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ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds · 8 months

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Too Late I'm Dead

After rushing out from a Jigsaw survivors meeting, you meet another survivor who isn't exactly intent on attending group therapy. A companionship blossoms, and then a friendship. And then, something else.

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 🔞 Fandom: Saw Pairing: Amanda Young x AFAB!Reader Word count: 5.1K Content warnings: Gore, mentions of self-harm (both in the Jigsaw trap context and the more typical context), trauma, PTSD, angst, discussions of disability (since a lot of Jigsaw traps are disabling), Saw is its own warning, smoking, alcohol consumption, flirting, kissing, making out, biting, vaginal fingering, friends to lovers, as is Saw tradition gay shit goes down in the bathroom, reader is AFAB but gender neutral AO3 link: Here

Author's Note: And here’s Blood Fest Week 3, with the keywords “twisted” and “fixation” and the prompts “traps” and “rage”!! “Traps”, of course, got me thinking about Saw. And since I’m down terribly bad for Amanda and have seen appallingly few fics for her…. well, why not? Underrated characters are kind of my signature anyway. Hope y’all enjoy! <3

“Hi everyone. My name is Brandon and…. I’m a Jigsaw survivor.”

A subdued chorus of Hi Brandons echoed around the small church room. You barely even bothered to mouth the words. The gesture felt about as empty as the tipped over plastic water bottle you’d discarded by your chair some time ago. There was coffee at the sad makeshift snack table too, as well as a box of pastries that looked a few days past their prime, but you figured you didn’t need the caffeine to make you any more jittery than you already were. Your leg was bouncing enough as it was.

“It’s been about a year since uh. Well.” Brandon smiled nervously and made a vague, fluttery gesture with his hands. “Well. You know.”

A quiet, obligatory response from the other people – a murmur, a nod of heads. You stared at your bouncing knee.

“I’ve made great progress with my recovery. My knees have healed really well. I can fully walk on them again, even run if I’m careful. My dog Rex doesn’t really like it when I’m careful though.” He laughed fondly. A couple others offered the obligatory chuckle. “They hurt if I get too eager with stairs. Or if it’s too humid. But it’s going really well. I’m really, really proud of the progress I’ve made.” He nodded, as if assuring himself.

He’d had to break both his knees in order to get out of his trap. Was in a wheelchair for months and only recently started moving around without it. Or so you’d been told.

You weren’t sure you’d be able to break your own knees.

“Somedays, though.” Brandon looked away from the loose circle you all formed. Blinked rapidly. “Somedays, it feels like I haven’t made any progress. Somedays it’s hard. Really hard. And it feels like I didn’t survive that trap. Or if I did, some part of me got left behind.”

Everyone else was nodding, some with sad, understanding smiles on their faces. Your own pulse thundered in your ears like a distant, approaching storm.

“It’s really hard to have hope on those days, but…. what else can I do?” He shrugged, a helpless smile on his face. “Give up? Wallow around in my own misery? I can’t live like that. No one can live like that. Not forever. You just have to choose. You have to make a choice, just like the choices we made to be here. You have to choose to live. You have to choose hope. Or else you just can’t survive.”

You shot to your feet, heartbeat pounding in your ears, chair scraping back. Every face in the room turned to look at you. The church felt too small. Your ribs felt too tight. You felt too…. seen.

Who was he to judge you for wallowing in what you’d fucking gone through?

You spun around and bee-lined for the exit.

The cool city air against your face was a relief as you barged through the church’s double doors. But you stopped in your tracks as you spotted someone else already there. A woman was sitting on the church stairs. She twisted around, eyebrows raised and half-hidden by the choppy, irregular bangs across her forehead.

“Uh. Hey,” you said, somewhat awkwardly.

She paused, as if uncertain. Of what? You weren’t sure. “Hey,” she eventually said back. Then, after another pause, she twisted further around, a frown crossing her features. “Is the meeting over?”

“No. I just needed some air.” Fuck, you needed something to calm yourself. You dug around in your jacket pockets until you found a lighter and a cigarette. “Um. Do you mind if I…?”

She stared at the cigarette in your hand with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher, but eventually shook her head no. You internally shrugged and lit up. The first drag uncoiled the tension that had built up in your muscles, and you breathed the smoke out on a relieved sigh.

The woman glanced between you and the church doors. “Having fun in there?”

Did she know? The place didn’t exactly advertise, but it wasn’t exactly a secret either. You scanned her face. She looked vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t quite place her. Had you seen her in the meetings before? “Oh, yeah, lots. You know. Fun therapy shit.” Supposedly, anyway. It was supposed to be some sort of Alcoholics Anonymous shit, but instead it was for the few survivors of an active fucking serial killer. Jigsaws Anonymous or whatever the fuck.

“Must be going well if you’re out here,” she said dryly, resting her chin on a propped-up fist.

You shrugged, taking another drag. “Well…” Did you really want to tell her about how Brandon’s words had hit just a little too close to home? How they’d made you feel too small, as if the sticks you’d used to prop up your fragile post-trap reconstruction of the world had suddenly snapped, and the weight of it all was now bearing down on you? She was a stranger waiting outside the church. She could’ve been some Jesus freak for all you knew.

Not that she really looked like one. Not with the sheer red shirt over a black bra and fishnet undershirt, or the combat boots, or the sheer exhaustion around her eyes.

She looked less like a Jesus freak and more like you did on the days you could bear to look in the mirror.

So you just shrugged again. “It can be a lot,” you said. “What about you? What’re you doing out here?” You hesitated. “There’re still seats open if you wanted to…”

“No thanks. I’m good.” She offered you a close-lipped smile. “I’ve heard enough of the sob-stories.”

Yeah. You could understand that.

She didn’t look like she was going anywhere, and you didn’t exactly have plans of your own. So you gestured to the stairs next to her. “Mind if I sit?”

“Be my guest.”

You sat to her right so the wind wouldn’t blow cigarette smoke into her face. The smooth grey stone steps were wide enough that it didn’t feel quite so awkward sitting in silence together. Even though you could feel her analyzing you as you took another puff.

You blew the smoke away and smirked dryly at the cigarette. “Think Jigsaw’s gonna put me in another deathtrap for smoking?” You ignored the tightening in your chest as you said the words. Ignored the tremor of unease. Surely it wouldn’t be enough. Surely lightning wouldn’t strike twice.

“He wouldn’t do that.” She said it with such simple certainty, as if it was an inarguable fact. Even still, you found yourself stubbing the cig out and searching for a trash can to toss it into. You didn’t want to just flick it into the grass. Maybe Jigsaw would get you for littering. Maybe he was really passionate about saving the planet.

Who needed to be God-fearing with the possibility of Jigsaw watching your every move?

You shook the thought off. Introduced yourself to the woman. You smiled awkwardly. “Um. I’d offer you my hand but my, uh–” Personal hell “–Trap involved a hand thing so. I’m not a big fan of handshakes these days.” It had taken a long time for the nerves to repair themselves in your hand. A long time and a shitton of agony and medication and physical therapy. You still hadn’t totally gotten rid of the tremor. Fine motorskills were still harder than before.

Before. That.

But the woman just gave a rueful, understanding sort-of smile. Funny how people smiled so much in the presence of trauma and pain. “Amanda. I still have trouble going to the dentist sometimes.”

Shit, that’s where you knew her from, wasn’t it? You’d heard of her, read about her before, seen a clip of her punching a journalist square in the nose when she tried to follow her. All the photos you’d seen had been such shit quality that you hadn’t recognized her immediately.

Amanda Young. The person who killed a man and rummaged around his guts to free herself from the machine hooked into her jaws. The first person to walk away from a Jigsaw trap. The first survivor. In a weird, fucked up way, it was almost like meeting a celebrity. A celebrity for the most depressingly specific thing possible.

You weren’t sure whether it would make things weird to bring that up. So you just nodded. “So. What’re you doing here then? Are you waiting for someone?”

“Mm no, not really.” Amanda scraped at the chipped black polish on her nails. “I just like to come here sometimes.”

You stared at her. Something about her reminded you of a deer, twitchy and ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger. Or maybe not a deer. Deer looked like they’d snap in half if the wind blew too hard. Amanda…. did not. She was twitchy, but for some reason you got the feeling that she was just as likely to start kicking as she was to start running

Permanently caught between fight or flight.

You went with freeze, yourself. Or wallow, as Brandon had put it. Anger and embarrassment burned against your ribs.

“Hell of a place to visit.” You weren’t sure if you meant it as a light-hearted joke or a deadpan remark. The words came out somewhere in between.

“You’re one to talk.” She finally turned to you. It was the first time she’d actually met your eyes, you realized. “You actually believe all this bullshit?” she asked, gesturing to the church.

“Not really,” you admitted. “My therapist wanted me to go. Said it would help me to be around others who understand what I went through. That it would help me get closure or something. I didn’t want to. But he insisted.” You shrugged. He’d pestered you about it until you finally gave in a few weeks ago. He thought it would be good for you. Would help you heal. Really, it just made you want to fling yourself out of one of the church’s fancy stained-glass windows.

Amanda gave a derisive snort. You almost took offense until she said, “Half of the time these therapists don’t even know what they’re talking about. It’s a bunch of bullshit, too.” She propped her cheek on her fist again, giving you a side-long grimace. “People don’t change until they have to. Or until they’re forced to. A bunch of psychoanalyzing isn’t going to do anything.”

You…. strongly disagreed. But the slim scar peeking out from her sleeve kept you from saying that. “Bad experience with a therapist?” you asked, flicking your gaze away.

“It never really worked for me.”

“What did?” you asked cautiously.

She paused. Thought about it. Stared at you with an intensity that had you wondering what the hell was going on inside her head. Until eventually, “Jigsaw.”

You blinked. Stared. Tried to figure out how to respond to that.

She thought…. Jigsaw helped?

You didn’t want to judge. Fuck, that was exactly why you’d stormed out of the church. You were self-aware enough to realize that. Different things worked for different people, and different people responded to trauma in different ways, but….

The church doors squealed open. You both shot to your feet and turned around. Your fellow Jigsaw Anonymous members were leaving, the meeting over, spilling out from the doors with all the speed and excitement of molasses being poured out from a jar. You stepped to the side to let them come down the stairs. Amanda did the same, arm brushing yours, and you wrestled the urge to jerk away. You weren’t sure of the last time you’d actually touched someone, or the last time someone had touched you, aside from the gentle but coldly professional hands of doctors and emergency personnel. It was as startlingly foreign as it was familiar.

Amanda seemed completely unaware of your clashing emotions as her gaze locked onto something. You followed her stare to Brandon slowly making his way down the steps. A man with sandy-blond hair and a cane was with him, chatting, the both of them completely oblivious to either of you.

Did she know them? She was staring at them with such an undecipherable intensity and it was the only explanation you could think of. You glanced at the two men again, then back at Amanda. No… she wasn’t staring at them. She was staring at the blond man specifically.

It really wasn’t any of your business, but you couldn’t help but ask, “Do you two know each other?”

“Sorta,” was as much of a response as you got.

Once Brandon and the man reached the bottom of the ramp and went separate ways, Amanda turned back to you. It was just the two of you on the stairs now. And it was a little embarrassing how flustered you were just by her proximity. For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even know her.

Maybe your therapist was right. You did need to get out and be around people more. So you could remember how to fucking act normal again.

“Well.” Amanda bumped her arm against yours again. This time deliberately. You were pretty sure the facial expression you made was not a normal one. “See you round.”

Then she shoved her hands into the pockets of her cargo pants, hopped down the steps, and just. Walked away. You stared after her for longer than necessary.

She was impossible to get a read on. Weirdly confrontational, weirdly evasive, and weirdly magnetic anyway.

You kind of hoped you’d see her again.

She didn’t appear for the next few meetings you obligatorily dragged yourself to. It wasn’t until about a month later that you found her sitting out on the steps again. When you, again, had rushed out to clear your head when the room got too small.

“Hey stranger,” she said, tone somewhere close to teasing. It made you smile. Just a little.

“Hey,” you replied, approaching the stairs. And again, you gestured to the space beside her. “Mind if I join you?”

“Be my guest.”

And so you developed a bit of a routine. She appeared on the steps about once a month, for a reason she never shared and that you never really minded. You would sit on the stairs with her, and the two of you would shoot the breeze. It was a comfortable, casual companionship born from a common factor and convenience. It was never anything very deep. Neither of you were there for therapy, not really. You kept it light, casual. That was the point, wasn’t it?

At least until one day when Amanda was standing by the stairs before the meeting had even started. You didn’t bother to hide your surprise as you approached her and exchanged your usual heys.

“You coming in today?” you asked.

“No. I thought we could head somewhere else.” She tilted her head at you. There was a playfulness to her expression, her smile. A playfulness that made you both a little bit cautious and a little bit excited. “Somewhere a little more fun. Unless you want to stay here. For therapy.” She pointedly lifted her eyebrows at you as she said therapy.

You glanced at the church doors behind her. Really, talking to her about anything but the fact that you were both Jigsaw survivors had done a lot more for you than going to these stupid fucking meetings had.

“Only if you promise not to put me in a death game for smoking,” you joked. Or tried to, at least. It really wasn’t that funny. You winced at yourself. But Amanda, to her credit, just linked her arm through yours. You almost preened at the friendly touch.

“Deal,” she said.

She ended up taking you to a bar. A gay bar, more specifically. You were a bit surprised she’d clocked you so easily but never said a word – but then again, neither had you about her. So you supposed you couldn’t be too surprised.

From there, your casual companionship escalated into something much more like a genuine friendship. You got to know each other properly. You talked about your personal lives and hobbies and interests. You even talked a little bit about Jigsaw, and everything after that. You told her how you’d been struggling with insomnia and how you’d lost your job when you stopped showing up. Because of, y’know, being stuck in a deathtrap. And being too terrified to set foot outside your door for a while after. You told her about the new job you’d gotten and struggled to adjust to. And you told her about your hands.

Nails through the palms Jesus-style. Because according to the hoarse voice on the tape that now haunted your nightmares – “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop”. She’d winced as you told her the story one evening. You’d winced as you’d recollected it. The pain shooting through your fingertips, up your arms, into your very fucking bones. The squelch of blood and muscle, the way you hadn’t been able to stop from screaming or the tears from spilling as you twisted and ripped your hands free of the metal spikes.

It was a miracle they didn’t introduced any infections into your bloodstream, the doctors had told you. A miracle.

You told Amanda how your hands still shook, were still a bit weak. How some days they were worse and some days they were better. And how fine motor skills had become hard now, whereas before you’d taken them for granted. God, had you taken them for granted. You’d been able to write your name, use a knife and fork, all that shit, so damn easily.

It had taken a lot of getting used to.

Amanda has just listened and nodded her head. Understanding. Not offering the grating sympathy people so often flung your way, all the while looking uncomfortably unsure of what to do with your presence and your hands and your experience and your trauma. But Amanda understood. Because of course she did. She knew what you’d been through and where you were coming from.

And she’d even smiled a bit mischievously, glancing down at your hands on the bar counter, and said, “Well, if you ever need help with anything, I’m pretty good with my hands. I could always lend a finger or two.”

Maybe it was the little smirk on her face, the glint in her eye when she said it. Maybe it was the loneliness and then the sudden friendship. Or maybe you’d just been a little too buzzed, but her words had remained lodged in your mind as you tried to go to sleep that night.

Amanda had shared things about herself, too, in the time you’d spent together. It had taken a little longer for her to open up – she was a bit slower, a bit more cautious. She seemed a lot more eager to listen than to do the talking. And you couldn’t fault her for that. But eventually, you learned that she worked as a mechanic, knew a lot about fixing and building machines and shit like that. She had a pet guinea pig that she’d acquired entirely by accident. His name was Pigeon. Her favorite color was red, her favorite bands were Nine Inch Nails and Hole, and her favorite movie was The Princess Bride. Her dad was a piece of shit she hadn’t seen in over a decade, and her relationship with her mom was strained at best. She was an only child.

You’d also learned more about her Jigsaw trap. How she’d become a drug addict in prison, how she’d woken up in a Jigsaw trap for it. How the little puppet with swirls on its cheeks had rolled out of the darkness on a tricycle and told her that she’d survived. And how she’d ended up in a trap a second time, a hellish prison of a house with several other people, most of whom had died.

The news had nearly brought your drink back into your throat. Lighting did strike twice after all. He did pick the same victims more than once.

God, maybe you really did need to quit smoking.

Amanda had placed her hand on your arm. Touch gentle but grounding all the same. And she’d assured you that that wouldn’t happen to you, Jigsaw wouldn’t choose you again. He had no reason to. She said it so confidently, and you so desperately wanted to believe her. That you wouldn’t be taken a second time. Or that she wouldn’t be taken a third. Not that she seemed too concerned about it.

That was the strange thing about her. When she told you about what had happened, she stared down at the counter. Her hands shook a little bit. The memory terrified her.

And yet…. she had this fixation on the idea that Jigsaw had helped her. The trap had gotten her off drugs. It had put her on a completely different path in life. Rather than dying from a drug overdose, she’d gotten clean. He saved me, she’d said, eyes wide and earnest and afraid.

You’d fought against the urge to argue that, to say No, he didn’t save you, he almost killed you. The idea of Jigsaw possibly helping – all while you struggled to sleep and were plagued by nightmares as you did, while you struggled to make your handwriting legible, while you fought the urge to bolt back home as soon as the sun started lowering in the sky? The idea felt like swallowing glass.

Had Jigsaw ever made anyone do that?

But you didn’t say any of that to her. People dealt with trauma in different ways. You supposed this was just her way of dealing with it. And it wasn’t really hurting anyone, so who were you to judge?

It certainly didn’t stop you from going to the bar with her regularly. It didn’t stop you from laughing with her, from getting close to her both emotionally and physically till the edge of your seats were almost touching and your arms were practically interlinked.

It didn’t stop the spark of warmth in your chest when she offered a genuine smile. Or the electric feeling that shot through your veins when she traced her fingers over your knuckles one night, after the conversation had lulled and your drinks had gone lukewarm.

“I wanna try something,” she said, voice soft enough that you would’ve missed it had you not been sitting so close your thighs were pressed together.

Eye contact right now would’ve been like staring into the sun. So instead, you stared at her hand on top of yours. Her knuckles were scratched up as if she’d gotten into a fight. “Sure,” you said slowly. “What did you have in mind?”

Amanda turned to you. You cautiously met her gaze. Christ, it really was like looking at the sun. Warm and beautiful but intense. Burningly intense.

Confusion turned to shock as Amanda hooked two fingers into the neck of your shirt and tugged you closer till her lips were hitting yours. You must’ve made a noise of surprise, because she drew away almost immediately. It was all you could do not to chase her and ask why did you stop? A small crease appeared between her eyebrows and she opened her mouth. And God for a second you thought she was going to apologize, when in fact she really didn’t need to because holy shit.

“Oh thank fuck,” you blurted. “You were flirting with me.”

Concern turned to surprise. Then Amanda laughed, the sound pure relief. “Yeah, I was. Did it take you that long to figure it out?” she teased.

“Uh.” Your face warmed. “Maybe.”

She grinned, then grabbed you by the shirt and kissed you again. Gentle but insistent. Her other hand curled around your nape. You didn’t know what the hell to do with your own hands until one curled around her back and the other ended up braced against the bar counter.

The bar counter. Right. You were very much in public. Sure, it was a queer bar, but it was still public.

So you reluctantly pulled away. Amanda looked confused for a moment before you said, “Hey, maybe we should… do this somewhere else?”

She blinked at you. Then, wordlessly, she wrapped a hand around your wrist and pulled you off your seat. She dragged you past the other patrons and tables – it was a quieter night, so you didn’t have to fight through a sea of people – and pushed through one of the bathroom doors, yanking you in with her and locking the door behind you.

“There,” she said. There was a look to her eyes, a look that made your heart stumble and your entire body go warm. “We’re somewhere else.”

This time when she kissed you, you let her fully take the lead. You slid your arms around her and melted into the kiss, sighing against her. It just made her more eager. She prodded at your lips with her tongue, slipped inside with a sweet little moan that had your heart racing. Sent your head spinning. You backed up till you hit a wall, dragging Amanda with because fuck you weren’t breaking this kiss. Not as she was getting to know you with her teeth and her tongue. She tasted like alcohol and peaches, smelled of loam and sweat and faintly of men’s store-brand bodywash. It was heady, intoxicating. Addicting.

Her hands slipped under your shirt. You shuddered at the exposure to the overly air-conditioned bathroom. Shuddered harder at her warm touch roving across your skin, the slight drag of fingernails over your stomach. Amanda broke the kiss with a wet smack as your muscles tensed underneath her.

“You’re so cute,” she teased. She dragged her fingernails over your skin again with just a little more pressure. You arced into her touch. Fuck. Fuck.

You wished you could come up with some kind of response. Something to convey just how much you were aching for her, both emotionally and physically. How badly and how deeply these emotions were running through you. But words were currently beyond your grasp.

Amanda leaned in and nibbled at your neck as her fingers slid past your waistband and teased the edge of your underwear. You clamped your teeth down on your bottom lip. Heat swirled through your veins, in your stomach, at the base of your spine. You moved your hips a little, just a little, to urge her on. Nails dug into the soft flesh there. A whimper escaped.

“Mandyyyyyyy.”

“Yeahhhhhhh?” She was all mischief and smugness as she looked back up at you. It just made you more desperate.

“Mandy. Please?” You gave her your best pleading look.

“You’re so impatient.” She said the words lightly, playfully. But she must’ve been impatient too, because she was pushing your underwear down. When her fingers brushed against your clit, you gasped and dropped your head back against the wall. Fuck, God, yes, right there –

“You sure you only just figured out I was flirting with you? You seem pretty fucking wet already.” She punctuated her words with a slide of her fingers against you. Because yeah, you were fucking wet. It would’ve been a little humiliating if you weren’t so achingly desperate for her touch.

“Yeah, well.” You drew in an unsteady breath as she circled your clit. A teasing touch that wasn’t quite enough. Fuck, it was impossible to form a coherent thought. “You’re just…. really fucking hot.”

It was hardly eloquent. But her breath puffed against your neck in a laugh. And you figured it would do for now.

She kissed the hollow of your throat, firmly rubbed her thumb against your clit. You practically bucked against her. Her other hand hooked under one of your thighs and lifted, and you threw your leg around her waist. Let out a moan at how it changed the sensation. “Yeah, like that,” Amanda breathed. “Just like that.” She said it as if you were touching her, as if she wasn’t the one doing all the work, wasn’t the one making you writhe and whimper and leak over her precise fingers.

Christ, you hadn’t felt this good in a while.

The pace was languorous, exploratory, testing what made you shiver and dig your nails into her shoulders and gasp for breath. As if she was intent on taking you apart and finding out exactly what got you going – a machine to figure out and put back together. Slowly, slowly, but in a way you savored, you felt the tension inside of you building up and coiling tight like a spring. You were quivering. Your clothes clung to your sweat-sheened skin. The music spilling into the bathroom from the bar wasn’t quite enough to cover the ragged breathing and wet, rhythmic noises, and it just made the whole thing feel even dirtier. Especially with how Amanda was panting against you, as if she was getting off just from you getting off and fuck it made you clench.

When she picked up the pace, you weren’t able to stop the gasps and moans that spilled out of you, the way you panted and pleaded her name. The sound of her fingers squelching against you had you burning. And when your release hit you cried out, clenching, shaking, clinging to Amanda’s shoulders and digging your nails in as you rode out the high. She didn’t stop, didn’t relieve the pressure against your clit. White hot pleasure burned through your body till tears pricked at your eyes. Distantly, she said something. Soft, sweet words that didn’t quite reach your ears as they rang from the intensity of your orgasm.

She only stopped when you went limp against her. Only pulled away from the mess you’d made – that she’d made too, really – to wrap her arms around your hips and kiss you, deep and slow, as if trying to commit you to memory. You lazily brushed your tongue against hers. Your muscles felt like taffy, worn out in the best way.

“You were right,” you said when you parted. “You really are good with your hands.”

Amanda grinned so widely and genuinely that you couldn’t stop yourself from capturing her lips again. Fuck. You might’ve been a little bit in love. Or maybe that was the post-sex endorphins talking. You weren’t sure. You didn’t particularly care either way.

“I think I owe you an orgasm,” you said.

Amanda brushed her nose against yours. For the first time since you’d met her, she actually seemed truly, fully relaxed. As if she’d properly lowered her guard just now, just in this moment, just for you. “Maybe next date.” The words sent a flutter through your chest. Next date. There’d be a next date. “But first,” she said, moving away to grab some paper towels, “we gotta get you cleaned up.”

#ace writes #sfbf23 #amanda young #amanda young x reader #saw #notsft #not totally satisfied with how this turned out but fuck it we ball

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snorky · 11 months

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You Got That Kinda Lovin' That Can Be So Smooth

Hey y’all! I hope you enjoy this fic I wrote! Keep in mind that it is a work of fiction and that it isn’t a depiction of any of the characters mentioned. Hope it’s sweet and fluffy enough for y’all! The title is from a lyric in “Smooth” by Santana. Good song check it out. Also Dunner is just <3

Pairing: Vince Dunn x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.0k

Warnings: Alcohol Consumption (of legal age)

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The crowded and noisy bar was not the place to be on a Friday night after a long, tiring day of work. Bodies pressed up one another to the music, the stench of alcohol and booze lingering in the air, loud talking over one another. It was a recipe for a headache. Unfortunately, to her friends, a night out at the bar was a great idea. And so, she ordered a fruity, colorful drink to hopefully distract her.

Minutes passed by, and the drink was forgotten, half-empty and sitting on the bar counter next to her. She swirled the tiny umbrella around the glass, hoping to come up with an excuse to tell her friends why she left early. Her mind sat blank, thinking that just disappearing would cause her friends to panic, and saying that she wants to go home is too straight-forward and a bit rude.

A sigh fell from her mouth as she looked up from her drink, looking around the bar for her friends, hoping that they at least enjoyed their night. It was difficult to spot her friends through the crowd of people in the darkened bar, so after a few minutes of searching and to no avail, she gave up.

She looked at her drink, seeing the mixture of yellow pineapple juice and some alcohol swirl against the ice cubes, before deciding to finish the rest of it. It tasted tangy and sweet on her tongue, the cool liquid helping her calm her nerves for a bit.

After a while, the effects of the drink kicked in, the music was a lot less of a headache to deal with, and the crowd of bodies dancing seemed tempting. Everything seemed more tolerable. Maybe all she needed to do was let loose, and enjoy the night with dancing and drinks.

And so she got up off of the barstool and started walking to the dance floor. She felt a bit more confident now that she wasn’t feeling so tired. Music in the air was livelier than before, the beat of it thumping in her chest, and the crowd kept moving along to it.

She moved to the music, becoming lost in her own world for a bit, enjoying how happy she felt at the moment. The melody seemed to dance in the air and around her, a swirling magic of notes. A smile grew on her face as she swayed in the crowd, feeling confident and not caring what others think.

As she looked up, her eyes met someone, his soft curls sticking to his forehead, his eyes full of laughter, and his lips turning into a smile when his friends told him a joke. He looked like an Ancient Greek sculpture with his strong, and yet gentle blushed cheeks that could be seen in the dim bar lighting.

He took a sip of his drink before setting it down, telling something to his friends, and started making his way over to her. She noticed the way the dark t-shirt hugged his body, how his lips looked so soft, how his eyes seemed to shine even in the dark. When he approached her, she noticed that he smelled like sweet rosewood, and the faint scent of the beer he had earlier lingered on him.

He smiled before speaking to her, his lips moved, but it was impossible to hear him over the loud music in the bar.

“I’m really sorry but I can’t hear you!” she shouted.

He paused for a second before bending down near her ear and spoke, “Should we go somewhere quieter?”

She nodded her head and they both made their way out of the bar, the fresh cool air smooth on their skin. It was much more quiet and calm outside of the bar, but the adrenaline was still coursing through their veins.

“Hey, it’s nice to actually hear you know,” he laughed. His voice was a lot more gentle than she expected, and his laugh was adorable. Warmth radiated off of him in the cooler air, and it was tempting for her to not lean closer to him.

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “What’s your name?”

“Vince.” He stuck out his hand for her to shake.

She took his hand and shook it, noticing how warm it was compared to the cool air. “Nice to meet you Vince, you’re really pretty by the way,” she blurted out.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,”

His lips curled into a shy smile before he started laughing softly, “Thanks, you’re really stunning,”

A gentle blush rose to her face, lightly dusting her cheeks with pink. The fairy-lights that hung outside the bar glowed softly against the walls and the surroundings. “How is your night going?” she asked politely.

“My night is going pretty well,” he said. “Had some drinks with some friends while catching up, met a gorgeous girl who was dancing tonight,” he smirked at the last bit. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’ve had a pretty fun night.” She responded.

“Yeah? Tell me about it,” he grinned.

“Well first I had a drink, Pineapple Mint Caipirinha. Didn’t enjoy it at first but it started tasting good after a while,”

“Sounds fancy,”

“It’s nothing too crazy.” She shrugged. “If you want I can get you it,”

“Whew, trying to buy me drinks now, miss?” he laughed. “It’s alright you don’t have to, it’s stuffed in there, so we don’t have to go back in.”

“Yeah, I’m going to have to agree with you.”

He nodded his head before speaking again, “Back to the question, anything else fun that you did tonight?” His eyes looked at hers, noticing how the tension between them grew a little.

“After the drinks I started enjoying the night more, danced around for a bit, enjoying the music,” she paused as she turned to face him, her hands trailing up his arms lightly, “met a handsomely fine man,” she went on.

His breath hitched for a bit, getting caught in his throat, and he leaned into her touch. “Yeah?” he asked, barely above a whisper. “Anything else fun you did?” He set his hands on her hips gently, making sure that she was comfortable.

“Nope. But I’d be down for more dancing tonight if you are,” she smiled.

He smiled back and let them both linger in the peaceful silence between them, hearing the occasional car pass by down the street, and the patrons of the bar walking out into the night. Music gently flowed out of the bar from the open door, a gentle hum of the melody could be heard.

“May I have this dance then?” His voice is soft and his eyes sweet. The small light hanging outside of the bar casted a glow behind him, giving him a halo around his head. He looked beyond angelic, and the way he smiled added more to it.

She nodded her head, smiling again once her eyes met his, and they started swaying softly to the music. He held her tenderly, almost as if he was afraid she’d slip out of his hands if he wasn’t careful.

He drifted his hands up to hers, and spun her around, making her let out a laugh that filled the quiet air with sweetness. It was like a never-ending moment between the both of them, their smiles making each other swell with happiness, the warmth in each others’ grasp radiating into the crisp night air.

“Gosh, you’re so gorgeous right now, so pretty since I’ve met you,” he whispered.

“Can say the same about you Vince, you look angelic.” She brushed a stray curl that fell out of place back, noticing the flustered look in his face as her hands gently touched his cheekbones.

He leaned in closer to her, his breath fluttering against her lips. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes please.”

And with that, his lips pressed against hers delicately, closing the space between the two of them. It was a soft, gentle kiss that seemed to last a minute, despite only lasting for a few seconds. They both pulled back for a brief moment, their eyes full of adoration, before they kissed each other again.

The glow of the street-lights looked like little stars dancing around the both of them, a fairy-tale moment almost. When they pulled back once again, they started laughing like two teenagers who just fell in love for the first time.

“You’re so, so lovely,” he spoke softly, his thumbs rubbing circles on her hips. His face and neck were flushed with red, and his smile was bright.

“And so are you,” she said as she pressed a small kiss to his rosy cheek.

Her phone started to ring, the display showing her friend’s name on the screen and she picked up. She let her friends know that she was doing okay and that she was just outside getting some fresh air. Her friends had already left the bar a while back, making her realize how late it was.

Her friend hung up and they both stood there outside of the bar, not wanting the night to come to an end. It was quiet now, the city was starting to sleep, and it became evident that she was as well. She yawned, followed by Vince also yawning, making the both of them laugh.

“Hey Vince? I’m really sorry but I have to end the night.” Disappointment laced her voice. “It’s getting late and I’m a bit sleepy, I had a fun night with you though.”

“Oh no worries, I understand. Do you want me to walk you home, or can you make it home safely on your own?” he asked. It was a simple gesture, but it was extremely thoughtful of him.

“I can get home safely Vince, don’t worry.” She smiled.

“That’s good to hear, but can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead,”

“Can I get your number? I just really enjoyed the night with you and I’d like to do it again sometime,” he asked nervously.

“Sure,” she responded. “I enjoyed the night as well and I was hoping we could spend more time together,”

He smiled again at her words, appreciating every bit of it. They exchanged numbers before he proposed an idea.

“Can you stand there and smile for me?” he asked, holding his phone up. She did as he said, giving him a big smile as he snapped a photo for the contact image. His heart warmed at the sight of her smile

“Your turn, Vince.” She held her phone up, capturing an image of him with a large grin, his eyes caught mid-blink. She laughed as she selected that image for his contact, knowing that she wouldn’t regret it.

They said their good-byes and as she was walking away, he shouted out to her, “Let me know when you get home safely!” making her feel warm at the gesture.

As she walked away down the street, she felt happy and warm about her night, appreciating how it wasn’t so bad of an idea to go out with her friends. She kept a mental note to herself to thank her friends the next morning for the fun and eventful night.

When she arrived at her home, her shoes discarded to the side, and her bag on a hook near her door, she laid down on her couch and texted Vince about her arrival at her home.

Made it home!

*Attachment: 1 Image*

Yippie! - Vince

She laughed at his text, finding it hilarious how just one word from him could’ve made her light up with joy like that. After a couple of minutes, she got off of the couch and started making her way to her room, getting ready to go to bed after the long night.

Before she fell asleep, she sent him one more text.

Goodnight, and sweet dreams <3

You too, sweetheart <3 - Vince

#hockey #nhl #nhl writing #vince dunn #seattle kraken #nhl hockey #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #vince dunn x reader #nhl fluff #hockey fic #vince dunn fluff #vince dunn imagine #seattle kraken imagine #nhl players

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bayfuzzball7050 · 4 months

Text

INTRODUCTION POST AND RULES 🔥🔥🦾🦾🦾🦈🦈

More under the cut :P

Hello bitches, bros and non binary hoes 🦾🦾 The name’s Andrés or Diego. Call me whatever ya want, idc

I’m a Trans Guy, he / him and if you don’t know me a they / them it’s ok I don’t mind that much. NO SHE HER IMMA BEAT UR ASS

☆ I got that dawg in me (asd) actually pls be patient im a little slow on some things

☆ Artist

☆ Art requests are open!! I draw anything but nsfw/kinks and proship stuff

☆ Writer (no fanfic here tho)

☆ don’t ask for pics you ain’t getting em

☆ if I use emojis, be aware that most of the time it’s ironic

☆ i LOVE spammers, spam likes, reblogs, whatever as much as you like :3 (if ya want to like no pressure)

BY THE WAY!!

☆ I usually don’t add tw (tho I dont post stuff with heavy themes often if I’m honest like I rarely do it) But if anything, be wary

So, I think imma make(try) a dni list but it’s just basic dni criteria, it’s ultimately useless cuz like I can’t force ya and im not your dad plus I’m too lazy to look through every blog that reblogs or likes but uh blocklist ig???

SHIT THAT GETS YA BLOCKED ‼️‼️

☆ Proshippers, Comshippers, anti-anti’s and profiction mfs

Why, you may ask? Horrible past experiences with these mofos and *other* bad experiences that ain’t really related to ‘em but remind me of so like if ur a proshipper just block me and move on I don’t want y’all around. Not rlly into the discourse and prolly never gonna post abt it but yeah

☆ On a similar note, I HATE LOL1C0NS AND SHOTAC0NS KYS…NOWW

☆ ON ANOTHER SIMILAR NOTE! even if I do hate proshippers, autoshippers/selfshippers are cool like hell yeah you go marry your blorbo 🔥🔥🔥

☆ Transphobes / TERFS

I think the whole ‘Im trans’ shit explains it well enough 💀

☆ SWERFS can also go fuck themselves

☆ Misandrists and radfems too like why you here 💀if you hate all men you hate me too

☆ Transmeds/Truscums/anti-MOGAI mfs get the hell out of here I hate you

(Imagine gatekeeping gender cuz someone doesn’t fit an stereotype thats stupid af 😭😭)

☆ Transid “Transabled”, "transracial" are not welcome. Even if I do support MOGAI I do not want that around.

☆ zionists, racists, homophobes, ace exclusionists/phobes, antisemits (guess that’s how you say it???), conservatives, mofos who discriminate/hate minorities in general

☆ NSFW agere blogs (SFW agere it’s cool I don’t mind)

☆ pedos/MAPS I want you hanging on the STREET

☆ Paraphilics in general

☆ Misgendering kink blogs cuz WHY THE HELL ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME¿ AND IM TRANS WTH¿¿

☆ kink blogs in general actually ☠️

☆ Pro-ANA or Pro-MIA mofos y’all please seek therapy

☆ swifties.

To be honest I don’t check the blogs of most people who reblog or like but- Ricky…Ricky when I catch you Ricky-

(I mostly notice when I get followed but- anyway 😻)

THIN ICE:

☆ Giomis shippers

Why? Cuz not all of them are proshippers but a vast majority is and giomis kinda weirds me out💀ik the age gap small but still it’s kinda….

☆ dsmp fans

As much as I enjoy the Fanart and maybe the roleplay was interesting I have like personal beef with the fanbase and creators

☆ Hannibal Fans

The franchise is fire but I also have beef with Hannibal fans cuz for some reason most of them proshippers

☆ MHA fans for the same reason as Hannibal fans

☆ Same with South Park

☆ Same goes for Homestuck fans

☆ ONE PIECE fans, y’all didn’t do anything wrong it’s just that I haven’t caught up with the show 😭😭

ANYWAY

Languages I speak:

☆ Spanish (mother language)

☆ English

☆ A tiny bit of Italian

FANDOMS IM IN (but I forget sometimes 😿)

☆ JJBA (what I post about mostly (going insane over this))

☆ Berserk

☆ Madoka Magica

☆ ikigusare (best virtual girl band ever fr fr)

☆ Gorillaz

☆ Good Omens

☆ Moral Orel

☆ Dorohedoro

☆ My Little Pony

☆ Sonic fandom

☆ Undertale / Deltarune

☆ Breaking Bad / Better Call Saul

☆ El Cuarteto De Nos

☆ Azumanga Dioh!

☆ Vocaloid

☆ Project Sekai

☆ D4DJ

☆ Food Fantasy

☆ FNAF (grrrr I love fnaf,,)

☆ Emo / Scene / Scemo (I just don’t have money for clothes nor the patience to make a blog only for that 😭😭)

☆ actually like another shit ton more but I can’t remember 😔

Socials:

☆ Reddit u/BayFuzzball7050 (old account, permanently banned)

☆ Reddit u/BayFuzzball404 (Current Account)

☆ ofc Tumblr

☆ Wattpad and AO3 but we ain’t talking about that 🤫🧏‍♂️

☆ @bayfuzzball7050-art is my art blog (reblogs from here)

☆ …

☆ also I might or might not have a questionable side art blog

☆ ALSO! recently opened a Pixiv :3

ALSO, IMPORTANT REGARDING MY SOCIALS

☆ I had beef with a transphobe in my old account and he has a Reddit account that is u/BayFuzzball7050_ but has a pfp of the trans wojak killing themselves. THATS NOT ME. Stay safe.

This is me btw

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yeehawbvby · 8 months

Text

Falling Away With You | Ch. 44*

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Magnus... prepares you for your date.. I guess.

Author’s Note: WE’RE BACK BABYYYYYY

Thanks so much to everyone for being so patient during my hiatus!! I definitely needed some time to just slow down a bit (and to reiterate from my recent update, things still will be slow! But the time off was nice), and I really appreciate the kindness and support in that decision :3 It means so much to me, I wish I could better express it to y’all.

I hope that this is a good chapter for jumping back into things! I did my best to recap the past few chapters a little bit for those of you who need a small refresher, as well as incorporate a small time skip (like, 2 weeks tops).

If you're not into that, I hope the smut makes up for it <3

As always, I hope you enjoy, and I’d love to hear your thoughts! x Also, please see the comments for another author's note once you finish reading this chapter ^^

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev (if you want to skip my Author Updates(tm), go straight to chapter 40!) | Next

Seb had first seen magic as something spooky and surreal. Nothing more than a new and weird thing that fuzzied up the lines between the fiction he took comfort in, and the burdens of reality. It was a completely understandable take for him to have felt that way, and I had been surprised that he was so chill about introducing it back into his life through me!

That said, I thought he’d still keep it to a minimum.

But!!!

Ever since our visit to Magnus a few weeks ago — again, a visit that held the intention of Seb merely becoming a little reacquainted with the arcane, as we’d both expected him to keep his involvement small — learning magic has morphed into a bit of a passion project for him. A means to become as badass as his magic-wielding OCs and shit. It’s rad as hell. Kinda hot too. I dunno what it is about magic, but it does things to me, dude.

When Seb isn’t programming, and we aren’t spending time alone together, he’s now enthusiastically re-familiarizing himself with his rusty arcane skill set as well as indulging in some new knowledge. And likewise, when I’m not farming, taking care of Cannoli, or spending time with either of my partners alone, I’m honing my rapidly-increasing skills as a mage.

The necklace Welwick gave me has been working wonders for my abilities. Like, I now have that sixth-sense Magnus vaguely talks about from time-to-time, for when something magical is nearby. That could just be a result of my growth as a mage in general, but I think it’s more fun to imagine this little trinket siphoning a bunch of cool shit into me.

Also, clairvoyance doesn’t come to me so randomly anymore, aside from the occasional flash of something in my head! It’s getting a bit easier to tell the difference between dreams and a distant reality during my sleep, too. Similarly to�� well, fucking everything else related to magic, I guess, it’s sort of a gut-feeling above all else.

This nifty little thing has also allowed me to practice my psychicism in the way that Magnus always had to resort to. For him to predict the future, he must conduct a spell and perform a weird ritual of sorts. He saves it for when things feel “off,” like when I moved to Pelican town… and for when he gets eager, and wants to know something right then and there. Like when he predicted when I’d be coming over to drink that nasty-ass potion that all but confirmed I’m a mage.

The process requires copious amounts of mana – another reason why he so rarely does it. But because of the extra help from my necklace, as well as my seemingly natural talent as an oracle that I’m assuming Grandpa passed down to me in some way, it doesn’t drain me nearly as much as other spellcasters of my skill level. Even Magnus and Camilla seem to get a bit more nauseated by the process than I do.

Throughout all this, all things romantic have been settling in too; things have gotten much more cozy. At the start of this journey in a polycule of sorts, the concept of openly loving two people in the same room was nothing short of intimidating. Now, it’s as natural as breathing. And while I wouldn’t say it seems like Seb and Magnus are becoming intimate with one another, they’ve definitely been spending more time alone, which makes me happy. Reassures me a bit as well. It’s a nice reminder that I’m not some sort of… I dunno. A selfish hussy. Or something. This concept still feels novel to me in some ways.

Both of my lovers are vague about what happens during their one-on-one meetings. Can’t tell if something’s going on, or if they just know the concept intrigues me, and they agreed to fuck with me a bit. Y’know, get my imagination going, for funsies. I mean, Seb’s crush on the older wizard is still as strong as ever, so I’m secretly hoping that they’re preparing to do some canoodling of their own.

I wish I knew what was going on in those pretty heads of theirs… seems as though mind-reading just isn’t gonna be a thing for me.

Whatever. I’m not bitter.

(Yes I am.)

Speaking of canoodling – I’m headed to Magnus’ place in a few minutes. It’ll be the first time we’ve been alone together in our past few meetings, since Seb can’t make it until later. The poor, emo cave goblin was up working until early this morning. Magnus apparently wants to take me somewhere new today, so it kinda works out, I guess!

After my usual morning routine of farming (the pumpkins feel like they’re taking forever to grow in, but they’re almost there!) and eating, I quickly showered, dried my hair, tossed on some light makeup, and dressed myself. I went for an almost-ankle length, dark and rusty orange, pleated skirt; a cozy and thick, cream-colored, mock neck sweater; and a big, olive-green ribbon to thread around my half-up hairdo. It’s getting to the point in autumn where it basically feels like winter, so I should be safe from sweating too much in all this.

Once I’ve grabbed my satchel and a jacket to complete the look, I make my way outside. The first thing I do upon exiting the building is remember that I haven’t checked the mail yet. I probably should, just in case Magnus or Lewis have anything important for me… ugh.

Unable to resist, I go out of my way a bit first, stomping on some leaves that have blown over from all the trees surrounding my land. Cannoli, who has been outside most of the morning, runs over to join in. I scoop him up with an evil chuckle while he’s distracted.

“Gotcha, punk.”

He meows at me, seemingly pissed, but then purrs after I pat a few smooches onto his head. I hold the little fella in both arms as I open my mailbox with outstretched fingertips. I grab its contents, nudge it shut with my elbow, and sit on the stoop to read what I’ve gotten, with Cannoli staying put in my lap.

“One from Lewis…” I rip it open. “S’just about Spirit’s Eve, nothing major,” I mumble to myself as I shuffle through the envelopes. “Some Joja shit… gross.” I scoff and tear that one in half as Cannoli abandons me, giving me some more space to work with.

The next letter is in a bright blue envelope with deep purple stars outlining it, each twinkling as though electrically or magically lit. I would normally assume based on the fancy casing that this is from Magnus, but it isn’t labeled, which tells me otherwise. I don’t really sense anything, y’know, magicky about it either. Weird.

I stand up and go inside, tossing the Joja ads in the trash and before plopping the rest of my mail onto the table. I sit down and cautiously open the blue one, not wanting to damage the pretty stationary too much. Now that it’s in my hand on its own, I can feel that there’s something other than writing inside of it.

The paper itself is blue, this one lighter and more vivid than the envelope. The ink is a deep indigo and the words look like they were written with a sparkly gel pen. And beneath it all is a tiny, gold-painted walnut, still in its shell.

That doesn’t seem very safe to eat. I toss it across the room to the small waste bin between my bedside table and the door, hoping I make the shot. It lands in with a satisfying plink.

Alex Mullner could never ball like this. He’d weep – no, he’d propose – had he seen such skill!

…Gross. I don’t want that.

After shimmying that thought away, I turn back to the azure note. It reads:

“We can do great things, you and I.

Forage a rainbow shell and leave it in the train station Lost and Found box if you’re interested. I’ll make it worth your while.

I’m counting on you, kid.”

It’s not even signed by anyone… This is ominous as hell. Part of me wants to ignore it, but I’m also kinda scared not to, y’know? What if something bad happens if I don’t comply or find a way to respond? I mean, this person knows where I live, and is likely keeping things anonymous for a reason.

Or… it could be some sorta creepy jape by Sam or something, and I’m overthinking as per usual.

I’ll think about that more later… for now, I just wanna get to my purple-haired boyfriend.

I shuffle through the rest of the mail once more to double check that nothing is too urgent before heading back outside.

_______________

“Oy,” I call out as I enter Magnus’ tower, immediately turning my gaze toward the coat rack instead of looking for him. “Where—“ As I adjust my line of sight, I find Magnus just a few feet away, a cheeky glare on his face directed towards me as he waters his houseplants. “Oh.” I blush, embarrassed by how annoying my loud intrusion was. “Hi.”

Magnus doesn’t seem to mind. He chuckles, places down his watering can, and strides over to greet me. “Good morning, my heart.”

That pet name never fails to get me all tingly, oh my goodness.

Before I can tippy-toe to indicate that I wanna kiss him, he’s already bending down to my level and scooping my face into his hands. I match the action, cupping his rosy cheeks. Unexpectedly, Magnus kisses me hard, causing me to stumble back against the door.

“Mmf!” I squeak into the kiss before meeting his intensity. Makes him smile.

He doesn’t show any signs of wanting to stop, our teeth tapping together a bit as he continues to intertwine our lips and tongues while we find a compatible rhythm. Releasing a palm from my cheek, Magnus grips the door frame behind me before dragging his opposing palm further from my face, weaving his fingers in the hair near my nape. The action prompts a dreamy hum from me.

Yoba. I want him.

As the wizard begins to kiss down my jaw and onto what little neck I have showing, I breathily murmur, “What about those plans you had for us?”

“You needn’t worry about that,” he mumbles against my earlobe, taking his hand away from my hair to lower the collar of my sweater. “We have plenty of time.”

He eagerly dives back down, leaving light kisses and love bites on my neck. My hands weave into his amethyst tresses as I giggle. The sound comes out airy; in contrast, a syrupy laugh escapes Magnus and vibrates against my skin.

“Mag–” A harder suck that’ll definitely leave a darker mark just below my jaw cuts me off. “Ah~”

Smirking against my skin, Magnus prompts, “Go on.”

God, he sounds so smug. It’s so sexy. I subtly shake my head and roll my eyes, a smile never leaving my face. “Nevermind,” I whisper, bringing his mouth back to mine.

Magnus lifts me up in one swift motion as he accepts my affection, carrying me away from the entrance bridal-style. I open one of my eyes to take a peek at where we’re going. As I do so, he pulls away to watch his step while we descend to the basement.

“What’re we doing down here?” I ask, knowing this could go one of two ways:

Either Magnus is teasing the shit out of me, and he’s taking me to his hall of portals so we can go… wherever; or, he simply decided he wanted to get frisky somewhere other than his bedroom.

“You’re a smart girl,” he answers as he nudges the door open with his foot. His irises are like rubies. “I’m sure you’ve pieced it together already.”

“Maybe I just want some confirmation.”

“Maybe you need to practice patience, my dear,” Magnus teases back.

“Maybe I’m just not a patient person, my dear.” Hm… feels weird to call him something other than Magnus or wizard. I don’t hate it, though.

I drown the tinglies in my tummy by hoisting myself a bit higher with the help of Magnus’ sturdy shoulders, leaving a few open-mouthed kisses on his neck. The action prompts goosebumps across his skin.

“Heheh–” I begin to evilly laugh at his reaction, but Magnus releases me from his grip, scaring the everliving shit out of me. “Ack!” He catches me mid-air using magic, allowing me to settle myself down without getting hurt. I glare at him the entire time, pretending my heart isn’t beating a bajillion times per minute. “That wasn’t nice,” I chirp with my brows furrowed, barely above a whisper.

It’s Magnus’ turn for a menacing chuckle as he leads me to the couch where I usually do my studies; the one closest to the western wall of the room.

“I thought you would enjoy the thrill.”

“Clearly you know nothing about me, wiz.”

Magnus’ eyes — which had shifted to their natural maroon again by the end of our short journey — are crimson once more. As we slow to a halt in front of the sofa, the absolute skyscraper of a man cages me in, his hands clutching the purple back piece of the furniture and forcing me to stumble into a sitting position. Wide-eyed and with heat creeping between my thighs, I lean back and look up at my partner.

Then, a sadistic, almost lazy grin creeps across his features while he leans down, moving his hands to grip my sides once his previous stance probably grew uncomfy. He’s almost entirely crouching to level with me.

“I know more than you realize,” he points out. Ominous.

I fidget with my long sleeves as Magnus’ lips draw closer to my ear, his breath on my neck and face sending a shiver down my spine.

His hands slide lower while he kisses just below my earlobe, before continuing, “How many people out there, at this very moment, can say they know precisely what makes you squirm?” His voice is low and gravelly, and he punctuates his sentence by squeezing my hips hard, pulling a sigh from me. Proving his point with ease.

This prick actually waits a moment for me to answer his question, his head still hovering closely next to mine. “Well?”

It takes me a sec to register any form of language until I blink out of my horny fog and respond, “I mean… not many, I guess.” My brain has kinda just blocked out any sexual partners I had prior to Seb and Magnus, given none of them could hold a candle to these men.

The elemental grows quieter as he proceeds, “Alright. And how many can claim they’ve known you far prior to your present lifetime?” His hands drag off my hips, now resting on the red velvet cushions.

The cockiness, greediness, and complete possessiveness of his follow-up makes me shudder. Has me choking back embarrassing sounds and stuff. Makes it hard to speak.

“J-just you.”

“Veeery good.” Yoba, so much praise… my poor kinky heart can’t take this. “In that case–” Magnus brings his face to my view, and manually tilts my head by the chin. After drawing closer, he whispers against my quivering lips, “I’d say on the basis of those two factors alone that I know you better than most, wouldn’t you agree?”

I inhale shakily. He grins knowingly. “Yes…” I could barely hear my own voice. It’s as if Magnus has me under a spell… but he doesn’t this time. He’s just that captivating.

Mirroring my volume – fucking tease – he lilts, “Good girl.” Then, he pulls away, leaving me yearning for more kisses.

Fuck.

Standing upright, he puts out his palm for me to take. My head feels swimmy as I oblige without question, and he replaces my spot, urging me to try to straddle him. Doesn’t work. Skirt’s too long.

“Um… hold on…”

I get up from the half-kneeling position I was in and simply remove the skirt altogether. Magnus chuckles as I struggle to find more words, feeling the hot redness of my cheeks spread down my neck. Why do I feel so shy right now?

Beaming with his brows raised, he claims, “How bold of you.”

“What else was I gonna do?” I quip. It came out meeker than I’d wanted it to, but Magnus pays no mind to that.

He shrugs, taking both my hands in his as I settle back onto his lap. His erection is apparent now that I’m sitting on it. Mmmmm.

“I merely assumed you would roll up the fabric.”

I close my eyes and lean forward further to rest in defeat against his silk, navy button-down, before copying his shrug. He has a good point.

Magnus, sensing my unease, exhales jovially through his nose, before reassuring me, “Worry not, dear.” After unweaving our fingers, he wraps his arms around my waist. “Your haste is more than welcome.”

I grip the fabric of his shirt in both fists and groan into it. “T’still embarrassing though…” I complain, my voice muffled by the fabric.

Magnus moves his hands, now cupping my ass in each one. “Let me shift your mind away from that, then,” he purrs above my ear.

I tilt my head so that my face isn’t being consumed by his chest anymore. “How the fuck are you so smooth?”

“I don’t necessarily mean to be.”

It makes sense, I guess. He’s been around for a thousand – or two, or whatever it is – years. He’s had more than enough practice. “Of course not…”

I sigh. Then, I slip just under his face, leaving featherlight pecks along his jawline. He giggles a bit. “That tickles…”

“Yeah?”

My instinctive laughter comes out menacing and gremlin-like. I attack him with more little kisses, paired with ten wiggly fingers against his sides. And oh boy, I’ve never heard such high pitched or loud noises come from this man.

“C-cease yourself!”

“Never!” I proclaim, nearly cackling at this point. I’ve never seen him laugh this hard, and god, it’s fucking adorable.

I keep myself planted atop him and do my best to dodge his swats towards me as he lays himself down, keeling over. Magnus lets out a snort that puts down my guard for a moment, and before I know it, he’s finally grappling my wrists, taking claim of them on either side of his face. The action pulls me down, bumping my forehead into his.

Magnus winces while I let out a quick and half-assed “Ouch!” before laughing a little more. I rest my face in the crevice between his head and our arms to recuperate. I gotta breathe oh my god and my abs hurt.

When I come back up, Magnus is giving me sort of a funny look. Like, he’s still blushing (eyes included) and smiling, but I feel like I’ve never seen this exact expression before.

“What?”

His lips curl up further before shaking his head slightly and answering, “I… your laughter is so beautiful.” My eyes widen a little, as does my smile. “I love you so much. Come here.”

As the words leave his mouth and before I have a chance to verbally return the sentiment, he’s removing his hold on my wrists and tugging me into a deep, slow, and much more passionate kiss than the almost-feral ones we shared upstairs. It still leaves my tummy fluttering and my heart racing just as hastily.

Once we grow a little more heated, I find myself accidentally grinding against Magnus’ arousal a bit; and once Magnus realizes it as well, his hands find refuge on my butt again, aiding my movements.

Sucks how that weird potion I drank to become a mage made me more athletic and cardiovascularly healthy, but it didn’t actually fix any of my joint issues. Even just this gentle rocking with my legs spread out this wide is making my hips cramp up a bit.

“Sore?” My partner murmurs into the kiss.

“How’d you know?”

“T’was a gut feeling.”

“That sure is a fancy way of saying you were in my head again.”

“Damn.” He breaks, an amused huff escaping him. “I almost fooled you.”

I sit up and very lightly punch his chest a few times. Asserting my dominance, for sure.

After a few hits, I glare down at him, palms pressed against his chest. Magnus glares up at me, thumbs tracing small circles against my sides. He scans my body as he gnaws his lower lip.

This is hot.

He eventually speaks up, his orbs red as can be. “Are you finished throwing your little tantrum?” His usually sweet tone was replaced by something still honeyed, but more gravelly and domineering.

That was hotter. Fuck.

I swallow thickly and nod, subconsciously stimming with one of the lower buttons on his top. “Yeah.”

His eyes drink in my body again. “Perfect.” Next, Magnus tugs me by my hips, giving me a little lift to bypass his arms as he all but plants me on his fucking face.

“What are you–” He cuts me off with a bite to my inner thigh. A heady sigh leaves me.

With his pupils blown wide, he suggests, “This is surely easier on your hips given how much less you need to stretch them, no?”

“I-I guess.” I hide the lower half of my face in some of my hair. I feel so vulnerable. In a good way, but still. I don’t think I’ve ever ridden someone’s face before. I voice this concern into his brain, too timid to say it out loud.

Magnus repositions our forms slightly, giving his neck more comfort as he lets his head lay down flat against the cushion, with a little room to spare between his scalp and the arm of the sofa. I peer back at his legs. His left is dangling off the opposite end of the couch and probably bumping into the bookshelf a bit, while the right is planted on the floor beneath us.

“Would you like to try?” The wizard finally asks as I bring my gaze back to his.

I take a sec to contemplate it. On one hand, I feel weird being so exposed. On the other… How is this really any different from being eaten out while I’m laying down? Some fingers of my left hand are twirling a soft strand of Magnus’ hair. Those on my right are still tangled in my own (h/c) tresses, which continue giving my mouth and chin some privacy.

Despite the need to stim out my nerves, I still nod my answer to him.

After being given the OK, Magnus begins to softly kiss my inner thigh. In between, he orders, “If you want to stop, let me know.”

“‘Kay,” I smile.

Gently, Magnus tugs my panties to the side and lowers me down. After a single, lingering kiss to my lower lips that’s already got my head feeling funny, he spreads me open and licks a gentle, pointed-tongued circle around my bud. I’m instantly turned to putty, it’s a little embarrassing actually. The small grip that I had on his hair tightens, and I rock slightly into Magnus’ proud hum, accidentally throwing him off-track. I shyly meet his view to apologize to him, but before I can say a word, he’s finding a better spot for his tongue.

“Fuck,” I moan, my eyes fluttering shut.

My fingers drop my hair and move to my mock-neck, using that to fidget instead. This feels so fucking good, but my anxieties over the positioning still haven’t died down yet.

I abandon the clutch I had on the wizard’s hair and rest my hand on the arm of the couch behind his crown. With the way his nails are threatening to dig into the curves of my hips, I have just enough leverage to let him lick how he wants to while moving myself accordingly.

The slight change in position startles him, I think — he telepathically checks in with me, “Are you doing alright?”

“Yes, Magnus~” I verbally respond. The way he growls at my enthusiastic reply sends a palpable wave of excitement through me.

With each swipe of Magnus’ tongue, I lose myself further. My hips grind with more confidence, and my sweater-filled hand starts drawing downward on its own, now leaving only my chin beneath my collar. I curse under my breath while he adds some more pressure, and let out a startlingly loud mewl as he repositions his left hand to nearly meet his lips, sliding two long digits inside of me. That can’t be comfortable for him by any means with the way his arm is contorting, but I’ll be lying if I try to claim that it doesn’t feel fucking incredible.

“Holy shit,” I cry.

He moans against my clit. It sends a vibration through me, and I moan as I lower myself a little more, pushing his fingers deeper inside of myself. Is this what people who are able to ride dick feel like?!

“F-fuh–”

“Is it too much?” he nonverbally inquires.

“N-noh god, I love you, y-you’re perfect, Iloveyou.” Each word proves to be more of a struggle to get out as I feel myself beginning to peak. He chuckles beneath me, adding fuel to the fire. “God, Mag~”

I can’t physically move any faster – again, bad joints and all that jazz. He’s the captain now. There’s a subtle pounding in my ears, and I can’t tell if it’s my adrenaline, or blood flow, or whatever, or if it’s something else outside of myself entirely. I pay no mind to it, not caring what’s happening around me. Too fucked-out.

“So close,” I breathe. “Please, I–”

“Wait juuust a little longer, sweetheart.”

I whine in frustration. “W-why?” I ask, just barely above a whisper, looking down while complying by slowing myself to a halt. His eyes crinkle, indicating that he’s smiling, while continuing to lick my pussy and probe in and out of my cunt.

He doesn’t give me an answer.

“Oh, wow.”

Seb does?!

Well, kinda.

I yelp, head bolting up and left towards the source. Standing near the entrance to this room is fucking Sebastian, his dark indigo eyes darker with want, and his grin just as shit-eating as ever.

Magnus still hasn’t stopped.

I look back and forth between Seb and Magnus a few times, my mind racing and chest heaving and throat dry as I can’t verbalize any of the confused thoughts that I’m having amidst what’s happening all around me.

Seb is slowly drawing closer to us. Magnus is working me even harder, as if he’s trying to pry my orgasm out of me now of all times. He can’t curl his fingers much from this position, but he can sure as hell fuck me with ‘em. I try to steady the slight bounce each thrust of his digits causes to no avail.

…Yoba above, did they fucking plan this?!

Magnus coaxes a moan out of me, but my eyes stay trained on Seb. His grin widens and a soft chuckle emits from him as he listens and watches in on the action.

When Seb reaches the couch, he places a palm on the armrest before leaning forward to almost match my height. He then removes my hand from its hold on my sweater and takes my newly-exposed chin between his thumb and forefinger. In turn, I instinctively grasp his wrist, probably squeezing him a lil’ too hard while I try to prolong my pleasure as per Magnus’ orders.

“You said you were close, yeah?” Seb asks.

“Y-yeah,” It comes out whiney, and Magnus picks up his pace. “Fuck.”

My eyes threaten to close, but I keep them locked into Seb’s. I don’t miss the way his view trails down to my tits, clearly a little enthralled by their slight jiggling underneath my sweater. My prior concern morphs into a breathy laugh. I look down to the wizard, and he’s still focused on my face. Reading my every reaction with those sparkly, red eyes. God.

“Please Magnus, I—“

Seb’s grip on my chin strengthens, pulling my view back to meet his. “You wanna cum, yeah?”

“Yes, please, Seb~” Yoba, I sound so desperate. I don’t care anymore though.

“Be a dear and cum for him, then.”

This is so absurd.

Not in a bad way, by any means, but just… holy shit I wasn’t expecting this.

Near-immediately after Seb’s command, I clench around Magnus’ digits, grinding against his taste buds and urging him further inside of me. Probably smooshing his face a little bit with my thighs too. Sorry, dude.

Between his hasty pokes and the delicious alternation between licking and sucking, my high hits me like a fucking train. It makes me feel a bit lightheaded until Seb catches my lips with his own to ground me.

After however many otherworldly seconds of whining against Seb’s tongue and probably suffocating poor Magnus, the feeling simmers away. Once he senses I’ve settled down a bit, Magnus repeats his earlier motion in the opposite direction — he softly repositions me away from his face and nearer to his lap, before wiping my excess wetness from his features.

Neither of them say anything. I look between the two of them, who are approvingly peering between each other and myself.

When I find my voice again, I speak up. “So, like, what the fuck—”

“Before you ask,” Seb starts, “this was mostly coincidental.”

I furrow my brows. “What?”

Magnus sits upright, and just when I’m about to shift some more to give him some room, he scoops me up and repositions himself so that his spine is against the back of the couch while my legs are draped across his lap. I cross my arms and lean my shoulder and head against his chest, waiting for more of an explanation.

“He requested to borrow a book to assist him in falling asleep,” Magnus informs me.

Seb cuts in to add with a slight hand-raise, “Drank too much coffee overnight and figured my own books at home might just distract me too much.”

I nod subtly. “When did this happen?” I ask them both.

“When I got here,” Seb claims, “ready to just steal one anyway.”

Seb and Magnus share a cheeky glare with one another. Seb’s is paired with a menacingly goofy smile. He then wraps around the front of the furniture so that he can sit next to Magnus and behind me. I crane my head so that I’m able to see him, albeit upside-down.

Sebby continues on, while taking advantage of the angle of my throat to murmur against it. “But when I heard those pretty sounds of yours…” he trails off, planting an open-mouthed kiss against my goose-bumping skin. He knows I’ve gotten the gist of it by now.

This lil perv definitely asked Magnus outright if he could come down here to see me in action.

“I hope it hasn’t made you uncomfortable,” Magnus chimes in.

“No, I mean, it was surprising, but like…” I sigh, laying down, my upper body now splayed across Seb’s while my lower body remains on Magnus. I can’t bring myself to meet their eyes as I softly admit, “It was… god that was so cool.”

Both of them chuckle, Magnus squeezing my thigh as Seb scruffs up my hair a bit. I do my best to flatten it back into place, then direct my attention towards the wizard, lazily pointing at him once a thought pops into my head.

“I’ve got a question for you.”

He cocks his head slightly. “What is good?”

God, he’s trying so hard to be ~hip.~ He’s so cute. I do my best not to laugh at him.

“Are you straight?”

“I doubt it.”

He seems to ponder the question further for a moment while I give Seb a sneaky thumbs up. As if to tell him, without a single word shared, “Maybe you have a chance with him too!” Seb rolls his eyes and nudges my hand away, a playful smirk on his face.

I draw my eyes back to Magnus once he continues, “I’ve predominantly had women as partners for as far back as I can recollect, but it’s not as though I’m opposed to relations with other genders.” I glimpse at Seb, unable to hide my mischievous grin. I could never be an actor. “Why do you ask?”

“Eh, just curious.”

“That devilish smile you’re wearing tells me something else.”

Damn, he saw right through me. Who woulda thunk it?

I completely dodge him.

“Don’t worry about it.” I pair the phrase with some finger guns.

“So,” Seb diverts the conversation, “would you mind if I just crash on a couch? That way I don’t have to worry about making the trip back here later.”

“Go right ahead,” Magnus smiles warmly at him. Then, he turns his attention to me. “Are you ready to go?”

I look down at my form. I’m still skirtless, and I’m probably fucking sopping given what just happened. Plus, there’s spit down there too now. Gross.

“Uh. Lemme clean up real quick.” I shakily crawl off my partners and gather my skirt in my arms. “Should I meet you back down here, or..?”

Magnus shakes his head before answering verbally, “I’ll follow you in a moment.”

“You got it.” I turn to Seb, scurrying over to give him a kiss. “See you later, nerd.”

“Yeah whatever.” Rolling his eyes and laughing, Seb pulls me back down with one finger hooked into my collar. After a soft peck, he says, “Love you. Have fun with the geezer.”

Magnus leers over at Seb. “Quiet, child.”

I snort at the exchange. “Love ya too, Sebby.” I part with a two-fingered salute before making my way upstairs.

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imichelle-l-rigby · 8 months

Text

Reflections: Cillian Murphy’s Limited Edition

Season 3, episode 3

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*I am a music prof (predominantly classical vocalist), and I LOVE listening to Cillian’s music choices! That being said, sometimes I won’t like a song simply because of a vocalist (it’s a professional hazard - sorry!) 👩‍🏫

** The following are my own observations/opinions. We may not agree, and that’s ok! That’s what makes music fun! 😊

*** I wouldn’t say I’m well-versed in Cillian’s music preferences, but I do enjoy them (for the most part). I always wind up adding to my own playlists after listening to Cillian’s recommendations.

———————————————————————

First of all, thank you so much for your patience as I compiled my thoughts! It’s a busy week at work and there’s been a lot of things happening in my family. I appreciate y’all being willing to wait!

And finally, my thoughts on episode 3:

🎵Set 1 (Midnight in a Perfect World - Sister Midnight)

Midnight in a Perfect World: whoaaaa. This is so ethereal and gorgeous and techno but not. Love! 😍

I already like this episode better than last week’s 😂😅

Side note: as crazy as this week has been, this song is perfect right now. The insistent background and bass are steady enough for the irregularities above it. Somehow it’s calming/therapeutic.

Sister Midnight: a classic. While Iggy has never been a favorite of mine, I appreciate this groove!

🎤Talking break

His poor dog! 😂😅 🐕

Ah, finally a mention of Bowie! Shocked it took him this long!

MAMA CASS!!!!!

That horrible moment when you realize you’re almost the same age as Mama Cass when she died 😥😢

🎵Set 2 (Didn’t Wanna Have To Do It - Sinatra Drive Breakdown)

Didn’t Wanna: omg this is so beautiful. She died so young, but DANG. Her voice was so gorgeous! And this song!!! Omg!!! Again, love! 😍 ✨favorite song of this episode✨

I’m definitely assigning this to a student sometime soon 😂 🤫

Summer Rain: ooh, saxophone! 🎷 this started cool as a sax solo, but then it became a bitonal (2 keys at once) performance piece! Niiiiiice! Massive respect. I like how sometimes the 2 lines fit, and then sometimes they really don’t.

Dreaming in Another Language: I am loving the bass and background lines! So fun! And I’m not sure why, but this reminds me of “Rain” by the Beatles? I’ll let you know if I ever pin down why it reminds me of that song 😅

The distortion at the end DEFINITELY sounds Beatles - but like ‘68 not ‘66 ish.

Sinatra: much more rock n roll! This is not what I expect when I see “Sinatra” in the title 😂😂😂 I definitely hear a “breakdown,” but it’s also a pleasant surprise how chill the vocal line is against everything else.

🎤Talking break

Oooohhhh a reading!

Fun fact: I do introduce Wendy Carlos to my students when we discuss electronic music.

I need this book.

🎵Set 3 (The Shining - It Takes a Muscle)

The Shining Main Theme: so if you recognize the tune at the beginning, that’s the theme for the Dies Irae (part of the Requiem). Very famous tune and tons of composers quote it (although there are other settings of the Dies Irae text). The early electronic/synthesized sound is not my favorite timbre in the world, but still, this is a big moment in music history.

Side note: I’m a wimp and can’t do scary stuff. I’ve never seen The Shining. Or 28 Days Later. I had to watch A Quiet Place 2 with the sound turned off. 😅

It Takes a Muscle: this techno islander vibe is amazing! 😎

🎤Talking Break

Yay! Covers!

I do not know what French movie this could be. 🤷‍♀️

🎵Set 4 (Camille - Recat)

Camille: the beginning reminds me of Adele? Why?? This is nothing like Adele! 😅 but I do find the sample intriguing! I’m like “ooh… what are they saying??? Sounds dramatic!!” And more than that, I think it highlights the musical qualities of speech. Even when you don’t know what’s going on, there’s so much still communicated. That’s part of why music works! It’s a fascinating line of study!

Side note: Leonard Bernstein’s lecture series The Unanswered Question explores the above-mentioned speech qualities within music. They’re on YouTube

Intellijel Bell: the beginning sounds like a phone ringing, and I was a little confused when it switched to this song 😅 I guess that’s why “bell” is in the title? But another good example of composers/artists using “sound samples” as music. 👍

Recat: oooh! A nice pace changer! And if you haven’t figured it out by now, I LOVE me some complex rhythms! 😍 now this also has a lot of “headphone sound effects,” where you get that whoosh effect as the sound “travels” from 1 ear to the other. It’s a cool technique, even though it leaves my ears super confused 😂

🎤Talking Break

Tone and atmosphere: yes you can discuss them, but it’s a skill, for sure. I teach a whole class on writing about music.

2020 - only he could make that year sound good.

More whispers

The confusing Yorkshire mystery man!

Dude, actually loving Yorkshire man’s story today! 😂👍

🎵Set 5 (The Prickle-Holly Bush - Only Love Can Break Your Heart)

The Prickle-Holly Bush: once again, I am professionally (and personally) SO INTERESTED in folk music! Love this song! It’s got amazing harmonies, and the vocal production is so humble. It’s hard to describe, but it’s gorgeous. It’s a wonderful reminder that this is music of the people, closely tied to local culture, and ANYONE can join in, regardless of training.

Ok, rant over. Maybe. 😅

Only Love Can Break Your Heart: I feel like this is a “music whiplash” moment going from 1 song to the next 😅 Very pop, and I do like the lyrics.

🎤Talking Break

Ah! This guy was in No No (loved that song)!

🎵Set 6 (Alive Ain’t Always Living - I Saw)

Alive: I like this vocal line/rap. It just teeters in the edge of spoken/sung. Maybe you could call it sprechstimme, but it doesn’t seem to do this justice.

I Saw: whoa. Again, a strong juxtaposition! Very aggressive beginning paired with a chill main vocal line. But I think it’s got some strong lyrics, which is definitely a Cillian thing. But I will say the “brush your teeth, wash your face” section is hilarious! 😂

🎤Talking Break

Young Fathers record comment: boys to grown men. Wow. A great concept!

“When did it come out? I’m not quite sure”

🎵Set 7 (People Are Pissed)

People Are Pissed: this sounds like it belongs in a musical. I could easily see this being performed on stage, but it’s also got these atmospheric movie score qualities. The sudden pauses are a major appeal in this song. But what’s with the video game sounds?? 😂😂😂

🎤Talking Break

Ok but I’m actually ok with him making a “cover version” ident because all his idents have me ROLLING. 😂

🎵Set 8 (Inner City Blues)

Inner City Blues: YES this groove is so smooth. 😎 I really like this! Gil Scott-Heron’s got a loooooovely timbre to his voice. It’s like he’s a crooner. 💯 and the lyrics are amazing, as is the saxophone and other instruments used here! Phew! This is one heck of a song!

🎤Talking Break

Ask a reasonable question!

“Eminently reasonable question”

Of course he’s reading more Claire Keegan

I love how he gets so distracted while presenting 😂

Ooh! Archive material!

🎵Set 9 (King Harvest)

King Harvest: ooh, that Hammond organ! And he’s got some fun belt technique!

Side note: is it a coincidence that Cillian chose a song mentioning a union? 🤔

🎤Talking Break

Ok, but him forgetting to mention something is soooooo relatable to me this week! 😂😂😂

“If you can think of something reasonable to ask”

NINAAAAAAA!!!!!

🎵Set 10 (Mississippi)

Mississippi: I love Nina. While I think Ella Fitzgerald has the most beautiful jazz voice, Nina (and Billie Holiday) are tied for the best storytellers (at least in my book). Anyway. THIS SONG. There are so many powerful songs from the Civil Rights Era (and the decades prior), and this is one of them!

Side note: Nina is a FABULOUS pianist! If you haven’t seen this clip of her from the Ed Sullivan show, you should! She freaking improvised counterpoint!!!! 🙀🙀🙀 I am OBSESSED.

🎤 Talking Break

“See what I mean? She’s kinda untouchable” - yep. She really is!

🎵Set 11(Hard Drive - Mrs. Robinson)

Hard Drive: this is what “living in the present” means 😂. Nah, I like this.

Mrs. Robinson: YES!!!! You better believe I had a hardcore singalong while listening to this 😂😂😂😂

🎤Talking Break

I love when you hear a cover before the original. No particular reason. Just do!

🎵Set 12 (Big Black Mariah)

Big Black Mariah: very bluesy! Specifically country blues. 💙

🎤Talking Break

Noooo it’s the end!!!

“Thanks a mil”

“Miraculously they all seem to be in the same key”

I’ve never heard “saxophonist” said “sax OFF an ist” 😂

“Mind yourselves”

🎵Set 13 (Electric Ballad - Goodnight World)

Electric Ballad: I love the contrary motion and imitation in the lines! The electronic sounds are a bit strange to me, but it’s early days for electronic music, so of course they’re playing with their new toys.

The Lighthouse I: ah, it’s like the horns from tugboats or ships passing! Cool!!! And the hums are a neat effect as well.

Side note: I thought at first it was a bunch of hearings of Concert A, like the instruments were tuning, so I was a bit confused 😅 but I checked and it was a D, not an A. 🤷‍♀️

Goodnight World: omg it’s Goodnight Moon but not!!! 🙀🙀🙀🙀

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Thanks so much for reading!!! Share and comment if you want 😊

Tag list:

@iammrsrogers @deliciousnutcomputer @mariamoonie @brownskinsugarplum76 @look-at-the-soul @kj-davis @neverroad @teapothollow @thepurplearmyposts @possessedmarshmallow

#cillian murphy #Cillian Murphy limited edition #bbc6 #music

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magnoliabutters · 2 years

Text

BUTTER OR NATURAL • IMPROMPTU PROMPTS •

pairing: steve harrington x eddie munson

summary: dustin unknowingly orchestrates steve and eddie’s first date

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language; the unbearably cute fluffs, friday the 13th spoilers, i’ll proof read it one day, indirect mentions of anxiety, etc.

word count: ~3.3k

inspired by: @lunaraindrop; your wish is my command. i hope i did your idea justice <3

support your writer: if you enjoy, please give a reblog so others can enjoy too! 🤘🏼

note: i personally thought this idea was incredible and so stinkin’ cute! i cannot wait to read more posts that come from it c: also i see your comment, @cephy-the-squid. i hope y’all enjoy!

“The things I do for you, kid,” Steve says with a roll of his eyes. Dustin stands in front of him with that gleaming smile. “Yes, trust me. You won’t regret this,” he shares as he excitedly sits in Steve’s car. “We haven’t even hung out since everything happened,” Steve whines. His hand pushes his hair back, creating that iconic lopsided look. His other hand grips hard against the steering wheel. Dustin looks over to him with a dumbfounded look. “Dude, you guys were so close when you were fighting Vecna. Why would that change now?” he asks.

Steve shakes his head as he pulls into the Henderson’s driveway. “I’m just over thinking it,” he mumbles under his breath. Dustin watches with a confused eye, curious as to why his confident friend is suddenly “over thinking” things. He chuckles as he says, “Okay.” He opens the passenger door and steps out. Before walking off, he leans back into the rolled down window. “His place at 8pm. Don’t be late,” he demands. Steve looks back at him with a face of disgust, as though he has insulted him. “I know, I know. Okay,” he says as he gestures towards Dustin to leave. Dustin waves goodbye as he walks up towards his front door.

With a deep breath, Steve begins to back up his car. He felt this uncomfortable tightness in his chest. Unsure of where the feeling was coming from, he coughs and places his hand upon his chest to rid himself of the feeling. This sensation always happens to make its appearance when he’s brought up. Even the side thought of him has Steve catching his breath. He’s never felt this way about anyone, let alone another man. What was it about him that has Steve always losing his breath? He’s just a normal guy, an outcast maybe if one was to get specific. There is nothing about this man that should make Steve feel this way.

“Yeah, hello,” Eddie says as he picks up the receiver. “Hey Eddie! It’s Dustin-” Before he can finish his sentence, Eddie shouts back into the phone, “Henderson! What are we thinking for tonight?” He reaches for the Jif’s peanut butter container at the back of his kitchen cabinet. “Jason Voorhees or The Thing?” he asks as he grabs hold of a spoon and dips it into the container. He places the full spoon’s worth of peanut butter into his mouth as he holds the phone between his cheek and shoulder. “Uh yeah, about that. Maybe we should wait on choosing the movie,” Dustin says hesitantly. Eddie’s eyes widen, his face deadpans.

With the spoon still in his mouth, Eddie mumbles, “What?! Are you cancelling?” Dustin quickly reassures him with a string of no’s. It leaves Eddie with a raised brow and a confused expression. “You know how we wanted to watch a horror flick with just us?” he asks. Eddie’s lip lifts as he removes the spoon from his lips. “Yes,” he grumbles. “Well, I may have invited someone,” Dustin answers with his voice raising. Eddie leans over his kitchen counter, switching the phone onto his other shoulder. “Uh huh. And who did you invite?” he asks with his lips pursed. “Steve?” he responds with an elongated, high pitched “e” at the end of his sentence.

Eddie grabs hold of his phone in one hand and his spoon in the other. He places both onto the kitchen counter as he leans his head down onto the cool surface. With a deep breath, he slowly raises the phone to his ear. “Steve Harrington will be watching horror flicks with us tonight,” he repeats. Dustin responds with a simple, “Yup.” He drags his hand across his face. He was so in the mood to hang out and have a good time with his bud. He always feels so on edge when Harrington’s there. It’s almost as though he is always busy trying to prove himself as the better friend. He forces himself to focus on the stupid things, like who makes Dustin laugh the most. He tries not to be jealous of Steve, but it is hard not to when Dustin always talks of him like he walks on water.

Dustin clears his throat, pulling Eddie from his thoughts. “Is that okay, Eddie?” he asks. “Yeah, that’s alright,” he responds carelessly as he dips his spoon back into the Jif’s. “I’ve been meaning to catch up with him since all this shit went down,” he shares. He plunges the spoon into his mouth, dragging it back out against his front teeth. “Awesome! I’m so excited,” Dustin says. Eddie notes how evident his excitement is through the phone. This hang out clearly means a lot to him. That is the only reason you would assume Steve would be coming by, for Dustin. Eddie would do anything for Dustin. He is practically his own blood. “One awkward movie night it is,” he mumbles to himself as he trades his peanut butter for a cold beer.

“Okay, so I was thinking we could watch The Thing! That movie scared the shit out of me when I was a kid,” Dustin expresses with a smile as he gets out of Steve’s car. He hooks his backpack over his shoulder. “When you were a kid? You’re still a kid, Henderson,” Steve retorts as he closes his driver’s side door. “Either way, that movie is way scarier than some random mom going around killing everyone,” he mutters as he steps onto Eddie’s front porch. Steve rolls his eyes as he gestures for Dustin to knock on the door. He trails behind him as he steps onto the Munson porch.

Steve’s heart is racing faster and faster with each step closer to the trailer’s door. His breathing heavies as he stands outside the door waiting for Eddie to open the door. The tightness in his chest expanding. He nonchalantly wipes the sweat from his hands onto his jean’s pant leg. Why are you so nervous? Steve thinks to himself. It’s just Munson.

As he knocks, Dustin turns back to Steve and shoots him an excited smile. Steve shines a sarcastic one as he shoves his car keys into his jacket. “Henderson!” Eddie shouts as he quickly opens the door. Dustin laughs as he grips onto the VHS’ in his hands. “Welcome, Harrington,” Eddie says as he gestures for the boys to walk in. Dustin gleefully makes his way to the couch. Steve walks through the threshold and gives Eddie a hesitant nod. He follows Dustin to the couch and takes a seat beside him.

Eddie closes the front door. He walks over to the kitchen and offers, “Beer?” Steve answers, “Yeah, sure.” Dustin raises his hand, “Oh, me too.” In unison, Eddie and Steve respond “no” with a laugh. It catches them both off guard as they make eye contact. Steve was the first to pull his eyes away. Dustin sits with his hands in his lap and a sour puss face. Eddie returns and hands a cold beer to Steve. He nods as he reaches for the bottle. “Thank you,” he expresses.

Dustin smiles as he’s handed a can of coke by Eddie. “So, what movie are we going to start with?” he asks. Eddie places his beer onto the side table. He releases a loud breath as he sits down onto his loveseat. He raises his hands and shares, “I’m down for some Friday the 13th.” Dustin clucks his tongue to the roof of his mouth as he turns his focus towards Steve. “What about you?” he asks. Steve takes in a sharp breath. “Actually, I was thinking about Friday the 13th too,” he replies.

Dustin’s face drops in shock. Steve quickly backtracks, attempting to justify his answer. “Well, the Thing is so long and it kind of drags out,” he shares. “And Friday the 13th is a classic. I mean, who would’ve thought someone’s mom would be out here killing people?” Eddie laughs, “I know right? She definitely had a good reason, but you wouldn’t expect some 40-year-old to be killing people all brutal like that.” Steve smiles towards Eddie. “Yeah, you get it,” he says as he motions towards him. Dustin looks between the two boys. His eyes narrowed as he is annoyed with being outvoted. “Okay, put it in I guess,” he mumbles.

Eddie laughs as he turns towards Dustin. “Woah, woah, woah! Are we not going to do popcorn?” he asks with arms raised. Steve raises his bottle in agreement. Dustin’s lips part as he watches both of his idols horrified at the thought of a movie without popcorn. “You’re right, you’re right! I totally forgot,” he says as he digs into his backpack. He pulls out two Popsecret boxes of microwaveable popcorn. “Alright, I’ve got natural and butter flavor,” Dustin shares. Eddie and Steve casually say in unison, “Butter.” They look at each other in suspicion. “Butter’s the best,” Eddie adds. “Yeah, who would even choose natural?” Steve questions. Dustin interjects, “Well, honestly, I’m a big fan of natural. Butter sometimes can put a bad taste in my mouth-” “Blasphemy,” Eddie dramatically shouts. Steve laughs as he leans back into the couch. Dustin switches glances between the two men as he stands to walk over to Eddie’s kitchen.

Steve looks over to Eddie. Eddie’s hands are intertwined. His large rings grinding against each other. Steve’s heart races as he clears his throat. “So, what’re your thoughts on pizza?” he asks with his hand on his chin. Eddie laughs as he takes a sip of his beer. “I’m a fan,” he nods as he sloshes the beer in his mouth. He finds Steve’s question beautifully random and all the more amusing. With a sip of his beer, he adds, “I’m a pepperoni and sausage kind of man.” Steve slowly laughs as he takes a sip of his own beer. “What? Let me guess. You're a plain cheese pizza guy, huh Harrington?” he asks. Steve shakes his head as he swallows his sip. “Actually, my go-to is pepperoni and sausage,” he says with a chuckle.

“Okay, dude, that’s freaky,” Eddie says. “What’s your favorite fruit?” he asks with his brows raised in skepticism. Steve smiles as he understands where he is taking the conversation. “Okay, yeah. I’m a fan of pineapple,” he shares. Eddie’s mouth drops. “I fucking love pineapple,” he whispers back. The tightness in Steve’s chest gradually dissipates without him even realizing. It is replaced with joy. “Alright, alright. Here’s a tricky one. What was your favorite TV show growing up?” he asks as he gestures for Eddie’s response. Eddie takes a second to think. He bites his lip. He wants to make sure he gets the answer right. He is unsure of whether he wants his answer to match Steve’s or not. “Tom and Jerry,” he blurts.

Steve laughs aloud as he claps his hands together. “No fucking way dude! I love Tom and Jerry!” he replies. Eddie releases his breath, not even realizing he held it in. He receives a mixture of relief and satisfaction in hearing that Steve has the same answer. Dustin yells from the kitchen. “What’re you guys talking about?” Eddie turns towards him, “Tom and Jerry! You know the one where the mouse keeps kicking the cat’s ass.” Dustin laughs, “Oh yeah! I’m more of a Scooby Doo kind of guy.” He shrugs as he continues making the group’s popcorn. Eddie returns his gaze back to Steve. His eyes curious as to what other things the two may have in common with each other.

“Let’s do one more before Henderson’s back with the popcorn,” Steve suggests. Eddie nods as he thinks of his next question. “Um,” he thinks aloud. His hands patting against his knees. Steve watches him in excitement. The feelings in his chest now replaced with a lightness - a feeling of hope. “If you could only have one type of cereal for the rest of your life, which one would you choose?” he asks. Steve responds with a sound of excitement. “That’s a good one,” he shares. Eddie smiles confidently, “I know right?” Steve pushes his mouth to one side as he deeply considers his options. “See, the part you added about ‘the rest of my life’ is really getting to me. Like I love Cheerios, but would I eat that for ‘the rest of my life’?” he says with a finger to his chin. Eddie shrugs as he agrees, it is quite a difficult question.

Steve takes a heavy sigh as he leans his elbows onto his knees. Eddie watches in complete anticipation, hanging on to every movement from Steve’s body. “Alright,” he says. “I’m going to have to go Honey Comb.” Eddie suddenly pretends to faint. His body lays limp within the chair. Steve jumps in his seat with excitement. “No fucking way! You’d choose Honey Comb too?” he asks. “I fucking love Honey Comb cereal, dude! That’s nuts,” Eddie exclaims.

Dustin walks from the kitchen with two bags of popcorn in his hands. He shakes his head as he confidently watches his two mentors get along so well. He is convinced that he’s paired the two together, destined them for a fantastic friendship. All he has ever wanted was his two friends to hang out. He always knew that they would get along so well. They are practically the same person, just with different societal roles.

Eddie takes another sip of his beer. A huge smile sprawled across his face as he presses his lips against the beer’s surface. His eyes remain on Steve. Steve smiles as he takes a sip of his own drink. He leans further back into the couch, crossing his leg over the other. He looks up to Dustin as he carries the popcorn. “Okay, so this bag is for you two since you’re addicted to butter,” he says as he hands the bag to Steve. “This one’s all mine,” he adds as he sits down next to Steve. “Let’s do this,” Eddie exclaims as he rubs his hands together.

As Dustin places the VHS into the player, Eddie begins to subtly move his chair closer to the couch to have a better view of the screen. Steve watches him as Eddie’s brows furrow in frustration. “Eddie, just come sit up here,” he says as he pats the cushion next to him. His chest feels vulnerable as the words escape his mouth. Breathing becomes difficult again. He did not understand why the request held so much weight on him.

Eddie smiles at Steve’s suggestion. He nods as he moves to sit next to Steve. The boys were in his trailer, but Eddie was still thankful that Steve invited him over to the couch. As he sits beside him, Eddie feels the sensation of electricity between him and Steve. He prays he is not the only one who feels it. He does not understand this desire to remain close to Steve, but he is thankful that he is able to without much effort. This need, this compulsion, is quite new. Eddie remembers hints of these feelings back when they fought against Vecna, but he always assumed it had more to do with fighting for his life than being close to Steve.

Dustin returns back to Steve’s other side once pressing play on the VHS player. “Oh shit. Okay, I know I was really hoping to watch ‘The Thing,’ but I’m actually super excited to watch this,” he excitedly says. Steve changes his gaze to Dustin. His eyebrows push together in confusion. “Wait, have you not seen this before?” he asks. Dustin shook his head as he threw popcorn into his mouth. “Shit, Henderson,” Eddie mutters as he places his head into his hands. “What?!” he shouts. “I swear to God if you get nightmares from this,” Steve adds. Dustin rolls his eyes as he pushes his back onto the couch. “I’m not a kid, guys. I’m not going to have nightmares,” he retorts with a roll of his eyes and a loud sigh.

Eddie adds under his breath, “He’s going to have nightmares.” Steve nods his head in agreement. “Yup. Cue the late night phone calls,” he adds. Eddie sits up from the couch and turns towards Steve. “Wait, you get those too?” he laughs. Steve chuckles alongside him as Dustin shushes them both. “The movie’s about to start. Shut up,” he says as he takes another bite of popcorn. Steve smiles as he turns towards Eddie and offers him the bag of popcorn. Eddie grins as he reaches into the bag to get a piece. They both hyper focus on keeping their bodies from touching throughout the movie, unsure of how they may react if even their knees touched.

“Wait, so Jason’s not even in this one?!” Dustin shouts as he turns towards Steve and Eddie. His face expressing betrayal with popcorn crumbs throughout his shirt. Steve nods as he watches Dustin in amusement. “We told you. It was the mom all along,” Eddie shares with a chuckle. “Well, why am I seeing this dude walking around with a hockey mask then?” Dustin asks with his arms raised toward the television. Steve brushes the hair out of his face as he looks over to him. “Jason Voorhee’s actually first shows up in Part 2,” he shares. Dustin rolls his eyes and raises his hands in defeat. “What the shit,” he grumbles. “We’ll just have to watch that next,” Eddie says. Dustin nods and looks towards Steve for his approval. Steve is late to noticing and hurriedly nods his head as he turns towards Eddie.

Dustin smiles. “Alright, so we’re doing Part 2 tomorrow then?” he asks. Eddie laughs as he raises from the couch, “I guess so.” Steve follows his lead and pats his hands against his thighs. He shrugs in compliance. “Awesome,” he exclaims. He turns towards Steve and quickly says, “I’m going to use the bathroom real quick and then we can head out?” Steve nods and shoots him an encouraging smile.

Eddie walks over to the kitchen and reaches for a new bottle of beer. Steve leans onto the counter. He clears his voice to end the tangible silence between the two of them. Eddie meets Steve on the counter and turns his head to the side. He gazes over Steve’s nervous eyes. “What do you think about coming back here after you drop Henderson off?” he asks. Tightness grows within Eddie’s chest. His heart feels as though it is going to explode. He did not expect this reaction from his suggestion. Seconds feel like hours as Eddie desperately waits for some reaction from Steve.

Suddenly, a smile appears from Steve’s lips. “Yeah, I can make my way back here. What are you thinking? Should we watch ‘The Thing?’” he asks. The tightness in Eddie’s chest disappears as he hears those words leave Steve’s mouth. It is replaced with excitement, desperately excited for when he returns. When it is just the two of them. Steve takes slow breaths as he attempts to cool his face. His cheeks redden at Eddie’s idea. Eddie replies, “Sounds like a plan.” Steve smiles, but immediately turns towards Dustin as he returns to the Munson living room. He drops his smile as he realizes Dustin noticed his happiness. “Ready to go, Henderson?” he asks. Dustin nods as he grabs his backpack from beside the couch.

“Alright, Henderson. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Eddie says as he walks towards the door. He holds his front door open as he watches Dustin and Steve make their way. “See yah,” Dustin mutters as he waves goodbye. As Steve walks by, Eddie holds his breath. He watches him closely for any subtle communication. Steve smiles as he walks by. “I’ll see you later,” he whispers. Eddie nods with a smirk as he watches Steve walk out the door and down his front steps.

note: oh my gerd. what have i done? i’m def writing more. i'm hoping i had an equal level of pining between the two of them <3 let me know your thoughts! don’t forget those rebloggggsssssss puhleeezzeeee

• impromptu prompts •

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simplymurdock · 3 years

Text

“How many times do I have to tell you two you can’t just throw each other around!”

summary: simon walks (y/n) to class after meeting up with everyone.

pairing: simon x fem! reader

warnings: cruising, and mentions of overdose and death’s/killings. (if i miss any triggering topics pls let me know and i will fix it asap.)

word count: 1,674

authors note: so this is another fluff simon x reader, is anyone surprised cause i’m not. I’ve said this before but when i first watched fear street i got similar feelings from simon’s character and stu’s character from scream. And since i loved stu’s and tatum's relationship (you know before everyone started diying). I thought why not put my twist on one of my favorite scenes, plus a little freaks and geeks add in cause lindsay owns my heart and soul. but i hope y’all enjoy it !!! <3

(y/n) rearranged a few of her books before changing them out, “Hi Si,” She greeted shutting the locker door smiling up at him. “What? Come on, how’d you know I was here?” He asked defeated he couldn’t scare her.

“Saw your jacket through the tiny slots.” She said, pulling on his sleeve. “Now Kate said she wanted to meet in the girls room.” She grabbed his hand and interlocked their fingers. Sid in front leading them through the crowds of teenagers. Pushing the bathroom door open, dropping her backpack on her side looking at herself in the mirror as Simon checked to make sure it was just them.

“Great, another Shadyside killing and people lose their minds.” She remarked seeing the red spray paint across the stall doors.

“I think all this witchy stuff is kinda fun,”

She turned back to him and raised a brow, “It’s almost like Halloween all year long. We might as well call ourselves Halloween Town!” She said sarcastically.

Turning back to the mirror trying to push down the weird bump that had formed in her ponytail. (y/n) was a cheerleader, but not a great one. She was only doing it because Kate told her to, plus it got her out of gym which she hated.

“Someone’s crabby. Does someone need to cool down?” He said in the stupidly cute baby voice. And before (y/n) could protest he already had his arms wrapped around her waist. Turning her towards the stalls picking her off the ground as she kicked the closet door open. He sat her down pushing up the door as she turned to face him.

She pressed her lips together pushing ups on the tips of her toes to peck his mouth. Both breaking out into a smile. He placed a hand on her cheek about to pull her into a kiss, but she was quicker. Grabbing the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, and smashing her lips onto his. But was quickly interrupted by people walking in, “She reaches from beyond the grave, to make good men her wicked slaves.” Kate sung as Simon winked at (y/n) before turning back, popping it out from behind the door, “She’ll take your blood, she’ll take your head, she'll follow you until you're dead.” He finished making Deena jump.

“Boo!” (y/n) scared getting Deena the second time. “Wow,” She started looking around at the three teenagers, “You guys are dicks,”

Kate shrugged her shoulders, “It’s just fun.”

“It’s sick.”

“What? The dude was wearing a Halloween skull mask.” Simon explained, “How is that not fun.”

“People died, Heather died. The dude was probably just some sad sack who hated his life just like the rest of us. Except, he decided, “Hey! Why don’t I get out of here for good.” and, “Hey, why don’t I take Heather and a couple of other mall rats with me?” There’s no angry dead witch who made him go postal, the only thing that made him go crazy was this town!” She ranted as everyone stated quite.

(y/n) was resting her chin on SImons shoulder looking at the girl. “You okay?” She scoffed quietly, “Yeah I’m fine.”

Simon smiled, “Seems like you… maybe got a little witch in you.” Deena scoffed, shaking her head. “Dude, why are you even in here? This is the girls bathroom.”

(y/n) walked under Simon’s arm and joined Kate at the mirror, who was fixing her hair. “Because I am,” She joked looking back at him who smiled, “That, but also…” He trailed off walking back into the stall climbing the toilet opening the vent and pulling out a large white box. “Candy store.”

“You know we don’t actually believe in this witch shit, right?” Kate stated as (y/n) nodded her head. “It’s just like a fucked up santa claus or something,” She finished leaning against the bems in between each stall. “Ho, hom ho,” Simon laughed joining his girlfriend on her other side while Kate leaned against the windows.

Deena looked at Kate trying to hand her a decorative shoe box. “What’s this?” She asked looking at it. “I need you to give this to Sam tonight.”

“Yeah, uh-uh, no way.”

“Come on, Kate.”

“No way Deena. I am not getting mixed up in your ex drama. Do it yourself?”

“(y/n)?”

“Naw-uh. Sorry, but I’m with Kate on this one do it yourself, you need the closer Dee.” She sighed looking down. “I’m not going to the game, I quit band.” Both girls looked at her with raised brows, “Since when?” They asked in unison. “Since who gives a shit!”

“Was band the only extra curricular you had left?” Kate asked as her silences told her everything. The cheerleader walked towards Simon as she spoke. “Well you still have your band uniform, right? Just wear that shit one last time.” She bent down to pick up the white box. “I’ve got something that’ll give you the balls to face Sam.” She opened the box giving Deena and (y/n) a peek inside. “Holy shit,” She said, grabbing a clear tube from the box. “I’ve been looking for this for ages.” She said, smiling widely at the clear tube of lip gloss in her hand.

“What? You’re dealing again? Thought you stopped after this dingus’s brother ODd.” She said in disapprovement.

“Timothy?”

“Wh...uh...Timmy wasn’t a real OD. He didn’t actually die, they brought him back.” Kate said as (y/n) gave Simon a smile squeezing his hand reassuring him that it was okay. He smiled at her before mimicking the defibrillator, still holding onto Sid’s hand, “Ja-jing!”

“Besides, desperate times calls for desperate measures.” She added fixing her cheer skirt.

“You’re all morons.”

“Excuse me? Which one of us is valedictorian, again? President of every club this shithole has to offer.” Kate remarked causing them to laugh as they walked towards the door. “I’m getting out of here along with these assholes, off the claim my place among the stars, bitches.” She finished smiling.

Simon rested his arms on (y/n)’s shoulders resting his chin on the top of her head. Pulling her closer to him and out of the way of a yelling guy dragging the CPR dummy with a rope tied around it’s neck and a knife in its chest. “Woo! Witch lives, long live Sarah Fier.”

“Yeah!” Simon cheered as they all lived. His face changed when seeing the clock, “Uh-oh you’re gunna be late.” He told the girl as he quickly walked in front of her and picked her up over her shoulder before she could say anything.

“See you two lovebirds at the game!” Kate yelled after them.

“Hey, be there or be square Deena!” She yelled back pointing at both of them.

“Hey,” She gasped looking back at the man holding her, who had just lightly hit her butt. So she reached down and hit his only for her face to fall see the very angry principal storming their way. “Uh-oh,”

“Company?”

“Yup,”

“Ms. (l/n) and Mr. Kalivoda, cut that out right this instance!” He yelled at the two. Simon quickly set her down as they both turned around to face him. Simon hooked his arms through hers pinning them behind her. “How many times do I have to tell you two you can’t just throw each other around!” He scolded, “I swear a few killings and everyone loses their minds.”

“It wouldn’t happen again, scouts honor.” He said poorly keeping in his smile.

“Cross my heart and hope to die…opps.” She added as the old man shook his head at the two while walking away.

They broke out into wide smiles as Simon turned around gesturing to her to hop onto his back. She did so fixing her backpack strip and positioning her arms around his neck, careful not to choke him.

He ran through the halls as they both laughed. Rounding the corner and gently dropping her by the open classroom door. Sure they could be cheesy at times but they didn’t care. It was young teenage love and both were equally clingy and energetic enough to do the cliches. Neither really caring what people said about them. Mostly saying their “honeymoon phase” won’t last forever and they’ll have to deal with the harsh reality of relationships. But after three years together they still never left the “honeymoon phase”, but still dealt with the hard relationship stuff. Both knowing that living in Shadyside could bring anything and neither one wanting to go with any regrets.

They smiled at each other, not the normal happy smile that they had one but one full of love and lust for one another. He reached down and kissed the side of her head making them both breaking into a small laugh. Before he turned back to her as they kissed.

“Meet you after class?” He asked after they pulled apart from each other. She nodded her head, biting her lip as she turned to go into her class. Their held hands get separated, each of their fingers losing each of their touch as he watched her walk to her seat before going off to his class.

#fear street part one: 1994 #fear street #fear street part one #fear street part 2: 1978 #fear street x reader #fear street 1994 x reader #fear street josh #fear street sam #fear street deena #fear street kate #fear street simon #simon kalivoda x reader #simon kalivoda #netflix horror #netflix #horror x reader #horror movie #horror #simplymurdock

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

One Night🌙11

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, angry Andy, hormones, awkward dinner, y’all know what it be.

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: One night changes your entire life.

for @kittykatlow‘s 200 Follower Celebration

Note: Okay, here’s an update.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You wore a black dress, barely loose enough to fit over your bump as the hem floated high in the front. Your forehead beaded with sweat as you took out the heavy glass pan from the oven and puffed. You set it down and removed the lid as steam clouded out. You heard your father’s voice from the living room and Andy’s baritone response.

The night was smooth so far. Your father was particularly impressed by the autographed baseballs on the mantle but never outspoken, the conversation didn’t stray much from sports or cars. Your mother’s posture and expression betrayed her discomfort but she masked it with a cordial tone. You were thankful for it as you didn’t need to deal with her attitude and Andy’s at once. You were too hormonal and tired for that.

You began to take down plates from the cupboard and your mother’s voice sounded from behind you. She neared and reached up next to you as she grabbed the next plate before you could. She stacked the four of them neatly and grasped them in her knobby hands.

“You’re too pregnant for that,” she said, “you grab the silverware.”

You gave a small smile and turned to open the drawer as she left you. You took out the utensils and followed her into the dining room. You set the table and she returned to the kitchen. You came after her and she used a dishcloth to lift the hot pan.

“Get the door, will ya?” she said as she angled around carefully.

She passed you as you held open the swinging door and she set the pan down on the mat in the middle of the table. She inhaled deeply and glanced over at you.

“Stuffed peppers?” she asked.

“Your recipe,” you said, “I’ve been craving them.”

“Next time, let me make them,” she smiled, “you still don’t know the special ingredient.”

“I’ll figure it out one day,” you rubbed your lower back.

“Sit,” she pulled out a chair, “I’ll go get the men.”

You neared her and leaned on the back of the chair, “mom,” you said quietly.

“I’m trying,” she said grimly, “I’m just… not happy yet.”

You nodded and hung your head, “yeah, you don’t have to be, but thank you.”

“I don’t like that man,” she hissed, “a wife in the hospital and he’s knocking up a stranger--”

“Mom,” you warned her, “please.”

“I know, I know,” she shook her head, “but you’re my daughter and he’s… I don’t know, who knows what really happened to the wife.”

You gave her a look and she pursed her lips. She retreated and you sat down heavily and cupped your cheeks. All you had to do was get through dinner. Then you could say you were tired and hide in your room.

You heard her voice in the next room and the impending footsteps before they appeared in the doorway. Your mother and father sat across from you and Andy took the seat to your right. You waited awkwardly and he cleared his throat.

“Well, sweetheart, aren’t you going to serve the guests?” he intoned.

“I can do it,” your mother offered, “don’t make her work any harder than she needs to. Not in her condition.”

You were slightly taken aback by her effort but you didn’t miss how the corner of her lip twitched as she eyed Andy. She didn’t like and didn’t trust him. You couldn’t say you did either and almost for the first time in your life, you felt a kindred connection to your mother.

She stood and scooped a pepper carefully onto each plate with a generous spoonful of sauce from the bottom of the dish. She set them back carefully before each diner and returned to her chair and sat. She smiled, a forced smile, and shifted her chair closer.

“So, you have some time but… once the baby’s here, I’m sure you’ll be back to work,” you mother began, your father always content to hide in his food, “me and your dad talked, we could watch the kid once and a while--”

“She’s not going back to work,” Andy interjected, “especially not at the diner.”

“Oh,” your mother’s lips pressed together in a firm line, “she isn’t?”

“Maybe after a year?” you began as you glance at Andy, “once I get the hand of things--”

“No,” Andy said, “you’re staying home with her.”

“I guess we haven’t decided,” you offered calmly, embarrassed by Andy’s attitude, “as you said, we still have time and we’re figuring stuff out.”

“Once the kiddo’s in school, you’ll have the time to get a job,” your dad offered, “that’s what your ma did. She kept on a few hours here and there when you were real small but once you hit kindergarten, she was back to full shifts.”

“We’ll talk,” Andy threw a hand up and grabbed his fork with his other, “it’s really not your business. It’s ours.”

“Andy,” you chided, “they’re just curious--”

“And where were they for the last couple months?” he snarled, “they weren’t so curious then.”

“Alright, calm down,” you hissed, “sorry, mom, dad--”

“Don’t apologise for me,” he snipped, “they should be apologising to you. That’s why I welcomed them into my home.”

“What?” you gulped, “Andy, they don’t need to--”

“No, no, my child is gonna have at least one set of grandparents and if it’s going to be them, they’re going to respect you and me,” Andy insisted, “so they can apologise or they can leave without dessert.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you uttered.

“Don’t you tell me how to act,” he cut into the pepper, “so…” he looked across the table at your parents, “she made this delicious meal and I think she deserves at least a little appreciation from the two of you.”

You dad looked angry for once in his life as your mother’s lips curled in mortification. You gave them both a shameful look and shook your head just slightly. You mouthed an apology as Andy huffed and tapped impatiently on the table.

“We’re sorry, honey,” your mother began, “we overreacted. Just like I said earlier, I was surprised.”

“Sorry,” your dad forced out as he glared at Andy, “you know I always love and support you, no matter what.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, “now,” you touched Andy’s arm gently, “we can move on. It’s all good.”

“Mhmm,” he grumbled as he leaned forward to take a bike, “we can… but this doesn’t happen again.”

You wanted to shrink down and hide under the table. The tension that rose was palpable and threatened to choke you. You had false hope in the beginning that this might feel normal, that you might end the night with a new standing between you and your mother.

You knew then that Andy’s goal had never been to bring you back together, it was only to gain another degree of control. He made it clear that no one could help you, not even your own parents.

🌙

You were almost thankful for the sink full of dishes. It kept you distracted and gave you a reason not to sit and stew with Andy. Your parents left shortly after you cut the cherry pie and you cleaned up as they bid their farewells. You were completely humiliated by Andy’s hubristic demands but you didn’t dare argue with him. Especially not in front of guests.

You scrubbed the dishes as your stomach pressed to the wet counter and placed each in the drying rack. Andy came in as you pulled the drain and you took the dish cloth from its hook.

“Here, I’ll dry,” he offered.

You stared at him and wiped the water from your hands and gave him the cloth. He went to the rack and opened a cupboard. You took out a container and began to pack up the leftovers from the pan and wrapped the top of the pie. The silence made every clink and clank louder as you moved around the kitchen.

You shut the fridge and sensed him behind you. You flinched as his hands settled on your hip and you gripped pressed your palm against the cool metal. He pulled you back against him and slid his hands around your bump as he hummed.

“Did I tell you this dress looks wonderful?” his fingers brushed the dishwater along the front.

“Andy,” you grasped his wrists, “what are you doing?”

He rocked you as one hand grazed beneath your bump and his fingers dangled over your vee. He bent and inhaled the scent of your scalp. You went rigid as he wiggled against your back, his arousal twitching tellingly.

“Andy, please--”

“Can’t knock you up a second time,” he purred.

“I… no, please, I’m tired--”

“Come on, honey, that night… wasn’t that amazing?” He turned you to face the island and you caught yourself against the edge, “that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“It was a mistake, alright? Look at us now--”

“Look at us, hmmm?” he pushed his hand down and cupped your cunt through your dress. You gasped and squeezed his wrist, “I lay in my bed thinking of you all night… and you’re just across the hall. Why are we playing this game still?”

“Get off of me, please,” you begged, “Andy--”

He pressed his fingers to your pants and pushed the cotton against your folds. You bit your lip as he found your clit and the chafing formed a pressure beneath his touch. You shook your head and leaned back into him, trying to shove him away.

“Let me go…” you breathed.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” he urged, “I can feel you getting wet already. You’re lying to yourself.” He pulled your panties aside and dipped two fingers between your lips, “why do you gotta be so damn stubborn?”

You sucked in air and tensed as he played with your bud so that your thighs quivered. You tucked your chin in and bit down as you tried not to let out a moan. Your nails sank into sleeve but he kept on. You felt how powerful he truly was, his chest pressed against you as his arm remained immoveable.

He bent you slightly as he snaked his hand further and poked a finger inside of you. You squeaked and he added another, curling them as he began to rock his hand. He buried his face into your neck and his hot breath permeated your skin.

“Mmm, isn’t that nice, honey? I just wanna help you relax?” his teeth grazed your neck, “I can be nice, you see?”

Those words turned your blood to ice. You closed your eyes as you returned to those hours ago when his fist crashed into the wall. When his voice was rigid and unloving, when you were certain he would do worse than just yell. Now he was all over you, coaxing you as if it never happened, as if there hadn’t been months of this precarious tug-of-war.

“Andy, really, I’m tired,” you pleaded, “that night… I told you--”

Your voice caught in your throat as he thrust his fingers deeper and moved his hand faster. The pressure throbbed inside of you, pulsing through your veins and you kept your hand tight on the counter as you gripped his arm with the other. Your ankles threatened to bend as you shuddered and came in a sudden rush.

“Tired?” he mocked as he led you through your climax, “I’ll do all the work, honey.”

You shook your head and whined through your teeth. He kept on until you were weak and clinging to his hand. He slowly drew his fingers out of you and slid his arm out from around you. You slumped against the counter as he let you go, the subtle tinkle of his belt gleaned in your ear.

You turned to him as his belt hung open and he caught you by surprise. He wrapped one arm around your back, his other hand across your ass as he lifted you with a grunt. You threw your hands back to keep from falling across the island as he put you down on the marble. You tried to slide forward as his hands grasped your hips and held you in place.

His blue eyes burned and dilated. He reached under your skirt and pulled your panties down. You whimpered as he tugged them down. He quickly pushed your legs apart and moved between them, your knees wide around his thighs. He grabbed your chin and tilted your head back, his lips covering yours hungrily.

You clawed at the front of his shirt as his other hand danced along your pelvis. His fingers crawled down your thigh and she shifted as he fumbled blindly with the front of his pants. You pushed against his shoulders as the panic erupted from your stomach and swelled in your throat.

He brought you closer to the edge and pulled his hand back to grip himself. You opened one eye as you tried to peek down but couldn’t see beneath your bump. He leaned on you until you fell over the marble and bent over you as he slipped his tip along your cunt. His lips strayed to your cheek and down to your throat.

“Andy,” you begged one last time as he pressed against your entrance.

He purred against your neck as his hand slid past your shoulder and stretched over your tit. He pushed into you slowly and you gulped as tears pricked in your eyes. You bent your legs so your heels pressed to the side of the counter and gritted your teeth as he got deeper.

As he bottomed out, he rasped against your skin. He stood up straight and dragged your ass over the edge of the counter. He puffed his chest as he thrust into you and his eyes rolled back. He growled as he did it again and your walls clenched around him. Your reached down and pressed on his open pants with your fingertips, trying to push him away pathetically.

“Andy,” you whimpered as he hooked his arm around your thigh, “Andy--”

His other hand flipped up your skirt and he stretched his hand over your round stomach as he rocked into you. You shook your head and covered your face with one hand as you gripped the edge of the marble with your other. Your breaths grew shallow as you fought your own body and the pleasure blooming around his intrusion.

He sped up as the wet noise filled the kitchen and you bit the heel of your hand to keep from crying out. Another orgasm flowed over you and knotted your muscles around him. His groans and grunts grew louder as his flesh slapped against yours, his fingers drawing circles on your stomach.

“Oh fuck,” Andy hissed and jerked his hips harshly.

He sank into you as deep as he could go and wiggled his hips as he flooded you. He twitched as he leaned his head back and sighed, his fingers tight on your thighs as they painfully poked your tender flesh. You moaned and trembled as you felt his release hot inside of you.

He stilled and let your legs splay around him. You stared at the ceiling in shock as he shuddered. You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked between your legs as his cum dripped out around him. You pulled off of him and shoved him away. He seemed to awaken from a trance as you did and his lashes fluttered.

You dropped down carefully to your feet and stormed away. He called your name but the vomit was already halfway up your esophagus. You weren’t going to make it upstairs. You closed yourself in the half-bath under the stairs and wretched into the sink. You held yourself up weakly until the violent ripples quelled. You looked at yourself in the mirror and winced.

One night cost you the rest of your life. One night meant your body, your soul, your days were his. One night would be countless nights, your fate decided in a single careless act.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #series #dark fic #dark!fic #one night #defending jacob

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ohayopoko · 3 years

Text

Eren with BlackFem!S/O Pregnancy (NSFW)

Note: Yeah I just can’t stop???? I love makin these and writing it out really helps me feel sane! I hope you guys like this! 💞

Part 1 2 4

Artist Credit; @Annikin_ (Policy: Repost W/ Credit Only)

-“You’re getting all fat baby,” Eren slaps your ass and smirks “In all the right places tho.”

-Is genuinely worried when you just look at him and bust out into tears before throwing up all over the floor

-Eren thinks he hurt you so all he can do is hold you offer his support until youre done

-so he thought you were just bloated or your period was worse this month mainly cause you didn’t wanna have sex anymore and sex hurt so bad even when he took it really slow

-He noticed you were swelling in your face, belly, hands, feet, butt too and he swore your lips and nose went up a size or 2-

-Eren wrapped his arms around you and wiped the vomit from your mouth while you blubbered and sunk into him. “Baby girl what’s wrong? Talk to me baby I won’t leave you... you know that.”

-S/O knows what’s wrong, knows why everything hurts and feels heavy and why she can’t keep her breakfast down. She’s known since last month.

-Eren hadn’t even noticed so you didn’t wanna tell him anything yet, it wasn’t technically not lying. Just withholding the truth?

-“The baby hurts,” You whimpered touching the swell in your lower tummy. “It makes everything hurt, Eren.”

-Eren’s green eyes go wide on your brown eyes before he takes your hand off of your belly and lifts up ur shirt to feel for himself and surprised when it feels soft and firm.... not like jello like belly fat is supposed to feel.

-“Baby why didn’t you tell me?”

-You don’t even know what to say you can’t even look into Eren’s eyes. “I don’t know what I wanna do yet.”

-Eren’s hurt and you can see it in his eyes and you wish you’d never said anything . He doesn’t get angry or try to convince you to keep it. He calmly rubs your belly, his calloused hands running over your soft brown belly skin as he takes all of you in.

-“My ex never told me, she just killed our baby to hurt me.”

-S/O isn’t sick anymore “Wait you got another bitch pregnant? The fuck Eren?”

-Y’all just chill out after that and Eren puts you in the shower while he cleans up the vomit

-Eren doesn’t know what to say to you and you don’t know what to say to him anymore so you guys just watch movies back to back together on the couch,

-even though you don’t wanna talk to him he still lets you curl up at his side and rest your head on his chest

-5 movies had passed when Eren turned off the T.v and you looked up at him to find he was staring at you with those magnificent ocean green eyes

“I’ll support you anything you do...” Eren’s breathing weird and you can hear his heart speeding up in his chest “anything, I promise.”

-Eren gives you time and space after that while still trying to be there for you too

-Eren brings you breakfast in bed and sits and watches you eat with a bucket handy just in case you can’t keep it down this time

-Sweet boy kisses your head and whispers “You did it, it’s okay now” after your morning sickness passes

-S/O is genuinely surprised when Eren doesn’t try anything for the following weeks he only offers her his love and support it was as if Eren’s sex drive disappeared (not that she wasn’t thankful)

-It’s a warm cloudy day you picked for washday when S/O realizes she only has a week left in her first trimester and her choices were dwindling while Eren was taking down her braids

-It’s only after Eren helps her wash her hair and they’re done blowing it out with cool air does she reaches out and takes Eren’s hand and puts it on her belly.

-“I’m 3 months next week and I still haven’t told my momma or my daddy,” your eyes were pleading w Eren and you bit ur lip clearly nervous and scared

-Eren put down the blow dryer and began to stroke your afro before he asked “You want me to tell them we’re gonna have a baby?”

-The way his baby girl tears up and shakes her head “yes” repeatedly unlocks a primal love that burns deep In his chest

-Eren hugged you against his chest with his other arm and There’s a lump in Eren’s throat when he really registers that you wanna have the baby- you wanna have his baby

-“I got you baby girl, I promise.”

(NFSW)

-When S/O hit her second trimester all her energy came back, everything didn’t hurt anymore and Eren definitely notices

-Eren definitely notices when you come to bed naked for the first time in months and pushes your ass up against him to get comfortable

-You had a fuckin dump truck behind you now and milk balloon titties plus your swollen belly was really really doing it for Eren right now

-“Nngh! Eren?!” Is all the sound that comes out of your mouth when he lifts your leg up and pins it there S/o doesn’t put up too much of a fight cause she knew exactly what she was doing

-Eren licked his fingers and began to rub on your pussy delighted to find you had waxed and it was already wet, it was dripping

- “Fuck,” he breathed as he pulled his dick out and rubbed it against your soft wet fat pussy almost cumming from the heat he missed so fucking much

-S/o rubs her belly as Eren teases her pussy and she knows he’s about to lose it so she gently reminds him “The baby,”

-Eren splits your pussy open and it feels so good your eyes water when he pushes all his inches deep inside you “Fucccckk, baby when did you get this tight?”

-You guys try to gently fuck, moving and grinding against each other and it’s not good enough and you’re scared rough sex will hurt the baby

-So Eren props you up on your pregnancy pillow and just gives your pussy deep strokes while he massages your ass and belly until there’s cream staining his dick

-“All this cream for me, Pretty girl?”

-“S-So good, so g-good”

-Eren smirks and keeps stroking your juicy pussy, every roll of his hips makes your pillowy ass ripple like jello “You’re making me chase this pussy, Pretty girl? Huh?”

-Eren gently grabs your wide hips and uses his thumbs to massage your lower back while holding you right where he wants you

-S/O whines when he stops stroking her pussy and Eren feels it flutter around his dick and he just has to give it to her he just has to deep stroke her pussy at an angle that makes her scream into the pillow he can’t help it

“Gimme this pussy Pretty girl. Gimme this juicy pussy,”

-The way your pink pussy grips and slobbers Eren’s dick when he pulls out makes him quiver

“Oh god, Eren!”

“Fuckkkk, such a tight fat pussy Pretty girl,”

#Eren Jaeger #Eren Jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #Eren jaeger x reader smut #eren jaeger headcanons #Eren Yeager #Eren yeager smut #eren yeager x reader #Eren Yeager x reader smut #eren yeager headcanons #eren x black s/o #eren smut #eren x reader #pregnancy sex #pregnant reader #man bun eren #Erenxblackfem!S/O #black reader

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1kook · 4 years

Text

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?”

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence.

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jjk smut #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jjk♡#jeon jungkook #mine

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quicksandblock · 3 years

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MCYT Demographic Survey Part 2 RESULTS

IT’S TIME!!!

Once again, thank you so much to everyone who participated! 1,654 people total responded to this - about four and a half times as many respondents as the first survey. It’s honestly incredible. I’m so happy the rest of you are as interested as I am in this stuff :D

The increased turnout is also why these results are being posted two days later than I’d intended. I want to give a HUGE thank you to my friend @quincepastey and my sibling @orestes-swimming for helping me out, and by helping I do mean they did basically all of the technical stuff for me, because my knowledge of spreadsheets was not up to the task. So thank you to Cupid for organizing all the data from questions 3 and 4 into something comprehensible for me, and thank you to Kal for making the charts! They are absolutely the MVPs and everyone reading this should go check them out. Thank you guys so much <3

Reblogs of this post are very appreciated. It would be awesome if the info about the results could reach everyone who submitted a response, so if you reblogged my first post about this survey, please consider reblogging this one as well!

For your convenience, here’s a link to the results of the first survey I did six months ago. Now - on to the results!

Question 1: What is your age range?

Compared to the results of the first survey, we can see that things have changed a bit! Specifically, the fandom has shifted just a little bit older. The solid majority of the fandom is still in the 15-17 year old range, but it’s gone down from almost half to closer to 40%. Almost a third of the fandom are ages 18-20, up from close to a fifth six months ago. 21-25 year olds have increased from about 10% to about 14%. And the youngest segment, 13-14 year olds, have gone from almost 20% of the fandom down to 12% - the sharpest change of all.

Finally, nearest and dearest to my own heart, there are now 26 whole people in the fandom aged 26-30 and 9 people aged 30+. Old Squad is growing, folks. We are... the 2% 😎 Special shoutout to the person who said their 15 year old kid got them into the fandom. I hope you know just how cool you are.

These results are interesting, but it’s also impossible to say how accurate the data is. This survey and the previous one were only posted on my blog, and they only reached a wider audience through the reblogs of my followers. So do these changes reflect actual changes in the demographics of the fandom as a whole, or is it just that my followers (and the people who follow them) have shifted older? To try to avoid this bias in the future, I may reach out to some well-known younger bloggers and ask them to reblog the next survey I do so that I can reach a more even audience.

Question 2: What is your gender?

Apologies for the small text, but there were so many unique write-in answers that I wanted to include them all. You may want to open the image in a separate tab for better quality.

In contrast to the age question, the gender spread of the fandom has remained pretty much the same. About half the fandom is still female, the nonbinary crowd has increased from 20% to 25%, 7% of us are male, almost 7% are genderfluid, and about 5% are agender. Just like last time, most of the write-in responses fell into the vague categories of either genderqueer or questioning.

No surprises on this one! The fandom continues to be overwhelmingly female and queer. Next time I think I’ll include genderqueer and questioning as options to try to catch some of those people into a formal category. All y’all are so valid, especially the person who wrote in their gender as “soup” <3

The results for questions 3 and 4 will be under a cut, because I don’t want to completely destroy people’s dashes.

Before I get into the last two questions, a couple notes. First, I want to explain how I came up with the list of creators, since a lot of people were either excited or disappointed by the fact that a few different people were on there.

On the last survey, this question was a write-in, and I had to transcribe and collate all the answers by hand to come up with the actual number of people who followed each creator. For this survey, I simply took the list that came out of the previous one and pasted it in! I also added a few people who no one wrote in six months ago but who are much more prominent now (Ranboo being the biggest example). So if you were excited to see your favorite small creator listed as an option, they were there because someone wrote them in last time! And if you wrote in your favorite small creator here, they’ll be an option on the next survey. The list is entirely crowdsourced and it will expand with each survey.

That said, the same also applies for more controversial creators. Specifically, I’m talking about CallMeCarson. Several people questioned my decision to keep him on the list - and to be honest, I considered taking him out. But in the end I decided to leave him in as an option for the sake of completeness and consistency with the previous survey. I want to emphasize that this is not me condoning his actions. But for the sake of the data, I felt that it was best to leave him in.

That said, let’s move on to questions 3 and 4!

Question 3: What creator(s) do you primarily follow?

So, it’s harder to compare with the previous survey on this one, and that’s purely because on the previous survey I didn’t have the help I did here. The chart I was able to make for the results back in October was frankly trash. Also, the fact that I split “followed creators” into two questions - primarily and casually followed - definitely throws things off. However, we can still do a certain amount of comparison!

The most obvious change is Ranboo. He straight up was not on the previous survey at all - I think he’d been streaming for less than a month at the time. Now, about 55% of respondents listed him as someone they primarily follow. The Dream SMP itself has also jumped dramatically. Previously, about 5% of people wrote in Dream SMP. That has increased to over half. Quackity has gone from less than 2% to about 30%. Karl has gone from 4% to 30%. Phil has gone from about 8% to a little under 50%. The SBI have jumped from 11% to over 40%.

Techno has gone from about 50% to over 60%. Tommy has gone from 45% to over 55%. Wilbur has jumped from 43% to 55%. Tubbo has remained steady at about 38%.

Dream has apparently dropped some of his following percentage-wise, falling from 50% to about 35%. However, George, Sapnap, and the Dream Team itself have all jumped from 10-12% to almost 30%.

I’m not going to go over the rest of the list, because that would just get way too long. However, I will drop a link to the spreadsheets of data for this survey and the previous one, so anyone who wants to can do some comparison of their own!

Question 4: What creators do you casually follow?

I won’t do as detailed of a comparison on this question, because there’s nothing to compare it to - this question wasn’t on the previous survey. However, it’s interesting to see how many more people follow Fundy, Nihachu, BadBoyHalo, Captain Puffy, Eret, Awesamdude, and Jack Manifold casually rather than as a primary favorite. Out of the top twelve, Karl, Quackity, Phil, and Tubbo are the only ones who don’t have a major discrepancy between the amount of people who follow them casually versus primarily.

I would be curious to hear people’s thoughts on why that’s the case! Personally, I would guess it’s a combination of each of their approaches to lore on the Dream SMP, the frequency and times of day that they stream, and the people they tend to make content with and be associated with by the fandom. I may go into that more later, but this post is already very long, so I’ll hold off for now. Here’s a link to this question’s spreadsheet for anyone who wants to take a closer look!

...And that’s a wrap! Good grief, this got long. Kudos to anyone who actually read the whole thing because I know my attention span would be challenged. I’m already thinking about the next survey - a couple people suggested that I add in questions about orientation and nationality, and while I want to keep the survey pretty tight in its scope, I am considering it. It would be even more data to process but it would be interesting to know!

I would love to hear people’s thoughts on these results! I’m only one person, so I know there’s interesting stuff I must have missed. Please, please feel free to reblog with your thoughts and observations! A lot of work went into this (both from me and from Cupid and Kal! Thank you guys again!), so I’m really hoping to hear what people think about it :D

I plan to reblog this and reply to some of the things people wrote in at the end, so stay tuned for that. And once again: thank you all for your interest in this project of mine <3 See you with another one in six months!

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

from one kid to another

w/c: 6.0k

warnings: mentions of drinking, lots of swearing, implied smut, and angst at times

summary: it was a mistake, a beautiful one that you didn’t make on your own

a/n: this genuinely is my favorite thing i’ve ever written :,) i say that a lot but this time i mean it, it’s really special i think and i so so so hope y’all do too <3 enjoy my loves

there’s only one thing in life that testing positive for is actually positive.

depending on the situation, obviously. yours isn’t ideal, or planned or a blessing or whatever people say. it’s a gigantic mistake that you didn’t realize you made until a minute ago.

you’d noticed something was wrong when your time of the month came and all you experienced was the symptoms. cramps, cravings, everything except your actual period. as everyone is pretty much taught to do, you ran to the closest drug store for a pregnancy test. what the hell else could it be? you messed around a few weeks ago, so there’s a possibility.

your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest the whole time you waited for the results. you’d thought of calling tom over for support, but there are a couple of reasons why you couldn’t do that. you realized you made the right decision when your timer for the test went off.

two red lines. you’re pregnant. you’re pregnant, and your best fucking friend is the father.

where do you go from here?

the test falls from your hand and hits the floor with a mocking clank. you slide down until your back is against the bathtub. well, you’re fucked. what an ironic word choice.

the fact that you aren’t ready in the slightest to be a parent when you’re still growing up yourself is one thing. it’s another that this could ruin the most important relationship you’ve ever had.

no, tom won’t be mad. he’s never once fought with or even raised his voice at you. in your times of need, he’s been the one to uplift you and kiss your puffy cheeks dry. no matter how he takes this, you know it won’t be out on you. he is half responsible.

but, with how you left things the last time you spoke, you’re not sure you’ll be able to get past it.

tom is alarmingly good at hiding how he truly feels. you always tease him that it’s because he’s a gemini. he’ll come back with shut up, i’m an actor and stick his nose in the air to give you the full image. in all seriousness, it does take a toll on how well he can communicate.

you’ve seen it in small ways, like when he brings you along for press days and uses unenthusiastic smiles to cover up his yawns. how he’ll be polite in a conversation with people he’d rather not speak to, then mumble about it once you’re home. he tries to put forward the “appealing” parts of himself even though he’s more than them.

tom’s biggest communication issue is that he’s been in love with you since year nine and hasn’t said a word about it. you’ve yet to figure that one out.

you two became friends while tom was starring in billy elliot. his schedule was so scattered between shows and school, so he struggled to balance both. he often had to stay late for extra help on the lessons. you’d also been there a few times. you worked better in the classroom, and he was grateful he didn’t have to be alone with the teacher.

most kids made fun of tom for his interest in theater, to his face and behind his back. not you. you thought it was just incredible that someone in your own classes worked at the west end. you’d told him on your way home one night.

he’d heard you before he saw you. “you’re tom, right?” you asked from behind him, the two of you making your way through the hall. the question sounded friendly, and it wasn’t every day kids were nice to him. tom stopped walking so you could catch up. “yes, and you are?” you gave him a small smile, books clutched to your chest. he instantly returned it.

“y/n. i heard you’re in billy elliot?” you laughed at your understatement, then corrected yourself. “that you are billy elliot, i mean. that’s so cool.” “oh, i am. thank you,” he chuckled back, a full grin taking over his face. you were both walking again, you by tom’s side. “i was hoping to come see you soon.” your voice got quieter as you told him, like you were nervous.

tom never had much luck with girls, not at this point in his life. this was an opportunity to change that. at the very least, to make a new friend. he offered something you said yes to without a beat of hesitation. “what if i got you the tickets?”

from then on, you began talking during class and not only when it ended. tom really knew how to keep the conversation going, telling story after story that left you laughing so much your teacher would shush you. you’d eventually moved to hangouts at either of your houses. harrison came into the mix at some point, the three of you forming your own group.

the difference between tom and harrison was that while harrison linked with other girls, tom was only interested in you. he’d gotten a crush on you pretty fast, if he was being honest. it might have been your shared sense of humor or the way you said his name.

thomas, when he was being cheeky. tommy, which took the place of a pet name. even regular tom. that might have been his favorite. he loved how it rolled off your tongue. he loved, and still loves, you.

you’d gone to all of tom’s performances you possibly could, the ones for school theater included. you also gave him the push to take his talents to hollywood. tom was afraid he wasn’t cut out for the big screen, that he needed more practice and experience first. you told him that if this was what he wanted to do, he had to start somewhere. why wait?

tom then landed his first movie role in the impossible at the age of fifteen. he’d received tons of praise and almost gotten nominated for an academy award, all because you convinced him to audition. you played a huge part in keeping him grounded when he was between films, and caught him up on whatever schoolwork he’d missed.

you practically zoomed to tom’s house when he was announced as the next spider-man. you’d been constantly refreshing every social media platform marvel was on since tom became a finalist for the part. that process was probably the most difficult experience he’s ever gone through. you’d know, having heard all about it from tom.

the two of you celebrated along with the rest of tom’s family that night. you kept giving him little proud of you squeezes on his shoulder or knee. tom is eternally indebted to you for being the most supportive of everything he does.

he of course sends the support right back. although he went down the movie star path, acting wasn’t for you. you’d gone off to university and studied hard as hell and aced all your shit. tom quizzed you on material whenever you needed. he wanted to help you somehow, and this was all you’d let him do.

he’d offered to pay off your loans and any other expenses necessary because he had the money to do that now. you refused every single time, not trying to become dependent on him. he admired your drive, yet hated it at the same time. everything you’d done for him, it was his turn to be the caretaker. it should’ve been.

whenever tom wrapped filming for the holidays and came back home, you were always preparing for final exams. he kept you company, content with simply being in your presence. you typed away on your keyboard and read over notes until your eyes burned. tom occasionally brought you snacks, tea, asked how you were and what he could do.

sometimes, he would have to cut your study time short. he’d say it wasn’t healthy or you were overdoing it and to come relax with him for a bit. other times, tom let you be. he didn’t want to get in the way of your already stressful assignments. those were the nights you’d fall asleep in front of your laptop. drool on your chin, hunched over at your desk.

tom made sure to tuck you in, press a light kiss to whatever part of your face wasn’t covered in spit, then let himself out. he knew where your spare key was, so he used that. you’d wake up to a “Fell asleep studying again. Rest today x” text the next morning.

when it came time for you to graduate, tom was on the first flight there. it was during another round of reshoots for chaos walking. he respectfully told doug that he’d have to work around his schedule or replace him, which couldn’t be done so late into filming. tom didn’t care that it made him seem like a prick. he was getting to you no matter what he had to do.

he’d earned plenty of stares and whispers from people as he took his seat in the crowd. he was a proper celebrity now, so he expected it. his solution was to ignore everything and chat with your family about how proud they were of you, tom the most. he saw you go from a kid attempting algebra equations to an adult at her uni graduation. you’ve really grown up together.

it was why he teared up hearing them call your name, seeing you beam as you walked across the stage. your mom grabbed his hand and nodded at him, like she could tell exactly what was going through his head.

you ran right up to tom after the ceremony was over, leaping into his arms. he let out a couple of chuckles as he spun you around. “i didn’t think you’d make it,” you’d admitted, happy yet sad tears in your eyes. tom put you down so he could pull you in for a real hug. “i’ll always be wherever you are, y/n,” he said into your ear, rocking you while you gripped at his suit collar.

flash forward to a year later, your career is finally taking off, tom’s is flourishing like it has been for years, and you’re pregnant with his child. you’re trying to recall the series of events that led you to this moment.

you were both drunk, blackout drunk because the only reason you remember sleeping together is that you woke up naked in the same bed. harrison’s bed.

he threw a housewarming party for himself, having recently moved out of tom’s and the other boys’ place. the three of them, sam, and you were all in attendance, along with a lot of others you hadn’t met.

neither you nor tom could figure out where he knew all those people from. he’d clinged to you two for the most part, more so you now with tom usually away. they could have been from work. harrison is breaking into the business himself, small roles here and there. tom actually met him in your school’s theater program, then he introduced him to you, ten years ago already.

sam entertained himself by making concoctions with the snacks harrison set out. harry got together a playlist for the party. harrison and tuwaine struck up a conversation with some of harrison’s actor friends. that left you and tom alone, out of stuff to do, and with one way to fix it.

“drink?” tom had asked you, a smirk playing on his lips. “love one,” you hummed back and set off for the kitchen. the two of you raided harrison’s liquor cabinet, grabbing his biggest bottle of wine. he’d dumbly pointed it out during the house tour he gave you before the other guests arrived.

you were about to search for glasses, but tom’s fingers threaded through yours. he gently tugged you away and nodded behind him. “let’s bring this upstairs. seems much more fun there,” he’d murmured over the music, a grin breaking across your face.

tom is big on clubbing and socializing, however, you aren’t. he comes up with ways to get you out of these events, just in case.

“we can break in harrison’s bed for him,” you said as a completely harmless joke, no intentions of that becoming your reality later on. spoiler alert: it did. “and how are we gonna do that?” tom quirked a suggestive eyebrow and breathed out a laugh as you dragged him towards the stairs. despite yourself, you’d giggled at his words.

not one drink in either of you yet, and you were stumbling and cracking up as you ran upstairs. you’d pulled tom by your still attached hands into what you remembered as harrison’s room. tom shut the door, locked it, saying under his breath that would be a “convenient investment” for him to make as well.

he took out a bottle opener that he must have put in his pocket at some point and got to work on your wine, you getting comfortable on the new mattress. the two of you passed it to the other after every sip, tom licking the taste of your lip gloss off his own lips every so often.

the equivalent of three drinks in, you were making out. both of you were just tipsy at this point, tom holding you by your hips as you lied down, your legs around his waist. god, he could’ve done this sober. he’d dreamed about kissing you, really kissing you since he was fourteen. you’d always felt like you two had something more. ah, there it was.

halfway through the bottle got you past the next two bases, and you were ready for the fourth and ultimate one by the time you shook the last few drops onto the tip of your tongue. tom groaned at the sight of that, drawing your half naked body in closer to his.

you two had forgotten to use protection in each of your drunken states. without a doubt, you both would’ve agreed to a condom had your minds not been everywhere but where they should have.

you’d woken up first the morning after, panic immediately coursing through your veins thicker than blood. a fully nude and sleeping tom had you in his embrace, arms secured around your middle, facing you. you gasped when you made the connection, loudly enough to wake tom up. his long eyelashes tickled your face, a confused pout on his lips. uh... um...

“did we fucking...” you trailed off, no words to describe whatever unfolded. “fuck?” tom finished for you. a very blunt explanation, but true nevertheless. “looks like it,” he rasped, pout changing into a smile. your face fell at the vague memories of how you spent your night.

you definitely wanted to do it. just, he’s your best friend, who’s seen you at your least sexy moments over the years. when you were sick, had breakdowns from stress, you name literally anything, tom was there. it took one bottle of cheap wine for him to forget that?

the real answer was no. tom is entirely in love with you, for a decade at that. you were beginning to discover you feel the same, only you had no idea he already loves you. you’d assumed this was meant to be merely a hookup. from the frown your face held, he’d thought you were regretting it. oh, were you both so wrong.

“um... we don’t have to talk about it,” tom told you halfheartedly, under the impression that’s what you preferred. you physically felt yourself get weaker in tom’s strong arms. he’s not interested. “yeah, that’s probably for the best. i...” you were lying. his heart shrunk, shriveled up inside his chest. she doesn’t love me like that.

“you have to go. aren’t you behind on some emails?” tom hoped you didn’t hear his voice strain from the tears pushing at his eyes. “right. almost forgot, thanks.” you’d plastered on a smile, slipping out of his grasp. a tear rolled down his cheek, so he wiped it away before you noticed. you’d already gotten out of the bed and begun picking your clothes up off the floor.

“i’ll drive you home, then.” he rolled on to his other side, you thought so he could give you privacy to change. it was that, and also because he was crying. he couldn’t hold it in. tom is naturally an emotional person. imagine finding out the love you’ve had almost half your life is unreciprocated. it’s soul crushing.

you two found harrison snoring and on top of tuwaine as you left the house. no silly remarks or shared glances for the first time in ten years. tom couldn’t muster anything up, and you felt numb.

the drive was painful. you’d said your goodbyes after tom pulled up to the curb, which held an odd weight to them. once you were out of the car, a sob wracked through him, banging on the steering wheel and not giving a shit about the loud horn going off. you collapsed face first onto your bed. hours passed by while you stared at nothing and contemplated everything.

since it happened, you haven’t spoken much. small talk over text every few days or so, both of you pretending things are normal for the other’s sake. about a month later, today, is when you found out you’re pregnant.

there’s no use wallowing in any of this. you need to figure out your next move, one that should probably involve tom. first, you want to talk to someone else. you want other opinions and a voice in your head that isn’t your own. harrison gets a text from you saying to come over now, the now in all caps. he does.

you let him in after the second knock, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. however torn you are, you must look it. shirt balled in your fists, lip quivering. he keeps his eyes on yours as he steps inside, pushing the door shut behind him. this is all becoming too real. “y/n, are you okay?”

you’re about to cry in three, two...

“haz, i fucked up,” you choke out, tears unable to stay at bay. he takes you into his arms for a hug. half your face is hidden in his shoulder, hands clutching at his back. he lets you cry it out, holding you until your heavy breathing steadies. “what’s happened?” harrison asks quietly, both of you leaving the hug.

“if- if i tell you, you can’t freak out. you can’t tell anyone else, either,” you instruct, searching his eyes for certainty that he won’t under any circumstances. “i won’t, y/n/n,” he assures you and puts an encouraging hand on your arm. your heart pounding abnormally fast, you spit it out. your first time saying it aloud. “i’m pregnant.”

harrison flinches and doesn’t even try to conceal it. he takes his hand off of you, worry swimming across his features. he blinks at you, unsure of what to say. you’d react the same way, maybe worse, so you don’t blame him. a discussion you, him, and tom had a couple years back replays in his mind.

the three of you were talking about your futures, seeing as you were close to living them. when tom asked you two where you stood on having your own families, you didn’t hesitate to answer. “nope, the factory is closed for a long ass time.” until you were in your thirties, you aimed to focus on yourself. harrison distinctly remembered because of how you phrased it.

“you’re... you... wow,” is all he replies with. you head over to the couch, more tears welling up in your eyes. do the pregnancy hormones act up this early? harrison follows you over and sits down next to you with an awkward clearing of his throat. “do you want to be pregnant?” he has to ask because he’s not sure if he should congratulate you or what.

“i don’t know,” you answer honestly, voice airy. your eyes are fixed on the wall in front of you. you haven’t given yourself time to think about it. there are so many reasons you don’t, and a single one you do. “do you, um, know who the dad is?” harrison glances over at you. “yeah.” your voice cracks. you’re both afraid for him to ask what he does next.

he shifts so he’s sitting up. “can i know?” a sniffle passing through you, you finally look at him. “it’s tom,” you say it before you lose the nerve to. harrison’s face doesn’t change this time. he isn’t surprised you and tom went there. he’d seen your friendship growing into more the older you all got. what he can’t believe is where it took you.

his best friend pregnant, and his other best friend responsible for it.

“when did you...” “at your party,” you explain, bringing your legs up so they’re criss cross on the couch. “i thought you were gone a little too long.” he says that to try cheering you up. you appreciate the effort, but it doesn’t work. you’re not in a joking mood. he’ll stick to the main issue. “so, have you told him?”

“clearly not,” you scoff, not at him but at what you two have gotten yourselves into. “y/n... i think you should tell him,” harrison sighs out, then adds, “whether you keep it or not.” “why? that would ruin everything, it already has.” you’re getting angry now, which plunges you into angry crying, voice unsteady as you go on.

“the last time i saw tom was that night, and i guess it meant more to me than it did to him because we haven’t talked about it at all. he didn’t want to.” you swipe the back of your hand across your eyes, gaze stern compared to harrison’s soft one.

he drapes an arm around your shoulders, you curling into him with another sniffle. he doesn’t say anything for a minute, then he tries again. “i know you, y/n, and i know tom. you’ll kill yourselves not talking about this.” he’s right, no shit he is. avoiding telling tom how you feel, and your pregnancy on top of that, it’s eating you up inside. it’s swallowing you whole.

“what if he doesn’t want to be a dad? or- or i’m a shit mum?” you croak out, your doubts getting the best of you. “i can barely take care of myself. what am i supposed to do with a baby?” you’re leaning forward with your hands pressing into your temples. harrison’s hand moves to your upper back. “i- i don’t think i should have them. i... we can’t,” you conclude.

“tom loves kids,” he gives you a gentle reminder. “why would his own be the exception?” another good point, yet you still have rebuttles. “right, he’s a godfather and he’s really good with them and all that, but i’m not the right person, and it’s a terrible time,” you tell him all at once, in a rush to get your words out before harrison’s sway you.

“he’s never around, i’m doing my own stuff. we’re not meant for this.” you lift your head out of your hands and sit back on the couch. harrison returns his hands to his lap. he’s frowning at you, which you see from the corner of your eye. “i’m not going to force you to have the baby. just saying you have options.”

yeah, really shitty ones.

“either way, talk to tom.” harrison says this more like a demand so you’ll take his advice into actual consideration. “at least about the hookup.” your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes watering for the nth time already.

you have no choice because he’s right again. you’ll never move on from what happened unless you and tom address it.

the next morning, you do what harrison told you to and invite tom over. he replied saying he was on his way maybe a minute later. he’s nervous to see you because yeah, but more so looking forward since it’s been so long. you’re so nauseous you barely have room for nerves. it’s morning sickness with a hint anxiety.

it feels almost normal when he first gets here, no how’ve you been and what are you up to these days? being as close as you and tom are, you’re not capable of such a dry conversation. personally, you still feel uneasy while he recounts a golfing incident him and harry got into the other day. you know something he doesn’t.

“when i tell you we flew, we flew,” tom makes a pushing forward motion with both hands. “right into the tree. i think harry, like, dented part of his face.” he lets out a breathy laugh, you forcing out one of your own. you’d be more interested without the fact that you’re expecting a child, his child, at the back of your mind.

tom exhales, shifting to face you on your couch. it’s funny how different things were when you and harrison sat in these same spots yesterday. so much has and is about to change.

“they had to send another golf cart to come get us. it was wild.” “it sounds wild,” you hollowly agree. he can tell you’re not too invested in hearing about harry’s terrible driving skills, so he changes the subject. “anyway, harrison told me he came over last night?” your stomach drops, heat coming over your whole body.

“did... did he say why?” you murmur with a look of urgency in your eyes. tom shrugs a shoulder, and casually. there’s no way he knows. “no, was he supposed to?” his tone stays playful, which you can thankfully tell. that puts you more at ease. “no. no, never mind. i would’ve asked you to come, but...” you’re searching through your catalog of excuses.

thank god tom says something else because you can’t find a good one. “it’s alright. i actually, um, had a work call.” a small smile spreads across his face, a proud one. intrigued, you raise both eyebrows. “what’d you talk about?” tom twiddles with his fingers in his lap. “i’ve been offered an audition for this really amazing film. everything works out, it’ll be huge for me.”

you’re smiling back this time, putting a hand over one of his. “woah, that’s incredible. i’m so happy for you, tom.” you lock your fingers with his from the back of his hand. he looks down at them, humbly shaking his head. “when is it?” “a few weeks from today. it films in brazil...”

oh. you can’t tell him now. it’s not worth him missing out on a milestone in his career for a baby you’re not sure you should have. that would be so unfair of you to ask. what are you going to do, not support his dreams for the first time in a literal decade? and, you’d call yourself his best friend through it all?

you guess this also means the way you feel about tom is one sided. he’s okay with leaving you after the most intimate moment you two have ever shared. you’ll dance around it the rest of your lives. better yet, act like the night never even happened. that’s not so easy to do when you’ve got a permanent reminder of it.

the thought makes you sick to your stomach. so sick, you could...

while tom is talking more about what the audition entails, you suddenly bolt up from the couch. you run for the bathroom, a hand cupped over your mouth. his face twists up in confusion from your disappearance. tom calls, “y/n/n?” out to you, but you can’t respond because your head is in the toilet. he rushes in when he hears you retching.

he gets onto the floor with you. you’re bent over, puking your guts out, back in another place where your life changed forever less than twenty four hours ago. tom pulls your hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail with one hand, his other on your back. that’s all you have in you. you stay over the toilet just to be sure.

saliva drips from your mouth, making you cough roughly, the sound echoing. tom moves so he’s next to you, keeping his hand in your hair and not caring one bit about the smell because he loves you and he’s utterly concerned about what he witnessed.

“love, are you sick?” he coos, searching for your eyes. they water from the intensity of everything. “morning sickness,” you answer without thinking first. shit. shit, shit, shit. it came out of you like more vomit, word vomit. there’s no going back now.

tom lets go of your hair with his eyes still on yours. his hand on your back then leaves you, fingers trailing down your body as they go. “morning sickness,” he repeats, putting it together. “you’re pregnant?” guilt taking over your features, you sit across from tom. you’re once again leaning against the bathtub, him against the counter.

“this isn’t how i wanted you to find out,” you admit and bring your knees up to your chest. “i took a test yesterday. it was positive.” your arms wrap around your legs, you now tearing up because tom figured it out. a shaky breath passes his lips. “i haven’t gone to my doctor or anything yet, but i-“

“are you keeping the baby?” tom cuts in. not to judge you for your choice, to find out what the fuck is going on before he travels across the world. you tighten your arms around yourself, grabbing your wrist. “i haven’t decided.” he gives you an understanding nod and reaches out for you. you dodge him. he might not want to do that after what you say next.

“tom, i... there’s more,” you whimper out. “yeah. i’m... i’m listening,” tom croaks, unable to hold in his infinite amount of emotions for a multitude of reasons. he’s losing you a second time. more tears spill from your eyes as you break the news, the news that will destroy what he’s been working towards his entire life.

“the baby is yours.” his face relaxes, looking almost relieved when you confess it. “when we slept together, uh,” you’re sure it’s obvious enough that you don’t have to go over the details. he’s tearing up himself. you reluctantly continue. “if you still want to audition, i get it. we don’t have to do this.”

“fuck the audition. fuck the whole movie. all of my movies, really,” tom surprises you by blurting out. he moves in until your legs are touching. “i’m staying. even if you don’t have the baby, i have to be here.” you watch in disbelief as he wipes away what are actually happy tears. “really? i was scared you’d resent me for it, or hate me even,” you mumble to him.

“y/n, what? why would i ever do that?” tom places a hand on your cheek, touch gentle and filled with love. you part your legs so he can be closer to you. he takes the space between them, thumb brushing over your skin. “i didn’t think you’d want to deal with all of this. i thought that night was only a hookup for you.” your voice wobbles under his gaze.

“no, are you kidding? i thought that’s what you thought.” he’s smiling now, eyes twinkling along with it. what he’s been meaning to tell you since you were only kids finally comes out. “i’ve loved you as long as i’ve known you, y/n. i always imagined myself doing this with you.” his words draw a quiet laugh from you, a happy one. “i know we were drunk, but i meant it all.”

the sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, they make you cry all over again. you’re getting used to it.

“i love you, tom,” you lean into him with a sniffle and a grin, his forehead now resting on yours, using his thumb to catch one of your tears. “i really do.” “i love you forever. i always have,” tom speaks lowly, breath fanning across your face. your hands grab at his shoulders. “so, you’ll stay? you’ll do this with me?” he reminds you of what he said before, this time a promise.

“forever.”

you ended up having the baby, and tom held your hand through the entire labor. nikki was holding his other hand, your mom holding your other hand. harrison had originally been in the room as well. when you started to push, he got freaked out and had to leave. your support system remained strong either way.

despite his repulsion of your daughter’s birth, you and tom decided to make harrison her godfather. he eventually became the godfather of your other two children also, which you had a few years later.

tom took a paternity leave from the industry so he could be with you and jamie. he’d also used his time off to propose to you, something else he fantasized about since year eleven in school. it wasn’t anything too grand because the whole world was already buzzing about you two, and a big gesture felt too impersonal with everything you’d been through together.

he did it in the form of passing a note, something you often did in class to avoid being scolded by your teacher for talking. the note came with a pencil to check off either the yes or no box, “will you marry me?” written above them. anyone else would have found it so unromantic, but you giggled as you checked off yes before your lips crashed into his smiling ones.

you were married shortly after the proposal, jamie as your flower girl and all your friends and family in attendance.

to do what he loved and stay with the people he loved, tom created his own version of hollywood in london. he took it upon himself to assemble a team and make a production company. harry behind the camera, harrison and tuwaine in the films, and tom either starring alongside them or directing. they give so many young actors tons of opportunities.

you eventually went back to work, too. it was like you’d never left, coworkers offering endless hugs and going over what you missed, not that you struggled getting into it. tom was there to celebrate every promotion, every compliment from your boss, every part of your life. jamie was also there, then liam and lucy.

all three of them are running around the house right now, putting on shoes and collecting their supplies for school. you take a sip of the orange juice liam didn’t finish with a lighthearted eye roll. tom chuckles as he passes you in the kitchen, getting the kids’ lunchboxes for them to minimize the chaos.

“you have that pitch meeting today, right?” he slips his hands through the lunchbox handles and walks over to you. “mhm,” you hum, mouth full with juice. his lips press to your temple, giving your waist a one handed squeeze. “you’ll smash it. always do.” “thanks, tommy.” putting down the cup, you reach up to button whatever parts of his shirt he didn’t have time to.

“aren’t you doing a casting? for the new script they sent?” you wonder aloud and smooth down the cotton material. “me and harry. should be interesting,” he remarks, you giving him a quick kiss back on his chin. they tend to have their artistic differences. “good luck with that. you do drop off, i’ll do pick up?” you pat one of the lunchboxes around his arms.

“deal.” tom goes in for a kiss on your lips, then a chorus of dad, we have to go led by jamie rings through the house. with a knowing smile, you push at his chest. “see you later. love you.” “love you, holland,” he bites back a grin of his own. his last name, now yours, suits you perfectly.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland au #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #marvel

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raeandwhatnot · 3 years

Text

Lucky Charm – Luke Patterson

Summary: Luke is reminiscing about his relationship with you in the past.

Warnings: it’s a bit sad and angst… but also fluff

Words: 4.3k

A/N: (Y/D/J)= your dream job. This is 3rd person unlike my other imagines where I do it in 1st person. Might make a part two to this if y’all want it! I will be getting to y’alls requests ASAP! I’m so excited to write them! Also, italicized is flashback!

It’s been 25 years since Luke, Alex, and Reggie have died. The first thing that Luke thought of when he died wasn’t just his family, he thought of (Y/N). He thought of how he just left her. They were supposed to be together forever, but that forever was cut short from tainted hot dogs out of a car. The boys have been in the band with Julie for a while now, but Luke couldn’t help but think something was missing while he performed. (Y/N) was that missing puzzle piece. He always called her his lucky charm because he would always perform his best when she was in the crowd.

“Are you going to come to the dance tonight, (Y/N/N)?” Alex asks as the Sunset Curve group walks with the girl to their shared class.

“Hmmm,” (Y/N) hums. “I’m not sure. I have a lot of homework I need to catch up on.”

Luke groans and rolls his eyes at the girl’s excuse. “Oh come on, (Y/N)!” he exclaims, walking in front of her, making him walk backwards. “You have got to live a little every once in a while! All you do is worry about school work. You need to come to the dance. The best band is going to play at the dance!”

(Y/N) tilts her head, “Oh yeah? What band?”

“Sunset Curve, duh!” Reggie says. (Y/N) giggled as she already knew the answer to her question.

“Please?” Bobby pouts. “It’s going to be a lot of fun!”

The group stops outside of the classroom door and she looks at the boys. They all had pleading looks on their faces.

“(Y/N), please!” Luke begs, grabbing her shoulders. “I need my lucky charm tonight. I promise tonight will be worth it!”

(Y/N) looks down at the charm bracelet the boys got her for her 17th birthday. The boys collectively got a charm for her bracelet that meant something to them. Luke got her a clover as she is his lucky charm. She looks back up at the green eyes staring at her waiting for her to answer.

“Fine,” (Y/N) sighed. “I will go to the dance, but you have to promise me that you guys will dance with me!” Luke smiles and pulls her into a quick hug. The rest boys cheered and high fived one another.

Luke wished he could go back to that night. It was a few months before they started dating. He and (Y/N) slow danced together which made him realize that he that had feelings for the girl in the first place. He realized why she was his lucky charm, why his heart would always skip a beat when she laughed, why his palms would get sweaty when she held his hand, why he would always want to be around her because she made him feel safe. He couldn’t stop thinking about her even in the afterlife. He would wonder where she is. Did she get married and have a family? Did she follow her dreams to become a(n) (Y/D/J)? Did she live her life to the fullest? Did she-

Luke’s thoughts were interrupted by a voice calling out to him, “Hey, Luke!” His eyes tore away from his journal he zoned out on. He saw Alex and Reggie standing in front of him.

“Hm?” Luke hummed, sitting up from leaning against the piano.

Alex took a step closer and asks, “Are you okay?”

Luke tosses his journal on the couch and takes off the acoustic guitar that was wrapped around his chest. “Yeah! Just thinking about a new song!” Luke said. Alex tucks his hands into his jacket’s pockets as he doesn’t believe that Luke is okay. He has been spacing out a lot recently.

“Cool! What is it about?” Reggie questions.

“Uh, I’m not sure yet,” Luke answers. “I was just brainstorming. Trying to think of a meaning to it.” Alex turns his attention to the journal. Luke had doodled clovers around the edges of the paper. Alex taps Reggie with his shoulder and tilts his head at the journal. Reggie analyzes the book, realizing what Luke has been thinking about.

“You making another song about (Y/N)?” Reggie wonders, still looking at the song book.

Luke glances at what Reggie was looking. “I don’t know. She’s just been on my mind recently,” he sighs and looks at the floor. Alex and Reggie nod in agreement as they too have been thinking about their friend.

Alex takes another step towards Luke, “Do you want to talk about it?” Luke kept his eyes glued to the ground. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk about her. He didn’t know if it would make him feel better, or if he would just burst into tears.

His thoughts were interrupted once more as Julie skips into the room. “Ready to rehearse, guys?” Julie smiles.

Luke puts on a happy face, “Hell, yeah! Let’s rock out!”

Alex and Reggie look at one another, concerned for their best friend who seems to be hurting. The group walks to their respective spots in the studio.

“What song should we start with?” Luke asks as he plugs his electric guitar into the amp.

Julie flipped her song book. “Should we warm up with Finally Free? We haven’t done that song in a while,” Julie suggest.

Luke look at the boys who were nodding their heads in agreement. “Sounds good to us!” he answers for the group.

Julie starts off the song with her intro, and the rest of the band joined in. As they were performing, Luke messed up here and there, but not enough to notice. At least Julie didn’t notice as she was rocking out with the boys. When they finished Finally Free, they decided to do a new song Julie had started writing. They hadn’t settled on a title just yet which was okay because it was still in the works. They started to practice the first verse going into the chorus, but Luke wasn’t 100% focused. He kept playing the wrong chords.

Because he messed up, he let out a load, frustrated groan. The rest of the band halted their actions to look at Luke. “Woah, you good?” Julie asks concerned.

Luke shakes his vigorously to try to get his mind straight, “Yeah! I’m just not used to the pattern yet. Let’s try again.”

Julie looks at Alex and Reggie. They both shrug their shoulders, and they start the song again. However, this time Luke could barely get past the intro without messing up. He tried to continue, but he couldn’t do it.

“Damn it!” Luke shouts, dropping his guitar to hover over his chest as he roughly runs his hands through his hair.

Julie stands up from his keyboard. “Luke?” she softly says. Luke could feel the tears welling up in his eyes.

“I-uh,” Luke stutters as he takes off his guitar. “I need s-some air.” Luke suddenly then poofs out without another word.

Julie looks at the empty space where Luke was standing. She couldn’t figure out why Luke wasn’t in the right head space. He was always focused on the band, or at least he always seems to be. Julie takes her eyes from the dead space to Alex and Reggie who had sad looks on their faces. Reggie takes his bass off and sets it next to Luke’s guitar.

Julie steps off to the side of her keyboard. “What’s up with him?” she asks Alex and Reggie. They glance at each other before Alex steps away from his drums to standing next to Reggie.

“We’ve been thinking about an old friend from back in the 90’s,” Alex confesses.

Julie shrugs her shoulder, “Who? Bobby?”

Reggie shakes his head. “Gosh, no. I wouldn’t want to spend my spare time thinking about that song stealing dummy,” Reggie says in disgust.

“She wasn’t part of Sunset Curve. At least she didn’t perform with us. Her name was (Y/N),” Alex states, ignoring what Reggie said about Bobby.

“(Y/N)? How come I’ve never heard you guys talk about her?” Julie wonders. Both Alex and Reggie shrug their shoulders, unsure why they never talk about one of their best friends. “Well, who was she then?”

A slight smile grew on Alex and Reggie as they thought of (Y/N). Alex started to reminisce the memories of his old friend, “She was one of the most important people in our lives. She helped us with our struggles, helped us study, came to almost all of our gigs, helped us get gigs… she was just the glue of Sunset Curve. We wouldn’t hardly function as a band if it wasn’t for her. She was even the one who got us the gig at the Orpheum…”

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, and Sunset Curve was writing a new song for their new demo. They wanted to make new songs as they always perform the same songs at every gig. “Hey boys,” Luke calls out. Bobby was playing random notes on his guitar, Alex was trying balance his drumstick on his index finger, and Reggie was catching dust. They all turned to Luke who had written some stuff in his song book. “How does this sound? When all the days felt black and white those were the best shades of my life!” Luke sings.

“Dang, Luke!” Bobby exclaimed. “That’s really good! How did you come up with that?”

“I don’t know. It just came to me!” Luke smirks. “I’m also half way done with the song!”

“It’s been, what, 30 minutes and you’re already half way done?!” Alex says. Luke nods his head as he writes down more in his journal. Next thing they know, they hear clicking heels coming from the driveway. They all look up to see (Y/N) with a huge smile on her face.

“Uh, oh. Here comes trouble,” Luke teases. “What’s got you all smiley, babes?”

(Y/N) stops at the entry way of the studio. “Well, I have some pretty big news to tell you boys!” she says, shifting her weight from the balls of her feet to her feels.

“What? You got the best SAT’s scores of the school?” Bobby asks.

“You’re graduating a semester early?” then asks Alex.

“No! You got us a puppy?!” Reggie asks excitedly. The boys looked at Reggie as if he asked the most absurd question ever.

(Y/N) giggled, “As much as I would love to give you a puppy, Reggie, you are incorrect. All of you are incorrect. I just did the best thing that is ever going to happen to Sunset Curve!”

Luke raised an eyebrow, curious at what his girlfriend could have done. “What did you do?” The group slowly walks towards (Y/N). Her smile thinned out as she took a pause for dramatic effect. However, the boys were anticipatingly waiting for her to say something. “WHAT?!” they outburst.

(Y/N) chuckled at the band, and she took out a piece of paper from her back pocket. She cleared her throat dramatically before readings out loud, “Dear Miss (Y/L/N). Thank you for sending us Sunset Curve’s demo and sharing their amazing talent. We would like to offer them the chance of a lifetime. On July 22nd, we would like to invite Sunset Curve to perform here at the…” (Y/N) looks up at the guys who got even closer to her and each other.

“Perform where?!” Reggie shouts.

(Y/N) smiles even wider than ever before she throws her arms in the air and shouts, “TO PERFORM AT THE ORPHEUM BABY!” All four boy’s eyes widened and screamed out happy cheers. Luke tackles (Y/N) in the biggest hug. She wraps her legs around his waist as he ran to the drive way to spin her around.

“This is amazing!” Luke exclaimed, putting his girlfriend down. “You really are our lucky charm!” (Y/N) blushes at the compliment. Luke then presses his lips to hers to give her a sweet kiss. She smiles in the kiss as she is the happiest she has ever been.

“Hey, Patterson. Let us give (Y/N/N) some lovin’!” Bobby tugged on Luke’s shoulders which makes the couple pull away from each other. Alex, Bobby, and Reggie then take their chance to hug (Y/N). Luke joined in by hugging her from behind. They boys thanked the girl over and over again as they were in their group hug.

“Guys!” (Y/N)’s voice muffled from the inside of the hug. “One of you guys need to put on deodorant. Plus, I can’t breathe in here!” They all laughed at her and pulled away from the hug, but Luke kept his arms wrapped around the girl from behind.

“What would we do without you?” Alex smiles.

(Y/N) let out a playful sigh, “I don’t know. Never be able to play anywhere?” She giggled at her own joke. Luke sneaks in a kiss on the cheek. “Alright boys, you need to start rehearsing now that you have this mega-important life changing gig! I will order some pizza and soda so we can celebrate even more tonight!”

“You’re the best (Y/N)!” Bobby says before walking back into the studio with Alex and Reggie.

“You really are the best,” Luke whispers in (Y/N) ear. She turns around and gives him a peck on the lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too”

Julie felt her heart drop at the thought of Luke hurting even more for leaving behind two of the most important women in is life. Luke is not that open about his past life. Julie couldn’t imagine the pain he has been going through. Alex and Reggie had tears welling up in their eyes as they finished telling the story of how they booked the Orpheum gig. Her mind wandered to a song that she saw when she was flipping through Luke’s song book when Luke wanted to show her Sunset Curve songs. She remembered walking to the studio to hear Luke singing a song she never heard before, but she recognized some of the lyrics from his song book. “She sounds amazing. Do you guys have an old photo of her at all?” Julie questions.

Reggie looks at Alex, knowing he has a picture. “Yeah, I do actually. However, Luke doesn’t know, so please don’t tell him we have this,” Alex says, walking over to his fanny pack that was near his drums.

Julie tilts her head to the side in confusion, “Why doesn’t he know about you having a picture of her?”

Alex grabs his fanny pack and unzips it. “Luke’s been pretty happy recently, but I know that thinking about (Y/N) makes him a little sad. I would hate to show him a picture that brings back all these happy memories to make him sad that they didn’t get to have more of a life together,” Alex explains. Julie slowly nods her head.

Alex reaches in his back and grabs the polaroid picture. He walks back to Julie and hands her the photo. She slightly smiles at the picture. It was of (Y/N) and Luke. (Y/N) had a big smile on her face as Luke was giving her a kiss on the cheek. You could see the pure happiness radiating from the photograph. “Wow, she’s really pretty. Luke was a lucky guy!” Julie compliments. “You know, I’m sure Luke would love to have this picture. I think it’s time you guys should give it to him.”

Julie hands the picture back to Alex. Reggie started to play with his fingers nervously. Alex analyzes the picture in his hand and puts it in his back pocket. “We should probably go look for him,” Alex says quietly. Reggie nods his head and stands closer to Alex. Julie gives the boys a slight smile before they poofed out of the studio.

*****

Luke was sitting at the beach, the water hitting his feet when it came to shore. He watched the sunset which was helping him calm down. Him and (Y/N) liked to come to the beach and watch the sunrise, the sunset, and star gaze all the time! This was their spot when they wanted to get away from everyone and have a bit of privacy with just them two. They would invite the band sometimes to have bonfires and eat s’mores after a gig. Luke watched the lifers around him playing in the water and having fun at the beach. He wished he could join the teenagers jamming in a big circle across the beach.

Suddenly, he hears a poof behind him. He turns around to see Alex and Reggie. “Well, you guys found me,” Luke quietly says, turning back to face the sunset. In his peripheral vision, he saw his friends sit on both sides of him, Alex on his right and Reggie on his left.

“I figured you would be here. You are kind of predicable sometimes,” Alex says. Luke nods his head slightly, agreeing with Alex. “What’s up, Luke?”

Luke lets out a heavy sigh. He takes a handful of sun and lets it fall in-between his fingers. “I just..” he starts. “I just wish I could see her again. I wish I could hold her. I want to know how she’s doing. I wish I knew where she was, so I could see her one last time…”

Reggie patted Luke’s back to try to comfort him, “It’s okay, buddy. I know we all wish we could see her again.”

Luke shakes his head, angry tears forming in his eyes. “Sometimes I wish we didn’t die when we did. There was so much we wanted to do as a band, and there was so much I wanted to do with (Y/N),” Luke exclaims.

Luke shifts his weight to the left to reach in his front pocket. What he takes out of his pocket shocks Alex and Reggie. Luke is holding their best friends charm bracelet. “Wait, you’ve had this this whole time?” Alex asks. Luke nods his head, a tear finally falling on his cheek. Luke turns the bracelet to have the clover charm facing him.

“I found it at my parent’s house. When I first went there to visit them, I went to look at my room to see if anything changed. I found it on my bed with some of my flannels she stole. I don’t know why she would give it back. Maybe because looking at it gave her so much pain. I can’t imagine the pain she went through,” Luke explains.

Alex glances at Reggie who had tears brewing in his eyes as well. He suddenly became anxious as he wasn’t sure how Luke was about to react with what Alex was about to give him. He nervously fidgets before he speaks, “I actually have something to show you.”

Luke turns his gaze to Alex. Alex opens his fanny pack to reach for the photograph. Luke looks at his friend’s hand to see the polaroid picture. He hesitantly grabs the photo. He lets out a sad chuckle. It was the picture of (Y/N) and Luke. “Where did you find this?” Luke asks.

“I found it when I found our stuff upstairs in the loft. I’m sorry I didn’t give this to you earlier,” Alex apologizes.

Luke shakes his head to dismiss Alex’s apology. He studies the picture of the two of them. He remembered this day vividly. It was him and (Y/N)’s first date. He had taken her to a drive-in movie and ice cream. The picture was taken right before the movie had started. (Y/N) had always taken polaroid pictures for the memories. She had given this to Luke because she wanted him to remember that day, but how could he forget? He would never forget her or the memories they shared.

(Y/N) and Luke were setting up the back of his truck before the movie. Luke was spreading out the blanket and pillows while (Y/N) was grabbing the snacks from the front. Once they finished, they jumped in the trunk and started to get comfortable. “Are you excided?” Luke asks (Y/N).

She pulls the blanket to her lap, “Yes! I’ve always wanted to go to a drive-in movie!” Luke smiles at her excitedness.

“I know!” Luke says. (Y/N) slightly smiles and looks down at her lap, blushing. “Which snack would you like to eat first, m’lady?” he asks in a dramatic British accent.

(Y/N) giggles. “Hmmm, why sir pass me the sour gummy worms!” she replies too in a silly British accent.

Luke chuckles, grabs the snack, and hands it to her. She opens the bag and takes out a blue and red gummy worm. She eats the blue side first and looks at Luke who was watching her the whole time. She could feel her cheeks getting warmer. She flicks her wrist to give the red side of the gummy worm to Luke. He looks at the gummy worm before grabbing it and taking a bite. “This is crazy, you know?” (Y/N) admits.

Luke sits up a bit and furrows his brows. “How?” he questions.

She shrugs. “I don’t know,” she mumbles. “Sitting here.. on a date.. with one of my best friends who I’ve had a crush on for forever. I never thought it would actually happen.”

She kept her gaze on her lap, playing with a gummy worm. Luke cocks his head to the side to try to get her to look at him. However, she continues to look down. He takes his hand and pushes her chin gently to face her towards him. She looks into his green eyes. “Well, you better believe it because I wouldn’t want to be on a date with anyone else,” he says. He tilts her head down and gives her a kiss on the forehead.

(Y/N) then remembered that she had her camera in her bag. “Wait!” she exclaims. Luke moves to the side a bit as she reaches for her bag that is behind them. She unzips her bag to grab her polaroid camera. “I want to take a picture!”

“How come you always bring that where ever you go?” Luke wonders.

She fidgets the camera in her hands. “I want to create memories. I want to remember my adventures and experiences. I want to remember it all, so I take pictures,” she says, checking to see if she has enough film.

Luke smiles, “That’s amazing!”

(Y/N) scoots closer to Luke and angles the camera up to get them both in frame. They smile, getting ready to take the picture. He then had an idea for a great picture. Right as she pushes the button, he kisses her cheek. (Y/N) smiles even wider and lets out a slight giggle. The film shoots out and she grabs the photo. She looks at Luke who was smiling like a kid in a candy store. You could see the love and adore in his eyes. Luke flicks his eyes to her lips for a second, but it was enough for her to notice. He leans in, but she stops him. “I thought you weren’t supposed to kiss until after the date. Or even on the first date at all?” (Y/N) jokes.

“We can be different,” Luke smirks before giving her a kiss. As his lips touch her, she takes in a large breath and leans forward in the kiss. He takes his hand and places it on her cheek to deepen the kiss. Butterflies were flying around in their stomachs. (Y/N) pulls away slowly.

Luke opens his eyes to see her cheeks were bright red. “The movies about to start,” (Y/N) says. He chuckles and pecks her lips one more time. They shift around to where they were laying down, resting on the pillows behind them. (Y/N)’s head rested on Luke’s shoulder. She grabs the bag of sour gummy worms and takes a handful out. “Gummy worms?” she asks Luke.

Luke looks down to see her handing him some gummy worms. “Don’t mind if I do,” he says and takes the candy out of her hand to place it on his chest. As the movie starts, Luke smiles to himself. He’s on one of many dates him and (Y/N) will be on, and he couldn’t wait.

Luke didn’t notice that he was full on sobbing when he was reminiscing on the past. He suddenly felt a hand rubbing his back, trying to comfort him. He looks to see Reggie comforting him. Luke pats Reggie on the back to thank him. “It’s okay to be sad, Luke,” Alex says. Luke looks at Alex and nods. “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

Luke thins his lip in a sad smile. Luke puts the photo and the bracelet back in his front pocket. He wipes his wet face and sniffs the snot that his slightly falling out of his nose. “Let’s get back to the studio. Even though we don’t sleep, I need a nap,” Luke says, getting up and wiping the sand off of his pants.

Luke looks around the beach once more to see the lifers having fun. Alex and Reggie follow Luke’s actions and stand up as well. Luke walks towards the teenagers still playing their guitars and singing around the fire. He watches them smile and laugh with one another. Alex places his hand on Luke’s shoulder to signal that they should leave.

Before they poofed back to the studio, Luke noticed someone in the distance. He saw someone watching the group of teenagers like he was. He noticed the (Y/H/C) girl wiping away a tear from her eye. Then, their eyes connected. He recognized those (Y/E/C) eyes. He squints and walks closer to get a better look. He halted as he got a little closer. His heart beat quickened at the sight of her.

“(Y/N)?” he whispered before the girl poofed away. Luke’s breath started to quicken as he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Luke?” Reggie called out. Luke turned around. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I just saw (Y/N)!”

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson x reader #jatp luke #japt #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagine

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shoutogepi · 4 years

Text

Jealousy Has Its Perks

Todoroki Shouto

word count : 10.4K holy shit im tired

[ ✘ (nsfw!), ☀︎ ] sin with a cute ending

themes : jealous,dom!shouto, brat,sub!reader, friends with benefits, degradation, quirk use, edging, overstimulation, general bdsm things, & a sweet lil confession

bio : Even though you’re not his, Shouto can’t help but turn green with envy when he sees you dancing on another man at the club.

author’s note : uhhhh can i get a hell yeahhHHH for jealous fwb trope? lmao my basic ass loves these. hope y’all do too <3

also available on AO3 here

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅂hinsou’s hands land on your waist, cold fingertips pressing into your exposed midriff and guiding your hips along with his. The circular motion has your head spinning, and you let your skull fall back onto his sturdy chest at the feeling of his semi brushing against your ass. Shinsou’s purple locks tickle your neck as he bends and presses his lips to your skin, sucking on the skin just hard enough to leave a ghost of a bruise. His hands cup your hips, squeezing the flesh there softly while his thumbs trace the crest of the bones.

The song blasting through the club changes, a novel and heavy bass causing your throat to vibrate. The sudden need to quench your thirst emerges, and you pull away from the handsome man regretfully. His lavender irises regard you with understanding as you point to the bar, holding up a finger to signal you won’t be long.

Your heels stick to the dancefloor slightly as you cut through the throngs of club-goers, and unsurprisingly a handful of guys attempt to stop you on your travels. Finding a familiar pink head of hair, you slip into the empty spot next to Ashido and let out a sigh of relief as your elbows land on the wooden counter. Perspiration makes the hairs at the back of your neck stick to your skin, and you fan yourself with a cocktail napkin as you attempt to catch the bartender’s attention.

“Not doing so bad for yourself, Y/N,” Ashido grins at you coyly, her words a tad slurred as her black eyes give you a once-over.

You let out a chuckle, painted lips curving knowingly. “Yeah, well… he used to have a crush on me back in the day,” you explain with a nonchalant shrug, finally giving your order to the woman behind the bar. You look at Shinsou over your shoulder, who has returned to his table of friends and is currently being shoved, high-fived, and noogied animatedly.

Ashido gasps exaggeratedly, her mouth turning from an ‘o’ of shock to a grin of delight. “Two heroes wrapped around your finger at once? I can’t believe you,” she laughs, perhaps too hard, because you have to hold her arm tightly to keep her from falling off her stool.

“Hey now, I’m a free woman!” You reason, thanking the bartender as they hand you an icy glass. “I can fool around with whoever I want, thank you very much.”

“Can’t argue with sound logic,” Ashido taps your glass with hers, throwing back the remaining contents of her drink. “You know, you should tap Bakugou, too. Last night, he Lord-Explosion-Murdered this pussy.”

You snort, the alcohol burning your nostrils as it leaks into your nose from the abrupt reaction to Mina’s words. All the pink-haired woman does is laugh with you, the both of you maybe a step past tipsy but not nearly blackout drunk. Not yet, anyway.

“Shinsou though, really? I’m surprised… I thought you were too in love with IcyHot’s dick to tap anybody else,” Ashido teases, poking your shoulder as a frown forms on your face. Her words are playful, but they send irritation surging through your veins. That asshole had cancelled your weekly appointment tonight, which is why you’re here at the club, prowling for a suitable replacement.

You shrug again, allowing the bitter liquid to drift past your lips before you speak again. “What can I say? He knows how to get the job done, and he’s sexy as hell.”

“You sound a little smitten. He must be pretty damn good,” Ashido wiggles her brows at you, a devious smile making its way to her face.

You disregard her comment, looking away from your friend with an eye roll. Smitten? Your relationship with Shouto is strictly physical. But maybe you had been a bit too disappointed when he’d sent you that text earlier. Shaking your head, you take a gulp of your drink, willing the intrusive thought to disappear.

Ashido’s phone vibrates and you watch her face light up at the message. After a brief moment, she stands, collecting her jacket and purse. “Hmm, seems like Bakugou is calling for an emergency meeting,” she winks at you, flashing you a rather lewd photo of the blonde that was clearly not meant for you to see as she walks away. “Give my regards to Shinsou! I wanna hear about all the nasty stuff he does to you with that mind control quirk of his.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that, sighing as you cross your arms. Would Shinsou really be enough to satisfy your cravings? His quirk does interest you sexually, but it’s unclear if he’d be willing to dominate you like that. He always seemed like the type to go with the flow… and tonight, you really need someone to force you to swim against the current, so to speak.

“Shinsou, huh?”

Speak of the icy devil. The voice behind you makes your body still, your eyes widening at his deep tone. The scent of his encaptivating cologne infiltrates the air around you, and a hand slides around your waist, pushing you backwards against his firm chest. You swallow, your tongue poking out to wet your lips in anticipation. What’s he doing here?

“Already forgetting about me, angel?” Lips ghost over the shell of your ear, his hand gliding across your torso until it reaches the other side of your waist, grabbing there and spinning you around. He catches you as you turn, snatching your wrist with his other hand to steady your half-finished drink.

You look up into his heterochromatic eyes, noticing a new emotion simmering there. Is that… jealousy? His cold breath fans over your flushed face, and you bask in the cool relief it provides in contrast to the stuffy club air. “It was you who cancelled our appointment,” you murmur, feigning innocence as you look to the side in a faux-bashful manner, “I needed to find a substitute. A girl has needs, you know.”

Shouto grins down at you, but it seems like more of a snarl as his eyes glare down at you with hostility. One eyebrow raised in mockery, he chuckles lowly. “And Shinsou Hitoshi is gonna do that for you? Are you sure he’s big enough to fill my shoes, angel?”

Your eyes wander back to the intimidating man before you, lingering on the ridges of his muscular form hidden underneath his button-up and slacks. Feeling brave, you down the rest of your drink, tongue rolling out and over the lip of the emptied glass. Shouto’s eyes burn as they follow the movement, his lips parting slightly while his grip tightens on your waist. Shooting him a playful smile, you tug your wrist free, placing the vacant glass on the bar. “What are you even doing here, Shouto?” You change the subject, hand reaching up to tug on his slim tie as a cheeky grin splits your lips. “You don’t like to have fun.”

The action causes him to lean closer to you, his face next to yours. “I was dragged here against my own will, of course— boy’s night. But would you believe my surprise when I saw my little minx walk in, all eyes on her in her skimpiest dress?” His baritone voice loud and clear despite the blaring music, his lips hover dangerously close. The hand you’d freed strikes your ass abruptly, causing you to jump closer to him in shock. His fingers hold the reddened cheek through the thin material of your dress, gathering you into his chest. No one seems bothered by the blatantly sexual action in the club, everyone distracted with their drinks and their own sensual pursuits. “And then, can you imagine how I felt watching her grind up against mind-control, watching him put his filthy fucking hands on what’s mine?”

You let out a heavy breath, delighted at how responsive he is. How possessive he is. “What’s yours?” You challenge, hands landing on his broad chest. His expression makes you press your legs together eagerly, your body starting to bend to his will.

Shouto’s hand leaves your waist to cradle the back of your neck, forcing you to bend your gaze to meet his. “Mine,” he whispers, his lips inching closer to yours by the second. Your pulse pounding, your fingers curling into the cotton of his shirt, your eyes flutter closed. His lips brush over yours, and then he pulls away.

A whine of protest escapes you, and you shove your palms against his chest in annoyance. But he doesn’t even budge, his fingers slipping into your hair and pulling your defiant face to look at him.

“Let’s get outta here, angel,” he nods toward the exit, releasing you and lightly smacking your ass again before his fingers settle at the small of your back, “I think I need to remind you who you belong to.” Shivers shoot down your spine at his choice of words, effectively drowning the bratty response you were so ready to quip at him. Without even a glance at Shinsou, you allow Shouto to guide you out of the establishment and into the crisp night air.

The brisk walk to his luxurious apartment is silent, but laden with anticipation. Your brain begins to ponder if his words had a deeper meaning. The two of you had been engaging in this affair for months now— you aren’t quite sure how it came to be. Your relationship had remained stringently physical, but you couldn’t help the butterflies that filled your stomach when he held you through the night, when his hands would rub your exhausted body tenderly, and when he would kiss you for hours before you’d slip into a satiated, peaceful slumber. And you did not dare to acknowledge the warmth that would blossom in your chest when you’d drowsily awake, still swaddled against his muscular chest with his arms around you as sunlight peeked through the blinds. Physical, yes— your relationship is only physical… regardless of the fuzzy feelings that ebb through you when you’re next to him.

And when he had proposed to have you come over twice in one weekend, you’d nearly panicked at the raw excitement that coursed through you at the premise. After much consideration you had denied his request, fearful that if you allowed yourself even a shred of further indulgence you’d be entirely consumed by the captivating man. He hadn’t overstepped that boundary since, and you weren’t sure if you felt appreciative or disappointed.

Your train of thought is interrupted as you reach the tall doors of his apartment building. The complex is perhaps one of the most expensive in the city— the lobby boasts flat leather sofas and sleek wooden tables. Lush tropical plants with leaves as wide as tennis rackets break up the space, magnificent orchids dotting the area just sparingly enough, and to top it off, an entire wall with running water rushing over the flat surface, creating a sheet of liquid that trickles quietly as you wait for the elevator.

Next to you, Shouto has his hands in his pockets, a blank expression on his face as usual. But after months of getting to know him, you can easily recognize the irritation lingering on his handsome mug. You are not able to think of any words that could possibly calm Shouto’s crackling, brooding intensity, but honestly, a large part of you desperately wants to find out what exactly he has in store for you. It’s clear that he has no intention of forgetting you were about to leave with another man, and his blatant acrimony brings a sliver of joy to you while jealousy oozes out of his every pore— you know you’re in for a wild night.

When the door closes with a deafening click behind you, your body freezes as you wait with bated breath. Sure enough, two large hands curl around your stomach, coasting down your pelvis in a V shape. His long fingers nearly graze your clothed slit, but he changes direction at the last moment, instead securing his palms on your inner upper thighs. He rubs the flesh there roughly, making your head fall back against his shoulder as you gaze up at him. His smoky eyes are already on you, a smirk decorating his pretty lips as his fingers work on your sensitive muscles. Thumbs brushing against the sides of your panties, his movements push the hem of your short dress up along your hips.

“You need to be fucked pretty bad, huh, angel?” He taunts, analyzing how your ass rubs zealously against his crotch. His smirk only grows as you nod, your hand flying up to grapple onto his bicep. “Bad enough to drop your standards so embarrassingly low?”

You snort at his words, turning your head so your eyes catch his. This asshole has some nerve getting jealous after he was the one who cancelled on you. “Shinsou is just as hot as you, Shouto,” you reply boldly, wondering what exactly the price of your words will be. How far can you push this envious beast? Will you be able to take his punishment?

Shouto’s expression darkens, allowing his hair to fall over his eyes as his stare falls to the floorboards. His hands leave your skin, and you whirl around ready to dish out another line, but he’s already a step ahead of you. He lashes out, yanking your body against his by swooping his hand underneath your thigh and cupping your bare ass. He lifts your body so your heels leave the floor, rushing to press your back flat against the drywall. He’s hoisted you up high enough to set your ass against the thin, tall table next to the door which usually holds his keys.

Your legs parted with him standing between them, he places his hands on the tops of your thighs. A low chuckle rumbles out of him, his tidy fingernails trailing up your flesh. “Just as hot as me, hmm? Is he really, Y/N?” His left hand jumps from your thigh to your cunt, the only barrier between you two your skimpy panties. The heat emanating off his palm catches you off guard, a moan tearing out of you as he easily cups your covered sex, sending a searing fever through your body.

“Fuck,” you whimper, hips bucking instinctively against his palm, your body hoping for some kind of friction. The heat makes your pussy twitch, stirring as a cat slowly pulled from a deep slumber.

He tilts his head, as if he doesn’t understand why you’re breathless. “Huh? What was that?” He wiggles his fingertips a bit, enjoying how you whine as the ends of his blistering fingers dig into your core through the material of your panties. Your wetness drips through the thin cloth to coat his hot digits, making it easier to glide them against you.

“More, Shouto,” you squeak, panting heavily as his fingers rub along your slit at an infuriatingly slow pace.

Shouto lets out a low purr of satisfaction at your plea, savoring how your smooth leg tenses up underneath his other palm. Your sweet whimpers are music to his ears, his right hand moving around your thigh to meander toward your ass. “No, baby. Not until my angel answers me,” he murmurs, ducking his head down and placing his lips against the delicate skin on your neck.

A wayward moan evades your gasping lungs as his tongue ravishes your flesh, his teeth scraping over the wet skin. Your legs wrap around his waist, wiggling your body forward so your soft breasts press up against his hard chest, your cunt inching closer to his crotch. “Ugh— nooo,” you gasp as a fingertip presses harshly against your core, just barely pushing your panties into your pussy.

“No? No what?” He laughs darkly, his breath tickling your sensitive collarbone. He draws back from you, his intense gaze focusing on the other side of your neck before he looks directly at you, a sinister glint in his eyes.

Your lip trembling, the brat you’d been so ready to let free is for once taciturn at his dominance. Your submissive nature leaking out in desperation, you whine when his fingertip recedes slightly, leaving your panties barely inside of you without the pressure you really want. “No— Shinsou’s not nearly as hot as you, Shouto!” You rush out, heavy breaths making your chest rise and fall swiftly, restless for his touch to return to you.

But Shouto does not seem appeased by your admission. In fact, his gaze becomes a glare, his mouth curling into a snarl as he grabs your hips, crushing your body against his. “I hate hearing another man’s name come out of your pretty little mouth, Y/N,” he growls.

You’re shocked by his possessiveness, your eyes widening like saucers as his teeth skim your pouting lips. His proclamation makes a cocktail of doubt and lust unfurl in the corners of your body, but you’re torn as you wonder if he really thinks of you as his. Before you can ponder the meaning behind his statement, his eyelids shut and he smashes his lips onto yours.

Your arms are around his neck in less than a second, all thoughts vanishing as your nails scratch his scalp through the short, buzzed hair at the base of his undercut. He groans against your mouth, eliciting a moan from you in response. He takes the opportunity in stride, his hot tongue thrusting into your mouth as hot steam puffs out his nose, his calloused hands squeezing your body carnally. Your lips dance with his clumsily, your other hand cupping the corner of his sharp jawline and pulling his lips closer to yours.

He pulls away from you as your hips begin to grind against his, his eyes still closed with his lips pulling back into a snarky smile. Your needy mewl of disappointment makes his eyes slit open, regarding you with a predatory gaze. He takes in your desirous expression, his stare cold yet sizzling with passion. “You let him defile your perfect skin, angel?”

The hickey Shinsou had left is barely even that— nearly indistinguishable from your skin tone— yet Shouto’s eyes make the flesh on your neck blister with his scalding intensity. Your cheeks flush red, his words fanning the fire inside of you as you bite your lip. You had hoped he wouldn’t notice, but now you realize it was foolish of you to even allow yourself to think his perceptive gaze would skip over something so blatant.

“This heavenly body is mine to mark,” he hisses, a hand fisting your hair and pulling your neck back roughly to reveal the hidden skin from the shadows. The vaguely purple mark now on display in the dim mood lighting of his entryway, more steam billows from the man as he sneers in contempt. “And only mine. Got it, baby?” He does not allow you to answer— his mouth attacks the bruise, harshly sucking the skin while he washes away any recollection of the other man with ferocious swipes from his strong tongue.

Your back bows, your body wriggling in his grasp at the surge of devastating arousal that pulses through you. You shriek his name, hands clawing hysterically into his shoulder and the soft hair atop his head. Your pussy clenches around nothing, making you very aware of the aching need for him to claim you building in your core. Your legs snag his hips closer to yours, his body crashing into you as he grunts, lips finally releasing your battered skin. Without a doubt, the once indistinct mark is now more akin to the remnants of a punch to the throat, the colors already eclipsing into a deep shade of violet.

The lust crackles in the air between you two like thunder, your body a savannah ready to receive the generous relief of the first deluge in months. God, it’d only been a week since you last saw the man, but the unmitigated yearning for him to ravage you is the only emotion you can process.

“Please, Shouto, I need you to fuck me,” you beg, the words slipping out of you like a wet bar of soap from your desperate clutches. You’re mortified at your shamefully wanton admission, your cheeks still red and your body flushed, nearly shaking. You are not accustomed to this submissive side of yourself, but the brat inside of you only watches on in avid curiosity. If he doesn’t escalate this tryst fast enough, you’re afraid your body will fold like a limp noodle in his strong arms.

Shouto seems just as affected as you, his pupils dilated and his erection painfully straining against the confines of his slacks. His hands leave your frame, going to loosen the collar of his shirt by yanking his tie loose and then beginning to unbuckle his belt. You lean forward, your lips meeting his again as your fingers eagerly land on his cheeks, beckoning him closer to you. He moans into your mouth, fist nearly ripping the leather belt from the loops on his slacks, the metal of the snake-shaped buckle klinking loudly as he discards it carelessly onto the tabletop. Hands trailing up your spine, he tugs the zipper of your dress down your back, effortlessly lifting your hips in one hand to slip the garment under your ass and off your legs.

The inferno of jealousy ignites once again as he appraises your figure, clad in a matching set of white silky lace adorned with satin ribbons on each hip and one beneath the valley of your breasts. You’d worn this and Shinsou had almost seen such a marvel? Seen your delectable body in this gorgeous lingerie that he himself had never feasted his starved eyes upon?

Unaware of his change in mood, your lips move along his, begging for him to kiss you back as your tongue swipes his full bottom lip. His palms slide along your back, moving to cup your ass cheeks as he picks you up. You nibble on his earlobe as he swiftly carries you to his bedroom, his fingers jabbing into your behind in response. He kicks open the ajar door forcefully, unflinching as the doorknob nearly cracks the wall. Sliding onto the edge of the mattress, he sits with you on his lap, your legs still secure around his torso. His rough palms glide over your hips, rounding your waist and seizing your breasts, lifting the flesh to sit more perkily on your chest in perfectly round spheres.

“Why are you so fucking gorgeous, Y/N?” He groans, eyes closing in pleasure as you feel his cock twitch beneath you. He presses his mouth to the supple skin just above the cusp of the bra, slurping and nipping and leaving a trail of pretty pink marks. “You’re damn ethereal, angel.”

You’re gasping for air, hips unabashedly rolling against his, the feeling of his strained length making your desire for him to fuck you senseless multiply. Your hands latch onto his broad shoulders to steady yourself, your mind spinning dizzily with desire and the prolonged buzz from your earlier drinks.

“Take off my tie.”

The command rouses you from your far-away state, your fingers slightly trembling as you work on the silky material of the tie. After what seems like an eternity, the knot loosens and the tie slides off his neck into your hands. Shouto’s lips cover yours again, instantly enchanting you so that you don’t notice the sleek item slip through your fingers.

All of a sudden your front meets the cool sheets, your lips ripped away from his. Instead your face meets his pillow, engulfing your senses in the sexy, virile smell of him. You moan into the pillow, ass pushing into the air as your cunt throbs between your legs, ready to be taken in whatever manner he decides. His knees land on either side of your hips, his bulge rubbing into your ass teasingly as his hands close around your wrists. Tugging them behind your back carefully, he loops the tie around the both of them and fastens the knot with a firm pull, jerking once more for good measure.

You swallow into the pillow, teeth poking out to capture your bottom lip when he trails a sole finger along your spine. He’d never tied you up like this before, and the concept excites you to the point that your arousal visibly permeates your white panties.

“Do you feel that?” Shouto inquires, rutting his hips against your bottom so his clothed cock rubs between your ass cheeks. He’s panting lightly, his palms groping your ass and pinching the skin torturously. “Can you feel how much I want you, Y/N?”

“Fuck yes,” you answer, your head turning to lay against the pillow so he can see half your face and hear your voice. “I want you too, Shouto— I need you.”

He sighs at your saccharine words, almost swayed by your submissive antics. If he gives in now, his cock could be in your tight hole in just seconds… But then he wouldn’t get to have his way with you.

“Mmm, you’re cute when you’re desperate, baby,” he remarks, grasping your hips and pulling you down the sheets. He maneuvers you over his lap, and your eyes bug out of your skull as you assume position, knowing what comes next— he’d only done this once before but the memories of that night makes your pussy twinge excitedly. Your arms tied behind your back, your face dangles perilously beside his ankle, your forehead almost skimming the wooden floor. Your body is stiff, and Shouto hums as his hands drift along every inch of your back, ass, and the backs of your thighs.

“I wanna give you what you want, angel, but I promised I would remind you who you belong to, didn’t I?” His words are phrased like a question, but his tone implies them as a statement. Unsure what he wants, you keep quiet, waiting for him to continue.

Apparently, that’s the wrong move, because his freezing hand slaps down hard onto your ass. A mix between a shout and a whine falls out of your lips, your fingers clutching onto themselves in apprehension. Your breathing picks up, ascending into a pant as his other hand caresses the reddened skin with a soothing heat exuding from his palm.

“Did you know I was going to be at the club tonight?”

His question catches you off guard, and you think for a moment before replying with a simple, honest “No.”

Shouto lets out a long sigh, his warm hand leaving your ass and making you tense in preparation.

“So you wore this little number thinking you would just show it to whomever you went home with?” Oh, that’s where he’s going with this.

Again, you’re not sure how to answer. Either way will be unsatisfactory— either you say yes and that would certainly result in a jealous smack, or you say no and he’d spank you for lying to him. You cannot come to a decision fast enough, and the next frigid slap across your other ass cheek steals your breath away as you whimper, your pussy clenching in sadistic delight.

“Answer me, angel. Or I’ll turn this flawless little ass of yours scarlet.”

“I bought it for you!” You blurt out meekly, your cheeks flushing with mortification. It’s not a direct answer to his question, but it’s more than enough to amuse him.

The warmth of his left hand feels hotter this time as it curves around your irritated skin. “Oh?” Shouto all but purrs, his brow raised in interest. “For me, angel?”

You nod, even though your head is below his eye level. “I was gonna wear it tonight, just for you,” you whisper sincerely, blush bright red as your thumbs rub over your knuckles in a self-soothing manner. Deciding you’re already deep enough into your embarrassing confession, you finish your thought with your eyes scrunched shut as you prepare yourself for what you know will come next. “But you rainchecked, so I… thought Shinsou might enjoy it instead.”

Shouto remains eerily quiet for a moment, your heartbeat accelerating wildly as he leaves you waiting, questioning just how he will react. Your body jumps as his left hand swirls around your hips, his arm resting on your back to gather your ass higher across his lap. The neat bows on your panties unravel at your hips, the cool air hitting your swollen cunt as the material is snatched away and discarded. He forces you to wait for another dizzying pause, the urge to squirm in his grasp tempting but you force yourself to stay motionless.

Tears spring into your eyes as his palm crashes against you, his arctic hand causing your body to thrash in recoil, and a strong gust of chilled wind slapping against your dripping folds. A shaky breath escapes you, morphing into a distraught cry when his hot thumb plunges into your aching core, rubbing and curling against your shuddering walls with spite.

“I thought I told you not to say his fucking name,” Shouto jeers, taking his thumb out of you to rub mercilessly betwen your petals, spreading your abundant slick with ease. Coasting down to your clit, he smirks as you sob, your legs quaking.

Your hips jut backwards on their own accord, forcing his thumb to penetrate your cunt again. You moan at the stimulation, squeezing the digit and grinding so it presses against your velvet walls.

He chuckles, pressing the finger as deep as he can and savoring the shameless wails the action induces. “How can you look so pure and act so naughty?” He wonders aloud, his frosty hand trailing along your thigh as he works his thumb inside of you. “You’re really just a little slut, aren’t you? Fucking yourself with my finger so brazenly.” He sighs as he feels your core clenching around his thumb, grinning as you whine at the loss of the digit.

“Please, just fuck me,” you exclaim, turning your face to look at his haughty gaze above you, “Make me forget about anyone else!”

Shouto pinches your inflamed ass cheek, forcing another whimper to croak out of your throat. “Aha, is that your game, angel? Want me to fuck you so hard I’m the only man you see? Fuck this little pussy so good no other cock can satisfy you, hmm?” He maneuvers your body effortlessly, positioning you to face him as you sit on his lap. The smooth material of his slacks irritates your sore ass slightly, but all you can bring yourself to do is nod, your arms shuffling behind you with the want to reach out and touch him.

His hands settle on the apex of your thighs, rugged fingertips soothing the skin there before he lifts your body, standing and placing you neatly on the floor before him. Casting an innocent look up at him, you shuffle to your knees, arching your back to your breasts and ass pop out for his aerial vantage point.

“You know what to do, don’t you baby?” Shouto snickers as he untucks his shirt and begins to snap open the buttons down the center of his chest, revealing his creamy skin to your lustful eyes. Leaving the shirt on with his abs on display, he undoes the clasp and zip at the front of his hips, slowly unveiling the delicious V tapering south below his slacks. You squirm in impatience, eyes glued to the trail of fine, bicolored hair he uncovers as his slacks sag tantalizingly slow. His thumbs slither underneath the elastic band across his pelvis, lowering the hem just enough to show you the base of his thick, hard cock. “Alright, angel,” he rumbles, and you feel a stray bead of arousal drip down your thigh at his gruff tone, “Convince me you deserve to have this cock in you.”

As soon as he shoves his briefs low enough for his length to spring free, your lips drown his cockhead with haste, your tongue welcoming his hot, heavy tip with eager flicks. Shouto groans when you suck abruptly, your cheeks hollowing as you allow his member to drive deeper into your mouth. His hand landing on the back of your head, you take that as your cue to leap forward, slamming the entirety of his impressive cock into your open throat as your nose brushes into his abdomen.

“Fuck, Y/N!” Shouto gasps, his hips bucking into your face and shoving the tip of his dick into the depths of your throat.

Tears beading in your eyes, you refuse to let up, releasing a loud moan that makes his cock vibrate. Shouto throws his head back, his fingers curling in your hair as his hips recede, leaving only the tip inside your mouth and you gratefully take in a breath of air before he shoves back in.

“You take my cock so well, angel— fuuuuck, just like that,” he grumbles, pistoning into your face at a slow, deep tempo, the back of your throat caressing his tip delectably as a fat tear races down your cheek. Your cheeks flush pink and your chest tightens from the lack of air, but Shouto’s low grunts falling on your greedy ears has your cunt pulsing with need, your spit trickling down your chin. Shouto’s rabid gaze locks with yours, monitoring your wet eyes and your pleading pout as he speaks, “You look so beautiful slobbering on me like this, my little slut.”

You flutter your eyelashes at him, humming on his length as you continue to bob back and forth. Your tongue lathering the veiny underside of his length, the promiscuous flavor of salty pre blooms on your tastebuds. Your head recedes back, keeping just the swollen head inside your mouth as you twirl your tongue in circles around him.

You pop his cock out of your mouth, and send him a closed-lip, coy smile as you smear the slick tip against your mouth. Shouto sighs when your half-lidded gaze meets his, your tongue poking out and curving to dawdle up and down his length.

“That’s enough, baby. Come here.” Shouto bends and picks you up from the floor, kneeling on the mattress and crawling toward the center with you in his arms. Your back collides with the silky sheets, your arms awkwardly stuck behind you with the tie rubbing your wrists. Shouto opens your legs, hovering over your body and making you suddenly feel small in comparison to him. Your cunt parts at the motion, exposing your twitching, saturated hole to him and sending a fresh blush to your cheeks. One hand propping himself up, the other stroking your cheek gingerly, he ushers you to look at him. He whispers to you, his voice calm yet enticing, “You want me to make you feel good, angel?”

“Please,” you implore, your voice hoarse and quiet from his abuse on your throat, “Please touch me, Shouto.” Your mind hazy with a lascivious fog clouding your senses, you can barely find the words to beg.

Even just his hands floating down to your breasts makes you shiver. Your lip between your teeth again, Shouto smirks at you as his fingers pinch the ribbon holding your bra together. Deliberately taking his time, he unravels the neat bow, examining how the silky fabric falls apart so smoothly. The bra cups fall to the side, exposing the smooth skin of your breasts to his feasting eyes. You release a string of mewls as his lips graze the marks he’d left behind earlier, darkening the blemishes with gentle bites. Tongue tracing around your areola, your thighs squeeze around his waist when the warm muscle brushes along a pebbled nipple. Pressing your lips together harshly as he sucks the pert bud into his mouth, your hips jolt against his. His hand kneads your other breast expertly, tweaking your nipple between his skilled fingers. The rough pads of his fingertips only make your nipples stand out more, scraping against you and sending your head spinning.

“You like that, Y/N? Want all my attention on you, don’t you, greedy girl?” Shouto purrs, your breast falling from his lips as he grins at your cheekily.

Swallowing another moan, your breath comes out ragged as you retort, “I could say the same for you, baby.” His fingers on your nipple press together in a pinch, eliciting a strained whimper from you.

Shouto chuckles, poking his tongue out to rove over your other breast, flicking the nub playfully before he speaks a single word. “Touché.” Drifting lower between your legs, his lips leave a wet path down your torso, nibbling and slickening your skin. His mouth littering your body with kisses, an artist eager to make a fresh blank canvas his own. Hot breath colliding with your glistening sex, he groans at the sight of you spread before him. “But damn, angel, can you really blame me?”

Without any warning, he thrusts his tongue into your folds, swiping vertically along your slit and dipping into your entrance with a moan, eyes closed as he relishes your sweet nectar. Your hips dig into the mattress as you struggle to handle the instant relief his touch provides, unfiltered noises of pleasure escaping you. One of his hands slides underneath your thigh to cup your ass and bring your body closer to his face.

Every time Shouto’s mouth is on you, you’re reminded of just how good he is at pleasuring you. He alternates between rubbing his tongue along your silky inner walls and curling the muscle around your clit, sucking the nerve into his mouth and applying just enough suction to steal your breath away. Your body reacts to his touch naturally, with each moan summoned true and raw.

His fingers prod your sex gently, coating the digits in your essence before they slide into your body at a snail’s pace. The friction of his touch inside of you makes your legs clamp around his head, eliciting a deep laugh from the man that reverberates against your clit. Your eyes roll backwards as he begins to pump the digits at a reasonable pace, knuckles curling deeply in search of that plush spot that makes you fall apart underneath him. Saliva mixing with your arousal, Shouto’s chin is drenched in the sinful concoction as he continues his hunt with determination.

“S-Shit,” you choke as his fingertips push into just the right place, your thighs gripping his head so tight you think you’ll crush him. But Shouto doesn’t seem to care, angling his wrist to gain better access, lithe fingers speeding up as his teeth graze your clit. His vigilant eyes fix on your face twisted in ecstasy, minding how your pussy begins to clench onto his digits in desperation, trying their best to suck them back inside. Your heels dig into his broad back as your body begins to squirm, preparing for your first orgasm of the night.

But just as you’re about to tip over the edge, Shouto pulls back. Your eyes fly open to look at him in distress, your lips parting with a gasp as your climax flees without a trace. “Shouto!” You hiss, regarding his sultry smirk in shock. This man has some audacity. “I was about to-”

He interrupts you, his fingers gliding back into your core without resistance, lips wrapping around your clit again. The sudden pleasure of the intensity stokes the mere embers of your previous orgasm with fervor, your head flinging backwards onto the pillow as your spine bows.

Your palms behind your back are slick with sweat, your hardened nipples cutting into the still air of the room as your body writhes on its own accord. Your thighs tremble ever-so-slightly on top of his shoulders, your eyes shutting again as you try your best to hold in your whimpers.

But Shouto doesn’t like that, his mouth abandoning your pearl to snarl, “If you wanna cum I’ve gotta hear your voice. I wanna hear you beg for me, baby.”

His dirty words send a new wave of humiliation crashing over you, your mind horrified at your body’s betrayal. Your submissive demeanor is by no means akin to your usual behavior during your weekly rendezvous, and you’re honestly impressed and shocked that Shouto had coaxed it out with such ease. Already you can feel the tension building in your core, your body happily receptive of his generous caress. Your chest heaves as you attempt to even your frazzled breaths, but once your focus switches to that, the pleasure increases exponentially between your legs. Your cunt quivers obviously, Shouto’s eyebrow raising as he shoots you a taunting look.

“I’m the only one who can get you so close so quick, angel. Aren’t I?” His mouth leaves your clit to speak but his teeth capture the nerve instead as he speaks, his hot breath steaming against your throbbing cunt.

Your chin against your chest, you nod vigorously, your hips inching closer to close the distance between your cunt and his mouth. Your fingers curled into fists against the sheets, your back sticks to the sheets with perspiration.

Shouto shakes his head, teeth releasing your aching clit as he clicks his tongue at you. “I said, let me hear you, Y/N.” His fingers pull out, the fingertips just barely inside as he rims your entrance, just enough to keep your pussy throbbing. He exhales, an icy breath rushing over your sopping sex.

“N-No!” You wail, your voice nearly breaking as your orgasm fades away once again. You were so fucking close! You let out another sob, tossing your head to the side in humiliating agony.

“There’s that divine voice of yours,” Shouto chuckles, nipping your inner thigh playfully. Taking his fingers away, his thumb replaces them as it glides over your soaked slit, dipping into your clenched core amusedly before tearing it away again. Your destitute whine only feeds his dominance, and he rolls his thumb over your puffy nerve gently, enjoying how your hips buck weakly in response. “Come on now, angel. Just tell me what I want to hear.”

Your chest jolts as his thumb presses down just a pinch, cruising down to rub your entrance brusquely. “You’re the only one that can make me so breathless, Shouto. Please,” your voice wavers as you grovel, eyes locking with his, “Please, make me cum! I need your touch, I need your cock, I— I need you!”

Shouto’s gaze flickers for a moment before he smirks, ducking down to kiss your clit softly. “See, baby? Was that so hard?” He murmurs, his words rumbling on your shivering pussy before his tongue parts your folds, driving deep inside you.

You scream at the intense bliss as his thumb works quickly over your clit, his tongue assaulting your velvet insides. Your thighs weakly tighten around his head, your body unable to stay still as the pleasure wracks through you. Lewd moans and swears tumble out of you as you grind against his face, thrilled by the way his tongue never tires. The pressure between your legs is back and faster heightening, your eyes flying open in shock at how astonishingly fast your climax is approaching.

“S-Shouto, I— I’m—,” is all that you can get out before you seize in his arms, your entire body spasming in ecstasy. Shouto only pins your hips down against the mattress with his free hand, forcing your legs to stay open as he continues to assault your cunt, tongue pummeling your tender core and thumb abusing your clit. You can’t even let out a moan because your lungs are empty— all that slithers out of you a string of shrill and broken cries. The pleasure thrums through your body from head to toe, your fingers and toes curling and splaying as sweat runs down your skin.

Shouto diligently continues to lap at your cunt, slurping up the fresh essence dripping out of you onto the sheets. When he pulls back all he can see is your blissed-out, flustered expression, and your nipples standing upright in arousal. Wiping his chin with the back of his hand, he tears the shirt off his shoulders in one swift motion. His slacks shed just as quick, he grabs your hips and throws you onto your front, your face once again in his pillow. “You came without my permission, angel. You wanna be a slut? I’ll treat you like a fucking slut,” he snarls, rugged palms coiling around your hips and forcing them into the air, bending your spine so your body transforms into a delicious arch.

Your heart slams against your ribs in apprehension, your mind still too woozy to make a complaint as his cock plunges inside of you. Your walls spread for his length welcomingly, your arousal and your cum lubricating your cunt. Your eyes roll back at the fullness— the stretch of him stuffing your cunt with his thick cock so delectably euphoric. You’re so wet that it doesn’t even hurt as he impales you, pleasure the only feeling coursing through you.

Shouto growls, your pussy hugging his length so snugly he has to take a moment for his head to stop spinning. “Fuuuck,” he utters huskily, sliding out halfway and inspecting how your cunt grips his slippery cock so desperately.

You cry out as he thrusts back in, the angle already perfectly locating your g-spot and making stars flash across your vision. Your body shakes as a palm cracks against your ass, more tears collecting on your lower lashes at the pain that hurts so good.

Shouto grabs the tie around your wrists with the other hand, yanking your body backwards to slap against his hard torso. Hands flying to your hips, he drills into you as he holds you upright against him. Your breasts bounce as your back arches, cunt trembling at the familiar tension building deep inside of you.

“You wanna fuckin’ cum already, don’t you, slut?” Shouto barks, a hand leaving your hip to hold your breast, trapping your nipple between his long fingers. The friction he provides is exquisite, and long, unabashed moans float out of your parted lips.

“Yes! Yes! Please— Make me cum, Shouto!” You howl, your toes curling at the sacred pleasure so close to peaking within you. Lips latched onto the claim he had laid on your neck, his teeth pinch your skin. His ragged grunts in your ear make your core clench around him, about to reach salvation for the second time.

“Do it, Y/N. I want my slutty angel pussy to cum all over this cock,” he commands, forcing your hips to crash down onto his so his tip jabs your g-spot harshly.

Your body collapses at his approval, cunt squeezing and fluttering and leaking onto him as you release a lewd scream. White hot bliss shoots through you as sinful tides of delirium pull you under. Your body trembles as the ecstasy pulses in your veins, your jaw unhinged and your eyes rolled into your skull.

Shouto pushes you forward so your torso falls flat against the mattress limply. His hips do not stall, continuing to push into your tightened cunt with determination as he drags out your orgasm. “Where’s my nasty little brat now?” He laughs crudely, slapping your ass gently and grabbing the reddened flesh, pulling your hips back against his. “Nothing to say, hmm?”

As if your brain is functional enough to form words. Your limbs feel like jello, wiggling with pleasure and shock as he advances his plight. Your throat is dry from all the panting, your ass sore underneath Shouto’s oppressive grip. But it feels so fucking good, you can’t bring yourself to tell him to stop.

Shouto sucks a breath in between his grinding teeth, watching how your ass bounces against his pelvis as his cock slides into your depths. Sweat dripping down his chest and along your back, his hold on you is tight enough to cut off circulation. His lip twitches as he recognizes his orgasm creeping up inside, and he groans as he pulls out of you abruptly.

You whine at the loss, but you’re silenced immediately as he flips your body and presses his lips to yours. His kiss is pleasantly soft, a harsh contrast to his rough hands which slide around your back and fumble with the tie around your wrists. His tongue pushes inside your mouth, searching for yours and caressing it at first touch. Once the silky material slips off you, his hands rove over your breasts, massaging the heavy flesh tenderly as his cock brushes along your slit. A string of saliva stretches between you as his lips leave yours, a hot, breathy sigh fanning over your face. “This beautiful body is all mine, Y/N,” he whispers, tip slipping between your folds and entering your cunt with ease.

Your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling of your aching hole being filled once again, but the pain makes the pleasure so much more enjoyable. His lips wander along your neck as he begins to thrust into you, your legs wrapping around his waist. He kisses along your clavicle and down your breast, tongue washing over your nipple as his cock brushes along your velvet walls so perfectly.

The friction has your eyes nearly crossed, and the pleasure only intensifies when Shouto guides your legs to rest against his chest, your ankles by his ears. The angle allows greater access, his thick member reaching new depths that elicit a sharp gasp from you. His left hand pushes your abdomen down slightly, his thumb travelling south to flick along your clit lazily.

“Shit, Shouto, I— s-so sensitive,” you whimper, your hand timidly reaching out to rest on his flexing abdominal muscles. The sensation of him dragging against your g-spot so sensually causes your bottom lip to tremble, a tear sneaking down your cheek to land in your hair.

Shouto’s large hand guides yours to land on your thigh, and he tucks his arm so his own hand covers yours as he pulls your thighs closer to him. “One more, baby,” he moans, the thumb on your clit speeding up.

The extra attention summons that familiar build up in your core, a long whine falling from your lips. “I can’t, I can’t,” you mewl but your body says otherwise, pussy tightening slightly as your ankles cross behind his neck.

“I thought you wanted to cum, angel?” He uses your words against you as he sighs, hips picking up to ram into yours. He holds his breath as you clamp down on him, your sinful expression fueling his impending orgasm. “You gonna make me finish on my own?”

The thought of him blowing his load into you has you biting your lip, your hips shuffling against his. Shouto moans, thumb circling your puffy nerve even faster as he continues to pound into you. The sound of your skin slapping together fills the room, the only noise to interrupt that your huffs and moans.

Steam billows from Shouto’s nose as his eyes nearly close, his abs flexing out of his torso as he fights to keep his orgasm at bay. His heavy breath and visible restraint convince your body to give in, and you weep as you sink into euphoria for the third time tonight. Shouto’s right there with you, a strangled growl mixed with a moan ripping from his lungs as his seed spurts into you, his cock twitching and balls draining as he falls to his elbows above you.

Your body feels sluggish as your limbs tremble slightly, the high from your orgasm still clouding your brain as your arms wrap around Shouto’s shoulders. His cold breath refreshes the moist, flushed skin on your neck, long eyelashes tickling your jaw as your nails scrape carefully down his spine.

When he pulls out your body feels incomplete, but Shouto nuzzles into your jaw affectionately, his hands sliding between the damp sheets and your skin to hold you close. He scatters sluggish, persistent kisses along your throat and up your jaw. And when he moves to your face, they only become longer and more intimate, gently guiding you back to reality.

You sigh in content as you lean in to capture his lips, moving sweet and slow against each other. Your digits amble into his hair, combing back the soft tresses so you can see more of his charming face. He moans at your touch, pleased by the soothing sensation of your fingers feathering along his scalp. His own hand follows your lead, fingers steering a stray hair off your forehead and gliding into your tresses to hold your head in his palm.

The pair of you continue to kiss for who knows how long, touching each other tenderly and savoring the feeling of skin against skin. Your lips melding into one, cradling one another fragilely as if you mutually fear the other will break without your embrace. You could spend eternity like this, high off his ambrosial, tender care.

You are the one to pull away first, knowing Shouto would keep this going until morning if he didn’t think you’d come back down from your high. Not that you would mind that, but you should probably clean up the mess that your passionate session had created— his release beginning to trickle out of you onto the sheets. As he pulls back, the emotions swirling in his striking two-toned gaze shock you. His brow is slightly creased as he nibbles at the corner of his lip, eyes darting around your face.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, sitting up and scooting off the mattress, disappearing around the corner of the bathroom door. The sound of water splashing in the sink fills the silence as you sit still, closing your eyes as the cogs in your brain begin to turn.

Oh god, you’d been so shameless tonight— you’d taunted him and he had made you fall apart and beg in return, bending to his every command. Sure, he had always been the dominant one in your rendezvous before, but tonight was different. He had been jealous, when he had no right to be. But is that why your heart is beating so quickly in your chest? Suddenly you’re anxious, overthinking as usual. This is just sex, right?

But then, why did you leave Shinsou’s side so quickly at the bar when Shouto had been the one to cancel on you? And then there was that, too— why had he just ditched his friends in the middle of boys’ night when it was the reason he cancelled on you in the first place? And he had clearly been furious at the thought of you spending the night with another man. Was it because he knew Shinsou? Or was it because he wanted to be exclusive with you?

Well, if he wanted to be exclusive friends with benefits, isn’t that the same thing as dating? Would he ever date someone like you? Wait, would you even be willing to date him? Do you want him to be your… boyfriend? Your eyes widen and a pink girlish blush emerges on your cheeks at the label. What are you, eight years old? Why do you feel so giddy at the possibility of him wanting you, for more than your body?

Shouto strolls out of the bathroom just in time to catch that embarrassing look on your face, but he only smiles sincerely at you and it makes you blush even harder. What the hell? You’re extra submissive for one night and now you’re thinking about your feelings for him? Wait, did you just admit you have feelings for him?

He clambers over to you in the middle of the bed, a washcloth draped on his slender finger. He leans down and pecks you like it’s no big deal, humming as his lips linger on yours just long enough to make you want more. Your body jumps at the feeling of the damp warmth the towel provides, but you relax as the feeling soothes your aching core.

“Was that okay? How do you feel, baby?” Shouto asks softly, watchful eyes gauging your expression as you look at him. “You seemed like you were enjoying yourself, but, I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

You let out a breathless, mirthful chuckle at his concern, reaching out to put your hand on his strong arm. “No, I’m fine. And it was… great. Mind-blowing, actually,” you smile at him bashfully, hoping it was just as good for him.

Shouto’s eyes twinkle as he smiles back, nodding slowly. “It was, wasn’t it?” He helps you sit up, maneuvering you carefully off the bed and gesturing for you to use the bathroom.

After relieving yourself, you look at yourself in the mirror that hangs above the sink, vision falling on the massive bruise blossoming on your neck. You sigh when you inspect the purple mark, but when your gaze floats back to your face, you’re dumbstruck to find yourself grinning like a fool. Terror and thrill floods through you at the realization that if any other guy had left a mark this nasty on you, you’d be furious. And yet, having Shouto’s claim on you makes you feel like the luckiest girl on the planet.

Shit. Looks like you do want him to be your boyfriend.

You’re half expecting the reflection to show a stupid cartoon character with the way that your heart feels like it’s thumping out of your chest. Taking in a deep breath, you determinedly point at yourself in the mirror and breath out shakily, “You can do this.”

Exiting the bathroom, you return to find Shouto leaning against the headboard, the sheets pulled up to his waist and his fingers rubbing together awkwardly. His eyes on his lap, he almost looks anxious. But he notices your presence right away, peeling back the corner of the blanket and beckoning you to slide in.

Placing yourself stiffly on the side of the bed, you take in his confused expression. “I need to tell you something,” you say as steadily as possible. Man, that’s a scary sentence, even if you’re not on the receiving end.

Shouto’s lips part and he looks like he wants to say something, but he swallows whatever it was down and nods, his expression guarded. “I’m all ears,” he replies, placing his hand on the pillow in front of you.

With the spotlight on you, your throat feels dry as dirt, and you nervously shuffle, suddenly very conscious of your nakedness. “Um,” falls out of your mouth, anything to split the suffocating silence. Your palms are clammy, and your fingers delve into the folds of the sheets to hide your nerves. “I know this is gonna sound kind of lame, but… well, I um…” Shouto’s gaze is burning your face, your cheeks redder than ever as you will this humiliation to just end already. Sucking in another breath, the words blurt out of you. “I have feelings for you.”

The surprise on his features is unmistakable. All you can do is stare at him, frozen in uncertainty but strangely enough it feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest. A heavy one at that— one whose existence you refused to acknowledge until ten minutes ago.

“R-Really?” Shouto stutters, looking like he’s just seen a ghost with how wide his eyes are.

You aren’t sure how to take that response, but as soon as your gaze falls from his, his hand shoots out to latch onto your wrist. When you look back at him, a different emotion is painted over his face, one of… hope?

“I have feelings for you, too, Y/N,” he whispers, his own blush dusting over his cheeks. His eyes are soulful and hold nothing but candor and content.

Before you can process his words, his hands are rounding your waist and pulling your body toward his. A different kind of high bursts through you as his lips touch yours, joy storming through the both of you and warm, tingly static crackling between you. These kisses feel different— your heart feels like it’s about to pop, swelling with excitement and relief. Shouto begins to laugh against your lips, and the alluring sound infects you, too, as you join him with a giggle. The both of you are laughing at nothing in particular, but you don’t need a reason to let the noises of elation loose.

Once your laughter ceases, Shouto collects your chin in his hand and places a gentle kiss upon your grinning lips. When he pulls back, his eyes contain a wisp of that jealous fire that had consumed him only hours earlier, and he shoots you a mischievous smirk as he squeezes your ass playfully. “Do you think Shinsou could ever make you feel this good, angel?”

You roll your eyes, chuckling in exasperation at this man’s relentless, absurd envy. “Hmm,” you pretend to think for a moment before you lean closer to him, hands hung loosely around the back of his neck. “Shinsou? Never heard of him.”

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

you reached the end!! thanks for reading this long ass fic lmao, i know it was an investment. I hope the ending was not too cringe, I usually just end my fics after the nut but I wanted to try something new :’) be sure to lmk if you enjoyed <3

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