#dude this movie went so fucking hard
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studies from the northman (2022) dir. robert eggers
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#the night blade feeds#dude this movie went so fucking hard#the northman#the northman 2022#robert eggers#eggers#film#film study#art#procreate#anya taylor joy#alexander skarsgard#painting#drawing#cinema#movies#bjork#willem dafoe#my art
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it just sucks because nothing is ever fucking made for you, and if it is made for you like 75% of the time it gets chopped into little pieces by every person alive because this is the one thing you have, so it has to prove itself to you.
like, a thing can't just be for women. men need to assign it to women. women have to experience "must" or "should" before their hobbies and passions - women are allowed to do silly, passive things like tuck our ankles and titter behind a fan, or something. women are allowed to, they are welcomed to. like the world is a house and we are supposed to be in the kitchen and now we are being given the divine right to enter the living room if we bring chips
because when it becomes for you, or about you, that is when the thing is vile. you should/must wear makeup so you can appear beautiful to men. once you wear makeup for yourself, or because you yourself enjoy putting it on, then you are no longer doing the right thing. there is a reason men hate certain fashion trends. there is a reason men hate things like the pumpkin spice latte - because it's not about them. you are buying it because it is good for you. they degrade your passions and interests. there is a reason women-led fields are largely seen as being "not a real" profession. when you are a good cook, that is because you can provide for him. close your eyes. you're not going to be a chef, be honest. that is a man making food for himself.
bras are made so breasts will be appealing to men. they are rarely about comfort or support. you have given up entirely on the idea of pockets. young girls have to worry about a shorter inseam on their shorts. a girl on instagram gets her septum pierced, and men in the comments are rabid about it - i just want to rip it out of her face. she'd be beautiful without it.
and fucking everything is for them. even the media that is "for you" is for them, eventually. remember "my little pony"? remember how hard it is to convince any executive to believe that little girls are worth selling to? in the media that is for you, you see little ways that you still need to make it accessible for them - the man is always powerful, smart, masculine. he is a man's man. the media usually forgives him. it usually says okay, some men are awful, but hey! gotta love 'em. because if you don't hold their hands and say "this is literally just a story about my lived reality", they shit their pants about it. they demand you put them into the media that's for you.
these are people who are so used to glutting themselves on the world. they are used to having every corner and every dollar and every place of leadership. so you say can i please have one slice of cake, just for myself, please, holy shit. and they fucking weep about it. they say you're being unfair, because some of their one-thousand-slices aren't beautiful, and your singular cake slice doesn't have their name on it. and aren't you being rude by not offering to share?
and honestly. fucking - yeah, man. you were kind of surprised, because the cake is a little basic (you bake at home, you're way past this stuff). but holy shit, it was nice just to be offered cake in the first place. you're used to having to starve. you're used to getting nothing, but going to the party anyway, because you're expected (professionally) to show up. you liked that it is a simple cake, and that it is warm, and mostly: you like that there is, for once, a cake-for-you.
in the real world, outside of metaphor, it feels like fucking being slapped. barbie didn't even say anything particularly unusual; it literally just made factually evident points. there are less women in leadership than men. we can look at that fact objectively. that is a real thing that is happening. and the movie is aware that it has to defend itself! that it has to spend like half an hour just turning to the camera and saying: i know this is hard for you to understand, but this is a real thing that women experience.
it's just - this is that one kid on the playground who thinks its allowed to hog all the toys. he builds this hoard that nobody else is allowed to even look at, or he'll get aggressive. everyone's a little scared of him, so they let it slide, because his daddy gave him the golden touch. he hates when people cry and thinks bullying is cool. he writes boys only! on a big sign and makes all his friends take "alpha male" classes.
and then girls pick up barbies, because there was nothing left for them. and in the void they've been given, with their scraps: they make long, spiraling narratives about how barbie is actually descended from snakes and has given her righteous followers magical (if concerning) powers and can speak 32 languages (2 of which are animal related) and has big plans for infrastructure (beginning with the local interstate). and the boy comes over, and he has a huge fit about how the girls aren't "including" him. he wants to know why the girls aren't making the story about ken.
"we didn't like your story." the girls blink at him. they point to his war stories and the gi joes and the millions of male-led narratives and how still in the modern day men get two-thirds of the speaking roles in movies and they point to men making mediocre shows that don't get lambasted and they point to men encouraging toxic masculinity and they point to men everywhere, men and men and men. and they say: "how is this our fault? you had ken."
"no!" he is already back to screaming and stomping his feet and tearing at his hair and intentionally reminding them that men are holding back thinly concealed violence and he says: "if it's not for me, it's actually sexism."
#it's almost as if you spent your entire life fucking denying us things and then get mad when god forbid#we point out that you've been denying us something#writeblr#almost as if . u ACTUALLY think women dream of being in a male-run society#like dude mostly i dream about not having a tummy ache#love when ppl tell me that men have to deal with more rejection than women do#im like. just say u have never had a hard day in ur fucking life. if u think the most difficult experience is getting turned down at a bar#men: this one movie doesn't suck my entire -#women: yeah so i went to the doctor and was bleeding out of my eyeballs but like the doctor said#it was probably just my time of the month i guess?#anyway so i died there and had to be revived but they think i faked dying bc it was hysterics#so i took 3 advil and now im back at work i guess
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thought id see some deep and thought-provoking discussions about the philosophical and moral questions posed in atsv but all im seeing is a whole bunch of "the whole spider society is evil and fucked up for trying to save the entire fabric of the multiverse even if they have to bear personal grief for it and miles is the only Good One" and man . expected too much from the 'spends 90% time and energy thirsting for scary big vampire guy' fandom huh
#sorry im just . kinda really mad abt takes im seeing (against my will but alas..... twt fyp and ao3 tag cursed as hell)#like ???? just not getting the nuance of the conflict in the movie at All . its not supposed to be one side wholly good one side wholly bad#taking ppl away from this movie for a second and sitting them in front of the trolley problem . baby steps so try to understand this first#NOT ABT MIGUELS METHODS BTW THEY WERE 100% FUCKED UP !!!! he went way too far thats not even up for debate#but more the mindset he was coming from which is still justified from his perspective like dude lost an entire World!! comprehend that !!!!#also ppl getting on gwens and peter bs and peni's cases abt 'betraying' miles like theyre doing smth insanely evil like bro..... enough#aauagghhgh psychic damage from bad takes is happening i need to stop reading these#ummnmnm . dunno if i should even post this idk maybe im the only one thinking too hard abt it#atsv spoilers#my post
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i think i need to eat a fucking bullet
#was sad and my boy assumed it was because he didnt want to fuck me#now. to be fair. its something i get insecure about and i was coming on to him. but it kind of hurt that he saw me upset and jumped to#not only it being about that but also that i was angry at him for it. and he got defensive and seemed so pissed at me#and saying 'its not *my* fault im just tired'#which is true but like. dude. i know. its nice but idc if we fuck.#it just really hurt my feelings he assumed that.#and i just got kinda quiet so he asked what was wrong and i#was struggling to talk about it because it takes me forever to process my feelings on things#and i said i had to go to the bathroom so i could go have a think#but he stopped me and said 'please talk to me' so i was like okay. i gotta say something#and i started and stopped a couple times trying to figure it out and he just said 'nevermind' and went to sleep.#he sounded so fucking disgusted with me.#and i started bawling and said sorry and weny to the bathroom.#and he just stayed in bed#hes asleep now.#im shut in the bathroom trying so hard to calm down but i cant stop sobbing and i feel like im going to throw up#i get that hes tired#but id been saying we should go to bed for hours and he wanted to stay up and watch a movie#and no matter how tired he is acting like that isnt fucking okay#im so angry and hurt and sad and scared and i dont know what to do#and hes fucking sleeping#i literally dont know what to do i cant sleep by him but im too upset to be safe going anywhere else i will crash my fucking car if i try to#drive somewhere. and i dont have anybody else. i dont have anyone except him#i dont have anyone except him to turn to#and he saw that i was hurt and got mad at me then went to sleep
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a/n: send more requests i love doing them for yall
3k words
warnings/content ahead: bsf!chris x virgin!reader, smut, oral fem!receiving (eating out yess), suggestive, p in v, fingering, pet names (princess), Fritos, missionary, and more come find out
BANG
Your roommate had just left to see her family for the next week, which meant you had the apartment all to yourself for a full 7 days. You were ecstatic, immediately letting Chris know.
-
brobrobro
guess what rn
You type excitedly, your fingers practically shoving a hole through your phone screen. The message immediately goes to seen, and you watch bubbles pop up, indicating he was typing.
You finally came to your senses and decided to move out of that disgracefully small apartment ?
dude no
you know i can't afford that shit
im staying here until i start making the bag i deserve !!!
Right
now guess
You cut all your hair off and went bald
Please tell me you went bald
Actually no
Please tell me you didnt go bald
nah not bald 💔
I GOT THE WHOLE APARTMENT TO MYSELF;!!!! FOR A WEEK!!
Holy fuck
The caps had me go BLIND trying to read
where's the happiness and the cheer
you better start typing back in caps.
YES! 😭 YOU HAVE THE ENTIRE PLACE TO YOURSELF!!
FOR HOW LONG? A WEEK I HEAR? IT'S ALMOST LIKE YOURE AN ADULT!
THAT MUST BE WHY I'M HEARING FOLK MUSIC AND TAP DANCING OUTSIDE!
god bless ☝️ now come over so we could politely watch a movie
hmmmm Depends
what movie is it
Ya Momma! 😂😅
sounds amazing
I'll be there in a few
-
You close your phone, getting up to quickly clean the place around you.
Chris was no stranger to you, you two had known each other since the day he threw up on you in middle school. He had caught a bug and unfortunately he sat behind you. You didn't really understand how throw up could reach past a desk capacity but it had somehow made it into your hair. Disgusting, horrific week. But he made it up to you.
For him, he moved to LA for work reasons. He was famous, although he didn't like to admit it, nor did it really feel like it for him. You moved because of college, the moment you two graduated out of highschool, it was as if the universe worked hard to get you two closer. And, it worked. You guys were closer now than you were in school.
You would split the rent with your roommate, which was already an expensive bunch, considering this was LA. But Chris would constantly insist on helping you out financially, paying for most of your things when you would practically beg him not to. You had a hard time receiving stuff, but Chris had a problem with giving. You two balanced each other out in that aspect.
You hear a knock on the door, already knowing who it is. It doesn't take you long to reach it. "Why are you holding Fritos?" You ask, huffing a laugh at the weirdly large bag of chips in his hand as he enters your apartment and heads for your bedroom.
"'Cus I wanted Fritos." He answers like it's the most obvious thing in the world, flopping on your bed as you follow him to your room. You notice a few pairs of socks on the floor that you failed to pick up, doing so. "You know, I had to like, Uber here. You know how fucking crazy that is? Ubering to your place? Fucking embarassing." Chris complains, taking off his shoes and cuddling up in your bed.
"Why didn't you just ask Matt?" You wonder, folding your clothes. "Matt didn't want to. I need to get my drivers license, bro. Shit is getting ridiculous." He opens his bag of chips, and your head snaps up. "Chris." You warn as he looks you dead in the eye, a smirk playing on his lips as he slowly raises a chip to his mouth.
"Chris, I swear to God if you drop a single crumb on my bed."
"I won't." He says, before dropping the chip back in the bag.
"I'm not hungry." He folds the chip bag and places it on your nightstand beside your bed. "You get what I mean though?" He asks, taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair. "Like, I cant ask Matt to fucking, I dont know, drive me to a hook-up or something." He huffs, exasperated from the imaginary scenario he created.
You sit beside him, nodding like you agree, grabbing the TV remote and opening up a streaming platform for movies on your TV. "Oh fuck, imagine I like, pull up to a bad bitches house in an Uber. That's so fucking wild." This time you laugh, "Ubering to get your shit sucked is crazy." You say, scrolling through the endless options of what to watch.
"You ever done that? Ubering to a sneaky links house or something?" Chris asks you, sitting up on your bed. You take a second to answer. "Well, I have my drivers license." You don't know why that would qualify as an answer, but you say it anyway. "But you don't have a car." Chris reminds you. "Right." You confirm, looking at your TV, pretending to be really interested in finding something to watch.
"So? Have you?" He questions with a chuckle, not really sure where you were going with that. "Chris, I'm a virgin." You grin at the irony. A second passes and he realizes you were being serious, his jaw drops. "You're joking."
You shake your head, turning to look at him. "But– you're like, a whore." He says, you scoff, "I'm not a whore?"
"Yeah, you are." He shrugs.
"No, I'm not. I literally just told you I'm a virgin." You put the remote down. "That's why I'm shocked, you would tell me about a new boy every week and then forget about them." He says. You pop a shoulder. "I just never felt comfortable enough with them."
"Oh." He mutters. "So you didn't bang?" He draws out.
"So I didn't bang." You confirm.
"You're nuts, you would say the most diabolical shit about them too." He points a finger at you. "I'm most definitely not." You push his finger down. "How old are you again, 19?"
"19 and untouched." You wink, he stares at you for a moment. "What? Can't wrap your head around the fact I've never been creampied?"
You watch Chris close his eyes, wait for a moment, then open them again. "I'd like for you to wrap your head around it."
"What?"
You two burst out laughing.
-
This movie was devastatingly long and the Fritos on the bedside table were completely neglected.
You and Chris were staring at the TV, both of you pretending to be interested in what was going on. Truth was, you both were lost in your own train of thought.
Chris had resorted to an extra pillow over his lap with his mind racing in all different directions. In his defense, he was human. Once you admitted to him that you were a virgin, he could help but think of all the ways that he could strip that away from you. How easy it would be for him to just bend you over and take that purity away from you.
It wasn't the first time he'd thought of you this way, he couldn't help it. You were gorgeous, and he got lucky with the fact that you were interesting. You were probably the only girl he'd met with a soul as beautiful as her face, that's what made you so special to him.
His eyes quickly darted to yours, who were watching the movie with such intent, he saw the screen reflect in your eyes, a new scene playing. The room was dark, the only light being produced was from the illuminated TV, keeping the place a simple shade of dull blue. His sight drags down to your lips. Your full, plump lips.
Chris wonders if you've ever wrapped them around dick before, sucking just as attentively as you were watching that movie. Sliding your tongue across the tip as you slowly pushed the rest in your mouth, your eyebrows arching as you began to stroke the rest of him. Even then, you'd still be considered a virgin.
You turned to look at him, feeling his gaze on you for too long. He didn't bother looking back, holding your stare as you tried putting together what he was thinking of. "Chris?" You asked with the same lips he was just thinking of. "Hm?" He hums, his eyes lazily back on your mouth, studying every word you form. "You okay?"
He nods, you furrow your eyebrows. He was definitely lost in thought. You lower the volume of the movie and he looks back up at you. "Are you celibate?" He asks, out of nowhere. You're taken by surprise, but answer nonetheless. "Not really?"
"Not really." He repeats on his tongue, as if testing the way it would feel on there. "Okay." He says, voice as low as it could get. "You were just never comfortable?" You nod, confirming it. You watch as his eyes slowly brush over every part on your face, eventually resting on your eyes. Through the enlightenment of the TV screen, you watch his dark pupils dilate over his blue eyes. "Would you be comfortable with me?" He finally asks, voice low. You swallow.
He had multiple strands of hair fly messily in multiple directions, some over his forehead. You raise a hand to neat a messy one on his head down, using two fingers to get rid of any potential knots, soothing your hand through it as he bends his head down, letting you. "Yeah." You answer. "I would."
He lifts his head up, his grin soft but undeniable."You wanna test it out?" You felt your heart cage within itself, but as the second passed you realized you wouldn't want to lose it to anyone else. You have been waiting for this moment for a while, a really, really long and dreadful while.You stared at his fidgeting finger before looking back up at him. A simple nod does the trick, and a hand is on the side of your jaw, guiding your mouth to his. You've kissed before, he knew that, but he was still treating you like a delicate flower. His lips pressed against yours and his hand was soft against your skin. You kissed back harder, licking his lips, forcing them open, insinuating for him to let loose.
Both hands go to grab each side of your face this time, kissing you hungrily as he moves himself from beside you to in front of you. Your neck is cranned up as he sits up onto his knees. You raise your hands and slip them under his shirt, feeling his bare skin as they slide down his torso. He pulls away, immediately taking his shirt off.
You looked up at him, his gaze lingering harshly on you as he stared you down. You bit your lip as he slowly grasped the bottom hem of your T-shirt. "Arms up." He orders, and you lift them. He takes the shirt off of you, bunching it up and throwing it to the side of your room. You aren't sure what to do, you hadn't exactly worn a bra under that. You cross your arms over your chest for some sort of coverage, but Chris quickly laces his fingers around your wrist. "It's okay." He tells you, slowly dragging your arms down. "Are you okay?" He asks soft enough to send a shutter down your spine. "I'm okay." You confirm, he leans down to kiss you once more, pulling away just as soon as his lips meet yours, going to take all of you in. Your body felt hot, your chest feeling as if it was steaming the way he memorized each of your curves. He looked up at you, making direct eye contact as he began to take one tit in his mouth as the other was being caressed by his hand. You throw your head back, surprising yourself with a moan as he begins to give you open-mouthed kisses, his tongue grazing over your nipple, validating its hardness.
His mouth begins to trail back up to your collarbone, leaving desperate kisses until he's reached your neck as his empty hand trailed down the side of your hips, his thumbs curling onto the elastic of your pants, pulling them down as he bit down a hickey. You gripped onto his hair, pulling onto the section that fell above the back of his neck as he distracted your mouth with tongue-filled kisses, but you were extremely aware of the hand that had slipped into your panties, two fingers suddenly pressing against you. You whimper.
"Everything okay, princess?" He breathily asks, watching your face scrunch up as he begins to rub your cunt. "So wet for me, how long have you been dreaming of this?" He tries to catch your eyes but they're sewed shut, the soft noises coming from your mouth giving him all the answers you need. His soft and lengthy fingers suddenly pump into you, and you gasp. "Chris." You utter, feeling him pump in and out of you as his thumb grazes harshly onto your clit. You flinch. "Chris." You moan louder.
"That's right, say my name." He says as he pumps you faster, his other hand grabbing the secure of your jaw. He wanted to feel your mouth back on his, he wanted to feel your moans and whines on his mouth. The clench in your stomach reaches an all time high and your hips buckle. Your stomach loosens and you feel your loud moans muffle harder by Chris's refusal to leave your lips, you feel him smirk under the kiss as you cum all over his fingers. "Feel good?" He questions, your nodding is instant and he laughs at the quickness of your answer. Your hand follows his hair as he begins to lower himself, kissing your stomach, thighs, and then your pussy. His tongue trails down your slit, his mouth collecting what had just been your orgasm. Your thighs immediately close around him, your legs going over his shoulders and crossing at your ankles. It was safe to say you've never been eaten out. Until now. And it was heavenly.
Your hands push down on his head, feeling his nose press against you and a huff of laughter giving your pussy a breathy gust of air. "So needy." He hums, licking your folds.
Embarrassingly enough, you reached your second orgasm, pulling hard onto his hair. He looked up at you, smiling with his teeth as white liquid drooped down them and off his chin. He fixes his posture, sitting up but still between your legs.
Catching your breath, you glare at him. "Still a virgin though." He sings the last word happily, memorizing the image in front of him as his hands massaged your thighs.
"You gonna change that or what?" You finally muster up a few real words, challenging him. He raises an eyebrow, "Oh?"
"Take your pants off for me? Let me feel you, Chris." You tell him, sounding awfully like a whiney, desperate order. The smirk is still playing on his lips, looking at you through his messy hair. "And to think you'd had enough."
"You promised me something, remember?" You palm his dick through his sweatpants, feeling him rock hard against your hand. Instinctively, he pushes his hips into your hand, and you squeeze his large size, whimpers sneak from his mouth. "It's obvious you hadn't had enough, though."
Chris wastes no time shoving his pants off taking it right down with his boxers. His dick springs up and you need a moment to register. Okay, woah.
"Finally fuck me?" You wonder. His grip on your hips were tight, as if he was keeping himself from suddenly ramming himself into you, keeping in mind you were trusting him with your virginity. "Finally." He confirms, the idea of fucking you in his mind since the moment he was able to form a thought like that.
He slowly enters himself in you, and your hand clasps around your mouth, trying to keep yourself from screaming at the sudden stretch. He clicks his tongue, letting out a series of curse words. "Fuck, you are so tight." You answer him by pushing yourself onto his cock as he holds you down. You clench yourself around him and he audibly moans, slowly rocking his hips back and forth. Each thrust was long, slow, and wet, you soaked up each movement desperately.
With his hand still holding onto you, he drops his head to look at the sin you two were participating in, guiding your hips in and out of him. Each pull rhythmic as he pushed himself deeper into you as you clench, trying to get used to the feeling. Your whimpers got louder as he went faster, hypnotized by the scene in front of him. He wanted to keep this memory locked in his head forever, how beautiful you looked sprawled against your bed, moaning his name as he thrusted in and out of you, taking away your virginity.
For a moment it all seemed too good to be real, and he went faster, wanting to see just how the narrative in front of him would go. The thrusts harsher and quicker, you gripped the sheets hard and your moans grew louder. "Taking me so well, princess." He hit your G-spot three times too fast, and you practically blasted him with cum. You tried warning him, but he seemed lost in his own mind. As if on cue, he pulled out the moment you came all over his dick. "Fuck." He followed that up with your name, finishing as his orgasm splattered on your stomach and chest, where he'd specifically aim it there.
He flops down on the empty spot beside you, both you guys attempting to catch your breath. A few seconds of shocked but comfortable silence pass.
He turns his head to look at you. "Good or nah? Wanna try again?"
"What, like, take my virginity again?"
"Yeah."
"How about we try a nice shot at my first ever aftercare, yeah? Then I'll consider it."
"Right, of course."
#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#christopher owen sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#the sturniolos#sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x you#chris x reader#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo fanfiction#matt sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo fluff#matthew bernard sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#sturniolo smut
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EXCITEMENT
PAIRING ji changmin x f!reader
WORD COUNT 6.22k
GENRES smut ﹒angst ﹒fluff
WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, best friends to lovers, numerous mentions of the female orgasm, ji changmin is a bit of a manwhore, mentions of alcohol, insane tension my b, intense making out x2, oral (m! and f! receiving), multiple orgasms, couch sex but missionary, unprotected sex (wrap before u fucking tap -_-), creampie, changmin is lowkey very whipped and very pussy drunk in this, also forewarning for every fic in this collab— there is lots of foreshadowing and references to the other fics since they all fall within the same timeline/universe!
SUMMARY you know, when you told your girl friends that you’d never finished before, you were expecting it to blow over like no big deal. what you weren’t expecting was for it to spiral into a whole other mess.
MORE i hope u jichang lovers are strapped in and ready for this… kinda went crazy with it 😭😭 um anyway?? first fic of the black out or back out collab?? crazy!! this fic actually ruined me. it used up all my brain power so if every other one sucks u can’t blame me!! it’s the law!! also, i’d like to take a moment to wish my boyz a very happy 6th anniversary <3 so so proud of all they’ve accomplished these past 6 years and i can’t wait to see what they do in the next 6. in this deobi shit 4L frfr 🙏🙏
PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel
TAGLIST @millksea
“No fucking way.”
You blink at Soyeon. It wasn’t that hard to believe. In fact, it was pretty easy to believe. You set down the bowl of popcorn on your lap and nod slowly.
“Uh, yeah. Yes fucking way,” a nervous laugh escapes your lips. “I’ve had to fake it with every guy I’ve ever been with. I don’t know what it is. Maybe something’s wrong with me.”
Men were… incompetent at certain things. And apparently your pleasure was one of those. Every dude you’ve ever slept with failed to make you finish. It was at the point that you felt that you were the problem. It would be understandable if it had been a couple guys, but every single one? Your luck had to be complete ass.
The only reason the topic had been brought up was because Soyeon had mentioned something about her last fling during your movie night. She was talking about how that had been the best sex she's ever had and it spurred you into making your confession. The last guy you’d been with had probably been the worst.
“Never?” Jiwon’s jaw drops, elbows resting on her knees. “How are you still alive, girl? How do you get your fix?”
“My hand, my vibrator, my pillow sometimes,” you shrug, picking at a loose thread on your blanket. “I’ve learned to make do with my situation, I guess. If I can’t get it elsewhere, I’ll just do it myself, y’know?”
Your girl friends look at you with pouts on their lips, as if they were the ones experiencing your misfortunes. You hadn’t even expected it to be such a big deal. You’d thought this was a normal, common occurrence. Boys usually sucked at things when it came to girls. But they all took this as a personal hit, like you were a fallen soldier in battle.
Perhaps the female orgasm was far more important than you assumed it to be.
“Considering who your best friend is, you’d think you were getting good dick left and right,” Dahyun snorts into her glass of wine. “This is actually kinda insane.”
You guess she had a point, despite you both leading very different lives. Changmin, your best friend, was known as one of the many heartthrobs on campus. He was in a fraternity, played on the school’s baseball team, and he even played with other things. Namely the hearts of practically every other girl at your university.
You’d think it would bother you to be so close to a man who couldn’t give less of a fuck about those of the same sex as you. But for some reason, you couldn’t find it in you to care. It’s not like he was bragging about the bitches he bagged on a regular basis. Though you were his best friend, he understood boundaries. He knew what was appropriate to talk about with you and respected that.
Your friends laugh at her observation, but drop the conversation after that, resuming the movie you were watching. However, it’s not that easy for you.
You can’t stop wondering if something really *is wrong with you. Why was it that everyone and their mom was capable of finishing and you weren’t? It was more unlikely that every single man you’ve been with sexually was that mediocre. Were you really that unlucky?
It bothers you so much that you find yourself still thinking about it well into the following week.
With the start of the new semester, came the adjustment of new classes. Even though you were a Communications major, you made the grave mistake of taking Lifespan Growth and Development with Changmin for the extra credit. He was an Early Childhood Education major, so it was a requirement for him, but not for you. (Honestly, he only forced you to take it with him so you had at least one lecture together. He was afraid your friendship might start to fade if you didn’t see each other often.)
Imagine how horrified you felt when your professor began to talk about babies and their circadian rhythm, but the only thing in your head was the fact that you’d never orgasmed because of a man. You felt like you were going crazy at this point. Really, the thought should’ve been long forgotten by now. But you couldn’t help yourself from dwelling on it, especially after your friends made jokes at your expense.
As you’re walking out of the lecture hall side by side with Changmin, you keep your focus on the ground, your hearing going in and out. His voice is staticy, your brain only registering words here and there. You’re a little pissed off that this has become such an issue.
He notices your lack of response and stops walking, eyebrows furrowed. You pause in your tracks along with him. “Are you good? You’ve been spacing out all morning.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you shake your head as if that would rid of these stupid thoughts. “I’m just a little tired, I guess. I haven’t been getting much sleep.”
“Well, you better fix that. We’re expecting this weekend’s party to be one of the bigger ones this semester. Juyeon’s passing those fliers around like it’s his job,” Changmin purses his lips with a snort, ruffling your hair. “I need my beer pong partner to be in tip-top shape.”
You scratch the back of your neck. Half of you was kind of hesitant to go to this weekend’s TBZ party considering that was where you met the dude who started this whole downward spiral. He made an offhand comment about seeing you again, but you were actually hoping that would never happen. And with your fortune, the probability of running into him was pretty high.
“You see…“ You begin, but Changmin interrupts you with a distressed groan before you can continue.
“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of flaking,” his arms fall to his sides as his head tips back dramatically. “Y/N, I really need you there. How else am I gonna smoke everyone? I need— I mean we need to keep our title.”
Sometimes you wish Ji Changmin took anything else as seriously as he takes beer pong. You suppose it came with being a fraternity brother or something. They all drank alcohol like it was fucking water. You’re still sort of surprised none of them (Sunwoo) has gotten alcohol poisoning yet.
“I’m just… trying to avoid someone. And they’ll probably be there.” You sigh, fiddling with your fingers. Your best friend gives you an unreadable look that flashes across his face only for a moment.
“Tell me who it is. I’ll make sure they’re not allowed in. I’d much rather have you there than some rando who’s bugging you.” He says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants.
“That’s really unne—“
“Yo, Changmin! Aren’t you going with us to Cobie’s?”
You both turn towards the sudden intrusion, the voice belonging to Eric Sohn. He’s around 50 feet away from where you’re standing, joined by Kim Sunwoo and Ju Haknyeon. Changmin yells out his answer and spins back to you, an apologetic smile on his face. Somehow, you’re a little grateful for the interruption.
“We’ll finish this later, okay?” He nods at you, heading backwards in their direction. “You’re going, Y/N.”
You really should’ve listened to your instincts when they told you to skip out on the party.
You’re well aware that every attendee was crucial for the TBZ boys and their stupid rivalry with the KAT girls. So maybe you understood why Changmin needed you there so badly, aside from the obvious beer pong thing. However, you were starting to regret showing up.
First of all, Ji Changmin was nowhere to be found. Second of all, Jeon Soyeon was hounding you all night about the secret you so idiotically shared with your gal pals.
She was dead set on finding you a solution. (Basically, she was scanning the crowd of partygoers for a suitable man to satisfy your overdue needs. And she was proving devastatingly unsuccessful.)
You were too anxious to drink, also. Your feet were bouncing from where you sat on the couch, and your fingers couldn’t stop fidgeting. The antsiness was getting annoying at this point and you were hoping your knight in shining armor (Ji Changmin) revealed himself soon. Lest he wanted to lose out on his beloved beer pong partner.
It appears that your years of honing in on your manifestation powers have finally come to fruition when you spot Younghoon and Juyeon hauling the beer pong table into the living room. Where one of those tables are stationed, you know you’re guaranteed to find your best friend. The shorter of the two gentle giants cups his hands around his mouth and announces the first round of tonight’s tournament.
You stand from your seat, grabbing the opportunity to break free of Soyeon’s efforts to pimp you out. You’re ready to confirm you and Changmin’s spot in the tournament, when you see that you’ve already been beaten to it. It takes absolutely everything in you not to let your jaw drop and your eyes to tear up.
Some girl who happens to be in your Lifespan Growth and Dev class (you think her name is Iseul) is draped over Changmin’s arm, signing them up for the first round. He doesn’t look like he wants to, but makes no effort to refuse her.
You don’t know why it irks you. It shouldn’t irk you.
You’ve never cared about who he spends his free time with in the past. It’s been so easy for you to let his behavior slide, brushing it under the rug like it was no biggie. But this time, you care a whole lot. You chalk it up to the fact that he was seemingly replacing you as his beer pong partner, even though that was the entire reason why he wanted you to come to the party.
Yeah. That’s why.
Your tongue darts out to wet your lips just as Hyunjae passes by, no doubtedly heading to the beer pong table. You catch the sleeve of his polo and force him to halt in his steps. You’re not even sure why the hell he’s wearing a polo in the first place, his outfit embodying the stereotypical frat boy perfectly. This looked nothing like his usual wardrobe.
“Oh, hey Y/N, what’s up?” He smiles that award-winning Hyunjae smile, the one that manages to charm every girl in the room every single time he pulls it out. He brings the brim of his red solo cup up to his lips and finishes whatever’s left in it with one swig. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“Do you wanna be my beer pong partner?” Okay, well now you’ve said it so there’s no going back.
His eyebrow shoots up in a mixture of shock and pleasant surprise. “Me? You’re not gonna ask Changmin?”
“He’s…” Your eyes flitter over to where he stands with Iseul(?), Hyunjae’s following. No. You’re okay. This isn’t getting to your head at all. Everything’s cool and peachy. “He’s too preoccupied.”
Hyunjae chooses not to say anything, instead nudging you over to the opposite end of the table. Changmin’s eyes widen when he sees the two of you, even having the audacity to look scandalized. God, maybe that was his biggest fault. He was so entitled.
So, it was just fine for him to bail on you in favor of some girl he didn’t even know, but the second you talk to one of his frat brothers, it’s off the table? What a fucking hypocrite. The whole ordeal was actually beginning to get on your nerves now. All you wanted to do was win this stupid beer pong game to show him that he’ll never find a partner as good as you.
Woah. Holy shit, Y/N. You need to dial it back a bit with the possessiveness. That was a lot, especially for you.
Juyeon narrows his eyes at you and then glances over to Changmin, the cogs turning in his head slowly. You’re not sure if that’s because he’s so used to seeing you both on the same side of the beer pong table, or because his vision was so shitty. Either way, it has you cowering behind Hyunjae a little as he dips the ping pong ball into the cup of water in the center.
“Okay, you know the rules. Let’s have a healthy, friendly game,” Younghoon says, tapping the table with a smile. “No playing dirty. I’m looking at you, Hyunjae.”
The brunette raises his hands in surrender, doing a quick bout of rock, paper, scissors with Changmin to determine which team went first. He wins with a quirk of his lips, sauntering back over to you. After rolling his neck around and popping his fingers, he tosses the ball right into Changmin and Iseul’s center cup.
You hate to admit it, but Hyunjae’s actually pretty good at this. You’ve never really paid attention to anyone else’s beer pong skills considering you’ve only ever played with Changmin as your partner. Who knows, maybe you’ll switch over permanently after this. At least, you might if he keeps up whatever it is that he’s doing.
Your best friend’s jaw tightens as he grabs the red solo cup, chugging what’s inside. He huffs and takes his turn, nearly missing with the way the ball circles around the rim. He sighs in relief at the same time you grimace. You still hadn’t had anything to drink all night and starting with fucking beer was probably the worst idea.
The game probably would’ve been a bit more competitive had Iseul been decent at beer pong, but she sucked. So Hyunjae and yourself always kept your lead by one cup or more. Karma is a dish best served cold, or however the saying goes. And karma certainly presented itself in the form of Ji Changmin’s first ever TBZ beer pong tournament loss.
Hyunjae high fives you with a cheesy grin, lacing your fingers together and shaking them around. He presses a kiss to your temple and guides you away from the table as Juyeon and Younghoon clear it for the second round. It wasn’t odd for any of the TBZ boys to show you affection since you were like a sister to most of them, but this felt… kind of weird. You can’t pinpoint exactly why, but it made you feel off.
“You’re my secret weapon,” he laughs, hands burying into the pockets of his khaki shorts. “I’m gonna steal you as my partner permanently.”
As much as you joked around in your head, the truth of the matter was that you could never actually replace Changmin. In spite of him acting like a complete dumbass tonight, he was still your best friend. Not even the biggest of fights would change that fact.
Before you can dismiss him, Changmin is stalking over to you with a slight scowl. His nostrils flare a bit as he asks, “Can we talk?”
You barely nod and then he’s fisting the material of your top at the small of your back, urging you away from the living room. Your feet keep tripping over themselves while you attempt to match his pace but he’s too determined to reach his destination in mind to even notice. No one even bats an eye as you get ushered to your demise.
You’re coaxed into a nearby bathroom without a word, your best friend standing in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest. Because you hadn’t seen him a majority of the night, you hadn’t gotten the chance to get a good look at him. He was wearing a long sleeve striped polo and some baggy jeans, which probably would look basic on anyone else. But this is Ji Changmin. Girls flocked after him for a reason.
“Why would you play with Hyunjae? You know the type of guy he is. Now he thinks he has a shot with you or something.” As soon as he opens his mouth, you remember the type of guy he is.
“What does it matter to you? You were too busy giggling with your flavor of the week. Of course I wasn’t gonna wait around for you.” You bite back, mirroring his stance.
“Flavor of the—?” His eyebrows scrunch together in confusion and then everything settles in. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” you laugh humorlessly. “Don’t act all hypocritical with me, Changmin. I can’t believe I even came to this fucking party for you when you didn’t even bother giving me the same energy. Best friend, my ass.”
A scoff brushes past your lips and you turn to exit the bathroom, but he grabs your wrist. His grip isn’t too harsh, but it’s tight enough to stop you from going anywhere. “Wait. Don’t leave.”
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.” Your eyes flick back and forth between his and the fingers wrapped around your forearm. And you know, you really should’ve predicted what would happen after that. The nature of your words were provocative in their own right, not to mention the tension brewing in the midst of your argument.
From one second to the next, Changmin’s mouth is on your own, your back pressed to the bathroom door. His hands are everywhere and nowhere all at once; digging into your sides, running through your hair, caressing your face. You feel insane. Your head feels empty, no coherent thoughts running through it as his lips move against yours.
They migrate along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and sucking wherever they feel fit. Everything is moving way too fast for you to comprehend what’s happening. His lips feel so good on your skin, you’re having trouble finding the strength in you to stop him. But you know you have to. This was your best friend, for god’s sake. And besides, you didn’t want to deal with the disappointment you’ve faced time and time again when it came to men. You couldn’t handle feeling that way toward him.
Your palm presses against his chest and you try your hardest to ignore the sensation of his heart thumping beneath it. Your eyes squeeze shut as you push him off of you gently. Not expecting the sudden disruption, he stumbles backwards slightly. He’s a little dazed, like he, too, has not a single thought in that brain of his.
“I can’t— we can’t—“ You’re breathless, heaving up and down as if you’d just ran a damn marathon. “I have to go.”
You don’t give Changmin any freedom to react, escaping the bathroom exasperated. There’s too much going through your mind to search for Soyeon, leaving the party as quickly as you can. The moment your foot steps out of the front door, it’s like you’re given some clarity. The fresh air feels cool on your warm skin while you take the walk back to your apartment, not in the mood to sit in a stuffy car with anyone else. You needed to think clearly and vulnerably, and someone being there would just hinder that.
But first, you had to figure out where to go from here.
It’s been a couple days since the last TBZ party and you were still avoiding Ji Changmin like he was the plague.
You were definitely wishful thinking when you decided to just ignore things until you had class together. And even then, you were planning on pretending like nothing even happened. Fucking up your friendship with him was something you couldn’t stand emotionally. Or physically. It would be akin to the pain of having your heart ripped straight from your chest.
Meeting Changmin when you did was almost like a blessing in disguise. His attitude about life was exactly what you needed coming into university. You were shy and scared of your new surroundings. You had no friends, you were far from your family, and your imposter syndrome was through the roof. But then he swooped in and made everything better somehow. As much as it was a snooze fest, you’ll eternally be a little bit grateful for sharing that First Year Seminar class with him.
Deep down, a piece of you has always belonged to Changmin. From that first day of freshman year to now, you’ve always held him to a different standard than everyone else. You liked to believe it was because he was your best friend, the one person who sought you out even when it felt like no one ever would. And until very recently, you kept trying to convince yourself that was the case.
If you slept together that might be worse. What if he ended up like every other guy you’ve landed in bed with? What if he couldn’t satisfy you? It would make it even more strained. You didn’t want to end up like every other girl who’s vied for his heart and failed miserably. He wasn’t a relationship person.
Falling for him alone would complicate everything. If he didn’t feel the same, it would be weird between you and your friendship would never go back to normal. Yet as you lay here, body bundled in your comforter and drowning in one of the many sweatshirts he’s left over at your apartment, scrolling through his feed, you realize that there’s no return from this point. Now that you’ve contemplated the idea, you’re too far in.
You know, the universe had funny ways of rewarding you. (Or rather, punishing you.)
There’s a knock at your front door. You’re not entirely sure who it could be since you weren’t expecting anyone, but one glance through the peephole and it’s all over for you. You consider stepping away, running and cowering in your bedroom until he disappears so you can go back to dissimulating that your entire life wasn’t crumbling to your feet.
“Y/N, I know you’re in there. Open up, please, we need to talk.”
You curse under your breath but unlock the door anyway, maneuvering so he can come inside with ease. Changmin stares at you with an unreadable expression for a minute, vision raking over your figure. Maybe you’re imagining it, but it’s something similar to how men have looked at you before, like they were undressing you with their eyes. That’s when you remember that you were wearing his sweatshirt.
Without pants underneath…
The wind knocks out of him in an instant, something primal coming over him when his gaze lands on you in his clothing. He knows he shouldn’t think about you the way he does. He shouldn’t think of how pretty you are when your pen is caught in your teeth, attempting to make sense of whatever your professor was talking about. He shouldn’t think of the way your cheeks flush when you’ve had too much alcohol at one of the TBZ parties. He shouldn’t think of kissing you, or pressing up against you like a dog in heat. He shouldn’t be thinking of the kiss you shared Friday night.
You’re his best friend, the one person in the world who has ever understood him. The one who’s always glued to his side even when he may be in the wrong. Why would he ever want something different? How could he ask for more when he should be thankful for what he was already given?
“Why are you pushing me away? Why are you ignoring me?” Is what he finally asks after the silence has become unbearable.
“Changmin,” you swallow thickly, hesitative with what you say next. “Friends don’t kiss— we don’t kiss.”
He takes a step forward, and then another, and then another until he’s only arms’ length from you. “But, we could.”
You release a shuddery breath, reaching out to stop him from coming any closer. “P-Please. We can’t do this— I can’t do this.”
“Why not?” He pushes. He knows he’s tiptoeing the edge of something else. There’s a fine line between what you have now, and what he’s wanted for so long. It’s always been a matter of if you wanted that too. “Is it because you just don’t want to?”
You’re not even sure how to respond to him. Of course you want this. It isn’t that you don’t want him. You’re more scared than anything. You’re scared of becoming just another victim of Ji Changmin’s charms, of giving into him and it leading to another let down. Your resistance is evident on your face, and you’re not all that taken aback when he sighs.
“I’ve wanted you since that first day of First Year Seminar, Y/N. No one has ever compared to you and no one ever will,” he confesses, a hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I sleep with random girls to get you off my mind, to forget that I’m pretty fucking in love with my best friend.”
Then it all clicks.
It’s like you’ve come to the biggest realization of your life, an epiphany striking you suddenly with the weight of a freight train. It all trickles into place, the reason why you’ve never enjoyed yourself during sex. The reason why you’ve never finished at the hands of any man you’ve been with intimately.
None of them were Ji Changmin. None of them were the best friend that your heart has belonged to since your freshman year.
You press your lips to his without any warning, nearly colliding into him with the force of your impatience. He reciprocates immediately, fingers tangling in your hair and holding you closer than physically possible. You tilt your head to deepen the kiss, tongue dragging along his lower lip. Years of repressed longing and pining find themselves surfacing in this one kiss.
Changmin’s hands travel to your waist, burrowing into the fabric of his sweatshirt as he yanks you toward the couch. He falls to a sitting position when the backs of his knees hit the edge, your knees resting on either side of his lap. You don’t break apart once, not even to gasp for air as he grinds you down onto him. Through the material of his cargos you can feel him. He’s just as throbbing as you are, your core pulsing with a need unlike any other.
His fingers reach for the hem of the sweatshirt and that’s when you pause him, your nerves getting the best of you. He frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just,” admitting this a second time isn’t easier. “I’ve never— nobody’s ever made me… you know…”
The corners of his lips curl up, thumbs rubbing the backs of your thighs. “You’ve never came before, baby?”
Your breathing stutters in your chest, the smugness of his voice sending shockwaves through your body. You should’ve fully expected him to be a master at pillowtalk, what with the whole Sex-God persona and all that jazz, but it still catches you off guard. You shake your head shyly, arms hooked around his neck. His mouth attaches to the spot behind your ear, sucking the skin tenderly.
“I’ll make sure you’re ruined for anyone else,” his voice is no louder than a whisper, but sounds deafening to the cotton stuffing the place where your brain should be. “I’ll make you feel so good, you won’t think twice about who you belong to.”
A small whine emits from your throat, hips gyrating themselves onto his crotch. He bucks up into you instinctively, keeping you still on his lap. The sheer possessiveness of his tone is driving you up the wall. That seemed to be something you had in common with each other. You’re lightheaded, too many layers of clothing blocking the space between you. Changmin connects your lips again, sliding his hands beneath the sweatshirt so his fingers can hook into the waistband of your panties.
He helps you out of them and your top, baring your entire body to him. The way his cock twitches makes him feel like a goddamn teenager. You paw at the zipper of his pants as he pulls off his t-shirt, tugging the cargos down his legs so you can kneel between them. If he thought he wasn’t going to last before, he’s certain of it now. He wraps your hair around his fist in a makeshift ponytail, watching you with hooded eyes as you kiss his tip.
“You look so gorgeous like this,” his voice is wavering, his composure drifting off.
That encourages you to take him into the wet heat of your mouth, tongue twirling around the tip. You run it along his slit, tasting the precum that had formed there. His head falls back onto the sofa cushions, jerking his hand back a bit and tugging your hair just enough for it to sting. You moan around his dick, the pain providing more pleasure than its intended purpose.
He bucks up into your mouth yet again, his length gliding down your throat. Not prepared for the intrusion, you gag, pulling off of his cock with a string of saliva bridging your lips to the tip. Tears prick at your eyes for a second, and then you’re going back in.
This time you manage to relax your throat, fitting more than you could prior. Changmin’s eyes are half lidded, not once daring to look anywhere that wasn’t you. The sight of you so eager to please, so desperate to reward him in spite of you being the one who’s never orgasmed before, was clouding his thinking.
The image of you on your knees, sucking him off like your life depended on it, would be burned into his brain for the rest of his life. (Not that he minded. You lived there practically rent free, anyways.)
Your attention stays on the tip of his cock, tongue repeatedly alternating with dragging under the head and the slit on top. He could die happily, actually, the fear that he may never have you in this way finally dissipating into thin air. Want could only take a man so far.
He doesn’t stay sentimental for very long, remembering that you were currently between his legs and the inner monologue could wait for later. Though, he makes the grave mistake of making direct eye contact with you and it’s game over after that point.
Changmin finishes with a groan, his cum painting your chest with milky white ropes. He cups both sides of your face, bringing you up to kiss you messily. He doesn’t care that he can taste himself in your mouth, nipping your bottom lip to pry it open. The two of you swap spots, with him now on the floor and you on the couch. He pushes up your knees, spreading them to gain access to your cunt, glistening with your slick.
He presses a soft kiss to your clit, glancing up at you through his lashes to gauge your reaction. He not only had a reputation to defend, but he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was going to be the first man to make you cum. But it wasn’t sufficient to just fuck you, he needed to do more than that. He needed to flood your senses and show you exactly what you’ve been missing out on.
His tongue circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves, his ring and middle fingers going counter-clockwise on your entrance. He can hear the laboring of your breathing, the sharp exhale through your nostrils when he experimentally slides one of them inside of you. He starts to pump it slowly, building up the pace until he adds the other finger, curling them.
You whine when Changmin’s lips envelope your clit, suckling like a man starved. His fingers south don’t halt their assault, the palm of his other hand flattening on your lower stomach. You reach down to card through his hair, clutching the strands for support. He groans against your pussy, the vibrations contributing to the knot growing tighter in your abdomen.
He switches his tongue and fingers a moment later, lapping at your hole and swiping at your clit in a close ovular pattern with his thumb. You’re dizzy, lids fluttering shut and back arching off the cushions in a weak attempt to minimize the space between you. Changmin pins down your hips with his forearm, continuing making out with your cunt.
He flips the stimulation once more, mouth on your clit and fingers buried deep inside of you in an instant. He keeps his eyes on you, focused on every scrunch of your face and slacking of your jaw. The sudden difference in sensations has a loud moan ripping from your vocal cords, that knot coming undone almost too quickly for it being your first time in this position. You feel his lips turn up in a smile, like he’s proud of himself for doing the impossible.
Changmin pulls back slightly, his fingers still working you down from your peak. When he thinks you’ve calmed, he’s up and kissing you, petting your hair gently. “You did so well for me, baby.”
“I’ve made myself cum so many times before, but never like that— holy shit, Changmin…” You’re a little stunned and he finds it cute, despite you both being in such a compromising situation.
“I need you to give me one more, is that okay?” He lays you on your back, hovering over you. “I wanna see your pretty face when you cum on my cock.”
You pull him down for another kiss, pecking the side of his neck with a hum. “Want you to fill me up, too.”
The groan that leaves him is guttural, his forehead falling onto your collarbone. Dreams really do come true. He hikes up one of your legs, lining himself up with you. He guides his cock into you and watches you for any moves of discomfort. A whimper bubbles past as he slips in, bottoming out smoothly. Half of you still couldn’t believe this was happening. No fucking way was Ji Changmin on top of you right now, dick compressed in your cunt to the hilt.
He holds your knee to your chest as he begins to thrust his hips, driving his cock deep from the get go. Each motion jostles you further up the sofa, but you’re too gone to care. Your eyes have started to roll to the back of your head and you already feel that pressure rising in the pit of your stomach.
At this rate, you’re not sure you’ll last very long. You’re still extremely sensitive from your first orgasm and Changmin’s plowing into you like he might never get the chance to do it again.
“You’re so— fuck— you’re so tight, baby… Squeezing me in like you don’t wanna let me go,” he rasps, trailing open mouthed kisses along your jaw and carrying them down your jugular.
You moan something about how deep he is, about how you can feel him everywhere. It’s too much. It’s not enough. And despite him giving you everything he has to offer, you crave more. You’re yearning for more.
Something in you snaps and you’re cradling his face in your hands. “Love you so much, Changmin. Wanna be with you forever.”
His eyes widen at your off-kilter confession, but he doesn’t cease once. If anything, his speed increases as he kisses you passionately, noses bumping but so far on the spectrum from the others. This one is more emotional, more meaningful. It’s not long before he’s spilling into you, moaning against your lips. You follow closely behind, your second orgasm cresting like a tidal wave.
You stay like that for a minute, both of you soaking it all in. Your chests meet in the middle with each breath you take.
Changmin pulls out of you carefully, laying so you can rest comfortably on top of him. A smile inches across his feature, like he was on the inside of a joke you weren’t. You raise an eyebrow at him.
“What…”
“Nothing, it’s just,” he brushes some of your hair from your forehead to leave a smooch there. “I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you how I felt for a while now. I just wanted to assure that you wouldn’t scream in my face and run the opposite direction. But you went ahead and beat me to it.”
“You meant what you said about the other girls?” You nibble at the skin of your cheek, nervous. “You slept with them to distract yourself from me? Even Iseul?”
He nods, albeit a little shamefully. “Not my proudest moment, I’ll say. I could’ve gone about it a million other ways. But yeah, I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you just because I couldn’t get my feelings in check.”
“You’re stupid,” you laugh, cuddling further into him. “It’s a good thing I’m kind of into that.”
“Kind of?” He quirks a brow at you. “I don’t know, you were saying something about loving me so much and wanting to be with me forever earlier…”
You smack his chest playfully. “Shut up. That was a moment of weakness or whatever.”
“It’s okay,” he smiles at you fondly, as if you were the reason that the sun shone so brightly. “I love you, too. And I wouldn’t mind being with you forever.”
© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.
#deoboyznet#the boyz#the boyz x reader#the boyz smut#tbz#tbz x reader#tbz smut#the boyz changmin#the boyz q#tbz changmin#tbz q#ji changmin#ji changmin x reader#ji changmin smut#changmin x reader#changmin smut#q x reader#q smut#juyeonszn#blackoutorbackout🍻
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「 Camera Shy 」
♫: Automatic, Red Velvet // Movie Star, CIX // Color Me, JUNNY // Kitty Cat, KISS OF LIFE
“You’ve always tried to live an honest and responsible life; never spending money on anything ridiculous, scoffing at the things other people would be so willing to drop their paycheck on. But when life gets hard, you’re bound to give into your guilty pleasures, right?”
camboy!Beomgyu x fem!reader
Genre: f2l, smut, pw/minimal plot
Word count: 14.4K (there’s like three different smut scenes here)
Warnings: gyu has a thing for glasses idk don’t question me, (mc wears glasses, not necessarily prescription), gyu is lowkey manipulative if u squint, slight possessiveness on his part? nothing toxic (i think), alcohol consumption, gyu has a tattoo..
smut warnings: gyu is a bit of a perv! mean dom!Beomgyu, sub!mc, masturbation (f&m), filmed sex, (consensual), dirty talk, degrading, use of toys (f&m rec.), exhibitionism, voyeurism technically, bit of a voice/hand kink? slight humiliation kink, mentions of safe words & subspace, mentions of squirting lmao, manhandling, spanking, pet names (princess, baby, etc.), fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, marking, dry humping, handcuffing, biting, unprotected sex, dumbification, dacryphilia, creampie (lmk if i should add anything!)
Notes: lemme tell you. i wrote abt the tattoo before i stumbled upon that pic, when i tell you i was just ??? barely proof-read heehee. the thought of this au hit me like a that-so-raven vision, and I literally spent the whole day making sure I could finish this. enjoy bc i love camboy aus sm. (oh and pls, do me a favor and reblog— i have an ominous feeling about what’ll happen to this fic once i post it.)
Beomgyu has always found the idea of his work a bit ridiculous.
Day by day, he’s a normal college student— he spends his early mornings in classes, taking all the morning slots everyone was always reluctant to enroll in before he went off to work; he was known as that cute server amongst the women that visited the restaurant he worked at, able to upsell and gain tips with ease as he quickly became a favorite amongst his coworkers.
He liked the attention— of course he did, he needed to in order to thrive in the field of his actual job, his hours at the restaurant nothing but a side hustle compared to the hundreds he could make of a single stream.
Those hundreds could always breach into the thousands— but those were on especially good days, like his annual Valentine’s Day stream he always held for his lonely, single viewers.
Beomgyu was quite the sweet talker— he got the practice from his day-to-day shifts, watching girls his age and older fawn at his words and flutter their eyes playfully. It was clear they enjoyed the attention just as much as he did, a cute smile on his face as he faked a shy laugh whenever they would compliment him.
Your hair looks really nice today. You smell amazing. Do you work out? You have a really nice voice.
He got that last compliment a lot.
“Do I?” he would purr, a sultry smile crawling on his face each time, like a practiced action as he would tilt his head teasingly— the reaction would be positive each time, without fail, and he would always end up with a collection of napkins with scrawled phone numbers every time he would clock out— his coworkers would poke fun at him every time they watched him dump them all out apathetically.
You weren’t into that one person? Dude, the lady at table seven was so fucking hot.
Beomgyu never really paid mind to their teasing— he could care less for the men and women that tried to butter him up during his shifts, forced to act as though their shameless flirting didn’t make his stomach twist unpleasantly— instead, he would be forced to smile, laughing sheepishly before he would slip away with one last comment.
“I’m flattered, really— but, I have someone I’m interested in.”
That someone was you— the pretty girl that sat across from him during his ten am lecture, finding himself spacing out every time and staring off into your direction; though you never seemed to notice, much too caught up in taking notes as he watched the way your brows would furrow, biting at your lip and adjusting your glasses as you remained focused— whether those glasses were for reading, blue light, prescription, or even decoration, he didn’t care— all he cared about was how unnecessarily attractive you looked in them.
He thought about you more than he liked to admit— it was frustrating at first, his thoughts starting as nothing more than puppy love to something worse— it was only after you piqued his interest that he began streaming more.
This was both a good and bad thing; good because, well, he began to climb the ranks of popularity and earn more, but bad because he would find himself thinking of you. Each. And every. Time.
“Wish I could fuck you,” he would sigh out, his comments going too fast for him to keep up with as his eyes fluttered shut; leaning back against his headboard, he shifts, making sure everything but his lips remain out of frame before he’s back to closing his eyes, “would you let me make you feel good? God, I’d do anything just to feel you, taste you…”
As far as his audience knows, he’s speaking to them— the comments grow wild and tips flood in, all asking him to stop being a tease as they watch the way he palms himself through his sweatpants; grabbing at his length, stroking it slowly as he lets his imagination run wild.
He’s not wearing boxers; Beomgyu knows it drives his viewers mad, able to see as a wet spot begins to form on the light material, his tip leaking furiously as his other hand tugs the hem of his sweater over his chest— his vision is hazy as he reads the requests, laughing softly as he allows his fingers to trace along his chest absentmindedly— tracing over the muscle of his abdomen, circling his nipples slowly as he reads a comment under his breath.
Stop teasing and hurry up already !! >///<
The comment has him rolling his eyes— yet his usual tippers begin to request the same thing, and his hand is slowly tugging at the tied strings of his pants as he smiles, mocking and mean as he bites his lip.
“Hurry up? You want to command me while you’re over here throwing money at me like a whore? All just to watch me fuck myself, dreaming that it could be you?”
The comments start speeding up; it’s all a blur to him, but the sound of money coming in is enough to tell him that his usual audience is active again.
“Pathetic,” he sighs, his voice deep and grumbly as he reads over the requests that come in with the money: yes, i wish it were me there… please, can we see your cock?
“Desperate little sluts,” Beomgyu hums, tugging his waistband down and allowing his cock to spring up; it smacks against his stomach, and though the people in his comments attempt to regain his attention with dirty words and useless requests, he knows it’s all because of you— guiltily, he finds his thoughts straying the moment his hand wraps around his cock.
His streams have a certain formula to them; the more money, the better the show. Which is exactly why he ends up kneeling in front of the camera, fucking his cock into a clear flashlight as he listens to the sounds of tips coming in left and right— but his eyes remained shut, spilling enough filth to have his audience satisfied as he allows to let his imagination run wild.
In every stream, he cums to the thought of you; he has to bite his lip to not moan out your name like a pathetic bitch in heat, flooding his fleshlight with cum and continuing to fuck into it until his next orgasm.
In every stream, he finds himself thinking the same thought at least once— do you watch his streams?
»»»
The concept of camboys is ridiculous to you.
Why in the world would you spend all your money and emotions on a single person, when you can just go on Twitter and find the next best account that has yet to be suspended? Well, it’s not as though you find the idea of sex work appalling, but you don’t think you’d ever feel good about yourself spending a hard-earned paycheck because you were horny.
You’re not stupid; you know sex workers make bank, and you know that there are people in the world that love emptying out their bank accounts to such workers; whether it’s due to a kink or to feed into their parasocial relationship, you’re not sure.
You find that a good session on Twitter and your fingers usually does the trick— maybe a toy or two, if you find yourself feeling that needy.
Today’s session quickly becomes both disappointing and humbling; every account you try to look for has either been suspended or deleted, and every video you come across is something that’s not to your taste or something you’ve seen many, many times.
You feel weak as you come across the same account again; guiltypleasures— and he’s damn right, because you’re unable to resist the urge to click on his icon, feeling your thighs rub together with impatience as you sit back in bed— scrolling through, you’re surprised to see that he’s posted another video— without a second thought, you’re watching it.
“Fucking pathetic,” he sighs out, the familiar growled phrase making you gulp; you never found yourself to be too attracted to men who are extremely dominating and mean, but the man on your screen is somehow able to make it work as you find yourself getting wetter, “are you touching yourself right now? Don’t you wish I was there with you?”
And shit, you think you know why he’s able to make you come back to him every time, even if he’s posted nothing new and you’re forced to rewatch old videos most of the time; maybe it’s because of his hands, delicate and thin as they wrap around his favorite pocket pussy, or maybe it’s the way he slowly fucks into the said toy; stretching it out, his tip poking out and oozing enough cum that you can hear the wet squelching sounds that come from every thrust.
Or maybe, it’s his voice, deep and breathy and addicting as he mumbles out filthy things like it’s the only thing he knew how to do; his lips are red and swollen as he groans, hissing through his teeth as you watch the way his hands tighten around his toy.
“Shit, I’d fuck you so good,” he sighs out, hips rutting into the toy in his hands as he laughs; his head tilts, and though you’re only able to see his lips, you know his eyes are teasing as he looks into the camera, “fuck you so that you’d never want anyone else but me.”
His thrusts are picking up— you didn’t even realize the moment you began touching yourself, embarrassing whimpers and breaths falling from your lips as you keep your eyes honed in on his motions; you’re close, so close, your ministration speeding up as you fight to keep your eyes open.
“You’d be my good little cumdump, just for me to use— right?”
The video ends shortly after.
God damn it! your mind screams, the sudden cut-off catching you so off guard that you completely ruined your orgasm; you feel insanely embarrassed by how frustrated you feel, not realizing how short the clip he posted was until now. Clicking away, you feel as though your mood is ruined as you read the contents of his tweet.
A small clip from the stream. Watch the rest here: https://…..
Shit. Of course he would be a camboy. How did you not realize this sooner?
Honestly, if you sounded like that, you would be one too— and frustratingly enough, the brief cutoff is a damn good marketing strategy, because after a moment of thought, you’re clicking on the link.
You could just rewatch the video— you could also just go rewatch his previous videos, or even use your imagination to help you finish— but the idea of doing so is much more unpleasant than usual. (And humiliating, because you’ve found with horror that you’ve begun to memorize how his previous, equally as short, clips go.)
Your resolve begins to weaken the moment you click on his page— because of course, everything costs money— It costs to see his previous streams, costs to message him, and costs to get a fucking membership.
Who is paying for all this?!
You, apparently— because after some serious, slightly horny-impaired thought, you decide that getting a low-tier membership wouldn’t be too bad, right?
The cost is monthly (because of course it is, this website seems to want to charge you for just looking at his page) and you wince slightly as you watch your transaction go through.
Once you see the notification of your purchase pop up on your phone, you feel dreadfully sobered.
Because shit, being a low-tier subscriber only gets you a part of his most recent streams— about less than half of it, you notice— only able to get full access to streams prior to this month. It’s enough for now, but you can’t help but feel as though you’ve become the very thing you’ve despised as you lay back in your bed, staring at your ceiling for a moment before you’re sighing.
You’re still horny.
»»»
You think you can get behind the whole camboy thing. One may say you’ve been swayed, and quite honestly, you don’t think you could dispel such claims at this point.
Because it’s been a few months, and you’ve managed to stay through the whole thing. You’re surprised that you’ve begun to keep his streaming times in mind as you go about your day, ending your study sessions early or wondering if you’ll get home from work in time to watch his streams.
You always do. Maybe it’s a deity above making sure you get your money’s worth, or maybe it’s the fact that guiltypleasures is a human too, with a normal life and better shit to do than sit in front of a camera and jerk off all day.
The idea of following in his footsteps has crossed your mind more often than you expected; anything would be better than being a hostess at this god-awful job you have, forced to sit through the way people take out their anger on you and proceed to flirt with the servers— one of those servers being Beomgyu.
You were able to realize how popular Beomgyu was after your second shift— it didn’t take a genius to figure out why as you were left to deal with the way women of your age and older (mostly older. So many older women.) would creep up to you shyly, putting up a front of innocence as they asked you is Beomgyu here today? Could we sit in his area, please?
Seeing him rack up tips after a busy shift is always enough to have you wondering if you should switch to being a server— but then you see the way the women are treated, your stomach flipping in disgust at the way men leer and comment at them— you’ve even seen Beomgyu get cursed at plenty of times as well, shivering at the jealous partners and the way they’ve been blacklisted for threatening him.
Tonight is one of those nights. You’ve clocked out, shrugging on your jacket and gathering your belongings when you see Beomgyu storm in through the employee entrance; you don’t think you’ve ever seen him angry, but the sight has your eyes widening as you watch the way he frowns at his uniform, cursing angrily under his breath as he approaches the break table you stand by.
“Fuck,” he hisses, low and breathy and mean as he continues complaining, berating the customer that had the audacity to throw their drink at him— but you, in your very depraved state, remain stuck on the way he sounds, his voice far too attractive for a person who is spouting out filth.
This feels familiar.
“Hey, you okay?” you ask softly, feeling awkward as you mentally slap yourself for your train of thought; it seems as though Beomgyu hadn’t even realized you were there, his head snapping up as he stares at you like a deer caught in headlights— his mood is immediately shifting as he sends you a sweet smile, acting as though his clothes aren’t soaked as he waves you off causally.
“Yeah. Just some ridiculous customers,” he says, laughing softly as he grabs at a pile of napkins on the table; you wince as you watch him scrub roughly at the stains, unable to stop yourself as you jump to his aide.
“Here, you’ll only get the stains in deeper if you do that,” you say, taking the napkin from his hands as you begin to dab at his uniform without much thought; you’re much closer than you should be to someone you’ve never really talked to, but you don’t seem to realize it as Beomgyu practically forgets to breathe from your proximity.
Shit, how did he find himself in this situation? He might as well go back out and thank the jealous, “tough guy” boyfriend that threw his drink at Beomgyu, because he feels as though every guilty fantasy is coming back to mind as he takes in your concentrated expression, your hand placed firmly on his chest for support as the other dabs at the stains in his uniform.
You smell so good. Even though you’ve been in the restaurant just as long as him and have been around food this whole time, he’s still able to pick up on your scent with every shaky breath he takes.
You’re wearing your glasses, too.
Beomgyu’s mind is wandering off to dangerous places; he knows he needs to get himself under control, because the danger of him popping a boner just from how close you are is a higher probability than he’d like to admit. It seems as though you’re snapping out of your trance the moment he clears his throat, your face growing hot and slightly horrified as you jump back; Beomgyu can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips at the sight, finding your embarrassment oddly endearing.
“Sorry, got carried away,” you say, smiling shakily as you take in the way Beomgyu practically beams at you— always a sweet, nice guy, waving you off without a problem as he laughs softly.
“No, it seems to have helped,” he says, and you can’t help but notice how oddly charismatic he is even now, during this mundane interaction that has you stuttering over your words stupidly— but to be fair, how are you supposed to give him advice on how to get the stains out when he’s looking at you with the cutest god damn puppy eyes you’ve ever seen, his brown eyes round and sparkly as he listens intently to every word you say?
“I wouldn’t have thought to do that,” he smiles, his cheeks puffing up cutely and oh, is it weird that you want to coo at how cute he is and pinch his cheeks…?
Definitely weird, you decide, letting out a soft laugh as he tells you that he’ll try it as soon as he gets home.
“Speaking of which, I’ll let you go; you probably don’t want to be here longer than necessary,” Beomgyu is so kind and considerate even as you tell him it’s fine and that you didn’t have any plans after work anyway.
“I’ll let you get back to work,” you can’t help the soft laugh that escapes you as Beomgyu asks you to wish him luck, the smile he sports coy as you follow his command without any hesitation— you take this as your chance to leave before things get awkward, but a part of you itches to go back and talk to him more.
Beomgyu’s good, you realize as you’re exiting the building, a bewildered laugh escaping you as you realize that he managed to charm you just from that short interaction.
You get why he’s so popular.
»»»
Any plans to go to bed early and rest are immediately thrown out the minute your phone buzzes beside you.
You were just about to put your laptop away— just on the verge of falling asleep, until your eyes reluctantly drifted to read the words that take over your screen— it’s a Twitter notification, the username making your eyes widen as you’re scrambling to unlock your phone and read the rest.
guiltypleasures
had a shitty shift today, let me take it out on you? https://…….
Oh. oh, oh lord… you can feel the exhaustion lifted off in an instant; suddenly, you’re wide awake, eyes widening as you quickly copy the link of his tweet into your browser— while your mind scolds you for trying to stay up and possibly ruining your sleep schedule, the other, much more sinister part of it tells you that you’re paying for a reason.
The stream starts in five minutes.
While you wait anxiously in your room, your hands swiftly going to your nightstand to take out some toys— your trusty vibrator and a dildo you recently bought, all because of him— Beomgyu paces around his setup, gathering his own toys and changing into something that the viewers might like; today's ensemble is a bit more bothersome than usual, but he knows how much his viewers like when he dresses up and role plays a bit with them.
He was tired; today's shift took a toll on him, and he’d rather be fast asleep than putting on a stream— but after looking at today's earnings, he couldn’t help but feel unsatisfied with it all, deciding on impulse that he would put on a stream to make up for his lack of tips— instead, he’ll earn tips in another way.
“Hey,” he starts quietly, sitting back in his seat as he takes a glance at his monitor, making sure his face is out of frame. The viewer count rises and comments flood in no time, all of them freaking out about how good he looks in the suit he wears; the all-black ensemble feels stifling to him, but he knows taking it off will be worth it in the end.
Bad day today? Let us make you feel better :(
His top tippers are all begging for his attention, desperate and needy as always as they beg for him to get started— but he feels a lot more sluggish than usual, his gloved hands caressing his thighs slowly as he reads the comments out loud.
“Yeah, today’s shift wasn’t that great,” he speaks, his voice deep and sultry as he allows a moment to pass, reading all the comments that beg for him to use them, “I only thought about you though. Just wanted to see you.”
There he goes again— he’s no longer talking to his audience, but to you instead, closing his eyes and imagining a world where you’re in front of him, or even on the other side of this screen, one of the many faces that lusts over the way his cock begins to harden, the bulge becoming much more apparent as he lets his mind wander.
Unbeknownst to him, you are on the other side of your screen; a shy and flustered mess as you shift in your bed, watching the comments fly by as you wonder if you should join in— not that you could, anyway, your low-tier subscription excluding you from doing such things, as ridiculous as it is.
You’re practically devouring the man on your screen with your eyes; taking in the way he’s dressed, his pretty hands covered with leather gloves as he runs them slowly over his black trousers; stopping as they run back to his hips, a hand beginning to palm at his bulge as he spreads his legs a little wider in his chair— today's setup is a bit different, along with his attitude as he seems to sweet talk the audience more than usual.
“Seeing you is the only good part of my day,” he sighed, his free hand trailing up his chest before it stops at his tie— he’s tugging at it, loosening it and allowing it to hang around his neck as he continues, “Can’t stop thinking about how much I want you, how I’d fuck you until all you can remember is my name.”
The offer is tempting; you groan a little as you watch him begin to slide off his blazer, throwing it to the side before he’s unbuttoning his white shirt— he’s making quick work to become undressed, you notice, untucking the material and undoing his belt as the sounds of it jingling ring out in the room.
Yet, no one knows his name— no one knows anything about him, except the tattoo that runs across his side as he slides off his shirt, the sharp, elegant lines running all along his ribs, trailing down to his hip bones and disappearing under his pants— the rest of him remaining a mystery as you’re left to lust over a nameless, faceless stranger.
That’s probably where the appeal comes from; you’re able to imagine anything about him, from what his face looks like to what he may do when the cameras are off; you’re free to mold him into the perfect fantasy, using him and projecting onto him as you watch him slowly unzip his pants, a hand slipping under as he begins to jerk himself off teasingly, slow as always as he waits for the requests to come in— like clockwork, your eyes fall to the end of his tattoo, taking in the cute heart that rests by his hip bone, the ending of the elaborate piece that always has you wondering what it’d be like to see in person.
“Hmm? You want more?” he says, tilting his head slightly as he smiles; it’s mocking as always, biting into his lip as he begins to roll his hips into his hand— making a show out of it, throwing his head back and letting out a breathy moan that has you shivering.
“How about you show me just how much you want it,” he sighs out, smiling evilly as tips begin to come in left and right as a response; you find the way he’s able to manipulate the audience impressive, always able to get them to blow their money on him without hesitation.
He leans forward, towards the screen, and you’re able to admire his lips as he reads the comments, mouthing them as the lights cast a glow on his pretty, pouty mouth, his neck tempting and begging to be marked as you watch the way he displays it so teasingly.
“Good girl,” he laughs softly, your eyes flickering to the comment section for a moment; his top tipper has spent an egregious amount on him yet again, and you listen to the way he softly begins to fulfill her request, the rest of the audience momentarily disappearing as he begins to speak to her.
“Always such an obedient thing for me, hmm? Tell me, what do you want to see?”
His manipulation is seamless as he watches another tip flood in; all from the same person, the amount doubled in order to get his attention past all the others that blow a measly twenty on him, nothing compared to the three hundred that is highlighted in gold, the comment momentarily pinned for the man to read it.
I want you to fuck your favorite fleshlight and use a vibrator while you think of me. Can you moan my name please? It’s—
Her comment has your eyes widening for a second; it’s bold and demanding, and the idea of requesting such a thing from the camboy in front of you is daunting as you read her request over and over— your face feels hot and you’re already taking off your sweatpants from how needy you are, wondering if the man on your screen will accept such a request.
The first two are nothing to him— in fact, it’s more on the tamer side as he already finds himself reaching for the aforementioned toys.
The problem lies in the last request.
He’s not one to moan names on a live stream; he usually saves it for personal requests he gets, the videos much more personal and calculated as he gets to take his time with them— so for his top tipper to request such a thing on his livestream is a bit more difficult; especially when he spends this time thinking of you.
But then again, it’s three hundred dollars.
“Okay then, is that what you want? Hmm?” he teases softly, purring out her name at the end as he watches the way she tips him again; it has him laughing in amusement, sitting back in his chair before he’s crossing his arms over his chest, singing out her name with a soft lilt as he watches the way she continues to pour money at him like it’s nothing.
Soon enough, more requests come in; all with the same amount and request, hoping that they’ll be able to hear their names fall from his lips as he slowly begins to tug down his pants, raising his hips as he’s left in nothing but his underwear, the briefs straining painfully as his cock twitches, begging to be free.
“One at a time,” he murmurs sweetly, patronizing as he mumbles that it’s her turn now, watching the way she seems to react with every purr of her name.
The sudden trend of requests makes his stream slightly difficult; he’s always found himself to be a lot more into them when he’s mentally moaning out your name, lips ghosting over the syllables every time he’s coming undone. Instead, he’s forced to moan out the name of a stranger as he begins to palm himself slowly, even though his mind thinks back to you and the small interaction you had today.
He feels his cock twitch at the mere thought. It’s painfully hard and won’t stop leaking as he takes it out, not needing to use any lubricant as he begins stroking it slowly, hips jumping at the feeling of the leather against his skin— and though his lips moan another’s name, his eyes remain closed, thinking about you.
You and your meek personality, always letting guests take out their anger on you before they’re turning around and sucking up to Beomgyu— he’s always had to resist the urge to fuck them up as a response, knowing that you think no one else notices your sullied mood and your crestfallen gaze every time they seem to get away with it.
He’s never free to comfort you. You’re both far too busy to be around each other for longer than a few minutes, and today was like a blessing as he caught you at just the right time— he would have stayed the rest of his shift back there talking to you, if only he hadn’t been playing the part of a sweet, considerate guy.
He thinks back to how you felt against him. How, even though your actions were innocent and you were much more focused on taking out the stain of his uniform, he still felt the warmth of your hand against his chest, delicate and smaller than his as you leaned in close enough to allow himself to get a whiff of your sweet scent.
And those glasses.
He never thought he would find himself hung up on such an item, but the way they make your eyes look big and sparkly is practically enough to make him cum on the spot. Instead, he grabs a hold of his newest fleshlight, soft and tight, just how he imagines you would be.
It’s perverted, but as he slides his cock into the tight sleeve, groaning slightly at how he’s barely able to push through, he imagines that it’s you. His mind begins to wonder what it would be like if you were above him right now, your thighs encasing his and your pussy leaking onto his cock as he fucked into you without abandon.
As he turns on his vibrator, running it along his balls and letting out pathetic moans, he imagines what it would be like to use it on you while he fucked you, imagining the way your tits would bounce and your eyes would squeeze shut as he made you cum until you were unable to hold yourself up.
On the other side of the screen, you imagine the same thing. Your legs are shaking and you’re fighting to keep your eyes open as you follow the pace he’s set, pressing your vibrator firmly against your clit and letting out weak whimpers at the sensation. You try to ignore the way he calls out the same name over and over, wondering instead what it would be like to hear your name from his lips— the sound is ringing throughout your mind the moment you imagine it, burying your face into your pillow as you increase the intensity of your toy.
“Let me fill you up, want you dripping with my cum,” he growls out, the sloppy sounds of his thrusts only spurring you on as your thighs close around your hand, hips grinding into your dildo as you sink your teeth into your lip ruthlessly— it’s almost enough to draw blood as you watch the way he cums into his toy, hips continuing to rut into the it even long after he’s come, a white ring forming at the base as he turns the vibrator off from the overstimulation.
“_— Shit,” Beomgyu almost slipped up for a second, proceeding to moan out his requested name repeatedly as a distraction.
And you know you’re imagining it, but you’re briefly coming undone after that, your pussy tightening against your dildo and your legs shaking as you run your vibrator along your clit, imagining that it’s him inside you, that he’s currently spilling his load in your cunt— your mind swearing that you almost heard your name slip from his lips for a second— and it isn’t until you recover from your orgasm, the sound of another name leaving his lips repeatedly making you come to, that you realize it was your brain playing trick on you to help you get off.
But you weren’t imagining things.
Beomgyu hopes his audience didn’t pick up on his small mistake, but he’s relieved to see that they’re none the wiser as they continue to request to hear their name next.
“Let’s see…” he says, and you’re barely able to keep your eyes open as you watch the way he leans towards the camera again, reading requests off the monitor as he grinds his hips into his toy absentmindedly throughout it.
He’s barely getting started.
In turn, so are you.
»»»
Beomgyu is the sweetest guy you’ve ever met.
After your brief conversation at the restaurant, you quickly found yourself talking to him more often.
It turned into him sitting next to you during the one class you shared, your friendship growing stronger day by day as you got to know him better.
He acts like a puppy; he’s so sweet and kind, his voice soft and endearing every time he spoke to you— and, like a stark contrast to the flirty and outgoing guy you saw during your shifts at the restaurant, he was very shy, ever the gentleman as he always treated you with nothing but kindness.
“Good morning,” Beomgyu hums, sitting in the seat next to yours before he’s placing down a cup of coffee, “I got this for you. I already finished mine, but I thought you might like some too.”
Sweet gestures like these were common with him; despite your insistence that he really didn’t need to, he always did it anyway, ever the charming man as he sent you a cute smile that would have you unable to say no.
“Hey, I heard you’re friends with Yeonjun?” you ask, reluctantly accepting the drink after he insisted that you didn’t need to feel bad; your lips are curving into a small smile as you take a drink, stomach flipping at the realization that it was your usual order— you’re surprised he was able to remember it after the first time you got coffee together.
Beomgyu nods in confirmation. You’re a bit surprised by his answer, unable to see the two be friends due to their contrasting personalities. You can tell that he’s curious as to why you’re asking as he pouts slightly— a habit he always does when he’s confused— and you’re quick to swallow down your drink and give him context.
“He’s having a party this weekend. I was wondering if you’re going?” you say, and Beomgyu feels his stomach drop slightly; not because you were going— well, not entirely, at least— but because if you were going, you’d definitely end up seeing a different side of him. And after seeing how fond you are of his puppy-like behavior, he dreads seeing your reaction to a much more reckless side of him.
“I… think so,” he says sheepishly, wondering what kind of excuse he should make to not go— but he pauses, seeing the way you pout at him, grabbing his arm desperately as you lean into him as you plead.
“You should go— pleeeasee? Yeonjun’s parties are super over the top and he always invites hella people, I don’t wanna be there alone.”
You have this man wrapped around your finger; with one look at your face, your gaze sweet and pleading as you cutely pout at him expectantly, he finds himself agreeing, unable to fight back a smile as he watches the way you cheer triumphantly, quieting down the moment the lecture starts.
Beomgyu will definitely have to be careful this weekend— but seeing you will be worth it, even if he’s risking the chance of potentially changing the way you’ll view him forever.
»»»
You have yet to see Beomgyu.
The party started hours ago, yet you’ve only been present for a few as you’ve already both greeted and lost Yeonjun, forced to mingle with people you barely know as you all hang out in his backyard— because lord knows how packed and stuffy the place would’ve been if he held it inside.
You currently find yourself playing cup pong, teaming with the girl in your communications class as you go against two strangers— Yunjin is much friendlier and outgoing when she’s drunk, cheering you on and yelling triumphantly with every ball you get in— you’ve barely had anything to drink as a result, and Yunjin is eager to fix that as she hands you a small shot cup; you’re hesitant at first, only accepting it after she explains that it isn’t strong at all, the soju mixed in with other things as she tells you you’ll barely feel it.
It’s not that you’re a lightweight that would get drunk off one shot, but you’d rather not get shit-faced when you have yet to find Beomgyu; your eyes scan over the place once more after you take the shot, Yunjin’s cheers falling deaf onto your ears as you allow the team in front of you have their turn.
“Drinking already?”
Beomgyu has snuck up on you successfully— you’re flinching in surprise as you feel his hand fall gently on the small of your back, leaning in close so he’s properly able to speak to you over the music.
Beomgyu feels as though looking at you is a sin; he’s forcing himself to keep his eyes off you, listening to the way you ramble into his ear about how happy you are to see him, your head tilting back and exposing the column of your neck to him to get him to hear you.
“You’re not wearing your glasses,” he comments, oddly hung up on it as he watches the way your smile only widens.
“Yeah, didn’t feel like it,” you say lightheartedly, leaning back against Beomgyu and finding comfort in the position that allows the two of you to speak over the booming music.
Unbeknownst to you, he takes this moment to drink in your appearance. The white, oversized button-up you wear is left completely open as it drapes over your figure, the light blue denim shorts entirely too tempting as they ride up your thighs, much too short to even cover you properly— but of course, that’s the look you were going for, leaving your bottoms unbuttoned and folded down as you allow your bikini to peek through— the color is flattering on your skin, and Beomgyu wonders if he’ll be strong enough to resist you, eyes flickering over to the pool that’s filled with plenty of people as a distraction.
“You wanna go in?” you ask, and Beomgyu realizes you’ve followed his line of sight, shaking his head quickly in response. You laugh, turning around briefly as you listen to the sounds of Yunjin telling you that you have to drink— you freely down the shot in the plastic cup this time, much more at ease now that Beomgyu is around— and turn back to him, pulling at his shirt slightly as you take in his attire.
“Come on, you’re definitely dressed for the part!”
And that much was true— though he realized halfway through his drive here that doing so would not be a good idea, especially if he wanted to keep up this cute, innocent act of his.
“It’s too full right now,” he says, his excuse valid as you study the pool for a moment— only to agree, turning back to the game as you tell Beomgyu to cheer for you with a cheeky smile.
It doesn’t take much longer for you to get tipsy— all because you made the mistake of trusting Yunjin to play properly during her turn, missing entirely and proceeding to get the two of you obliterated after she went against one of the guys on the opposite team (Jake, he later told you.)— but you’re quick to make sure to bring Beomgyu down with you, handing him every other shot you get as you tell him he’s now on your team.
What you don’t seem to realize is that Beomgyu is not a lightweight— far from it, watching with amusement as you slowly begin to get tipsy, your mouth loosening and your personality becoming much more outgoing after losing the game to Jake and his friend— three times in a row.
“Again?” you ask, laughing at the way Yunjin yells in agreement— Beomgyu has to tug on your shirt to get you away, telling you that it’s definitely not a good idea to go again, especially with someone as uncoordinated as Yunjin.
“Why didn’t you play with me then?” you say, leaning against him as you smile up at him prettily; he’s leading you away from the table and towards the grass, over to where a small campfire is lit, plenty of chairs scattered about as the music becomes louder in this area.
“You don’t like games?” you ask him, stumbling to a stop and tugging at his shirt to stop with you, just so he’s able to hear you better. Coyly, you smile, your eyes twinkling mischievously as you lean in to speak to him quietly, “Don’t you wanna play with me?”
Your words are fairly innocent— but your delivery is not, and it has Beomgyu sputtering in surprise as he wonders how he should respond to such a random advance— though he doesn’t need to in the end, watching as you break character and laugh at your own antics, perking up immediately as you listen to the song that’s playing.
“Oh, I love this song!”
You’re dancing carelessly to the song without a second thought, pulling Beomgyu in and laughing at the way he seems reluctant to let loose; it’s probably the alcohol in your system that’s making you act like such an idiot, leaning against him and smiling at the way he seems adamant to avoid your gaze.
“You know, I just realized that we’re matching!” you laugh, tugging at the collar of his white button-up before you’re glancing down; it’s tucked neatly into his denim shorts, and your smile is only growing wider as you look back up at him, “we look like a couple or something.”
Your words affect him much more than he’d like to admit— but he has no time to dwell on it, eyes looking past you and at Yeonjun, who walks straight toward the two of you with a grin stuck on his face.
“Hey, why didn’t you tell me you were here?” Yeonjun yells, grabbing your attention as you’re turning to greet Yeonjun; you’re bubbly and seem to find everything funny as you giggle slightly, waving at him happily before you’re stepping away from Beomgyu.
“I couldn’t find you,” Beomgyu mumbles, watching the way Yeonjun slings an arm around your shoulders casually— he feels oddly angered at the sight, unsure why it irritates him so much to see the two of you act so close.
“Didn’t know you two were friends,” Yeonjun says, and he watches as you begin to ramble about your history with Beomgyu with a small smile— scanning your outfit, he frowns.
“You haven’t gotten in the pool yet?” Yeonjun asks, raising a brow at your entirely dry figure; you shake your head, which only makes him tilt his head in confusion, “I thought you said that’s the only reason you were coming?”
“Well, I just haven’t gotten the chance to,” you say sheepishly, the shy smile on your face quickly turning to one of confusion the moment Yeonjun hugs you; he’s got you tight, and you’re stumbling along with him as you begin questioning what he’s doing, your eyes widening the moment you peek over his shoulder— you’re heading straight to the pool, the volume of your yells rising significantly as you begin to struggle against your friend, yelling at Beomgyu to come to your rescue.
(It’s all for dramatic effect. Yeonjun laughs at the way you pretend to struggle against him, and he pretends he doesn’t hear your laugh of joy the moment he falls over the edge, letting go of you in time and forcing the two of you into the water.)
You’re pleasantly surprised to find that the water isn’t freezing; you personally thank Yeonjun’s heating system as you come up for air, wiping at your face and adjusting your hair as you begin to splash Yeonjun, insulting him for being such a bully.
Your movements are immediately stopping the moment you spot Beomgyu at the edge— Yeonjun is quick to leave, sending you a small wink (the term “wink” used loosely) before he’s off to find his next target—he’s taken his shoes off and he looks more than ready to jump in, and you can’t help but laugh sweetly at his concern before you realize that you should probably take off your shoes as well.
“You okay?” He asks you, watching the way you cringe as you take off your shoes, tossing them over the edge and leaving them to dry as you swim to where he stands.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you smile, watching the way he seems hesitant to do anything— to get in or leave, you’re unsure. A second passes before an evil thought pops into your head, taking notice of your equally soaked clothes that remain stuck on your body.
“Oh. Hey, could you hold this?” you begin, shedding off your shirt before you’re bundling it into a ball, holding out the fabric for him— he crouches down, arm reaching out for your shirt— and you seize your moment, both hands grabbing onto him and tugging as hard as you can.
And Beomgyu, in his unguarded state, falls in immediately.
The laugh you let out is pure evil as you watch him fall in, flailing for a second before he’s coming up for air— and honestly, Beomgyu can’t even be mad, at least not when you’re laughing so hard, your face lit up as you take in the way his hair is completely flat on his head.
“Sorry. Couldn’t help it,” you say, but you don’t look sorry at all as you swim over to your shirt that’s now sunk into the bottom of the pool. You’re diving down to get it, quick to throw it over the edge and by your shoes before you’re tugging off your shorts. You’re glancing back at Beomgyu, relieved to see he doesn’t look angry at all, when you spot something peculiar.
“Woah, what’s that?” you ask, approaching Beomgyu eagerly as he’s quick to follow your gaze. His cheeks are on fire and his hands are quick to fly onto his ribs, turning away from your curious hands and even more curious gaze as he stutters out an excuse.
“It’s nothing.” That’s probably one of the lamest things Beomgyu has ever said, and you’re not believing him for a second as your eyes widen at his sudden change in behavior.
“Is it a tattoo?” you ask, trying to get a peek through the cracks of his fingers; but the water makes everything blurry, unable to get the details of it before you’re humming appreciatively. “Hmm. That’s cool— I didn’t know that was such a common spot to get tattooed.”
“Is it?” he asks, and suddenly, he doesn’t seem to want to hide it anymore. Your curious gaze and awed compliments have him smiling, raising a brow as he feels himself become more confident— the idea that you of all people would judge him seems ridiculous now.
“Who else do you know that has a tattoo here?” you’re late to process the question— only because your eyes are widening as he admits that it is a tattoo, the words flying out of your mouth before you can truly process if it’s a good idea.
“I don’t know. I’ve just seen it online, I guess.” Of course, this could mean many things— but it means one thing to you, and you’re practically biting your tongue from the sheer terror that you inadvertently admitted to a guilty, secret pleasure of yours.
“Online?” he asks, and you try to not look suspicious as you choose to simply remain quiet and nod.
“Yeah, like on Pinterest and stuff,” you add, hoping that it’s enough to prove your innocence (to yourself) as you watch Beomgyu nod along to your words.
“Aren’t your clothes weighing you down?” you ask, eyeing the way he’s barely moved with a small smile, “or like, are you not wearing anything underneath?”
Most of the people here came with their swimsuits underneath— some just opted to strip to their underwear, which is why you didn’t feel alarmed to find people stripping their layers in order to jump into the pool.
Though, now that you think about it, you feel a bit bad for forcing Beomgyu to get in without much of a warning. Your concerns are quickly soothed, however, when Beomgyu shakes his head, hands coming up to unbutton his shirt before he’s laughing softly at your words.
“I was wearing my shorts underneath these,” he confesses, your eyes widening as you find yourself going silent— because wow, was Beomgyu always this ripped?
You feel odd as you watch him strip, sliding off his shirt as most of his torso remains underwater; he’s slowly making his way to where you stand by the edge, and you can feel your heart stopping as you take in the look in his eyes.
Dark. Dangerous. Tempting. You think you’re imagining things as you look away, gulping heavily as you feel yourself sobering suddenly. He’s throwing his shirt in the direction that your pile of clothes lie, and you feel oddly embarrassed by the way you have to look away as he strips his bottoms off as well.
You’re only glancing back in time to see him hover out of the pool for a second, his upper body coming out of the water as he takes a moment to lay out both your clothing properly.
Holy shit.
Was it common for people to have the same tattoo? It surely was, right? Those are the only things that are going through your mind as you observe Beomgyu’s tattoo, taking in the familiarity of each line as your eyes drift down to his v-line— your eyes spot the small, perfect heart that rests right at his pubic bone.
Oh god. Oh god, oh god oh god, you think, trying your best to not lose your shit and melt in a puddle of horror and embarrassment as you realize that Beomgyu has the exact tattoo as guiltypleasures.
It had to be a popular tattoo. Or maybe it was a reference to something, or a drawing a tattoo artist put out to let other people use— anything, it had to be anything else than the conclusion your mind was terrified of making, meeting Beomgyu’s gaze shyly as you realize that he’s caught you staring, hard.
“It’s pretty,” you breathe out, unsure you can trust your voice as you watch Beomgyu sink back into the pool, “Is it… a reference to something?”
Please say yes. Please say yes.
“Thanks,” he starts, leaving you on edge as he takes a moment to inspect his tattoo— running his fingertips over it, tracing over the delicate lines in a way that has you gripping onto the edge of the pool, “and no, it’s not. I designed it myself.”
You’re gonna pass out.
“Really?” you grit out, hoping he can’t pick up on the tension of your voice as you smile, albeit forced, “Like, it’s one of a kind?”
“Yup,” he grins, staring down at his tattoo with a proud look on his face, “One of a kind. My tattoo artist didn’t even post it, upon my request.”
You’re gonna cry. Maybe you’ll scream, or even sink into the pool and try to drown yourself.
Because Choi Beomgyu, your closest friend for the past few months and the man you may or may have not been beginning to crush on, is guiltypleasures, the man you lust after every night and fucking pay to watch.
You know they say that quiet guys are the freakiest, but this is too fucking much.
“That’s so cool,” you say, sinking into the pool so the water is up to your mouth, hoping that you won’t blurt out any more stupidities as you stare off into the distance, attempting to let this new information settle in.
“Hey, you okay?” he asks, and you hate how attentive Beomgyu has become— even more because everything is starting to click, his husky and deep voice a replica of your stupid camboy’s, your body reacting involuntarily to the sound of it as you simply nod softly.
“Mhmm,” you hum out, coming out of the water a bit so you can speak, “I think those drinks from earlier fucked up my stomach— I should go home.”
“Oh,” Beomgyu says, and you feel awful for the way he’s become confused at your sudden shift in mood, “Are you sure you’ll be okay driving—?”
“I Ubered here,” you mumble, oddly embarrassed at your words, “cause I knew I’d probably drink a lot.”
“Well then let me take you home,” he insists, ever the gentleman as you try to say that he shouldn’t, that he should just stay and enjoy the party.
“It’s dangerous to call an Uber at this hour though,” he continues, his stupid fucking puppy eyes taking a toll on your resolve as you bite your lip, “Plus, I only really came to this party because of you.”
God, what the hell was this behavior?! This innocent, shy, and sweet Beomgyu was a complete one-eighty— scratch that— was an entirely different fucking person than the one that always talked down at you at night, spilling filth like it was in his nature and treating you like you were worthless.
It was a bit terrifying as you watched the way he remained entirely oblivious to the Earth-shattering realization, getting out of the pool and reaching out to help you out with a sweet smile.
After a second, you take it.
You feel so awkward as you gather your clothes; you’re jumpy and you’re sure Beomgyu has picked up on it as he eyes you from time to time, watching as you wring out your clothes as much as you can before you’re slipping on your shirt, your shorts left in your hand as you avoid Beomgyu’s eyes entirely.
“I have a few blankets in my car— you should use those to keep yourself warm,” he says softly, looking back at you and frowning at the way you only nod with a tense smile.
Was he wrong about you? Were you lying when you reacted positively to his tattoo? Beomgyu has no idea why something as simple as a tattoo would change the way you treat him entirely, but he’s determined to get to the bottom of this as you enter his car, entirely stiff as you wrap one of his aforementioned blankets around yourself.
“Hey, did something happen tonight?” He asks you halfway through his drive, licking his lips nervously as he watches the way you jump in your seat, not expecting his question at all as you remain silent for a second.
“Uhm, no?” you say, though you seem unsure of your own answer as you wrap the blankets a little tighter around yourself, “I’m telling you, it was probably the drinks— I didn’t think my stomach would be so sensitive tonight.”
Your explanation is entirely plausible, but Beomgyu doesn’t believe it as he watches the way you remain tense, his car slowing to a stop as the two of you wait at the stoplight in an awkward silence.
“You’re lying,” Beomgyu says, deciding that it’s better to just be bold instead of tiptoeing around the subject, “Is it because of my tattoo?”
Your lips press together.
“It is,” he says, and he feels an unexpected wave of disappointment and anger wash over him, “did something that small put you off that much?”
“That’s not it,” you say, your heart pounding against your chest and your body heating up as you realize that you’ve upset him— and greatly, because you’re able to see the way his brows knit together and his hand tightens on the steering wheel as he begins to drive again.
Did he think you were judging him? That you thought less of him because of such a small thing?
“Then what is it?” he insists, and you’re mortified to see that you’re stuck in traffic, victim to Beomgyu’s sharp gaze that demands answers, “Cause you’ve been acting weird since I showed it to you.”
“I’ve seen it before,” you mutter quietly, sinking into your seat from the humiliation, “I recognized it. Your tattoo.”
Beomgyu pauses. Then he thinks of the many times he’s had his shirt ride up when he’s around you, from stretching to taking off his hoodie and having his undershirt get pulled up along with it.
“Okay?”
“Like. Online.”
That’s enough to leave him silent. Stupefied, even. One glance at you and your body language is enough to confirm that it’s exactly what he’s thinking, your posture so small that you look like you wish you could disappear.
“You’ve—“ he swallows, wondering what else to say as traffic begins moving again, “like… Twitter—?”
“Your streams.”
Fuck. Fuck, oh fuck, Beomgyu needs to get the fuck out of the car this instant, because his dick is already hardening and he can feel his brain short-circuiting at your words— you watch his streams.
In your mind, you feel as though you’ve completely dug a hole for yourself— Beomgyu is probably horrified at your confession, but it’s not as though you knew it was him, or that you had any malicious intent, or that—!
All Beomgyu can think of is how he shouldn’t park the car in the middle of the road and fuck you stupid.
“Did you watch them a lot?” he asks you, his voice eerily quiet and stable, and oh no he’s interrogating you right now, this is the end for you.
“Yeah,” you say, deciding to be completely transparent now that you’ve decided to tell the truth, “I’m sorry.”
Is it possible to come untouched like this? Beomgyu might just find out, because the way your voice is so meek and shy and guilty has him biting down on his lip, his mind growing foggier and his foot pressing down on the gas pedal a little harder as he begins to weave through lanes.
“You were a subscriber then,” he says calmly, and you feel as though he’s trying to humiliate you on purpose as you nod your head in admittance— unbeknownst to you, that’s exactly what he’s doing, enjoying the way he’s breaking you down from just a few questions with sick pleasure.
“How much money did you spend on me then?” You’re finding his line of questioning a bit odd at this point, but you refuse to look up from your lap as you find yourself answering anyways.
“I was just a low-tier subscriber…” you say, and it feels even more humiliating to admit that you cheaped out on him— what the hell was wrong with you?
“Low-tier? Not even a single tip?” he repeats, and you don’t seem to register the way he pouts at you until it’s far too late.
Stopping at a red light, he grabs your chin, turning your face roughly so you’re looking at him— and he’s back, the man behind the screen, except this time you can see the sheer pity that fills his gaze as he speaks to you as though you’re lower than him.
“How are you gonna make it up to me now?”
»»»
God. Fuck. Are you dreaming? You think you might pass out.
“I know, I know I said I wouldn’t stream tonight— shouldn’t you just be happy I’m here?”
Your stomach is twisted in knots and you feel small as you attempt to take in everything properly— Beomgyu’s setup, the same room you’ve seen countless times before— you’re able to see it all, from his large computer monitors, his filming camera, to his grandiose bed and the insane amount of toys he keeps on standby.
You shift restlessly on your feet, entirely bare save for a shirt that Beomgyu let you borrow— another white button-up, the very same one that he loved to wear when he dressed up, now hanging from your figure as he allowed the two of you to freshen up the moment you got to his home.
Nervously, you had left the shirt completely buttoned up; you watched from behind his camera as he continued to sweet talk his viewers, dressed comfortably in a sweater and sweats, his attire a complete contrast to your own.
“You’re happy to see me? I don’t believe you,” he smiles, and you feel as though you’re back to being a faceless member of his stream as you press your thighs together, able to hear the way notifications pop up on his computer, all of them signifying a new tip.
“You know, today’s a pretty special occasion actually,” he begins, pausing to see his comments and the reactions within them, “you’re curious? Do you wanna try something new with me?”
Yes. It’s the only thing he sees in his comments, and he lets out a soft laugh before he’s turning back to his camera.
Then, he’s looking past it.
“Come here, baby.”
You knew this was coming— you agreed to this, for crying out loud, but you still feel as though your legs are made of jello as you hesitate, biting your lip before your eyes are widening nervously, the safe word the two of you established beforehand running through your mind like a mantra you mustn’t forget.
“Come on, you don’t want to keep them waiting, do you?” he asks, eyes flickering over to his screen, watching the way everyone seems to go haywire from his words, “See? They’re curious, they want to see you.”
You’re taking your first step towards the camera— then another, and another, until you’re walking past the setup, your back facing the camera as you make your way to where he sits at the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do as you remain frozen in front of him.
“What, are you nervous?” he asks, and he’s only able to let out a mean laugh the moment you’re nodding in response, unable to use your voice properly— that’ll change soon, he thinks, reaching for your hands and guiding them to his shoulders.
“Don’t be,” he whispers, aiming for your thighs next as he’s tugging at them, pleased with the way you let him mold you to his desired position, your thighs on either side of his as you hover over him pathetically, “I know they’ll love you.”
Neither of your full faces can be seen— but the audience can definitely see the way he captures your lips in a harsh kiss, filled with nothing but pure need as he finally gets to feel you properly— you feel as though you’re about to run out air when he finally pulls away, laughing as he feels the way you buttoned every single button of the shirt he gave you.
“Now why would you do that?” he whispers against your lips, and your fingers dig into his shoulders pathetically as you watch him rip it open— the viewers are going wild at the sight, tipping ridiculous amounts of money just so they can get Beomgyu to see their requests; curiously your eyes drift to his monitor.
You practically collapse at the things you read on the screen.
Finger her. Eat her out. Use a vibrator on her, tie her up, breed her until she can’t walk straight, use a dildo on her—
The horror comes from the fact that Beomgyu is clearly considering doing all of it.
“What do you think baby?” he asks you, pressing his hand on the small of your back and forcing you to arch into him, your ass perking out and your cunt left to be entirely displayed as he trails his hand up your back, lifting your shirt along with it as he allows the viewers to get a good look at you.
“Anything that piques your interest?” he whispers, your head buried in his shoulder as you shake from the embarrassment of it all, “or…”
You jolt at the way his hand lands a sharp smack on your ass. He’s quick to soothe the area, smiling at the way he takes in the small whimper you let out, burying your face deeper into his shoulder and arching more in response. He lands another one, much more harsher than the last as his hand immediately drifts to your pussy, spreading you for the camera and watching the way you practically glisten under the light.
“Should I decide how I get to use you for myself?”
He’s a bit surprised to find that you’re quick to nod at his second request, much too shy to even lift your head from where it rests as your fingers dig into his skin.
He smiles, his eyes drifting back to the monitor as he begins reading over their requests.
“Hmm, are you shy, princess?” he asks, fingers trailing along your slit, feeling the way your hole flutters at the feeling, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside as you whine quietly, nodding at his words.
“But you’re so fucking wet, and we haven’t even done anything,” slowly, his fingers slip inside— you’re both moaning at the feeling, and Beomgyu thinks that he might just be the one to cum as he feels the way you stretch around his fingers.
“God, you��re so tight,” he groans, beginning to test out the waters by scissoring you— spreading you out for the camera, watching over your shoulder as your arousal practically leaks out; he gulps, unable to keep his eyes away from the sight as he sighs.
“Feels so soft and warm,” he mutters, placing a kiss on your temple before he’s reaching for something off-screen— the box of toys, you realize, forced to keep your face buried in his shoulder in an attempt to not show your face to his audience.
“Just like I thought you would be,” he says, smiling against your skin as he murmurs the words into your ear— just for you to hear, not for the thousands of people who are currently watching the stream.
“Do you know what I thought about every time I went live?” he asks, sitting up and shifting so that you’re back in position, shaking your head softly as you feel his fingers begin to circle your entrance.
“You.” the stretch you suddenly feel has you moaning pathetically, the first sound the viewers are able to hear as the comments begin to fly past— your legs are shaking at the feeling of him slowly pushing the silicone dildo into your pussy, thick and long as you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling tears prick at your eyes from how full you feel.
“I thought of you. Every time.”
Beomgyu’s eyes are dark as his hand grabs at your ass, spreading your cheeks and showing off the way the dildo begins disappearing into your tight cunt, your arousal already beginning to drip down the toy with every slow thrust of his.
“Wished you were there every time I would stream. I thought about fucking you the way I would fuck my toys,” his thrusts begin speeding up; you’re a moaning mess against him as you push your ass back, showcasing yourself perfectly and pushing up against the toy that he continues to ram into you— you’re jolting back into him with every thrust, your hands beginning to cramp with how hard you’re holding on to him.
“I would always moan your name too, did you ever notice?”
Your mind goes back to the time you thought you heard it— and, unexpectedly, you’re coming undone, reaching your peak as you respond with a pathetic yes…! The realization that it had all been real much more overwhelming than you thought.
Beomgyu continues to fuck the toy into you even long after you’re done coming; you’re a whimpering, crying mess against him, the stimulation making your mind muddled as you quietly attempt to get him to stop.
“Hmm? What do you want baby?” he asks, lips trailing down your neck and to your shoulders, where he begins to slip off your shirt so that you’re more exposed. He remains fully clothed as he begins sucking bruises into your skin, following one of his requests to mark up your pretty skin— his hair falls over his face, covering him momentarily as he begins drifting along your body carelessly.
It’s too much— yet, it’s not enough to have you using your safe word, and the fact makes Beomgyu smile as he bottoms out the toy inside you, grinding it into your pathetic pussy as he watches the way a ring of your cum begins to form around the base.
“Come on, talk to me. We’re waiting,” you’re hesitant to speak— that much is clear, especially when you know how much traction this stream is currently getting, the sound of tips constant as you shake your head in defeat.
“No? Okay then,” your shirt is being slipped off, leaving you naked as you wince slightly at the feeling of your garment being removed. Once again, Beomgyu is moving you around, and you’re facing the camera now as your legs are pried open by his own, the toy still stuffed inside you as you sit on Beomgyu’s lap— right on his hard cock, whining softly as you feel him begin to hold your hips down, grinding into you for some release.
“Don’t wanna use your words? Don’t wanna say anything to me or the viewers?” he tries again, eyes narrowing at the way you remain disobedient and shake your head, laying back against him as you pant softly.
“You’re not gonna thank our viewers for wanting me to please you, you fucking whore?” his hands are swift, and before you realize what he’s doing, your hands are cuffed behind your back, the fuzzy feeling reminding you of the cuffs he uses on himself sometimes.
“Fine. You wanna be ungrateful, stay quiet?” every sound that leaves your lips is unsure and soft, barely able to reach the microphone of the camera as Beomgyu scoffs at you. “Then stay fucking quiet. I don’t wanna hear a single word from you, understand?”
He doesn’t let you respond— of course he wouldn’t let you— but the way your mouth falls open suggests that you almost went against his command, the vibrator that he now pressed onto your clit making your legs shake with the sudden stimulation, threatening to close before Beomgyu’s own pried you back open swiftly.
“Look at you. Like a bitch in heat, only thinking about yourself,” he growls, his other hand beginning to thrust the toy back into you at a harsh pace, listening to the sounds of your arousal and the toy smacking against your skin with a satisfied groan, “Do you have any idea how many people wish they were in your place, wish they could be getting fucked stupid instead of having to sit and watch as I do it to you?”
He pauses. Then, he turns up the intensity of the vibrator with a cruel laugh.
“You would fucking know,” he seethes, taking in the way you writhe against him pathetically, biting at your lip to keep quiet as your hands struggle behind your back, “shit, can’t you hear how pathetic you sound? I bet you were a lot louder when you watched me, just another of my useless viewers that wish that I would fuck you— that I would even fucking acknowledge you.”
Everything that happens next is all a blur— your mind is foggy and you’re coming undone as you feel Beomgyu bite down on your neck, unable to hold back the pure keen of pleasure that rips through you, a string of unintelligible sounds flowing out of you desperately as you cream around the toy, feeling tears sting your eyes the moment Beomgyu decides to turn the intensity up again.
“Take it. I know you can,” he laughs purely because he knows that you have yet to use your safe word. It’s even worse because he’s right, the overstimulation fogging your mind and making you melt in his arms, still able to trust him even if your mind isn’t entirely there.
After a moment, the vibrator is turned off— you can hear him toss it to the side before he’s pulling the dildo out of your aching cunt, your body twitching at the sudden feeling before your cum is oozing out, dripping all over Beomgyu’s sweats and onto his sheets as he merely laughs at you.
You’re being turned around again— you feel woozy as you cling to Beomgyu, barely capable of hovering over him as he simply looks up at you, his eyes holding that same, innocent puppy-like look that got you trapped in his clutches in the first place.
“I feel so stuffy,” he pouts, tilting his head up at you as you simply whine incoherently in response, “I know baby. Won’t you help me out?”
It takes you a second to even register his request, your hands suddenly freed by him before you finally realize what he asked; your hands are slow and clumsy as you reach for the hem of his sweater, barely able to tug it up before he’s helping you out— your hands land on his shoulders once more for stability, your gaze falling on his chest and trailing down curiously.
And there it is. The very tattoo that got you into this mess, though this time you’re free to gawk at it, not paying attention to the way Beomgyu realized he caught you staring until he’s grabbing your hand, placing it on his chest and trailing it down, allowing you to feel him up as he shudders slightly at the feeling.
Your fingers trace over the tattoo. All the way down, following every elaborate line until you’re stopped by the hem of his pants, hands immediately slipping under before you’re tugging them off, pulling off his boxers too as you feel him lift his hips, left just as bare as you before he smiles.
You feel his cock poking at your entrance, painfully hard as he begins to rub it against your slit; teasing you with the tip, looking over your shoulder to see what his viewers may be saying.
“What do you think?” He asks, pushing his tip into your cunt before he’s pulling back out. The action has you whining hopelessly, and Beomgyu has to take a second to recollect his resolve, pausing all movements in order to not come then and there.
“Should I fuck her? Does she deserve it?” He asks, looking over at you, cooing softly at the way your eyes remain glassy and fucked out, “Don’t cry. You don’t deserve to cry, not when you’ve been so ungrateful to our viewers.”
A tip catches his attention, and he’s briefly scanning over the amount and request before he’s biting back a smile.
“See? Even though you haven’t said a word to them, they still want to see me fuck you,” he says, taking your hands off his shoulders and leaving you to wobble momentarily as he places your cuffs back on.
“Aren’t they the sweetest?”
You’re barely able to process what’s going on— all you know is that your position changes within seconds, and your face is buried into the mattress while your ass is up in the air, your legs shaky as you’re barely able to hold yourself up; luckily for you, Beomgyu is there to help, hands grabbing onto your hips before he’s making you lean back.
His cock is poking at your entrance, and he’s already able to feel the way your cunt tries to suck him in as he passes his tip along your entrance, left entranced with the way you look under him, a complete, ruined mess as you quietly whine out to him, your voice muffled from where your face remained in his sheets.
It’s cute, really, the way you’re able to focus so hard on keeping your face hidden— if you lifted your head now, every single viewer on his screen would be able to drink up your expression as he fucked you— the thought irritates Beomgyu.
He’ll just have to make sure to fuck you until you’re too weak to move.
“God, you’re such a brat,” he groans out, entering you slowly and feeling the way you clamp onto him dangerously; even with how wet you are, he finds it difficult to fuck you, gritting his teeth and taking a moment where he merely concentrates on not coming inside you then and there.
“Stop fucking squeezing like that— ah— shit—,” it seems as though your pussy has him going stupid, unable to form a coherent sentence as he slowly pulls out— the whine you let out is long and lethal, so desperate and carnal that Beomgyu finds himself losing control; tightening his hold on your hips, he begins to fuck into you without a care.
“Such a good little pussy,” he grits out, watching the way your ass bounces against him with every thrust, “fuck, wish you’d let me fuck you sooner— would’ve made you mine, wouldn’t be able to get enough of you— god, fuck—!”
The way you tighten at his words is dangerous. He’s cursing and talking down like he always does, but this time, it’s just for you. The very thought is enough to have you clenching around him again, mouth agape and drooling against his sheets as your sounds get louder.
Another tip rings through— the same person from before, repeating the only part of their previous request that Beomgyu has yet to fulfill.
Won’t she say thank you?
The words have him stuttering out a laugh, unable to help the way he moans in between. His thrusts slow, and he’s bottoming out inside you before his motions are nothing but a slow grind, rutting his hips into your aching pussy while he reaches for something off-screen.
Your whines and soft complaints at the sudden change of pace are brief— because soon after a familiar buzzing sound is filling your ears, and before you can react, the same vibrator form before is pressed against your clit on the highest setting.
“Gyuuuuu…!” you whine out, long and desperate and incoherent as Beomgyu grabs at your cuffs, using them as leverage to make you slam back into him. His thrusts are brutal and the sound of skin against skin is enough rivalry to the buzzing of the toy as he begins to use the last of his energy to fuck you to your orgasm, watching as the chat buzzes with excitement from your sudden word.
What? What’d she say?? Was that his name? omg?!
“Do you think you deserve to come?” he sneers, his voice gruff as you shake your head, knowing damn well that you haven’t been perfectly compliant to him like he wanted you to be, especially now that you may have just slipped up and let out a personal fact about him.
“Exactly,” he continues, his thrusts toning down in speed, but not intensity— he pulls out to the tip with every thrust, only to slam back into you and have you jolt forward from the harshness of his pace; the vibrator that was once relentless on your clit is now hovering mere centimeters from you, taunting you as all stimulation becomes insignificant to what it was before.
“Maybe, if you’re good for me, I’ll let you come,” he begins, watching the way you can only nod eagerly against the sheets, your hands struggling against your cuffs— he’s holding your hand at the sight, fingers interlocking as he watches you grip onto his hand with both of yours tightly.
“Will you be good for me? Are you gonna listen to whatever the fuck I ask you to do?” he says, his voice hardening at the end as he looks at you expectantly— a second passes before you’re nodding again.
“My viewers have been so patient with you. The only reason you got all this was because they wanted it— if it were up to me, I would’ve dumped my load in you already and left.”
That’s a lie— the biggest fucking lie Beomgyu has ever told, knowing damn well that he would’ve done all this and more to you any day, entirely unprovoked. But he knows his viewers love it, and so do you, because your cunt squeezes him so tightly he’s afraid he might just come early.
“Aren’t you grateful they loved you so much? Hmm?” you’re barely registering his words anymore. But you’re nodding nonetheless, your thighs beginning to shake from the sheer pleasure of feeling Beomgyu rut into your cunt throughout all this.
“Tell them thank you,” he says sweetly, not giving you enough time to speak before he’s back to fucking you wildly; his pace picking up, aiming for that specific spot that leaves you dumb and drooly as he places the vibrator back on your clit— any chances of sounding sane are thrown out the window as he begins tugging on your cuffs, bouncing you back against him as the wet sounds of his thrusts ring out through the room.
“Did you hear me—?” he asks, landing a smack to your ass before he’s soothing the area, slowing down so he can smack you again, “I said say thank you. Do you think you’re above us, pretty?”
Your first attempt to speak is a garbled mess.
“Come on, I know you can do better than that. Or— do you just wanna be a cute little cumdump for me—? Ah, let me use you every time I stream… don’t need any fucking toys when I have my pretty doll for me— right—?” His own sentences are becoming more incoherent the longer he fucks you, addicted to the way your pussy practically sucks him in deeper in response.
“Try again,” he growls, feeling his own orgasm approaching slowly, “show me you’re not a— shit, a fucking brat, and maybe I’ll let you… ugh, let you come.”
Beomgyu swore he got rid of his habit of rambling like this long ago. But, you seem to be able to bring it out of him, his calm and collected speeches crumbling like paper in his mind as he takes in the way both your arousals are smeared over skin and dripping down your thighs, forming a ring around Beomgyu’s cock as he feels his resolve beginning to crumble— he begins to fuck you carelessly, not able to think about anything else but reaching his high as he waits for your response.
“Mmh—! ugh… fuck…” your voice is increasing in volume, the shy person from before long gone as you begin to chase your orgasm, much too afraid to lose it as you try to form a single, coherent thought.
“Thank…. thank you…” you whine out, but it’s all too slurred and quiet and pathetic to Beomgyu as he growls out a sharp what? His hand pressing down on the small of your back as he glues your hands to your skin, forced to take the way he fucks you as you moan out uncontrollably.
“Thank you..! Thank you thank you, oh, fuck—!” holy shit, you’re full on crying right now, reduced to nothing but a mess of moans and tears as you ramble on repeatedly, only able to remember those limited words as you feel Beomgyu come inside you— warm and deep, stilling for just a moment before he’s back to fucking you, his own moans becoming much more needy at the feeling of overstimulation.
“Thank you thank you thank youuuu, fuck, fuck fuck mmh—!” you feel stupid. You’ve definitely been fucked stupid, moaning out those stupid thank you’s like a prayer as you feel yourself slumping completely, a boneless, gooey mess as you rely on Beomgyu to hold you up.
He continues to fuck into you slowly, even after you’ve gone entirely still; he thinks you might’ve passed out, but it’s only for a minute before he sees you shifting again, burying your head into the mattress as he hears the distant sound of you sniffling.
Beomgyu feels concerned for a second, ready to check up on you and end the stream before you’re grabbing his hand again; then you’re clenching around him, mumbling his name so sweetly while you try to press yourself against him.
You’re straight up gone, he realizes, stilling for a moment and waiting for you to use your safe word— but you don’t, and he sees you peeking subtly at his monitor before you’re burying your face back into his sheets.
“You got a new tip.”
The words are barely audible to him, but he’s quick to glance at it upon your request; he almost chokes as he sees the five-hundred dollars that have been sent to him, his eyes reading over the request a few times before he’s looking back at you.
Could you try to make her squirt ?
“It’s five hundred dollars,” you mutter, and all Beomgyu can do is let out a bewildered laugh, leaning down to place a kiss on your shoulder before he’s whispering in your ear if you’re okay to continue— the small nod you give him is enough to have his cock hardening inside you.
Fuck, he’s gonna give you the aftercare of the century after this.
#txt smut#txt hard hours#txt hard thoughts#beomgyu smut#txt fanfic#txt fanfiction#txt imagines#txt oneshots#txt ff#txt fluff#beomgyu x reader#beomgyu x you#beomgyu x y/n#beomgyu ff#beomgyu imagines#beomgyu oneshot
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3 Weeks Waiting
pairing: dbf!bucky barnes x fem!reader
summary: you’ve been hooking up with your dad’s best friend for months, but you accidentally ghosted him during finals week. saying he’s desperate is an understatement.
warnings: needy!bucky (he needs a warning), m & f masturbation, face sitting, hand jobs, riding, desperate sex, slight sub/dom dynamic, m in f penetration, dirty talk, absolute filth, hair pulling, slight degrading, praise, creampie, age gap (buckys the age he is in the movies, and reader is in college, maybe in early/mid 20s?)
note: my requests are open!!!!! REQUEST STUFF FOR ME TO WRITEEEEE :)
Tired. Annoyed. Slightly grossed out by all the old dudes around you.
That was the best way to describe how you felt in that moment. Your dad had brought over some friends and coworkers to celebrate the beginning of summer, he always found an excuse to throw a pool party.
Irritation flooded you as you got up from your beach chair, trying to subtly sneak through to go inside. You grabbed your towel to wrap it around yourself before walking through the door and into your home.
Before you could grab the chips from the kitchen island, a familiar frame stopped you. He stood tall on the other side of the kitchen island, a cup of rum in hand, “Hey, Bucky.”
Saying there was tension between the two of you was an understatement. His eyes were dark on you, a certain desperation lingering behind them, and you knew exactly why.
The two of you had been hooking up for months now, it just… Happened. But you hadn’t seen, called, or texted him in over 2 weeks because of college exams, and that was the longest the two of you had ever not spoken. Even when you went out of town, you two texted like preteens entering puberty.
And you had the audacity to sit there in front of him cluelessly.
He had to sit and just give you a small side hug greeting in front of your dad. He had to watch you tan on a beach chair in nothing but a small black bikini.
He was in pain.
“Don’t ‘Hey Bucky’ me,” he shook his head, watching you grab the cool ranch doritos on the counter and grab one.
“What?” You pretended to not know.
“I sent you like— 5 texts and called you a lot.”
“I was studying and taking exams, Buck, I warned you exam week was coming… I wasn’t even on my phone until today,” you giggled at his grump expression, not being able to hold in your own laughter. It was obvious he wasn’t truly mad, more just too stubborn to admit how much he missed you.
“Is it funny?” he scoffed lightly, matching your little giggles as he walked around the kitchen island. He stopped as he stood a foot away from you, and from afar, it’d look like the two of you were just having a normal conversation, “Do you know how hard I am right now? I can’t cum without you anymore.”
Your eyes widened at his words, and it was rare for you to get embarrassed or startled at all, “You can’t say things like that so randomly, Buck.”
“Why? Does it turn you on?” He mocked, walking closer and looking around to make sure no one looked. He slowly let the bulge in his pants touch your thigh as he breathed in relief. He didn’t grind, anxious that someone would walk in and see, even though you two were on the side of the island that covered everything below your waist, “Take the towel off.”
“You’re like a dog in heat, Jesus,” you tried to hold yourself back, wanting to come off as stronger. But when he slowly moved his hips, you swore you’d snap, “Oh my god, don’t do that— People are right th—“
“I don’t care,” he moaned a little louder than he should’ve, groaning in pain as you backed away. He watched the towel slightly open as you stood in front of him, shaking your head in shame. Your chest was revealed only slightly, but the sight was enough to make him feral, “I’m gonna cream my pants, fuck.”
“Bucky,” you scoffed, grabbing your towel and taking it off. You threw it as his chest and watched him catch it blindly, too distracted at the visual of your body, “It’s a bikini, don’t be so desperate.”
You walked past him and towards the stairs, knowing him well enough to know he was most likely staring at the view that was your ass. You turned around while you took a step on the 4th step, your eyebrows going up, “You coming or what?”
He sprinted.
Ran.
Sped.
He was a fucking track star.
He nearly fell over running to the stairs and following you, like a loyal puppy. You made sure to make it torturous and walk slowly, but your heart was telling you to sprint. You wanted this just as much as he did, if not more.
But you wanted him needy.
The minute you entered your room, he slammed the door behind you and lunged at you. Your lips intertwined with his as he gripped all parts of you, from your arms, to your chest, to your ass, to your back… all of you. But he swore he snapped when you pulled his hair just slightly, making him moan into your mouth.
God, did you miss that sound.
You pushed him on the bed, watching him sit and stare at you with lusted eyes, completely at his mercy for you. In that moment, he’d do— say— be anything for you. He needed you.
Which is why he said what he did next
“I want you to sit on my face.”
Your eyes widened at his confession, unsure of where this energy was coming from. He was always a begger, or even when he was in charge, he just asked. He never demanded or told. But there he stood, feet away from you on a bed, telling you what he needed.
You giggled and stepped closer, standing in front of his sitting body. You ran a hand over his face and took a minute to take him in, it had been too long. His sharp cheekbones, his scruff, the way his eyes were wide with needy— Beauty was not a good enough word for him, he was so much more than beautiful.
“Earn it,” you kissed his cheek in response, then moved down to his jaw. You kissed and sucked on every part of his neck while you slowly slipped your hand into his swim trunks, grabbing his bulge. His breath shortened as you gripped it tightly, rubbing up and down.
You were slow to grab the waistband of his swim trunks with your other hand and pull it down, but when you did, shock filled your face. You had never seen him so hard… It was bigger than usual, almost scary, “I haven’t cum in nearly 3 weeks.”
“Do you need me to tell you what masturbation is?” you joked, running your hand on his tip and using his precum to lubricate your hand.
“You can show me,” he joked back, throwing his head back while you started stroking faster, “I tried so hard to but— Fuck— I couldn’t c-cause it wasn’t warm like you.”
“That’s so pathetic it’s hot,” you chuckled, hearing his little laugh as well. You continued jerking him off, hoping you could get him to the edge faster, “I fucked myself a lot the past few weeks.”
“So you had time to jack off but not text me back,” he breathed out, joking with you. The sex with you two was always that— Free. No pressure, just you two.
“I guess you won’t want to hear about me cumming to a photo of you then,” you shrugged, stroking him continuously.
His eyes widened as he looked down at you, sweat covering his head, “Did you really?”
“Yes— That photo with your turtle neck… I was looking through my photos and found it in my favorites album,” you became focused on stroking, trying to ignore how wet you were, “You were so hot in it— I came twice just looking at it. Then the next day I came to that video you sent me of you jerking off a while back.”
“Jesus, you’re gonna kill me,” he moaned, which was motivation for you to slip your hand into your bikini bottoms, and subtly rub yourself while jacking him off. But when he looked down, the world was over for him, “Oh my god, you’re touching yourself.”
“It’s like there’s something wrong with me, Buck,” you moaned, removing your hand and shoving it into his mouth. He sucked all the juices of shamelessly, keeping your fingers in his mouth while he tasted you, “I’m always so wet. I cum, but it isn’t enough… I need you to fill me up, it’s the only thing that works.”
“Use me, take what you want— Fuck— I don’t care, just— Sit on my face or fuck me, please, just do whatever,” he moaned even though your hand was no longer touching him. Your words were enough to send him screaming.
“God, you are desperate,” you stared, straddling him and sitting on his bare dick. Your rubbed your clothed crotch on his exposed one, watching his mouth open, “You’re happy with whatever I give you, it’s sad. I could slap you and you’d probably thank me.”
He stayed quiet and grabbed your hips to encourage you to move more. There was something different about this time… You were in control. You had been very few times, but never so confidently, and it was driving him insane, “I could hump you for hours and you’d be okay with it, huh? You don’t even know what you want.”
“I want you to sit on my face,” he rebelled, ensuring you knew he knew exactly what he wanted.
You scoffed and put your hands on his shoulders. You dug your claws into them before moving them down and scratching hardly, watching red lines form as he moaned. You pressed your hands against his abs and pushed him down onto the bed to lay down.
He stared at you, no longer willing to make jokes. He watched you take your bikini bottoms off before shimming up and onto his abs. You stopped there and straddled his torso, humping his abs slowly, “I’ll let you taste me when I think you deserve it.”
“What did you drink?” He asked, swearing he could cum just watching you grind yourself on his abs, “Drink it more often cause you’re so fucking hot right now.”
“Shut up, I’m busy,” you moaned, grinding yourself on his abs and watching his eyebrows furrow, “I humped the pillow you’re laying on dozens of times while thinking of your cock filling me up— I even fucked myself with a dildo on it. Fuck, nothing makes me cum like you, it pisses me off.”
He moaned at the mere thought of it all, unsure if he could hold back any longer, “You can sit on my face on it too.”
You removed your body from his and moved up more, stopping as your crotch stood right over his face. He stared at your wetness, like a feral dog in training waiting for a treat… Waiting to get animalistic.
You decided to tease him a bit and put a finger inside of yourself, fingering yourself from only an inch above his eyes, “I bet those fingers don’t fill you like I do.”
“I’ll cum in front of your face and you can see how they get the job done, too,” you joked, moaning as you watched his hand go down to his own dick, jerking himself off.
“I can play this game too,” he moaned, stroking himself, “I could cum so fast just watching you… Fuck.”
Jealousy overwhelmed you as you removed your hand and sat down, holding back a bit of weight to let him breathe. He removed his hand from his own dick to push you off, making your eyebrows furrow in concern.
“Don’t do that stupid thing you do,” aggression leaked through his pores, “Sit on me— Like just… Put yourself on me. I want you to just stuff my mouth, not that stupid pussy shit where you pretend to be one pound. I don’t care about air, just sit.”
You chuckled before doing as he asked, sitting with all your weight. You groaned as he moaned right into your pussy, sending your back arching immediately. He moved his tongue so quickly you bent forward, gripping his hair and pulling it slightly. It was all overwhelming as you tested the waters, grinding yourself on his face and waiting to see if he’d ever ask for air.
But he didn’t.
Should you be concerned?
You lifted yourself up for a moment, watching him take a breath before shoving yourself on his face again, nearly coming at the sight of him being at your control. You grinded faster, using his face like a toy, “I can’t believe you want me to hump your face like a pillow— You’re so— Oh fuck.”
You couldn’t finish your sentence as you felt a knot in your stomach, a feeling which made you do the hardest thing you’d done in your entire life.
You lifted yourself up and got off of him.
He looked just as disappointed as his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, “I want to cum when you’re inside me.”
The disappointment faded into desire as he watched you straddle him again, this time putting your bare pussy on his dick, rubbing up and down, but not high enough to his tip, “You’re so wet.”
You kept grinding on the side of his cock, waiting for him to do something to earn him getting what you’ve both been waiting for, “Please let me fuck you— I’ll do anything, fuck— Please. This is so good, but I need to just be inside you, I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”
You took his begging as the final sign, taking it upon yourself to sit on his tip and slowly push down. You took your time, adjusting to what you’d spent too long without. When you were at the base, you moved your hips and circles, ignoring how stiff Bucky was. He was holding back, gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white, “Bucky— Fuck me. Please. I can’t take it anymore, it hurts, just fuck me.”
He grabbed your waist and flipped the two of you over so you now stood underneath him, staring at his face. He looked down at himself entering you, knowing with that sight and the feeling of you pulling his hair, he could cum in seconds.
He relentlessly pounded into you, doing what he spent weeks penting up and thinking about doing. He rammed himself into you like a hammer hitting a nail, making your body twitch as you whined loudly. Everyone was outside at the pool, and you had all the freedom to scream.
“You’re so fucking good for me, taking me like a good girl, look at you,” he gripped your waist tighter and fucked you harder, “You’ve corrupted me— I can’t fuck anyone else, not even myself. God, I wish I could fuck you all the time. In public, in private, in cars, in every room and closet I see— Fuck.”
“Bucky, I’m gonna cum,” you yelped, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, “Do it with me.”
“I’m not wearing a condom, not tonight, baby,” he said through grunts.
“I’m on the pill, cum inside me,” you moaned, telling him exactly what he needed to hear. He spent months cumming in a condom, and very occasionally on your stomach after fucking you, “Fill me up.”
“Oh my god, you’re gonna give me a heart attack,” he groaned loudly, meeting your volume as he pounded faster, “You’re milking me so good— I’ll cum inside you, I promise.”
You both moaned as you pulled him closer, the both of you grabbing each other while you felt the other release. It felt like it lasted minutes, taking longer to cool down as he peeled himself off of you to give you space.
You sat up slowly and looked down at the cum leaking out of you, which you felt curious about. You brought a finger to your entrance and picked up all the white cream around your hole and shoved inside of you. Thrusting a few times to ensure it was deep into you. You inhaled sharply at the feeling of both of your liquids mixing to become one.
You brought the finger to your mouth and licked it clean, looking over at Bucky, who’s eyes were wide.
“Bend over, we’re doing Round 2.”
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky x reader#bucky smut#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x fem!reader#needy!bucky#avengers#smut#dbf!bucky#dbf!bucky x reader
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oh love, i'm terrified
for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is terrifying'
rated t | 1,585 words | cw: negative self views | tags: falling in love, getting together, love confessions, sappy and fluffy
💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗
He thought he was being obvious.
He doesn't do this stuff for everyone else. He doesn't show up after work to hang out for no reason other than just wanting to be around the other person. He doesn't talk on the phone for three hours in the middle of the night to comfort the other person after nightmares. He doesn't fucking stargaze with anyone.
But with Eddie he does. Steve always goes out of his way for Eddie.
He knows why, and he feels like everyone can see it too: he loves him.
But somehow, Eddie doesn't see it, or chooses not to.
Even Dustin, oblivious to human emotion as anyone else Steve's ever met, pulled him aside after Hellfire one night --yes, he even attends Hellfire now-- to ask if he knew he was flirting with Eddie so much.
Robin and Nancy had called him out on two different occasions for touching him too much in public, but he hadn't even realized his hand had gone to his waist!
And Eddie still seemed clueless.
Or at least, most of the time he seemed clueless.
Sometimes, though, Steve could swear he looked at him in a specific way, a way that Steve would think is understanding and maybe even returned feelings. But he never said anything, never did anything out of the ordinary for Eddie.
Months of wondering what the hell he could do differently, months of being less and less subtle every day, months of showing how much he loved him without actually saying it.
All for Eddie to still be oblivious.
But not tonight,
Tonight, he was going to Eddie's to have dinner and watch a movie. Wayne was on a fishing trip with his buddies from work, and all the kids were at the same summer camp, probably torturing underpaid teenage counselors.
No interruptions were possible.
He could bring out all his moves, and if Eddie still didn't get it by the end of the night, maybe he could even use his words.
"Dinner's almost ready!" Eddie yelled from the kitchen as Steve let himself in. "I didn't burn anything!"
Steve rolled his eyes fondly. "Sounds like something someone who burnt dinner would say."
"I didn't! I mean one edge is a little crispy on the lasagna, but I think that's because our oven is older than Wayne. You think the government could've given us a better oven for my troubles, but apparently not," Eddie turned to Steve standing in the doorway. "You look...nice."
Steve always liked to look nice, but he'd decided to dress up a little bit tonight, try to make his intentions clear right from the start. His hair was done as usual, but he was wearing his khaki slacks instead of jeans and his nicest navy polo instead of the t-shirts he'd mostly been wearing outside of work. He even sprung for his watch that his dad gave him as a graduation gift. He hated to know how much money was wasted on it, but it did look nice.
"Thanks. You do too," Steve replied.
Eddie looked down at his own clothes and back up at Steve. "Dude, I'm wearing sweats and a t-shirt that has more holes than cloth. You don't have to lie."
"I'm not lying. You always look best when you're comfy," Steve shrugged. "Need help with anything?"
Eddie shook his head. "Not unless you wanna grab beers from the fridge. I forgot to get some this afternoon so they're just Wayne's PBRs, but a cold beer's a good beer, right?"
"Right," Steve agreed, walking to the fridge to grab the beers.
Dinner went as dinner usually does, except they actually sat at the table this time instead of the couch. Eddie seemed surprised when Steve set his things down in front of the chair he only sat in to keep Eddie company while he planned for campaigns, but just silently joined him.
They talked and joked, they made themselves laugh so hard beer almost came out of Eddie's nose. It was perfect.
After, Steve started working on the dishes, Eddie standing by the counter watching.
He was quiet, which was unusual, especially when no one else was around to fill the silence.
"Everything okay, Eds?" Steve asked as he scrubbed a particularly difficult area on a fork.
"What? Oh. Yeah."
Steve turned to look at him, suddenly worried when he saw Eddie's face turned down to the floor. This wasn't them. They'd just had a nice dinner, and now Eddie was being...shy?
Now was his chance. He could say it. Robin would be proud of him for finally just doing it.
Hell, he'd be proud of himself for doing it.
But something seemed wrong, and the last thing Steve wanted was to turn a good night bad because he couldn't reign in his feelings for a bit.
He wiped his hands on the towel by the sink and turned fully towards Eddie.
"What's wrong?"
Eddie shook his head once, then sighed. "I kind of feel like I've been wined and dined tonight. And that's ridiculous because you're just one of my best friends, and you're straight, and it's all been in my head for months, but-"
"Woah. Wait." Steve interrupted. "You've been noticing that for months? And you didn't say anything?"
"Well, no. I didn't wanna ruin our friendship because I can't handle my own hopes getting up." Eddie leaned away from Steve further. "I know you don't mean it that way. I don't want you to change anything."
"Eds-"
"And if you do want to, that's fine! Whatever would make you comfortable. I just have to say it's feeling very 'I have romantic feelings' for you territory and I know you don't so."
"Eddie."
"I'm also not good at that though. No one's ever shown interest in me other than one girl in high school who ended up moving away a week later so I didn't even have to break her heart."
Steve crashed his lips to Eddie's, half hoping it would shut him up, and half hoping he would somehow keep rambling. He kind of loved watching him ramble.
It did shut him up. Even when Steve pulled away, Eddie's silence was deafening.
"Sorry. I should've asked if I could first, but I don't think you would have even heard me. Was that okay?" Steve asked.
"Why did you do that?" Eddie sounded heartbroken.
That's not what Steve wanted at all.
"I wanted to. I have wanted to."
"No you don't."
This was not going the way Steve had hoped for. "How would you know I don't?"
"Because I'm me! I'm just the dude who gets the good weed, and says funny shit, and cooks dinner sometimes. I'm not a girl Steve Harrington falls in love with, or even takes on a date. I'm not the type you build a relationship and future with. I'm just the guy who gets to watch everyone else do that. I'm not good for that."
"What the hell do you mean?" Steve was angry now. Who had convinced Eddie he couldn't have good things, couldn't be loved or love someone, couldn't be important? "You're Eddie Munson. You saved us all from an evil wizard dude and nearly died doing it. You're the guy who makes me a sandwich when I come over for Hellfire even though there's strict no eating during the campaign rules because you know I've been working all day and need to eat. You turn all my bad days good, and make my life better just because you're you."
"Steve-"
"My turn." Steve crowded him against the counter, hands cupping his cheeks and eyes boring into Eddie's. "I need you to understand something. I've been trying to show how much I care about you, how much I love you, for months, and I've been thinking I've just been terrible at it. I thought I truly did lose all my charm. I've been pulling all my moves out for you. I was starting to think maybe you just were trying to ignore it all to let me down easy, but it isn't that. It's because you don't see how fucking amazing you are, isn't it?"
Eddie's eyes were shining with unshed tears.
"Because you are. You're incredible. Maybe the best person I've ever known other than Robin. I find excuses to be near you. I find reasons to talk to you. I didn't even have a nightmare the other night, I just wanted to hear your voice. I'm in love with you. Like, the real stupid, do anything for you even if it hurts me kind. And if you don't feel anything for me besides friendship, I'll leave right now and I'll do my best to get over it so we can be friends."
"And if I do?"
"If you do love me, then you should kiss me."
"I've never kissed anyone."
"That's not true. We kissed two minutes ago," Steve smirked, his heart racing in his chest.
"I'm scared," Eddie's whispered admittance nearly broke Steve's heart.
"Oh love, I'm terrified. Love is like that. But we've faced scarier things, haven't we?"
Eddie's soft lips against his own was the only answer he needed.
Love was terrifying, even for Steve, maybe especially for Steve, who was used to giving a lot more love than he received back. But as they kissed in Eddie's kitchen for seconds that turned to minutes, minutes that turned to hours, they got just a bit less scared.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#steddielovemonth#love is terrifying#falling in love#getting together#love confessions#idiots in love
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A Christmas Movie
Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x spider!Reader
Word Count: 5.4k exactly
Kink: Size Kink
Warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, swearing, size difference, fingering, multiple orgasms, creampie, love vomits, Miguel speaking Spanish…
A/N: This is a few hours late but I literally finished it five minutes ago. Miguel describes the reader as tiny a lot, but it is only meant in comparison to him, not as a physical description of the reader. Thank you!
Also A/N: This can be read as a sequel to this oneshot, but can also be read as a standalone. Thank you and enjoy!
“Is this necessary?”
You rub your side as you lay on the floor, an ache in your muscles as you get thrown to the hard floor again. Looking up at him, you move to stand. “Yes.”
Miguel crosses his arms over his chest, his gray hoodie loose enough not to allow you the pleasure of seeing his muscles bulging through the material. “Why?” he asks, waiting patiently for you to recover before he advances again.
You stretch your arms over your head, feeling your back pop with a heavy sigh. “Well, you saw my attempt just then. You threw me like a fucking ragdoll.”
He shrugs. “Are you ready?”
You sigh, shifting back into your starting stance.
“Firmer stance. I shouldn't be able to move you.”
You roll your eyes and scoff. “Of course you should. Have you seen yourself? You're huge…in more ways than one.” You smirk at him.
He just rolls his own eyes in return. “It should be harder to push you. If I can use my finger to make you fall, your stance is flimsy.”
“You can use your finger to make me fall apart any day.”
He ignores you. He walks over to you, ignoring your remarks as he fixes your stance. He nudges one leg further from the other, widening your feet before pressing down on your shoulders to lower you slightly. He shoves you, you stay standing.
“Better. Do that,” he says.
“You're so grumpy,” you mumble.
A chill rushes up your spine and your right cheek flutters with heat. Ducking, you narrowly miss Miguel's fist to your face. “Dude, what the fu–!”
You backflip, landing in a crouch as he went for another attack, this time aimed at your feet. “Always be on guard. I could have knocked you out,” he instructs, still coming toward you.
His webs shoot toward you, and you act quickly as you jump up once again. You flip before planting your feet off a wall and jumping off just as fast to fly over his head. Another web threatens to wrap around your body, you block it with your own web.
Miguel bounds after you. When you land, you shoot your webs at him one right after the other. He dodges them all, nearing you like a colossus. When he's close enough, you flip back again and spring off your hands. Your foot almost makes contact with his face, but he turns just in time to step out of the way, grabbing you midair and throwing you away.
You're about to fly into a wall when you manage to change your position enough to bounce off of it. He isn't fast enough to catch you this time. You hook your leg around his neck and manage to wrap them both there quickly. You squeeze your thighs tight around him. He reaches up to grab you, and you web his face to blind him.
Miguel's hands grip your body, but you tighten your legs around him and lean back with as much force as you can muster. You shoot webs to the floor, gripping them tight to add some strength as you manage to flip him forward. He lands hard on the floor, and you land in a perfect crouch.
He groans at the impact, moving to rip the webs from his face quickly to an attempt to stay on the attack. But while he's distracted, you web his hands to his face and web his foot to the floor, shooting a few extra for good measure.
He rips the webs on his hands almost too easily, breaking free from the restraints. In one swipe, his foot is free. He comes for you immediately, pouncing at a surprising speed.
You roll onto your back, propping your knees to your chest. You manage to maneuver him so he flies past you. He rolls to avoid another hard hit to the floor.
The chill in your spine is just a second too late. His webs shoot at you. You lose your balance as you try to stand, and you fall back in the middle of turning to face him. In the next second, he's on top of you, a hand around your throat and your hands pinned above your head.
His face is inches from your own, his breath heavy and his eyes are nearly glowing red with exertion. “What were you waiting for?” His voice is insistent and rough, high on adrenaline.
A shiver blossoms through you, a rush of pleasantness prickling your skin. Your breath is shallow and quick. As you stare up at him, wide-eyed and also on an adrenaline rush, you smirk. “Do we always end up like this?”
He tilts his head, confusion finding its way to his face. Then he remembers. You're in the training hall, this is just practice, and you're you.
He rolls his eyes, and the adrenaline seems to fade. He doesn't get up. “You're smaller than me, which makes you faster. You can't let down your guard, and you can't slow down for any reason.”
You huff. “Okay, but that kick thing was impressive.”
He stares at you, debating. Then he shrugs, “Wasn't bad.”
Again, you roll your eyes. “Get off me. You're heavy.”
He does, moving to stand and give you room to do the same. “Okay,” you stretch. “Let's go again.”
“No. Go home.”
You straighten your spine immediately, surprise taking your face. “What? No!”
He peels his hoodie off, leaving his top bare as he walks over to the shelf of towels. “Yes. Go.”
You run over to him, blocking his way. “We don't have to train, you know. We could…” You pause to think, clapping when you have it. “We could watch the surveillance systems! I love the surveillance systems!”
He raises a brow, walking past you. You walk with him. “You hate the surveillance systems.”
You pause. “I do hate them. But you'll be there anyway.”
He stops, looking down at you, unamused. He brings his hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Go home,” he says, looking at you now. “It’s Christmas. You should be…” he thinks for a moment, “out spending time with friends. Not here…looking at surveillance with me.”
You shrug. “Okay, then we can do something else together.”
“Isn’t there some Christmas party for you to go to?” He starts walking. You follow at his side, shrugging again as you nod your head.
“Hobie’s throwing one in his dimension, yeah,” you mumble. “But I’m not there. I’m here.”
He stops again, turning his full body to face you with a raised brow. “Why are you here? Why don’t you just go home?”
You look up at him, swallowing thickly as your gaze slips from his. You sigh, letting the silence stretch a moment too long as you come to terms with saying it. “I have no one waiting for me at home.” Miguel’s stare softens, becoming a little more sympathetic as he processes your words. “And, like you said, it’s Christmas. No one should be alone on Christmas.”
He looks at you again. With a sigh, he shakes his head gently. “You’re too nice to me.”
You smile, accepting his defeat. “I know. Go get your shower. I’ll see you after.”
One day, he'll tell you.
~
Miguel’s shirt swallows you whole as you pull it over your head. It’s huge and gray, and it hangs at your knees , sagging off your shoulder. Your fuzzy socks are pulled up to your mid-leg, silencing your steps as you walk to the side table.
Miguel’s room in HQ is small, almost like a mediocre hotel room—the tiny room with a single bed and drawer (minus the TV) that nearly takes up the whole space, a tiny closet, a tiny bathroom, and a tiny living room with an okay-sofa and a TV. He has a small area for a coffee maker, a fridge, a cabinet, and a microwave, but that’s as much of a kitchen he has. A mediocre hotel room. He has a house, but he doesn’t go there often.
He comes out of the bathroom, steam rising from his shoulders as his white towel hangs low on his waist, He’s still dripping with water, tiny droplets from strands of hair, little tears streaming down his skin. He’s beautiful. You look away from him.
You pick up two DVDs from the side table, turning the cases over in your hands to examine the front. “Okay, so I got these from Movie-Verse.”
“Movie-Verse,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair as his broad body stands in front of his dresser. He opens the third drawer and grabs the first pair of shorts he sees.
“Yeah, the movie store next to the cafeteria. Has a ton of movies from all the ‘verses.” You wave a hand dismissively, setting one of the cases down and taking the other in both hands. “Anyway, I picked this up. It’s called The Nightmare Before Christmas by some guy named Tim Burton.” You use a mysterious voice when you say the title, stretching the drama. “I think it would be cool.”
He finishes patting dry the water from his skin, tossing the towel onto the bed to pull his shorts on. “Sounds like a Halloween movie.” His tone is flat. He seems almost bored, his face dropped into that grumpy expression he’s taken on.
“Well, yeah,” you shrug, “but it says Christmas on it. Look.”
You toss the case to him. He catches it in one hand effortlessly, his gaze fixed on the drawer he was closing. He examines the front. “There’s a skeleton on it.”
“Doesn’t matter,” you matter-of-factly. “Put it in. We’re watching it.” He does as he’s told. You go to his little kitchenette and pull open the fridge. “Do you like eggnog?”
He’s retrieved his towel once more, rubbing it over his wet hair. His muscles flex with every little movement. Part of you wants to make a sly comment, but you refrain.
“No.”
“Yeah. Me, neither,” you hum. You close the fridge, pulling open the cabinet to retrieve two glasses he has stowed away (one that had already been in his cabinet and one you’d put there for yourself months ago). “I just got wine and hot cocoa.”
He practically grunts as a reply. He sounds uninterested, unimpressed. Your pep sours, and you feel yourself physically deflate as you try and fail to brush off his seeming apathy. You set the glasses down with a gentle click and fidget with the fabric of the oversized shirt.
Your voice is small when you speak, almost embarrassed. “Do you want me to leave?”
He looks up at you then, directing his attention. His brows furrow as he holds the remote in his hand, which dwarfs the “tiny” device. “What?”
You shuffle from one foot to the other, feeling awkward. “I can go if you want… Hobie has that Christmas party, like I said, and… I can just go there if you don’t want me here.” The last part comes out choppy, your lips unwilling to form the words, your mouth reluctant to speak it.
There’s a long pause as he stares at you. His furrowed brows soften, and he takes in the sight of you. You’re wearing his shirt, and it looks huge on you. He can see the outline of your soft panties through the material of it. You’ve got on fuzzy socks, long ones that cover most of your leg and your hair is set free.
You look shy. It’s something he doesn’t see often. You relish in dirty jokes and confident suggestiveness. You’re sarcastic, and you thrive on the sass you hand to him. Even during the times where he has your body in his hands, off on another rendezvous to release stress—his and yours—you still hold that glint of mischief and wit.
You look sad. You look sad and small, and he hates himself for making you look that way.
Miguel’s shoulders fall. He turns his body to face you, taking naturally large steps to stand in front of you. You have to crane your neck just to look up at him, but your disheartedness only allows you to reach his chest before giving up.
He raises a hand to your chin and lifts it just a little more so you can see his face, which he tilts down this time to better view you. He sighs and speaks softly, earnestly. “I want you here.”
You blink once, searching his face as your gaze shifts between his plump lips and his russet brown eyes. “Are you sure?”
He leans forward slowly, giving you time (partially because it’s quite the journey) before gently pressing his lips to yours. It’s far too gentle and far too sweet, but you relish it anyway. They’re gone just as quickly as they came as he pulls away just enough to break the kiss.
“I’m sure,” he says.It almost sounds pleading when he says, “Stay.”
His eyes examine your face for another couple of seconds before he steps away from you, lets his hands fall back down to his side. “I have a blanket you can use.”
You breathe a tiny chuckle out of your nose, effectively reassured by his warm and gentle plea. “Is it big?” you smile, considering his offer.
He shrugs a shoulder, beginning to turn on his heel when he shoots a rare smile at you over that same shoulder. “For you.”
It makes you giddy, your courage slowly returning. “I’m not that small.”
His back turned to you, he continues. “You’re right. You’re smaller.”
You roll your eyes at him, turning toward the counter again. You unscrew the wine bottle to begin pouring. You shake your head as you chuckle a little. “Oh, fuck off.”
He opens his tiny closet and pulls out a cream colored blanket (basically a thin duvet). He picks the remote up again, sitting on the sofa with his legs spread wide. He makes the couch look tiny. “You look even smaller in that. Mujer pequeña.”
You move into a pose, pretending to be sexy. “You like?” You wink comically at him.
He licks his bottom lip. “Are you going to sit?”he asks, avoiding the question.
You giggle to yourself, pouring the dark wine. “You love.” You carry the glasses to the sofa.
He's already started the movie, not that you mind. The music starts, the billowing of wind whistling in the background to set a spooky tone.
“The first song is literally saying it's Halloween,” he comments, lifting his hand from his lap, your feet kicking up and resting on his lap as you pass him his glass. He takes it and spreads open the blanket.
“Ugh,” you roll your eyes, “you make me sick.”
He lifts the glass to his lips. “You chose it.” He takes a sip from his glass, resting his hand on your ankle as his thumb strokes the skin over it.
You both sit and watch the movie in silence. You tuck the blanket closer. You sip tentatively at your cup as you direct your gaze at the screen. You miss the way Miguel's eyes linger on you, his gaze tracing the features of your face: the length of your nose, the curve of your lips. He memorizes the details of your face before he realizes he's been staring too long. He looks away.
Another little while passes of being hyperaware of you before he glances over again, noticing your glass go to your lips as you take a sip. He sighs silently. “Come here.”
You look at him, humming. He waves his hand invitingly, You move the blanket, setting your glass on the table. You sit next to him, snuggling into his side. He reaches over your body as his hand lands on your hip.
Miguel lifts you, pulling your body over his lap to straddle him. Your hands fall to his shoulders. He shows his affection the only way he knows how. He kisses you.
You hum lightly, pulling away from his lips and dipping your head, looking down at his chest instead of his eyes. You smile to cover your discontent as you lower your hands to his waist. “Is this why you wanted me to stay?”
His knuckles trace your cheek. “I want you to stay because, surprisingly, I enjoy your company,” he jokes.
You chuckle half-heartedly. “I'm like that.”
There's more quiet in the next pause as his eyes look over your face. “Why did you want to stay so bad?”
You look at him, biting your lower lip. “I told you.”
He rolls his eyes, chuckling lightly as his hands stroke your thighs, over the curve of your ass. “Yeah, ‘no one should be alone on Christmas’. But, like you said, Hobie’s got his party. You have plenty of friends there.” He glances over your face. “Why aren't you?”
You lick your lip, turning your head away. Another song plays quietly in the background, the sound of sleigh bells and horns and clarinets creating a holiday symphony behind you. You wanna gloat. “Ha, I was right. It is a Christmas movie.”
You sigh gently, the tips of your ears hot and the pit of your stomach fluttering.
“I don't want you to be alone.”
He takes a breath in, inclining his head just a bit as he considers your response. His eyes flutter as he stares at your face, seemingly entranced. You look back at him, unflinching.
“You're too nice to me.”
You smile. “I know.”
“You deserve better than me.”
Your eyes flutter at that and your heart stops beating for half a second. You're warm, and you laugh as you speak, “What's that mean?”
He glances away as he sighs, looking back at you with an expression that's almost pained. His heart is heavy in his chest, and he holds his breath a little when you lift your hands back to his shoulders.
“Don't make me say it,” he almost whispers, his eyes pleading. “Please don't make me say it.”
You hesitate, staring at him as your heart hammers against your chest. Your breath is thin. “Say what?”
“Corazón… I–” he breathes in, his voice reluctant, “–haven't said this in a long time.”
You move your hands from his shoulders to cup his face, making him look at you and taking away his option to turn the other way. If he's going to say it, you need to hear it. You need to be sure. “Said what, Miguel?”
He breathes, staring into your eyes and softening.
Tonight, he'll tell you.
“I'm in love with you.”
Silence strikes the room. The movie plays in the background, long forgotten in both your minds as the quiet and the tension drones on. Your skin prickles, your brain is fuzzy, your mouth is slightly agape.
Miguel stares at you, you do not blink. You stare at Miguel, he does not blink. The silence stretches. He's desperate.
“Please say something.”
“I love you.”
His heart pounds at the confession, but he doesn't believe it. This kind of thing doesn't happen. “N–”
“No. I love you, Miguel,” you promise, leaning closer to his face and holding him a little tighter. “I'm in love with you.”
His mouth crashes down upon yours, a clash of lips and teeth and tenderness and insistence. You moan lightly into his mouth, standing on your knees just enough to get some height on him as you kiss him back just as eagerly as he. Fire burns in your belly, in your face, licking at your flesh. Your hands tangle in his hair and fuel it.
He begins to turn you to lay you on the couch. You press on his chest, encouraging him back so he's on his own instead. His hands fall to your thighs as you straddle his waist, his shorts and your panties the only thing separating the two of you. You bend down against his body to continue kissing him with everything you have.
Miguel whispers your name against your lips, moreso when your hips grind against him. His hands smooth along your skin, dipping under his huge shirt on you to feel your waist with his gentle but insistent touch. Your hands roam his chest, feeling his soft skin over his hard muscles, enchanted by the way he feels under you. He relishes in your touch, hypnotized.
“Your hands are so small,” he mutters, his fingers lightly digging into your sides.
You chuckle lightly, losing your breath as you speak. “You’re just big.”
He smiles against your lips, his hands on your hips moving you slowly up and down on top of him. But, like you said, he’s big. Your hips grind over his belly, but the movement alone is enough to make you moan. You sigh heavily against his lips, pulling back just enough to speak as your brows knit together.
“Miguel,” you breathe. “I need you.”
He nods, reaching a hand to the back of your head to encourage you into another kiss. “I know, baby, I know,” he whispers. He opens his eyes to see you, and he loses his breath at the sight of you: disheveled with desire for him. You open your eyes to look at him, and he can see the way you gaze at him, like he’s everything to you.
His hand slips from your waist, down the length of your body until he’s dipping it between your legs. You bite your bottom lip as you moan at the way his fingers graze the thin fabric covering your pussy. Your whole body shudders at the feeling, and he just watches you react to him.
He rubs his finger teasingly over you, feeling as you slowly become more and more wet as he does. You grind your hips into his hand, eager to feel him. “You want my fingers in you, baby?” he says, his voice low and rough. “You want ‘em to stretch out this little pussy for my cock?”
“Please,” you mewl.
He's weak as he dips his finger underneath your panties and slips it past your folds, working it into you as he watches your lips part at the sensation. You grind against his hand, seeking more of him as his thick finger slowly moves in and out of your warmth. When you're slicked up enough, he slips another one inside. And then a third.
His fingers thrust in and out of you, slowly building in speed as he seeks out your delicious moans, the way your eyes flutter and your tongue darts out to lick your chapped lips.
“So pretty,” he mutters. “Your little moans sound so pretty, querida. I love them.”
You breathe soundly, squeezing around his thick fingers as he curls them inside of you. “Fuck, Miguel,” you moan. “Mm, keep going.”
He does, spreading you open with his fingers as he gets you nice and slick for him. His cock is painfully hard now, restrained by his shorts as it tents them. He feels like he'll explode just watching you. As you continue to grind your hips down on his hand, he shifts his thumb over your clit and begins to rub circles over it. “Mírate. See how beautiful you are, mi pequeña cosa?”
Your breath blows heavily through parted lips. His words play over and over in your head. “I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you.” You moan and hold the sides of his face, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks as the pleasure rises within you.
“‘M gonna cum,” you shudder, your pussy clenching around his fingers.
He curls his fingers some more, massaging them inside of you against that spongy spot he knows you adore. “Cum for me, chiquita.”
You do, mouth parting and eyes squeezing as the wave of pleasure washes over you. He feels you tighten and untighten around his fingers, encouraging your spasms by pumping them through it. You moan his name, slowly coming down from the pleasure as your hips jerk at the feeling of his fingers.
He pulls them out of you, bringing you down into another kiss as his lips slide against yours. “You did so good for me,” he sighs, leaning into you as you hum against him.
You pull at his shorts, pushing them down his thick thighs to get them off him. He actually helps you, kicking them off and leaving him bare as you continue to straddle him with his shirt draping low on your body.
You go to take it off, but he stops you, his hand on yours. “No,” he says. “You look perfect in it.”
He set his hands on your hips once more, raising you to hover over his cock. He stops, waiting for you. You want to kiss him again, biting your lip roughly as you whisper. “Please.” You stroke his face, “I need you.”
He’s weak. He can do nothing but comply as he lines you up with him, letting you down just enough to squeeze the head of him inside you. You moan, closing your eyes at the feeling as he holds you steady with a grunt. It’s you who lets him sink deeper inside, grinding your hips against his cock as you make him lower you.
He stretches you out, a delicious stretch you could never grow used to as you moan all the way down. When he’s buried to the hilt with you sitting properly above him, he groans. “Fuck, I love this little pussy,” he grunts. “You always take me so well.”
You huff, catching your breath as you roll your hips slightly, shuddering at the pleasure. “So big,” you mutter, gripping his hips as you give yourself another moment to get used to his size before rolling your hips again. The feeling is electric, sets off a deep hunger in your belly that has you grinding down on him so desperately.
“You like that?” he breathes. “‘Course you do. My tiny girl loves it when I stretch her out like this.”
You roll your hips over him, moaning as his cock presses deep inside of you. His hands slip underneath your shirt, feeling your waist as he helps you grind down on him. Your rhythm is slow and measured, feeling everything. Every little roll, every little squeeze, every little ridge of his cock dragging against your walls.
“Fuck, you’re so big,” you moan again, relishing in him.
He smiles, continuing to watch as you fall apart on top of him. You feel him sit up, one of his hands wrapping tightly around your waist. You open your eyes to look at him, whimpering when he slips his cock out of you.
“Shh,” he says, flipping you onto your back as his massive body towers over you, his size that of a predator but the gentleness of his touch and the care in his eyes that of a man who loves a woman. “I’m gonna take care of you, mi corazón.”
His eyes stay glued to yours when he thrusts back in. Both your moans rumble in your throats as you watch each other. He rocks his hips back and forth inside you, thrusting so deep and pulling out so far before doing it all over again.
He holds onto your tight as he fills you with his cock, so wrapped up in you as you moan and squeeze around him. The pace, still slow, picks up as he thrusts deep within you, grinding against the deepest part of you with a groan in the back of his throat.
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you bury your face in his chest. “Fuck, that’s good,” you whisper.
He manages to kiss your forehead, his hand slipping underneath you to encourage his steady rhythm as you continue to clench. His other hand finds your clit, rubbing slow circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves as he builds you up for another orgasm.
You tense, your walls fluttering around him at the feeling of his thumb on your clit. He grunts at the feeling of it, ready to fall apart as he watches you. “I love you, mi amor.” You shudder at the words. “I love your little body. I love your little smile. I love your little eyes. I love your stupid little jokes and the way…the way you care about me too much.”
You cradle his face in your hands, melting at his confessions. “I love you,” he says again, his voice spent and his breath speeding up as you squeeze around his cock and moan his name like a spell.
“Miguel, I…” you moan, the pleasure building into a knot in your stomach as you get ready to explode. You breathe in and you keep breathing in as he presses a little harder on your clit, circles a little harder as you clench him so tight.
Your eyes shut and your lips part as you come, moaning loudly as the ecstasy washes over you like a crashing wave. You roll your hips up into the pleasure, whimpering when he presses himself as deeply inside of you as he can go, grinding and intensifying every little feeling.
Miguel almost collapses on top of you when he cums, dropping his head down and grunting with a heavy breath as he spills inside of you, nearly fucking into you as he does. He moans something under his breath, all his muscles tensing as he keeps pumping his cock into you. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in closer.
It’s a while before you both come down, catching your breaths as the pleasure wanes and leaves a pleasant buzz in your bones. He pulls out of you, and you whimper at the sudden emptiness.
He sits up to pull some of his weight off you, though you keep him down by his waist to feel his body still looming over you. He brushes his fingers over your forehead, your heavy eyelids fluttering open.
“Fuck,” you sigh, looking up at him with a sticky smile. You readjust yourself so you can see his face better, taking it in your hands and pulling him down to kiss his lips. The kiss is soft, a gentle embrace as you take your time to pour your care into it.
“I love you, too,” you whisper back at him, kissing him again and then whispering it once more. He smiles. It’s a slow and small smile that spreads over his lips. For a moment, he forgets about all the fears and pains and dangers of love and just thinks about you. How much he loves you. He kisses you again.
“And I was fuckin’ right,” you smile, a gentle chuckle in your chest.
He hums. “About?”
“It is a fuckin’ Christmas movie.”
It takes him a moment to realize what you were talking about. It’s just then when he remembers the movie still playing in the background, another slow song in the background from the one girl that was meant to be a play on Frankenstein’s monster. He doesn’t remember her name, he wasn’t paying much attention.
He laughs. It isn’t a small laugh either. He throws his head and closes his eyes as a loud, booming laugh erupts from his chest and fills the room. It’s so genuine and so electric, you can’t help your own as you join his excitement.
You both laugh for a while, calming down enough for him to kiss you again and say, “You are right.” He takes a breath, staring down at you with a wide smile. “It is a fuckin’ Christmas movie.”
You giggle again, sighing deeply as you pull his weight down on top of you (though he still holds most of it to keep from crushing your tiny body). You hum, speaking in a quiet whisper. “I love you.”
Miguel wraps you in his arms and turns you both around so you’re laying on top of him. He pulls the blanket from where it had fallen on the floor and spreads it over your body, slipping his hand under your shirt so he touches your bare back.
“Merry Christmas,” he mutters, letting out a slow breath. “I love you.”
Oscar Isaac taglist: @loki-hargreeves @hb8301 @tessarqctt @fanreader @alexxavicry @gublur @katsukis1wife @hatterripper31 @papichulo120627 @anotherblackreader @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @minigirl87 @woahhajime @notzammm
Tag yourself here…
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x reader smut#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara fanfic#miguel o'hara fanfiction#atsv miguel#across the spiderverse#across the spiderverse fanfiction#fanfic#fanfiction#reader insert#female reader#10 days of smutmas
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Slashers and Hanahaki Disease
[SFW + No Gendered Terms]
Hanahaki Disease: A fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies.
Characters: Poly!Ghostface(Billy Loomis, Stu Macher), PreMichael!Corey Cunningham, Hannibal Lecter(TV Ver.), Jason Voorhees, RZ!Michael Myers
General Warnings: Mainly fluffy w/ happy endings, Mentions of death, Mentions of vomiting/gagging
A/N: Half the listed characters will have Hanahaki disease while the other half the reader has Hanahaki disease. Some other notes, I sped up how quickly Hanahaki affects people to a few weeks at max and included what type of flower I think would best fit in these situations :) Most are related to heartbreak, loss, death/rebirth, unrequited love.
Poly!Ghostface - Billy Loomis and Stu Macher
Flower Type: Purple Hyacinth
You had taken some days off of class, feeling too sick to go. Your parents didn’t believe you but you looked the definition of ill.
And heartbreak was just the cherry on top for you. Whether you had feelings for Billy or for Stu was already confusing but on top of that, you felt like you weren’t either of their types.
You had seen the people they went out with over the years and you were just never like them. Your own love life was failure after failure but it's not like they were offering themselves up in their place.
You were just the bestfriend in your mind. That’s all. And soon enough, violet petals were being thrown up into the toilet bowl every few hours and you could feel your lungs filling, getting hard to breathe over time.
Both Billy and Stu thought it was weird you skipped class. You’d at least give a heads up beforehand. Billy was more worried than Stu was.
He visited through your window at night to check in on you just to catch you in a pile of violet flowers across your bed covers while you laid there, casually watching a movie while you occasionally coughed some more up.
“What the fuck is that? Are you okay? Me and Stu thought you up and died.”
Looking over, you gave a weak smile in response. “Feels like I am.”
Soon you heard some clanging from the window Billy came in from and found Stu stumbling in, nearly knocking some things down before he hopped back up.
Stu gave a goofy smile as he held up some bottles before Billy looked at him with unamused eyes and snatched the bottles out of his hands as if to say, “Not now.”
Sitting down with you, asking what was wrong. You tried to explain but it sounded so silly. Throwing up flowers? And for seemingly no reason.
“Well… There’s diseases that are caused by stress? You think it’s something like that? Come on. You’ve been acting like shit for the past few weeks.”
You sat there between them and could think of one main thing but… How stupid that sounded. You didn’t want to say it.
Stu shook your shoulders playfully before getting smacked in the back of the head by Billy. “Come on! Tell us! What’s so embarrassing~?”
You sighed and reluctantly explained. You had a crush on them—your bestfriends—and you were definitely not their type. You were completely embarrassed, covering your mouth as you coughed up a few more violet petals.
Billy and Stu stared at each other after you said that, as if silently communicating to one another. Billy slowly smirked while Stu started laughing and wrapped his arms around you from the side.
“Seriously?! Holy shit, dude! You seriously haven’t noticed we were totally into you too?!”
You couldn’t even process what Stu said with how tight he squeezed you with his hug. By the time you finally noticed, you were once again distracted when you felt two different hands holding your jaw as Billy leaned in from one side while Stu leaned in the other and kissed your cheeks.
“ We’ve been into you forever…” Those small words felt like they made room within your lungs again.
PreMichael!Corey Cunningham
Flower Type: Red Salvia
Corey had met you in passing and you didn’t mind becoming friends with him. He was an awkward nerd and it was a trait you found charming to be friends with.
But to Corey, it was hell when he discovered the petals that soon formed and flew out of his mouth.
He had developed a crush on you immediately when he met you. You were simultaneously his heaven and hell. Someone so nice to him and yet the reason he found it harder and harder to breathe.
He avoided you for a week or so. He was so used to self-isolating himself when something went wrong. Deal with it himself as he always did.
Corey figured it was connected to you. It started the day after he felt those feelings rise in him. To make sure, he visited the doctor’s and found the term: Hanahaki Disease. And it was because of you.
He didn’t want to say anything about it. His fate was sealed in his eyes. But… maybe?
He decided to send a text to meet up. Better to talk about it in person even if it made him nervous to.
“Hey… I- I really didn’t want to y’know bother you or anything-“ “Corey, you don’t bother me. It’s alright. What is it?”
Corey shyly looked down and smiled to himself. God, it hurt to think that you wouldn’t like him. You were so perfect for him.
“I know this is gonna sound weird and if I'm honest I thought it was weird too. I-I’m… dying. From uh… Not having requited love...” As if on queue, he coughed, revealing red petals flying out of his mouth to the ground.
You were obviously immediately worried. To hear such heavy words from Corey made your heart drop. You had to ask who. Maybe he could still convince them to share the same feelings.
Corey scratched the back of his head, looking away. He didn’t want to say it. Especially since he didn’t want to leave you with the news that it was because of you that he had an expiration date coming soon.
“It’s… you. It’s always been you.”
A few whole Red Salvia flowers came out of his mouth after the confession. He grew increasingly embarrassed, wanting to take back his words already. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Just let his life take its course and end quick without you knowing.
But then, those moments of silence were interrupted by you approaching and placing a gentle kiss on his lips. His lips were slightly chapped from nerves and his overthinking made him think he should’ve done something about them sooner but he was more focused on how soft you felt. His heart swelled at the touch while his hands went to your cheeks, deepening the kiss further out of pure need.
Hannibal Lecter
Flower Type: Red Spider Lily
Hannibal was not one to ever be sick. It rarely happened, if ever. He took care of his health perfectly.
When he started to feel himself grow ill, he immediately knew something was wrong. Coughing was one thing but it was a completely different thing to find himself feeling the urge to vomit and finding flowers fly out of his mouth.
Staring at the red flowers in the toilet bowl, he already knew it wasn’t something normal. In fact, he already knew what it was.
The knowledgeable man he was, Hanahaki was a term that came to mind but with a sense of confusion.
He didn’t necessarily care for people like others did. His “care” for other people was a mask of feigned empathy. Not real.
But if he had this disease, something was different. And it was love of all things? It complicated everything.
There was only one person that came to mind that could possibly fit the supposed feeling he felt: You. His patient.
He kept it hidden still. Suffering in silence because falling in love was not something he was interested in. It would cloud his emotions.
And yet, he began asking about your love life during your sessions. Previous relationships, expectations of love, etc. A collection of information to mold himself into what you wanted.
He invited you over for dinners more and presented you with flowers each session. Each bouquet with meaning and cleanly composed together.
You were his muse. The focus of his musical compositions and the focus of his sketches when he had free time.
His eyes even sparkled softly toward you sometimes if you looked close enough.
But Hannibal knew his days were numbered and he had to say something before the flowers filled his lungs and killed him.
Eventually, he couldn’t take it. His vomiting became more frequent and he could feel how difficult it was to breathe.
After one of your dinners with him and he was walking you to the door, he stopped you. Taking your chin between his fingers, he gently tilted your face to look at him.
“My dear… Please indulge me in my desire for you. It’s grown insatiable.”
He started to lean in toward your lips. He’d memorized the shape a thousand times over through his sketches by now. Each quick line put to paper was a written wish to feel them on his own. “I’ll grow mad without knowing what you taste like.”
His eyes met yours when he was centimeters away from your lips, breath mixing into one another’s. “Tell me you wish the same.”
His eyes looked to you with a slight desperation to them. Once he received the confirmation, that soft whisper of a “Yes…”, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours and felt like life had been breathed into him.
Jason Voorhees
Flower Type: Lily of the Valley
Jason hadn't thought about romance much in his life, not thinking he'd be fortunate to experience it. He thought he had a face only his mother could love after all.
Finding you, you were never mean to him. If anything, you were solely kind to him and he was happy at the treatment.
Then worry set in when he noticed you weren't coming to the cabin as often. You usually visited and left some meals for him and candles to dedicate to his mother.
He worried heavily. Jason automatically believed he was in the wrong. Maybe he had scared you or had done something wrong. He was never good at social cues or interacting with people.
He sat there, waiting for you to come back. You wouldn't completely leave right? Or maybe something happened to you? What if you were dead?
Jason could only find his worries settled when he heard footsteps and saw you again. He immediately rushed out and hugged you.
He signed, "Where have you been?? I was so worried!"
Jason noticed you seemed paler than normal and you looked exhausted. "Are you okay? Are you sick?"
He didn't know how to take care of someone who was sick. His mother always took care of him. But he was willing to try.
"I... Yeah. I'm sick, Jason. I've been sick for a week or so now. Vomiting and all."
You couldn't see his expression but he was certainly concerned. He placed a hand on your shoulder. "I'll take care of you."
Whether you wanted to or not, Jason was already dragging you inside and sitting you down. He didn't know how to help, only that he wanted to help.
That's when you coughed and small white petals flew out of your mouth and into your lap. Jason tilted his head at that. Flowers? He had never heard of someone coughing up flowers before.
Jason forcibly kept you in the cabin until you could get better. You were his only friend. The only one who treated him like a person. He didn't want to lose that.
Few days pass and nothing. Petals had become full flowers with stems needing to be yanked out. You gagged each time you had to rip out the flower by its stem.
You thought you might die. A sickness you had never heard of along with it getting quickly worse? You couldn't help but recognize where this was going.
You laid beside Jason at night. He was attached to the hip with you in your stay. You figured now was a better time than never saying it at all.
You took his hand into yours, something that made Jason give you his full attention. "Jason. I just wanted you to know that... I love you. I need you to know that."
Jason could feel his heart jolt at that confession. It was said in a more sad tone than a happy one but all the same, it was the words said that mattered. "Do you mean it? Are you sure?"
Nodding your head with a weak smile, you placed a kiss on the cheek of his mask. Jason could feel his face heat up at that. No one had ever treated him like that before.
He grabbed your hands, maybe a bit too strong in his grasp, as he signed rapidly in excitement. "I love you too. You're the only one who likes me. I want you to stay. Please."
You felt slight pain in your lungs as the stems that had begun taking root in them slowly retracted and dissipated. He was your cure.
RZ!Michael Myers
Flower Type: White Rose
Michael had inhabited your home for some time. He needed a home base to return to when he wasn’t stalking for victims.
You couldn’t say much against it, fearing you’d be next. And he wasn’t the worst guest?
Besides blood needing to be cleaned, he was silent. You could barely even notice him there if it wasn’t for his giant size.
Over time, you noticed how he grew closer to you. Literally. He loomed over you while you cooked or cleaned. You’d get jumpscared by how you’d turn a corner and see him standing there. He also started preventing you from leaving if he was there.
Michael would stand in front of the door, staring you down until you understood to stay home. Seeing you listen, he gave the most affection he’d ever show: patting your head.
And you grew an odd attachment to him. You’d worry if he was out for too long and worried if he ever came back injured.
You two were attached. In what way, you couldn’t answer that question but you didn’t mind being close to him. Even if he never showed affection or attachment, you knew he felt something. Otherwise, you would’ve been dead already.
Michael never spoke nor gave indication of what he was feeling ever. You could only ever notice the extremes. And when you noticed Michael in his room for longer than normal, you wanted to help even if he always pushed you away.
You knocked but no answer. Knocked twice and still nothing. You took that as a “no entry” and sadly turned away.
Right as you did, the door opened and Michael looked to you with his same deadpan stare you always knew. His hands littered with white rose petals. You didn’t understand until he coughed again, more petals coming out.
You didn’t know how to react to it other than to grow concerned. His hands dropped the petals and grabbed your shoulders, squeezing them. His eyes looked to you and for the first time, there was a slight hint of fear there.
It was odd to see such a large man who had survived hell and back to show fear now. You guided him to the couch, wanting him to feel comfortable.
You grabbed his hand, forgetting how he was a murderer, forgetting how his hands were responsible for the deaths of so many. “Michael…”
He exhaled in response, looking at you through the strands of hair covering his face. He forcibly grabbed your hand, pulling you to him. Ending up in his lap, he held onto you, still silently staring. He buried his head in your chest, squeezing you tight. He didn’t want to let go.
You let your arms hold him to you, caressing the back of his head. You placed a small kiss to the top of his head.
“Michael… It’s okay. I’m here.”
Michael couldn’t take finally having an affectionate touch after so long. Restraint was something he never knew and letting himself have an ounce of it was like opening Pandora’s box. He pulled away and slammed his lips into yours. He pushed you down on the couch, placing his hands on either side of your face, trapping you there.
And yet, you didn’t deny him. You matched his desperate, sloppy kiss. And Michael could feel the air in his lungs return only to be immediately used from his kissing and grunting. And you knew where this was going when you felt his slight runting against your leg.
⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune
#slasher fucker#slasher headcanons#slasher x reader#slashers x reader#slashers#slashers headcanons#michael myers x y/n#michael myers x reader#rz michael myers#ghostface x reader#ghostface x you#billy loomis x reader#stu matcher x you#stu macher x reader#jason voorhes x reader#jason voorhees x reader#hannibal lecter x reader#corey cunningham x reader
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hi !! could u write tyler x fem reader where they are dating, and instead of tyler being impaled by a tree it’s his girlfriend ! thank u
── 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!
{[TYLER HERNANDEZ X FEM! READER]}
: ̗̀➛Back to Source
Your breath was staggered, twitching every few seconds or so. Trying your best to keep your eyes open, which proved to be a tricky task.
‘I wonder if I’ll die in the real world.’ Your thoughts spoke loudly, too loudly for your own liking. Why was it so quiet anyways?
Have the other’s drove off?
Will you ever see your friends again?
Will you ever see Tyler again?
I hope they’re safe from that… thing…
…
Is this how you die?
Thoughts like these consumed your mind. Y/n let out a defeated grunt, as she tried to push herself from the tree one more time. Her efforts were all futile though…
She is quite literally a human kabab. On this dead tree. In the middle of fuck all. The girl sighed shakily, her tear filled eyes trailing down to her stomach
. Looking at the tree that had pierced right through her very being, blood gushing out of you at an alarming rate, making it look like a Saw movie in real life.
This sucks major a-
SNAP!
Your head wipe to the side, your puffy eyes widening at the grinning face staring back at you. Shit. You have to get off this tree. Now.
Your brain is in overdrive as you try to push yourself up to escape from the phantom that was approaching rapidly. You close your eyes real tight, waiting for the phantom to scale the tree with ease and end your suffering.
TWACK!
Opening your eyes and peering down, blood dribbling from home parted lips. “Y/n!” You heard the red heads voice call up to you, though it was all muddled from the blood loss.
“Ashlyn, have you found her-“ Tyler looked up, his mouth falling open in utter shock. His hand shakes as he shone his flashlight up on your hanging body.
“Help me get her down!” Ash called out to the boy, who hurriedly went to help the leader to save his girlfriend. While Ben, Aiden, Taylor, and Logan watch from the sidelines.
Making quick work to get the needed medical equipment Ashlyn’s dad had placed in the real world for them to use to help.
You let out a pained whine as you feel Tyler lift you from the bark of the tree. His brows were furrowed as he focused on doing this as quick as possible to not prolong your pain.
“You’re safe now, I got you…” He murmurs quietly to you shaking form.
Everyone in the group made team effort to help you, all while Tyler gripped onto you so hard like if he let go it’d be game over. Mumbling reassurances, though you couldn’t tell id it was to you or himself.
Aiden was talking your ear off to keep you awake. “Y’know? This isn’t even that bad! One time, my bone went through my knee while playing football!” He blabs, though it didn’t help you feel better or assured at all.
“Dude, not the time!” Your boyfriend scolds him, while he rocks you in his shaking arms. While Ben and Logan stitched the gaping hole going through your back to your stomach.
“You’re gonna be okay, I promise… I won’t let anything bad happen to you ever again.” He squeezes your arm.
A/N: SOZ THIS WAS SHORT!! ^_^ I’ll probably add more and make it better in the future lolz :3
#school bus graveyard#school bus graveyard x reader#sbg x reader#tyler hernandez#tyler hernandez x reader#sbg tyler#aiden clark x reader#ashlyn banner x reader
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Adopt a Jock Part One / Part Two / Part Three PART FOUR YOU ARE HERE Part five
As always I own my entire soul to @chalkysgarbagefire
Steve didn't show up to lunch that Monday.
This was a problem, because Gareth and Eddie had carefully prepared the entirety of Hellfire to help make Steve play a D&D one-shot.
(Well, mostly Eddie--and he'd left out the parts about how the entire goal was to acclimate Harrington to hugs and high fives.
Gareth assumed that was a more careful conversation they'd all have later, outside of school grounds.)
"Eds, if you jiggle your legs any harder the table is going to take flight." Gareth complained, scooting away before he got jabbed in the gut.
"Where is he!?" Eddie muttered, glancing at his watch for what had to be the twenty-fifth time. “Are we sure he showed up to class this morning?"
Stewart, the only person to share a class with Harrington, gave their leader an exasperated look. "Yes, I’m sure."
He flicked his spoon, pointing it towards Eddie. "And yes he looked fine, yes, everything seemed normal, no I don't know why he's not here and no, no one fucking abducted him, or threatened him, or any of the other crazy excuses you keep coming up with!”
Eddie’s frown deepened as Gareth and Grant traded concerned glances.
"Maybe he just didn't want to sit with us today." Jeff remarked, approaching the topic with the same care a technician had when approaching a live bomb.
Gareth thought it was a smart move, considering Eddie looked like he was about to rocket into the ceiling.
"He's sat with us everyday, why would he change now?" Eddie argued.
"Maybe there's a basketball thing happening. Or he's saying hi to his jock buddies." Gareth tried, using the same cautious tone Jeff had.
"We’re his friends!" Eddie snapped, looking two seconds away from losing his shit entirely.
Almost unconsciously, Gareth and Jeff both raised a hand almost to try and help calm him.
Like he was a wild horse and they were the preteen girls in the movies determined to establish a bond before he killed their grandpa or some shit.
This was what happened when one deviated from a predetermined Munson-made plan. Not that Steve had known that of course, but then, he wasn’t exactly catching the fallout, was he?
‘I am making Harrington buy lunch after this.’ Gareth thought, as Eddie returned to bouncing both his legs almost frantically. ‘From someplace expensive.’
"Maybe Hargrove ate him." Grant suggested, as if the very thought of Billy Hargrove wouldn’t set Eddie off on a rampage.
"I could see it." Stewart agreed. "Dude has cannibal vibes."
"Not. Helping." Jeff hissed, his palm still in the air and hovering vaguely over Eddie’s shoulder.
Sure enough, Eddie’s entire body tensed at the mere mention of Hawkin High’s new King. "That’s it. We’re going to find him.”
“Have fun.” Tiff said, waving him off.
Eddie glared. “We’re all going.” He practically spat.
With a put upon sigh, Tiff set her food down. "You really want to spend the rest of our lunch period stalking around the hallways looking for Harrington?"
Eddie gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles went white.
"Yes Tiff, I do." He said, a manic gleam in his eyes.
He shoved up from the table, striking the kind of pose he often used during his rants. “This is a break in a pattern of behavior. A veer from an established path! This is the very first sign in every horror movie that something is wrong!”
He went to put his foot up on the edge of the table, like a pirate captain looking to the seas ahead, but instead missed it entirely and fell forward.
Eddie flailed for a moment, before managing to catch himself on the edge of the table. Instantly he began acting like he’d intended to fall like that from the start.
“I refuse to let any of us behave like idiotic, stupid, horror movie characters.” He finished dramatically, hair hanging in his face.
“You’ve been watching that Sherlock Holmes show again, haven’t you?.” Jeff asked him flatly.
“Among other things.” Gareth muttered, because as usual, he was the one who’d been watching said shows and movies with Eddie.
Not that it bothered him any, just that it meant he got to watch his best friend adopt new behaviors in real time.
Eddie flew back up, flinging his hair out of his face with a dramatic toss of his head.
“Come on my Watson’s! Let’s go find Harrington. I have a one-shot to pitch dammit!” Eddie outright yelled, flinging his arm skyward once again.
He got several startled glances in the cafeteria for it, but as used to Eddie as they all were, no one bothered to say anything to him.
“Why the fuck would we all be Watson?” Stewart muttered as he stood.
“I agree. Obviously, I’d be Watson.” Gareth said, also getting to his feet. “You’d be Mrs. Hudson.”
“Oh fuck you, I would at least be the other crazy smart dude.”
“Mycroft or Moriarty?”
“Mycroft.” Grant and Jeff chanted as one, the both of them putting their food away.
“Not one of you is any Sherlock Holmes character. Except maybe the dog.” Tiff cut in with an eye roll as she finally gave in and stood herself. "Now come on, let's go take Eddie for a walk."
Said metalhead flipped her the bird, but otherwise didn't protest.
(Probably because this wasn't the first time they'd had to do laps with Eddie.)
xXx
"Maybe he just went home." Gareth said reasonably some fifteen or so minutes later.
They'd made their way through the school, Eddie obnoxiously bursting through all the bathroom doors to loudly (and embarrassingly) yell for Steve.
They hadn't seen hide nor perfectly shaped hair of their wayward jock, and none of them were looking forward to trapezing around the outside of the school to hunt for him.
Thankfully, they didn't have to.
"Wait.” Tiffany asked, as they passed by the small little hallway leading to the art and photography rooms. “Is that Steve?"
Immediately all heads turned towards the direction she had pointed in.
"I think so?" Jeff guessed, eyeing the guy standing in the hallway down from them.
Gareth squinted, trying to get a better look. "Looks like." He agreed. "Also looks like Tiff was right, he is hanging out with other people."
Eddie tensed at that. A true feat, Gareth thought, because he was already wound so tight he looked in danger of snapping in half.
"Fucking useless." Tiff muttered.
Louder, she said; "Let's try that again. Isn't that our idiot jock with his ex-girlfriend and the guy she supposedly cheated on him with?"
The lot of them watched as Steve stood in one of his classic defensive positions (arms tucked into his sides, back rigid and chin down, like he was about to perform some kind of football tackle.)
Nancy Wheeler faced him, her own chin raised and her arms crossed like she was about to give the lecture of a lifetime.
In between them stood Jonathan Byers, though he was angled more towards his girlfriend than Steve. The guy practically radiated discomfort but seemed to be managing.
Even if his shoulders were practically above his ears.
It didn't exactly look like a two on one situation, but then it didn't not look like it either.
"Shit." Gareth said, which summed up the situation rather nicely.
"Should we go save him?" Grant asked, concerned.
Not one person moved.
Instead, all eyes went to their fearless leader--who was uncharacteristically silent.
Gareth took in the narrowed, frantic-turned-furious look upon his friend's face and wondered vaguely if he was going to have to stop a murder today.
Possibly two, depending on Byer’s involvement.
"Defensive position boys!" Tiffany called out, breaking the spell with sheer volume as she made the decision for them. "Eddie, you with us or not?"
Brave words for her, considering Gareth knew damn well that Tiff was often more bark than bite.
Thankfully, it worked.
"Right!" Eddie barked, jerking in place as he came back to himself. "Our Stevie needs us, men and Tiff!"
He pointed forwards, like a war general leading a charge. "Hellfire, move out!"
Fanning out into a triangle behind their club president, the lot of them followed as Eddie marched forward.
"You know I didn't mean it like that." Nancy was saying, and even though Gareth didn't know her he could tell she was frustrated.
"You have people you can talk to. You have m--" she cut herself off when Eddie strode up next to Steve.
Then blinked rapidly, reminding Gareth of a startled cocker spaniel when the rest of Hellfire fanned out around Harrington like wolves guarding their young.
(Or brightly colored and very angry ducks, but wolves sounded cooler.
Plus the last time he'd said something like this aloud; Grant had loudly informed him it was actually Muskox that made protective circles, Stewart brought up that triceratops were cooler, Jeff decided they should be bees and Tiffany had gone off on a tangent about badly done animal behavioral studies.)
"I daresay I agree!" Eddie said, taking a dramatic leap forward and startling Steve and Byers both.
That alone was a cause to worry--Gareth couldn't recall a single time Steve wasn't hyper-aware of his surroundings enough to get properly lost in it.
At least lost enough that he missed an entire group of people approaching.
"Steve is more than welcome to talk to people! His people." Eddie leaned forward a touch, the smirk on his face the one he used when he was playing up his role as the town's satanist cult leader.
To her credit, Nancy recovered remarkably fast. "I take it you believe that's you?"
Eddie reared back, like a cobra rising to strike. "Why Nancy Wheeler, Stevie here is an adult and can choose who he wants to talk to.”
He turned, one hand over his heart and the other held out to Steve. " Ain’t that right, big boy?”
Nancy and Byers both just stared.
Gareth couldn’t blame them, he was staring too.
Apparently deciding Eddie was too ridiculous to deal with, Nancy returned instead to talking to Steve--who, Gareth noted with more than his fair share of pride, looked a bit more grounded now that Hellfire had arrived.
“I understand that we’re in a weird place right now, but you have to know I still care about you, right?” Nancy bit her lip, clearly unhappy to have an audience but plowing ahead anyway.
"I'm fine, Nance.” Steve told her, voice steady, but growing flat.
He was shutting down--shutting her out, if not everyone out. Gareth knew, if only because he’d watched Harrington do it to them more than once.
(Knew because he himself had shut downs just like this. Eddie and Nancy were the kind of people who got loud in their anger, demanding people see and face them.
Gareth on the other hand, even with his more explosive temper, often ended up more like Steve when faced with breakdowns with people he cared about. He didn’t want to hurt them. To say the wrong thing, to lash out when someone was just trying to help.
It was safer to shut up, back away and put some distance between yourself and whoever had pissed you off.)
Either Nancy wasn’t aware of that or was too deep into her own emotions to see it, because she took a half step forward. “I know you’re not fine. I know you, Steve.”
“Not anymore you don’t.” Steve responded, and Gareth wondered if he realized he was leaning away from her--and towards Eddie.
Considering the way Wheeler’s eyes bounced between them, he knew she definitely had.
Quite possible Byers too, from how he had to stop himself from pulling Nancy away.
“I’ve been working hard to become someone else.” Steve added. “So you don’t have to feel responsible for me. I’m not your problem anymore.” He spoke without malice, just with the pure emptiness of someone who completely believed everything he said.
“Steve-” Nancy protested, but Eddie cut her off.
"You heard him." He said, peacocking his little social win in a way only Eddie could. "Now if you don't mind, I have extremely important things to discuss and you have cut drastically into my time."
He flicked his fingers in a shoo gesture, one that made Nancy's eyes spark in a way that quite frankly, terrified Gareth.
"Fine." She grit out through clenched teeth. "You know I’m always available to talk, Steve."
She strode off, passing Steve and the rest of Hellfire without a glance backwards.
"Sorry man." Jonathan muttered apologetically to Steve as he passed, following after his girlfriend.
Steve waved him off.
"Well she's just a delight." Jeff muttered, once Nancy was well out of hearing range.
Steve's entire chest heaved in a sigh, swaying slightly backwards as if the entire confrontation had physically drained him.
"She's trying to help.” Steve muttered softly, scrubbing a hand down his face. “She's just...coming at it wrong."
He turned, seeming to finally notice that all of Hellfire was there. "What are you all doing out here anyway?"
"Rescuing you." Grant informed him.
"From Nancy and Jonathan?" Steve said in disbelief.
Like Byers hadn't supposedly kicked his ass already. Nevermind the moping Wheeler had caused.
(The entire school had witnessed the moping.
It was, after all, part of what had drawn Eddie to Steve.)
"Yes." Tiff replied bluntly. “Also if she corners you like that again, I will make it my personal mission in life to top all her test scores.”
"I--okay." Steve blinked rapidly, clearly unsure of how to process that.
“Not that I needed rescuing,” He continued after a moment, staring at the whole group. “But why were you looking for me in the first place?”
His voice was slowly recovering, coming out of that weird flatness it had scrunched itself into. It was an excellent sign, a sign of trust, and Gareth leapt to keep it before someone could say something stupid and fuck it up.
"Eddie needed you to pitch his next one shot idea and couldn't wait for you to show up." Gareth admitted. “We decided to hunt you down since you were missing lunch.”
“Oh.” Steve blinked again, and though it’d be concerning on anyone else, the guy just looked like a lost puppy. “I’m sorry man.”
“It's alright Stevie. I just thought you'd totally ditched us.” Eddie sniffed dramatically, looking like he was going to wing an arm around Steve’s shoulder but thought better of it. “No biggie.”
He pouted, and made absolutely sure Steve could see him do it.
“Is this you trying to get more of my M&M brownies?” Steve asked after a moment.
“Oh my dear, sweet, athletic friend. Not at all. Instead, you are going to play the one shot I worked so hard on.” Eddie bounced his shoulder into him as he spoke.
It was a weird little compromise the two of them seemed to have, since Gareth had regularly witnessed Eddie ping-ponging off Steve’s shoulders. “Let us break your tabletop cherry.”
“Or what?” Steve asked, the tiniest bit of humor peaking through.
Eddie stared at him, abruptly still and completely serious. “I will cry, Steven. Loudly.”
It brought a small smile to Steve’s face.
“Fine. I’ll play your dumb dweeb game.” He said, and couldn’t seem to stop the smile from overtaking his face when Eddie threw his arms in the air and cheered.
“Come on, I’m pretty sure the bell rang forever ago.” Jeff said, as they began to venture out back to the main hallway.
(“Hey guys?” Steve asked, right before they all split up to go to their various classes. “Thanks. For the save.”
Eddie positively beamed. “Anytime, Steve. Anytime.”)
xXx
“Hey Gareth?” Steve asked a few days later, joining Gareth in the library during his free period.
(Gareth himself was skipping, because if he had to listen to yet another lesson on the Crucible he was going to declare himself a satan worshiping witch and demand to be hanged.)
Gareth hummed to show he heard, as he carefully took stock of the loot he’d gotten from their last game. Eddie had been pretty good about it for once, and he wanted to look things over before the one shot.
“Can I ask kind of a weird question?” Steve rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.
“Shoot, Stevie.” Gareth replied, finally comfortable enough to use the main nickname Eddie had nailed the poor guy with.
“Did Eddie give me a character with bad eyesight or “night vision” or whatever, because he thinks I have bad eyesight?” Steve’s fingers made sassy little air quotations around “night vision” because he knew damn well it wasn’t called that and didn’t want to get chewed out.
It was appreciated, even if it was cheeky as shit.
Gareth stopped writing. “Why’d you think that?”
“He just keeps acting like I’m my character.” Steve replied with a shrug. “Like all that stuff we planned about how my character gets around and relies on the group since he can’t see that great in the daylight? He does it for me too.”
“It’s Eddie, he’s eccentric.” Gareth struggled to keep a straight face, trying not to give the game away.
Laughing would absolutely clue Steve in to the fact that Eddie was doing it on purpose.
“He just keeps telling me before he touches me. Outside of the game.” Steve continued, utterly baffled.
Of course, Eddie was doing far more than that, in order to keep up the appearance that he was just being a weirdo who was too into his game. (Instead of trying to alert Steve to the fact he was going to lean on him, hug him, or do any other thing involving skin to skin contact that usually made Harrington panic.)
“If you don’t like it you should tell him,” Gareth said. He knew it was the better option, encouraging Steve to communicate. They could come up with something else if this was too weird (as frankly, many of Eddie’s plans could be.
Bless the guy but he had a habit of going for the dramatic over the practical.)
“No!” Steve protested, far too quickly.
He cleared his throat with a cough, and continued in a much calmer voice, “No, I don’t wanna ruin his fun or anything.”
As far as excuses go for letting something happen it was a weak one, but Gareth wasn’t going to call him on it. If Steve wanted to hide behind Eddie and his “fun” then Gareth would happily pretend to buy it.
Would buy whatever excuse Steve needed, to help make the guy feel more comfortable and like himself than the still often vacant ghost that hung around now.
“Just wanted to know if he actually thought my eyesight sucked.” Steve finished in a mumble.
“Well you did trip over the curb that one time.” Gareth teased playfully, and shot a grin at Harrington when that awkward look of his melted into something more offended.
“I was walking backwards!” Steve defended, his normal, almost bitchy tone returning.
“Uh-huh. And what about when you almost ate shit over that garbage can and Eddie had to save you?” Gareth taunted.
He grinned, watching as a blush overtook the older boys face, Steve glancing away frantically and--
Oh.
Oh!
'Oh-ho, ho, ho!' Gareth thought with absolute glee. The entire fucking school knew what Steve looked like when he had a crush, (Steve himself had made sure of that with Nancy) and Gareth recognized the beginning of it happening all over again.
Steve Harrington had a crush.
On Eddie.
Gareth could work with this.
“You know….” He paused, grin turning sly as a sudden idea came to him. “If you want to mess with Eddie a little bit I have an idea.”
Steve stared at him, confused. “Why would we want to mess with him?”
Gareth leaned forward. “Because pranks are fun, Harrington. Legend has it you even used to do them.”
Steve still didn't look convinced, but the nice thing about a man like Steve was that all Gareth had to appeal to was his sense of adventure.
“Now." He clapped his hands together in a move that had very much been stolen years ago from Eddie. "How good are your acting skills?
Meant to post this yesterday but I got surprise laid off last week and that pushed me back a bit, sorries! Absolutely related, I have a Ko-Fi now lmao. It’s https://ko-fi.com/sp0o0kyghosthost
Unemployment should go through just fine so I don’t really think I need to full panic but hey if you wanna throw me a dollar and yell “Dance writer dance!” I’ll do a lil tippy-tap jig.
#fucking jobs#this ones a bit more whumpy#steddie#pre steddie#they gettin there though#hellfire adopts Steve#adopt a jock#eddie munson#steve harrington#gareth emerson#Nancys in this one#she cares theres just a lot of hurt there#Eddie on the other hand is JEALOUS#that is HIS jock thank you!#He is REHABBING that jock!#dont you make his Stevie sad!#Gareth is now playing matchmaker#Lap Wars is coming
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All The Stars~ PT.3
BAKUGOU X SECRET ADMIRER PT.3
A/N: I love this part n I love writing for y'all, you guys are so sweet. I know I said this part would come out a few weeks ago, but my kitten contacted parvo virus. I hope you guys understand :<
P.S: I'd like to add that one of the next parts will have slightly suggestive themes, nothing too descriptive.
ALL THE STARS PT.1 | ALL THE STARS PT.2
You groaned, jolting awake from what you thought was a short nap. The sun was blazing, hot on your skin now. Your head and throat throbbed- you were dehydrated and miserable. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you took in your surroundings.
Bakugou shut the door to his dorm so hard the walls shook. His muscular back rested against the wooden door. He closed his eyes, panting. The book in his hands felt like concrete, heavy and cold. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself down. Opening the book, he took in the pages- pages and pages of sketches of himself sitting idly in class. He had to admit, you had some real talent there. He looked so calm, taking notes while resting his chin on his palm.
Meanwhile, you pulled your knees towards yourself, taking a minute to recall the past few hours. Eyes widening, you frantically searched around as you remembered you had set your sketchbook down- it would be no short of a disaster if anyone opened that book. Maybe it wasn't THAT great of an idea to carry said book out of your dorm room. Shit. Bakugou pulled Kirishima into his dorm room, his heart beating in his temples now.
"Woah, I didn't think L/N would be the one who was putting those gifts in your locker! I can't say I'm surprised though, you guys are so thoughtful with each other." Kirishima nodded.
"Thoughtful with wHO, I can't fuckin stand her. She's so annoying and dumb and stupid, almost stupider than Deku." Bakugou shouted, hands on his cheeks.
"Yeah, totes bro." Kirishima deadpanned, patting Bakugou's back. "So, when're ya asking her out? There are a couple good movies in the theatre or that new cafe down the street... We should ask Denki, he looks like the kinda dude to have this kinda experience", Kirishima rambled on and on, which all went over the blond's head, too busy calming the thumping in his chest, his head steaming.
Shaking his head, Bakugou took a deep breath in. "Fuck that, We have training at Ground Beta in half an hour. We'd better start heading over and warming up." Bakugou said, ushering Kirishima out of his room. Closing the door shut, He put his forehead to the cool wood at the thought of facing you at the Ground- knowing you, you must be having a panic attack at the mere thought of your sketchbook being missing- fuck- now that he thought of it, that was fucking selfish of him to do. He wondered if he could slip it into your dorm room while you were on the ground- he could fake an injury or a fever or something, he'd just have to convince Aizawa Sensei. A tough task in itself.
☾
You stood next to Uraraka at Ground Beta. You shifted your weight from one foot to another as your fingers fiddled with your hair, still anxious over how you couldn't find your sketchbook this morning. Bakugou was stretching with the boys in some distance, taking note of how you couldn't hide how anxious you were. Almost in tears, you thought about the possible scenarios. What if someone had taken your book? What if they'd shown Bakugou? What if they'd leaked it all around UA? Your hero career was as good as over.
Aizawa Sensei walked onto the ground, patting your back as he took notice of how down you were. Aizawa Sensei started reading off the pairings for training. You shook your head, taking in deep breaths while steadying yourself to get your head in the game. UA wasn't for the weak and you weren't going to let something as small as this drag you down- they were just sketches and you could always claim the book wasn't yours, un-named as the book was.
"YN/LN and Bakugou Katsuki, please make your way to the centre of Ground Beta."
You physically flinched as you grimaced at the pairing. Uraraka gave you a small push, urging you to step forward. Aizawa Sensei gave you the side eye, wondering what kind of argument you and Bakugou had again, prompting this kind of reaction from you. Little did he know, huh?
TAGLIST: @lovra974 Thanks so much for keeping up with the series~
#bnha#aizawa shouta#bnha x reader#bnha fanfiction#bakugou fanfiction#bakugou#bakugou x reader#bakugou katsuki#bakugou katuski x reader#shinsou hitoshi#katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki#bnha bakugou
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patience is a virtue
part 3 to invasion of privacy series
pairing: roommate!heeseung x afab reader
genre: smut, angst, minimal fluff (minors dni)
warnings: unprotected sex (be safe), use of the pull out method (do not do this), piv, tit sucking, nipple play, mutual masturbation, some indecent public acts, mentions of vomit, alcolohol consumption, heeseung is so bad at communicating it is actually physically painful, jake is still annoying and hoon is a film bro oh god
word count: 8.6k
a/n: pls don't gut me ik this took forever but i hope its worth it at least lawl enjoy yourselves (but not too much......) also someone needs to take ellipses away from me. also not proofread
read part 1 and part 2 first or else this won't make a ton of sense
[shithead]: you guys wanna come to the cave to play smash? i got some more of that indica and jay finally cleaned his bong 🙄
[grandfather]: come on dude it wasn’t even that dirty
[cullen tease]:..... no comment
[cullen tease]: but yea i’m down
[grandfather]: what about heeseung?
[shithead]: idk… it’s just been radio silence from him for like 3 days
[cullen tease]: yea what happened to him?
[grandfather]: well the last time we talked to him was right before he hung out with y/n sooo
[shithead]: no way
[shithead]: do you think she fucked him so hard he passed out for three whole days?
[cullen tease]: shut the fuck up jaeyun
[shithead]: i’m just saying!!! if i had a hot roommate like that i would gladly let her destroy me
[cullen tease]: that’s because you’re a man whore
[grandfather]: come on guys cut it out, you know how heeseung tends to get
[grandfather]: emotional
[cullen tease]: that’s the understatement of the year
[shithead]: wait what if…….
[shithead]: she killed him
[grandfather]: you’re an idiot
[shithead]: it’s a possibility! what if it’s like a jennifer’s body type situation
[cullen tease]: hold up, you’ve seen jennifer’s body?
[shithead]: duh… it has megan fox in it
[grandfather]: okay let's not stray from the situation at hand
[shithead]: wait hoon why is it so surprising that i’ve seen jennifer’s body?
[cullen tease]: i just didn’t peg you as the type of guy to enjoy films like that
[shithead]: what the fuck does that mean
[grandfather]: guys
[cullen tease]: dude come on, your favourite movie is grown ups 2
[shithead]: what’s wrong with grown ups 2?
[cullen tease]: what’s wrong with it is that it’s trash
[shithead]: are you fr? it is a cinematic masterpiece and i don’t appreciate you acting all high and mighty because you’re a fucking film major who likes boring and sad movies like the godfather or whatever
[grandfather]: can you two shut the fuck up? we need to figure out what’s going on with hee
[adult virgin]: i’m not dead
[cullen tease]: heeseung!
[grandfather]: heeseung!
[shithead]: heeseung! you’re alive!!!
[grandfather]: how you doin’ buddy?
[shithead]: yea what went down with you and sexy roomie at the drive-in? i just know the two of you got up to some freaky shit
[grandfather]: jaeyun i swear to god
[adult virgin]: i don’t wanna talk about it
[cullen tease]: uh oh
[shithead]: oh shit
[grandfather]: oh jeez
[shithead]: jay you question why we call you grandfather when you say shit like ‘oh jeez’
[grandfather]: now’s not the time jake
[cullen tease]: come on heeseung, i’m sure it wasn’t that bad
[adult virgin]: i’m never going on a date again
[shithead]: wait i thought you said it wasn’t a date???
[grandfather]: jake you are one text away from getting kicked out of this group chat
[cullen tease]: i say we kick him out now
[adult virgin]: can you guys please stop blowing up my phone?
[shithead]: no can do my friend
[shithead]: it’s time for an intervention
[adult virgin]: i’m good
[adult virgin]: the last thing i need right now is you guys screaming at me while i’m trying to cope
[shithead]: too late, jay’s already got the car running. i’m bringing weed!
[cullen tease]: i’ll bring the funyuns
[shithead]: see you soon hee!
[adult virgin]: guys fr i just wanna be alone
[adult virgin]: guys?
bang bang bang!!!
heeseung recoils when he hears his friends banging on his front door a mere 11 minutes after they said they were coming; a mere 11 minutes after he explicitly told them not to. he recoils even more when he hears you open the door for them.
“oh, hey y/n…” jay does nothing to try to hide his discontent when he sees you open the door and not his heartbroken friend.
jake, who’s lowkey wanted to bang you since heeseung first moved in with you, pays no mind to his friend's wariness and envelops you in a rib-crushing hug whilst shouting “i haven’t seen you in forever!!!!!”
“hey guys!” you say with a soft smile before patting jake on the shoulder in an attempt to let him know that he’s stealing all of your oxygen, “come in, can i get you anything?”
jay just scoffs, “no thanks y/n, we don’t need anything from you.”
a somewhat puzzled look makes its way onto your face, “ok… well heeseungs in his room if that’s what you’re here for.” you nonchalantly motion down the hall before returning to the kitchen, leaving the three boys alone in the foyer.
“damn jay, you could’ve been a little nicer. we still don’t know what even went down between them, remember?” sunghoon murmurs while leading the way to heeseungs bedroom.
“i guess we’re about to find out,” jay holds his breath before tentatively knocking on heeseungs door before opening it and stepping inside.
when heeseung sees his friends open his door and step into his room, he rolls over so his back is facing them. he thought he was very clear that he is not in the mood to talk. nevertheless, the three of them stride into his room like a boy band and close the door behind them. heeseung hopes they pay no mind to the piles and piles of bunched up kleenex littering his room that are all shrivelled up from his tears.
“heeeyyy buddy!” jay croons to his dishevelled friend as if he’s talking to a puppy or small child.
“damnnnn hee, that must’ve been some good pussy if it’s got you acting like this!!!” jake exclaims, which earns him an elbow in the ribs.
“didn’t i tell you guys not to come? i’m trying to latibulate in peace,” heeseung groans, his voice so monotonous and strained it sounds almost robotic.
“come on, you didn’t seriously think we were gonna listen to you, right?” sunghoon says matter-of-factly, his ebony bangs covering his eyes and making him look eerily mysterious.
heeseung just sighs. he feels his mattress shift underneath him and looks over to see that jay has taken a seat on the edge of his bed, his eyes full of what appears to be mostly concern, some disgust as he swipes a couple of dirty tissues onto the floor (he tries to cover this up with a crooked smile).
“sooo what happened?” jake breaks the silence and asks the question that’s sitting on the tip of everyone’s tongue. heeseung, now in a seated position, places his head between his knees and does his best to swallow his shame before retelling the event that took place a few days prior.
“well, we went to the drive-in…” he starts, voice muffled due to his head hanging low, “and at first it was fine, but then… an… intimate scene came on.”
sunghoon hangs his head at this, seemingly knowing where the story is going.
heeseung can’t bare to look at his friends faces as he proceeds, his cheeks ablaze with embarrassment as he recounts his unintentional virginity reveal, the two of you freaking it whilst surrounded by other movie goers, and the painful, painful silence that enveloped him for the rest of the night.
“and then she just… didn’t say anything. why the fuck didn’t she say anything???!!!!” he whines, his tone a complete 180 from what it was when he first spoke to his friends a short 3 minutes ago.
seemingly at a loss for words, jay just rests his hand on his friends shoulder, offering a gentle pat while sunghoon mumbles a quiet but heart-felt ‘beats me’ from where he’s leaning against heeseungs wall.
“females are so difficult to understand.”
“don’t say females jake, it makes you sound like an incel,” sunghoon suspires, the frayed ends of his hair fluttering in the process, “maybe she just thought you wanted to get it over with? or that you wanted something casual?”
“i don’t do casual.”
“okay, and how the fuck is she supposed to know that?” sunghoon retorts, defending you since you’re unable to defend yourself - jake subtly nods in agreeance.
“i don’t know! she’s way more emotionally intelligent than all of us combined so i thought that maybe she’d… pick up on it or something.” heeseung feels his energy depleting and he longs to simply curl up under his duvet and sleep the rest of the day away - or maybe the whole week actually.
“heeseung,” jay sympathizes, “we know you like y/n… but maybe it's just not gonna work out.”
jake interjects, “yea, and if she can’t see what an absolute package you are right now then maybe she never will! it’s her loss really,” he nods enthusiastically while looking at jay and sunghoon, prompting them to do the same - they do.
heeseung, with swollen cheeks and a bruised heart, can only offer a quiet “thanks guys” while wishing for the tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes to go away. he knows that moving on from you, whilst being extremely difficult, is the best thing to do.
after heeseungs feeble thanks, the room falls silent. so silent only that the hum of the a/c is the only detectable sound - that, and the steady inhales and exhales of the 4 boys trapped in heeseungs stuffy bedroom. someone exhales before the shuffling of feet and the creaking of floorboards can be heard. heeseung hardly has any time to react before something (or someone?) is flying through the air and is on track to land directly on top of him.
“DOG PILE ON HEESEUNG!!!” jake shouts while full-on launching himself onto heeseungs body, effectively squashing him into his mattress. the weight of his friend knocks the wind out of him and heeseung barely manages to croak “jaeyun what the fuc-” before the weight is doubled, then tripled as sunghoon and jay follow suit.
it’s hard to tell whose limbs belong to who as heeseungs friends tussle his hair and squeeze his cheeks (and crush his rib cage, but that’s besides the point) in an attempt to get their glum, heartbroken friend to cheer up. and, for the first time in days, a smile appears on heeseungs face.
order confirmed. you will be updated when your food is en route for delivery.
as if on cue, heeseung’s stomach lets out a cavernous growl. he pats it comfortingly as if to say ‘it’s ok, soon you’ll be filled to the brim with an ice cold baja blast and 2 crunch wrap supremes. just hold on a little longer.’
nothing quite like eating away all of your sorrows.
it’s easy to forget how pivotal a kitchen is in one’s everyday life until it’s stripped away from you like a baby from its mother. ok, maybe not stripped away. more like consciously avoiding it to make sure that you don’t have an awkward run in with your roommate who performed oral sex on you several days ago and is now sending you mixed signals. the thought of having to hold an actual conversation with you makes heeseungs skin crawl.
he’s been successfully avoiding you for 4 days now, ensuring that he only leaves his room when absolutely necessary - and only doing so when he’s positive that you’re in your room or out of the house. before exiting his bedroom he spends minutes with his ear pressed up to his flimsy bedroom door, making sure the coast is clear before making a break for it.
one may think he’s being extra. just talk to her for crying out loud! but heeseung has managed to convince himself that you think he’s bottom of the barrel scum; the last piece of bread that always gets tossed; the mosquito on your wall that you whack with a rolled up newspaper as soon as you see it.
trash!
and so, he spends his days rotting away in his bedroom, his mattress now donning a permanent indent of the shape of his body; his trash can overflowing with wrappers from taco bell and mcdonalds; his laptop struggling to keep up with all of the mind-numbing streaming of shitty television he’s been doing.
one time he gave into his hopeless romantic side and watched the notebook but it made him cry so hard he woke up with a migraine. another time he got an ad for top gun: maverick and he wanted to die. stupid top gun. stupid tom cruise. stupid miles teller with his stupid moustache. now, he sticks to scrolling through tik tok and watching reruns of below deck sailing yacht and survivor.
he can feel his eyes starting to get heavy when a vibration from his phone jolts him back to reality, scrambling to find the device that he so mindlessly tossed underneath his comforter. his fingers finally come in contact with it, and he peers at the lit-up screen.
your food has been delivered. receipt/tip available.
yes! it feels as if his stomach has been quite literally eating itself for the past half hour, so heeseung leaps up at the prospect of soon having food in his belly. in fact he’s so excited at the idea of his taco bell order waiting for him that the thought of doing his ritualistic check to make sure he won’t have a run-in with you completely slips his mind.
so, when he swings open his door and bolts down the hallway, head filled with nothing but thoughts of chowing down on a tortilla filled with meat, lettuce and cheese, his heart practically falls to his stomach when instead he almost literally runs into you. you, holding a glass of water with your eyes wide like a fawn, taking in heeseungs dishevelled appearance after not seeing him for over half a week.
shit.
shitshitshitshitshitshit.
this was not supposed to happen.
“heeseung!” you say with enthusiasm (and a bit of concern).
it is in this very moment that heeseung fully understands what a deer must feel like when falling in front of the headlights of an oncoming vehicle - frozen.
“uh…. heeey y/n.” his throat feels like it’s about to close. is he having an allergic reaction to you?
seeing as plan a (get his food and go back to his room while avoiding you all together) has fallen through, he attempts to resort to plan b: grab taco bell bag and run like hell back to the safety of his bedroom.
unfortunately plan b also falls through, for once he worms himself to the front door and grabs the slightly warm paper bag and drink left on his porch he whips around only to see you standing in front of him, blocking his path to the safe haven that is his musty bedroom, (he’s reminded of admiral ackbar in episode vi of star wars - ‘it’s a trap!!!’).
“wait, can we talk?” your face is one of disquietude, “i feel like you’ve been… avoiding me.”
upon hearing your concerns, heeseung does what he’s best at - playing dumb.
“i don’t know what you’re talking about.”
your face quickly changes, brows furrowed and eyes slightly squinted as if to say ‘are you shitting me?’. in a split second it seems as if you’re able to read heeseung like an open book, much to his dismay, before you open your mouth to speak again.
“did… did what i do at the drive-in make you uncomfortable?”
“no…” more like what you didn’t do - profess your undying love and devotion to him with tears in your eyes while he reassures you that he feels the same way and the two of you ride off into the sunset on a horse and start a new life in venice or kyoto or somewhere romantic and secluded.
“okay, so then why are you acting so weird?”
“i’m… stressed. sooo stressed. classes are killing me and i have a huge paper due soon.” liar. he’s excelling in all of his classes and doesn’t have anything due for another 5 days.
“oh, well what’s it about? maybe i can help you!” you offer while taking a step towards him. usually his heart would be leaping at the prospect of the two of you having some one on one time even if it is for a class, but right now that’s the last thing he needs.
“it’s about….. shakespeare.”
“shakespeare? i thought you were an engineering major-”
“it’s an elective. i’m very interested in classical literature.” no he’s not.
“oh, nice. hey why are you talking so weirdly? you sound like siri when i ask her a question.”
that’s it. he needs to get out of this conversation before he raises any more suspicion.
“i’m way deep into the academic headspace. speaking of,” he motions towards his bedroom door with his index finger, “i need to get back to work.” more like he needs to wallow in his own self-pity.
“wait, can we talk more? i still feel like you’re not telling me something,” you say while looking like a kicked puppy, and heeseung tries to not fall into your glassy, pleading gaze.
“it’s fine y/n, i get it.” he thinks you’re the light of his life and you think of him as your loser roommate who was all whiny about being a virgin so you did what you needed to do to shut him up. case closed.
“get… what?”
heeseung doesn’t respond, doesn’t give you the time of day. he simply exits the kitchen and closes his bedroom door behind him. he spares no final glance behind him because he knows the sight of you standing there with a hurt and perplexed look on your face will have him crawling back to you on his hands and knees.
instead, he shuffles into bed and tries to focus on whatever he was watching on his laptop prior to the most painful conversation he’s ever had in his entire life, his now tepid crunch wrap sitting in his limp grasp.
salty crocodile tears start rolling down his cheeks for the nth time this week.
“i am gonna get sooo many bitches tonight.”
“you shouldn’t call women bitches jake, that’s rude.”
pre-gaming in the cave before going out is a must. the four guys play a couple rounds of pong and flip cup while jay and jake chug putrid pilsner’s and pabst blue ribbons while sunghoon and heeseung opt for a much more tame rum and coke.
tonight he’s being dragged to a place he seldom ventures: a club.
heeseung doesn’t really like clubs.
he prefers bars where he can sit and drink and talk to his friends instead of clubs where he has to (attempt to) dance and drink and shout over the blasting music to communicate with anyone. alas, jake was adamant on going to this one particular place downtown where apparently he got with 3 different girls in one night (everyone knows that’s definitely not true, but they continue to humour him).
furthermore, his friends have decided that the financial blow of cover fees and shots at a club is worth getting heeseung up and out of his frowsty bedroom that has somewhat turned into something you would see on an episode of hoarders, so tonight’s outing will be free (for him at least).
“okay hee,” jake grabs his friend by the shoulders and shakes him aggressively, as if they’re two football players about to head onto the field, “gimme the game plan for tonight broski.”
“i’m gonna forget about y/n, and i’m gonna find a pretty girl,” heeseung says in the most sportsmanlike manner he can conjure up, “and i’m gonna fu…… i’m gonna make love to her.”
jake simply shakes his head in dismay, “no heeseung, you’re gonna fuck her. got it? go ahead, say it.”
“i’m gonna…” his neck feels like it’s flaring up, “i can’t say it, it feels rude and misogynistic.”
“dude, girls like to get fucked. they think it’s hot!!! now say ‘fuck’,” jake attests before staring at heeseung expectantly.
“okay………………. fuck.”
“hell yea bro! fuck!” jay joins in while clapping heeseung on the back in support.
“yea, fuck!!!”
“FUCK!!!!!!” sunghoon joins as well.
“FUUUUUUCK!!!” heeseung screams. the liquor in his bloodstream, while not copious, is making him feel fuzzy.
and finally, jake closes it out with, “LETS GO FUCK SHIT UP BROS!!!!!!” before storming out of the door with sunghoon following suit.
jay swings a beefy arm around heeseungs blocky shoulders and drags him along, the two of them soon catching up to hoon and jake who are whooping and hollering about god knows what. in the back of heeseungs mind he wonders what he’s gotten himself into.
immediately upon arrival heeseung is reminded once again of his detestment for clubs. they’re too loud and ho, and impersonal.
the floors and walls are shaking with some throwback early 2000’s pop song and after about 10 seconds the soles of his shoes are already covered in sticky syrup from spilled drinks. he follows his friends into the sea of people trying to get drunk or trying to get laid or both.
in the midst of the crowd he brushes shoulders with a guy he swears he’s seen before, a tall brute guy with blonde hair tied into a man bun and a red flannel hugging his shoulders (who wears a flannel to a club?), but he can’t quite remember when and where they’ve crossed paths before.
as sunghoon shoulders his way to the bar to order a round of tequila shots, heeseung stays planted to his spot on the floor, his eyes scanning his surroundings and taking everything in to the best of his abilities considering that purple and blue LED lights are painting everyone and everything within the establishment.
his eyes make their way from the bar to the dance floor to a section of stand-up tables, where he finds a pretty girl in leather pants and a cheetah print corset top staring right back at him. when their gaze’s connect she flashes him a small smile, which he returns.
“jake,” heeseung smacks his friend’s shoulder, “that girl won’t stop staring at me.”
“see hee! we told you you’d pull someone.”
he smirks, then panics, “what should i do?”
“what’s going on?” sunghoon turns around with four shooters balanced between his spindly ple fingers, each one filled with a menacing clear liquor that will ultimately decide his fate this evening. you’re not you when you’re sober but you’re you when you’re drunk!
jake grabs a shot greedily, like a leprechaun stumbling upon a pot of gold, “some chick is ogling at hee.”
sunghoon’s lip curls upwards, “lets go dawg!” he cheers while passing heeseung a shot as if it's a reward for receiving attention from a woman.
heeseung stares at the tequila in the glass he’s holding with his thumb and index finger; it stares back at him. in one swift move he downs it, then does the same with jake’s, jay’s, and finally sunghoon’s, who all stare at him in disbelief. he tries his best to not make a sour face, but he can’t hold back the deep cough that leaps out of him as the tequila burns his throat on its way down his esophagus and into his stomach.
“wow, okay.” jay says in astonishment, which prompts him to start laughing; everyone else begins to laugh as well, including heeseung.
“go talk to her shithead!” jake exclaims while shoving heeseung towards the mystery girl and her friends with much more force than necessary, making him stumble over his own feet much like bambi attempting to walk for the first time.
when he’s close enough he flashes her a toothy grin, his eyes trained on hers; her pupils look like deep pools of ink in the scarcity of good lighting. she just looks at him, a pretty smile painted on her face that pushes the apples of her cheeks to the sky.
“hey.”
“hi~”
“i’m heeseung.”
“okay heeseung, wanna dance?”
“uh sure!” he exclaims, albeit maybe a little too much excitement in his inflection.
the cheetah girl doesn’t say anything, just grabs his hand by the wrist (and thank god his wrist because his palms are embarrassingly sweaty) and drags him in the general direction of the dance floor. before he becomes completely swallowed by the mass of swaying bodies, he catches sunghoon and jay giving him a thumbs up from across the room - jake is too busy making out with someone to do the same.
heeseung feels the fabric of his shirt sticking to his chest and lower back as he gets mixed up with the plethora of other sweaty bodies, trying to move in a sensual yet confident way that hopefully impresses the pretty girl he’s praying he’ll go home with. with his nose tucked into the crook of her neck he rocks his body against hers to the beat of the music, his pelvis bumping against her ass methodically.
“you’re so cute!” she squeals at his awkward attempt to grind up on her.
dear god. when oh when will he ever the patronizing, dehumanizing, emasculating label of ‘cute’? cute is what you say when you see a nest of baby bunnies, or an elderly couple on a date. heeseung is a grown man, he should be called handsome, statuesque, sexy even!!!
nevertheless, heeseung attempts to not let cheetah girl’s comment sour his mood. she’ll see how manly he really is, he’ll show her. in fact he’ll show her right now!
in this very moment he discovers why alcohol has been gifted the name of liquid courage since before he can even process what he’s doing he’s pulling cheetah girl out of the stuffy crowd of inebriated club goers, dragging her to an empty bathroom stall, and placing his tequila coated lips on hers.
she immediately reciprocates, because why else would she be giving him bedroom eyes across a crowded club if she didn’t want something along this vein to occur? despite being a virgin (? does getting your dick suck count as a loss of virginity?), he has made out with multiple girls on multiple different occasions prior to this one, so he lets his mouth and tongue and hands act on their own accord.
it feels as if his brain is swimming inside of his skull, making all of his senses blurred and fuzzy like tv static. he feels a pair of teeth sinking into his bottom teeth and he groans, his eyes squeezing shut impossibly tighter and his fingers digging into cheetah girl’s hips. she emits and airy moan in response, allowing heeseung to slot his tongue against hers - he tastes the vodka mixed with cranberry juice she was drinking when he approached her on the inside of her mouth.
the tip of his nose continuously bumps against hers as he sloppy sucks on her tongue and her teeth, his lips soon detaching to make their way across her jaw and down her neck. there he sinks his canines into her skin, causing her to hiss in both pleasure and pain before exhaling blissfully, her hot breath fanning across heeseung face as he reverts to kissing her on the mouth once again.
from the dj booth he hears the intro of a song that has his eyes shooting open - baby one more time by britney spears. the song that you alway play when you’re getting ready to go out, the song he chose to play during the car ride to the drive-in. he feels a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he thinks about the way you touched him that night, the way you wrapped your hand and lips around his cock without a second thought. his jaw slacks and his hands fall to his sides as his brain starts to move at a million miles per hour.
a mouth that’s not yours is pressed against his while a tongue that’s not yours slips inside and traces his teeth. heeseung can hear his pulse in his ears beating faster than the bass that vibrates the floors and the walls and the ceiling of the club that he now so desperately wishes he wasn’t in. a hand that isn’t yours pops the button of his jeans and slips past the waistband of his underwear. all he can think is how this feels so not… right. none of this is right!
without properly thinking he somewhat shoves the pretty but unknown girl off of him, prompting her to shout “what the fuck asshole??!!?” before storming out of the stall and off to find her friends to undoubtedly complain about what a selfish prick he is. but honestly, he doesn’t care. all he can think about is you and your touch and everything you encompass.
with a considerable amount of shoving heeseung makes his way outside, paying no mind to the select people that shoot him dirty looks after getting elbowed in the side. too inebriated to consider ordering an uber or calling a cab, he begins the 20 minute trek back to his apartment where he’s praying that you’re still residing, likely settled in your bed reading a book or watching season 2 of the bear. the cool night air stings his lungs as he trips and stumbles on the concrete with every other step he takes on his way back home, his way back to you.
being outside does absolutely nothing to sober heeseung up (especially considering that he downed 4 tequila shots not so long ago), and when the familiar front door of your shared rental house comes into view he practically runs to it, swinging it open and letting it bang against the wall before calling your name and jogging down the hallway. his shoes clomp against the hardwood floors as he approaches your door, the soft yellow glow emanating from underneath it the only source of light in the dark hallway.
“y/n?” heeseung barges into your bedroom, almost ripping your door off of its hinges in the process. once inside he sees you perched on your bed, your sheets pulled over your bent knees and a book with a splotchy blue cover in your grasp.
“what are you doing?” he questions you breathlessly.
your glance shifts from heeseung to the open book in your hands then back to heeseung, “reading?”
“oh, duh,” he pretends to facepalm while chuckling, your eyes still trained on his with a glint of scepticism. the gravity of his situation starts to dawn on him and he braces himself against your doorframe in an attempt to get the floor to stop spinning.
you furrow your brows and stare at heeseung pointedly, “are you drunk?”
“a little,” he hiccups, “actually a lot, but that’s besides the point.” finally he feels the courage he had 20 minutes ago at the club surge through him once more and he stumbles into your room, stopping at the corner of your bed and gazing down on you like you’re an ant.
“i have to tell you something.”
“okay.”
silence.
“...what do you wanna tell me?”
“oh, right.” come on heeseung, it’s now or never. he decides to take a seat on the edge of your bed so he’s looking directly at you, and he picks at the holes in his jeans as he ponders how to start.
“uhh… i really like the way you fold the dish towels in the kitchen.”
a look of shock makes its way onto your face - you definitely weren’t expecting him to say that of all things. before you can utter a word, a sound even, heeseung starts to ramble.
“and you smell really nice. like, really nice. and i think you’re really pretty, e-even when you’re angry, like when i wake you up to ask for a ride to campus when i’ve missed the bus. and i like how you chew on the inside of your cheek when you’re focused, and how you ruffle my hair when i say something stupid… which is a lot.”
he pauses briefly to catch his breath, then continues on, “and i don’t let anyone eat my lucky charms except for you, n-not even my friends when they spend the night, because i know they remind you of being a kid and that you like to pick out the clover shaped marshmallows. and i like the way you draw smiley faces in the condensation on the mirror in the bathroom after you shower, and the way you exclusively listen to stevie nicks when you’re cleaning, an-”
“heeseung,” you interject, causing him to draw in a shaky inhale, “what are you trying to say?”
“what i’m trying to say is that i lo-” nope!!!!!! waaay too soon. luckily even drunk heeseung can recognize the damage an actual profession of love would cause. thank god he caught himself.
“i really really like you, ok? and i feel like you just see me as a-” here come the waterworks, “as a looooserrrrrrrr,” try as he might, heeseung can’t stop the pathetic, drunken sobs that escape his trembling lips.
“oh god, heeseung-” your feeble voice does little to drown out the wails emanating from the drunken boy perched on the corner of your bed, his hair a mess and his cheeks flushed pink; you’re unsure if it’s from the alcohol or the crying.
half a week of pent up confusion and sadness and heartbreak escapes him in the form of reverberating howls, his shoulders shaking even after you place a comforting hand on his back in an attempt to calm him down.
“and when you did… that at the drive-in, i thought that maybe meant that you liked me too.” he sniffles before wiping his nose with his sleeve; you reach over to your night stand and hand him a tissue.
“oh jesus, i’m so sorry hee i didn’t mean to confuse you i just-” you take a second to collect your thoughts, your thumb still caressing heeseungs backs through his shirt, “the way you were talking just made it seem like you just wanted to get it over with,” your hand doesn’t leave his back, “like, no strings attached, you know?”
“no… not no strings attached. i want strings attached. i want exclusivity. i want you.” his tears roll down to his mouth and he can taste the salt on his tongue.
“heeseung…” you all but whisper, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.
he wants to say more, only when he tries to formulate his thoughts into words, he finds himself yaking all over your floor before passing out.
pain.
the first thing heeseung feels when he wakes up is pain.
not mental pain, which is what he’s felt for the past 5 days, but physical pain. an aching headache that shoots up from the base of his skull and wraps around to his forehead and flares at the back of his eyeballs. it’s settled, he is never touching alcohol ever again.
an acidic burn tickles his throat, and soon the memories from last night come flooding back to him. the cheetah girl at the club, the solemn and unsobering walk home, the drunken confession, and lastly, the puking.
he cracks his eyes open and immediately recoils, for the golden glow of the morning sun increases the aching in his head and behind his eyes tenfold. jesus, what time is it? a couple of blinks help his eyes adjust to the light, and he becomes aware of the figure sitting to the right of him. in a split second he soon realizes that he’s in your room, tucked under your sheets, inhaling the scent of your shampoo that’s become permanently woven into your pillows.
oh? oh. oh god. did you two….?
heeseungs restlessness draws your attention, and soon you're gazing down at him with a soft expression that makes heeseung feel all soft like honey.
“hey sleeping beauty.” you tease, your eyes still puffy with traces of sleep and the book you were reading before he oh so rudely interrupted you last night is in your hands again - a well-loved copy of murakami’s kafka on the shore, which you place on your nightstand for the sake of passing heeseung a tall glass of water and an advil. he downs both immediately.
“please tell me that the image i have of myself puking on your floor is something my brain conjured up while i was sleeping and not something that actually happened,” he rasps, throat stinging and nose stuffy.
“hate to break it to ya buddy,” you tsk while nodding sympathetically, “but that actually happened.”
heeseung shoves his head into your pillow, his thumbs pressing against his closed eyelids both in an attempt to relieve the ache and as an act of shame. he groans aloud, “oh god y/n i am so sorry, i-”
“heeseung it’s o-kay,” you punctuate, “shit happens.”
still unable to look at you, heeseung just nods, the friction from your silk pillowcase making a couple strands of his hair stand on end.
“besides, it was mostly clear,” you look off into the distance, “mostly.”
a second of quiet, and then you ask him, “how much of last night do you remember?”
he rolls onto his back, index and middle fingers of his right hand pinching the bridge of his nose, “most of it, it guess. i remember going out with my friends, stumbling back here and… telling you that i like you…”
“actually i believe you said that you really, really like me.” your sleep swollen lips curve into a teasing smirk.
“fuck off,” he jeers while playfully pushing your shoulder.
“woah!!! lee heeseung drops f-bombs now eh?”
he just chuckles, his hands moving to pass through his frazzled hair. as he shifts under your poofy comforter he realizes he’s still donning the clothes he wore last night - spare for his shoes, which he’s assuming you took off of him and likely put them on the shoe rack by the front door.
a silence settles over the two of you, but this time it’s comfortable. it’s not estranged or pointed, but hospitable.
“i didn’t know you felt that way about me.” you state. it’s not a positive or negative statement, simply neutral; an admission.
heeseung doesn’t say anything, just gazes at your side profile and admires the way your eyelashes grace the tops of your cheeks, the way your top lip converges at your cupids bow, the way your cheekbones are dotted with blemishes.
“can i kiss you?” he asks, “please?”
a plea.
and, in your secluded bedroom on this bright saturday morning, you answer him by pressing your lips to his.
it’s strange, since heeseung can’t seem to discern any actual sensations, he just feels incredibly warm. warm and soft, like taffy that’s been left out and has melted in the glow of the sun. his heart is flipping inside of the cage that is his ribs as he pushes his pursed lips against yours in reciprocation.
you detach your lips from his for a second only to reattach them moments later in a deeper, more passionate kiss that heeseung exhales into, the tip of his nose gracing yours as he tilts his head to sink impossibly deeper into you. his curious hands make their way up to the back of your neck where he grabs ahold and pulls you against him so your torso is on top of his own, your heart beating against his.
underneath the confines of your comforter heeseung feels your leg glide against his own, the sheets crinkling and tangling in the process. his mouth continues to dance against yours with his tongue experimentally poking out every so often before he pushes it past your lips and into your hot mouth. a whimper makes its way out of you and heeseung swears that if he were standing his knees surely would’ve given out from underneath him.
“heeseung…” you whine before nipping at his cushiony bottom lip, sucking at it to soothe the sting - and to make heeseung swoon even more. ugh! he just can’t get enough of you and your sickeningly sweet demeanour.
as you continue to kiss and suck at heeseung pouty lips and perfect teeth you become more and more restless, your hands moving to smooth over the expanse of his chest and the tops of his shoulders where they come to rest. the palms of your hands are soft and delicate and they send a shiver down heeseung’s spine as he feels them grace his cloth covered skin that’s slightly damp with sweat.
with (what seems like) some reluctance, you remove your mouth from heeseung’s with a wet smack. when he cracks open his eyes he finds you beholding him wistfully, your pupils dilated and lips swollen and glossy with lip gloss of his own making.
“can you show me how you get yourself off?”
your voice is deep and slow; sultry, like a glass of oxblood coloured cabernet sauvignon. his breath hitches in his throat once he fully registers the request you just made. show you? on his own??? he does his best to swallow his nerves.
“sure,” heeseung agrees bashfully, “if you can do the same.”
“okay.” you smile before tossing the blankets off of both of your hot bodies. a much welcomed gust of cool air causes heeseung to erupt in a fit of goosebumps (although he’s not quite sure if that’s from the change in temperature or his current predicament).
unsure of what to do next, he waits to follow your lead. with hungry eyes he watches you pull of your pyjama bottoms before tossing them in a heap on the floor, leaving you in a pair of plain light blue panties and an oversized band tee. in somewhat of a rush heeseung fumbles with the hardware of his jeans, struggling to pop the button and tug down the copper zipper at the fault of his nerves. eventually he does so successfully, discarding his bottoms before becoming stuck in limbo.
with deft fingers you begin to drag the hem of your shirt upwards, exposing more and more of your torso before stopping once you reach your sternum. the soft underside of your breasts are just barely peeking out from underneath the fabric.
heeseung watches with wide eyes and a painfully hard cock as you slip your hand underneath the waistband of your panties in one swift motion, a motion that he’s sure you’ve done hundreds of times before this. his brain swims as he thinks about all of the times you’ve touched yourself in this very room, in this very bed.
your knuckles strain and push at the fabric of your underwear as you play with yourself, your chest rising and falling steadily but with slightly more erraticism than before. heeseung follows in your footsteps and reaches to the thick elastic waistband of his boxers, hesitating for only a second before pushing the garment down to his hips, allowing his hard cock to slap against his tense stomach. he spits in his palm before wrapping his hand around the base of his shaft, giving it a few tentative strokes and watching the way his stomach spasms.
“i don’t think i said this before,” you purr, “but you have a really nice cock heeseung.”
your admittance has heeseung overheating, his cheeks and chest flushing a pretty shade of pink. his stomach twists and churns and he slowly starts to jerk himself knowing that you’re watching his every move, like a vulture stalking its pretty. to distract himself from his own ministrations heeseung looks at you, his gaze travelling from your hand in your panties to your chest to your face where he finds you staring back at him, causing him to quickly look away out of sheer embarrassment of being caught.
“what do you think about when you touch yourself?”
you. obviously.
but he doesn’t say that.
he just remains quiet, his eyes darting from place to place but of course, no answer does not satiate your appetite for knowledge, so you push further.
“do you think about me?”
yes. obviously.
he nods steadily in response before realizing that that simply isn’t a satisfactory response.
“always.” his voice is small yet unwavering.
you smile at his admittance, eyes hazy with desire and your cheek squished against your pillow due to your head being turned towards him. breathy moans and pleas tumble past your lips as you finger yourself, your hips rolling into the heel of your palm. slick wet sounds can be heard both from you and from heeseung, whose precum is aiding in his ability to pump his dick at an increasing speed. the burning pit in his stomach slowly grows and grows and he moans aloud, jolting slightly when the outside of your thigh brushes against his own.
as he feels himself approaching the cusp of an orgasm, the familiar sensation looming closer and closer like a moth drawn to a flame, your hand grabs his arm prompting him to stop, your middle and ring fingers wet against where they’re wrapped around his forearm.
in the next second you’re sitting up, hands grasping the hem of your shirt once again only to fully remove it this time, exposing your back back and tits to him rendering him speechless. you discard your panties as well, leaving you completely bare as you move to straddle heeseung’s tense thighs. all he does is look at you in astonishment, mouth slightly agape.
without thinking heeseung reaches forward and envelops both of your breasts with his big hands, his palms rubbing against your hardened nipples while his fingers gently dig into the soft flesh.
“your tits are perfect,” he rasps, hand moving in circular motions to massage your chest.
“really?” your eyes light up at the compliment.
he nods, his adams apple bobbing in his throat as he remains enamoured with your figure. your fingers tickle his sides before grasping at his shirt, tugging at it in a way that tells him you want it off; he sits up and removes the garment before you place a palm on his chest and push him back onto your mattress, the springs making a slight squeak at the force. your eyes rake over heeseung’s bare chest as he lays before you, a shaky exhale leaving him every few seconds or so.
“you’re so handsome lee heeseung.” you compliment.
“even when i’m hungover?”
“even when you’re hungover.”
you crawl over his body, just a little bit, so your hips are unbearably close to his aching cock, the tip an enraged red spilling pearly white beads of precum. heeseung tries his best to not shudder when you wrap your hands around his shaft, moving yourself to be perched directly above his dick. you drag his tip through your folds to be a tease, only when the boy beneath you begins to squirm do you line his cock up wit your dripping hole before sinking down on it ever so slowly, gauging heeseungs reaction with scrutiny. he looks quite pretty, with his eyes screwed shut and bottom lip tucked between his teeth, his forehead dotted with beads of sweat. once he’s fully inside of you you remain stagnant, hips flush against his own.
heeseung feels like he’s gone limp, his limbs turned to mush and inoperable. he keeps his eyes tightly shut as he becomes accustomed to the feeling of being inside of you, for he knows if he sees you sitting on top of him he’s going to have heart palpitations.
only once heeseungs face slowly starts to relax, his eyelids slowly fluttering open, do you begin to move, gyrating your pelvis against his at a leisurely pace. heeseung can’t help but whimper when he feels you grinding on top of him, his cock throbbing and sensitive inside the warmth of your pussy.
your hands rest on heeseungs chest to help you stabilize yourself, your nails digging into the soft skin covering his pecs and leaving behind deep red marks. heeseungs hands move to grab at your hips and you arch your back in response, teasingly shoving your tits in his face - he takes this as an invitation and pulls you closer to him so he can wrap hips lips around your left nipple, sucking on it while palming the other.
“oh my-, heeseung,” you moan as heeseung continues to play with your breasts eagerly. in response you increase the pace at which your hips are moving at, grinding against him in a fluid, persistent manner that makes heeseungs vision grow warped fuzzy. once again he feels the slow burn of an orgasm take flight in his stomach, slowly ebbing outwards as you work him towards his climax.
the moans and groans leaving him come out muffled due to his mouth still being wrapped around your breast, only detaching once the need for oxygen becomes stronger and stronger and his heart beats faster and faster. your fingers feel hot against his skin as you fuck him raw, the sensation of your cunt constricting around his cock feeling so other worldly that heeseung believes that you and your pussy and your body the only things tethering to him reality.
his name tumbles past your lips in the form of needy whines as your movements slowly become more and more erratic, your eyes rolled back into your skull as you chase your high. all heeseung can do is lie underneath you, his fingers back on your hips while the tantalizing promise of a mind blowing orgasm renders him almost immobile. sweat rolls off of his brows as he pants and groans, hips feebly bucking upwards in an attempt to make him cum faster.
“i’m so close y/n i-” is all he can manage to whimper to let you know that he’s about to finish, about to erupt into a thousand hot white stars. you moan an ‘i know’ in response before reaching down to play with your clit, your cunt tightening around heeseungs cock with each and every flick of your fingers.
you orgasm with a desperate whine, brows furrowed and eyes shut as you keel over heeseung. your pussy flutters around his cock and you manage to pull yourself off of him right before he cums with a cry of your name, spilling his hot sticky seed all over the expanse of his stomach, which twitches and spasms every so often.
the two of you lay side by side as you wait for your heart rates to lower, for your breathing to steady, for the aching in your lower abdomen to cease. there’s a slight ringing in heeseungs ears which slowly subsides overtime, allowing him to listen to the way your pants morph into heavy breathing. in his peripherals he can see your chest, see the way your eyes are heavy with pleasure. you move your hand just enough so that your knuckles trace across the back of heeseungs hand.
the room comes to a standstill, with the sun peeking through the slats in your shades falling across his tainted stomach that rises and falls with each erratic inhale and exhale he takes. you shift to lie on your side so you’re facing heeseung, allowing your fingertips to dance over his clavicle, his neck, his jawline.
bliss.
euphoria.
a happy ending.
a/n: and to think some of y'all didn't believe that i was gonna give you a happy ending.......... what do you have to say for yourselves now huh? HUH??????? here's you're happy ending i'm gonna go cry now bc i'm weirdly emotionally attached to this series.
patience is a virtue taglist: @hello-stranger24 @jainandan @yohanabanana @iamliacamila @nyanggk @chansmaze @beomgyusonlywife
#enhypen smut#lee heeseung smut#enhypen imagines#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen blurbs#enhypen x reader#lee heeseung x reader#lee heeseung fanfiction#lee heeseung blurbs#lee heeseung imagines#kpop smut
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MASTURBATION. GETO SUGURU
☽ CONTENTS NSFW, masturbation, he kinda gets caught, frustrated suguru ᵎᵎ wc 1.8k
ᵎᵎ check the mlist for kinktober here !
being your friend was pretty hard for poor suguru.
it wasn’t until shoko brought it up that suguru actually realised that what he felt for you was beyond friendship. and he was denying it heavily at first. like sure, maybe he felt his eyes looking for yours each time you were in the same room, maybe he felt his lip corners turn up whenever you spoke and maybe seeing you smile made his stomach do flips and cartwheels.. but that was just because you two were such close friends… right?…
he carried on with this behaviour for a while, denying any observation shoko made regarding the differences in the way he acted with others and the way he acted with you. it was pretty easy for suguru to just roll his eyes, scoff and walk away from shoko, even though he wouldn’t have heard the end of it. but when satoru gojo, his best friend, started to point out the same things shoko did, suguru knew he was royally fucked.
it was one thing for his other friends to notice his crush on you — which was growing more and more evident as the days went by — and it was completely another for satoru. he was his best friend since high school, the only person who truly understood him. if satoru said “dude, you have the hots for her” then it must’ve been true. and now, it had become almost impossible for suguru to deny his feelings. almost.
because suguru found himself in the worst and, at the same time, the funniest predicaments. the four of you were gathered up at satoru’s place, for your usual movie night. there was nothing different about your behaviour, you always did seem to gravitate around suguru after all… but somehow, for whatever reason, he found himself unable to stop his hormones from going wild.
there was nothing unusual to your look either, hair was just a bit messy, a little eyeliner enhancing your pretty eyes, some lipgloss on those perfect, soft lips and a lowcut shirt that showcased your enticing collarbones. suguru could not, for the life of him, peel his eyes away. especially not when satoru, grinning from ear to ear, would lean into his best friend’s ear and go “you’re pretty red? see anything ya’ like?”
“shut up, satoru. i’ll literally kill you” suguru hissed between his teeth as he got up to get himself another glass of pepsi. a loud chuckle was heard behind him as his best friend followed. if there was anything gojo satoru was good at, it was teasing the hell out of people, especially considering he had never seen suguru attracted to anyone so much before. seeing his calm state being absolutely shattered by you amused satoru to the core.
“come on, suguru. she’s right there. are you really not gonna make a move?” suguru almost spit the drink out of his mouth before giving satoru a glare.
“are you kidding? do you think i came here with the intention to start anything?” suguru asks, completely baffled. he earns a shrug from the white-haired as he pushes the glasses back on the bridge of his nose.
“you could.. or, you can keep jacking off to her when you’re alone at night like a sad loser” suguru hissed, trying his best not to punch satoru in the throat.
“what would you know about it?” and satoru gives another amused chuckle, hands on his hips as he sassily responds “i’ve seen you two. you think i don’t see the way she looks at you? i’m just sayin’, it’s pretty stupid to not take a chance. plus, it’s pretty noticeable you haven’t fucked someone in a long time. it’s time you got laid, buddy” he places a caring hand on suguru’s shoulder before exiting the kitchen.
suguru lands a painful slap to his forehead. he hated how right satoru was. in truth, he had no guts to come up to you and talk about his feelings. he was a pretty reserved guy, to begin with, and even if it was a daily occurrence for suguru to sway girls and boys alike, whenever he truly liked someone he turned into a red, hot mess. he dreaded sitting down with you and confessing his feelings, even if you did reciprocate them. it made him all too anxious.
so he decided to take the usual approach when he hit situations like these, in which he couldn’t stop the thoughts about you from flooding his brain. he glanced back into the living room, watching you laid back on the couch and laughing at some scene in the movie. suguru bit his lip with a sigh as he heard your chuckle flood the place, being followed by some frantic chatting with the other two figures in the room. and god, weren’t you just perfect? suguru had to retreat soon. he knew he couldn’t go back to the movie. not when your laugh made him shiver all over and sent all the blood in his body straight to his dick.
suguru felt dirty. he felt perverted. he felt so disgusting. but there was nothing else he could’ve done. what was he supposed to do, anyway? walk back into the living room and sit down on the couch like he didn’t have the most obvious boner known to man? he tried to find excuses that would help his scenario, that would help him get over the shame he felt.
however, it was pretty hard to think at that point, when his hand was pumping his leaking, hardened cock so aggressively, eyes rolling into the back of his head. if you found out about this behaviour that had been going on for months now, suguru knew he’d let himself be suffocated by shame. even so, suguru couldn’t help but lock himself in the nearest bathroom and jack off to the thoughts of you that clouded his mind.
“haah… shit..” suguru breathed out, pressing his left hand to his lips in an attempt to muffle out the sounds coming out of him. it was impossible to resist, his hand moving even quicker along his length, hips bucking upwards, desperate for contact. each time he closed his eyes he saw you in the most obscene positions, each time they opened he imagined it was your mouth or your pussy that was taking his cock in so well.
suguru’s hair was coming undone, the hair tie falling somewhere on the floor as he desperately gripped the porcelain of the sink. no matter how quick or how precise his hand’s strokes were, he couldn’t seem to get off. it made him desperate, afraid that somebody might knock on the door and start asking questions. and he knew damn well he couldn’t go back out there with his dick ready to burst.
“f..fuck… come on, you fucking.. aahh..!” suguru groaned in frustration as his hips stuttered upwards, precum spilling all over his fingers. his back arched for a bit as he felt himself coming close to climax, neck veins popping out as he tried to suppress his desperate moans. his dark bangs had started to stick to his now sweaty face as his lids threatened to close, mouth slightly agape in pleasure.
unbeknownst to suguru, however, you had gotten pretty worried about him. so, as gojo and shoko decided to argue about a scene from the movie you found a chance to slip away and look for the dark-haired man. you followed along the corridor with unsteady steps, unsure if you were supposed to be roaming around gojo’s mansion just to look for his best friend. because, funny enough, you were in the same situation as suguru, uncertain whether he felt the same way you did when you met his eyes.
your steps halt abruptly as you hear some strange sounds coming from behind the bathroom's closed door. grunts and moans hit your eardrum as you got closer, curious as to suguru's ventures. your breath gets caught in your throat as you glue your ear to the wooden panel, now sure of what was happening. the wet squelches were so audible now, clearly indicating to how desperate suguru was, rubbing his hardened cock like his life depended on it. and, to satiate your curiosity, as if he was aware of the question circling your brain, he lets out a muffled gasp of your name as his cock twitches into his fist.
you find yourself rubbing your thighs together, face hot at what you are hearing. the urge to just open the door and fuck him then and there was huge. you wished he would just open the door and pull you in, teasing you about the wet patch that formed on your underwear. suguru's head was now thrown back as the cum oozed from his flushed tip, leaking all the way down his length and onto his fingers as his dick started to go limp. you could hear him trying to stabilise his breathing, his voice slowly giving out.
"shit... i'm so fucking disgusting" suguru sighs, chest heaving as he glances down at the mess he made. he quickly starts cleaning himself, making sure there's no trace of his little session. after washing his hands he looks at himself in the mirror, shaking his head as his cheeks bear a slight shade of pink. after rinsing his face, tying up his hair and making sure, once again, that there is no evidence of him masturbating to you he exits the bathroom, trying to make his way back to his friends without looking suspicious.
a smile rests on satoru's cheeks as he watches his best friend stumble into the kitchen. you take notice of suguru as well, biting your lip and squeezing your thighs again. you were too scared of facing him in that state, especially after listening to him jerk off. so you just ran back to the couch, trying to stop the most foul thoughts from entering your mind. shoko takes out the lollipop from between her lips, smacking them as her eyes follow "the two menaces", as she loved to call them.
"they're going to talk about you again, you know?" she says with a small smirk, your eyes widening "what?..." shoko simply rolls her eyes, placing her chin in the palm of her right hand "come on... everybody and their mom knows that that idiot, suguru, is in love with you. i don't know why you don’t talk to him.."
back in the kitchen, satoru was ready to tease suguru until he bled "had a good jerking sesh?" suguru sighed, turning around "was it that obvious?" laughter is the only thing coming out of the other man "you kiddin'? you practically bolted. 20 minutes, i'm impressed"
as suguru rolls his eyes, his phone dings, giving him a perfect excuse to ignore satoru. but as soon as he opens it, suguru's eyes widen, his pupils shaking. switching positions quickly, satoru glances over his shoulder, blowing a raspberry as soon as he reads the text "fuck me, finally!" he exclaims, face beaming with joy while suguru's remained horrified.
"next time, ask me to join you <3”
© cultrise | don’t steal, copy or translate my works.
#✦— kinktober.#𐙚 — pages.#𐙚— dreamscape.#geto#geto suguru#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk geto#geto x reader#geto x reader smut#geto suguru x reader#kinktober '23#kinktober 2023#kinktober
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