throat, flushed in the face before fixing yourself. “I apologise for my state, sir. Did you need anything?”
You see his eyebrow rising in amusement and you want nothing more than to walk out his office, knowing he’ll say something that will make your heartbeat a little faster.
It’s not like you like him, you swear.
It’s just that…Kakucho has that charisma. An alluring one.
“Did you rush here in concern after receiving my text?” he asked, a soft smile on his lips. You bit the inside of your cheek, clearing your throat once again. “Yes, sir…I was worried because you rarely text me.” you admit and God, his balcony is open and you want to throw yourself out because of his soft laugh.
“Thank you, Y/N. And I apologise for scaring you. I just wanted help regarding this report that I’ll be giving to Kokonoi. You know, financial and stuff. You’ve been his secretary before, right? So I thought I'd get your help to fix any mistakes.”
Warmth spreads through your whole being at the thought of an executive thinking of you and your capabilities.
You knew it was what you signed up for in the first place - to help them - but it was still a good feeling for you.
“Oh, I’m glad you’re okay, Kakucho-san. And of course, please let me take a look.” you beam at him before walking towards his desk. It is then you see a box of your favourite biscuits and candies. He sees your line of sight and chuckles before pushing it towards your direction.
“A thank you gift for your help,” he says.
You gaped at him like a stupid fish before bowing, “I-it’s not needed, sir. But thank you so much!” he pats your head before you could stand straight. “Sit here, let’s start.”
Working with Kokonoi is the second most peaceful experience for you. He’s not a dumbass, not an asshole, and most importantly, he does his work right.
(Kakucho is your favourite working buddy but don’t tell the others that.)
“Kid, did you put this here?” he asked in a hushed tone, pointing inside his bag. You looked over at him, confused. Why is he asking such questions while the both of you are in the middle of an important mission?
You see a bag of candies, your favourites, inside his bag. “No, sir…Even though those are my favourites, I won’t bring them to missions.” Well, now you’re tempted to eat one but you’re literally in a life or death mission so no, you’ll maintain your professionalism and eat a bunch later when the mission’s done and you’re still alive.
“Fucking Sanzu must’ve put it.” he tsked, closing his bag before focusing on the task at hand. The both of you are currently infiltrating a secret base of an enemy and instead of being alone, Kokonoi insists on coming with you, saying you need guidance.
It’s just him being a worrywart.
“I'll be going now, sir.” you inform him when you see the enemies walking out. He grabs your wrist before you could even step away. “Kid, be careful.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m serious. Look at me. Be fucking careful.” you blinked at him, nodding. You’re also serious but hey, having Kokonoi worry over you is such a good feeling.
“I’ll be back as soon as possible, sir.”
True to your words, you successfully completed your mission with Kokonoi’s guidance. “Here.” he suddenly pushed a card to you.
A black card.
“Do you want me to buy something, sir?” you asked, confused as you hesitantly got hold of the card that probably holds your lifetime’s paycheck.
“I talked with someone who works at the candy factory.” he says, making you tilt your head in more confusion.
“And…?”
“Idiot, buy the whole factory! It’s your favourite candy’s factory.” as if that was the most obvious thing, he rolls his eyes at your dumbass.
But hey! It’s not everyday someone hands a black card to you and tell you to buy a fucking factory of your favourite candy!?
“S-sir, that’s–”
“An order.”
You groan, hiding your flushed face from his raised eyebrow and that smug smile on his lips. “Now get out, Sanzu will accompany you.” he pushes you out of the car and you’re wholeheartedly surprised that Sanzu is actually outside, waiting for you.
“Let’s go, kid. Gotta make sure they sell it to us.” of course he will be the one to accompany you, he’s in charge of negotiations for a reason.
“Sir, this is really too much.” you try protesting. “It was Mikey’s order.” that shuts you up, knowing you can’t go against your top boss so you walk behind Sanzu, head low, still red in the face.
You appreciate them spoiling you, really. But sometimes, it’s too much and you don’t know how to handle those kinds of things.
“Thank you…” you whispered loud enough for him to hear. He just grins and ruffles your hair. "Thank that money-greedy-white-haired-man."
Later on, you found out that it was actually Kokonoi’s idea and order, not Mikey’s.
“He wanted to treat you, what can we do? Refuse? No way, doll. You deserved it. Enjoy your candies.” Ran told you, a rare genuine and soft smile on his face as he pats your head as he leaves you to work on his report.
Oh well, might as well do their reports.
A/N; it's been a while! how's everyone? anyways, i need a kokonoi in my life please
@bontensbabygirl
#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers fic#tokyo revengers imagines#tokyo revengers spoiler#sanzu haruchiyo x reader#haitani ran x reader#kakucho x reader#bonten x reader#bonten x yn#xiefuyu's#kokonoi hajime x reader
514 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiii, discovered your fics on AO3 and they’re very my jam! If you’re still taking requests, could I suggest something where Jason rescues you, an angsty hurt/comfort? Maybe they’re pining for each-other and maybe confront/confess their feelings, or are already together, up to you.
No worries if not 😊😊 Thanks for the good words ❤️🖤
Hey I know you! Thanks for leaving nice comments over yonder 🥰 Idk if I really delivered on this prompt but I hope you like it anyway lol 😅 I combined this prompt with another I received about Jason and the reader fighting before the reader is hurt/kidnapped.
jason todd x fem!reader. tw: creepy men, crime alley, injured reader, jason shoots people (🎶whatta mighty good man🎶)
****
"If you don't know who this is, you shouldn't be fucking calling. Leave a message after the beep or whatever."
Beeeep!
"Jay, it's me. Can we please talk? You can't ignore me forever. I want us to fix this. I—" You swallow hard. "I miss you."
You sigh, rubbing your forehead as you think of what to say. You've already left three unanswered messages. There's no more for you to say. You just want things to be fixed.
You want your best friend back.
"Okay. Call me when you can."
You hang up and pocket your phone.
The fight was stupid. Jason doesn't respond well to being pushed, but you pushed him anyway. You wanted to know where he disappeared to at night. You were sick of the secrets, of always feeling like you were three steps behind, left in the dark.
If you really cared about me, you would tell me where you go.
Jason had stilled, expression cold.
I don't owe you anything.
Your voice had turned wobbly then.
Jay, don't I mean anything to you? I want you to trust me, I want this to be a normal friendship!
He'd put on his jacket and collected the few things he left in your apartment.
You're right. You deserve normal.
You haven't spoken since. At first, you thought Jason left for a few hours to cool down. So you gave him space.
But then hours turned to days, and now it's been a full week and a half since you'd fought. Last night, you broke down and cried. This is it. You've lost him for good.
Part of you fears the reality is darker than him just leaving. You've long suspected that whatever Jason goes out to do is probably illegal since he's always out at night.
What if you're called down to the police station to identify a body?
All those things left unsaid. Jason will never know you love him.
Screw this. You're going to his apartment.
It's late. It's really late, and this is actually not the best idea to carry out at eight o'clock at night in Crime Alley. There's a reason Jason always insists on hanging out at your apartment or at a cafe.
A man whistles at you down the street. "Goin' somewhere, girlie?"
This was a bad idea. Jason might be the one who has to ID a body tonight.
You can't remember which of these apartments is his. But you can't call him. He can't know you're here, not yet.
"You shouldn't be here, lady!" a kid shouts at you from a fire escape. "He don't like new people on his turf!"
You don't take the time to figure out who the kid means. Crime Alley is known for, well, crime. The sooner you can locate Jason's apartment, the better.
A group of men light cigarettes down the road. You pause and turn around. In the process, you stumble over a garbage can.
That instantly draws their attention.
"Well, what have we here?" one jeers. "You lost, sweetie?"
You run.
You don't care if it makes you look afraid—you are afraid, and you're beyond caring. You shouldn't have come here.
You turn abruptly. You have no idea where you're going, but maybe if you act like you do, you'll throw them off. You take another turn, then another, and you look behind you to check if—
Wham!
You crash into a body. A muscled body, one that forces you backwards.
White, glowing eyes that smolder inside a red helmet meet your own.
Jason's never warned you about the Red Hood. He just tells you to stay away from the area altogether. You don't really need to be warned about Hood anyway. You know what he's about. You know you've probably just sealed your fate tonight.
"What the fuck?" he asks, modulated voice rough.
"I'm sorry," you babble. "Please don't hurt m—"
Gunshots ring out, and you realize you've just stumbled into an active gunfight. With Red Hood.
Fuck your luck.
The gunmen have spotted you, and they take great pleasure in using you as a distraction; they fire at you instead of Hood.
He shields you with his body, blocking the bullets. It works until a flash grenade is thrown, and you're separated from Hood, ears ringing. You hit the ground hard from the impact, scraping your hands and arms.
Someone's arm wraps around your neck, and you're suddenly dragged backward. You scream, scratching at the arm, and a fist thumps your head. You blink at the pain, too dazed to keep fighting.
"We had a deal, Hood!" your captor shouts, arm tightening around your neck. "Let us go or she dies!"
"Negation's over," Red Hood snarls, and shoots all four men.
You cry as the shot echoes too close to your face and for a moment, you fear you've been shot too. The now dead man slips off of you, collapsing in a heap on the ground.
Your ankle protests when you step on it. In the chaos of the fight, you hadn't realized you sprained it. You trip and fall on your butt, scrambling away from the pooling blood.
"What are you doing here?" Hood growls at you, stalking closer.
You start to cry, edging backward.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your fight, please d-don't kill me—"
You press down hard on your wrist and that hurts more than your ankle. You cry harder at the pain, grabbing your wrist.
Red Hood gets closer, and you try to scramble away with one arm and one leg. He kneels down and holds your good arm in place so you can't move.
"I'm sorry!" you say again, tears thick on your lashes.
"Fuck," Hood says roughly, and unlocks his helmet.
Your eyes widen as he pulls it off.
"J—"
"I told you to never come to this area, and you come alone, in the fucking dark, without a weapon? What the hell is wrong with you?" Jason snarls.
"Please don't yell at me," you whisper, covering your face with your hands.
You're shaking, adrenaline turning your stomach. A moment later, you throw up.
"Shit," Jason says and puts a hand on your stomach to help you sit back up. "Shit, I'm an asshole. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell."
"I thought you died," you say, daring to look at him. "You weren't answering my calls, and you only go out at night. I thought..."
Jason immediately looks avalanched by guilt. He cradles you to his chest.
"Fuck. I'm sorry. I should've—I thought it would be better, leaving."
"I didn't want you to leave," you cry, arms curling around his neck. "I love you so much, Jay. I was so scared. Don't leave me again."
Jason's breath hitches. You freeze, suddenly sure you've screwed it all up.
"Jay—"
"Y'love me?" he asks, cupping your cheek.
You nod emphatically.
"Even though I'm..." He gestures to the helmet.
"I'm just happy you're alive," you say. "I missed you so much, Jason."
His arms tighten around you. "God, I missed you too, baby. I was going crazy not talking to you. I'm sorry I ignored you. Wasn't right of me. But don't ever do this again, okay? If I hadn't been here—"
He takes a shuddering breath and kisses your neck. You nod against his shoulder.
"I promise. Just don't shut me out again, please."
Jason's quiet for a moment. You can feel him thinking.
"This isn't gonna be normal," he says. "If-if we do this. This is part of me. Who I am."
"I don't care," you say. "I love you, Jay. Every part. Whatever that entails."
#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd fanfiction#red hood x reader#red hood x you#batman fanfiction#dc fanfiction#i do notttt like how this one came out but im lowkey struggling to write this week so. oh well 😔#inbox#blurb
416 notes
·
View notes
Text
Anger. (141 x Reader.)
!cheating, violence, blood, guns, military talk, 141 is there for reader during hardship. NO MINORS!
*not edited*
Your hands shake violently as you sit on your couch.
You’re waiting for him to come home, you’ve got every bit of proof you need sitting in front of you.
You hear his car pull in the driveway, and you gather everything off of the table. Holding it in your hands. You hear his car beep as he locks it. The door opens and he steps inside, freezing when he sees you sitting there. The TV is off which is unusual. “Uh.. hey.” He says, confused.
“Come sit down.” You entwine your fingers together, resting your elbows on your knees. “Is.. everything okay?”
“Just sit down.” You sigh. You’re surprised when he listens. He sits down in the chair off to your right. You slide the hoop earrings from beside you and lay them out on the coffee table in front of you. “Who’s are those?” You ask. “I think they’re my sisters.”
You nod your head. Standing up. “Than I suppose these are hers too?” You raise the panties up, setting them down near the hoops. He stands up too. He knows he’s caught by this point, but hopes he can still weasel his way out of this. “Cause that’s pretty weird. But I’d get it, if I hadn’t found this too.” You throw down the burner phone. The one he’d been using to contact other women while you’ve been out on deployment. He’d been meeting up with random women for months now.
He’s quiet. “Y/N. Listen to me-“ he makes a move to touch you. You raise your shirt up, flashing him the pistol that lies in your waistband. “You come near me and I swear to god I’ll shoot you.” He takes a deep breath. Stepping back.
“Get out.” You cross your arms.
“Y/N. No. We need to talk about this!”
“There is absolutely nothing to talk about. I’m gonna get out of the lease, I’m moving out. Your name isn’t on it anyways, so get your shit and go. You have 10 minutes.” You sit down. He looks down. Knowing there’s nothing he can do to fix it. He gathers all of his stuff which isn’t much and as he’s passing the couch, he tries to start but you don’t acknowledge him.
The door opens and a girl walks inside, and you can feel the rage starting to boil inside you. “Who is that?” You turn to him. “Why do you care?” She makes her way inside closer, seemingly to help him carry his stuff out. “Looks like I’m your replacement.” She smiles. “Oh yeah? You’re proud of being a home wrecker?” You stand up. He can see you’re getting stiff, taking a step closer with your fists balled at your sides. A clear sign that if she doesn’t back off she’s going to leave in an ambulance. “Hey, come on. Don’t.” He tugs her back. “Nah, she’s stupid.”
“Oh, I’m stupid.” You laugh. “I’m not fighting over a cheater, he’s all fucking yours sweetheart.” You laugh.
“But you better remember who’s house you’re in.” You stand tall. “I don’t care.” She moves closer, getting into your face. Her nose is nearly touching yours.
“Hey! I said don’t!” He goes to pull her back. That’s when she takes a swing at you.
She hits you right in the nose and you take a step back, holding onto it. You can feel it starting to drip down your face. You wipe it off, seeing the blood on your hands. The hair on your body stands up. Maybe it’s what you’ve seen in the military triggering you. But she’s a threat. And threats get neutralized.
You lunge at her, taking a swing.
Training in the military means you pack a punch. You knock her back onto the ground and climb on top of her. You get a few good hits in, deciding you were done. You stand up, giving her a good kick to the ribs before drawing your pistol from your waistband and pointing it at your now ex-boyfriend. “You’re fucking stupid for bringing her here.” His hands are raised up in surrender.
He’s genuinely scared that you’re going to shoot him. “Get her and all of your shit. And if I hear one word, one fucking thing. You’ll both leave here in body bags.” You point the gun at her. Seeing tears start to stream from her eyes. “GO!” You scream. They both scramble, picking up his bags and leaving. You pace back and fourth, setting your gun down on the coffee table. You turn to the side. Taking a deep breath. You’ve trained to be in stressful situations. You kill people and watch innocent people die every day and you can’t take this.
You swipe everything off of the shelf by your tv. Destroying any and everything in your wake in your fit of rage. Your knuckles are bloodied and you’re sure you’ve got glass in them from the tv by the time you’re done. You slide your gun back into your waistband and hurry outside. Lifting your phone up. Your hands shake violently as you look for your captains contact. He would know what to do. He always did.
“Y/N?” He asks. “Hey.”
“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” He asks.
“Uh.. well.” You laugh. Holding back the pain that seeps through your every pore. “Not really. Is it okay if I come back to base? I won’t need that week off after all.”
“I’ll see you in 10 sergeant.” He sighs. He could hear the pain in your voice. You can’t hide it from someone like him.
“Everything okay?”
The other 4 members of the task force sit around the oak table in the conference room. “No. Something happened. She’s on her way back to base.”
“Shit. I hope she’s okay.”
“She’s fine. She’s a fucking brick wall. Probably just that scumbag she’s with.”
You don’t think to clean up. Your upper lip and around your mouth have blood around it from the hit you took. Your knuckles are busted and bruised. You’re sure you look like shit. You speed to the base, you shouldn’t but you needed to get there. The only people you could even handle anymore are them. Your family. The only family you’ve ever had that give a shit about you.
After identifying yourself on base, you pull into the parking lot. Parking where you usually do. Next to Johnny’s truck. You lock your car up and make your way inside. You don’t know what awaits you. You don’t know what they’ll say or if you can even keep it together.
“Hey.” A voice drags you out of your thoughts. It’s Laswell.
“They’re waiting for you in the conference room sweetheart.” She smiles sympathetically. “Thank you Kate.” You smile. Your heart aches in your chest.
She would talk more, but she knows who you’re after. Your bothers.
You open the door and step inside, closing it behind yourself. “Shit- you okay?” Gaz stands up immediately. Soap follows suit. “Yeah, I’m alright.”
Price beats him to it and he steps closer, tilting your face to get a good look at your nose. “It’s not broken but it’s gonna hurt like a son of a bitch for a while.” He mumbles. “Did he do this?”
You shake your head. “No.”
“Start talking.” He pushes you further up with his hand in your lower back. Helping you sit down in a chair. You sigh. He disappears out the door for a second, coming back with a washcloth. He washes the blood from your nose first, moving to your knuckles. It takes you a few minutes before you can talk without breaking down.
“I.. got home before he did. Found a phone on my coffee table.” You sigh. “It was.. a burner phone. He’d been using it for the last few months to meet up with other women online.” You look down. “Jesus.” Soap mumbles.
“Asshole.” Gaz groans.
“Prick from the start.” Ghost rolls his eyes.
All of their commentary makes you laugh. “I told him to pack his shit. He had a girl come help him move his shit and she sucker punched me. So I.. I guess I blacked out. I was on top of her, got a couple hits in. And than I-“ you freeze up, “I just told them to leave and they left.” You flinch slightly as he picks a piece of glass from your knuckle. “But.. maybe it’d be a good idea that someone keeps this for a couple days.” You tug your gun from your waistband, setting it down on the table.
Soap laughs. “I’ll keep it safe for ya lass.” He slides it closer to him. “Why do you say that?”
“Ah, it’s how I made em leave.” You mumble, looking down. Captain Price nods his head.
He nods his head to the door. “Boys, a minute?” He asks. The three of them stand up. Each patting you on the shoulder as they exit.
John licks his lips, he’s got your knuckles cleaned up. They need some bandaging but you’ll be alright. “You gonna be okay?” He asks. You nod your head. “Yeah, I’ll be alright.” You look down at your hands. “I’m gonna have to stop myself and the others. To not go track him down and disappear him.” He laughs. “I wouldn’t stop you.” You laugh. “Things haven’t been good. Obviously. I took a week off to see if we’d be able to work things out. Take some time to work on our stupid relationship and that backfired like a motherfucker.” You laugh. John shakes his head. “I hate to break it to you.. but that’s why none of us are in a relationship. Relationships and the military just don’t mix. I think just about every single one of us have been in your situation.” He sighs. You nod your head. “I think I’ve learned my lesson.” You laugh.
The room settles into a comfortable silence.
You break it.
“Something weird happened to me.” You mumble.
“Hm?”
“When she hit me, my nose started bleeding. And I wiped it off. When I seen I had blood on my hands.. my brain just got foggy. And I blacked out. Couldn’t control myself.” You look confused.
“It’s probably just the aftermath of our last mission. It was a pretty tough one on all of us. You know?” You nod your head. “It’s hard to adjust back to the real world when you’ve been out on the battlefield. You know how it goes. You’ll be alright though. The strongest girl I know.” He rests his hand on your knee. “Thank you Captain.”
“Hey, this is 141 we’re talking about. We got you, nothing to worry about. And this hardship, it’ll pass. Just like it always does. Your wounds will heal. Physical and Mental. You’ll be alright.” You nod your head. “I think you should get some rest for now, sweetheart. Get those bandaged up and head on to your room.” He pats your thigh. You smile, standing up. “Bloody knuckles and a broken heart aren’t good enough to get out of drills either, see you in the morning.”
“6am sharp Captain.”
“Good girl.”
#call of duty mw2#cod mw2#soap mw2#captain john price#ghost mw2#price mw2#captain price#johnny soap mactavish
193 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tattooed Hearts VII
Genre: No one to someone Tattoo artist! Jungkook X Reader
Summary: What happened to us? Why did we end up like this? It was only a one time thing. Now it’s ruined us both.
Warnings: fluff, angst, smut, mentions of hookups, insults, arguing, blood, mentions of period, insecurities
Pt I • Pt II • Pt III • Pt IV • Pt V • Pt VI • Pt VIII
***
God, she was meant to be a quick fuck and leave. Why couldn’t I get her out of my mind? I need her…
It was stupid of me to get drunk, and even stupider that I went to her apartment. She didn’t want me there, but she looked so cute in her pjs, I couldn’t help staying. I wasn’t so drunk that I couldn’t move, how’d you think I got there? It was a good excuse, even if she didn’t know it, to get her to touch me again. Her touch was intoxicating, something my body craved, yearned for, but I fucked it up.
Ever heard the saying ‘drunk words are sober thoughts?’ “M’missed you…you looked s-so good in that long thing you were wearing in the flower home…”; “Baby, I know what I’m saying…miss you…miss your pussy…miss your love…”; “So pretty…su..such a good girl…my baby…” Even if some thought are more vulgar than others, they’re still true. Showing up drunk probably proved her point of how reckless and selfish I am, but you don’t know how much I miss you. I couldn’t get you out of my head, your curves, your eyes, your laugh…I need you beside me.
Playing limp body was fun, I got to hold her leg, cuddle up to her and even kiss her a little. So I have to pretend to be drunk all the time? No, no, bad idea! You’re trying to prove to her that you need her and only her. It was supposed to be a romantic gesture of some kind, but it failed…miserably. What happened to me? Every time I see her now, talking with Eloise, laughing with V, something burns inside of me. It’s an emptiness that I can’t explain, eating me from the inside out. Using other women to try and fill the hole was a shitty idea, especially since she found me with one. I think I get somewhere with her, but then I fuck it up again.
She kicked me out of her apartment, “Stop coming to me when you’re high.” That one sentence haunting my mind, making me lose sleep at night. I fucked it up so bad, I need to earn her trust again, I can’t breathe without her. She doesn’t know the things she does to me, making me spend hours in my office, fucking my hand imagining it was her. My blood boils every time I see her with V, she laughs at his jokes, he gave her juice. He gave her the juice I bought for her, waiting for her to come back! Of course I had to lie to the others, saying I mixed up the flavours, no way I was telling them about the girl I was pinning over that I was also waiting for to return. God, I was whipped…
You were hard to find. I had to dig through the fucking system at work to figure out how to contact you. I swear, I wasn’t trying to be a creep, I just knew you wouldn’t willingly give me your number! And I doubt Lindsay would give it to me either. You sounded so sweet over the phone…your voice was like honey, something I’d be willing to drown in if it came from you. Yeah, you hung up on me, but I got to talk to you for a little! I’d call that a win. Another win was when you took the bouquet…I knew you’d like them.
You always told me how you loved secret stories behind things, even if I could T give them to you, I’m glad Eloise could. Building that bouquet was hard! I wanted to take all the flowers you liked, but that wasn’t allowed. If I had a dime for the amount of times Eloise slapped my hand and told me to express my emotions through the flowers instead of pick what was prettiest, I’d be a millionaire. All those flowers that were strategically placed to tell you a story were working. After work, I’d come in to ask Eloise if you’d stopped by, gladly listening to her as she told me about your sweet smile and laugh, the way your nose scrunched up when you found a new flower and wanted to know what it signified. All of this will be worth it in the long run.
Seeing you at the bar alone, sipping your rum and coke made me smile. The drink you ordered the first time we met. Sitting down, I expected you to leave or to tell me to leave. But you didn’t. Sure, you put up a fight, telling me to spit out what I wanted, so you could be alone and drink in peace but I wasn’t expecting you to listen. “I want you,” it just slipped out. But it sent shockwaves through me when you spoke “If you want me…like genuinely want me, you have to beg for it.” I had never been one for begging, but if that’s what it takes to have you in my life, I will beg for hours and hours, days, weeks, months. I need you in my life.
Taglist: @talyaaas-blog @cassies-cookies @junecat18@jk97bam @bluewarmsunshine @diame93 @bangtans-momma @lil0u0 @borahoe @peterstarkchrishiddleston @telepathytae @apobangpo444 @gimeow @taekritimin123 @butterymin @skzthinker @someone-1997 @kookswifesblog @jjk-1999 @bulubulubulublabla @xo79 @thesmutconnoisseur @nikkinik485 @coldcoffee2121 @jjk97091 @onlybunss @kopiosuam @nanmolla @peachtown @kopiosuam
#bts#bts army#bangtan#bts x reader#bts fanfic#bts jungkook#jungkook#bts smut#jeon jungkook#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fluff#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader
238 notes
·
View notes
Text
EXPERIMENTAL - Konig Fic Pt 3
Summary: Konig helps Researcher!Reader with a new technology they’ve been developing.
Warnings: Sexual Content, NSFW, bondage, DOM!Konig, size kink, light spanking, unprotected sex, possessive!konig, praise kink, the mask stays on 😈, Reader x Konig, injury, needle torture, PTSD, talk of standard war stuff, Non-con Voyeurism. No use of y/n,
Reader gender/sex is incomprehensible cause I do it for the girls, the gays, and the theys
Word Count: 10,2k
(tbh you probably don’t need to read the first two parts so if you just wanna read this slutty chapter it should be fine lol but if you do i’ll link them)
AO3
PART ONE
PART TWO
NSFW under the cut
You’re praying that he’s getting this.
There’s a million things that could go wrong - Konig not being near his device and you’re just streaming into an empty room. Or Ghost’s device wasn’t the one that was synced with Konig’s, maybe one of the matching copies or an earlier prototype. Or worse - Konig found out about the video and leaves you to your demise as he rightfully should.
You swallow as you watch Mohawk put the his phone away in his pocket, hoping his screen wasn’t exposed to the feed’s camera, “Thanks for making me have that on my phone, by the way. Do you know how many times I was forced to watch this?”
Stop talking about it!
“What else do you want to know?” You’re more willing to give out top-secret government intel than let Konig find about that fucking video.
Ghost senses you’ve been holding back on him, and he tilts his head down to look at you from above the projection, “What’s it do?”
“Everything.” You answer, “Anything I tell it to. It’s like VR.” There’s a bit of a slur to your words. You’re still aware enough to manage the long-con, but your eyelids are getting heavier. Just have to hold out awhile longer, juggle a few things at the same time. Don’t let Konig find out about how you ended up here, but make sure he knows you’re here. Don’t let skull boy and stupid-haircut find about the transmission, but don’t let them lose enough interest to turn the device off. Don’t give away too many government secrets, but don’t give out too little to keep the soldiers from doing anymore permanent damage to your brain.
And manage all of that while coping with the current level of brain damage you have.
They look at each other, trying to figure out if they’re satisfied with your answer.
That’s good. Just keep stalling.
Everything was threatening to crash down around you, but there’s a glimmer of hope so minuscule, you think you could actually pull it off if all the pieces fall together.
You’re no longer giving up.
We can fix this. Fix all of it. Fix your mess.
You’re going to give it a fair shot, you decide, and you’ll leave it up to the universe.
Ghost cocks his head, those intimidating eyes boring into you, “And what things do you tell it to do?” You can tell he’s irritated with the meaningless answer. You steer in the opposite direction.
You give a drawn out hum, “Identify the bad guys. Heat map, heart beats ‘n all that.” You’re trying to keep your thoughts together, but there’s too many to keep up with, and the concussion still has you in its hazy clutches.
Another idea, a back up plan, you’ll call it. You can’t tell if it’s a stupid idea or not, but you’re slipping and fast, “Can I get a smoke? I’m feening.” You give a smile, the residual of the painkillers making it easy to appear unassuming.
“No. What else does it do?” Ghost is straight to the point, and it reminds you of Konig, and you wish Ghost would stop doing that because you’re trying to do something here.
Another drunken hum, “What’d’ya want it to do? I can do it.” You wave your hand at him, casually flashing your restraints so Konig would get a clear view.
Ghost steps towards you and grabs the front of your gown, yanking your face inches from his, “What does it fucking do?”
A proud smile crosses your face, “Not your mom, ‘cause I got that covered myself.”
Mohawk puts a hand of warning on Ghost’s shoulder, reminding him not to get too violent with you.
Ghost ignores the warning, his fist connecting with your temple before you had a chance to brace yourself.
Skull boy packs quite a punch.
You’re reset for a moment, blinded by a bright white and the ring in your ears makes a blaring encore.
You can tell by the warm and wet feeling under your bandages that the gash from Ghost’s gun had split open.
You don’t know how long it takes you to get your bearings, but once you do you’re almost thankful Ghost had rocked you.
You’re hoping Konig can see the urgency of the situation and your injured brain being rattled around your skull gives you an excuse to lie motionless, hindering interrogation. They know you’re not useful to them when you incapable of coherency. It’s why Stupid-Haircut is trying so hard to keep Ghost from injuring you to bad. It’s why they went through the trouble of nursing an enemy back to health. If Ghost turns your brain to soup like you’re so clearly provoking him to do, you won’t be able to tell them what they want to know.
Okay, painful change of plans.
Instead of forcing yourself to stay clear enough to manage all the details through the fog of the concussion, you’re going to force yourself into ignorance by weaponizing Ghost’s temperament against him. It’s in their best interest to keep you cognizant, and it’s in your best interest to get Ghost irritated enough to torture you until you’re unable to speak.
It’s going to be brutal, but you’ve been feeling nothing but pain at the hands of him, and you don’t think you’re far off from the cozy clutches of unconsciousness as it is - that it won’t be long until you’re unable to feel anything.
Always the masochist.
You can’t help but smile, even though it all. A genuine one, toothy and face-wrinkling, one that wasn’t for anyone else in the room, but didn’t care if they saw. It wasn’t a desperate attempt to relieve your discomfort. Not a waste of your precious energy lulling strangers into their sense of comfort. Not a weak effort to influence the opinion of you belonging to whoever happens to be in your vicinity.
You feel like you’re watching yourself descend into madness, powerless against the euphoric feeling that floods through you. Warmth coasting through your veins. You could tell it wasn’t the drugs, the concussion and the growing list of other injuries, or even the idea Konig may be rushing to your rescue any minute now.
It was because in this moment, despite everything that has happened, you can’t help but be enamored with yourself.
You?
Of course. Of course it took these conditions to pull it out of you.
It’s always the hard way with you, wasn’t it?
“If you can’t restrain yourself maybe you should let me handle it.”
“Back down, Johnny.” Ghost warns in that low, cautionary tone that can’t help leave the receiver wondering just what horrible punishment would occur if they pushed. He doesn’t even have to look at Johnny to hammer the intimidation into him. It’s only accompanied by a low extend of arm vaguely in his direction.
Neither you or Ghost noticed the way Johnny’s eye twitched or lip snarled, but he heeds Ghost’s warning.
Ghost’s eyes lock on you, and you think everyone in the room has caught on to the predicament they’re in.
Johnny, who’s been up to speed since the start, walking the tightrope of being respectful to his superior without letting him damage the value of his informant.
Ghost, who’s long lost his respect for you before he even laid eyes on you, and since meeting you has only been sinking deeper into his hatred of you. He’s used to getting information from soldiers. Out of powerful individuals that could handle a hit and that stay conscious during an interrogation session. The ones smart enough not to antagonize and beg for the brutality. Ones that grit their teeth an at least try and suck it up to maintain a scrap of dignity. Not you. He knows he needs your brain but he’d be happy to put an end to all of it, right now. Pull the plug on your project the manual way. If they can’t have it, no one can. Maybe he’d get what he wants along the way if you’re coherent enough to squeak it out, but that’d just be a bonus in his eyes.
And you. Wonderfully brilliant, even if occasionally misguided, and as much as you hate to believe it sometimes, incredibly lovable, even if Ghost is looking at you like he wants to put your head on a stick. But you don’t care about that dummy. No, you’re not even looking at him or his Johnny. Even if he takes your life from you right now, you think you could accept that. Not for any necessarily suicidal reasons, even though the concussion has definitely knocked some dark feelings loose.
You close your eyes, and the smile still hasn’t left your face, even if your sore muscles were pulling on the edges of your headache.
“Too much morphine.” Ghost says, to no one in particular, not hesitating as he forcefully grabs your forearm and digs his thumb into the skin encasing your IV needle.
You immediately hiss through gritted teeth, but he doesn’t hesitate as he takes the beginning of the needle with his other hand, roughly poking around in your arm.
You try to pull away but he’s got a grip tight enough to force your arm extended. You’re sure his fingertips will leave bruises.
He removes the needle entirely before puncturing you in a different spot on your inner elbow, shaking the needle violently beneath your flesh. You gasp, pulling against his iron grip with what little strength you have.
“Where’d your smile go?” Ghost asks in a neutral tone, his eyes dead of emotion as he removes the needle before stabbing another hole in your arm.
You let out a yelp, eyes screwed shut as your other hand jerks against the restraints. You’re too focused on the sickening feeling of skewered veins to make up a good comeback.
He does it again, and your fists clench and a high grunt escapes through gritted teeth.
“I’ve always wanted to learn how to set an IV.” Ghost says dryly, his eyes cold behind the mask as he thrashes the needle.
“Keep practicing.” You hiss, pitch warbling through the pain.
And he does.
It’s brutal, Ghost flaying the crease of your arm repeatedly. It’s been less than a minute but you’re sure the torture started a lifetime ago. You just have to take it, it’s all you can do. Your verbal stalling wasn’t cutting it, so you’re just going to have to opt for this instead and hope you can piss him off enough to get just a little too violent with you.
When he’s done, he jams the needle back where it was, managing to lay it back in your vein. “There we go.”
You study each other for a brief moment, before he leans in close, so close his projection becomes obscured through your head. You’re eye to eye now, nothing between you two but the mask your nose is almost brushing up against.
He grabs your face, his gloved fingers digging into your jaw with the same force he had held your forearm. He holds your head still and all you can do is look at him, brows pinched in fury as your nails dig into your palms, fists fight the restraints.
His eyes twitch as they flicker between each of yours.
“I am going to ruin you.”
You shake your head in an attempt to free your jaw from his clutches, but his grip is strong and he makes a point of forcing your head still, looking down his mask at you.
“You can give me all the information you like. I’m not stopping until it’s finished.”
Ghost finally lets you go with a rough shove. He takes the device from his ear and his wrist, discarding them both over his shoulder. Johnny catches the ear piece with a slight fumble, and the wrist remote hits the ground with a ting, rattling obnoxiously as it rolls to a stop. Johnny’s got his hands full as he yells but you you don’t bother listening to what he’s saying.
You’re too busy relaxing into the attack as you let Ghost carry you to death’s door.
———————————————————-
Even wincing is painful.
You're finally stirred awake by the feeling of a gloved hand on the back of your neck.
It’s hard to open your eyes, and when you finally do you see him, from the chest up, he looks just like a just a blurry figure. Two of them, actually, doubled vision multiplying the lone man that stood before you.
Even with your damaged vision you can tell it’s Konig, making out the telling shapes of his gear and those biceps you’ve studied so close you could pick them out of a lineup.
The hood that always intimidated you, but now fills you with a comfort like no other. You can see the light of your projection shielding his eyes.
A blinding bright light surrounds him, haloing your vision and it hurts, but you can help but keep your weary gaze fixed on him inbetween slow blinks.
You’re sure you’re dead. That you’re passing over and this is your brain manifesting some hallucination to comfort you as you transition.
You reach out to touch his hood, just to see if you can. You wanted to see if you could feel him, the researcher in you testing the potentials of your delusions. The restraints cut you short for a final time, before Konig quickly cuts your hands free with a knife. He takes your weak extended hand in his and you can feel it.
It engulfs yours, the scratchy feel of his glove wrapped around your hand, and he feels real.
His other hand retracts from your neck and reaches up to turn his projection off to get a clearer look at you. His hand comes back from under his hood and moves carefully to the side of your face, his thumb tracing a bruise on your cheek. His can’t believe what he’s seeing, his eyes darting around to the various injuries plastered on you.
“Meine liebe…”
He says, and you’re not sure if he’s speaking a different language or if your Ghost gave you dyphasia.
“Who did this?” He asks, horrified as he realizes there’s anyone out there cruel enough to do this to you.
You thought his stares were scary before, but the way his eyes glaze and turn cold as they follow the swells and bruises marking your face appears animalistic. It shoots a feeling in your gut so unnerving it confirms that you’re definitely not experiencing some euphoric deathbed hallucination.
When you don’t answer, your eyes just flicking around his features as you adjust, he asks again.
“Who did this?!”
His voice strikes an urgent and menacing tone the second time. On your recording he had been able to see Ghost’s point of view, but not Ghost. A front row seat to watch you get brutally attacked but not being able to identify the aggressor himself.
Always determined.
You reach up with your other hand to your saving grace, and place it on his upper arm, “Don’t leave.”
He hears how delicate your voice is, how you barely have the power to speak. How your hand quivered as you reached out to him, how you had squeezed his arm with what little might you had to encourage him to stay, to join you in a world where your aggressors and injuries didn’t matter, none of it mattered.
And how can he say no to you?
His eyes soften again and you can’t help but smile at the man behind the hood. You’re smile immediately turns to a wince as it forces an uncomfortable tug on your fresh injuries.
“Come here.” He says softly and he picks you out of the hospital bed with little effort. He’s got one arm secured around your back and the other is under the crease of your knees like he’s carrying you from the alter. He tilts you gently so your head can rest on his chest while he carries you to safety.
You’re wondering if you really are dead after all. It’s too good to be true, your plan working and Konig carrying you from the danger like he’s a fireman rescuing you from a burning building. You can discern the capabilities of his muscles as he holds you tight. You’re not even slowing him down, he’s still able to hurry through the hallways, guided to the exit by your device without fault.
The jostling hurts, but he’s doing his best to hold you steady, and being in his arms, resting the less injured side of your forehead against him, makes the pain all worth it.
You can hear the sounds of gunshots in the distance, not even your impaired hearing could muffle the loud pops. They must have had a full team come out to do an extraction. You thought it was a lot of to-do for little ol’ you.
Konig gets you to nearest exit, carefully managing the door as he opens it to ensure it didn’t hit you, and carries you out to the getaway vehicle, setting you down across the backseat like you’re made of glass.
“Liebe, they need me.” He looks back to the building, “Can you stay here?”
You give a weak nod, and he gives your hand a squeeze.
“I’ll be back, I promise.”
And you have his word.
He rushes back into the building while you try and rest in the backseat.
————————————-
The safe house was incredibly depressing. A rundown little two-room shack in the country, decorated with outdated appliances and furniture. The wall paper is peeling from the ceiling and you’re not sure if it was originally a drab yellow or if it had been stained from years of abuse. You can tell no one’s been around to take care of the water damage, judging from the large brown stains spotting the ceiling. There’s a kitchenette in the corner with an oven, a fridge that hums too loudly, and a microwave that appears never to have been cleaned. A worn beige couch outfitted with two dusty orange cushions that sag with age. A few generic paintings on the wall that hardly comfort you. No internet and no cell service, but there is a small box-shaped TV that you’re sure is from the 50s, the picture warped and cloudy.
Base placed you here temporarily until you relocate, your apartment now too dangerous to live in as your address was in enemy hands.
Judging by the way your supervisor spoke to you when discussing the transition, they must be in the dark on what caused the breach.
Your secret is safe for now, but there’s no telling when it’s going to get discovered. Waiting for the truth to come out has left a weight in your chest that sticks around from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep.
They had assigned you a counselor to visit you and help process the trauma of the event, but you don’t trust them enough to give them the full truth. You just tell them about the violence Ghost inflicted, walking through the nightmares that result from it. You haven’t gotten a goodnight’s rest since it all went down, often waking up in the middle of the night kicking and screaming at the vivid night terrors of Ghost at the side of your bed.
Other than your counselor, the base associate that brings grocery to restock the noisy fridge on Thursdays, and the occasional check-up from your supervisor, you’ve been totally isolated from the outside world.
You don’t care about most.
Just Konig.
He had held you in his arms and carried you to safety at the risk of his own life. You knew you didn’t deserve it after what you did, but you can’t help but daydream.
Thinking about the way it felt to have your head on his chest, the cotton of his mask brushing your bruised cheek, his arms grasping you tight - protecting you - it definitely helps distract from the uncomfortable feeling lingering by your heart.
You wondered if he knew, if he had seen himself on Johnny’s copy of the recording, but still was kind enough to do such a favor for you.
Then you really wouldn’t deserve him.
You spend all your time thinking about Konig, bouncing between the depth of your guilt and the highs of the fantasy, just as you have been since you met him.
When he visits for the first time, it nearly triggered a panic attack. You had not been expecting visitors, and you were still haunted by the precious unexpected visitors you had. You’re delightfully surprised when you peek out the window and see Konig, looking nervously at the landscape behind him when you don’t answer right away. Your eyebrows spring up in shock and you let out a verbal exclamation at the sight.
You quickly run your fingers through your hair as a last ditch effort to appear somewhat put together before opening the door, forced to tilt your head back to look at him. His eyes widen at the sight of you, and he moves, almost like he’s about to step closer but stops himself.
You force yourself to contain your excitement at his visit, “Konig, It’s good to see you.” You look down at your clothes, still donned in loungewear, “Sorry about the jammies. Come in.” You open the door for him so he can step in before shutting the door behind him. He takes a few steps into the room before stilling, taking a moment to look around.
“Sorry for stopping by unannounced.” He says, followed by a clearing his throat. His eyes linger on the old beige couch before meeting your eyes again. “I‘ve been worried about you.”
You knew you were unreachable, he couldn’t have gotten in contact any other way, “Don’t apologize, you really have no idea how good it is to see you. I’ve been thinking about how to say thank you, for what you did, but I’m not sure there’s enough words between our languages to cover it.” You put your hand to back of your neck, looking to the floor for a moment before meeting his gaze again. You give a nervous laugh, “So I guess I owe you a bottle of wine, huh?”
You can tell he smiles under the mask by the way his eyes crinkle, “Just doing my job.”
You glance down at the arms that had held you so tight and wished they were wrapped around you again.
“Thank you, Konig. Really. I owe you my life.”
“It was my pleasure.” He says as he gives his head a little shake. His gaze shifts a bit higher, “You’re healing nicely.”
You touch a hand to the gash Ghost had left from his gun. You were most likely going to have a scar, but it had closed and the swelling had gone down significantly, the previous inflamed red now a medium pink. “Ah, well thanks for noticing. You know I made those skin cells myself?”
Huh?!
He tilts his head, “That’s good, I hear store-bought isn’t what it used to be.”
You giggle and roll on your heels a bit, not necessarily at the joke but at the fact that such a normally rigid and imitating man is now being cheeky with you, and it feels so nice to break the tension a bit.
“How are you holding up?” He says, and it reminds of the way your therapist inquires, with that gentle tone that clearly eludes to the incident without directly referring to the incident.
“Uh,” You trail off a bit, touching the nasty bruise on your inner arm, large from the spread of the internal bleeding, but now faded to a healing yellow. “Y’know? It’s actually been,” You let out another nervous laugh, “awful, actually. But that’s alright. Uhm, I think it’ll get easier with time.”
He nods and his eyes dart down to the bruise you’ve been mindlessly tracing with your finger. Something dark flickers behind his eyes but quickly subsides.
“If it’s worth anything, it does.”
You give him a weak smile and you have no way to confirm but you think he does the same.
A silence falls on you both for awhile, both of you picking a random point in the room to unfocus your vision on. The silence doesn’t feel awkward, more like you both were grieving for a minute - or maybe just lost in thought. Even if neither knew what to say to the other, you were still bonding over your traumatic experiences in your own quiet way.
You’re the one who breaks the silence, your voice a bit cracked from your dry throat, “What do you do about the nightmares?”
His eyes leave you for a moment as he considers it. “I leave a book by my nightstand. For some it’s TV, others crossword puzzles. There’s no stopping it. You just have to find what calms you down after.”
You give a nod. You knew there wouldn’t be a magic cure but you still have to take a moment to process that you’ll have to be dealing with it for the foreseeable future.
There’s a long pause before he speaks again, “You dream of him?”
You swallow again, trying to make it easier for you to speak but bail, instead slowly nodding your head.
Another silence falls over you both. A longer, more drawn out one. You both get lost in thought for awhile.
When you interrupt the silence again, the words spill out of you fast, coming out in a jumble and before you can stop yourself. He had that effect on you, making you feel so vulnerable and exposed, ready to spill your guts. Deep down you knew that it’s time to rip the bandaid off. Free yourself from the guilt and the constant fear your world is going to come crashing down around you.
“Do you know what I did?”
He studies you, tilting his head, “What do you mean? About your SOS?”
His response tells you that he truly doesn’t know. If he knew what you did, he’d have known exactly what you’d meant. Regardless, you still make a futile attempt to jog his memory, hoping you won’t have to explain yourself, “How I ended up there? What caused the breach?”
His eyes squint in confusion, “I was told we didn’t know how they received your information.”
Your head tilts down in shame, and you have to look away from him.
You take a deep breath and rest your palms flat on your thighs.
“Okay, look, I’ve done something horrible. I have not been very good to you, and… that sucks! Because I really thought we could have been,” You hesitate for a moment, “friends.” You close your eyes and take another breath, “At first I thought I could keep it a secret from you, even if I believe you have every right to know, but the truth is I just can’t handle the guilt anymore. I’m exhausted waiting for the other shoe to drop, okay?”
Konig’s whole body is tense now, standing at attention as he waits for your words. You’re worrying him.
“The day we met,” You’re choking up now, the adrenaline coursing through you, causing you to shake and perspire, mouth dry, “After our day in the shoot house, I forgot to disconnect your feed.”
Your tone shifts from serious to a bit desperate, “It was an accident, I swear, Konig.” You look at him, pleading eyes begging him to believe you, “And I should have just disconnected the feed when I found it, I know,” You’re getting exasperated, “But I’m sick and curious and to be honest I just couldn’t help myself when I saw you.”
He shifts uncomfortably in his spot, and swallows hard. He knows what you mean, but he has to confirm it with you to believe it, “What did you see?”
You look away from him and to the floor. It takes you a moment to work up the courage, “I saw you getting off.” You say it so quietly, ashamed to admit it.
“I shouldn’t have watched Konig, I shouldn’t have. It was wrong and I know it doesn’t mean anything now but I truly am sorry. But I did watch and I heard my name and I’ve been wracked with guilt ever since.“
He stands still, his breathing escalating slightly. He doesn’t say anything and the silence drapes over you both for awhile.
This silence was definitely awkward.
His eyes tell you nothing and his expression is masked by the hood.
You swallow, knowing you owe him the full truth as you force yourself to continue. If he’s already disgusted with you under that hood, this will really put you over the edge.
Your fist clenches, “In a moment of pure stupidity, I kept the video.” You break eye contact for a brief moment before returning your gaze to him. “I sent it to myself.”
“Okay?” You spit, angry at yourself, “I kept it and I’ve watched it so many times because I am just addicted to the way you moan my name, Konig. I’m sorry. I heard it and I needed more. It made me feel so good, and so so terrible at the same time.”
You’re on a roll now, rambling like you’re talking about your research.
“And I have not been able to stop thinking about you!” You laugh a bit, “And I understand how serious this is. So if you want to go straight to head of command and have me discharged, I won’t hold it against you. In fact, if you don’t even feel like filing the report, I’ll pack up my things and leave now, and you won’t hear from me ever again.”
You pause, and he doesn’t fill the silence, so you keep going, the words coming out like vomit, “But there’s something else you deserve to know. When I sent the video to my phone - for personal reasons only, okay?! I was not planning on showing anyone, if that helps. When I sent the video, it opened a vulnerable point of entry for TF-141 to hack in. They… have your video. I’m so sorry, it was a major lapse of judgement, and I overlooked so many protocols, and I put our intel at risk. I put your private moment at risk. I put us all at risk. I-“
You cut yourself off, tears starting to well in your eyes. It was relieving to get it off your chest, but you knew what was about to happen. You knew you were lighting a fuse with one hand and holding dynamite with another.
“I’m so sorry, Konig.”
The tears start flowing and you’re powerless to stop them. You hoped it wasn’t coming off as a desperate attempt to gain sympathy.
For awhile you stand there, eyes fixed at the floor as you wait for his response.
Konig hasn’t moved, hasn’t said anything, just stands in his spot, staring.
When you finally look at him, eyes full of heartbreak, he maintains eye contact for a few moments, expression unreadable.
After a moments to process, he uncrosses his arms to dig into his pocket, pulling out the device you had given him on that very first day. His boots slowly cross the linoleum floor and he gently sets your device on the dinky table behind you before removing the wristband and setting it down next to the earpiece without making a sound.
He doesn’t even look back at you before he turns his back and walking out the safe house door, shutting it with a soft click.
——————————————————————
It’s been three days since Konig left you alone in the safe house.
You’re wondering if you should cut your losses and leave. Change your name & get started with a new life.
You’ve already preemptively packed up your things to make it less painful on yourself when your supervisor comes to kick you to the curb.
Even as your life is dissolved and scattered to the wind, you actually feel a lot better than you have in months. Almost like the worrying was worse than the actual consequences. At least now you can live honestly.
Nonetheless, it was still pretty painful. Your latest infatuation finding out how you so deeply betrayed them. Watching him walk out on you had left you sobbing face down in the dusty orange couch pillows to muffle your cries.
It’s late at night on that third day, and you had managed to find some respite with a surprisingly warm shower and losing yourself in blurry reruns of a game show when you hear the light ting of metals.
At first you think it’s the ringing in your ears returning, it had been on and off ever since Ghost concussed you, but you quickly realized by the uneven rattles it had been coming from within the safe house.
Your eyes scan the room after switching the TV off, first starting with the fridge that hums too loud, but quickly dart your attention over to the movement of the safe house’s doorknob jiggling.
Not again.
You try and suppress the flashbacks enough to find somewhere to hide, but the safe house is one big open room with a small obscured bedroom that was more bed than room, and you don’t think the bed is high enough off the floor to crawl under.
So instead you freeze on the dingy couch, your heartbeat deafening in your ears as you watch your doorknob wiggle in its loose hold.
There’s a distinct click and then a long pause. You don’t even see the doorknob rotate because the door gets flung open with such speed and force it slams against the wall and bounces back.
“Konig?” You fear melds with confusion as you make sense of the figure rushing in.
He’s already closed most of the gap between you when you manage to squeak out a more alarmed, “Konig!”
It’s scary to have such a large man charge you, especially one you’re so used to being docile around you, one that usually stands hesitantly by the door until invited closer.
You don’t have a lot of time to think about it. Konig grabs you by the crest of the back of your neck with one hand, his other hand lifting up his mask to kiss you without room for arguing.
You let out a surprised gasp that was muffled by the kiss, and he takes that opportunity to have his tongue greet yours. His grip is tight on the back of your neck, his fingers digging in slightly to stake his claim. The stubble on his chin brushes roughly against your skin as he takes what’s his.
Once you catch up, you close your eyes and try to match his intensity but it’s difficult to keep up.
He finally pulls away, out of breath and letting his hood fall back over his mouth, his now free hand moving to the side of your face, “I’m sorry I left you, mein schatz.” He pulls away from your face slightly with a breath, “I needed to think.”
Your wide eyes flicker between his, mouth slightly parted as you nod. “Yeah,” your voice is breathy, the shock of the kiss having knocked the wind out you, “That’s uh, understandable.”
He brings his face closer to you. His eyes shift, and you see that dark flicker again.
“You have to understand, liebe, your deed will not go unpunished.”
Your brows retract as you swallow at the threat, looking up at him with concern in your eyes and your thighs pressed together.
You’ve been nervous around Konig before, maybe even scared, but you’ve never feared for your safety. Quite the opposite, actually. Such a large, strong soldier on your team gives you a shield of comfort - he made you feel safe.
But the way his voice had lowered and his eyes tinted with something primal shoots a tingle down your spine and raises the hairs on your neck. You’re not sure what he means, but your brain is coming up with ideas faster than you can sink your teeth into the details.
You’re almost ashamed at the warm feeling of arousal that sinks to your lower abdomen.
He kisses you again, this time closed and softer. When he pulls away his face stays dangerously close to yours, “You’ve done a very bad thing, liebe. You understand?”
His voice is low and husked but holds incredible authority. You can’t help but feel like a child being scolded in the principal’s office. You nod slowly, lips pursed and eyes still rounded in suspense.
He brings his finger up to your chin, his face close enough your noses are brushing, “I can’t hear a nod.”
The knot in your stomach doubles and your breath hitches a bit, shaking as you speak, “Yes, Konig, I understand.”
His thumb strokes your cheek, but it doesn’t soothe the mixture of fear and arousal flushing your skin.
“Would you like to right your wrong?”
You take a deep breath. You’re not sure what you’re agreeing to, but you’ve been desperate to fix what you’ve done since the moment you committed it. “Yes, Konig.” You nod your head, “I’d do anything.”
A pleased hum comes from him, and you're close enough to feel the vibration. You swallow nervously, gaze hesitantly watching his animalistic eyes stare down at you like you’re his prey.
“Stay.” He orders, pulling away from you and letting his hand linger on your face for an extra moment before turning away from you.
You obey, both fear of consequence and desperation to please not allowing an ounce of will to defy him. Your eyes are still locked on him as he steps to the dinky little table he had set the device on three days ago.
You had left it untouched, making it easier to swallow by still thinking of the device as his. As if Konig had just left it behind by mistake instead of intentionally returning your property to you.
He took both carefully in his hand before returning to you, boots asserting themselves as they slowly and confidently traverse the linoleum. He holds the devices out for you to take. “Feed on. Projection off.”
And you follow his instructions, what choice do you have? When his voice is strict and he’s standing over you, intimidating stature making you feel so small and defenseless. The shake of your hands causes your fingers to fumble as you struggle with the remote, his hand held out impatiently as you stumble with fluster.
When you finally get it, you place both devices in his palm, staring up with your eyes begging for his approval.
He gives you nothing, as usual, placing the earpiece under his hood and setting the wrist piece down simultaneously.
“You stepped out of line, liebe.” Konig takes closer to small gap between you you, “You humiliated me.”
His eyes are half-lidded now, boring into you with menace.
“And now I’m going to humiliate you.”
He touches your face with his thumb again. You can’t help but flinch at the gentle touch, on edge from unease and excitement.
He gives another light huff, reveling in his ability to intimidate you.
“On your knees.” He commands, finger pointing at the floor as he slides back to make room for you.
He huffs in satisfaction at the dumbfounded look on your face. Your mouth slightly agape and stuttering - it’s dawning on you now; exactly what you have to do to right your wrongs.
He squints at you, voice leaving no room for error, “Did I stutter, Schatz?”
That sinister glint in his eye returns again, and just the sight is enough to get you to slide quickly to the floor, assuming your position on both knees, neck slowly tilting back to take him in as he towers over you.
He leans in to to cup your face again, giving it a soft yet firm pat, “Good.”
Your heart flutters at the praise, even if simply articulated.
That’s all you want to hear. That you’re good. You want to be so good for him.
You’re dripping now, Konig already having you ache for his touch.
His strong hands slide down your face, four fingers cupping your jaw as his thumb brushes your bottom lip gently. When your lips part he slides his thumb in your mouth and you oblige, obediently sucking and showing him what you can do with your tongue.
He gives a low pleased hum before removing his thumb and reaching for his belt, the buckle jingling as he unlatches it and removes it from his waist in one swift pull.
Your stare follows the belt as he folds it in half, and he muses at your worried look. He likes the way your mind wanders, always running with the possibilities. It’s what drew you to him in the first place.
He doesn’t hit you, though, just taps it against the bottom of your chin to get you to fix your gaze back on him. Once he’s got your attention, he discards the belt and reaches down to pop the button on his pants, yanking each end to get the zipper down in one smooth move.
He slides his thumbs behind both waistbands, pulling them down just enough to expose his cock. It’s rock hard and practically springs from his pants, and you can’t help but let out a small squeak and just how big it is.
You’ve seen it before, studied it endlessly, imagined it so many times.
It did nothing to prepare you for kneeling before it. Just like the rest of him, his cock intimidated you, at full attention and already leaking precum.
“Wrap your hands around it, schatz.”
You follow his orders, softly gripping his cock. You’ve studied the video of him jerking off so many times, you know exactly how to please him. You start with a loose grip, your hand sliding from base to tip at a slow pace, as your other hand cups his balls.
At first he watches, enjoying how your hands looked so small around him. He can’t help but close his eyes and tilt his head back as he lets out a soft moan.
It sounds so much better in person, and your pace picks up, desperate to elicit more from him.
He tilts his head forward to get a better view of you.
“Suck.” He commands, and you hesitate for a brief moment, worried about the logistics, before ditching your fears and giving it your best shot.
You keep your hand steady on his shaft as you guide the tip to your tongue, a slow lick clearing the bead of pre-cum that had formed.
He lets out another low moan that makes you quiver.
You press your lips to him, slowing working the tip into your mouth as you tease with your tongue.
As you work steadily down his shaft, you have to fully unhinge your jaw to fit him in to avoid teeth, and even then it’s a close call. You’re continue carefully and he seems willing to be patient with you as you get used to his size.
You manage to somewhat comfortably fit half of him in your mouth, using your free hand to squeeze the base of his shaft. You start to move back and forth, pressing your tongue against him.
He watches in awe as you take him in, not holding back in his pleaded hums and groans.
“So good, Schatz.”
Warmth pools in your chest at the praise.
You look at him with a doe eyes and a full mouth, bobbing on his cock as you slick it up.
He moans at the sight, placing a hand on the back of your head. He follows it up with another order.
“Deeper. I want to see you choke on it.”
You’re not in a position to argue, so you oblige, letting his cock slide as deep as you can, but he’s not pleased with your attempt. He tightens his grip on the back of your head, fingers laced between strands of hair, and slowly forces his cock in until you’re squeaking out noises involuntarily, eyes welling with tears.
He starts to fuck your mouth, slowly at first, but picks up the pace. He doesn’t wait for you to get your bearings or catch your breath, savoring the lengths you’ll go to please him.
“There you go, schatz, so good for me.”
The tears are steaming now as he triggers your gag reflex, and your underwear is stained with your arousal in response to being praised and used.
He pulls out of your mouth, his cock still wet with your spit, and takes a step back to admire you. Your breath quickening to catch up, the flushed look of your face, the disheveled hair. He relished in the mess he was making of the intelligent professional he had come to know.
He gives a pleased hum at how you wait so patiently for his next order.
“Up. Clothes off.”
Your breath hitched, cheeks flushing a shade deeper. You wipe the spit from your mouth and slowly stand, hands shaking with nerves.
Your fingers dig into the hem of your shirt, desperate to grip onto something, and you hesitate at his command, nervous to let him see you even more exposed.
You ignore your nerves, too willing to please Konig, and pull your shirt over your disheveled hair and discard it on the couch. Your fingers fumble with the waistband on your lounge pants, sheepishly pulling them down your thighs and stepping carefully out of them.
You stand before him in your underwear, and you can’t help but cross one arm over yourself. The way he’s staring at you, not shy about his gaze mapping your newly uncovered features. He steps forward again, close enough his hard cock brushes against your warm skin.
He gives a low hum of approval and steps closer, his hands gently running along your sides until they find your waist, staking their claim with a firm grip. He leans in and you feel the drape of his hood caress your shoulder as he brushes his head against yours, lips in your ear.
“You’re so beautiful, meine schatz.”
You close your eyes as he plants a kiss though his hood on your neck, and you can feel his breath through the soft cotton.
It’s not fair that you’re naked while he’s still fully covered. You feel so vulnerable and exposed.
You quickly understand that’s exactly what you had done to him and let out a soft whimper at the realization that this is intentional, that he’s issuing this power play as part of your punishment. You’ve had your time to admire his body, now it’s his turn.
“Bedroom, now.” The softness leaves his voice with the demand and he pulls away from you once again to get a better view of you.
The knot is your lower abdomen doubles as you turn and head to the bedroom, giving him a good long look at the back of you.
You stand at the narrow space between the end of the bed and the wall, looking up at him when he enters, waiting for his next order. You can’t help but notice the jingle of his belt as he carried it with him. He sets it on the bed and takes his time committing your image to memory.
“On your back, liebe.” The pet name doesn’t soften the domineering tone, warning you not to dare rebel against him.
You follow his order, getting up on the bed and laying down for him, your upper half propped up by your elbows.
Konig follows, crawling over top of you slowly, his massive frame engulfing you beneath him as you lean into the bed. He appears even more menacing over top of you, strong arms and legs trapping you beneath him. You can’t help the nervous expression on your face as you stare up at those hungry eyes.
He brings a hand up to touch your face, leaning forward to plant another kiss on your lips, lifting up his mask as he does so. It annoys you that whenever he pulls away the hood falls, and you can’t even get a peek at what you assume is a strong jaw.
The hand on your face slides down your neck, fingers traversing the bumps of your collarbones before he shifts down to your chest, stopping for a moment to tease your nipples to attention. You suck in a breath and arch into the touch.
He hums again, low and devious.
Your hands reach up to touch his arms, but he doesn’t let you, removing his hands from your chest and grabbing your wrists firmly. He passes one off so he can hold both of your arms in one strong grip, and you’re amazed he’s able to subdue both of your wrists with just one of his massive hands. He leans back and uses his free hand to reach for the belt at the foot of the bed, before wrapping it around your wrists and fastening the buckle tightly.
He leans in close to your face as he places your restrained hands back above your head. He takes in the way your breath quickens through parted lips, eyes wide and cheeks flush with excitement and worry. He likes making you falter, likes watching you breakdown underneath his power.
“You’re all mine.” He reminds you, one hand keeping your bound wrists firmly above your head.
You nod, and when you speak your voice comes out quiet and broken, “All yours, Konig.”
It gratifies him, judging by his self-assured laugh and the way his cock twitches against your stomach. “That’s it, liebe.”
He removes his grip on your forearm with a firm squeeze to remind you to stay, and he scoots himself back so that either leg is straddling your thighs instead of your waist. His gaze shifts down, soaking in every inch as he cups you over your underwear, his careful touch taking advantage of your sensitivity.
You can’t help but grind your hips into his teasing, already leaking for him.
“Mm, I can tell you’re enjoying this. Such a dirty little pervert you are.”
You close your eyes and let out a whine at the teasing, both verbal and physical.
“Don’t worry, liebe, I’m getting impatient as well.”
He slips his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, sliding his fingers along your hips to tease you a bit before sliding them down, having to readjust himself as he takes them off. He repositions himself between your legs this time, letting either of your ankles at his sides.
His hands slide up your quivering thighs, spreading you open and getting a good look at you. You try and fight the embarrassment under the heat of his stare, resisting the urge to bring your bound wrists down to cover yourself.
He takes his time slicking himself up with lube - he came prepared, you noticed. Premeditated passion. Guess he has to when he’s got such a large cock.
You’re worried about the logistics, but you get the feeling Konig wouldn’t dare hurt you in this way.
Once he’s nice and slicked, he lines the tip against your aching warmth, and leans down close to you.
“Are you ready, meine liebe?”
“Please, Konig.” You whine, rutting your hips to grind against him.
He closes his eyes as he slowly works himself into you. Your suspicions are confirmed as he stops just after the tip, opening his eyes again to confirm the level of comfort displayed on your features.
Your teeth are grit, but you nod your head in approval.
He’s continues, pace so careful as he pushes himself further into you. It’s been so long since you’ve got any action, especially action from someone so well endowed, you’re incredibly tight around him. He’s studying you, searching for signs of being pushed over the limit as he takes his time stretching you out.
You can’t help let out a soft moan when he’s halfway in, just at the feeling of being filled. Your eyes flutter shut, giving yourself the ability to concentrate on the cock working into you.
It takes awhile, it does. You’re so small and he’s so big, but he doesn’t seem to mind, enjoying using you as his cockwarmer, walls so cozy and tight around him. He thinks it’s so goddamn arousing that he’s so huge you have to push yourself to take him. He likes that he’s a challenge for you. He wants to train you and shape you in every sense of the word.
But for now, he allows you take the lead from underneath him, letting yourself grind your hips down on to him at your own pace as he lets low moans escape him.
When you’re finally at the point of desperately rutting your hips against him, you give him all he needs to hear.
“Fuck me, Konig, please fuck me.”
He obliges, unable to say no to your eager and breathy tone. His fingers grip onto your outer thighs as he thrusts into you. His pace is quick, but he’s still cautious not to force himself too deep inside you. He’s a disciplined man, after all.
Even without being all the way inside you, he’s still deep enough to hit the spot, forcing moans to escape from parted lips.
“Look at me, liebe.”
You oblige, and his cock twitches inside of you at the sight of your half-lidded eyes glazed in pleasure. He grunts, his pace picking up as he ventures deeper inside of you.
You can’t help the mutters and moans spilling from you. Your hands mindlessly move from above your head to his chest, tugging on the fabric of his shirt.
“You feel so good. So good for me, schatz.”
You moan in response, and he decides he’s worked you open enough to push all the way in.
You’re cockdrunk now. Breathy moans escaping without thought, eyes unfocused and body limp to his desires.
When he suddenly pulls out you whine. “Koni- please.”
“On your front.” He commands as he sits back on his knees, towering over you.
You’re flush and out of breath as you do as he says, positioning yourself the best you can with your hands bound. On all fours, head down towards the pillows as you arch your back.
The bed shifts under him as he scoots close before giving your ass a firm smack, the gasp leaving your mouth more out of surprise than pain. He gives you a few more, alternating between your cheeks. Just enough to leave handprints behind, marking you as his own.
He lines up with you again, pressing into you without hesitation.
You both let out moans at the return of warmth. He’s less gentle now, pounding into you hard enough the sound of flesh crashing together fills the room. The creaky bed is slamming against the dingy walls and your thighs are rippling on impact. You can’t help but quiver as the pleasure washes through you.
He’s got such a rhythmic pace, slamming into you while he grips your hips tight to keep you still.
“All mine.” He growls between breathy groans.
You can't even respond, practically drooling into the pillows as Konig fucks you senseless. A string of broken praises fall from your lips, mostly nonsense. Konig leans in and leaves little kisses down your back, without breaking his pace.
“Koni, I’m gon’na- fuck, Konig.”
“Come for me, meine liebe.”
Your eyes pinch shut and a broken moan leaves your lips as you ride the waves of intense pleasure washing through you. It’s enough to make your entire body clench, your walls gripping onto Konig.
He doesn’t let up, forcing your thighs open as he mercilessly pounds you through orgasm.
He gives your ass another firm smack, and your fingers are clawing desperately at the pillows, searching for any sort of stability but you’re powerless to Konig and his forceful cock.
You’re on cloud nine, feeling so far away from your body as you’re washed up on the shores of pleasure. Konig’s strength is the only thing holding you steady.
“I’m going to come, schatz.” He warns, moaning your name just like he did on the video before he fills you up and stakes his claim deep inside you.
His fingers dig into your thighs as his muscles tense under his clothes, his thrusts and moans becoming uneven as he loses himself to the euphoric gratification.
He pauses for a few moments after he slows to a stop, taking a moment to catch his breath as he lets his cock warm inside you.
He pulls out of you with a low grunt, watching the come that spills out of you. When he releases his grip on you, you’re too weak to support yourself, sliding limp on your front and basking in the afterglow of your orgasm.
He takes pleasure in knowing he marked you, completely broke you down and disheveled you. Made you feel so good you have to collect yourself afterwards.
He steps out for a moment before quickly returning with something to clean you both up with.
He’s gentle with the clean-up, wiping away the mixture of lube and come from you while minding your sensitivity, not wanting to disturb your bliss. He removes the belt from your wrists as well.
“Konig? Cuddle.” You mutter, arm stretching across the bedspread.
You don’t see the smile underneath his hood, but after he wipes himself off he joins you back on the bed, the mattress creaking for a final time as he pulls you in a spoon. You feel so safe and small, pressed into him like this. His strong arms wrapped around you. His chest on your back. You let out a pleased hum.
“That’s going to make a nice video.” He says, removing his earpiece and turning it off as he sets it on the bed.
“You can have the real thing anytime.” You say, eyes closed with a warm smile on your face.
He hums low in your ear and gives you a kiss on the cheek, “You’re forgiven, Schatz.”
“Thank you Koni.”
You both drift off, tired out from your intense finishes.
You stay close throughout the night, but having him pressed into you unfortunately didn’t stop the nightmares. When you wake up in a panic, kicking and screaming at the latest renditioning of your mind’s unresolved trauma, Konig’s there to press his hand to your heart, telling you that everything’s okay, it was just a nightmare.
Your breath is still rapid and your heart is still pounding as you steady yourself, transitioning yourself back to reality after the night terror.
He hugs you so tight, reminding you about how he’ll always be there to protect you, that no one will ever hurt you again, he will not let anything happen to you.
You steady yourself, and he knows well enough how hard it is to calm yourself after such an immersive terrifying experience.
“I brought something for that, Schatz.”
When he leaves the room you think he’s going to bring you a book, a puzzle, something to do to distract yourself.
What he brings back makes you tense, your eyes widening at the gift. He sets it down for you, getting back into the bed and resuming his position wrapped around you, protecting you. But your eyes are glued to the gift, the full implications sinking in.
Konig had set down Ghost’s mask.
“No one will find out about your secret. I took care of it.”
You don’t need him to explain further. You know Ghost will never have the opportunity to hurt you again.
“Thank you, Konig.”
He kisses your shoulder through his hood, “My pleasure, meine liebe. Sleep tight.”
And you do.
Original Works Masterlist
#konig#konig cod#konig call of duty#konig modern warfare#konig mw2#call of duty#cod#modern warefare ii#modern warefare 2#konig x reader#smut#konig x you#x reader#fic#experimental#uhohwriting
616 notes
·
View notes
Text
Holiday in... Handcuffs? Pt. 2
Pt 1
“Okay Dustin, tell me one more time why you think Steve was kidnapped.” Hopper says while pinching the ridge of his nose. It’s not that he didn’t believe the boy, it's just, he highly doubts one guy would be capable of taking Steve down easily.
“He told me he was! I heard a struggle, he said kidnapped, I heard the kidnappers voice!” Dustin shrieks while waving his phone at Hopper. Will, Mike and Lucas had come to join him, they were staying quiet though, still in shock. The girls had been skeptical and refused to stop their girls day for what they thought was a cry for attention.
“Did Steve perhaps call you accidentally if he was… busy with someone?” He has caught Steve with his pants down too many times to assume the guy didn’t have varied interests in bed. Dustin just scowls and puts his hands on his hips exactly like Steve does.
“No, he was calling to tell me something. That he wasn’t going to be able to do something and then the struggle started. I heard swearing and panting like Steve was trying to get away, his speaker sounded like it had been hit because all his audio started getting really fuzzy. He was trying to say something about his kidnapper that he was weird or something like that. And then I heard the guy's voice really clearly, he said ‘in you go princess.”
“I understand Dustin, I'm just asking if there are any other possibilities. Steve is an adult man who doesn’t look like he’d be easy to kidnap, on top of that he was on the phone actively talking to a witness which is the last thing a criminal wants. Kidnappers go after people who won’t be missed, who they can convince to get out of the public eye.”
“He said goodbye to me, Hopper. He said goodbye and that he loves me.” Steve normally did this but he just had this gut feeling that something horrible had happened. “If you won’t help me I’ll go looking for him myself.”
“Slow your roll Dustin Henderson. I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, I just need as much information as possible. Did Steve tell you where he was when he was taken?”
“His phone tracking shows him around the corner from the shop when he made the call.” Dustin pulls up the map and shows him the screenshot he took of the dot in front of the corner bodega. “Now the tracking on it is spotty, wherever they’re taking him it has a bad signal, and they’re moving.”
Fuck that’s not good. Hopper stands from his desk and grabs his jacket. “Okay, I’m going to check out where Steve was last seen. You tell me if the tracking ever reappears and what direction it’s heading in, that could help us predict where they may be headed. Stay here. Do not, do anything stupid.” Hopper orders before heading out the door and getting in his cruiser to go by the bakery.
~O~
They had stopped at a gas station about twenty minutes out from the cabin because Eddie wanted s'mores supplies and some beers. Steve was kind of hungry so he picked up some snacks for them too. The two of them giggled and playfully shoved each other until the gas station owner, full of fond exasperation, said that she was going to confiscate their ID’s as fakes if they didn’t stop acting like children. Steve looked concerned while Eddie just snorted.
“Like you haven’t been letting me buy beers here since I was 19 Terry.” He winks and she flips him off. They set their haul on the counter and Steve insists on paying, smacking Eddie’s hands away when he tries to steal the other man’s card. Eventually Eddie just folds his arms over Steve’s shoulders and rests his chin on Steve’s head.
“Shall I give Wayne your best then?” He teases wiggling his eyebrows. Terry scoffs and reaches across the counter to swat him.
“You’ll be keeping your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you Edward Theodore Munson. And thank your young man for buying your groceries, what were you raised in a barn?”
“Oh trust me Lady Theressa I would like nothing more than to thank him, long and often but he has rebuffed my advances because all of you keep telling him I’m such a scoundrel!” Eddie dramatically swoons against Steve’s back, swooning a little in reality at how easily Steve holds his weight. “My knight in shining armor has rebuked me, leaving me without favor or token to get me through the dark, lonely nights!”
“Are you sure you want to be seen in public with this guy?” Terry stage whispers to Steve. Steve laughs and rubs his hand over Eddie’s forearms, the metalhead squeezing him tighter in response.
“God help me but doe-eyed, curly hair nerds are kinda my type.” That response has Eddie blushing and ducking his head to hide behind his curls against Steve’s neck. He meant it when he said he’d earn that kiss, whatever Steve needed to know his interest was in something real.
“That’s on you then. You boys stay safe out there, got it?” She gives them both an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture as they gather up their bags of snacks and offer her holiday wishes in return as they head out.
Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand once they’re back in the car warming up. Steve’s eyes are glittering and Eddie squeezes his hand again so he doesn’t lean over and accidentally steal that kiss. “If you’re not completely sick of me after this trip, and you’re willing to give this a shot, I’d like to take you to dinner.”
“I think I’d like that.” Steve murmurs. Honestly if Eddie asked he’d definitely kiss him right here and now. No one has made him laugh this much in a while, has listened to Steve talk about the bakery and the youth basketball team he’s an assistant coach for with such rapt attention. He hasn’t felt this seen since Robin, who is the other half of his brain cell, they are two halves of a whole idiot and they do just about everything together. She knows he’s thought Eddie was cute from the first time he walked into the bakery, with a grease smudge on his forehead and his hair tied up in a clip.
“Is there something on my face, you’re staring.” Eddie asks, he’s actually got a smear of chocolate from a cookie on his lip but Steve just smiles and shakes his head.
“Just think you’re beautiful, that’s all.” And as color floods Eddie’s face, prompting him to hide behind his hair again as he turns to watch the road, Steve can’t help but be unrepentantly charmed. It’s silly to think about but Steve feels like he’s fallen into one of those goofy Hallmark Christmas movies. The ones where unexpected circumstances end up bringing you exactly where you’re supposed to be to meet The One or something ridiculous like that. It’s silly he knows but he has a good feeling about this Christmas.
~O~
Most of the shops had closed by the time Hopper got there, the bodega included unfortunately. But there was a pawn shop across the street that was still open. He walked in and went to the counter where a nervous, sweaty little man stared him down.
“H-hello offfficer. What can I do for you?” He dabs at his receding hairline with a stained hanky.
“That camera out front work?” He asks and the man nods.
“Yes, I-I haven’t had many customers come in today and I have all the goods I’ve had sold to me today right over here if you need to see any of them for any reason. I do feel like I should inform you-”
“I don’t care about possible stolen goods at the moment, does that camera reach to across the street?” Hopper cuts him off not wanting to be here a second longer than he needed to.
“A little. Um, right this way officer.” He scurries over to the door to lock it and switch the sign to closed before taking Hopper to the backroom where the camera controls were set up.
“I want you to show me just before 7 to 7:15 today.” Hopper says and the man is quick to comply. He wasn’t exaggerating about the little, Hopper couldn’t see faces or anything significantly higher than people’s waists. He scanned the footage intently for anything suspicious and then he saw it. An inconspicuous looking black vehicle driving too close to the curb, kicking up sludge as it goes. He sees sharp movements and then two bodies hitting the ground. They’re almost out of frame when the incident occurs but he catches a glimpse of Steve. The young man is indeed on his phone, the device clutched in his hand as a body with its back to the camera lands on top of him. The figure is wearing what looks like jeans and a thick, dark sweater, heavy combat boots and chains dangling from one of the pockets. So definitely not Steve’s usual crowd. He watches Steve’s feet scrabble against the icy pavement before he’s pulled up and out of frame. About a minute later a similar black vehicle drives back in the other direction.
So that must be the play. Knock them off balance by driving too close, then while the victim is disoriented loading them into the vehicle and taking off back in the opposite direction. Unfortunately this camera angle didn’t provide plate details for the vehicle so that would have to wait until morning. He just hoped Steve could hold on that long.
“Rewind a bit, I want you to print out some of these frames for me.” Hopper says, pulling up another chair.
By the time he gets back to the office he’s frustrated and worried for Steve. And he knows Joyce has got to be getting worried about him too, he should have been home almost two hours ago by now.
The kids have all gone but they pinned a map to a whiteboard they commandeered and drew a trail of dots with each check in point where they could get a signal from Steve’s phone. It looks like the kidnappers are headed towards the mountains which is not a good sign for Steve’s life expectancy. He can’t despair yet though and adds the printouts of the attack to the board.
Steve is his boy and if these fuckers have hurt a single hair on his head, they’ll never find the bodies. No matter how much his heart and mind rage though there’s no new information to gather right now. He needs to go home, to tell Joyce what happened. He needs her help to figure out what to tell the kids if the worst comes to pass.
~O~
Wayne is standing in the open door as they pull up. Eddie can barely help the child-like grin on his face as he dashes up onto the porch, ignoring the crack of ice under his boots as he pulls his uncle into a tight hug.
“I’ve missed you.” He groans as Wayne squeezes him back just as tight,
“Missed you too son, now get in here so I can meet your boy finally.”
And oh how Eddie’s heart soared at hearing Wayne call Steve his boy, but first he had to tell Wayne the truth about what happened.
“About that Wayne, this is Steve, he’s a friend of mine. Hector won’t be joining us because he decided to be a two-timing scumbag.” Steve, absolute gentleman that he is, has all their bags with him that he sets down before offering Wayne his hand to shake.
“Steve Harrington sir, Eddie has been telling me so much about you.” Wayne returns the gesture with a small grin, so similar to Eddie’s.
“Just Wayne please, you gonna make an honest man of my boy before these knees are too old to walk him down the aisle?”
“Wayne!” Eddie sputters, resisting the urge to throw himself in the nearest snowdrift and just stay there until the spring thaw. He’s burning up so much right now he could possibly melt through the ice on the lake and just drown there too. Steve barely seems phased though and just gives Eddie a soft look.
“Well, we were going to maybe start with dinner. Save the wedding plans for the third date you know.” He winks and Eddie buries his face in his hands with a whine, great they get along too well.
“I’m going to bed!” He declares loudly, he’s had a shit day and the drive up into the mountains always stresses him out. Wayne just gives him the stink eye.
“You drag this boy all the way out here and just plan on disappearing? Show him around at least!” Wayne turns back to Steve and pats him on the shoulder, “I really tried to raise him with manners I swear.”
Steve throws his head back and laughs, looking so radiant and happy that Eddie barely feels his heart slip from his chest and splat down at his feet. Freely offered to the gorgeous man who offered to come here for him, who looks at him like he’s hoping as hard as Eddie is that this thing starting to take shape between them could be something wonderful.
“I think he’s just the way he’s supposed to be.” Steve says, looking at him so warmly. Eddie flushes and reaches for Steve again, craving the way their fingers feel folded together already and starts showing him around the cabin. It’s not massive or really even anything special. Living room, kitchen, two bedrooms and a bathroom across the way. There’s a little gazebo outside right on the edge of a lake which was why Wayne wanted the place to begin with. There’s boxes of decorations sitting out but no tree, when Steve asks about it Eddie just grins.
“Munson family tradition, we have to go get one. Then we spend the whole day decorating and drinking and snacking on whatever we have on hand. Sometimes we stay inside and just read while Wayne plays his old records. Or I’ll take the kids out to go skate if my cousins are around.”
“That sounds really nice Eddie. I never really got to have traditions like that growing up.” Steve had talked a bit about his cold, lonely upbringing, and how he’d never had people to celebrate the holidays with until Robin and his group of shitheads. Eddie had suspected that Steve had to be at least a bit lonely to volunteer to go to a practical stranger’s house for Christmas but Eddie was really happy he had.
“Then I’m all too happy to share ours with you.” Steve’s lip wobbles a touch as he pulls Eddie into a gentle hug.
“I feel like a horrible person for crying when you’re the one who went through so much today, but thank you for having me.” Eddie wraps his arms around Steve and holds him back just as gently, fingers sinking into Steve’s thick waves.
“Thank you for offering to come. I feel so much braver, facing everything that happened today because I wasn’t going through it alone.” The held each other for a moment longer before drifting back to their own spaces. “Want some cocoa before we head to bed? It’s a queen if you don’t mind sharing, the couch is…” he inhales sharply, “not great.”
“I feel like we’re going about things in a very weird order. Haven’t kissed, haven't been on a date but going straight to sharing a bed. Yeah, cocoa sounds nice.”
“It’s from a packet so temper your fine artisanal drink crafting expectations.” Eddie says tugging Steve into the kitchen,
Steve just shakes his head and giggles, “Just how pretentious do you think I am?”
Wayne watches them from his seat in the living room, two of them wrapped up in their own little world of new romance as they stand hip to hip in the kitchen, sipping hot chocolate and watching each other with stars in their eyes. They might actually start discussing marriage before their third date.
Pt 3
#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#dustin henderson#wayne munson#baker!steve#mechanic!eddie#modern au#no upside down au#comedy of errors#accidental kidnapping#steddiefic chronicles
218 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hazbin Group Chat Fic, pt 1
* CharChar added PurpleFemale, SeXXXySpider, SssirP, Husk, NaNaNaNiff, and Alastor to “Hazbin Hotel’s Home for Imaginary Friends” *
CharChar: Hi, friends!
SssirP: But… but we’re not imaginary.
PurpleFemale: I think it’s related to some TV show on earth.
SeXXXySpider: Shh, don’t say the T-dot-V word or flat-face will come spy on us.
SeXXXySpider: Also wow @ Husk & Alastor. We can totally tell who are the digital grandpas in this friend group.
Alastor: I beg your pardon?
NaNaNaNiff: Ehehe, your usernames.
Alastor: Yes?
NaNaNaNiff: They’re just your names. Laaaame.
Husk: I’m not calling myself some stupid nickname.
SeXXXySpider: Bwahaha, two seconds, kitty. I assume you’re down at the bar.
Husk: Oh god.
PurpleFemale: Run, Husk.
* Husk changed his name to KittyKat *
* KittyKat changed his name to Husk *
* Husk changed his name to NiceTryFurball *
* NiceTryFurball changed his name to Husk *
* Husk changed his name to WhiskeyWhiskers *
WhiskeyWhiskers: This… can stay.
SeXXXySpider: I win!
WhiskeyWhiskers: If you touch my phone again, I’ll break your fingers, brat.
SeXXXySpider: Weird kink, but actually not the strangest thing I’ve done so far this week ~ <3 ~
PurpleFemale: That… that’s not okay, Angel.
SeXXXySpider: ¯\_¯\_(ツ)_/¯_/¯
NaNaNaNiff: Awww, you gave him the extra arms!!!
SeXXXySpider: You know it, Niff.
Alastor: I’ve been here approximately three minutes and already feel my brain rotting away. Charlie, what exactly was the point of this?
CharChar: Okay, so I figured even though we all live together that we still need a way to communicate whenever we’re not actually together.
SssirP: For what, exactly?
CharChar: Anything! If there’s just something you want to share with the group. It can be an idea for an exercise for us or a funny joke you thought of or just letting me know that the handle is broken on your bathroom sink!
WhiskeyWhiskers: Don’t all you fucks spend enough time with each other? And I should know – I keep getting dragged along on your little misadventures.
SeXXXySpider: Bet.
WhiskeyWhiskers: What?
SeXXXySpider: Not the kind of bet you’re used to.
SssirP: “The term bet can be used in a few different ways on social media but generally means agreed or okay.”
SeXXXySpider: Bet.
PurpleFemale: Siiiiigh. And here we have Angel, the perpetually online e-boy.
SeXXXySpider: Uwu?
PurpleFemale: Kill it with fire.
NaNaNaNiff: Eheheheheh.
PurpleFemale: Don’t actually kill it with fire.
NaNaNaNiff: No fun :-(((
Alastor: I’m still very confused.
SeXXXySpider: Just go with it. You’ll catch on.
CharChar: Thanks, Angel. I’m glad someone is immediately on board.
SeXXXySpider: (bb^_^)bb
SssirP: I’m not opposed. I’ve never been in a group chat before.
PurpleFemale: Really? You didn’t have one for you and your egg things?
SssirP: Giving the Egg Boiz cellular phones is a very bad idea. Trust me. A very bad idea.
SeXXXySpider: I’m so fascinated to get that story out of you someday.
CharChar: Angel, will you help Alastor change his name too?
SeXXXySpider: Iiiii will not.
Alastor: SmArT BoY
SeXXXySpider: Eep
PurpleFemale: Eep
SssirP: Eep
CharChar: Oh, come on, Alastor. It’s part of the fun! Here, bring me your phone and I’ll help you!
Alastor: I assure you that I am quite fine, my dear.
WhiskeyWhiskers: She gets a pat on the head and Angel gets a vague death threat? Checks out.
SeXXXySpider: ^
SssirP: But it is kind of fun, having a different name.
PurpleFemale: What would Alastor’s name even be?
SeXXXySpider: Honestly, he’d probably go with, like “RadioDemon” and think he was being clever.
CharChar: I’ll come up with a list of ideas!
NaNaNaNiff: RadioRudolph
Alastor: No.
Alastor: And, my dear Niffty, why are you engaging in all of this nonsense?
NaNaNaNiff: Ehehehe, because they can text me whenever they find a bug!
WhiskeyWhiskers: There’s one bothering me at the bar.
SeXXXySpider: Hey, she already tried to stab me once.
SeXXXySpider: Also, the clue is in the name, baby. Spider. Not bug.
WhiskeyWhiskers: Only once? Pussy.
SeXXXySpider: (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞
SssirP: Actually, that one does look like it has cat whiskers.
SeXXXySpider: (=^ ◡ ^=)
SssirP: Aww.
CharChar: You know, that does raise an important question! Niffty, do you also go after spiders or only bugs?
NaNaNaNiff: Spiders are our friends! They eat all of the nasty little buggies. They tie them up and then suck them dry!
PurpleFemale: Angel, no.
WhiskeyWhiskers: Don’t do it.
CharChar: That’s….
SeXXXySpider: Don’t mind me over here deleting my half-completed text then.
PurpleFemale: Do you have any shame?
SeXXXySpider: ¯\_¯\_(ツ)_/¯_/¯
SeXXXySpider: I mean, they’re usually the ones doing the tying up, sooooooo
SeXXXySpider: Niff can be half-right.
Alastor: Regretting your decisions yet, Charlie?
PurpleFemale: About starting this group text or about life in general?
Alastor: That I shall leave up to her.
CharChar: This. Is. Fine.
CharChar: (Angel, if you need someone to talk to…)
SeXXXySpider: Thanks, doll, but my therapy comes in little plastic baggies.
PurpleFemale: Speaking of, we found the stash taped to the underside of the couch. I believe that may have been the last one, yes?
SeXXXySpider: …
SeXXXySpider: My therapy is *supposed to* come in little plastic baggies.
CharChar: I’d say sorry, Angel, but I’m honestly not that sorry.
WhiskeyWhiskers: Good job, girls.
SeXXXySpider: Hey, Niffty, did anyone ever tell you that cats are a species of bug?
NaNaNaNiff: Nice try~
SeXXXySpider: You know, I remember someone did once call me “Whore Bug”
PurpleFemale: *Snort* What?
SeXXXySpider: Yup
SssirP: Ah, I did intend to apologize for that
SeXXXySpider: Eh, I punched you in the face. (งง ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)งง We’re even
PurpleFemale: Wait, what happened?
PurpleFemale: Also, Angel, where do you keep getting all of those?
SeXXXySpider: oo(◕␣~)oo
PurpleFemale: No
SssirP: It was when I was still trying to help the Vees.
SssirP: Before I realized that Vox is a jerk.
SeXXXySpider: ^
WhiskeyWhiskers: Not gonna lie, that’s actually kind of funny.
CharChar: Remember what I taught you, Pentious?
SssirP: Ah, yes!
SssirP: Angel, I’m sorry I called you WhoreBug.
SeXXXySpider: Thanks IG but I’m not sorry for punching you.
SeXXXySpider: Also, I’ve been called worse.
PurpleFemale: Once again, Angel. That’s not okay.
SeXXXySpider: I’m getting tired of typing the shrug
PurpleFemale: Or you could take your own trauma seriously for, like, two seconds.
SeXXXySpider: Or I could bury my trauma in sarcasm and ice cream.
WhiskeyWhiskers: Replace ice cream with bourbon and I’ve been there
CharChar: Note to self, see if Alastor can find a therapist for the hotel
Alastor: I shall keep an eye open, my dear girl
CharChar: Do you think Rosie knows somebody?
PurpleFemale: Do we really want a cannibal living in the hotel?
CharChar: The hotel welcomes ~everybody~
SeXXXySpider: Resisting. Urge. To. Make. Eating. Joke.
CharChar: See?! That’s growth!
SeXXXySpider: Resisting. Urge. To. Make. Growth. Joke.
NaNaNaNiff: Hehehehehe.
SssirP: I actually don’t know what the jokes would have been???
WhiskeyWhiskers: Keep that innocence, bud
(Part 2)
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanfiction#group chat#charlie morningstar#vaggie#angel dust#husk#niffty#alastor#sir pentious#got a little bored at work#angel texts so quick because he has the extra hands#should i keep going?
100 notes
·
View notes
Text
1.19
Provenance part II
-This is the second angstiest fight they’ve ever had. I don’t even know where to begin.
-Dean is worried about Sam (is he ever not worried about Sam? no), that’s why in this episode he keeps pushing him to hook up with someone. It’s different from his usual crass teasing.
Sam is frustrated because he really is not interested in Sarah or any women at this point, and hurt because Dean’s pushing him too much
He yells at Dean
It sounds like the kind of fight the love interests would have before one of them finally admits they care because they’re in love.
Dean’s tone shifts. He’s genuine and serious. He says he doesn’t mean any disrespect but he’s sure this is about Jessica, and he would think she’d want him to be happy. (Dean wants Sam to be happy). Sam looks away, says “I know she would” softly, before looking back at Dean, biting his lip slightly, holding something back.
Sam exhales like he’s decided to admit something and says “you’re right, part of this is about Jessica. But not the main part.”
Dean asks “then what’s it about?”
Sam holds his gaze, vulnerable, his eyes moving over Dean’s face, before looking down. He looks like he’s going to break, like he’s going to cry, for a split second. He looks almost ashamed.
He doesn’t answer, and Dean’s expression is like Oh. That. He looks helpless. Sam looking at Dean like that was his answer.
But he quickly regains composure and lies back on the bed, gaining distance, feigning casualty, crossing his arms. He changes the subject. He says “well we still need the painting”
Sam nods like he’s trying to make himself accept something, and picks up his phone miserably and dials Sarah. He can see that Dean won’t talk about this anymore. He looks so defeated and the way he just does what Dean tells him to do even though he clearly doesn’t want to- it’s like he’s accepting a punishment.
He sounds fake and strained on the phone and he looks miserable and Dean is rolling his eyes, arms crossed over his chest, playing at nonchalance. Probably deep in denial even though really, he knows, or he wouldn’t have changed the subject.
-how else was I supposed to interpret this? If Sam’s issue is actually that he doesn’t want Sarah to get hurt and he can’t go through that again, which is what he has a very easy time telling her not thirty minutes later, why would he act like that with Dean instead of just saying it? Why would he phrase it like his issue is mostly not about Jessica at all? Why would Dean have a realization and then behave so defensively? Am I stupid? What the actual fuck is the normal reading of this scene?
-Sam tells Sarah he likes her. It’s like Sam has agreed to play his part and be into Sarah, like that’s the story they’re going with. We know Sam is a smooth liar and he’s good at getting people to trust him to the point of being manipulative if he has to, although his intentions are good.
-When he and Sarah get trapped in the house, Sam calls out for Dean and asks him not to go anywhere yet
-They’re trying to figure out how to burn the little girl’s remains and Sarah says she used to auction antique dolls (so she knows they have real hair). Sam says “that’s fascinating Sarah but important right now?” the SASS
-Sam doesn’t kiss her. Then he goes outside, where Dean is waiting for him, turns around, and kisses her where Dean can see them.
118 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
un-bacio-per-tutti-blog
Call Me Baby?
starstruckmyths
Sunflower🌻
after-hour-writings
~After hours~
kure-84
KURE LOG
hyperfixationxgirlie
My Hyper-Fixation Chronicles