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sstrwbrryccke · 3 months

Text

— bullying him pt.3 | sub soobin

part 1 | part 2

tags: loser!nerd!soobin x bully!mean!reader, gn reader, possessive reader, mentions of possessive acts, pet play slightly, dubcon, tons of public humiliation, public sex, bullying, mutual pinning with heavy denial, both are obsessed for each other, unhealthy relationships, reader is pretty sadistic, foot on crotch, exhibitionism, handjob, multiple orgasms, public fondling, fluff at end

tag: @zuzuhasablog

you tapped an impatient foot on the ground, periodically checking your phone for the time. he was late by 2 minutes now, and you feel your irritation rise as you type snarky texts to him. how was it that you were the one who came early to the pity date? it was seriously ridiculous. shouldn’t he be on time to the date he looked forward to?

yn: where tf are you? loser: im sorry im sorry im so sorry im coming right now yn: im going to pull your hair out when i see you mutt. loser: im sorry please forgive me

if it turned out that he had stood you up, you were seriously going to rain hell on him. he’s going to get shoved into the locker, have his hair roughly grabbed and face thoroughly punched until he’s bloodied and bruised. though perhaps it wouldn't be that much of a punishment compared to your usual bedroom activities with him. he would probably enjoy the process too; as it meant all your attention was on him. you realised after a bit that he really was a desperate. masochistic. mutt. (or maybe he just craves your validation that badly)

just as you were cursing him out in your mind, you see a tall figure in the distance, stumbling and running towards you like the loser he is. you can tell he spots you as well because he quickly turns to the nearest reflective surface to fix his appearance and hair; even popping a mint in his mouth before running up to you. his face was pink, probably from the exercise— his plump lips pressing into an apologetic smile.

“sorry, i’m sorry i’m late.” he was slightly out of breath from running.

“sorry? fucking mutt. do you not respect my time? if you were any later i would’ve stood your ass up.” you shove him by the shoulder and he looks at you like a kicked dog.

he shakes his head profusely at your accusation, desperately trying to get back into your good favours.

“no— no! i’m, i, i’m so sorry. i respect your time, i’m so dumb i know.”

soobin degrades himself as he chews at his bottom lip, hoping he didn’t upset you enough for you to leave him. he had been thinking about this date all night, he could barely even get any sleep. if he messes up now he’ll never forgive himself!

“—you, you look amazing by the way.” he stammers, fingers fiddling with the hem of his sweater.

“i always look like this.” you deadpan, you didn’t bother to dress up more than you usually do in your school uniform. the most you did was pick out a simple, trendy outfit and brush your hair. bare minimum really.

“yeah you always look- i mean no, not that you don’t look amazing, always, because you do! but you look extra. amazing. compared to, usual…” he awkwardly stammers, making it worse for himself. he decides to just shut up before he embarrasses himself more and you ghost him.

“shut up and start walking, you loser.”

he follows behind you eagerly, glad you still want to hang out with him even after the most embarrassing stumble of his life. though to be honest, he stumbles like this quite a lot, and for some reason, you tolerate it (with only a few snide comments here and there). it was a few quiet seconds of walking, him being too afraid to speak up and you taking sly glances at him.

“why were you late?” you break the air, his head was lowered the entire walk, but he raises his head with your question. he was clearly nervous and sheepish as he averted his gaze.

“i… was picking an outfit.”

you give him a doubtful look and he continues, stuttering. “i— i didn’t know what style you liked. and… and i was trying to comply to your requests.”

ohhh... right, the request. you snicker to yourself. you forgot about that. it was just a small throwaway statement you texted him with no real thought behind it. you wanted to see if he would really follow through or not.

“so? show me.”

he’s nervous again, arms bracing himself as he glances around to check for people. soobin mentally hypes himself up before he pulls down his white turtleneck, showing you the silver collar around his neck. you cover your mouth with an audible pfft, laughing at him and he quickly rolls his turtleneck back up. god he was so foolish, but so obedient and cute.

“and? what about my other request?”

he looks at you wide eyed, stammering. “i, i can’t show you that!”

“did you do it?”

he blushes, hands clutching the edge of your hoodie, looking at you through his bangs. “please not here…”

he begs and you feel your heart soar. fuck, who taught him to act so cute? since when did the nerd know how to play sly? you clutch his crotch to feel for his cock and he silently whimpers.

“you didn’t wear any underwear, good boy.”

he trembles, moving away from your touch to look around, hoping no one caught you two. but his heart was in his throat and he was so excited about the praise you gave. so you liked what he did? he was over the moon. ‘good boy’, he repeated in his head. ‘good boy’.

it was unbearably adorable watching the cogs in his head malfunction, and you had to control yourself from ravaging him right here and there. you take the moment to appreciate his appearance, it was pretty obvious without him having to say so that he put a lot of effort into his outfit. he was wearing stylishly rimmed glasses, a jean jacket with a soft-lined collar, a white turtleneck and black pants. he also managed to get his hair under control, bangs carefully styled and curled.

you always thought he had looks, but this just proved how stunning he could look if he cleaned himself up. everyone else seems to agree too, and you notice the unsubtle glances thrown towards soobin. he stands out, tall and lean with a bunny-like charm. a few girls whispered and giggled, clearly blushing about him. but the attention twisted something dark in your chest, it grasped and dug its filthy nails into your heart. you wanted to lock him in your room and never let him see the light of day ever again. it was an insane thought process, deranged and unhinged. he wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a victim. you needed to get a grip.

you clutch his wrist tightly, pulling him along so he walks faster. he winces at the hold but lets you roughly handle him because it’s almost like you two are holding hands. he stares longingly at your hand and his, wishing you would interlock them again like you did yesterday. when you reach the mall, you watch with silent satisfaction as his eyes rake over the stores. there was a subtle pride you felt seeing him enjoy the choice you made.

“we have some time to kill before the restaurant reservation.”

he looks at you, eyes wide and plump lips smiling, you could almost see his irises sparkling. stupidly hopeful eyes. “you made a reservation for me?”

“don’t look at me like that. i just dont want to wait in line.”

he turns his gaze back to the front as you demand, but you can tell he is still giddy, ecstatic that you put even a sliver of effort into the date. it really didn't take much to satisfy him. even the slightest attention had him trembling. the two of you explore the mall, and naturally, soobin’s nerdy ass is drawn to the anime and manga stores. you tail behind him, mindlessly noting each thing he stares or geeks at.

while he was shuffling through the array of mangas, you pick out a shirt with a few familiar characters on it; you faintly remember soobin mentioning this show when you asked about his phone background. you tap him on the shoulder to get his attention, pointing to the shirt. “isn’t this your favourite anime?”

“oh! it’s limited edition!” he gasps out, excitement in his tone. taking the shirt from your grasp. his eyes widen in glee as he examines the details. the joy didn't last however, and soon he was putting the shirt back on the racks with a meek smile.

you raise an eyebrow “thought you liked it, nerd?”

he shyly looks at you, “yeah, but it’s too expensive.” he admits, clearly embarrassed. he feels like he was parading around his misfortune, look at this loser! no friends, no lover and now he doesn’t even have money. choi soobin, born on this earth and destined to be a loser.

“i’ll buy it for you.” your words cut through his thoughts. his cute hopeful eyes look up at you, and you interrupt him before he could utter out another word.

“but, you need to try it on for me first.” you continue, a pointed look on your face.

he pause for a second, the request was innocent enough, right?

☆★☆

he should’ve known, nothing was innocent with you. that's why he’s standing in the middle of the changing room with you sitting in the corner. a smirk on your lips.

“strip.”

he hesitates, but slowly shrugs off his jean jacket, he’s done this many times in front of you, and you’ve explored every nook and cranny his body can offer. but he never ceases to feel shy in his own skin, especially when you observe him like a collector would with a jewel. maybe its the setting that’s making him bashful, it feels borderline illegal to do such an act in the mall. even though many people have stripped down naked in the changing room, the way you make him feel is so sinful.

he takes off his turtleneck, exposing his bare chest, the silver collar complimenting his pale skin beautifully. it wasn’t much of a striptease and more of an activity he had to get over and done with, but it was still extremely arousing for you. watching him debase himself in his casual clothing. normally you only saw him in his school uniform (bruised, injured, crying, fucked out of his mind and all other similar variants), but watching him in his own clothing made you feel so much more powerful. like you had control and dominance over him even outside of school.

he awkwardly stands in the middle, half-naked. waiting for your next command. it didn't even take that much to train him! naturally so obedient.

“take off your pants too.”

he whimpers at this, clutching at his pants but not making a move. he begs you with his eyes, take pity on him please! not here!

“i’m… not wearing anything underneath”

“i know, take it off.”

“i, i, no, it’s.” he stammers, sweaty hands staining his pants.

“no? are you saying no to me?”

he shivers at your tone, nervously gulping. this didn't seem good at all. “i—!”his ears ring, reverberating in his chest. his right cheek was stinging red. “wh—“

you slap him again.

“mutts don’t talk.”

he shuts up at this, tears threatening to spill onto his glasses. you pull him forward by the silver collar and he helplessly stumbles as you tug him around. you observe the red slap marks on his cheeks, intertwined with his blush.

“you’ve been disrespectful since the beginning of the date. first you show up late and now you refuse to do something so simple? are you trying to make me mad choi soobin?”

he shakes his head desperately, a tear slipping down. he must be the lowest scum of the earth, because the rougher you treat him, the tighter his pants get. he isn’t a masochist he swears, but your attention (no matter good or bad) on him feels so good. he was so touch and attention starved, desperate for any kind of recognition from you.

“i’ll only repeat myself once, strip.”

he stumbles up, shaky hands quickly peeling his pants off his legs. his already hard cock embarrassingly erect and dripping the moment it’s exposed.

“look at that.” you coo, slapping his dick, making precum drip to the floor as he cries. “pretending to be so shy and innocent while you’re sporting a rock hard boner.”

he snivels pathetically, shaking his head and making his hair tousle around. the silver collar glints like a gem in the light. you chuckle cruelly. “okay, put your limited edition shirt on now.”

he bites back a whimper, he wanted you to touch him so bad. but he obediently slips on the shirt, it feels so dull against his skin, barely covering his cock. soobin rubs his thighs together, now more interested in you rather than the shirt. he wanted you to adore and spoil him, hell, spank him and hurt him too— just anything!

as if you read his mind, your hand reaches out, before you could even touch him, he starts trembling. you pull back with an amused smile and he immediately begins to cry and beg.

“no— no please touch me please touch me i’m sorry, i, i wanna, i wanna be good for you please!”

“bunny can’t even keep quiet?” you tease, putting your hands behind your back and he whines. the nickname thumping in his heart.

he starts again, though this time he tries to control his voice, suddenly aware that you two were still in public— only hidden away by a thin curtain. his bottom lip quivers as he moves closer to you, fingers meekly reaching out to grasp your hoodie. he leans his head on your chest and a small weak whisper escapes his pink lips.

“you already own me… so please just touch me…”

a shiver runs down your spine, holy shit this was dangerous. playing sly at first and now coy? he had an effect on you that you weren’t sure you liked. “i get it already so shut up and come here.” you lowly groan, pulling his body flush against yours. he tremors out a whine as you roughly grab his cock. he couldn’t complain though, because your warm hands were embracing him and touching him exactly where he wants. he melts in your hold, face comfortably nestled in the crook of your neck as you played with his cock. his groans and whines die down in your shoulder, and the way you thumbed his slit was almost domestic.

fuck what was this pathetic man doing to you? here you are in the changing rooms, letting this loser hug and sniffle into your shoulder as you jerk him off. the whole situation was bizarre and you were starting to feel lightheaded. weren't he supposed to be the one servicing you?

you press down on his cockhead particularly hard and he cries into your neck, biting the collar of your hoodie as you slide his cock underneath the limited edition shirt, rubbing him with the friction of the fabric. this sets him off, the motion just felt way too good, he keens into your fist, panting into your shoulder as he holds your hoodie tightly.

it was taking a little more than usual to make him orgasm, normally you would describe his orgasm speed as 'embarrassingly fast', but he seemed to be holding out for some reason. you give his cock an experimental squeeze and he just digs his face into your neck more. then it hits you, you haven’t given him permission yet. could he have been waiting for your verbal confirmation? maybe that's why he was squinting his eyes so tightly and biting down on your collar. just the thought itself sparked heat in your lower regions. it satisfied you more than you would like to admit.

so you lean down to where he was tucked, breath touching his ear.

“come for me”

it was a simple test on a guinea pig, cause and effect.

you eye him down as his body quivers, face flushing a thousand shades of red with an embarrassing amount of saliva wetting your hoodie collar. right after the command he releases, cock jittery and shaky as it spurts out come into the limited edition shirt. he finally lets go of your hoodie, taking a second to gain back his strength. when he comes to clarity, you can see the panic set in his throat. staring at the ruined limited edition shirt.

"what do we do? it's dirty now!"

"we buy it, what else?"

he hesitates and you raise a brow. "but, the, cashier she might, see this."

he vaguely gestures to the come stain on the shirt, right above his now flaccid cock.

"so? hurry up and change."

soobin seems troubled at your nonchalant response, but changes back to his outfit as you asked, timidly holding the ruined limited edition shirt. you shove the dollar bills in his hand.

"go up to the cashier, and pay."

somehow he summons up the courage to walk up to the counter, trying to ignore the feeling of his dick making contact with the rough jean fabric each time he took a step. it was all smooth at first, he let the cashier scan the item (making sure the stained patch was hidden), paid with the cash and felt the relief of freedom just as the cashier took the shirt to bag.

only for her to pause, soobin feels his palms clamber with sweat. she was staring at the shirt, an unreadable expression on her face before her eyes meet back with his.

"sir, it seems this shirt is stained."

god please just strike him down already.

"oh." he feels so dumb, only able to let out a sound in response. his tongue wasn't cooperating, how was he going to explain? what could he say? what should he say?

"ugh," the sound of exasperation makes him jolt. she's disgusted. she's definitely disgusted and he can never show his face in this store again.

"—it seems like the only one in stock. i'm so sorry for that sir."

she still doesn't know a thing. his heart was threatening to jump out of his throat. "it's, it's alright." his words came out weaker than he would've liked.

"are you sure si—"

"yes! yes! please give me that!" he couldn't help his sudden outburst, snatching the item from the poor lady's hands and running off in the opposite direction. he was dying from humiliation and his feet carried him like the wind over to you. he bit back tears as he faced you, bashfully showing you the receipt. it was times like this when he wishes he wasn't so tall, it would be so much easier to hide away in shame.

"what happened?" your introspective voice came through, he could hear your smirk.

"she saw the stain" he had to use all his willpower not to cry, hands clutching onto the shirt tightly. it was humiliating to admit, but a small part of him felt relief in his confession— as if the natural progression was for you to give him comfort and ease his anxieties.

"look at you soobin, so embarrassed and ashamed of your come stained shirt." you coo in your familiarly condescending yet comforting tone and he folds, nodding in agreement, tears brimming in his eyes. you rub his cheek, which was still red from the slap. it was such a surprisingly caring act that surprised both you and him, but he melted into your touch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"you were so obedient bunny, let's go to the restaurant." he dumbly bobbed his head at the nickname. all he could think was how the humiliation was so worth the reward.

☆★☆

the cafe was packed, but it wasn't a big problem in the private booth. you tap your finger on the counter as you watch soobin go through the menu for the fifth time now. indecisive was his middle name.

"hurry up."

"what do you want?"

he's asked this for a millionth time now, could he really not decide without your input? the waiter has been standing there for a good minute. "dude, just choose what you want already. i'm getting impatient."

he purses his lips in clear panic, pointing to a random food item on the menu. "i'll, i'll have this!"

"an extra spicy jjamppong coming up." the waiter escapes quickly, leaving soobin with an exasperated and intimidated expression after having his order read out for him.

"what? loser can't handle spice?" you tease. he looks at you with a frown.

"i can eat spice!"

"right." the conversation ends there, but you weren't just going to just let him off like that. the table was so nicely set up after all, such a thick tablecloth.

"soobin, pull down your pants."

he immediately widens his eyes, looking around rapidly to see if anyone heard. "i, i don't know i,"

"calm down, no one can see under the tablecloth. pull it down." you rest your foot on his inner thigh, signalling to him. he lets out a shaky breath. your grin broadens as his hands travel down, shuffling his pants down to his knees. still paranoid, he takes another glance at the other customers.

you focus on something else entirely, your trailing foot to his exposed crotch to be exact. when the leather of your soles makes impact with his naked cock he wails before slapping a hand over his mouth. his thighs instinctively clamp around your foot, shivering and shaking his head. "mean, you're mean."

his bottom lip was quivering, thighs still clamped tightly as you pressed your foot down harder. "please." he whispers.

"hm?"

"please please ple—"

"here's your orders." the waiter interrupts with both of your orders, soobin glances at the man with terrified eyes, looking over at you in a silent prayer.

you smile graciously (you press harder on his cock) as you take the plates (his thighs shake and you rub your foot ever so slightly), what a nice waiter, of course, you had to start a conversation! (he tried to control his panting but his face was a scarlet red), turns out the waiter was born in japan, how very interesting (you start going in a circular motion and soobin nearly keens), his father met his mother during a road trip! (you knew from his expression that he was already leaking onto your shoes), wow and he's fluent in three languages (soobin's thighs are spasming and you were rubbing him hard, you can tell he couldn't hold it in anytime soon).

"it all started when i encountered a multilingual tourist as a child."

the conversation was a little redundant now, wasn't it? you were talking to the waiter, yet staring intensely at soobin in the eyes, a snicker on your lips. "come again?" you press down, and his body shudders, thighs so tightly squeezed around your foot it could almost cut circulation, he was curled in ever so slightly. shivering in the aftereffects of his second orgasm today.

"huh?" the confused tone of the waiter piques.

"nevermind, thank you for your time."

the waiter leaves, slightly befuddled by the conversation. while you turn your attention back to soobin who is breathing heavily with red-tinted cheeks. "wow, orgasming in a public space again, what a perv."

the words hit him hard in his chest and tears drop from his eyes, he could only let out a small 'sorry' in shame before dropping his head down. his sleeves come up to desperately wipe at his eyes and save some face, at least it was all over now and he could enjoy his meal in peace, hopefully!

"can... can i pull my pants back up now?"

"hmm can you?" you tease, and he pauses, unsure of how to approach the situation.

"can i please?" some begging would do the trick, right?

"you can if you jerk yourself off."

he pouts, and more tears drop on the table as he squeezes his thighs around your foot. but he obediently slides his hands down to try and make himself hard again. his cock was so so so sensitive to the sensation, but limp in his hands. it hurts to stroke, it hurts to touch. the longer it took for him to get it up the more he frowned and panicked.

finally, you had enough, you were just playing with him anyway, so you slide your foot off with a chuckle. he looks at you in confusion. "i was joking dumbass, put your pants back on."

you dig into your food, and soobin follows suit right after he shuffles his pants back on, looking up at you hesitantly. though the moment the food touched his tongue, all he could think was—spicy! now he was crying for an entirely different reason, he was never the strongest spice contender, and this was another league of spice.

you notice his discomfort, laughing when he ducks his head down. "too spicy?" "no..." he responds, surprisingly stubborn on this matter. he pettily eats another spoonful of noodles (swiftly to regret it). you just roll your eyes, watching him eat in amusement.

☆★☆

the date ended smoothly after, nothing else notable happened (other than some pervy touches and teasing from your side), back at your room again (it was a common occurrence for the two of you to stay in your room, he told you once he didn't enjoy staying in his home).

you flopped onto your bed while soobin shuffled in, putting his things neatly to the side and closing the door behind him. he stared at you as you typed messages to your friends (they had been filling up your notifications all day because you were ignoring them), he awkwardly stood near the foot of the bed.

"uhm, i, thank you, for today. i had fun." he starts bashfully.

"so you don't have fun with me every other day?" you deadpan and he stutters, being caught off guard.

"n—no that's, not what i—"

"i wasn't serious, idiot."

he shuts his mouth quickly, silent again and unsure of how to start up another conversation.

"god you're such a loser. look in that bag over there." you break the air, pointing to a grey bag you had been carrying for the whole day. he was curious about it but wasn't brave enough to ask. so when you gave him the go-ahead he didn't hesitate to dig his hand in. when he pulled out a box containing a figurine from his favourite anime, clear confusion was evident in his face.

"i didn't know you liked—"

"no shithead it's for you."

his mouth drops open, bunny-like eyes widening as your words start to register in his head. instantly he lights up visibly, smiling uncontrollably as he admires the figurine in his hands. it wasn't anything crazy, was rather affordable compared to the prices of other figurines, but soobin's heart soared at the gift and he felt like he was on cloud nine. you didn't pay attention to his reaction, or that's how it seemed, because you were secretly staring at every differing expression on his face.

"thank you... i, thank you so much..."

"it's not even a big deal, you're so dramatic."

but it was a big deal for soobin, he tenderly held the gift in his hands. this was the first time he's gotten anything from anyone other than his parents and occasionally aunt and uncle. it really did feel like the two of you were dating, even if nothing is official and the most accurate label on the relationship was 'bully and victim'.

"can i unwrap it?"

"i don't care."

he slowly unwraps the gift, taking the figurine out of the box carefully as he begins to admire all the details of the sculpture. you, on the other hand, admire him, no matter how much you deny it, there was something so addicting about both his happiness and pain. it hooked you on like a drug.

"sleep over."

he knew what you meant, in a seemingly harmless phrase. it often happened like this, an insignificant and passing statement. strange in retrospect, you were his bully and the door was right there, if soobin wanted to, he could make a run for it.

but the both of you knew he wouldn't. your attention was almost an obsession to him, no matter how good or bad.

"okay."

1K notes · View notes

norrizzandpia · 5 months

Note

this is about oscar? part 3 but its freak by doja cat 🙏🏻

I fear y/n has released an entire album this time lol @golden-flora

The Album (OP81)

Summary: She’s done singles, one song at a time about her and Oscar’s sex life, but, now, she’s ready for a whole album.

Warnings: dirtiest one of the series, sexual discussions, Oscar being cocky

Note: THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF THE WHO IS OSCAR PIASTRI SERIES IS HERE EVERYONE!!!! Hope you like it, i added some new things. First, as you know, y/n releases an album here, but, also, at the end, instead of smau, it’s just a regular story abt them on a podcast 🤭

y/nnn Oscar, the album, out tonight with a track list of Freak, Agora Hills, Dick, and Pussy Poppin 🤭

Comments:

Mclarensgirly SHE NAMED THE WHOLE THING OSCAR IM FUCKING CRYING

F1fan2023 using a photo McLaren took is cray

- y/nnn say it with me everyone: he looks hot!

- Mclarensgirly he looks hot!

- ln4andop81 he looks hot!

- f1fan81 he looks hot!

landonorris plz. plz don’t release it. I’ve never felt terror like this in my entire life after seeing that track list

- y/nnn don’t you put your life on the line every weekend to drive a car?

- landonorris yes.

oscarpiastri anyone want to come to the listening party?

- Danielricciardo no.

- landonorris absolutely fucking not

- logansargeant YOU THINK IM GOING TO BE LISTENING TO THESE???

- y/nnn y’all are some fake ass bitches

oscarpiastri haha have fun everyone!!!

- ln4andop81 mans is enjoying himself

- oscarpiastri more than enjoying myself

- landonorris like I’ll literally kill you

—

TWITTER

Mclarensgirly i would just like to say that this is the man all those songs are about

- ln4andop81 i mean she did say “tied him down to my queen bed” in freak so that pic does fit the sub allegations

- f1fan2023 she also said “love it when he hit and smack too” in agora hills

- Mclarensgirly also said “hold me down, when a hole need dick”

- f1fan81 also said “he want a quickie, let him lick me, then I started gasping. The way his tongue be going crazy, you wouldn’t imagine. I let him stick me, hair got frizzy, I might let him crash it”

- Mclarensgirly also said “He put that woo all down my throat until i started coughing.”

- ln4andop81 OKAY OKAY I GET IT 😭

- ln4andop81 but also like… lets talk abt it

- Mclarensgirly IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

- f1fan2023 “he like it when i bend it over and i arch my back. He tap me on my shoulders, i said ‘yeah, i like that’” YOURE KIDDING.

- ln4andop81 i envision that in my head at night

- Mclarensgirly oh?

- ln4andop81 moving on! “Pull the panties to the side, watch a movie and make it two. We just finished number one, but I’m ready for round two” YUM.MY.

- F1fan81 sometimes i wonder if I’m jealous of Oscar or jealous of y/n

- Mclarensgirly real.

- ln4andop81 we also need to talk about Dick bc she literally goes “i met the boy in the 6, but measurements wasn’t a six” UHHHHHHH

- f1fan2023 it baffles me that he’s packing that seriously

- ln4andop81 nothing baffles me when it comes to that boy now that y/n sang “When I made a little mess on it, he told me to clean my act up” BRUHHHH THATS FUCKING HOT AS SHIT

- Mclarensgirly “Skirt up, fuck in the backseat. Take that shirt off, baby, put it on me. Got me like ‘yeehow’, ride it like a horsey. Kinda like seesaw, up and down on the D, give it to him” McLaren’s kicking and crying rn bc they know they cant take their car back from Oscar after y/n confirmed they christened it

- f1fan2023 okay okay but can we talk about “suck a little dick in the bathroom” in agora hills (slay song btw i ate that shit up)

- ln4andop81 YEAH BC IM GOING TO NEED SOME MORE INFO THAN THAT. WHEN. WHERE. WHAT.

- F1fan81 i bet your ass it was in the mtc

- ln4andop81 or in the Australian Grand Prix paddock remember when no one could find him after the face was over and all he said he was with y/n? SHE HAD TO HAVE BEEN GIVING HIM CELEBRATORY HEAD

- Mclarensgirly honestly? They prob did it in both

- oscarpiastri mhm

—

Oscar and Y/n sat next to each other on the soft sofa of the studio. They giggled with the podcast host as she said their introduction.

“Breaking the internet right now with their sex life, Oscar Piastri and Y/n Y/l/n! Hi, guys, welcome.” Samantha, the host, spoke to them.

Y/n and Oscar mumbled pleasantries, their legs squished together even with all the space to Y/n’s left. The woman was quick to getting into the topic of conversation, having already discussed boundaries with the couple before the cameras started rolling.

“So, Y/n, you’ve just released a small album that focuses mostly on Oscar and the things you two get up to in the bedroom. Were you ever nervous to share these songs with the world?”

Y/n nodded, “At first, yeah, all the way back when we started with 34+35, but it got easier once I saw the overwhelming support for it. I think the best part about releasing them is seeing the jokes that the fans make about Oscar and that side of him.”

Samantha smiled, “That leads me to my next question, Oscar, were you ever nervous to have people know about that side of you? Seeing as it was such a shocker.”

He laughed as he adjusted his position, throwing an arm around his girlfriend, “Um, well, I didn’t think it was that shocking. We didn’t expect people to go haywire over hearing that I lean more towards the dominant side. We kind of assumed people inferred that.”

Samantha’s jaw dropped, “Really?! Oh! I’ll be honest, I was quite surprised when I heard it.”

Y/n shook her head, “I don’t know, I guess the way Oscar is in front of cameras is drastically different from how he actually is. He’s still very soft spoken and quiet, but a bit more outgoing.”

Samantha nodded as she glanced over her next question, “Oscar, what’s your favorite song off this album?”

“Oh, I am so ready for this. Agora Hills.” He answered immediately, smiling proudly at the others in the room.

Y/n turned to look at him, “Really?! Why?!”

His head leaned from side to side, “Just, it’s more romantic? I mean, you talk about tying the knot alongside the sex stuff.”

Y/n and Samantha laugh at his comment, Samantha agreeing, “No, I see what you’re saying. Y/n, you do say you want to show him off multiple times throughout the song.”

“Because I do!” She exclaimed, leaning into her boyfriend lovingly.

He kissed her temple, listening intently to Samantha.

“Your interactions with the fans are hilarious. Do you guys look forward to fucking with them?”

“Hell yeah!” Oscar exclaimed, “Once I caught wind of the fact that they didn’t think I did shit in the bedroom, I became very obnoxious when rubbing what happens between Y/n and I in their faces.”

Y/n cooed jokingly, “Aw, Osc, was your masculinity damaged?”

He rolled his eyes at her, laughing at her dig and pushing her away softly. They came back together, though.

“Before we move on from this subject, I want to ask Y/n, was the over six inches comment really true?” Samantha eyed her as Y/n glanced beside her at Oscar, silently asking him if she could do what he knew she wanted to do.

He nodded at her, shaking his head lightly as she said, “A lady never kisses and tells.”

Silence passed as she raised her hands and aimed them around nine inches apart. Winking suggestively at the camera, the women in the room gasped.

“IS THAT NINE INCHES?!” Samantha screamed, causing all of them to fall into a fit of giggles.

Y/n brought the microphone to her mouth and whispered, “Oh, yeah, it is.”

#mclaren #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #mclaren formula 1 #lando norris #oscar piasstri #oscar pia #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfiction #oscar piastri imagines #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri smut #daniel ricciardo #logan sargeant

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macfrog · 5 months

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secrets cowboy like me chapter fourteen

one day i'll rein my chapters back in. today is not that day. thirteen thousand words of...a little bit of fucking and a lot of fighting. i love you all and i still can't believe the love you continue to show this series. you're all actually insane. i present to you: the penultimate chapter of cowboy.

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: the one where...everybody finds out.

warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), a big argument, a lot of guilt, angry disappointed dad, one mention of alcohol consumption, lil bit of sub!joel, unprotected piv, tiny bit of degradation, tiny bit of praise kink, creampie, cursing, smut, fluff, angst

word count: 12.9k (dry heaves)

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You haven’t slept a wink. Not one second.

You and Joel were awake until one in the morning on the phone; you – panicking, spilling words into the receiver, watching different cuts of your dad realizing everything as though projected across your blank ceiling, and Joel – monotone as fucking ever, batting every single theory away.

He doesn’t know a damn thing, he’d said. You didn’t miss the way his words hung over the edge of the sentence, trembling almost.

You scoffed and hissed back down the line. You don’t fucking know that! How can you know that?

You think he just found out about us and thought, Hey, better get some shut-eye before I deal with this? Really, baby?

I think he doesn’t know what he found out. I think he’s probably tryna convince himself that he’s wrong.

So, let him. He’s wrong. We go with that.

Joel knew he wasn’t doing anything to calm you down. Wasn’t offering anything you could seriously take on. You know he wasn’t trying to.

He was as worried as you were – he was just pretending not to be, because what fucking good would it do to have the two of you bouncing off one another with panic?

Still, he stayed on the phone the entire night. When he fell asleep, you lay in bed and tossed everything over in your head like tearing back the pages of a diary. Last night, then Frank’s, then the weekend before that, then the Hillcrest – all the way back to that first ride home. The pissing rain, the boxes of nails rattling in the glove compartment with each sway of the truck. Recalling every word spoken, every move made, every expression pulled and glance stolen and fucking breath taken.

Any sound from beyond your door shot a bullet of adrenaline through your veins, coursing through your body like ice. As if it was your dad, barreling in at 3AM to have it out with you.

You reckon you’d be ready if he did. Wide-eyed, fists clenched, heart hammering.

Joel groans back to life at eight. You hear the ruffling of bedsheets, the crackle down the line as he drags the phone across his mattress and pins it to his ear. You lift your own. Joel and 08:43:36, 37, 38 underneath it on the screen.

His voice drums low and groggy from the speaker. “You are gonna have my phone bill through the damn roof. I’m exhausted, darlin’.”

“I can’t think of anything else. He knows, Joel.”

He sighs. You can see his head falling into his hand, see his thumb rubbing circles into his temple. “Let’s just see what happens, alright? There ain’t any chance you left your phone in the living room ‘n he came across it, thought he’d keep it for you comin’ home?”

“I’ve barely left my room all week. Why would it be down there?”

Joel’s quiet. He just breathes down the line. After a minute, he clears his throat.

“Come over, would ya?”

“Huh?”

“Come over. I wanna see you. I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Joel, I’m –”

“Hey. Don’t make me ask again, alright? C’mon, now. I got some errands to run; you’re coming with me.”

He doesn’t have to say much else to convince you; you’re already pulling your bedsheets back and hanging up. Your hoodie and shorts are still hooked over the foot of your bed. The sun filters through the drapes, edges you nearer the door. Your chest fills with something calling itself bravery, and slowly, quietly – you click the door open.

The hallway is silent. A blushing gold in the morning light. The house is still – eerily still. Your dad’s room door is open, bed made, sheets tucked neatly under the mattress. Like he had time to spend on it. Stuff to mull over as he made it.

The carpet softens your footsteps when you finally move for the stairs. The birds are singing outside. The wallpaper canvases your shadow, a little monster creeping along one step behind you, passing picture frames which dazzle with sunrays and mirror a half-lit reflection back to you. One side you – the other, missing.

You lean over the last step, craning your head and shoulders into the hallway. The clock on the wall opposite ticks to no one. Tick tick tick tick. And aside from it, from its taunting tutting, there are no other signs of life. His jacket hangs from the peg. His boots lying below, laces tangled.

The sun separates into brittle shards through the window, illuminating the way to the kitchen. You’re not fucking prepared to follow it.

Shoulders hunched, like it might make a difference, you step forward and lower your thumb and index finger over your keys, aiming for them like a shaky arcade claw machine. Tick tick tick. They jingle as you hook your fingertip through them. Your nose wrinkles.

“Hey.”

He appears around the corner like an apparition. The keys drop back to the unit with a violent clatter.

“Jesus!”

“Woah, woah.” Your dad holds a palm up, laughing nervously. “Sorry. Where you headed?”

“Uh, J– Sarah’s. Some errands she wants some help with.”

He nods. “Yeah? You don’t want breakfast first?”

You drag your eyes to meet his for the first time. He looks drawn, skin like webbing, as though it’s just draped over his skull. As though you could put your finger through it like parchment, just push straight through. He looks like he’s had about as much sleep as you have.

“No, thanks,” you say, the sunken, sullen sight of him crumbling your voice to dust. Your lips move wordlessly, waiting for another lie from your tongue to offer over. But between the way he looks, weary and forlorn, and the thin veil of truth left between you – nothing materializes.

“Why don’t you – why don’t you hold back a second?” Dad beckons you forward, folding his fingers to his palm. “Got somethin’ I wanna talk to you about.”

“Dad, I really gotta go, I –”

“Just – come on. I’m sure Sarah won’t mind.”

He disappears without waiting for a response. Shifts back into the living room, shadow following him like a cloak across the door. You hear the creak of his chair as he settles down into it, the unsettling squeal of leather and spring.

Your feet are planted to the hall floor. To move in either direction feels like a trap. To follow after him – sit opposite and swallow back what you think you know is coming. All of his suspicions stuck in your throat like a bitter, powdery pill. Or to turn away – leave him in an empty house, nothing but the sound of his own breathing and that tick tick tick affirming your guilt.

No more excuses filter through – none of Joel’s ideas, none of his explanations. You let your shoulders drop and your eyes close. The only image behind them is that six-foot, graying, droning idiot who’s probably sat waiting for you to pull up so he can take you to fucking Trader Joe’s or whatever.

And his shirt, which he’d probably drape over your shoulders before he’s even said hello. And his smile, which would draw you onto your tiptoes, draw your lips to his. And his hands, and his waist, and his pulse in step with yours as you follow him around the quiet store, the Saturday morning air daring you to hook your fingers around two of his every now and then. The longing a gnawing in your chest, burrowing deep beneath the cage of your ribs.

He's not here, though. It’s just you. And if you call him now, if he shows up unannounced – it’s only going to confirm what your dad thinks. Fuck it – what he knows.

So you unstick your sneakers and haul yourself through to the living room.

He’s rocking in the chair when you sink back into the couch. Balls of his feet pushing him back and forth. His fingers to his lips, like keeping the words at bay for now. Like feeling the jagged shape of them through his skin.

You throw a pillow over your legs, shaggy ivory fringe tickling your bare thighs. Your dad doesn’t speak. When you lift your head, his eyes flit from yours down to your restless fingers knitting the tassels of his pillow.

“What is it?” you croak.

“Mind if I ask you somethin’?”

You shrug. “Go for it.”

He waits a beat. A hesitation. Like he doesn’t want to ask the first question. He’s at the edge of a cliff. One more step and he’s plummeting down the rocky side, into a fog of cloud. Nothing will ever be the same. Only – you’ve already pushed him. He’s already falling. He just hasn’t realized it yet.

Maybe he feels the drop in his stomach, right now. Maybe the wind screams in his ears. He finally asks, “When were you gonna tell me about y’all gettin’ into a barfight on Friday night?”

Unexpected. But keep your fucking cool.

Your fingertip whitens, blood halted by the knot of the cushion fringe. You chew on a torn leaf of skin from your lips. “What?”

“You ‘n Joel. When he picked you up. What the hell happened?”

Your eyes slide from his to the patio door behind him, garden lighting up with the sun scaling higher in the sky. You stare there until it burns, until it’s all just a blur of color in your vision, and then pull a half-blinded gaze back in his direction.

You’re frozen, as if he has you at gunpoint. Shoulders tense, eyes wide. Dontshootdontshootdontshoot. “Who –? Who said that?”

“Hank. Was on the phone to ‘im last night. Anna said Joel was squarin’ up to some kid in Frank’s. You wanna tell me exactly what happened?”

“Nothing.” Liar. “Nothing happened. It was just some asshole. Joel was just lookin’ out for me. For us. Me ‘n Anna.”

“She told Hank he knocked the kid out. That Sam had to stop it from gettin’ outta control.”

He stares at you, and there’s no mask on his face. No cover, no disguise. He’s suspicious. And he doesn’t care that you know it. He’s not just asking about the barfight.

“Are you gonna say it or am I, hon?”

“Say what?”

Your last thread of insane hope that he’s innocently wondering about Frank’s is snapped in two by the words that tear out of his mouth, so quick they rip into your skin like shards of glass.

“What the hell’s goin’ on between you two?”

Your body suddenly drops further into the couch, the weight of your blood freezing to ice in your veins. Your joints seize, your jaw locks. Air passes across your open lips with no intention of carrying words back out the way it came. You forget any ability you had previously to come up with excuses, to cover up, to lie. Hell, you’re not sure you’d remember your own fucking name if he asked that next.

You say nothing. And he cocks his head, drums his fingers on the arm of his chair.

Say something.

“Nothing.”

Say something more convincing.

“Nothing?” you repeat, a shrill pitch in your voice like it’s a question. Like he’s dumb for even thinking there might be something weird going on. Like he’s the idiot.

The clock in the hall ticks to itself, amused. Fifteen little snaps. Each one sounds like a plate of glass beneath your feet, cracking a little more, a little deeper, a little wider. The abyss opening its wide, dark jaws beneath you.

Your dad’s expression doesn’t change. He crosses his arms, head leaning back a little. He almost looks sad. Almost looks like he might give in. Send you on your way, on your errands with Sarah.

But something recharges him, something must flicker behind his eyes, because he sits forward again and watches your reaction intently as he says –

“Then explain the text messages you been sendin’ each other.”

Another blow hits your stomach, rippling waves of white heat through you. You feel hot, a scorching panic right beneath the surface of your skin so hot that it mistakes itself for ice cold. A panic which radiates from your heart, pulsating through your entire body, every limb beginning to shudder involuntarily. Your silence is answer enough.

He sighs. Sits forward with his elbows on his knees. “I knew y’all were close, knew you cared about each other. You sure always talked to ‘im more ‘n you ever talked to me, even before you went off to college. But I’ve been noticing things lately…Something’s different. Something’s changed.”

Your eyes trace his form as he talks. It’s fucking dizzying. He’s animated, like a character from some eighties cop show who finally solved the mystery. He knows. He knows everything. Your jaw won’t move to answer.

“Seeing you two together – talking, laughing. The way you look at each other these days. ‘n you’re always near each other, ain’t you? Always hoverin’. It ain’t anything like before. That day the three of us went to Costco, that – I –” His anger seems to boil over, cascading from his lips in an angry burst of hot breath. “I felt like a spare tire in the back of the truck that day.”

“We’re…We’re just…f-friends…I don’t –”

He holds a finger up. Doesn’t want to hear it. Not until his speech is done. The sun moves behind a cloud; the living room suddenly drains of light. “That day you said you were spending the night at Anna’s. Said you were havin’ a pool day, right?”

“Right,” you whisper, eyes closing over. They feel heavy. Tired and teary.

“Right. Except,” he brings his finger down, aims it straight at you, “Hank says you weren’t never there. Anna was at Sal’s all day Sunday.”

Fuck.

“Dad…”

You’re pleading with him now. Enough, I’ve heard enough. I know you know. As if you might still be able to stop the train, dig your heels in and hold on tight to derail it. Derail his thoughts. Salvage the situation, string it back together with shame and atonement.

But he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t even hear you.

“’n that’s when I got to thinkin’ – last Monday, at Joel’s. I went over to fix his sink – you remember I told you about his sink?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “I went over there, and he’s cookin’ this great big breakfast – pancakes, all of it – and there ain’t no one else in his house. Just him. Sarah was in Nashville, you remember?”

You take a deep breath. This is it. The ship’s beginning to disappear beneath the black waves.

“I thought maybe he had someone over, maybe expectin’ that girl from the plant hire…Anyway,” he bats his hand, bats the hopeful glint in Lois’s eye from his mind, “I’m walking downstairs, on my way out, and I notice somethin’ on the floor by the door.”

His chair squeaks timidly as he moves, his right arm lowering, scooping for something you can’t see yet. But when he shakily lifts it, your eyes fall to your knees. It hangs before you, apologetic and ashamed.

Joel was right. He knew it. You palmed him off. You told him your dad wouldn’t – couldn’t – put two and two together. And here he is, sat feet from you, holding the final piece to the puzzle in a quivering fist. Proof that, when he was in the house that day, you were only feet from him. Wrapped in his best friend’s shirt, dripping wet from his shower.

“This bag,” he hisses, and the tears finally drop onto your cheeks. They scurry to your chin, gathering and throwing themselves to your chest. Your shoulders drop, your eyes still low. You can’t look at him.

He speaks slowly. Speaks through his teeth. Every word like its own poisonous jab.

“Now you tell me: what in God’s name is your bag doin’ in Joel Miller’s hallway, at ten in the mornin’, when you’re supposed to be at Anna’s?”

Your fingers touch your forehead, a burning pain beginning to sting through your skull. You can feel your pulse in your temples. You’ve never wanted Joel to be stood in front of you so badly in all your life; just to deflect some of the interrogation off of you, just to give you breathing space. Just to protect you from the onslaught of questioning from your dad.

“No,” he mutters, shaking his head. The bag hits the carpet with a thud. “No, there ain’t no way. You were at Anna’s, right? You ain’t with Joel Miller, no way. I’m thinkin’, Please, God, don’t let that have been my daughter’s bag that day. But I’m right, ain’t I? You were there, weren’t you?”

You blink rapidly. The tears multiply quicker. The room is glossed in a protective film of salt and adrenaline. Give me something to say back. Give me something to say back.

“Where were you, hon? Musta been hidin’ somewhere, right?”

Give me something please think of something please come over please walk through that door please tell me what to say.

And then it comes to you. You blink the mist from your eyes. He said…he knew about texts you’d been sending Joel. How did he…?

“How did you know about the texts?”

“Pardon me?”

You straighten up and look him dead in the eye. Your voice feels hoarse. It sounds nothing like you. “How – did you know – about – the texts?”

“That’s your concern right now?”

“How – did you know?”

He begins to sputter, like the heat turned up under a pan on the hob. “Look, hon, you had me worried sick. Disappearin’ and I got no clue where you are. Always having an excuse to go off somewhere alone, no explanation. Don’t even get me started on those marks on your neck.”

Your hand immediately clamps around your throat, hot skin stained pink hissing into your palm. Joel’s teeth on you last night. His words cushioning the sharp bite. I love you. The heat hurts, now, when it felt so comforting just a few hours ago. It burns. It throbs. It feels like shame.

Your dad’s voice brings you back into the room.

“There’s another thing – last night,” he flings a laugh to you, “you were so quiet. So damn quiet. Didn’t say a word the entire time, and then I leave for all of ten minutes, and suddenly the two of you are headin’ over to his for – what was it? UCLA pamphlets?”

There’s a break between his words, a gap which makes you think that he wants you to answer. Like he’s giving you a chance, extending his arm. But he fills the space with a jeering laugh, and keeps talking.

“Where are they, huh? These pamphlets? ‘s why you were at Joel’s, right? Go on, go get ‘em. Show them to me.”

Your face solidifies. Lips tremble. There’s a scowl pulling your brows together. You’ve no right for it to be there. “Stop it,” you seethe. “Tell me what you did.”

“He’s the only one. The only one who could get you to talk. I had to check, kiddo. I had to know.”

Your stare doesn’t let up. Your lips bolt shut, refusing to say another word until he confesses. Which he does. Almost breezily.

“I looked through your phone. While you were gone. I – I went upstairs, ‘n I took it.”

He says it casually, as though he’s simply checked the newspaper. As though he’s just relaying the columns to you. Someone’s had a baby. Someone else won three grand on a scratch card. By the way, I know you’ve been messing around with Joel.

So it takes a minute for what he’s said to hit you. But when it does, the wave crashes over your shoulders so violently that it throws you to your feet, tasseled pillow whipped to the other side of the couch.

There are tears searing across your eyes. A twisted grimace of a smile on your face, a laugh breaking roughly from your throat. Some crazed, disbelieving, ugly little laugh.

“You – you checked my…my fuckin’ phone. You – you fucking –”

His head jerks back, offended. “Hey, now, listen to me –”

“I’m not listenin’ to another word! Am I twelve?”

You stalk over to the kitchen. The rattle of your dad’s chair tells you he follows.

“Well – you tell me, hon, ‘cause right now, you’re making a lot of real stupid decisions.”

That same ugly laugh echoes around the house. You grip onto the kitchen island. The room starts to wheel.

“Who the hell are you to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do?” you pant, eyes tight shut. Your thumbs begin to slip, sweat gliding between your skin and the counter.

“I’m your father! I’m lookin’ out for you, damnit! You think I wanna be havin’ this conversation with you right now?”

The granite countertop blurs in and out of focus when you open your eyes. You hook onto it, using it to haul yourself around the island until there’s distance between your wobbly figure and his. And you remember one week ago, when the same counter separated you and Joel, and you think of Joel, and think of his fingers around your wrist, and his fist against Knox’s jaw, and his teeth in your neck.

“Look,” your dad’s voice floats somewhere over the image of Joel’s eyes, “let’s just – let’s calm down. You ‘n me – we’re gonna talk this out. We’re gonna have a calm, mature discussion about all of this. You’re gonna tell me exactly what’s been goin’ on, and then I’m gonna head over to Joel’s – alone – and talk to him.”

But his voice doesn’t sound calm. There’s a tremble to it – a tremor as fragile as glass, as thin as ice. It’s crackling as he speaks. He can hardly keep a hold on it himself.

If he goes over to Joel’s – this you know – there ain’t anything calm or mature that will come of it. Suddenly the images in your head warp, and it’s your fingers around Joel’s wrist, someone else’s fist against his cheek, someone else’s teeth and the venom spat between them.

“Dad,” you pant, “it’s over. He ended it. It’s been done for, like, two weeks now. It was nothing.”

“Oh, nothing, was it?” He steps closer. You retreat. Edge further around the counter, further from him. His head tilts, eyebrows curl. He looks like a vulture, eyeing its prey. “Then what were the two of you up to last night?”

“We – we went for ice cream, that’s all. He wanted to make sure I was alright.”

He’s not convinced. And he shouldn’t be, either. He coughs a laugh. “For three hours? You were eatin’ ice cream for three Goddamn hours?” His cheeks wobble as he shakes his head. Then, in a softer voice, like he’s arming himself with a chisel to prick at the weakest parts of the sculpture, “What’d he do to you, girl?”

The marble cracks and snaps wide open. Anger floods out in hot waves. Any composure you’d managed to scrape together flushes clean out of your body.

“Nothing I didn’t want him to fuckin’ do. Stop treating me like I’m some kid who’s – who’s been tricked, or something. I’m twenty-three, Dad, I’m an adult.”

His silence sends another misdirected shot of panic through you.

“I was in on it just as much as he was,” you weep, fingers searching for a scratch of beard or kiss of flannel.

Your dad scoffs then, hands slapping against his thighs, and turns away. “There ain’t no gettin’ through to you,” he announces to the timid living room.

Still bracing yourself against the island, you take the break in his tirade to catch your breath. The only thought running through your head, losing velocity with each circuit, is Joel walking through that door. His face when he notices you with your flushed cheeks and wide eyes. His hands reaching for yours, through all the lies and hurt. Your dad, stood opposite, tight as an arrow and ready to fucking fly for him. Fists balled, teeth bared.

“He doesn’t even know,” you realize, staring at the glow on the floor cast by the front door. “You haven’t told him you know, have you?”

“’course I ain’t told him. I wanted to talk to you first. Not that it’s gotten us anywhere, huh?”

“I’m gonna text him.”

“Hon, don’t you d–”

“I am not having this conversation on my own. There are two people involved here.”

You pull your phone from your pocket and scrawl some messy message to Joel. Three messy messages. Something like he knows everything, can you come over? I need you. Some needy, dramatic, helpless message.

The typing bubble appears for a fraction of a second. So fleeting that you almost miss it through your tears, before it drops back to nothing. He doesn’t reply.

Doesn’t pick up, either, when you call him. Three times in a row. Three missed calls; three Hey, it’s Joel, sorry I missed yous.

The phone rattles off the counter when you drop it, your head falling into your hands. Your dad wanders back over to his armchair and collapses into it with a sigh, his fingers massaging his temples. The two of you mirrored, the same storm circling between you, only ice in his veins and fire in yours.

Fear keeps your feet planted to the kitchen floor; adrenaline alone keeps you upright. Your fingers push hard into your forehead, an ache sat directly behind that dizzies you. Blood thudding its fists against your eyes, screaming in your ears.

How the fuck did this happen? It feels ridiculous to ask, but it’s all you got. When did the two of you get so lazy? Start forgetting to cover your tracks? Or – maybe worse – stop caring enough to even try?

Of course, saying you were with Anna was a dumb fucking move. Her dad is one of your dad’s buddies. One of Joel’s, too. That was always going to fuck it all up. And you were too caught up, too hellbent on seeing Joel, too fucking horny to stop for five seconds and keep your damn story straight.

There’s nothing to say, nothing that might fix this. There’s no winding your way out of it. The trap has you by the throat. Your jaw aches from trying to free yourself.

Your dad sways side to side in his chair, staring silently at the wall ahead of him. Your face burns with shame, with anger, with embarrassment. Your heart stings from the hurt, from wanting Joel here, from his ignoring your pleas for help. And, most annoying of all – from letting your dad down.

It doesn’t matter what you tell yourself. How you spin it. Sure, you’re twenty-three. You can make your own decisions. That much is fucking clear now. Doesn’t mean they’re always good. Even when they make you laugh until your cheeks hurt, make your stomach flip with excitement, make you scream from pleasure.

Make your heart do things you’ve never felt it do before. Things you never knew that it could do.

You let your dad down. He can barely look at you for it. You know damn well that it was worth every second, and yet, right now, nothing but thick, awkward, unbreathable air between the two of you – it feels like it should never have happened.

You’re bent over the counter, head resting on your folded arms, breathing still staggered – when you hear it. The squeal of brakes outside. An engine cutting. A door slamming.

Two knocks on the door, and Joel pushes it open. You’re already in the hallway, watching his heavy head and loose shirt cross the threshold.

He looks up and your eyes meet. His hair’s a mess, he’s in the same tee from last night. He’s gotten straight out of bed and into his truck, and he’s braced, like he doesn’t know what’s coming. Which direction to expect the first punch from.

Your knees weaken at the sight of him. The safe haven of his arms, the home of his chest. The beating pulse behind it whose language you’ve become fluent in. Even now, when everything’s fallen apart, his being here washes relief over you like cool water dousing an inferno. Your body relaxes, your breathing quietens.

Joel nods towards you. You okay?

You shake your head lightly, and he flicks his fingers. You’re in his arms before your brain tells your limbs to move.

“’s okay,” he breathes, lips lined with your ear. His chest is soft, warm; you take fistfuls of his shirt. He strokes your hair, mumbling, “Told you we’ll be alright, yeah? It’s goin’ to be alright.”

You weep into him, lips dripping with salty tears. They part to reply, when a low growl rips between your bodies. Joel loosens his grip and you step back, turning around to face the ghost of your father at the end of the hall.

“Get the hell away from him.”

He advances, takes a few steps forward. You meet him halfway, gripping onto his shirt, planting yourself firmly between him and Joel.

“Woah, woah,” you say, pushing on his small chest, “let’s all just calm down. Dad.”

He’s smaller, scrawnier, older, and weaker than Joel. He’s never going to lift a fucking hand to him. Not if he wants to keep it intact. He wouldn’t square up to a fly, never mind an actual worthy opponent – but your gut tells you to make damn sure he doesn’t even try.

“Get out of the way, hon.”

“No. No way. And let you –? No.”

He’s not even looking at you. You’re nothing but an obstacle. He’s staring a few feet behind.

“Baby,” Joel says, voice weary and surrendered. “It’s alright, now. C’mon, outta the way.”

“Baby?” your dad seethes. “You just call my daughter baby?”

“Called me it as long as he’s known me, Dad.”

“’s different now,” he spits. “What the f–? I mean, what the fuck, Joel? What were you even thinkin’? Putting your Goddamn hands on my daughter?”

You don’t usually hear your dad curse. All through growing up, even when you left home – you could count on one hand the number of times you’ve heard it. It sends a bolt of fear through you as if you’re five years old again, and he can’t do much worse than say bad words in front of you.

You don’t usually see your dad do any of this stuff. Raise his voice, ball his fists. Lean forward, feet planted on the ground, like daring Joel to make the first move. Joel – his best friend. The guy he was supposed to be able to trust more than anyone in the world.

Angry. Furious. And you think: if there were a time he had a right to feel this way, to act like this and throw threats around as though they’re light as air, if ever there were a moment – this would be it. A betrayal. A secret this big.

Joel takes a step forward. He doesn’t seem scared. More – placating. Letting the tantrum run its course. He holds his hands out. “Let’s just – let’s just talk.”

“Talk,” your dad repeats, spitting the word like it’s rotten in his mouth. “You wanna talk? Let’s talk. What the hell have you been doin’ to her? Hm?”

Joel shakes his head, shoulders lifting. “I ain’t been doin’ nothin’ to her. That’s not what this is.”

“Hell,” your dad scoffs, “not what it is. Why don’t you explain to me exactly what it is, then, Joel? If it ain’t you takin’ advantage of a young girl? Takin’ advantage of my kid?”

Your head whips back to face Joel, hand lifting in a bracing motion. He sees it – sees the way your head shakes, imperceptible to your dad. Please don’t tell him. Not yet.

It’s bad enough that he knows you’ve been messing around. It hurts enough that he knows you’ve been lying for the entire summer. Telling him the full story – the conversation in the truck, the words exchanged over ice cream and the quiet tick of traffic lights across the street – would only hurt more. Would only sharpen his anger. He’d ask more questions; he’d drive his dagger deeper.

Joel pleads with you. His eyes do his bargaining. You don’t relent. Please.

“You know what I keep thinkin’ about,” your dad interrupts, “you know what’s runnin’ through my mind? That damn garden party. Those cupcakes. You puttin’ your thumb on her lip. I should’ve known the second you touched her what was happening. You arrogant, shameless son of a bitch, Joel, you got no idea what you –”

“Dad. Enough.”

Sure, you’re trying to calm him down, palms outstretched and motioning like he’s a wild horse, rearing frantically and threatening to crush you. But it also stings to hear him talking about Joel like that. Talking to him like that.

The same Joel he’d sling an arm around, knocking their beers together when the Rangers won. The same Joel you know he’d spent hours sat out back with, talking into the night and sharing stories and secrets with the stars.

The same Joel who covered your legs with his jacket last night, who held you when you were hurting, who reminded you what it was like to feel your heart again, beating rapidly in your chest.

He’s not talking about the same Joel. Not the Joel you know. Yours.

He’s still rambling. “…’n all this time, you pair have been closer ‘n you were lettin’ on.”

“You don’t understand,” you plead, “you don’t know him like I do.”

Your dad scoffs, twisted smirk on his face. “Oh, I know ‘im. I’ve known him a hell of a lot longer and a hell of a lot better ‘n you have, hon. Known him since he was fifteen, askin’ me ‘n my buddies to buy ‘im a case of beer from the liquor store. His little brother in ‘n outta jail like God only knows what. I know exactly what he’s like.”

“What he’s like?” you huff, exasperated. You spin on your heel, arms coming down on your sides with a slap. “Joel, help me.”

“Don’t you dare look at ‘im! Listen, kiddo, I know him. Know what he’s like at Frank’s, takin’ women home left ‘n right, then forgetting their damn names. Know he sure as hell can’t remember that schoolteacher’s name, can you, Joel? You remember her?”

“Quit it,” you tell him over your shoulder, still facing Joel.

Your dad laughs from behind you. It turns your stomach. “I’ll bet he never told you about that one, did he? That’d turn you off ‘im in a heartbeat, wouldn’t it?”

“Nah, he told me about Jess.”

Your dad’s voice cuts. Joel’s head finally lifts, his eyes ungluing from the floor to look at you.

You shrug back. “I figured it out. Sister’s name is Mia – she’s a year younger ‘n me.”

You swear he almost fucking smiles. Almost. It’s funny, or at least, it would be if you weren’t both in the middle of tearing your entire dynamic apart. Any other time, he’d nudge you, or tousle your hair, and say you were too clever for him, or something about being old again.

When you turn back to face your dad, he looks like he’s run out of words. So, he repeats ones he’s already said.

“I…Well, I know him, honey. And he ain’t someone you oughta be with.”

“How’d you figure that?”

He sighs. “I just told you my reasons.”

“’cause he wanted beer when he was a kid and he’s slept with people before? ‘cause Tommy gets himself into trouble – trouble that Joel then gets him out of?”

“No, I –”

“You don’t know a damn thing about any of this. You won’t listen to me. If you’d hear me out – hear us out, then you’d –”

“Don’t you dare tell me I’d change my damn mind. Don’t – you – dare.” Your dad’s voice is quiet and slow. Dangerous. Laced with something you’ve never heard in it before. It’s not worth finding out what.

Your head shakes, knee jerking with nerves. “I don’t…I don’t know what else to say.”

The fire flickers, loses light for a second. His voice softens. “Honey…This –” he waggles his finger between your body and Joel’s, “this thing y’all have been…It ain’t right. It is not right, what y’all have been doin’. You are far too young for him. He should know better, and the fact that he doesn’t – well.”

Your brows tighten, eyes pinching around painful tears. “I know why you’re mad. I get it. I’m sorry. But I can’t –” You sigh. “You are suffocatin’ me, living here.”

His façade drops instantly. He pushes his fingers into his eyes, groaning. “Hon, you’re not hearin’ me.”

“I hear you loud and clear, I –”

He cuts you off, throwing his arms up into the air with another loud yell. The words melt into one long drone, a mountainous ramble which peaks and falls in pitch; one minute low and angry and the next high and frantic.

You sigh, shoving by him for the living room. Joel reaches for your hand, your fingers brushing against his.

“Baby,” he says.

“Ah!” Your dad blocks his advance, shaky finger held to his chest. “You dare, son.”

You’re swipe the bag from the floor by your dad’s chair, your change of clothes still in a crumpled heap at the bottom. Slinging it over your shoulder, you whip past your father and lock your hand with Joel’s.

“Hey,” Joel says, slowing you down. “Darlin’, where are you –?”

“I wanna leave.”

“Huh?” he asks, brows raised.

“I want to go,” you whisper.

He glances over to your dad, dumbfounded by the stairs. “Where d’you wanna go?”

Your shoulders roll. Anywhere. Just take me away.

He doesn’t hesitate; barely thinks it over. He tightens his grip on your hand and pulls you toward him. Your feet stumble over the carpet.

“Where in the hell –?” Your dad’s snarling picks up again, his final chance. “I don’t think so –”

Joel’s backing up towards the front door, led by the pull of your hand. “Emotions are pretty high,” he announces, “why don’t we have this conversation once everybody’s calmed down?”

“Joel, if you take her, I’ll–”

“I ain’t takin’ her anywhere. She’s an adult.”

Liar. His hand wouldn’t let go of yours if you tried to pry it from his clutches.

“I’m leavin’,” he says, “she’s just coming with me.”

Your dad barks your name, and you freeze. Joel stops, too, allows you the time to turn. Like a deer in the headlights.

“I’m going, Dad,” you shakily tell him.

“I swear to God,” he says, “if y’all walk outta that door…”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean for any of this.”

He shakes his head. “Stay, hon. Let’s talk.”

“You’re not talkin’, though. All you wanna do is argue. I wanna go with Joel.”

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere with no one! ‘specially not him!”

You shrug, give your head a solemn shake. “Stop me.”

Joel hears the exhaustion in your voice, the scratch of your throat. The way the words melt into one another. He tugs on your hand, leading you through the front door. Your dad doesn’t speak again, and you don’t turn back to check on him.

The neighborhood is silent in the early morning. Yards empty, curtains still closed. No one, not even the sun, tucked behind a thin veil of cloud, sees when you pile into the front seat of Joel’s truck.

“Baby,” he says, pulling your seatbelt over your body.

Your eyes fix on the asphalt ahead. “Just drive.”

“Hey. Look at me.”

When you turn to him, he takes your jaw in both hands. “I love you,” he says.

“Still?” you squeak, eyes heavy with sleeplessness and tears.

“More.”

“This is fucking insane, Joel.”

He nods. “Yeah. ‘n you’re worth all of it.”

“Hey,” Sarah calls when the two of you spill in through the front door. She’s on the couch, Switch console in hand. “What’s up?”

“We have a – a lodger, for the next…little while,” Joel grumbles, tossing his keys onto the sideboard. He kicks off his boots and slides them to the wall, straightens up and looks to you.

You follow suit wordlessly, slipping out of your sneakers. Joel places them by his.

“Cool,” Sarah says, standing up. “How come?”

“Just – dad trouble,” you whisper, deflated. She’s wandering around the couch. A defeated sound rings from the console hanging from her thumb.

Her head tilts. “I…I got plenty room for you,” she flashes you a warm grin, “it can be like a big-ass sleepover.”

You return her smile, a slow, grateful breath filling your lungs. Joel’s arm wraps over your shoulder as your mouth opens to answer.

“No, uh…” He clears his throat. “She’ll be in my room. With me.”

Sarah’s expression is blank. She blinks between the two of you, arms limp either side of her hips. Your eyes flit from Joel to her and back again, wide, waiting. Waiting for someone to move, or speak, or yell.

Joel looks indifferent. Unbothered. As if he just told her it’s sunny outside.

She takes a step forward, and by instinct, you draw back. “Sarah…” you mutter, and she swings around the newel post. She dodges your outstretched hand, whether accidental or deliberate – you’re not sure.

“No, it’s…Okay. Yeah. I’ll – I gotta…Yeah.”

You watch as she climbs the stairs backwards, still looking from your pleading face to her dad’s stoic. She shrugs, wiggles the Switch and mumbles something about it needing charged, before she’s spinning and taking the last few steps two at a time.

When her bedroom door closes, you slump back. Joel doesn’t let go of your shoulder, catching you and pulling you into his chest.

“Fuck,” you whisper, lips pressed against his tee. He smells like pine, like mint, like you.

“’s okay,” he says into your hair, hand curving the shape of your skull. “She’ll come around. You know Sarah.”

You turn, ear against his chest, listening for his heartbeat. It doesn’t tell you anything new. You miss the days you used to listen for secret messages in the soft rhythm.

Joel’s chin rests on the crown of your head. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says. “None of this is your fault, you hear? None of it.”

“Now you’re just lyin’ to me. You know that ain’t true.”

A hum rumbles against your cheek like the earth readjusting, rearranging beneath your feet. You lift your head, loosen your grip around his waist.

“You need sleep,” he tells you, thumb swiping gently beneath your heavy eyes.

You don’t protest.

Joel takes your hand, leads you mutely upstairs and into his room. His bed’s not made. The shades aren’t even open. He lifts the sea of sheets, tosses them twice in the air and then pulls the corner back, letting you sit on the edge of the mattress.

He undresses you carefully, like your limbs might crack and burst at the slightest touch. He replaces your hoodie with a fresh tee of his own, one that still smells like the world before its end, and you lay back into bed slowly.

It’s shaped like you – the divot in the mattress. You slot back into it like you never left. The curl of your back and the fold of your knees. You’ve left little pieces of evidence all over the place – all over Joel.

He runs a delicate hand across your head, the repetitive movement lulling you off to sleep. Pushing the boat out.

“You need anythin’?” he asks.

You shake your head, arms wrapping tight underneath your pillow. “I’m good,” you whisper, and the waves pull you under.

His bedside lamp is on when you stir, the left half of the room a glowing honey color. His bare leg slotted between yours, your hands intertwined on his chest. His finger drifts back and forth against your palm, the strokes matching your breathing.

You’re still tired, eyes still rolling beneath heavy lids, but when some commentator screams at the game playing on the TV screen, you snap awake.

Joel curses under his breath, begins tearing the bed apart for the remote – but by the time he turns the volume down, your head is propped against his pillow, knuckles rubbing your eyes.

“Sorry, baby,” he sighs, kissing your forehead as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“’s okay.” You flash him a lazy smile. “What time is it?”

“Almost five thirty.”

“Damn,” you mutter. “Slept all fucking day.”

“You needed it,” he says, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “You want some dinner? Or – breakfast?”

You nod. “Sounds good.”

He disappears downstairs. The echoing of pots and pans and the hum of the extraction fan follow in his wake. You groan, stretching out like a starfish across the messy bed, forgetting for just a moment why you’re here, and what’s happened, and how different everything is.

It feels the same, even after eight hours sleep. Same guilt, and shame. Same anger and resentment towards your dad. Same punch to your gut anytime you picture his face, the wrinkled frown. The trembling fist holding your bag in midair.

The blow is soothed only by the swelling of warmth across your chest, looking around the room. The safety you feel here, as though you’re cut off from the rest of the world. Your father on pause the second you left the house; Joel’s room and his bed giving you time to catch your breath and recalibrate.

You’re not thinking about when you’ll have to go back home. You’re just not.

You knot your shorts back around your waist, take one huge swig of the water Joel left for you, and open his bedroom door, your head throbbing with each movement.

There’s a figure at the end of the hall, frozen in space like a phantom.

“Morning,” she says. Her hair is tied back, oversized hoodie over her shoulders.

“Hi.”

“You sleep good?”

“Must’ve. Missed half the day.”

Sarah smiles.

“Are you gonna kill me?”

“Hm,” her head tips back and forth, “not today. Don’t have the energy. Watch your back tomorrow, though.”

For the first time in almost twenty-four hours, a genuine laugh pushes its way past your lips. The knot in your stomach loosens, even if only a little.

“You wanna come help with dinner?” she asks, nodding to the stairs.

You smile. “Please.”

The three of you settle on pasta with some tomato sauce from a jar mixed through. You sit opposite Sarah as Joel sets the plates down, sliding into the seat next to yours with a gentle squeeze on your knee under the table.

The three of you talk. About nothing in particular – college, Rita and her cross stitch, some client of Joel’s whose wife got caught having an affair – but it soothes the ache in your heart. It feels like a blanket over your shoulders, a spot by the fire, a voice in your ear promising you that things are still okay. That they can still be this way: light, alive. The earth is still moving, the stars are still pinned up in the sky. Tomorrow will always come, and the day after that.

Sarah asks about LA. You tell her you didn’t know she knew. She grins and says, “Well, now that I do – you better put an application in.”

You hum around the fork between you lips. “Maybe.”

“Come on. The two of us out there together? For six whole months? You gotta do it. Tell me you don’t wanna do it. Are you gonna do it?”

Joel casts her a glower, his stony expression pushing her back in her chair.

Your eyes shift from hers over to his. He runs a slice of garlic bread around the curve of his plate, coating it in sauce, before he notices you staring. His face breaks into a tiny smirk.

“I don’t know,” you decide, turning back to Sarah. “I still gotta think it through.”

She nods earnestly. “Yeah, you should sleep on it. And then, first thing tomorrow, we’re doing it.”

The two of you let her have the final say, falling quiet until some new conversation is shifted onto the table, and then another, and then another. When you’re done eating, Sarah takes your hand and drags you back upstairs.

Sarah Miller’s bedroom has been baby pink for as long as you can remember. Joel painted it one summer while she was at camp, eliciting help from your dad to shift all the furniture. As she grew up, she covered the walls in posters, changed the sheets, changed the curtains, strung fairy lights to distract from what she saw as a kiddish color.

But she never asked to change it. Always wanted the same blushing pink her dad had picked out when she was ten – even if secretly.

Her blinds are tilted, golden light from the slowly lowering sun filtering through onto her carpet, stained with tiny dabs of nail polish. She throws herself down onto the bed, her curls igniting brown in the summer light, and you slowly sink down beside her.

“Nice Zayn poster,” you note, pointing to the straight-browed, dark-haired figure painted in a moody grayscale on her ceiling. “Interesting placement.”

“Was so I could dream about him every night.”

“You didn’t wanna take him to California?”

“Didn’t have to,” Sarah smiles, tapping her temple, “he’s all up here, baby.”

You snort. Your eyes flutter closed; hands clasped on your stomach. She sighs contentedly by your side, listening to the chatter of birds out front.

“I miss this,” she says eventually, her voice smooth and soothing. She elbows you lightly.

“Me too,” you reply. And then, with a deep breath: “Sarah…are you okay?”

When she turns back, the sunlight catches in her eyes. They twinkle, like she’s some doe-eyed Disney character. Someone who might be able to wiggle her fingers and make the last day disappear.

“Am I okay?”

“Yeah. With…everything.”

She shrugs, mumbles an I dunno. “What can I do about it? It’s weird, but…it’s none of my business. I guess…I guess if y’all are happy, then – you know. I’m gone half the time, anyways.”

“It is your business, too, though,” you tell her. “I don’t wanna make you feel weird.”

“I think you got bigger things to worry about right now. Sounds like your dad’s pretty mad.”

You sigh, looking back up to the boyband poster. “Yeah. He’s pretty mad.”

“My dad told me what happened. Well, parts. I can kinda guess the rest. Can’t really blame him, I guess.”

You shrug. “Guess not, but then…I am twenty-three, y’know? I’m not a kid. I can make my own mind up.”

She’s still staring at you, but you don’t return her glance. Something tells you that you already know what it says. Still, she verbalizes it.

“Would you be okay if I slept with your dad?”

That is so not what I thought you were gonna fuckin’ say.

You shoot her a look. “What?”

“’m askin’. Would you be okay with it, if I –”

You lift your hand to shut her up. “That is…so totally different.”

“How is that different?” she scoffs.

“Because…because…my dad’s not hot.”

Sarah gags.

“And – and also you’re not friends with him. It’s just different, alright?”

“You were friends with my dad?”

You’re laughing with her now. You can hear how pathetic your justification sounds. “Kinda, yeah. I was close to ‘im.”

“Yeah, that much is obvious, now, babe.”

You smack her arm and she giggles.

“I think he’ll come around. Your dad.”

“I don’t. Not ever.”

“Why wouldn’t he? His best friend would become his son-in-law, I would become his granddaughter-in-law –” She gasps and props herself up on her elbow, staring you down. “Does this make you, like, my stepmom?”

You spit out a laugh, and Sarah throws her head back against her pillow, clutching her belly.

“You’re my fuckin’ mom, dude!”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” you reply, covering your face with your hands. “Aw, fuck,” you breathe, giggling.

You settle back into the bed, your heads leaning against one another as you stare up at Zayn and his audience of glow-in-the-dark stars. Sarah hums something softly to herself, her ankle rocking, her fingers tapping.

The two of you were raised together. Sisters, when neither of you knew what that word really meant. You figure she’s as close as you could find – someone who reflects all of your favorite parts of yourself and who calls out the uglier ones without hesitation. Someone who comforts you with a punch to the arm, a mocking quip about your hair or the something in your teeth. A safe little secret keeper, for all of your wildest dreams and biggest fears.

“I guess this is all why you were so down in the dumps last night, right? Your dad knew then?”

You shake your head. “Not at that point. He found out after we all left. Realized it all on his own. It’s all just…so fucking stupid…”

She sighs. “My dad – if he…if he makes you happy, then I don’t even know. As long as I don’t have to see it – we’re cool.”

One cinderblock of weight lifts from your chest, allowing a rugged breath to escape. “Wish my dad would take a leaf outta your book,” you mumble.

“He’s just mad,” Sarah says. “He’s just mad, and he’ll eventually calm down.”

“Doesn’t matter even if he does calm down,” you reply. “My dad has more of a…restrictive parenting approach.”

“Can you really parent a twenty-three-year-old?”

“He finds a way to try.”

She scoffs, saying, “I get it. My dad’s more, try it ‘n see. Your dad is, like, try it ‘n see…what your punishment is.”

You both erupt into laughter, and Sarah reaches for the TV remote.

“Exactly,” you tell her, tugging on the hem of Joel’s shirt. “Although, if your dad found out you were with my dad, I don’t think he’d be cool with it, either.”

“Yeah,” she smirks, flicking through Netflix titles, “y’all got what you deserved.”

The sound of Sarah’s bedroom door closing over stirs you. Her room is the color of rust; the stream of amber sunlight on the carpet replaced by that of the streetlights. Beneath the door, the sliver of light is shifted by the sway of a silhouette walking off down the hall.

Sarah’s snoring quietly beside you, still in her jeans. Keeping an eye on her, you roll off the bed and creep towards the door, a slow groan coming from the handle as you twist it. Joel’s at the opposite end of the hall, disappearing into his room as you shut Sarah back into her warm slumber.

“Thought you were sleepin’,” he whispers when you slip into his room. He’s already sat in bed, leant against the headboard. The room a thick darkness, a black cloud of dusk spiraling around you and cutting you off from the rest of the world.

“Heard you come in.” You wander over, pausing at the side of the bed. “Wanna stay with you.”

“C’mere,” he says, holding a hand out. You take it, pulling yourself into his lap. He slips his hands under the hem of your shorts, fingertips brushing the crests of your hipbones. “You okay?” he asks, thumbs swiping gently on the seam of your thigh.

“Never better. You?”

He sighs in response and looks off to the window, the light catching his eye. You tilt your head and bend forward, kissing below his ear. He smells like whiskey. You breathe it in, inhaling like the sharp scent might fold you under a numb blanket of inebriation, too.

Joel takes a fistful of your hair and pulls you from his neck, watching the shift in your expression before he kisses you – steady, bracing. The first time since everything went so wrong.

For a few minutes you pretend nothing has changed – you’re still sneaking around, shushing one another; someone’s in the next room, there are still secrets to be kept. You slip your shorts down your legs, kicking them over the side of the bed; Joel’s sweatpants follow soon after. His hands surrender and you push up on his chest, dragging your core against his stubborn crotch, lips never losing contact. Tongues rolling against one another, noses bumping; a tangle of breath between you until you’ve no idea which is yours and which is his.

It’s all you know how to do, after all. It’s how this started, it’s how it got out of control. The two of you taking out your needs on one another. Right now is no different. You need to feel something other than the dread in the pit of your stomach, the ache in your heart anytime you look at him and know he feels it, too.

You come up for air and suddenly the feeling dissipates; doubt sets back in and fear washes over you like ice water. Your hips cease, Joel’s hands lift from your body. He pushes the hair from your face to find his own expression mirrored in yours.

Everything has changed.

You watch his movements, the light trace of his finger on your bare skin, the pinch of fabric as he adjusts his boxers. The careful movements of his own hips, trying not to incite anything more.

“I love you,” you offer, when he doesn’t say anything. Whispered, like it’s a question, like something to dangle in front of him to make him bite.

At the very least, it unsticks his gaze from the cotton print over your chest and back up to your face – where he softens and says, “Oh, darlin’. I love you, too.”

He gives you a squeeze and pulls you by the shoulders closer, letting you feel his lips on yours again and again, until you’re out of breath. You nuzzle your head under his jaw, the rise and fall of his chest and the steady beat of his heart at your ear.

Joel trails his hands up and down your spine. He breaks the silence first – stammers his way through a question you’re not sure how to answer.

“Was I – was I hurtin’ you? All this time?”

You lift your head, looking blankly at him. “What –?”

“Was I hurting you?”

“Hurting me?”

He nods. “Everythin’ we were doin’. Everything we’ve done. You wanted me to be doing it, right?”

He looks…scared, as though forty years have been shaved from him over the course of one day. Eyes glassy like he might burst into tears; bottom lip almost trembling with uncertainty.

You sit up and cup his face; he breathes a sigh of relief when you look him dead in the eye and say, “I wanted you to be doing all of it.”

“All of it?” he repeats.

“Yes,” you nod, “nothing you ever did ever hurt me.”

He lowers his gaze. “’cept when I left.”

“You came back.”

His thumb curves beneath the slip of fabric on your hips, toying with the elastic. There’s more in his question, you know it. He’s not convinced by a word you say.

“It’s just…all such a fuckin’ mess,” he groans, fingertips massaging his forehead.

You hesitate, unwilling to agree and unable to disagree. It is a fucking mess – that much is true. But if that’s all it is, then why does your heart pause for breath whenever you see him? Why does the mere thought of his presence, the tiniest glimpse of him – why does it all send your stomach somersaulting?

How can something supposed to be so bad, make you feel so fucking good?

“It was wrong of me,” Joel says, “to flirt with you that night I first saw you again. To put you in that position. But I did, and we ended up here. And I’m glad we did, baby, you know I am, but…it’s on me. This thing with you ‘n your dad.”

“You don’t think he should back off a little? Don’t think he’s oversteppin’ a mark, even a tiny bit?”

He shakes his head. “I’d do the damn same, ‘n you know it. I shoulda known better. Shouldn’ta let it happen. You mean more to me than the world, and I – I caused all this hurt for you.”

Sure, it’s real noble of him to take all of the blame, but it wasn’t just him. You had a part in it, too: your batting eyelashes, your hands where they shouldn’t have been. Your jaw tightens when he says it, holding back from telling him you want as much responsibility in this as he’s taking, even if he won’t allow it.

But an argument with Joel, right off the back of one with your father, isn’t really something you need. It wouldn’t help anything. So, you swallow your words and whisper new ones.

“You shouldn’t have flirted with me?”

His eyebrows flick, concern knotting them together. He sits up, scooping you in his arms. “I meant I should’ve never let it get to this point.”

“’n what about the first time you touched me?”

The memory plays between you: the weight of him on your body, the sound of the stereo system firing up downstairs. One hand between your legs and the other pinching your heart.

The light in your eyes starts to bleed through your body into Joel’s, distorting the projected image of that scene in your bedroom. It ignites somewhere low, travelling upwards until his stare locks with yours: an understanding weaving between you both.

You lean back from him, drinking in the sight. “Nothin’ but trouble, right? That’s what you said, that first night. You knew damn well where it might go. ‘n you still wanted it, just as bad.”

“Darlin’, I’m not sayin’ I didn’t, I –”

“No, no, I get it. I get it.”

You push his shoulders to the mattress. Fire in your belly, some kind of twisted energy pumping through your veins, you grind down on him again.

That thing, about this being all you know how to do? About taking your needs out on each other?

Right now, you need distraction. You need something to tire you out, to drain you of energy, to stop your thoughts for five minutes. You need someone to hold you, and love you, and make you feel good. Joel’s the perfect distraction.

He’s still hard. You’re still wet. It’s easy.

You drag your hips lazily over his, cotton riding against lace. He’s growing harder, bigger; he’s pushing up into you. You respond by pushing down, and Joel groans.

“Hey,” he takes hold of your thighs, “baby, we don’t have to –”

“Then, let’s stop.”

He says nothing.

You reach down past the band of his boxers and take him in your hand. He bites back a moan, his head falling into the pillow. You’re stroking him: long, hard strokes, fist tightening around him, fingers dipping between your folds to apply your slick to his length.

“Say the word, Joel. We’ll stop,” you pant, unsure if even you buy the words you’re saying. “You said it: none of this should’ve ever happened. You should’ve never laid a finger on me.”

His arms lift, throbbing biceps curving around his pillow and crumpling it against his skull. He doesn’t tell you to stop, because he doesn’t fucking want you to. He needs this – needs you as much as you need him, needs you more than he needs the air in his lungs.

And you’re right: it is different now. Now, it’s out in the open. The whole world could know, for all the two of you care. And maybe that’s the kick to it, now. No more hiding. No more fleeing from shadow to shadow.

You tug his underwear down and lower yourself, dragging your folds up and down the width of him while sticky precome gathers at his tip, dappling the trail of hair from his navel. And when you can’t do it anymore, when the mere sight of him drenched in your arousal threatens to send you over the edge, you line him up to your entrance and sink down, slow.

He moans into the pillow, fabric muffling your favorite sound in the world. And he doesn’t stop, his chest doesn’t stop rumbling until you reach his hilt, where he gasps.

“Darlin’,” he whimpers, hands coming back down to hold you in place.

You bat them away. “Uh-uh,” you tut, pinning his wrists above his head. “Not a – fuckin’ – finger.”

Joel grits his teeth, eyes locking onto yours, directly above him as you slide up off his cock, hips circling as you do, and then back down. Your free hand curves around his ribcage, the solid flesh of his torso stabilizing you.

“Poor baby,” you coo, pouting your lip. “Can’t even touch me. Can’t put a hand on your girl when you need to most.”

“Fuckin’ – whore,” he grunts, and your hips grind to a halt. You release his wrists.

“That what you think of me?” you ask, sitting upright on his lap. Joel’s still buried deep inside you.

“No,” he’s breathing, lips curling, “no, baby. Keep goin’.”

“I’m not the one goin’ back on my word here.”

He flashes a thick, filthy smile. “I know, I know. Go on. Make me proud.”

You lean forward again and he sighs, the feel of your wet cunt wrapping like satin around him.

“You think he’d trust you, anyway, after everythin’?” you mewl. “Think he thinks I’m in a different room right now? Tucked up in bed, safe ‘n sound? Nah, baby, he knows. He knows what you’re doin’ right now. Keep your hands off me? You can’t keep your cock outta me.”

Joel moans in agreement, hands gripping into the sheets to ground himself, hips bucking up against yours. You place your hands either side of him on the mattress and start to bounce, skin slapping, bed shaking.

“You like that, huh?” you moan, feeling the sharp kiss of his head at your cervix. Nudging, nudging, nudging. Blunt pain, blissful pleasure. “Like me riding it. Takin’ what I – oh, fuck – what I need.”

He lets out a guttural moan, writhing around underneath you. It’s like he’s forgotten where he is, forgotten you guys aren’t alone in the house; drunk on the sight, smell, sound, and feel of you on him, not even trying to stifle his sounds anymore.

You close your eyes and hope Sarah doesn’t wake anytime soon.

You’re keeping the façade up for Joel, but on the inside, you feel the exact same. His words echo in your ears, shouldn’ta let it happen, and how quickly that melted into make me proud. Your head starts to swim, your eyes heavy, your body trembling.

The thatch of hair at the bottom of his cock brushes against your clit, a gasp drawing between your teeth. Pain begins to rip upwards on the inside of your thighs, forcing you forward.

“Joel,” you pant, leaning over him. “Fuck.”

“Gotta let me touch you, baby,” he whispers, hands lifting beneath the fabric of your shirt. His fingers ghost across the curve of your shoulders. “You need it, don’t you?”

You whimper in response and Joel slips past the moment of weakness, taking a strong grip of both shoulders and pulling himself upright on the mattress. The tee slips from your body in one breath, and his hands follow the incline of your neck to your jaw, holding you steady as he fucks up into you.

“You want me to fill you up?” he asks, leaning back with a palm flat on the bed behind to watch himself disappear between your legs.

You’re nodding desperately. “Mhm.”

“Gotta ask nicely, remember? Be a good girl for me?”

“Dick,” you hiss, draping your arms over his shoulders.

He pouts. Sweat gleams on his upper lip. His voice cracks, weakens like stone beginning to crumble. “’s not v-very n-ice, baby.”

“Comeinme,” you beg, your fingers swirling around the dark hair at the bottom of his skull. “Please, come in me.”

“Atta-girl,” he groans, and his hands instantly lock on your hips. You don’t stop him this time, letting him push you down as hard as he can onto his cock, coming as deep inside you as he can.

And then – that familiar feeling of being his. Filled with him, your eyes and your nose and your mouth and your cunt spilling with the sight, smell, taste and feel of him. He coats your walls, throbs deep inside you as he claims every tiny corner of your body.

He growls as his cock twitches, and you watch his expression go from determined, to blissful, to fucking exhausted when he stills and his head rolls forward into your chest. His breath hot and staggered between your breasts; light kisses peppered onto damp skin.

You watch him through a post-sex haze, the air between you thick and blurry, as he presses his lips into your chest. He sucks along the cushion of your breast until he reaches the nipple, lips cupping around it, tongue flicking with all the effort he has left in him.

When he lifts his head again, one final kiss to your sensitive flesh, you balance his chin under your thumbs.

“You come?” he asks, the words propelled by a heavy exhale.

You shake your head slowly. “I’m tired, anyway.”

“Alright,” Joel groans, flipping you over. He pushes your thighs apart, his spend leaking from your slit and running southwards.

“Joel,” you giggle, “c’mon, I’m tired. You don’t have to –”

He’s already pushing himself lower, whipping the dark cotton tee from his shoulders and brushing his naked chest over your stomach. You lower your arms to hook under his.

“Hey. Come here a sec.”

Joel blinks up at you. “What’s up?”

“Just – come here.”

He kneels back up to you, hovering over you with his hands under your shoulders. His limp cock lies against the inside of your thigh as he lowers his weight onto your hips. You tilt your head, mapping his face.

Your knuckle runs across his cheek, the jagged bristle of his beard on your warm skin. Like running your hand under water, unable to tell whether it’s scalding hot or freezing cold – there is no saying whether you’re so used to him now that the feel of him is unaffecting, or entirely all-consuming. There’s no middle ground. Not anymore.

“I know –” You sigh, your voice swollen with a soft cry. There’s no stopping the tears anymore. They just come. “I know you think you should’ve known better. But I am so fucking glad that you didn’t.”

It’s done nothing but pour all day. You woke up this morning to the rain battering against Joel’s window, your body hooked against his by his arm.

Day four. Still no call, no text, no nothing from your dad. You haven’t exactly returned the favor – the closest you dared was having Sarah drive you to your house while he was at work so you could dip into the hallway, grab your car keys, and drive straight back to Joel’s. You pulled up in his driveway alongside each other and she rolled her window down, checking your expression before snorting.

It’s like a damn Mission: Impossible film, she jested.

The pain feels blunter, more distant than it did on Saturday. Like your father has bowed his head, faded some into the dark background of upstage. You realize, a few days in – the movie nights and the meals homecooked by three chefs; the way Joel’s scent starts to become yours, his T-shirts hanging loose over your shoulders and his boxers snug against your hips – that you forget to check on the shadow of your dad. Forget the spot he once stood in, the thunderous cloud cast over his head. The same one that so regularly used to pour rain over you.

Sarah went out with her friends a few hours ago. She called to say she’d miss dinner, so you and Joel ordered Chinese. You’re sat with your legs in his lap picking away at some noodles, scrolling mindlessly on your phone while he catches up on some baseball highlights show.

“Fuckin’ – idiots,” he mumbles, fork angrily picking at rice.

Your eyes don’t lift from the Instagram caption you’re reading. “Fuckin’ idiots,” you flatly agree.

Joel’s head turns. “Alright, Miss Big Rangers Fan. I remember a time you pretended to be into ‘em to get my attention.” He attempts to grab your phone, and you swipe it from his grasp.

“Shut up,” you giggle, grabbing hold of your takeout box. “Joel – be careful!”

He snorts, settling back into the couch, changing the TV channel. You give his thigh a little kick, tugging your blanket up. As the TV switches from one showing to the next, your phone buzzes.

You glance down, chopsticks halfway to your mouth, and freeze.

Dear Candidate…

“Joel.”

“Hm?” he asks, eyes glued to the flickering screen.

“Joel.”

“Yes, darlin’?”

You unstick your stare from the phone, looking up to meet his perplexed expression. “They got back to me.”

He squints for a second before the remote is dropped to the cushion. “And?”

“I don’t know, I just saw the first line.”

“Open it, baby. C’mon. Whatever it is, you gotta know.”

“You know what,” you shrug, “I’m good. I don’t need to know. It’s all good.”

“Hey.” Joel snaps his fingers scooping your gaze from the floral, bohemian name on the header of the email and up to his own. “Open it, or I’m kickin’ you out.”

You mock gasp. “You’d put me out on the streets?”

“Worse. Put you back to your dad’s. Now open the email.”

Your thumb trembles as it hovers over the screen, one tap away from the biggest change in your life since you left for New York. Like it’s five years ago, and you’re sat in front of your laptop, psyching yourself up to open the response to your college application.

“Okay,” you breathe, slamming your thumb down. Joel leans in, staring at the screen from upside down.

It swipes across and your eyes flit down, focusing hard on the sentence beneath the opening line. You blink rapidly, waiting for the wash of tears to clear and dissolve it to Unfortunately, or After careful consideration, or We appreciate your interest.

But it never does.

Invite to interview stares back up at you, waiting for your face to break. Expectant, a little nervous. Jittering inside your shaking fist. Joel breaks first, when he spots it.

He almost throws his food onto the coffee table, taking your container from your hands and bundling you up in his. He pulls you into his body, presses heavy kisses to the crook of your neck as you laugh, your entire body quaking with joy and terror and relief and anxiety.

“What’d I tell you?” he says, kissing you roughly. “I knew it, babygirl. I knew you would – Fuck, I am so fucking proud of you.”

“It’s just –” sniff, “– it’s just an interview, remember. I might not get it, in the end.”

Joel shakes his head. “I don’t care. You’re a damn sight closer to gettin’ it than you were three days ago.”

You sit for probably twenty minutes, laughing and then weeping and then laughing again – until the food is cold, there’s a new episode of South Park rolling on TV, and Joel’s T-shirt is soaked with your tears.

“I gotta call Sarah,” you whisper, finger sifting through his hair. Your head buried in his neck, your knees either side of his hips.

“She’s going to lose her fuckin’ mind,” he mumbles into your shoulder, laughing to himself. “She’ll sit off-camera in the corner of the room, so they can’t see her, ‘n hold up cue cards.”

You giggle, letting it dissipate into something weaker, something unconvinced. In a small voice, you say, “We just got one step closer to being four states apart.”

He looks up at you, curving a hand around your jaw, and pulls your lips against his. It’s slow, tender – his every thought and feeling translated into physical movement, transformed into a spin of butterflies in your chest.

When you pull away from him, smiling dumbly, he clips your cheek. “That scare you?”

You hesitate, afraid to tell him the truth. But it’s Joel. He knows every thought that passes through your head. You nod, eyes filling with a salty sting.

“Why?” he asks.

You glance out to the street. “’cause I love you. I don’t wanna leave you.”

Joel nods. Considers it. Then says, “You know why it doesn’t scare me?”

You lift your eyebrows in response. Why?

“Because I love you. And we are gonna be just fine.”

And you believe him.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #cowboy like me

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sarah-yyy · 9 months

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what: period cdrama // 40 eps, roughly 45 mins each (we’re on ep 29 atm, paid subscription required for vip eps) where: iqiyi (you can also dl the app) // youtube // (ps - usual disclaimer that i do not use eng subs so i don’t speak to the quality of subs) why: do you enjoy jianghu mysteries?? double/hidden-identities??? the shifu-complex trope??? enemies to friends (with a v Divorced-Exes vibe)?? this is the show for you. would enjoy if you enjoyed the blood of youth.

meet Li Lianhua, a somewhat famous jianghu doctor who is rumoured to be able to bring back the dead. this chill but odd man lives in a super cool caravan he built himself! spends his free time gardening and learning how to cook! he's got a cute pet dog as a companion! he is in his Zen Era, everything is going great for him*.

but i promised y'all hidden identities so, surprise surprise!! Li Lianhua is also known as Li Xiangyi, presumed dead master of the Top Jianghu Sect who has been MIA for the past decade

Li Xiangyi was poisoned + seriously injured in battle ten years ago, and for a variety of reasons, decided to retreat from jianghu to live his life in relative peace (while also searching for the remains of his shixiong). the poison he suffers from is fatal, it is emphasised he doesn't have long to live. (*except for the dying bit)

ANYWAY. while going about his day to day, Li Lianhua meets:

Fang Duobing, wannabe jianghu detective. this boy has a++ martial arts skills!! he's (relatively) smart!! he would make a good detective!! but his attempts to do so have been foiled by his Super Influential™ parents who do not want him in harm's way. all my boy wants to do is to successfully enrol in jianghu detective academy and travel the lands!! solve crimes!! he eventually weasels his way into a probationary position by telling the masters of the academy that his shifu is Li Xiangyi

cue extremely fun exchanges like:

FBD: if my shifu li xiangyi could see me now- LLH: your who???????????

these two have a funny strangers to jokingly enemies (LLH made a fool out of FBD and like drugged him the first time they met) to begrudging partners solving crimes to friends dynamic going on, absolutely a+++. FBD goes from 😤 at LLH to must protect this weak man i have decided is my best friend really quickly. i love one (1) boy.

there is also another key character in this, which really just. is the cherry on top of everything that the show has given us so far.

meet Di Feisheng. "villain" extraordinaire. has one (1) goal in life - beat LXY. "killed" LXY in battle ten years ago, but suffered severe injuries himself, so he's been recuperating for the past ten years.

imagine his goddamn surprise when he fucking meets LLH who he thought he defeated ten years ago. (side note: LLH is supposed to look nothing like LXY, but DFS recognised him p much instantly!!) he also learns that LXY was poisoned all those years ago, and was not in his best condition during their battle.

cue DFS going absolutely obsessed with curing LLH of his fatal poisoning so that they can go at it again, this time without any handicaps :)

SO ANYWAY these three go around solving cases together, while LLH/DFS also look into the inconsistencies of certain things that happened ten years ago. all the while the three of them are bickering the entire time.

tl;dr - this is the dynamic we've got going on:

FDB: this is LLH my boyfriend (but he doesn't know it yet) who is also my shifu (but i don't know it yet), and this is his extremely annoying ex-husband DFS who hangs around us and i absolutely HATE (and low-key want to throw in jianghu prison) because they are obviously hiding something from me, but also i would probably die for these two

if you need more convincing:

the cases have all been fun so far - the pacing of the show is quite good, and the cases don't really tend to drag on

the fight scenes are really cool - again, if you liked what they did in the blood of youth, you'll probably like this as well

frail and sickly Cheng Yi, always a bonus

i am going to, at some point, write fic about dfs railing fbd quiet while llh watches, someone hold me to this

#tv rec #mysterious lotus casebook #cdrama #a++++ show i am really having fun watching this

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virtualvault · 5 months

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Give Me What I want

Pairing: Steven Grant x F!reader

Summary: Steven acts like a brat all day, leading to a much deserved punishment. Left unsatisfied, Steven decides take what he wants.

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+ ONLY, no use of y/n, Dom/ Sub dynamics, Brat/Needy Steven, teasing, face-sitting, punishment, dirty talk, degradation, hair pulling, cnc (kind of??),unprotected p in v, creampie (Let me know if I missed anything :))

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Not only is this the first piece of smut I've ever written but also my first try at writing a fic in general so I would love some feedback. I definitely need some more practice but I really enjoyed writing this so I hope you enjoy it as well :)

There are so many things about Steven that you admire. His intelligence, his kindness, his generosity, how passionate he is. The list goes on forever, but there is one trait that Steven does not possess, however, and that is patience. He doesn't have it in his everyday life, and he seriously struggles with it in the bedroom. On days when Steven is really needy, and he can't have you or you make him wait, he becomes like a whiny child, pushing your buttons until he gets what he wants.

Today was one of those days. Steven was having a rough day at work and all he wanted was to see you and he couldn't. So, when he came home, he was already in a funk, immediately grabbing at you and demanding your full attention. Unfortunately, you had an appointment you absolutely could not miss. But you assured him that once you got home you would take care of him, knowing his day left him stressed and in need of some love.

This offer did little to quell his frustration and he begged you to let him come with. You explained to him that he would be bored out of his mind and that it'd be better for him to stay here and distract himself, but he wouldn't listen. So, the entire car ride there he was trying to grab at you, complaining about not being close enough and when you scolded him, he would huff and pout, then quickly resume his antics. He didn't stop even after you had both returned home and were eating the takeout you grabbed on your way back.

"Stop it Steven, I'm serious. Let me eat. I know you haven't eaten today either so please, finish your food."

And he gives you that look that he is constantly giving you, his eyes glaring and his lips pouting. It's usually endearing but you had reached the end of your rope with him today and were starting to get annoyed.

"What are you, my mother?" he mumbles as he looks back down at his plate. You're not sure if he meant for you to hear that but you definitely did.

"Excuse me?"

"C'mon, I'm not hungry. You know what I want. Now give it to me." He adds a quick 'please' after he sees the look on your face.

He knows he's pushing his luck, but he hopes you'll understand his situation and let it slide. But you had had enough. He had been whining and complaining all evening and gave you attitude each time you called him out on it. You had planned to spend the evening taking care of him, showering him with love and affection while you you ride him until he can't think straight, the way you know always helps him relax, but now you've decided he needs to learn to control himself.

" You need an attitude adjustment. Clean up the plates and go lay on the bed." You toss your fork down and head into the bedroom. He knows what's coming so he drags on in the kitchen, slamming the dishes in the sink and basically throwing a fit. Once he enters, knowing what you expected from him, he takes off his clothes and lays down. You slide the rope onto each of his wrists and tie them individually to each bed post. You do the same to his ankles. You sit in front him on the bed, having discarded your clothes as well.

"You need to learn some patience. I was going to be so sweet to you tonight. What a shame." You drag your nails softly up his thighs and continue up his stomach, not even coming close to his hardening member. He huffs, having already reached his limit and his frustration was becoming overwhelming. If you look close enough you could almost see some tears welling in his eyes. He wants so badly to feel the warmth of your hand squeeze him and relieve the ache between his legs. But you continue your slow, feather light touches up and down his body, avoiding his favorite areas on purpose.

You hadn't even given him a kiss yet. As your face hovers over his, pulling back as he tries to chase your lips, a growl emanates from deep within his chest.

" I've held on long enough. Give it to me." He demanded. No 'please' this time, in fact no pleading in his voice at all. This was supposed to be a punishment for the attitude he was giving you earlier and he clearly hadn't fixed it.

"Tsk tsk tsk…that mouth of yours. I'm tired of hearing it." You climb up him, moving to hover over his face.

"Let's put it to good use." As you go to lower yourself onto his mouth you hear, "Took you long enough…" mumbled from beneath you, his warm breath fanning over your thighs.

Even now he still wants to talk back. An idea pops into your head and you quickly turn around so you're facing the other way. Before he can ask what you're doing, you drop yourself down onto his mouth, muffling him. You let out a satisfied sigh.

"Finally, found a way to shut you up." You slowly start to grind against his mouth, loving the fact that he went right for your clit. You feel him hum against you, sending a vibration straight to your core. He pulls on his restraints, wanting desperately to touch you. No way in hell was that happening, not after everything he's done. He's lucky you don't just leave him tied to the bed to suffer with nothing.

You decide this isn't punishment enough, he's clearly enjoying it, seeing as he's still hard. You lean forward and he grunts, assuming you're going to take him in your mouth. Instead, you dig your nails into his thighs and spit right on his dick. Hard and fast. He groans into you, and you do it again, this time letting it fall onto his tip slowly and it dribbles down onto his stomach.

He starts lapping at you faster, making you whimper as you grow closer to your release. He bucks his hips up into the air as much as he can with his ankles tied down, silently begging for any sort of stimulation. You alternate between scratching and biting around his thighs and lower stomach, making sure to reach everywhere except the one place Steven wants most.

Just as you're about to cum, you pull yourself fully upright grabbing onto his hair, riding his face through the waves of pleasure. Then, too soon for Steven's liking, you lift off him and make your way around the bed and untie him.

"You can finish yourself off." you say without even looking back at him and head to the bathroom to grab a wet washcloth to clean him off when he's finished.

You hear nothing but the sound of running water, finding it a bit odd with the absence of his usual desperate whimpers and moans. Fixing your hair in the mirror, you turn to leave and head back to the bedroom. But just as you enter the hall, you feel a body push you hard against the wall, holding you by the shoulders. You let out a startled gasp as you look up and see Steven with a feral look in his eyes.

"That wasn't very nice." He snarls, eyes going back and forth between your eyes and your lips.

"You were misbehaving all day, Steven. You needed to be punished. Now let me go or I'll bend you over the bed and spank your ass raw." You threaten, although your ragged breathing drowns out the edge to your voice that you're trying to maintain.

"You're going to give me what I want." he says with such a sense of entitlement that you curse yourself for getting turned on by it.

You don't respond, deciding you're going to let him take it. You guys had sat down to talk a while ago and decided to implement a sort of 'take what you want when you want' agreement. Up until now, Steven had avoided taking advantage of it when you were in a more dominant mood, knowing him making a move on you or touching without permission almost always ended in a punishment. But for whatever reason Steven decides in this moment he simply doesn't care. He wants to be inside you so he's going to, despite what consequences he may face later. You also both have a safe word, so you know that the second you said it he'd immediately back off.

But you had no intention of using it. As much as his attitude and disobedience could sometimes frustrate you, the way he's acting right now has your cunt dripping wet. You don't let it show on your face though, still wanting him to know he's breaking the rules, but he takes your silence as a go ahead. He flips you around and presses your chest up against the wall as he holds you close to him, pushing himself inside you in one quick motion.

He slips in easily and starts rocking back and forth, thrusts already sloppy from how worked up you got him earlier. He grunts into your ear, and his shoulders relax at the relief he's been waiting for all day. You let out some wanton moans of your own but try to suppress them the best you can. You want Steven to know that he has made the conscious decision to make this about him and his carnal needs only. It's hard though, as the thought of him using you to get off stokes the fire in the pit of your stomach.

You start to feel your legs weaken underneath you. He notices, and pulls you away from the wall and drags you to the floor. With his chest is flush to your back, he grinds into you with short but incredibly deep thrusts. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and he whines into your shoulder.

"God, you're so warm. I was thinking about this all day. Having to excuse myself multiple times just to try and get myself under control. Didn't want people to know how worked up I was just at the thought of you." He licks a strip up your neck, savoring the taste of you.

"I swear, there were points in the day I even thought I smelled you. That sweet scent you give off seems stuck in my brain, love. It made me lightheaded, didn't hear a single thing anyone was saying to me." His face remains cradled in your neck as he takes deep breaths in, finally getting a whiff of the real thing. As he takes you all in, he's invading your senses as well, making it impossible to silence your grunts and moans anymore. Your breathing has become uneven and each thrust punches a small whimper out of you.

"Fuck, I'm so close, love." He feels each time you squeeze around him, making it hard for him to hold on any longer.

He tries chasing his release, but he's missing your usual words of praise. There is no 'Good boy' or 'you're doing so well for me Steven' which usually leads to his undoing.

You sense this, but instead of giving it to him you turn your head and yank his hair. Now face to face, you grunt, "You think you can just take whatever you want? You're such a desperate whore. Can't even take your punishment without complaint, selfish brat. You're a bad boy, Steven. A bad boy." Your words are followed by a sharp inhale as you feel the coil in your stomach about to snap.

Your degrading words and the pressure of you tugging on his curls launches him over the edge. His movements become frantic, and he moans into your ear with a sob, spilling into you. He feels incredibly deep at this angle and the desperation in his movements brings you to your release.

You clench down hard onto him. His moans turn to whines from the overstimulation, but he waited so long for this he doesn’t want to stop. So, he lays there on top of you, jolting into you every so often as you both experience the aftershocks of your peaks.

When he finally pulls out, and you both sigh. He leans back on his haunches, still trying to steady his breathing. Once you recover, you turn to face him as a small smile appears on his face. He thanks you over and over, clearly thinking that he had received a proper punishment and that he was in the clear. He crawls over to you, and you pull him in, planting a soft kiss on his lips before pulling back quickly and standing up, much to his dismay.

"I hope you enjoyed it, because you're not touching me for a week. Not after that little charade." His face falls, and you smirk, hopefully that will teach him a lesson. Although you had thoroughly enjoyed it, he still disobeyed you. And to be honest, you wouldn't mind seeing him that desperate for you again.

Leaving him speechless, you head to the bathroom to draw him a bath.

#moon knight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant smut #moon knight smut #Steven Grant #marc spector #jake lockley

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miasbby · 1 year

Text

indefinitely ours.

(teacher!reader x teacher!Ellie x Abby)

summary : You're not willing to date nor looking for anyone, but Ellie Williams, the art teacher working in the school that hired you a year ago, is making you seriously doubt that decision. With her flirting, praises and constant touches, you're all but ready to give up and ask her out. That is, until you meet her girlfriend, Abby, who to your greatest shock seems very… curious about you.

word count : 7.2k (sorry)

note : this is my first fic in the tlou fandom ever, so it'll hopefully be good and i hope the characterization is okay! i wrote this to practice writing shorter fics and failed.... it probably won't get a part 2 but who knows!

warnings : smut with a bit of plot, female anatomy reader, occasionally mean!ellie and mean!abby but they love you<3, light objectification, degradation and exhibitionism, mention of anal, alcohol use and light intoxication, sub!reader, consent is respected but there’s a few bold moments, bit of a housewife kink, crying from overstimulation, threesome.

●○●○●○●○●○●

An ordinary life is not what most aim for, but you have to be honest in that regard: there’s nothing you’ve craved to achieve more than the simple peace of life, a peace often found in modesty yet sought in extravagance.

The primary school you joined last year has fulfilled that goal in more ways than one, allowing you the safety of a job you spent years dreaming of, a kind group of colleagues that have befriended you ever since you first arrived, and a class made up of the most adorable group of pupils, all eager to learn and earn the good graces of their favorite teacher judging by how the blue of your classroom’s walls are now entirely hidden by drawings. It’s on the outskirts of the city, in a cute area where prices had not soared just yet when you first bought a house, and the neighborhood couldn’t be more welcoming.

Your time is well-spent: between preparing lessons, finding original ideas to keep a hyperactive group of six years old entertained, taking care of the renovations your new house still requires, and caring for a vegetable garden you did not expect to grow so well, it’s safe to say that you don’t have much time left for anything else, and that includes a relationship. You haven’t been looking, really, happy to settle down on your own until life picks up a slower rhythm and to make friends rather than losing yourself in back and forths. Your previous relationships were never particularly fulfilling and often ended up being on and off until you got tired of the uncertainty. You’re done with all of that.

The only person that could make you doubt the choice of celibacy, however, currently has her back turned to you, rummaging through a tiny box of chalk sticks on her desk. The kids are out at lunch and you know she tends to eat on her own in here instead of the break room where all of the teachers often meet up. Of course, you only chose to come get her because she’s been a good friend, not because of any ulterior motive…

“Planning to stay hidden in there for long or are you going to come out and eat?”

Ellie doesn’t even appear startled and you wonder if she could somehow sense your presence by the door. She throws the tiny, useless pieces in the trash, reminding you to filter through your own box of it, and turns to face you with that eternally smug smile, leaning back against the side of her desk. It’s a mess, but that’s not surprising coming from Ellie. Whether it’s because she’s the art teacher in charge in the school or because that’s simply in her nature, you’re not sure, but you know to no longer be shocked by the sight of paper and paintbrushes thrown randomly on her desk.

“Planning on distracting me for much longer or is that gonna stop at some point?” she answers back. “You can’t come in here looking like this and seriously expect me to think of lunch.”

And that is exactly why Ellie is making you reconsider your opinion on dating.

If it weren’t for the constant light flirting you still don’t know how to read into, you think that handsomely sweet face would have convinced you anyway. It’s not that Ellie is your style, it’s that you’re convinced no one on this planet could be more attractive to you. Today’s look isn’t helping either: that opened cargo shirt barely hides the simple white tank top she must own in four identical copies and doesn’t do much to conceal the tight, sculpted lines of her arms, blues veins running down to paint-stained fingers.

Oh, if only you could stop thinking about how they’d feel dipping into the heat spreading from your clit down to your entrance, filling an emptiness that rings between your legs as much as it does in your heart. Unfortunately, such luck cannot be granted to you. Not yet, and perhaps not ever.

“You’re not flattering yourself out of coming with me.” You slide your hand down to the doorknob and motion for Ellie to follow you out, but she shakes her head, grabbing her phone in the back pocket of her jeans.

“Sorry,” she says, smile dropping with hesitation before she continues. “The girlfriend forgot her lunch at home and I’ve gotta go get it for her. But I’ll see you tonight, we’re still grabbing drinks with the team, right?”

You blink, cheeks straining from the efforts required to keep your smile up even as it turns dishonest, and try to make sense of the word she just uttered, any heat in your belly extinguished by an ice storm. Did she say girl friend or… girlfriend? Why would anyway refer to their friend that way, though… Stop lying to yourself, you got the meaning right on the first try.

Your heart does not break per se, but it skips a few beats you’re incapable of missing. In the few months you got to know each other, Ellie never mentioned a girlfriend nor did she introduce anyone to you.

Well, there goes your only temptation for a relationship. Celibacy it will have to be.

“Of course. See you tonight.”

If Ellie notices the light dim in your eyes, she doesn’t show.

—

That evening, you hesitate until the very last second about going home and finding a new show worth obsessing about or going out as promised. Ellie doesn’t give you much of a choice, however, when she shows up in your classroom right after the last student filters out with his father and pulls you out of your seat, refusing to take no for an answer.

(If it’s the request that convinces you or the strong hold she has on your wrist, you’re not sure. But you still let her tug you to your car anyway.)

The ‘team’ as referred to earlier consists of five other teachers whose classrooms are all sharing a hallway with yours and with whom you spend your Friday evenings in a local beer bar next door, a place Ellie first dragged you all into when you were still relative strangers, to celebrate your arrival. Your usual table is free when you arrive, Mel and Ellie right behind you, and you suppose a beer might be the best way to forget about your stupid little crush and the shame eating at your insides for having taken friendly banter as flirting for months now.

Overall, the night is fun, and after a few well-placed jokes at your expense, you finally manage to leave what happened earlier behind and enjoy yourself. Unfortunately, whatever superior being out there who’s decided you should, after a year of knowing each other, finally get to know all about Ellie’s girlfriend, is not on your side today.

“Oh, hey Abs!” Mel waves behind where you and Ellie sit, still somehow pressed up against each other, and your friend immediately brightens up, turning around to face someone. “Have you finally decided to join us? I thought you’d never leave that work of yours for even one night a week.”

“Maybe next week if she forces me to come.” The woman comes into view and immediately rests a hand on Ellie’s shoulder, smirking down at her before her eyes travel to you and stay locked onto your own for one second too long for it not to feel somehow… knowing. “But nah, I only got here to take Ellie home. I bet she drank too much to drive and that none of you would have been able to convince her not to take her car.”

Mel laughs, joined by the others, and even you have to agree on that. Ellie is particularly stubborn on the average day, but she gets even worse after three beers and a few shots.

“I’m fine, come on… I could drive on my own, a few beers have never killed me.”

The problem is, she says that while stretching an arm over the booth seat, enveloping your shoulders and tugging you closer to her side, and the only explanation for doing that in front of that literal goddess-looking muscle-paradise girlfriend of hers has to be the alcohol. ‘Abs’ raises a curious eyebrow but her smile never dies, and you look away to focus on the bottle clutched in your hand, guts turning into a mix of nervousness and shame that does not blend well with alcohol.

Abby stays around for a bit. The whole time, her eyes remain on you, taking in the features of your face, sweeping over your figure and translating what you would interpret as unabashed attraction if it came from anyone else. It’s like she’s trying to memorize your face, your body, your soul. Like she means to lay an invisible mark on your heart you’ll feel with every beat, right next to the one Ellie has unconsciously placed there long ago.

The arm only leaves its place on your shoulders when who you now know as Abby urges Ellie to go, and you leave soon after, sitting in the dark of your car for five minutes before your head clears enough for you to drive.

That was… definitely something. But you could unfortunately not explain what in any way.

The next time you see Abby does not offer any sort of clearer explanation as to why the mood always seems odd around you and Ellie, and particularly so when she’s there with you.

She comes around for drinks for the first time in months the following week and turns your offer to change seats down, seemingly fine with sitting next to you, her girlfriend on your other side. Her presence warms the hearts of everyone around the table but yours, stressing you out beyond sanity. You know you didn’t do anything wrong and that it’s probably a good thing that you learned of Ellie’s seemingly very joyful and fulfilling relationship now rather than after an attempted kiss or a date proposal. Yet, you cannot help but feel unsure around her - like she knows, like she can read through your heart and flick through its pages until its secrets have been bared.

Abby never talks to you nor mentions you in her conversations, yet, she’s always got an eye trailed on your figure, always silently insists on you being aware that you’re taking all of her attention.

And Ellie, well… Ellie has not changed, and that’s probably where the actual problem lies.

She still smiles at you with that signature smugness you know is only reserved for her girlfriend. She still flirts and teases and touches, still makes comments about how prettily you blush and how well that shirt fits you and you never know what to answer to any of those things. This time again, one of her arms is spread over your shoulders, her fingers fiddling with the fabric of Abby’s shirt on your other side, and if anyone were to look, they’d probably think you’re dating either of them - if not both.

Your thoughts are interrupted by her voice, and you almost let go of the glass of water you requested earlier when its now familiar murmur tickles your ear. “I like this skirt. Is it me you got it for? I’m sure Abby would like it just as much.”

Poorly disguised shock shines in your eyes but Ellie appears unphased, not even bothering with a glance at where her girlfriend listens to Mel vent about a fight between two of her students. You clear your throat, avoiding the heaviness of her stare, and shake your head timidly, scared to voice out your thoughts or to be heard. The fabric isn’t anything short per se, but it rode up your thighs through the night, and you’re suddenly far too aware of where Abby’s glances might have led to earlier. Ellie’s only response is a chuckle.

You think that’s the end of it but that’s without counting on the end of the night - when everyone leaves but Ellie insists you stay around some more, and Abby doesn’t show any interest in moving away, her thighs spread and pressing you further into Ellie. The arm behind your back moves and this time, you can’t control the way your body jumps when she places a hand just above your knee, stroking the tight fabric of your skirt.

“So,” you begin, trying to break the silence. “How long have you two been together?”

Abby takes a swing of her beer and your eyes follow the bulging muscle of her biceps until Ellie reminds you of her presence by patting your thigh affectionately. “Three years now. We met when Abby came around the school to renovate the gym with her crew and ended up moving in two months later. She’s a carpenter.”

“Oh,” you exclaim, interested but also still very much nervous. “That’s definitely helpful to have around at home. How long have you been doing this for?”

It’s the first time you address her directly and the kindness you’re met with feels almost surprising. You don’t think you would be kind to someone your girlfriend is two inches away from touching inappropriately right under your nose, but you suppose you should be glad that’s the case here.

“Ever since I was a kid, really. Being a carpenter didn’t exactly fit my father’s plans but he always encouraged me anyway when I saw how much fun I had fixing things and building my own. What about you? What got you to into teaching?”

Tension leaves your back altogether when her answer reflects the smile perched on her lips and the mirth shining in her eyes. “Children, really. It started with babysitting and then all I could think about was teaching.”

Abby’s eyes dip down to your lips. “That’s cute.”

“I told you she’s adorable,” Ellie interrupts. “And beautiful too, isn’t she? I knew she’d be your type.”

Your lips part to speak but before a protest can slip past them, Abby nods, smile turning almost predatory. “I’d say she’s your own just as much. You’ve always liked your girls a bit innocent.”

“I’m not-”

“Can you blame me, though?”

Abby pretends to think for a second and gets that knowing look again, reading through the blush spreading up to your ears and the fast ups and downs of your chest in ways you fail to understand yourself. Everything’s going too fast, like a ball bouncing from one side of the court to the other, and it suddenly feels like they’re discussing you, praising you, without even including you in the conversation anymore.

“No. I think I understand.”

Ellie chuckles, inching her hand higher up on your lap, and she allows the silence to persist for a moment longer before standing up to order another round for you. Abby never looks away. You’re still trying to comprehend what just happened, still failing to make sense of why your friend’s partner is staring at you like she’s considering the interest of throwing you over the table dirty with food crumbs and alcohol spills and flexing those fingers inside of your cunt instead of playing with the tip of her bottle.

“Oh, you’ve got some crumbs here,” Abby says, eyes flicking down to wear your shirt wraps tightly around your chest. You follow her line of sight, wondering how that could be when you didn’t eat any of the fries they ordered earlier, and find nothing. “Here, I’ll get them off for you.”

Before a word of gratefulness can echo between the two of you, your lips part in shock, a hand positioning itself right above your breast and arching a curious eyebrow, staring into the depths of your eyes. There’s no hesitation in the action, but rather a sort of anticipation you find yourself trapped into. “Is this alright?” she asks, the “Yes,” out by your lips before you can even make sense of what she means.

Deep down, you know what it means. Deep down, you’ve got a feeling Abby might have been familiar with you far before your recent introduction.

Once your agreement has been voiced, Abby startles you, immediately aiming for your right breast and gripping it with the whole length of her palm. A thumb rubs at soft skin only hidden by the light fabric of your shirt, almost transparent, not thick enough to act as a proper barrier, and you can feel it all - the heat of her hand, its roughness, how it’s thick enough, big enough to effortlessly envelop all of one breast.

It’s the first time her eyes have moved away from the trance they had yours stuck into, her stare dipping down to where she pretends to rub at your shirt, only reminding you of the absence of a bra to truly cover you. Your nipple hardens under her palm and that seems to be the goal because her hand changes sides, repeating the process, teasing and rubbing, the cotton fabric too rough for the sensitive little bud. Your thighs rub against each other, failing to get any sort of release from the pressure burning your cunt, hips almost bucking in a silent plea to be filled up by those very same fingers.

Abby smiles, still kind, still honest, and shifts her hand only to roll it between two fingers, pulling a wet moan from your lips you fear the people behind you might catch. “See, that’s better now, isn’t it?” And just like that, she pulls away, hand settling back around her beer, leaving you to deal with the wetness soaking your underwear and the blush heating your face, shining like a broken christmas light.

“Y-yeah.” It’s odd that you even manage to speak when flames circle hardened nipples, driving you into unknown depths of desire, but you’re proud to say you at least manage a coherent sound. “Thank you.”

When Ellie comes back, conversation follows a course far more normal, and if it weren’t for the hooded eyes, the pulsing heat, and the hand claiming its spot back on your lap, you’d think you hallucinated all of the tension.

The state of your underwear when you strip down before a shower later that night, however, is all the proof you need. Yet, you fail to truly comprehend what happened. The innocence that almost shone in Abby’s eyes as she touched you is impossible to make sense of, and the next morning, you’re no longer sure of what her intentions truly were.

Did she mean to tease you like Ellie has been doing - as a friend, a friend who has a pretty interesting definition of the word platonic but a friend nonetheless? Or was this more?

You’re not sure, but if anything, you won’t be the one to bring up the question just yet.

Ellie and Abby are coming over to your house to help with the endless renovations you’ve been making. And no, it wasn’t your idea.

You’ve been avoiding thinking about Abby and how she’s just as illegally fine as who you already considered to be the hottest woman alive, and although ignoring Ellie is impossible, you at least made some progress this past week with accepting the flirting as some meaningless fun. When you complained about the difficulties you’ve been having with painting the ceilings of two rooms and fixing the guest room bed, however, Ellie suggested that they come over to help and, well, how could you turn down such a nice proposal?

That’s how you end up watching them by the kitchen’s window as they relax around a glass of iced tea in the garden, cheeks stained with light grey paint and arms bared, water running in the sink and acting as the background noise to your current fantasies.

The mind owns a power the heart only dreams of having, capable of eternal wanderings uncontrolled by even the strongest wills.

Yours has not resisted purposeless dreams. Dreams that once involved Ellie, a sweet craving for what could perhaps come to exist in the realm of reality - a craving for late-night guitar sessions and paintings in bold colors, for rough palms to sculpt your heart into submission and teasing smirks wiped away by kisses. Dreams that now involve someone else, a person you have yet to truly understand but who seems to perfectly fit a puzzle from which you did not believe a piece lost. Her body rings with a rigidity that’s a lot more pronounced, yet her heart appears softer, willing to lead you further into the depths of a euphoric swamp.

A blurry motion startles you out of your thoughts and you blink to find the water is still running, the time still passing. Ellie is waving at you and Abby is staring with a raised eyebrow of curiosity.

You smile, waving back, and turn off the tap.

Fantasies are just that, unfortunately. You’ll have to make do with your imagination because it seems Abby isn’t intending on repeating what you’re getting more and more convinced was meaningless teasing anytime soon.

They spend the next weekend at your house too, fixing broken cupboards and a tall wardrobe you couldn’t figure out how to close fully, helping with the garden and any heavy objects you need to move around.

It comes to a point where you decide that if you can’t have either of them, then dreaming is fine. The only problem is that you end up doing that a lot, and getting caught is inevitable.

“Could I borrow your shower?” asks Ellie once the day reaches its end, the sun freefalling on the horizon. “I don’t want to dirty your couch.” Abby has fetched a chair for the same reason but you know how much Ellie like to sit beside you. Her girlfriend’s presence has not stopped the oncoming stream of cuddles she requires from you, and you’re more than happy to be held, touch-starved since the end of your last relationship.

“Sure. I’ll get the food ready.”

You stand from the couch to head for the kitchen but before you can disappear, Ellie grips the hem of her shirt and pulls it up, revealing a glistening, tight stomach in what feels like a slow motion to you but is surely a very normal pace for anyone else. The fabric slides off her shoulders and gets thrown straight to Abby’s face but your brain is in no way capable to register anything but newly revealed skin and soft curves hidden under a white sports bra.

“Feel free to join me,” she adds, teasingly, and you know it has to be directed at Abby who, it seems, is just as affected as you are judging by the darkened gaze she keeps directed at Ellie, but if that’s the case, then you cannot explain why Ellie is staring right at you as she says it before turning around and leaving for the bathroom.

It’s that gaze you see once they’re gone that night, writhing on top of your bed, covers thrown to the floor and pillow wet with your spit. It’s that gaze encouraging a second, then a third finger to fit into your cunt, the pressure too much yet so far from what you wish for, from how well you know they would both fill you, breaching past undesired tightness and taking all that you’re willing to give.

And it’s their voices, blended in as one, whispering praise into your ear and urging you to let go when you finally fall over the edge, tears pooling in your eyes and teeth aching from the marks they’ve left in that poor pillow.

“You know,” you begin, words not slurring but speech clearly affected by physical exhaustion and beer. “I thought you were flirting with me before you suddenly mentioned your girlfriend.”

A chuckle greets you, but you can’t tell if it comes from Abby or Ellie, both of them cuddling on the couch in front of you as you lay on the fluffy chair you bought for decoration purposes but that’s actually pretty amazing to use when sleepy. The night has fallen and you spent a lot of time in the garden today while Abby watched over you and Ellie finished with painting touch-ups, explaining the tiredness numbing your arms and the effects of the alcohol.

Your eyes remain closed and you shift around when air tickles the bottom of your stomach, your shirt having ridden up to reveal skin.

“What if I was?” and this time, you know it’s Ellie - sure, because it sounds like her, but also because she’s the one who likes teasing you the most.

You huff, internally rolling your eyes. “With a girlfriend like Abby, trust me, you were not. You’d be dumb to flirt with anyone else or want to kiss anyone else,” you say, voice barely above a murmur. That second beer should not have been handed in your hand, but Ellie has always been a bad influence and Abby drinks them with little effort. Slowly, you half-whisper, “Bet her lips are so soft.”

Abby laughs this time, reminding you of her presence, but you’re too far gone to care. “I think yours would put up a great fight in a contest,” she says, the smile evident in her voice. “Maybe even win, who knows. I know I wouldn’t mind trying you out.”

“Hey!” Ellie interrupts, “I get to try her out first. I found her. You would want me first, wouldn’t you?”

It takes a while for you to register the question and understand you’re being spoken to. “I think I want the both of you… together.”

Someone’s breath hitches, but you fall asleep before you can find out whose.

All you remember the next morning is strong arms holding onto the back of your thighs and your back carrying you up the stairs, a pair of sweet lips leaving a kiss on your forehead, and the throbbing traces of a hand on the naked skin of your stomach.

That must have been a fairly nice dream.

You’re in the kitchen when things truly take a turn you did not expect to happen in reality, breaching the realm of fantasies and fully stepping into your life - your peaceful and joyful life that, as you will soon come to realize, was actually missing two precious souls to reach the desperate form of completion you sought.

Abby is drying the dishes you’re washing and Ellie is… well, she’s simply being herself, avoiding any sort of chore and whistling in the living room as she chooses what movie you’ll all be watching tonight. The mood has been particularly tense today and this time, you’re glad to say it’s not your fault. Abby has been especially attentive to you, asking about your day, your past, and the shape you imagine your future to take, casually exchanging indecipherable looks with Ellie. They’re more than familiar with your house now yet they’ve never acted more like strangers scared of trespassing.

If you didn’t know better, you would think of them as almost… afraid.

Fortunately, the tension left as soon as night fell and you all settled back into soothing habits. At least, that’s what you think, until a shadow looms over your back, blocking the naked lightbulb from shining light on the last plate in your hand, and you realize that Ellie isn’t as busy as she made it out to be.

“Dinner was great, thanks for preparing all of it again,” she says, supporting her weight with one hand on the countertop and the left one innocently resting on your hip. Her touch is welcomed and familiar, her palm cupping the curve to perfection. “Anyone ever told you you’d make the perfect little wife?”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes although you know she won’t be able to see it. “If that’s truly the case, there’d be a lot more people pilling up at my door, or at least one person. I think you two are just terrible cooks in desperate need of a chef.”

Abby shakes her head, nudging you with her elbow as she wipes water from a pack of forks. “You’re not wrong in thinking we’d wife you up in an instant if you wanted, but not because you’d be a great chef.”

“Yeah,” Ellie agrees, flexing her fingers where they rest on your hip. “I can think of a few other reasons. You’d be an amazing mother, for one, and you’re far more patient than either of us deserve.”

“And you’re ready to put up with her stubbornness, so a perfect match, really.” Abby’s comment makes you laugh but Ellie speaks again before you can tease her about her own issues with never doing as told.

“All of that, and I even bet you’d be such a pretty little thing to fuck.” Your hands freeze on where you’ve just put the plate away, tension seizing unready muscles. You blink, staring by the window, the night turning it into a mirror and reflecting the shock wild in your eyes. For a second, you’re convinced to have misheard. But the silence that follows tells the opposite story. Ellie’s close, suddenly, closer than she was before, and Abby’s hands have stilled as well, her body tight with stress. “I feel like we didn’t thank you properly for all the meals you’ve prepared for us. What do you think, Abby?”

At the edge of your vision, you can sense that Abby has given in and glances at you from the corner of an eye, the sound of her breathing audible, loud. “I think she very much likes politeness, and… it would be rude not to give back after taking so much, wouldn’t it?”

“Right. And what about you, um?” The hand on your hip slowly slides closer to your front before drawing back, again and again, in what feels like a maddening caress. “Do you think we should thank you? Together, I mean.”

Later, you’ll have more than enough time to consider just how stupid it was for you, at that precise moment, to doubt the true meaning behind Ellie’s suggestion. There’s a part of you that yearns for this to be real, for it to feel real, but that part cannot be allowed to exist because it is directly connected to a risk of disappointment you’re not sure you would survive. So, when you reply a breathy little, “Yes,” you don’t actually expect what follows.

“Good girl.”

A whine spills past your lips but the reason behind its existence is blurry - is it the praise, vibrating through your lungs and soaking your cunt, or is it the hand that fully slides against your front, rubbing at the seam of your jeans frustratingly right above your heat, the other suddenly palming the curve of your ass and roughly kneading skin? You think you’ll never know for the first moan, but the next one is inevitably due to the second pair of hands finding a place to have some fun of their own.

“I can feel how soaked you are already,” Ellie says, tone teasing, taunting and forcing past your defenses. “Are you sure you didn’t expect this to happen? How often did you fuck yourself wishing it was us, hmm, pretty girl?”

You think that question should not require an answer, mostly because you’re incapable of giving any, incapable of getting that brain of yours to think and function properly. But Abby doesn’t seem happy with your silence, and she finally decides to remind you of her presence.

“We asked you a question, sweetheart.” Her voice startles you and your head turns to face her, your heart soothed by the admiration and the awe and the desire reflected in usually tight features. She’s smiling, not that usually kind expression but one that’s almost amused, and you realize you’re in serious, serious trouble with these two. Two fingers seize you by the chin, pushing it upward, and a thumb rubs at your bottom lip. “How empty did you feel thinking about how good we could take care of you?”

“I- I didn’t-” Ellie’s nails sink into the flesh of your ass, reprimanding, and Abby tuts, shaking her head disappointedly.

“It’s alright,” she adds. “You can be honest with us. There’s not a single time we fucked since you started working here that we didn’t think about you, about how complete you’d make us.” And you’re going to process that at some point, but now will not be that time. Not when she continues to speak, stealing any hope for coherency from under your feet. “We’ll take care of you now, though. Come on, Ellie, don’t be a tease.”

Ellie hesitates, hands still, fingers flexing. They stare at each other with blazing heat in what you think could be a fight for dominance you’re not sure to make sense of when they could just take out all of that on you.

“You better beg for it.”

When the gearwheels begin to roll again, you lose all sense of reality.

It’s like they both observed you for months, like they figured out what button to push and with how much strength, what you love and what you’re too ashamed to admit you need. Chills of shame erupt on your arms at the idea, worsened by how smoothly Ellie works your body.

“Let’s get these off you,” she mutters, lips hovering right next to your nape, inches away from a kiss. “You won’t be needing them around us anymore.”

There’s possessiveness in her words and there’s possessiveness in how fast she slips the button of your jeans off and tugs on the material, slowly, as if to admire what is finally hers to worship and use as she deems fit. Abby growls, watching with a well-trained eye as the tight fabric slides over your ass, and her hand moves down to press against your throat, keeping your back shamefully arched, ass raised for their eyes to feast onto. Your pants end halfway down your thighs, and you have to say there’s nothing surprising about Ellie’s eagerness to get to the source of her desires, hot between your thighs.

“Abby told me I’d love your ass. Guess she wasn’t wrong.” You expect your underwear to follow next but she decides not to bother with that. “Ever gotten fucked there before, or are you keeping that tight little hole for when we decide to use it?”

“N-never, I- I don’t-”

Abby sighs, shaking her head warningly. “Ellie… focus.”

“Right, sorry. We’ll keep that in mind for another time, you’re ours now anyway, aren’t you? Our pretty little toy.”

You’re all but ready to cry when fingers slides into the front of your underwear, familiar roughness perceptible in the actions, immediately drenched in your desires. Your cunt aches, your core throbs, and your nipples harden. A cocktail of needs that can only be sated by much more than what you’re given. Efficient fingers part your folds before expertly reaching that little bud of sensitiveness at the top of your mound, circling it, pinching it, driving you crazy with it.

But that’s not what truly seals the first release of the night. That only comes when Abby decides to fully join in on the fun.

Fingers unbutton your shirt until it parts to reveal the pale pink bra that matches the current dark pink of your panties, only abandoning your neck until the offending lace has been pushed right under your breasts and returning to its hold. You think Abby’s going to kiss you, for a moment, but she’s only reveling in the hot puffs of air slipping past your lips and trying to swallow down the guttural moan that vibrates in your throat when Ellie decides she wants to take the next step.

The hand that had for now been palming your ass travels closer to your center and tugs flimsy fabric out of the way carelessly. You’re not given a warning when the first finger breaches past your entrance, only the sound of Ellie spitting on her fingers for unnecessary lube and that feeling of needing frustratingly more. A whine lodges itself at the back of your throat, and they both laugh, only turning your frustration worse.

You want to move and fight back, tell them you’re more than capable of taking charge yourself. But there’s something about being treated as a toy meant to receive pleasure, about being admired and taken and praised, about that second finger joining the first and filling the tightness of your cunt, that forces you into a soothing form of submission, allowing every touch and taking them willingly.

Abby palms at one breast, rolling a nipple under the strong surface in a touch that translates all of her strength. “Is that blush for us, pretty thing? You’re gonna come all over her hand like a good slut already, aren’t you?”

And, it’s cruel, but of course you do.

Ellie flexes her fingers, increasing the speed of her arm. You can’t see it, but you know veins must shy prettily all over her forearm and biceps must be bulging from the tightness required to fuck you like she does now - like she wants to pull orgasm after orgasm from your core until you no longer understand what it means not to feel the maddening pulse of a release coursing through your body like liquid fire. Abby turns meaner, rougher, pinching a nipple between two fingers and pressing the hand further into your neck, forcing you to follow its direction and standing further on your toes.

Four hands - teasing, fucking, taking.

Two souls tauntingly attracting your own into their orbit, sealing an invisible lock around your heart, your body, your being itself.

And sweet, sweet praise, whispered right under your ear, sending you into a release you’re helpless to control.

“Ellie, Abby… I-” The moan that travels from your chest and spills past your lips is rough, guttural, connected to the inhuman waves of pleasures rocking through your body. Your cunt clenches around the fingers still thrusting in and out of your center, clinging onto the digits until they’re forced to stop, Ellie breathing heavily in your ear. Abby kisses down the curve of your throat, teeth nibbling at sensitive skin and laying a mark you refuse to ever cover.

Your moan ends, broken off in tense breathing, your heart threatening to jump out of your chest, and that’s when you catch the groan vibrating Ellie’s throat. It, too, falls into silence.

Abby swears against your skin, a deep, rough “Fuck,” that sends shivers down your spine.

“Told you she’d be the cutest little thing to corrupt,” Ellie teases, slowly sliding out of you, fighting against the tightness of your walls and your eagerness to be fucked into a stupid mess. “She’s all proper and shit but I could tell she’d love it.”

“I never doubted you.” Abby says, kissing the lone tear sliding down your cheek with all of the tenderness she can conjure. “Come on, let’s get her on a proper surface.”

Heat blooms on your cheeks when Ellie steps away to allow Abby to take you into her arms, the ground suddenly disappearing from under your feet. The way they talk about you like you’re not even there, like you’re too fucked out to understand a single word, would be shameful under any other circumstance. You know it’s only a game when Ellie takes advantage of finally facing you by planting a soft kiss on your forehead, pushing away a lazy strand of hair.

They begin to walk toward your bedroom like they perfectly know the way, and your vision turns dark right as they push the door open.

“Can you hold her open for me or have you been slacking at the gym?”

Your eyes remain closed, but your brain kickstarts itself into working properly again. You can feel the familiar linen of your sheets under your ass and soft naked breasts pressed against your back, another weight shifting in front of you on the bed.

The body behind yours shakes in rhythm with a chuckle and you recognize Ellie. “Can you still eat pussy or should we trade so I can show you? Sorry we didn’t plan for your strap, I thought she might have a cock lying around but… we’ll have to take care of that next time.”

“Fuck you,” says Abby half-heartedly, the sound followed by more shifting.

You’re fully aware again when Ellie grabs the back of your thighs and tugs them, spreading your legs and allowing air to tickle the slick still running from your center, drenched folds bared for anyone to use as they please.

“Come on, get to it. I know you’re hungry.”

Another pair of hands holds you by the ass and your eyes flutter open, hoping to catch sight of what you once dreamed about. Abby barely spares you a glance before she all but leaps to feast on your cunt, igniting a fire not yet extinguished.

“Abby… Abby…” You repeat her name like a plea, like a prayer. Your hips buck and trash around, your heart pauses and starts again, your releases come and come again right after each other until you exist no more, a broken toy a kid cannot help but continue to play with.

Lips circle your clit and suck, pull and deliver rough kisses. An expert tongue gathers slicks at your entrance and spreads it all over already drenched folds, eating rather than licking, a starved woman relishing in her first and last mean. It’s all too much, too soon, too sensitive, and you’re in no way capable of pulling away, four hands keeping you all tight and secure in their hold, a prisoner to your own pleasure.

“Keep them coming, pretty thing. I want your cunt red by the time we’re done with you tonight,” Ellie murmurs in your ear before resuming the path of tenderness her mouth trailing on down your neck.

You only find the strength left in yourself to follow that order.

An unwelcomed warmth burns your closed eyelids and you shift, attempting to escape its path. To your great despair, it doesn’t budge. A tired groan echoes in the room and you blink sleep back into your body, limbs stretching and encountering a soreness that did not exist before.

Oh. Right. Last night happened and… it was not a dream this time.

Fear seizes your heart for a moment and you quickly look around, scared to find the bed empty save for your body. A happy sigh of relief marks the moment you see them - Abby clinging to Ellie’s back, still sound asleep and temptingly naked, and Ellie holding onto your waist, staring up at you with a smug look and a kind smile.

“Morning,” she says, voice broken from sleep. “You didn’t think we’d abandon you, did ya?”

“N-no I… I’m just happy to see you.” You cannot control the dumb smile that widens on your lips, and Ellie’s smirk only widens, her hold pulling you back into the eternal depths of the sheets.

“We’re not going anywhere, try to get some more sleep.”

It’s a simple sentence, meaningless on the surface.

Yet, you know it’s more than that.

It’s a promise.

A promise for more, meant to suppress the doubts blossoming in your chest. A promise that they’ll be there when you awake again, and again, and again.

#ellie williams #abby anderson #ellie williams x abby anderson x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #abby anderson smut #ellie williams x abby anderson #ellabs

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hjellacott · 6 months

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Bit worried about Ashlyn Harris actually

Aside from all the drama that's been going on lately, I've got to confess that for the past few months (or years?) I've been wondering what the hell is up with this woman.

I was such a huge fan back when she was just this Satellite Beach goalkeeper with a humble head and the love for skate-boarding and surfing and you know, family & friends first and her work with To Write Love on Her Arms. And I get people change and that none of us ever really knew her, but I've seen I'm not the only one who can't believe what she's turned into. Like, can we recognise her any more? Or was the completely playing out to be an entirely different person ten years ago?

I think it started when she came out with Ali and suddenly she was like, this attention-seeking, uncomfortably loud (as in literally screaming) person with the weird, rather cringey fashion, only talking about gay things and nothing else, behaving like the complete soccer start that to be entirely fair she wasn't... Even on her wedding video I couldn't believe that Ashlyn was the same Ashlyn of 2011, 2012, 2013... It's not even that many years to change so much, let alone in your thirties. It's like there were no remnants of the surfer, the skate-boarder, the humble butch from a small town who valued the little things... Like she was adamant on transforming into this massively public, loud, "fashionable (?)" celebrity. Even when giving interviews she was expressing herself like she had no intellect any more, you know like male footballers speak, like it's all looks and no brain, no sign of the person who got a uni degree and who gave an amazing mental health talk with TWLOHA years back.

And then when they were celebrating the WC, I was thinking, since when is she this loud and arrogant? Since when is she so attention-seeking? When did she turn into this whole other person who makes such a huge effort to ignore her lack of National Team performances and pretend like she deserved her world cup as much as Ali or Pinoe? I get subs deserve the medal and all too, I mean, they made it so far and if they weren't there training with the rest, the rest wouldn't be as good. You're only as good as the worst of you, after all. But none of the others was bragging so loudly and calling themselves x2 champions so much without having played a minute of those games, were they? Even Alyssa Naeher doesn't have world cup champion in her profiles, nor does AD Franch, nor PINOE, but you know who does? Hope Solo. And you don't want to have THAT personality. I feel like when you're confident on your victories, you don't need to brag, everyone knows who you are, your work speaks for itself.

What worries me about AH (sit down here comes my Psychology Grad analysis) is that in the past few years she's been more and more behaving like someone with no self-esteem, who's desperately afraid of being forgotten and needing to shout left and right look at me! i'm a champion! I'm a soccer star! And then she stopped getting called up for the USWNT, got stuck in the Pride (and I love them but bunch of losers tbh), and all she had left was Ali. And then Ali's doing better than she is. And then Ashlyn gets these horrible injuries and that's story of her life (injuries effed her up from day 1 and seriously impacted her career) and she's forced into an abrupt retirement with no glory.

And then emerges this Ashlyn who only cares about rubbing elbows with celebs, who believes herself to be some fashion mogul (that's all she's got left) and who is deeply satisfied with how her life turned out to be and how she's ended up being nothing but a footnote in the history of American women's soccer, specially compared to her wife. We know they've had issues for a while, that has been hinted at before, and I can only imagine there must've been a growing resentment/bitterness towards Ali because she gets everything Ashlyn won't in terms of soccer. In fact it seems to me (and maybe it's just me), that she seems to be ferociously resentful to soccer in general, like, suddenly she wants nothing to do with it and wants to pretend like soccer is not a big deal. How many times as she stated quite firmly that she's now happiest she's ever been and acted almost as if soccer was actually holding her back? as if her soccer career is nothing compared with what she has now, when we know it isn't true, because she still feels the need to remind us she's a twice world cup champion all the time?

So from a psychology point of view I think she's very bitter, very hurt, very pissed off, very resentful, that she hasn't processed her forced retirement and her not so good soccer career in a healthy way, and so she has to pretend like she's super happy and better than she was before so as not to look like the failure she feels she is. She has to use social media all the time and brag about the celebrities she's meeting, the trips she's going in... She's got nothing else but to pretend she's still as successful as all her friends she has to constantly see in social media showing off with the accomplishments she wishes she had. It's the classic game of getting depressed comparing yourself to others so you take to social media to constantly pretend you're as good as them or better, we all do it. And she's gone, in my humble opinion, off the rails, she's unrecognaisable, and if she has really had an affair and hurt Ali this big, as rumours have it, then that only strengthens my opinion. Like, I wouldn't be surprised if she's abusing substances again, if she's in some spiral downhill as it looks like. And what's Ali going to do? She can't focus on looking after her, she's got work, she's got two small kids, at this age Ashlyn needs to see she needs help and seek it on her own, not expect Ali to mother her.

That's part of why I really don't like people going on and insulting her left and right, because we really don't know what's going on, but to me it seems like when someone's not well, when someone's spiralling, they start to really go off and the first people to get hurt are those closest to her. And we must remember she is a human being, even if she makes mistakes, even if she does bad things (IF she has), and she doesn't deserve billions of people judging her and making her life miserable. And none of us would like it in our consciences if she actually is struggling with her mental health and gets worse because of generalised mass bullying. She's still Sloane and Ocean's mother, and they probably love her very much, and Ali's probably struggling a lot, so we need to remember supporting one person does not have to mean stooping so low as to have to become horrible bullies. Let's stay human, y'all.

#ashlyn harris #ali krieger

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popawritter12 · 1 month

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Yandere! Lin Kuei clan x Fem! Reader

Author's Notes: GUYS I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY EVERYONE LOVES BI-HAN (Yes, probably because he has terrible tits- BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT). I think that he is bitter from start to finish but IDK there are colors for tastes.

Also, this one-shots is from a Wattpad request

(Don't let my favoritism towards Tomas be noticed jsadhjasfa <;3)

Yandere Characters: Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Tomas Vrbada, (mention of Sektor and Bi-han, Kuai Liang and Tomas's father)

From the video game/manga/anime/series/movie: Mortal Kombat 1 (World of "the new age" as I investigated)

Case: Confinement, forced adoption, unhealthy obsession, extremely strange "family" relationships.

Warnings: NO, SUB-ZERO'S FATHER AND DOES NOT WANT TO FUCK THE PROTAGONIST, HE WAS OBSESSED WITH HAVING HER AS A DAUGHTER (I'll clarify just in case)

Finished: Yes

You still had vague memories of the last time you were free, or the last time you were with your mother. For many nights the question of your mother's whereabouts echoed in your head. However, it wasn't that long before your father's disappearance knocked on your door.

In the middle of the night, a group of warriors from the Lin Kuei clan found your dying father, who only had one last wish; Let the men who found him take care of his little daughter.

He didn't know them, he didn't even know their names, but something in his heart pumped in such a way that it only announced his time, and only "Protect my daughter" came out of his mouth.

He didn't even know why he said it, but in his heart there was only the desire to protect that little girl that he adored so much.

The warriors who were in charge of burying your father had to notify you of your existence, and the existence of a now orphaned girl generated some curiosity in several warriors.

And when the leader of that generation of warriors learned who the man who had died was, he only generated some surprise and anger.

It is there that, after asking the universe so much and mainly asking himself what he should do, he decided to call a clan meeting.

In the midst of all the doubts about why the leader called all the Lin Kuei, there was only one sentence which unleashed the beginning of chaos.

—One of my best friends, one of the people I loved most in my life, died in the hands of some thieves —The man began —, and his daughter, (Name) (Last name), is lost in the middle of the crowd, in "A town not far from here." The man looked up, the crowd realizing the seriousness in his words. His last wish, as the father of a little girl, and of a warrior who once belonged to this clan, is that we take care of his first-born daughter.

All the men and women present noticed that, amidst all the façade of concern for a friend's last will, they noticed that there was a hint of insecurity behind his words. It was a sensation that generated some intrigue as to who this young woman was.

—I strongly request that you investigate her whereabouts, and bring her to be part of the Lin Kuei from now on.

The chaos had begun, and the woman behind the mirror only longed for one thing from the bottom of her soul; May she find an escape from the chaos that was to come.

Even Liu Kang himself had a bad feeling, which heralded a change in the most powerful clan in the entire land. A change which began a breakdown in the clan's principles.

The dawn marked her presence in an imposing manner with its tormenting solar rays, while the crowing of the roosters echoed in all the nearby fields, a harmonious song that seemed to strain their vocal cords just to cause such a noise. And it was a noise that was as annoying as cutting onions.

The glass of the window collided with the first rays of the sun, and the temperature of the room began to rise where the solar lights shine. And just as those lights collided with the fabrics covering the young woman's body, a grunt of protest came from her, her body moving off the mattress, the friction making soft noises throughout the room as she felt the cold of the dark wood against her. the transparent fabrics.

Even with the discomfort of the floor, her heavy, closed eyelids refused to move even an inch, and her muscles only relaxed against the coldness of the wood.

Three soft knocks against the wood sounded from the other side, while the young woman only pressed her face against her wrinkled pillow.

—(Name), Are you awake?

She pretended not to know anything, and her head was cradled against the soft, cotton-filled fabric. Her fingers approached the fabric that covered the rest of her body, and her nails dug against the loom, only dragging to cover a part of her jaw and leave the soles of her feet. in the air.

—(Name), I'm going to pass.

The screech of wood opening and old metal moving invaded the woman's ears, generating a certain tremor in her eardrums. But even then, pr

He continued without separating his eyelids.

The man moved quietly, the softness of his steps at the same time as he tried not to move too much to the bed. The soft aroma of the lavender scented sheets and the sound of the leaves moving to the sound of the wind, gently colliding against the wood of the house. With each step, he just tried to see throughout the room some trace of disorder, but he was all pretty well done to make a complaint.

Since the girl took charge of issuing a complaint when she felt how her only free hand was suppressed against the ground.

The man took several steps back, now giving more firmness to his posture in his final retreat.

—What the hell is wrong with you?!

The brown-haired man's gaze lowered gently, noticing how a figure emerged from the ground, barely lifting his body. A sudden movement of the woman's wrist was heard as more moans came from her lips.

—That hurts… —she whispered with her voice barely high-pitched.

The man noticed the mistake he had made in taking steps, and only gasped angrily, lowering his shoulders along with the tension in his body.

—Are you sleeping on the floor again?!

—Stepping on my hand again, Liang?!

The two exchanged glances after a few seconds, a stinging pain spreading tension and burning through the skin and muscles of her injured limb.

—How many times do I have to tell you that you shouldn't sleep on the floor? —The man in yellowish clothes complained —, it's not healthy, and you leave everything lying around as soon as you get up.

—Yes, yes, yes… Whatever you say —The woman clicked her tongue, —, not even your dad was so complaining about me sleeping on the floor.

The man rolled his eyes, before kneeling on his feet. His gaze was fixed on the injured skin, and the circular movement that (Last Name) exerted with her wrist, trying to keep her body from focusing on the stinging burning in her hand. A somewhat heavy sigh left him, before her hand took his hand, her fingers taking gentle walks over her skin.

—It hurts?

A question so stupid but so loaded with worry that he asked her between nausea and wanting to jizz in her face, but he just shook his head, taking her wrist now. The man, even with his muscular build, allowed himself to be manipulated by the woman's soft movements.

—Yes, you idiot —she joked, before releasing the wrist of the man in front of her —, but I just need an ointment to calm the pain."

The look of doubt on her face didn't leave her grimace, but she just accepted her hasty excuse.

—Why did you come so early? —The woman asked, before taking the pillow and placing it on the mattress again.

Liang wasn't specifically someone who liked to interrupt people, especially her, so the few times he did, it wasn't especially for pleasure.

—Things happened, —he whispered, before moving from her position to get back up. —Can you go to the living room? Tomas wanted to tell you something.

The woman's face scrunched up a little, confused as to why the gray-haired man wanted to talk to her, but she assumed it was some kind of warning or something.

—Alright.

She gave gentle tugs on her muscles before moving her feet to stand up. The woman looked quite overwhelmed by the lights coming from her window, but she just ran her palms across her eyes, her back leaning back solely to stretch her lower back muscles.

It had been some time since the war, and she heard only prattle of the events of the great war that had been fought between this world and others. For some reason, a deja vu passed through (Name)'s mind after hearing what happened during those fights, as if in her soul, she knew something about the events of the war.

However, she just shook her head. The grimace on her face changed to a gentle smile as she greeted some newcomers from the clan, while her rigid body became accustomed to moving around the large place that until that day you dared to call home.

And at one point, she ran into someone particularly well-known, mostly because of her distinctive hair color. She smiled, giving a gentle click of her tongue against her teeth as her steps quickened a little, but maintained a certain stealth.

(Name), being close enough to the man —Particularly a couple of centimeters from his body, or rather her back—, she almost jumped on top of him, wrapping her arms around the edge of the waist of her. A soft gasp came from the man, his body generating some tension as he felt her hands so close to the gray garments, gently squeezing the fabric against his skin.

The man smiled after realizing who had made such a 'deadly attack', and her shoulders released their tension after a few seconds.

—Hello, (Name) —The man greeted.

The woman smiled, before walking away from him.

—How have you been, Tomás? —The woman asked, now located next to him.

—I'm better than I expected, luckily, —he replied, his gaze escaping to rom where he was looking to admire the girl next to him.

The two exchanged words, a conventional conversation typical of two people who had known each other for years that resembled a sibling relationship more than anything else. However, that was the thought the woman had about how they both looked in the eyes of other people.

He told her what the end of the war was like, and the "extra jobs" that both he and his brother did after said event. Even as boring as what he explained to her was, you just nodded silently while he continued talking to her.

But, to (Name)'s surprise, the people that she previously found everywhere around the house began to leave, or rather, began to stop appearing in her circle of vision, but the woman was not very focused.

It wasn't long before they arrived at a vast place full of plants and flowers, the bright colors spread harmoniously throughout the place, with a table in the middle of the grass. From the warmest colors to the coldest and dullest adorned the place, while the metal table and chairs of the same material with a spongy padding on the part where the weight of the body rested.

It was a special place for her, being one of the few outdoor places that she could access without having to ask the grandmaster for permission, and one where she hung out the most with your best clan friends.

When you sat down, Tomas sat next to her, his words pausing for a second as both of them gazed at the soft colors that adorned the garden.

—(Name) —He called you.

—Yeah?

—There's something I've wanted to tell you for a while —the man said, —, it's something I wanted to tell you but I never found the words to say it correctly.

—Well, that's new. —She leans back gently against the chair —, so, tell me.

—It's… complicated, you know? After so long of us being friends.

Her words seemed to take a very obvious direction, but the young woman did not seem very excited, just curious about what her best friend wanted to tell her.

—It sounds like something important, may I know what it is?

But there was no response, and not specifically because Smoke wanted it that way.

—Smoke! —A scream was heard in the distance.

Both of them looked at who called the man near them, turning out to be the young man that you and Smoke had known for a long time, but never as well as Smoke or Bi-Han, or his brother.

—Sector? —Smoke asks, intrigued —what's going on?

He stands up from the chair, moving to stand in front of she. She didn't notice it because she only saw his back, but there was a serious grimace on his face, knowing that a bad event was approaching.

—I need to talk with you.

His brow furrowed, as that feeling in his head that something bad was about to happen grew like a graph rising exponentially. The gray-haired man asked her to go to her room, which confused her, after all, why did she need to get away from someone she knew as well as Sektor?

She shook her head, her eyes closing for a moment before she snapped back to reality, and decided to get up. Obeying the request—although it was more like an order—from her best friend, she couldn't even say goodbye to Sektor, because the tension in the air didn't allow it.

She left the garden, getting away from everything to be able to access her inner thoughts, which you always kept locked in her room. In her face, which was always that of someone carefree, dropped to a thoughtful grimace; It had been several weeks since she stopped seeing Bi-Han, and both Liang and Smoke refused to talk to her about him, dodging your question almost in an Olympic manner.

You shook your head, trying not to go overboard with her thoughts, so as to vent the darkness of her soul on pages full of ink in Morse code. However, when she opened the door, she was surprised that someone was already waiting for her.

With his characteristic bluish clothes accompanied by his hair tied up and a permanently serious face in any situation —which he did not let her see because he had his back to you—, she saw him, the man from whom she heared so much expected even to know his whereabouts.

—"It is then that, by mere self-awareness, I notice that nothing is the same. For a long time I mistakenly thought that they were only kind to me, but inside me, very buried deep in my soul, I knew that the lie was extensive, a which had invaded my life and brought me to a point of no return, now I ask myself, over and over again, what can I do to escape them?"

A noise of piles of pages suddenly colliding with others in a book is heard. It is then that he extends that dusty book into your range of vision, allowing you to see where he had gotten those words from.

—I always figured you weren't as dumb as the former grandmaster led us to believe, —Bi-Han explained, his serious voice sounding surprisingly relaxed —after all, you were going to be my wife one day.

The woman shook her head, her jaw rubbing against her bottom and top teeth.

—My father taught me that I should get a woman who had a lot of intelligence, one who could help me and that I would give her the same help in return —He began his explanation—, and when he picked you up from that house, I thought you were going to be that woman.

He got up from the ground, while (Name) stepped back, but the moment she wanted to open the door and leave, she realized that it was closed, and locked. When trying to push against the door, someone responded by exerting much more pressure against the wood to prevent it from being opened.

—But, I was unpleasantly surprised that he didn't want you for that —The man threw her book on the bed —, he wanted you for himself, he wanted you to be his perfect daughter, the girl who was destined for a life of her own. , or rather, to a life with him.

She shook her head again and again, her gaze dropping to the ground, fixating on the remains of destroyed metal on the ground in front of the window.

—He wanted you for himself, he wanted you to be just his daughter until the end of his life, and that when he died, you would be left alone, taking care of this place as if it were yours —The man gritted his teeth —, and he became obsessed with the idea that you really were his blood daughter.

The woman's heart palpitations were such that it seemed like it was threatening to break the bones in her chest, she felt as if the air did not seem to reach completely into her lungs, as if it had stopped in the middle of the breath. veins of her.

—Kuai Liang and Smoke believed the same thing, that you were destined to give them orders, and they took care of you in a cradle of gold —He continued, now taking slow but forceful steps towards her —, you grew up away from the world, and they taught you what was necessary to that you could do everything from here.

She shook her head, her hands going to her ears, applying pressure, as if she wanted not to hear the reality behind the man's words, however, he took the woman's hands, easily forcing them to stay in her ears. shoulders.

—And Liang and Smoke became obsessed with the idea that you were weak, that you needed protection, that you were destined to lead from this damn room while they risked their lives for you—He press her hands against the wall—but I know better than that. You deserve so much more than that, someone like you needs much more than these four walls.

Her cries of denial echoed through the room, a wish that someone would magically appear and save her from Bi-Han's words. But she knew it was reality, that she couldn't deny the fact that she was like a bird in a cage full of harmless traps to keep it locked there.

—I will give you the life you deserve, and I will not let either of these two interfere in our destiny —He brought her face closer to her neck, pressing gently—. I am not alone, both Sektor and other Lin Kuei know what your destiny is, and they are willing to do everything to make it come true.

The poor woman sobbed, her arms too weak to fight someone as big as him.

But then, an explosion of smoke covered the place, while both of them heard the door being torn out. One arm took hold of her waist, taking hold of her body and stepping back with her in her arms.

—I knew they were up to something, —Liang whispered, before setting her down again —. Don't you understand that this is not right?

Smoke took her into her arms, pressing her face against her neck, while her hands clung to her body.

—You speak as if you know what she wants, —Bi-han replies, leaving the room —. Do you really think that someone like her deserves to be locked up in this place forever?

—Shut up now!.

It was the first time in a long time since she had heard Kuai Liang respond with such aggression, and in fact, she had never heard him speak with such expressions of anger.

—You don't know her, you just made yourself sick with the idea that she deserved to be by your side —Liang says, taking the blade out of his pocket —You already betrayed all of our father's will, what do you think gives you the right to also kidnap our future leader?

It was strange to hear him use that word, being that the idea that she was secretly in charge of keeping the clan alive in the new generations, but now that that idea had become a reality, she just wished it was a lie, an ugly one and horrendous lie.

Smoke walked away from the fight, carrying (Name) in his arms to safety place.

She knew the truth, she knew she had to take a path, one that was always going to be linked to obsession, and a sick feeling of horror invaded her chest at the idea that, wherever she went, it would always be the same.

Sorry if it took me too long, I was working on some headcanons that I had pending on Tumblr, soon there will be more one-shots and headcanons <3

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generallysapphic · 1 year

Text

relax for me, pretty girl +18 (shuri x reader)

shuri needs to relax, again. Bast forbid she actually gets the rest she needs. but you’re her wife, and once more, you’ll make sure she gets what she deserves.

sub shuri my beloved, i’ve been meaning to write about her for so long and i finally CAN! this is the same wife reader from i can take care of you, so reader that one before coming here!

warnings; sub switch shuri x soft dom reader, squirting, multiple orgasms, name calling, pet names, smothering kink, sexual massages, strap on sex, tribbing, sex toy usage, married love making, bottom!shuri!!!!

DT: @inmyheadimobsessed @verachii @rxcently @zayswriting

tag list and enjoy! @heartsforjojo @ogbells16 @shuriszn @marsolgy @shinsousliya @6-noir @k3nn3dyxo @someshuriposts @c0cac0laguns @zhanylai @shuriislut @yamsthoughts @itzmy @sapphic-blak-diam0nd @randomhoex @sokkasbae255 @playgurlxoxo @shurismainbxtch @dejaonline @vampzxi @titiaswife @ventingfanfics @prinxeali

translations: ndisondele kakhulu: i’m so close |uziva ulungile: you feel good | uyizuzile: you’ve earned it |

you can hear shuri’s groans of frustration from the lab before you even enter it. after your beautiful week of relaxation and love making, it was back to business as usual. and even though she took her health and her needs more seriously, after a couple of months shuri was back to her old ways— crowding herself in her work, coming to bed late, and taking up long missions with no break.

it saddened you; you knew why she was throwing herself in her work, she wanted a distraction from the year anniversary of her family’s deaths, but she was not well, dark circles under her eyes again, small cuts around her lips because she had been biting at them too hard, her posture was ruined— your poor wife was just so exhausted.

you knew another week of relaxing wouldn’t do much, this way of living was embedded into shuri’s core, and it wouldn’t do anything if she had another week off except relax her for a moment, then she’d be right back to square one. so you had developed a plan.

you would reward her tonight. for all her hard work and dedication, you’d make her relax.

you were going to take charge tonight.

you felt your cheeks heat up at the thought of it; you had always followed shuri when it came to your sex life. she was more than happy to guide you, take control and lead you both in euphoric ways, but tonight you wanted her entire mind, heart, and body to relax, and you knew the only way to do so was to take complete control tonight.

you knock softly on the doors and push them open, griot announcing your presence, “panther, your wife has arrived.”

you walk around the corner, hearing her grumble a soft response and see shuri, hunched over and working diligently on another suit for okoye. you smile, “what improvements could the midnight angel herself require?” and you see shuri smirk a bit, goggles reflecting the suit, “okoye says she’s ‘too hot’ in the suit, im adding perspiratory outlets to release her sweat and make it cool,” and you both share a giggle.

you come behind her, hugging her and leaning on her shoulders, snaking your hands against her abs, “you look so sexy, you know,” you whisper, kissing her neck and ear. she sways her shoulders, not pushing you off but startled by the contact. okay, good, you wanted to get her a little bothered. “and you smell so good,” you practically moan in her neck and she sighs, “my love, i— i need to work,” she whispers back, turning her neck to give you more room to kiss.

you take the opportunity, sucking and kissing at her neck and you can see her hands lower slowly, “i know, baby, but you taste so good,” you moan back, pushing up her shirt and feeling on her skin, and rubbing all over her and she completely gives in, sighing and moving her neck to the side and giving you complete access. you kiss her feverishly, sucking and nipping at the skin there and moving your hands farther and farther up until you smooth over her bra and fiddle with the lace there.

and shuri becomes silent wit just small huffs of air leaving her mouth, and when you open your eyes you can see her furrowed eyebrows and closed eyes and it makes you smile. it wasn’t rare for you to take charge like this, encouraging her to leave her lab and give you some attention and you were sure she’d soon try to take over and begin to lead like she always does but you hold her there until she’s huffing impatiently, moving her hands to hold yours under her shirt and moving to stand. you pull away, the skin wet and making a small noise once you leave her, “hey, shuri, calm down,” you whisper and kiss her ear.

she chuckles a bit, “oh so you weren’t trying to get me all riled up just then?” and you giggle with her, moving in front of her and sitting down on her lap, holding her chin and licking your lips. shuri looks gorgeous like this, mouth parted and lips wet with those blown eyes you’ve seen in the bedroom far too often. “no, my love, i was, i just.. i have a suggestion, okay?” and shuri’s interests are peaked, her holding onto your hips with her steady hands and leaning forward encouraging you to continue.

you exhale, okay, “i wanted to… be in control tonight. like yknow how you always tell me what to do and i follow? i wanted to do it, this time,” you say slowly and wait to see a reaction on shuri’s face, but she waits a bit, the corners of her mouth poking up and her eyes closing a bit. you hear a small giggle before she open them again, smiling at you, “okay,”

your eyes bulge for a second, “‘okay’? really, you’re okay with that?” you double check and shuri nods, pulling you close, “yeah i’m okay with it, usana, i think it’ll be fun, hmm?” you smile shyly, and nod, “i think so too,” you say and lean forward, finally kissing her mouth and wrapping your arms around her neck. shuri sighs against you, ranking her own hands up your shirt and you smile and pull away, “first rule, only touch me when i say. remove your hands, lovely,”

shuri scoffs, “i didn’t know we were doing rules,” she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes and taking her hands from your skin, letting them rest on your thighs and you speak again, “and rule two is watch that mouth, i want to make you to feel good, not punish you,” you say, standing and you watch shuri’s mouth quirk up, “i doubt you could come up with a punishment i can’t handle,”

you shrug, taking her hand and leading her away from the lab table, “maybe. so for tonight, just listen to me and be good, okay pretty girl?” you ask looking directly into her eyes knowing the nickname does things to her. you see shuri swallow a bit, nodding and speaking breathlessly, “yeah, yes. okay, i’ll be good,”

and you smile, knowing she’s putty in your hands.

if there’s anything you know to be true about your wife is that she loves making you feel good and she love when you wear lingerie. and luckily the latter was already in motion.

you had on your newest set, unbeknownst to shuri who sat patiently in the bedroom. it was beautiful two piece, the lace dress was loose and frilly and damn near see through, your nipples exposed and hard from the cold air and your ass was nearly uncovered, the panties weren’t doing much but adding a cute floral pattern to your melanated skin. but, you loved it and you knew shuri would too. you spin around once more in the mirror and put on some more lipgloss before nodding to your reflection, a silent but firm you got this.

you tried to force all your nerves away as you opened the door, peaking, “are your eyes still closed?” and you hear shuri laugh a bit, some subtle shuffling, “yes, baby, they’re closed,” and you exhale slowly, walking out and seeing shuri sat exactly where you left her on your shared bed, still covering her eyes. you smile, “okay, go ahead,” and shuri’s more than eager to take her hands away.

“fuck,” she mutters lowly, looking you up and down and licking her lips. you nearly give in with that look, wanting her to take you and ravish you like she always does but you stay strong and harp it up a bit. you turn and show just the side of your butt, “you like it? i bought it a while ago, never knew i’d wear it, honestly,” you tease and shuri laughs absentmindedly, clearly not paying your words any mind. you can see her hands fiddling with the sheets, clearing wanting to touch you and it makes you smile, “you wanna touch me baby?” and shuri’s eyes meet yours, her clearly not listening until you said that and she licks her lips and nods, “yes,” comes the breathless whisper and you shudder yourself, you didn’t know you’d be that into this— shuri at your beck and call, hungry and waiting.

you lick your own lips and move closer to her, swaying your hips and moving your arms around her neck, “ask me,” you whisper back and she exhales, eyes still holding yours, “please, can i touch you, my love?”

you giggle a bit, surprised at her blatant desperation and nod, “yes, my love, go ahead,” and she smiles back, wrapping her hands around your waist and squeezing the skin of you butt, pulling you closer and kissing at your stomach through the lace. you feel her fingers slide through your panties, moving the fabric around and touching your lips, her cold hands touching the warm slick there and you both let out a breathless moan, you surprised by the contact.

she keeps her fingers there, kissing your stomach and keeping your lips apart with her other hand and she starts to enter you. your eyes close, you want to give in but you don’t, you hold on to her arm, “uh uh, take— take them out, love, not yet,” you stutter out and shuri groans, removing them, and placing her hands at her sides. you look down at her through your lashes and sigh, kissing her forward, “i know you want to please me, baby, but tonight’s about you, okay?” she nods, so clearly wanting to be good. you kiss her nose and place your hands on her shoulders, adding pressure, “lean back for me, okay love?” and shuri nods, shy but obedient and you can feel yourself leak at this vulnerable side of her.

she’s all on the way on the sheets, and you climb on top of her, smoothing over her legs and coming to her chest and kissing there. “my pretty girl,” you mumble into her skin and she smiles and sighs, leaning all the way back now, head against the pillows. you feel her breasts in your hands, moving the skin around in your fingers until you reach her nipples, mouth suckling on one and your fingers squeezing the other. shuri’s breath picks up and you hear small moans leave her, hands finding the sheets. you suck the skin there for a few moments, until both of her nipples are hard, wet and puffy and you smile at the sight, deciding to move downward.

you kiss down to her navel and she chuckles a bit and you smile, “ticklish, love?” you whisper out and look up at her. shuri’s on her elbows now, eyes glossed over and clearly infatuated with the sight of you pleasuring her and the look she has in her eyes has your mind spinning. she nods at your question and you nod back, getting back until you reach her boxers, a dark, wet spot greeting you there. you lick your lips, sliding your hands against her thighs and coming up between the clothing there. you call her softly, “shuri,” you whisper in between her legs and she hums back, eyes twisted shut and not looking. you kiss her thighs, “look at me love,” and she opens her eyes, eyebrows furrowed, “keep your eyes on me, okay, intombi entle?” she moans at your xhosa and nods, eyes still holding yours.

you smile against her skin, sliding her boxers down and her beautiful pussy comes to view, a line of slick still connecting it to her boxers as they slide down her legs. she huffs at the contact, the cold air flowing on her clit and you shush her, smoothing your hands over her thighs and kissing the kiss there, actively avoiding her heat. shuri’s hips buck, clearly wanting your attention elsewhere and it makes you smile. shuri’s so rarely this desperate but you’re also so rarely this cruel— usually you give into shuri completely and fully, moving the way she wants and giving into her entirely.

you kiss more and more at the skin around her pussy but never getting too close to her lips, not even close to her clit. she huffs, “you’re being mean,” she whispers out, still holding your eyes once you look up. you nod, “i know i am, watch your mouth,” you mumble back, sucking on her thighs and she whispers again, “please, please ikumkani wam, i need you, please,” comes the breathless response and you shudder yourself, grinding down on the sheets below to give your own clit some friction.

you pull away from her thighs, looking up at her, “ask me, shuri. i have no idea what you want, love,” and she leans her head back and groan, her gorgeous throat in view. you make a reminder in your head to bite her there more often. she leans back and finds your eyes, frustration clear on her face, “please, my love, please eat my pussy, i need your mouth on me, on my clit,”

you lick your lips to hold down the gasp that was bound to escape you. so explicit, you think and nod, “of course, my sweet girl,” before you get caught up in what she said. you lean forward, sighing at the sight of her pussy, leaking and gushing all for you and from your teasing. you smile, rubbing a finger through her slit and separating her lips, shuri moans loud and unashamed, leaning her head back once more. one of her hands comes to her chest, playing with her puffy nipples and you moan at the sight. you lean forward and suck a kiss on her clit, the nub twitching in your mouth and her pussy leaking around your chin.

shuri moans louder, and you look up and see her closed her eyes, her bottom lip between her teeth and her hand working diligently against her chest. you pull away from her clit and she groans, “eyes on me, shuri,” you reemphasize and she moans and nods, opening her tightly shut eyes and you get back to her clit, sucking and holding her shaking thighs open with your hands. shuri holds your gaze, moaning and sighing, trying so hand to keep her eyes open.

you love the taste of shuri on your tongue, her pussy leaking on your chin and her hole squeezing around nothing. you flatten your tongue when you feel her hips move, obviously needing more. you move one hand from her thighs, sliding your fingers between her lips and pushing inside. “oh, fuck, y/n,” shuri calls in a hushed tone and you hum around her clit, the vibrations sending another slew a moans from her.

you push another finger inside and move them in and out slowly, still sucking on her clit softly and she bucks, “please, please, i need— mhmm, need more,” she all but begs and you moan yourself, grinding more aggressively on your sheets to alleviate the pressure on your clit. you listen to her, thrusting your fingers harder and harder and deeper into her until— “uhhh, right there, please, please—!” and she sounds so lovely, her moans all the way deep in her chest, her fingers squeezing the sheets.

you hold yourself there, pulling away from her clit and speaking, “tell me how it feels,” you say, your voice sounding so different than what you’re used to. shuri hears it too, fluttering her eyes a bit, and then opening them and responding, “feels good, feels so good. you’re so good,” and you nod, angling your fingers deeper and you see her eyes roll back, your rule of keeping hers on you leaving you because you can tell she’s about to cum.

you breathe, “you gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” and she’s nodding, bucking her pussy against your hand and you nod back, even though she can’t see you, and you put your mouth back on her clit, sucking at the bud and you feel it jump in your mouth, twitching along with shuri who moans louder, “i— i’m cumming, fuck, i’m so close, please don’t stop, cumming—!”

and you feel it; her pussy squeezes around your fingers, gushing out more cum as her clit pulses around your lips and you moan at the feeling, not relenting much like she does you, and you hear her moans become high pitched sighs as she gets more and more overstimulated. you pull away after you feel her thighs squeezing together. her pussy looks beautiful, milky white and pulsing. you sigh, running your fingers through her cum. shuri sigh, and leans back, shuddering as you play with her.

you smile once you get a good look at her, one forearm is coving her eyes the other still in the sheets to calm her down, thigh still twitching and shaking. you lean down and kiss her legs, “you alright, my dear?” and she chuckles a bit, nodding, “yes, i’m okay, shit,” she curses and you laugh, getting up and sitting next to her face, looking down.

you smile once she moves her forearm and looks at you, “you did wonderfully my love,” you praise her and she smiles, a bit shy and she leans up, “can i kiss you?” she asks, sweetly and you blush and nod, leaning down and capturing her lips. shuri’s so sweet like this, so pliant and loving, not like she hasn’t been this way before but it’s a whole new side of her entirely and it makes you flush inside.

shuri leans up more and deepens the kiss, more than eager to please you and you can feel it. she anxious, her hands moving to touch you but then remaining obedient and placid. you smile as you watch her and pull away, “you want to touch me, shuri? make me feel good?” you tease and she nods, biting her lip and holding eye contact. her hands are still moving, she’s so needy and it’s making you pulse in your underwear. you lean down and kiss her again, speaking against her lips, “what do you to do, hmm? tell me, baby,”

shuri huffs, obviously upset she still can’t touch you, “wanna make you cum, i want your pussy in my mouth,” she says desperately and you giggle, “you want me to sit on your face?” and youre mostly joking to see her reaction and you do— shuri’s pupils nearly explode behind her hooded eyelids and you can see the breath that catches in her throat. she nods but you shake your head. you lick your lips and double down, “ask me, pretty girl, say it,”

she’s immediate, “please, sit on my face my love, smother me,” she gasps out and you have to keep your cool but shuri’s driving you crazy. you want to give in and completely fall over, drop your dominant facade and let her take control but instead you nod, trying to remain calm on the outside but your stomach is swirling and your positive your underwear have been ruined. you move to straddle her stomach, shuri watching you all the way with hungry eyes.

you rub yourself on her abdomen, her muscles flexing against your pussy, “you feel me love?” and she nods, watching you mesmerized, “be a good girl and don’t touch okay?” you ask once you lift your hips, leaving a damp post of slick on her abs and she nods, looking between your pussy and her own. you slide your own underwear off and shove them somewhere, your pussy hovering right above shuri’s face.

you lick your lips and hold steady on the head board, “tap twice if it gets too much okay, baby?” and shuri nods, she barely heard you and you chuckle once more before finally lowering down on her mouth.

shuri slurps you up quickly, her jaw working diligently and aggressively against you and the sudden contact makes you moan aloud and unashamed. you sigh through your nose once your feel her mouth on your clit, sucking and licking and it causes your hips to rise up, alleviating some of the pressure. shuri’s not having it apparently, and she uses her hands to lower you back down, grabbing desperately at your butt and using her strength to hold you there.

you gasp, eyes wet with tears and mouth drooling, “shuri— shuri, i said— haaa! i said no handsssss ugghffuckk,” but it’s useless, she’s holding you taught and you can’t help but rut your hips against her mouth, your juices flowing all the way down her chin and neck and you can hear yourself being worked on through her mouth. she holds you open with her experienced hands, working her index finger in your core and adding more pressure. you whine, hand squeezing the headboard and the other ripping up the sheets. your noises could be heard all throughout the castle.

your orgasm approaches fast, faster than you wanted and it makes you groan, hips grinding against her on their own accord as you chase your release. shuri must feel it too, she hums against your clit and the vibrations make you moan and gasp her name, “shuri, shuri ndisondele kakhulu,” you sigh and shuri pays you no mind, still working and flexing against you.

you sigh out, head lolled back, “i’m cumming, aahhgg fuck, fuck, shuri shuri i’m cumming—!” and you can’t hold it, you cum all over her mouth, squirting against her chin and your clit pulses between her lips. you feel lightheaded as you come down but shuri doesn’t stop, still sucking and preening on you and it makes you dizzy, soft squeals leaving your mouth and you can’t leave with her hands still around your thighs and you squeal, “p-peach!” and she hears that, letting go of your skin and you move away from her mouth, gasping and falling over on the other side of the bed, your chest heaving and you can hear shuri trying to collect her breath as well.

you let out shaking breaths and try to sit up and collect yourself, “i.. i said no touching, shuri,” you mumble out and you know you don’t sound nearly as tough as you want and you can see it in shuri’s face once she turns to you, she’s not taking you any more seriously than you are yourself. “i know. i’m sorry,” she whispers, lips still wet but you don’t believe her. once you’ve stopped spinning you sit up and look at her, “oh, you will be sorry my love. don’t cum for the rest of the night,” you let out harshly, stepping down from the bed and walking around it, wobbling only slightly.

shuri leans up and watches you, smiling slightly, “i can with hold an orgasms for weeks, my love, this isn’t much of a punishment,” she chuckles to herself and you’re not looking at her, only grabbing the toys you wanted from the closet. “oh i know dear, that’s why i’ll be using these tonight,” you say turning around and shuri can’t see what you’re holding from afar but she understands your tone. you can see a bit of her smile fade away and she leans down on her forearms. you walk over to her and lean over, laying out all the toys on the bed, “lie down and be still,” you instruct and shuri holds your gaze before following suit, leaning all the way back on the bed.

you take out the massage oil, so much still left from the last time you both used it. shuri had made this aphrodisiac-esque massage oil that you both had used maybe once; it was extremely effective, she had only used it on you and you had cum and squirted 7 times with one toy and her fingers alone. now you wanted to see if she could do the same. you dropped some on your hands and looked at her as you spread it around your fingers, “don’t cum, okay ikumkani wam? can you be good?”

shuri watches you with intense eyes and nods, but you shake your head back, “shuri, i need you to say it, you know that,” and she sighs, “yes i’ll be good,” and you nod, leaning down to kiss her head. your hands are oiled as much as you want and you dig through the bag again, pulling out two vibrators, showing shuri her options. “which one, love?” she looks between them, sighing, “the blue, please,”

you nod, handing it to her and straddling her and moving to her other side, cutting on the vibrator yourself, guiding her hand to love it on her clit. shuri huffs, eyes sliding shut and you giggle, lifting up and rubbing the oil on her chest, spreading the liquid all over her already sensitive nipples. her mouth hangs open and you can tell her nipples have already become damn near inflamed with ecstasy, her aphrodisiac working within seconds.

you coo, “oh you’re so pretty shuri,” you praise her, kissing her cheeks and she moans at the contact, “so pretty for me, huh, mami? am i making you feel good?” and shuri moans, nodding and you see her legs twitch, her hands stuttering and moving away from her clit but you lower them back down, shushing her whiny moans, “mhmm, i know my love, i know.. but you look so gorgeous like this,” you reemphasize, squeezing her nipples through your fingers and shuri’s back arches, “shit! oh my love, please, please, you’re being cruel—!” she whines out and you fake hurt, twisting at the skin more.

you lean down and slap right against her clit with your hand, right below the vibe and she jumps and moans. “watch. your fucking mouth, shuri,” you curse at her and she moans, eyes still tightly screwed shut and she whines, “i’m— i’m, im sorry please please, make me cum, i need it,” she moans out and you moan with her, moving away from her chest and pushing two of your fingers inside her, opening her legs up with the other hand, the contact making shuri buck against you and squeal.

shuri’s pussy instantly reacts to you, squeezing around you and accepting your fingers with ease, “such a filthy girl, taking my fingers so well,” you mock and shuri’s head is tilted back, hand shaking and thighs threatening to close but you hold them open, “keep your legs still, baby, be good,” you reemphasize and shuri whines, shaking her head slightly and you gape at her, “no? are you telling me no?” you ask, thrusting in her much harder, curling your fingers and pressing right against her g-spot.

shuri screams, “please! oh Bast, i’m cumming, i’m cumming, y/n, please let me cum—!” and you speak over her begging, “no. you haven’t earned it,” you hear her wet gasps, her pussy is starting to flex around you and you think she might cum anyway. shuri babbles more, mouth drooling, “please, please please, i’m so close, i’ll be good, i promise, my love, i promise!” and she sounds so pathetic, it makes your pussy pulse a bit, and you realize you hadn’t cum again and shuri was inches away.

you sigh and taking your fingers out of your wife, moving her hand holding the vibe from her clit and straddling her instead, rubbing her clit against yours and you both let out long, drawn out moans once the contact and friction start. shuri twists and watches you with wet eyes, you start rutting against her, your wet skin kissing hers.

you moan and pick up your thrusts to get to where she is, “when i cum,” you pant out and lean down to her mouth, “you can, too, okay?” and shuri nods, squeezing the sheets and being good and not touching you. you see her eyes close and her eyebrows furrow, mouth hanging open and tits jumping with every one of your thrusts. you whine at the sight and you can’t help but feel selfish, “shuri, shuri, touch me, mami, touch me,” you moan out and she opens her eyes and nods, leaning up and capturing your mouth and you wrap your arms around her, she does the same and holds your hips steady playing with the skin there. you kiss her greedy and sloppy, like she’s your only life line.

your pussy fits perfectly into shuri’s, you’ve found. when you move together her clit perfectly shapes yours and to say it’s an addiction is an understatement. you feel your body ascend, damn near, as your orgasm slips against your skin and you can feel shuri bucking and moaning in your mouth, obviously so close herself. your clawing at her back when you finally release her mouth, “oh, shuri, i’m so close, i’m so—unnffff— cum with me, please cum with me baby,” and she nods, head in your shoulder and you can feel her shaking against you.

shuri squeals, “i’m— i’m cumming, can i? oh my love, please, please can i cum for you?” and it’s her last question that has you twisting and moaning, a loud squeal leaving your chest as you squirt against shuri’s pussy, and she moans in tandem, cumming right behind you and your both holding on to each other, thighs shaking and bodies still moving against the other.

you finish first, your head spinning while shuri follows suit, gripping at your hips and holding you close as you both come down. you whine, grabbing desperately at her coils and pulling her into a wet kiss, the both of you falling back onto the bed, limb entangled and pussies still wet and twitching. but you’re not quite satisfied, you wanted just one more thing.

you lean up first, kissing against her tired face and moving slightly. she huffs in disappointment, not wanting to let you go just yet. “shuri,” you call softly and she mumbles to acknowledge you, but you need her eyes, her full attention. you call her again and she opens her eyes, looking fucked out and exhausted. you exhale, “i wanna fuck you, okay? can i?” and shuri sighs, head falling back and she nods, before correcting herself, “yes, please fuck me love, i want to be good,” she whispers and you smile, leaning up to kiss her chin, rubbing up and down her sides, “you’ve been so good, darling, keep talking okay?” and she nods, letting you go once you begin to pull away from her.

you reach for the bag of toys you had left on the side of the bed and gather yourself to put on your strap. you’ve fucked shuri maybe about three or four times, it’s rare and it’s extremely vulnerable for shuri so you take your time with her and never pressure it out of her. you kiss at her hands once you’re all ready to go, grabbing some lube while you do so. you look her in the eyes, “you’ve been so good, my love, so cum as much as you want okay? uyizuzile,” you tell her sweetly and she smiles and nods, holding on to your hand and bringing it down to kiss it.

you adjust yourself against her, sliding the strap against the cum settling on her pussy and she shudders, her head falling back against the pillows and you smile, proud of yourself for taking care of shuri so well. you push forward once you’ve done enough teasing and shuri gasps, thighs twisting and her hands finding the sheets as you move inside her.

you slide in and out of her with ease, pressing on her abdomen and giving her the pressure on her cervix she’s addicted to. shuri groans, eyes rolling to the back of her head as her back arches and her hands rip at the sheets. you sigh and moan at the sight of her, talking her through it, “does it feel good, my love? tell me, please, let me hear you,”

she moans louder, assuming you found her g-spot once more and she nods, “yes, yes, oh— my love, uziva ulungile, so good,” she says back sweetly, bringing on hand to her chest and playing her nipples. you smile and swat her hand away, squeezing the skin there with your own fingers, and shuri takes it, moaning and biting at her lip.

but you know shuri, you know she needs more as soon as she starts to whine and move her hips more and more. you sigh and lean down, kissing her, holding one of her hands against the sheets, “you need more, my love?” and shuri nods, coils stuck to her forehead because of her sweat. you speak again, the rutting of the boxer against your clit making you moan against her mouth, “what do you need, sthandwa, tell me and i’ll give it to you, i promise,”

she whines back, “t-touch me, touch me here,” and she guides your hand to her clit and you sigh when she does, rubbing the bud in sweet, achingly slow circles. shuri groans, “h-harder, please my love, harder, i can take it,” and you feel your own hips stutter, her voice making your body jump and you sigh, nodding, “such a good girl telling me what you want,” and you lean back up, moving her thighs to thrust harder and deeper, keeping the hand on her clit in tandem with your thrusts.

shuri squeals, nodding and grabbing at the sheets again, “oh, my love, just like that! don’t stop please, please!” and your own eyes roll back at the sound of her, the black panther herself giving into you so easily. you speak, “look at you darling, taking me so well, aren’t you such a good girl?” and shuri whines, the pressure proving too much for her but she still talks back, “i’m— oh, fuck! i’m your good girl, y/n all yours, all for you, right there, please please please—!” and you nod, kissing at the skin on her legs and adding more pressure to her clit, her gasps making you smile.

you feel her pussy squeeze around you and her legs begin to close in on yours and you rub against them, teasing, “cumming already darling?” and she nods, eyes leaking and mouth huffing. you don’t let up though, “cum for me shuri, be my good girl and cum for me, let me see,” you whine against her and she shakes, listening to you wholeheartedly and yelling your name once more then cumming hard, her pussy practically shaking and squirting some. she moans, loud and long, twitching against you and you watch in genuine awe of her.

you slow your thrusts but keep your fingers working against her clit, until she sobbing and shaking, her hands against yours and silently asking you to stop. you pull out slowly, letting shuri calm down and see the thick ring of cum covering the base of the strap and smile. you sigh and catch your own breath before sliding out of the boxers and tending to shuri, coming to her side and kissing her everywhere you could softly, whispering praises, “such a good girl, shuri, did so good for me, mami, breathe, breathe,” and shuri whimpers as her mind calms down, sighing and holding onto you as closely as possible.

shuri takes a moment before she opens her eyes again and you look at her and smile, “hi, love,” and she laughs a bit, still breathless, “i can’t feel my legs,” and you laugh back, kissing her arms and then her face, “then i did well,” and shuri smiles, pulling you down for a real kiss, moving her lips deeply into yours and keeping you there.

you pull away first, mostly to check in, “are you okay though, my love? it wasn’t too much was it?” and shuri shakes her head, smiling, “it was excellent, darling you were great. and thank you, i… i think i really needed it,” she admits and you smile back at her, kissing her nose, “i know, pretty girl.”

the next morning, shuri’s struggling to keep her balance once she’s back in the lab. many of the scientists are worried about her, coming to her aid and offering stools for her to sit in and she always refuses, saying she’s fine and that she’s just pulled something.

when you walk in with okoye later that morning, shuri’s face gives it all away and no one offers her anymore aid that rest of the day. you giggle and okoye rolls her eyes, “when will you learn some decency for the rest of us poor souls?” and you laugh harder, shoving her a bit and shuri turns to her, “i don’t have to fix your suit i hope you know! i’m only being kind because i have to!”

and okoye is turning to leave, sighing out, “oh i know! don’t fix it, have aneka sweat in those things alone!” and shuri rolls her eyes. you walk up to her, hugging her side, smiling hard, “i can’t believe i have you walking funny, how the tables turn, huh?” and she gapes at you while you laugh, shoving you playfully and kissing you to quiet your boosting.

bottom shuri my beloved, i will keep you in my heart forever and always 💕💕💕💕 (also i wanted this to be longer but i’ll just have to make a different story entirely and that’s okay!)

and again special thank u to @inmyheadimobsessed for giving me this information that i will use forever! bottom!shuri truthers rise!!

and as always reblogs, likes, and replies are always appreciated !! thank u guys sm mwah mwah love!

#shuri x reader #shuri udaku x reader #shuri smut #sub shuri my beloved #sub!shuri #sub!shuri x reader #bottom! shuri #bottom!shuri x reader #deijah wrote #my story

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cooliestghouliest · 3 months

Text

LOVE ME TWO TIMES, ch. two

(chapter one) (chapter two)

PAIRING: eventual Mungrove x Reader

SUMMARY: Struggling to come to terms with the abrupt abandonment of your father, you’re left with two options – attend an “all girls’ therapeutic boarding academy” that’s really more Bedlam Insane Asylum than trusty reformative school, or move half-way across the country to a small town in Indiana to live with your older brother, Rick. The upheaval of your life in Fresno might just end up being a little star-crossed and a whole lot serendipitous.

WORD COUNT: 8.7k+

SERIES TAGS: angst. some pretty heavy topics in later chapters. just enough fluff to hopefully balance it all out. eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI). not a slow burn; it’s pretty hot and heavy right off the bat. eventual love triangle. neurodiversity. dom/sub undertones (dom!Billy, switch!Eddie, switch!Reader), also bi!Eddie and bi!Reader but confused!Billy. drugs and drug addiction. no use of Y/N (but much use of nicknames and pet names). Reefer Rick is Matthew Lillard circa Senseless. more TBA as the story progresses.

CHAPTER TAGS: unexpected tears. some woeful reminiscing. wisecracking siblings. how Rick and Eddie met. flirting in front of a moody bartender. Eddie has a penchant for being self-deprecating but he tries to be funny about it. oversharing. dehydrated!Eddie 😉 (there’s a tease of f!rec oral here). even more cockblocking. a tinge of tension at the end.

TAG LIST: @babybatlover

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chapter title: Nobody, That’s My Name

Packing up had actually taken three hours, mostly because you were so undecided on what to bring.

Your stomach was in knots with the realization that you’d have to leave some things behind. You wished you could just transport your entire room as it was to Hawkins.

This had been your sacred space since childhood. You were only two when your family made the move from Chicago to Fresno, so this house was really all you’d ever had memories of.

Your room had grown up and changed alongside you, a non-sentient appendage and an outward expression of every new trend and month-long hobby you’d picked up along the way.

“Bean, you good?” Rick’s voice called out from the other side of your closed door.

You’d been seated on your bed — it could have been for a few minutes or half an hour, you weren’t sure. You hadn’t noticed the wet line that rimmed your bottom lashes until you turned to look at your brother as he stepped inside your room. When you blinked, a tear broke free and rolled down your cheek.

“My face that ugly? You gotta cry when you look at me?”

You choked out a laugh, bringing a hand up to wipe your eyes dry. Leave it to Rick to try and lighten the mood. It’s what he’d been doing his whole life – never taking anything too seriously, refusing to get hung up on any emotion other than those aligned with happy hedonism.

You’d always wondered if there was a secret storm that raged somewhere deep inside of him.

“All my stuff isn't gonna fit inside your stupid van,” you said, not bothering to explain further.

You didn’t need to. Rick could read between the lines.

This was going to be the first time you’d left the only home you’d ever known for longer than a sleepover at a friend’s house.

The residence itself would never win any awards for being the greatest of places, but your bedroom, on the other hand — that had a surefire shot.

It was here where your dad had first read you the The Hobbit, the precursor to your love of fantastical tales.

It was here on the floor where you made your first prank call with Cynthia Toomey, your childhood best friend. It was to a teacher whose number had been written on a stall in the girl’s bathroom. It didn’t strike you as odd then why a twelve-year-old would know a much older male teacher’s phone number, but after the man had gotten arrested a few years back for soliciting a minor at a park, it all started to make sense.

It was here where you’d heard Janis Joplin for the first time, a record Rick had mailed you for your fourteenth birthday. Her deep crooning voice scratched at parts of your soul you didn’t even know were itchy.

It was here where you’d first taught yourself how to sew a patch onto your backpack; where you’d first tried on the lipstick and eyeshadow you’d stolen from the vanity in your parent's bedroom, something that resulted in a week's worth of extra chores (according to your mother, it was to teach you "the consequences of petty theft" or whatever); where you’d first experimented with a girl while watching Happy Days, soft tongues and even softer fingers exploring every inch of uncovered skin as Fonzie’s signature “Ayyyy’s” mixed with her breathy moans and your rapid heartbeat.

“I didn’t think I’d care that much about leaving,” you admitted, voice shakier than you’d hoped it would be.

Rick watched you from the doorframe, giving a knowing smile in an attempt to mollify you. “Y’know, you might not believe it, but I couldn’t sleep the first three nights after I left. Kept thinkin’ about how much I missed my bed and the noise the air conditioner made that I used to think I hated.” He quieted momentarily, observing his surroundings. Overflowing plastic bags and opened suitcases stuffed full of clothes, books, vinyls, and random knickknacks were scattered across the floor. “It’s still home, even if we never really wanted it to be.”

Rick walked over to one of the cases. He bent down to zip it up, having to put a foot on the grip to shut it enough so it closed completely. “But you’re gonna make a fuck ton more memories in Hawkins, Bean,” he pledged, grabbing the handle and pulling it towards the door. “We are. Okay?”

You chewed your lower lip and allowed yourself a few more moments of wallowing before heaving a sigh, slapping your thighs with the palms of your hands as you stood.

“Okay. You sap.” You snatched as many full plastic bags off the ground as you could. “The first memory’s gonna be about how much weaker you are compared to me.” You looked down at the single heavy suitcase he was carrying, scoffing lightheartedly. “Only one, Richard? Really? You have another hand. Use it.”

And he did, by bringing his free one up to flip you the bird.

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Although your brother had a spacious purple-painted 1970 Ford Econoline the pair of you could have comfortably slept in, the back of the vehicle was currently filled to the brim with all of your luggage.

Any time the side door had to be slid open for whatever reason, an ample amount of contents came pouring out.

One of your "haunted-as-shit dolls," affectionately dubbed by Rick, had fallen victim to the concrete ground outside of a gas station in Colorado. Its glass eye had popped out and shattered, its arms detaching from its tiny body. You’d gasped in horror at the doll’s demise, smacking Rick on his chest for being so careless.

It was safe to say neither one of you were going to be getting anything from the back of the van until you’d made it to Hawkins to unpack, or else Rick would be forced to face your wrath.

Your possessions were prized, goddammit.

So, one motel stay and thirty-two hours after leaving the WELCOME TO FRESNO sign behind, Rick finally pulled into the driveway of his boathouse.

The orange neon lighting of the van’s dashboard clock read 10:13AM.

You’d been soundlessly sleeping for the last hour of the car ride, having dozed off shortly after Rick had put in a Talking Heads cassette, the G Major melody of This Must Be the Place lulling you into a dreamless nap.

Rick suddenly had the brilliant big brother idea to grant himself the honor of becoming your own personal wake-up alarm.

Putting the car in park, he switched the Talking Heads cassette out for Bad Religion’s How Could Hell Be Any Worse? He skipped to a track titled In the Night, cranked the volume to the max, and started to head-bang and sing along wildly off-key.

You startled awake immediately, arms flailing at nothing as you tried to rapidly blink your eyes open.

When you found Rick performing his solo concert, way too committed to the bit, you refused to laugh at the sight, even if it was your gut reaction. The last thing you wanted to do was encourage him. “Noooo, is this what you’re gonna be like the whole time?” you instead asked with faux abrasiveness, speaking loud enough to be heard over the music.

Rick grinned wide, never faltering in his seated moshing, not until the song came to an abrupt end a few seconds later, when you’d finally had enough and reached a hand over to eject the tape.

“I didn’t want you to have an aneurysm,” you told him plainly with a shrug, in response to his offended look. “I could hear your little brain rattling around up there in that thick skull. I got worried.”

Rick shot a hand up to cover his heart, as if he’d been stabbed. “You wound me, little sister. Deeply and completely.”

He pulled the keys from the ignition and stepped outside, hurrying to the passenger side of the van to slide open the back door. He tried with both hands to stop the cascade of your belongings from spilling out, but failed miserably, clothes and books landing in messy heaps on the driveway.

“Hey, what the fuck!” you called out, hopping down from your seat to start picking up what you could from the pavement, pulling your items to your chest. “Don’t you have any grace?”

Rick pretended to ponder this before saying, “Grace, huh. Think I dated that girl in high school. Don’t have her anymore, nope.” That earned a snort and an eye roll from you.

Rick remembered a time when your brattiness would have annoyed him to no end. He knew it would again, and probably soon, but he was surprised by how fond of it he was right now, how much he missed having you around.

“Once we get all this shit inside,” he started, grabbing two suitcases, filling both hands so he didn’t have to hear you comment about his carrying capabilities (or lack thereof) again, “you can unpack, and we can shower and relax. But then I’ve got plans for tonight.”

He’d begun walking to the front door, you trailing off behind him. “So you’re ditching me the first night I’m here?” you scolded, albeit playfully. You honestly wouldn’t have minded some alone time, being able to start decorating and acquainting yourself with your new abode. Still, you wanted to keep playing the part of bitchy baby sister, a role you hadn’t been able to play in so long but a role you fell right back into, as easy as riding a bike. “That’s very rude, Rick. What a horrible host you are.”

“Not a chance, Bean. Plans for us tonight. You’re comin’ with. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

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He’d told you that he was taking you to some bar called The Hideout. It sounded sleazy, and you’d told him as much. He didn’t argue that, just said there’d be food and drinks and live music. And some guy there he knew that was in the same grade as you.

You didn’t know this, but Rick had a plan for Eddie Munson. He was going to barter with his young metalhead friend: be the lookout for his little sister when Rick wasn’t around, and he’d heavily discount the bulk weed and other goodies Eddie bought from him for the foreseeable future.

“What’s this guy’s name again?” you asked, moving to kick your feet up on the dashboard before Rick swatted your legs down. Again.

He’d told you several times already that sitting like that was one of the most dangerous positions to be in if he got into an accident. Said that your legs would snap and your bones would jam through your body. You thanked him for the visual, then kept doing it.

“Eddie," he answered.

“And what exactly does this Eddie look like…?”

You tried to breach the question with as much nonchalance as you could muster, but the intent behind your inquiry was still obvious: was Eddie attractive?

“Off-limits.”

“Hmm. That’s a weird physical description of someone.”

“I’m serious, Bean. Don’t.”

It wasn’t that Rick didn’t like Eddie.

It was quite the contrary, actually.

Rick had met Eddie the summer of ‘84, outside one of Al Munson’s many, many court hearings, after the elder Munson had mistakenly asked both of them for a ride home.

As an apology, Al invited both Eddie and Rick over to where he was currently freeloading at some guy’s apartment, to smoke a few bowls (that ended up coming from Rick’s personal supply) and order Chinese (that Eddie ended up paying for).

At some point that night, Al had mentioned to Eddie that Rick was the go-to guy for weed and weed-alike.

“Oh, shit, man – you’re Reefer Rick?” Eddie had asked after a particularly rough coughing excursion, having hit the piece a little too harshly.

“Reefer Rick? That’s what the kids are calling me?”

Eddie nodded, handing the bowl off to his dad. “Yeah, you’re kind of like a celebrity. Or a unicorn?” Rick’s brows furrowed deeply at this. Eddie laughed before explaining, “Meaning I very confidently thought you didn’t exist. Figured you were just who the posers from school said they got their shit from as a red herring, so they didn’t get in too much trouble when Hop took their stash.”

“Hop, like, Hopper? Beer-bellied fucking pig asshole Jim Hopper? That motherfucker knows I sell?”

Hopper had been a thorn in Rick’s side since just about the day he’d moved in.

Jim had been pulling Rick over for minor traffic violations almost weekly by that point, and if Eddie was telling the truth, the hard-on Hopper seemed to have for him now made a hell of a lot more sense. The cop was probably trying to catch him with something on him.

Eddie grinned like he was letting his company in on a joke. “Well, he knows Reefer Rick sells. You're just Rick Lipton, my friend."

From that night on, Eddie would stop by Rick’s house twice a month to re-up on his stock. The pair would sometimes get stoned around the fire pit in Rick’s backyard after they made the deal, and Rick soon found out that Eddie was not at all like the hardcore persona he projected to the world. And he definitely wasn’t a magnet for mayhem like his old man.

At heart, Eddie Munson was a total fucking nerd.

He liked mythology and board games and doodling and passionately debating which conspiracy theories he thought would stand the test of time. He often marveled at Rick’s comic book collection, standing at the shelves for an hour or so at times, just browsing the titles that stood out to him. Eddie’s favorites to flip through were Rick’s copies of Twisted Tales and Creepshow.

Rick had briefly thought a handful of times that you and Eddie would probably get along great if the two of you ever met.

But then the thought of just how great you’d possibly get along would get Rick irritated with Eddie for the non-existent relationship the boy didn’t have with a sister he didn’t even know Rick had.

On their last meet-up, Eddie had told him that he and his bandmates would dress up as pirates and paladins and go to the Ren Faire twice a year.

The band. That was another reason Rick was wary of introducing the two of you.

Being in the scene for as long as he had been now, Rick knew many musicians, and he wouldn’t trust nearly any of them around his baby sister.

They weren’t all like Eddie, though. Rick had to admit that.

Sure, the boy was a little rough around the edges, rowdy and flamboyant, but Rick remembered being kind of the same way as a teenager – and he hadn’t ruined the lives of any girls, had he? Not that he knew of at least, or at least not intentionally.

He’d been a bit of a relationship hopper, just desperate for attention when you got to the bottom of it, but Rick had never been disrespectful of women. He’d never forced himself on anyone, never pleaded to turn a “no” into a “yes,” never verbally or physically accosted any of them. Rick couldn’t bring himself to even imagine doing anything like that. He couldn’t imagine Eddie doing any of that either.

Despite cringing at the idea of you and Eddie maybe catching something more than just friendly feelings for one another, Rick still couldn’t think of another person he’d trust more to keep tabs on you when he himself wasn’t around.

But Rick could still at least try to persuade you to see Eddie in just a platonic light.

“He’s a dork, Bean. His favorite talking point is why Gollum is just a misunderstood victim. Doesn’t shut up about how they do the special effects in those gory B-horror movies, ruins the whole fuckin’ movie yapping. Plays lame board games with his little weirdo degenerate friends.”

“First of all, Rick, did you ever even read Lord of the Rings?” you started, throwing your hands up in disbelief, and Rick was sorry he even opened his mouth. “Sméagol is totally just a misunderstood victim. I mean, sure, whatever, he bit off Frodo’s finger, but he was basically the reason Sauron was defeated! It’s all the Ring’s fault. It was evil. It possessed everyone.” You huffed, settling back against the seat as you watched Rick pull into a parking space at what you assumed was The Hideout. “Also, are these things supposed to make me want to talk to this guy less? 'Cause if that’s the case, you’re really good at doing the exact opposite of what you intend.”

Rick gave a classic you move, rolling his eyes.

“Just don’t flirt with him, Bean, damn. Please. It’s, like, my only rule. He’s my… friend. He’s my friend. So just don’t.”

You pushed your lips to the side, stepping out of the car before Rick turned off the ignition.

Did your brother know nothing about you? Being told you weren’t allowed to flirt with this stranger, to even go as far as saying he was ‘off-limits’? You now knew exactly what your plan was for the rest of the night: try to break Rick’s only rule.

Isn’t that what little sisters were for?

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You knew Rick had said there would be live music, but you definitely weren’t expecting four young men about your age on stage singing nearly spot-on covers of Slayer and Iron Maiden songs.

Rick had gotten the two of you a table towards the back of the bar. He’d bought you a vodka pineapple – which he wasn’t initially intending on doing, at first telling you a Coke was all you were getting, something you were not willing to accept; after a hefty amount of prodding, he moped off to buy you the fruity alcoholic beverage just to get you to stop being so fucking annoying about it.

You were nursing the last few sips, sucking the liquid noisily through the small black straw, when the cute lead singer with the mess of black curls brought his mouth to the microphone.

“You guys have been great, really, all five of you, couldn’t ask for better fans,” he spoke to the sparse crowd. No one clapped or cheered or anything, which made you laugh out loud at the one-sided interaction. “This’ll be our last song for the night – ”

“Freebird!” someone in the audience called out.

“Vince, I tell you every time, we’re not fucking playing Freebird, man — it’s never gonna happen,” tall, dark-haired, and handsome sniped from the stage.

Familiar chords started to echo out from the bassist, the moppy haired drummer hit his wooden drumsticks together in a steady rhythm, and the small-town rockstar began singing Enter Sandman.

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Rick had been chatting with a handful of other bar patrons throughout the duration of the band’s setlist. A few of them — older, biker-looking men — occupied your table as the band on stage started to descend, done for the night.

You heard the jukebox start up, playing some Dolly Parton song, a hilarious juxtaposition from the heavy metal music that had just filled the bar.

Your eyes searched for the lead singer, spotting him heading over to the bar alone, the other boys in the band disappearing off backstage with their instruments in tow.

“Hey, I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” you announced, but Rick just nodded and waved you off, in a deep conversation with one of the bearded men about something to do with Special K. The cereal? You didn’t know, and you didn’t care to stay long enough to find out.

What you wanted to do was to talk to this Kirk Hammett lookalike that poured his heart out on the stage of a hodunk bar like he was performing in front of hundreds of thousands of people at Madison Square Garden.

His back was to you when you approached, black ringlets of hair falling down past his shoulders, frizzy from the indoor humidity.

You put your now empty drink down on the bar-top, the clinking sound pulling his attention over to you.

Oh, wow.

He was nice to look at from afar, but even nicer to look at up this closely. His face was flushed, likely from the hour-long show he’d just put on, a small smattering of light chestnut freckles peeking out over alabaster skin. His big brown eyes widened as they took you in, as if he couldn’t believe you were staring at him.

“You were great up there,” you started, not able to contain your smile. “Made me forget I was in Hawkins. Thought I was at Whisky a Go Go or something.”

He looked surprised. Whether that was from your compliment or just from you talking to him in general, you weren’t sure. “Yeah?” he prodded, voice deep and raspy, obviously a bit blown out from the seven or eight songs he’d just belted.

You nodded eagerly. He grinned wide, chest puffing out a bit now. Boys plus ego stroking equaled checkmate, one of your favorite mottos.

“Can I, uh, buy you a drink? Whatever you want… whatever that was,” he pointed to your empty glass, “I can buy you another one of those.”

“Nice try, Munson,” came the voice of the bartender. Your new friend — Munson, supposedly — shot him an annoyed look. “I know you’re only twenty. You can have water or a soda. That’s it, kid.”

The raven-haired metalhead turned his attention back to you, face a bit chagrined. “Foiled by the barkeep. Sorry. You want a soda? Best in the Midwest. You’ll never drink another Coca-Cola like this ever again.”

You laughed. “Sure, I’ll take a Best in the Midwest soda. Coke with grenadine, light ice.”

“You heard the lovely lady,” Munson said to the bartender, obviously enjoying that he now got to order the man around a bit. “Coke with grenadine, light ice. Hop to it.”

“Lucky the boss likes you, you little shit,” the bartender was grumbling, but Munson didn’t seem distressed. Amused, if anything.

You watched as his eyes drifted up to the top of your head. “Now those are cool,” he acknowledged, pointing with a ringed finger.

Your brows furrowed in confusion before realization struck. Oh, yeah! You’d forgotten you’d put on a tiny little headband before leaving for the bar. It was black, but had two small red devil horns poking out on either side.

“Why, thank you,” you said, bringing a hand up to touch one of the points. “Although I wasn’t really going for cool. More along the lines of wicked or evil, maybe. Sinful. Be the reason everybody in here’s thinkin’ all those shameful thoughts.”

Had Eddie been anywhere else, or at least not high from the adrenaline he ran on after performing, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to fight off the blush from your comment. That, mixed with the heavy-lidded stare you were currently fixing on him, he’d have been a goner.

Thankfully for him, he was able to continue to false bravado his way through this conversation, as he’d just spent two-ish hours channeling his inner Eric Adams from Manowar. He could act like a big shot for a little longer. “With a face like yours, I don’t think I can call you anything but an angel.” He surprised himself with his flirtatious evenness, but he tried not to let it show on his face.

He watched as your eyes softened a smidge, but the moment was ruined when the bartender shot forward your glass.

“Coke with grenadine, light ice, for the lovely lady,” he mocked, his hard stare never leaving Munson’s face.

When the bartender turned away, Munson glanced at you, then shot a look over his shoulder at the moody man as if to say, What’s this guy’s problem?

You couldn’t help but laugh at his colorful expression before you brought your straw to your lips, taking a sip.

“Oh, fuck!” came the expletive from Munson. “Sorry. Here I am, buying you drinks and calling you an angel, and you don’t even know my name.” He fixed himself into a relaxed pose, leaning his side against the edge of the bar-top. “Hi, there. I’m Eddie.” He offered what he hoped was a beseeching smile.

Eddie… Eddie… where had you heard that name tonight? You knew you’d heard it from somewhere…

Oh! Eddie! As in, Rick’s off-limits, total dork of a friend, Eddie. This had to be him, right?

How lucky you were. You didn’t even have to go searching for your fun for the night. He just strolled off the stage, practically falling right into your lap. He’d even bought you a drink!

Achieving your goal of breaking Rick’s only rule might be a lot easier than you’d intended.

“Ooooh, so you’re Eddie,” you bemused, taking another small drink. “Of course you’re Eddie.”

A worried look overtook his previously collected features. “You’ve heard about me?” he asked. His voice now wasn’t as confident as it had been before. It was tinged with uncertainty, maybe a bit of anticipatory disappointment. “What d'you mean, 'Of course I’m Eddie’?”

“No, no, it’s nothing bad,” you cooed, bringing a hand to rest on his forearm. You could feel the solidity of his muscles beneath your fingers. You fought the urge to squeeze. “All good stuff, actually. Meeting you’s just adding to the intrigue. I promise.”

That seemed to put him more at ease. He nodded slowly, eyes briefly darting down to your hand which was still grazing his arm. You took it away, wondering if he wasn’t appreciative of it.

You’d read it wrong. He was.

“What’s your name?” he asked, finding your stare again.

Should you have told him?

It probably wouldn’t have hurt.

But you were afraid maybe Rick had already gotten to him, told him to steer clear of his little sister. Name dropping yourself might make Eddie back off, and you did not want that.

“You said you can’t call me anything but an angel,” you replied with puckish modesty. “So, let’s stick with that.” You put your free hand out, the one that had previously taken space on his arm. “Hi, Eddie. I’m Angel.”

You were a little bewildering, kind of cryptic, and super fucking hot. Eddie was a big fan of all three. He didn’t want to pressure you into giving an actual name if you didn’t want to. He could live with Angel. It wasn’t like the moniker was inaccurate.

“Okay, angel,” he granted, taking your hand in his. “It’s an honor.” He brought his lips down to press lightly against the skin of your fingers, eyes never leaving yours. He relished in the tiny bite you gave the corner of your lower lip at his action.

The bartender cleared his throat loudly. Both you and Eddie rolled your eyes simultaneously, turning your attention to him again as you pulled your hand back.

“You two mind? No one wants to come up here and drink with the both of you making Fuck Me eyes at each other. Scram.”

“You’re mean,” you admonished.

Eddie laughed at your accusation, bringing a hand up to the back of his neck, rubbing at it under the heavy weight of his hair.

“You smoke?” he asked.

“Smoke what?” you countered.

Eddie grinned. “I was gonna suggest a cigarette, but maybe you’d be interested in something a little… greener?”

Your brows shot up in intrigue and you nodded, sucking the rest of your soda down in three long sips before slamming the glass back down on the wooden surface of the bar.

“Show me the way, rockstar.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

“So, I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you around here before,” Eddie started, leading you out the door of The Hideout, heading into the parking lot.

You’d quickly scanned the crowd for Rick before exiting, wanting to make sure he was still otherwise occupied and wouldn’t catch you sneaking out with the one person he most definitely didn’t want you sneaking out with.

No longer was he talking to the biker bros that had basically accosted him at the table. Now he was sitting so close to a pretty purple haired girl that you were sure their foreheads were touching. His hand was on her cheek, and he was smiling goofily at her.

Good. He should be busy for a while now. Thank you, lavender loc’d lovergirl.

“'Cause you’d remember my pretty face if you’d seen it before, is that the rest of your sentence?” you teased.

Eddie grinned a bit bashfully, hand moving to rub at his neck again. You acknowledged it was probably a tell for when he was nervous or bordering on embarrassed. Good to know, perhaps an essential quirk to tuck away for safekeeping.

“Yeah, something like that,” he admitted with a laugh. “But really. You’re not from Hawkins, are you?”

“I am not from Hawkins, no. I actually just moved here today, if you can believe it.”

“Wow,” Eddie said, voice taking on a bantering tone. “Less than 24 hours here and you’re already walking alone at night with some stranger who many have dubbed a sinister cult leader. I may just be Indiana’s very own Satan incarnate. What ever will your parents think?”

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to be the offspring of a high-level Duke of Hell,” you countered, fully thinking of your mother when you spoke. “Guess it’s a match made in… Inferno?”

“My favorite kind of match,” Eddie confessed with a grin as you approached the brown and cream Chevy Beauville you figured belonged to him.

You paused for a beat as Eddie pulled open the side door before asking, “Do people really think that? That you’re a cult leader?”

“Oh, yeah,” he responded, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. When he spoke next, he took on a theatrical guise, words laced with performative shock. “When I walk down the street, men can’t help but to scoff and glare; women clutch their purses to their chests; mothers cover their children’s eyes before their children can shriek in horror; dogs bark and wolves howl and the whole Earth opens up beneath my feet.”

You found yourself watching in utter amusement at his sermonizing, your focus unwavering on his expressive hand motions and his demonstrative body language, your ears attuned to every shift in infliction of his voice.

Rick was right.

Eddie was a dork.

But such an endearing dork. A stellar storyteller. A winsome wordsmith. And it was like he wasn’t even trying. Like this ingenuity came to him as easy as taking a breath.

He reminded you a little of your father -- the eagerness to put on a show, the effortless spellbinding nature. The similarities filled your chest with a warmth you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Too much?” Eddie asked, cringing a little at your silence.

You shook your head slowly, smiling. “Not at all.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Eddie had a multicolor Afghan spread out on the floor in the back of his van, one he informed you was made for him by a past girlfriend of his Uncle’s.

He apologized profusely that the interior wasn’t more appealing, mumbled something about how he should maybe think about getting actual seats installed, but when you sprawled out wordlessly on the blanket, back plush against its scratchy softness, and positively beamed at him, he shut up.

He sat down next to you after finding a half-smoked joint in his middle console, offering it to you for the first hit.

“Where'd you move here from?” he asked after a few moments of peaceful silence, nothing heard but the sizzle from the lit Rizla and the steady stream of cars from the busy street outside.

“Fresno,” you replied, passing the joint to him as you held in your hit until the smoke burned your lungs.

“A California city girl in little ole Hawkins?” he bemused, taking a deep drag. “You must feel pretty out of place here, angel.”

With a shrug, you said, “Dunno yet. It’s only been less than a day, remember?” You took the joint as he extended it out to you, taking a smaller hit this time. “Ask me again after school on Monday.”

“You goin’ to the community college or something?”

“No, I’m still in high school. Senior. I think it’s just called…”

“Hawkins High. Yeah, I uh, I go there too.” That hand rubbing at the back of his neck again. “Um – Paul, y'know, that mean bartender, he… said something about me being twenty? I dunno if you heard. But, yeah. I got held back a few years, so…”

Turns out the hand thing was a sign of embarrassment.

“Eddie, you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you told him, moving to position your weight onto one side, leaning against your elbow. “Everybody’s on a different path. Besides, high school is such bullshit. It’s basically hardwired for you to fuck up or fail. Believe me, I know.”

You took another hit, this one bigger, wanting to feel the lightheadedness of the high sooner rather than later, especially breaching this subject. It always warranted a lament from you.

“I’ve had specialized learning plans since forever,” you continued, passing the joint off to him. His brows furrowed in concentration as he listened. “I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was little. Like, five or six. I could never sit still in class, and I always needed way more time to take tests than everybody else, and I'd forget whole chunks of paragraphs that I’d just read the second I finished reading them.” You sighed, slightly frustrated at the memories, but the weed was beginning to work its magic. Your muscles felt like they were relaxing, tension drifting away, and your head felt a very good kind of heavy. “But then I got on medicine, and it helped. Still helps.” As an afterthought, you added, “When I remember to take it.”

Eddie considered this for a few moments before sticking the joint in his mouth, inhaling. “Shit. Maybe I have ADHD,” he surmised, exhaling a thick cloud into the air.

“Maybe,” you suggested. “I’d say you could talk to my mom, 'cause she’s a psychiatrist, but she’s actually a huge fucking bitch, so nevermind.”

Eddie laughed, not expecting you to say that, and he'd been in the middle of another inhale so he ended up choking and coughing hard on the smoke.

“Oh, no!” You hurried into a sitting position. “Are you – are you okay?” you asked, and you felt bad, but you couldn’t help the little laughs that were escaping your lips at his now bright red tomato face. You were stoned. “D'you – do you have water in here, somewhere?”

Eddie nodded, having a brief break in his hacking fit, pointing to the front of his van. “Y-yeah, shit,” cough, cough, cough, “o-over there. Fucking fuck, man.” Cough, cough. That last one sounded like it hurt.

You scurried on your hands and knees to the front of the van, scanning the dashboard for some kind of drink. The high made it seem like your eyes could only move in slow motion. Finally spotting a half-drank bottle of blue Gatorade, you snatched it, crawling hurriedly back over to where Eddie sat hunched over, trying to control his breathing.

He took the drink, spun the cap off, and quickly downed most of the contents in an attempt to soothe his raw throat.

“Goddamn,” he rasped out. He realized he was still holding the joint in his hand. He definitely didn’t want anymore now. He looked to you, offering it silently, but you shook your head, rejecting it. He stubbed it out in an ashtray that was laying at his side. Bringing the Gatorade back to his lips, he dipped his head back, finishing it off.

Without really thinking, and weed always loosening your already pretty loose inhibitions, you brought your hand to rest on his cheek, your thumb stroking a small path back and forth on the smooth skin under his eye. “You good?” you asked, the ghost of a laugh twisting at your words.

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat at your touch. He was happy he’d swallowed the Gatorade or else he probably would have started choking on that, too.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt a careful caress like the one you were currently giving him. It was simple, but it felt so good. So soft. And – fuck – you were straddling one of his thighs with your legs, and he didn’t even think you noticed. But he definitely did.

Even though his skin was covered by denim, he could still feel the heat from your center warming him. His cock gave an appreciative jerk in the confines of his tight jeans.

Your eyes finally drifted down to the sitting arrangement you found yourselves in. Slowly lifting your gaze to meet his glassy, doe-eyed stare once more, you tilted your head to the side in quandary, hand not dropping from the curve of his face.

“Should I move?” you asked, voice a pitch louder than a whisper.

“Please don't,” Eddie answered, unblinking.

You let your weight rest fully down on his thigh, shifting your hips once, watching as his eyes rolled back at the contact. He was so receptive that it made your cunt clench around nothing, and you took that moment to pull his face closer to yours, pressing your lips to his almost hard enough to bruise.

Eddie groaned at the feel of your mouth, his tongue eagerly and immediately trying to pry open your lips. You grinned into the kiss, giving him what he wanted by allowing his hot tongue access to slide slippery against your own.

He thought you were sweet and citrusy, like sugared oranges, and a little tart, like ripe pomegranate. He thought fleetingly that if he could, he’d bottle you up and drink you with every meal.

You thought he was fresh and sharp, like spearmint gum, and heady, like expensive sativa. Your tongue fought with his for dominance, each moan from either one of you spurring on the other, greedy mouths working hard to stake their claim.

When you finally pulled away, you were a little out of breath. “God, Eddie, you kiss like you’re thirsty.” Your hand moved from its resting place on his face to tangle in the curls at the back of his head.

He groaned when he felt you tug at the roots of his scalp, bringing a hand up to cradle just under your chin, fingers stretching out over the expanse of your neck. A lazy grin curved at his lips.

“You wanna see thirsty?"

With that, he flipped the both of you over so you were on your back, Eddie positioning himself between your spread legs. You were happy for the padding of the Afghan, knowing the cool steel flooring of the van would have pinched your skin unpleasantly.

He wasted no time in pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking quick but harsh at your supple skin.

You moaned wantonly, lolling your head to the side to give him better access. Your legs moved to wrap around his slim waist, your hips moving up to feel as much of him against your center as you could. Eddie couldn’t help but give a thrust down against you, his persistently hardening cock straining taut against his jeans.

“Can I taste you?” he asked against your skin, pressing softer kisses to the tiny marks he’d left just moments ago with his lips and teeth.

A strained whimper escaped your lips at his request. You nodded, feeling more drunk than high, arching your hips up again to try and garner more friction from him.

“Say it,” he demanded, bringing a hand up to grip at your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “‘I want you to taste me, Eddie.’ Tell me.”

“I want you to taste me, Eddie,” you repeated lewdly, ad-libbing after with, “please, Eddie, want you to make me feel good.”

His pupils blew dark and wide, and he slid the remainder of the way down your body, burying his head under your skirt. Without removing your underwear or even pushing them to the side, he pressed his mouth to the damp fabric, his open-mouthed kisses continuing there. A desperate sound came from him as he sucked you through your panties, the deliciously honeyed scent of you enveloping him completely.

In this moment, he felt like if he died with his face buried in your heat, it would be a very happy and welcomed death.

“Eddie, take them off,” you demanded, shaking your hips around in a frustrated movement.

He laughed at your impatience, but moved to grant you your wish. He hooked his fingers under the sides of your panties, just about to pull them down… before a loud pounding was heard on the outside of the van.

“Hey, Ed? Hate to interrupt you, dude, but my mom’s gonna be pissed if you don’t get me home by 10.”

Eddie groaned loudly, the noise sounding almost pained. It seemed like it took a lot out of him to have to move his head out from under your skirt. He glanced over his shoulder to the clock on his dash, the LED numbers reading 9:35PM.

“This dream just turned into a real fucking nightmare, angel,” he grumbled, biting down lightly at your inner thigh.

You jolted at the feel of his teeth, and couldn’t help but give a frustrated whine at his sentiment, wholly agreeing. Your entire body was thrumming, wanting so badly to be touched and given a release.

“Eddie…?” came the voice again.

“Yeah, Doug, got it. Give me a minute, man.”

Eddie took one more longing look at your clothed cunt, studying the wet spot made from his spit and your arousal. He gave a salacious lick of his lips before dragging his eyes up to meet yours.

“That’s my bassist,” he begrudgingly informed. “His mom’s like your mom. Huge fucking bitch, but don't ever tell him I said that. I have to drive him home or else she’ll forever forbid him to play another show.”

You offered him a placating smile, moving your hand to brush a few of his longer bangs from around his eyes. “It’s okay. I mean, it really isn’t, 'cause I’m so fucking horny right now, but I get it.” Eddie gave another groan at your admission. He cursed the universe for shit fucking timing, and for totally inconsiderate bassists who didn’t have their licenses.

“Can I see you again?” he asked, voice bordering on timid.

It was shocking to you how he could go from dirty mouthed amateur porn star to red-cheeked virginal teenage boy in the matter of minutes. The duality was enticing. You briefly wondered just how far you could push him to either end of the spectrum.

“I’ll give you my number,” you said, but then remembered, “oh, wait, I don’t know my number yet. Um. You can give me yours?”

Eddie nodded fervently, moving to a kneeling position as he reached over and started looking through a pile of stuff on his passenger seat. He pulled out a pen from the mess and ripped off a small piece of paper from an old report card, quickly scrawling down his digits.

“Here,” he said, moving to hand it to you. He did a quick once over though, realizing you didn’t have pockets, so he slid the folded piece of paper under the front hem of your panties. He patted it with his fingers and gave a pleased grin before saying, “C'mon, I’ll walk you back inside.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

By the time you’d made it back through the front door of The Hideout, Rick was running around like a chicken with its head cut off, obviously in search of you.

“What the fuck, Bean!” he scolded, marching his way up to you when he spotted you walking in, not even glancing at Eddie. “I don’t pay attention for two minutes and you disappear for an hour?!”

“Two minutes, Richard, really?” you laughed out, the sound incredulous. Because, really, Rick’s timeframe was way, way off. You knew he wasn’t the greatest at math, but damn, right now he was straight up delusional. “You’ve been talking to everyone but me since we got here! You weren't paying attention for way longer than two minutes.”

“So not fuckin’ true,” he said, but his tone was quieter now as if he figured that, yeah, it might actually be true.

Rick’s eyes finally drifted to your side, observing Eddie’s presence. You’d taken great care to fix the boy’s hair and his clothing, making sure he didn’t look disheveled for this very reason – you could tell Rick was sizing the younger man up after finding out the two of you were off somewhere together. Alone.

Eddie looked like a lost puppy, glancing between you and Rick, trying to figure out what the fuck the dynamic between the two of you was. You tried your hardest not to look so amused at his sweet, utterly confused expression.

“Oh, yeah, I ran into Eddie while I was outside smoking,” you explained away easily. “He told me you guys are friends. I figured he’s who you brought me here to meet.”

Eddie side eyed you, unsure of where this was heading. He definitely did not tell you that he and Rick were friends. Eddie didn’t even think him and Rick were friends. He hoped they were, he wanted them to be, but he didn’t think it’s how Rick would have classified their relationship.

Rick turned his apprehensive gaze on Eddie. “Is that true?” he asked, eye contact steady and unblinking.

Best go along with it, Eddie thought.

“Couldn’t be truer.”

The older man seemed to consider Eddie’s response for a minute before a familiar silly grin etched itself across his pierced face.

“Cool!” he exclaimed, clapping Eddie on the shoulder.

Rick had been planning on propositioning Eddie tonight about being your watchdog, but after downing a few drinks and having basically driven around for the past four days straight with little sleep, he figured that conversation could wait a little longer. “You wanna come over tomorrow night, Munson? Hang out with me and the little sister for a bit?”

Eddie’s brows furrowed, shaking his head slowly in uncertainty. “Sure, but... who’s your little sister?”

Rick’s smile slowly began to fade in skepticism as his attention moved from Eddie and back to you standing beside him.

“Me, silly,” you admonished, bringing a hand down to grab at his, concealing the contact behind your back so Rick didn’t see. You stroked the skin on his thumb in a wordless apology for the whole not-being-totally-honest-about-who-you-were thing.

Eddie’s eyes widened at the reveal, still a little too stoned for the realization that he’d just had one of the hottest make-out sessions of his entire life with… Reefer Rick Lipton's… little sister…

Shit.

“Remember? I told you outside?” you were pleading at him with your eyes, still trying to make it not appear obvious that you were lying your ass off to your older brother.

Eddie indulged, not wanting to be on the receiving end of the rage of Rick if he found out what had just gone one in the back of his Beauville.

“Oh, yeah! Right, right!” Eddie tried to play it off. “Sorry, man, I’m just – totally fucking stoned.” That part was relatively true. This whole interaction was making him feel even higher than he thought he was in the first place, actually. Eddie gave Rick what he prayed was an easy-going grin.

You released Eddie and stepped in between the two of them, forcing out a wide yawn. “Rick, c'mon, I’m getting tired,” you brought your hand to your brother’s arm, starting to tug at him, pulling him toward the door. “Let’s go home.” You stressed the last word, hoping that by you referring to his Hawkins residence as that, it would soften and distract him.

It did.

Rick relented, figuring he was probably just looking too deeply into things, understanding his paranoia sometimes got the better of him. Nothing probably happened between you and Eddie. He was probably just being an overbearing older brother. Probably.

“Right. 'Kay. Lemme just go find this one girl and say bye.” He disappeared off into the dwindling crowd, and you assumed he was off to bid adieu to the same purple-haired girl from before.

You took this as your chance to turn to Eddie.

Eddie, who was currently staring at you a little too warily for your liking.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” you implored, fingers finding his hand again. He didn’t make a move to pull away, so you took that as a good sign. “Just come over tomorrow night, okay? We can talk about it.”

It kind of freaked you out how much you didn’t want this – whatever this was – between the two of you to be ruined so quickly.

Since your dad left, you knew things in your life had gone a little downhill, and you also knew you’d been acting a bit belligerently in your attempts to try and ignore it. You’d been making irresponsible, rash decisions all over the board – from school, to home, to friendships and relationships. Nothing seemed to be sacrosanct from your newfound self-sabotaging behaviors.

From this, you’d encountered quite a few willing partners, of both the opposite and same sex, to occupy your mind and time since last summer, and not a single one of them was someone you were interested in getting to know more than just carnally.

Eddie was the first person in a long time you felt you actually clicked with on more than just a physical level, and that was evident from your discourse at the bar, your rendezvous in the van, and now with the realization that you may have screwed it all up by not being truthful to him. You were starting to get a stomach ache. This was so not how you’d planned on the night ending.

Across from you, Eddie seemed to weigh the entire situation as you just had, his dark brown eyes studying your face as he did so. Maybe to find a glimmer of further deceit? Of an ulterior motive? He was used to those things. It wasn’t often people wanted him just to want him. It was usually to get something from him.

However, he could find nothing but honest anticipation in your eyes. His fingers squeezed yours briefly before Rick made his way back over, your brother’s heavily tattooed arm sliding around your frame as he pulled you away.

“See ya tomorrow, Munson!” Rick called.

At the last moment you could, right before the door to the bar closed, you looked back over your shoulder at Eddie. He saw you smile at him. Your intention was to silently ask for the possibility of forgiveness, or at the very least, understanding.

Eddie watched the door you’d exited through for a minute or two longer. Blinking back to reality, he realized he was tired, at first thinking it was just from the weed, but then remembering that Corroded Coffin had literally played a show tonight.

That seemed like days ago at this point.

Being in the van with you had felt like a lengthy escapade, definitely more than just roughly sixty minutes spent together.

Eddie’s palms started to sweat.

He hadn’t known you before an hour ago, but now that you weren’t next to him anymore, talking and teasing, he’d felt more alone than he had in a long time.

Exiting the bar, Eddie headed back to his van.

The whole trip to Dougie’s house and then on his ride back to the trailer park, he was fake scenario-ing all the different ways tomorrow night at Rick’s could go.

Maybe he was bound to be screwed over by you eventually, fucked royally in a not-so-fun way.

But Eddie, ever the opportunist, would likely let you as long as that meant he got to go along for the ride.

#eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #billy x reader #billy x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #mungrove x reader #mungrove

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waywardsummoner46 · 2 months

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‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Sink Into the Darkness, My Light | Two | ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

"Join us, my Light."

Two centuries ago, the ruler of the Light disappeared, plunging the universe into chaos and disrupting the sacred, unspoken balance of the universe.

The eight rulers of the Darkness never stopped looking for her; their obsession never once waning since she vanished.

Recently, they've sensed something. Never around long enough to pinpoint but so euphoric that it sings within their veins. And since meeting you, well... slowly they begin to understand why.

"Sink into the darkness with us."

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

「✦」 PAIRING - yandere ot8!ateez x (?)reader

「✦」 GENRE - ancient gods!au, fantasy!au, magical powers!au

「✦」 WARNINGS - mind control, gaslighting, dom/sub, subspace (of a sort), temporary amnesia, manipulation, YANDERE AND DARK THEMES

「✦」 WORD COUNT - 4,863

「✦」 A/N - You're all so lovely. Thank you for the reception part one received. We meet another of the members in this chapter, enjoy.

「✦」 TAGLIST - Let me know if you'd like to be added :)

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

• one • two • three •

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

It was roughly 17:49 when you had another phone call. This time, it was Jee-Won’s caller ID that greeted you, not Ji-Ah’s. A picture of her kissing your smiling cheek and you with your eyes scrunched up. Funny how the picture held so much happiness but its motives caused you nothing but dread at whatever crazed things she wanted to discuss with you now.

You sighed long and deep; your food was ready and you’d just sat down to begin digging in. How utterly stupid of you to assume that you could simply eat your food in peace.

“Hey, Jee-Won,” you said, masking your mild frustration. Speaking to her before you were going out was slowly tearing down the mental preparation you’d been working on. Dealing with her now was seriously reinforcing the recurring thoughts of simply not going… but you’d promised Ji-Ah. You couldn’t back out now (despite how much you wanted to).

You loved Jee-Won dearly, you and her had been friends since you were very young. You knew basically everything about each other and could trust each other with everything. The fact that your personalities differ so greatly only made that friendship even stronger as one could offer outlooks and perspectives the other couldn’t. Through your care for each other, it was obvious you always had each others’ back.

Doesn’t mean she doesn’t grate your nerves sometimes though.

Jee-Won let out an ungodly squeal on her end of the phone and you had to pull the phone away from your ear, wincing.

“Happy birthday, my beautiful best friend! How are you on this gorgeous day?” Contrary to your mild vexation, her bubbly energy never failed to make you smile. This was something you could mirror, being practically all smiles yourself.

Picking up your chopsticks, you began to twist the cheap store-bought noodles absentmindedly. “I’m wonderful, thank you. I’ve had a very… interesting day so far, but it has been genuinely good. How are you doing?”

Interesting was one word for it - neither Yunho nor Yeosang had left your mind all day. Thinking about them was natural and your best efforts were no match to their lingering effect on you.

Some selfish part of you wanted to go back to ‘Life Rose On’ right now just to see Yeosang again. Yunho you had resigned yourself to the understanding that you’d probably never see each other again (a fact that saddened you much more than it should’ve). Perhaps you were being childish in your hope that they knew each other.

It made sense; stumbling into two new pretty boys in the same shop on the same day. Couldn’t be entirely coincidental that they were in such close proximity with one another. Alas, the unknown was killing you and your unexplainable longing for the two handsome strangers remained.

And it was unexplainable.

Meeting and interacting with those two today felt so intense, so real. Somehow, talking to them was easy and could be done with the familiarity of long-time friends. After the initial hiccups (stumbling over your feet and words), when Yunho spoke to you it felt like every one of your senses was being stroked so sensually and lovingly that it made you shiver. When Yeosang had tucked that breathtaking purple rose behind your ear, that same shiver and unrestrained emotions of rightness returned.

… it bothered you.

Never in all of your years of living had you let anyone have such an effect on you. Nor were you one to be swayed by good looks alone so easily. Admittedly, both men were incredibly kind and friendly which enabled you to talk to them for longer, in addition to their angelic appearances.

The effect that they’d had on you troubled you for a reason you couldn’t quite understand and, simply put, you were uncomfortable with it, especially after one meeting.

In conclusion, it wasn’t them that made you uncomfortable but rather the effect they had on you that did. Or did it? Oh, you didn’t know. These feelings confused you and only gave you a headache.

Realistically, you’d never see Yunho again and you’d probably see Yeosang once or twice more considering he worked in the florist you regulared. There you go, done. No need to dwell on it anymore. Nope. Not. At. All.

“Hello? Are you still there?” Jee-Won’s mildly concerned voice startled you and made you realise just how far you’d sunk into the ocean of your thoughts.

You massaged your temples. “Sorry, Jee-Won. I didn’t sleep well last night, is all. What were you saying?”

You practically taste her fond exasperation on the other end of the phone. “Are you sure you want to come out tonight? You know Ji-Ah won’t take it personally.”

That snapped you to attention.

“I know that but I genuinely want to go, I promise.” Hoping your tone of false conviction was believable enough, you glanced at your watch. 17:54. Two hours and six minutes before you had to be there.

“Mhm. Yeah, absolutely. I believe you one hundred percent.” Apparently, you were not as convincing as you’d once believed. “I won’t force you not to come because I know that despite how much you don’t want to go, you’ll go for the sake of other people. But please, if you need to go home early, please, please do. I know you don’t like it when everyone starts to get pissed.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong there. The easy way out was like a weighted security blanket around your shoulders. A sense of grounding that you hadn’t realised you needed. Of course, Jee-Won noticed. Jee-Won, for all of her flaws, was a good friend. One that you wouldn’t replace for the world.

“Curse you and your eternal wisdom,” you said and laughed. Then in a quieter voice added, “And I will.”

A muffled snap could be heard from the other end. “I know what will help.” Oh dear. “Getting our hair done together!”

You supposed that the night was never destined to start on schedule; who knew that it would begin during your ramen?

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

“Uh, Jee-Won I hate to burst your bubble but I think we’re in the wrong place. This looks like someone’s house, not somewhere where we can get our hair done.”

“We are very much in the right place, my beautiful sunchild.”

Your face twisted in immediate distaste. Sunchild?

You repeated it silently to Ji-Ah behind Jee-Won’s back and she mirrored your baffled expression. That certainly was a new one.

Both of you turned to look at the building that was allegedly where you’d be getting your hairstyles for tonight. You didn’t necessarily see why Jee-Won had put so much emphasis on your hair in general, let alone praise this place to buggery and ultimately drag you two there against your will. Heck, you’d have been happy curling your hair or simply braiding it so at least it differed from your typical style.

This place was huge. When she had said hair stylist, you expected a dainty little corner shop surrounded by similar establishments relatively close to ‘Life Rose On’. Everything was around there. The mansion that you beheld in front of you was on a whole new level.

Never in your life had you seen a building like this, forget anything else. It was a truly impressive piece of architecture; there seemed to be multiple layers to the mansion and different areas with varying spires and towers.

The three of you stood on the entrance balcony. Beams of a rich brown supported the canopied roof and each were delicately hugged by the richest, healthiest clematis you’d ever had the honour of seeing in your life. Jung-Hee’s abilities to nurture plants was impressive but the owner of this fantastical building had powers akin to the Gods. Each beam seemed complimentary to the gold-lined, rectangular windows that were on either side of the main oak door, and the patterns on them made that of an intricate hourglass - one half stained a deep black and the other a blinding white, slowly being tainted by the darkness. Or at least, that’s how you saw it. Perhaps ‘The Hidden War Within’ was turning you into more of a poet than you thought.

Removing yourself from the balcony temporarily, you strained your neck to ogle at the rest of the building. The roof the balcony on the ground floor was seemingly the foundations of the first floor as you saw that a set of glossy black rocking chairs and a dazzling coffee table sat atop it. This time, blood red roses wrapped around the fence bordering that area and worked as a nice contrast to the lighter purple of the clematis.

Of what you’d processed of the building so far, it was a double-layered abode with a relatively square shape. Then you looked to the right and it was more reminiscent of a castle than anything else for a circular tower merged into the rest of the building and had a spire at the top of it. It reminded you of a fairytale you read as a child.

Beyond that, there were two further layers to the house. Each topped with the traditional Korean dancheong roof, the building truly was like something out of a novel.

Quite peculiarly, there seemed to be… trees? Growing from some of the open windows? The picture it painted was exquisite but you wondered with unrestrained curiosity how on Earth the owner managed to achieve such a thing.

You’d have to tell Jung-Hee all about this mystical house next time you saw her. The fact that the mansion itself was well out of the way of the main road and surrounded by an incandescent forest was just feeding your slowly spiralling feelings of awe.

As Ji-Ah and Jee-Won bickered by the front door, you took your sweet time to observe every sheltered nook and every single captivating cranny of the house’s exterior… when you caught a glimpse of something in the tower window. Squinting your eyes, they promptly widened once more when you realised it was a someone and not a something.

Just as quickly as they’d come, they had disappeared. You blinked rapidly, trying in vain to see if you could catch a glimpse of the dark figure in the window.

From what little you had seen, whoever it was was male and looked relatively tall. His face was wholly covered by the shadow the lighting gave him but you could’ve sworn you saw the slightest hint of a smile.

A shiver ran down your spine and you shook your head to recompose yourself. The day was catching up to you - getting to your head. You needed to breathe and stay grounded rather than let your head wander, especially in a place as isolated as this.

You were just about to go towards Ji-Ah and Jee-Won when something wet hit your nose. At first, the shock made you freeze momentarily but reaching up to touch the droplet you found it was only rain. Then, a booming clap echoed through the forest and then the rain began to pour down with a vengeance.

Running for the balcony, you avoided trampling the delicate pathway the owner had laid out. Ji-Ah and Jee-Won looked as though they were struggling to hold back their laughs and you raised a soaking finger at them.

“Listen-”

“Oh, you must be freezing!” A kind voice said from behind the two of them. All three of you looked at the mystery voice immediately and the breath left your lungs for the third time that day. “Please, do come in,” he said and gestured for you all to follow him through the front door.

The man must’ve been a God because the urge to drop to your knees and worship him with everything you had was suffocating.

His hair was the first thing you noticed about him; silky raven locks lay gracefully across his forehead and framed his face perfectly, like a dark angel. You hadn’t had ample time to examine (appreciate) his face before he turned around but you saw his outfit.

Long, dark tailored trousers hugged his legs. Flaring off towards his feet, you saw that the man wore glossy black heeled boots that only added to his intimidating aura. There was something so divine about a man confident in his appearance and this man was an example, not an exception.

Embracing his torso was something akin to a black waistcoat except there were no sleeves nor were there any shoulder coverings; it came up to his chest and gave way to a bright white blouse whose sleeves hung from his muscular arms like decorations and a button up collar that gave the man an impression of elevated status. The cherry on top of the cake was the brief glimpse of an expensive silver necklace you noticed decorated his neck.

You could basically hear the wealth and power screaming from his form as you followed dutifully behind him and through the mansion’s winding halls. Nothing around you was being processed, your attention wholly centered on the man you trailed behind.

“You’ll catch flies if you don’t shut your mouth,” Ji-Ah’s smug voice said. Your attention was immediately directed at her, scandalised that she’d say something like that as loudly as she did.

An inquisitive hum was heard from in front of you and your knees nearly buckled when seeing his face for the first time.

(Perfect, chiselled jawline. Perfect, sharp nose. Perfect, full lips. Perfect, piercing boba eyes and, undeniably, one of the most handsome faces you’ve ever seen.)

One of his eyebrows were raised in question but lowered once he saw the two of you. “Ah, the architecture is rather impressive, isn’t it? This was built by my great, great grandfather during the nineteenth century.”

Letting out a subtle breath of relief at his misunderstanding, you subtly nudged Ji-Ah’s side with your elbow. She almost landed you in one of the most humiliating experiences of your life. You never would have forgiven her if he’d picked up on why your jaw was actually dropped.

“Forgive me, I never did introduce myself,” he turned once more and bowed deeply. He straightened and made eye contact with you.

Perhaps you were delusional. Perhaps you were just seeing what you wanted to see. But the way he was looking at you made you feel like he was picking apart the very linings of your soul.

“My name is Park Seonghwa, but you may call me Seonghwa.”

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

Eventually, Seonghwa led the three of you to what looked like a dining room.

The walls altered between pink and white marble with streaks of gold complimenting the foundation colour. There were old sconces laid evenly across the walls of the gigantic room and they all lit up a long table, the key feature of the room. An impressive chandelier dangled from the ceiling and the scarce rays of light bounced off of it in a faint imitation of falling stars.

What truly caught your attention was the painting on the opposite side of the room. It covered the entire wall; black and white paint entwining with each other to give the picture frame a misty effect and the same hourglass patterns from the windows lay in each corner of the frame.

Nine people were in the painting. Eight men and one woman. Each man wore an outfit straight from a fantasy novel, completely covered in black clothing. Some donned a cloak, others were clad in onyx medieval armour and one with a crown made entirely of black metal and dangerously glinting gemstones. Quite fascinatingly, the one with his hand on the girl’s shoulder wore a dark half skirt and black trousers that were connected to a torso of gold, floral patterns dusting a glossy tunic.

In a certain light, it looked as though their eyes were following your slow movements around the space but you disregarded that thought as soon as it entered your head.

The girl, on the other hand, well… the resemblance she bore to you was uncanny. She lay across the floor in front of the eight men and wore a white dress that could only be described as having the consistency of a cloud.

“Hey, that’s kind of freaky,” Jee-Won said from behind you. She was also looking at the painting and was alternating her gaze from the painting girl and your face.

“Jee-Won, don’t be rude,” Ji-Ah scolded from her side.

“I am not being rude, I’m making an observation.” “Could you try and be more polite about it next time then, please?” Ji-Ah returned, equally as sassy as Jee-Won had been.

You shook your head fondly at them. Since becoming a trio, it had been a constant battle between the two of which was right and which was wrong. Ji-Ah had a better understanding of social situations and standards whereas Jee-Won’s unfiltered opinions were something that both benefited her and were to her detriment - like right now.

Seonghwa entered your peripheral and placed a calming hand on each of your friends’ shoulders. “Now, now, there’s no need to argue, is there?” There was a power in his words that had the girls quieting down instantly. You were surprised at the look of sheer embarrassment that was on their faces; and you thought you were bad.

Seonghwa gave them each a pleased hum and crooked a pointy, gloved finger for you all to follow him. He sat down on a cream-coloured chaise longue, posture entirely straight, and patted the seat next to him as he made direct eye contact with you.

You gulped but did as he wished. Tension rendered your body immovable and prolonged eye contact was impossible.

Contrary to Yunho and Yeosang, Seonghwa had an effortless motherly energy to him and a deep part of you didn’t want to risk tarnishing that with any hesitance or inclination to disdain. Because you were very much not disdainful of Seonghwa, the exact opposite actually.

Watching as Ji-Ah and Jee-Won sat down on the two individual lounge chairs opposite you two, you remembered that you’d all come here to get your hair done. Nothing in this mansion seemed equipped to give you those services nor did you think that you’d have enough time between now - 18:40 - and when you had to be at the night club - 20:00.

Seonghwa might look like a miracle but you doubt he could perform them.

A clap and all three of you snapped to look at him. He held his entwined hands to his chest and smiled softly at you all.

“Firstly, I would like to welcome you to my home. I trust you’ll respect it as it will you during your time here.” The three of you nodded.

“Excellent. Now, I understand each of you are here to have your beautiful hair styled to perfection for the birthday girl’s night out,” he gave you a wink and you felt your heart stutter in your chest. “Unfortunately, due to the late hour, my… colleagues will be taking two of you whilst I give my undivided attention to another.” You all seemed to have a silent conversation with each other. His words and logic made sense but his implication that you would all be separated had you grimacing mildly. There wasn’t an issue, you were all grown women - you’d just thought that you could enjoy each others’ presence before the night out when you’d be swarmed by drunkards and junkies. Much fun.

The conspirational smile he gabe you all made you aware that he was privy to your mild displeasure. “My sincerest apologies, ladies. I simply wish to maximise time and efforts.”

“It’s no trouble at all, thank you so much for even accepting us in on such short notice. You’re a lifesaver,” Jee-Won practically gushed. You raised your brow, short notice, huh? She’s acting as though she hasn’t had this planned for the better part of a week (you’d overheard her and Ji-Ah talking).

Seonghwa raised a hand. “No need to thank us. We’re always happy to help, aren’t we, Yongbokie-dear?”

A short man with pretty silver hair entered the room. He looked young, only mildly younger than you. “Of course, we are.” His deep voice contrasted his innocent features, much like Yeosang’s had but to a milder degree. He met Seonghwa’s eyes, “We’re ready now, Seonghwa-hyung.”

“Have the three of you decided who will stay with me?” Seonghwa questioned, looking rather intensely at you.

You got so caught up in his eyes that you nearly missed Ji-Ah’s comment. “Jee-Won and I will leave you two to it. Thank you again, Seonghwa-ssi.” The look of unbridled horror on your face caused her to stifle a laugh and you prayed to whatever god was listening that Seonghwa didn’t pick up on it.

Seonghwa merely smiled in goodbye as they followed Yongbok out of the room… leaving you alone with a man who compromised your ability to talk.

Being alone with Seonghwa was worse than being alone with Yunho or Yeosang. You didn’t know why but you genuinely felt as though words were beyond you right now.

As though approaching a frightened deer, he extended his hand slowly for you to take. Your eyes darted rapidly from his own and his hand, struggling to comprehend what he was asking of you, why you were reacting like this and just what was going to happen now.

“Shall we, darling?” Is it possible to melt into the floor? Because that’s how his voice made you feel.

With a new found determination, you took his hand and allowed him to bring you over to a window seat you hadn’t noticed on your way in. Lengthy, silk curtains obstructed it from the dining room’s view but once Seonghwa guided you through them, it was like being embraced by shadows.

Very little light penetrated the area for the curtains were dark enough to block the sconces from the dining room and where a window should have been there was only dark marble.

Seonghwa gently sat you down on a chair in the centre of the area. You remained as silent as he while he rummaged through whatever was behind you.

Despite how many times you reflected on the whirlwind that was today, you still couldn’t completely comprehend any of the turns it had taken.

An hour glass was placed on a previously unseen table in front of you and you jumped at the unexpected movement. Dark sand dominated the most of it and only a slither of white sand sat atop it. It seemed to be some form of bioilluminescant sand as it was glowing in the darkness. How, you did not know. You didn’t question it though, it was beautiful.

“Seonghwa-ssi? Excuse me if this is rude but I was wondering how you were going to style my hair in this lighting?” Your meek voice permeated the blanket of silence that had settled over you two.

His rummaging halted momentarily as he chuckled lowly. “Not rude at all, little one. A perfectly sound question.” You jumped slightly when you felt his hands in your hair, removing any accessories you had in and detangling the biggest knots. “I work better in the darkness, you see. I find home in its existence and security in its embrace.”

Your gaze remained fixed on the hourglass in front of you as you absorbed his words. You couldn’t understand how anyone could prefer the darkness to the light. The darkness was stifling and clung to you like a parasite, always had done, always will do. The hourglass was a direct representation of that; it was practically crushing the white sand and reducing it to the thinnest grains possible all in order to rid its presence entirely.

Seonghwa began to part your hair, separating the top of your hair from the bottom. “What do you think of the darkness, dear?” He asked, and you could sense the genuine curiosity behind his words.

“I don’t dislike it. I just prefer the light,” your words gained a few ounces of strength with every sentence you spoke. It shouldn’t be as substantial as it was but having been rendered speechless so many times today, the ability to talk was relieving to have once more.

“How fascinating,” he whispered. Both hands were focused on the top half of your hair now; you felt two pieces of hair tickle your cheeks in what you assumed was him using them to structure your face. He parted your hair down the middle once more except this time it felt as though he was going to braid them. Going off of that assumption, you followed his hand movements as best as you could without actually seeing them as he begun to manoeuvre the right side of your hair.

“If I may ask, why do you prefer it?”

It was a good question. The answer was as natural as breathing. “It’s… safe. It’s hope, it gives everything life and through that gives them happiness.”

His hands finished the plait he was working on and he rested them tactfully on each side of your head, gently stroking the soft locks as he thought of an answer. “Wouldn’t you agree that without the darkness, there is no light? Similar to without death, there would be no life?”

You hummed, digesting his words. Secretly, you were rather entertained by this turn in conversation. It was very reminiscent of ‘The Hidden War Within’ with the discussion of dark and light and their codependency on each other to survive but also how they consistently defy the other’s existence.

You started off slowly, choosing your words. “Alright, well… take a flower, it is inevitable that they will fall to the darkness and death that swallows it. But there’s always a light that shines down on it and through that light there will be a new bud that will be protected and nurtured by the light until the darkness once again claims that life.”

The white sand seemed to glow brighter all of a sudden and you paused in your words. How ironic.

“Finish what you were saying, dear. I am enjoying this immensely.” The sand dimmed and you found your head tilting at its loss.

“Right, um. I think through the existence of light, darkness must consequently exist too. They need each other to balance the other out, that’s simply the way of the world. Too much of one thing - like overpopulation or war - can have a detrimental effect on that balance and that’s why the world is in so much discord today. Because that balance hasn’t existed for a long time. So to answer your question,” you could feel how your gaze was glued to the hourglass.

For reasons you couldn’t explain, it was magnetic and you were hopeless to resist its pull. The more you spoke, the more the sand looked fluid; it began to twist and weave through and around one another until it mirrored the universe, stars filling in its vastness and only reminding it of its mortality. It was morbidly beautiful.

“I believe that without the darkness there would be no light. And I believe that, somewhere, there is a place where light and darkness meet and the distinction between good and evil is no more because there is only existence where morals and nature don’t have a sway.”

You reached for the hourglass and turned it over, watching as the sand glided across itself. Nature’s river, caught in a glass prison. “That is how we will find true peace. When war is over, when selflessness works alongside selfishness, when the line between love and hate isn’t so thin after all and instead becomes one.”

Seonghwa had finished styling your hair minutes ago. He simply stood behind you, hands gently caressing your locks of hair as he listened intently. Even after you finished, slightly breathless, he remained silent as though taking in every last one of your words to heart and committing them to his memory.

The curtain was ripped open and light spilled in the dark space you’d settled into. Inquisitively, you turned to look at him and your mouth dropped when you saw there were tears in his eyes.

“Oh, my - are you alright?”

He burst into sobs, and hid his head in his hands as collapsed onto the chaise longue from earlier. You stood frozen, completely baffled at the turn of events and even more reluctant to approach him since you were sure you had caused it.

“Seonghwa-ssi, I am so sorry. I really-” “No,” he raised his hand, stopping your apologies before they became ceaseless. He seemed to be struggling to compose himself if his long, deep breaths were anything to go by.

You stood, fiddling with the hourglass absentmindedly as you waited tensely for him to make the next move.

Seonghwa took one final deep breath and stood on shaky legs. He began walking over to you with such intent you stumbled back slightly. Before you realised what was happening, he grabbed your face in his hands - his teary eyes meeting your wide ones. “You… are perfect.”

#ateez x reader #yandere ateez x reader #dark ateez #yandere ateez #park seonghwa x reader #kim hongjoong x reader #jeong yunho x reader #kang yeosang x reader #choi san x reader #song mingi x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #choi jongho x reader

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jezebelgoldstone · 10 months

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RRR (2022, dir S. S. Rajamouli)

things i am not now and likely never will get over from RRR

DRIFT COMPATIBLE BATTLE COUPLE DETECTED

queer? platonic? queerplatonic? who gives a shit no matter what it was it was AWESOME

Colonialism Is Bad Actually: The Musical

the symbolism. holy shit. every BIT of it was absolutely amazing.

wow all the mains in this movie are just, really hot? my poor lil pan heart had a rough time with this one ngl

the fact that someone (likely many someones) watched this movie about Colonialism Is Bad Actually and said 'you know what let's dub this whole thing into Hindi and English and then not give an option to watch it with the original Telugu dialogue' sure was,,,,,,,,, A Choice

THE MUSIC

by which i mean the actual song-and-dance numbers as well as the like story soundtrack all of it is going on my playlist asap

listen the spirk-behind-glass scene is awful. spock and kirk can't even touch. they can hear. they can see. but they cannot touch. and i in my sweet ignorant bliss thought that was as bad as it could get.

tonight i learned that holding someone in your arms through the bars of their cell is so much worse

I watched it on Netflix but i looked it up on a few other ahem websites and on EVERY SINGLE ONE Telugu audio wasn't even an option.

there was not one single chance to tie things together or make a connection or do a setup/payoff or callback that was not taken. not a single one.

everything about this movie is 100% Extra

in short: this movie is a masterclass

aaaaaand the rest below a cut because WOW i have a lot to say actually

which brings me to the dancing oh my gods. not sure i've ever seen such enthusiastic dancing in anything in my entire life. seriously by the final number i was exhausted just watching them

in general, this movie is: stunning

"RAM." "BHEEM." "SEETHA." IT'S ABOUT THE SYMBOLISM.

also this was kinda hilarious because i watched it in hindi [the least disorienting option] and they kept SAYING "ram" but in the subs it was always fuckin RAJU so like. again with the Choices. like seriously what was the thought process there. WAS there a thought process.

FIRE. WATER. STORY. I JUST. I. HELP ME.

i ADORED jenny. with my whole entire heart. she is one of the very BEST examples of Ignorance Is A Privilege and also At What Point Does Ignorance Become Malicious that i have ever ever seen. i loooooooooved it. i mean i hated it a whole lot while it was happening but also i am SO GLAD that now rather than trying to explain all of this to people i can just tell them to watch this movie and then sit them down and be like, so what are your thoughts on jenny's culpability in literally everything?

oh and how you can be a kind person and still do atrocities! like jenny is so sweet and so kind and you just like her so much and yet. and yet.

t h e s y m b o l i s m

i cannot remember the last time i saw a movie so visually stunning. the cinematography is breathtaking. pause on just about any random frame and it could be a movie poster or hanging in an art gallery or what have you.

they also dubbed all the lines that were actually in english? i mean i get it for the characters who spent most of the movie speaking Telugu because you'd need their voices to stay the same through the whole movie yeah fine whatever. but like. they dubbed all the ENGLISH characters, too? like literally dubbed them from english into english??? the dialogue matched their mouths except the timing was veeeery sliiiiiiiightly off but it SOUNDED really obviously dubbed??? Y THO???

HOLY SHIT THE FIGHT SCENES OH MY GODS

Malli. Malli honey i love you. i'm just realizing i don't know if that's your actual name gods damn it. but whatever your name is child i love you.

and did i mention that everyone in this movie is beautiful? like. seriously. Ram and Bheem especially holy SHIT.

Physics Does Not Work Like That And I Do Not Care Because That Was AWESOME: The Musical

oooohhhhh they re-recorded and dubbed the fucking SONGS too. i am so pissed about this y'all i can't even tell you.

oh i want to do a whole entire post that's even longer than this one about the symbolism. hell i could probably do a whole entire post just on the fire/water symbolism even without everything else. It was AMAZING.

okay ram is fire and bheem is water and ram's people go to a valley on the shores of a river and the river is in literally every shot of the village and just ram BEING fire but water being a place of HOME and SAFETY for ram

i'm not crying shut up

MALLI AND HER MOTHER TRY TO REACH EACH OTHER BUT THEY CANNOT TOUCH THROUGH THE GLASS

BHEEM AND MALLI HOLD EACH OTHER THROUGH THE BARS OF HER CONFINEMENT AND HE HAS TO LET GO AND LEAVE HER

BHEEM AND RAM HOLD EACH OTHER THROUGH THE BARS OF HIS CONFINEMENT AND BHEEM RIPS THE DOOR RIGHT OFF

ooooooohhhhhhh and people holding hands right before they part. oh that hurts. all of those hurt so bad.

how every single time people held hands when they parted they always held on till the last possible second EXCEPT FOR RAM'S MOM.

she lifts her hand away from him and then pulls back and it was devastating

Predators Do Not Work Like That But I Do Not Care Because That Was Awesome And Also They Ate A Bunch Of Colonizing Cops: Queercoded Edition (ACAB)

bheem with his arms spread and rope or chains around his wrists or in his hands. i just. the way it flipped back and forth from 'he has the power' to 'he is helpless' to 'he should be helpless and isn't' was just. breathtaking.

AND THEN. AND THEN RAM. CHAINED UP THE SAME WAY. DOING THE SAME GODDAMN THING AND USING THE FACT THAT HE'S CHAINED UP FOR HIS OWN FUCKING PURPOSES BECAUSE HE SAW BHEEM DO IT FIRST DON'T TOUCH ME

okay listen this movie would've been good no matter what but like. they really are just SO beautiful. and. when ram. with like the long hair. and. beard. and like. you know? like. his. his hair. his general. everything. um.

literally at the most emotionally inappropriate moment i literally thought about that whole 'i saw a man so beautiful i started crying' thing and like that almost literally happened literally

Why There Can't Be Any Such Thing As Good Cops: The Romance (ACAB)

and like here's the thing i'm not sure i would've even NOTICED this had it not been for the linguistic chauvinism with the audio and everything but like both of them were hindu and a lot of the symbolism though awesome was also really strongly hindu and i just i don't know nearly enough about hindutva to have any kind of opinion BUT i also feel like maaaaaaaybe there was something a little uncomfy about some of this

oh no wait the suspenders dance. that might've actually been the best part. yeah.

oh all the british actors did SUCH a good job being so eminently punchable

throw cheetahs at each other! and snakes! somehow have upper body strength greater than the force exerted by a 800+ lb tiger lunging! throw those motorcycles! punch through those walls without breaking your fingers! use herbal paste to heal broken bones in a matter of a minutes! break solid stone with nothing but the strength of your shoulders and gay love! i am so here for all of this!!!

Throw Rocks Marble Pillars Live Tigers Cops At Cops: The Movie (ACAB)

i love that jenny felt bad for the poor little girl who got kidnapped enslaved and imprisoned so she. bought her a dress and a toy.

you know, to make her feel better about the whole 'being kidnapped enslaved and imprisoned' thing.

instead of doing, i don't know know, literally anything else. like even just saying to her aunt 'hey this makes me sad' or something. #solidarity.

the violence was violent and the romance was sweet

okay so during the fight at the midpoint like i know that by the end of it ram and bheem are literal fire and water BUT ALSO. Ram enters the scene in a flaming carriage and from that point forward the fountain is in pretty much every shot of bheem. just sayin.

love that lachu (or whatever his name really is) told ram that there was no cure. like yes! you go man! ram may be so beautiful that in forty minutes i'm going to be in tears but that's no reason to tell a cop the truth about anything! you lie to that cop man!

A BRITISH SOLDIER HIT LOKI IN THE HEAD WITH A BRANCH AND THEN STOLE MALLI AWAY

BHEEM HIT RAM IN THE HEAD WITH A BRANCH AND THEN STOLE MALLI AWAY

i know other people got hit in the head with tree branches too but STILL

honestly i really like that ram and bheem were, well, ram and bheem. but i mean im glad they weren't like ram and lakshman or bheem and arjun or something. not even just because that would've been brotherly like i'm glad they weren't arjun and krishna or something either. i liked that their names weren't from the same story. i liked it better this way and i can't even articulate why.

i am never ever ever going to get over the progression of part of bheem's introduction being something going wrong and him holding two ropes (he has all the power) with his arms spread and that being used to show us how incredibly strong he is -> something going wrong and bheem with ropes around his wrists (he shouldn't have any power at all) holding his arms spread and that being used to show how incredibly strong he is in a completely different way

like every time there were ropes or chains in bheem's hands or around his wrists it meant something, and it was a beat in the rhythm of a discernable arc, but now i can't remember all of them gdi

oooohhhhh there was SO much more symbolism i wanted to talk about but it's so late that i have a headache and this post is so long my computer's lagging like two sentences behind so i should stop and go to bed. sigh.

just go watch this movie, okay? pleae? I cannot IMAGINE who would've read this whole thing,m but if you did, just watch it, all rigth? (and if you happen to know of any site - ANY site - where i can watch it in FUKIN TELUGU kindly drop a link please and thank)

#rrr #queer movies #rambheem #i don't even know how else to tag this #op #rrr movie #ram x bheem #movie recs

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inniessick · 1 year

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Do You Still Love Me? / Yang Jeongin

pairing: non idol!yang jeongin x fem reader

word count: 5.1k (im so sorry)

warnings: angst, fluff, cursing, mentions of break up, lowkey mean!jeongin but not the entire fic, SMUT! soft/hard dom!yang jeongin, sub!reader, mention of alcohol (once), dumbifaction, no verbal consent but everything was fully consensual, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (do not do that), begging, fingering, being manhandled? (wrists pinned above head, face being grabbed), dacryphilia, crying in general, degradtion, praise, overstimulation, size kink (maybe kinda, just being safe), pet names/names (baby, doll, princess, good girl, darling, my love/love, honey // bitch, slut, whore), orgasm delay?, hickeys/lovebites, marking in general, hair pulling, kissing, showering together??, let me know if i missed any!

likes, reblogs and feedback appreciated! :3 ♡

smut below the cut, don't press keep reading if you don't want to see that.

to think you'd end up here.. alone with him, it had only been a week since you last saw jeongin. and about 6 months since you broke up. it was messy, and clean. the entire situation made so much sense and none at all.

it had been nearly perfect for 3 years. you had been friends for 2 years before you even started dating. you and jeongin met in your junior year of college. he had a reputation around him, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt. you became best friends, basically attached at the hip, always together no matter where you were. "y/n and jeongin" "jeongin and y/n". absolutely nobody was surprised when you both started dating. you had always been naive, but jeongin realized he liked you very early on, too afraid to actually ask you out because he valued you so much. eventually, after a bit of liquid courage he had the balls to ask to be your boyfriend. the funniest part? you were going to confess your feelings to him the same night! your new years resolution was to be more upfront with your feelings, and you labeled that your first attempt, of course he beat you to it but you still told him how much you really liked him. a win is a win. jeongin knew you had only ever been in small relationships, never meaning a whole lot, and he wanted to change that for you. he went out of his way to make you smile at least once a day. he succeeded.

he was your first for almost everything, and he prided himself on that. everything he did, he did with meaning, he payed so much attention to you. he was the best boyfriend you could've asked for, of course you two fought, but it was rare and never a screaming match. it was civil. but then things got ugly after he went on a vacation to see his mom for 2 weeks. he came home so upset, and unintentionally took it out on you. called you clingy stupid incompetent. followed all of that up with, "why can't you leave me alone?" "do i need to help you with everything?" you tried to talk to him and ask him what was wrong, he didn't budge. you tried everything, being affectionate, leaving him alone, talking to his friends, you even tried to call his mom. nothing worked and you started to give up, you thought he hated you. eventually you told him you were moving out, he had no reaction. you took it as sign that it was over and done with.

of course you tried to move on but you couldn't. no matter what you did, you thought of jeongin. everything you did was a reminder that you had lived with him through seriously important years of your life. you couldn't shower without thinking about how he washed your hair. couldn't wear your clothes because he either got you most of them, or you got them when you were with him. your favorite meals were his favorite too. anything that was “yours”, was his. you didn't blame him, its not his fault that you two worked so well together. worked, past tense. you constantly had to remind yourself he wasn't yours anymore but no matter what you did it was always him.

you were baffled when he sent you a text one night, shortly after breaking up, asking to meet up. you took him up on the offer but rather than talking it led to you both drinking just a little bit too much and ending up in bed together. and that's how it's been for the last 4 months.

isn't it funny? sometimes you get lucky and they think you're someone else. you figured he didn't care that it was you, he just wanted to fuck. but here you are regardless. you thought you'd finally end things once and for all, but then you got a call from him. were you stupid? you shouldn't have answered his call at all. how can you blame him for your inability to end it? i mean, you picked up the phone after all.

it was 1am, you were nowhere near ready to sleep, you were thinking about how to approach him. speak of the devil as they say, right?

“hey.. y/n.. are you up?”

“yea innie, im up.” there you go again, thinking without speaking. the nickname too? cmon.

you could hear his staggered breathing, “come over? please? really need you.”

your heart was beating so hard you would've thought it was going to burst out of your chest. you knew exactly what he was implying. “mkay innie... ill come over” why would you say no? at least he wants you for something right? you heard him sigh, “thanks doll, you know how much you mean to me.” you gulped, trying so desperately to breathe but you couldn't, his words taking all the air from your lungs. you opted to just hang up the phone instead of responding.

somehow you made it out to your car, no recollection of getting dressed or grabbing your keys. but you were back to reality now, and all you could think was “should I really go and see him?” your hands gripping the steering wheel so hard your knuckles began to blanch. hadn't he made it clear weeks ago? you were just a quick fuck and a half decent friend, always so pretty for him, not enough to make him think about a relationship though. and yet, you started the car anyways, you drove over to his place, it used to be yours too. the drive couldn't have gone any slower, yet you were pulling into the parking lot before you knew it. walking up to his door, knowing you had one more shot to turn around and end it there, you grabbed the spare key from under the little garden gnome you'd gotten him a year ago, and you unlocked the door. you idiot. then you walked into his apartment, and made your way to his room. are you serious right now? and of course there he was waiting for you. only one thought in your head, god he's so pretty..

“’m so glad you're here, baby.” jeongin wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you towards him before connecting his lips to your neck and kissing all the spots he knew you loved. of course he knew them, he knew you better than you knew yourself.

“mhm.. I know innie.." you murmured while looking to the side, unintentionally giving him more access to the crook of your neck, before throwing your keys on the chair in the corner of his room.

you felt him pull away, only to come back once he had led you to his bed. towering over you, a small smile on his face as he leaned down to kiss your neck. he began running his hands down your torso before slipping them under your shirt to grab at your chest. his hands moving so gently over your skin, yet slow, achingly slow. jeongin slotted his knee between your thighs, the slightest bit of pressure being put against your core. a shaky breath and a whimper gave him all the confirmation he needed. peppering kisses along your jawline before meeting your lips. it was aggressive, tongue pushing it's way into your mouth, spit across your lips, all while he was touching and grabbing at your skin. your skin felt on fire, you needed some sort of release. how had he got you so worked up while doing so little? how did he still have this much control over you? you pulled at his hair, moved yourself against his knee just enough to satisfy the urge for some kind of friction.

"innie please.. need it so bad." you'd think you just entered another mans bed with how gently he began taking off your shirt, it all felt so slow, he was teasing you, testing to see how much he could get out of you. “innie, hurry please. don't wan’ wait anymore.” you were whining, begging for him to stop teasing you and just give you what you wanted, no, needed. “alright, honey, shh.. cmon lift your hips a little so I can take these off of you too.” he pulled at the top of your shorts, and you lifted your hips up allowing him to pull your shorts and panties off in one swift motion.

grabbing your hips before moving his hands down your legs. gently rubbing his hands on your thighs before bringing them back up and reaching your clit, applying the slightest bit of pressure, trying to get you to moan his name just the way he wanted. throwing your head back, and arching your back, “ahh- innie.. jeongin oh my god.” he gently kissed your thighs offering slight squeezes, almost like he was afraid to grab you too hard. “that's it princess, same my name again, tell innie what you want.” “wan’... want your fingers, please innie please.” “alright love, ill give you whatever you want.” right.. ‘whatever you want’, you were too caught up in the feeling of his fingers near your core to actually feel upset about what he was saying.

but it didn't stop you from thinking about his actions. how was he able to hold you like you were made of glass? touch you so lightly, it felt like his fingers were just ghosting over you. he made sure to place you down gently, to tell you such sweet things.. how could such things come from a mouth as vile as his?

you and jeongin weren't always like this, it was good at one point. you a real relationship. he really truly loved you, yet somewhere within the years, he stopped. he couldn't tell you why, he didn't know, or maybe you didn't care to ever ask in the first place. endless miscommunication. he may not love you, but at least in some way he still cared about you, even if it was late into the night and only if he could touch you in whatever way he pleased. you loved him still, and you weren't ready to give up yet. how else could you make him stay?

his fingers made their way to your entrance, slick built up from his teasing. “always so pretty and wet for me. just for innie, yea?" you nodded while grabbing at his hair, lightly tugging. “yesyes always for you, just for you, jeonginnie. pleasepleaseplease.” you weren't quite sure what you were begging for anymore, you knew he would fuck you so why beg? did you want him to love you? kiss you and hold you? your thoughts becoming scrambled as he slowly pushed 2 fingers into you, slowly pulling them out then pushing them back in, curling them right at that sweet spot. you closed your eyes, unable to handle all the pleasure he was giving you. his fingers reached places yours simply couldn't.

he kissed his way up your torso before getting right to your collarbone and stopping, his hand never moving away from your core. “princess, you still here?” he put his finger under your chin nudging your head up. you were still moaning, clenching around his fingers, trying to think of a response as he quickened the pace. “yes, just wanna cum innie.. p- please.” you whimpered, “alright love, you got me, im here. cum for me baby, come on.” he went back down, this time finally connecting his mouth with your clit. humming slightly when you let out a higher pitched moan. small kitten licks as he kept fucking you with his fingers, coaxing an orgasm out of you, just as you had asked him. before you knew it you were coming undone on his fingers. moaning, pulling at his hair, incoherent words spilling for your lips as he helped you ride your high out. finally pulling himself away from you, lips slightly wet from your juices, your legs still shaking as he softly rubbed circles on your thighs.

“you still okay doll?” “mhm.. want more, need you jeongin.” your hand on his clothed chest, pulling at his shirt, a silent request for him to take it off. he seemed to understand what you wanted, retreating from the bed to rid himself of his clothing. you stared at him as he stripped, it almost felt like he was giving you a small show. it didn't matter how many times this happened, you never got over how big his dick actually was. seeing him always made you nervous, how is it gonna fit? even though he makes it fit every single time. he got back onto the bed, towering on top of your small frame again, giving you a few kisses before he lined himself up with your entrance, pushing in slowly, his soft hand caressing your cheek. you were whimpering, tossing your head from side to side, and grabbing at his biceps, “innie too much too much canttakeanymore..” your speech was slurred, “you can do it doll, take me so well every time.” you knew he had to have been only half way in, but you felt so full, it felt like he was splitting you apart. “still so tight after I fucked you with my fingers... so cute, always asking me for more.” he whispered close to your ear, it sent a shiver down your spine. he kissed your face gently as he continued to push himself deeper into you before finally bottoming out. tossing his head back and groaning every time you clenched down on him, “see princess? took it all j-just for me.” your breathing was rigid, trying to get used to his size. your fingers gripping harder onto his arm, whining “why are you so big? its too much.” “its okay baby, take your time, you can do it.” “j.. jeongin move, please move.”

he connected his lips with yours, the kiss was hot and sloppy. he moved his hands down to grab your hips, slowly building up speed. each thrust causing you to whimper and moan into his mouth. he pulled away from your lips only to reconnect himself to your jaw and move down to your neck while letting out strings of curses, softly biting your neck every time he felt you clamp down. he had completely littered your neck and chest with red and purple hickeys, even after everything was done you'd still be reminded of him, that ultimately, you were still his. “fuck.. so tight for me... always so fucking good." he moaned as you moved your hands under his arms and clawed at his back, not only was he picking up his pace but he was going harder, each thrust making his tip kiss your cervix. “fuck innie.. ahh.. right there please, moremoremore” “more what princess? talk to me.” he fucked into you faster, he wanted to fuck you dumb, make it hard for you to say anything to him. “shit.. harder please.. god, jeongin, please harder!”

its like something in him snapped at that moment, pulling away from you and grabbing your wrists before putting them above your head and holding them there. “why do you keep begging? are you that much of a greedy slut for me?” he looked down at you, so small beneath him. such a tiny little thing, all his, only for him to use. “mm! yes innie, I am!” “do you want me to fuck you dumb? make you feel so good you can't think?” “yesyesyes please! wan’ be good for you.” you kept babbling nonsense and moaning to the point where you couldn't even think a proper thought. he had reached his goal. “who fucks you this good, y/n? who makes you scream like this?” you were trying so hard to form a response, really you were! yet you failed, unable to register the things he was saying. it didn't help that he kept snapping his hips into yours and hitting the one spot that made you see stars. he stilled his hips, grabbing your cheeks with one hand and making your face form a pout. “answer me, who fucks you this good?” “you, jeongin! only you fuck me like this! please dont want you to stop.” you moved your hips while whining, “atta girl.” he was back to assaulting that sweet spot, fucking into you at a rapid, unwavering pace. you couldn't stop moaning, almost like you had no control over yourself anymore. all you could think about was jeongin and how good he felt. in the midst of everything, your mouth hung open just slightly, drool falling onto your lips, tears threatening to spill from your half lidded eyes. “awwhh, poor little baby crying because that can't take what they asked for? didn't you say harder, love? isn't this what you wanted?” he was taunting you, he knew exactly what he was doing. tears fell from your eyes and you kept nodding and babbling, completely fucked out while your legs trembled, “’s too much innie, too much, c-cant take it!” “getting fucked so good you're crying now? are you that much of a whore for my dick?” you cried harder, sobbed for him, begging him to not stop, while going on and on about it being too much, before you knew it you were begging him to let you cum too.

“in... fuck- innie.. wan’ cum for you, please need to.. love you so much.. please need to cum,” the pace he was going at was cruel, and so precise, every thrust hitting right where it needed to. “I'm nowhere near finished with you and you're already gonna cum? are you that much of cock hungry bitch?” “yesyesyes love you so much, i love you! jeonginnie! please let me cum! need to cum,” “come on then, wanna feel you cum on my cock.” and with that he was kissing you as you moaned and trembled in his grasp, he gently released your wrists and slowed down, fucking you through your orgasm. “that's my good girl,” it almost sounded as though he put an emphasis on the word, making it known that you were his.

you dont know why, but you used all the strength you had left to wrap your legs around his waist as you grabbed his face, “keep going please... want you to cum in me innie.. need to feel you.” you pulled his face back down and kissed him, you felt his hips stutter slightly before he put one of his hands behind your neck and the other holding on to your hip so hard you knew it'd leave a mark in the morning. he deepened the kiss, it was full of passion, tender yet sloppy, so hot you thought it would burn you. you tangled your fingers in his hair and held onto him. he had slowed down a lot, only pulling out halfway before sinking back into your warm cunt. you weren't screaming his name anymore nor moaning so loud that he would be gettin noise complaint, rather it felt almost too intimate, small moans and a couple swears. sweet nothings “love you so much, want to kiss you innie, keep going please” and him reciprocating, “feel so good around me, never want to let you go, you're perfect... love you.” the last two words made your chest begin to feet tight, almost like you couldn't breathe and you screwed your eyes shut. he was too caught up in the moment, right? surely he didn't mean to say that. his thrusts became sloppy and jeongin started breathing heavier, “cmon baby, cum for me, please.” you whispered into his ear, tugging on his hair a bit, you heard a small “mhm” come from him as he kissed all around your neck, you swore you even felt him smile against it every time you said his name. a familiar knot in your tummy formed. with a few harsh thrusts from him he was filling you up, as you unraveled around him while mumbling about how much you loved him.

you both laid their for a moment, catching your breath and just holding onto each other. after a few minutes he leaned up slightly, wiping the tears off your cheek, but these weren't from earlier. “y/n, why are you crying?” and you snapped back to reality. of course he was just saying all of that because of the sex, why else would he be that sweet to you? he hadn't said your name like that in awhile, it sounded too cold. you felt your heart break just a bit, your short-lived dream being ripped right from your hands.

he was holding himself just enough above you to not be laying on top of you, and you missed how close he felt to you, you understood the intimacy was over. he rubbed your cheek, “why are you crying? was I too rough? did I hurt you?” he pushed himself off of you and took in everything. your chest had hickeys all over it, neck covered in bite marks, hip starting to bruise from his ruthless grip, lips bitten and red, hair disheveled, he felt horrible, did he really hurt you? well no, not in that way at least.

you had no clue why you couldn't stop crying, offering him a small smile as tears kept falling from your eyes, “no jeongin.. it was great. you didn't do anything wrong, you didn't hurt me, I wanted you to be rough, promise. I just... I missed that.” you saw his jaw tense, “what do you mean..? the sex? we do that all the time..” you turned your head to the side trying to avoiding his gaze. he quickly, yet gently, grabbed your jaw and made you look at him, you were his, and he had full control of you. “no.. missed you.. holding me and talking to me like that.” “y/n- baby... im sorry, you know it can't be that way anymore.” “I kn- I still love you.. dont know what to do with myself.” you cut yourself off. if not now, when? didn't he deserve to know you felt? did he not remember saying he loved you too? were you really just a tool for him to use? certainly that wouldn't be horrible, right? at least he would keep you around. it left you thinking, when had jeongin ever said something he didn't mean at least a little bit, though? some truth had to be hidden in his statement.

he ran his hand through your hair, “let's get you cleaned up and then we can talk about this, okay?” you stared at him, like a dear in the headlights, “talk about it..?” “mhm baby, we can talk about it. cmere let me walk you to the bathroom, clean you up.” you simply nodded, at a total loss for words. was this his form of a cruel joke?

he started a warm shower and got you both in. holding you against his chest, you could hear his heart beating, it was so steady. it was silent for awhile, only small sniffles coming from you. he held you, letting the warm water run over you and ease your muscles.

"turn around so i can wash your hair, darling." “mkay..” his fingers massaged your scalp slowing working his way around your head before rinsing the shampoo out of your hair. he helped you wash your body. making sure to gently go over each area, small apologies after he touched every mark. “dont apologize.. like it when you mark me like that..” he only hummed in response. you knew he loved doing it to you, too. as he finished rinsing the bubbles off your body, he reached for the shampoo, and just before he could pick the bottle back up, you grabbed it, "innie, can i wash your hair too?" you sounded so enthusiastic, like it was something you had been waiting to do. that stupid smile of his, he let out a small laugh. "of course you can wash my hair." you smiled back at him, placing a small kiss on his cheek. he put his head down so you could wash his hair completely, you started to wash his body for him, you took this opportunity to take the full view of him in. only a few marks left from your mouth on him, his back had scratch marks all the way down, you stifled a giggle when you saw. it felt so natural.. normal again, but things like that are too good to be true aren't they? you turned the water off and got towels for each other. you stared at him as he dried his hair, "your hair got long again.." you said lowly, you hadn't noticed it until now. you hadn't been this close to him for a long time, "i haven't had the time to cut it yet.." you hummed in response before drying yourself off. "i like when you grow it out.." you thought you had said it softly enough that he hadn't heard, but you were met with him saying, "i know" before holding your head to his chest for a moment.

"let me go get us some clothes- are you okay wearing mine? i don't have any of yours here.." "yea jeonginnie, your clothes are just fine." something in you was glad that you hadn't asked to keep a spare change of clothes here, but you shouldn't be happy, you shouldn't have hope that this will work out again... but god do you want it to.

walking back into the bathroom, he handed you a shirt you used to wear to bed all the time, "i remember this one, you got it from Chan during new years right?" "Mhm, same time when i asked you.. sorry." he stopped himself, the grin on his face falling, he looked upset with himself for bringing up the memory of when you two first got together. granted, you never forgot, you think about it all the time. shaking your head, you put on his clothes and walked back into the bedroom.

there was a long pause, where you both just looked at each other trying to figure out what to say, "so...” you looked around the room, trying to break the silence but jeongin quickly spoke, “you still love me?” your eyes widened again, you hadn't expected that. "you kept saying it when we were.."

you stopped him, “you said it too...” he looked at you and nodded, acknowledging that he had reciprocated the words. so he said it on purpose... “of course I still love you jeongin.. why else would I keep coming back?”

he held your hand in his as he looked down.. “but I said some really horrible things to you y/n, I just let you leave, and then i only called you for things like this.." “mhm.. I didn't want to lose you completely.. needed to find a way to stay with you.” “princess.. im so sorry.”

you shook your head and pulled your hand away, “dont apologize, that means you're gonna leave.” panic rising in your chest, “baby.. im apologizing because I dont want to leave. I want to be around you, you don't know how much i still love you.” just as quickly as the anxiety came, it left.

you could feel your eyes getting watery again, you didn't know you had any tears left to spare. but for him you always did, you had everything to give him, you just needed him to let you. “do you really want me innie...? do you want a relationship outside of sleeping with me? im too clingy and I can't do stuff right..” he knew you were referring to the things he had told you, it pained him, chewing on his bottom lip to fight off the tears he knew would spill at any moment. god, how he regretted hurting you. he never meant to, he couldn't stand seeing you upset because of him. “love... im so sorry I told you things like that i.. i dont know why i did.” he grabbed your cheeks and looked into your eyes, “I didn't mean it. you're not too clingy, I want to be glued to your side every second of the day. I never want you to leave my arms. I want to be around you more than anything else. and.. and you're not incompetent my love, you do so much right, im the one who messed up. of course I want a relationship with you y/n, I didn't know you still wanted me after everything that happened.” was he always this dumb? of course you still wanted him. you put your face into his chest, trying to say something but you couldn't. the only words that would come out were sorry, and love you. he knew you couldn't put it into words just yet. he held onto you so tightly, but it wasn't close enough. you needed to be closer, you needed to crawl into his ribcage and make a home next to his heart. but you already resided there. you were always there, he loved you more than anything and deep down you knew that. thats only fair right? he had made a home inside of you, an endless garden that flourished through every limb, every cell within you, constantly growing, begging for you to never uproot it, and of course you wouldn't. when he had abandoned the garden, that is your heart, you continued to water it, show it love, in hopes that one day he'd come back and stay there. maybe this was what you were waiting for. you loved him more than bees love flowers, more than the stars love the moon, more than life itself.

jeongin held you in his arms and placed a kiss on the top of your head. “love you innie..” “I love you too... baby im sorry I didn't try to fix this sooner.” there was a pause in his speech, but you didn't doubt that he truly meant what he was saying. “we can fix it now, right?” you looked up at him, pleading, silently begging him to tell you ‘we can fix this’. “if you'll let me, ill do everything to prove im a better man now. I dont want to live without you like this anymore. I cant tell you how much I love you.” “I dont want you to tell me you love me, jeongin. just show me. show me that you love me like I love you.” you pulled away and kissed him for the nth time tonight, but it felt different. it felt loving, there was no lust, just a kiss between two people who loved each other. a kiss that signified a promise, a promise to keep trying, to show each other endless love. a kiss shared to say things neither of them could.

a/n: PLEASE I REREAD THIS SO MANY TIMES IF THERES AN ERROR IM SORRY? HOW DID I MISS IT?? you can thank tv girl for this fic because the whole inspo was from "her and her friend". i literally couldn't stop writing, it felt never ending. may be a bit disorganized, but i tried really hard to make it as fluid as possible. i hope the ending didn't feel rushed either? i thought i closed it off pretty well. that being said, please give me feedback on what you liked/didnt! i will take it into consideration when writing my next piece! my requests are open!

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