#and then he just shoved a game in his hands to entertain him like why can't we just talk oh my god | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

visionsofmagic · 7 months

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❝screaming another man’s name while being fucked by him❞

including: zoro, luffy, sanji, shanks [opla versions]

―❛ nsfw, brat!reader, f!reader, possessive behaviour, chocking (kinda), licking, different positions, daddy kink, swearing, pet names, spanking, angry sex, humiliation, begging, fingering, oral > f receiving, marking, claiming, mentions of voyeurism, hair, ‘is all I suppose. ✸ wc: 2.3k ✸ posted only zoro’s version but didn’t appear on tags, so, I repost that part with others’ parts too. tried to stay in characters. enjoy!

⭑ ZORO

“oohhh - sanji!”

you moaned, not aware of your own moans until he asked, voice deep, sending radiations of danger.

“what did you just say?”

hands on your waist freezing, the pressure still on there yet it doesn’t continue pulling and pushing your body, stopping fucking you - the sudden silence in the room fills up with heavy breathing.

he holds you by the neck, raising your body up, he makes your back touch his bare chest, back arching - his cock twists inside your walls.

“I asked,” he says, warm breaths hitting your ear as his voice reaches every part of your body as if it's a poison - and he is the only cure for it. “what did you fucking say.”

it wasn’t intentional - you didn’t mean to moan another man’s name in the middle of fucking, but, it came as an instinct.

“z-zoro - I - didn’t mean to - aggh -!”

“didn’t mean to what? moaning another man’s name?” he chuckled, far away from entertaining, just pure annoyance. “moaning sanji’s name while my dick inside you, breakin’ you into half, hm?”

you can’t answer, you can’t even comprehend what to do because you don’t understand why you moaned sanji’s name. however, zoro knows you more than you do, and owns every knowledge about the hidden meanings behind your actions, words, and looks - he isn’t dumb, he knows how you close your thigh around sanji whenever he cooks, watching him from the corner of your eyes as you bite your lips without even noticing it.

it is not that zoro doesn’t get jealous, he does and he will prove it right away yet he wants to satisfy you in every way he can - he can see the truth behind the whole thing; you want the full attention that you try to make him angry with all these acts, and you have no idea that you’re doing all that only for him - for zoro so that he can get possessed around you.

he’s a pleaser though, for you, and he will plan your little game, giving what you want.

“maybe I should call him,” he says, and whimpers when your pussy clenches around his length on its own - pure instinct, pure satisfaction. he smirks, pride runs in his veins, he really knows you - each hit point, each desire, everything. he leaves your body, bending it over again, ass getting higher.

he begins to fuck you so slow that you swear you will lose your mind anytime soon as his cock goes out of your horny clit until his tip touches your folds, only to shove it in again with a hard yet effective thrust.

weren’t his hands holding you by the hips, you would hit the wall in front of your face - moaning louder than before, afraid that the crew will hear you as you get fucked by furious zoro.

“ohh, I definitely should call him. wanna make him watch your pretty face as I fuck your hungry pussy for my cock,” he says, thrusting faster each passing time, making your hands grip the sleeves under you. “would you like that?” he asks, balls hitting every right spot of your ass cheeks, thrust begins to mixture of both pain and pleasure.

“ohhh - zoro - zoro -!”

“that’s right baby. roronoa zoro,” he kneels down, abdomen touching your back, dick reaches the end of your pussy, a hand grips your hair, pulling it harshly, “scream my fucking name louder, wanna hear it, wanna everyone hear it as well.”

“‘m sorry, zoro, ‘m so sorry -“

“oh please,” he mocks you, leaving your hair, only to hold you by the neck this time, pushing you onto the mattress lower, cries rush onto your face. soaking, you moan his name over and over again. “you’re not sorry at all. you’re just a slut, aren’t you?” his fingers play with your ass hole, sending a new sense of satisfaction into your body, “a slut only for my cock though,” he whispers into himself, slapping your ass, earning a scream out of your pretty parted lips.

then, he turns you around, and the cock swifts inside you - standing above you, he puts one of his hands beside your head, and the other one grips your neck completely, making you look up to his face - he finds the pace that he knows that will make you see starts.

eyes sparkling with lust as you look at him, half-closed, blurry already, dry tears on the cheeks, chest raising up and down rapidly while his cock fucks your abused clit harder, and deeper. “yes my slut,” he says, possessiveness can be heard through his voice, “look at who’s fucking you right now. not luffy, not that shitty waiter sanji either. just roronoa zoro. who’s fucking you? whose pussy is this? say it.”

“roro - ohhhh, shit - roronoa z-zoro!”

he nods with such pride that he smirks, still furious, but enjoying this so much that he decides to fuck you in every position he can until the whole crew knows you’re getting fucked by him in his damn room, crying only his name. “that’s it my pretty slut, you will never forget it. from now on, I will dig it into your dizzy head so that your legs will open on their own whenever you see me.”

“please, yes, yes, zoro!” going all mindless, you let him do what he wants - after all, this is what you wanted, isn’t it?

“pretty slut. gotta make you know who you belong to.”

⭑ LUFFY

“fuuuck - usopp!” the words - the moan comes out of you without your control, making his head higher up.

“huh? say somethin’ baby?” he asks, not stopping eating you from the back, fingers joined, brows raised, curiously looking at you.

“‘m so sorry, luffy - I - I wasn’t thinking straight- I - ohhh!” you try to say but your words are cut by his fingers scissoring inside you.

“oh,” he says, sounding not surprised but excited, chuckling even as he adds, “I didn’t hear it wrong then. you really moaned his name - while my tongue is deep inside you, fingering this beautiful pussy that I thought clenching because of how good I am fucking you.”

between your loud whimpers mixing with moans, you begin to say how sorry you are. you weren’t aware of it until the moment usopp’s name left your mouth. you knew it was luffy who was making you week on the knees, who’s have your legs wrapped around his bare shoulders, your pussy wide open, hands on his curly hair as you pull them whenever his tongue and fingers reach your g-spot - only he can fuck you like this, you know it! but why you moaned usopp’s name, why you pictured him in your mind beside luffy are the questions you have no answers to.

“I don’t know what happened to me - ohhh - luffy, ‘m so sorry - fuuck!”

both moaning with pleasure and crying with pure guilt, you try to hide your face from luffy, a hand positioned on your half of the face, not looking at him, afraid that you made him upset and disappointed yet luffy is there to prove you wrong when he leaves your pussy, gets up, holding you by the chin as he lowers down, making both of you hit the bed underneath you.

hovering over you, he makes you see his smiling face, lips shining because of your soaking, eyes sparkling.

“oh, pretty baby, look at me,” he says, caressing your chin, “I am not mad. not at all. if you want to bring another man into the bed -“

“no, no - I don’t - I really don’t!” you protest, so shy at the thought. you only want luffy, you know that, and you want to apologize to him for being such a greedy girl, “you’re my one and only luffy. I only want you.”

he chuckles softly, shaking his head, fingers finally finding your aching pussy again, playing with it as he says, “‘s okay. if I am the only one you want, then, let me fuck you that your whole body remember I am the one and only for it.”

he keeps his promises, fucking you until the only thing you have on your mind is him - nothing more, nothing less.

yet he doesn’t leave you without teasing you, giving you wet kisses, markings, and even slaps from here to there - enjoying seeing you all shy yet greedy for him.

⭑ SANJI

“oh yes, yes, yes, right there - so good so good - please more, zoro, please!”

“hm? what?” he asks in a surprised tone, hands stopping playing with your breasts, tongue staying on the hardened nipple without moving, eyes looking up to your confused face from where he stays on - your exposed chest.

he smirks, a bit of jealousy and entertainment at the same time, realizing you have no clue about what you said a second ago, legs push him closer - wanting his cock deep inside your warm walls to start moving again because you can’t understand why he has stopped fucking you.

“oh my beautiful madam,” he teases, “can’t even realize he moaned another man’s name while having my cock warm inside her pussy!”

your eyes widen after you comprehend the words he’s saying.

you swear lowly, hands touch his well-built chest, heat rushing all over your face, and you begin to feel guilt blooming inside your abdomen which has twisted.

“sanji - I am so sorry, I didn’t- I wasn’t -“ he cuts you off, right hand finds your neck as long fingers caress your face.

his face so close to yours as he chuckles, “oh, did my pretty lady remember who’s fucking her? not zoro, eh?”

he can’t decide whether he should feel humiliated or amused. yet he doesn’t go hard on you, moving his hips, he earns low moans from you - hands trembling on his chest, the dilemma rises up inside the mind, thoughts about zoro shuts down by sanji, he shoves his dick into you slowly and in one go as if he’s trying to remind you that you’re under him - not zoro’s or any other man’s.

“please, sanji - faster, please!” your please now is filled with his name comes as prays into his ears, the pride increases, giving sanji a chance to play with your cute little mind.

“that’s right baby, sanji - say that again.” his movements become faster, harder.

“sanji, sanji, sanji - aggh, so good -“ with the help of the last decent you have, you moan his name louder and louder, wanna make him prove that you’re mind full of him, giving him the apology he deserves in a way he would like to get; being so noisy that everyone will acknowledge what you’re doing behind the doors.

“would make a mess out of you. you will leave this room barely walking because of me,” his possession is perceivable, burning you alive with the desire for more. hands grip your inner thighs, opening them wider, a painful breath leaves your lungs as you shut your eyes, giving sanji what he wants; devouring you to tame you.

“pretty lady needs a lesson, and I am here to give it.”

⭑ SHANKS

he doesn’t say much, chuckling or laughing would suit him better but he knows you should have known that no one can fuck you like he does when another’s man comes from you - moaning with it instead of saying shank’s name.

holding you from the waist, he takes control of you, not letting you ride him no more, sweats flow from your body into his.

the moment you hear his voice, memories of the past seconds rush to your mind, and you find yourself putting your hands on his shoulders, afraid that he will push you.

contrary to what you expect, shanks moves your hips slowly, forth, and back - his balls feel heavy under you, hair on his lower abdomen makes the pleasure double.

you hold your tears; blurry vision, soaking clit, reddened face, agape mouth - pathetic yet beautiful, he thinks. “daddy’s cock isn’t enough for you, hm, is this the case why you moan another man’s name like that even when you’re,” he takes your chin, making you look down, seeing the mess you’re creating, “cumming onto my cock?”

“it’s not it, shanks!” earn a spank on your ass.

“then what is it princess?” he asks, brows raised, fingers traveling on your body, “am I not fucking you good that you fantasize about another man while bouncing on my lap?”

he lets you say countless sorry words, cries inside his arms, explaining how you didn’t mean to do that, how he’s the only one for you yet he doesn’t seem satisfied, taking a deep breath, raising your body then lowering it down - cock thrusting deep and hard.

throwing your head, you begin to beg for him to forgive you, to fuck you.

“in that case,” he says, putting himself a glass of wine from the small table beside you while still sitting on his favorite chair that he fucks you onto. leaning back, he moves his hand in the air, “fuck yourself on my cock, show me how much you can beg for my cock, then, I will forgive you and fuck your greedy pussy princess,”

he watches you going blank for a moment before beginning to bounce on him, moaning from the throat, hands traveling around your body to make a show only for his eyes.

he whimpers lowly, a smirk lightening his attractive face, eyes burning in fire, “give daddy a show. and when you’re done, I will call for him and make him watch as I fuck you good.”

❤💙

taglist • tagging: @snowprincesa1 ❦

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babyleostuff · 4 months

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NANA CUDDLES | JEON WONWOO

dedicated to @wonijinjin

fluff 𐙚 established relationship 𐙚 idol!wonwoo x gn!reader 𐙚 wc: 763

“what are you giggling at?”

without tearing your eyes from the screen, you blindly reached for wonwoo’s hand, giving it a little squeeze. “i've never seen you so unbothered about being shirtless on camera before,” you said amused, unable to look away from your computer. “on national tv may i add.”

he scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, as if he was trying to make a point. “you would be too if a horde of people barged into your room shoving cameras in your face.”

wonwoo was clearly not as entertained as you were, not that you cared - you were too busy melting over your shirtless boyfriend with the cutest bed hair, who looked like the squishiest (and most confused) dumpling ever.

“i had bigger things to worry about,” he said, and reached for his gaming controller.

“like what?” you could barely hold back your laughter at his pouty expression and the way he spoke in a sulk. offended wonwoo was an endearing wonwoo. no wonder he became Na PD’s favourite child when he acted that cute without even realising.

“like being kidnapped.”

you quickly paused the video, turning your head in your boyfriend’s direction.“that's not an excuse, jeon wonwoo. you were kidnapped to fucking italy!”

“language.”

you hated yourself for how down bad you were for your boyfriend, because oh god, you’d love to punch him for being so annoying sometimes, but you couldn't - instead, you wanted to smooch him all over his kissable face.

“why are you being so mean about it? i never said you looked bad or anything,” you mumbled and resumed the video, sinking further into the sofa. wonwoo sighed softly and you knew something bigger was going on, but you didn't want to argue with him any further if he was going to be so annoying.

out of the corner of your eye, you saw him grab the blanket that was lying next to him and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself - no matter what the temperature was, wonwoo always ended up being cold.

"it was embarrassing. i mean, it is now that i look at it," he mumbled, picking up your computer and without looking at you, he covered your legs with the blanket. “and it’s even more embarrassing seeing you freak over it so much,” he raised his gaze to you, shyly looking at you from behind his glasses that slid to the tip of his nose.

you cooed at him, only now noticing the blush on his cheeks. "i didn't do it to spite you, honey, seriously. you just looked so cute and it's not often you show this side of you when you're on camera,” you said, adjusting his glasses. “seeing you so happy even in such an uncomfortable situation for you,” you sighed, brushing gently some of his hair from his forehead. “i love seeing you like this. happiness looks good on you, wonwoo.”

wonwoo scrunched his nose sweetly, looking down. “thank you,” he said, and leaned towards you, pecking your forehead.

“what are you doing?” you looked up from your book in confusion, watching wonwoo climb into bed.

"i'm going to bed?" he asked with amusement, pulling the covers over him.

"okay, but what are you wearing?" wonwoo couldn't help but laugh. he placed his glasses on the nightstand and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “a shirt,” he replied and kissed your cheek, settling more comfortably against your side.

"this is some kind of joke, right?"

"what are you talking about, baby?," wonwoo muttered, grabbing his own book.

“you never sleep with your shirt on,” you whined. without even putting the bookmark in the book, you threw it somewhere and knelt next to wonwoo, waiting for an explanation.

"you were so crazy about me being shirtless earlier that i'd rather not take it off now so you don't go insane again. i wouldn't want anything to happen to you, hm," he hummed, patting your thigh, as if that didn’t just make you go nuts.

“wonwoo, please?” you wanted nothing more than to wipe his stupid smirk off his face, you knew he was just teasing you now.

smiling sweetly at you, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, throwing it to the ground. "better?" he asked, amused. you wanted to scream yes, but instead you threw yourself at him and snuggled into his side, finding your usual place in the crook of his neck. “much better,” you huffed happily.

“oh baby,” wonwoo murmured, kissing your temple.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @soul-is-a-strange-kid @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @wonvsmile @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds

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cordeliawhohung · 4 months

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Whoa whoa whoa, why did you have to make mafiaunderboss!Simon sound so hot 😩😩??

Can we see what it looks like when Price’s wifey brings a friend around, and she’s nothing but heart eyes for him and vice versa? I honestly just love this au

mafiaunderboss!Simon has my whole fucking heart i have so many ideas for him it's not even funny. and you know what's even better than price's wife bringing a friend around??? being that friend she brings around..... (we truly are out here living our best y/n lives)

also, i've created a mafia!141 masterlist here <3 because i don't think i'm getting out of this phase anytime soon.

warnings: mafia!underboss!Simon x shy-ish!fem!reader, reader doesn't know simon's in a mafia lmao, sorta sexual tension, short-ish drabble

When your friend invited you over to a family dinner, you weren't sure if you should go or not. Family events always seemed more like a private and cut off thing, not something a friend should attend, and you were terrified about intruding. But when she insisted that her husband wouldn't mind, and how she would love it if you were able to meet the others, you begrudgingly accepted.

You arrived right on time wearing a cute little outfit that you hoped would keep you cool enough so that you weren't sweating all throughout dinner. Once you were led into the dining room of your friends home, you very quickly realized that this was not the type of family dinner you had expected. At first, you had thought of extended family, some brothers and sisters, maybe nieces and nephews. Instead, you saw your friend's husband, John, at the head of the table, along with three other men, none of whom looked related.

After a few quick introductions, you took your seat in between your friend and a kind, boisterous man with a mohawk who the others called Soap. Once dinner was served, conversation erupted throughout the table, and while you found yourself actively listening, you didn't add a whole lot to the conversation. Instead, you were perfectly content glancing around the table, watching the men around you curse and joke with one another.

However, there was one man who caught your eyes more than anyone else. The others called him Riley, and he was almost too large to fit comfortably in the small, wooden dining chair. You swore you heard his knees knock against the table a few times. The simple black t-shirt he wore perfectly displayed the sleeve of tattoos on his arm, and you found yourself enchanted by the way the sinewy muscles of his forearm flexed as he raised his glass to his lips. It seemed impossible to tear your eyes away from him, until you realized his dark and alluring eyes had caught you. You quickly averted your gaze just in time to miss the smirk that pulled at his lips.

Dessert was served in what you assumed was the entertainment room. There was a dartboard shoved up against the wall and a billiards table towards the side of the room, both of which looked very loved with years worth of holes and scratches. While you and your friend indulged in the mouthwatering tiramisu she had made, the boys started up a game of pool, where they played long enough for John to get either too bored or too fed up with the others. They tried to get your friend to play so that they could continue playing doubles, but she quickly declined.

"What about you?" Kyle spoke up.

It took you a moment to realize that he was speaking to you. All three men had their eyes on you, including Riley. Swallowing, you shook your head as you set your dishware on the side table next to you.

"Oh, I don't really know how to play," you excused.

"That's alright," Soap said as he tapped his pool cue on the floor. "Riley's a good teacher."

Before you knew it you were standing next to the table alongside the others, your own cue in hand. It didn't take long to realize just how better at the game they were than you as they made shot after shot, and when your turn rolled around, you swallowed hard, not exactly excited to make a fool of yourself.

Still, you conjured as much confidence as you could as you leaned over the table, trying to line the stick up with the cue ball. Yet no matter how hard you tried to steady your hands, you couldn't quite get stable enough to make a good shot.

"Here," Riley spoke up as he leaned his stick against the table.

The warmth of him engulfed you as you found your back pressed against his chest. It took everything in you not to boil alive under his touch as he moved your guiding hand into position in order to strike efficiently. His hand engulfed yours as he helped you hold onto the stick, and you attempted to ignore the way his breath fanned across your ear as he spoke.

"Steady, yeah? Strike right here in the center, angle a bit to the left," he guided.

Eventually his hands slid off of yours so you could make the shot, but your brain was too overwhelmed to fully focus. Yet you tried anyway, striking the ball just like he told you and barely pocketing one of the stripes. A quick round of whoops escaped the boys as they congratulated you on your shot, despite the fact you were on the other team. Riley went for a more tame reaction, and he rested his hand on your shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze.

"Nice shot."

Heat rose in your face at his touch, and you tried to swallow the warmth back into your stomach as you tapped your cue against the tip of your shoe. "All thanks to you, Riley."

For a moment, he was silent as he leaned over the table for his turn where thick fingers guided his cue along the table. Pudgy skin and muscles forced his shirt to tighten along his shoulders, and you stood there speechless as he hit his shot. He easily pocketed yet another ball before he straightened back up and turned his attention to you. His dark eyes, the ones that had been sneaking glances at you all night long, gave you a quick once over before he tilted his head slightly.

"It's just Simon to you, sweetheart."

i am fucking feral for this man. also, unrelated but mafia simon has a dick piercing <3

#mafia!ghost #mafia!141 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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loveinhawkins · 11 months

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The Championship Game of 1985 is only a quarter of the way done, and Eddie is already certain that it’s not going to be a Hawkins victory.

It kinda blows, honestly. It’s boring, like correctly guessing the ending of a movie five minutes in.

And yeah, sue him, maybe high school basketball is a legitimate source of entertainment—he can admit that in the safety of his own head, at least.

Take, for example, the first game of the ‘83 tournament, when a timeout was called with only seconds remaining: the Tigers’ last hope of winning was to miraculously sink a shot with the fraction of time they had left. The tension in the air was palpable as the team formed a huddle—Eddie couldn’t hear anything apart from students chanting, but he stood on his tiptoes and found a gap in the crowd, just in time to read Steve Harrington’s lips: “I’ll make it.”

And he had—with a goddamn stunning full-court jump shot, too, the ball falling through the net just before the buzzer sounded.

Like, come on. Eddie would only admit it under pain of death, but that definitely rivals the intensity of any worthy campaign.

But he can see none of that excitement now. The Tigers have had few opportunities to even get the ball, and whenever they do, Billy Hargrove seems to have taken it upon himself to hog the damn thing, like it’s a symbol of his masculinity.

Of course, he loses the ball—again—and his nostrils flare with anger.

Maybe that’s why Eddie notices it. He’s checked out of paying attention to the game itself, instead focusing on the jaded expressions of Hargrove’s teammates.

As the ball makes its way down center court, Eddie’s eyes are instead drawn to Steve Harrington. He looks pissed, wiping sweat off his forehead and shouting what looks like some pretty choice words at Hargrove’s back.

Hargrove doesn’t seem to acknowledge it, but for just a moment he goes completely still, and all Eddie can think is danger.

It’s covert, the way it’s all done. Hargrove’s move is quick and calculated; he steps far enough away afterwards that it looks like the whole thing is the fault of a rival player.

But Eddie sees the subtle shove. Sees Steve lose his footing.

He goes down hard.

Winces ripple through the audience. Eddie hears Robin Buckley from band suck air through her teeth, then ramble, “Shit, do you think it’s really bad? Beth Wildfire, on my soccer team, her bone, like, came out of her whole knee, you could see it, must’ve been six inches—”

It doesn’t look like anything as gory as that has happened; Steve is already up, and from the redness of his face, it initially seems as if the only thing that’s been hurt is his pride.

But as Eddie sidles to the end of the front row, within earshot of the bench, he sees that Steve can’t put his weight on one ankle, sees the telling way he grits his teeth while speaking.

“I can keep going,” he says, even as Jason Carver’s getting pulled up to replace him.

The coach barely spares Steve a glance, clapping Carver on the shoulder as he jogs onto the court.

“Get someone to take you over to the nurse.”

Steve’s spine goes rigid. “But I can—”

“Look, I don’t have time for this.” The coach finally looks at Steve directly, pointing a stern finger at his chest. “You’re benched, Harrington.”

Steve visibly deflates. He opens his mouth, but no words come out, and then he glances to the side, as if suddenly aware that he’s drawing attention to himself.

This time, when his teeth clench, Eddie thinks that it’s more from embarrassment than pain.

“Whatever,” Steve mutters, and he limps out of the hall—close enough that he clips Eddie by the shoulder as he goes.

Eddie doesn’t know that he’s made a decision until he’s already moving, stepping to the side.

He turns and heads for the exit.

There’s a jeering call from the bench: Mark Lewinsky.

“Aw, what are you gonna do, Munson? Nurse him back to health?”

Obscene moaning noises, punctuated with laughter.

Eddie rolls his eyes.

He finds Steve in the corridor, bracing himself with a hand against the wall. There’s a couple of pictures on the floor, class photos taken for the yearbook that had been pinned up; Steve must have inadvertently torn them down as he grappled for balance.

“Go away, Munson,” he says without looking. “Go back to the game.”

“I’ve kinda lost interest,” Eddie says lightly. He manages to watch Steve take one painful step before he simply can’t do it anymore—stepping forward, he says, “Christ, Harrington, here.”

Steve jolts away from his hand. “Fuck off, I don’t need—”

“Well, fuck you too, then,” Eddie snaps. Something’s burning in his chest, a sudden and fierce hurt. “Jesus Christ. You know what I am isn’t fucking catching, right?”

He shocks himself by saying it.

In the silence that follows all he can think is that, for once, his dad was right: he never did learn how to shut his damn mouth.

Steve’s staring at him, pressing his back against the wall like it’s the one thing keeping him upright.

“That’s—that’s not why—” He breaks off, looks completely lost.

Somewhere within Eddie’s own mortification, he takes pity on him.

He sniffs, tries to act nonchalant. “Don’t hurt yourself, man.”

“No, I—I didn’t mean…” Steve sighs. “I’m sorry. That’s not—I just meant—” He pushes off from the wall again, wobbles until his hand finds purchase. “Just meant I can do it myself.”

Eddie feels his heart rate slow. He tilts his head. Re-examines Steve’s posture: the set to his jaw, the pained determination.

Years ago, Eddie broke his wrist at the fair, thanks to an awkward crash while on the bumper cars. It was the first summer that staying at Wayne’s had become a permanent thing, and Eddie had hidden his wrist beneath the folds of his too-large leather jacket, but Wayne met him off the ride and immediately noticed (“Chrissake, Ed. I’m not mad, kid. Just… lemme help you?”).

Eddie tried to stay silent as he got wrapped into a splint, because anything else felt like admitting to something.

Felt shameful.

“Yeah, you can,” Eddie says, shrugging. He pauses. Takes a chance. “Doesn’t mean you have to, though.”

He moves forward again—slower this time. Offers his hand.

Steve takes it.

“For the record,” he says, grunting as he shifts his weight, “I could’ve kept playing. Like, I’ve had worse.”

Yeah, Eddie thinks, you sure have.

Steve clearly hasn’t sensed that Eddie’s thoughts have gone to how messed up his face was last winter, because he keeps talking.

“Anyway. My own damn fault.” A rueful grin. “Didn’t plant my feet.”

“Don’t,” Eddie says. “You don’t have to… I saw. I saw Hargrove, man.”

Steve scoffs quietly. “Yeah, of course you did.”

“Shit, Harrington, way to make me sound like a stalker.”

“No, it’s just—” Steve shakes his head. “Just typical, that’s all. Remember when the fire alarm went off, last spring? You were the only one who noticed Debbie Lyons was missing.”

“Uh, so?”

Steve smiles. “So… you notice things.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say.

But he gives it a try as they round another corner.

“What the fuck is Hargrove’s problem with you, dude?”

Steve chuckles wryly. “I’m really annoying.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” Eddie says, grinning when Steve manages to elbow him in the ribs. “But not, like, ‘intentionally injure’ levels of annoying. He threw the game, too.”

“Huh?”

Eddie fixes Steve with a pointed look. “Took out one of our best players.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but still looks undeniably pleased. “Shuddup.” He sobers in the space of taking another step and says, “With Hargrove, it’s… there’s bigger things than basketball, y’know?”

Eddie hears the just drop it underneath what’s spoken. He nods.

They’re almost at the nurse’s office when Steve sighs. “S’not exactly how I pictured it.”

“Hmm?”

“My last game.” Steve winces slightly as they inch closer to the door; Eddie tries to take more of his weight. “Had it in my head that I’d win, go out on a high.”

Eddie’s staring down the prospect of repeating senior year again—he knows all about having ideas in your head that don’t quite pan out.

“Life isn’t like a movie, Harrington,” he says.

It comes out perhaps more fond than he intended.

For some reason, Steve starts laughing like he’s heard something downright hilarious. “Yeah, gonna have to agree to disagree on that one, Munson.”

In the nurse’s office, they find out Steve’s probably got a bad sprain rather than a fracture (“See? I totally could’ve kept playing,” Steve insists), but that he should get it checked out at the hospital, just in case.

Ice pack in one hand, Steve makes a call on the office phone, with what sounds like a morbidly curious teen on the other end: “No, dude, there’s no blood—can you be normal for, like, two seconds and put your mom on? Thank you.”

As Steve hangs up, Eddie is very aware that the right time to leave was probably five minutes ago.

He stays put.

“This was supposed to be my last game, too,” he says.

“Was?”

Eddie clicks his tongue. “Well. S’not confirmed yet, haven’t had my last test results back. But uh, it’s kinda like the game.” He nods in the direction that they came, towards the basketball court. “I already know which way it’s gonna go.”

There’s no judgement in Steve’s eyes. “Sorry. Must’ve been boring to watch.”

Eddie smiles. “Nah, you’re good.”

He doesn’t say that, in his eyes, Steve’s single-handedly given the school almost all of its memorable basketball moments. That his secret favourite one isn’t even a Tigers victory: there was a game when Steve was poised to take the winning shot, and a kid from Connersville fainted.

In the few seconds of confusion, Steve could’ve still taken the shot. He could’ve won.

But as soon as he realised what was going on, he refused to.

To Eddie, that says more about him than any triumph ever could.

The phone rings again; the nurse is letting a Mrs Henderson in at the front of the school to pick up Steve.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Eddie says, because there’s only so many people allowed in the office at one time.

“See you, Munson. Um, thanks, by the way. Hope next year’s championship is, uh, better.”

There’s something in the way he says it, like even while still in the building, he’s drifting away, high school in his rear view mirror.

Oh, Eddie thinks wistfully, you’re already halfway outta here, aren’t you?

Goddamnit. I might actually miss you, Steve Harrington. You and your stupid hair.

“Hmm, can’t see myself going to watch next year.”

“Oh, yeah? How come?”

Eddie lingers in the doorway. Maybe it’s the fact that in a few weeks they’re never gonna see each other again. Maybe that helps him say it. Makes him a little braver.

He’s never learned to shut his damn mouth.

“My favourite player’s leaving,” he says.

And sure, he leaves barely a second later; he’s not that brave.

But he stays just long enough to catch Steve’s smile: startled, pleased, and perhaps just a little shy—like he’s made the winning shot after all.

#i just love the thought that Eddie used to secretly enjoy basketball ‘for some reason’ ❤️#pre steddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #implied homophobia

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wheneclipsefalls · 2 months

Text

Little Gift- Feast

Dark Adult Neteyam x Fem Human Reader

Adult Neteyam pic by @cinetrix2 <3

Last Part Masterlist AO3

Summary: Your stubborn attitude isn't getting you much. Or perhaps...too much

Warnings: dubcon/noncon read at your own risk, MDNI, kidnapping, oral, jealousy, possessive behavior, dom/sub dynamics, power imbalance, swearing, aged up characters, etc.

Your one woman hunger strike is not going as planned.

Twenty six hours in and you are hungry.

So fucking hungry you are ready to bite off the hand of the next Na’vi to come into your space. Not that you would need to with the delicately cut berry spread before you. The same one that Neteyam had meticulously prepared that morning. Others may think of it as a sweet gesture but you see it for what it really is- a temptation.

In the same way last night’s mysterious, but mouth watering, meat had been. The beast that Neteyam had hunted, cleaned, and prepared with his own hands. The aroma had been so intoxicating that you broke skin from biting your bottom lip as you stared down at your share.

The first time you refused a meal you expected the Olo’eyktan to throw a fit, flip you over his knee, or even jam the food down your throat but he has done nothing of the sort. Instead, he revels in this little competition the two of you have. Because that’s what it is to him.

A game.

Sitting beneath a low hanging tree as you watch him train warrior diligently, there is nothing to entertain yourself with but the food in front of you.

This strange purple fruit in front of you has been cut down into smaller pieces. The inside looks similar to the videos you have seen of peaches and the juice runs down onto the leaf below as if it’s trying to seduce you into finally taking a bite.

Your stomach grumbles as if it’s tearing itself apart.

Fuck, why did you choose to resist food of all things?

The meals at Bridgehead were the furthest thing from a proper meal but you had always enjoyed scavenging out into the forest for various fruits and vegetables to spice it up. It’s one of the best parts of your day. And now that you’ve had a taste of the wonders the Na’vi can create with them, it feels like locking yourself out of heaven.

Neteyam’s gaze is heavy upon you.

Sending him a fierce glare you make a show of nudging the fruit away from you, even as your body screams at you to shove it down your throat.

Neteyam tilts his head, glossy braids swingings over his shoulder as a crooked smirk twitches at his lips. He isn’t frustrated, and isn't deterred. If anything those lips curve as if they hide a secret you are not privy to. So confident he knows who will be winning this tug of war.

You exhale a breath when he finally turns around to correct one warrior’s footwork.

A thump sounds from your side and you almost let out a scream before you realize it is Lo’ak who has dropped down from a tree. With a sigh he comes to sit beside you.

“Looks like fun, doesn’t it?” He gestures to the group ahead of you, eyes rolling as he looks at them in pity.

“Go away, Lo’ak.”

“Jeez what’s crawled down your loincloth?”

You look at him in disbelief. You will never understand where Lo’ak find the audacity to poke fun at your imprisonment.

“Besides Neteyam that is.” He chuckles and your cheeks heat instantly.

“You pervert! Never in a million years-”

“It’s not like I have to take his word for it either. You’re quite loud.” Lo’ak ignore your heated ears and agape mouth as he notices the cut up fruit before you. He reaches forward and plucks a piece with a delighted ‘ooh”.

Shiny juice escapes the seam of his lips as he chews and it makes your own mouth water.

Suddenly a hand is yanking Lo’ak to stand with a fistful of braids.

“What the hell?!”

“You skxawng! Those are not for you.” Neteyam hisses, releasing his brother with a huff.

“Alright alright. Damn, I was just keeping her company.” Lo’ak mutters, arms crossing over his chest with a frown. “Besides, I hate to see food go to waste.”

Their eyes lock as a silent line of communication strums between them. Eventually Lo’ak lets out an irritated sigh before nodding and jogging off into the treeline. Neteyam’s shoulder’s visibly relax, hands casually placed on those sinful hips as he looks down at you.

“You should’ve let him eat it. I’m not hungry.” You lie confidently, jutting your chin up in pride.

“Is that so, tiyawn?”

His deep voice ripples through your body.

“Yes.”

You go to give him a sneer, maybe even the middle finger, but looking up at him from this angle proves to be problematic. His loincloth has a bulge and it lights your curiosity. Despite all the vulnerable and exposed positions Neteyam has put you in you have yet to see what lies beneath that scrap of clothing. Averting your eyes doesn’t save you from witnessing the smirk that dances over her lips.

Stupid observant bastard.

His shadow looms over you as you fiddle with the strings of your loincloth. And then his braids are tickling your neck.

“Perhaps it’s not fruit you are hungry for.” That simmering whisper blossoms a blush once more but nothing in comparison to the one that emerges when he grasps your small hand and places it along his inner thigh.

He doesn’t let you pull away, not before you can feel the corded muscle and smooth skin. Not before your eyes cave into temptation and sneak a glance at the increasing size of that bulge.

“I know your little body has been enjoying our time together but if you’re good, I’ll let you play with me too.”

And then your fingers are traveling over the exposed skin until the silk fabric is beneath your tips. You can’t even look at him. You pray that this aversion will read as nothing more than pure revulsion, because you don’t know what will happen if he senses your underlying lust.

You can feel him twitch under your palm.

Eyes forced closed and heart racketing at your rib cage, it takes all your power to control the rise and fall of your chest.

And then the heat is gone. Neteyam releases your wrists, stands up, and sends a dark smile over his shoulder before rejoining the group. You want nothing more than to hide your face in your hands and scream but that would only show him your hand.

You need to be strong. Keep your mouth shut, fry his patience, and get the hell out of here.

Lo’ak is right about the training. It’s undeniably brutal and strict. While you stare in awe at the rate the young warriors can scale trees and shoot a target, Neteyam shakes his head and sighs before correcting them. You’ve studied a bit of Na’vi throughout your life but there’s no desire to translate his strict reprimanding.

You do, however, find it hard to keep your interest away from the various rippling muscles and shifting loincloths. You’re ovulating. You must be and if you were only in your bedroom back at Bridgehead you would actually be able to take some medication to tamper down this insufferable flood of hormones.

Still, you are stuck here and a group of nine foot tall walls of muscle are fighting, wrestling, shooting, and inadvertently showing off their physical prowess with ease. You swallow a lump in your throat when one Na’vi male tackles another and you get a perfect view of his ass.

Pandora is so hot.

So so incredibly hot and that has to be why you feel the temperatures rising along your cheeks.

Neteyam’s back blocks the view, a stream of instruction flowing from his lips as the two struggle to get the upper hand. Your hungry eyes start to travel up his body instead but you tug them away.

You’ll be on your deathbed before ever admitting to ogling these men but you’ll drink acid before letting Neteyam catch you ogling him.

Another shorter male’s abdomen tightens as he pulls back an ax carefully. Sweat glimmers along his blue form as focused eyes narrow at the target. Within one powerful swing the ax is chucked from his grip and pins a leaf the size of your thumbnail to a tree.

He sighs before reaching back to tie his hair. The stretch accentuates the contrast between his narrow waist and broad shoulders. And yet you catch yourself sneaking a look at Neteyam’s form.

For comparison purposes only of course.

It’s too risky though to notice the slope of his back or the way one strap of his loincloth has shifted dangerously low along one hip. Or note the way his dark stripes smoothly curve over and accentuate his v line. Because that is something you would never do. You would never look. Would never think about him outside of plans to escape. Never dream of his deep voice with that heavy accent or even think about how it sounds in his native tongue. And you most certainly would never anticipate the view of Neteyam between your thighs nightly.

Suddenly the ax-throwing Na’vi has become boring so you veer the focus as far away from Neteyam as possible.

You shift your body to your left, letting your hair create a curtain to block the view of Neteyam pulling back a bow. It takes a bit longer this time to immerse yourself in these next two who spar with long sticks.

All at once your body is ripped from your spot, legs dangling and kicking as you are roughly set to stand. Neteyam’s arm snaps around your waist as he kneels behind you.

“Do I need to put you in time out?” It’s not a joke. Not when his teeth are skimming dangerously closer over your ear. “I would be able to smell you halfway across the forest.” He growls.

Your thighs press together subconsciously as embarrassment floods in.

So maybe you had forgotten about the Na’vi advanced sense of smell.

“Which I wouldn’t mind were it not for your eyes being trained on other men” The ground slips beneath you and suddenly Neteyam is throwing you over his shoulder.

“Wait! Let me go!” You’re not even sure why you try at this point. It’s not like he has ever listened before. The hope of being heard dims even lower when you see his thrashing tail and feel his heavy footsteps as you're carried further into the forest.

But dammit you are hungry and hot and your loincloth is stained with your arousal so you let your emotions bubble over.

“You fucking brute! Put me down right now!” You scream, nails scratching harshly over his back. It doesn’t draw blood but wow those fading marks look so pretty over his blue skin. Not to mention the beauty of his ass swaying with every step. “I’m so sick of this shit!”

Neteyam is quiet.

So very quiet and it doesn’t sit right with you.

“Open.” He commands but you remain still.

Body frozen as you stand before him, his massive member at eye level. It’s almost as if your brain simply can not process the sight before you. The way his cock is so different from the ones you have encountered with its purplish blue hue, speckled glowing dots, and even the precum that shimmers in the fading light. Curiosity sparks once more and for a moment you consider reaching out to touch it.

However, the real shock is the massive size difference. You are no virgin. Bridgehead does not have a plethora of great men but you’ve found partners in the past to satiate your needs. So standing here staring and blushing feels out of the norm but with the way Neteyam is hung, how can you not?

Even at peak arousal, or what you hope is peak, it’s unable to sprout fully, the sheer weight dragging it to hang lower by his thighs. You’ve always assumed the Na’vi would be…bigger but this….you’d never imagined something like this.

The idea of ever fitting it in your mouth let alone inside of you makes your stomach coil.

Are all Na’vi males this way or is this something specific to Neteyam?

Something tells you that thanks to the Olo’eyktan you will never find out.

“Open your mouth, tawtute.” His voice is sharp like a drawn dagger, slicing through the wind to threaten obedience.

“B-but it….it won’t fit.” You try not to think about your choice of complaint.

Not that you don’t want to.

Not that he shouldn’t make you.

No, you simply complain about the logistics.

“You’ll learn, pet. Now open.” The nickname is anything but endearing coming from his lips now, honey eyes darkening as he stares down at you. This is retribution.

Shaking like a leaf, your lips ever so slightly part. It appears Neteyam is tired of giving verbal commands when one large hand grips either side of your face, pressing to force your mouth open wider.

“You won’t let me get any food past those pretty lips, fine. You will take my cock instead.” That growl reverberates through your body until it swirls into a low seated passion and desperation. Neteyam’s nostrils flare, soaking in the scent of your betraying body.

To your surprise Neteyam doesn’t immediately choke you on it but instead guides your open mouth to his base. Prying your jaw open wider, your lips are smeared along the heated skin. Hesitantly your tongue flickers out.

“That’s it, pet. Don’t be shy.”

When your tongue smoothes out to drag along the length of him you remind yourself that this is something you are forced to do. For survival. For escape.

And you prepare yourself to later bury the memory of your desire and curiosity in this moment. To forget how salty sweet his precum tastes as it dances along your tongue. To forget the way his pupils dilate as he purposefully paints your pillow lips with that glowing substance like it’s your own personal lip gloss. To forget the way his abs flex when the head of his cock is finally enveloped by your hot wet mouth.

But most of all, you promise yourself that you will forget how gorgeous Neteyam looks from this angle with his silky braids hanging loosely and glowing eyes devouring you whole.

The back of your throat is reached within record time. Your gag reflex immediately kicks in and Neteyam pulls out while cooing at you.

“Poor little pet. Not used to taking such a big cock, are you?” You take the condescending words without fight, trying to clear your throat and prepare for more. “But then again I’m sure Jeremy has never made you cum until you cry.” Neteyam smirks and your breathing halts.

You look up at him with wide eyes.

Oh God, when did he find out about Jeremy? A dark twinkle shadows the Olo’eyktan’s demeanor, his upturned lips promising an evil fate to your old flame.

“What di-”

“Down you go again, pet.” Neteyam interrupts, prying your mouth open once more and shoving himself inside harder this time. He doesn’t let up this time when you sputter and choke around him. “Relax that throat for me, tiyawn. I know this isn’t your first time doing this.” He chuckles.

Reluctantly you force yourself to follow his instruction, urging your heart rate so slow as you breathe in through your nose. Inch by inch, he slides down your throat until all you can taste and feel is him. A tinge of soreness already sparks along your jaw but stern eyes whisper the consequences of letting your blunt teeth even close to him.

A part of you yearns to get lost in the moment, let your arousal that has shamefully not disappeared since Neteyam’s confession take the wheel and give your mind a break. However, that is not the Olo’eyktan’s design. He means to drive a lesson home.

“I was under the impression that you simply didn’t enjoy giving oral, not with the way your scent soured every time that pathetic man had you on your knees.”

Your whimper of distress only turns into a hum that vibrates along him. Neteyam’s grins, toes digging into the earth below.

“But now I see that is not the case.” His hips roll forward, hand crawling to cradle the back of your head. “Staining that little loincloth for me. You just needed the right man to fill that pretty mouth didn’t you?”

Your protests are nothing more than high pitched whines as he picks up rhythm, only half of his cock fitting inside yet still more than enough to fill your throat.

“No need to deny it, oeyӓ tiyawn. Your body has been loyal to me from the very beginning.” That hand fists into your hair, holding you down on his cock as tears gather over your eyes. “Even when your mind has a hard time catching up.” All sweetness dissipates from his voice, left only with a hard steel.

“Like today for instance.”

You suck in air as soon as your mouth is empty, coughing and crying as he keeps that grip in your hair. A firm yank has your neck straining to look up at him.

“I thought you would know better, little gift.”

You subconsciously grip his thighs in order to keep yourself standing upright.

“But it looks like I need to spell it out for you.”

Suddenly your mouth is filled again but instead of waiting to let you suckle and explore, Neteyam immediately sets pace spearing down your throat. Nails digging into his toned thighs, you focus on keeping your breathing steady and relaxed.

“Good pets do not stare at other men. They do not let them smell their arousal.” Neteyam grinds out, a groan lacing his words as you feel him twitch. Your throat convulses around him, the urge to breathe through your mouth ever increasing. “Because good pets know who they belong to.”

The trembling in your legs skyrockets as your knees threaten to buckle. Suddenly Neteyam’s grip in your hair is not just there to keep you swallowing him down but also as an extra support.

“Do you know who you belong to, little gift?” A shudder ripples over his toned body, balls drawing up tight. And yet he pauses, keeping you frozen but still stretched around him.

He wants a response.

Nodding doesn’t appear to cut it, not when he tacks on a “and who is that?”.

You go to scoff at his persistence but it’s only another choked cough around him, tears spilling down your cheeks. He hips slant forward pressing himself even further down your throat until you are gagging.

“Say it.” The Olo’eyktan demands. “Say my name.”

He pulls out and airs hiccups through your lungs so fast you almost swoon backwards. But his name is still the first gasp to escape your lips.

“Nete-..Neteyaaaam.” It’s come out as almost a complaint but the Olo’eyktan’s joy is not diminished. His tails coils and flickers at the sound of your wrecked voice.

“Good girl.” That praise wraps around you, head lulling to rest against his palm. “Now come here and let me fuck your throat.”

It shouldn’t turn you on. The crude words are the furthest thing from what you should want but Neteyam’s accented voice purrs them like a lullaby. So dark, smooth and alluring that you find your mouth opening on its own accord.

Neteyam’s grins wider than the night that he first saw you tied up with that pretty bow. You push the implications of what you have just done to the back of your head.

Despite his satisfaction, Neteyam doesn’t take it easy on you. The length of him can never fully make it down your throat but that doesn’t stop him from trying. An obscene wet sound is made every time he thrusts back in and you can feel him shiver.

“Aww so pretty like this tiyawn. Wish you could see yourself right now.” His head throws back for a second when your airpipe contracts around him again. “Crying so sweetly for me.”

His gentle tone is a great contrast to the way his cock bullies itself into the tight space. So sweet in comparison to the way he fucks your throat like you’re his own personal fleshlight.

“Maybe we will have to steal a mirror from Bridgehead soon. Let you see what a wrecked masterpiece you are.”

Even as you struggle to breath and your throat aches, his dirty words burn the flames inside of you higher and higher. You will feel ashamed later, you know it, but for now you let him fill every crevice in your brain. It keeps the fear of Jeremy’s safety at bay. It keeps the reality of your situation from catching up with you. It keeps you as his pretty little pet that is doing oh such a good job.

“Fuck! You feel so good around me, tiyawn. Good fucking girl!” Neteyam’s groan is gravely, muscles along his abdomen erratically flexing and you know what is coming before his warning ever reaches your ears.

With a deep groan of your name, thick seed spurts down your throat. It’s too much to fully swallow but luckily Neteyam lets you off halfway through, the remnants painting your cheeks and lips. Your own thighs clench together as you watch him recover, his impressive physique inflating and deflating heavily with every breath.

Your throat feels like sandpaper as you collapse against him, head nuzzled against his hip as you cling to his right thigh. Neteyam’s fingers fondly stroke through your tangled hair as he congratulates you on learning your lesson.

You almost bite his finger when the next piece of meat passes your lips but this time it is by accident. Your habit of grinding your teeth together when nearing climax is becoming a problem. Three massive fingers tease and massage at that spongy spot inside of you as you drool around Neteyam’s fingers.

The Olo’eyktan chuckles and plucks another piece of meat to feed you.

“Remember to chew.” He says with a smirk when his thumb flicks over your clit and you almost choke.

Perched in his lap, smothering his fingers with your juices as he hand feeds you, there is surely not a better picture of obedience one could paint.

A picture that Neteyam cherishes.

But a memory you vow to forget.

I hope you enjoyed! Thank you all for your support and messages for this series especially! Hearing back from you all always makes me excited to write and update<3 Don't be afraid to let me know what you think

Taglist: @pandoraslxna @neteyamssyulang @tallulah477 @criticallybella @sullybrothersmate @lilghostiequinni @chershire23 @lala-1516 @teyamshuman @yawnetu @puddle-nerd @ratchetprime211 @avatargirly @chocolatechocobo91 @kariz-stark @bunnscoffe @avatarwifey @universal-s1ut @witchsprit @heart-an0n @riri-is-a-girlie @rivatar @minnory @ikeyniofthetayrangi @ilovehobi101 @spicymayyo @v4mp1rr3 @nilsavatar @bambithewriter @quicktosimp @itchaboi-itchyboy @thehoneymushroomhealer @ilytulipse @witchsprit @imwutim @crazy4books1 @thegirlwholoveslivesfanfiction @danniackerman @dayyzlol @justabite7 @krispyjellyfishkitty

Please let me know if I missed you or if you'd like to be removed from the list<3

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withleeknow · 3 months

Text

cats and soup.

note: i have a newfound obsession and it's cats and soup so this might be a little niche but it's meant for me and i just wanted to word vomit lmfao

cats and soup, that's your latest obsession. all it took was five minutes of your friend introducing you to the game before you were completely captivated by the world of cute little animated cats making soup on your phone.

so much so that you had to show your boyfriend.

obviously. it's a game about cats. who else would you rather squeal about it with?

though, much to your disappointment, minho doesn't seem very impressed as you try to get him to look at your phone screen for more than ten seconds.

okay. little meanie.

"why would you need to play a game like this when you have our actual babies right over there?"

"i have them in here too!" you'd argue. "look! i named them soonie, doongie and dori. aren't they so cute? soonie is on soup duty, doongie is chopping carrots, and dori is grating cabbages. i even got them cute little hats!"

the mention of his cats featured in the game gets minho to spare you a glance, intrigued for a fleeting moment before he's turning away again.

you'd scowl at his refusal to entertain you but then you'd admit defeat pretty quickly in favor of immersing in your phone once more. it's cats !! making soups !!

it's not unusual for you two to be in separate bubbles while sitting side by side. you're not one of those couples who has to do everything with each other, but you did kinda hope that this would be something for you to have fun with together.

but oh well, if minho isn't interested, then you can't force him. the game is still fun though. even though you go to bed that night a little bummed out, you still fall asleep thinking about getting a black kitten and naming it mimo. it'd be cute, maybe you'd even put him on lemon squeezing duty.

fast forward to the next morning, when he literally shakes you awake at the ass crack of dawn, calling your name frantically.

your first thought is the house must be burning down, because lee minho never acts like this.

"i finally got you!"

"you got me what?"

"i got your cat!"

"what?"

actually, on second thought, the only time that you've seen him this hyped up was when you'd gotten you two matching pjs with soonie, doongie and dori printed on them.

"see?!" then the guy is full on shoving his phone in your face, the sudden brightness of his screen almost taking your eyes out that you have to push his hand away.

"min!"

"sorry. here."

he'd lower the brightness and hold the device a safe distance from your face, impatiently waiting for your eyes to adjust to whatever it is that he's trying to show you.

it's a cat.

an animated cat.

specifically, a cats and soup animated cat, named after you.

"you named a cat after me?"

"yeah i was waiting for ages to get another black cat. i got one first and named it after me. now we can be a black cat couple. look at the cat tower i got us-"

"minho, what the fuck? when did you even start playing?"

"i downloaded it after you fell asleep."

"have you been playing all night? did you even sleep?"

"no, but that's beside the point. look, i'm trying to show you!"

you love him, you do. truly. completely. most ardently. you recognize that this is one of the cutest things that he's done. but jesus christ...

"it's sunday. it's 6 in the morning."

"yeah i know, but-"

"i'll look at it later."

"you're up, you can look now. i got you a potted plant that grows from your head and-"

"lee minho, let me fucking go back to sleep!"

you may have unintentionally created a monster.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken @extrhotjne

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #lee know #lee minho #blurbs

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sweetestdesire · 7 months

Text

IT'S ONLY A GAME

WARNINGS: hair pulling, extreme domination, mentions of alcohol consumption, sex while under the influence, etc. 18+ readers only

PAIRING(S): Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which Fem!Reader finally breaks Quinn Hughes winning streak.

"What the hell, Quinn? You've humiliated me again!" Y/N shoved her hair over her shoulder and threw a glance at the Scrabble board, shaking her head in confusion at the defeat she'd just received. She turned her attention back to Quinn who sat across from her at the dining table lounging in his chair.

Quinn gave her a smug look that should have annoyed her, but all it did was encourage a smile. Every hour that passed by had her appreciating his company more and more.

"How did you do that?" Y/N asked.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "It's not my fault. I kept trying to dumb myself down to give you a chance, but I just can't sink that far."

Y/N felt a laugh building inside her even as she scowled at him. "I guess I don't have anyone to blame but myself.” She said. "You don't look very smart so it gave me a false sense of security."

The sound of Quinn’s deep laughter drifted toward her as she reached across the table to pack up the game. They'd shifted back and forth between trading teasing insults and flirting all night, but it had reached the point now where she didn't even realise she was doing it anymore.

"Smartass. You have a surprisingly quick mouth for someone who looks so sweet."

Y/N sent him a smile as she swept the tiles from the board. "That's one of the things men usually like most about me." She didn't know whether it was the buzz from the wine that had her saying things she wouldn't normally say or the fact that Quinn had just proven to be easy company.

Y/N lifted her gaze with the intention of continuing on, but her eyes met his and a sudden shock of awareness passed between them that made her heart trip. Quinn maintained the connection, patiently watching her, and a feeling of longing came over her the likes of which she'd never experienced before. The entire moment only lasted a couple of seconds, but it was enough to stir a flurry of butterflies in her stomach.

Quinn leaned forward to help pack away the game, his movements dispersing the strange mood that had settled over them. "Why's that?" He asked.

"Why's what?" She had no idea how he could act like nothing had happened when she could barely string two words together.

"Why do men like your mouth?" Quinn raised his brows, appearing entertained by the new direction the conversation had headed. "What do you do with it that keeps them coming back for more?"

A flood of erotic images washed over her and the words that had flowed freely all night faltered. While she pictured what she could do to him with her mouth, Y/N took her time placing the rest of the Scrabble contents in the box, hoping if she stalled long enough he'd move on to a different subject and her heart would stop thumping so hard.

Unfortunately, the sound of his low chuckle told her otherwise. She glanced up to catch him looking at her again, his smile helping to ease the sudden tension.

Y/N narrowed her eyes and flicked one of the Scrabble tiles at him. "Stop teasing me."

Quinn blocked her attack and grinned. "I can't help it. You're cute when you blush."

"People always call me cute.” Y/N said. "I'm not cute."

"I disagree. Besides, you're other things, too." He pushed his chair back and stood, nodding in the direction of the kitchen. "Let's grab the other bottle of wine and I'll humiliate you on the Wii next."

Y/N shoved her chair away from the table. She wasn't sure if the teasing would bother her coming from anyone else, but from Quinn it seemed to work like a strange kind of foreplay. She stood and collected their empty glasses, her bare feet padding across the wood floor as she followed behind him.

“So, what other things am I?" Y/N asked as she wandered into the kitchen. She knew the question probably made her sound needy, but she couldn't let it go now he'd brought it up.

"I’d say…” Quinn grabbed the red wine from the counter and glanced at her while he opened the bottle. "Intelligent?" He popped the cork and gestured to her for the glasses.

Y/N held one out for him to fill. "Any chance you could, you know... sound a bit more confident about that?"

Quinn chuckled as he tipped the bottle. "Okay, intelligent-minus-the-question-mark. You're also funny."

"Thanks." She smiled.

Wine splashed from the mouth of the bottle, his fingers wrapping around hers to steady the glass. She couldn't tell if the move had been intentional, but the look they'd shared earlier now paled in comparison to his touch. Her hand tingled where it met his and she had to fight the impulse to move in closer.

Y/N offered him the remaining glass and he released his hold on her to fill it. Once he'd set the bottle on the counter, he took his drink from her outstretched hand and their eyes met over their wine glasses while they sipped.

She'd discovered over the past several hours that she loved looking at him. Although her glances had mostly been fleeting, each time she checked him out she found something new to appreciate. Her pulse skipped as she took in the thick lashes fringing his eyes and the layer of scruff on his jaw. When he lowered his glass her attention drifted to his lips, the temptation to lean in and sample them almost getting the better of her.

"Another thing.” Quinn said, appearing as if he was trying not to smile. "I don't know if it's just the alcohol talking, but I think you're... what's the word? Sexy." He barely gave her time to let that comment sink in before he walked away.

Y/N’s gaze trailed after him as he left the kitchen. She knew his comment about the alcohol was meant to encourage a laugh from her, but she couldn't find a laugh in her right now. The sound of his deep voice calling her sexy had goosebumps spreading over her. She downed a couple more mouthfuls of wine, closing her eyes while she swallowed.

There was no denying how much she wanted him. Y/N guessed after his descriptions of her and those breath-stealing moments they'd shared, it wasn't too much of a stretch to assume he felt the same way. The only question now was whether or not she wanted to make the first move or leave it up to him.

Y/N opened her eyes again, figuring the only way to decide was to follow him. Her movements stopped when she noticed him standing in the living room doorway with an amused look on his face.

"Yeah, I'm just going to go ahead and add weird to that list.” Quinn said.

The scowl she sent him lost its impact because she was trying not to smile. Y/N strode toward him to prove to both of them that his teasing had no effect on her, but when she went to sidle past him he blocked her entry into the other room.

"I forgot to mention my favorite thing about you.” Quinn said, stepping up to her and backing her against the doorframe. He'd moved in close enough that his chest almost touched hers and with his height advantage, he loomed over her.

"What's that?" Y/N asked. Warmth filled her cheeks as she gazed up at him. His gaze moved from her eyes to her lips.

"Everything you're thinking is right there on your face." Quinn gave her a knowing smile then turned and wandered away.

"Okay, that's it for me." Y/N felt like tossing her controller across the room, but she let it tumble to the floor instead.

She'd always considered herself to be a good sport, but after two straight losses on Mario Kart to add to her earlier defeats, her patience had worn thin. She glanced at Quinn who sat beside her nestled among the colorful cushions on the bright red couch.

"You weren't too bad in that last race.” Quinn said. "You almost took me on a couple of corners."

"Thanks, but it's pretty clear I suck."

He reached out to rest his controller on the coffee table. "Let me guess. That's another thing men like about you."

Y/N smirked and bumped her shoulder against his. Quinn leaned back against the couch and took hold of her hand, turning its palm upward and resting it against the hard muscle of his thigh. He stroked her sensitive skin, trailing his finger round and round. The swirling motion mesmerized her and had the tiny hairs rising on her forearms.

They'd been leading up to this moment all night. Now it was finally here her stomach fluttered in anticipation. Y/N wanted him to break the tension with one of his jokes, but he kept his attention on their joined hands.

"I remember the first time I met you.” Quinn said, sparing her a quick glance. "It was the day of Jack’s eighteenth birthday. We were blowing up balloons for his party and I kept getting distracted because I couldn't stop looking at your mouth."

Y/N smiled as she remembered how hectic that afternoon had been, so much so that she hadn't even noticed his interest. "You were thinking about kissing me?"

"No, I was picturing it wrapped around my cock."

Their eyes met and she burst out laughing. Quinn chuckled and curled his hand around hers, dragging her over to straddle his lap. Her knees parted and settled either side of him, her chest close enough to his that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. The feel of his strong thighs filling the space between her legs made her heart pound.

Quinn clasped her face in his palms, his gaze travelling over her. The humor of the moment faded and Y/N held her breath as he looked from her eyes to her lips.

“Are you picturing my mouth on your cock now?" She asked. Her voice had taken on a husky tone; she guessed it wouldn't be too long before words failed her entirely.

"No." His thumbs swept over her temples and one side of his mouth quirked. "I'm thinking about kissing you."

The change in mood fascinated her. One minute he'd had her laughing and now she found herself unable to look away from him, drawn in by the tenderness in his eyes.

Quinn cupped the back of her neck and urged her closer, pulling her in until her mouth leveled with his. Y/N clasped his shoulders and drank in every detail, thankful they'd reached the point now where she could look as much as she wanted and no longer had to satisfy herself with stolen glances.

Quinn gave her a slight smile then touched his mouth to hers. He began kissing her slowly, his lips soft and warm as he eased her into the moment. Her fingers threaded into his hair and her eyes drifted closed so she could savor the sensations.

Y/N had thought about this moment over and over but now he'd finally made a move she realised none of her fantasies could match up to the real thing. He tasted her with languid nips and sweeping caresses, his gentleness surprising her. He flattened his palm against her spine, his lips so thorough that the care he took with her left her breathless.

The kiss went on and she felt his hand slide upward to grab a fistful of her hair. The combination of his soft mouth and forceful grip had her whimpering. Quinn coaxed her lips open further and delved inside. Y/N let out a harsh breath through her nose and thrust her tongue against his. He kissed her for long, lazy minutes, his hands keeping her still while his mouth aroused her beyond bearing.

Y/N broke the connection just when it was getting interesting, her breaths coming hard as she moved her lips to his throat. She trailed soft pecks along his jawline and nibbled at his earlobe. The sound of his low groan made her smile.

“I should be holding back and making this harder for you since you've won every other challenge tonight.” Y/N said softly.

His fingers combed through her hair and he urged her face back up to meet his. "Make it as hard as you want.” Quinn said, pressing a kiss beside her mouth. "I'm in no hurry."

Y/N shifted her weight and discovered the bulge hidden inside his jeans. She rubbed herself slowly against his burgeoning erection, taking pleasure in his soft growl. "Feels like you might be to me."

Quinn moved his hands to her widespread thighs, his palms stroking back and forth. His thumbs slipped between her legs and traced her soft skin. His touch had her mouth parting slightly, a feeling of need taking hold that stole her breath.

The corner of his mouth kicked up as he watched her. "I'm not the one who's squirming."

Y/N wanted to smile and moan at the same time. It amazed her that she could be this turned on when they hadn't done anything more than kiss. She trailed her mouth to his ear, running the tip of her tongue around the outer edge.

“You don't think I could make you squirm?" The urge came over her to tease him to the point of begging just to see how much he could take.

His thumbs swept further up her inner thighs, coming closer and closer to the edge of her panties. Quinn turned his head and caught her mouth again, planting a soft, wet kiss on her.

He pulled away and slipped his hands beneath her dress to caress the smooth curve of her ass. "Do your best and we'll both find out."

Y/N held back a laugh and gripped the hem of her dress. She sent him one last challenging look then pulled the material over her head and tossed it aside. Her hair draped over one shoulder, her chest lifting and falling with a bracing breath.

She'd expected to feel nervous putting herself on display like this for the first time in months, but the way Quinn looked at her, the way his attention lingered on the white lace cradling her breasts and the scrap of pink cotton between her thighs, made her feel cherished and strangely relaxed.

"I need this off.” Y/N said, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt.

Quinn leaned forward and helped her remove his shirt then threw it down to join her dress on the floor. His hands came back to her face, cupping her jaw while he gave her a kiss so sensual it had her aching for more. When he finally pulled away, she could barely focus on his features.

"You're so beautiful.” Quinn said, rubbing her cheeks with his thumbs.

A rush of something overwhelmingly sweet spread through her. If he intended for the compliment to get her out of the rest of her clothes it worked.

Y/N reached around to the clasp on her bra at the same moment that Quinn sent his hands on an exploratory mission. The sensation of his palms sliding down to caress her waist had her fingers fumbling in their task.

Quinn let out an amused breath and gave her a peck on her mouth. "See what I mean about cute." His hands nudged hers aside and with one flick he had her bra open.

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes at how easy that had been for him. "You've obviously had some practice with that."

He chuckled and dipped his head, brushing his lips over her throat. "Instructional videos."

Y/N hooked her hair behind her ear and laughed despite herself. She slipped the thin straps down her arms, watching his head lift as she pulled the cups free. The look in his eyes when she bared herself to him made her stomach flip. His palms took the place of her bra and he massaged her breasts, his groan sending a quick shiver through her.

She clasped his face, tilting his chin and crushing her mouth to his to show him the depth of her desire. Quinn plunged his tongue between her lips while he caressed her, his fingers teasing her nipples until he had her hips moving in response. She writhed above him, rubbing herself against his erection.

Quinn broke away from the kiss momentarily, his voice a hoarse whisper beside her mouth. "Can you cum like that?" He asked. She gave him a shallow nod and tried to catch his mouth again, but he pulled back and shook his head. "Do it. I want to watch."

Her breaths came quickly and she bit into her lower lip as her gaze roamed over him. Y/N loved the fire in his eyes, the tightness in his jaw, his broad expanse of bare chest. She wanted to please him in any way she could.

“One condition.” Y/N said raking her fingers through his hair.

Quinn moved his hands to her waist, holding her tight. "Tell me."

She ground down on him, watching his eyes fill with longing. "I want you naked."

Quinn groaned and touched his mouth to hers, his lips still warm and damp from their last kiss. "You, too.” He said.

Y/N didn't need to be told twice. She climbed off him and stood between his widespread knees, hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her bikini panties. She held her breath as she worked them over her hips, pushing until they fell to her ankles. He stared up at her while he dragged down his fly, his gaze hot and intense. She struggled to concentrate, surprised her control had already reached breaking point.

"You have a great body, Y/N."

Oh, God. That didn't help at all. Warmth rushed over her like a physical caress. Her nipples tightened into hard little buds and her legs trembled.

“Thank you.” Y/N said, swallowing as he pushed his jeans and boxers to his knees. His cock appeared and she had to close her eyes for a few seconds just to keep it together. "I like your body, too."

"Is that why your eyes are closed?"

Y/N heard the humor in his voice and opened them again to find him watching her with a tender expression on his face. He'd removed his clothes now and sat before her naked. She couldn't tear her gaze away from him.

“I like your body too much.” She clarified.

"There's no such thing.” He said.

Quinn reached out for her and clasped her hand. He pulled her down to the same position she'd been in moments ago, only this time when her legs parted and settled either side of him, his cock slid along the slick channel of her pussy. With bare skin pressed to bare skin, she felt every inch of him.

Quinn groaned, flattening his palm against her spine to bring her closer. His other hand closed around her breast and he took her nipple into his mouth. Y/N clutched his hair and arched her back. He sucked on her firmly then flicked his tongue over her, kneading her breast with his palm.

Y/N sighed and looked down at him, watching his mouth work. "That feels so fucking good. Please, don't stop."

Her hips glided back and forth, her pussy leaving a wet sheen on his cock. The growl that came from him made her skin prickle. When he moved to her other breast she tightened her grip in his hair, pushing herself closer to deepen the connection. His hot breath washed over her as Quinn drew her nipple into his mouth. She rocked against him, her arousal building as his hardness parted her softness.

Quinn released her and fell back against the couch. He gave a deep groan and slouched in his seat, his hands coming to rest on her thighs. She looked down to see a bead of moisture forming on the head of his cock. Her pussy rubbed against the droplet on her forward slide, slicking it down his shaft on her backward movement.

Quinn gripped her hips, pressing her harder against his erection. His eyes met hers and he blew out a harsh breath. "Fuck."

“Not yet. Looks like I've got you squirming.” Y/N said, sounding a lot more confident than she felt. "Now I want you to beg."

Quinn tipped his head back, his low laugh ending on a groan when she slid forward again. "Do you have any idea how much I like you right now?"

After everything they'd said and done tonight that one simple question brought the blush back to her cheeks. Y/N hid her reaction by kissing him, showing him without words how she felt about him. Her hips kept up their rhythmic glide, her pussy growing wetter by the second. She needed him inside her so much it had built to an ache.

When her lips parted from his, Y/N sat back so he could get the full view of her body, hoping it would help push him to breaking point. "All you have to do is tell me.” She said. "Tell me you want it and I'll slide right down on your big, hard cock."

Y/N knew his competitive side would make him want to wait her out, but she figured she might have the edge on him this time.

"I never had you pegged as a dirty fighter."

She lifted herself off him just far enough so that she had room to slip her hand between their bodies. Her fingers wrapped around his cock. Y/N felt her own dampness along the shaft and his pooling on the head. Her thumb swirled over the tip and she sent him a half-smile. "I'm just using my strengths; that's all."

Y/N remained in her raised position and tilted his cock toward her, rubbing the head against her pussy. She used him to massage her clit, her undulating hips increasing the sensation. He had her so aroused it wouldn't take long to come this way.

Quinn gripped her thighs and his eyes drifted closed. "I could use mine and have you on your back in two seconds flat."

A wave of desire rolled through her. Y/N gasped at the vision and wanted so badly for him to take over, but not just yet. "You won't, though.” She said breathlessly, knowing the answer before she'd even asked the question.

Quinn’s eyes opened to meet hers and he shook his head. Y/N held his shaft to her clit, teasing the swollen bud. She applied more pressure, sliding her slick heat against the head of his cock. Her orgasm came as a surprise when it hit her.

A moan tore from her as the first squeeze of lust tightened her belly. The ache inside her swelled, becoming a rush of tingles that spread through her body. Her gaze locked with his. She watched his jaw clench. Y/N grabbed her breast with her free hand and cried out as her hips jerked. He growled as he watched her fall apart.

"Fuck this.” Quinn said. "You win."

Quinn grasped the back of her neck and pulled her down, kissing her hard as he guided his cock inside her. He plunged into her with one deep thrust, his pelvis lifting to meet her downward glide.

Y/N let out a strangled moan at the intrusion, overwhelmed by the thick heat of him, his fullness. Relief took hold now she finally had him inside her. He gripped her neck and clasped her hip, his mouth bruising hers as they kissed. He lost it completely, but she loved it.

Y/N leaned into him, her breasts nudging his chest, her hands tangled in his hair. His passion left her reeling. He fucked her hard, using her body for his own pleasure just as she'd used his moments ago. She pulled her mouth free and licked her lower lip.

Y/N dragged in air, trembling with pleasure as he groaned beside her cheek. His stubble rasped her skin, only adding to the sensation overload. Quinn loosened his hold on the base of her neck and pushed her back from him with his firm grip. His fingers dug into her hips as he pulled her down hard against each thrust of his cock.

Y/N ground down against him, still feeling the lingering tingles from her climax. She watched the changes in his expression, mesmerised by the intensity in his features. He'd been so laid-back and full of humor all night. Now, his eyes were dark with arousal, his mouth open with the fast breaths coming from him.

Quinn looked her over, his gaze lingering on her breasts as they jolted in time with his thrusts. "Jesus, I can't. Fuck, I can't hold back."

Pleasure rushed through her; she just wanted more and more. Her hand slipped between her thighs and she gave her clit vigorous rubs that had her moaning deep in her throat. Quinn watched her reach behind her body with her other hand, delving beneath her ass to find him. Her fingertips stroked his balls and her touch had him cursing all over again.

Y/N wanted to smile, but she couldn't concentrate on anything other than coming. With her pussy still sensitive from the earlier attention, it didn't take long to reach that point. She bucked her hips against him, chasing her release. It came on her in slow, lazy pulses at first, building to a rolling wave that crashed over her and sucked her under. She kept rubbing and finally cried out, shaking until she thought she'd collapse.

"Come here." Quinn gripped her elbows and dragged her against him, wrapping her up in a hug so tight she couldn't move. She rested her mouth against his throat and kissed him while she caught her breath.

Quinn sank further in his seat for leverage and drove inside her. The forcefulness of his thrusts brought on aftershocks that left her whimpering. He kept going, plunging into her until she knew he couldn't last any longer. Finally, he clutched her body, held her hips against him and came with a groan so deep and guttural it sent shivers rushing over her.

Silence fell between them as the excitement passed. Quinn’s body relaxed beneath her with a sigh, his fingers trailing sweeping caresses down her spine. Y/N let out a long breath and tried to calm her senses. Their bodies meshed with the slick sheen of perspiration and she could still feel herself pulsing around him.

Y/N tried to pull back to look at him, but his arms tightened around her and he held her against his chest. "Don't go.” Quinn said. "I want you right where you are."

Y/N smiled and kissed his neck, tucking her bent arms in against his chest to keep the warmth between them. "I know this probably isn't the right time to mention this, but I finally won a challenge. I just wanted to point that out."

His shoulders moved beneath her in a silent laugh, his head turning so he could place a kiss on her forehead. "I'm assuming we're going with the usual rules. Best of three?"

Y/N writhed against him, moving her hips until he groaned. "I guess that's only fair.” She said.

His arms tightened around her and a laugh burst from Y/N when Quinn rolled her on her back in two seconds flat, just as he'd promised he could.

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escapenightmare · 1 year

Text

sick bf bakugou, cursing, lowkey a crackfic n word vomit, written at 4am.

bakugou was extremely stubborn.

when you officially started your relationship, you found out that it was a really annoying trait he had, one that sometimes had your hands itching to aggressively shake him by the shoulders until he shut the fuck up and did what you asked him to.

bakugou was stubborn as hell even when he was painfully sick. a blanket wrapped around him and over his messy and fluffy bedhead as he sat up in your shared bed, looking at you with a sharp frown and disgust even though he looked absolutely adorable in that tired and just woke up state.

"drink the damn soup already," you urge for the fifteenth time in the past twenty minutes, crossing your arms across your chest and looking at him, standing by the edge of the bed.

he looked like he was having a staring contest with the soup bowl you had kept in front of him. he glared at it for a few seconds before looking back at you, eyes narrowing into slits as he basically spat. "no. don't tell me what to do, idiot."

"why not?" you narrowed your eyes back at him, choosing to ignore all his words except for the first one. "you literally manhandle me and shove soup down my throat when i'm sick but you don't want to drink it? and you drink soup every other day so why not now when you actually need it?"

he rolled his eyes and seemed to sink a little into the huge blanket. you don't know which question he answered when he says, "that's different."

you just accept it as an answer to your first question.

"how?" you question, moving closer to him and the bed to fix his big, soft pillows and heavy blanket. "do you want me to manhandle you and force you to drink it?"

"fucking try it and i'll stop making you food for two weeks." he hisses like a cat when you shrug, and he glares when your next move is to move the soup bowl a little closer to him. he shoots you a don't you fucking dare look before speaking again. "it's different 'cause you're the one that was sick, not me."

"well," you wreck your brain for any ideas to make him drink the soup. "i'm not talking to you until all the soup in this bowl is gone." you nod after saying it as if to confirm your own words and he gapes at you, scoffing.

"okay, fine," he grits out after a moment of silence. you begin to smile when he finishes his sentence, "don't talk to me, dumbass."

the smile wipes clean off your face and you glare at him once more, but you don't back out. "fine."

you wordlessly sit on the chair in the bedroom and scroll through your phone, feeling bakugou's gaze burn into the side of your head. too bad for him, he was told not to use his phone since he was sick so all he had for entertainment was the dust particles dancing around the air that he could see from the sunlight streaming in through the opened window.

the silence continues for a few minutes before the rustling and ruffling of sheets told you that bakugou was slowly getting out of the bed. you don't bother turning to look at him, hellbent on completing your self given mission of ignoring him until he drank the soup and emptied the bowl.

bakugou doesn't come to you, instead, he just walks out of the room and heads to the bathroom. you hear him harshly slamming the door shut behind him, making you wince as the sound echoed.

he comes back a few minutes later and you quickly look away the moment he enters the room, going back to your phone and doing whatever.

you start to hear the clinking of metal meeting glass and hide your grin when you realize bakugou was actually drinking the soup, the stubborn bastard. who knew he couldn't stay twenty minutes without talking to you?

seconds later, you hear his heavy footsteps on the carpet come closer and closer towards you until the empty soup bowl is shoved in front of your face. you move back and look up to see bakugou's cocky and quite wolfish looking grin.

"i won your stupid game, idiot." he smugly tells you, setting the bowl and spoon down on the table in front of you, smirking in triumph.

"how the hell does your game logic work?" you shake your head but still wrap your arms around his midsection, closely hugging his stomach and patting him on the back with a smile. "good job, kats."

bakugou pats your head a few times with the smug look still on his face, pleased with himself, coughing and sniffling a little due to his cold.

in no time, you have him under the blankets again (—only because he wanted to and was tired, definitely not because you told him to.) but he forces you to join him as well, telling you that, "i don't give a shit about you getting sick 'cause of me. i'll have to take care of your dumb fuck ass anyways."

"fine, fine," you cave, going under the blanket yourself and keeping your back to him. even though what he said was true, you didn't want to get sick and face the pain of bakugou's nagging and overbearing motherliness.

you could literally hear his voice in your head, forcing you to drink the bitter medicine and syrups and eat the healthy food that was supposed to make you feel better but definitely didn't.

"your soup tasted like shit by the way," he tells you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head while you get comfortable and drift off to sleep with his arms securely wrapped around you.

but he had no clue what the soup actually tasted like.

and you didn't need to know that he had flushed it down the toilet.

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solarmorrigan · 4 months

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hallo! I saw the angsty prompt list thing, and the “don’t trust me.” One kind of stood out to me. You don’t have to write it, but you’re one of my favorite writers on here so I thought it might be cool :)

Hullo! So I did fill this prompt once already, but I'd had a bunch of ideas for it and I was in the mood for something a little softer, so I did another! Thanks for giving me the opening to write it (and for the compliment, you're so kind?? 😭)

[General warning for mention of Steve's shitty parents and their generally shitty parenting technique]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

“Why am I the one doing this?” Steve grouses, straining slightly as he struggles with the full box on the top shelf. “Instead of, y’know, you?”

“You’re stronger than me,” Eddie replies readily.

“Bullshit, I’ve seen you lugging amps and shit around during your shows,” Steve shoots back, grumbling as he works the box free from the high shelf.

“You got me.” Eddie grins, though Steve’s back is turned to him. “I just like watching you work, sweetheart.”

From the depths of the storage closet, Steve gives an audible snort of laughter, but he also stops arguing. Then, with a little noise of triumph, Steve finally manages to tug the box free, holding it aloft long enough to back out of the closet and then heaving it down onto the floor, where it lands in a clatter of plastic and jingling bells.

“Excellent.” Eddie falls upon the box, rubbing his hands together in anticipation before tugging at the tucked flaps. “There’s one more box, would you mind? It’s on the floor; long rectangle.”

“You said there was one box,” Steve says, eyes narrowed.

“Whoops, miscounted,” Eddie says breezily, smiling up at Steve with as much innocence as he can muster. “You know how bad I am at all that academic shit.”

“Says the guy who plays a math game for fun,” Steve drawls.

For the sake of time, Eddie leaves the bait where it is, instead batting his eyelashes up at Steve. “Pretty please, pretty boy? It’s definitely the last one.”

Steve holds out for exactly five more seconds before retreating into the closet with a roll of his eyes. “If you suddenly remember one more after this, I’m suddenly gonna remember something I have to do back at my house and leave you to do all the decorating on your own,” he calls back, muffled from behind the coats Eddie can hear him shoving aside to find the last box.

Eddie’s at least eighty percent sure he’s bluffing, but it’s no matter – he hadn’t been lying. Most of what he needs is in the box in front of him: strands of garland, wrapped tangles of lights, and the same ugly pinecone wreath with the world’s most annoying string of jingle bells attached that Wayne’s been hanging since Eddie was a kid. Everything else—the ornaments, more lights, and, of course, the tree—is in the hefty, rectangular box Steve is currently hauling out into the entryway.

Normally, Wayne would be there to help, but his and Eddie’s work schedules have fallen out of sync in the hectic holiday rush of extra shifts; if one has the day off, the other is too tired by the time they get home to entertain anything as energy-consuming as getting up on a ladder to hang lights. Eddie and Steve, however (somehow; miraculously), share at least one day off a week, which has seen Steve recruited as Eddie’s backup decorating partner.

“That it?” Steve breathes as releases the box and stands straight, tugging his sweater down from where it’s ridden up (Eddie can’t believe he’s dating someone who unironically wears ugly Christmas sweaters. He can’t believe Steve makes them look good).

“That’s it,” Eddie promises. He plucks two balled-up strings of lights from the box in front of him and stands up, one under each arm. “So here’s what I’m thinking: I’ll get started on the outside, while you,” Eddie puts a boot to the tree box and shoves it towards Steve with a grunt; even across the laminate flooring it doesn’t slide easy, practically cocooned in layers of packing tape from so many years of opening and resealing, “get the tree going.”

Already halfway wrapped up in how he’s going to string the lights (he’d always loved decorating the outside of the trailer, and now he gets to figure out a new configuration for the tiny porch on his and Wayne’s equally tiny new house; it ain’t much, as they say, but it’s home – or, at least, it’s starting to feel like it), Eddie nearly misses the look of confusion that crosses Steve’s face.

“Uh… how do you want it set up?” Steve asks.

Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him. “Stand goes on the floor, pointy end goes up. I have faith in you, Steve.”

Steve rolls his eyes again, but with his frown in place he looks like he might actually be irritated. “I mean, you have to tell me how you want it, like, decorated and shit. Where it’s supposed to go, that sort of thing.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve decorated a tree before, man,” Eddie says. “I know I saw one at your house last time I was there.”

“Yeah, but that’s my house. This is yours. You have to tell me how you want it,” Steve says.

Once again for the sake of time, Eddie leaves the obvious opening for a joke where it lies. “Steve, it’s – y’know, lights, garland, ornaments, it’s not rocket science. I trust you to do a good job.”

“No, don’t trust me, just tell me how you want it decorated,” Steve insists. “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to do it wrong.”

“It’s… a Christmas tree, sweetheart,” Eddie says slowly. “You can’t do it wrong.”

“Oh, I assure you, I can,” Steve says with a laugh. “Seriously, like – people are super particular about how their trees are set up, I think. My mom always has been. I remember when I was, like, ten, she and my dad had been away for a while, and we were coming up on Christmas pretty fast, and none of the decorations were up, so I figured I’d at least put the tree up. Surprise them when they got home, right? Except my mom lost her shit when they got home and saw it.”

“Noooot in a good way, I take it,” Eddie hazards.

“Nah, I did it all wrong. The tinsel wasn’t spread out right, and there’s only supposed to be a certain number of ornaments on each branch, and she wanted the angel on top, not the star, so she made me take the whole thing down.” Steve shrugs. “So, seriously, even if you don’t think you have a certain way you want it done, I’ll probably manage to find the exact way you don’t want it, so you should just tell me.”

“Steve, I promise, that tree is, like, older than I am; you can’t make it worse. As long as you don’t set it on fire, I’ll be happy with it,” Eddie says.

“That’s not–” Steve cuts himself off, running one hand through his hair with a strained little laugh. “I don’t understand why you won’t just tell me how you want it done.”

Eddie shakes his head, dropping the bundles of lights back into their box; he hates when this happens – hates when he stumbles over some mundane thing that Steve’s parents have fucked up for him that Eddie only manages to poke like a kid with a sharp stick at a beehive because he didn’t even realize it could be an issue. Who the fuck gives their kid a complex over how the Christmas tree is decorated? Who does that?

(Then again, Eddie’s pretty sure it’s about more than just their expectations for the tree.)

“Okay, I need you to listen to me,” Eddie says, voice firm but hands gentle as he reaches for Steve’s own. “I swear I’m not trying to set you up for failure. I’m really not. The tree isn’t supposed to look perfect. It’s supposed to be kinda crooked and covered in dumb ornaments you can’t even remember the stories behind and only have, like, half a string of popcorn around it because you ate most of it when your uncle wasn’t looking and didn’t leave enough for the tree.”

Steve stares at him, brows furrowed, like he’s trying to piece what Eddie’s telling him into what he already knows about the world, like he needs both things to be true, even though they don’t fit together.

“Actually…” Eddie says slowly, deciding that it may be best to change tack, “come to think of it, there’s one thing about decorating the tree that I should’ve told you. Most important thing, really. Can’t believe I forgot.”

“What?” Steve asks, halfway between wary and eager for the instruction.

“You’re supposed to do it together. That’s what makes it good.” Eddie lets go of one of Steve’s hands to smack the heel of his own to the side of his forehead. “Duh. Silly me.”

Steve shakes his head, letting it hang forward with a little huff of a laugh as some of the tension leeches from his shoulders. “You’re such a dork, do you know that?”

“Mhm,” Eddie hums, grabbing Steve by the front of that stupid, ugly sweater (it has reindeer on it, how does it not look awful on him?) and pulling him up for a quick kiss. “So how about you help me do the outside lights, and then we’ll come back inside and do the tree together?”

One last flicker of uncertainty crosses Steve’s face. “What about Wayne?”

A flutter of fondness rolls through Eddie’s chest, the same as it always does when Steve doesn’t just consider Eddie, but the things and people important to him. “His favorite part is stringing the popcorn. We can do that when he gets home.”

“Oh.” Steve nods, as though he is considering this very seriously, then smirks at Eddie. “Should we make some to eat before he gets back, so you leave enough for the tree?”

Eddie smacks him on the shoulder, holding back a laugh. “Alright, Harrington, just for that, you’re the one untangling the lights.”

“What, like it’s a punishment?” Steve asks. “I’m great at untangling Christmas lights.”

“Oh, baby,” Eddie presses a hand to his heart and pretends to swoon over the box of decorations, “when you say things like that, it makes me want to keep you forever.”

And Steve’s answering grin at that is far brighter than anything they’re going to decorate with today, Eddie is certain.

#finntheehumaneater #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #I also wanted to write something a little holiday-related!#so I'll be honest this is a little schmoopy but like. that happens sometimes yanno?#solar wrote #answers from solar

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myung-heee · 9 months

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on his knees.

pairings: idol!mingi x fem!reader

genre: smut

warnings: oral (fem receiving), masturbation (male), crying, squirting, overstimulation, his members were outside, idkkk if i missed smt

"y/n... please!" he whimpered as he continued to press his hands against your thighs. "Leave me alone, Mingi! I'm trying to play," you murmured, warningly looking at him.

He was on his knees, hands on your thighs. While you were playing a game on his computer, he was kneeling. You felt the gaming chair turn in his direction as he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you deeply. You whined as you pushed his chest away and drew your kiss out. With those furrowed brows, he glanced at you.

"There's a place for your horniness, baby, and I'm not going to entertain it, so know your place," he was about to complain when you flipped the gaming chair around back to where it was used to be, in the front of his desk.

He rose up and grumbled, "you're suck at that game, im way better than you anyhow," he said, rolling his eyes. He went into the bathroom and shut the door. You merely scoffed, knowing he was just sulking.

You whined as the game finished. "I don't get it, Mingii!" you said, but he remained unresponsive. "This game sucks. It's not me! It's the fucking game!" you rolled your eyes as the other players complained, asking, "Is he drunk?" 'Why does he play like a child?' they wondered, knowing the player well.

When you heard the bathroom door open, your attention was drawn to it. Mingi eventually went outside, his hair wet, wearing a black t-shirt and sweatpants. He strolled right past you as if you weren't there, and you rolled your eyes as you glanced at him sitting on his bed.

You noticed him trying to dry his own hair with a towel, so you approached him and took the towel in his hands, attempting to brush the cloth through his hair. He remained mute.

"Are you mad, baby?" you inquired.

"mhm.." he muttered.

Too honest, you rolled your eyes.

"Why?" you exclaimed.

He gave you a sideways glance. "you ignored me for a game you can't even play, baby... you made me touch myself alone in the bathroom... you know what's worse? I'm still hard," he murmured.

When you looked down, you noticed his stiff cock against his sweatpants. You stared at him, and your gazes locked. "Was your hand not enough?" you asked softly.

He closed his eyes as he shoved your hands away, carried you, and tossed you on the bed. It happened so quickly that you were already lying on the bed when you looked up.

"Stop acting like you're so innocent, baby," he muttered as he stood up. "It doesn't suit you.." it was almost a whisper, he knelt down and pulled your pajamas down.

You attempted to sit down but were stopped when he looked at you and said, "don't you dare move."

When he put your legs on his shoulders and kissed your inner thighs, you complained. He purposefully neglected your juicy cunt in order to lick and suck the other one. He left several wounds that transformed into hickeys later on. He then touched your wet cunt with your panty still on. You moaned as he stroked it with his pointed finger.

"Stop... teasing." you whimper. "Oh so youre complaining now?" he continued, smirking on your cunt, and you immediately shook your head.

"baby, you have no idea how much I want to tease you, but I'm hungry, so I'll eat you out instead."

He then quickly removed your panty, which you complained about because it was so harsh. You were feeling particularly sensitive just now, as though your moist cunt was throbbing for attention.

"You're so wet... all for me," he murmured as he dove down, eating you like a hungry man who hadn't eaten in years, moving his tongue into you like a fucking crazy. He lapped and licked your pussy, and your body shook so violently that you wanted to scream. Your hands were over your mouth as you refused to make a sound, fearful that his members would be outside.

He was licking so so damn fast that you could feel the wetness flowing down and the blankets becoming soaked.

A tear fell from your eye as you felt your body shake from climax, but he didn't stop there. He was still there, glued into your assaulted pussy. You yelled his name, "mingi.. s-stop!" you groaned, you attempted to shut your thighs but it added to the pleasure as he sucked, his hands on your thigh brushing it, you could feel another orgasm coming on, you cried attempting to pull away.

"I... I can't take it," you squirted, and he drew out. When he saw your body trembling, his lips parted and juice squirted out. "Damn.. baby, you look so beautiful.. I had no idea you could squirt," he chuckled.

You simply shook your head while brushing your thighs together.

#mingi smut #ateez smut #mingi x reader #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez reaction #mingi reactions #mingi imagines

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quest-for-pluto · 5 months

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To The Moon and Back

Platonic!Sully Kids x Human!Female!Reader

Summary: What if the Sully kids were captured instead of Spider? (A long drabble/short prompt?)

ZERO: THE ADDITION

"No!" Neteyam pounded against the glass, gritting his teeth. "Let us out!" When no one answered he growled, throwing himself against the wall. Expectedly, it didn't budge.

"Neteyam, stop it," Kiri wrapped a slender hand around his forearm, pulling him to face her. "You're scaring Tuk."

His eyes softened as they landed on his youngest sister, murmuring out a gentle 'sorry', before they hardened again as they landed on Lo'ak. His younger brother was silent as he sat curled in on himself, staring blankly at the wall with his head in his hands. Kiri couldn't stop him this time as he charged towards him, yanking him up forcefully by his necklace to sneer in his face. Lo'ak's eyes widened in shock.

"None of this would have happened if you had just used your fucking head!" He shouted, pupils dilated with aggression. "Are you happy now? We're all trapped here because of you!"

"Get off of me!" Lo'ak snarled, shoving harshly at his shoulders.

"Stop it!" Kiri cried, trying to step between them and coax them apart, but Neteyam refused to relinquish his hold or his glare.

"Cut it out," a foreign voice rang out in the white room, making them all pause. To their collective shock, the wall on the right lightened until it was completely transparent. The siblings warily huddled closer together as they saw two humans, a man and a woman, facing them on the other side of the window-like wall. Tuk wrapped her arms anxiously around Neteyam's waist.

The man clucked his tongue in annoyance, turning towards the woman. "See? This is why they should have been put in separate holding cells."

Neteyam felt Kiri's grip tighten on his bicep at their words.

"Would've been a waste of space," the woman huffed, quickly typing something on her laptop keyboard, before shutting it and giving them her full attention. Her stare was intense and very much unnerving.

"Where are we?" Surprisingly that had come from Lo'ak. His spine was rigid in an attempt at channeling their father's intimidating demeanor.

The man smirked, striding up closer to the glass barrier. "Far from home, kid. That's for sure."

"You can't keep us here," Kiri hissed, but Neteyam could feel her hands trembling against him. "Our clan will come for us and kill you all."

"That's what we're banking on," he chuckled, shoving his hands in his pockets as he whistled lowly. "We really lucked out with these ones, didn't we doc?"

Neteyam cursed under his breath. They were planning to use them as bait to lure his parents here. He needed to find a way to get in contact with them, but all of their communication devices had been taken away when they were thrown in here. Fuck.

"Don't entertain them," she snipped, giving him an unimpressed stare. "We're not here to play games. I actually have a job to do, if you haven't noticed."

"Trying to get rid of me already?" He put a hand over his chest, a mock wounded look downturning his lips.

"Yes," she replied bluntly.

"Come on," he jeered, waving his arm at them like they were some sort of freak show. "Don't tell me you want to be alone with the savages?"

Neteyam and Lo'ak bristled at the insult, baring their teeth. Tuk whimpered behind Neteyam's leg.

The woman glanced at them, wrinkling her nose in disgust as if she was instead looking at a giant, steaming pile of ikran dung. "Of course I don't, but I also don't want to be homeless," she gave him a pointed look, jutting her chin towards the exit. "Now, if you'll excuse me I have some work to do. Alone."

The man raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine," he chuckled, striding leisurely towards the door. He was almost there when he paused, turning around with a raised brow. "Coffee later?"

"Get out," she said flatly.

The door opened and closed, leaving the room blanketed in a tense silence. It was also then that she started behaving weirdly.

She began frantically shuffling through the objects on her desk, lifting papers and shifting around devices. After a few minutes of this, she seemed to come across what she was looking for: a small, round dark object about the size of her pinky nail—which she promptly threw on the ground and crushed under the heel of her boot. It made a small crunching sound as it succumbed to the pressure.

"Fucking Madden," she hissed under her breath.

After kicking away the debris, she lifted her gaze, staring at them contemplatively. She slowly approached the glass barrier, her features becoming more distinguishable the closer she got. The siblings tensed, not able to tell what she was going to do next.

"Believe it or not, I'm not here to hurt you," she said finally, her stare heavy and unwavering. "In fact, I'd say I'm your best ticket out of here."

Neteyam narrowed his eyes. He knew how the sky people were, heard stories of their greed and destructive nature and even witnessed it firsthand. She couldn't be doing this out of her own good will. Why would she risk her livelihood and possibly her life for them? "What do you want?" He growled. She had to be after something.

"Your names," she said simply.

"What?" They all reeled back in disbelief.

"Well, more specifically, I'd like to get to know more about you," she elaborated, the harsh look in her eyes softening into something that looked suspiciously like curiosity.

"Why are you doing this?" Kiri's voice wavered from beside Neteyam, staring warily down at the small woman. Well, small to them, at least.

For the first time, a genuine smile crossed the woman's face, taking them all by surprise. "Didn't your father ever tell you," she said, something unreadable twinkling in her eyes. "That Sullys stick together?"

*****

*Takes a deep breath*

—internal screaming—

Guys. I’ve been WANTING to read something like this for so long that my brain just vomited it out. This is just an idea I wanted to share cuz it wouldn’t leave me alone and won’t be continued at the moment.

PS: PLEASE WE NEED MORE FICS WHERE JAKE’S SIBLING(S) INTERACT WITH THE KIDS T_T

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purpleenhypen0-0 · 8 months

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Yandere! Enhypen Reaction To You Self Harm!ng

A/N-This is just for entertainment purposes. These behaviors should not be reenacted in real life. Especially self harm!ng. Please don't do that irl you are so worth it❤🥺

Tw-cussing(jus a lil)

I don't wanna include Ni-ki bc of his age and this is counted as a more mature subject to me(you'll be in the next one riri💓)

𓆏Jungwon

You were in the kitchen cooking dinner when Jungwon walked in wearing a white tanktop, sweating enough for little liquid dots on his arms and face. You on the other hand, were wearing a hoodie But you were the worst. "Darling it's hot. You should really take that off," Jungwon says, turning the ac as cold as he could get it. "I-I'm fine won. I'm not even that hot," Your red face said otherwise. Jungwon eyes you. He knows you're hot, even more than he is. So he takes slow steps towards you. "Y/n, show me your arms, now." It was all coming together for him. You looked more drained everyday, sadder, more tired, plain exhausted. You always refused to wear short sleeves, saying you were more comfortable in long sleeves. He knew, and you knew it. "Wonie I... What do you mean?" You knew exactly what he meant. "Show me your arms now," he repeats. Your head hangs low as you slowly tuck your fingers into the hem of your sleeves, pulling them up to reveal long deep marks of pinkish purple cuts. Jungwons eyes go soft, welling up with tears. "I don't understand, w-was it something I did???" He stutters out. Your body fills with guilt head to toe as tears stream down his face. You pull him into your embrace and apologize as many times as you can, promising him you won't do it again. After that day Jungwon isn't as aggressive with you. He speaks calmly and holds his patience. Never raising his hand on you again.

𓆏Heeseung

"Baby hurry up, I have to use the restroom." Heeseung says from outside of the bathroom door. Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. You panic, washing the blood off of your arms and shoving the razor in a droor. Heeseung gets a little worried hearing the ruckus going on. "Baby? Y/n are you alright love?" Your still rinsing the blood down the sink. "Yea Hee I'm fine! Just washing my hands." You shout, hoping you sound convincing. You weren't self harming because of heeseung, but because of stress. You knew he would blame himself if he found out no matter what you told him. You're beginning to feel dizzy due to the blood loss. Heeseung knows better than for someone to spend 5 minutes washing their hands. He starts shaking the knob of the door, telling you to unlock it and let him in. When he receives no answer, he starts beating through the door with his fist, no cares of the pain and blood on his hand. When he finally grabs the known from the inside and gets in. He's met with your fainted body on the floor. He immediately goes into a panicked state and picks you up, running you down to the car. The whole ride there he's regretting everything, the punishments, the yelling, the jealousy, every time he's laid his hands on you. He was sick for hurting someone so precious. Better yet, making them hurt themselves. He imagines every way to apologize when you wake up at the hospital. Hoping you'll do the right thing and just leave him.

𓆏Jay

Jay is definitely not the most patient person you'll meet. Normally, you were used to the yelling, after all, he never went any further than that. It was a Monday, so as usual, you came home exhausted with everything in you. "Where the fuck have you been," You jumped. It was Jay, his voice sounded more like he was making a statement than asking a question. You game him a confused look, wondering why he looked so pissed. "I don't like repeating myself," he says. "I-What do you mean baby?" You were genuinely lost. "Do you have any idea what time it is Y/n?" You checked your phone. 𝙎𝙝𝙞𝙩. You had fell asleep on the bus ride home. They must've gotten into traffic, it happens often. Suddenly you feel the breath knocked out of you, your back pressed against the wall that was inches behind you seconds ago. It took you a couple seconds to realize, he had his hands around your neck. He laid his hands on you, something he swore he'd never do. You tried to let out a sound, anything, but nothing came out. Your eyes starting to blink out tears. You were truely scared of him. He seemed to snap out of his daze, instantly letting you out of his grip. You let out a gasp and ran upstairs to your shared bedroom, locking the door behind you. You were done. You had taken enough of this, his manipulation, lies, psychotic behavior, all of it. You had no where to go. You felt your life collapse in a single second, just when you were starting to trust him. You remembered the first tactic you'd use when you were 15. Something that seemed to take away pain.(IT DOESN'T, THIS IS FOR THE PART, I SPEAK FROM EXPERIENCE) You went into the bathroom and grabbed a razor from the shower, instantly bringing it to your arm, ignoring jays quiet sobs outside for you. "Baby I'm so sorry, please let me in." Nothing. Suddenly he starts shaking the knob. "Answer me Y/n please. You can't ignore me forever, let's talk about this." Your skin was burning, a familiar sting in your veins. His begs becoming more faded. The last thing you saw before going unconscious was a crying jay, on he's knee holding you in his arms all while on the phone with an emergency operator, muttering out a series of apologies.

𓆏Jake

Idk accidental self h4rm bc your a clutz luv☹️

The poor baby had a panick attack when he got a call from you that you were in the hospital, one bc you were in public with other guys that he didn't trust, two bc you were hurt. He only relaxed when you told him you had only accidently cut your hand pretty bad while making lunch(a̶n̶d̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ y̶o̶u̶ h̶a̶d̶ a̶ f̶e̶m̶a̶l̶e̶ d̶o̶c̶t̶o̶r̶)̶ . He scolds you a lil and reminds you to be careful next time. Little did you know, there would be no next time😂 He won't let you cook again when he's not around, no matter what it is. He'll cook it for you. (I hope this one was a little wholesome yandere-ish break from the others 😂)

𓆏Sunghoon

You woke up feeling extremely light headed. Sunghoons bedset tucked around you. You pulled your arms to the side and saw bandages covering them. You think through the day and wonder when you passed out while you were cutting at your wrists. You started harming yourself about a month and a half ago, after finding out Sunghoon was the one who murdered your parents. After all the years he told you it would be okay and they would catch who did it. Giving you a place to stay. Building up trust. Making you love him. He betrayed you. Like everyone else did. You wondered where he was. Laying in the room for another 6 minutes before the door slowly creeks open. Revealing a soft eyed Sunghoon. You could tell he'd been crying, but he still smiled when he saw you were awake. "Oh baby you're okay!" He said with exclamatory relief. Running over to hug you. "I'm so sorry. I promise I did what I did for a reason. I only wanted to take care of you love." Your parents were not the best, especially your dad. They'd both had their moments where they'd lay their hands on you viciously. After a long minute of him explaining while you could do nothing but sit, still processing. You understood where he was coming from. He sat and begged for your forgiveness for what felt like hours until you finally just hugged him and thought he was better for you than anyone else.

𓆏Sunoo

Harming yourself is nothing new. You've done it many times before you were with sunoo. He knows you get stressed easily, so he's very soft with you. That's where his yandere comes in. He's so soft that he wants to keep you from the cold world that hurt you before he came to take care of you, so he can keep you safe and under his loving care. So what does he do about school, well the answers simple, he drops you out. But, he has no clue of the thoughts about college racing through your mind lately. Wondering if it's too late to try school again. Better yet, wondering if sunoo will even let you go to school, let alone college if you ask him. Stress building up. Your sensitive body isn't mentally built up for all the hard thoughts you put on yourself. Normally, you just tell sunoo and he makes it all better. But this is different, what if he gets upset with you for wanting to go back, what if he leaves you? Sooner or later, you let your mind get the best of you and felt like you couldn't talk to anyone. You pick up a pair of scissors, slowly opening them, you eyelshes shiny with soft tears. And cut one little line on your lower arm right above your wrist. *click* Sunoo's home from school(he goes to a private) "Sweets, I'm home." He calls out. You wanted to drop the scissors and run. But you couldn't, regret. That's what it was. You couldn't just tell sunoo. You burst out crying. Hearing the noise, Sunoo rushes over to the kitchen. He takes a moment to process what lies before him. Once he realizes what's going on, his heart shatters. He drops his bag and runs over to you, pulling you into the warmest hug possible. He didn't even care to ask. He didn't want to make it any worse than it already was. Long story short you explained to him later(after pinkie promising to never harm yourself again) and he let you go to his school with no hesitation. Don't expect him to not tug you away from guys he's not familiar with, you are his and his only after all.

I'm sooo srry ik it's not my best but I was in a big rush, if there is anything you would like to correct/add I would love if you did so💓Thank you sm for reading!

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jaebeomsbitch · 11 months

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All I Want Is You (R.R.)

Summary: Roman learning to heal through the pain and eventually realizing he’s capable of so much more than just being a Roy. He learns to love and laugh and eventually gets married!

Warning: Mentions of Logan's death, Roman's insecurity, and one mentions of his eating disorder. GN! Reader except literally one line just hinting.

A/N: I had this idea of calling Roman "Roro" and it turned into this. I just love him so much, he deserves the world.

Nicknames had been spilling from your mouth all day, you loved to annoy Roman. Calling him any and everything, “Pookie, honey, Romey bear,” especially in front of board members. You loved to rile him up, he’d sometimes lash out but for the most part he’d play it up. Following you around calling you equally embarrassing nicknames, it had become a game of sorts. Trying to see who could embarrass the other worse.

You’d have a sickening display of affection as you feed him an hors d’oeuvre at some company party. Whispering how “sweet your love bug was for you,” Gerri would clear her throat asking to pull Roman aside. They’d talk in hushed tones as he sighs and comes back to you. Muttering a half-assed apology but he has something urgent to take care of. You usher him away, knowing he’s here on business and not to entertain you even though he promised you’d have his undivided attention.

You muck around taking a champagne glass joining Willa and Connor in a conversation about cryogenics. You pretend you’re interested, nodding your head as you tip your head back gulping the alcohol. It was going to be a long night.

You drink a couple more glasses before leaving them, walking toward a window to watch the view. You couldn’t even remember where you were. Roman had told you to pack a bag and an hour later you were shoved into a private plane. He was too busy talking logistics to inform you of where you were going or what you were doing.

Cousin Greg tries to make conversation, asking some absurd question you’d probably see in a “how to make friends” blog. You relent because watching Greg squirm is entertaining. You answer asking him an equally absurd question, watching as he juggles the question in his head as he stumbles over his words. Your gaze unlike most people doesn’t move from his face, you like the way it makes people nervous. He gives you a non-answer mostly just stuttering noises as his eyes dart around the room for an escape. His eyes landed on Tom before excusing himself.

You can’t help but chuckle, Roman walks up to you. What the fuck was that all about? Was Greg trying to put the moves on you? He laughs but a piece of himself feels uneasy. He never likes the feeling of falling which is why he never allows himself to feel it. He’s always surrounded himself with faux relationships, ones he could pull around the room as arm candy to appease his father. Not that he was ever happy with Roman’s endeavors or conquests.

But you were different. You had this ability to pull him apart like a lobster at dinner. You broke him limb from limb, throwing the pieces of shell in the garbage as you exposed the soft tender meat of his heart. He’s panicked, panicked that you can be ripped away from his hands like his favorite toy. Panicked that he’ll have to watch his dad stomp on the piece of plastic destroying you into a million little pieces. He doesn’t think he’d recover if you left so he stays cowering in the back of his cage.

Slowly you unravel Roman, even when he asks stupid questions. You let him win on most occasions, you want seafood for dinner but he wants steak? Steak it is. Something about being with you is everything he’s ever wanted and not just because you let him win. You made him feel something he’d never was allowed to.

His father never had high hopes for Roman’s partner. However he didn’t feel any particular way about you. Didn’t say some mean comment, didn’t embarrass you in private, he watches you with a scrutinizing gaze but you don’t buckle. You had nothing to hide because to the Roys you were just another fling.

To Roman however you were everything. You were the reason he wanted to wake up in the morning, you were the reason he stopped counting calories as he joined you in a midnight ice cream snack. Laughing as he smears ice cream across your face because you called him your “precious little prince.” He tells you to fuck off, rolling his eyes as his ears turn red. Blood rushing up his face at all your praises. He was so unused to it, unused to the feeling of someone being proud of him.

You were never shy with Roman, always showing him off. Calling him your trophy husband as you twirl him around. Slapping his ass on the airplane, joking that his was better than yours.You show him off with pride to your parents, after you’d mentioned they were at the same restaurant as you were. He noticed their judging gazes, recognizing his face from the newspaper but you beamed. Holding his hand tight, teeth on full display as you press yourself into him, cheek resting on his shoulder as your parents say something you’re not paying attention to.

Roman doesn’t know how to act, he’d never made it to this stage. Most people weren’t willing to accept someone with sexual trauma, always leaving him because he was too emotionally scarred. They’d always give him the line that they weren’t fulfilled but you were always willing to wait. So he nods, cracking an occasional joke until you’re waving goodbye on the sidewalk and you follow him into the Escalade.

You help him through the after effects of a panic attack. He’d never done that, never really cared what people thought of him unless he could benefit in some way. So teary eyes, that he tries to pretend is caused by the window cracked open, he asks how that was. He looks away afraid of what you might say, afraid that you might end it right there because your parents hate him.

“Roro, I could give a flying fuck what they think. All I want is you, okay?” You try to reassure, reaching for his hand. He blinks away the tears, silently nodding. Someone wanted him? Even when he’s wholly broken, even when he can’t fulfill every boyfriend duty, even when he has to abandon you at boring parties? He’s afraid of the feeling in his chest, it feels like he just jumped off the balcony of his penthouse, free falling, waiting to hit the ground. He shoves away the feeling of doubt and plays those words over and over again in his head, a small smile forming as he stares at the city passing by.

He lets himself grow attached to the silly nicknames, attached to the feel of your skin under his hand, the feeling of his fingers running through your hair, the way you massage his scalp, the way you hold him in bed. Your sleepy eyes blinking at him as you whisper a new nickname before cuddling into his chest.

He liked the domesticity of you in his apartment, he’d usually feel disgusted only ever liking the feeling of being alone. But somewhere he grows accustomed to the way you leave your shoes at the entrance, seeing your toothbrush next to his, and even though he complains, the way you take half of his closet. He liked seeing your clothes together, promising he’d either upgrade the closet to fit both your needs fully or buy a new penthouse. He wanted you to have a say in the building, he was ready to let go of his “bachelor” pad, wanting you in every trace of the new home. Wanting you to be in the fiber of the new apartment so even if you left he could never forget what you shared.

Soon enough the Roys lump you in with Roman like you’d always belonged. You were practically married without the certificate, Logan would give Roman shit about it. Telling him you were a fine piece of ass and that he should lock you down before you realized the mistake you made.

In all of Roman’s sureness the doubt creeps in but you’re there through his fathers death. You’re there to console him and let him cry. You let him be vulnerable in a way he was never allowed, never judging, just reassuring. You’re there when Gojo buys Waystar. You’re there to enjoy him even when he’s lost. When he realizes that all his sacrifices were for nothing and that his entire being was bullshit.

“But you’re not bullshit to me,” you whisper. Forehead leaning on his back as you hug his abdomen. He lets himself be held, no quip on his lips as he leans into your hold.

“Roman… it’s just you and me forever and always,” you finalize. You knew in your heart it was always Roman. You were two broken puzzle pieces that somehow fit together and in your brokenness you made each other better. In your time together he transformed into the phoenix you knew he was. He opened his eyes to the abuse he endured and refused to continue the cycle.

You spent almost a year on a self healing journey, traveling the world together now that he had stopped nipping at your hand. He let you pull him out of the cage and he was free, completely free. He was fearless to love, you both relished in your time together even though his smart mouth got ahead of him sometimes. You find ways to be intimate figuring each other out. You live in the ups and downs of the relationship. Realizing that he never needed to be in a loveless marriage like his parents.

He proposes unsurprisingly to everyone. The Roys finally have something to look forward to in the life of mundane nothingness. They Pat him on the back for ‘finally not being an idiot and making the right decision.’ He surprisingly offers to take your name, says he’s ready to shed the Roy name and try out a new skin. Kendall calls him a cuck for even suggesting it, that was his legacy after all. They might not have the company but they’d always have the name and blood. You knew Roman wasn’t serious, knew that calling you a Roy would elate his little heart so you deny him.

The word fiancé is always at the tip of his tongue, he loves the word. Loves that he’s finally able to say it. When you become his wife he becomes unbearable but you’re the same. Going to restaurants and talking about the “ole ball and chain” making him late when in fact, it was him fixing his hair that made you late. Nonetheless you whip your hand around showing off your wedding ring set at everyone that glances at you, holding your head high as you walk with him. Roman was yours and you were his and somewhere you forgot where he ends and you begin.

—side story—

You notice the way his eyes light up when you call him ‘Roro’ because no one has ever called him that, so it was special to you. Also because he remembers the day in the Escalade when you didn’t outright but basically admitted your love for him. His siblings take to jokingly calling you Scooby Doo because he was

“Roro Roy” to you. It starts after you ask him to pass the salt, “Roro, pass me that please.” The Roy siblings turn to look at you and Roman. They were used to your nickname antics, sometimes jumping in with their nasty names but this was new. Seeing Roman beat red as you kiss his temple, unaware of Shiv and Kendall’s knowing smiles. Connor looking at Roman with a small smile before turning back to Willa.

“Roro raggy, Roro shit the bed” Kendall would joke in a fake accent, that just sounds horrible. The table laughs, including you.

Roman quips back something stupid but you were happy. Happy that you had a nickname and that you were a part of their lives. That Roman gets to be an uncle to Shiv’s little boy.

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chelseeebe · 1 year

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maneater.

summary: you’d garnered a reputation for yourself at hawkins high. steve harrington is curious to know if there’s any truth to their claims.

i literally love this sm so hope u enjoy x

read part two here. | read part three here.

‘nah man, i’ve heard she’s fucked.. like everyone,’ tommy mumbles, leaning over to steve.

‘shut up, you’re bullshitting,’ steve nudges his friend, eyes firmly on you as you find a seat in the cafeteria.

‘you do whatever it is you wanna do, but don’t say i didn’t warn you,’ his friend pushes, now also looking over at you.

‘yeah i will, and then we’ll see,’ steve stands from his seat, shoving his friend in the back as he walks over to you.

he slides into the seat opposite, leaning forward across the table.

you continue eating, attempting to continue the conversation with your friend, not bothering to glance up at the boy.

he clears his throat in an attempt to garner your attention.

you roll your eyes, appeasing the boy and looking up at him. he smiles in response.

‘hello,’ he grins, brown eyes boring into yours.

‘hello,’ you look up at the boy, a slight smile on your lips. if he was going to try, you may as well play up to it.

you knew exactly why he was at your table, to see if the rumours were true. if you truly were what everyone said you are.

‘how are you?’ he smirks.

‘oh, i’m great, how are you?’ your friends begin to notice your conversation with steve. he had his own reputation around hawkins high, one not too dissimilar to yours.

in fact, half of the girls sat around the table could attest to that.

‘we’ll i’m better now i’m speaking to you, how’d you you like to come to a little party at my house tomorrow?’ he raises his eyebrow, the smirk on his face unmistakeable.

‘hmmm,’ the sarcastic sound leaves your lips, ‘i’ll think about it.’

steve unfortunately doesn’t pick up on your sarcastic tone, ‘well, starts at seven, mill avenue, you’ll know which house it is,’ he winks, standing up from your table.

‘okay,’ you give him a small wave, the side of your mouth twisting into a sardonic smile.

he saunters off towards his original table, grinning, believing that he’d had the upper hand in your conversation.

‘you’re not actually going, are you?’ your friend, emily snorts.

‘i might, could be fun,’ you shrug. his intentions were obvious, but hey, why not play him at his own game?

you knock on the large polished door, music blaring from the other side.

‘i cannot believe you’ve dragged me here,’ jessica chortles. you’d convinced her to just come with you, at the very least it’s free booze and an entertaining evening watching the student’s of hawkins high embarrass themselves.

the door swings open as steve hangs off of the frame, ‘y/n! i thought you’d bailed on me.. come in,’ he opens the door further, ushering the pair of you inside.

you turn back to jessica, pressing your lips into a small smirk as you follow steve into his living room.

you recognise almost everybody milling around his house, bottles of alcohol littered the room.

‘do you girls want a drink?’ he places his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into the kitchen.

‘we’d love one, thank you steve,’ blinking up at him, you can see him falter at the use of his name.

it was almost too easy.

he pulls away from you, grabbing two bottles and handing them to you and jessica.

your fingers purposefully brush his, as you stare up into his eyes.

if you weren’t already gripping the bottle, it would have smashed all over his kitchen floor.

his breath hitches, it was usually easy enough for him to get girls, but god you were just eating it up.

jessica rolls her eyes, walking back into the living room.

‘let’s play a game,’ you grab his hand, pulling him towards the crowded room.

you’re ten rounds deep into truth or dare, however many drinks downed. steve sat next to you on the couch, his arm resting on the back.

he leans over to whisper in your ear, ‘this is boring, why don’t i show you my room?’

you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, how many girls had that genuinely worked on?

‘sure, lead the way,’ you place the beer bottle down, flashing jessica a look. not that it lands, she was at in the lap of one of steve’s basketball buddies.

he stands up, offering his hand out to you. you accept, of course, and let him guide you upstairs into his bedroom.

‘oh wow, your room is huge,’ it was a genuine exclamation, it was evident his family had money but his room alone was almost the size of your entire house.

‘yeah, it’s nice but it’s lonely sometimes, big room all to myself..’ he closes the door behind you, sidling over to his bed and sitting on the edge.

‘mmm i bet,’ you raise your eyebrows, walking over to the bed.

his hands grip to your waist, pulling your body in between his legs. staring up at you through his long eyelashes.

you giggle, placing your hands on his shoulders as his hands wander down to your ass. the mini-skirt you’d chosen was suddenly not the best idea.

you weren’t expecting to find him so attractive, the way his pink lips fall apart at the feel of your ass. his dark eyes stuck on you. his large hands cold on your skin as they trace the lacy waistband of your underwear.

‘god, you’re so..’ he squeezes your ass, bottom lip now between his teeth.

‘hmm? soo..?’ egging him to finish the sentence.

‘sexy, so sexy,’ he murmurs.

‘oh really?’ you respond with a shove to his shoulders, pushing him back onto the bed as you clamber onto the bed, knees either side of his waist.

he swallows, hands finding your hips again.

you bend down, your hand cups his face as you kiss his full lips. his eyes flicker shut and you can’t help but smirk against his mouth.

he groans into the kiss, relieved to finally break the distance.

his tongue slides across your bottom lip, asking, or begging, for permission to enter.

you pull away from this kiss, forcing a mumbled complaint out of his mouth.

‘mm mmm,’ you tap your finger on his chest, shaking your head.

‘why?’ he whines, scowling up at you.

‘take your shirt off,’ you pull at the hem, signalling him to remove it.

there’s a pause, but steve does as you say, yanking the black shirt off and onto the floor.

you gaze down at his chest, it wasn’t the first time you’d seen it thanks to his obnoxious celebrating at basketball games but up close it was hairier than what you’d seen from the bleachers.

you trace your hand down, his breath becoming heavier. his hips instinctively buck up against yours, his growing bulge becoming apparent.

you climb off of his lap, and kneel on the bed next to him. he jolts upwards, fingers attempting to grip onto your thigh.

‘what- what are you doing?’

‘i know what you want, what you’re expecting,’ you lean in closer to his face, ‘but i wanna hear you beg for it,’ biting your bottom lip.

‘h-huh?’ he stutters, taken aback at the direction. he’d never not been the dominant one in the bedroom, this was brand new territory for him.

‘beg for it, if you want it so bad,’ your hand slides down to his clothed bulge, brushing over the area.

‘f-fuck,’ his breath catches in his throat, face still inches from yours.

‘hmm?’ you lightly rub his cock through his jeans, watching as his lips part and his eyes struggle to stay on yours.

‘shit.. i-i want you, i wanna fuck you,’ he whimpers, grinding his hips up towards your hand, creating the contact you were denying.

‘do you? show me, steve,’ you whisper, hovering your lips over his. your fingers playing with his belt buckle as you continue to palm him through his jeans.

‘oh.. my god, please y/n, i’m begging,’ he pants, his arms struggling to hold himself up.

you bite your lip, he looked so hot whining and begging for you to touch him. you were somewhat of a master at getting men to crumble at your will.

it turned you on to know that they were such a mess because of you. the wetness in your underwear evidence of that.

‘please, just.. fuck,’ he sighs, becoming utterly desperate.

you unbuckle his belt, slowly, making sure to brush your hand against his tented jeans.

it was much more fun to do things agonisingly slow, watching him wriggle under your touch.

he licks his lips in anticipation, now able to look at you once again.

you pop the button of his jeans, beaten by his hand as he yanks them down past his thighs, alongside his boxers as his cock springs up, hitting his stomach.

the rumours were true, his dick really was massive. you’d heard stories about how he’d practically ripped one of the cheerleaders apart but you hadn’t actually believed it.

you straddle his thighs, hands on his chest as his hands fumble with the hem of your crop-top, lifting it over your head.

‘jesus christ,’ he exclaims at your bare chest, as you’d purposefully worn no bra tonight.

you hadn’t really expected to fuck him tonight, usually opting to drag it out. maybe a kiss tonight, a blow job the next but now you were sat on his lap, staring down at the flustered boy.

‘fuck, baby please, i need to feel you,’ his fingers dig into your waist, waiting, begging for your touch.

‘yeah? is that right?’ you reach down to his cock, beginning to pump your hand along his length.

he growls, thrusting his hips between your hand.

you slide your other hand up his chest towards his neck, smirking at the power you had over him.

or so you thought, his grip on your waist tightens as he decides he’s had enough, flipping you over onto the mattress now towering above you.

‘i’m not playing your little game anymore,’ his eyes dark with lust as one hand tugs your skirt up past your waist in turn pulling your already soaked underwear down your legs.

you bite your bottom lip, not used to not being in control. men were normally on their knees to follow your instructions, basically drooling at being under your control.

he brings his face close to yours, leaving kisses down your jaw as he positions himself at your slick entrance.

‘i’m not..’ he slides into you, ‘your bitch,’ his hand finds your neck, squeezing gently as his hips slam against yours.

‘shit,’ you wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging his thrusts, holding onto his forearm as his grip tightens.

steve finds his rhythm, balls slapping against your thighs as your fingernails dig into his arm. mouth agape as his breath becomes laboured.

‘you got that?’ his hand leaves your neck, now planted beside your head as he begins to lose his balance.

you can’t even reply, a throaty moan leaving your lips in place of words, legs squeeze around his waist as the coil tightens in your stomach.

his thrusts become sloppy, mouth nibbling along your jaw, mumbling profanities as he comes undone above you.

‘oh steve, fuck,’ your legs tremble as you cum onto his cock, walls clenching around him.

the sight of your orgasm causes him to collapse on top of you, emptying himself into you as your name tumbles out of his mouth over and over.

he rolls over next to you, trying to catch his breath.

‘christ that was.. insane,’ he turns his head to look over to you, pulling his blanket over your sweaty bodies.

you chuckle, ‘i think you liked not being charge,’ you tease, reaching over to grab his discarded shirt.

‘mmm, still had to show you who was boss though,’ his arms folded behind his head.

‘yeah sure, that’s what that was,’ you lean back into his pillow.

this was about the time you’d usually get up and leave, no interest in sappy pillow talk yet you were still here.

in fact, you end up falling asleep in his bed, mid mumbling about some something or other. steve’s arm wrapped around your waist as he listens to your sleepy ramble.

you wake at the light beginning to peak through the dark blinds, blinking in confusion at the sound of soft snores next to you.

you were at steve’s house.

his arm is draped over your midriff, sleeping soundly besides you.

you peel his arm off of you, sliding out of the bed and tiptoeing around the room collecting your clothes.

his shirt still draped over your body as you creep out of the large house, past the evidence of the party you’d both snuck away from.

your mind flashes to jessica, you’d left her alone, completely neglecting any thoughts of your friend in the heat of the moment.

you’ll make it up to her on monday, your only priority being to get away from this house.

sneaking into your house is difficult, your mom is a light sleeper so you carefully traipse up the stairs and into the comfort of your own room.

you had never ever fallen asleep after a hook up before. you weren’t concerned with getting to know someone, or dating or whatever slushy thing they wanted to do with you.

so why were you sound asleep in steve harrington’s bed, of all people?

monday is tough, having to grovel with jessica to forgive you.

she’s not that upset with you, your disappearance meant she caught a ride with the hunky basketball player and they were going on a date on friday.

steve is trying his hardest to make eye contact with you, glaring at you across the classroom. and at lunch, his eyes stare daggers into you from his table.

you can just about hear tommy mocking steve, ‘i told you bro! she’s a maneater, you’re not special.’

and you don’t look in his direction once, staring straight ahead, becoming so thoroughly interested in your friends conversation.

it’s driving him crazy that you won’t even look at him. he’s never had that happen with a girl before, normally they’d be hanging off of his arm the next day, hoping for a date or another chance to fuck.

he’d play along for a little while, entertaining their thoughts, promising dates that would never come to fruition. all until he found the next girl to conquer.

but you, you wouldn’t even give him the time of day.

the bell rings to signal the end of the day,

you’re unfazed as you can hear someone, steve, calling your name as you walk through the hallway.

his footsteps grow closer as he bounds up to you.

he slams your body back against the locker, causing a loud clattering sound as his body presses up against yours.

passing students turn to stare, shocked at the sight of you and steve harrington.

‘jesus christ,’ you look up at him, his arms now encasing you in this makeshift locker prison.

‘what the fuck? you can’t even look at me?’ he grumbles, his expression had softened at the sight of your eyes looking up at him like that. it was the one thing he’d been praying for all day.

‘i didn’t see you, surprisingly i don’t look out for you, steve,’ you lie. you’d seen him in your peripheral staring at you, all damn day.

‘why’d you leave?’

‘because i didn’t fancy getting murdered by my mom,’ you blink at him through your lashes, pouting your lips.

‘right, well if you’d of stayed.. i was gonna ask you on a date,’ his hand leaves the locker, now resting on your jaw as his thumb toys with your bottom lip.

‘hmm, only if i stayed? that’s a shame,’ you quip back, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

‘well no.. the offer is still there,’ he says smugly.

he thinks he’s got you exactly where he wanted you and you couldn’t have that.

‘i’ll think about it,’ you grin, shoving past his arm and down the hallway.

you strut out of the school, knowing the exact, dumbfounded look that was on his face.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington fic #stranger things smut #steve harrington fanfic

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sanjoongie · 2 months

Text

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕧𝕖: 𝕄𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕪 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜

🥀Au: Fanboy Au, Fanfic smut writer! Wooyoung, Idol! Reader

🥀Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader (f)

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact

🥀Author's note: the following takes place within a world where Wooyoung is a smut fanfic writer and you, an idol pretending to be a male called 'Mingi' and his bias, are his friend

🥀Trope: loser to lover

🥀Summary: wooyoung is just a loser guy in the 2000's and you're the hot 2000's girl that's considering letting him go down on you... at a cost, of course

🥀Kinks: Mommy Kink, oral (f), face sitting, degradation kink, smothering kink, bdsm safe signals to stop and go, inexperienced! woo, experienced! reader, sub! wooyoung, dom! reader, riding Wooyoung's nose

🥀Word Count: 1,278

🥀Betas: @mejuii

🥀Day Eleven: Somnophilia 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Thirteen: Uniform

You took a deep breath. It wasn’t like you hadn't read some of Wooyoung’s stuff already, you had been hella curious after seeing Hongjoong’s nsfw fanart. So you just put yourself in the mindset that Fleur, which was your stage name, was you and the male reader was Wooyoung, because why not? And then you began to read.

📼Wooyoung’s Fanfic☎

All Wooyoung wanted to do was go to the cute candy store and get something to munch on while he gamed later tonight. Yeosang bought the new Twisted Metal Black game, and he invited him and San to play. It was just supposed to be a drive there in his Ford Focus, pick up the snacks, and then get out of there. But for the past twenty minutes straight, he couldn't stop looking at the barbed wire tattoo that was peeking out of the cashier’s short shorts as she restocked some of the bins.

When you turned around and noticed the nerd in glasses was staring at you, you rolled your eyes dramatically. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Wooyoung stuttered and proceeded to drop the bags that he had already made. The various jelly beans, soft gummies, and gumballs spilled all over the floor.

You snapped a bubble of gum angrily. “Really? A couple minutes before closing, and you’re gonna do this to me?”

You spun around to go find the broom. This was the worst shift you had ever had, and once you had to entertain a birthday party of four year olds with sticky hands.

“Wait, I can help!” Wooyoung chased after you. Your annoyance, your anger, was making him feel some kinda way.

“Don’t bother,” you spat over your shoulder, “You’ve already made a mess. Probably would make it worse.”

Wooyoung couldn't help but pursue you, like a moth to a flame. He couldn't pull himself from you.

So when you stopped abruptly and smacked into the back of you, yelping in surprise, you couldn't help your own burst of anger. You pushed him by his shoulders. “Get away from me, you freak!” You shouted in disgust.

“I can make it up to you!” Wooyoung pleaded desperately.

His glasses had fallen off when you pushed him. You tilted your head. Wait… was he kinda… hot?

You pulled your hot pink Razr phone from your back pocket and pushed the side button to see the time. It was closing time. So you stomped over to the front, flipped the sign from open to close, and then went back to Wooyoung, who was still lying in the center of the aisle with his candies all across the floor.

“You’re probably only good for creaming in your own pants,” You sneered. Wooyoung stared up at you with his mouth open in surprise. You shoved his glasses back on his face. “Prove me wrong.”

“Yes, Mommy,” dropped from his lips before his mind could catch up. “I mean!--” His face was red with embarrassment.

You rolled your eyes but began to unbutton your shorts. “I knew you were a freak. Do you know how to give head or not?” You huffed.

Wooyoung pushed his glasses up his nose, still in shock. “I--I don’t think I--”

You let out a noise of frustration, having unzipped your shorts and revealed the black thong underneath. “Nevermind, I should have known better.”

“No please!” Wooyoung protested, a hand reaching up to halt you from doing back up your pants. “You can sit on my face, right? I can try? Please, I want to try.”

“God, you really are THAT desperate for pussy?” You demanded.

Wooyoung swallowed, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob.

“Fine,” you grumbled, “But you’re going to call me Mommy, like earlier. You know to tap once to go and tap twice to stop, right? What am I saying? You don’t know shit. Listen, I am going to grind my pussy on your face and hope for the best okay? If you can’t breathe just tap my thigh twice and I’ll let up.”

Wooyoung nodded his head so enthusiastically that you thought his glasses were going to fall off again.

As it turned out, Wooyoung’s nose was perfect for grinding on. He clumsily licked at your wet folds, slurping and moaning, which only added to the allure of allowing some virgin nerd to eat you out. His arms wound around your legs, his fingers sometimes tracing the raised bumps of your barbed wire tattoo.

Just to test out if Wooyoung had actually listened to you, you sat down harder on his face, covering his nose and mouth with your cunt, bucking your hips into his nose and tongue, watching with cruel eyes as his breath was cut off. Wooyoung’s eyes widened, but his tongue didn’t stop, and you were actually impressed. Eventually, you felt a tap tap on your tattoo, and you eased up.

“Please, Mommy, do that again,” Wooyoung begged.

“I don’t think you can handle it.”

Wooyoung practically shoved his face into your cunt, tongue flat and head worrying on your clit. You gasped as he actually showed some brains, alreading picking up some technique as you grinded against his face after hours in the candy shop.

You grasped his long hair tightly, keeping him buried in your pussy. “Can you even get Mommy off with that clumsy tongue of yours?” You cooed mockingly, “Am I going to have to do all the work myself?”

Wooyoung whimpered, and you glanced over your shoulder. His baggy jeans were tented, and he was humping the air for some friction.

“Poor baby, you got a hard on? Guess you'll have to deal because Mommy always comes first, right?”

Wooyoung nodded, nudging the bridge of his nose against your clit and making you moan. He tapped twice again and when he pulled away the second time, he was gasping and his face was an absolute mess. And if you were being honest, he looked hot and debauched with his glasses fogged up.

You rode Wooyoung’s face until you came, your thighs shuddering under his arms and his chest swelled with pride as your wetness spread across his tongue and he lapped it all up, making happy, eager noises. You pushed his head back with a French tip manicure in the middle of his forehead before he started to make you feel sensitive.

You pushed upwards to get up, but Wooyoung's arms clung to you. “Liked sucking Mommy’s candy that much?” You mocked him.

“Please give me your number,” Wooyoung begged, all semblance of pride gone.

“Mmm, I don't think so, loser,” you declined. You untangled yourself from him. You adjusted your thong, careful of your freshly eaten out pussy and pulled your shorts back on.

“I'll do anything,” Wooyoung insisted, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“Please don't make this more awkward than it already is,” you said with a look of disgust.

“I'll come back every day and you can smother me with your pussy,” Wooyoung pleaded. “Mommy,” he added belatedly.

Well, there were perks to having a guy eager to eat you out every day.

🎤Back to Reality✍️

“Hey,” Your group mate patted your shoulder. “It's your turn to get your hair done.”

You smiled shakily and tried really hard not to squeeze your thighs together. Your next few hours of filming your music video were going to be torture. But if you just thought about how happy Wooyoung would be that you beta read for him, it would be worth it.

And maybe if you slipped in a little something about androids, Wooyoung would think he manifested it in your new music video.

🥀Day Eleven: Somnophilia 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Thirteen: Uniform

this au is always for @smallfrye, she claims it, it's hers 💞

#joongfryefff24 #kvanity #kwritersworldnet #pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #ateez smut #jung wooyoung smut #atz smut #wooyoung smut #topaz's work #ღatz #fanboys au

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