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angelskills · 3 months

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can we please have a college au! Suguru who takes interest in a girl from a different department and he keeps trying to find her and talk more but she doesnt let it? Or disappears for weeks together untul he next sees her?

a/n: omg this is so creative?! i haven't tried writing a suguru fanfic ever, so this will be a challenge, and i love challenges :D, thank you so much for the request! if you want something else, pls lmk, also thank you sm for 200+ likes on my last post, also, i kind of switch the names between geto and suguru, and gojo and satoru. this may not be the best fanfic but if you want something else, pls pls request, i want to write something that you actually want :)) !

Out of Reach

warnings: pw/p(p0rn with plot), tipsy sex, he doesnt pull out (birth control dw), clit stimulation, p in v, vaginal fingering

credits: @hopelesslygaysstuff for the 18+ header

characters: you, Shoko, gojo, geto,

intro: geto notices you for the first time in the library while he is with his friends

Geto had his eyes on you for a long, long time. But, you never noticed. He always tried to find you around campus and talk to you. But, he never could. Geto first noticed you at the library when he was with Gojo. You happened to be with Shoko, who is one of his close friends.

Something about you really stood out to him. He never really knew why, but he took an interest in you. He is lazy, but he would chase you around the campus to try and catch up to you, but it never really worked out. You both had different majors, meaning you would be in different departments. He majored in humanities while you majored in computer science.

Geto thought about you all day long, he didn't want to but couldn't stop thinking about you. You were pretty, with a cute smile, and you were smart. How did Geto know? Well, he may or may not have texted Shoko about you. He lays in bed every night, hoping to get the chance to talk to you one day.

That man was so happy. He actually started smiling when Shoko told him you would be at Gojo's party in his apartment. He was excited to finally be able to have a proper conversation with you that doesn't have him running around campus, slipping like 10 times to catch up to you. Who knows why he was so crazy about you?

It was finally Friday night. Geto always hangs out at Gojo's house and helps prepare the drinks and food whenever there is a party. Geto was yapping on and on about you and how it's so hard to talk to you as he was laying out the plastic plates on the table and ordering the food. Gojo was so annoyed with that man, "Just get her number and text her, dude."

Geto seems like an overall confident person, but when it came to you, he was nervous, he didn't wanna make a weird first impression. "You don't get it." He sighed, sitting on the sofa, "You think she might like me?"

"No, fuck no." Gojo laughed, "You're scared to even approach her, pussy."

"I try to catch up to her."

"Try harder."

Geto rolled his eyes and cussed under his breath. But, it was the truth. He was trying, of course. But whenever he caught up to you, he would chicken out and just, not.

Gojo heard a knock on his door. They both looked at each other and looked at the clock, it wasn't time for the party yet.

Well, guess it was.

He opened the door and saw a bunch of his classmates and friends just come in with bottles of vodka and tequila. Screaming and singing. More and more people came in. You could say almost the entirety of the college students were there, except you and Shoko. G

Geto was in a corner while Gojo had girls all over him. He kept on texting Shoko and spamming her to get here faster.

Meanwhile you and Shoko...

"Hurry up, Y/N, please!" Shoko whined, lying down on the couch, replying to Geto's text.

"Sorry, wait!" You yelled from the bathroom, applying mascara on your lashes.

You wore a cheetah print top with flared jeans and a rhinestone belt. You brushed your hair, thinking about the party, obviously you know Gojo, he's really popular afterall. He was always with this guy. Tall, muscular, and he looked tired all the time. You finally finished getting ready, putting on your necklace and earrings and stepped out of the bathroom.

Shoko complimented you and you guys took a few pictures together. You both put on your shoes and legit rushed out. Trying to find a cab to get to Gojo's place. You were excited, because this was your first ever party, especially in college. Even though you're a sophomore, you avoided parties a lot because you focused on your grades too much. After becoming friends with Shoko, you let loose a bit and finally agreed to go to a party.

Shoko was talking about Geto as you both got in the cab and you couldn't recognize his name. She showed you a picture and you finally realized that was the Geto Shoko was always talking about. You couldn't even deny it, that man was fine, but you didn't say anything.

After a while of asking Shoko for more pictures of Geto and staring at his pictures as if he were the most beautiful man ever, you finally reached Gojo's place. You and Shoko got out of the car, and you were out here taking deep breaths because you were nervous about the party. As you both walked towards Gojo's door, Shoko was reassuring you that everything would be fine and parties weren't that big of a deal.

The door was open, damn. That man was really fearless.

You walked in with Shoko, astounded by how big Gojo's apartment really was. Geto noticed you and Shoko, letting out a sigh of relief because truly, he was worried sick thinking YOU(not Shoko) got in an accident and died. He finished his glass of beer and started walking towards you. Then, Shoko dragged you off to somewhere else, giving you a tour of Gojo's apartment. Geto clenched his fists, muttering out a bunch of fuck you's to Shoko.

Geto finally managed to catch up to you and Shoko, finding you guys hanging with Satoru. You looked at Geto, finally realizing that man was even finer in real life. You gave him a warm smile, before turning back to Gojo.

Geto's face nearly turned red. Did you just smile at him? He couldn't believe it.

"Hear me out, let's play beer pong." Satoru smirked, setting up the plastic cups. It was an upside-down triangle laid on the table.

You looked at Shoko, nodded, and helped pour the beer into the plastic.

You guys played beer pong for a while, switching some of the cups with beer and then tequila and vodka.

Satoru and Shoko were drunk as fuck and out like a light, you and Geto were only a bit tipsy because you both were actually good at the game and meanwhile, Gojo and Shoko sucked ass with their angles.

It was like, 3 a.m., and Satoru and Shoko were still out. You and Geto were sitting on the couch, talking and he confessed about how he always chased you around campus and tried to talk to you, but he always chickened out. You laughed at that, but on the inside, you were screaming. A man, like him, took an interest, in YOU? You talked about how you kept begging Shoko for pictures of him because you thought he was so cute.

There was some tension between you two. You both basically just confessed your feelings at this point. You laughed it out, trying your best not to create awkwardness between you two.

But, he didn't care. Whether it was awkward or not, all he cared was being there with you. Just you being present makes him happy.

He put his hand on your cheek, getting closer to your face, making sure you're comfortable before pulling you into a deep kiss.

You didn't know how it got to this point. From you and Geto laughing at each other, to a bit of making out, and then to you being carried to the guest bed.

He placed you on the bed gently, pulling you into a kiss as his fingers ran down your chest to your waistband, slowly pulling your jeans off. Your heart was beating out of your chest. All of this happened in a flash. He slid your top up so your bra would be exposed. You could feel the dampness in your panties from just seeing him like this. He kissed down your neck to your stomach. His hand slid under your panties, slowly rubbing small circles on your clit. You bucked your hips, trying to squirm away but his hand on your waist kept you in place.

He inserted a finger inside you, catching you off guard. You arched your back slightly, your body squirming as you let out noises. To him, your voice was like a melody, let alone noises. He wanted to get more out of you. He slid another finger in, your wetness making it easier for him. His fingers were so thick, you were almost scared about what his dick would feel like. His fingers curled right against your g-spot, you let out a loud moan, your toes curling as you gripped his shoulder, "S-suguru..." you whimpered. He swore he almost came in his pants after hearing you whimper his name like that. He pulled out his fingers, sliding your panties off.

He inserted his fingers right back inside of your hole. Stretching you out to make you prepared. You gulped as you shut your eyes, moaning as his fingers hit your sweet spot every time he pulled his fingers in and out. He unzipped his pants with his free hand, pulling down his boxers and lining his member to your entrance.

You almost screamed when you saw how long it was. You weren't even sure if it could fit or not. "Say the safeword when you want me to stop, green." He said as he slid his length inside of you, trying his best to be gentle but your pussy felt so good around his dick, he had to hold himself back from cumming right there.

You moaned, "Hngh... s-suguru... please...". He looked you in the eyes, "Please what?" He smirked, his fingers crawled to your clit.

You buried your head in his shoulder, "S-start moving, please." you gulped, you felt so full you thought you would just pass out if he started moving. From this moment on, he loved seeing you be shy in bed, he thought it was so cute especially since it was, you.

His hand grabbed your waist to keep you in place as he started thrusting inside of you. His free hand rubbed small fast circles on your clit, making your eyes roll back from the overwhelming pleasure. His dick hitting your sweet spot and him rubbing your clit at the same time.

"T-too much, too much!" You whined, throwing your back as you felt your orgasm coming. Your hands wrapped around Suguru's neck. It was almost impossible to keep yourself quiet and you were almost screaming but he wasn't complaining at all.

Within minutes, you milked his cock, creating a ring around it. Your pussy clenched around Suguru's cock, "H-holy shit", he groaned. Your toes curled as he sped up his pace, his thick cock kissing your cervix with each thrusts. After a few moments, he filled you with his cum to the brim, painting your walls white as thick ropes of cum spurted out.

He pulled out as he collapsed onto you, but making sure he doesn't put all of his weight. You put your hand on his cheek, smiling before giving him a kiss.

After a few moments, he picked you up to carry you to the shower, helping you clean up.

The very next day, you couldn't even walk.

#jujutsu kaisen #smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #geto x reader #geto smut #suguru geto #suguru x reader #suguru x y/n #geto #jjk smut #satoru gojo #jujutsu satoru #shoko ieiri #jujutsu shoko

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privitivium · 4 months

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thoughts / drabbles? about a yan playboy,,, i enjoy this type of character. especially when they get a bit pathetic

landon / pestille, just so you could refer to him as a pest... i'll go with nameless for now :p

,, to say he was a little well-known was a little understatement, no? platinum blond hair, tan skin, muscular physique.. "mesmerising" livid blue eyes.. his charismatic, utterly kind personality, he was constantly making new 'friends' all the time! women and men alike throw themselves at him, hoping for a chance - but in the back of their mind they know they have to play the "disinterested" type.. but does it really work like it does in every other media? no one has tried it yet, besides playing coy.. most of the population of the campus knew about this guy in some type of way - whether it be his little clique, several tightknit fanclubs, or merely observers in the backgrounds unwilling to take a chance..

you, he's seen you around. and he's friends with everybody, mostly. he decides to take the chance of making a new friend he could use for his pleasure? you.. are handsome. oftentimes, his plans of making "friends" are ruined. walking your way with intent to touch your shoulder in greeting or "trying to get past you" but he doesn't get close enough to or merely trying to call you over by using the color of your shirt or something other - often being interrupted by his friends pulling him away, or your friends gaining your attention..

finally - coincidentally, you bump into each other at the library.. how romantic! ( and overused? maybe. i cant help myself. ) he was alone, looking apologetic as he proceeded to apologize, puncuating his apols with your name. ( it isn't weird! he just overheard someone calling you by your name, he swears! ) a group of dude-bros in the back, his main friend group, sitting at a table and whispering, laughing quietly amongst each other from what you could see and hear - "no worries." you waved off his apology with a polite smile, slipping passed him with a thick book about ocean discoveries in hand. you knew him, you must, right? everyone knew him. everyone! a-and everyone was equally into him in some type of way - why did he prepare for a much .. dramatic moment of forgiveness?? he thought you were just ... going to stand there, blushing... giving him the chance to flirt you up, but no... hrmph.

you were pretty.. and he liked having pretty people on his arm. ugh.. why doesnt he try his luck? trying to flirt you up, but accidentally making himself flustered the longer you proceed not to give into his praise. are you dense?!!

"oh, hey, actually.. that book.. did you check it out?" he appears nervous, apologetic as he lifts his hand to the nape of his neck, rubbing it. "i need that um.. exact book for a club that i'm in." he clears his throat, berating himself for the most stupidest fucking excuse -

"oh.. yeah.. i can lend it to you, no worries." and you bought it? hm. you were supposed to be a flustered mess. guys like you, "weird and quiet", around school usually were when he was talking to them.. you seemed nonchalant. lackadaisical... huh. he enjoys this.

"yeah, yeah! sounds good - uh, take my number." he practically forces you on the spot, but in a polite manner so it isnt considered forcing, right? you, a little weirded out, nod unsurely and hand him your phone with the keypad - happy to make a new friend, your outward appearance apathetic without intent... pretty easy, he thought.

he suspected you just didnt like guys... after multiple times hanging out with you and your own friend group who were a little weirded out that he was hanging out with them - welcomed him! of course, why wouldnt they.. you were so cute, talking about quetzalcoatlus and going into a debate over which pterosaur was cooler. what a nerd, he thought, face growing warm as he admires your frame while you argue with your friend in a joking manner..

he feels himself.. getting in too deep over trying to get a good fuck... when he could easily just use someone else. he likes the chase, he assures himself.

after a little digging that he commanded his friends to do for him, he's learned you had a few male flings.. so you couldn't be not into guys, right? just... not interested.. in him? what could possibly going through your mind to not like him in some type of way-? he looks over the pictures provided of your male flings... they all look different... nothing like him... perhaps it's personality? or maybe you just.. didn't like him. and this - this fuels his affection and interest.. and once he's got you, he isn't going to get bored as some would assume,,, he's a nice person! an even nicer lover! he promises... if you would just play along and like him..

his friends - lackeys, uh... people rather infatuated with him, knew better than to question why they were keeping watch as he went through your room. why were they keeping watch if you were friends as he said? .. rooting through your clothes... going through your little trinkets.. you were so cute. god, he was utterly ecstatic to find that you didn't have a roommate, it was relatively easy breaking in and entering... maybe leave a little gift behind?

with the door closed, and the two meatheads outside guarding the door.. just a quickie... using your boxers as material to jerk off and hiding the dirtied article of clothing in your underwear drawer below your carelessly thrown in clean underwear - ( don't you fold?!! ) feeling breathless at the thought of you finding them - dick twitching.. uah. even more disgusting, the thought of cutting a hole into your pillow and cumming inside,,, sewing it up and knowing you'd be sleeping on it every night - even cuddling it.,, uagh.. usually, he'd berate himself for such perversion, but he lets you fuel these thoughts.

also thinking about this playboy x reader x grunge jerk type of guy?? both pining after same crush and tries to sabotage the other.. maybe you'll see that in the future.,,,

#ocs =͟͟͞͞★#x male reader #top male reader #male reader #sub male character #yandere m x m reader #yandere playboy.......

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joshslater · 1 year

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Granny’s Will

A rewrite of JD's story. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

"You should stay away from him," she hissed in a low voice. I turned my head towards Cody's creepy granny and saw her leaning my way. "What?" I answered, not understanding what she meant. "Tell Cody you don't love him. You were only with him for the sex, but now understand how shallow you are. Tell him you are not good enough for him, clearly. You're also not good for him. He's just so full of disgusting thoughts now. Soon his grades are going to suffer. You're like a parasite, pumping him full of poison."

Her voice went harsher the further she went on. I just stared into my empty plate wondering if she was for real. If she would end the tirade with a "j/k lol", but I hadn't heard a single joke from her all evening. "I'm..." I started, unsure what to say. It was just so unhinged, like a rambling better suited a century ago.

"Should I get the desert?" Cody asked, returning from his bathroom break, and clearly not reading the mood of the room. We made a good couple on campus. He was the captain of the Lacrosse team, and supplemented his hard training on the team with some extra gym time to have a fitness magazine cover toned body. I was on the cheerleader team with body of a nymph. All rack and ass, long smooth, tanned legs, and tall enough to kiss him without standing on my toes. I decided to give my response to his granny right away, and left my chair to join him. "It's already here," I said and kissed him on the mouth. Not a quick kiss either, but with tongue and passion. With my tongue still in him I turned him around so I could see his grandmother. She looked pissed and her saggy face had turned red. Good. I locked eyes with her and gave her the finger behind Cody's back. Her eyes were turning red too. And glowed.

There was a sharp slap in my face, as if someone hit me with an open palm, and I felt a shock of pain through my entire body. I was thrown backward and fell, or perhaps rather forcefully pushed down, crashing into a bed. All pain was immediately gone and I was lying on my back in a silent and dim room. Faint sunlight glowed through the drawn curtains.

My thoughts were a jumble. While I didn't feel cold, I was naked and the sheets were damp with sweat. I leaned up, my eyes still adjusting to the lack of light, and saw a room I hadn't seen before. At the same time it was a kind of room I knew very well. Beat up weight bench, piles of laundry, X-box under the TV, and fit babes showing lots of skin on posters on the walls. Your standard sports jock room. Also filling the room was the dank smell of sweaty dude I also knew very well, and never liked when visiting the guys on the team for some... at home exercise.

"No fuckin' way…" I muttered, grabbing my throat hearing the deep mumble that escaped my lips. I felt the thick bulge in my neck, then stripped the sheets off me to see a massive, bulky body that wasn’t mine! “FUUUUUCK!” I shouted, jumping out of bed and hurling my beefy self to the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the door.

Staring back at me was a tall, tanned, and incredibly ripped jock, the epitome of a dumb fratboy. Handsome but dickish face framed by unruly curls. Wide, hefty rounded shoulders, pecs that bounced and flexed at even the slightest move, jutting out from my brawny chest. A killer 6 pack, shredded from practice, and the V-line of a god leading down to a big bulge in the trunks. My trunks. I turned to look at my back and suddenly the vision of my cheerleading friends giggling about “jockbutts” as we watched the guys play came to mind. Athletic, striated thighs and calves like footballs completed the look before ending in pair of big sweaty feet. The tongue of my kicks just by the door told me they were size 15. Dude, ya know what they say about big feet? Totally true, yo! I was starting to bone up just looking at myself, filling out the trunks! Wait till the chicks see me! WAIT! NO! Chicks?! I mean, my Bros… Nah, fuck dude why would they care? They’re just as swole! uuuuugh… my head….

I staggered from the mirror and fell back on the bed. What the fuck had just happened? My head was pounding and my stomach growling. I knew this was Cody's granny's fault, somehow, but spending any more time in this rank room wouldn't solve anything, and to leave I needed something more than the loose, grey trunks I was currently wearing. The room was a mess, but inside the wide open wardrobes I only saw winter clothes. I grabbed a pair of basket shorts from the floor next to the bed and put them on, and their pair of socks from the floor under the shorts. Just as I was about to open the door I also decided to step into the sneakers.

The house was foreign to me, but lots of the decorations and furnishings were familiar. I walked down the stairs and into the kitchen where my mother was making breakfast as if nothing was out of the ordinary. She offered me second helpings of everything, complained that I was eating her out of the house, and told me I needed to shower before heading to school. I tried to argue that I was going to the gym with Cody after school, but she firmly told me that wouldn't be of any help to anyone who had to sit near me. It was only after I was in the shower I realized I somehow knew my schedule for the day. What was going on?

The house was in the old suburb the city had turned into a rent-controlled zone. All the buildings looked much more dilapidated here compared to our real house, but the upshot was that the school was within walking distance. As I was short on time I threw on the same clothes and a sweatshirt, grabbed the backpack, and started to jog there. Halfway to school Cody's granny suddenly stepped out of nowhere just in front of me. "One week," she said.

"What the fuck is going on?" I said, still not used to hearing my deep voice. "You have one week to show you can control that lustful body of yours. If your dick squirts a single drop of your disgusting ball phlegm you'll be stuck like this where you can't hurt him," she said in her shrill voice and poked my chest with her nail.

Just as suddenly as she appeared she was gone, and I felt a chill down my spine to my balls. I'd never felt a sensation like that before, but then I'd been a dude for like an hour. It was like you needed to pee, but different, and I could feel my recent dick stiffening again. Obviously the old crow had gifted me with a horniness attack as a parting gift. It was almost physically painful to not touch my junk and rub one out right then and there. The remainder of the way to school was agony as I jogged past worn-down houses built for Korean war vets back when, with MILFs getting in their cars to get to work. Occasionally a car with a babe from school would zip by, and when Riley from my class waved I was so close to bust a nut. I don't think it was the actual jog that made me arrive at school all sweaty and smelly.

School was weird. Obviously I knew everyone in class, but somehow it wasn't a shock to them that I was suddenly this muscular jock. My usual spot had been moved to back in the room, and the teachers weren't really paying much of any attention to me. Which was probably a good thing, because man did I have a lot of issues to deal with. Who designed these desks? They were way too small to sit straight in. I found the only bearable way to sit in them was to slouch, legs spread apart to not slide off the seat. That however made a full display of my erratic boner. If I focused on what the teacher tried to tell us I could take attention away from my horny dick long enough for it to get soft, but as soon as one of the girls answered a question I could do nothing but stare at their back and remember from PE how they looked naked. Queue tenting and feeble attempts to cover it up.

I squirmed and sweated my way through the classes, half the time thinking a sweatshirt was the worst decision with how clammy I was and half the time thinking what a masterstroke it was to hide in it. I was close to losing it during lunch. You might think that just putting more people in a room wouldn't be an issue. You can only have so many people in your field of view after all, and the ratio of hot to average people is the same. But somehow the average-looking people melt away and your eyes keep darting between the super hot people, most of which I'd showered with at cheerleading practice. I did my best to keep focus on the food, and it kind of helped because as soon as I started eating I realized how hungry I was.

Time dragged on during the afternoon, and I did my best to stay unfocused. Listen to the teacher, but zone out from class interactions and certainly everyone in class, and above all don't think of your own body and how it feels. Most teachers left me alone, and the one that didn't I managed to give an answer that satisfied him enough that I wasn't totally asleep.

After school Cody and I went to the gym. I somehow knew that we usually did that on the days with no lacrosse practice, which was kind of unsettling to me. How much else of my mind and my memories had his grandmother soiled? It was nice to finally be alone with Cody, but he was acting quite different than he used to around me. I was after all just a teammate now, albeit someone he was friendly enough with to be his gym buddy. He seemed chattier and less guarded than I've ever known him. Lots of talk bout the cheerleading team and babes in general, which I did my best to deflect. We changed into our gym clothes, for me a grey tank top and shorts with a printed sunset on, and went to work. I was again shocked that I knew things I didn't know before, like how to use the gym equipment and spot for Cody. He for his part continued to talk about girls, and that's when it hit me, as I saw ourselves in a mirror wall. He was trying to impress me. Despite him being the captain, he clearly saw me as the top dawg, at least regarding girls and sex. The player among his peers.

As unsettling as some of the revelations at the gym had been, at the end, once I got Cody to focus on the exercises, it felt cleansing to work as hard as possible. It was like all of the sexual buildup over the day got released and replaced with glowing muscles. Most of it anyway. Walking back home from the gym alone with my thoughts I was confused with how the day had ended. Not only was I still with Cody, but I had somehow become his best buddy. It was bewildering why his granny had made that change, but I was grateful for it. Above all though it felt like I had a shot. I could survive one week of this and come out better for it.

Immediately as I stepped into the mess that was my room I wasn't so sure anymore. The walls were filled with scantily clad women, just at the line of what is acceptable to sell to students. Pop stars, actresses, and photo models. But worse than that was the smell. That jock room smell, heated by sunlight all day. Even before this transformation nonsense I would associate it with sex, though from an entirely different point of view. I could feel the horniness coming crashing in fast and rushed to the bathroom for another shower, a colder one.

I spent all the time between dinner and bedtime playing on the X-box, trying to avoid thinking about anything but the game. Several times during the games I caught myself joining in with all the sexist shit my teammates kept saying over the voice chat. It wasn't that it got me hard again, but it did make me worry about how easily bro speak kept creeping in.

The boner I woke up to was almost painful. The room was warm, I was hot, and my dick strained the fabric of the trunks I had gone to bed with. Barely awake my right hand almost automatically started to slowly grab and rub my hot rod when all of a sudden the last clouds of sleep vanished and in panic I realized what I was dangerously close to do. I jumped out of bed, rushed into the shower, and had another close call before I lowered the temperature. I needed to come up with some sort of plan to survive this week.

I threw together a shitty lunch box, protein bars and fruit, so I could avoid the school cafeteria. I put on a cut-off T to not melt in the classroom, and compression shorts as underwear in the hope of keeping that troublesome dick in place. I brought the tangled mess of headphones with me so I could tune out the class and focus on the book and the board. I was determined to not fail.

The day started out fine, though Mr. Carlton in English objected to me wearing the headphones. I told him to back off for one week, as I was on my period. The rest of the class laughed, he blushed, and left the matter. Honestly I scared myself again with that response as I kept having these short moments when I didn't act like myself, but like this douchy frat dude.

At lunchtime I was starting to feel real horny again. If not for the compression shorts under my loose basket shorts I would be visibly tenting. I went to the stadium to get away from everyone and do a few laps in the hope that physical exercise would keep the libido in check, like what happened when I worked out with Cody. Just as I had hoped the area was deserted. No one else was dumb enough to be out on the track at midday in this hot weather. I wanted to get two or four laps in, to get 800 or 1600 meters, but it was too hot. After one lap I could feel the sweat running down my back. Instead I ended up cooling my dick in the drinking fountain by the bleachers to numb it a bit, downed half a gallon of water, and ate my packed lunch.

It felt like things were going downhill from there. Jessica kept staring at me during US history and then invited herself to team up with me during chemistry. It was like she didn't care I had practically soaked my shirt during lunch. It took me longer than I want to admit, and a fragrant lab with ammonium chloride, to realize that perhaps she reacted the way she did because of how I smelled and not despite it. Of course that witch must have done something with my pheromones, if that wasn't new-age bullshit. That meant I would have to keep my distance from girls too, because no way her magic worked one way.

Thankfully next on the schedule was Lacrosse training with Cody and the team. I knew all these guys since I started cheerleading, some longer, but this was way different. I was one of them, moreover one they looked up to almost as much as Cody. I ought to have been harder than ever getting into gear with all those muscled bodies, but I barely rocked a semi. Though to be fair I was probably the best looking guy of the bunch. All those thoughts just vanished as soon as we entered the field. It was just me, the team, the coach, and the game.

I don't think I can put in words how exhilarating it was to not think of anything but what was happening right there and then. Time just rushed me by and we were heading back to the locker room again. Cody made sure to walk just next to me, patting my shoulder, and telling me how great it had been. He was right.

We talked about what had gone well, what we needed to improve, how Alex had screwed up all his passes, how Lauren from the cheerleader squad had looked at me throughout practice, how Cody's group project in Spanish was falling apart, what games I had been playing last night. Not until we stepped into the showers did it hit me that this was all wrong. I was his girlfriend, not his mate. I don't know if he noticed any shift in my demeanor, because as I was lost in those thoughts he began staring at me. "Fuck, you really are hung as a donkey" he said, and I looked down at my soapy hand absentmindedly jerking my fully erect dick off. Fuck! I stopped immediately. "Keep at it, bro. Looks like you need it. Why's everyone so quiet?" he said and left the showers. I realized we were the only ones left, though we had been the last ones back into the locker room from the field.

The showers only had one setting, lukewarm, so I couldn't go for a cold shower. I desperately needed one, apparently. I hadn't even noticed what I was doing before Cody rescued me, and I wasn't even through the second day. I quickly rinsed off the soap, made hasty work with the towel, and returned to the locker room.

"Looks like someone is ready," a smirking Lauren said from across the empty locker room. I was too surprised to hide anything with the towel in my hand. I stood frozen, like a deer in headlights, completely naked, and with a raging hardon. "I asked everyone if we could have a moment," she continued. She was wearing the white sneakers, the knee-high socks, and the cheerleading skirt from our uniform, but was topless. Her beautiful sand blonde, wavey hair reached down to her perky, round breasts. I had always been envious of that hair, but it was the boobs, jiggling as she approached me, that kept my attention. I could feel hormones rush into all the primate parts of my body while I stood still. She kept getting closer until at last her chest touched mine. It was like something snapped inside me, like a glass ampoule in a glow stick, that couldn't be put back. I grabbed her and kissed her, long and deep. To hell with Cody's granny's witch games. She did this, so she can undo it. I just needed to empty my balls into this slut. She wasn't wearing her spankies and I knew for a fact she was on her pills, so we were almost instantly on my towel on the bench with her legs over my shoulders, squeezing my fuck stick.

It was everything I had hoped for, though probably much quicker than she had hoped for, when my shattering orgasm came. Whoever said girls' orgasms were better had never tried out this body. Fucking hell how good it felt filling the bitch up. She was still smirking when I pulled out my dick and leaked our smoothie blend on my towel. "Now be a slutty boy and keep the rest of the chicks off Cody," she said, eyes glowing red.

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lovelyhan · 1 year

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kai pls “you sound pretty hot when you shut up.” + cheol im begging

also ily <3 hope ur doing well and taking care of urself <333

SAR BELOVED! sorry it took me a while to get to this </3 but hehe here's some cheol filth to start ur day right 😼😼😼

⟣ "you sound pretty hot when you shut up" ⟢ wc: 0.8k words minors do not interact!

One would think that the two presidents of the oldest fraternity and sorority on campus would get along swimmingly. Not only are the two organizations officially affiliated with one another, but most of the time, their members are either really good friends or dating slash fucking each other on the side.

So yes, it was perfectly logical to assume that you and Choi Seungcheol would fall into either of those categories.

Except you don't.

"Didn't I tell you to stop loitering around our property?"

"Your sorority is literally a sister organization to our frat. This is technically our property too, so what's your deal, ice princess?"

"My deal is that I can't fucking study when you're bringing all these stupid frat boys into our hangout! Don't you all have somewhere else to be?"

"Now why are you even studying at your goddamn hangout spot? You're supposed to hang out here, genius."

As Seungcheol bickers with you, the infamous Zeta Tau Alpha president, the 'stupid frat boys' he brought over to your sorority hangout spot all sigh in unison.

"There they go again," Mingyu comments with a laugh. "If I didn't know better, I'd think this is all for show and they're secretly screwing each other."

"That's, like, fanfiction levels of ridiculousness, dude," Seokmin comments. "They don't hate each other in a 'we-secretly-fuck-like-rabbits' kind of way. They just...hate each other. Period."

Soonyoung hums on the side while sipping on a box of juice. "Hmm... But don't you think they're being a little too theatric with their arguments lately? Remember when she splashed water all over Cheol at the cafeteria yesterday?"

"I don't know about that, Soonie," comments one of your sisters, Sana, who shakes her head. "Our lovely president over there is a sweetheart, but when you've done something to piss her off, she'll remember it until she dies."

Mingyu perks up with curiosity. "So you're saying that Cheol did something unforgivable? Is that why she hates him so much?"

Sana can only offer them a nonchalant shrug.

"No clue."

Unbeknownst to your members, Seungcheol has done something unforgivable to you in the past.

"I can't fucking believe you're still hung up on the first time we fucked," Seungcheol rasps as his fingers dig into your thighs. "It was just a one-night stand at the time. Why are you so pissed off?"

Though you want nothing more than to glare at him, the sensation of his thick cock ramming into you does unfairly well in derailing your train of thought. Still, your perpetual irritation with him breaks through the surface.

"How many times do I have to tell you that that was my first time!" You bite back, stifling a moan when Seungcheol presses your face against the cold metal of the lockers. "You can't just take a girl's virginity and leave her all alone in the morning! Doesn't your frat have a code of chivalry or something?"

Seungcheol lets out an irritated noise before lifting up one of your thighs—hooking it across his elbow so he gets to fuck into you deeper. The angle has the leg still planted on the floor quivering with pleasure but your pride won't allow yourself to fall apart so easily.

"Ice princess doesn't like it when her favorite boy toy can't be tied down? I came back to you anyways, didn't I? Again and again—ruining this pretty pussy for anyone else."

When you feel his breath against the shell of your ear, your walls clamp around his pulsating cock almost embarrassingly tight.

"And I'll keep fucking you until that ice cold heart of yours finally melts."

You don't offer up any more complaints—completely and utterly submissive as Seungcheol rails you against the lockers none-too-discreetly. He's rougher than usual, and it wouldn't surprise you if any of his teammates finally found out about this dirty little secret you've been keeping under wraps.

You're fucking addicted to him. His cock squelches with a lewd sound each time he fucks into you, orchestrating a perfectly timed orgasm that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Not a single noise comes out of your mouth once it crests—mouth agape in a quiet scream as you topple over the edge. Your hips absentmindedly meet the cadence of Seungcheol's practiced strokes as you ride out your high, and he only stops when his cock paints your insides with the white hot mess of his cum.

"You sound pretty hot when you shut up."

He dishes out the backhanded compliment when you're fixing the collar of your shirt—mind thankfully far enough from that sexual subspace to rightfully scoff at him.

"Don't let it get to your head," you say, already halfway to the doors of the locker room. "I just didn't want anyone else finding out that we're fucking inside a public space."

Seungcheol chuckles. "Now don't act like you're not down to do it again twice as loud the next time I ask you to."

You don't entertain him with a response. Instead, you let the heavy doors slam behind you in an illusion of autonomy. Of course you wouldn't agree to fuck that insufferable frat president in another risky place.

Even if his cum staining your panties says otherwise.

#svthub #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #seungcheol smut #s.coups smut #lovelyhan #🎲 ask games #💭 request #📝 drabble #💘 mutuals #sar <3 #i am so completely normal for cheol #like so very Normal

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roosterforme · 1 year

Text

Old Habits Die Hard Part 6 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: The slow burn threatens so make Sugar melt, and Bradley can't remember ever feeling this way before.

Warnings: Angst, swears, smut, fluff

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (fuckboy college student Bradley)

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"Oh my God," you sighed when you woke up late on Saturday morning. As soon as you opened your eyes, you couldn't stop smiling. Being walked home by Bradley was like a dream you didn't want to wake up from.

His lips had been all over yours, hips pressing you back against the wall outside your apartment door. When you asked him if he wanted to come inside, he groaned, "Of course I want to, Sugar. But can we just... not? Not tonight?"

You nodded in response, and he looked so relieved, you didn't think he meant for you to feel bad about what he said. You thought maybe it was more about him than you.

As you ran your fingertips along his scars, Bradley melted into your hand. "Tell me you'll come back over to the house tomorrow. We can hang out again."

You smiled at him. "Yeah, I'll come back tomorrow."

He nodded slightly, still leaning into your palm. "Text me. I'll walk over and get you. Shouldn't be walking by yourself."

And you were still thinking about what he said the next morning. He wasn't your boyfriend. He would probably never be your boyfriend. So maybe you shouldn't be encouraging him to walk you to and from his frat house all the time, but you had already promised him he could do it again.

"You're an idiot," you told yourself as you climbed out of bed, still wearing his sweatshirt. "He's not a good idea. You should know better." But you were still smiling.

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Bradley was antsy as soon as he woke up. He had too much energy. You'd gotten yourself under his skin somehow, and he felt like he needed to do something about it. He started pacing around his room.

He'd been threatening to kiss you stupid, but you were the one who had managed to turn him into a brainless moron with your lips and your face and your body.

"Dude," he groaned out loud. You had invited him in last night. He knew Janessa was staying with Tyson, so it would have been just the two of you at your apartment. It was an invitation for full steam ahead to getting laid, but he had said no. As if he had a shred of dignity left to protect. Like there was a thread of virtue left inside him.

Why was it so important to him that you didn't think he was a complete fuckboy? He never cared what any of the other girls thought. He never stopped them from writing on his door. He had even once fucked a girl after she told him she just wanted to be able to get her name up there, like riding his dick one time was some sort of prize you could win.

Just thinking about it made him uncomfortable now. He couldn't even remember that girl's name or what she looked like. But he remembered that she brought her own marker.

He collapsed back onto his bed. He had to swallow around the lump in his throat. That was probably how Phoebe had become his safety net. She was there the night his face got busted up. She knew what happened and could have probably guessed why he got into a fight with Chase. She never gave him a hard time about any of it. And she never got mad when he went into a spiral where he started sleeping around more than usual.

And yet, Phoebe got away with not getting mad about the things he did, because she wasn't his girlfriend. Nobody cared about him enough to be that.

Maybe things had started to improve when he started drinking less. The past six months had been better for him, in a lot of ways. He had been taking extra classes to get his GPA up as high as possible. He had actually been enjoying school. But he kept on going along with the easiest girls on campus, the ones who he knew wouldn't give his scars a second glance. The kinds of girls he'd always chosen.

His mom would be disgusted, and he knew it. His dad probably never did this shit. He buried his face in his hands. You were supposed to text him later to let him know when to walk to your place and get you. He needed to tell you he couldn't see you anymore. He needed to stop being around you, starting today. Maybe he could get better, be better, but he'd have to try it with someone else. Because there was no way he could let himself ruin you, drag your reputation down to his level. Jeff had been right. You were too fucking good.

And then he thought about how sweetly you talked to him last night. How well you had kissed him, and how he had pressed you down underneath his body. You trusted him. Trusted him with more than just his ability to get you off.

Then he thought about you in his lap in the library study room. He wouldn't be able to tell you no if you said you wanted him. He was so weak. He had never let himself be interested in any other girl like this before.

--------------------------------------

You had finished all of your schoolwork, and it was only mid afternoon. You couldn't text Bradley yet; that would have been as mortifying as when you came apart in his lap. So you tried to take a nap, then you watched a movie. You wanted to text him while you were eating dinner, but then you frowned, because he had been the one initiating texts with you ever since you wrote your number on his pristine door.

"What the hell?" you whispered. What could his problem be? What if he hooked up with someone else last night after he walked you home? You pushed your plate of food to the side, suddenly no longer hungry.

You glared at your phone, not wanting to be the one to make the first move. And just then it lit up with a text from him, and you quickly snatched it up into your hands.

Sugar, I miss you more than I should be allowed to. Tell me to stop.

Your heart was pounding now. Stop? You didn't want him to stop. So maybe he hadn't been with anyone else last night. Maybe he'd just been thinking about you.

You wrote back, You're allowed to miss me all you want, Beer Boy. Or you can walk over and get me. Then you wouldn't have to miss me at all.

You waited for a response but got nothing. You got changed and finished putting on some makeup, and he still hadn't written back. Finally, when you were about to see where Janessa was, he replied.

I'm on my way.

You bit your lip and almost screamed. You put your dishes in the sink and thought about taking a shot of the cheap tequila you and Janessa bought before you turned twenty one. You needed a distraction. But then there was a knock at your door, and you rushed to open it.

Chocolate brown eyes, messy hair tucked under a backwards cap. Smirk that made you feel silly.

"Sugar," he whispered, leaning against the door frame with both hands and examining your face. "Tell me I'm not allowed to miss you."

Fuck that. You reached for the front of his shirt, pulling him toward you, and he released the door frame. "What if I want you to?" you asked him softly.

He groaned as he pulled you against him and kissed you.

-------------------------------

He wanted you. He tried not to. He spent the entire day telling himself no. If you had told him no, he would have been gone immediately. But you were dressed all cute again, and your body was fitted perfectly against his. And you kept giving him a green light.

"Bradley," you gasped when he ran his lips along your ear. "Feel like hanging out here instead of going to the party?" you asked softly.

His cock throbbed for you. He hadn't let himself masturbate all day, and it had been a week since he got laid. You could have him right now if you wanted him. Right here next to your front door. But he was trying so hard to do what he should. Part of him still believed he came here to tell you he couldn't be around you anymore. The other part knew he was full of shit; he came here because he couldn't stay away. He was a fucking mess.

"I signed us up for beer pong," he told you, his voice raspy as you ran your hand along his arm.

You giggled, and he pulled you closer. "I suck at beer pong."

"I don't mind," he promised, taking your hand and leading you out. He listened to you talk as you walked. You asked him questions and wanted to hear what he thought about things, just like you had last night when he took you home. When you stopped at the crosswalk and kissed his scars, it felt nice.

Tyson and Dev waved you both over to the game as soon as you got there. "You guys are up," Tyson said, handing you the ball. "Ladies first."

Bradley watched you get ready to start the game, smiling softly at him over your shoulder. And you weren't just bad at beer pong, you were terrible. But he didn't mind when you missed three shots in a row, because your little crop top was riding up higher every time you attempted a throw.

When Bradley made his shot again, you groaned and glared at him. "Told you I sucked."

"How are you possibly this bad?" Bradley asked you, taking you by the hips from behind and moving you a foot further away from the edge of the table. "You're good at math! It's like a physics problem." He let his hands linger on your body for a beat as Tyson took his turn.

You turned to look at him. "Huh. I never thought about it that way!" you said, and Bradley grinned, because he had made your eyes light up.

"See, everyone underestimates how smart I actually am," he told you as he squared your hips and let his hands ghost up the soft skin along your sides, making you shiver. "Just get used to the way the ball feels when it leaves your hand, and let it arc down into the cups." Bradley removed his hands once you were in position, and when you took your shot, you managed to get the ball into a cup.

"It's math, Beer Boy!" you told him with a smile. He could still see the fading hickey on your neck whenever you tossed your hair back from your shoulders. When he leaned in and placed his lips there, you moaned softly, and he felt weak. What the fuck was going on? If you were any other girl, he could have had you begging for him, fucked you in his room, and come back down to the party with a clear head.

"Are you guys going to stop feeling each other up and play?" Tyson called from the other end of the table with a grin.

"Sorry, man," Bradley replied, picking up the ping pong ball and tossing it effortlessly into a cup. "Math," he confirmed with a nod.

The match was close, but Dev managed to edge the two of you out on the last cup. "I've never been that good before!" you told Bradley as he led you away from the table as the next opponents were called over.

"You know the secret. Now you'll be unbeatable. Come on, let's get some of the good beers," he said with a smirk, dropping his hat onto your head. He had no idea where Jeff was, and he wanted to keep it that way. The kitchen was empty, and as soon as he had you in there away from the horribly loud music, you had your arms around him.

He took two beers out of the fridge and opened them before picking you up and setting you on the counter. "Warn a girl next time!" you screeched as he jumped up next to you.

"Sorry," he said with a laugh. Bradley couldn't get over you. "You look adorable in my hat."

He watched your cheeks flush pink. "I slept in your sweatshirt last night," you admitted with a smile, but you looked away from him.

Fuck. "Lucky shirt," he muttered, and you turned to look at him, pressing your lips together.

"What's wrong today? You seem... a little hesitant. And you didn't text me as much," you said softly, and Bradley's heart was in his throat. "Not that you need to text me or anything like that, of course," you said, fiddling with your beer before taking a big sip. "I was just, you know.... I like you."

"Sugar." Bradley took the beer from your hand and set it aside. You looked at him tentatively as he leaned toward you and brushed his lips softly against yours. Nobody had ever said that to him before. He'd never be able to stop now. "I like you, too."

You made a soft sound as he wrapped his hand gently around your neck and stroked his thumb along your jaw.

"I'm sure you say that to every girl," you whispered, and his lips touched yours briefly again.

"No, I never say that to any girls. That's the problem."

You laughed softly as his fingers drifted down your back and he gently kissed your neck. "That doesn't sound like a problem to me, Beer Boy."

"Oh, it is. It's a big problem."

"Then how do we solve it?" you asked as he pushed you back until you were lying along the kitchen counter, his hat rolling to the floor.

Bradley watched you reach out to him, and he let you pull him on top of you. "You're smarter than me, Sugar. Might have to rely on you to figure it out. I can only think of ways to make it worse," he whispered, letting his fingers meet the soft skin between your jeans and your shirt.

You reached up and ran your hands through his hair. "Then make it worse," you told him. "Kiss me until I sound so stupid. Touch me until I sound so fucking dumb."

"Jesus," he muttered as his lips crashed against yours, humming softly. You nibbled and licked until he dipped his tongue into your mouth to meet yours. Your fingers were a little rough against his scalp as he pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, and both of his hands were all the way up your shirt.

All the little gasps and moans you made were making him dizzy. You were so sweet, but Bradley already knew you were a little dirty, too. "You're the best combination of everything," he told you, stroking your tits through your bra.

"Oh, God," you moaned into his mouth when he kissed you again. You bucked your hips up against him, and he anchored your body against the counter as his fingertips found your nipple. He teased you there as his tongue found yours, and you whined his name so loudly he was practically seeing stars.

When the door opened and the sounds of the party filtered into the kitchen, Bradley froze.

"Come on, guys! That's where I make my sandwiches!" Tyson yelled. "What the fuck!"

Instead of looking embarrassed this time, you just laughed as Bradley pulled his hands back out of your shirt and sat up.

"Uh... sorry," Bradley said vaguely in Tyson's direction. "Won't happen again."

"I doubt that," Tyson said, glaring at both of you as Bradley helped you down from the counter and picked up his hat.

Bradley laughed when you waved over your shoulder and said, "Bye, Ty!" as Bradley pulled you out of the room.

"He has no right to complain, really. I'm the only one who cleans this fucking house," Bradley muttered. When he tried to lead you back into the living room, you tugged on his hands and he stopped. When he raised an eyebrow in your direction, you nodded toward the stairs.

"Let's go up," you said softly. "Your room is quiet. And I want to be alone with you."

Bradley let you lead him there.

--------------------------------------

Bradley let you take control. You paused outside of his door, which still only had the note he had written to you and your phone number on it. "Just the way I like it," you told him before opening it and going inside. The soft glow of the Navy desk lamp warmed the room just like the previous times you had been in here.

Bradley tossed his hat on his desk and ran his fingers along the ends of your hair. "Sugar." His voice was so soft, and his grin was just barely touching his lips. "I shouldn't have you. You're too sweet for me."

You shook your head slightly. "No, I'm not."

"Too sweet for anybody," he told you as his hands found the bare skin of your waist again, and you had to squeeze your thighs together. "I fucking want you so bad though. I don't know what to do."

You traced the long scar along his neck with your fingertips, and his eyes fluttered closed. "I want you too, Bradley." Gently, you kissed the spot where your fingers had been, and he pulled you against him. "I like you. All of you. You call me Sugar, but you're sweet to me."

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against your lips. "I'm different now," he whispered, and while you weren't sure exactly what he meant by that, you nodded your head. He was different than you thought he would be.

Bradley dipped his head down and kissed you, his lips smiling against yours as he worked his hands higher on your waist. He pulled away a little bit and watched your face as he stroked along your curves with his thumbs. "That tickles a little bit," you told him, biting your lip to contain your giggles. But his hands inched a little higher.

"Want me to stop?" he asked, his thumbs finding your bra again just like in the kitchen. You'd worn your nicest underwear and a tight crop top that really had no place even being in your closet. He smiled, waiting for you to answer.

"Don't you dare," you told him, whining as his palms met your breasts, gently squeezing and kneading you through the lace fabric. You expected him to rip your shirt off, but he was taking his time. Somehow you knew this was not exactly the same guy who'd had the names all over his door. This guy was a better version. It felt like he was being better for you.

When your head tipped back, his lips found your neck, sucking and teasing you. Even though you tried to stop, you found yourself grinding your hips against him. He was already starting to get hard, and you knew you were already wet. One of his hands slid down to your butt, slowing your movement.

"Don't rush this. I want to spend the whole night making my smart girl stupid," he told you, and your body shook.

"Fuck," you said, nodding and agreeing with him as both of his hands went to the front of your jeans. He smirked as you steadied yourself with his shoulders.

"One word response. Starting to sound dumb already, baby," he said, teasing your lips with his as he dipped his fingers inside your open zipper.

You could only moan in response as he slid both hands up your body and pulled your shirt over your head. He stared at you like you were beautiful, stroking his hands over all of your newly exposed skin. You expected him to want to fuck you quickly and then get back to the party, but things were never as they seemed with him.

Then his breath hitched as he ran his knuckles along your ribs on your right side, just below your bra.

"You have a tattoo," he growled, immediately dipping his head down to kiss you there. "What does it mean?" he asked, running his tongue along your skin and making you cry out.

"Oh! It's a math equation. Called Euler's Identity," you gasped as he nipped and bit you. "It contains the most important mathematical constants making it the only perfect formula in science," you managed to say with a shaky voice. Because now Bradley was on his knees in front of you, unhooking your bra and sliding it down your arms.

"It sure does look perfect," he told you. He kissed your tattoo again before looking up at your chest and your face. "Never seen anything better." He ran the tip of his nose along the underside of your breast, his fingers never leaving the ink on your flesh. His mouth was all over you, kissing and sucking, leaving your wet nipples exposed to the cool air.

"I should have known you'd have a sexy math tattoo next to your tits," he said, scooping you up as he stood. "You're too fucking good to be true."

You squealed in his arms as he walked across the room. "It's really more of a natural sciences tattoo, if you want to nitpick," you told him with a giggle, as he dropped you onto his bed and pulled his own shirt off. His body was gorgeous.

"Oh no..." he said, shaking his head at you as you scooted back to rest against his pillows, and he yanked your shoes off. "You're sounding too smart again. I must not be doing a very good job."

You tried not to smile, but it was useless. "What are you going to do about it?" you asked, your voice shaking with need as he settled himself between your legs and stretched out over your body.

"This." He pressed his lips to yours, tipping your chin up for better access to your mouth. Then he gently pinched your chin, easing your mouth open so his tongue could meet yours. He felt warm and slippery as he explored your mouth. When he licked your open lips, you whined, grinding your hips up again and clenching around nothing.

"And this." He caressed your tattoo and palmed your breast with his big hand before letting his fingers trail down your body and dip into the elastic of your underwear. He slipped his fingers lower, moaning into your mouth as he eased one digit over your clit and through your wetness.

You were going crazy now. Making unnatural little noises and pulling his hair with your hands. He knew he was making you stupid, and he was looking at you like he loved it.

But he didn't know that your orgasm in the library was the best sex of your life. He didn't know that you'd never been able to cum with any other guy before. He didn't know how much you liked him.

"How does that feel, Sugar?" he asked, swirling his fingers along your clit just like you did to yourself when you were alone.

"Good," you moaned, shaking your head against the pillow.

"What do you want?" He licked your breasts before pulling your nipple between his lips and teasing.

"More," you whined. "You."

He grinned. "Back to one word answers, I see."

He moved so gracefully, sliding your jeans and underwear off and settling between your legs. When he slid a finger along your slit and pressed his knuckle against your pussy, you almost couldn't stand how good it felt. "Bradley," you whined, as he kissed your hips and your belly. Then he slipped his finger into your pussy.

You watched him watching you, and he looked delighted every time your body involuntarily squirmed. He added a second finger, moving them just the right way to get you worked up. When his thumb brushed you again, your back arched off the bed.

"Fuck," he muttered, working his fingers as he guided his body back over yours. "You're making me crazy," he groaned before kissing along your tattoo again. You wrapped your fingers around his wavy hair and watched his tongue glide across your chest. "Do you want me, Sugar?" he asked softly. "Can I have you?"

"Yes."

When he gently removed his fingers from inside you and licked them clean, you moaned and squeezed your thighs together. He was immediately off the bed, and you gasped, missing his warmth and weight immediately. "Where are you going?" you whined, propping yourself up.

"Need to get a condom," he replied, eyes on you as his hands shook opening a new box. "I'm coming back."

When he returned to the bed, you sat up and unbuttoned his jeans. He let you take your time guiding them down his hips and easing his boxers down as well. When you say how big and hard he was, your eyes darted up to his face. You licked your parted lips and he groaned so loudly you squeaked.

"You're huge," you told him. He was going to hurt you. The other guys hadn't been this big.

He must have heard the apprehension in your voice, because he told you, "We can stop," even as he was practically panting.

You wrapped your fingers around him and gently squeezed his velvety warmth. "No. Just go slow?" you asked, running your fingers along his length.

"Anything you want," he gasped.

------------------------------------

Bradley had never been this excited in his life. He wanted you, and you wanted him back. He'd tasted you. He knew how good your skin felt. Now he was about to fuck you.

He was completely sober, and delighted that he would remember all of this. He had never seen anything as gorgeous as your body bathed in lamplight.

You were whining his name as he rolled the condom on and got himself ready. He kissed your lips and cheeks, running his nose against yours until you were smiling. Then he whispered, "Sugar," against your lips as he pushed himself inside you.

Your lips were parted and your cheeks were flushed as you grasped his hair tightly with one hand and wrapped the fingers of your other hand in his sheets. He didn't dare move for a few seconds as you got used to the feel of him. You were so wet and tight and perfect, Bradley kind of wished he could just stay inside you like this. But then he started moving, and his own need was building. A few minutes of this and he could tell by the way you were responding to him that you were already close. He'd worked you up and now he wanted to be good for you. He needed to be so good for you so you would stay with him.

So he worked his hips a little faster, filling you all the way and then easing himself out a few inches before filling you again. "Oh God," he grunted next to your ear. Your eyes were squeezed shut, your chest rising with each whimpering breath you took. "You're such a good girl," he told you, moving nice and steady. "Look at me."

Your eyes fluttered open, bright and trusting as he caressed your breasts with his right hand. Moaning louder now, you raised your hips to meet each of his thrusts. "You feel so good," you whispered, voice hitching on the last word. Bradley pressed his lips to yours, kissing you and inhaling all of your little gasps. He pushed his hand lower to tease you, and soon you were shaking beneath him, squeezing his cock with your tight little pussy until he was grunting.

"Oh my God," you whined, shaking your head and pulling his hair as you came. Bradley pressed his lips to your tattoo and whispered your name as his last thrusts drove his own orgasm home.

He was never going to stop touching you. Every inch of your skin that he kissed and caressed was like silk. As he pressed his lips all over your shoulder and collarbone, your grip on his hair started to loosen, and your breathing evened out.

When he started to move, you grabbed onto him, holding him against you. So he wrapped his arms around you and stayed inside you, afraid to speak and break the spell.

Finally, you kissed his forehead and giggled softly. "I can't believe this was better than the library."

--------------------------

Beer Boy and Sugar.... oh man, they are sweet together.

Big thanks to @mak-32 for helping me along the way. This one's for you, Mak.

PART 7

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun fanfiction #rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster x reader

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therealdisneyfan2319 · 1 year

Text

The Spider and The Witch Chapter 1: The Experiment and The Flu

Summary: Peter Parker and Y/N L/N are junior biochem majors at Empire State College. Peter needs a volunteer for his research project, and a series of events leads Y/N to come down with the flu...or does he?

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Language, blood, needles, description of medical procedures

Word Count: 3.6K

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“I don’t know how I managed to let you talk me into going to the lab with you this early.” You stretched your arms out as you yawned, keeping your arm just so to keep your coffee upright.

“Dude. It’s 10 am,” Peter chuckled.

“These good looks don’t just happen, man. I need a full nine hours.”

“Maybe if you went to bed before 3 am-” “Now wait a minute. You’re lecturing me about going to bed early when you used to pull all-nighters slinging webs around Queens?”

“Shut up!” He swatted your arm before you had the chance to pull away. “At least I was doing something productive with my life, not playing Pokemon-” “Completing the Pokedex is extremely productive. Now it might not be the same kind of productive as extracting the Spidey mutation from your genome sequence, but categorizing all the Pokemon from the Galar region is an important, time-consuming task.”

Peter rolled his eyes as he rolled down the sidewalk next to you. You chuckled, taking a sip of your coffee as you shook your head. This sort of banter was typical of your friendship. Peter was one of your closest friends and easy to joke with, but you also worked well together. It didn’t hurt that you were both biochem majors and had the same sort of scientific mind. Since you met in world civ last fall the two of you had been as thick as thieves. It didn’t matter that he was three years older than you, a grade above you, or that he used to be Spider-Man. Finding out that the guy in the Stark tech wheelchair who loved Led Zeppelin and Star Wars was once the friendly neighborhood superhero was not what you expected when you went over to his dorm to hang out for the first time. Peter was used to people freaking out when they found out and was thrilled when you shrugged it off.

“So what exactly are we doing today?” you asked. You had volunteered to help him out with a research project he was working on. He hadn’t told you much about it, only that it was being funded by Tony Stark and dealt with genome sequencing.

“Nothing too crazy. I need to take samples of your blood. I’ll use those as test subjects against my blood. That’ll be the control sample.” He punched in a sequence on the keypad on the arm of his chair. Tank tracks dropped down from the bottom of the seat as the chair began to climb the stairs to the science building.

“You know how to take blood?” you asked, holding the door open for him as he wheeled into the building.

“Yeah, well…yeah. I mean Sam taught me how to start an IV and drawing blood is the same principle, right? You gotta find the vein.”

“Oh my god I’m gonna die,” you mumbled as you turned down the hall toward the lab Peter worked out of. It was one of the newest labs on campus. Tony Stark had donated a sizable amount of money toward the Empire State College science and research division with the provision that all the money go toward funding better facilities for students. The new building had just opened at the beginning of the semester. Peter was more than excited to have a space stocked with the latest Stark technology to work on his newest endeavor. It was more convenient than trying to head upstate to the Avengers Compound a few times a week.

“I won’t let you bleed out on me, man. Worst comes to worst we’ll just throw some webs on it and send you to New York Pres.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better about all of this? Because it’s totally not.” You hated needles. You hated doctors. The thought of someone who was decidedly NOT a medical professional fishing around your elbow for a vein made your stomach flip flop. Maybe a large coffee wasn’t the best idea for breakfast…

The bright fluorescent lights in the lab snapped on as you opened the door. They seemed unnecessary as sunlight flooded the windows that took up the entirety of the easternmost wall. The overhead haze added to the sterile feel of the room: the latest in Stark Technology, ranging from microscopes and test tubes to autoclaves and fabricators, shone brightly against the lights. It was nerd heaven, stuffed to the brim with everything anyone could ever need for any experiment they could dream of. You threw your backpack on a lab table adjacent to where Peter was setting up his laptop. Once you were done helping him out, you figured you’d swing by the library to start cracking on the paper for your art history course.

“So I already took my own samples earlier this week,” he explained. “I’m storing them in the fridge over there. Mind grabbing them for me?” He motioned with his head to the mini fridge that sat next to the sink. You walked over to the fridge, seeing a rack of blood vials sitting on the bottom shelf amongst the Petri dishes of spores and sole can of Coke. “Don’t drop it,” he cautioned as grabbed a ziploc baggie of medical supplies out of his bag.

“Whoop.” You fake tripped, stumbling around and swinging the tray to and fro aimlessly. He shot you a somewhat serious glare. You returned a toothy grin.

“Dude if you drop that-”

“Relax, Pete. I’ve got steady hands.” You placed the tray on the table in front of him with the grace of a swan. “See?” You raised your hands up defensively. “Steady hands. I should be a goddamn surgeon.”

“Ah yes, Dr. Y/N L/N, the surgeon who hates blood.” He dumped the contents onto the table. Out fell some rubber gloves, a rubber tourniquet, needles, tubes, alcohol wipes, and cotton balls. You gulped at the sight of the paraphernalia. “So why don’t you just sit there and roll up your sleeve so we can do this.”

“Are you sure you can’t just, like, prick my finger?” Plopping onto the stool you rolled up the sleeve of flannel.

“Do you want to sit here and fill up these tubes one drop at a time?” Peter asked from the sink. The tray of tubes, empty ones and ones full of his blood, sat next to him as he washed his hands.

“Good point,” you muttered. It felt like you were chewing on the flannel from your shirt.

“Just relax, I did it on myself the other day and I turned out just fine.” There was a slight waver in your friend’s voice as he spoke. Try as he might to hide it, Peter was nervous, too. He snapped on the baby blue gloves. You turned your head away, refusing to look until he was done. “Can you just make a fist for-good okay, yup, I see the vein.” The sudden coolness of the alcohol against your skin made you shiver, but you refused to look. Even as you felt the slight prick of the needle against your skin you kept your eyes firmly shut. “Told you I wouldn’t let you bleed out,” he chuckled, replacing the now full vial with an empty one.

“How many vials do you need?” You strained your neck as you tried to look as far away as you could from the scene unfolding in front of you.

“I don’t know, I did six of my own. That should be enough,” Peter shrugged.

Six vials of blood? Why did you even decide to do this in the first place? You could’ve been back in your dorm in the comfort of your bed, sleeping the morning away, instead of having your blood forcibly removed from your body. Peter definitely owed you big time.

He removed the tube from your arm, handing you a cotton ball to stop the bleeding. “That should be it. Mind putting those back in the fridge for me?”

The second your feet hit the floor your knees wobbled. It was probably psychosomatic, but the sight of all your blood sitting inches outside where it should be made you the slightest bit queasy. “Yeah, no problem.” You shook your head quickly. There was no way you were going to let yourself puke or, even worse, drop the vials and have to do it all over again.

It took all your effort not to look down at the plastic tray in your hands. You concentrated all your effort on staring down the refrigerator. That ultimately meant neglecting your untied shoelace. Before you realized what was happening you found yourself tripping over your feet. While you managed to not lose your balance completely, the sudden jolt sent two of the vials crashing to the floor.

“Shit,” you mumbled as you set the tray on the floor. There were shards of glass and blood splattered across the marble tile. You quickly glanced over your shoulder, hoping Peter hadn’t seen your mistake. Much to your relief he was engrossed in his notebook. That bought you some time to quickly clean up the mess. You looked around for a roll of paper towels, spotting the roll next to the sink and tearing off a few sheets. The crimson puddles looked like they’d be easy enough to clean up. Not thinking too much about it, you knelt down and started blotting at the spill. A sudden stab caused you to recoil from the ground in pain. As you examined your hand, you noticed a small scratch on the pad of your thumb.

“You good?” Peter’s voice broke you away from staring at your hand.

“Yeah. Dropped one of the vials and cut myself. I’m good.”

“Was it one of mine or yours?”

“Uhh, mine.” Truth be told you had no idea if it was yours or his. There was no way to know which vial was which. Peter knew. He probably had it marked down in his laptop or something. But you remembered that his vials were facing you when you pulled them out of the fridge. That meant yours were away from you and there was an empty spot there. Yeah, it’s mine. “You need me for anything else?”

“Nah, you’re good,” Peter focused intensely on his laptop, typing away as you finished cleaning up your mess and putting the samples away. “Are we still on for dinner tonight? Ned’s dying to try out that new Thai place on Watts Street.”

“Yeah, shoot me a text. I’m headed to the library for a bit.” You slung your backpack over your shoulder as you headed for the door. “See you.”

“Thanks again, Y/N.”

******

You spent the rest of the day in the library researching and typing and revising your paper. The minutes ticked by as you lost yourself in the endless barrage of Western paintings you thought looked all too similar. Yet as the day passed you found yourself feeling strange. At first you thought you had been studying too long. The words on your laptop screen seemed fuzzy and you found yourself re-reading the same paragraph on Donatello about a dozen times before anything seemed to click. Then the library seemed to drop ten degrees before abruptly shooting up another twenty. Sweat on the back of your neck ran down your shirt and chilled you as fast as it cooled you off. The lights were suddenly too bright and even the silence was too loud.

Shit, you thought to yourself as your felt heat radiating off your forehead. It was probably the flu. It had been making the rounds through campus for the better part of a month, so you weren’t completely surprised. Closing your laptop and shoving your books in your bag, you texted Peter as you left the library:

Got the flu. You and Ned go without me. I’m gonna go to bed.

The walk back to your apartment wasn’t long, but it was a near-impossible task in your ever-worsening condition. Every step felt like you were trudging through molasses. Your legs were as heavy as cement and you prayed you wouldn’t trip because you weren’t sure you’d be able to get up again. Tears clouded your vision. Rubbing your eyes didn’t help. The only thing on your mind was downing half a bottle of Nyquil and passing out as soon as you got back to your room.

Much to your relief you walked into an empty apartment. Peter and Ned must’ve already left for dinner. You kicked your shoes off and dropped your bag at the front door. There was no doubt in your mind that this was the flu: you felt like absolute garbage as you shuffled to your bedroom. As you flopped on the bed, clothes and all, your body felt like it was made of lead. Bone-crushing fatigue consumed you as you shivered on top of your bedspread. You prayed that you’d be able to get a little bit of sleep to help dull the pain.

When you woke the following morning, you were surprised to find that you didn’t feel sick at all. In fact, you felt better than you had in a long time. There wasn’t any evidence that you felt so poorly only a few hours ago. You swung your legs around to the side of the bed and stared at the floor as you thought about what you were going to do all day, but when you tried to stand up something was off. As you stretched your arms above your head, you felt something engulf you: it was your blanket. It was stuck to your hands.

Did I spill Nyquil on my hands? you wondered as you tugged at the fuzzy fabric. No, I didn’t take any Nyquil last night.

It took a considerable amount of effort to tear just one of your hands away only for it to stick on the wall as you balanced against it for support. Paint flaked away as you ripped your hand away. At that point you weren’t sure if you were still asleep or not. Squeezing your eyes shut, you reopened them to find flakes of drywall still attached to your fingers. What the hell? You shook your hands, trying to free yourself of the debris, but as you flicked your wrist downward, you heard a loud thwack. The sticky white residue covered Marty McFly’s face on the Back to the Future poster that hung next to your bed. That same white residue balled up on the inside of your wrist. When you tried to pull it off, a long spindly web came with it.

Oh fuck.

The implications of what just happened were huge to say the least. The vial you broke yesterday wasn’t yours: it was Peter’s. His blood contaminated yours when you cut yourself and now you had…spidey powers? It couldn’t be. This all had to be some sort of nightmare. You were just a normal guy trying to make it through college relatively unscathed. Sure, your roommate was an Avenger and that was a little weird, but other than that your experience was pretty normal. You had no interest in having superpowers or saving the world whatsoever.

“Everything okay in there, man?” Peter asked as he rapped on your door. It momentarily snapped you out of your panic.

“Uhh yeah, yeah. I’m good,” you hollered through the door, still looking at the web in your hand.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m okay. Just, uhh, knocked my blankets off the bed.” You wiped the web up with a tissue, praying that it wouldn’t stick to your hand, too. It didn’t, much to your relief.

“How are you feeling?” he called as you started taking off your clothes from the day before. A long shower would help you figure out what your next move was.

“Good. Great actually. I feel fine,” you responded, throwing your dirty t-shirt on the ground. “How was dinner?” “It totally sucked, man. You didn’t miss much,” Ned’s voice was faint as he yelled from the kitchen.

“Bummer. I told you that you should’ve done Indian instead.”

“Well hey if you’re feeling better why don’t we go for lunch?” Your stomach grumbled at the thought, but images of getting stuck to the subway pole loomed in your mind. “Yeah, sure,” you responded absentmindedly while kicking your pants off and grabbing a clean pair of sweats off your bed.

Wearing nothing but your boxers, you opened the door fully intending to go straight to the bathroom. The second Peter and Ned saw you their jaws dropped.

“Dude!” Peter exclaimed.

“Wha-?”

“Woah! Y/N, when did you get ripped?” Ned asked. You were thoroughly confused. None of your hobbies included going to the gym or working out. What were they talking about? The lights came on in the bathroom and as your eyes adjusted to the brightness you were shocked. It was like someone took a chisel to your body overnight. There were muscles in places you didn't know there could be muscles. The reflection in the mirror showed you defined pecs, swollen biceps, and the faintest outline of a six pack.

“What the hell?” you mumbled in disbelief. Your fingers traced over your chest, taking in the new body you’d inadvertently fallen into. It was a surreal experience seeing an unfamiliar body in the mirror. It was almost like you were watching someone else live your life while you watched from outside yourself.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Y/N?” Peter asked as he wheeled himself in front of the bathroom door.

“Yeah. I’ve just got spidey powers now.” It didn’t even feel like you were the one saying those words. Haze clouded your periphery, forcing you to focus on the newness of your body. It was an out-of-body experience in every way. There was no way to really process the profundity of the situation.

“You WHAT?”

Time stopped. Everything stopped. Peter’s face contorted with dozens of emotions in the blink of an eye. Glass shattered on the kitchen floor as Ned’s glass slipped out of his hand.

“Umm, yeah I guess. I’m starting to think that was your blood that I cleaned up yesterday.” You half expected Peter to be furious at the truth, but the beaming grin on his face told you otherwise.

“It worked! Holy shit it WORKED!” He spun his chair around excitedly, whooping all the while. “Mr. Stark, oh man, he’s gonna be so excited! He’ll want to meet you. Man, now he doesn’t even need to look for someone to be the next Spider-Man because…oh this is great, I can teach you everything! That way you’ll be WAY ahead of where he thinks you should be and he’ll let you onto the team fas-”

“The next Spider-Man?”

“I mean yeah, Mr. Stark will definitely want to talk to you about it,” Peter replied.

“Dude, I’d kill to be Spider-Man!” Ned added, sweeping up what remained of his glass.

“No way, absolutely not,” you groused as you stormed out of the bathroom. “No offense, Pete, but I don’t want to be an Avenger.”

“You don’t have to make a decision now. I don’t even know if he’ll ask. I mean he probably will but that doesn’t mean anything. He might just want you to come in to do, like, more testing or something.” Peter gingerly walked back his excitement. The prospect of training the next Spider-Man brought a sense of optimism back into his life that had long been forgotten. Losing his identity as the local neighborhood web slinger stripped away a core part of his identity: Peter Parker and Spider-Man were one in the same. Sure, he still used his powers and webs when he could, but it wasn’t the same. Tony had offered to make him an exosuit after the accident, but he knew that he couldn’t do it anymore. One close brush with death was more than enough for him.

“Look,” you sighed, “I’m not you. I don’t want to go out and swing through Manhattan and stop burglars or fight weird lizard things. I just want to be a normal guy doing normal guy things with my normal guy friends if I can even call the two of you normal.” Peter chuckled half-heartedly.

“Wait, can you stick to the ceiling?” Ned suddenly asked. You sighed again, shaking your head as you extended your arm up and jumped: you stuck. “Woah! That’s sweet!”

“Yeah, it is kinda cool I guess,” you chuckled as you watched your fingertips completely suspend your dead weight from the ceiling. Getting used to your new body was a curious sensation. Everything felt sharper. Colors were brighter and bolder. You saw incredibly small movements even from the corners of your eye. Your body felt stronger and faster and more agile. It was strange, spending your entire life as a regular human being and then waking up one day twenty years later with these weird spidery feelings tingling inside you.

“Do you want one of my web shooters?” Peter asked as you dropped down.

“Web shooters?”

“Yeah,” Peter replied questioningly as he raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think I can actually make webs, do you?”

You responded by mimicking the hand gesture Peter frequently showed you, flicking your wrist downward as a raveled strand of webs flew out of your wrist. Peter ducked his head out of the way in the knick of time while Ned’s jaw dropped in amazement.

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?”

232 notes · View notes

feelbokkie · 11 months

Text

Don’t Let Me Love You | Chan and Y/n (A DLMLU Side Story)

pairing: Chan x fem reader

genre: smau, non!idol au, fluff, angst

pov: 2nd person

warnings: swearing

summary: Key moments in Y/n and Chan's relationship pre-Don't Let Me Love You. Collection of short stories.

word count: 2,323

screenshot count: n/a

previous | masterlist | next

Meet Cute

"Where the hell are you?" You whisper yell into your phone. Normally, you would be yelling, but being in public is forcing you to keep your volume down.

“It’s 7:30 in the morning, why are you yelling at me?” Hyunjin groans, his voice deeper than usual.

“Oh my god, you were still sleeping, weren’t you? I knew I should have slept over at your apartment. Honestly, how are you going to get to class on time now that you live by yourself? Do I need to move in with you?" Hyunjin's parents got him an apartment close to campus as a graduation gift. In reality, they probably got it for him so he wouldn't be late to school every day like he was in high school.

"Dude, relax. The event doesn't start until 8. I'll be there in 15--20 minutes tops." You could hear Hyunjin scrambling around in the background, probably tripping over his love legs as he tried to get ready.

"Hwang Hyunjin, you will be the death of me. Hurry up or I will hurt you when I see you for making me walk around this campus alone." You huff before hanging up the phone.

You slide your phone into your pocket and pinch the bridge of your nose. The March air is cool on your skin, giving you some relief from the stress you were feeling. The new school year starts next week and you and Hyunjin were going to start your university career strong. You two planned to get to campus early for the welcoming event so you could explore the campus a bit and get good seats, now you two might be the last ones there. You'd be lucky to find two seats together.

"Lost?" A warm voice asks. You turn to meet the eyes of both the prettiest and most handsome guy you've ever seen. His slightly curly hair fell perfectly on top of his head, just barely covering his eyes. His lips are so pink you'd think he'd just eaten some sort of candy.

"Ah, no just waiting for a friend." You say slowly.

"You're a first year right?" He asks, readjusting the boxes you didn't even realize he was holding in his hands.

"Is it that obvious?" You smirk.

"I would have remembered going to school with someone as cute as you." He says shamelessly. Cute and cocky, a dangerous combination.

"Wow, that was bold. Are all university guys like that?" You tilt your head. Something about how confident he is reminds you of Hyunjin in a less annoying way.

"Just the ones that know when they've been graced by an angel." He smirks, making his dimple prominent. Oh boy.

"Okay, Mr. Smooth Talker. Is there like a class on this campus that teaches this or...?" You can feel the blood rushing to your face. If you don't leave soon, the effect that he was having on you would be very evident.

"Can't learn what some people are naturally gifted with." You don't think it's possible but his dimple gets even deeper as he smirks harder.

"Wow, okay. I'm going to wait for my friend at the welcome event. It was nice meeting you..." You've had enough, if you let this man flirt with you even harder, you'd probably end up skipping the welcome even altogether and go wherever he is heading.

"Chan. Bang Chan. If you need me, you can find me at the campus radio station. Just ask for CB97." He winks at you before you turn around and leave, beet red.

***

Have You Met Chan?

Your eyes scan the bar for Hyun's freshly bleached hair. You told him to wait for you on campus so you could walk over to the bar together but had to stay last minute to finish an assignment. Despite having the same schedule, Hyunjin somehow had more time to make friends. Tonight is meant for you to meet some of those friends and hang out with a few that you met during the past few months.

You find Hyunjin easily when he loudly laughs, throwing his head back and clapping at something your friend Seungmin said. You met Seungmin first and introduced him to Hyunjin last week. They somehow became fast friends.

"Oh thank god you're here! Save me from all this testosterone. They're scaring all the girls." Jisung whined. Hyunjin met him first and also brought him last week. Those two bicker so much, you're not sure how long that friendship is going to last.

"Oh! Y/nnie, you're here! Did your assignment go well?" Hyunjin asks, draping his arm around your shoulder.

"I think so. It's drying in the studio right now. Hopefully, no one fucks with it. What are we drinking?" You take Hyunjin's cup from his hand and take a sip of his drink. Lychee soju, your favorite.

"Oh! This is Minho hyung, he's in the dance club with me. Bokkie was supposed to come too but something came up. And this is Changbin hyung, he's friends with Minho hyung and-- wait, where did he go?" Hyunjin looks around the bar for his missing friend while you greet Minho and Changbin.

"There he is," Minho chimes, pointing behind you.

You turn around to be met with a vaguely familiar face. You rack your brain trying to remember his name.

"Ah! Y/n, this is Ch--"

"Mr. Smooth Talker." You cut him off.

"Angel! Didn't know you were friends with these degenerates." He sets down a few drinks on the table and takes the empty seat next to you.

"Speak for yourself, Chan hyung!" Changbin argues.

"You two know each other?" Hyunjin asks.

"Not really," You hum, taking one of the drink bottles from the middle of the table and splitting it with him.

"I would love to though," Chan says, taking a sip of his drink.

~~~

"Go on a date with me," Chan says, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. He has been staring nearly the whole night as you guys conversed.

"What?" You choke on your drink. You had switched to water almost

"I let you get away once, I'm not making that same mistake twice. Go out on a date with me." He repeats.

"What? No 'please?'" You laugh.

"I will get down on my knees right here on this dirty-ass bar floor and beg if that's what you want." He sits up straight and makes direct eye contact.

"Tempting,"

"Y/n, just agree to go out with him before he makes the rest of us lose street cred." Hyunjin whines.

"What street cred?" Jisung questions.

"Jisung, shut the fuck up or I will hurt you," Hyunjin says, calmly putting his cup on the table.

"Try me, bitch," Jisung slams his cup on the table, ready to fight.

"Boys! Behave before they kick all of us out of here." Minho says calmly. He's amused by their behavior but doesn't want to get kicked out.

"I'll go out with you if you get me away from whatever the hell this is." You turn to him, not wanting to deal with your friends drunkenly fighting all night.

"As you wish, angel."

***

Butterflies

"And let me love you, baby" Chan quietly hums along to the movie as Heath Ledger's character serenades Julia Stiles' character. You two were over at his apartment celebrating your four months of dating by having a movie night. You both were exhausted from school and this was all you could manage.

You're cuddled into his side. Your head is on his chest and your arms are tightly wrapped around his stomach. One hand is in your hair and the other is absentmindedly playing with the tv remotes.

"Don't let me love you." He says suddenly. The movie is still playing and you're not sure you heard him correctly.

"Hmm?" You hum.

"I don't want to end up hurting you. I fuck up everything good in my life." He rests his head on the back of the couch, the movie still playing in the background.

"Are you planning on hurting me?" You ask, sitting up from your comfortable position.

"No," He sighs.

"Then I have nothing to worry about. You wanna know why?" You smile.

"Why?" He lifts his head and raises an eyebrow at you.

"Because," you crawl over to Chan and straddle his lap, taking the tv remote and using it as a microphone. "I love you baby, and if it's quite alright, I need you--ah!"

Chan grabs your waist and lays you flat on your back on the couch. He hovers over you, staring deeply into your eyes for a moment. He has a soft smile on his face, making his dimple appear, but you can't read his expression. Butterflies swarm your stomach.

"I love you, Y/n." He whispers, leaning down and resting his forehead on yours.

"I love you too, Chan." You whisper back before lifting your neck to close the gap between your lips.

***

He's Just Not That Into You

(Roughly 2 years later)

"What are all of you doing here? Did we make plans or something?" You put down your paintbrush and wipe your hands as you grab your phone to see if you missed any messages from the group. You did not.

"No, we need to talk to you." Jeongin hesitates.

"All six of you?" You put your phone down and pull off your smock. You were supposed to hang out with everyone at Chan's apartment but you need to finish your painting for your project next week.

"Yes," Changbin answers, unable to make meet your eyes and scratching the back of his head.

"What's so important that you couldn't say it in a group chat?" You push. Your heart is racing and you have no idea why.

"It's better if we told you in person." Jisung answers, also unable to meet your eyes.

"You're scaring me...What is it?" You defensively cross your arms, bracing yourself for the impact of the news your friends have for you.

"We were just at Chan hyung's and--I can't do it." Seungmin looks to Hyun for help.

"He's cheating on you, Y/n," Hyunjin says softly.

"No, he's not. Why would you say that?" You scoff. You look around at the rest of your friends. They're all looking elsewhere, avoiding eye contact with you. Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach.

"We saw him making out with Bai noona with our own eyes," Jeongin says sheepishly. His glossy eyes finally meet yours.

"No, he wouldn't do that. You're lying." Your heart sinks further into you.

"Y/n," Hyunjin breaks away from the group. He softly cups your face in his hands and places a kiss on your forehead. He looks you straight in the eyes, directly into your soul even. "I know you don't want to hear this, but he's cheating on you. With your cousin. And if he was bold enough to do it with the six of us around, it's probably been going on for a while."

"But... but he loves me he wouldn't--" You choke out, realization finally hitting you. Tears pour down your face and a choked sob escapes your throat. Your legs go out from under you, letting you crumple under your own weight. Hyunjin catches you in time and pulls you into his chest, muffling your sobs. Changbin looks anywhere but at you, as he clenches and unclenches his fist. Jeongin and Jisung have trouble holding back their tears as Minho and Seungmin quietly comfort them, reminding them that you could not see that your reaction made them cry.

***

The Break Up

You paced around Chan's living room as you waited for him to come home. You believe your friends, they never gave you a reason not to in all your years of friendship. But you need to hear it from him yourself.

"Y/n? You're here?" Chan asks as he opens the front door. He's not too surprised to see you. He knew this would happen eventually, he has been mentally preparing himself ever since he walked back into the living room to find all of his friends missing.

"We need to talk." You stop pacing and stare at your boyfriend. You are a mess. Your hair is in a messy bun, too tired both mentally and physically to do anything else with it. You have dark bags under your eyes from lack of sleep and your face is puffy from all the crying you've been doing. Without thinking, you threw on one of Chan's shirts and a random pair of jeans before you made your way over to his apartment.

"You're right, we do." He sets his bag down on the floor by the door and walks further into the room.

You rub your hands together nervously. You've played this exact scenario in your head the past few days repeatedly but now that you're here, you have no idea where to start.

"Channie are you--"

"We should break up." He says suddenly.

"What?" He threw you off your guard.

"We both know that I've been seeing Bai behind and this is clearly the next step." He sighs, sitting down in his armchair.

"You're not going to even fight for this?"

"What's the point?" Your heart shatters into a million pieces and you suddenly can't remember how to breathe.

"B-but I don't understand why--Why are you--Why did you--How could you--With my cousin of all people, you know how I feel about her." You cry out, hot tears streaming down your face. You want to scream and cry and throw things, but you are frozen in place.

"It's over, Y/n."

"Just like that? I deserve some sort of explanation."

"I love Bai, " Your heart somehow manages to shatter even more. You quickly run out of Chan's apartment, afraid of hearing anything else he has to say. You don't stop running until you can no longer breathe and call Hyunjin to come pick you up.

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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boydepartment · 1 year

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Helo do you write one shots? If so then can I request an angst to fluff when you had a really bad argument with jungwon and he said really hurtful things blah blah so he ended up asking for forgiveness blah blah and happy ending fluff🥰🥰🥰

Ps: pls don't make y/n forgive him so easily, give y/n some pride pls😓

Have a good day✨💅

I DO WRITE ONESHOTS!!! and omg of course!!!! I WILL GIVE Y/N SOME PRIDE! Y/N NEEDS THAT!

Spilled Milk- Jungwon x gn! Reader

warnings: embarrassment, arguing, angst wc- 1.3k

MASTERLIST

Today was fantastic, you aced your tests, got a free drink at your campus, AND you made a new friend in one of your classes. You were bouncing off the walls practically. You hummed songs as you walked down the street, you and your boyfriend have lunch together every Wednesday. Since he has work you usually only have this one day to hang out with him, unless he has a day off.

You actually had met him at this very lunch spot when you used to work there. The day you met Jungwon he was stressed from work and he spilled his milk for his coffee everywhere. He apologized profusely and helped you clean it up. It made you smile at the memory, you were now 8 months strong and you loved being around him even on bad days.

Walking into your former place of work, you got a table and started talking to the waiter.

“How’s life Y/n? Anything crazy on campus?” He asked, pretending to take your order so he could catch up with you.

“They stole the campus mascot from across town.” You laughed and looked up at him.

Your old friend and you caught up and you just got two waters. You waited for Jungwon, looking out the window. You grew bored and he was late, but you didn’t want that to damper your mood. You had texted him multiple times asking if he was okay but got no response. You sighed and REALLY tried to not get sad.

Eventually you ordered a small pastry and coffee while you waited. The side of milk made you smile, it was just how Jungwon ordered his on the first day you met.

“Sorry I’m late.” You looked up to see Jungwon, he looked exhausted.

“It’s okay my love.” You smiled up at him- he didn’t smile back.

That was… Different…

Your friend came back up to the table and asked Jungwon what he wanted, your friend was being nice and a good waiter, but Jungwon just said ‘coffee or whatever.’

“Dude are you okay? What’s your deal?” You asked, you were concerned for your boyfriend. Usually, he doesn’t act like this. Usually, he is kind to workers, especially in this field. Especially because he met you when you were a server.

“It’s just a long day Y/n, I don’t want to talk about it.” He mumbled and looked out the window. Your eyes narrowed at his response.

“You don’t have to but don’t be rude to the server.” Your words sounded cold, “it’s not like he made your day shitty.”

Jungwon looked at you, irritation evident on his face. What has gotten into him today? He genuinely never acted like this.

“Oh, so you defend him now? Why don’t you just go out with him, he can see you more.” Jungwon asked, irritation and attitude plagued his tone.

Your jaw was practically on the floor, “what?”

“You heard me.” Jungwon sat back and looked out the window again.

“Genuinely what is your problem today?” You- rather loudly- asked, “all I did was want to see you and have a nice lunch as usual, but no! You’re just being rude. If you had a bad day, maybe you shouldn’t have come.”

Jungwon scoffed and mumbled something under his breath. You couldn’t hear it but honestly, you didn’t want to know either.

“I’m leaving.” You slammed down cash for what you ordered and walked out- you didn’t even see that you knocked over the milk for your coffee.

You walked out of the lunch spot, tears in your eyes. Jungwon just publicly embarrassed you by being rude to a waiter.

“Y/n what the hell?” You felt Jungwon grab your arm to stop you. You flipped around and poked his chest.

“No, you don’t get to be mad at me! You embarrassed me in front of an old friend and in public! I don’t care if you had a shitty day! You don’t act like that in public!” You were seething at this point.

Jungwon looked shocked, then irritated again, “don’t tell me how to act in public! I already have people doing that enough! You aren’t my manager, and you aren’t my parent either!”

“Clearly you need one if this is how you act.” You said and backed away from him.

“Don’t even- I have way more responsibilities on my plate than you, I am allowed to be stressed.”

At this point you were crying, not wanting to argue anymore, you just stormed off and back to your small apartment near your campus. You slammed the door and pulled your hair slightly. You had such a good day and Jungwon completely shit all over it. You never knew your boyfriend to be that much of an asshole and it made you feel like you might be wasting your time with him. Taking a deep breath, you went to the bathroom to shower and relax.

You didn’t even think to check your phone which was blowing up with texts from Jungwon. You had your phone on do not disturb and you made a pact with yourself to keep it on do not disturb until the morning.

Laying down in your bed looking up at the ceiling wasn’t helping anything, you were letting your anger fester, which wasn’t good at all. Sighing and turning over to scream into your pillow distracted you from the tapping on your window from the fire escape. When you sat up, hair messy and eyes burning with a hatred towards the man outside of your window. It was late at this point and so he did look a little creepy outside too.

Groaning you opened your window, “what do you want? Come to yell at me again?”

“No! I mean, no.” Jungwon looked at you and handed you a drink, “it’s a coffee, because you left yours there.”

“Wow what would I do without you.” You said sarcastically, your face unamused.

Jungwon looked like a scared dog at this point, “I’m sorry for making a scene. In public…” He cringed remembering it.

“Why don’t you tell your manager or parents- instead of me. You know because I’m neither of those so I can’t tell you when you’re acting out in public.” Your voice monotonous.

Jungwon swallowed hard and looked around awkwardly. You could tell he was trying so you scooted slightly on your bed.

“You can come in- only because you brought coffee.”

Jungwon nodded and scooted in your room, it was dark, only the lights outside from the window lighting up your faces. He set the coffee down on your nightstand, then he sat back by your window.

“I’m mad at you.” You bluntly spoke.

“I know and you have every right to be- I was a total ass, it was my bad. I paid your waiter friend extra and cleaned up the milk you knocked over when you left.” He spoke quickly.

“Wait what?”

Jungwon got the courage to look up at you again, “when you stormed out- you knocked over your glass of milk. Like I did when we first met.” He sort of smiled at the memory, still not wanting to piss you off even more.

“You cleaned up after me?” Now you felt BAD for making more work for other people.

“Well yeah, I felt really crappy for acting like that.”

“You should’ve.” You said and looked away, “but… thank you for making up for it, even when I wasn’t there to witness it.”

Jungwon softly went to grab your hand and squeeze it, “I feel horrible, can we get breakfast tomorrow? I will make up for it I promise.”

You looked at him, you were still somewhat mad and now rightfully embarrassed about yourself. However, again, Jungwon was really trying to make it up to you.

“Fine. But you’re paying.” You said, you smiled at him and Jungwon felt a weight off his shoulders.

“Also… Not to intrude but… I kinda snuck out of my dorm so I’m locked out, can I sleep here tonight?”

You felt yourself laugh at him, “yeah whatever you can.”

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vargamornight · 2 months

Text

angel and spike's relationship and their eligibility for the shanshu prophecy have got my brain on puree and i'm tossing episodes in one at a time

when spike was first turned, immortality was a gift. he could live forever! the first goddamn thing he did was go to his mother and turn her. he told dru the three of them can travel the world together! it didn’t go well, but that was okay, because he still had dru, and she was his everything. she was his whole world, his sire, the woman who gave him life. she was his destiny. spike-as-william was perfectly content to just live with drusilla, and angel and darla, because he loved dru, and she loved them. they were family, they were his home, and that was all he ever wanted. just somewhere to belong.

and that pissed angelus right the fuck off. angelus, whose first act as a vampire was to kill his father, whose love for darla was more like rage, who took every opportunity to slaughter and bathe in the blood of innocents, could not fucking stand that this guy was just like "hahaha that was so funny when you killed that guy. anyway, i think i'm just gonna go hang out with dru." angelus didn’t want love, or peace, or contentment. he wanted to rip heads off of shoulders, eat babies, and rape teenaged girls. seeing spike so well adjusted made him genuinely angry, so he did something that he knew would ruffle spike's calm: he slept with dru.

ever since then, they've hated each other. angel literally started it, but neither of them was ever particularly kind about their retaliation. angel tortured spike emotionally and psychologically for like a hundred years, and spike had angel physically tortured for like, three whole hours for information, plus spike definitely went after buffy (in more ways than one) just to piss off angel. but even without a soul, spike was never anywhere near as bad as angel. not even close.

so angel gets a soul. it's an enormous burden, because of how much of a shitstain he's been for the past 150 years or whatever, and he suddenly is capable of guilt again. it's a curse.

(but then he sees a 14 year old girl, the one girl in the world who might put him out of his misery, and he, a 27-slash-200 year old man, literally immediately decides he's in love with that 14 year old girl. okay dude. sure.)

angel becomes a good guy and joins the fight against evil, instead of just eating rats and not dying, because he wants the girl to like him. she does, they bang, he loses his soul again, tortures her psychologically, kills some people, gets sent to a hell dimension, gets out, and leaves. honestly, can't blame him for that one.

angel leaves buffy voluntarily so that he won't/can't hurt her by being a shitstain without a soul again.

and then there's spike. spike basically just noodles around, delivering threatening monologues from rooftops while watching one protagonist or another, and it's very cool and scary until it's time for the dastardly plan to kick in, at which point everything immediately falls apart like a cartoon car with no bolts, leaving spike blinking comically, holding a steering wheel and sitting on air. spike refers to angel as a drama queen several times, and he's not wrong, but he is very hypocritical.

spike gets to sunnydale and goes after buffy for fun, fails terribly, then succeeds at kidnapping angel, who he needs because dru, the light of his life, his moon and stars, his effulgent beauty, his destiny, is not feeling well and he needs the blood of her sire to heal her. that's it. no real ulterior motive, no "i'm gonna getcha" threats, just. business. his wife is sick and he's getting her magical chicken noodle soup. it just so happens that the chicken in said soup is angel, and spike has no problem with that.

then he continues noodling around, tortures angel about a ring, fails terribly, goes back to sunnydale, and immediately gets caught and collared by the literally underground military group operating out of a california college campus. and then he can't hurt humans anymore without getting a migraine, and he's the world's biggest baby, so he is effectively neutered from here on out.

gradually, he learns to be less of a shithead, and falls for buffy the real way, the long way, the hard way—he sees her, and he knows her, and he learns to respect and love her. he is dogged in his pursuit of her. relentless. because even when she tells him to back off, she kisses him right after. she's putting on a show for the benefit of her own pride, and he knows that, and he understands, because he believes it when she says he's beneath her. he knows it. he's not good enough for her, and he never could be.

but he could be better.

so he leaves. he goes and gets his soul back. he fights tooth and nail to get it, almost dying several times in the process. because he's not being cursed with a soul—he's earning his. he's proving, once and for all, to himself, to angel, to buffy, to everyone, that he is better than what everyone thought he could ever be.

and, just in case anyone had any doubt, he goes back to sunnydale and he does the one thing angel could never do: he gives his life to save the goddamn world. burns up, knowing he's leaving buffy behind, knowing there's no coming back from this. knowing, ultimately, this is the only thing worth doing. he dies, not for buffy, but because it's the right thing to do.

and that pisses angel off, too.

he's like, why the fuck should it be so easy for him? all he has to do is die and now suddenly he's a hero? a champion? angel's spent a thousand years suffering! that has to be worth more! that has to mean he's the better man! because if he's not, if spike can be weighed against angel and find a balanced scale, then he suffered for nothing! and spike barely suffered at all! (factually untrue, but angel doesn't exactly see clearly when it comes to his protege) so, no. he does not keep his cool when it turns out spike is eligible for the shanshu prophecy just as much as angel

and the reason for all of angel's dumbfuck behavior is made all too clear when he tries to convince spike not to claim the shanshu prophecy for himself: "it's a burden. a cross. you have to live."

diagnosis: terminal catholicism

angel is catholic and spike is not and that's why all of this happened the way it did.

p.s. also: SPIKE WITH A SOUL WAS NOT A DIFFERENT MAN THAN THE SPIKE WITHOUT A SOUL WHO LEARNED TO BE GOOD. he put the fucking work in, he just needed it to be official. like a high school diploma. "went through hell and here's the proof."

p.p.s. also: the initial angelus getting mad was because angelus totally wanted to fuck spike, took him on a date, and spike bailed to hang out with dru, so angelus had revenge sex with dru. canon.

#btvs #angel the series #spike btvs #angel btvs #spuffy #spangel

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Note

You want angst? I got some angst for you. Best friend!reader who has been in love with Eddie for years and he finally starts to date her. But then she finds out it’s only because he’s trying to get over Chrissy. I love youuuu 💚

- @corroded-hellfire xoxo

You: Eddie x Reader angst, please. Me: Chrissy x Reader fluff? You got it!

Warnings: mentions of smut (18+ minors DNI), bisexual!Reader, bisexual!Chrissy, mention of male masturbation, allusion to dacryphilia, Eddie is an idiot and not in a cute way

WC: 2.3k

A/N: My first time writing Chrissy x Reader; please be kind!

If someone took a Hellfire Club meeting, subtracted the matching shirts, and added beer, it would equal Jeff’s graduation party. The guys just finished a D&D campaign and are now hanging out in the kitchen, arguing over who gets to choose the radio station.

“Baby,” Eddie murmurs in your ear, one arm slung over your shoulder, “will you please tell Henderson that Duran Duran is not party music?” You giggle as he presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek. Back at the start of senior year–your first and only, his third and last–the two of you were just friends, but you’d always hoped for something more. So when he kissed you on Halloween, tasting like cigarettes and Reese's peanut butter cups, it was practically a dream come true.

Dustin rolls his eyes and flips him off. “Stop making your girlfriend do all your dirty work for you.” He leans over and turns the volume up even louder, shooting Eddie a smug look.

“Aww, but I love when she does dirty stuff,” Eddie taunts, and you smack the back of your hand against his chest. “Ow!”

“Don’t be gross,” you warn him, but when he brings his arm around your waist and pulls you in for another kiss, your irritation melts away. You can hear Mike Wheeler making retching noises, but you’re too wrapped up in Eddie to care.

You finally break away to excuse yourself to the restroom, both your lips and Eddie’s swollen from the day’s various makeout sessions. The whole summer stretches ahead of you, and you plan on spending as much of it with Eddie as possible before you leave for college. The two of you already have a plan: he’ll stay in Hawkins for a year to work at the plant with Wayne, save up money, and move to Indianapolis with you. You’ll live on campus until Eddie comes, and then you can get an apartment together.

You’re reapplying lip gloss when you hear your name come up in conversation, and your ears prick up.

“So, you and Y/N got it all figured out?” Gareth asks your boyfriend, who relays your future plans to his friend.

“Nice,” Jeff chimes in, clapping Eddie on the back. “We’re happy for you, dude.”

“Yeah, man,” says Lucas. “And we’re especially glad you’re finally over Chrissy.”

You can’t help the way your face falls slightly. It’s no secret that Eddie had harbored a crush on the head cheerleader for years, but you still feel a pathetic twinge of jealousy at the mention of her name. But he’s yours now, you remind yourself, trying to cheer up.

Jeff’s laugh interrupts your thoughts. “I told you; there’s no better way to get over Chrissy than to get Y/N under you.”

“Shut up, man!” Eddie hisses, but it’s too late. You’ve heard everything.

The guys are silent as the bathroom door slowly creaks open. Tears are falling from your eyes, sliding down the cheeks that Eddie had just kissed moments earlier. “I-I’m gonna go,” you choke out, grabbing your bag and dashing out of Jeff’s house as fast as your legs will carry you.

“Shit—sweetheart, wait!” Eddie calls out, running after you. You ignore him, but he catches up in just a few strides. “Baby, baby, please talk to me.”

“Why did you kiss me on Halloween?” you blurt out, swiping at your eyes. “Tell me!”

Eddie swallows the lump in his throat. “I was selling at a party, and I saw Chrissy leave with Carver,” he mumbles. “And the guys said that you had a crush on me and—and that I should just go for it, because I needed to move on from her…”

“And I wouldn’t say no,” you finish for him, a harsh laugh leaving your throat. “You could get your dick wet and I wouldn’t know any better, is that it?”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, vehemently denying your accusation. “No, baby, I—”

“Don’t fucking call me that!” you seethe, clenching your fists.

It’s Eddie’s turn to cry now, and a sliver of satisfaction worms its way into your pain. “It was never about sex,” he says softly. “Yeah, okay, I asked you out to get over her. But I genuinely love you, okay? God, I love you so fucking much.” He reaches for your hands, but you pull them away and turn back towards your car.

“No, you don’t,” you mutter, just loud enough for him to hear. “Maybe you think you do, but when you love someone, you don’t fuck with their emotions like you did. Tell me, what would you have done if the kiss wasn’t good? Or you didn’t like being with me? Would you have kept on pretending? For how long?”

Eddie’s silent, gnawing at his lower lip. “I-I don’t know,” he finally stammers out.

Through misty eyes, you take one last look at him. “Did it work, Eddie? If Chrissy Cunningham showed up right now and professed her love for you, who would you choose?” His hesitation tells you everything you need to know. “That’s what I fucking thought.” You yank open the driver’s side door and slam it shut before speeding down the road.

With the help of your friends and myriad flavors of Haagen-Daaz, you’d managed to get through your first Eddie-less summer in years. Even before you were dating, you’d been attached at the hip. Now, you've done your best to avoid him.

College move-in day comes and goes, and you eagerly anticipate the first day of classes. The campus is huge, so when you finally find your English lit class in Kinney Hall, you plop into the first available seat.

What you don’t realize is that you’ve chosen to sit right next to Chrissy fucking Cunningham.

“Y/N, right?” she asks. Her strawberry blonde hair falls in gentle waves. “It’s so nice to see a familiar face around here. That whole ‘small fish, big pond’ saying is totally true.”

“Mhm,” you reply tersely. You have to mentally tell yourself that she’s not at fault here, and you attempt to smile.

Chrissy picks up on your resistance. “Is everything okay?” Worry creases her forehead, and you realize she’s genuinely concerned.

You sigh. “It’s a long story; wanna grab coffee after class?”

“I’d love that.” She reaches over and squeezes your hand, and you feel a spark jolt through your body.

You relay the saga to Chrissy over steaming lattes in the dining hall. Her crystal blue eyes widen when she hears how Eddie used you to move on from his crush on her.

“What a little weasel!” she shouts, slapping her hand over her mouth when other students glare at her. “Men are the absolute worst.” She takes a sip of her coffee.

You raise your eyebrows. “I take it you and Jason…”

Chrissy scoffs. “Over and out. He dumped me the day before I left, saying he ‘didn’t wanna be tied down,’ which is basically code for ‘I wanna fuck a bunch of sorority girls.”

“Well, now you can fuck a bunch of frat guys,” you jokingly offer.

“Yeah,” she muses, averting her gaze to the ground, “or…or sorority girls.”

Oh.

“Cool,” you say slowly. “I didn’t know…I mean, I’m really glad you can be yourself.” Why are you getting so tongue-tied around her? Sure, she’s beautiful, and sweet, and funny, and understanding…

Oh.

The first time you kiss Chrissy Cunningham is in her dorm room. You’re both sitting cross-legged on the bed, proofreading each other’s midterm essays.

“You know,” she starts, “I was always jealous of you in high school.” She laughs at the bewildered expression on your face. “I’m serious! Don’t give me that look!”

“I’m sorry, but I refuse to believe that the Queen of Hawkins High was jealous of me.”

Chrissy giggles again, and the sound is music to your ears. “I felt like I had to try so hard to be a version of myself that other people liked, even if I didn’t. But you’ve always been so…authentic. And people loved that about you.”

“Well, I wanted to look as cute as you did in a cheerleader uniform, so we’re even.” Your cheeks heat up at your admission, and you try to move on. “Plus, you were always so nice to everyone. Like, you could’ve been a total bitch to anyone who was different, but you weren’t. Which, by the way, made it nearly impossible to hate you after the whole Eddie fiasco.”

But Chrissy’s still caught up on what you’d said previously. “You thought I looked cute?” A blush creeps into her cheeks.

“Uh-huh,” you murmur, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Still do.” Before you can chicken out, you press your lips to hers. She tastes like strawberries, and you can’t get over how soft she is. It’s like you were made to kiss each other.

You’re both wanting for one another, but nothing’s rushed or too hungry. Chrissy makes her way onto your lap, straddling your waist as though she’s done it a thousand times before. It’s not until you hook your pointer finger through her belt loop and tug her a bit closer that she realizes what she’s done.

“Shit, I-I’m sorry,” she stutters. “Got lost in the moment, I guess.”

You shake your head. “No, I liked it. A lot.” Your nerves ease when you feel hers do the same, and you both smile.

Chrissy presses her forehead to yours. “You’re so beautiful, y’know that?” she murmurs. Not used to receiving compliments, you just start to kiss her again. You never want to stop.

The two of you become inseparable, with all of your new friends declaring you campus’ cutest couple. You practically live in each other’s dorm room, snuggled up in tiny twin beds.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

So it’s no surprise that you continue this when you return to Hawkins for the holidays. You’re in your kitchen, watching Chrissy pour a bag of chocolate chips into a bowl of raw cookie dough.

“You’re a natural, babe,” you tease. “Have you considered dropping out of college and going to culinary school?”

She plays along, draping her arms over your shoulders and saying, “but I would miss my pretty girlfriend too much!” Her dramatic pout makes you smile, and you kiss it tenderly.

The doorbell rings, and you offer to get it while Chrissy mixes in the chocolate.

You swing open the door, expecting to see your mom carrying in the groceries. Instead, Eddie’s standing there. His face lights up when he looks at you, completely juxtaposing your scowl.

“What do you want?” You can’t hide the anger in your voice; quite frankly, you don’t want to.

Eddie shoves his hands in his pockets. “Can I come in?” he asks timidly.

“No.”

“O-Okay,” he stammers, running his fingers through his hair. “I just, um, I saw that you’re home from school and…God, I miss you s’fucking much,” he admits. His whole body sags with the confession. “I want you back…need you back, if you’ll take me. Unless you’re with some big-shot college guy now,” he adds wryly.

You stifle a laugh. “Not quite.”

Right on cue, Chrissy flounces over to the entryway. “Baby, do you want me to put the cookies in the ov–oh,” she stops in her tracks and narrows her eyes. “Can we help you?”

“He was just leaving,” you reassure her, starting to close the door.

“Wait��did she just call you…” Eddie's eyes dart back and forth between you and Chrissy, trying to process what’s happening.

Chrissy snakes her arms around your waist, hugging you from behind. “I called her baby,” she repeats, pressing a chaste kiss below your earlobe. “Just a term of endearment for my girlfriend.”

You place your hands over hers as she nuzzles closer into you. “I figured if someone was worth ruining our relationship over, I should see what all the fuss was about.”

You think that Eddie’s eyes are going to pop out of his head. “But…but…you and me,” he says to you before turning his attention to your partner, “and…and you and Carver…”

“Yeah,” you retort, “it’s called bisexuality, dumbass. We like men and women.”

“But we only have eyes for each other,” Chrissy informs him.

“Plus,” you add snidely, “no one’s faking anything in this relationship.” Chrissy bites down into your shoulder to keep herself from cackling at your insult.

“You–you didn’t fake–with me?” Eddie sputters, barely able to choke out a coherent thought.

“Oh, Eddie, right there, you’re soooo good,” you dramatically moan, and neither you nor Chrissy can hold back your laughter as his jaw drops. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have cookies to bake.” With that, you slam the door in your ex’s bewildered face.

“Babe, that was so badass,” Chrissy says, and you preen at her praise. “You know that pervert is gonna go home and yank it thinking about us, though, right?”

You roll your eyes. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. Probably gonna cry while he cums, too, because he knows he can’t have either one of us now.”

Chrissy wrinkles her nose. “Now that’s a visual I didn’t need.” You swat at her playfully, and she continues. “Not like how you made me cry when I came the other night, though. That was something totally different.” Her grin is mischievous, and you know exactly where this is leading.

“Wanna see if I can do that again?” you ask, cupping her cheeks and kissing her gently.

“You read my mind, baby.”

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #chrissy cunningham #chrissy cunningham x reader #chrissy cunningham x you #chrissy cunningham x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic

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hermannsthumb · 6 months

Note

omg could we see #62 from the winter prompts list?

62. you’re my college roommate’s sibling/best friend and you’ve come to visit for a week since you’re done school but unlike some people, I have three more finals to study for so kindly fuck off

from winter writing prompts here

stuck on some of my other wips so i'm digging back through my old unfilled winter prompts!! from. well. 2018. can you believe i've been writing fic this long. insane.

enjoy some dumb (sort of?) college boys newmann! I decided to cheat with the prompt a little (a lot) so I could work it to be conceivably not an AU but instead set pre-canon, though I realize it techhhhnically screws around with the newt/herm penpal backstory just a tiny little bit....

------------------------------------

To be honest Newt’s probably paying more for year-round university housing then he would be in rent at an actual apartment at this point, but details like that get a little screwy when you start college significantly before your eighteenth birthday and grow up on campus. His dorm holds more sentimental value than his childhood home at this point. I mean, it technically is his childhood home. Newt did try the spring of his twenty-first birthday to finally move out, but he spent exactly two minutes poking through a Cambridge housing group on Facebook before it made him want to die and he gave up. At least this way he doesn't have to buy new furniture.

He has enough good will left with administration despite all the shit he's pulled to leverage certain things like that in his favor, and he struck a deal to keep his dorm in exchange for letting campus housing utilize it as an actual dorm from time to time. (Which is to say, Newt is kind of broke and needs to save money from his stipend every now and then for, you know, groceries, so he can grit his teeth and deal with a roommate when the time comes.)

His roommate at the moment is a German exchange student (maybe one or two years younger than Newt) who’s currently enrolled in a year-long study abroad program to mess around with electrical engineering—interesting enough guy with just enough neuroses and weird family issues to make Newt feel like the most well-adjusted twentysomething in the world. It's a great ego boost.

Anyway, it’s convenient. There are like three Dunks of varying quality to choose from at any given moment, and Newt only has to walk ten minutes max to any lecture hall to give class. This is especially nice on stupidly cold and snowy days like today where even a ten minute walk feels like too much.

The door to Newt’s dorm is slightly ajar when he finally gets home. In normal circumstances this would make Newt pause and think for a few seconds before stomping inside—rules of horror movies or whatever—because if his roommate is anything, it’s particular with things like that. Shoes off at the door, dishes left in the sink on a firm one-day-max limit, doors very much locked when they leave to protect all their super important possessions from being stolen, like the refurbished Playstation 2 Newt got off eBay or the Brita filter Newt also got off eBay. Very luxurious stuff.

But Newt’s cold and hungry, so he stomps inside anyway. He does kick his boots off, though—just because some people decided to stop following the dorm rules doesn’t mean Newt will—and makes sure to click the door shut behind him carefully. “Hey, dude, you home?” he calls down the hallway. Nothing. His roommate, Bastien, is usually in class at this time of the day, but finals have turned their schedules upside down, so who knows. He wiggles out of his winter coat and hangs it next to an unfamiliar green parka on the wall hooks (maybe Bastien went on a shopping spree?) and tries a second time. “Uh, you know you left the door open?”

Newt's glasses are splattered with melted snow, and he dries them on the hem of his sweater as he fumbles with the door to their room—and is more than a little surprised when he sees the blurry shape of Bastien sitting primly on the edge of his bed, smoothing out his clothing like he’s just woken up from a nap. His bed as in Newt’s bed. Newt startles backwards. “Oh,” he says. “Um. Hey?” Has he fucked up? Are they having a roommate talk about something? …Preceded by Bastien inexplicably taking a nap in his bed?

He pushes his glasses back on. The dark-haired blur on his bed comes into focus, and though the sharp angles, bad haircut, and vaguely sickly pale flush are reminiscent of Newt’s roommate, everything else about him is different, from the brown eyes to the wide frown. It’s a Gottlieb, no question, but which one Newt’s not sure. He knows there are at least three more of them, a concept which has always struck fear into Newt’s heart each time Bastien alludes to having siblings. “Hello,” the guy on Newt’s bed says. He nods. Very proper. “You’re Newton.”

“…Yeah?” Newt says.

The mysterious Gottlieb is kind of hot, which is the worst part. The whole stern professor look he’s rocking—big glasses, knit sweatervest, slightly too-big loafers—is doing him plenty of favors. Normal circumstances, Newt thinks again, coming home to a hot nerd lounging in your bed? It might almost make him believe in a higher power. It’s taking a significant amount of effort to not start flirting. Then again, he is in Newt's bed, and has been clearly been sleeping in Newt's bed, which feels like a flirtation in and of itself.

“Hermann Gottlieb,” the professor-dude says. He gets to his feet with the aid of a cane, which he’d hooked on one of Newt’s bedposts and offers a hand out to Newt like they’re both eighty years old. Mildly bewildered, Newt takes it. He's treated to a firm handshake. “I assume my brother told you to expect me? I let myself in. I hope that’s not too rude of me, but it was rather cold out.”

“Uh,” Newt says again. He’s a lot more…British than Newt expected. Very posh BBC-miniseries about posh English people with large country estates. Especially compared to Bastien, whose first language is clearly German and is very much not British—it’s just not exactly what Newt was expecting. “I mean—he didn’t totally tell me you were coming. Or, at all.” Hermann drops his hand. “I guess he could’ve mentioned it and I just forgot.” This is probably what happened. Newt’s been a little busy lately.

He decides to address the elephant in the room next, the bed thing, and determine if it was a deliberate choice or not. Maybe Bastien has made Newt out to be so irresistible in whatever he’s reported back to the Gottlieb family that Hermann decided to try his luck. This is definitely not the case, but Newt can pretend. “You’re on my bed,” he continues, and points across the room. “Bastien’s is that one.”

“Oh,” Hermann says. He looks mortified in a properly stiff-lipped way and almost trips over himself to cross the tiny dorm room, and for a split second Newt sees a different Hermann behind the dress shoes and exaggerated formalities: an awkward twentysomething probably barely older than Newt playing dress-up to be taken seriously. The belt he’s cinched to the last notch around the oversized waist of his tweed pants is stiff and cracked in places. Bastien mentioned once that one of his brothers is a math whiz who’s followed an accelerated academic path not entirely unlike Newt’s, and Newt suddenly has a strong hunch he’s looking right at him. “I’m—I’m very sorry. I didn’t realize. My flight only just got in, and the time zones—I was a bit tired.”

“No worries, man,” Newt says. He tosses his tote bag onto the Hermann-sized indentation in his bedspread and kicks his docs off one at a time, while across the room Hermann twists the handle of his cane between his hands. “You want some coffee or something? Bastien is usually out until late on Thursdays, so it might just be us for a while, sorry.” He pulls the sweatshirt he’d slung on his desk chair that morning down over his head and straightens out his glasses.

The offer for coffee is a somewhat-pitying lifeline Newt is decent enough to throw out, which he has a feeling both of them understand. Hermann seizes it desperately. “Coffee would be nice,” he says.

He trails after Newt into the kitchen. Apartment-style or not, it’s still a campus dorm, and the kitchen space is cozy at best and cramped at worst. Hermann plasters himself against a row of cabinets in a heroic effort to stay out of Newt’s way as Newt dumps some coffee grounds and water into his cheap pot and digs two mugs out of the cupboard. They avoid making eye contact at all costs while it percolates. “We have, like,” Newt gestures vaguely at the doorway, “a couch? If you wanted to sit? And not stand here?”

“I don’t mind,” Hermann says.

Newt kind of minds, but whatever, he can deal. He pours soy milk into one mug in preparation and offers some to Hermann, who shakes his head. The coffee drips slowly into the pot. Newt thinks about the stack of ungraded finals tucked into a binder in his tote bag, the other stack waiting on his desk, and the final final he still has to proofread and send off to Copytech for, like, seventy copies by tomorrow. “So, Hermann,” Newt says, and tries to think of a polite way to ask why exactly are you in my apartment during finals week? Does the guy not also have finals in England or wherever? “Are you just visiting your bro for fun, or…?”

Hermann’s face twists with a sour expression. “For a week,” he says. “Not all that willingly. I’m in town for a conference and I won’t have my hotel room until tomorrow morning. Bastien offered to let me use his couch for the night.” He adds hesitantly, “I’m due to give a presentation on Tuesday.”

A lecture: almost definitely the math whiz, then, unless overachieving is a family trait. Newt will circle back to that later. He’s not exactly a math expert, but you kinda can’t really pick up that many STEM doctorates without having at least a basic (or, you know, decently advanced) understanding of, uh, everything about math, and he’s keen to hear what Hermann plans to lecture on. “I’ll try to stay out of your hair,” Hermann adds quickly. “I know you’re busy with final exams and whatnot.”

“Ugh, no kidding,” Newt says. The coffee finally finishes with a few rattling huffs, and Newt carefully pours it into their mugs and shoves the less-chipped one over to Hermann. “I still have another left to go,” he continues. “I got stuck with three whole sections this semester, it sucks. I think they just wanted to get back at me for—well, um, I caused a minor fire in the lab last year and they had to evacuate a few buildings, and I put it out right away because I'm the king of lab safety, but whatever, everyone lost their shit anyway. It’s going to take me forever to grade everything.”

Hermann frowns at him, and Newt wonders exactly how much Bastien has shared about his American roommate—or in this case how little. “Not a student,” he explains. “Dr. Geiszler, technically, but do not call me that. I managed to convince the biology department head to convince student life to let me keep living on campus after I—well, I guess I technically graduated undergrad a while ago. After I wrapped up my first PhD?”

“Ah,” Hermann says, and the edges of his sharp cheekbones going the faintest shade of pink. “I’d assumed—Bastien didn’t mention that, is all.” His eyes flick over Newt twice, scrutinizing him and lingering on his oversized hoodie, a DIY screen-print job bearing the latest logo for Newt’s band that he tried valiantly to sell at their last show. “First PhD? Exactly how old are you?”

“Twenty-two,” Newt says. “I skipped a grade. Or ten. Would not recommend it. Anyway, Hermann, you’re some sort of super-genius, right? You were doing calculus in your crib or something?”

If Newt’s right about which brother Hermann is, that means—compared to the rest of his family—Bastien has alluded to Hermann’s existence in all but name three whole times. By familial standards Newt can only assume that means they’re practically BFFs and probably send each other birthday cards every year. If possible Hermann might be even more reserved than Bastien, though, and it’s making Newt want very badly to prod him a little more just to see what happens. Get him to poke his head out of his shell or something. “That’s pretty impressive, you know,” he adds.

Hermann flushes pink for real this time, obviously pleased with the compliment, and Newt’s equally pleased to see him hold his head a little higher. They’re getting somewhere. “It’s not precisely that dramatic,” Hermann says. “But, yes, er—I started university at a rather young age. Comparatively. Before that, my father sent me abroad when I was eight for my schooling. I’d shown a knack, I suppose, for mathematics, and…”

Abroad—Newt guesses that explains the different accent. Not unlike Newt himself. He wonders if Hermann’s family ribs him for the lapses in his German the way Newt’s family does (America is rotting your brain, Newt!), though maybe somewhat less gently. “And?”

“I’ll finish my doctorate in the spring,” Hermann finishes, with a small smile.

“Dr. Gottlieb,” Newt says. “Nice. I like the sound of that.”

Hermann suddenly spills a large amount of coffee down the front of his sweater. He doesn’t seem to notice, though his ears (which stick out just a little) do go red, so Newt doesn’t say anything.

It’s unfortunate how cute Hermann is. Newt briefly debates the ethics of hitting on your roommate’s hot British brother and whether or not it breaches some sort of sacred roommate code. On the one hand, Hermann is only here for a week, so it’s not like they can get up to too much, and Bastien himself will be packing everything back up for Germany in like, six months tops when his study abroad program ends in the spring anyway. And besides, it’s not like Newt and Bastien are tight or anything like that. On the other hand—I mean, that would be weird, right? You can’t just hit on your roommate’s hot British brother, especially not when he's sleeping on your couch for the night.

Newt has over a hundred final exams to grade, and a suitcase to pack for his own trip (albeit one that’s a maybe-thirty minute ride on the commuter rail) out to his dad’s for the break. He kinda wants to hit on Hermann.

He’s going to hit on Hermann.

“Sooooo,” he begins, “you got any plans, or—?”

And it’s then that Hermann’s cell phone begins to buzz in his pocket. “Ah,” Hermann says. “One moment—apologies.” He pulls out a battered flip phone that looks like it’s been passed down from at least two other people and squints at the screen. “My brother,” he explains, “at last. He’s finishing up at the library and wants to meet for dinner.”

“Oh, right,” Newt says. “Of course. Duh.”

Hermann closes his phone slowly and hazards a small, but considering, glance at Newt, and Newt has a fleeting suspicion he’s not the only one weighing the pros and cons of risky flirting. He might just be flattering himself, though. “…Would you like to join us?” Hermann says. “I’m sure Bastien wouldn’t mind. It might be…” He works his jaw a few times. It’s incredibly cute. He’s clean-shaven in a way Newt hasn’t managed to be since he turned seventeen (the Geiszlerian curse of thick facial hair whether you want it or not), and it makes him look even more like a weird kid trying very hard to be an adult. “Fun.”

It's a bad idea. Hermann’s only here for a week, and he’ll clearly be busy with his conference and his big talk and all that, and then they’ll be back on opposite sides of the Atlantic probably forever—Newt would just be setting himself up for heartbreak. And six months of awkwardly dodging his roommate, which is possibly worse. Ugh. Being responsible sucks. “I shouldn’t,” he finally sighs. “I have to finish—”

“—your finals. Of course,” Hermann says. “Yes, of course, I’m sorry. I forgot. I’ll let you be.” He sets his mug on the counter by the sink. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Sure, dude,” Newt says.

Hermann works his jaw again, chewing at his lower lip, and then says so quickly Newt almost misses it “If you’re around next Tuesday, perhaps you would like to see my talk?”

Newt tries very hard to be chill. “Yeah, totally,” he says. “That would be awesome. I think I can make it.”

Hermann nods solemnly. “Excellent. I’ll ask Bastien to give you the details later.”

He finally begins to dot at the coffee stain on his sweater with a handkerchief he pulls from a different pocket, and Newt squeezes past him to rinse their mugs out. (No dishes in the sink overnight.) His elbow brushes against Hermann’s as he dries them with a dishtowel. Hermann makes no effort to move away from him, and this close he smells like stale cigarette smoke. Newt can imagine him standing out in the rain in a dreary English landscape somewhere, maybe in the oversized coat he saw hanging by the door, scowling and crushing cigarette filters beneath his cane.

There’s something strangely magnetic about Hermann.

“Hey, listen,” Newt says. He dries his hands off on his pants. Hermann looks at him, abandoning his efforts to clean himself up. “You wanna swap emails or anything…? Maybe we could talk. Collaborate on, uh, something.” He has absolutely zero idea of Hermann’s subfield so he doesn’t know exactly what they’ll collaborate on just yet, but he’ll think of something. Make some notes during the Tuesday lecture. Newt has three PhDs and counting, he can come up with an excuse to talk to a cute boy, okay, he’s not twelve. He’d ask for Hermann’s number like a normal human being if he could dream of affording the international texting rate.

Hermann gives him another stiff nod and the shadow of a smile, which Newt hopes means an enthusiastic yes, Newt, I’d love to be your penpal!, so Newt fishes a pad of paper and a pencil out from the kitchen junk drawer and they take turns printing their emails out as neatly as possible. Hermann folds the slip of paper with Newt’s in half and slips it into his top pocket. “It was very good to meet you, Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann says, and he offers Newt a parting handshake.

What the hell, Newt thinks, and takes it.

It takes ten months and a split in reality at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean for Hermann to get around to emailing Newt. Newt expects they’ll have a lot to collaborate on in the near future.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag

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ncteez · 1 year

Note

God imagine wearing more and more revealing clothes around loser!mark just to watch him get flustered

wc: 1.3k

:( loser mark, actually winning at life because he's top of the class, handsome without realizing, and super talented with anything he puts his focus on.

he's a loser because out of everything he's good at, talking to girls is something he can't quite wrap his head around. looking at girls, flirting with them. even when they approach him, he manages to fuck it up. time and time again he's embarrassed himself, and by now has opted to just avoid the situation as a whole, with any given woman.

senior year is difficult anyway. at least for him and his overachieving nature. by this point though, maybe he should make an attempt to attend one last party. specifically to celebrate the fact that he worked his ass off and surely will make bank in the coming years. he drags renjun with him, his only close friend, who is also considered a fucking loser but at least he's had a ton of sex during these college years.

mark has met you a million times before in passing. he's seen the boyfriend's you had on campus too, (jaehyun, johnny, you even managed to pull jaemin.) those types of dudes were very different compared to himself, so imaging himself in their shoes wasn't exactly a common thought in his head. he remembers once you guys had a project together, and throughout the entire process you'd be on your fucking phone, talking to whichever guy you were dating and ignoring the work you were supposed to be putting in.

he still got you that A on your transcripts though.

strangely enough, when he and renjun step into the house that holds that final celebratory party for the seniors, he notes that you're there without a beefy boy attached to your waist.

and you know, maybe, since he's being so bold to show up at one of these things, he could be bold enough to approach you. just to see if he can try and manage talking to a girl one last time before he closes this college life chapter of his life for good.

shockingly, you feed into it. hell, he even manages to get your number though never thinks he will make use of it. it's not like you aren't drunk when you give it to him. he would rather not make a fool of himself actually trying to contact you.

having this number in his phone is an accomplishment on its own.

shoot to the final week of college. loose ends are being tied up, mark's phone remains as dry as ever save for shitty memes renjun sends and, well,

okay, listen. he's just trying to get himself a bite to eat. the last thing he expected was to feel a gentle tap on his shoulder and turn to see you looking at him with a disappointed face.

"Why haven't you texted?" You ask, narrowing your eyes and feeling slightly insulted considering, like, normally this isn't your type but he's just kind of...hot.

"Wha-" Mark starts, dumbfounded as he stands here with a muffin and a small tray of fries. (because that's what he wanted to eat today, don't talk shit.) "That wasn't a joke?"

Your eyes narrow even more, looking him up and down.

"No? What? Did you think this was some high school prank where I go after the guy with glasses so my friends will make fun of you?"

Mark stands there stiffly, slowly nodding his head. You laugh in response, shoving him by the shoulder playfully and rolling your eyes.

"No one is making fun of you. I gave you my number because I wanted you to contact me."

Then you walk away, and Mark is just kinda......existing in the moment if he's being honest. Watching the way your hips swing when you walk, damn near fucking swooning.

well, he texts. he definitely does. like three minutes after regaining his ability to think straight rather than floating in the air with heart eyes, following the scent of your perfume with his nose.

not only does he text you, but those short messages turn into short phone calls. and that turns into hour long phone calls, and those too even turn into in person hang outs.

all within his final week of college. honestly, four days ago he was jerking it to porn and now he's jerking it in the same spot you sat an hour before imagining the outfits you keep wearing to see him.

it didn't seem off at first. You wearing a hoodie and sweatpants the first time, but to him still looking like the most desirable person on campus. You noted how his eyes still managed to eat you alive when he thought you wouldn't notice.

then, even when the temperature outside is near freezing, you started wearing cardigans over tank tops and tight jeans. just to see how he would react. and boy, would he. a couple of times you noted his breath get caught in his throat when he opened the door.

still, he didn't seem to put two and two together when you started wearing less clothing during a time of year where more would be preferable.

it was nice though, because by the time you meet with him outside of his or your place, still nothing sexual going on past flirting that he doesn't quite catch, it was nice to receive his jacket upon your shivering. Did you wear the skimpiest top and pair of shorts known to fucking man? oh, hell yeah you did.

did he feel fucking insane when you got into his car, bare legs showing while your upper body is hugged within his jacket? of fucking course.

it got so bad by that point that you just assume his reactions are flirting enough. completely unintentional, but very much visible.

"At what point, Mark, are you going to let me wear hoodies again?" You ask, looking over at him and the way he's shivering as he drives, despite the heat being on.

Mark looks over at you dumbfounded.

"What do you mean? I'm not telling you not to wear hoodies?"

You turn to him when he pulls up to a stop sign. No cars around.

"You like looking, don't you?" You ask, letting his jacket slide off your shoulder.

He swallows around a lump in his throat, slowly nodding and staring straight at your cleavage.

"I could've worn a hoodie on this date, and you'd still be looking at me like this, but you know you could just....you know...ask me to take it off if you're wanting to see this bad."

Okay number one, mark didn't realize this was a date. Number two, he didn't want to make assumptions about your outfits but now, assuming you're dressing like this for him. God, here comes to flustered swooning. Here comes his cock, wildly twitching awake.

"Um," Is all he can say, feeling shy, feeling seen.

"Go on, ask me to take it off. Tell me you want your jacket back."

He, instead, floors it back to his place and only then, when he parks, does he look at you again like a deer in headlights.

"You've actually gotta ask," You say, mocking him a bit. "Your eyes definitely tell on you, but I wanna hear it this time."

"Okay," He breathes in, as if to prepare himself for the worst. "Take it off then."

You do, shaking his hoodie off of your shoulders and letting it sit at your wrists. The cool air from outside still causing you to shiver, with your icy fingers still struggling not to go numb.

He, on the other hand, is fucking on fire. Honestly, he's close to turning the heat off in this fucking car because he might pass out from heat exhaustion at this point.

He's seemingly so entranced with you that he doesn't quite pick up on the fact that you'd much rather be on his bed doing this though, despite being the one to bring it up in the damn car.

"If you take me inside, i'll take more off."

never have you seen a man move so fucking fast in his life. and never have icy fingers felt so good when they desperately grip at your naked skin. never has a man kissed you like this, or fucked you like this.

no one but mark, which is strangely fitting.

#[mail]#[m]#[h.hours]#[mark]

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rakurairagnarok · 2 years

Text

Hattricked

This story is heavily, and I mean HEAVILY, inspired by @idesofrevolution so if you like this story I suggest you check out his blog. Enjoy!!!

_________________________________________

The hot pre summer sun beams down on the campus park roads. Dan and Mark slaunter through the dry heat, staring down at the concrete tiles.

“I'm never gonna make it.” Dan mumbles.

“No don’t say that. You’re my emotional support roomie!” Mark grabs Dans arm and shakes him about.

“No way Mark, I have 3 essays, 2 reports and that massive World History test left…There’s 2 weeks left in the year!”

Dan lets go of his friends arm and begrudgingly reminds himself of his similar predicament. While they weren’t in any way slow students, the amount of work caught up to them and slammed both of them onto the ground. The final weeks of the year were always hectic but the boys had never had this much of a workload.

“Fuck!” Dan looks at his friend

“You can say that again.”

Mark state up to the sky. “I would give so much to just be able to relax man…”

As they turn the corner something catches their eye.

There, hanging of one of the benches is a ragged, dirty, old backpack is one at that, but noone in sight to which it could belong to

Dan walks over and picks it up. “Do you recognize this?” he asks.

“Nope.. can’t say I do” Mark replies. “Maybe there’s a student ID in there?”

Dan nods and opens the bag. Instead of books or a laptop instead all he sees are two beanies and some junk. He grabs the beanies and tosses them over his shoulder.

Mark grabs the black beanie of the ground and runs the fabric through his fingers. Its really soft, warm and it smells kind of nice. Mark stares at the hat in his hands and slowly raises it to his face.

' Its way to hot for a beanie,' he thinks to himself, 'but it does feel really good.'

He presses the fabric against his nose and takes a sniff.

"Hmmm" Mark softly moans, his mind crashing to a halt.

With no more inhibitions, Mark puts on the beanie and his mind goes completely blank. He looks at the other beanie on the ground and slowly picks it up.

Meanwhile, Dan is still looking through the bag.

“I can’t seem to find anything here man. Do you see a wallet anywhere?” Dan ask as he opens another part of the bag.

Mark stays silent.

“Dude you with m..Mark…?”

As Dan turns around he sees Mark standing behind him. On his head is a black beanie, one of the two that were inside the bag. Marks eyes are glazed over with a grin plastered onto his face.

“Mark, are you okay?”

Mark slowly nods and looks down at his hands, which are holding the other beanie. He then looks back up to Dan and his grin widens a bit. Dan shivers the grin giving him the creeps.

Mark does a step forward slowly raising the beanie up.

“Mark, youre creeping me out man…’ Dan says as he slowly takes a step forward.

Mark then takes two big steps forward and rams the hat straight down onto jis buddies head.

“Yo man what the fuuuuohhhhhh” Dan was about to cuss his friend out but the moment the soft fabric is wrapped around his head a warm, fuzzy feeling spreads all over his body. His arms drop beside his body and his eyes glaze over much in the same way that Marks did.

Completely in sync the boys turn around and start to head into town. Not a single word is said, but they know where they need to go.

After about 10 minutes of walking they head into an alleyway , at the end of which is a small second hand clothing store. The boys head inside. Once inside the boys slowly gain back their sense of self.

The first thing they notice was the smell. The whole store smells like a heavily used locker room, with a tang of weed. Slightly confused they look around and see a big guy sitting behind the counter. His strong intense eyes drilling into the boys' heads. He takes a hit from a blunt in between his fingers and leans back into his chair.

"Hey guys, whats up" the mans deep baritone rumbles through the small space.

"We uhmm…" Dan stammers

"We just came to look around." Mark interjects.

"Ahh.. I see you guys found the beanies." The man smirks and beckons the roommates over. "In here, I have just the thing" he says pointing towards a singular fitting room.

Without much say in the matter the boys move towards the fitting room, both going inside as the man closes the curtain behind them. The boys, pressed together, look eachother in the eyes and just stare.

Dan raises his hand and puts it on Marks chest. Without breaking eye contact Mark puts his hand on his roommates cheek.

"Whats happening to us" whispers Dan.

"I have no idea" Mark responds softly. He strokes his friends cheek with his thumb as he feels his heartbeat rise.

Dan softly squeezes his friends chest as he starts to feel really warm.

"Your eyes are… really pretty" Mark suddenly whispers. He moves even closer to Dan, until both guys can feel the others breath on their skin.

Dan gulps, his throat is dry, hes sweating and he can feel his heart beating in his throat. Lookin at Mark he cant help but admit, his friend also looks amazing. This weird warm feeling in his chest everytime their eyes meet, is completely new.

"You're also… really …" Dan tries to talk but suddenly his friend presses his lips against his and pushes him against the wall. Dan gasps , but slowly starts to run his hands across his roommates chest.

Outside the fitting room the owner snickers and tosses two sets of worn down, torn, sweaty and smelly clothes over the curtain.

The clothes slowly make their decent towards the two partners, their own clothes seemingly slipping of in their sweaty, sloppy exchange.

As their own clothes fall to the ground, the stall heats up even more. The boys bodies start to glisten with sweat. Dans small belly slowly starts to sink into his body. His flat stomach quickly making use of the lost fat by turning it into hard earned muscle as a tight row of abs pops into existence. His arms slim down, turning his flubby arms into lean muscular logs. His legs tone down, while his ass firms up slightly giving him some perky cheeks.

Mark experiences the opposite. His skinny body filling out with muscle. His chest fills Dans hands more and more, while his ass starts to jiggle with every breath he takes.

The boys underwear tries to keep up but before long it disintegrates into nothingness, as a strong cheesy musk whafts into the air. They boys growing bushes both hold an even bigger surprise, their small clean dicks are being turned into monsters both in size and smell. Dan cant hold it and runs his hand down to his partners rod, the strong smell making his own twitch and leak.

The clothes finally wrap around the boys bodies, as the finishing touches set in. Marks jaw fills out with a chin strap beard as Dans skin starts to take on a slight tan. His hair also turns from straight dirty blonde, to curly black.

A pair of moist, sweaty vans slide onto their feet. The slightly squishy sole releasing even more stank into the stall, as their small feet grow into big behemoths, with a stench to smell from the other side of the room.

The two boys let go and stare into eachothers eyes.

"Fuck that … was intense" Mark says. He rubs his throat, his voice now an octave or two deeper.

"Yeah that was insane…" Dan replies with a similar voice.

The curtain gets pulled open and the shop keeper looks at the boys with a content grin. The boyfriends look at eachother and then at the big man standing infront of them.

"Goddayum… you guys look amazing." He says. He takes a step forward and both his hands disappear into the boys' pants. He grabs their dicks and runs his thumb over both their heads, before pulling his arms back and sticking his thumbs into his mouth.

"Fuckkk and you taste soooo good." He grins and raises his arms above his head. " You boys deserve a reward… come to Daddy'

The sweet sour smell that hung in the store gets amplified and Dan and Mark just stare at the sweaty and hairy pits of the man. With no hasitation they dive in and begin endulge themselves in the sweaty prison. Each drop they swallow their worries die down. Each lick slowing down their brains. Each sniff filling their deadbeat brains with new words, skills and memories.

Dane and Mike slowly back away from their boyfriends pits and grin. "Fucking hell Alejandro… you fucking beast…" Mike yells as he walks over to the counter and drops into the chair. He grabs the unfinished blunt and takes a hit.

Dane walks over and sits on his other boyfriends lap and presses his lips onto his, which resorts in Mike softly blowing the smoke right into his lovers mouth.

"I fucking love you bro…" Mike whispers.

"I love you to babe… " Dan smiles and kisses him again.

Alejandro grins and walks to the back of the store. "You two close up. Get upstairs quick though…I'd like to continue what we started."

______________________________________

They came out of nowhere, but they are a common sight nowadays. Dane and Mike like to skate through the streets, only stopping for food, drinks, joints and sloppy kisses.

#musk #clothing tf #skater #stoner #gay tf #feet #transformation #male tf #rakurai

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yandereaffections · 2 years

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J,E,M and P for Aiden? Also congrats on the 12k! :D

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Aiden definitely does get jealous, though he's not the type to make complications because of it, well not right away. He'll mention how you're spending a lot of time with a certain person in a tone you know there's a hidden meaning behind, maybe asks you out on a date the same day he knows you two are going out to do something, nothing too major in regards of jealous actions

It'll just get more and more pent up until the person who's causing it becomes a rival in his eyes, doesn't matter if they're a sibling or childhood friend, Aiden isn't getting his necessary supply of his dearest attention and it's certainly causing symptoms. With that said it's also incredibly easy to mellow him out, simply show he's a priority via morning/night calls and texts, maybe even send him something that reminds him of you and suddenly that person youve been hanging around isn't as much of a issue anymore, aidens focus is completely back on being flustered that you've obviously been thinking about him.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

This man will hand over every bit of him to you with a smile, you'll know his favorite foods, fears, family, every detail he could give Aiden would love to tell you. You deserve to see him completely vulnerable, and of course if you do try to use this information to your advantage he'll notice right away, hoping you wouldn't but preparing if you did.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Aiden let's his more manipulative traits slip as the time passes in your relationship together, the softness you fell in love with is still there of course but it's followed by passive devious demeanor that becomes clearer the more you look for it.

He's such a kind and considerate dude to every other kid on his campus, professors and students alike all have a rather positive view on him being a decent person no one would believe you if the topic of manipulation came up. If you do ask Aiden why hes so different with you compared to in public he'll simple answer with how he needs to ensure you get nothing but the best, which ultimately means scaring off potential 'friends' and guilting you into bailing on old social groups cause he claimed they're no good for you

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Incredibly patient in almost every situation, this boy tends not to assume the worst or get himself worked up on small issues or situations especially when they involve his dearest.

You can scream, throw punches and kick at him but he'll still be unnervingly calm, staring with a blank smile waiting for the chance to approach you without causing a violent reaction. Also is tolerant towards toxic behavior in any sort of relationship with you, lie or gaslight Aiden simply stands there sighing what you said to him, hoping you'd make this easy and apologize

#bruh someone found Javier's piccrew thank you alot bUT I REALIZED I LOST AIDENS TOO #12000 celebration #yandere alphabet #aiden cooper #aiden #aiden my oc #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere ocs #yandere oc

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blackoutbugza · 5 months

Text

hi! so i don’t usually post fic stuff like this, but i decided to post the first chapter of a sanders sides AU i have in mind. not sure why since im really extremely very self conscious of my writing because it sucks ass but whatever right?

if you saw my last post about a sanders sides AU fic, ignore that because this is a completely different au that i made up last night at one in the morning. happy reading!

chapter 1 cw (content warnings):

swearing, weapons, breaking and entering

A quiet dorm sits in the middle of a college campus, sunset illuminating the room. Multiple posters and photographs of various media hung and laying around the room. The window cracked open just slightly, enough to let in a gentle breeze. Usually in a college dorm, two people would be occupying the room. But not this one; Janus Viper was the only student who didn’t have a roommate, although he had always wanted one since he grew up an only child. He’d have recurring dreams that a roommate or some kind of sibling would magically show up at the door, but they were just dreams.

He sat up in his bed, his dirty blonde hair messy as always. He didn’t bother brushing it, just putting on his signature black beanie and his yellow gloves since his sweater was already on him. He was meeting up with a friend today in a couple minutes to break into the boarded off part of the library everybody at the school was curious about. As he stepped into his black boots, he unlocked the door and made his way out with his backpack hung over his shoulder. Even though there were a couple people walking around the halls at this time, Janus tried to be as quiet and small as possible to avoid attention. Going into the forbidden section of the library was crazy illegal, after all. But it’s not like anyone knew.

He skillfully swung his backpack the other way so it was in front of his chest now, making it easier to scavenge though. He gripped his phone and took it out. Entering the password and going through his contacts, he finally found the one he was looking for. His best friend: Virgil Weaver. He pressed call, and Virgil almost immediately picked up.

“You on your way?” He asked, sounding just as rushed as Janus.

“Yeah, I’m making my way through. They don’t turn on security on the back door until six since teachers are still leaving, right?”

“Right. You should be good just going through there, I’ll meet you in the fantasy section.”

“Rodger,” Janus finished, hanging up the phone and sighing deeply as he snuck to the back doors of the school.

He crouched down on the side of a dumpster, listening for about ten seconds. There was no noise. The coast was clear.

He sprinted to the door, quietly opening it and scampering inside the school. Janus thought this idea was stupid since he didn’t believe in magic in the slightest, and everybody had accused the books in the boarded up section of the library were all “haunted”. Janus didn’t buy it, but he wouldn’t give up a good time with Virgil.

He looked around, trying to open the door. It was locked. Damnit!

Janus called Virgil again, making sure to whisper and have his phone on silent. Virgil eventually picked up, although it took a while.

“Yeah?”

“I can’t get in, the door’s locked.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Are you the entrance by the cafeteria or the band room?”

“Band room. You inside?-“

As soon as he asked that, the door to the library was opened which made him jump and immediately try to hide. But it was just Virgil, holding a bent paper clip which he seemed to pick lock his way in with.

“Dude, chill,” Virgil chuckled, gesturing for Janus to follow him inside.

“Shit, man! You scared me. Give me a warning first before I’m so caught off guard.” Janus rubbed his eyes tiredly, shaking his head as the library door closed.

As they were walking to the blocked off section, Janus turned to Virgil hesitantly.

“You don’t actually believe in ghosts, do you?” Janus placed his hands in his pockets.

“Of course I do. Weird ass stories come from that exact area, and sixty percent of them are actually true!”

“Yeah. That still leaves out like, forty percent.” Janus rolls his eyes and gets his foot stomped on my Virgil as a result, causing him to wince in pain and hold the injury.

“It’s still majority,” Virgil hisses.

They begin to make their way father, turning a corner. They both jump back in shock and hug each other tightly when they see another person, sitting down and reading peacefully.

He wears square shaped glasses, a black turtleneck, and for some odd reason, a blue necktie. He just raises an eyebrow stoically, pausing his reading session.

“What the-?!” Janus pauses. “Who are you? How did you even get in?!”

The student with the glasses pointed at Virgil.

“Your friend pick locked the door for me,” He said with a soft and quiet voice like he wasn’t used to speaking.

Virgil squinted. “I had the door open for like, what, three seconds? How did you sneak through?!”

The student waved his hand as if shooing Virgil off, not answering. “Are you guys looking for the boarded off part of the library or something?” He asked, looking back down at the book.

“Yeah, actually.” Janus nodded.

“You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?” Virgil assured, glancing at Janus who seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“Oh, please.” The student set the book down, clasping his hands and sighing tiredly. “If I reported this along with all the other ass crap I see on this campus, people would start coming to me instead of the boarded up library section for spooky stories.” He rolled his eyes.

Janus and Virgil sighed with relief and the student licked his finger, turning the page. “My name is Logan Berry. I’m just as curious about that boarded up section as you are.”

“Janus Viper…” Janus eyes Virgil.

“Virgil Weaver.” Virgil folds his arms, still not fully trusting Logan for scaring them earlier.

Logan adjusts his glasses looking up at the two. “Sometimes I hear a crying little girl, wishing for her pet snake back…”

“Seriously?!” Virgil exclaims excitedly.

“Seriously..?” Janus asks as he folds his arms sarcastically, still not buying the whole “ghosts are real” thing.

“Oh, yeah.” Logan stands up, gesturing for the two boys to follow. “C’mon, I have a couple tools in my bag we could use to take the boards off.”

They all make their way over to the section of the library, caution tape all around it and boards across the entrance spraypainted with the threatening words: DO NOT ENTER.

Logan reaches into his backpack and pulls out a power drill, a hammer, and a hand wrench.

Virgil cringes at this sight. “Hey, Logan?” He asks.

“Yes?” He asks, still shuffling around his bag.

“…Would others consider you… you know, the ‘quiet kid’?” Virgil continues, watching closely as Logan takes out a massive crowbar from his backpack.

“Yes, why?”

“…No reason,” He looks away, trying to ignore his answer.

Logan nodded and handed Virgil the hammer and hand wrench as he tossed the power drill to Janus. It was surprisingly heavy and Janus was thrown off guard, catching it barely.

“Okay. Janus, you use the power drill to take the nails out of the boards. Virgil, whichever boards Janus isn’t working on, you’re using the wrench to pound in the claw of the hammer into the middle, loosest part of each board to make a clearer opening for me so I can bust through with the crowbar. Got it?” Logan took the lead, looking at the two who both nodded in unison.

Janus turned to Virgil. “We are so getting arrested...”

“Fuck yeah we are,” Virgil chuckled, pounding the first crack in the board.

#sanders sides #ts sides #janus sanders #ts janus #deceit sanders #ts deceit #virgil sanders #ts virgil #anxiety sanders #ts anxiety #logan sanders #ts logan #logic sanders #ts logic #fic #fiction #writing #thomas sanders

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