#or are they acquaintances who don’t even give a fuck about each others feelings
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when r//nance shippers think robin and nancy fucking in steve’s bed makes total sense, but robin considering steve’s feelings is TOO FAR
#this is the same kind of people that complain about codependent stobin. but codependency is the only explanation for steve allowing someone#let alone his bestie. to fuck his ex in his BED#like jesus. are these people best friends with zero boundaries whatsoever including fucking his ex in his bed#or are they acquaintances who don’t even give a fuck about each others feelings#not even getting into the fact that nancy’s best friend died while she was having sex in that bed#outside that very window#but what. as long as it’s not steve she’s fucking it doesn’t matter???#steve harrington#robin buckley#nancy wheeler#anti ronance#stobin#stranger things#my post
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don't you forget about me (part two)
(part one)
Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there in silence, waiting. It’s making him insane. The seconds pass too slow; the seconds pass too fast. His mind is a storm; his mind is empty. He’s feeling too much; he’s not feeling at all. He paces the room; he sits catatonically against a wall. He needs to get out of here; he needs to stay.
He’s been here before, just barely over a week ago, tense and anxious and despairing and waiting for news. But waiting to hear if Eddie will ever remember him again really should not feel this much worse than waiting to hear if Eddie will ever fucking breathe again. Steve thinks there must be something wrong with him. He’s being selfish and stupid. His pathological fucking need to be loved is not what’s important right now. Eddie is alive and awake and okay and that’s the only thing that really matters. That’s the only thing he should really care about.
Steve’s pacing again now, yanking his hands through his hair as he does laps around the room until Eddie finally appears in the doorway.
Eddie must’ve just cracked a joke or something because the nurse is laughing as she pushes his bed into the room and he’s got this adorable grin on his face. Steve’s heart twists in his chest and he nearly bursts into tears all over again because god does he want nothing more than to press a kiss to those dimpled cheeks.
“Good news, boys,” Eddie announces. “My brain is fully intact.”
“There’s no physical permanent damage to his brain,” the nurse elaborates. “His amnesia is likely a result of psychological trauma and the temporary disruption of brain function from blood loss and lack of oxygen that occurred at the time of his injury. But there is no obvious reason why he shouldn’t regain his full memory, given time.”
So there’s hope. Steve breathes a sigh of relief.
“That is good news,” Wayne agrees.
Steve asks, “How much time?”
The nurse gives an unhelpful shrug. “Impossible to say. It could be anywhere from days to months, or even years. I’m sorry, there’s no way for us to know.”
Years. “Okay.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He can keep it together. He can. “Thanks,” he tells the nurse. “I, uh-” He makes the mistake of looking at Eddie who looks right through him, and Steve can’t keep it together anymore actually. “I gotta update the kids,” he mutters, backing his way towards the door. Wayne nods in acknowledgment; no protests this time at Steve’s excuse to leave.
“See ya, Harrington,” Eddie calls after him, casual, impersonal, like they're nothing more than acquaintances passing by each other in a high school hallway.
Steve can’t get out of that hospital fast enough.
He makes it to his car in record time, slamming the door shut and sinking heavily into the driver’s seat. A ragged sob tries to claw its way up his throat now that he’s finally alone, but he forces it back, staving off his breakdown for just a little bit longer. As much as it was an excuse, he really does have to update the kids.
Steve fishes his walkie out of the glove box. “Code - whatever, I don’t know. Code Eddie,” he says. He doesn’t remember the kids’ system of codes, nor would he be sure which one this news falls under even if he did.
“Is he okay? Is he awake?” comes an immediate, eager response from Dustin. “Over.”
“Yeah, he’s awake, and he’s fine, except he’s got pretty bad amnesia. The doctors say it should be temporary, but right now he doesn’t remember anything since May of ‘85,” Steve explains, trying his best to keep his voice even.
“Steve, come pick me up and take me to see him,” Dustin demands, “right now. Over.”
“Me too. Over,” Mike chimes in before Steve can respond.
“And us,” Erica adds as well.
Steve pauses for a second, both to steady his own breath and to make sure no one else wants to jump in on this too, before he reminds them, “He won’t know you, any of you.”
“I don’t care,” Dustin says, bossy as ever. “Just come get me. Over.”
“Jesus Christ, kid,” Steve mutters to himself. He sucks in another breath; it wobbles dangerously. He’s just about reached his limit on how long he can keep himself from falling apart. “I- I need a minute, alright?” he manages through the walkie. “Can you just give me, like, an hour? And then I’ll take you guys to visit Eddie.”
Steve doesn’t wait for a response before he slams the antenna closed, tosses the walkie aside, and finally, finally lets himself shatter. That sob rips free from his throat, followed by another and another and another. Tears flood from his eyes; his nose runs. It’s an ugly, gross, visceral cry that leaves him exhausted and raw and aching to be held by the time the last sob shudders out of him. Drained and hollow, he craves the embrace of someone who knows him, someone who loves him.
He sweeps up his broken pieces, wipes the mess of tears and snot off his face, and drives to Robin’s house.
“Steve, oh my god.” Robin pulls him into a hug the second she opens the door and sees the look on his face. Steve clings to her. “What happened?”
“Eddie’s awake,” he mutters dismally.
“Oh! Not the tone I’d expect you to deliver that news in, but okay.” Robin pulls back, looking at him with narrow-eyed concern and confusion as she analyzes his puffy eyes and red nose and swollen lips. “And you look like you’ve just been crying because…?”
“Because he doesn’t remember me, Rob,” Steve sighs. “He doesn’t remember anything from the past 11 months.”
Robin’s eyes go wide now. “Shit,” she says, so plainly it startles a short laugh out of Steve.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shit.”
She asks him more questions as she walks down the hallway so they can talk in her room. Steve once again reiterates what was said at the hospital.
“So you didn’t tell him you two were a thing?” Robin asks, closing her door behind them.
“Of course I didn’t.” Steve flops back onto her bed. “I didn’t want to spook him.”
She sits beside him. “You didn’t want to spook him,” she repeats, looking down at him with raised eyebrows, “but you told him about Vecna.”
“Well, yeah. I just-” He lifts his arms to gesture vaguely into the air as he tries to explain himself. “I mean, imagine how you would feel if you woke up in a hospital and some random guy you’ve spoken to maybe twice was by your bedside telling you you’ve been in a relationship with him for the past 9 months.”
“Uh, I don’t know, dingus, probably about the same as I’d feel if said guy told me I’d nearly died fighting some evil twisted creature from a hell dimension,” Robin retorts.
Steve drops his hands onto his chest with a huff, shaking his head. “No, trust me. He seemed far less surprised by that than he did to hear that we were even just friends,” he says, a bit bitterly. Tears are pricking at his eyes again as he looks up at his best friend. “You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Robin. All he saw was King Steve.”
Robin softens, snark replaced with sympathy. “That sucks, Steve. I’m so sorry.”
Steve sighs in agreement that yes this really fucking sucks. He sits up and scoots back so that he’s slumped against the wall, hitting the back of his head against it. “I think I’m a horrible person,” he admits, just venting now, “because of course I’m glad Eddie’s alive and all I really want is for him to be okay, and I know the nurse said he should remember eventually, but there’s still some sick part of me that thinks maybe it would’ve hurt less if he had just died.”
“I don’t think that makes you a horrible person,” Robin assures him as she settles next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “I think you’re just grieving, and grief is weird sometimes.”
“It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt,” he mutters, “when he looked at me without recognition. To see it on his face, just the- the absence of everything that we’d built. I’ve never felt so- so- I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t breathe. He just- he doesn’t know that I love him. He…he doesn’t know that he loved me...”
Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s not that he’s lost someone that he loves, it’s that he’s lost someone who loves him. Because Eddie’s not gone, just his love for Steve is, and that’s what’s tearing him apart. It’s the fact that there’s one less person in the world who loves him. It’s the fact that Steve’s got this big gaping hole inside of him that’s always made him so desperate to be loved, liked, wanted, needed; and his biggest fucking fear is becoming obsolete. He could probably trace it back to his parents, the first to forget him, the first to stop loving him, but the fact remains that now Eddie has fulfilled that fear too. Now Eddie has carved that pit a little deeper, a little darker, validating the voice that whispers within it and tells Steve that he is forgettable, unlovable, so easy to abandon and erase.
“Well, I love you,” Robin tells him, like she can read his mind (which, at this point, she probably can). She slides an arm around his shoulders, hugs him close. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Fragile as he is right now, Steve falls apart again in her arms, and she holds him together. Because she knows him, because she loves him.
It’s a quieter cry this time, soft and sniffly. Whereas the last one wracked through his body and left him fatigued, this one flows from him almost gently, and when his tears finally subside and he lifts his head from where it had been buried in his friend’s shoulder, Steve actually feels a little bit better, a little bit stronger. Which is good, because he’s gonna have to face Eddie again soon.
“Thank you,” he says quietly as he pulls away from Robin, wiping at his eyes and glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It’s definitely been an hour by now, probably more. He stands. “I have to go, I promised the kids I’d take them to see Eddie.”
“Then I’m coming too.” Robin stands with him. “For moral support.”
Steve gives her a grateful smile. “I love you so fucking much, you know that?”
“Yeah.” She grins at him. “I know.”
~
The nurses have changed his bandages and upped his morphine, so Eddie’s considerably hazy now but at least he can raise his headrest and prop himself up a bit without nearly blacking out from pain. He’s boredly flicking through channels on the shitty TV in front of him, alone since Wayne had to leave for work, when Harrington returns followed by a very unexpected group consisting of Robin Buckley and four strange children.
“Sorry,” Harrington announces their presence with an apologetic shrug, “I know you don’t know them anymore, but they insisted.”
“Eddie!” a pudgy, curly-haired kid shouts before Eddie can even react, coming barrelling towards him and trying to hug him.
“Ow!” Eddie yelps, pain flaring even through the extra morphine. “Fucking Christ, kid! Be careful!”
The kid jumps back immediately, eyes wide. “Shit. Sorry.”
“S’fine,” Eddie grumbles.
The kid looks at him expectantly for a moment before seeming to realize, “Oh, right, you don’t remember me. I’m Dustin.”
“Ah, so you’re the guy I sacrificed myself for,” Eddie mutters, and Dustin looks a little sheepish. That means these must be ‘the kids’ Harrington had been talking about earlier. He surveys the group for a second. “Actually, I think we have met before,” he tells Dustin. “And you too.” He glances at a pale, dark-haired kid. The other two - a Black boy with a flat-top and a younger Black girl - look less familiar, though. “There was this, uh, open day thing at the high school for next year’s incoming freshmen; I talked to you about Hellfire.”
“Yeah!” Dustin’s whole face lights up, so bright and infectious it makes Eddie grin too. “Yeah, you did!”
“So you guys joined the club, then?”
This sparks a very animated conversation about D&D, the rest of the kids (Mike, Lucas, and Erica, as they soon reintroduce themselves) gathering around his bed now too to join in. It makes him feel a bit more like himself again, familiar, normal. Except, of course, for the fact that they’re not only talking about how they defeated Vecna in Eddie’s “totally epic” and “sadistic” campaign (adjectives courtesy of Dustin and Mike respectively), but also filling in more pieces of the story of how they defeated him in real life too. Still, it’s nice, fun. He totally understands how he could’ve gotten attached to these kids.
At some point, Eddie glances over to find Harrington hanging back and just watching them talk, fondly, wistfully. Robin whispers something to him and he sort of smiles, just a trace, and whispers something back. They seem close, intimate. Eddie wonders if they’re dating, and then he wonders why that thought makes him feel a bit sick. He waves them over. Harrington looks like he’s about to protest, but Robin gives him a Look and he allows her to grab his hand and drag him to join the crowd around Eddie’s bed.
“So, what’s your deal, Buckley?” Eddie asks her. He doesn’t know her very well, they’ve only crossed paths a few times in the bandroom, but right now that makes her the most familiar person in the room to him. “Are you and Harrington a thing now? Is that how you’re involved in all this?”
Robin wrinkles her nose and drops Harrington’s hand. “Ew, no. Definitely not.”
“She’s my best friend,” Harrington says.
Eddie snorts, doesn’t know why he finds that so comical. (He’s starting to get tired and it’s making him loopy. Or maybe it’s just the morphine.) “You've got a funny choice of friends nowadays, don’t you? Me and band geek Buckley and a bunch of nerdy freshmen.” He looks at Harrington with incredulous amusement. “Who would've thought, huh? Steve Harrington, collector of geeks and freaks.”
Harrington doesn’t seem to find it as funny. He shrugs. “Yeah, well, it’s better than King Steve, collector of asshole bullies and shallow one-night stands.”
“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Eddie agrees through another huff of laughter that breaks off into a yawn. “Didn’t mean it as a bad thing, Stevie. Was a compliment.”
“Alright.” The barest hint of a smile flickers across Harrington’s face now, but then he’s looking away and corralling the kids and saying, “We should head out, let you get some rest.”
And Eddie kind of wishes he’d stay.
(part three!)
taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy (only tagged people who explicitly asked to be tagged; if you would like to be added or removed from this list please lmk!)
#still angsty sorry#we're getting there tho! this will have a happy ending eventually! i promise!#i finally get what ppl mean when they talk abt setting out to write a oneshot and ending up with a longfic bc it's happening to me rn#steddie#steddie angst#steddie fic#steddie fanfiction#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#fanfic#mine#1k#dyfamsteddiefic#<- specific tag for this fic
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dear hyuckie
pairing ↠ athlete!haechan x (f) reader
genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, mc is a terrible person, stalking, unprotected sex, baby trapping
summary ↠ for the longest time, you've been obsessed with haechan and wanted him to yourself, but he hardly notices you. to grab his attention, you start sending him anonymous love letters.
wc ↠ 6.0k
a/n ↠ part 5/5 of the college-capades series!
don’t like it, don’t read.
so fucking annoying, you hissed to yourself, poking around the corner.
your eyes were fixed on the boy’s locker room door that was, to your chagrin, being guarded by the basketball team captain.
who you never liked. jung jaehyun, you thought irritably. he was undeniably good-looking, you’d give him that, but he was arrogant. haechan would make a much finer captain. where jaehyun was a cocky asshole, haechan was none too prideful but enthusiastic nonetheless.
you’d heard haechan giving pre-game pep talks to his team and motivating them not to feel guilty on the occasions where they lost. he was a natural at lifting other’s spirits. obviously, he was the driving force in the team.
not jung jaehyun, who leaned on the door, laughing at texts on his phone most likely from a bunch of girls dying to do him. though you most definitely weren’t one of them, there were many.
and you happened to know one of them.
“thought i’d find you here,” you said, pretending to only now be walking up the path. given that his eyes were locked on his phone screen, jaehyun was none the wiser.
jaehyun flitted his gaze to you. “how’d you figure that?”
“oh, you know. my hot guy radar was going off,” you flirted, your own words like poison on your tongue. but hopefully worth it.
that had his attention. jaehyun chuckled, pocketing his phone, then said, “i thought you said i wasn’t your type?”
“you’re not,” you replied flatly. “but i know somebody who’s a little more open-minded.”
jaehyun’s brows furrowed. the implications behind that weren’t lost on him. “are you joking?”
“nope,” you chirped, though you were absolutely lying. “rosé wants you to come over. she’s too chicken to tell you herself and i was nearby, so she sent me instead.”
rosé and jaehyun had raging heart eyes (and boners) for each other since the day they locked eyes. though rosé, your dear friend and the only reason you knew jaehyun, was scared that he was too much of a fuckboy. their interactions never amounted to anything more than flirty exchanges after a game, but they definitely wanted each other.
maybe it was a slight fib. rosé had said nothing of the sort, but it was the best lie you could come up with and you desperately needed something impactful enough to get jaehyun away from that door. your best friend would be thanking you later.
“shit, okay. what’s her address?”
maybe it wasn’t the best move to give a boy both of you barely knew your best friend’s address, even if she had the hots for him, but you were in too much of a hurry to give a damn about ethical decision-making.
“and jaehyun,” you called out after him when he started to leave.
jaehyun turned his head. “yeah?”
donning the role of a helpful acquaintance, in spite of how much you loathed this guy, you advised sweetly, “maybe stop to the store first. get her some flowers or a box of chocolates. she likes those. i know you probably don’t leave the house without condoms.”
jaehyun’s shoulders shook while he laughed and threw his hands up. “you got me. thanks for looking out.”
your answer was kind, though in reality, the only reason you gave him helpful advice was because you wanted to slow him down just in case rosé wasn’t home. you quickly sent her a vague text and unapologetically mentioned that you would make it up to her later.
jesus, the things i do for you, lee donghyuck, you thought dreamily. if only he knew how much you liked him.
for lack of a better word, of course. to be frank, you were enamored with his whole being. just the thought of haechan had your legs quivering and your heart thumping against your chest. thoughts of him were all-consuming. you couldn’t eat sometimes without wondering if he had ate.
given that you were running out of time, you quickly slipped into the locker room, glancing around to make sure the coast was clear before you invaded. fortunately, with jaehyun set on getting laid, there was nobody else around.
except for the love of your life.
you heard a shower running, just as you knew it would be. you happened to overhear haechan mentioning to a friend that he would be in the locker rooms for a moment to shower and figured it was your time to spy. your footsteps were quiet, gentle. half of the time, it didn’t bother you so bad that he wasn’t attracted to you. it was better that way.
after tiptoeing around, you reached his locker, shoving a letter inside the slit. although it would have been rational to leave then and there, you couldn’t shake the temptations brewing in your guts where you desperately needed him. he was naked, just in the shower room. and you wanted a sneak peak.
against your better judgment, you crept around the corner, poking your head out to see if he was exposed. there was a long column of showers and just your luck, the curtains of the seventh stall were drawn. guess he wasn’t very shy. you could see a sliver of haechan’s dampened skin, bits of his leg and shoulder.
you licked your lips at the mouth-watering thought you’d had. given the chance, you wouldn’t waste a second to get down on your knees for him and give him the best head of his life. your plans were nothing short of vile, but a part of you liked to assume all would be forgiven when he realized that you were made for each other.
not if. when.
when the shower came to a dry stop, you snapped out of your thoughts and took it as a sign to get out unnoticed, slipping away like a thief in the night.
but the letter in haechan’s locker didn’t go unnoticed.
well, kind of. he thought it was a joke, but he read it nonetheless. it wasn’t that far-fetched to assume that one of the guys were probably pranking him. granted, none of them called him by the nickname hyuckie, but they sometimes called him hyuck.
naturally, haechan didn’t think much of it until the second letter appeared, and it was somewhat more descriptive.
dear hyuckie, why do you wither in the wind and come to life in the sun, the letter started. i always think it’s unfair that nobody can match your undeniable charm, let it be on a swabbed court or with a bewitched crowd. kidding. others should envy what is yours.
there was more, of course, but haechan didn’t get to read that far before the letter was rudely snatched out of his hands.
“what’s that?” jaemin asked, nosily pulling the letter out haechan’s hand.
haechan groaned, “dude, give it back.”
jaemin instead backed off, just out of arm’s reach of haechan. “guys, you’ve gotta come read this shit,” he said in amusement. “‘dear hyuckie, why do you wither in the wind and come to life in the sun?’”
jaemin continued to read until the end, blocking haechan’s attempts to steal the letter back while somehow also keeping the high-pitched, mocking tone of a woman. not too much later, haechan gave up on keeping it to himself, accepting defeat. the letter droned on about his performances on the court, how you watched every game with your eyes fixed to only him. how you wanted to be there to kiss him during his triumphs, but hold him during his losses.
haechan was used to fangirls. he was one of the most prominent members of a prominent team at an equally prominent school, backed by deals and endorsements. needless to say, there were more than a lot of girls that felt the same as you.
it was his first time getting a letter addressed directly to his locker, however. uproar was what he was accustomed to. this was quieter, subtle. you didn’t want to blend in with everybody else, and yet, you chose to be unheard.
johnny nudged his side. “shit, hyuck. looks like you’ve got a secret admirer on your hands.”
jaehyun laughed. “wither in the wind, come to life in the sun. what does that even mean?”
“yeah, i’m sure you wouldn’t have the wits to know,” mark quipped.
jaehyun shot him a glare while everybody else laughed at jaehyun’s expense. except for haechan, who was irritated.
“i thought you guys sent this,” haechan mused. “you know, ‘cause of the hyuckie thing.”
jaemin placed a hand on his teammate’s shoulder and jeered, “hate to break it to you, man, but nobody in this room wants to suck your dick.”
“fuck off, man,” haechan said, shoving him off. “i meant i thought it was a prank the first time.”
johnny lifted a brow. “the first time? you mean you got one before this?”
plopping down on a bench, haechan bobbed his head. “yeah, the exact same way. same delivery, same salutation, same handwriting, different content,” he explained.
“you scared?” jaehyun asked, teasing.
“i’m not scared, i’m just a little worried. i mean, nobody should be able to get inside the locker room,” haechan ranted.
“thing’s old,” johnny retorted. “might fall apart if they don’t renovate this summer. relax, man. it’s just some chick that wants to bone you. you should be happy bitches are lining up for you.”
haechan heaved a breath and gave in, letting the guys convince him that he was being overdramatic. it wasn’t that haechan didn’t enjoy feeling wanted, that couldn’t have been any further from the truth, but there was something in his gut that told him that you weren’t like the others.
you were far more dangerous than he would ever know, until the moment when it was too late for him to be saved.
but days of letters became weeks and haechan was becoming increasingly more alarmed. the letters multiplied, the content intensifying. though he wanted to tell someone, maybe get somebody to check some security camera footage, he didn’t want to be called a wimp.
so he thugged it out.
you, on the other hand, were over the moon that he was finally paying attention to you - kind of. you were sick of just being another girl in the arena. the letters differentiated you from the others. and at one point, they weren’t just letters anymore. they were bralettes and panties sticky with your arousal, attached with letters of you describing intricately how you got yourself off to him.
never once did you touch yourself without thinking of haechan, of how badly you wanted to break him and ruin him for the next woman (not that there would be one. ultimately, you were going to make sure that there wouldn’t be). wincing your eyes closed, hands buried between your own legs, you pictured his moist, dampened face, sticky with sweat that chased down his backside.
you wanted to tire him, to test his limits. you stalked him more or less everyday, peeking behind the bleachers to watch him practice. you knew what he could take, how far he could be pushed and shoved before the force became entirely too brutal and knocked the wind out of him.
sometimes the thoughts of him became overbearing. you couldn’t sleep because of him, falling behind in your classes because you couldn’t think of any that didn’t concern him. too much time was invested on keeping an eye on him during practice and following him on his way home. just to make sure he was safe, of course.
not that he had anything to worry about, though that wasn’t your definition of keeping him safe. any girls that dared deter him, even breathe in his general direction, you perceived as threats that needed to be eliminated.
you just had to fall for a popular guy. he was well-liked for a reason, and it went beyond his undeniably good looks. the charisma he wielded in the palm of his hands, how he dominated the whole court. the golden player, you thought with whimsical hope, pining. it was the title he’d been dubbed for obvious reasons.
nevertheless, he would always be your hyuckie. more often than not, it didn’t always register within you quickly when those around you referred to him as haechan, because he was so much more than that to you. nobody would ever understand the life you’d already crafted together in your brain, revolving utterly around him. where he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.
nobody could tell you that he wasn’t reading your letters, even if you never saw it in real time to be certain. because when his eyes flitted around during practice as you discreetly kept yours fixed to his frame, when he glanced over his shoulder while he took the journey home, you knew it was because he was uneasy. almost as if he could feel you watching.
haechan could feel you watching.
he couldn’t see you, he couldn’t be sure who exactly you were, but he knew you were there somewhere. it was a gut feeling that sickened him almost too frequently.
it started during practice, the final preparations for the night’s game. during said game that night, the wrenching in his gut only intensified. you were there, obviously, like you never failed to be. antsy, haechan struggled to keep himself together during the match, but nobody would’ve ever guessed from simply looking.
nobody except you. you’d learned to recognize him in the distraught that was natural around you, as if it was his body’s self-preservation instincts.
still, he talked to you for the first time that night. rosé evidently knew of your more than little crush on haechan, though she was none the wiser to how desperately you needed a fix. she thought it was an innocent fondness. your impromptu trick (unfortunately) thrusted rosé and jaehyun into a relationship, and when it became known to him that you had the hots for his teammate, he didn’t wait a second to introduce you to each other.
to your shock, it was a pleasantly good first encounter. haechan still felt the nerves, but reduced them to post-game jitters, something he made up solely to feel comfortable again.
it wasn’t like you were the secret admirer or stalker, or whatever weirdo that was obsessed with him. for lack of a better word, you were just so normal-looking.
you didn’t at all seem like how he imagined a debatably batshit stalker to be. haechan thought you were pretty and amusing, matched his personality like you’d met in a past life. haechan had seen you before, you were besties with one of the most popular girls on campus and his captain’s crush, but he never thought he would enjoy your company.
that was how it all began. you talked for weeks, not leaving without each other’s numbers. when he wasn’t looking, you pinched yourself over and over, wondering if you were dreaming. you knew that you would click. you knew that you were fated to be together.
as annoying as it was to admit, you actually owed jaehyun. he’d done you a massive favor. though, when you remembered that you were the sole reason he was even dating rosé in the first place, you considered yourself even. nevermind that it was an inadvertent mistake.
you spent many nights on the phone with haechan. given that you’d commited yourself to learning everything there was to know about him already, you came prepared with more than a handful of facts, though you pretended not to know so that you could impress him. chess, not checkers, you thought smugly to yourself, noticing the envious glares of multiple girls when you walked hand in hand with haechan.
you were winning. and you couldn’t believe it. but just when you were starting to have a taste of sweet, sweet victory, your self-restraint crumbled.
you’d been waiting too long. something needed to be done to satiate all the carnal energies running rampant through your veins, and it was no secret what the cure was.
haechan could feel that borderline debilitating sensation stirring in his gut again. it was like a shiver chilling its way down his spine, an itch that he just couldn’t shake.
to make matters even stranger, he was alone in his apartment.
or so he thought. midnight loomed over the night sky, thick clouds draped over probably bright stars. they stared back at him, just outside his bedroom window that he’d forgotten to draw the curtains of.
haechan had that habit, you noticed. men typically didn’t have to worry about the same things that women did, locking their car doors at gas stations and looking over their shoulders when they walked alone at night. it was so naive of him to believe he would ever truly be safe.
then again, you were only as dangerous as he allowed you to be.
checking his phone, haechan noted that he missed a call from you, having fallen asleep nearly the second he stepped out of the shower. practice was long and rough; his muscles were sore. he had wanted nothing more than to collapse on the nearest flat surface.
for whatever reason, he dialed you back. he remembered you mentioning that you would be up all night, catching up on some classwork you never explained why you were behind on and he never asked, but he also felt safer when he heard your voice. the letters stopped shortly after he started talking to you and that idiotically wasn’t suspicious to him. he was making this all too easy.
your voice sounded a little surprised. “hello?”
“hey,” haechan said, voice raspy from drowsiness. “bad time?”
“no, never,” was what you said, because you were always down to talk, though needless to say, the call took you by surprise.
haechan thought nothing of it. he assumed you were working and didn’t expect a call this late. “sorry for missing your call. i passed out after i came back from practice.”
“it’s fine, hyuckie. i promise. i understand,” you crooned sweetly. you saw how hard he worked and you respected it.
“okay, cool,” haechan replied, heaving a breath of relief. then it hit him - that nickname and where he’d heard it before, and his heart stopped. “wait, what did you just call me?”
you swore under your breath, realizing that you’d officially blown your cover. you could have played it off, could have played dumb and innocently pretended not to know, but that shipped sailed the second haechan heard your cursing from his hallway.
haechan sat up, speaking your name. “why are you in my apartment?”
the call disconnected. haechan’s stomach was beset with unease, knots taut. somewhere entangled in the attraction to you was the inescapable feeling that you weren’t safe.
all haechan could hear for a moment was his own ragged breathing. there was no sign of you. no footsteps, no breathing. it would’ve been in his best interest to stand to his feet, or maybe just call the police, given that you’d somehow broken in. but maybe he underestimated just how threatening you were.
because when the doors suddenly burst open, there you stood, holding a gun in your hand.
“sit down,” you commanded when you noticed him abruptly stand. aiming the gun a little higher, you persisted, “i said, sit down!”
“okay, okay. i’m sitting,” haechan replied, dropping back against his sheets.
you took long, quick strides towards his bed, holding the weapon squarely at his brain while you emptied your pockets and cuffed him down. it was a graceless, clumsy exploit. for whatever reason, haechan watched you struggle, when it would’ve been his greatest opportunity to escape.
after a moment of struggling to cuff him with one hand to spare, the other too occupied with the gun directed towards his head, you leaned back to admire your handiwork. haechan didn’t even notice that you’d straddled him until you rocked a little, swallowing his apprehension with one gulp.
haechan released a shaky breath, calling out your name again. “what are you doing?”
“the obvious,” was all you said.
“it’s you.” haechan’s mind was ablaze with thought, remembering how you’d tortured him for all these weeks endlessly. “you’re the stalker.”
“i’m not just any old fucking stalker, hyuckie,” you hissed, bristling at that word. it distanced you from him. it belittled the connection sparked to life between the two of you. “i’m your lover. don’t you see?”
his lover of a long time. he never noticed you before, how you’d prance behind him in high school during your free time, surrendering your lunch time to watch him play around with his friends. how you always made sure there was a spare pencil on his desk in middle school, because he frequently got scolded for never remembering to bring one.
you’d watched him turn into a beautiful young man over the years, but haechan never spared you a glance, not until you were forced to be slightly relevant in his life. you were sick and tired of being ignored. you were at the end of your tether, a lifetime of pining culminating in destruction.
haechan’s head hung low, like he wasn’t even paying attention to you. it made your blood boil, rage and loathing seeping throbbing in your chest. “look at me!” you screamed. “why won’t you look at me?”
haechan, heart thumping violently, lifted his head to make eye contact with you. tears stung your eyes, reddening them. “you aren’t who i thought you were,” he whispered.
the audacity on this boy. “don’t you dare treat yourself like a fucking victim,” you snarled, seething. “this wasn’t a secret. not for us. i can tell from how you looked at me that deep down inside, you knew. our brains know the truth.”
haechan shook his head. “what are you talking about?”
“you could have easily snatched the gun out my hands and pushed me off. i’m not superwoman. but you didn’t, you didn’t do anything, because you knew what you wanted,” you responded, frantic, almost like you were deluding yourself.
but you weren’t - not this time. haechan sensed that something was off about you and still continued to talk to you. he watched you struggle, when it would’ve taken nothing for an athlete like him to throw you off, to overpower you and render you defenseless.
“i don’t…,” haechan trailed.
“you do,” you sneered, vicious. “and you aren’t going to ruin our moment together just because you don’t want to admit it, hyuckie. you don’t know how long i’ve wanted this. how long i’ve worked to this.”
you threw the gun aside, because it was never loaded in the first place, and you couldn’t fathom ever hurting him. it was strictly to keep him pliant, to make sure that he didn’t ruin the moment. you’d been planning this for ages. you’d be damned if you let it deviate in any way from the plan etched into your brain.
shifting your attention to what you were really after, you allowed your hands to wander up his thighs, pulling at his boxers. haechan’s eyes widened with panic. “stop,” he told you, fretful.
what made the moment even more bizarre to haechan was that you merely giggled. “relax, hyuckie,” you crooned, at least in your head reassuring. “i’ll go slow, i promise. i really want to savor our first time forever. make it something we’ll never forget.”
haechan’s alarm only strengthened.
when you grew tired of his frequent protests, you blew out an irritated breath and grabbed the ducktape that had fallen from your jacket pockets, dangling it in his face as you threatened, “keep bitching and i’ll have to shut you up. i don’t want that and i know you don’t want it either.”
haechan quieted, pinching his lips together. he was in no place to deny you.
you removed his underwear, revealing his soft cock, although that was an easy fix. gently gripping his cock in your palm, you began to fist him to life, a sensitive little sigh breaking out of him at the first touch of your supple hand.
the whiplash haechan was getting was jarring and he felt nothing short of conflicted. on the one hand, you were his daring stalker, the one sending him dubious letters alongside the inappropriate clothing and used sex items. he should’ve darted the second he had a chance. but on the other, he found himself genuinely starting to grow attached to you, and you seemingly knew what to do with your hands.
in a matter of moments, haechan was very much hard, and it was much simpler than you would’ve thought to get him up, all things considered. all it took was squeezing his balls a little.
you were eyeing him like a predator and it made haechan feel justifiably uncomfortable. many nights were spent with a thick toy stuffed between your legs in lieu of his stiff cock, your eyes fluttering closed, with you moaning his name as you imagined you were riding the soul out of him. the same toys you would send to him, showing him just how badly he’d ruined you.
none of it was in vain. you finally had the real deal right in front of you, cock as thick and delicious as you imagined it to be, and the sight was mouth-watering.
you grabbed haechan’s jaw, correcting his gaze, and said assertively, “eyes on me.”
it was very pleasing when he obeyed, keeping his eyes fixed to your frame as you undressed. underneath the thick jacket you’d worn to stuff all of your supplies, you were sporting nothing but a racy set of lingerie.
haechan visibly gulped and you giggled, never bothering to cloak yourself amusement. just like he couldn’t cloak his desire, no matter how much he balked. “do you like it, hyuckie?” you asked, cocking your head. “i wore it just for you.”
as of right now, it would’ve been in his best interest to tell you what you wanted to hear. that was what this was all about. you were claiming this moment as a rendezvous between lovers, even if haechan didn’t quite reciprocate your feelings, and you wanted him to feed into your delusions.
but it helped that you were stunning, and if you’d done this the normal way, haechan probably would’ve voluntarily slept with you. he mustered the courage to speak, “you’re gorgeous.”
“don’t flatter me,” you joked, glancing to the mattress as you giggled, playing coy. “well, if you like it so much, then i guess i’ll keep it on.”
like he was shy or something, haechan just nodded his head to show that he understood.
though it was you that had terrified him out of speaking in the first place, you prodded him on, asking, “do you want to touch me, hyuckie?”
“touch you how?” haechan knew the answer, it was obvious at this point, but he was reluctant.
again, you giggled, twinkling with mischief. you freed one of his hands and grabbed it, slipping it right under your panties, and made a noise when you felt his warmth against your aroused, aching core. “see, i’m so wet for you,” you whispered, sticking his hand back out and bringing his fingers to his lip. “taste.”
it did haechan no good to refuse you of what you wanted, so he opened his mouth, sucking your arousal off of his own fingers.
you watched him attentively. “do i taste good?”
when he nodded, the brightest smile slipped onto your lips. for the longest time, you’d imagined riding his face into oblivion, but that would have to be scheduled for another time. right now, you wanted to ride his cock.
without a second thought, you grabbed haechan’s cock in your hand, slipping your panties to the side just enough so that you could sink down on his size. you moaned immediately, and so did haechan, his lips parted.
something about his cock just scratched something in your brain. he was much warmer than the dildos you played make-believe with, and a little thicker, too. you took your sweet, precious time to sink down on him completely, going slow and steady because you wanted to linger in the heat of him.
haechan was wallowing in the kneading warmth of your tight pussy way too much to realize that you hadn’t even thought of a condom. all of the little things you brought for this sexcapade, from the duct tape to the gun, and not a single condom was in sight.
“you know, i’ve been saving myself for you,” you confessed, staring haechan plain in the eye.
knowing just how committed you were to making a life with him through haechan for a loop. “you did?” he asked.
“why are you surprised? haven’t you been reading my letters?” you questioned, grinning. your heart was warm and there was nothing that could be done to undo your ecstasy. “i’ll never want anyone as much as i want you, hyuckie. there’s no point in other guys. i only see you.”
if this situation had unfolded any differently, your feelings and devotion would be something haechan was lucky enough to have, but he knew your true, reckless nature. it wasn’t romantic and it wasn’t beautiful, not like you thought it was inside of your head. it was creepy and it was off-putting, and you were a threat.
but you had been blind to reality for so long that you didn’t realize how unlawful your behavior really was, and if you did realize, you didn’t care. you were numbed by love, driven by fear of losing the love of your life to an undeserving whore.
leaning to grab the tiny little key perched on his nightstand, you decided haechan had earned to have his other hand uncuffed, though it was really because you wanted him to touch you. you grabbed his wrists, guiding his hands flat against your hips, and told him to keep them there.
even though haechan wanted to be terrified, and part of him was exactly that, he couldn’t deny that he was enamored with how your pussy squeezed him for dear life. you heard the little noises of his that filled the air, the desperate, shaky moans, and knew what he wanted.
all you ever wanted was for the longing to be mutual and at least, how it occurred to you in your mind, you were finally starting to get what you always wanted. it drove you crazy, hearing those pitched whines of your name from his own mouth.
he’s going to be mine forever. i’ll make sure of it, came your raging thoughts, and though they warred endlessly over him, your whole being agreed on one thing.
lee donghyuck belonged to you, and anyone who dared try to steal what was rightfully yours would be eradicated by any means necessary.
“i love you so much,” you admitted, even though it wasn’t a secret. you had poured out your heart to him through your letters, but the heat and passion of the sex made you even more vulnerable. “it’s okay you don’t feel the same way right now, because you will. one day, you’ll love me so much, you won’t even think of another girl.”
haechan said nothing, maybe blocking out your crazy rambles, maybe it was all white noise to him. what you did know, though, was that he couldn’t escape the undiscriminating reins of temptation. you felt how he tried to match your thrusts, grinding his cock into your pussy from below. he might’ve hated how crazy you were, but he loved how you gushed around his cock.
through the misty haze of pleasure, everything else failed to matter. he could only think with his dick, about how you were pulsing around him, the sweet sounds your pussy made as it wrapped around him with all the desire a human could possess.
you could feel his quick, hot breaths, practically hear his heart begging for a break. his face was flushed, warm and red all over, his hair sticking to his face. sweaty moisture was inescapable, cooling down his back and up his face. your attention was fixed to his plush lips, though, wanting to kiss them desperately.
and that was exactly what you did. you anchored yourself on his shoulders, pressing your lips to haechan’s mouth as you continued to bounce on his perfect, thick cock, wanting to suck the very last breath out of him. haechan didn’t fight it, because in the heat of the moment, when tangled in the highs of sex, the windows of judgment were far too cloudy.
you hated that you could feel that fever in your gut already, though from the looks of it, you weren’t alone in your need for climax. haechan’s hips moved quicker, ravenous. he needed to cum like he needed air to breathe, and that was exactly what you wanted. if he depended on you, he would never need anybody else ever again.
whatever haechan wanted, you were willing to give to him, even if it meant going to the ends of the earth and back. because you needed him too, and you would never truly be happy until you had him right where you wanted him, wrapped around your finger.
his face tensed with pleasure, his hold on your hips getting increasingly tighter as he chased orgasm. he was practically doing all of the heavy-lifting for you, a slave to his temptations, just like every other man you’d ever met. i know all of your strengths, hyuckie, you crooned in your head. but i know all of your shortcomings, too. they’re what make you so human.
“fuck,” haechan whined, defeat heavy on his face. “i’m so close, fuck. i’m gonna cum.”
i know you are. you reached for his hand, begging, “cum with me, hyuckie. please. please, please, please.”
haechan slipped his fingers through yours, overcome by the warmth stretching through his body and tensing his muscles. he couldn’t think properly, not through the blinding mist of satisfaction.
and the two of you came just like that, hand in hand, moving your hips in a true, desperate sync that only lovers would ever know. you whined that name while haechan cried out yours, neither of you stopping in your tracks until the fog passed. haechan’s warm, plentiful cum filled your cunt, your spasming pussy milking him for every bit.
you couldn’t think of a time where you’d been more thrilled. you’d just lost your virginity to the only man you’d ever loved, and the only man you would ever love, and it was like heaven. you were in love with that gone fucking stare in his eyes, no thought or soul behind them.
you grinned with contentment. you did that. you broke that out of him.
even after the high started to fade, you didn’t want to move off of his softening cock, keeping all of his cum buried there for a minute. you gazed to haechan, a pleading gleam in your stare as you whispered, “i don’t want you to leave me.”
haechan blinked, starting to sober. all his apprehensions came back the second he realized what he’d done. he said your name and all, attempting to let you down gently, “listen, you’re, uh… great and all. this was great. but...”
you faked a pout, because you weren’t completely an idiot. you saw this coming. even giving haechan the best sex of his life wouldn’t make him fall in love for you. you cut him off, “are you really going to abandon your own baby, hyuckie? even if you do, it’s okay, because i’ll always carry a piece of you… inside me.”
there was a smug, sly smile on your lips. not even the pleasure of the sex couldn’t rival the satisfaction of watching the realization dawn on his face.
oh, hyuckie, you sighed to yourself. you’re a fool if you thought you were getting rid of me that easily.
#lee haechan smut#nct dream smut#nct 127 smut#haechan smut#nct smut#haechan scenarios#haechan x reader#tw: dubcon#tw: stalking#tw: forced breeding#revehae fics
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pity
pairing: Johnny Cage/reader
wc: 1.3k
warnings: angst no comfort... sorryyyyy, no use of pronouns or yn, gender neutral reader
a/n; in my feels so i'm torturing everyone else :) it's not good, maybe not even coherent but i dont care !!!!!! JOHNNY CAGE ANGST BABYYYYY
The friendship between you both has become uncomfortable. The worst part is, it’s your fault, there’s nothing inherently wrong with harbouring long-term feelings for one of your closest friends, the issue comes when you choose to stupidly admit that to them, even when you know they don’t feel the same way. The conversation was awkward and you regret it deeply, it wasn’t even planned or romantic or anything grand like in movies… it was just awkward.
You’d been having your weekly movie night at his house; he’s made a bad habit of sticking his nose in your business and that night was no different. It had been perfectly fine until he started haranguing you over when you were going to get back in the dating field and find someone who deserved you, but he was pushing it – like he so often does.
He had said, “Come on, when’s the last time you even liked someone, you need to get out there again… world is your oyster and all.”
“That’s for like… job opportunities and stuff, Johnny,” your eyes rolled at him.
“It can be for love too… or at least dating. I mean come on… you’ve not dated anyone in like…” he had stopped to think on it, “…Holy fuck! Years! It’s been years… what’s stopping you?”
You avoided his eyes, “I don’t want to talk about this, let’s just start the movie…”
Your avoidance was only piquing his interest though, “So, there's something to talk about then! What is it? Do you like someone?”
You couldn’t help the way your demeanour shifted, giving yourself away, “This is childish, Johnny. I just want to watch the next movie.”
His hand had reached out to jab at your side, “You like someone? Do I know them? Tell me!”
He was annoying and persistent, yammering at you, trying to get you to spill your guts, it was frustrating and overwhelming and eventually with wet eyes you admitted, “Jesus Johnny! It’s you okay? I. like. you.” The next part is what you regret most, “I…love you.”
You had watched the way he pulled back from you, “Oh.” He scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly, “I’m really… I’m sorry, doll… but I don’t feel the same…”
He wouldn’t look you in the eyes, and after several moments of silence, you spoke up, “I never asked you to.” You remember peeling yourself off the couch, too uncomfortable to stay, “I’m going to go… thanks for tonight...” You had gotten out of there as quickly as you could, distressed at having given away a piece of yourself you weren’t quite ready to part with.
✶⋆.˚
It’s not like you’ve not seen him since then, you go to events or parties hosted by mutual friends or by Johnny himself but he’s started looking at you a certain way, it’s frustrating you to no ends. Every time you catch each others gaze or make small talk, he watches you with an expression filled with so much pity, you just know he feels bad for you and you need him to stop because not only is it making you feel worse, it’s making you feel… angry. Like you might poke him in his two eyes just so he can’t look at you like that anymore.
Tonight is the same, he’s hosting a party and you didn’t really want to come but one of your mutual friends had insisted that you go with them. So, you showed... only to immediately regret it because as soon as Johnny looked at you, his eyes were pitying you in a way that makes you feel embarrassed. You don’t think he’s aware of how he's looking at you but the only thing he’s doing is making this harder for you. You so badly wish you could go back in time just to stop yourself from saying anything, if you had just kept quiet, he wouldn’t know and you wouldn’t both be keeping each other at arm’s length.
Ever since that night, it feels like you’re acquaintances, not good friends… before it all… you would’ve described him as one of your best friends but now he feels so distant from you, so far that he doesn’t even feel like a friend.
The way he’s looking at you from across the room has you turning and going in the opposite direction, you can’t leave – your friend is your ride – but you sure as hell can avoid the fuck out of him. Which you plan on doing, it’s not particularly hard, there are plenty of people here and they all want to talk to him, every time he starts moving towards you, you slip away and thank the lord that people love talking because he gets stopped every few steps without fail.
Later in the evening you begin to feel overwhelmed by all the people, they’re everywhere, you need a break, you need to breathe. Carefully, you sneak away and upstairs, heading for Johnny’s bedroom, he has a balcony attached to his room and you could use the night air. There is also one in the main area but people are out there smoking and talking and you just… need to be alone.
It’s quiet out here and you can finally take a deep breath and unclench, folding your arms over the railing, you rest your head down on them, letting yourself cool in the evening air. It was a bad idea coming here tonight, when you think of Johnny at the moment, all you can see is his sad eyes looking back at you. How are you going to fix this? You don't think there is anything you can do really…
The door to the balcony opens and closes behind you softly, “I thought I’d find you here,” Johnny’s voice is soft as he walks to you.
When you look to him, he’s still got that stupid look on his face, “Stop looking at me like that.”
He's confused, “Like what?”
“Like you’re pitying me, it’s making me feel…” you trail off before finishing, “It’s not helping, just stop.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not meaning to…” He goes to place a hand on your back but thinks better of it and places them both on the railing.
You’re looking away from him, out into the night, at the view, if you look at him to see that expression... you’ll either cry or become violent.
He sighs from beside you, “Listen, about what you said–”
You cut him off, you don’t want to talk about this, “–We don’t have to talk about it… forget I said anything.”
His expression is incredulous when he looks to you, “Forget that you confessed to me?”
You stay looking forward, “Yeah. Forget it.”
He implores you, “How can I just forget something like that?”
“Try really hard,” you wave a hand, attempting to remain unaffected despite how exposed you’re feeling.
He tries moving closer, silently begging for you to look at him, “I have– I have tried really hard but I can still hear your words in my head, I can still hear how you told me–”
“–I didn’t mean it.” Bracing yourself, you look him in the eyes.
He looks almost disappointed, “What?”
Keeping yourself as steely as possible, you deadpan, “I lied, I didn’t mean it, I’m taking it back.”
“You can’t just take something like that back,” his brows crease at you.
Shrugging, you ask, “Who says?”
“That’s not something you can just do, you can’t tell someone you… you love them and then take it back,” he sounds angry at you.
You answer with a sigh, “Does it matter?”
He raises his voice slightly, “Of course it matters!”
Turning your whole body to him, you say outright, lying through your teeth, “Johnny, I don’t love you.”
He shakes his head at you, “Don’t say that.”
You smile at him regretfully but say nothing.
His eyes hold a pain that they shouldn’t, “You said you love me.”
Maybe if you lie, things will be okay... “I got over it.”
✶⋆.˚
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Yes and No
“Do you love her?”
It had taken them less than thirty minutes to go from the Rizla game to just asking each other random questions. The only celebrities that Sherlock knew were nineteenth-century chemists and twentieth-century criminals, which had more or less spoiled the game, and Sherlock had declared it pointless.
Then he suggested Yes or No, which at least required some deductive reasoning, and John agreed. But Sherlock was very good at this game, having deduced nearly everything about John in the first days of their acquaintance. Without asking any question, he deduced that John would choose violin, a human liver, Mrs Hudson’s nephew, and Sherlock’s old mouse-coloured dressing gown.
John gives up. “Fine. What don’t you know about me?”
Do you love her is a real question, he gathers— from the look on Sherlock’s face, which is serious and a bit sad.
The answer, which should be yes, of course I love her, instead comes out, “I’m marrying her.”
“People marry for reasons other than—“ Sherlock stops, appearing to realise he is going in a direction that can only lead to bad feelings. “Sorry, not a fair question. Better: When did you know that you loved her?”
He remembers grief. The intense pain of the days after he saw Sherlock die on the sidewalk in front of Barts. There are few details he can recall after that moment. It was as if the pain had receded just enough to let him breathe, and a kind of grey fog had descended. Pain, then sorrow.
Somewhere during the sorrow part, Mary had appeared. She may have been there sooner, but he hadn’t noticed. At some point he became aware of her bringing him coffee, talking to him, urging him to come out for lunch. Always there, cheerfully bullying him back into life. Eventually he noticed that he wasn’t quite as sad, and that she was rather pretty.
But the pain was still there, a tender spot in his memory, and most days he still felt defeated. Mary helped, though, and he thought that if she stayed, everything would be easier. He didn’t need to explain; she understood. He could keep the memories at bay when she was around.
By then he was having sex with her. He didn’t remember exactly how that had begun. Maybe it was a pity fuck one night when he’d had too much to drink. He woke up in her bed hungover, waiting for the darkness to descend like a weight on his chest, and she was there, making him a cup of tea, urging him to have some toast, sweetly solicitous and not accepting any excuses.
Does he love her?
Sherlock is still looking at him, the question in his eyes.
“She was there when I needed someone,” he says. “I just knew.”
He’d known that morning that he needed to move on, to leave what had happened in the past and live his life. And there she was.
“Your turn,” Sherlock says.
John thinks of all the things he’s ever wanted to know about Sherlock, but has never asked because it has never seemed a good time. Sherlock has a way of warding off questions with just a look. An armour that does not allow anyone in, not even John. He’s wondered about a lot of things, but asking has never been an option. Sherlock never has to ask; he simply deduces. John is terrible at deductions, as Sherlock often reminds him.
“Have you ever been in love?”
Sherlock doesn’t hesitate. “Yes. Twice.”
“That was a yes-no question, so I get follow-up. So, the first. Who was he?”
Sherlock smiles. “You’re assuming it was a man.”
“Wasn’t it? I thought… you’re… erm…”
“Gay? Yes, I am.”
“You loved a man,” John says. Obviously.
“Well, a boy. I was twelve. I suppose it wasn’t love so much as infatuation and hormones. His name was Victor. I never told him until I met him again at uni.” He gives John one of those looks that makes him feel like he is being x-rayed. “Have you ever kissed a man?”
“I’m not gay,” he says at once. “I mean, why would I kiss a man if I knew I wasn’t gay?”
“Follow-up question, then. When did you know you were not gay?”
John’s mouth may have been open for a bit. It’s an odd question. Everybody knows they’re straight until something happens and they know they’re not. Isn’t that the way it works? “I just knew. When did you know you were gay?”
“When I was twelve. I was at a stupid birthday party my mother made me attend, and we were playing Forfeit. I was asked a question I didn’t like to answer and took the forfeit. Up until then the penalties were stupid things like singing a song or doing a dance, but this time it was kissing a girl. The girl was willing, and I was curious, so I agreed. That was when I realised girls weren’t my cup of tea, so to speak. I wanted to kiss Victor.”
John says nothing, though it’s his turn. He remembers a similar party, a boy who wanted to kiss him, and feeling terrified that his parents would find out if he did. Harry had just come out, and he was trying very hard to make up for all of her shortcomings.
Sherlock asks, “How do you know you’re not gay if you’ve never kissed a man?”
“I’ve kissed lots of women,” he replies. “I don’t need to kiss a man to know I’m not gay.”
Sherlock shrugs. “I assumed that I was like everyone else, that some day I would meet the right girl, get married, and have children. That was how it was supposed to work, and I thought there was something wrong with me because I didn’t like girls that way. All my fantasies were about boys, but I thought I would eventually be attracted to girls as I got older. That kiss told me I would never love a woman.”
“You think I should kiss a man just to see if I’m a bit gay?” He laughs.
“It’s your forfeit, for not having an answer.”
“I’m not going to kiss some random bloke just because you—“
“Not a random bloke. Me. Kiss me.”
This is dangerous ground. Somewhere in his libido lies something that he’s thought about. Maybe he’s even fantasised about kissing a man. Having sex with a man. Just a lark, maybe. Don’t lots of men go through that? It doesn’t mean anything.
But, Sherlock. He lived with him for a year and a half, and they’d been friends. And he grieved when Sherlock died. Not grieved like a friend. He’d lost friends before, and this was nothing like those losses. Pain, darkness, unending regret. Even after Mary, some of that darkness remained. Moments when he remembered something Sherlock had said or done, a stab of pain. If it hadn’t been for Mary—
And it came to him. Mary was balm for his wounds. She brought him back from the edge. He is grateful to her. But gratitude isn’t love. Being in such pain for so long, and then a bit of light— that isn’t love, it’s relief. He’s seen patients in physical pain become almost giddy when given a dose of something that takes their agony away, not even enough to make them high. Relief feels like intoxication when pain has gone on so long.
If it hadn’t been for Mary, he would have understood what he’d only begun to see. She helped him, saved him even. But she was a distraction from the pain, not a cure.
He glances at Sherlock, who is pulling back, looking like he wishes he hadn’t just asked for a kiss. Maybe he’ll make a joke about their game, move them towards goodnight, goodbye, see you at the wedding.
“Yes,” he says. It’s an answer to everything— regret, grief, sorrow, love. It’s an apology for not seeing sooner, for the night at the Landmark, for his anger and cruel rejection of the man he has loved for years. “Kiss me.”
* * * * * * * * * *
Sherlock is right. The kiss tells John things he’s tried hard to forget. It tells him that has loved men before, but called it friendship, that he has wanted to touch men and kiss them, and called it lust, or fantasy, or a phase that all men go through. Women attract him too, and he grabbed onto heterosexuality like a life-raft because he was afraid of the alternative. His sister and his father, yelling. Harry thrown out of the house. His father, looking at him, saying not you too. Never you, my boy.
The kiss tells him that has already met the love of his life.
“I need to call Mary,” he says when they break away.
Sherlock looks sad. He nods. “Of course.”
“One more question,” John says. “Who was the second person you loved?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” he says. “I’m about to call my fiancee and break our engagement just days before the wedding because I’m in love with my best friend. So please, answer the question.”
Sherlock’s face does something John has never seen. It crumples and tears fill his eyes, and then he’s laughing and crying and not able to speak.
John kisses him again.
Author note: This is an old ficlet, from Trifles, posted here.
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Just a pawn
Kaz Brekker x fem!reader
Notes: kinda wanna make a part two..but maybe I just will leave it here.
Warning: Angst, heartbreak, no comfort, short, cursing, I wanna hug the reader.
This was exactly what you signed yourself up for, you tried to stop it. Telling yourself to bury the feeling deep down so you couldn’t get hurt, you hated feeling weak and this was exactly what you expected. You knew he would crush your heart, that you would wait for the end of time for him, just for him to feeling anything…
Anything other then anger.
“Don’t you walk away from me!” He shouted from behind you as your back was turned. You bit the inside of your cheek ready to cry and scream in anger. Spinning yourself you glare at him, his face dirty and sweat dripping and he looked as miserable as always. “Or what, Brekker?” You stepped closer, never letting your anger slip.
“Because we both know you can’t afford to let me go, who else would you have to throw in harms way? Inej, oh not your wraith. Jesper? Not him, your charming shooter. Nina, wylan, Matthias? Because for fuck sake he risk anyone he doesn’t care about!” You shouted as loud as you could, actually hoping everyone could hear you in ketterdam.
“Don’t you shout at me, this wasn’t my fault. We got the job done so stop yelling like this.” He groaned out. You laughed and put on a smile, “Oh thank the saints! We got the job done, so glad my almost death was worth it.” You cheered while putting your hands up.
Kaz looked at you with a glare and stood up straight not having the slightest bit of amusement from you. “For fuck sake, I had a plan. Yes you almost died but that happens on jobs like these. You came to me remember? You signed yourself up for this.”
You sighed yourself up for everything.
“No, I did not. If jesper wouldn’t have acted fast I would have fell from the building, nothing under me or could stop me from hitting the ground. I knew i could die on these jobs,” you went quieter and your eyes become heavy and flickering with tears, “what I didn’t know is that I would be used as a target to just toss around. Each time it’s always me who almost dies and you tell me to do it.”
He glare softens and his jaw unclenches it self. “I don’t toss you for you to die. You know that.” But did you? Did he ever give you a reason to believe that? “I actually don’t, kaz. I know nothing of what you feel or care about other then yourself.” The words cutting him like a knife. She wasn’t yelling or shouting but speaking to him in such a hurt tone.
“I know you know how I feel about you, kaz. I tried to hide it but it was just too hard, and I thought when you looked back at me- That you felt the same way I did.” You laughed and wiped the tears rolling down your face, “Funny huh? It was pathetic of me to believe that. Because you never could care for me like I want you to, you can’t even treat me like something other then a pawn.”
He couldn’t say anything, couldn’t do anything as she broke in front of him. She didn’t know that it was her he cared about the most and it scare him how deep his feelings went. He pushed her away each time to not let the feeling take over, always yelling at her or moving her around. And it killed him to know he could never pull her close and touch her skin.
“Nothing to say? Fine, I’ll talk for the both of us. I’m leaving and when I come back we will forget this ever happen. You wouldn’t speak to me other then on a job, no glances from across the room. Nothing but acquaintances.” Speaking clearly with her mind made up.
Kax watched her walk away to the door and all he wanted to do was go after her and make her stay with him, tell her just how much he cares for her. But she could never know, he could never give her what she deserves. He stepped closer and his body moving on its own, but he forced himself still. You turned around and looked at him half way out the door, a sad smile on your lips and glossy eyes.
“Goodbye, kaz.” And then he lost sight of you and his heart shattered. He knew this was your way of saying goodbye to the way it was between the two of you. It was never going to be the same, a goodbye to him as yourself. He huffed and turned around to clear his deck of everything on it in anger. He shouted and slammed his hands on the table knowing it could very well be goodbye forever.
“You never were a pawn.” He sighed to himself like he was talking to your ghost. Everything he wanted to say.
#shadow and bone#shadow and bone x reader#kaz brekker x reader#kaz brekker#angst#fem!reader#kaz brekker imagine#kaz brekker x fem!reader
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ur gonna luv me - armin
tw: manipulative armin, yandere-ish, 18+
note: i wrote this for a request and stupid me forgot they specifically requested noncon ! but i thought i should just post this in the mean time :)
armin is nothing if not patient. he’s the type to wait as long as it takes to earn your trust, which you give him rather easily, to his surprise. it was a bit concerning, actually, how quick you were to trust him — it just showed him how naive you really were, how much you needed him to protect you. all it took was a gentle offer to tutor you in the course he knew you struggled with the most, as well as a few surprise visits to your apartment with your favorite coffee order in hand to surprise you, and he could already see the way you started looking at him with stars in your eyes.
“how did you know this is my favorite?” you asked, and he honestly had to keep from looking at you with complete pity as he told you it was just a lucky guess.
he knew everything about you. he’d made himself quite acquainted with your living space every time you left the room, or when he’d buy himself extra time by asking you to grab the notes or textbook he left in his car. he looked at all of your trinkets, memorized each and every picture on your wall and made note of any male friends who might stand in his way. he’d read pages of your private journal — which he was elated to discover that you’d written about him more than once, dotting the i in his name with a cute little heart. knowing that you had a blossoming crush on him like a little schoolgirl was really all he needed to rationalize his behavior. it was working, just like he knew it would.
armin trains you to need him. he showers you with the attention he knows you love — compliments, praise, gentle touches — then suddenly pretends he’s too busy for you and borderline uninterested for a couple days. it’s devastating, but proves its worth as you desperately try to get his attention through random texts, calls, and more frequent posts to your social media. before you knew it, armin was the only person you thought about.
God, and when he finally knows that the two of you are completely enamored with each other, he takes full advantage. he’s just so good at making it seem like you’re taking the lead, like you’re the one initiating everything. as if he hasn’t morphed himself into who you need him to be, as if he hasn’t invaded your privacy and manipulated you into desperately clinging to him. you need his praise, his affection. you need him to tell you how smart you are, how pretty and thoughtful and perfect you are, because it feels like it only means something when it comes from him.
you need him to tell you how good you feel when you sink down on his cock, when you’re all flushed and whimpering as you struggle to take it all but loving how he coos gentle praises at you as you try. he loves feeling your little pussy tighten around him as it objects to the large intrusion, and he gets off on watching you quiver and sweat and cry above him.
“just a couple more inches to go, baby,” he breathes out. “you’re doing so well, take some more.”
and you do, because armin wants you to. he’s got you trained so well, so desperate to please him and feel his cock buried deep inside you that you’ll do anything for it. and the chants of “good girl,” “you’re doing so well,” “i know it’s too deep, baby, ‘m so proud of you” make the pain worth it. and when he angles himself into your sweet spot as he rubs his thumb in circles over your clit, you cry as you come undone on top of him, falling onto his chest as he fucks you through the waves of your orgasm.
you even take it as he chases his own climax, fucking into you harder and faster and asking you to take it just a little longer. he knows it’s too much but you’re his good girl, right? you just wanna please him, don’t you? you nod desperately, all teary-eyed and your eyes rolling back as you feel your body shaking again, and you can’t tell if it’s another orgasm or if your first one never stopped, but it’s all too intense and your head is empty as he kisses you, swirling his tongue with yours as his cum fills you up.
armin’s got you hooked on everything about him. his words, his actions, the way he fucks you until you’re passed out and leaking cum. he has you hooked on earning him, dedicated your time solely to him because the rewards he promises make it all seem so worth it. and he does it all without you realizing that you never really had a choice. <3
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BUSY THINKING ABOUT SITTING ON A ROOFTOP WITH DABI
“i thought i told you to fuck off,” DABI muttered, not even turning to face you as you were sitting down on the next to him, your feet hanging over the edge. “and i told you that i don’t give a shit,” you answered shrugging, “if it bothers you so much, feel free to piss off” it was hard to see his face in the dark, but you could still hear him chuckling to himself. that was the most you would hear from each other. you rarely spoke, usually only sitting on the tall building in the outskirts of the city. you didn’t know who he was, he also didn’t know your name. you were just two people, sitting together on top of an abandoned building, escaping their lives for just a couple of hours. you weren’t friends, not even acquaintances — but you somehow understood each other without speaking a single word.
a/n: will i ever do another mha character? quickly posting before seeing “talk to me”
#₊❏❜ ⋮myheroacademia#dabi x reader#dabi x you#mha x reader#dabi scenarios#touya todoroki x you#dabi imagine#dabi headcanons#touya todoroki x reader#mha headcanons#dabi hcs#mha dabi#bnha headcanons#bnha x reader#bnha x you#bnha dabi#touya todoroki#my hero academia#mha scenarios#mha imagines#dabi x gender neutral reader#todoroki touya x you
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You’re loosing me 🥲
you're losing me
event masterlist
pairing: wilbur soot x gn! reader
tw: angst, wilbur is kind of a dick tbh, crying and fights
notes: i love this song so much but this one made me so sad man. im getting better at writing angst but it still makes me sad :(
word count: 1.5
taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @core-queen / @zooone / @lillylvjy / @ghostsacrosslndnfields / @melunnek
You couldn’t sleep.
You and Wilbur had barely spoken in months. You two see each other everyday, and it’s almost shocking how many conversations you could have without saying anything. You couldn’t tell if you even loved him anymore, you knew you had the ability to, it was just hard to sort through all the noise and indecision in your brain.
Wilbur wasn’t very vocal about your relationship. He was affectionate in private, but sometimes in public it felt like he barely knew you. Even though you’d been together for years, he still acted like an acquaintance when you were around anyone, even friends.
Your relationship felt like dying. You didn’t feel trapped, but you so desperately wanted him to just do something and be there, give you any sign that he still cared about you and loved you.
You felt cold when you finally managed to go to sleep. His arms weren’t wrapped around you like they used to be. It felt like sleeping next to a stranger.
You felt just as cold when you woke up. Wilbur was awake next to you, leaned up and scrolling on his phone. You turned and looked at him, unable to hide the sourness from your expression this early in the morning.
He looked at you in response to your shifting, “Hm? Oh, good morning, darling.” He smiled, “Sleep well?”
You shrugged in response. You missed when a response like that would make him pull you into his arms, kiss you and ask you what was wrong and what he could do to help.
Instead, he just ignored it. “Old friend of mine is having a party tonight, do you want to come with me?”
Not really. But it was better than just sitting and rotting in your apartment, unable to escape the constant reminders of your dying relationship.
“I’ll come, I guess.” You’d long given up hiding the pain and resignation in your voice. Wilbur never noticed the signs.
“Great,” he leaned down, pecking your lips quickly, “I love you, darling,” he stood, walking out quickly.
You didn’t even have a chance to respond before he was out of the room.
You laid in bed for a long time. Wilbur barely noticed that you stayed there, even as he flitted around the room and got dressed for the day. Once he’d spoken a quick “goodbye” and headed out (you didn’t even know where he was going), you finally stood up and took a shower. You cried while you showered. Your heart felt tired of this, and you didn’t know how much longer you could keep it together. You’d dedicated years of your life to this relationship, and he acted like he simply tolerated you. You don’t know how long you stood there crying, but by the time you got out, Wilbur had returned. If he noticed your red-rimmed and puffy eyes, he didn’t say anything.
You got ready for the party quickly. It was a quick walk there. Every time you remembered the walks you used to go on, where his arms would be around you or his hand it yours, it felt like twisting a knife in your chest. But you put on a happy face. It wasn’t anyone here’s business the mental torment you were going through.
The start of the party was nice, meeting some of Wilbur’s friends and mostly just talking your praises of Wilbur. Shortly after, he left you alone, and you felt overwhelmed. You didn’t know anyone here, except Wilbur and he’d currently fucked off to where ever. You stood in the corner, trying to spot him in the gathering of people. It almost felt like he was ignoring you, but you tried to convince yourself that it wasn’t on purpose.
It did make you bitter, though. He was the one who told you to come, he was the one who invited you out, and he was the one who was supposed to love you. You’d never felt so alone in a room full of so many people.
You finally spotted him, making your way over quickly. You took your place next to him, and he spared you a quick glance before going back to his conversation. You didn’t butt into the conversation, you didn’t even know this guy.
He brought you up though.
“And so, you two, you’ve been together how long now?”
“Three years,” Wilbur supplied, letting his hand come to rest on your lower back.
“Wow, three years, that’s amazing. Are you liking the married life?”
It was an honest mistake, one you would’ve clarified with a soft chuckle and a simple “Oh, we’re not married yet.”
Wilbur had a different response. “Oh, god, no,” he fully laughed, shaking his head, “We’re not married. Didn’t mean to give you that idea.” He responded, acting like it was a joke.
It sent you spiraling. The rest of the night was a blur, too lost in your own thoughts. He clearly seemed to think that your relationship was a joke. So why was he even still with you? Why was he making you feel like you were dying? Why was it going to be your job to find a way to end this? To get him to admit that there was nothing left; he didn’t love you anymore.
You didn’t remember getting home. You had walked home without him. He probably hadn’t even noticed. You stood in front of the mirror, staring at yourself and just wondering how you could’ve gotten there.
Wilbur unlocked the door to the apartment about half an hour after you’d gotten home.
“Love?” He asked, walking in and finding you in front of the mirror, “Why’d you come home without saying anything?”
You sighed quietly. “I’m shocked you actually noticed.”
He scoffed, “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You haven’t noticed anything else.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know you don’t.” You ran a hand through your hair.
He didn’t speak for a while, crossing his arms, “Is this… another one of your sadness things again? You should just tell me if you’re upset. I could’ve stayed there if I knew that’s all it was.”
You felt rage bubble up in your chest, “God, Wilbur, I am so sorry, actually. That my pain ruined your fucking night. By all means, go. Clearly, you think I’m the pinnacle of being okay right now, so just fucking go. You obviously would rather be anywhere than with your partner who’s been struggling for months.”
He frowned, “What are you on about?”
You clenched your jaw, “Do you love me, Wilbur?”
“What? Of course I love you-”
“Then tell me anything about myself, right now. Anything recent. How have I been doing at work? What song have I been listening to? How many nights have I stayed up crying while you didn’t notice?”
He was speechless. You continued.
“I have spent months being there for you. Every time anything went wrong, or you needed support, you didn’t even have to say anything, I was always there for you, even when it hurt me! And you haven’t even noticed that I’ve been fucking drowning for months. All I’ve wanted for months is for you to ask once, just once, if I’m okay. And you haven’t!” You scoffed, anger bringing a laugh out of you.
“And you know what? I wouldn’t marry me either! Because clearly there must be something so vitally wrong with me that when one of your friends mistakenly thought we were married, you laughed in his face. You treated the entire concept as a joke! And I- I’m such a fucking people pleaser, I didn’t even say anything or speak up at all! I let you laugh off the idea of us being together forever as if it didn’t even matter!”
You were fighting off tears as he spoke up finally.
“Is that what this is about? I didn’t mean to laugh like that, it just caught me off guard.”
You put your head in your hands, groaning and yelling into them, “That is not what this is about, Wilbur! Have you even been listening to me? Do you fucking love me or not? Because you haven’t given me any indication to show me that you love me, Wilbur. I feel like I’m dying just being here with you, and you haven’t even noticed. I have done so much for this relationship, and all I have wanted for months is for you to give any sign that you even know I exist!” You panted, and Wilbur just stared at you, “Will you just fucking do something?”
“I don’t know what to say. I didn’t realize that you were… were feeling like this.”
You nodded, sitting down on your bed, arms crossed. “Get out, Wilbur,” you whispered.
“What?”
You sighed, placing your head in your hands and wiping away tears, “Get the fuck out. I can’t do this anymore.”
Within moment, he walked out, leaving you behind.
The worst part about it all was how easily he listened. He didn’t try to fight for you. He just grabbed some of his things and left you, alone, to sit in a dark room where you’d watched your relationship die.
#mar's 200 follower event#mar writes#wilbur soot x reader#mcyt x reader#dsmp x reader#wilbur x reader#wilbur soot#wilbur soot x you#wilbur x y/n#wilbur
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✦ The Sky Is Where I Fell (For You)
Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader | Flight Attendants AU
Summary: When you and a former fellow trainee attend a flight together, but a really attractive blonde wishes to dally with you, feelings unravel. (Read Warnings)
Word Count: 3.7k
Warnings: 18+ ONLY. MINORS + MEN DNI. smut, angst, jealousy, a bit of toxicity, brief Carol Danvers x Reader, Carol is a bit of an asshole here i’m sorry, top!reader & bottom!wanda, oral (wanda receiving), fingering (wanda receiving), semi-public, sex on an airplane lmao, finger sucking, daddy kink, praise kink, use of pet names, cunt slapping (wanda receiving), multiple orgasms, orgasm control
Author’s Note: those are a lot of warnings compared to any of my works 😭 you can guess that it’s just smut because i really would love to fuck flight attendant!wanda she’s such a little baby🥺 please don’t judge this harshly it’s my first time writing a lot of smut in one fic (as if it’s a lot) besides, i’m sorry for whatever character carol has you’ll kinda have to bear that i love carol danvers 😩 to the two dots anon, i hope you like this <3
Masterlist
YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED TO REPOST OR COPY MY WORK.
— ✦ —
The plane reached the runway, and it was time for you and Wanda to take your seats at the cabin crew seats. She sits down next to you and you give her a smile. You were familiar with her back from your training days, but nothing more.
It was common for you though, to attend a flight with a person you barely knew, so you were quite thankful for knowing her name rather than asking her last minute.
You fasten your seatbelts and breathe deeply before the airplane starts the take-off on the runway. The flight was supposed to be 9 hours long, and you felt like you were already exhausted. It meant multiple rounds around the cabin and constant checking around here and there. There were some more crew members resting in the crew rest apartment above you, who would cover the latter shift, so it was a relief.
The plane started running, then almost glided on the land, and no sooner than that, you departed from the grounds of the city you may never even come back to. The moment the land was not in touch with the wheels of the plane, you felt a wave gulfing you. Past went the tall buildings, and past went the cotton-like clouds.
Upon reaching the peak of the horizon, you take a deep breath. A substantial part of your work gets cut off the moment a take-off is successful. It means you can breathe for a few minutes, despite the change in altitude.
“Y/N, if I’m not wrong?” Wanda asks you, still smiling at you. You nod in reply, not really sure what else could have been said. “I think we know each other? Remember the Carter Airline Academy? A brunette girl, kinda shy, oh and I have a twin brother as well?” Her hair was gorgeously reddish ginger now. Maybe that’s why she preferred to indicate her former hair colour.
“Oh yes, Wanda! I remember you, we never interacted much but I know you.” You pretend to have just recognised her. But she looks so happy about it, it’s the least one could do for her. Her contented smile is so precious and contagious, that you cannot help but beam right back at her. “Well, now is the time if you wanna “interact much” you know. I don’t wanna get bored today.”
“Neither do I.”
— ✦ —
On the first round around the cabin, while serving the pre-booked meals, you happened to make an acquaintance. You and Wanda had been giving out the meals and drinks starting from the very first row, but as you proceeded forward, some of the overhead storage cabins started loosening. You asked Wanda to take the snack cart back to its place, to avoid a fuss.
Walking down the aisle, you closed and locked overhead cabins. And when your head was tilted to a side, a powerful looking woman with blonde hair stood up and shut the one behind you, before you could get hurt. You immediately turn around to see a muscular arm holding down the shutter. Goddamn.
“Th-Thank you ma’am,” you managed to say to her, “Is there anything I can do in return?”
She gives you a smile, and says, “First of all, Carol, please. And second of all, nothing. You’re an absolute cutie.” The last sentence was whispered in a low tone, then she winked at you. You were losing your mind standing next to her, she was superhumanly attractive. So you just blush and walk away back to Wanda to continue with your work.
“Carol Danvers” you mumble, looking at the list of passengers, and went back to giving out the meals.
While giving out the rest of the usual meals, you meet Carol once again. As she paid for her meal, she handed out a card with her phone number on it. You felt a bit of awkwardness with the passengers sitting next to her watching the two of you. However, you walk away twinking back to her. There was a high chance you were probably never going to call Carol, but you appreciated her very much. Plus, she was quite charismatic.
You enter the compartment where you and Wanda sat, and shut the door behind you. “How have you been ever since… you know, the academy?” you try initiating conversation with Wanda. She stares at you with a blank face, and you are confused. “Fine, I guess.”
You didn’t allow her bland response to ruin your mood. You just got hit on by a really pretty woman and you were here, trying to hit on the one beside you. You take out the card from your pocket and stare at it, while Wanda watches you.
“Actually, you know what Y/N? Why don’t you just go and fuck her? Seems like you have a lot of fucking to do. Hmm?” She asks you as her face tilted towards you, her warm breath on your cold cheeks.
Not going to lie, you did consider hooking up with Carol because you have been really needy all morning. But the way Wanda phrased it was very rude, so your expression faltered. “So… you’re jealous? Well uh, I don’t know how to phrase this well but I’m sure Wanda there are plenty of people who wanna fuck you. I can guarantee you, actually.”
“That is so fucking not what I meant.”
“Well what you’re thinking isn’t what I meant either.” You place a hand on her shoulder and get up, walking away towards the passengers’ compartment, letting your hand slowly slip away as you walk. You could sense Wanda’s reddened face from the back of your head. You go around asking every passenger if they required something.
You reach Carol and ask her, “Do you need anything, ma’am?” She gives you a wide smirk, “Nothing that I can’t think of.” She knew her game all too well, and she was being a fucking champion at it. But you were a bit more enticed by the redhead you left behind to contemplate.
Upon re-entering the cabin crew compartment, you saw Wanda waiting patiently for you. You sit down on the seat opposite to her, so that you would be able to notice her expressions. She nudged you to shut the door behind you.
The very second you two were alone, Wanda practically dived at you; connecting your lips with hers, moving along with you rhythmically. When you both begin gasping for air, you start marking Wanda’s neck gently, just enough to make her feel aroused, and to not affect her professional attire. Not that her shirt wasn’t already ruined, and her skirt on the verge of being so.
Her hands reach your shirt, and she proceeds to unbutton it, but you hold her hands in place. “You need to be a good girl and ask me first, baby. Or I won’t be touching you. You understand what I’m saying?”
She places her hands on your cheeks, each on one side, and says, “Yes daddy, I’ll be a good girl for you. Can I take off your shirt?” You groan at the honorific, unable to resist your need to give her what she wants right away.
“Hmm, we’ll see about that later. Let me get a taste of your pretty pussy first.” You guide her on the seat beside you, and spread her legs wide open. Her shirt rumples upwards and you slip both your hands under her skirt to pull down her panties. Wanda bucks up her hips, the way you were slow with your hands, tracing down her thighs with gentle fingers, leaving her longing for more. When you’re done talking them off her, you see her literally dripping and glistening.
“Does daddy really make her good girl so wet?” Wanda’s breathing intensifies. Your waft warmly, light against her core, that makes her need more and more of you.
“Daddy?”
“Hmm baby?” You hum against her again, making her almost go feral right there.
“My stockings… I have only one pair of them… I can’t ruin them today, please?”
“I got you baby. Daddy’s not gonna leave a drop at all anyways.” You gently kiss her cunt and then lick up a stripe. Wanda bucks up her hips again, looking for the friction she was aching for. Again, you lick up her slit slowly, teasingly.
“Da-daddy please.” Wanda says clutching your hair with desperation. “I promise you I will be a- Ah!” You start eating her out, with a pace she could barely keep up with. Wanda’s chest was heaving as she panted, her legs slowly wrapping themselves around you, as you sat on the floor.
Eventually, you stimulate her clit, making her moan too loud. You were glad that the door was soundproof and whatever sound that escaped wouldn’t be heard by people travelling kilometres above the ground. She was struggling to speak, but Wanda managed to say, “Daddy, I’m going to come. Can I, please?”
On your lack of response, she pulled your head in closer into her. You were too busy absolutely devouring Wanda. Not many moments later, she starts coming, and you keep up your promise by licking it all up. Her stockings were perfectly fine.
Gently, you stand on your knees and pull her face down in a deepened kiss, giving her a taste of her sweetness. She moaned against your lips and pulled you in impossibly closer. You both pulled away only when air became a necessity, but stayed in your little proximity. You help her get cleaned up and make her look presentable again. Her entire makeup was messed up because of the kissing and sweating.
The moment was tender, with her looking directly in your eyes as you held her chin and applied her lipstick. Her face was perilously close to yours. “Daddy, may I?” she asks for your consent, before connecting your lips again, but less intensely this time. She laughs and says, “Now I fixed your lipstick too.”
“I think we should mess it up quite often.”
“We were the ones who messed it up in the first place.”
“I know exactly what I said.”
Suddenly, you get the signal for another round of water and drinks around the passengers’ compartment and you have to go out reluctantly. “Y/N, do I look okay?”
“Well in my humble opinion, mademoiselle, you are fucking slaying.”
She burst out laughing at your little humour but didn’t realise you meant it. “Stop joking, and tell me if I look presentable enough or not!”
“Yeah, yeah you do Wanda.”
— ✦ —
Outside, you are met with Carol once again. You decided you’d better not hurt Wanda’s feelings this time, even though you didn’t know what terms you both were on. Carol’s seat was on the aisle side, so it was quite easy for her to flirt with you.
She conveniently dropped her phone the moment you passed next to her. “I’ll get it for you, ma’am.” you said, but she held you back, and bent down to her side, lightly brushing your thighs while doing so. Her touch gave you goosebumps all over the place, but you kept moving forward, knowing completely well that Wanda had been staring at the interaction with rage.
Back inside your compartment, Wanda seemed pissed off. “What are you even being so furious about? I am not even a guilty party here!” You plead, not knowing what else you could say.
She parted her lips slightly, but chose not to say whatever she had at the tip of her tongue. “Actually, let’s just go to the crew rest compartment. It’s time to switch shifts anyways.”
Before you two could leave, you heard a knock on the door between the compartments. You opened it to see Carol standing there, leaning on one of her arms. “Do you need something, ma’am?” Wanda asks on your behalf, because you seemed too troubled yourself. “Maybe just a moment with your colleague?” she replies, eyes still locked on you.
You add on to the conversation, “I’m afraid the passengers are not permitted in here, only the crew members.” But Carol pulls out something from her pocket; a pilot licence, to your surprise. “Am I still allowed?”
Placing her licence back in its place, she steps towards you. You side-eye Wanda as a signal to not leave you alone, but she walked right away. “Hey, I know you have been returning all my advances, so why are you denying it?” Her hands land on your waist, pushing you against the closed door. “Carol… Please don’t.”
“I love it when you say my name. Say it again, will you?”
“What will it take for you to leave me alone?” You throw her hands off you in rage. “Just a kiss, please?”
“I can’t do that I’m- Look, you just can’t be serious.”
“Yeah, I am serious.”
“I cannot believe I am doing this. Just don’t expect anything more from me, okay?” You feel guilty but you lean forward to give a small peck on the corner of her lips. You don’t allow her time to say anything, and motion for her to leave. Wanda was rightfully pissed off when you told her what happened, but you didn’t leave out anything, because you wanted her to trust you.
“You cannot be for real Y/N! You really consented to kissing her? That’s really not justified, especially when we just- Gosh.”
“Wanda, she could’ve done worse to me! It was forced consent! I didn’t know how else I could escape, I know what I did was wrong but I didn’t even have a choice. Besides, I don’t even know if you like me or we just fucked for a while.”
“So you really can’t see what I’ve been trying to say? Did you even pay attention to me at all or just had sex with the first woman you could find? Fuck off, Y/N.”
— ✦ —
The other two flight attendants who would be covering the second shift were Natasha Romanoff and Maria Hill. You had met Maria before, but only ever heard of the former. Wanda didn’t wait for you to gather your things and walked right away, leaving you alone. She was being way too unreasonable for someone who hasn’t even declared who you are to her. She didn’t understand that you needed a verbal confirmation, not the little signals.
Entering the compartment, you were met with the most outrageous sight — Wanda was quite a bit too comfortable with some other redhead who you assumed to be Natasha. One arm wrapped around her waist, the other holding her chin. Wanda’s hands were in Natasha’s hair, pulling her closer and closer towards her. Just the moment you clear your throat to signify your presence, they both turn their heads to see you and Wanda tells Natasha, “And that is Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N, meet Natasha Romanoff.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Natasha says courteously. You return her politeness and then add, “I presume you two already know each other?”
Wanda answers the question with an air of smugness, “Kinda well enough.” You take your stuff with you to go and rest in your respective area. Wanda takes the one right across you. Though there is a curtain segregating the areas, you felt like she was watching you through the opaqueness.
“Y/N, can we talk?” She approaches you, funnily enough.
“Oh I’m surprised to hear that. How about, let’s say, no?”
“I want to clear this out. I don’t want to play this game of jealousy with you. I’m sorry, I guess I was a little affected, but it wasn’t your fault.”
“I don’t know Wanda. Do you want this to last for a while or just a one time thing? I need an answer.”
“Definitely not a one time thing. Can this be… a little bit more? I think I’ve had a liking for you ever since the academy.” She begins to speak timidly, just like she was during the training years. “I’m really sorry, Y/N.”
You give her space to lay down next to you, and gradually begin hovering over her. “For that, you need to let daddy punish you for what you did. If you’ll be a good girl this time, daddy will reward her princess.” Your fingers trace her facial features, till you put two of them in her mouth, gesturing to her to suck on them. Shoving them deep down her throat, you praise her by saying, “What a perfect baby you are. But you have been very slutty today. Daddy needs to take care of that, doesn’t she?” You shove your fingers down deeper, and pull them out immediately. A strand of her saliva dangling over them.
You unbutton her skirt, and take off her stockings, being careful to keep them safely folded in the corner. Although Wanda knew you were being mindful of her wishes, she wanted to feel you inside of her desperately.
Her panties were really damp, and she couldn’t resist but rub her thighs against each other. The moment you saw her doing so, you held her legs apart. “Uh huh, no baby. What did I tell you about being good?”
“But daddy, please. Your princess needs you.”
“Are you going to be good and be patient or are you going to keep arguing and not get touched at all?” Her silence gave you a perfect response. You bend down to kiss her and completely captivate her under you.
Agonisingly, you pull down her panties, till her bottom was completely bare and there for you to wreck. The next moment, her heated, dripping cunt was met with a stinging slap. Wanda lets out a wail and her posture stiffens. “Sorry princess, but daddy needs to make sure you’re a whore for her and her only.” You add with pretentious innocence, followed by another slap.
Almost tearfully, Wanda requests you, “Daddy I swear I will behave, please touch me. I’m your whore, and yours only.” Her response was sufficiently satisfactory for you.
So you put in two of your digits in her heat, your shirt already a mess. Wanda clutches her hands tight on the bedsheet as you fuck her intensely, hitting all the deep spots inside of her.
She bites her bottom lip to avoid screaming, but you tell her, “I wanna hear you baby, tell everybody how you’re a slut for daddy.” Little by little, the volume of her moans increased. She was panting heavily, her diaphragm contracting and expanding hastily. And when the walls of her cunt were clenching around your fingers, you knew she was very close to her orgasm.
“Daddy pl-please, can I come?” Her ginger hair was spread beautifully on the bed, and a few strands on her face. You could almost see the brunette Wanda you had once known — the one you often encountered during breaks, the one your heart had remembered for so long, the one right below you.
“Hold back princess, you look so beautiful like this. Come when daddy asks you to. You don’t know for how long I’ve been dying to get you under me like this.” Her breathing is laboured, even more than before. You begin sucking on her neck, biting harshly to leave marks all over. After a few moments, you realise she wouldn’t be able to hold it in any longer, so you ask her to make a mess over your fingers.
You help Wanda ride through her climax, little beads of sweat running down her body and yours. She looked stunning, with her little smile and eye contact with you. You withdraw your fingers and put them in her mouth again. “Suck ‘em clean, princess.” The feeling of her tongue around your fingers was incredibly erotic, you looked at her fondly.
“You’ve been such a good girl for daddy. You think you can give her another one, baby?” The question left Wanda struck. She hadn’t imagined you’d not let the ego consume you, considering her elaborate past with emotionally unavailable, egoistic partners. She looked at you with no calculable expressions. “Wanda, are you okay? Can you hear me? Do you need water?” you try snapping her back to reality, suddenly worried if it was all too much for her.
Her eyelashes flutter and she groans, arching her back. She whispers, “Make me your fucktoy daddy.” The immediate wetness pooling in your underwear was unmatched.
After multiple rounds of orgasms, she was almost fatigued, ready to be asleep. With her eyelids drooling, she says, “Can I please return the favour, daddy?” You smile at her innocence. “It’s okay baby, you are tired right now and need to rest. Besides, you did so well. I’ll use my strap on you as soon as we reach inside the airport and get our luggage, okay? You want daddy’s cock do you not?” She hums in response, “Mhmm.” Teasingly, you softly press her extremely sensitive clit with your thumb, making her moan and twitch completely. You giggle at her and kiss her forehead. “You’re so fucking beautiful, princess.”
You relax your back as you lay down next to her. Right when you were about to doze off, Wanda tilts towards you and says, “Hey, Y/N.”
“Yes Wanda?”
“I’m sorry for everything that happened earlier. I guess I have been in many relationships that have put these scars on me. But I promise I’ll work on my trust and jealousy issues.” Her hands comb through your hair, softly massaging your head. “I’m sorry too, Wanda. I’m glad that you’re trying to heal yourself and work on everything. But mostly, thank you for choosing to open up to me.”
She slips a hand inside your shirt, cups your breast, and both of you fell asleep for the rest of the flight.
— ✦ —
[Extra Scene]
Maria returns to the crew resting compartment to collect a sheet of paper she had forgotten about, followed by Natasha behind her. Natasha holds her by the waist and begins planting soft kisses on her neck, and under the earlobes. Maria almost tumbled into the area across the passage, where Wanda was supposed to rest.
But then they both notice Wanda’s skirt thrown onto the passage, and your bare feet peeping out the curtain. It was evident that you and Wanda were sleeping together.
“Guess we’re all simply gay.” Maria shrugs before making out with the Russian again.
#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x y/n#wanda maximoff x you#wanda x reader#wanda x y/n#wanda x you#wanda x fem!reader#mcu wanda#scarlet witch x y/n#scarlet witch x you#scarlet witch x reader#scarlet witch#wanda maximoff smut
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Summary:
A continuation of my work Stress Reliever, in which you do something maybe a little stupid, which pisses off your easily annoyed partner, who then releases the stress you caused by saying mean things, along with doing you on the floor of the catacombs you fled into following your daring plan. He's mean, but it's all an act, a way to let out some long pent-up aggression, and you thoroughly enjoy it, anyways. It isn't necessary to read the first part, it's got enough context to catch you up if necessary. Anyways, enjoy!
Tags:
Dominant Leon S. Kennedy, Hate sex, angry sex, rough body play, rough sex, dirty talk, floor sex, wall sex, name calling, praise kink, overstimulation, face-fucking, crying, held down, creampie
Blurb:
“I got us out, okay? Now get the fuck-!”
“You almost got yourself killed! What, that tired of me you’re gonna kill yourself?”
“Didn’t look like you had a plan! Quit acting like you give a shit, you would’ve been fine either way!”
“You think I don’t give a shit?! Fine, I’ll stop saving your ass then, fuckin’ bitch!... Keep tellin’ myself you’re good for more than a fuck, but you keep proving me wrong every goddamn time.”
Text:
“Hey, get your ass back here!” I’m being petty, but he deserves it, thought it’d be a good idea to scream in my face over something mostly insignificant, a plan gone haywire, something we’re both well acquainted with, only this was a much closer call than usual. “Quit fuckin’ walking away from me!” He's yelling, hand gripping tight to my arm, wrestling my knife away from me and shoving me against a dirty wall, forearm pressing a little too harshly on my throat, my most evil glare returned by my not so happy partner.
“I got us out, okay? Now get the fuck-!”
“You almost got yourself killed! What, that tired of me you’re gonna kill yourself?” He cocks his head at me, pissed, his body pressed tight to mine, my hands held above my head by rough fingers, not giving me any opportunity to squirm my way out of his hold.
“Didn’t look like you had a plan! Quit acting like you give a shit, you would’ve been fine either way!” We’ve been fighting a lot the past few weeks, being more violent with each other than usual, the mission we’re currently on entirely too drawn out, an almost impossible task leaving us tense and at each other’s throats, for him literally. He narrows his eyes, and he would be terrifying if I hadn’t known him so damn long, if I wasn’t used to the way he treats me by now.
“You think I don’t give a shit?! Fine, I’ll stop saving your ass then, fuckin’ bitch!” I scoff, and he doesn’t like it, letting out a displeased noise and pressing his arm harder against my throat when I try to get away, make myself less vulnerable to him, put some space between us so this doesn’t escalate any further. “Keep tellin’ myself you’re good for more than a fuck, but you keep proving me wrong every goddamn time.” That one hurt, and he knows it, was trying to hurt my feelings, not that it’s true, even if our relationship is complicated, we’re the only people we’ve got, stuck with each other until we really do end up dead.
“Well at least I’m good for that, can’t say the same about you.” He doesn’t give me the satisfaction of surprise, instead his lips pull up into what would be a menacing smile, if his dramatics really did have an effect on me. He brings his face closer, huffing a bemused laugh when I turn my head to the side, refusing him the eye contact he likes so much, his lips instead moving to rasp low, rough words against my ear, his fingers squeezing tight around my wrists.
“Yeah? Sure, we both know you’re a dirty slut for it, love my dick so much you’d probably let me fuck you right now…” I squirm, trying and failing to escape him, knowing he won’t do anything I truly don’t want, but not wanting to succumb to his trick, give him the satisfaction of giving in. “I know you too damn well, you can’t hide shit from me, you fuckin’ love it when I get like this, squeeze me so tight when I fuck you rough.” He pulls back, letting his arm against my throat drift so he can grip my jaw, forcing my face toward him, my eyes cast down, ignoring what we both know is the truth. “What? Can’t look at me now that your slutty little secret’s in the open? Why don’t you let me calm the both of us down, let me fuck you so good we’ll both forget how fuckin’ stupid you are.” He’s pressing his knee between my thighs, pushing against the crotch of my pants, a little smirk on his face when my eyes pull up, still mad, but willing to put that to the side, at least for now.
“I’m not stupid, get off-!” He’s holding on too tight, hurting my jaw and my wrists, my cheeks squished under his fingers, my struggling not at all aiding me in my escape, his low laugh earning him a glare, but he doesn’t mind, returns it, pressing his lips to mine, a little too harsh, groaning when I kiss him back, never the one to deny myself pleasure, and neither is he, god knows neither of us get nearly enough.
“That’s what I thought… I’ll give you what you need… If I don’t wring your pretty neck first…” He’s kissing down over my neck, nipping and sucking hard enough to know it hurts, his hands holding me almost perfectly still, his grip painful, bruising and hot on my skin. “Why can’t you just… Be a good girl and listen… Always doing some stupid shit…” He cares a little too much, never expresses it, too scared to lose someone else, lay his feelings out just to get his heart torn to shreds, his anger stemming from fear, a helpless sadness he's never been very good at handling. He releases my jaw, the pain still there where his fingers were pressed to my skin, his freed up hand running down to knead at my breast through my shirt, his thigh moving against the crotch of my pants making me gasp, his smile pressed to the base of my throat. He’s so big, looming over me and pressing into me, making me shaky and all too willing to let him use me however he pleases, embarrassing as that is.
“Leon-”
“Shut the fuck up, don’t wanna hear any excuses, shut your big mouth or I’ll shove my dick so far down your throat you’ll lose your damn voice.” That was creative, I have to give him credit, even if he is being horribly dramatic, not even letting me speak, though I guess he expects me to egg him on, which is fair, because I probably would have if he gave me the chance. He’s being rough, shoving his thigh up into me a little too hard, teeth pulling at the skin of my throat, his hand shoving its way up my shirt to toy with a nipple, pinching and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, his dry laugh coming in response to my back arching to try and escape the rough treatment. “Don’t try ‘n run away… You love this shit, probably soaking your slutty fuckin’ panties over it, yeah?” It's easier, pretending to hate each other, keeping a safe distance from the truth, both of us all too aware whatever sick "Stress Relief" bull is going on between us is just an excuse to be close in a way we probably shouldn't. I turn my head away, avoiding his accusing eyes peering up at me, his hand pressing mine harder into the wall before releasing them, expecting me to keep them overhead, which I do, not wanting to incur more of his wrath than I already have. “There you go, now if you’d just sit this pretty and listen all the time I’d have no reason to get so rough…” His hand trails down, working my pants while the other plays with my nipple, hurting me, only a little, his lips softer on my skin, offering a sweet contrast he knows I’m a fan of.
“Le- Here?” I’m not supposed to speak, but this isn’t exactly a great location, some dusty, dirt-floored catacombs under the city we’re meant to be ridding of B.O.W’s. He pulls back, tilting his head to get a look at my face, my head turned away from him, eyes meeting his from the side, his look a little amused, still pissed, the tension of my near mishap keeping his body tight, all his worry for me, mine for him, protection all we're really able to offer each other in the way of affection, other than sex, which is never very loving, always under the guise of hate, annoyance, some made up shit that's lost its validity over time.
“You’re tellin’ me you don’t want it? Yeah right, that look you’re givin’ me is sure making it seem like you do, your slutty ass would do it anywhere, never pass up the chance to get some dick.” He grips my jaw, making me look at him, my head tilted up, his quick breaths puffing hot air into my face, all movement pausing for a few seconds as he looks at me, angry, but pensive, making sure I’m into this before sinking back into the aggression he’s usually so careful to hide. “Go ahead, tell me, wanna hear you fuckin’ say it, tell me you need my dick just as bad as I need your perfect fuckin’ pussy.” I planned not to indulge him this time, I really did, but I truly can’t deny him, we’re the same, and there’ve been plenty of times I’ve gone off the rails, and he’s never minded, just gave me what I needed to calm back down, usually in the form of a few orgasms.
“Okay, yeah.” He doesn’t find that satisfactory, just looks at me some more, eyes narrowed, shoulders hunched with uncomfortable tension, his anger at my actions mostly unwarranted, but also a little endearing, one of the things that lets me know he cares a lot more than he lets on. He doesn’t move, just watches me, waiting on a better response, his free hand up under my shirt, pinching my nipple, prompting me to respond a little quicker. “Shit-! I want you, okay? Just, stop-!” He lets go, smoothing his thumb over the sensitive flesh before pushing my shirt higher, up over my breasts, leaving it bunched up, the cool air underground making me shiver.
“Like I said, slutty.” He kisses me, grinding his hard dick into me as he shoves at my pants, letting them pool at my feet, not giving me any room to get them off, length of his body pressed to mine, his hands on my hip and the side of my neck, mine still held above my head, my arms hurting a little from being in this position so long. “Such a… Dirty bitch… Letting me fuck you like this…” He’s a little breathless, huffing into my mouth between kisses, his hips grinding into me making me feverish, his lips rough and covered in spit. “You’d probably love it if I shoved your face into the dirt… made you look just as dirty as you act… Probably cum so hard you’d start crying for me…” He groans, hooking his hands around the backs of my thighs and lifting, all the way up until he can rest my legs over his shoulders, my pants fallen to the ground in the process. “That can wait, wanna get a taste of your sweet pussy first, make you feel so good you’ll listen to me from now on.” He presses his nose and lips into me, inhaling, his eyes falling closed, my hands rested on the top of my head, arms burning too bad to keep them held up. “Fuck, you’re hot, too bad you’re so goddamn annoying…” He keeps his eyes closed, mouthing at me through my underwear, sucking and groaning and squeezing his hands on my hips, offering a little pain when his nails dig in.
“Should probably take those off, yeah?” He pulls back, lifting his head to look up at me, frowning, pulling back from the wall a little too suddenly, holding me up when my upper body falls back from the loss of support.
“Put your hands behind your back.” I look at him, waiting a few seconds before following his command, eager to get him to make me feel good, even if it means not using my hands, which are unnecessary, he can get me off perfectly fine on his own. “There… Now shut your pretty fuckin’ mouth until I’m ready to stick my dick in it, keep running your trap and you won’t cum at all, I’ll edge you until I get bored and leave you soaked and unsatisfied.” I don’t say anything, just shake my head, my unamused look drawing a rough laugh out of him before he presses me back to the wall, the rock digging uncomfortably into my bare arms, his face pressing into my panties a helpful distraction from the roughness scraping at my skin. “You taste so damn good… Such a good girl when you wanna be, wish you’d stay like this, listen this well all the damn time…” He sneaks his hand around, pulling my panties to the side, his eyes cast down at my surely soaked privates, his tongue swiping over his lips at the sight. “Want you to sit still and take it, none of that squirming shit you like to pull, got it?” I nod, letting my head lean back, his tongue against me wet and warm, trailing slick up to my clit before lapping at it, his eyes peering up at me, one of his thumbs rubbing tentatively at my hole.
The rock is hurting me, but I don’t say anything, afraid he’ll make good on his promise to leave me needy, his tongue against me too good to risk losing. I let out a low sigh when he presses his forefinger inside, easing me open, his lips closing over my clit and sucking harshly, a little painful when his teeth graze my sensitive flesh, my thighs trembling lightly from the harshness of it all. He pulls his face back when I really start to shake, looking up at me and easing another finger inside, being more gentle than usual, watching my face as he works them into me, a shaky breath pulling from his lips when I meet his eyes.
“There you go, making me wait so damn long… Keep those eyes on me, yeah? Wanna see the look on your face when I make you cum…” He’s speeding his fingers up, being a little rougher, squelching sounds a little too loud in the quiet of the catacombs, thumb of his working hand pressed hard to my clit, unmoving, just applying deliciously painful pressure to my overly sensitive nerves, making me squirm, needy and hot and shaky from the intensity of his touch. “Lucky I even give a shit if you’re ready, you’d probably love it if I shoved inside without stretching you out first, always ready for some dick, huh?” I let out a low whine, embarrassment settling in my gut making me feel almost sickly, his fingers fucking into me roughly, pressing hard to my g-spot, my legs twitching around him, hips held still from seeking friction against his thumb to send myself over the edge.
“Le- Please-” He stops, completely, goes still and stares at me, holding down his smile when I squirm, nails digging harshly into my hip making me grimace.
“Dirty bitch, can’t even wait for it, huh? Being nice and making your stupid ass cum, and you can’t even follow a couple directions.” He breathes a long sigh, hot air fanning over me making me flinch, his eyes cast up toward me, judging, looking down on me, even if he is below me. “You want it?” I nod, unsure if speaking would be a wise choice, since it nearly just got my orgasm privileges revoked, his lips quirking up making me wary, unsure about what he’s planning. He moves quickly, dropping my legs from his shoulders and letting me fall down onto my feet, the rock ripping the skin of my arms forcing a pained noise out of me, his expression going softer, my legs swept out from under me before I’m laid out on the floor, on my back, looking up at him looming over me. “I’ll clean you all up when we’re done, okay?” I nod, not minding the stinging of the cuts along the backs of my arms, more than used to the feeling of broken skin, not willing to give up on getting some relief to get the wounds taken care of. “Didn’t think, you c’n dig those nails into my back, make us match…” He sinks to his knees, slotting his legs underneath mine, looking at my face as he presses his fingers back inside, his free hand reaching for mine, holding them down on my stomach, humming in approval when his fingers make me moan, my hips shifting uncomfortably from how rough he’s being, his thumb finally moving against my clit, offering light pleasure to offset the tension he’s caused, my body wound tight, shaking and struggling against him, whining a little too loud when I feel my orgasm coming, the sound cut off by his hand closing over my mouth, shoving my head to the side and smearing my cheek into the dirt. “Shut the fuck up, being so damn loud the fuckers above ground’ll hear, so fuckin’ needy, so easy, nasty fuckin’ slut, go ahead, give me what I want, cum for me, squeeze my fuckin’ fingers and- shit, there you go, be fuckin’ quiet, stupid bitch, you look so good, open your eyes, yeah, keep ‘em on me…” He works me back down, pulling his fingers out and rubbing my clit until I come down, then a little after, making me whine, any attempts to escape stopped by rough hands.
“Le, please-” He doesn’t stop, just holds me still and works his finger against me, watching me, enjoying himself. “Hey, please- just- let me suck your-Nnh- dick-!” It hurts, my legs shaking, whole body tight with pleasure, not getting a break between orgasms making me terribly sensitive, and he knows it, pressing too hard, making it hurt a little more than it has to.
“In a minute, you’re not done yet, not fucked out enough, want you crying by the time I’m done, sobbing on my dick.” I groan, letting him continue, not that I have much of a choice, his strong hands holding me down, forcing me toward another orgasm less than a minute after my first, nearly there, my body feeling hazy, warm with the pleasure he’s giving me, only a little too much, the perfect amount of painful. “You can take it, yeah? Course you can, you’re fuckin’ loving it, ready to cum again, such a good girl…” He presses my face to the dirt when I moan, twisting my neck a little further than what’s comfortable, smearing my face with soft soil, my eyes clamped shut, insides closed tight around his fingers, my orgasm a duller pleasure, his words spoken from lips close to my ear as he leans over me. “See? I know you need it, wanna be so fucked out you can’t think, I’ll give you a break, make sure my dick’s the only thing on your mind.” He pulls his hand away, running it up my stomach to turn my head back forward, his head pulling back to look into my face, messy and wet with sweat and maybe a little drool. “So pretty, you look good all messy for me… Still wanna suck my dick?” I moan, letting him pull me up onto my knees, brain hazy as I come down from my orgasm, confusion settling when he walks around behind me, gathering my hands, soreness on my wrists making me groan, something tied tight around them holding them there.
“Hey, what’re you-”
“Let’s not pretend you don’t like this shit, shut your slutty ass up and let me take care of you.” He comes back around, looking huge above me, a hand caressing my jaw, softness unexpected after the roughness I’ve endured the past few minutes, his expression almost loving, gazing down at me as he takes care of his pants, kicking them and his underwear off to the side, gripping his dick and staring at me.
“Are you gonna-”
“Shit- Fucking stop talking, jesus.” He’s acting exasperated, as if my voice is insanely grating or something, which I know isn’t true, he’s told me on multiple occasions I have a pretty voice, even if I apparently am terribly annoying. He presses his dick to my cheek, heaving a sigh and looking at me, eyes low, enjoying the sight. “Can’t fucking believe how well you take this… ‘s almost the size of your fuckin’ face, but I guess you do have a big ass mouth…” He pulls back, pressing the head to my lips, sliding himself inside when I part them, holding me still by my hair so he can fuck into my mouth, something I thoroughly enjoy, even if it does keep me from breathing. “Gonna let me fuck your pretty face? Yeah? I’ll bet, you look so fucked, so ready for it… Gonna move you, work this slutty throat on my dick…” He drags me away by my hair, hurting me a little with his grip, stinging my scalp, his hips moving, sinking him almost fully into my mouth, gagging me, the ‘gup gup gup’ of him pushing into my throat making him groan, head tilted back and all, his hands on either side of my head pulling me into his thrusts. “Goddamn… So good at this, so-God- tight for me, look so fuckin’ good with your hands behind your back, so slutty for me, right baby?” I moan around him, eyes hazy with tears, wetness streaming down my face as I let him thrust into my mouth, choking me, not giving me a second to breath, his noises getting a little whinier as he goes. “Love when you suck my dick, ‘s the only-Nnh- fuckin’ time you’re quiet, only time I don’t wanna-hah- wanna- Fuck-!” He groans, loud, shoving himself completely inside, staying there, keeping me from breath I’m desperate for, whiny, choked moans vibrating against him making him twitch before he pulls out, all the way, his dick soaked in spit connected to my lips, my head held up by his hands as I heave in some oxygen, gasping and panting, a hand smoothing over my hair as I calm down. “Ready to cum again? You know I’m not getting off unless it’s with your perfect fuckin’ pussy milking me.”
“Yeah…Yes…” I let out a dazed moan, not minding when he presses my face down into the dirt, cheek cool against the floor, my ass up in the air, presented for him, back arched a little harder than I like, hands uncomfortable behind my back, cut up and in an odd position.
“Fuck you look good, so fuckin’ hot, gonna fuck you so damn good…” He pushes inside, all the way, holding onto my bound hands to keep me from pulling away, one of his feet planted beside my knee, the opposite knee out of my sight, just behind me, giving him the stability to thrust into me, setting a quick pace, already worked up, ready to get me off and empty inside. “You feel so good, being so good for me, gonna let me cum inside, fill you to the fuckin’ brim, hope to god we don’t- fuck-!” He’s struggling, pressing his thumb to my clit to hurry my orgasm along, my mind filled with fuzzy pleasure, low moans and whines leaving me as he fucks into me, bouncing me on his dick, hitting my cervix and hurting me, but I don’t mind, as long as he keeps going, letting me feel full, keeps me distracted a little longer. “Shut-Ah- be fuckin’ quiet-! Being so damn loud, sound so-Nnh- pretty, sobbing for it, want my cum that bad? Fuckin’ shit…” He’s slamming into me, pulling me into him by my bound hands, whatever he’s tied me up with painful on my bruised wrists, the sounds of skin to skin filling the empty corridor, echoing obscenely, both of us too loud, too turned on to worry about consequences for the time being. “Can’t take much more, hurry up and-hah- squeeze this pretty pussy on me, be a good slut and cum for-Ah- me-!” I’m nearly there, his thumb working relentlessly against me, my legs shaky and unstable, the pain of his grip on my wrists pulling me up out of the dirt, giving him a better angle to press inside, his pace insanely quick, deep, sure to make me sore tomorrow, a low groan leaving my lips when he pulls me into him by my wrists, my upper body suspended in the air, tearful eyes staring down into the dirt my face was just pressed into.
“Le- shit-! Leon, hurts-Nnh- You’re-ah-!” I can’t talk, just give up and let him do what he wants, my orgasm nearly there, my body almost too overstimulated to register it, legs shaking so hard he’s holding me up with a hand on my lower stomach.
“You like it, just-nngh- take it, like it so fuckin’ much you’re crying for it, whiny bitch, so-ah- fuckin’ annoying, complaining even when I-Shit- give you exactly what you- you want. Shit, you’re fuckin’ cumming, good girl, so good, shut the fuck-ah- up-! So-hnn- stupid, lucky I love you-Nnh- so goddamn much-!” I’m nearly unresponsive, just taking what he gives, my orgasm hazy and warm, but his confession brings me back, draws a needy moan out of me, which prompts him to press fully inside, twitching and filling me with warmth, the feeling euphoric, filling some primitive desire in my head. “Shit-! Such a good-Nnh-! You make me cum so fucking hard, filling this sweet pussy so good…” He pulls me upright, sat backward in his lap, his dick grinding into me, cum dripping out of me as he comes down, speaking and kissing at the dirty side of my face and neck. “Fuck… such a good partner… my pretty girl… taking it so well… Cumming so much it’s making a goddamn mess…” He groans, letting his head slump down onto my shoulder, keeping himself seated inside, one hand moving to release my bound wrists, rubbing the tension out of them, caring, soft in a way he usually doesn’t let anyone see, kept quiet and buried beneath his carefree, unbothered persona. “Should probably take care of these now…” He runs his fingers over the torn skin of my arms, stinging the wounds, but I let him, turning to peer at him over my shoulder, waiting a beat, speaking only once his eyes meet mine.
“You love me?”
#re smut#leon kennedy smut#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#older leon kennedy#idiots in love#hate sex#angry smut
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TUMBLR TEXT POST SENTENCE STARTERS, PT. 2 ;
75 starters. CW: blood mention, cussing, death. Starters come from various text posts floating around Tumblr. The only thing changed for this post was adding capitalization and punctuation. Feel free to change words and pronouns as needed!
[PART 1]
“Academia is cool and sexy until I’m expected to work.”
“An anime with more than a hundred episodes is a bigger commitment than marriage.”
“Anyone who believes all water tastes the same is no acquaintance of mine.”
“Anyway, that’s every reported eyewitness account of Mothman through ‘68, and that’s just in West Virginia! Haha, but enough about me. Let’s hear about your top five cryptids!”
“Aside from being the worst person alive, I am literally perfect.”
“At the end of the day, I’m just a girl who loves her bed.”
“Being equally obsessed with each other sounds hot to me.”
“Being good doesn’t get you anything.”
“Be the worst you can be.”
“But do aliens believe in me?”
“Don’t let anyone dehumanize you. Dehumanize yourself. Be the creeping eldritch horror you’ve always longed to be. Rain furious vengeance down upon those who would unmake you.”
“Do something today that would’ve gotten you burnt at the stake four hundred years ago.”
“Do you ever just want someone to come over and sit on the floor with you for a few hours?”
“Do you ever wanna listen to music, but every song is just not the right song?
“Feeling safe around someone’s energy is a different kind of intimacy.”
“Flirting is childish. We’re grown. Just tell the person you like that you see God in their eyes.”
“Friendly reminder that the age of technology is coming to an end and a new age of blood magic and dark rituals will take its place.”
“Friendship is temporary. Blood pacts are forever.”
“Girls don’t want boys. Girls want to live in a Victorian estate and be the most feared widow in the village.”
“Half of me is a hopeless romantic and the other half of me is, well, an asshole.”
“Having a body causes me so much agony. I wish I was just a floating entity with no physical form.”
“How do I overthink so much and still make the wrong decision?”
““I can fix him!” You can’t even fix your sleep schedule, bestie.”
“I don’t care if your body is a temple. Call me when it’s been closed down and taken over by Spirit Halloween.”
“I don’t know about soulmates, but those people who eat parts of the food or candy that you don’t like and you do the same for them... We’ve lived a hundred lifetimes together, probably.”
“I don’t think we can romanticize our way out of this one, boys.”
“If you see me in the streets, just know that my mind is in the void. I’m physically alive, but mentally checked out.”
“I guess we all learned a valuable lesson. Except for me. I wasn’t paying attention and was asleep for most of the time.”
“I hate when people ask what I would do in their situation because nine times out of ten, I would literally never be in that situation in the first place.”
“I hope manners is the next cool trend.”
“I just love sleep so much. Like, you just close your eyes and you’re gone, bitch. Brain logged the fuck off. Powerful.”
“I just realized there’s, like, a hundred new Pokémon coming this year, give or take, and I have to decide what personal memories and details about friends to forget in order to make room for them all.”
“I like my women like I like my woods. Haunted and could kill me at any moment.”
“I like to fuck around and waste time at least six to ten hours a day, and let me tell you, that puts some pressure on your schedule. You have no idea how busy I am.”
“I love to learn. Unfortunately, my brain doesn’t like to remember.”
“I love when I ‘make a mental note’ of something. It’s gone within twenty seconds.”
“I’m not a religious person, but I do sometimes think God made you for me.”
“I’m not playing hard to get. I genuinely don’t know how to talk.”
“I’m wearing dark glasses today because I’m seeing the future, and the future is looking very bright.”
“I think it’s so neat that everyone develops their own unique handwriting even though we’re all taught to write our letters the same way. Really, it’s so cute.”
“I think making sense is optional. Sometimes I just be talking.”
“I think the meaning of life is eating good food in the company of people you love.”
“It’s because I’m pretty, that’s why I have problems.”
“It’s crazy how I’m just some person.”
"It seems you are in love with your computer.”
“It’s not rude to interrupt someone to point out a dog. It’s actually more polite because then they don’t miss out on the dog.”
“I will never elaborate because I have no idea what I just said.”
“Live, laugh, love? Nah. Languish, lament, lay down.”
“Michael Myers taught me a valuable life lesson. Don’t worry about how fast everyone around you is moving. If you’re determined, just move at your own pace and you’ll kill shit every time. Thanks, Mike.”
“Moving to the forest to eat leaves and lie in the dirt. Insurance companies can’t deny me this.”
“Okay, bored of being alone now. Ready to get married.”
“Okay, hear me out... What if—now bear with me—we held hands? Maybe even kiss a little? Hugs would be nice—”
“People keep posting ‘what’s REALLY in your food’ articles like I’m gonna stop eating whatever it’s about. Listen, death is coming. Death is coming. Pass me a hot dog.”
“People who fall asleep right away freak me out. Don’t you bitches have thoughts?”
“Really starting to understand old people these days. I love letters. Love packages. Terrified of my email inbox.”
“Someone take me out. Either in the assassination way or in the date way.”
“Sorry for being so sexy and having the best taste in literature. As if I asked for it.”
“Sorry I called you a fucking idiot. I was trying to flirt.”
“So what if I love you? Shut up.”
“The fact that I have to be in the ‘right headspace’ to do even the simplest tasks is absolutely humiliating.”
“The only difference between me and a medieval peasant is that I can make a Spotify playlist to express my feelings.”
“The only reason I haven’t gone insane is because I romanticize everything.”
“There should be a dating app where you talk to people who borrowed the same books from the library.”
“There’s something inherently holy about kitchens.”
“Tired of being a person. Would much rather be an unidentifiable and nebulous entity that lives in the woods and may or may not be an omen of misfortune to come.”
“Wanna haunt the neighborhood with me tonight?”
“Well, I used to be attracted to people, but now I’m exclusively attracted to abstract art and the concept of death.”
“What is the logic behind naps leaving you with a weird taste in your mouth? I wasn’t eating, I was sleeping. It’s the spiders, isn’t it?”
“Winnie the Pooh didn’t rock crop tops our whole childhood to watch us become unconfident about our bodies.”
“Yes, I’m dramatic! What did you expect? I read classic literature for fun.”
“You’d look prettier under six feet of dirt.”
“You don’t always need to talk. Like, it’s good to shut the fuck up sometimes. I love not talking.”
“You gotta walk into rooms like God sent you.”
“You’re beautiful, but you’re empty. No one could die for you.”
“You wanna know what’s annoying me right now? It’s me. I am annoying the goddamn shit out of myself.”
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Hcs about shadowpeach reconnecting?
i like to think of it being very slow. to me, shadowpeach is the slowest of all slow burns both when they’re developing a relationship and trying to reconnect.
while i am a sucker for shadowpeach fluff and them being all clingy and cuddley, i still don’t think the two would even get that close for some time (and i mean some time).
lemme see if i can do a little rundown (i fucking lied) of my idea of a shadowpeach reconnection post-s4:
after the scroll and after their battle with the Brotherhood, both are in an agreement of a truce. as in, both acknowledged that neither of them wish to really fight or stay upset with the other because both understand that they never really could
so there’s a truce, a renewed exchange of peaches, that informs the other that while nothing will ever be like before….maybe that’s for the best, maybe they deserve something different and new between them
it doesn’t immediately take away from all their hurt feelings and pettiness. Wukong’s teasing will never hit the same and Macky’s guard is still at full defense
MK will still find them arguing up to the sky about something as trivial as which path leads to which waterfall and “shut up and just follow me, you idiot, this mountain has been my home for over a millennia”
but there are baby steps in the right direction (Pigsy would call it the “babiest of steps” but nobody asked him)
it takes them a year to come to terms that their petty arguing is just petty to be petty (tho they hold out a little longer because neither want to admit that to each other because it could meaning losing the game. what game? neither are exactly sure of what)
but it’s after both take the time to really refrain from that itch to bitch that both actually have a chance to talk with some substance (there may have been an external force that led to this conversation; a curse trapping them in a void space, being separated from the group so it’s just them two, the works)
but then that arguing loses its teeth and resembles something like banter. Wukong and Macky never truly did banter much in the past. not like this. it’s a little freeing. to be able to push and pull against each other without any reserve or need to
and this was their relationship for quite some time after. no physical hugs or touches like Wukong was privy to before or that Macky used to indulge in. you had the occasional glance here and there but not enough for the other to notice (everyone else, of course, noticed)
ironically, it’s Macky who initiates their first hug in ages.
Wukong, over the years, has slowly been building up to it with shoulder bumps, a light punch in the shoulder, and sometimes a bump to the hip.
when asked, Wukong would explain that he’s a physically affectionate guy but knows Mac has his limits and does his best to respect that as much as he can
on his own tho, Wukong personally feels like those touches are the most he will ever be granted to give. that is, until after a fierce battle, skirmish, whatever new daring thing that almost costs the Monkie Kid team, Macky actually pulls Wukong in for a hug
it’s nothing big or grand. well, nothing big for anymore normal since it’s a very short side hug, but it was something big for the both of them.
suffice to say, that was enough permission for Wukong to initiate more physical affection towards Macky
neither of them are really ready to put anything that they’re doing to name. makes it more definite and breakable
hell, they don’t even acknowledge that they’re past the point of tolerable acquaintances until a couple years later
but yeah, a shadowpeach reconnection, in my eyes, will takes years (centuries even) to truly rekindle their relationship. like i said, it’s a slow burn and one both want to tread carefully even if it’s agonizing to watch from the outside (see MK and friends)
#also#i don’t think the two would even talk about jttw until some years when both have a firmer footing on where both stand#bc it’s a touchy topic for both#they could reminisce about anything from their past but always stay quiet with jttw until much MUCH later#in my mind#but yeah that’s my idea#it’s also why when i write Wukong’s death both are still not close to where they were#there’s something. something both quietly acknowledge to be there and existing between the two but can’t breach bc of#how new and fragile their renewed relationship is with each other#and even post reconnecting they would be the absolute worst with how clingy they are#both would deny it if asked but omfg they would be so terrible and can’t even stand to stay away for long#ugh i hate them (liar)#lmk#shadowpeach#asks#lmk headcanon#long post#ish#probably
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wait do u remember how a while ago u posted that post about how this is all brain rot but when u consider canon and buck’s potential childhood trauma u don’t think some of this stuff is in character for them? and u also wrote their characters differently in ur handjob bunk sharing fic so what are ur thoughts regarding sex for them IN canon?
i honestly see bucky as being the one who usually takes charge just cause he’s more experienced
YES i do remember! had to scroll so far but this is the post <3
i also just accidentally got kinda into my thoughts on general sex in canon in this post tonight too oops!
i flip flop on this so much i swear but it really just depends on the mood of whatever sex scene i'm writing/brainrotting about lol so apologies for my inconsistencies!
in terms of initiating sex, i think a lot of the time that falls to john just because he's so open about that sort of thing, and i think he's a lot more sex–focussed than gale even though they're both obviously head over heels and very very attracted to one another. john is more likely to drag gale off somewhere spur of the moment and drop to his knees/push gale to his knees, more likely to blatantly make eyes at him across the room or feel him up under a table; he's riskier and more obvious in his advances, he acts a lot more impulsively.
when gale initiates, it's usually a build up, stringing john along throughout the day with strategically placed comments and lingering glances on john's hands or thighs or lips, careful touches and grabs when he's sure no one else is looking, etc. more calculated, less impulsive 'oh i just got horny and i need to get john alone or i will Die' type of moments (john on the other hand– very acquainted with experiencing these moments.)
i think when they first get together/start hooking up, john does take charge because like you said, he's more experienced, so he's more confident, knows how to sweet talk gale out of his pants and into his bed and get him worked up and comfortable with him. i wouldn't say he goes so far as to dom when they're first falling into the swing of things, because i think gale is particular about control and kinda freaks out if he feels like he doesn't have any; it takes a while for him to get comfortable with feeling vulnerable in sex, and john respects that and is so very patient with him, he's happy to have gale in anyway gale will let him.
i don't think any dom/sub type of thing would be involved for a while, just a lot of figuring each other out and seeing what the other is comfortable with and what gets them most worked up. i see gale as being more comfortable giving up control to john when john is bottoming because gale feels less vulnerable when he's topping, so it's easier for him to get out of his head and let john call the shots and pace the two of them. and i don't see john as having a lot of hard nopes when it comes to sex, at least not pre–stalag, so he's generally comfortable with having or relinquishing control, with roughing up or being roughed up.
sometimes he's worked up from watching gale's pretty little waist across the pub as he talks to the others, from having to watch soft pink lips work around a toothpick, gum, rims of bottles, etc all day. if gale notices this and plays into it, a rare moment of acting up because he thinks it's hot when john gets all needy and possessive, john would definitely slip into the position of control when he finally gets gale alone, being a bit more rough than usual and manhandling gale and letting his mouth run as he fucks him.
(not sure on degrading though– i don't get the vibe gale would like anything other than some light comments like "you're so desperate, it's cute" or maybe more possessive–type degradation, like "my pretty whore" type of thing. i feel like humiliation would usually make him uncomfortable in a not–fun way, and insulting degradation would be a hard no because he gets too in his own head about it.)
i've gone so off course lol what else is new <3 but yeah in general, john being more experienced, i see him taking charge when they first start trying things together just because gale doesn't even know where to start and he's too nervous to fully initiate, but as time goes on and they get more relaxed with each other, the dynamic probably changes and there's a lot more back and forth and gale gets more confident with making demands and decisions. :^)
#but watch this continue to change from fic to fic lol#listen sometimes i start a fic a certain way and then halfway thru i'm like oh. physically just felt the dynamic shift HSDGJK#sometimes it's a single line of dialogue that does it and all of a sudden the whole course of the fic is changed#but ykw it keeps things interesting bc even i don't know where my words are going half the time! <3#buck x bucky#buckbucky#johnslittlespoon brainrot#johnslittlespoon asks#johnslittlespoon spicy
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€uro Tra$h Series: Dipped in $ugar (Part 1)
Pairing: Billy Butcher x You (Reader) || Rating: Explicit || Word Count: 2.4k || Link to Part 2 and Link to Part 3 - final (Timeline for this work is Season 1 btw)
Author’s Note: It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything! So please leave your feedback! Specifically I want to make sure I’m hitting the dialogue right cuz I can’t always imagine how words would sound or how to write them in Butcher’s accent LOL. Also if there’s anything I should add / eliminate / change next time (to make Butcher more accurate or the smut hotter haha) let me know. Thanks for your help and for taking the time to read!
Warnings: sugar daddy / daddy kink (the name daddy is used 4 times), age gap (implied, not specified), oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, swearing, kinda praise kink? (I’d write this better if I could lol)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hey, luv,” Billy greeted you as he opened the door. You smiled in return and as you stepped forward into his motel room, he immediately captured your lips into a quick, familiar kiss. “Sorry I haven’t been able to take you out proper in awhile.”
You shrugged. Plenty of sugar daddies required discretion. “If it’s discreet that you need, I don’t judge. I’m happy to see you wherever.”
He nodded gruffly, and handed you his phone. “Order whatever you want. Gona shower.”
“You don’t want anything?”
“I’ll eat something else later,” he smirked, giving you a once over that sent a jolt of excitement through you.
Billy Butcher was hardly your first sugar daddy. You were pretty accustomed to the lifestyle by now and its variations. You had met men from all walks of life who all wanted companionship and intimacy in different forms. Most enjoyed regularly scheduled dates with you a couple times per month, one took you on trips as a travel buddy, and others were more casual acquaintances, like Billy, who would randomly reach out whenever his schedule allowed, and you wouldn’t hear from him again until the next time.
Butcher re-emerged 10 minutes later from the bathroom, wearing only boxers with a towel draped around his neck. It appeared tiny against his broad shoulders and expansive chest. As you stared at his bare, freckled complexion under his taut muscular frame, a similar feeling from earlier electrified your core. You found yourself rising swiftly from your seat and striding toward him confidently.
He sat on the edge of the bed as he saw you coming, his big hands enveloping your waist as soon as you stood in front of him between his legs. You rested your hands on the towel atop his shoulders and gazed down, studying his hazel eyes, the crinkles in his forehead, his damp hair slicked back in a way that made you consider how smoothly your fingers could run through it.
“What you starin’ for? C’mere,” Billy grumbled.
He jerked your body towards himself, one hand flying up to grab the back of your neck as his mouth latched onto the soft skin near your collarbone. You gasped at the contact and steadied yourself from being thrown off balance by gripping the towel and pulling him even closer. Billy sucked a mark into your flesh before you could register the moan that escaped your lips.
He always made hasty work of you, even the first time after this arrangement had been agreed upon, when nerves were still fresh. Since then, there had been at least half a dozen dates you’ve met for some quick fun, each one well worth your time despite being planned on short notice. In the moment, you couldn’t put your finger on how he turned you on so fast with a simple touch or kiss in the same places you’d been touched and kissed by numerous men before him.
All you knew was that every little thing he did and every little thing about him made you fucking insatiable.
Maybe it was his body type — thick, the perfect proportion between dad bod and DILF. His strength was surprising — hidden under that trench coat he wore everywhere — but he wasn’t so ripped that his chest and stomach felt uncomfortably rigid when he was naked against you. His height alone gave you a rush whenever you saw how he towered over others, or barely fit through doorways, or otherwise made his physical presence more domineering than his personality already granted. You wanted nothing more than the overbearing weight of his body to pin you down under him with the sole intent of consuming all of you.
Or maybe it was his casual cockiness — the fact that he knew you were putty in his hands, that he could do anything he wanted to you, and you would practically thank him. Of course, there was always a give and take of control in a sugar arrangement, but with Billy, you didn’t mind if all he did was take. The time and dedication it took you to curate a personality that was a delicate balance of being submissive enough to appease older men, yet assertive enough to remind them of your expectations to consistently hold their end of the deal, all went out the window when it came to Billy. The money was the last thing on your mind. One flash of that wicked smirk, and you melted on the spot. You instantly relinquished what little control, if any, you had over this affair.
Or it could be — and this was the biggest reason you thought accounted for your deep, inexplicable attraction to him — that you never knew when you’d get to see him again. It could be days, weeks, or months. He told you upfront his life was hectic, which you accepted, but the sporadic nature of your get-togethers was reminiscent of that toxic ex from college who you let in every time he rolled around suggesting you two could still work out to be great friends with benefits. You couldn't help the sex was intoxicating. Unlike with your ex though, you never had any regrets after Billy fucked you. Your friends would laugh at how badly he left you dickmatized: always satisfied and always craving more, never one without the other. Unsure of how long you’d have to go without, you savored the hours spent in between his legs under motel sheets, basking in his lustful gaze, absorbing the timbre of his thick accent that you’d most certainly replay over and over in your mind later.
You tilted your head back to give Billy more room to maneuver as he continued a trail of kisses and bites up your neck, before switching to the other side. You ignored the itch of his scratchy beard to focus on his hands which were seemingly pinching you everywhere at once — your hips, ass, chest — yet still not touching where you needed him most. In an effort to not get lost in the haze of lust so soon, you threw off the towel from his shoulders and dove your face into his own neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses against it. The heat from the shower rose off Butcher’s skin and he smelled deliciously woodsy.
“I missed you, Daddy,” you breathed on his collar bone.
Billy groaned, grabbing your chin with one hand and attacking your mouth in a rough, tongue-heavy kiss. He pulled back for a second — too soon for your liking — dragging out his teeth against your bottom lip. Still holding your face, his darkening pupils peered into yours.
“Daddy missed you too.”
The glint in his eyes made your breath hitch. It was subtle, but no reaction of yours eluded him. The corner of his mouth turned up just slightly, and you barely swallowed a gulp before you felt yourself being twisted and your back hit the bed with a low thump. Billy’s tongue once again slid between your lips in an instant while his fingers tangled in your hair. You linked your hands behind his neck and did the same, pushing your tongue into his mouth with the intent to taste every bit of him while tugging at his brown locks.
At this point, you were so thoroughly wet, you were certain you had soaked through your leggings, and possibly his underwear too. With Billy on top of you, his length was starting to peek through his boxers. Feeling his hard-on against your thigh suddenly reminded you who was getting paid to do what here. You hoped he didn't notice how your face grew hotter with embarrassment at how much his attention distracted you, while you dipped a hand between your bodies and freed his thick cock all the way. Billy groaned against your mouth and let you provide a few glorious pumps before pushing you back even farther onto the bed covers and pulling up the waistband of his underwear.
He answered your surprised expression with a hungry look. “I want to taste you first.”
You nodded and sighed in anticipation as he yanked down your leggings and panties, but instead of taking them all the way off, he left them bunched around your ankles, and ducked his head in between your legs, raising your knees onto his shoulders so he was fully trapped under you. His hands caressed your bare thighs, easing them open wider. He dipped his head down to suck on your clit before licking a stripe down and back up your pussy.
You watched him keenly as he worked his tongue through your folds, his eyes meeting yours every so often to gauge your response. His hazel irises were stunningly gorgeous this close up, and gentle — more of a calming green tone than an impatient gray. He always looked like he genuinely enjoyed pleasuring you. Although you assumed you were far from the only woman in his life, it didn’t matter right now. With his tongue working magic circling around your clit and his low moans signaling he was relishing lapping up your juices, you allowed yourself to feel special being the current focus of his admiration. You closed your eyes now and ran your hands through his hair, concentrating on the sensations building in your core.
Once Billy got you rising, there were only two scenarios of what would happen next: he’d either, more commonly, string you out until you were scream-begging for release, or if he was feeling unusually nice, like tonight, he’d waste no time in finishing you off. So you hummed your approval when you felt a finger prod your entrance, and eagerly bucked your hips into his face when a second digit promptly followed.
“That’s it, luv,” Billy said as he stroked your inner walls, slowly at first, then picking up the pace as your grip on his hair tightened and your ankles twisted across further behind his neck to hold him in place. Between his mouth swirling more kisses along your sensitive bud and his steady finger-fucking, he was utterly devouring you. “You’re so fucking delicious.”
Your breathing quickened. “Fuck, don’t stop, please.”
Billy knew you were reaching your limit for physical stimulation, and that his words would bring you all the rest of the way to the edge.
“You look so fuckin’ hot right now, cunt dripping for me.” Billy paused his movement, causing you to open your eyes in time to catch him sucking your wetness clean off his fingers before plunging them into you once more and immediately curling to find that sweet spot that drove you insane.
“Please,” you whimpered, “I’m so close.” The tidal wave threatening to crash that was your nearing orgasm continued to grow in the pit of your stomach.
“Then come, darlin’, let me feel you come hard on my fingers. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous when you do.”
With his free hand, Billy reached up to fondle your chest under your shirt, his warm palm enveloping your breast, thumb tweaking your nipple. You arched your back into his touch, craving him still to be impossibly closer as you moaned his name.
“So fucking tight, you know this pussy’s my favorite.”
With his final praise, your body convulsed, your walls squeezing tightly around his fingers, but Billy didn’t let up for a second.
“Fuck—” you gasped. “Daddy—”
You didn’t even recognize the noises that spilled out of you, nor were you able to hear more of his flattery as your orgasm wracked through your senses, multiple mini waves washing over you until they finally tapered off. You opened your eyes that had been sealed shut to find Butcher grinning smugly, licking his lips.
“Feel good, luv?” he asked, knowing you had no words nor energy to adequately express your satisfaction; all you could do was nod as you came down from your high.
Billy started to rearrange your bodies, releasing himself from your tangled legs to undress you completely in preparation for your second round, but stopped at the sound of his phone vibrating on the table with several texts. You saw a thought flash across his face as he debated checking it for a split second, but when it started ringing, he stalked over, looking disgruntled.
“This better be fuckin’ rich if you’re bothering me right now,” he answered.
Butcher was turned away from you as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the call, but you thought you saw his shoulder muscles tense ever so slightly before his next reply.
“Alrite, for fuck’s sake, calm down. Be there in 15 minutes,” he responded, then ended the call.
“Work?” you asked, not that you had any idea what his job was anyways. It was a bit of an unspoken rule to not discuss what made a sugar daddy in the first place. They tended to be private with that information. You usually assumed they were high on the corporate ladder or an investor in some big technology company, though Billy had a pretty distinct appearance from that type of man, with his numerous Hawaiian print shirts. You were curious what he did, but never crossed that boundary to inquire.
He grunted an affirmative. “If I’m not back in an hour, go ahead and leave,” he said, nodding towards the envelope stuffed with cash on the nightstand. “Don’t want to keep you waiting.”
He threw on jeans and a plain black sweater that hugged his arms, instead of his signature outfit. You fixed your clothes as well, then repositioned yourself against the pillows, fiddling with the TV remote. Billy sat down on the edge next to you as he tied his shoes.
“But if I do come back and you’re here,” his voice was a low growl as he suddenly leaned forward to occupy your space. Your eyes locked with his. “I’m going to fuck that tight wet cunt of yours ‘til I fill you up with my cum.” His hand came up to gently caress your cheek. “You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?”
As much as he had just worn you out, the prospect of his dick doing the same was definitely something you looked forward to. You swallowed as you nodded.
He cocked an eyebrow.
“Yes, Daddy,” you corrected yourself.
“One hour,” he repeated, then was out the door before you could say anything more.
#GOD I WAS NERVOUS TO POST THIS LOL#billy butcher#billy butcher smut#billy butcher x you#billy butcher x reader#billy butcher fanfic#the boys#the boys fanfic#the boys smut#the boys tv#amazon the boys#karl urban#beyoursbbfic
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Sweet lies: Chapter 5
pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader
summary: the Millers invite everyone over at their place for Valentine’s day, and things have never felt lonelier for you. But the end of the night has a surprise twist for you.
word count: 5k
A/N: now we’re getting into the juicy part. huge thanks to @cheshire-noir for helping me with a good part of this!
Comments & reblogs are forever appreciated 💕
gif: @pascalsky
series masterlist | AO3
As much as you tried to remain the professional and hardworking person you have always been, that Friday had your mind spinning relentlessly.
Last night’s dinner was still fresh on your mind, taunting you alongside Frankie and Andrea. Worst part was that you actually liked Andrea. It was virtually impossible to nest any negative feelings towards someone so incredible.
But then you recalled Frankie’s hesitant side glares, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each nervous gulp he took, the sheer regretful expression on his face whenever the two of you locked eyes, and you wondered if somehow, maybe, he wasn’t so confident in his relationship.
It couldn’t have been. It was just your jealousy talking deep in your subconscious, giving you false hope. You’ve been down that road before, being fed up lies by your own mind and tricked by your heart. You did not need that again, and certainly not when Frankie was engaged.
You had to be on your best behavior. The two of you were no longer friends, but merely old acquaintances, so you shouldn’t have had an issue with giving him the cold shoulder. The farther he was from you, the better. Even if you had foolishly agreed to go to the Valentine’s Day bash that Will and Benny were throwing, that didn’t mean you could act reckless.
So you came up with a plan.
“Good news, your girl finished her presentation early, which means I am available for some weekend fun,” Rose’s confident voice giggles over the phone.
It’s a little over eleven p.m., and you’re already half asleep in your bed, but as luck would have it, Rose’s timing is impeccable.
“Congratulations,” you say, genuinely impressed by her work ethic. “At least one of us was professional today.”
“Uh-oh. I take it dinner was awkward last night?”
“Frankie came with his fiancé.”
Silence. You can hear Rose’s jaw drop and her steady breaths. If you listen closely enough, you can hear her processing what you just told her.
“They both came?” she asks.
“Yeah. It was dinner with friends and their significant others, of course he would’ve brought his fiancé. It was stupid of me to think he wouldn’t.”
“Still, I can’t imagine it was pleasant to just have her in your face like that.”
“She’s actually pretty awesome.”
“What?!”
Rose’s indignation actually steals a chuckle out of you, for which you are thankful.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” she continues.
You scoff. “I’m serious! She’s an incredible, accomplished woman.”
“I don’t care, that is the enemy!”
“She’s really not. If anything, Frankie is. He’s the one who fucked it all up.”
“Fair point. What’s so incredible about this woman, anyway?”
“Well, her name’s Andrea and she’s a dermatologist, she regularly volunteers for different charities, she’s hilarious and sweet… oh, and she’s unfairly gorgeous.”
“How gorgeous are we talking here?”
“Green eyes, light brown hair with cute bangs, caramel skin… and she smells great.”
“Shit, that does sound great.”
“So you see my problem.”
“I do. But I can hate her.”
“What—Rose, you don’t even know her.”
“When has that ever stopped us? We’ve hated people for no reason before.”
“Yes, but those were celebrities. And it was usually because they either had something we don’t have, or because we just didn’t like them.”
“Hello! How is this any different?”
You chuckle again, your chest growing heavier with concern regarding tomorrow’s plans.
“Hey, listen, since you’re free this weekend,” you start, “how do you feel about spending Valentine’s Day with me tomorrow?”
“Uh… okay, I really appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not sure what kind of message did I send to you before.”
You both laugh. “Will and Ben are throwing this little Valentine’s get-together between friends—and their girlfriends too, I guess—and I could really use a friendly shoulder there.”
“Hmm. So everyone’s gonna be happily nuzzling next to their significant others?”
“All, except me and Frankie. Andrea can’t come apparently.”
“Gotta say, I’m a little relieved, I thought I was going to have to show some PDA in order to be able to stay.”
You laugh some more, eagerly anticipating her response.
“Won’t it be awkward?” Rose asks.
“Possibly. Every interaction I’ve had so far has been more or less so. Please, you gotta come with me.”
“I will, I will. Just gotta stop by at my grandma’s first to check in on her.”
“How is she doing after the hip replacement surgery?”
“Pretty good. More mobile each day.”
“Oh, that’s great!”
“Yeah. But after that, I’m totally gonna be there for you.”
“Good. Cause I’m your best friend, and you have to help a friend in need.”
“True.”
“Also, Santi will be there.”
You can tell that has Rose’s attention. Hell, even you smile. You’ve been hoping for a long time that she and Santiago would act upon their feelings, but clearly they both had been shy to initiate.
“I was gonna come anyway, just to clarify,” Rose pushes, to which you smirk.
“Mhm.”
“This is just… an added bonus.”
“Of course it is. I’ll see you tomorrow then, at the Millers?”
“You got it. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight. Oh, and thank you, Rose. I love you.”
“You don’t have a thing to thank me for. I love you too.”
Knowing that Rose will be there makes it easier for you to fall asleep, and to navigate through next day’s tasks. You wake up pretty early in order to go your grocery shopping, your cleaning and your cooking, and when the clock strikes five p.m., you are in your bathroom, showering and putting a little makeup on.
It’s not a party, you keep reminding yourself of Will’s words. So you don’t overdress, and you don’t overdo it with makeup. Just something cute and casual for a night out with your friends.
And their girlfriends. And, with Rose there, probably making heart eyes at Santiago, that means it’ll be just you and Frankie.
Okay, so maybe your plan wasn’t so well thought. Maybe you could back out of going. Who would really care, on Valentine’s, no less?
Oh, but they would. You knew the guys, you knew your friends, and you knew how relentless they could be about group hangouts and such. You knew they would bother you consistently, bombard you with questions about why you were a no-show at the very last moment.
Honestly, the idea of free drinks kept you motivated enough. In the event of Rose disappearing somewhere to snuggle with Santi, you’d have your trusted companions, the beers.
But you refuse to show up empty handed, so you carry with you a big plate of sandwiches and a bottle of wine. You put in the location on the GPS and drive through the snowed streets.
You’ve been to Will’s and Benny’s plenty of times, but you felt safer having the address right there in front of you, especially on an icy evening like that. Even on a tender day such as Valentine’s Day, February knows how to remind you of its cold, cold wrath.
Standing on the doorstep of the Millers’ humble bungalow merely twenty minutes later, your warmest clothes prove nothing on that bitter evening. You rang the doorbell once and are now anxiously waiting for either Will or Benny to let you in.
Soon, waiting becomes a daunting task. But not only because of the bitter wind chills.
Will and Benny are hosting this party—scratch that. A get-together. Friendly faces, and yet all of them seem to belong to mere ghosts of your past. For them, Valentine’s Day didn’t need the frills and ties, but rather friends and stiff drinks. Plus, they had their wonderful girlfriends by their side, so even the most mundane tasks could be deemed as romantic and well-thought. Will reassured you it would be a smaller gathering, just the lonely ones and the dorks who actually managed to score someone. Still, the sight of the cramped cars in the driveway spiked your anxiety when the GPS told you “arrived at your destination”. But you prevailed, and marched to the front door nonetheless. You had made a promise, after all.
Hurry up, guys, your mind begs, huffing into your hands to keep you warm. Finally, you see a familiar face grinning from the door window. Not Will, rather Benny. Your eyes soften, eagerly pushing your way in, even as Benny already starts fussing over how long you waited.
“It’s fine,” you tell him sincerely.
“I shouted at Will to open the door a dozen times,” he seemingly apologizes. “I had the glasses in my hand, but no, I gotta do all the work. So much for big bro duties. Here, let me take that.”
You chuckle as Benny takes the plate and bottle of wine from your hand, and you take a look around. You were swathed in warmth as soon as you crossed the threshold into the home. Something about being inside made you relax much more. It could be the coziness of the two-story living, where every room in the house bled into each other. Or it could be that the furniture choices were plump and rosy leather adorned in animal themed blankets, tapestries and cushions. In the living room, MTV is playing on the television, the soft drones of Robert Smith from The Cure filling you with the melancholy you had come to associate with the holiday.
From the couch, Will greets you, inviting you to sit as you hand your jacket off to Benny. Will and Mia are sitting over at one of the two olive couches that surround the fireplace. Benny has no problem plopping himself next to his brother and his girlfriend, the latter having his own significant other join in, but you decide to pick the couch across from them, the one closest to the kitchen. Not just because it might be useful should you require more drinks, but also because you think five’s a crowd, and couples need their intimacy.
The light in the kitchen is on and you can see two shadows bouncing across the walls. They are talking about something, but you can’t pick up on any of it, not when you have Will and Mia’s conversation ringing in the other ear. Although, you still can’t help but stare at the shapes.
One looks stocky, and seems to be the one making the most noise out of them. But the other. The other has a cap on, larger arms, a deeper voice, dripping with age like a fine wine. He and Benny are the youngest among the boys, but his voice is coarse and thick with plenty of emotions that still have a grip over you.
You shake your head briefly, forcing yourself to smile and even giggle at the excited voices in front of you. It’s a favorable situation rather than staring at Frankie the whole time, which you swore you wouldn’t do, no matter what.
You fleetingly check your watch, wondering when Rose will get there. You grow to hate this feeling of helplessness when it comes to being around Frankie. It’s not that you are not strong, quite the opposite: you are more than capable of being cold and distant, but gazing over at him, looking and longing at the same time? A whole other story.
You’re not quite sure what it is about Frankie that still has you in a chokehold. Actually, you do know, you just like denying it, especially now given the circumstances. In every way, Frankie is the embodiment of your dream partner. He’s kind, funny, sweet, smart, protective, and just overall a warm person that once made you feel like you were truly yourself, and not just playing a game.
After all this time, your feelings for him have not vanished as you had hoped. You foolishly thought distance would help you forget, but now that you have been thrust back into your old life, you see things are no different than when you left.
At least in that regard.
Looking at Will and Benny happily sharing with you stories of their adventures with the girls, you sport a sincere smile. You have never seen them so fulfilled, so blissful, and it makes your heart tremble with joy. Yet there is a permanent ache in your heart that you cannot deny, one you doubt anyone would fully understand.
“Hey, you’re here!” Santiago says, pulling you in to hug you tight.
You reciprocate, eyes landing on Frankie’s figure in the background. He seems apologetic, averting your gaze as much as he can, as if he’s guilty of something. Deep down, you do understand his reaction and, oddly enough, you are thankful that he’s not pushing the note in any way.
“I heard Emily made heart shaped cookies, and you know I’m a sucker for cookies,” you joke.
“You have to try them, they are out of this world,” Mia fortifies.
You all chuckle, and you do in fact stretch your arm towards the coffee table in the middle to grab one of the cookies on the plate and take a bite out of it, instantly melting.
“Oh my God,” you nearly shout, immediately taking another bite. “These are heavenly!”
“Thank you!” Emily smiles, her cheeks now flushed. “I don’t make them that often though.”
“I can see why! It’s tough to stay away from them, shit.”
You finish the cookie and grab another one, causing everyone to giggle.
“It’s also why I told her to never, under any circumstances, share the recipe,” Benny adds. “This is cause for fight.”
“It sure is,” Will says.
You don’t realize you’re still in Santiago’s arms; when you do realize that, you inch away in the slightest, right under Frankie’s studious eyes. Curiosity has him by the throat, yet he can’t bring himself to ask you or Santiago any questions. He’s not sure he wants to know.
“Hi,” you finally greet Frankie, voice small and anxious.
“Hi,” he replies.
You’re tired of this; you are so tired of walking around on eggshells, measuring your words and actions and trying to stay away while also wanting to be part of the group again. It’s absolutely exhausting.
“You want something to drink?” Santiago offers, and you nod.
Frankie’s eyes don’t leave the two of you, silently studying you from the corner of his eye. He watches you go into the kitchen, exchange some words as Santiago opens up a beer bottle and hands it to you, and then he sees you lightly touching his arm.
He doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to know. It’s none of his business. He has no right asking or even caring anymore.
Then why does his chest ache so? Why does it feel like there’s a beast trapped inside of him that roars and scratches violently at the simplest of sights?
He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.
“Okay, so,” Will announces, standing up now that you and Santiago return to the living room. “Now that we are all here.”
“Actually, Rose should be here any minute,” Santiago intervene.
“Oh. That’s okay, we can wait then.”
“What’s going on, guys?” you ask.
Will and Benny exchange a glare, as well as Mia and Emily, and you instantly know both couples have news. The options are limited, although you can pretty much figure out what’s going on before it’s even said.
And before you know it, you’re halfway through the beer bottle, wishing you had called a cab instead of driving to the bungalow.
“Well, uh… Mia and I are engaged,” Will says, reaching to grab his now fiancé’s hand.
It’s then that you notice the ring on Mia’s finger, shining as brightly as her eyes when she looks at Will. Laudatory exclaims burst among you all, and you’re quick to finish your beer before hugging Mia and then Will. Your heart swells and trembles with even more happiness, admiring them as Santiago and Frankie congratulate their friend.
“Benny has some news too,” Will chuckles.
All eyes turn to Benny, who instead looks over at Emily. Her cheeks burn auburn still, indicating nervousness and flattery.
“We’re moving in together,” she says.
More congratulations are being shared, the entire group hugging the other happy couple. You don’t think you could be any happier than you are at this very moment.
Or lonelier.
What a fascinating mixture, that of delight for your friends and loneliness for yourself. Contradictory, opposing poles, yet equally true.
You don’t let it show, though. Tonight it’s cause for celebration, and you are too focused on your friends’ fulfilled lives to allow any negative emotion impact it.
Although you can’t help but think that your steps are guided by some sort of negative emotion when you find yourself into the kitchen, grabbing another beer to toast to your friends.
“To Will and Benny, finally committed and off of our hands,” Santiago toasts, and you all laugh. “Girls, best of luck.”
“Here, here!”
You feel your phone buzzing in your pocket, and you swiftly notice a text from Rose: “Be there soon, max one hour. Sorry for the delay!” You don’t know why, but your stomach drops. Rose will be there soon, why do you feel so disarmed and hopeless? It doesn’t make much sense, and you don’t try to dig deeper. Not tonight.
You’re feeling a bit of a mess, so the best you can do is smile and nod along, drinking cheerfully along your very joyful and gratified friends. You look at them all, admiring and holding out hope for all of them, so much so that you forget about yourself momentarily. Just for one moment, you forget about the confusing mixture of feelings and how it fucks you up in this very moment.
So Will is engaged, Benny’s getting his own place with his girlfriend, and Frankie is engaged. That leaves you and Santiago as the lonely bachelors in the group.
Except Santiago’s smitten with Rose, and vice versa, and you have a feeling those two will end up together. Which means, when that’ll inevitably happen, it will be just you. Stuck in the same cycle, no matter how hard you have tried to run away from it or tell yourself you changed.
Definitely should’ve taken a cab. Tonight requires a whole lot more drinking.
Music starts blasting in the speakers, with the two happy couples and Frankie settling for an excited talk regarding the upcoming nuptials and move-in. You settle in the kitchen, taking a seat and sipping from your beer while your eyes remain on the five people on the couch. There is an odd sense of melancholy washing over you, like you are an intruder in all of those people’s lives, and that they’d be much happier without you. Like their lives would also be easier without you.
“Hey,” Santiago’s voice brings you back to earth. “You okay?”
He takes the seat next to you, nudging you with his shoulder. “Yeah,” you reply flatly, voice a little shaky, too. “So many good news tonight already, it’s… a lot.”
“I’m pretty surprised myself. More by Benny, not Will. Will’s got this commitment thing covered. Benny, on the other hand…”
You chuckle, staring at the bottom of the beer that’s dangerously close now. “But look at him now. A grown man, our Benny.”
“They’re all moving on, building their lives.”
“Yep.”
“Guess it’s just you and me now. The last two bachelors of the group.”
You purse your lips together, staring at him in a haze. “Maybe you and I should’ve given this a proper go.”
Santiago smirks, eyeing you up and down.
“Is that so?” he smiles.
“We might’ve actually had a real shot a while back.”
“At the very least we could’ve followed through with that little moment in the car.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“One complete and good memory from back then.”
You nod, reminiscing of the time when you returned to town for a few weeks, a couple of years back, and decided to try something new. You thought it was the right thing to do, but the short-lived romance proved otherwise for you both.
“Or we might’ve screwed things up completely,” you say.
“Or that.”
“I mean, look at me and Frankie. One wrong move and it’s all fucked up.”
You sigh deeply, your head now resting in the crook of Santiago’s neck. He smells of cologne and forest, fresh and… uncomplicated. His arm wraps around you, pulling you in closer.
All under Frankie’s eyes.
He can’t stop staring at the two of you, so close and intimate in the kitchen, and his mind starts to wonder, to fabricate little scenarios that make the room spin around him. It all comes crashing down on him when he starts to acknowledge the fact that you and Santiago make perfect sense.
“You good there, Fish?” Benny asks, hand on his shoulder.
“Hm?”
He’s blatantly staring and he didn’t even realize it till then. Now, his gaze returns upon those in the living room.
“You good?” Benny repeats the question.
“I’m good, yeah,” he replies.
“Cause… you were staring.”
“I was just… curious.”
Mia and Emily look over to the kitchen as well, then back at Frankie. “Oh, those two?” Mia chuckles. “Yeah, we’re curious, too.”
Frankie, instead, frowns.
“They’ve gotten very close in the past few years,” Will admits. “Not sure to what extent, but they sure are close.”
“I for one think that if there is something going on, we should give them some space,” Emily says. “Friends dating… it can be tricky to navigate. Let’s leave them alone in the meantime.”
Frankie gulps, finishing his beer, eager for another one. He stands up, heads to the kitchen, where he locks eyes with you and Santiago. The two of you separate, staring at him, but Frankie doesn’t say a word. He just reaches in the fridge for another beer, opens it and walks away, right outside into the cold.
He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. He definitely shouldn’t care.
“What’s with him?” you ask.
“I have no idea. Maybe it’s the stress of planning a wedding.”
“Right.”
The doorbell is heard, turning towards Santiago with a smile. “That’s Rose.”
You see him take a deep breath, his mind clearly racing just as much as his heart, and you know he’s overthinking the moment. You have the same look on your face when you do it.
“Go,” you nearly push him off the chair. “Why are you still here?”
“I’m going, okay? I don’t wanna seem too eager.”
“You’re reeking of neediness already. Go.”
When you’re alone in the kitchen, you have the nerve to finish the beer, then raiding for another one. You’re probably going to regret this, but you need something to take the edge off.
You spy into the living room, noticing Santiago and Rose emerged into a conversation filled with shy smiles and flushed cheeks, and you smile. God, I hope this works between them. They’re too good for each other to not make this work.
But life sometimes has a funny and cruel way of pulling two perfect people apart from each other. You’ve experienced it firsthand, and you’d hate seeing this happen to two of the dearest people in your life.
You keep hearing music, and after a while, those in the living room start dancing with each other and you take that as your cue to leave. You feel like an extra there, just looking at the happy couples giggling and talking to each other.
Before you know it, you find yourself outside, slowly inhaling the cold air. You’re a bit tipsy, so this is just what you need to remain grounded in the present. A present where you’re basically left behind, alone, just you and the professional ladder you are desperately trying to climb in order to feel like you are achieving something.
By all means, you are happy. You have a great new job, great life, health… everything is good. So there is no reason for you to be feeling like this, is there?
“It’s freezing, you should get back inside,” a voice shouts.
You come to realize that it’s Frankie. He’s on the porch, few inches away, barely staring at you.
“Could tell you the same thing,” you say.
“I happen to be okay with the cold. I know you hate it.”
You tsk, hating how much he still knows about you. You stare into the far off distance, beer in hand. Luckily the alcohol keeps you a little warm, so you don’t really care about the freezing temperatures right now.
“Needed some air,” you say.
“Aka a break from all the happy inside.”
“I didn’t say—“
“You didn’t have to.”
“Would you just—knock it off?”
It is now that you turn to meet his gaze, fury radiating from your eyes. He can feel it, too; you see it in his body language, the way he’s trying to make himself seem smaller next to you. But he doesn’t avert his eyes. Instead, he seems to be staring right at you, with a certain darkness in his eyes that you fail to recognize.
“Look, I’m tired of this, Frankie,” you surrender. “I am sick and tired of trying my hardest to be distant and keep you at bay… and I’m sorry I’m acting like a bitch. I am not, I’m really not.”
“I know you’re not. You got every right to act this way, though.”
You chuckle. “Well, at least you understand what the situation is.”
“Of course I do. I’m not an idiot, okay? I know this is… fucked up and hurtful and messy… but I miss you.”
The moment he says that, your heart begins to race like crazy.
“As a—friend,” he clarifies, gulping.
“I want us to function normally too, like we used to, but I don’t know if it’s possible, Frankie. I gotta respect you and Andrea’s relationship, and… a single woman is not to be around a committed guy.”
Frankie scoffs, finishing his beer and putting the empty bottle on the porch, half in snow. “Single? Really?”
“Yes, really. Why?”
He falters, trips over his own thoughts, and he keeps quiet. It’s his best play at this very moment.
“I missed you too,” you confess shyly, in an almost non-existent voice.
But he hears it. He hears and sees you crystal clear, burning and aching with his whole body. He should not be feeling this way. He should not be surprised that you’d be interested in Santiago. He should not be upset by it, nor should he be feeling this way around you. It’s not okay. It’s not normal to burn this much for someone.
And yet here he is, secretly doing it anyway, and shoving it deep down with every ounce of strength imaginable.
You sneak a peek through the window, noticing Rose still talking to Santiago, seemingly laughing out loud, and your heart quickly swells and then deflates. When you finish your beer, you find Frankie to stand much closer to you, cutting out the air from your lungs. You barely feel the cold anymore, even if your fingers turn purple and your face is red with something you can’t quite discern.
“I’m really sorry that I let you go,” he mutters. “I was a dick. Pope reminds me once or twice a year.”
You actually chuckle. “Good.”
“He’s a great friend.”
“That he is.”
“And you guys seem to be very close. Kind of like…”
“We used to be?”
He nods. When your eyes meet and neither shies away, it’s electric. It’s a rush, a moment filled with unspoken emotion. You want to look away, you know this should not be happening, and yet you can’t look away. It’s years of deprivation, missing him and missing the two of you, but you just don’t want to look away from him.
You just want to look at him, admire him for the man that he’s turned into. Nothing more.
“I missed you,” he repeats, his voice almost like he’s begging. “So much.”
You don’t reply. You can’t really focus; your mind is foggy, clouded by all sorts of emotions tonight, and you know you should back off, act with respect. Because, at the end of the day, you do respect Frankie and his relationship with Andrea, and you respect Andrea just as much.
Every cell in your body screams at you to just back off, go back inside to your friends and celebrate alongside them. You swear you moved your feet in the desired direction. You start to feel warm again, warm all over, particularly your face.
Seconds later, you realize that is because there is warm breath all over your face, and your lips become swollen, reddened with a foreign, yet familiar and much needed touch.
Another few seconds later and you realize that Frankie’s lips are on yours, and his hand cups your cheek, pulling you in.
The worst of it is, you kiss him back. You kiss him back till you’re running out of air and Frankie’s breath is the sole source of air that you have. You kiss him back till you become fully aware of the implications, and then, before you can pull away, Frankie does it first.
He pulls away from you, his lips just as swollen and red as yours, and he stares at you in shock. Truthfully, you’re just as shocked, unable to utter a single word.
“I’m so sorry,” he coos, looking around in disbelief. “I am… so sorry. I shouldn’t have… I should go.”
You still don’t say anything. You simply stare at him, incapable to remove the feeling of his soft lips pressed hastily on yours.
He’s slowly backing away from you, eyes locked with yours, as he keeps muttering “I should go”. So he goes, leaving you half frozen on the porch, with a taste on your lips that nothing would ever wash away.
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