#or come at me with some bullshit I will fucking bite your ear off
Text
You all are cowards "Peach is finally girbossing!" "Peach isn't the damsel!"
Cowards all of you 😔 I was there when it was written
#mario movie#princess peach#also her voice#:/#tragic#wanna know why cause someone explained it well#THE VOICE ACTORESS IS JUST SPEAKING INTO A MIC#THERE IS NO EMOTION#she and Rat man are the same#i can talk into a mic and get paid#also somehow they made peach the white girl...more white like damn#anyway#luigi and bowser shippers#how are we feeling#cause that was very gay#LMAO#if you take this post seriously#or come at me with some bullshit I will fucking bite your ear off#I'm just speaking into the void#so let me#dweeb talks
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
you’ll let me?
pairing : shy!oc x shy!jk, est. relationship
genre : smut
wc : 2.9k
warnings : minors dni! descriptions of making out, dry humping, cunnilingus and vaginal penetration all below the cut. jk has an oral fixation bc duh, also he’s wearing calvin’s bc i couldn’t help myself. author makes far too many 3D lyric puns but to be fair i had it on repeat </3
the last text jungkook sent was staring back at you on your phone screen, and you never knew how deeply such a simple question could impact you.
can i come over?
biting your bottom lip, you cursed as he started typing again, then quickly disappeared from the chat.
you never wanted to make him feel rejected, but sometimes you think it’s better off. teasing him was easy…effortless, even, over text. when you were with him in person, you turned into some timid little girl around her very first crush.
sighing, you begin typing a response, some bullshit excuse about it being a long day and needing some sleep. before you hit send, you set your phone down, rolling your neck and staring at the ceiling in thought.
admittedly, he’s all you can think about. how pretty his eyes are, how they sparkle when he smiles at you or laughs at one of your dumb jokes. how soft his lips feel when briefly pressed against your own since he’s such a fucking gentleman all the damn time and won’t take it further unless you make the first move.
you want him. and you’re tired of pretending you don’t.
fuck it.
a repetitive clicking sounded from your phone as you held your finger on the backspace button, deleting your previous unsent response.
yes please :)
you feel your pulse speed up as you press send on your revised message, unable to suppress your giddiness when you get an immediate response.
on my way :)
the minutes feel like hours while you wait for your boyfriend to arrive.
your head snaps up when you finally hear the rapping of knuckles on hard wood, nearly stumbling over the carpet as you get up to open the door for him.
“hey,” he breathes out, running his tattooed hand through his dark hair, jiggling his car keys in his other.
“hi there,” you smirk, stepping back to allow him room to enter your place.
jungkook grins, lip piercings glittering under the lights of your foyer, butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach at his mere presence.
you shut the door behind him, and you internally begin to panic. shit, shit, shit. this is why you can’t function around him. he’s sexy, he’s smooth, he’s confident. he’s got it all.
seemingly noticing your frozen state, jungkook takes your hands into his, pulling you toward him and wrapping his arms around your body.
“you wanna know something?” he whispers, kind eyes soothing you immediately. he smiles when he feels you melt into his arms, wrapping your own arms around his neck as you hum in response.
“you intimidate me,” he presses his forehead against yours, his nose crinkling at your alarmed facial expression.
“i meant that in a good way,” he clarifies, closing his eyes for a second to think about what he wants to say next.
you get caught up in the way his long eyelashes kiss his cheeks, his soft skin flushing a light pink under your attention.
it was comforting to know he was as affected by you as you were by him. you squeezed your arms around him to get his attention again, admiring his shy smile as he came back to you.
“you intimidate me too,” you whisper, “but i also think we should let ourselves do what we want.”
you watch as something unfamiliar flickers in jungkooks eyes, excited by the new desire displayed in his features.
you shiver as his hand slides up your neck to cup your jaw, resting his hand behind your ear. his eyes flick down to your lips, and you swear you must be dreaming.
“is this okay?” he asks, voice soft, caring. as usual.
“more than okay,” you murmured, tilting your head to finally, finally, finally press your lips to his.
when his mouth opens, he tastes sweet, like sugar and cherries. it just makes sense, the ease of your tongues finding each other making you both sigh in relief.
moans and whimpers pass between you when he closes his mouth and sucks on your tongue, and you feel dizzy due to the fact that he has now walked you backward to press your spine to the wall. your shy jungkook is no more.
you can gradually feel yourself slipping into his spell, each movement of his mouth pulling you in deeper and deeper until you have to pull away to catch your breath.
jungkook’s eyes dart wildly around your face, admiring your flushed lips and messy hair. he adjusts his hand so that his fingers are pushing your hair behind your ears, smiling when he feels your fingers wrap around his wrists.
“shit, we should do that again,” you exhale, jungkook giggling as he tips his scrunched up face to the ceiling for a moment.
“yeah,” he breathes, leveling his face with you again before tipping to the right, teasingly hovering over your needy mouth, “we really should.”
this time is rougher than the last, neither of you caring to test the waters any further. they’ve been tested enough.
and all you can think is how incredibly stupid you’ve been. how did you deprive yourself of this for so long?
you keen as jungkook presses his chest to yours, wildly beating hearts communicating just how ready the two of you were to finally feel each other.
your hands go to jungkooks hair while his go down your back, trailing down your spine and politely stopping at midway.
he groans deep in his throat when you guide his hands to go to your ass, a surge of heat flushing between your legs when he cups the flesh with his fingers and squeezes like he’s wanted to for months.
“been waiting for this,” jungkook speaks breathlessly between kisses, an official statement on your four months of celibacy.
“don’t have to wait anymore,” you break away momentarily, a string of saliva stretching between you. “i’m ready.”
you tilt your head back to look at him, raising your eyebrows so that he knows you’re serious. his tongue darts out to play with his lip piercings, a casual habit of his, but it flames the arousal settling into the pit of your stomach.
“are you sure? you’ll let me?” he asks, and you grin as you slide out from where you were pressed between him and the wall, taking his hand in yours and wiping the rejection right off his face.
“honestly? i would let you do anything you wanted to me,” you answer truthfully, a confession you’re glad to have said without facing the man.
and it was a good thing, because it was now jungkooks turn to blush, biting his lip as you led him to your bedroom.
once on your bed, jungkook held your waist as you straddled him, smiling between kisses as you playfully nipped at each others lips.
after months of build up, it felt great to be able to feel each other, body to body.
he hissed as you rolled your hips down on his half hard cock, clenching his teeth as he let his hands roll the flesh of your ass, encouraging you to do it again.
you reveled in the noises spilling from his mouth, and never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined a man’s moans could be so sexy.
you definitely weren’t being quiet yourself, whining and moaning at each rock of your hips along jungkook’s growing shaft.
this moment was fulfilling your fantasies. and, well, not to sound totally pathetic but…it’s been a long time since you’ve been touched like this.
“i wanna see you, baby,” jungkook speaks up between moans, cursing when you guide his hand up underneath your shirt.
he wastes no time in lifting the material to feel your skin, hand flattening to drag up your stomach.
“oh, my god,” you whimper, moments later when he’s got your bra discarded on the floor and his mouth on your chest. your hand holds onto his hair for some kind of stability as he marks the underside of your breast, smoothing it over with a swipe of his tongue that catches your nipple as well.
jungkook lets out a noise of approval at the way the action makes you pull on his hair a bit tighter, moving his face so he’s directly over your breast, wrapping his lips around your nipple and suckling.
his eyes flick up to your face and he feels a rush of blood go down to his dick at the view. your face is contorted in pleasure, mouth dropped open as you arch into his touch.
it makes him want to move down further, so he tests his limits and removes himself from your chest, shuffling down and watching for your reaction as he hooks his fingers underneath the waistband.
“tell me if you want me to stop,” he speaks softly, eyes turning to amused crescents when you instead lift your butt for him to remove your shorts.
always so caring. your jungkook. but you think you might kill him if he doesn’t have your pants off in the next two seconds.
“please don’t stop,” you beg, and that’s all jungkook needs to hear before he’s nearly ripping your shorts and underwear off, coaxing your thighs open to reveal just how wet you are.
“shit,” he says as he traces a finger through your folds, making your cheeks burn hotter as he retracts said finger and closes his mouth around it to get a taste of you.
“jungkoook,” you whine, embarrassed at his crudeness. he only laughs in response, settling himself between your legs as he taps his fingers against your thigh comfortingly.
“what? i want the full experience! and you taste amazing.”
he’s shameless, you think, but you don’t get the chance to say it before he has his face buried between your legs. you inhale a broken gasp as he licks at your clit, rolling it with his tongue as his thumbs rub circles into the skin by your hip bones.
he alternated between flattening his tongue to gather your juices and pointing it to rub hard circles on your swollen clit, and the pace in which he does so is making you dizzy.
“fuckin’ gorgeous,” he slurs against you, and if it was possible, you’d say jungkook was drunk off of you.
“fuck, fuck, please,” you whimper, the high pitched sound piercing the otherwise quiet of your apartment.
jungkook seems to understand what you’re asking for as he immediately puts his fingers to good use, sliding his index finger into you and curling it up to hit your g-spot each time he enters you.
it leads to a humiliating amount of gushing from your entrance, jungkook again taking his finger out to suck everything you’d given him off.
“jungkook,” you wail as he swings your legs over his shoulders, nuzzling his head further between your legs, opening his mouth to moan against you.
your mouth opened in a silent scream as he began fucking you with calculated flicks of his tongue, the tip of his nose bumping into your clit with each nod of his head.
“baby, hmm-fuck!” you shudder as he continues the tantalizing action, running your hands through his hair and clenching your fingers around his soft tendrils as you felt the burning intensify in the pit of your stomach.
jungkook groans at the sting on his scalp, eyebrows pulled together in concentration as he works you to your orgasm.
his hard work pays off when your thighs start shaking around his head, your release coating his mouth, hard breaths wracking your chest as he cleans you up with gentle laps of his tongue.
when he reappears above your face, you cup his jaw with both of your hands, lazily blinking up at him as you both attempt to steady your breathing.
“that was,” you raise your eyebrows, eyes darting down to his lips as his tongue darts out to drag against his bottom lip.
“fucking hot,” jungkook finishes for you, humming when you lift your head off the pillow and catch his lips once more.
he exhales a heavy breath from his nostrils when you slip a hand down his sweatpants, rubbing his hard bulge through his boxers.
“please fuck me,” you beg again, all reservation thrown out the window as you stroke him through the thin fabric separating you from his dick.
“don’t have to tell me twice,” he grins, shuffling out of his pants and grabbing a foil packet from the pocket before tossing them off the bed.
your mouth dropped slightly as he slid his calvins off his hips, hard cock slapping his stomach. you reach for him, but he gently overrides your hand, beginning to roll the condom onto his tip.
“as much as i would love for you to touch me right now, i know i would blow my load right away,” he chuckles when you do, but gets serious again with his next words, “and i need to be inside of you very soon otherwise i’ll completely lose my sanity.”
as he says this, he settles back over your frame, caging you underneath him and exhaling shakily as his cockhead catches in your entrance with the movement.
“okay,” you smile, kissing him once more as he slides his hands under your knees, forcing your legs up to slide in with ease.
“oh, fuck,” he moans as he bottoms out inside of you, sucking a harsh breath between his teeth. his neck flexes above you, a sheen of sweat beginning to show. you’re tempted to suck on the supple skin there, but all thoughts go out the window when he starts gently grinding circles into you.
“are you okay?” he asks, and even in his still caring tone, you can hear his voice threatening to break under the throes of pleasure.
“‘m good,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around him and playing with the hair on the back of his head, “you can move.”
he starts out slow, giving you deep thrusts that almost have his tip coming out before he pumps his entire length back inside of you.
“you’re so pretty,” he says suddenly, smirking when you grow flustered at his out of the blue confession, “i don’t tell you that enough.”
“y-you tell me that every day, jungkook,” you argue, brain muddled from the pleasure burning in your core.
“should be telling you at least three times a day,” he counters, an attractive grunt ending his sentence as he feels your muscles clench around his cock.
his eyes watch your every move, flicking down your bodies to where you’re connected, to your open mouth, to your scrunched eyebrows. he’s looking for clues of what you like, versus what you don’t.
experimentally, he snaps his hips a bit harder and faster, reaching a depth he hadn’t yet found within you.
“feels so good, baby,” you confirm around a gasp, jungkook readily diving down to swallow the moan you let out when he continues the delicious pace.
the bedsprings squeak under his movements, both of your moans accompanying the bothersome sound as the burning in the pit of your stomach grows.
the band feels like it’s been stretched past it’s limit and it’s about to snap. each time jungkook hits your g-spot feels like you’ve ascended to a different universe. you’re running your hands down his back to cope, digging your nails into his skin as he pushes you further up the mattress with his thrusts.
“squeezing me so tight, baby, ‘m not gonna last,” he pants into your ear, the sound so sexy that you hold him by the jaw again, tongues wrapping around each other as you both get closer and closer to your highs.
“gonna cum, i’m gonna cum kookie,” you whimper into his mouth, sobbing out a delighted moan when his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing circles into it with the pad of his finger.
“give it to me, baby, c’mon,” he moans, his hands folding your thighs up so they pressed flat to your stomach, hitting deeper with each thrust of his hips.
you cum with a high pitched whine of his name, jungkook responding with a series of “ah, ah, ah”s punctuating his final thrusts before he stills, exhaling a sigh of relief as he sets his forehead on your collarbone.
you cringe at the sting in your legs when he adjusts them to lay straight out on the bed again, jungkook apologizing with a soft kiss to your forehead that suddenly made the burning in your legs dissipate.
after discarding the condom in your bathroom, he walks back into the bedroom with a warm cloth in hand, gently dragging it between your legs to clean you.
you never dreamed that jungkook would be an aftercare king, but looking back on the months you spent with the sweet man, it made perfect sense.
your thoughts are interrupted by jungkook laying down next to you, swiping your hair back from your damp forehead.
“shit,” you finally say, at a complete loss for words in your post orgasm haze.
jungkook laughs, but it’s a kind laugh. he’s endeared, enamored, maybe just a little shy again now, because he just got to do everything he’s been dreaming of for months.
he shakes his head in disbelief before settling beside you, extending his arm for you to use as a pillow which you readily roll into.
“definitely couldn’t have done that through the phone.”
#oopsie i wrote almost 3k of filth#bts fanfiction#bts smut#bts x reader#bts x oc#jungkook fanfiction#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook x oc#fanfiction#smut#x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
ballroom extravaganza
minatozaki sana x f!reader || cont. of fake and true ! pt.3 here
synopsis: you scored the date with the girl from the bar, things are shaping up for the better (maybe/maybe not), and your cousin mina is starting to raise some suspicions.
warnings: fluff ; smut!! ; sana giving/recieving ; reader recieving/giving ; fucking in the car/office/bedroom (freaky deaky) :D ; sana being needy ; sana praising ; cursing ; anything else i didn't let y'all know ; might be proofread
a/n: dang y'all really like sana don't ya? (bias wrecking me ill never recover) hope you guys enjoy this second part as much as the first one!
you’re basically jumping out of your own skin when you hear the knock on your door, and twirl around to see the bedside clock.
8:29
a minute early. you’d be impressed to keep the hefty lunch in your stomach to not vomit it out.
“coming!” you cry out, before taking a second to fuss with your current appearance. you played it simple, the flashiest part of the red dress that shuhua loaned you. like the black one, it’s slim-fitting and short, the neckline cutting above the swell of your breasts. your lips are a stained deep red, just to match. tzuyu always said to you that the color was striking for you to pull off.
after straightening the dress, you step out of your room and walk towards the entryway of the door, taking a second to toe on your black pumps. and then, with a steady exhale, you open the door.
sana stands on the other side of it, one hand in her pocket of your black slacks and the other carrying a bouquet of roses that she promptly shoves at your chest. you take them, cradling to your body, and look up to find her already gazing at you, eyes raking from the top of your head and down. again and again.
“hey.”
“hi.” you smile at her. “these are really beautiful, thank you.”
sana jerks her head in acknowledgement, and you can see the faintest flush of pink spreading to the tips of her ears. you bite your lip as you set the flowers down, staving off the rare urge to giggle.
she’s still standing by the door, holding her arm out. “so are you ready to go?”
you take it, curling a hand around her bicep, letting her lead you out. “please.”
—
“alright,” sana says, laying her menu flat on the table, staring at you with grave seriousness. “speak.”
“huh?” you look away from the giant, crystal chandelier hanging above you two. the restaurant she’d take you to was only slightly less fancier than the one at the four seasons hotel.
slightly.
“i can tell you want to say something.”
you smile nervously. “yeah, about your driving, maybe. i thought we were gonna—”
“y/n.” she says firmly; it has the same affect as dumping a bucket of ice water over your head. “no bullshit. you might as well say what you wanna say.”
“fine.” and this is easy to sink into, your mode of no-nonsense: the compartmentalization of what stresses you. “why did you give me the money?”
“because i wanted to.”
“i know, but why? did you feel bad for me?”
“a little.”
you grit your teeth. “did you pity me?”
“no.”
“then what?”
“i’ve been in your position before. kind of.”
“what do you mean.”
“struggling college student, a shitty job, caming from harebrained ways to get money. everyone who’s gone on the path to grad school, doesn’t matter if it’s med, law, blah blah blah whatever, knows how fucking hard it is to survive.”
your cheeks flush from sana’s words, picking at the white table cloth. “so you empathized with me?”
“basically.” sana says, sitting back in her chair, smiling at you. your eyes follow along the lazy draw of it. “i didn’t expect you to be so difficult about it.”
“it’s not like it’s common to give strangers hundreds of dollars within an hour of meeting them. forgive me for being concerned.”
“do you still want to give the money back to me?” sana asks.
“yes.”
“okay. then let’s change the subject.” diverting to the basic cookie cutter icebreaker in existence. “what are you majoring in?”
“sana—”
she reaches across the table and grabs your hand, squeezing it slightly. dazzling brown eyes swallow up your field of vision as she leans into you. “what are you majoring in?”
you bite your tongue. you don’t want to relent into sana’s charms; mina would have your head if she knew that sana was running away with it. but she’s making it so so easy, smiling when you answer, “i’m finishing up my bachelor’s in child education. aiming to get my masters in child’s psychology.”
“you like kids?”
“yeah,” you reply, visibly softening to sana. “last summer i did my internship at a local kindergarten and i love it. kids are…easy in a way that people aren’t.”
“what do you mean?”
“they don’t expect anything from you. not anything beyond food or water or playtime. you know, nothing super sophisticated or adult. and they’re easy to talk to. they don’t care what you say to them or if you don’t talk much in general. they’re not judgy and it’s nice.” you hit that right out of the ballpark, and sana stares with lips parted as the facts are laid out for you.
“i’ve never thought about them that way,” she says, her hand shifting atop your own. her thumb skims across your knuckles. “it sounds nice.”
your heart thrums like a hummingbird against the walls of your chest. every languid caress pulls a shiver from you. “you don’t like kids?”
“i don’t dislike them. i’m neutral, i guess. i know i’d like to have my own.” sana replies.
“do you have any siblings?”
“nope. i’m an only child.”
“i would’ve never guessed,” you say dryly.
“ha! has anyone told you you’re funny?” sana inquires, and you’re stifling a laugh while she’s smiling at you, gaze fond. “what about you?”
“well, i’m an only child.” you reply. normally you’d leave it at this. you don’t really like the notion of getting into the nitty-gritty of your past, but sana’s presence robs any reticence from you. “my parents passed when i was younger so i was raised by my aunt and her cousin.”
“oh.” sana slips her fingers into the spaces of your own and squeezes gently again. “i’m so sorry.”
“it’s okay,” you say, smiling awkwardly. “it happened when i was little. i’m kind of accustomed to it now.”
“can i ask you a question?”
“a personal one?”
the corner of sana’s mouth quirks. you want to trace it with your fingers.
“if you were in that desperate of a situation, why didn’t you ask her for help?”
“i can’t afford to take any money from my aunt or cousin. she can’t afford it.”
“did you try asking?”
“i’m not saying she would’ve said no. but if she tried, i wouldn’t have accepted it.”
“sounds startlingly familiar.”
you pull your hand from hers with a smile and an eye roll before picking up the menu in front of the table, raising it up high enough to cover sana’s face.
“can we order something now?”
—
when you get back in the car, you’re warm, languid with a stomach full of risotto and red wine. sana’s hand rests on the gear shift between you, the other one on her wheel. you like watching the motion of them as she drive, like the curls of sana’s knuckles and the rasp her palm makes against the wheel when she turns it. you wish to feel the warmth of it against your leg.
well, in a city like new york, it’s nothing more than unpleasant.
“you know i wasn’t kidding when i told you that you’re a horrible driver.”
“do you own a car, y/n?”
“i usually take the subway.”
“okay. pro-tip if you ever do drive in these streets, better to be offensive than dead. or stuck in traffic for two hours. which, believe it or not, is fucking worse.”
but despite sana’s words, she seems to listen to you. the drive stretches longer, and you lean into the plush leather seats as you stare out the window, dreading the sight of every familiar building, the street signs that you know lead to your apartment. for a moment, you debate asking to get ice cream, or go to the park, a movie theater–-anything and everything to extend this. you don’t want to leave the pleasant warmth of her car.
“y/n?”
you look over to see her smile. “i thought you were asleep.”
“i’m not tired.”
she takes her hand off the gear shift, thumbs a lock of your hair without breaking your gaze. unwavering.
“neither am i.”
when she pulls into your squat, little apartment complex, you’re gripping the edge of your seat, nails squeaking against the buttery leather. she smoothly pulls into an empty space, parking backwards—what a show off—-before turning to you. with as huddled into the seat as you were, her hand is behind the headers, arm bracketing you, you feel consumed. surrounded by her scent, in her car, the engine humming beneath them, with her so close. you can’t breathe without inhaling her.
sana’s noticed it too. her eyes have gone dark, swallowed by her pupils.
“i had fun,” she says.
“me too.”
her mouth twitches. “you gonna try giving me the money back now?”
you jolt at the reminder, bending to snatch you purse, but sana’s hand flies from her headrest to your hand, hot over your knee.
“i was kidding. i don’t want it back. i don’t need it.”
“sana—”
“y/n.” she interrupts firmly. “i don’t need it. and in my opinion, i think you can do a hell of a lot more.”
your defenses waiver before they crumble completely, and you feel your chin wobble. to your horror. “you’re too nice to me.”
she grabs it, pressing her thumb into the plush of your bottom lip. your stomach clenches as sana’s eyes flicker down, anticipation making your headlight.
“i don’t think i’m nice enough,” she whispers, but it barely registers. you’re already reaching for her, mouth open to beg; hand on her wrist, and she meets you half-way, swallowing your muted please.
sana’s kiss is desperate, intense like the rest of her. one hand buried in your hair while the other presses against your knee, a searing, overbearing heat that sinks into your insides, coiling tingly in the pit of your gut. despite your furious protestations to tzuyu, you haven’t felt this in a while, the wet-warmth of another mouth against your own, the life of someone else’s tongue, opening you up further.
you press closer, so frantic you almost climb over the armrest, but sana pushes you back down to your seat. she breaks away from your mouth to kiss down the line of your throat, flicking her tongue out to taste your overheated skin, smiling when you sigh. your hips jerk beneath her hold when she sucks at your pulse point.
she grins, teeth nipping at your jawline. “you like that, sweetie?”
there’s a shock-wire running from the heat of her mouth to her clit. sana’s barely touched you and you’re already keyed-up, on the cusp of euphoria. if you touched yourself now, you’d be so far gone, but you’re not sure she’d let you.
sana returns to kissing your throat, pausing to suckle at it with teeth and tongue, laving it against your skin in soft, wet strokes. she uses the hand in your hair to tilt your neck towards her, directing you like a puppet on strings. her other hand roves up and down your exposed thigh in gentle motions, more exploratory than anything, as if she can’t keep from touching you. and the thought sends a jolt of electricity to pass through you, sparking between your legs. it makes your hips can’t, makes the desperate need for friction a burying, voracious thing, primed to consume you.
when she kisses the swell of your bottom lip, it comes out of you in a breathless pant, nails biting the seat. “p-please touch me.”
“where?” sana asks, thumbing the hem of your dress, close enough to be a physical pain. “where, baby? here?”
“n-no.”
“then where, y/n?” your eyes are black, eager with predatory intent, and you hate how much you love it; the consuming weight of her attention, like she wants to eat you whole.
without much coronation, you take sana’s hand and shove it between your thighs, spreading them wide. you’re initially afraid that she’ll keep teasing you, that she’s lost in the power trip, but she surprises you when she groans and kisses you roughly, fingers tracing up your slit.
“so fucking wet you are,” sana raps when she breaks away, almost crazed. she dips her hand beneath the waistband of your panties, the sensation of her fingers against your sensitive skin sending your eyes rolling. your hips buck, demanding delicious friction, and she surges in, laughing into your mouth.
“you can cum just like this, can’t you?” she asks, voice rumbling against your cheek. her thumb slides up and down the seam of your cunt, the heel of her palm adding the barest pressure to your clit, but it’s good. the mere taste of it almost enough to send you over the edge, just for the sweet torture.
her knuckles pull against the gusset of your panties as two of her fingers center over your clit. her pace at first is light, slow, exploratory like the way it’d been on your leg. her eyes on your face are focused. she wants to know what’ll take you to the edge, and you know it isn’t this. so you grab sana’s wrist and raise your hips to force pressure.
“faster,” you pant, liquid gaze cutting to her. “h-harder. i like it–”
she steals the words from you, kissing again with a mouth full of bite. the motions of sana’s fingers quicken, slide down to the tease of your e trance while you grind frantically into her palm. you’re so wet you easily accept the glide of her first finger, and when she pushes in the second, the stretch is sweet, a welcome thing. you thrust onto them, wishing vainly that she’d toss you into the backseat and fuck you with something more.
the thought makes you clench around her, and she curses loudly, burying her face into your sweaty neck.
“are you always this depsrate when you’re getting fucked?” sana hisses, thrusting her fingers into you harder, without relent. “you always feel this good?”
you choke out a sob, feeling the familiar swoop in your belly, the swelling tide that welcomed euphoria. as you clutch her wrist, chasing it, sana rests her head atop your shoulder, her voice going soft, reverent.
“you’re so good, y/n,” she says in a frantic stream, mad with want. “so good. so, so fucking good. my perfect girl.”
you keen when it washes over you, that white-hot heat that robs you of sense. you shudder beneath sana’s grip, clutching her wrist as you ride it out. she helps you come down from it, kissing you languidly and keeping her pace inside you slow. when you can breathe again, she pulls them out of you. you flush hotly when she sticks her fingers in her mouth, but the embarrassment doesn’t linger long. you surge toward her, hands flying towards the button of her pants. meets her in another frantic kiss.
“i wanna make you feel good now,” you whisper, palming her. “i want—”
sana uses her hand in your hair to bind you up against her and kisses you again, long and full enough to make the words melt from your tongue. you’re hazy when she pulls away, pliant.
“i think,” she says. “that there’s always next time.”
“next time?”
“next time,” sana repeats, rubbing your cheek with her thumb. “it’s late anyway. you should go to bed.”
“oh,” you say blankly. “okay.”
sana kisses you again, twice on your nose, before leaning over to open your door. you stumble out of her car, binding your purse tight against your chest. you wave at her from the entrance of her building before you step inside, and see the shadow of sana’s hand as she waves back, driving off. when she turns onto the street, you rush inside, a hot, sharp balloon swelling in your chest.
your hands shake when you slot the key into your door and turn the knob, switching on the lights. you kick your shoes off and toss the purse onto the couch, moving on muscle memory. you can’t think beyond the warm, floaty haze that’s clouded your mind, and when you shut the door behind you, you laugh.
over and over. carelessly. all the while remembering the firm grip of sana’s hand and the scent of her, clogging your nose even now, a smell you want to bottle up and keep.
next time, you think, giddy, nearly dancing in the small space. she said there’d be a next time.
just then, you hear the high trill of your phone and dart to the couch, yanking open your purse to fish it out. you flush a pink when you notice the notification next to sana’s name– a text that reads, goodnight- and as you go to type your response, another notification pops up. one from venmo.
a cold spike of adrenaline shoots through you when the app opens, fingers trembling. you almost drop your phone entirely at the number attached: $1,000 dollars.
“for school,” it reads.
your breath quickens. the hot balloon in your chest expands and expands until it pops, a physical pain against your ribcage.
i thought— your eyes burn. the realization sinks into your like molasses. i thought she—
the night you met sana, she expressed concern when she learned why you were there. she’d condemned jihyo and implied that you deserved something more, something better. she’d left you money as a gift, to be kind.
a gift, sana told you. you don’t owe me anything.
so why is it, then, that you have the distinct impression that jihyo had been simply outbid.
—
you’re thinking about next time. sana said that there’d be a next time.
that next time would come, then twice.
then a third.
and after.
the day after that, and the day even after that.
the room is reverberating the echoes around you, loud with the sounds of heavy pants and wet slaps of skin. you’re clinging to the sheets beneath you, pushing yourself up, moving your hips to meet the frantic pace of sana's fingers curled up inside you. sana then buries a hand into your hair and hitches you up for a kiss that never takes. it’s broken quickly, leaves both of your swollen mouths parted and breathing of each other’s oxygen. you’re relishing the intimacy of the moment.
when the building pressure at the base of your stomach grows to become too overwhelming, you fall back on the mattress, unmoored without sana’s presence, but she follows you as she always does. she’s binding her arm around your waist and raises you up, hand cupping your cunt while she’s all over your neck again.
“c’mon,” sana says, voice wrecked, torn from her. “c’mon, honey, one more.”
you gave sana the opportunity to sit on her face earlier, brown eyes flashing dark and predatory at you while you grind all over her mouth. the hot curl of her tongue relentless against you, reducing you to a living nerve ending. sana wrung out two splintering orgasms out of you, flipping you on your back before you could even recover. you loved it, and you still do, seeing all the ways that you can challenge sana.
her slender fingers dip down to your clit again and causes you to moan loudly, rocking into her as she circles it firmly: rough, fast motions that she’s learned that you love. to bring you back to that edge quick.
sana kisses you again, her other hand slipping to your breast above and squeezing. she’s groaning into your core, it’s making you fall deeper into the madness of your situation.
“you’re so—” she barely mumbles out, her hand on your breast slides down to clamp the divot in your hips. sliding the pillow under the arch of your back in one seamless motion. she’s too good with her hands. “fucking unreal, and perfect.”
her mouth against your other mouth starts the chain reaction. you’re moaning out more strain behind it. a star-burst of affection igniting in your chest. sana continues to swipe her tongue, the unyielding pressure that makes your vision swimmy, and you let go.
you’re sobbing out while your hands are trying to find what’s left of the comforter as ecstasy steals over you. sana continues to drive her fingers and tongue into you, letting you feel it: in the air, at the base of your throat, between the rapid, uneven pacing of thrusts from her fingers. when you’re all tuckered out, the clenching fading out from your cunt, soaked with slick while it gets on different parts of your skin; from the leg, to one of your obliques, to the small peak of your boob.
“o-okay, that’s e-enough.”
“you taste so fucking good,” sana murmurs, mouth hot against the column of your neck. her hands trailing up and down your stomach. “when you clench around my fingers is just—”
fucking shit this woman. “sana, please.”
she sits up with a chuckle, and you’re at the same level too, instantly resting your head on her shoulder, kissing it. sana wraps her arm around your waist, kissing the top of your head, her fingers are tapping away at the v-line. you look up and she kisses you, grinning with delight.
“will you stay over?” you ask, too plaintive when she pulls away. sana’s smile falters and you feeling the realization, disappointment inbound.
“i can’t.” a spike lances through you. “my department has a meeting early in the morning. i can’t skip.”
“oh.” you hate yourself for being upset—she’s a doctor, of course she’s busy—but the feeling rises up anyway, along with the insidious notion that she’s gotten what she wanted and so has little use for you now. without thinking, you start to drift away from sana in slow little increments that she catches, and she pulls you up tight against her, pressing her lips to your hairline.
“i wish i could say,” sana whispers. “if it were up to me, i’d be here with you everyday.”
the words are cruel, considering what they are–what you are—but the pain is stamped down. masking it with teasing. “how would you work then?”
“i’m sure my supervisor could find someone else to fill my place. someone as equally ecstatic to dig their hands into some guy’s intestines.”
“you’re so…casual when you talk about your job.” you say out of respite.
“are you worried?” sana asks.
“no.” answering while tracing fingers across sana’s chest, over her still-racing heart, before tapping her chin. “but it makes me wonder if i should be.”
“is the child psychology major going to psychoanalzye me right now? when i’m twenty-nine years old nearing thirty?”
“you know the issues of childhood can be far-reaching. you never stop feeling the effects of it.”
“incredible.” you laugh when sana dips her head and takes your finger in her mouth, biting it gently. “but i’ve always been this way.”
“which is?”
a half-feral grin spreads across sana’s face before she abruptly flips you over. you yelp into her mouth as she kisses you, long and slow, and settles over you. she breaks away, still grinning. “crazy about you.”
you’re flushing hotly, which makes her bark out a delighted laugh, and sana kisses you again. over and over and over. her lips trail from your fluttering eyelids to the tip of your nose to your chin, every nook and cranny of your face that she can reach. when her lips meet yours again, you can taste the sugar on her tongue.
“god, i wish i could stay,” sana rasps, breaking away, and you cling onto her.
“then stay.”
“if i did, i’d have to leave at 5 to get ready at my apartment in order to be at the hospital on time. also you have an early class tomorrow. chances are i’d wake you up and you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep.”
your jaw tightens, and teeth catch your tongue. you don’t want to accuse sana of making excuses, because you know she’s right; it’s happened before. and that’s what burns you, the idea that your angst could have no standing. the operating off of your injured feelings and nothing substantial. this is transnational after all.
“okay.” you say, coolly. “guess this is goodbye then.”
“bye y/n.” sana says, kissing your mouth. “goodnight.”
sana kisses you several times, smothering you in affection. she only stops after you simple, nipping at your nose once before rising off the bed. you watch as sana peels away off the bed, walking around your room, picking up her clothes from the floor and pulling them on. when she’s done, she strides over to you and slides a nick of your hair back, kissing your forehead.
“i’ll call you tomorrow, sweetheart.”
“okay.”
sana ducks down, skating her nose along the edge of your hairline, keeping her mouth close to your ear. “i’ll see you later.”
you move your head and catch sana’s lips. against them, whispering. “mn, see you later.”
you notice with some satisfaction that sana’s eyes are fevered as she pulls away, dark with wanting, and you shove your face back into the pillow, clinging to it. sana mutters a soft curse and makes her way to the door, only to immediately jam the knob when she goes to close it. she mutters a curse again, much louder.
“just give it a little wiggle,” you say, sitting up. “it gets a little tight sometimes when you twist it.”
“how long has it been like this?”
“since i got the apartment.”
“what the fuck?!” sana exclaims. “did anything else come broken?”
“sometimes the water pressure in my shower is really low.”
“jesus christ, y/n.” sana says again, louder, angrier. “why haven't you told your landlord?”
“trust me, i have.” you say shrugging your shoulders. “if i said anything more than that he’d just shut off the water entirely.”
sana sounds pressed, jiggling the knob harder. “i’ll kill him then.”
“it’s really not that ba—”
“i’m coming back next week with a repairman,” sana interjects, tone brokering no argument. “i can fix the doorknob myself but i’ll get a plumber for the shower.”
you duck your head, embarrassed. “you really don’t have to do that, sana.”
“i want to,” she replies, eyes softening when she looks at you. “i don’t want you living in some shit-hole with no running water.”
“i have running water.”
“we’ll see what the plumber says.” and with that, sana gives up on fixing the jam and breezes past the doorway. a few seconds later, you can hear sana at the front door shut behind her. with a deep sigh, you fall back into the bed and reach for your pillow, thick with her scent, and curls around it to fall asleep.
in the morning, you wake up to a ten dollar venmo notification for coffee and the contact information of the plumber sana mentioned.
—
“why haven’t you got my calls or texts?” is the first question that mina asks when you answer the phone. you stifle a laugh.
“well, good to hear your voice mina.”
“you haven’t called me,” she says again. “is everything okay?”
you sigh and sink into your loveseat, socks skipping over the fractured leather. your fingers cradle the coffee mug. “nothing’s wrong.” you say. “i’ve been really busy.”
“with what?”
“school,” is what you reply with. “not sure if you’ve kept up, but i’m in my last year now. i’ve been getting most of the important work done as much as i can.” a second passes before you add, “and communication is a two-way street. you haven’t been calling me either.”
“busy with work.” is what mina says in defense.
“see?” you quirk, a sip of coffee passing through your mouth, tapping your fingers on your knee, waiting for mina to speak. neither of you are particularly verbose, so the shared calls usually play out like this: tense silence, quick updates, the voids that harbored resentment. but you’ve grown far from the desire of mina to be soft for you (she has, doesn’t want to admit it) and you’re just accustomed to the dispassion.
for the final question on the script: “do you need any money from me?”
“no, mina. i don’t need money from you or auntie.”
“i assume the tips are good at your job then?”
“even better.”
she hums, like this was real answer, saying, “if you ever need anything, call me.”
“you know it when i do.”
“okay then.”
mina hangs up with a click before the goodbye is even truly articulated on the tongue.
—
your ears perk up when a knock is heard on the door, moving from your kitchen to walk to the entrance. curious, you open it, only to be swept up into sana’s arms before you can even say hello. she kicks it shut behind her and pins you to the old wood, lips roving over your face.
“what—” she kisses your mouth twice in quick succession. “—are you doing here?”
“left the hospital for my lunch break,” sana breathes, hitching you up so that a leg is wrapped around her waist. she dips to suck your collarbone, mouth curling when she hears you mewl. “decided to come here.”
“d-did you eat?”
“no.”
sana’s hand slides up from the curve of your ass to your breast, squeezing gently. you moan softly, head thumping against the wood. “you—you should.”
she separates from your throat to shoot a sly grin. “i’d rather eat you out first.”
mindless, spurred by sana’s passion, you surge down to kiss her. tightening your legs around her, thighs squeezing as sana’s hand cups your clit. with every pass of the hand, you can feel the shift of your underwear, panties clinging.
sana buries her hand into your hair, yanking back to expose your throat. she ducks her head to you for another kiss, trailing her lips up and down the line, tongue darting out to taste. her other hand dips down to your ass to bind you up against her, rolling until your toes curl. you sigh and slide your hand into sana’s hair. it would be so easy to just cum from this, but you’d rather put sana’s mouth somewhere else.
you pull her up by her hair, stomach clenching at the naked want on sana’s face. her eyes, half-lidded and hazy, are trained on your open mouth. when you lick them, her thumb catches your bottom lip.
“please,” you gasp, moving against sana’s hips. arching. “we need to go to my—”
sana grins, almost madly, and kisses you hard enough to steal your breath. “what? you’re afraid your neighbors might hear me fuck you again?”
you blush hotly and sana laughs, but ultimately decides to appease you, heaving you off the wall. she seeks out your lips again and stumbles into the room. impatient, sana kicks open the door, heedless when it slams loudly into the wall.
you hardly notice also, giddy when sana pushes you onto the bed. it’s a race to get clothes off, pairs of hands fulmbling with the zippers and buttons until sana bats her pants away, you yanking your sweatpants off, meeting for another kiss as she lowers herself over you. you moan loudly when her fingers tease the opening between your legs, feeling the wetness in an instant.
“my god,” you sigh out, clinging to sana, blood burning beneath your skin; every movement a siren call to your own pleasure. “please, just—just touch me, sana.”
sana grins rakishly, eyes glittering with mirth. ever the eager observer to your own demise.
“you’re always so polite, sweetheart.” sana says, and moves down to kiss you. you yourself arch to meet her, pulse skittering at her proximity, at the heady invertibility of mindless pleasure, and—
the lights go out.
sana stills above you. at first, you’re surprised, waiting for them to flicker back on. this happens sometimes. i mean—the building is old as in 1920s red stone–faulty wiring and out-dated, but nothing comes to fruition.
“fuck,” you spitt, arousal plummeting to now nothing. you move from under sana. “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”
“what’s wrong?” sana asks. you rise from the bed and she follows you to the kitchen. you snatch a pile of envelopes from your counter to dig through them, only to stop when you notice that the lighting outside is too dim to see. you sigh heavily, marching over to your couch to read by the flickering candles. sana sits down beside you, eyeing cautiously. “what’s wrong?”
“the light bill,” you croak. “the rental agency upped the price recently but i must’ve paid the old amount without ven thinking. god, how could i be so stupid?!”
“you’re not stupid. don’t talk like that,” sana snaps. she then takes a deep breath, voice much calmer when she adds, “and this is an easy fix. if you pay it now, it’ll be back on in a few hours. this shit happens, y/n.”
“but i don’t–” have the money. you clench your jaw tight, forcing the words down, but sana can see the pain on your face, can hear it lingering in the air, unsaid.
“i’ll help you—” you shake your head; you don’t like this, the reminder—” let me help you.”
“no, sana.”
“it’s not a big deal. i want to.”
“i can’t ask you to—”
sana suddenly shifts closer and grabs your face, cupping it between her palms. she looks int your eyes, gaze probing.
“let me,’ she cajoles. “you don’t have to bear the burden of this all on your own. if i’m offering to help you, let me help you.”
your heart swells. with relief. with dismay. “okay.”
she pecks your lips before standing up, thumb trailing down your cheek. “where’s your laptop? if your account is set up online, i can pay it now. i still have about forty-five minutes until i have to get back so i can wait with you until then.”
“it’s on my desk.”
sana nods once, turning on her heel to march into your room. the second she’s out of sight, you bury your face into her hands, burning with shame.
—
right after class ends, your phone vibrates.
you pick it out of your pocket, thumb grayling over your cracked screen to see sana’s contact photo flashing up at you; it was the one taken three weeks ago, with her smiling while you pressed a kiss to her cheek. you’re clicking the green button.
“hello?”
“i just realized you’ve never been to my apartment,” sana says, surprising you. “we’ve been together for almost two months and you’ve never seen my house.”
“oh.” your cheeks flush, pulse skipping at together. “you’ve never really brought it up before.”
“like a fucking idiot. do you wanna come over?”
your body warms in a near–sudden response, to your eternal horror, and with a bite of your lip. “sure.”
“cool! i’ll pick you up right now.”
“you're not working today?”
“no. i worked eighty hours last week so they gave me a day off. i’m on call, though, which is shitty anyway.”
“i’m sorry.”
“it’s fine,” sana dismisses. “so you’re still on campus?”
“yeah. i just got out of class.”
“alright, i’ll be there in twenty.”
“okay. bye.”
“bye.” sana says, but lingers on the line. for a moment, you think she’s forgotten to hang up, and moves to do it for her until she adds, softly, cutely you might think.
“i’m excited to see you.”
your heart thuds, and she hangs up before you can even say something back.
for twenty minutes, you wait near the entrance of the school, fiddling with your phone until sana texts you to come meet her. finding the car quickly, walking towards the sleek, gray two–seater of her vintage mercedes, and opens the door to see sana grinning at you. a pair of dark sunglasses sit on the bridge of her nose.
“hi,” sana smiles.
“hi.” you say back, hating at how shy you still get around her, considering. sana, though, always appears to take a bit of pride to it.
she chuckles, leaning back in her seat and shifting the car into drive, pulling into the main road. you settle in to watch the hypnotic motion of her hands as she turns the wheel—it almost makes you nostalgic for some reason.
“so,” sana says, turning onto the street. “how was class?”
“fine. just sat through a lecture.”
“about?”
“well, just the study of psychosocial development of erickson. how the different stages can be embedded by sociological challenges. you don’t want to hear the rest from me.”
“ah.” you suck a smile in; seeing the cogs in sana’s brain turning. “sounds interesting.”
“it’s a lot to cover. my professor was telling us about how some guest speaker that’s gonna be presenting next month. apparently she specializes in existential psychotherapy so i’m thinking of seeing that when it comes.”
“that’s really cool. do you know the name?”
“no.” you appreciate the effort that sana is showing. elizabeth, as wonderful and cool she was, tended to block you out sometimes: on the occasion she ever needed to. “what about you? how was work?”
sana groans. “terrible. a guy was rolled in with a bullet wound and was hemorrhaging like crazy. i was able to stop the bleeding and get the bullet out, but the anesthesiologist almost od’d him and killed him. idiot.”
“wow,” you say. “is he okay now?”
“yeah. but i’m never having that dumbass with me at the table again.”
“you might have to, though. you’re a new doctor, sana, i don’t know if you have the luxury of writing off your co-workers.”
sana smirks. “i might.”
flicking the blinkers on, she turns on the road that leads them deeper into the upper west side. sana drives into a small parking lot behind a tall building before pulling into a space. once the car shifts into park and the keys are yanked out, you step out, mouth parting as you take in the veritable skyscraper in front of you.
“you live here?!”
“yeah,” sana says, taking your hand. seeing the stupefied expression, grinning and leading you inside. a red-headed doorman greets sana as you make your way across the lobby. the elevator didn’t even feel like an elevator and once you got past sana’s front door, you’re in full flabbergasted mode—eyes open like saucers. sana smiles at your gasp but when her eyes flicker to you they narrow.
“i thought it would be a penthouse of sorts.”
“trust me, it is but at the same time it isn’t.”
sana’s apartment may not be as lux as you initially thought, but it’s still nice regardless. you can tell that it was costly, dark furniture andwide, open spaces and tall windows. the walls are painted with a light grey. a flat-screen plasma tv hangs in her living room, mounted over a fireplace. the black velvet leather couch is in front of it, clearly brand new.
her voice echoes the walls. echoes. you’re left marveling. “are you hungry?” sana asks from the dining area, “i have some food from the other day.”
“what do you got?”
“some leftovers from this dimsum place, pretty good actually.”
you giggle. “i thought you would have a much more sophisticated diet to fall back on.” meeting her at the kitchen island while she opens the box of food, tossing a bite into her mouth while you’re scanning through the dumplings.
“this is delicous.” you say in between bites, sana leaning over pressing a kiss to your temple. “you’re not eating as much, not enough craving?”
“i had some food earlier.”
“how earlier are we talking?”
“before i scooped you up.”
you hum while she feeds you another bite of the warm dumpling that melts so tenderly into your mouth.
the relaxing downtime with sana felt like a completely different world in her house. you got to know sana’s rough run down backstory of how she got to some form of power when it comes to dealing with which practitioner helps with her or not. being well-connected in her line of work was something to be fortunate with, but sana doesn’t like the idea of wealth being wrapped around her. sure, her clothes may be nice, demeanor brash and language abrasive at times, but she sees the world in a more different light compared to tzuyu and elizabeth on the topic of privilege.
as for how she got into her career of being a surgeon, she signed up for dual-enrollment in the last two years of her high school to graduate early. the calling of med school already being long in terms of time, so the sooner she could get out, the better.
“i like that,” you say. “i like how your mind works. i like—”
you. you almost say it. and it aches to not project it, the sudden sting of yearning. you, you, i really like you.
but catching yourself tripping up was something more of a simple defensive mechanism. “the story,” you finish. “pretty funny.”
“i have better ones.” sana says, grin lighting up her face, more radiant than sunlight. and her obliviousness burns twice as hot. “do you wanna hear about the time my friend bang chan and his best friend felix got mutual restraining orders back in college?”
—
you’ve read the name of tobio kageyama for probably the thirtieth time in two manga volumes before your mind decided to call for a needed break.
sitting upright from the couch, stretching and popping joints across the body. a look at the clock shows that it’s a little past eight, realizing that you’ve studied for roughly about two to three hours. too bad you didn’t notice it before because your brain is already bugging and battered into mush.
so you head to the kitchen, glass cup filled before drinking it once or twice before noticing that sana hasn’t drank any water since she took up a fortress in her office two hours ago, claiming that she had a work call. you fill another glass again, dropping a few ice cubes, before making your way towards her office door–knocking once, “hey, you busy?”
sana’s voice sounds muffled, weary. “no, come in.”
entering the room, hesitant like you were intruding on some sacred space. like the rest of her house, sana’s office was nice, richly-furnished. she has a tall, wooden desk in front of her, several files and stacks of paper placed on top. there’s a bookshelf behind in the corner, thick tomes marked by names that you don’t even want to try to read or recognize. the walls are also painted in a dark gray, and there’s a leather couch off to the left side with a blanket placed over it. even sana needs to have her naps sometimes.
sana then calls for your attention, glasses perched on the bridge of her perfect nose. “did you need something?”
“no,” you say, inching closer. raising the glass, “i just wanted to get you some water.”
she smiles in thanks, taking it from you while she approaches with an outreaching hand, grabbing the glass downing it in one gulp. frowning with a mild concern once she gave you back the glass, “were you thirsty?”
“a bit. i didn’t feel it until now.”
“are you hungry?”
“not right now. i’ll eat when im finished with this.”
“you should take a break,” you say, stepping towards sana. you lean back with your butt to the edge of her desk, half sitting. up close, you can see sana’s stress more evidently, eyes low with exhaustion. “sit on the couch with me. we can watch something together.”
“i can’t do that, y/n.”
“why not?” would a short film be better?”
“i have paperwork. a lot of paperwork. not to mention forms, test results, patient files. i want to try to get through them by tonight.”
“and you will,” you reply softly, stepping between her legs, resting your hands on her shoulders. “just ten or fifteen minutes of your time, please.”
“no way we’re watching a movie in ten minutes.”
“not the movie, you idiot. i was gonna say food instead, you should eat.”
“‘m not hungry.”
“not even a snack?”
sana lets out a smile, placing her hands on your hips. “i appreciate you for being concerned, baby, but i’ll be done soon. i promise. then we can go get something to eat together.”
looking down at the ground, hands still on shoulder. you’re smoothening the crinkles of sana’s large shirt, fingers brushing up from her neck up to her hair. you lean down and kiss sana fully on the lips, slowly, once, twice, a few times, and rest your knee on her chair between her legs. you break away a bit to pepper languid kisses across the slope of her jaw.
“relax,” you croon. “take a break with me.”
sana sinks into you, sighing like she’s expelling a pressure from deep within her chest. her eyes flutter closed, hands twitching around your waist, and when you dip down to kiss her throat, you feel the flushing heat rising from her body.
desire races to the forefront like a freight train, bowling over you with its inteistiey, and you’re running a hand up her thigh towards the center. sana gasps sharply into your parted mouth, fingers clutching around your waist. you’re nearly smiling.
“you’ve eaten me out before,” you whisper. “but you’ve never let me do the same for you.”
sana laughs but it’s off, brimming with echoes of a dark promise. “i find it more enjoyable when i eat up your pussy then have you eat mine. better for me to see you cry the way i want you to.”
there’s a thrill pulsing through your body, throbbing dully in your cunt. you’re ducking down to kiss her again, practically panging into sana’s open mouth as you palm her through her pants. her face is screwed up with a tight coil of pleasure, eyes shut. her fingers dig into the leather armrests at her side.
“let me,” you whisper again, almost begging. “i want to.”
sana’s eyes crack open, solely, regarding you as though you were something to be consumed. i want to, you think with a sort of nameless, desperate sense of urgency. i want you to.
she nods, and you kneel at her feet.
you’re kissing through her jeans first, soft, affectionate little pecks that make sana groan, fingers sliding up her legs again. you help sana clumsily unbutton her pants, shucking it down and off her thighs. the panties are quick to follow, only first with a trail of your lips over the black-laced fabric, soaked with her wetness that fills up your nose. sana is wrecked with the effect you have on her, just some light kisses and heavy petting, making your cunt fucking clench; you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who’s wanted you even half as much.
when sana’s panties are gone left with her shirt; the scent is intoxicating. her folds are glistening. she sighs of pure bliss when you lick up her slit, mouth lingering on her clit. her hips twitch from the initial contact. you stifle a smile when you shower a few more kisses, and she groans loudly when you part her legs, squeezing her inner thighs tightly the more you shove your face into her cunt.
you’ve eaten out girls before, but sana was more of an anomaly. to play it safe, you experiment, trying to see what she likes best. licking at her, teasing her walls with a finger, leaving teased kisses to the area outside of her pussy. sana can’t contain herself when she pulls your head back in with her hand, moaning into her core, the vibrations too overwhelming coming from your mouth to her legs.
“fuck,” sana moans. “fuck, y/n–baby, fuck. i’m gonna—”
nodding at her, you don’t let up the pace of tearing up her cunt. fingers in walls and grunting into her. she doesn’t even let you breathe. the heels of her feet on your shoulders as her hands are on the back of your head, nails scratching the scalp the more you’re lapping her up. only then you pull away as she coos out locking eyes with you, the sight of licking your mouth lean with your tongue from her slick almost makes her lose it from the seat.
“i’m gonna ruin you,” sana promises, snarling, gaze devouring, mad with want. it sends a deep vibration into your cunt while she looks up to the ceiling. “you won’t be able to walk.”
you could’ve just came right then and there, vision whiting out at the edges. somehow you kept your sanity in check, ducking your head for more fully. humming and sliding your tongue over her cunt, nibbling on her clit and with a sudden jerk followed by a sharp groan, she cums.
a whole assortment of papers, files, pens, and pencils are scattered to the floor as sana digs her hand beneath your shirt and rips it off of you. your lips meet hers for another frantic kiss, laying back as she’s settling over you.
she shoves your sweats down along with your panties, letting them dangle from your feet. sana then moves back to your chest, hands moving like a firebrand, searing your skin with every touch. desperate to feel more of it, you sit up slightly and unclasp your bra. the second you’ve tossed it, sana’s hands are quick to palm, mouth hot against your own as she swallows your keening sigh.
“you have the most perfect tits in the world,” sana breathes, thumbs circling your nipples, forefingers roving down to pinch. the sweet pleasure-pain sparks a heavy throb in your core, and she arches into you, spreading your legs wide. you moan when sana’s mouth is around your breast, the other hand folding you.
“god, sana, please,” you beg, clinging to her. your hips are twitching, the emptiness inside you turning into a physical ache.
“what is it, baby?” sana switches over to your other mound, tongue laving over your nipple. your eyes fluttering, mind spinning at the sight. “what?”
moaning helplessly, and her hand slides down to your cunt, thumb sliding up the wet gusset of your panties to find your clit. when she presses down, your hips jerk forward, shrieking. she’s laughing around your boob.
“yeah, there we go,” sana sighs out, rubbing at you languidly, moving slow with the roll of her hips. “that feels good, doesn’t it?”
“ye—ah—yes, yes it feels good.”
“i know.” sana kisses up to your throat, sucking the soft spot beneath your jaw, lips deceptively sweet. “but you want more, don’t you.”
more.
your stomach seizes at the thought of it, the promise. you grasp at her wrist and sana hisses, dipping her hand beneath underneath your underwear to slide a finger inside you. keening when she adds another digit, stretching you open—another sounds leaves your mouth and sana laughs when you’re clamping around her fingers.
“you feel so good like this, y/n. so good.” she watches as she fucks her fingers in and out of you, transfixed by the sight. almost resentful of her own body. “i wish i could live in you. i wish—”
“you could,” somehow croaking that out when she has four fingers inside. “i’d let you.”
sana lets her intrusive thoughts get the better of her, growling while she surges down your body. your panties are up in the air as she raises a leg up, thumb petting your clit. you’re rearing up with a shout, a splintering sound, bursting, but sana doesn’t give you any breathing room. next thing you know, she has the flat plane of her tongue swiping upward that pushes your undoing even faster.
it’s good enough to cry, you can feel the salt on your tongue when sana leans up again for another kiss before trailing down to your pussy. there’s a malformation with how the kisses are sloppier on your lips above and below, but the pleasure is good. she makes you feel like euphoria is an ever-present force that is kept within you, and it’s much deeper than the sex. the sprawling root of it is happiness, and sana.
“c’mon, y/n, my lovely girl,” sana says tightly, jaw clenching when she breathes over your clit. her eyes hazy like she might be the one to cum again. “give me another.”
you wrap your legs around her, canting up so that her mouth and tongue go deeper, and you both moan from it. sana’s finger finds your clit again, so wet the sound is purely obscene, but it only strokes the fire of your pleasure, makes it build higher and higher.
“that’s it. there we go. t-there—”
sana stops short. a bitten-off cry, and she doubles down on your clit. her fingers clench around your walls, and there’s a gentle wave—mouth parted to sigh.
she stays for a second, pulling her hand out examining the slimy fluid between the fingers, licking them seductively that makes you roll your eyes and look away. sana just laughs at you, “fuck you, for making me like this.”
your head hits the desk, “not sorry. i like it when you’re needy for me.”
she huffs out, “little minx. when i’m done with you—”
“what? i won’t be able to walk?”
sana’s face falls flat, but her eyes spark with lurid determination as she leans in and whispers, “everything i’ve gotten in life, i’ve had solely because i wanted it badly enough. you think that doesn’t apply to the things i wanna do to you?”
your heart hammers like a jack-rabbit. red-hot heat slowly consumes your face. “i—”
she moves off of you but keeps her arms bracketing your hips. “we’re moving to my room,” she interjects. “i need a bed if i want you to sit on my face.”
eyes were wide open while you managed to slip out of sana’s hold, scurrying to the bedroom down the hallway. sana’s signature laugh echoes as she chases you down behind.
—
it’s a bit chilly outside when mina calls you, the autumn weather creeping beneath your new coat to settle into your bones. hitching the collar up your neck for cover, and the phone is out from your pocket to see your cousin’s name. you’re repressing a sigh, picking up,
“hey.”
“yo.” mina has many greetings. “where are you right now?”
“i got out of class, walking to the subway.”
“are you by yourself?”
“yes,” you say. “obviously. why wouldn’t i be?”
“you usually have that slightly taller girl tagging along with you. the one with the model face.”
“tzuyu.” you correct sharply. “and you’re not wrong, but she has her own life. you know? a girlfriend?”
“and you? you got anyone?”
frozen, stumbling in your tracks. mina could be asking for curiosity, but you know your cousin too well; she’s not the kind to be asking unnecessary questions.
“no, i don’t,” you answer cautiously.
“are you sure?”
“why even bother asking me?” you retort, voice clipped. “even if i was seeing someone. i’d mention it right away, even with thanksgiving around the corner.”
“i don’t see what thanksgiving has anything to do with it.”
“most normal people introduce their partners to family, mina. not everything personal is some dirty little secret.”
“don’t you dare try to get snippy with me. i was just asking a question, not cuffing you to a table for an interrogation. chillax.”
you’re cringing with knitted brows, stepping down the stairwell into the subway station. it’s a lot warmer, “whatever. i just wanted to know why you were asking.”
“i was asking because you haven’t been calling me lately. i figured that someone else was taking up all of your time besides auntie.”
your jaw tenses. there’s this wave of guilt that makes your clinch your lip, voice much gentler when you follow up, “i’ve just been busy, mina. you know that.”
“yeah?” the customary ten seconds of loaded silence pass before mina adds, “speaking of busy, don’t come down for thanksgiving this year. i’m gonna be busy with work.”
work. the nameless occupation mina had never bothered explaining to you, not since you were in your teens. you’ve had your own suspicions and theories, but you never even had the frame of mind to confirm them yourself.
even with the disappointment; it’s actually comforting in a weird sense. “that’s fine. i have finals to get ready for anyway.”
“you’re not upset by this?”
“no.”
“and you’re not lying to me about anything, right?”
“no, mina.” you say, smiling ruefully. “why would i? when have either of us ever lied each other about anything?”
good as dammed, but there’s no care for it. i wouldn’t even matter anyway. it comes as a concern for how little tinges of that feeling is there still.
mina sighs out. “talk to you later then, if you do call me.”
you hang up after. the lasting thought of mina doesn’t even come afterwards.
—
not even more than two steps into the entrance hallway when the doorbell calls you.
you’re freezing, eating away at the fragile patience, but when you look through the peephole. you don’t think twice about opening the door. “tzuyu?”
she’s standing across from you, arms folded, foot tapping, and pouting. “you’ve been neglecting me.” she accrues.
“huh?” you ask stupidly while blinking in a fast state.
tzuyu rolls her eyes and breezes past you, chilling air carrying the rich scent of yves saint-laurent. you follow her into the living rom, watching her shuck off her louis vutton jacket and tosses it onto the seat.
“well?” she demands, whirling around to face you. “tell me what did she do to you?”
“what?”
“your little sugar mommy-doctor-girlfriend.”
“tzuyu–”
“whatever she did, she’s good enough to keep you from calling or texting your best friend for a week.”
“what?” you’re gasping out again. “a week? i haven’t…”
with a rush of the phone, you’re pulling up messages only to notice that you have, in fact, been ignoring tzuyu’s texts for the better part of a week. all of your besties messages. the only person you’ve kept consistent contact with is sana, and the last text you sent her was–
well—best to the imagination.
“i’m so sorry,” you breathe out, throwing your phone off to approach tzuyu, taking her mittened hands, gently directing her to sit on the couch. “i’m so sorry, tzuyu. i didn’t mean to ignore you or shuhua or irene or anyone, i just—”
“you’ve been preoccupied with your new girl?”
“yeah,” you admit, bit of shame hanging, but adding, “and school. dooyoung–the guy editing my thesis—says it’s coming together really nicely, so.”
tzuyu whoops, reaching out to shake your leg. “and you’ll be presenting it next semester! how do we feel about that?”
“pretty good.”
suddenly, her eyes soften, shifting closer. “i was mostly kidding, by the way, about you neglecting me. i remember how i was when i first got with shuhua. you couldn’t get me away from her.”
“it’s different, though.”
“what makes you say that?”
“because shuhua is your girlfriend and sana is my—”
you stop, horrified by the abrupt burn of tears. you turn away to conceal yourself, blinking hard, but tzuyu was always quick to notice. she wraps her arms around your elbow, leaning into your shoulder. “your sugar mommy,” she finishes gently, but you flinch like it’s a slap.
“yeah. that.”
“if it bothers you so much, then why are you staying with her?” i’m sure she’s given you enough that you have time to figure out another way to get money. it’s not like you need her.”
“yeah,” you reply dully, still not meeting eyes with tzuyu. your mind is playing the denial aspect a lot more tougher now. “you’re right. i don’t.”
—
with all things and struggles, you compartmentalize.
you’re refusing to think of the blooming feelings for sana more than you have to, and in the even that you can’t, distraction was the solution: school, work, friends. and on the rare occurrence as crazy it would seem, shopping.
“an IKEA drawer?” sana asks, baffled. you keep your phone between shoulder to ear. “why the fuck did you go to IKEA?”
“i needed to,” you answer, pushing the giant box inside of your apartment, leaning against the wall as it’s on the wall. “my other drawer was broken. i’ve had it for like, seventeen years, so i figured that it was time for a change.”
“and you could afford it?”
a rhetorical question. what sana’s really asking if the two bundred she sent you last week was a decent enough amount that you could splurge on. clenching your teeth, flushing.
“yes.”
“y/n, baby. i sent you the money so that you could go shopping.”
“i did. and i shopped at IKEA.”
“are you gonna build the drawer now?”
“yeah.”
“let me come over. i can build it for you/”
“sana, it’s fine. i’ve built furniture before.”
“so have i. in fact, i bet i could have it done in half the time it takes you to read the instructions.”
“oh really now?” cocking a brow in disbelief. “how soon can you come over?”
—
time didn’t really pass, staring at sana from the bed, chin resting on your palm as you watch her hiss and curse to herself, pink screwdriver in hand. the sweat rolls enticing down the hard ridges of her abs, her hair is up and out of her face in a knot. the most exhilarating part in all of this was watching him use her shirt as a sweat rag.
“are you sure you don’t—”
“i’m almost done,” sana snaps, eyes flashing with indignation. “just give me ten more minutes.”
true to her word, she was nearly done. the drawer stands tall in front of her, most of the pieces already constructed and put into place. all that’s missing is the top set of the drawers, which she has in her hands right now.
still, it’s only mildly entertaining just to watch sana. you debated studying to pass the time, but the focus wasn’t enough on your book to make it stick. reading was also out of the question, and texting irene went nowhere after she revealed that she was on a date and couldn’t speak. the news that things with her and seulgi were going well and exciting to hear, but not long after. sana’s shirt was off.
“it’s really fucking hot in here,” had been the excuse mainly.
“is this supposed to keep me distracted? you ask.
“i’m not trying to do anything. if you’re distracted, that’s your prerogative.”
liar. she’s been annoyed the second you stopped foching on her long enough to try facetime tzuyu.
you sigh, spitefully debating on what you can do to fluster sana. the limited options, though, tend to lean more in one direction and the idea of willfully doing any of them was embarrassing.
suddenly, she whoops. “i finished!”
you roll over on your stomach to see sana sliding the drawer into the top slot, circling it, pulling on different knobs to test the tightness and checking for smoothness of the pulling out and pushing in of the drawers. she grins at you, triumphantly. “i told you i could do it.”
“i never said that you couldn’t.”
“it was in your tone.”
you smile, and sana straightens up to bend something in her body. a loud crack sounds, followed by a pained sigh, and her eyes open more glazed. “fuck.”
soon after sana is laid flat on the mattress when you motioned her, face turned towards you with a look that says are you okay?
“my back. it’s been annoying me since work—fuck.”
you nick your head as you cautiously glide your hands over her skin, kneading the muscle softly, and sana just hums with relief. “keep doing that.”
straddling on sana’s ass, languidly moving your fingers up. she just melts. sana perks up when you giggle. “what?”
“nothing.”
“tell me.”
“i think it’s kinda bad for you to have back pain at your age, and it’s kinda mindblowing how active you are.”
“don’t be that dramatic, i’m not that old.”
“for someone that’s near thirty.”
“that’s a bit harsh.”
you giggle again before leaning down, lips skimming sana’s ear lobe. “i’m just teasing you.”
“you’re so fucked up for saying that, i’m only twenty-nine still.”
“don’t be so sensitive.” you say pressing a kiss to her nape. “not bad if you're in your early late twenties early thirties while i’m in my early twenties.”
sana sinks into you, like clay in your hands. when you move to the ridge of her cheekbone, she leans into you, turning her head to catch your lips. a languid kiss is shared, tongues melding, unhurried, but that fire is sparked between your hips and it becomes urgent. it’s a slow grind that’s rolled out, eyes fluttering at the friction.
you pull away while sana breathes out, “fuck,” and flips you over now that you’re straddling over her front. your hands are on her waist, and sana moves her leg up between your legs, doubling down on the notice that you’re not wearing anything underneath the shorts, lips parting.
she leans up to kiss you. sana always kisses you, mouth consuming like she wants to suck you inside. “i didn’t know you watching me build furniture would get you so hot.”
“everything you do gets me hot.”
sana moans and binds you up against her, hips bucking, delicious friction sending stars behind your eyes. you wrap your arms around her neck, panting into her mouth, so euphoric that you want to weep. so happy.
when she breaks way to squeeze your breasts, a loud knock sounds at the door, startling you. sana, however, is unmoved.
“ignore it,” she says, breath hot on your neck. “ride me.”
your eyes flutter and you’re grasping at her hair, already picturing it, the slick coming out of you on her leg, the fruition and contact deep enough to send you reeling. and then you hear it:
“y/n!” another loud knock, more insistent. “open the door!”
shit, you think, cursing, the word flying form your mouth now. “shit, shit.”
sana pulls away from you, concerned, but you’re already beating her in the scramble. she watches you rush to the mirror to fix your hair.
“what’s up? who is that?”
“mina,” you breathes, cold panic pulsing through your veins. “my cousin.”
“oh, well—”
“it’s a bigger deal than you think,” you snap. “and stay here. she can’t see you.”
sana’s eyes widen. “what–?”
“stay here, sana.”
you rush out of the room and hurry towards the front door. through the peephole, you see mina on the other side, arms crossed and expression stoic. you exhale deeply before opening the door, forcing a smile.
“hi, mina.”
she hums in greeting, shoulders knocking as she walks past you. when she spots the IKEA box, she stops short.
“you bought furniture?”
“yes,” you answer hesitantly, clammy fingers clasped behind you. “i needed a new drawer.”
“why didn’t you tell me?”
“i need to call you every time i buy furniture?”
“no. but these things sell for three hundred bucks. it’s expensive.”
“this one was on sale. one–fifty.”
mina makes a deep sound in her throat, unsatisfied, but her journey is continued throughout your apartment.
“so, uh. what are you doing here?”
“it’s thanksgiving tomorrow.”
“oh. i thought…you told me not to come. you said you were busy.”
“some time opened up in my schedule,” she says, and finally stops long enough to look at you. her eyes were shrewd, filled with knowing. it only raises the sirens going off in your head louder. “i decided to come see you.”
“ah,” you breathe. “well, um. i didn’t buy any food. maybe we can order–?”
“why are you so flustered? mina interrupts. “is there something going on?”
“what? no, no, of course–”
“mina?” icy pinpricks poke your skin, and you slowly turn around to see sana standing in the hallway. her clothes and hair have been fixed, and she smiles at mina with a polite curiosity.
your cousin’s expression sours instantly. “who the fuck is this?”
“mina!”
“who is this. why is she in you apartment?!”
sana walks towards mina, unphased by the insult. she sticks her hand out, “my name is minatozaki sana. nice to meet you.”
mina peers at sana, neck tilted at an angle that would be comical if not for the fact that you feel like throwing up. finally, she looks at you again.
“we need to talk.”
#hyunie#sana x reader#twice x reader#kpop x reader#kpop imagines#twice sana#sana#minatozaki sana#minatozaki sana x reader#twice x you#twice imagines#sana imagines#sana minatozaki#twice fluff#twice smut#sana smut#sana twice
490 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hop hop 🐇
let's talk about Bruce Wayne and his pretty little girlfriend pleaseee, god the way he lifts her up and fucks her like she's nothinggggg, his real life fleshlite. He's strong I bet he could fuck her standing without her feet ever touching the ground.
I want her to whine in his ear to "fuck me like you paid for me," because she's rich but she's not Wayne rich. And that's the type of shit billionaires like right, control, a pretty face, a tight body at their disposal? "Come on Brucieee, stuff this pussy full, you paid for it, anything you want." Having no clue he plucks prostitutes off the streets of gotham nightly, out of the hands of shitty pimps. If you'd seen the state he finds them in... is that what you want; you're a pretty rich girl in designer lingerie, getting fucked on a king sized mattress. He could knock a tooth out, take you outside where it's cold and dirty, reeks of stale piss and garbage and fuck you there, toss a $20 in your hand when he's done. He could shove his cock in your ass unprepped and when you cry about it tell you he'll throw another hundred in for the trouble. You little celebrity, you little socialite, you don't even know what you're saying.
Brucie cracks open his most expensive bottle of champagne and pours it all over your tits, mouths at them, laps it up, bites hungrily at the flesh careful not leave a mark. He murmers some bullshit in your ear about dressing you up in furs and gold and nothing else for as long as you're worth the money, just to hear you giggle that careless, bubbly laugh. You don't know anything about this city, your feet have never touched the ground.
🐇 hop hop
557 notes
·
View notes
Note
can you write ab my matty pooh? like he’s streaming, you come in and everything’s chill at first but then you start getting frisky so he has to turn camera off and mute mic. then y’all do it and have some freaky sex, but afterwards you find out he fucked up and didn’t mute it, and everyone heard you freaks pls 🧎🏻♀️
Quiet
Matt x Fem Reader
Warnings: SMUTTY smut smut smut
DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT OKAY WITH SMUT OR ARE A MINOR.
@lustfulslxt I changed it up a little bit from the request I don’t think you’ll mind 🤭🫶🏻
“FUCK DUDE. I knew he was gonna peek around the corner this game is BULLSHIT.”
I hear Matt’s hands slam into his desk for the millionth time tonight, the walls and my headphones muffling his noise, but not nearly enough. I swear he’s always the loudest when I’m trying to focus on something.
“Shut the fuck up Matt, I’m trying to enjoy my movie!” I yell, banging my fist on the wall that separates our rooms.
“Sorry Y/n!” He yells back, then speaks normally, “my roommate told me I’m being too loud boys. NO not my brothers dumbass, why would I call them roommates? ….I don’t know I think they’re at some meeting?….Yeah they’ll be on later I’m sure.”
I hear his one sided conversation, the other voices confined into his headset. I hit play on my movie and shove some more kettle corn into my mouth.
“NO! FUCK THIS GUY HE HAS TO HAVE HACKS ON THERES ACTUALLY NO WAY.”
I hit pause and stand up, too frustrated to try and talk to him through a wall again. I throw my bowl onto my bed, not even caring about the spill of crumbs, and yank my door open to head to his room next door. I don’t even knock as I barge in, stomping my way over to him as he pulls the headset off of one ear.
“Matthew Bernard. What do you not understand about quiet time after 6?”
I can hear the voices on the other side of his headset now, not sure how he isn’t deaf at this point with how loud he has it.
“Mommy come to quiet you down Matty?” “Oooh someone’s in trouble..” they laugh and go on teasing him.
“Hang on boys.” He presses a button on the microphone and it goes red as he tosses his headset onto the desk.
“Y/n that is so fucking embarrassing. You don’t have to barge in like I’m some little kid and yell at me like that.” Matt says, rolling his chair back to scoot further away from the desk.
“We have literally talked about this so many times Matthew. After 6 is the only time it’s quiet in this house. I’m literally just trying to watch Titanic and I can’t hear shit over your fucking toddler tantrums.”
“Titanic? Like we haven’t all seen that together 50 times? I’m pretty sure I could watch that on mute and still know exactly what’s going on,” he argues, throwing his hands up.
“That’s not the fucking point, dude. I literally can’t even hear my own thoughts with how loud you’re being. You could also wake up old people in the neighborhood or… something, I don’t even know. Just please keep it the fuck down.”
“Keep it the fuck down, huh?” he questions sarcastically, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs out, interlocking his hands behind his head. “These walls are pretty thin, sweetheart, and I’m pretty sure I’ve heard you partaking in some not so quiet activities after 6 before.”
My face immediately flushes and I can feel how red I am. I blink a couple times at him before I start to get angry again.
“What the fuck are you talking about Matthew? You’re actually disgusting.”
“I didn’t think it was too disgusting. I just think it’s funny that you’re all over my ass about keeping it down when I can hear you touching yourself nearly every other night.”
As if I couldn’t turn more red, my ears start to throb from the blood flow spreading across my body. I can’t even think of anything to say, so I don’t.
“What’s wrong, Y/n? Cat got your tongue?”
“Fuck you dude, that’s actually so wrong to bring up.” I shake my head at him.
“What baby? I thought we were just airing out our concerns about quiet time.” He bites his tongue and I see it press against the inside of his cheek. “You know, it really disturbs my peace when I have to hear you in there, rolling around on your bed and making those pretty little noises. Probably making such a mess of yourself huh?”
Fuck, why am I getting turned on by him? He’s being such an asshole. But even so, I can’t help but notice the creeping warmth between my thighs.
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Matthew, but can you please just talk at a normal volume with your friends so I can enjoy my movie?” I say, starting to turn around and walk out.
His hand reaches out and grabs my arm, pulling me back to face him with a dead look in his eyes.
“Sit on my desk.”
“What the fuck kind of question is that? I’m not-” I get half of my argument out before I’m cut off by his hands grabbing my hips and lifting me off the ground, sitting me down onto his desk, knocking over multiple things in the process.
“It wasn’t a question.” he responds, scooting his chair closer to me and parting my thighs to sit between them.
I’m looking down at him, one of my best friends, his eyes completely different and darker than I’ve ever seen them before.
“What are you doing Matt?” I whisper, feeling his warm hands slide up my thighs and stop at the hem of my silk shorts, his fingers toying with them.
“You seem so serious about me keeping the noise down. I just wanna see how good you can be at it.”
My breath hitches as one of his hands resume its movement and starts to crawl up my shorts agonizingly slow. The other hand comes up to the back of my head, lacing into my hair and pulling me down face to face with him.
His lips ghost at my ear and I can hear his deep breathing. “You just have to let me know if you want to try.”
He pulls me back to make eye contact and I nod, watching as the devilish grin spreads across his face.
“You’re already so good at this baby.”
He brings his face close to mine, my lips aching to feel his but he never closes the distance. I open my mouth to complain, but remember not to because I want to win this more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
He rubs the soft skin of his bottom lip against my top lip with as little pressure as possible and I feel my heat throbbing in anticipation of his next move. His hands trail farther up my shorts as his breath fans over my face, our lips still hovering apart. He explores for my underwear and his hands abruptly stop as he feels just skin.
“No panties? Such a little slut, Y/n.” he says before connecting our lips in a slow, heated kiss. We kiss with such passion and need, like if we stopped the Earth would stop turning. Our tongues dance together as his hands make their way back down my thighs before coming up and brushing against the waistband of my shorts.
“You want me to take them off, don’t you?”
I nod, scooting my hips closer to him to make it easier.
“Tell me how bad you want it, baby. You want me to take them off and touch you here?” He slides his hand down and rubs impossibly slow over my burning core through my shorts, trying to tempt me to break and talk.
I let out the quietest whimper possible, wanting so badly to be able to tell him all the filthy things I need from him.
“Hmm? Nothing to say?” He tilts his head and continues rubbing me, before sarcastically adding, “oh yeah, it’s quiet time isn’t it?”
He chuckles at himself and hooks his fingers into my waistband before pulling them down and off of me, parting my thighs again to return to his spot.
“Look at that, all wet for me. I’ve barely even touched you, baby.” He says in a fake sympathetic tone.
Before I can process what’s happening, his head dips down and he begins lapping at my pussy, his tongue giving the perfect amount of warmth and pressure to draw a moan out of me.
“Oh sweet girl, we have to keep it down. Don’t you remember?” He starts licking again as soon as he finishes his question, and I can’t help but to bring my hands into his hair and pull, needing some kind of release since I can’t make noise.
My hips involuntarily buck towards him to get him as close to me as I can- so close I can feel his nose brush against my clit. He swirls his tongue in delicious circles and at some point I swear I can feel him use his tongue to trace the letters of his name into my pussy.
My stomach is tightening and my head is thrown back, and I don’t know if I can keep up this quiet game for much longer. It’s becoming almost impossible because his fingers are now trailing their way up to my bikini line, teasing my skin in the best way. His fingers slowly find a place to rest against my entrance and his eyes flicker up to meet mine. His pupils are dilated and his eyelids are half closed, the look of need on his face.
“Want me to make you cum, baby?” he asks in a raspy and low voice.
I test the waters with confidence and answer, “P-please Matt.”
His hand draws back and I feel a sting as he slaps my pussy, the mix of pleasure and pain almost too good.
“I thought we talked about staying quiet, Y/n? You’re not being a very good girl for me right now.” He almost hisses, his eyes darkening.
“I was going to let you cum all over my fingers,” he starts, standing up from his spot and I want to whine at the loss of contact so bad. “But I think I’ll just fuck you and see if you can prove yourself.”
He grabs my waist and pulls me off the desk onto my feet, pushing his chair back to make enough room to spin me around and bend me over the desk. His hand comes down to slap my ass hard enough to make me jump and suck in a breath.
“You think you can keep that pretty little mouth shut this time?” He leans down as he whispers into my ear.
I nod furiously and throw my head down onto the desk with a thud, my frustration growing as my pussy is dripping at this point. I feel his fingers running up and down my folds before they are pulled away, and shortly after I hear his pants hitting the floor. I turn my head around and I’m met with him pumping his cock using my juices as lubrication. I almost drool at the sight, biting my lip and staring into his eyes.
“Arch up a little for me baby.”
I do as I’m told, laying my head back down and standing on my tiptoes with my chest pressed against the desk. I feel one of his hands come to rest on my ass, spreading me open for him before his head makes the slightest contact with my entrance.
I’m biting my lip so hard to keep the noises in that I can taste an iron like taste- I’m honestly pathetic, drawing my own blood to keep quiet for him. He pushes into me and I feel myself stretching around his dick, causing my hips to twitch and jerk at the pain.
“Don’t worry sweetheart, I just know your pussy will be so perfect for me. I’m gonna make it fit.” He says in a sickly sweet voice before spitting onto the spot where our bodies have become one.
He pushes deeper into me, his warm saliva allowing him to bottom out and his hips to sit flush against my ass.
“Holy fuck, so tight baby. So so perfect for me, just like I knew it would be.” he moans as he begins pumping himself in and out of me.
All I can do is sit there and take it, trying my hardest to contain myself. All I want to do is scream his name and tell him how fucking good this feels.
Both of his hands rest on my hips, his rings digging into my skin as he holds me in place. I can hear him cursing and moaning as he speeds up his pace and his pressure.
“Why aren’t you saying anything, sweetheart? Oh, right…” he mocks before pushing as deep as he could into me and holding it for a second, hitting the deepest and most sensitive spot.
I whimper in reaction and brace in anticipation of his large hand to smack my ass, but it doesn’t happen.
I turn around to see his lust filled eyes staring back at me.
“Fuck this stupid game, I need to hear more of those pretty little noises.” He says before picking his pace back up, slamming in and out of me hard enough to knock his headset and microphone off the desk.
“FUCK Matt, please please don’t stop, pleeeease,” I draw out, gripping the back edge of the desk so hard my knuckles turn white. I whimper and whine freely, no longer scared of the repercussions of the dumb game we had started.
“Fuck, you make me wanna do horrible nasty things, Y/n. I just want to ruin you for everyone else. Need that pussy to belong to me.” he pants out, his grip on my hips deepening and his thrusts becoming sloppy as his legs begin to shake.
My stomach tightens after his possessive thoughts spill from his lips.
“I’m all yours, Matt. F-fuck, all yours baby.” I moan out before beginning to throw my hips back halfway to meet his tired thrusts.
“I know you’ve wanted this as long as I have, tell me how bad you needed me, baby.” he leans down to whisper into my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine.
“I t-touch myself thinking of you, Matt. I’ve needed you for so long,” I admit.
His dick throbs inside of me, threatening his release at any second. I feel my pussy clench around him as my own high approaches, earning a deep growl from him before he grits his teeth and says, “Let me cum in you, please I need to, Y/n.”
“Fuck Matt please,” I moan out as I feel myself topple over the edge, waves of pleasure taking over as I grind my hips back into him. Soon after, I feel his warm release pumping deep into me and my name rolling off his tongue as if he’s in a trance. His thrusts die down and we both sigh as we come out the other side of our orgasms together.
He collapses down onto me before pushing himself back up to keep his weight from crushing me into the desk. His lips leave soft kisses across my shoulder blades as we both try to catch our breath, sweat glistening on our bodies. He pulls himself out of me slowly before lifting me off the desk, a much more tender side of him coming back to the surface.
We share a few soft kisses and caress each other, both taking in what just happened.
Our heads snap to the side as we hear muffled talking, worried Nick and Chris came home. Matt hurries to the window in a panic, peeking out the blinds before turning back to me.
“I don’t know what the fuck we both just heard, but I’m pretty sure they’re still gone.” He exhales deeply before reaching down to pick up the items that had fallen off his desk in our careless moments.
I gasp as he throws the headset violently to the ground and scurries away, a look of panic written across his face.
“Y/n the fucking mic is on..” he says as the blood drains from his face.
“What the fuck.. how? I watched you mute it!” I slap my hands to my face, the most embarrassing pit forming in my stomach.
“I guess when it fell off the desk? I have no fucking clue,” he whispers.
I sigh and walk over to the headset and press it against my ear, hearing tons of remarks and laughter from Matt’s friends on the other side.
“I really didn’t think he’d ever get to hit! Props to him though, he’s been in love with her forever I swear.”
“Fuck Matt please don’t stop please!!” Another voice mocks in their best girly voice.
“You gotta take care of this one, Matty. I’m gonna shower and finish my movie,” I say, handing him the headset and placing one more kiss on his lips before smiling and grabbing my shorts to head out the door. I turn around giggling and say one more thing that I have to get out.
“Remember to keep it down this time, please.”
#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo smut#sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader
574 notes
·
View notes
Text
bloody knuckles - joel miller x fem!reader
summary: you come home injured, and Joel has something to say about it.
word count: 2.2k
warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, swearing, mentions of injuries/canon-typical violence, spoilers for the show, heavily inspired by joel’s reaction to tess (iykyk), oral (f receiving), brief spanking, a bit of manhandling, unprotected p-in-v (WRAP UR SHIT IN THE APOCALYPSE FAM), I have joel miller brain rot and I regret nothing
(could be read as part of the fire + whiskey universe, but can still be enjoyed regardless)
✨I no longer have a taglist - please follow @friskito-library and turn on notifs to be notified of new fics!✨
He’s asleep, when your key hits the lock.
It depends on the day, lately, what you get when you manage to find your way back to the apartment. Every day is different, a roulette wheel that doesn’t seem to let up. Some days, he’s still awake, poring over his maps at the scratched kitchen table, the bottle of hooch not far from his grip. Other times he’s pacing by the window, the radio a quiet whine, his hair yanked in a million different directions. Sometimes he’s not even home, and you’re the one left to wait up, or pass out on the couch trying to.
But today, he’s asleep.
Silently, you’re grateful. If he saw the state of you, he’d barrel right through the fucking door the moment you let slip who had hurt you. That’s how it is, these days, and that’s how you have to be, you know. But you can’t risk it. You can’t risk him.
The pipes rattle when you flick on the faucet, try and rinse some of the blood from your hands, wincing at your sore knuckles. It’s just past curfew, and light from the too-bright street lamps filters through the living room window, and you scour for a painkiller, tossing half of something back with a sip from the hooch bottle still on the table.
He doesn’t move until you’re perched on the edge of the bed, wrapping your hand with some gauze you pilfered from the pharmacy on your way back. There’s no words, at first, just the rough drag of his hand across the small of your back, a low grunt as he rolls toward you. You pull the shirt off, feeling his fingers rove up your spine, tapping over your bones.
You’re reaching for a new shirt — one of his stashed in the pile of semi-clean clothes — when he curls his finger under your bra, pulls you back a little. “C’mere,” he mumbles, and you let yourself fall back. He lets out a low oomph when you hit his chest. He’s fully clothed, even his boots still on. “Where y’been?”
“Nowhere important,” you reply, keeping your face pointedly away from him. You pull your legs up onto the mattress, sinking down beside him, your back brushing against his chest as you sprawl on the mattress. Instantly, he slips a knee between yours, slings his arm around your waist, hauls you closer. “You been sleeping all day?”
“Don’t change the subject, girlie,” he murmurs, low in your ear, and you just shake your head, silencing your wince, burrowing deeper into his embrace. “Couple hours. Long day.”
“Talk in the morning,” you reply, covering his hand with your undamaged one. “I’m tired too.”
He grunts in response, and that’s that.
Joel doesn’t wait until morning.
The sky is still dark when he’s shaking your shoulder, rousing you just on the edge of roughly, heavy eyelids blinking open to see him gripping your bandaged hand, the camping lantern on the makeshift beside table the only bit of light.
“Who.” Not a question.
“It’s nothing,” you start to say, rolling towards him out of instinct, reaching up to rub the sleep from your eye but then biting back a quiet cry when your face flares with pain. “I fell and it just—”
“Don’t bullshit me,” he snaps, and drops your hand, fingers either side of your jaw a moment later, turning your face towards him, towards the light, gently. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Joel, don’t—”
“No,” he spits, springing up off the mattress, crossing to the kitchen, finding a rag, putting a bit of the hooch on it. The closest you’ll get to antiseptic. “You’ve got a black fuckin’ eye. Tell me who. Now.”
“Why?” you ask, sitting up as he returns to the bed, kneeling on the edge, taking your jaw in his hand again. “So you can break curfew and get charged for disturbing the peace? They’re hanging people for less these days, Joel. I won’t…” You wince as he touches the rag to your split skin, swiping at the dried blood you’d half-heartedly wiped at. “I won’t let you.”
He goes quiet, jaw working, his brow furrowed so hard you can’t resist reaching out and smoothing your thumb along the line it makes in his forehead. “I want to know.”
“If I tell you, you need to stay,” you say, moving your thumb back and forth along his skin. “I need you to remember that you taught me how to protect myself, too.” The corner of your mouth quirks. “And the assholes that did this to me look much worse.”
His face softens slightly, and his brow slowly raises. You let your hand move lower, dragging your knuckles down to his scruffy jaw. “How much worse?”
“Pretty sure I broke the one guy’s nose,” you say, unable to stifle your smug grin when his eyes widen slightly. “And the other, well, he definitely won’t be using his hand anytime soon.”
He lowers the rag, tossing it to the side as you move a little closer, pushing back the blanket he’d draped over you. He just watches, lips softly parted, nostrils flaring as you get closer still, lifting your leg and sliding into his lap.
“You’re not the only attack dog in Boston,” you say quietly, and Joel huffs, hands finding homes on your hips as you run yours along his shoulders, up the back of his head, tangling in his hair. “I’m well-trained.”
“Girlie,” he grumbles out, almost a warning in his tone.
“What?” you murmur, feigning innocence. “You taught me. Saved my life. Kept me going. Keep me going.” You lean in, press your lips softly to one of the bare patches in his beard, the perfect shape for your mouth. “You remember the day we found each other again?”
He tilts his head back slightly, peering at you down his nose, his eyes darkening as he slips his hands up the hem of your shirt, seeking out bare skin. “O’course I do.”
“And that night, when you fucked me so good in that—”
The rest of the sentence dies on your tongue. He surges upward, claims your mouth for his own. You let him, tugging at his hair as he devours you. He tastes like hooch — he must have stolen a sip — and you drink it down like it’s the finest whiskey you’ve ever had, your tongue tangling with his, hips rolling down, the friction between you two making you both gasp.
In one fluid movement, he’s lifting the shirt over your head, letting his mouth map a trail down your chest, while you’re pawing at his shirt, nails dragging against buttons, scratching lightly at the exposed patch of skin at his collar. You moan when he pulls your bra out of the way, mouths at your nipple, scruffy jaw scraping sensitive skin.
Your back hits the mattress a minute later, and you automatically reach for his belt, letting your fingers glance across the bulge in his jeans, but he pushes your hands away. “Nuh-uh,” he grunts, and pulls both your legs over one shoulder, reaching for the waist of your leggings. “Lift.”
You do as you’re told, and the bundle of fabric goes flying a moment later. He doesn’t waste any time, grabbing your ankles in his hands, peeling your legs apart. You gasp, the air cold as it hits your skin, but before you have a chance to shiver, your knees are hooked over both his shoulders, thighs around his ears. He’s got one strong arm banded around your waist, keeping you off the mattress, and his other hand roves beneath, grabbing handfuls of your ass, squeezing, smoothing along your spine.
His tongue feels like fire, flicking at every single one of your nerves. It turns your blood to flame, white-hot pleasure that sinks through your limbs as he buries his mouth between your legs. His hand moves back to cup your ass again, giving you a quick spank before he’s grabbing your cheek, flesh pinched between his knuckles.
You bury one hand at the crown of his head, those grey-streaked curls wrapping around your fingers. When you tug, he hums against you, the vibrations making sparks shoot across your vision, and you lock your ankles together between his shoulder blades, keeping him hostage to your pleasure. He’s more than willing, dropping his jaw slightly, dipping his tongue straight into your very core.
“Joel,” you groan out, back arching when he spanks you again, fingers soothing the hot spot instantly. “Fucking christ. Fuck me, please?”
“Cum,” he commands, his voice gruff as he speaks the word into your cunt, lips shiny with your slick. Your spine prickles with anticipation, the coil in your gut growing tight as he moves his mouth up, draws your throbbing clit between his lips and sucks hard. “Cum, and I’ll give you my cock.”
You nearly whine, but then his hand dips, following the curve of your ass, thumb pressing between your folds, stroking at your entrance. Everything goes tight, the edges of your vision tinged black with the intensity, and you do as you’re told, cumming with a shout muffled on the back of your hand. He licks you through it, dropping your hips back to the mattress when you push at him, legs going wide as they slide off his shoulders.
Joel shuffles back slightly, giving you room to stretch out. His belt is undone in one swift move, jeans pushed around his hips and his cock springing free, hard and heavy. You watch, chest heaving as he takes himself in hand, leans over you just enough to drag his tip through your wetness. Your hands curl into fists in the blankets, thighs twitching around his hips, and he plants one hand beside your head, leaning over you completely.
You lift your hips off the bed, catching his cock at your entrance, and he groans, his forehead pressed against your temple, carefully avoiding your black eye. You both exhale deeply as he pushes all the way in, filling you to the hilt, lips pressing a sloppy kiss to you cheek as his hips roll down. Your knees bend up around his ribs, both hands back in his hair.
He goes slow, slow enough that you can feel every inch, every twitch in his muscles, hear every word that falls from his lips, every soft grunt and quiet groan. “Always feels so fuckin’ good,” he rasps, and you cheat your hand down his back, pushing his jeans lower so you can grab a handful of his ass. “Jesus fuckin’ christ.”
You’re chasing his every move, hips lifting in tandem with his. You squeeze your thighs, palms flattening against his ribs, bearing down on him best you can. His pace falters, a grunted girlie meeting your ears, and you take it as an opening, pushing at his shoulder until he topples onto the mattress, using the momentum to land you in his lap.
It changes the angle, forcing his cock against something devastating inside you, your head tipping back on your shoulders. He puts both hands on your hips, guiding you as you drag yourself along him, knees planted either side of him. You wanted to take control, but it’s faltering in an instant, the feeling of him just too fucking good.
Joel bands his arm around your shoulders when you chest meets his, burying his face in your neck. You feel him shift, knees coming until his thighs are pressed to the backs of yours, and your attempt at control is completely out the window. He hammers into you, knotting his fingers in your hair, and you howl as your second orgasm hits, flooding his cock, all but clawing at his shoulders as the pleasure rocks you.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grits, legs shaking as he drives up into you. There’s a quick pause, your body jolted slightly upwards as he pulls out, curling his fingers around the base of his cock, fucking his hand until he cums hot against your ass. You force your lips against his, kissing him through his own orgasm, taking his bottom lip between your teeth when he groans, returning your kiss as soon as the sound finishes.
The entire apartment seems quiet, in the after. There’s silent groans from each of you, Joel shuffling to find a rag, wiping at your skin, you going to steal a sip of the hooch while he buckles his belt. You both redress, sliding your boots back on before sprawling on the mattress beside him. It’s habit, now, sleeping in your clothes, ready to go at a moment’s notice.
He opens his arms to you when you slide close, and you fit yourself against him, your head fitting under his chin, hooking a knee over his hip. He drops his jaw, presses a kiss to your forehead, grumbling quietly as you settle into his grip.
“Girlie,” he mumbles, dragging his scruffy chin over your head.
“Yeah?”
“I still wanna beat the shit out of those guys.”
You let out a little chuckle, burrowing deeper into his embrace, rubbing your hand up his side. “I know you do, baby.”
#my fics#bloody knuckles#the last of us#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller angst#joel miller fluff#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x girlie#the last of us spoilers#the last of us fic
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
after hours (part 3)
☆ pairing: toji fushiguro x afab!reader, satoru gojo x afab!reader
☆ summary: the parent teacher night conference is here and you finally realize how popular toji is with all the women in megumi's school. good thing you're the only one who goes home with toji at the end of the day.
☆ tags: modernAU, babysitterAU
☆ warnings: 18+ !! MINORS DNI! dirty talk, foreplay, slight power dynamic, and more dirty talk.
☆ a/n: 3/3 on mentioning jacob elordi in this series should i kms 🤭 anyway this was only partial smut but i promise you toji is going to dick y/n down in the next chapter so hard (ᵔ.ᵔ) so get read for it 😈 also i'm rly liking where the story is going esp for toji x gojo x y/n ahhhh ( •̀ᴗ•́ )و ��̑
🖤🤍 series masterlist 🤍🖤
“c’mon guys, i really need to figure out which outfit to wear!” you plead to shoko and utahime, while holding up a black jumpsuit on one hand and a black cocktail dress on the other. shoko and utahime are currently too busy building and decorating their joint animal crossing island to really pay attention to any of your bullshit (and you know it) but you cannot help but feel a bit anxious for tonight. you wanted to look good for dinner and toji, but also professional and respectable for the parent teacher conference.
utahime turns to you and frowns. “i just don’t think either of those are good, if i’m being honest…” she trails off. “i mean, who wears a cocktail dress to a parent teacher conference?”
shoko also turns around and sees the black cocktail dress and eyes it carefully, before finally recognizing it. “i’ve literally seen you wear that to a frat party and now you’re considering wearing that megumi’s school?” she questioned, looking skeptically at the dress.
“okay, so jumpsuit it is.” you say, heading back to your room. you pair the black jumpsuit with some layered dainty gold necklaces and rings and a pair of slightly dirty yet reliable white sneakers with your favorite pair of frilly socks with bow ties on them. you decide to leave your hair down with all its natural curls and grab your bag. you quickly send a text to toji before heading out:
y/n: heading out soon, cya in 8 🤍
you say goodbye to shoko and utahime, still engrossed in trying to make their cottagecore witch themed island of their dreams, and drive over to toji’s house. you’re not entirely sure when you started to feel anxious, but by the time you pull up to toji’s driveway, it takes everything in you to not hurl out your insides the minute you open your car door.
c’mon y/n, you’ve babysat here hundreds of times. why’s this any time different? well for starters, toji ate you out last time. your very poor pep talk barely made you get out of the car and ring toji’s doorbell. you bite your lip and tuck your hair behind you ears, wondering if toji will say something regretful about the time you spent together last night.
sure you aren’t that emotionally attached to him by any means, but you would be lying if you said you wouldn’t feel hurt if he says something along the lines of “this was a mistake”. your thoughts are interrupted by the door finally opening, and coming face to face with toji. your eyes millk in the sight of him, and your breath is quite literally taken away. you think you’ve never seen him clean up this nice, as he’s wearing a crisp navy blue shirt and a pair dark slim pants. fuck me.
“h-hey toji,” you say, greeting him with a slight smile.
"hey, pumpkin," he says, grabbing your arm and pulling you in. he closes the door, and you walk inside. before you know it, toji grabs your arms and swings you around to face him, your body flush against his chest. you squeak at the quick movement and before you can understand what is happening, toji's lips crash into yours. you're taken by surprise, but you immediately melt into his kiss, all your anxiety evaporating.
you stand on your tippy toes and wrap your arms around his neck, moaning into the kiss. you wish there was a way to press your lips even closer to toji's, mimicking the movement of his lips while you tried to ignore how soaked your panties were even though the night just started.
toji leans down and grips your ass tightly and picks you up. almost on instinct, you wrap your legs around his hips, slightly rocking them into his torso while he lightly presses you up against the wall. god, he could just take you right here, right now.
he feels your hips rocking onto him, breaks off the kiss, leaving you whining for more. "already looking for some action?" he teases.
you don't even have a good response for him because he's right: you are looking for some action. down there if you're being specific. and you don't care that he started it first. you nod a pathetic "mhmm" and throw your head back as he leans in to lick your neck and mark his territory. you don't even care that everyone would be able to see the hickey toji is leaving if it meant he didn't stop what he was doing.
"alright, keep holding onto me, pumpkin. i wanna touch you..." toji trails off, as he lets one hand off your ass. your legs remain wrapped tightly around his waist, and your breaths get shorter and louder as his fingers trail up from your hips to your chest. wait, has toji never touched your tits before?
your brain doesn't get a chance to ponder on the thought when toji gives your tits a harsh squeeze and you illicit an almost inappropriately long sigh, trying your hardest to contain your volume. toji groans, loving the response that just his hands over your clothed chest has on you. he gives your hardened buds the attention they craved, pinching and playing with them, as you started to beg toji for more.
"please, please, you know this isn't enough for me~" you complain, squeezing your legs even tighter against his waist. at this point, you were pathetically humping his waist, desperately trying to get some friction in the area you needed it the most.
toji responds by pushing you harder against the wall, your head rolling back as the sensitive buds on your chest sent electricity all throughout your body. if you weren't horny before, you sure are now.
you're about to ask (read: beg) toji to unzip your jumpsuit, when you and toji both hear little pitter patter footsteps coming down the stairs. megumi.
toji immediately shifts you back on to the floor, and you smooth out your jumpsuit and hair while toji adjusts the tent in his pants. you're still trying to regulate your breathing when megumi comes down the stairs. his eyes wild with excitement when he sees you and dashes towards you for a hug.
"megumiii" you greet him cheerfully, your arms open for a hug. you've always had a soft spot for this kid, and you pick him up when he approaches. god, he's getting bigger and bigger each day, you think as you realize he's heavier than he was when you first started babysitting him. "how was your dayyyy" you say in a sing song voice.
"it was fine...yuji brought his fruit scented markers to class today and i used the grossest flavored marker to draw on yuta's face during nap time." he says so unbothered that your jaw drops.
"umm...wow...okay...so that's a lot. i thought we talked about drawing on yuta's face during nap time." you frown. you remember when you were babysitting megumi a few weeks ago when the landline got a call from school about megumi getting in trouble and yuta crying because his face smelled bad. poor kid.
"i know but this time this new girl, nobara, dared me to do it, i had to!" he defends, as you put him down. you watch as toji chuckles at how fond the two of you are. he sighs with content and kneels down to help megumi put on his shoes.
"we'll talk about this later but peer pressure is never any good." you lecture as you hold the door open for megumi and toji. you lock eyes with toji, and he mouths a thank you before taking over and locking the door.
toji helps megumi get into his range rover while you hop into the passenger seat. you quickly check your phone and see two texts:
shoko: how's stepmomming going? me n utahime are scamming children on discord for mushroom diy recipes :)
satoru: ugh that girl who i was supposed to hook up w tn just bailed on me should i kms?
you quickly send a response to shoko that you were on the way to the restaurant and to be nice to the children, and open satoru's message and give it a thumbs up reaction. you're determined to have no distractions tonight.
toji takes you and megumi to a nice, but not too fancy, sushi place downtown, nearby megumi's school. over dinner, you hear megumi talk more about his friendship with yuji, which warms your heart. throughout dinner, you and toji sneak glances and smiles with one another, and you feel like a high schooler again.
you notice between conversations with megumi that toji has been nonstop staring at the tv screen behind you, and you quickly take a turn to see it’s the collegiate basketball game taking place.
“i didn’t know you were into basketball, toji.” you muse, never pegging him as someone who would enjoy watching sports in general. you get no response from toji — it’s almost like he didn’t hear you while his eyes were glued to the screen.
“toji. toji! TOJI!” you snap, in front of his face, finally getting his attention. “what’s going on, dude, talk to me.” you ask, confused as to why his expression turned scornful when your home team missed a three pointer.
“oh, sorry. i got really into the game, my bad pumpkin.” he says, eyes still glued to the screen. “just gimme a quick minute, i’ve got some money i’ve bet on our team tonight…” he trails off, quickly shooting you a forced grin before zoning out at the tv again.
you’re a bit irked that he’s paying more attention to the game than you and megumi but you let it slide. why would he bet on a stupid basketball game anyway, you think.
you and megumi make small talk while you help him eat his dragon roll before the game finishes and and toji rejoins the table mentally. you hear him groan in frustration before shooting off a quick text. poor guy probably lost his bet. “anyway, what did i miss? sorry about that, guys.”
“nothing!” megumi chirps, before slightly frowning. “also…i can’t finish my dragon roll anymore, daddy. can you help?”
“of course, kiddo.” toji grins, before taking a napkin and wiping soy sauce off of megumi’s face.
“oh my god, you’re soooo babygirl,” you unexpectedly say. you have no idea where that came from, but you mean it. seeing any soft side of a big man like toji just has your heart melt into a puddle.
toji raises an eyebrow, while chewing his son’s unfinished dragon roll pieces. "the fuck does that mean?” he says through bites. he’s not totally offended by it -- more so intrigued than anything else.
“i dunno, it’s like when big built guys like you are soft on the inside, you know. it’s just…cute. it’s babygirl.” you laugh, while explaining. you cannot believe you’re having this conversation with toji, but you can’t believe it even more when he laughs.
“then i guess i’m your babygirl, pumpkin.” he winks at you, inadvertently making your heart skip a beat.
all three of you share pleasantries for the rest of the dinner, the topics ranging from toji losing his bet in the basketball game to megumi trying to convince his dad to get pet dogs. when the waiter comes out with the check, toji reaches in his pockets to retrieve his wallet, only to find it empty.
"oh shit, my bad. i think i left my wallet at home." toji apologizes to the waiter and you. "gah, that's what being a single parents does to you, i guess..." he trails off, making you feel bad for him.
"it's okay, i'll grab it!" you say, covering for dinner. you recall toji promising you dinner yesterday, and you also recall your friends making fun of his broke ass and find yourself holding back a laugh at the situation you're in. god, maybe he is a gigolo, you think as you sign off on the bill and head out to the parent teacher night.
megumi’s school is close enough to walk to, so all three of you are able to take a nice stroll in the heart of the city. as you approach megumi’s fancy private school (where does toji get the money to even pay tuition for this place?), you start shivering as the cool autumn breeze starts to get stronger. you wish you had brought something heavier than this cardigan but toji immediately notices, and wordlessly starts taking off his coat and wrapping it around your shoulders.
“oh! toji, you didn’t -“ you start, feeling immediately less cold, partially due to toji’s sweater and partially due to your face heating up at toji’s actions.
“don’t worry about it, pumpkin,” toji says, pulling you closer and leaning close to ear. “you can pay me back once we get home,” he whispers in a low voice, and you swallow, trying to maintain your composure as you walk into the school.
megumi immediately finds nobara and yuji messing around in the hallways and runs to join them. you feel the warmth of toji’s arms around you disappear and you frown.
“gimme a second, i gotta talk to one of the dads here real quick…” toji mumbles, seeming displeased about having to speak with this person.
“everything okay?” you ask.
“uh…yeah. remember how i lost the basketball bet. well…he’s who i lost to.” toji sighs, giving the man a nod as he sulks towards him. you keep your eyes on toji as he seemed crankier than usual talk to the man about the basketball game. wait, where did he get the money to pay up? didn’t he say he forgot his wallet?
your thoughts are interrupted by irritating snickers and high pitched jeers coming a couple yards away from you. you turn to see a group of five or so older women (perhaps they were around toji’s age?) avoiding eye contact with you (but miserably failing). you’re not sure but you think you hear one of them say something along the lines of “that’s the gold digger megumi’s dad is dating now” and “i saw them kissing last night and she was barely wearing a skirt”.
you really try hard to not laugh, but you accidentally let out a snort loud enough for them to hear. gold digger? if only they knew you had to cover for toji today during dinner, and that he hadn’t paid you in a week. ugh, fuck you really should get on that.
trying to avoid eavesdropping on what these insecure women were saying about you, you pull out your phone and check your texts, and see one from satoru:
saturo: do u think u would get off to step mom porn more or less now that you fucked toji?
oh my god, how many times do you have to tell this guy you didn’t fuck toji…yet. you start typing a lengthy response about the inappropriate text, when you’re interrupted by one of the women tapping your shoulder.
“hi!” she chirps with conspicuous artificial delight. “i know it’s all the rage in your age to go thrifting, but you look really unprofessional coming to school here wearing that oversized piece of garbage.” her smile is dripping with poison.
“i’ll be sure to let toji know you think about his coat. thanks.” you respond stoically before making eye contact with toji and marching towards him.
“those ladies bothering you, pumpkin?” toji muses, ruffling your hair slightly.
“nothing i can’t handle,” you wink.
“toji, you may step inside the classroom!” megumi’s teacher calls from the homeroom door. toji motions for you to come with him and you do, not sure why you’re feeling a bit anxious about meeting megumi’s teacher. is she going to say something about how much you let megumi watch euphoria? what if you’re teaching him multiplication incorrectly, even though you’re an excellent student? your thoughts are immediately put at bay when, three minutes into the meeting with megumi’s teacher, you realize she has not looked at your or addressed you even once.
in fact, she’s only looking at toji. not just looking at him, she’s full on flirting with him.
“oh, toji stop it!” she laughs when toji says he doesn’t do much when helping megumi with his homework. “you’re sooo funny!” you can’t even focus on anything she’s saying about megumi’s performance in his classes. all you're focused on is how she always needs to be touching toji somewhere when talking to him — his arms, his shoulders, and (this one you had to commend her for pulling off) lightly grazing his thigh when he sat down.
“how does he interact with the other kids?” you ask, thinking of poor yuta.
megumi’s teacher completely ignores you and pretends you didn’t ask anything, and proceeds to “accidentally” “drop” all of her notes on the floor. she bends over to reach them while abruptly stopping a couple feet from toji, and makes a show of apologizing while her pencil skirt hugs her ass. “oh my god, i can be so clumsy sometimes,” she apologizes.
you do everything in your power to not burst out laughing at how absurd this night is, starting from the the group of women outside the hall to megumi’s own teacher. you make a mental note to tease toji about how popular he is with the moms and teachers at school. meanwhile, toji is off staring at the classroom decorations, smiling specifically at megumi’s artwork that’s being displayed on the wall. he’s so engrossed in it and other similar classroom art that he doesn’t even hear how the teacher moans pornographically when she sits down and takes off her pencil heels, saying “these shoes are just killing my feet, toji…”
“oh uh, okay. that sucks. anything pressing about my son or can we go now?” toji says, finally paying attention to megumi’s teacher. he snakes his arm around your waist, pulling your closer into him, and you take in his warmth.
“o-oh yeah. no it’s fine, i hope to see you again tomorrow when you pick him up,” she says with anticipation.
“um, yeah. okay, um. bye!” toji remarks, clearly not catching onto any innuendos or deeper meanings behind anything she’s saying.
you and toji walk out of the classroom and you immediately stifle a laugh. “woooow, everyone is just sooo obsessed with you here~” you joke. “megumi’s teacher was totally hitting on you!”
“oh yeah, i know. she’s been hitting on me since the beginning of the school year,” he says, taking you by surprise. “why, pumpkin? you jealous?” he says as he squeezes you hips.
“oh really? you just…didn’t seem to care…” you say, intrigued. you look up at him, searching for some answers but he just shrugs.
“not my type, really.”
you raise your eyebrows, not even realizing when you start giggling. you probably shouldn’t say what you’re going to say next but you can’t help it. “well, who is your type?” you ask coyly.
“let me just show you,” toji says and grabs your jaw with his large hand and kisses you square in the mouth, in front of everyone in the hallway. albeit, the only people who actually cared were the group of women who were jeering at you earlier in the night and you think you hear them gasp. you smile into the kiss, resulting in toji chuckling. “let’s go, yeah?”
you nod, and get megumi from his friends and all three of you shuffle back to toji’s range rover. the minute you get in, you crank the seat warmer setting to high, trying not to shiver so loudly.
megumi immediately starts talking. “i had so much fun with nobara and yuji!” he says excitedly.
“yeah? what did you kiddos talk about?” toji asks, backing out of the parking lot. god he looks so hot while driving. he has one hand on the wheel and the other hand resting softly on your thigh. you lace your fingers with his and squeeze. he squeezes back and you feel butterflies.
“we talked about euphoria!” he yells with excitement. you stop squeezing toji's hand and your jaw drops. you’re at a loss for words. what the hell are these kids doing watching euphoria? “nobara told us to watch it, and that guy on euphoria is soooo tall did you know? super tall just like your friend that came over a couple weeks ago, remember y/n? the one who was super tall and was wearing glasses and had white ha-“
“ohhh-kayyy megumi, thank you so much for that recap”, you say nervously, absolutely dreading asking megumi ever about his recap of the night. you sneak a glance at toji and see him smirking. suddenly, you were not shivering anymore and the car was actually really hot. “y-you shouldn’t be watching that show, you know.” you say, trying to change the topic.
“who was this guy that came over? i wanna hear more about that,” toji teases, sneaking a quick glance at you before his eyes return to the road.
“he’s no one, i swear. he just dropped off some pain meds for me from when i got my wisdom teeth removed,” you say. it’s the truth, too. you literally asked satoru to be discrete when dropping off the medicine he picked up for you for this exact reason but he kept on trying to see the house because “no one broke could afford this place”. you don’t want to be known as that babysitter that brings a guy over when the parents are out, especially if that parent is toji. and especially if nothing happened.
toji smirks at how defensive you're getting, trying to go above and beyond to show that you were only his. to be quite honest, it was turning him on and he slams on the gas a bit harder to get home faster. toji pulls up to the driveway of his home and opens the garage, and megumi immediately opens the car door and sprints to the bathroom, while the both you chuckle at how cute he is.
“so this guy...he your boyfriend or somethin', pumpkin?”, toji jokes.
“what if i said yes to that, huh? would you ask me to go home?” you press, cracking a slight smile.
toji doesn’t think it’s funny. he thinks it’s fucking hilarious. his hands touch your thigh and start roaming upwards. “absolutely not pumpkin. i’d wanna know if you guys fucked in my house.” your breath hitches and you swallow.
“w-we didn’t, i swear,” you start, trying to control your breathing and not fold when toji digs his fingers into your inner thigh.
“hm, a shame. would’ve loved to seen your back getting blown out from the security cams…” he trails off, squeezing your inner thigh and forcing your leg to open a bit more. even though you’re still fully clothed, you feel exposed by the action, and unintentionally shift your hips slightly which earns a smirk from toji. he leans even closer to you and whispers in your ear, “it would’ve been my new favorite porno. i'd jerk off to it every chance i got.”
this time, you audibly moan. you don’t even care that his dirty talk involves you getting your back blown by satoru. you don't care that you would enthusiastically get your back blown out by satoru if it meant toji would be watching. the thought of him seeing you in such a vulnerable exposing position just turns you on even more, and you suddenly need him. “just take me right now, please. i’ll do anything,” you plead, leaning towards toji for a kiss.
“oh, i know you will do anything pumpkin.” toji coos, leaning back and stopping your kiss inches before you reach his lips by snaking his hand around your neck, applying the slightest bit of pressure. your breath hitches and you muster a weak "please".
“let’s get inside first, pumpkin.”
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu toji#jjk toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji fushiguro#toji fushigro x reader#toji x reader#toji zenin#dilf toji#fushiguro toji#jjk modern au#jjk smut#toji smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#megumi fushiguro#jjk megumi#toji x y/n#toji x you#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro x you#toji fushiguro x y/n#toji fushiguro smut#jjk fan fiction
149 notes
·
View notes
Note
50. "I need you to forgive me."
You know why...
But please!!!
I know this took forever so I hope you will forgive me! (Also when I originally received this ask I had just posted part one and mentioned in the tags that prompt 50 could be a good 'fix-it' prompt for a follow up, and well, here we are! Also when I received it, I laughed for a solid minute, like evil laughed so thank you @happymediummm )
Part Three of Prompt 53. 'I'm flirting with you!'
Part One, Part Two
It's on Friday that the cavalry arrives.
Dustin bangs on Eddie's bedroom door, with a mace by the sounds of it.
He's about to snark that Dustin doesn't play a class that uses martial weapons when he hears the kid yell--
"Eddie! You have five seconds before I come in there and get you myself, I got your uncle's permission and everything!"
Eddie groans and detaches himself from the bed flipping the pillow he had been wallowing in away from himself.
He stomps towards the door and flings it open, leveling an unimpressed glare at Dustin who barrels past him into the bedroom.
Dustin crosses to the desk, his head on a swivel as he looks around the small space, Eddie scoffs as he steps towards Dustin, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"What the hell are you doing Henderson?" Eddie spits out as Dustin shrugs his hand off, he seems to spy what he's looking for as he crows a single, 'Aha,' and makes his way to the dresser.
"Seriously, Dustin, what are you doing here?"
"Saving you from yourself dude," Dustin scoffs as he takes a tape out of his pants pocket, the familiar writing on the label makes Eddie's stomach fall into his feet.
It's Steve's tape.
"No, nope, absolutely not," Eddie snaps.
He reaches for the cassette in Dustin's hand, only for the little shit to spin away from him and toss the tape from his right to his left hand in a move that seems so much like the teen's babysitter that Eddie wants to scream.
Dustin manages to pop the tape into the player and hit play before Eddie can get close again.
A few notes of a bass guitar reach Eddie's ear and his hands drop from Dustin's shoulders as he perks up…he knows this song.
"What the fuck Henderson?" He breathes out with wide eyes that flick back and forth between him and the cassette player.
'Oh yeah!
Some people say my love cannot be true
Please believe me, my love, and i'll show you
I will give you those things you thought unreal
The sun, the moon, the stars all bear my seal--'
"You are being an idiot," Dustin says matter of factly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he frowns at Eddie, "I don't exactly know what you said, but I think I got the gist out of Steve earlier today when Robin wasn't acting like a guard dog".
His dark blue eyes scan Eddie as he shakes his head, "you thought it was a joke, do you know Steve?"
Eddie rolls his eyes before crossing to the cassette player and slapping the stop button. All at once the sounds of Black Sabbath halt, leaving the room in tense silence.
"Look," Eddie snarls, "I've known people like Steve over the years, it's all the same bullshit--"
"Stop it!" Dustin snaps, he steps closer to Eddie and jabs a finger into his chest, "you don't know what the hell you're talking about!"
Dustin's cheeks are flushed with anger as he shakes his head again, "he's nothing like that Eddie, you're being an asshole!"
"What is all the yellin' about?" Wayne's voice trickles through the door, a hint of concern running through it as he leans against the frame, eyeing both Eddie and Dustin warily.
"When I gave you permission to barge in here I don't remember agreeing to participate in a screamin' match son,” Wayne says, biting back a smile at the indignant expression on Dustin's face.
"Sorry Mr. Munson, but Eddie's being an idiot!" Dustin crosses his arms once more as he looks from Eddie to Wayne challengingly.
"That so?" Wayne laughs, "care to argue the charge," he directs at Eddie who rolls his eyes.
"It's nothing Wayne, Dustin is leaving now--"
"Steve made that tape for you," Dustin yells, pointing at the cassette player, "and you threw it in his face!"
"That true Ed?"
"It was a stupid joke," Eddie growls as Dustin throws his hands up in the air, "it doesn't mean anything".
Wayne looks at Eddie for a long moment, his face unreadable.
"Steve Harrington?" He asks softly.
Dustin nods nervously at Wayne before shooting another glare at Eddie.
"The one that came by your hospital room every day till you woke up Ed? The one they couldn't get to leave on the day you opened your eyes, that Steve Harrington?"
"So?" Eddie huffs, wrapping his own arms around his chest tightly, incredibly aware of the two pairs of eyes trained on him.
"Wayne, you told me I had to be careful of who I opened myself up to, I'm just following your advice!"
Wayne sighs, lifting his hand to pinch into his eyes.
"You'd be lucky to have a friend like Steve," Dustin grumbles as he moves to the bed to sit down. He pulls up his legs up to his chest and glares at the back of Eddie's head.
"Kid, I think Ed and I need to have a conversation, alone," Wayne says quietly to Dustin.
Eddie watches in fascination as Dustin opens his mouth to argue, but after whatever silent conversation takes place between the teen and his uncle, Dustin merely huffs and slips off the bed.
"Listen to the damn tape and get your head out of your ass," Dustin bites out as he passes Eddie, he levels one last impressive glare at the metal-head before leaving the room.
Wayne sighs as he makes his way over to the bed to sit, taking over Dustin's vacated spot.
"So, Harrington, huh?"
Eddie scowls and says nothing, leaning against the dresser. He winces as the sudden weight of his shoulder jostles everything, causing his loose D&D dice to fall off the edge and plink and plunk across the floor of his room.
The D4 will be a bitch to accidentally find with his feet later on, but Eddie ignores the mess and continues brooding against the dresser.
Wayne scratches his face, tapping an unsteady rhythm against his jean clad knee with his other hand, "okay," Wayne says gruffly from the bed as he shifts to stand.
"I don't know what ya did or said, but it was enough to make that kid beg his way in here," Wayne huffs, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at the open door.
Eddie shrugs, refusing to lift his gaze from the floor. He hears Wayne sigh and the shift of fabric as he steps closer.
"You were so small," Wayne mutters suddenly.
Eddie looks up in confusion, but Wayne isn't looking at him, his eyes are trained just over Eddie's shoulder.
"When you came home that day, all black and blue," he shrugs and scratches his face again, "I didn't know how to help ya, and you wouldn't explain".
Eddie swallows roughly, horrified at the sudden brightness of his uncle's eyes. A man he has only seen cry twice since he's known him, the first time was at Eddie's mothers funeral, the other was the day Eddie woke up at the hospital all those months ago.
"I don't think I could stand it if anything happened to you Ed," Wayne breathes out wetly now as he roughly scrubs at his face, "and you being in the hospital, you were suddenly that small kid again, standing on my porch all black and blue".
Eddie feels his own eyes sting as his uncle turns slightly to wipe his face again, "What are you saying?"
"You weren't alone this time, Ed," Wayne says softly as he steps towards his nephew and grasps him gently by the shoulders, "you have so many more people looking out for you, hell --one of em' carried you home".
"I think a person like that deserves at least a chance to know you, and to see what I see".
It's Eddie's turn to swipe at his misty eyes, "What's that?" He asks with an unconvincing cough to hide the wobble in his voice.
Wayne smiles, giving Eddie's shoulders a soft squeeze, "a damn good kid with a big heart, who I hope knows how to apologize when it's needed".
"But what if you're wrong?"
"Then I'm wrong, and we'll get through it," Wayne tugs Eddie towards him without warning into a tight hug and reaches behind Eddie to press play on the cassette player; the sound of guitar and drums begin again as Ozzy's voice fills the room.
'Your love for me has just got to be real
Before you know the way I'm going to feel--'
"But for the record kid, I don't think I am".
***
Eddie listens to the tape.
He listens to it again and again, both sides. Steve filled both sides with music for him…
He lays on his bed while it plays, staring a hole into the ceiling as the last few piano notes ring out before the tape stops, filling the room with silence.
The songs don't all go with one another and out of a dozen there's about eight he knows. The other four seem to be a mixture of songs he's heard Steve play in the beemer with the kids, or while dancing in his kitchen with Robin.
it's not an expert mix by any means, but Steve did manage to collect a decent amount of metal songs just for Eddie and even a one he's never heard before --since when did Scorpions write love songs?
After hours alone in his room, sitting on his bed, listening to Steve's tape over and over again, there is one thing he can't deny.
Steve Harrington has feelings for him…had feelings for him, and Eddie ruined it.
He wants to take the version of himself that pushed Steve away and shake him.
Eddie winces as he pictures the devastated expression on Steve's face when he left. His normally bright hazel eyes and wide goofy grin were left pinched with hurt.
Eddie had done that, taken six months of tentative friendship, of lingering glances and soft teasing smiles -how had he missed those, and tossed this delicate thing away from himself like it was nothing.
He looks over at the glowing green hands of the clock by his bed. It’s nearly midnight; Dustin left a few hours ago now and Wayne is now at work.
Eddie breathes out a sigh through his nose as a sudden wave of determination flows through him.
He looks towards the far wall by the door, his Sweetheart hanging up on her hooks.
Dustin had apparently insisted on grabbing it, doubling back on a severely sprained ankle while Nancy tore a verbal strip off his back for wasting time as an unconscious Eddie slowly continued to bleed out in Steve's arms.
Eddie shivers, it had been so strange to consider everything that happened, or what he was told happened during the gap in his memory.
Steve had been the one to carry him out while Robin and Nancy helped compress the worst of his wounds with torn fabric and left over gauze from the patch job they had done for Steve.
He vaguely remembers a string of words, a whispered sentence that made no sense as Eddie drifted in and out of consciousness but now…
'You can't do this, come on Munson, open those stupid beautiful eyes of yours, who's going to yell at us about the corruption of youth in America huh? We need you man, I-I….'
Eddie had really been so fucking clueless.
He gets up from the bed and crosses to the wall, taking the guitar off the hooks.
At least now, he has a plan.
***
It was a shit plan.
Cutting down the road the kids had taken to calling Mirkwood and through the woods by Loch Nora seemed pretty sound in theory, giving Eddie the element of surprise and hiding him from any watchful neighborhood eyes.
What he had not taken into account, however, was the pitch darkness, the unfamiliar maze of trees he now found himself in, and how fucking heavy his portable amp was going to be.
Perfect.
Eddie stumbles over a fallen log, nearly careening into the mulch and rotting leaves of the forest floor. The half moon above him, not nearly enough to light his path through the thicket.
At least this version of the woods feels alive, Eddie thinks to himself; the smell of damp dirt and the sound of frogs and crickets singing in the darkness is infinitely more appealing than the strange forest they had found themselves in a mere six months prior. And with the gates finally sealed, the most dangerous thing he could come across would probably be a rattler or a coyote.
Eddie peers around at the thought, he's not quite sure he's entirely comfortable even running into those animals anytime soon…especially the snake.
Finally, after another ten minutes of walking, warm yellow light begins to sift through the trees ahead of him as he brushes away low branches from his field of vision.
Eddie hikes up the guitar strap higher up his shoulder and steps fully into the light that illuminates the Harrington backyard lawn and pool.
Eddie scans the back of the house, flipping the mental map of the Harrington home around to visualize which window was most likely to be for Steve's bedroom.
He steps further into the yard, setting down the heavy amp onto the concrete patio before leaning down to grab a handful of wood chips from the shrubs next to the house.
Here goes nothing.
Eddie tosses one of the pieces of wood at the window above him.
It barely connects with the windowsill before dropping back down onto the patio with a muted clack.
Oh this is humiliating.
He tries again and again to hit Steve's window with the wood chips in his hand, each one completely misses the target. One bounces into the eavestrough, another careens off the siding and back into the pool behind Eddie.
"Fuck this," Eddie growls, throwing the rest of the wood chips back into the shrubs as he snatches the cord for his amp and shoves the plug into the nearest outdoor outlet.
He turns the volume down slightly, the plan won't work if the cops get called on him immediately.
Eddie takes the guitar off his back and plucks a few notes, adjusting one of the tuning keys until the sound is just right.
"Here goes nothing, come on Stevie," Eddie whispers as he begins to play.
"I hear the ticking' of the clock, I'm lying here the room's pitch dark," he sings softly, strumming out the cords, it's slightly harsher than the piano but sue him, Eddie only managed to play it once through by ear at home before he left the house.
This was Steve's last track on the tape, and Eddie's sure he put it there for a reason.
He listened to the song again and again, slowly picking up the cords as he did so.
He could do this, he picked up Master of Puppets in just a few weeks, Eddie could handle Heart.
Eddie keeps going, his voice carries over the yard, growing in volume; so much so that he misses the patio door slowly slide open and the sound of a pair of feet padding onto the patio.
"What are you doing here?" Steve's voice calls out to Eddie from the door, he jumps, nearly dropping the guitar. His hand jolts on the strings as Eddie attempts to keep his hold on the instrument, letting the guitar scream for him.
Steve stares at him as Eddie unplugs the amp cord and swings the guitar around his back once more with shaking hands, his thoughts spinning, trying to figure out how to start.
"I listened to the tape," Eddie says softly, Steve cocks his head slightly to better hear him, his face shuttering as the words register.
Eddie's heart races as he watches Steve begin to turn towards the patio door once more, he needs to act fast.
"And I need you to forgive me," he blurts out, louder than he intends, but Steve does pause with his hands on the door handle.
"Why's that?" He says sharply, dropping his hand away from the door, turning to fully face Eddie once more.
Eddie chews his lip nervously as Steve's gaze hardens the longer they stand in silence, his arms come up to wrap around his chest tightly.
"I thought you were playing a prank," Eddie sighs, saying it aloud makes him want to deflate, to walk right into the pool and sink to the bottom.
If the look Steve gives him is any indication, Steve would be more than happy to watch him go.
"That's a lot of effort to put into a fucking prank Munson," Steve bites out, there is no heat to the words though. He just sounds tired, resigned.
Shit.
"It wouldn't be the first time," Eddie mumbles, he reaches up to scrub his hand over his face, missing the way Steve's face softens ever so slightly and his arms drop from the way they seem to be holding him together.
"But I'm not going to make excuses," Eddie takes a step closer to Steve, his heart threatening to break through his ribcage the closer he gets, "I'm sorry for how I reacted and for thinking you could do something like that".
"I know you aren't like that, you're honest, and kind," Eddie reaches out and takes the tape from his back pocket and gestures towards Steve with it, "and so fucking thoughtful it makes me ache to think I ruined everything".
He puts the tape back in his pocket, Steve’s eyes watch him curiously now as he does, it fills him with wary hope, enough to keep talking.
"So, I need you to forgive me Steve, because I hope you'll let me make it up to you sweetheart".
Steve's face tips down suddenly towards his socked feet and the cold concrete patio, making it impossible for Eddie to make out his expression. He holds his breath as the silence stretches between them.
"Robin was right, you can be such an asshole," Steve says quietly, Eddie's chest tightens painfully at the words.
Eddie nods once,doing everything in his power to keep his face neutral but the downward curl of his lip is unstoppable as he reaches down to pick up the amp.
"But," Steve says, taking a step away from the door behind him, "as someone who was an asshole for a long time," Steve says quietly, pressing the palm of his hand into his chest, "I think it would be pretty hypocritical to not let you make it up to me".
He's grinning now. It’s small, barely stretching across Steve's freckled face, but it's warm and just for Eddie.
"What did you have in mind, Sweetheart?"
Steve is quiet for a moment, his eyes dart over Eddie's face before he finally whispers, "can you finish the song Eds?"
"I think that can be arranged, " Eddie hums with a bright grin of his own.
He swings the guitar off his back again, quickly plugging it into the amp.
Eddie looks up to find Steve smiling softly at him as he takes a seat on one of the pool loungers. He pulls his legs up to rest his arms on his knees, basking in his own private concert.
As the first pink and orange rays of sunrise begin to bloom on the horizon behind him, slowly painting Steve's face gold, Eddie can't help the relief that flows through him.
He looks down at the shy grin Steve gives him, his hazel eyes bright in the new day's light, and thinks, 'holy shit, I almost missed this'.
"You don't know how long I have wanted, to touch your lips and hold you tight," he picks up where he left off, his voice mixing with the slow rhythm of the guitar, “you don't know how long I have waited, and I was going to tell you tonight--”
Eddie watches, surprised as Steve swiftly gets up from the lounger and walks towards him, his expression determined.
"I think that's my line," Steve whispers as he leans in to cup Eddie's face in his hands and kisses him.
Eddie short-circuits.
The kiss is chaste, short, not much more than the brief press of warm chapped lips against Eddie's own, but the way Steve lets his hands move from Eddie's face to his hair and neck, holding him in place. The way Steve steps into Eddie's space so all he can taste, smell, and feel is Steve.
It’s exhilarating.
Steve pulls back slightly before placing a second kiss on Eddie's lips, his eyes half lidded and a deep red flush staines his cheeks and ears a bright red. Steve looks much more debauched than necessary and Eddie suddenly wishes they weren't outside, that he could take Steve into the house and show him exactly how sorry he is.
"I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait, did you learn all of them or just that one?" Steve asks, his voice slightly breathy, he still hasn't let go of Eddie or stepped away.
"Just that one," Eddie repeats dumbly, feeling the urge to walk into the pool again as Steve laughs.
Oh Eddie loves that laugh.
“You sure,” Steve asks again, his eyes crinkle at the sides as he smiles widely, “I thought maybe you could show me some of the other songs you know, inside?”
Either he’s dreaming or Steve is a mind reader because holy shit.
Eddie nods, unable to even form the words as Steve reaches for the amp and gently takes it out of his hands. Steve transfers the amp to his right hand and takes Eddie’s now empty hand with his left as he leads him towards the patio door.
Eddie watches, transfixed, as Steve looks back to shoot him another warm smile as they step over the threshold of the back door, and the words his uncle said earlier in the evening come back to him as Steve leads him towards the living room.
‘I think a person like that deserves at least a chance to know you, and to see what I see’.
Eddie halts his movement, grabbing Steve’s hand firmly in his own, pulling him backwards until Steve turns, his eyebrows furrowed in wary confusion.
“Thank you, for giving me another chance,” Eddie says softly. He lets the hand holding Steve's own move to trail up and down his arm, eliciting a shiver from Steve.
“I mean, you gave me one, you came back right?” Steve says softly.
Eddie's heart twists at the words, he feels his face fall slightly at the thought that Steve could ever think he was somehow at fault for this, “I was an idiot, that wasn’t your fault at all sweetheart”.
Steve looks at him again, his eyes scanning Eddie’s own for what feels like ages, his expression unreadable.
“Co’mere,” he murmurs eventually, letting go of Eddie to sit on the couch. He pats the cushion beside him, with the same soft smile from earlier, “play some music for me”.
There’s more to unpack here, more to talk about, other apologies to whisper in this beautiful man's ear.
But for now, he swings his guitar in front of him and slowly walks over to Steve.
Steve asked for music, and who is Eddie not to oblige?
@ihavekidneys @superchellerific @zerokrox-blog @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @croatoan-like-its-hot @messrs-weasley @samcoxramblings @warlordess @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @lostonceandneverfound @shunna @fairytalesreality @estrellami-1 @rlpersephone3259 @zaphodkilledthespeedforce @newtstabber @grtwdsmwhr @uwujinniee @anica-d @imzadidragonfly @orangeandthefairroadkill @starman-jpg @nabatute @goodolefashionedloverboi @wheatnoodle @novacorpsrecruit @lolawonsstuff @redlegumes @paintsplatteredandimperfect @scheodingers-muppet @thephantomhood @0o-queendean-o0 @blackholegladiator @nerdfighteratheart @hallucinatedjosten
(I hope I haven't forgotten anyone, thank you very much for following along with this little story everyone!)
#this ask brought me so much joy#seriously you guys are the best#steddie#steve harrington#stranger things#eddie munson#steve x eddie#afewproblems writes#afewproblems answers#fixing misunderstandings#we made it sad and then made it better#oh eddie you oblivious sunfish#that boy thinks you hung the moon let him kiss you#Steve still needs some serious therapy for that self esteem#wayne munson gives expert advice and loves his nephew#dustin henderson takes no shit#I think I'll title this Essential Songs to Woo a Metal-Head on AO3
379 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ricky Demont NSFW ABC'S
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Extremely attentive, so much so he doesn't even notice his needs, because first and foremost in his eyes will always be to make sure you're okay, lots of petting your hair and neck, specifically his thumb rubbing against your pounding pulse point as he listens to you catch your breath, he has this almost tranquil smile on his face the entire time.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Ricky likes his hands, especially in proximity to what he can do to you, for you, with them. It's how he gets to touch you, feel you of course he loves his hands, and it be easier for him to swallow glass than pick a favorite body part on his love, but between you and me he's obsessed with your lips, kissing them, touching them, cumming all over them, he's very fond.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
The Creampie Connoisseur™ for many reasons but the main one is that possessive urge it scratches whenever he paints your insides white, nothing quite beats getting to pump you full and watching it spill out of your twitching cunt, likes to push it back inside with his pretty slender fingers. Very much the "can't waste a drop." Type.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Secretly very very into primal play. He's forced to handle the shop's bullshit everyday, and more often than not is the one his siblings turn to when shit hits the fan and they can't handle it themselves, he doesn't mind helping his family, but it does pile on to this tightly wound coil of anxious tension in his gut, and that kinda tension is best relieved by completely losing himself in you, in fucking you like he'll die if he doesn't, he gets to let go in ways he desperately needs, very feral in this state, until he cums the best you'll get outta him are grunts and growls of your name, his brain turns off in the best way.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
He's experienced, despite his hard outward appearance Ricky desperately craves love, and growing up with the parents he had only made this obsession with love even deeper, meaning he's dated some people who weren't the best for him, just because he's a dreadfully hopeful romantic, all that to say he knows how to fuck, particularly good with his tongue.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Either from behind with his hand wrapped around your throat, bonus points if it's in front of a mirror so you get to watch yourself fall apart all over him, or it's missionary, with your bodies pressed so tightly together, so intertwined nothing could come between you, he's a lot more submissive with this one, completely overwhelmed with how good you're sucking him in, lots of whines and whimpers
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
He's serious, no matter if he's on top or bottom, your pleasure is no laughing matter to him, that's not saying if you happen to get the giggles it'll bother him or anything, rather that if this happens, he's gonna take it as a challenge, and you end up cumming so much you cry, be warned this will activate the little demon in him and he's almost mean with the way he toys with your cunt, enjoying the cries and whines he's pulling from you with each pass of his tongue or roll from his hips.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Shaves but if he grows it out he can have a happy trail
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Intensely romantic. Heavy eye contact if his eyes aren't rolling to the back of his head, the sweetest whispers of love straight in your ear juxtaposing the way he fucks himself into you, love bites that feel tender and loving, lots of pleading for your body, for your love, he cries when he gets overwhelmed and when he subs that happens a lot.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Does so more out of necessity. That is of course until he meets you and suddenly he's locking his door at the shop, pulling up a video from last night and going to fuckin town on himself, he bites his free hand, those pretty eyes flutter shut, and he tries desperately to whine into his flesh.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Primal play, Impact play, Dacryphilia, Dom/Sub, Temperature play, Rope play (certified rope bunny)
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Anywhere he can take his time with you, his office is a personal favorite because he gets to think about all the surfaces he bent you over when he gets bored at work.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Your mind body and soul turn this man to putty, but if we want specifics, when you chew on stuff, always brings his attention to those fuckin lips of yours and oh look at that he's bricked.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
He'd never ever ever even slightly entertain the concept of sharing you with someone, in any way shape or form.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He's another award winning munch your Honor. Wants you to yank his hair and ride his face until you can't, then do it some more, could live between your thighs, he loves when you go down on him don't get me wrong but the fucker genuinely has fun making you writhe and squirm on his tongue.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
This depends on the mood, every time you guys have sex he treats you right, the execution just changes depending if he's dominant or submissive that night. Although he seems more sensitive when he subs and towards the end you can feel him losing control of his hips, his pace going wild.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Very into them as you turn him on by breathing, so if he can get it in and make a mess of you real quick? Hell yeah.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Willing to try anything once, especially with you as you're his forever person and who better to try things with than them? That's his logic at least. Open minded, very much down to clown
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
3-5
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Yes, he's a firm believer in them being friends not foes in the bedroom, especially if it's a you both can enjoy? Sign him tf up.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
He's like menace #2 of the Delmonts this mf is relentless when he wants to be, but only because he knows he's gonna give you what you're begging for.
At some point anyway >:)
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
He's very loud no matter what mood he's in, lots of grunts and growls, whimpers and whines, he doesn't hide his noises when he's with you, he doesn't feel the need to hide anything from you.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
The kinda jealous where he'd tie his opp up and fuck you in front of them, then kill them afterwards because he can't stand the idea of someone else getting to see you like that.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
7.7 inches curves a bit to the left, pretty tip with a big vein running along the shaft.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
YEARNING don't feel like a big enough word for this mf, this man don't look it but he is an absolute fiend for you, certified simp, has and will drop everything to come lay it down then go back to work like he didn't just spend his lunch break bending you over your island counter.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
He loves to watch you sleep so about an hour or two after making you see stars.
#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere x y/n#yandere oc x reader#delmont brothers#ricky delmomt#yandere oc ricky#ricky delmont x reader#ricky x reader
229 notes
·
View notes
Note
Referring to this~
OMG! I read the Q&A but IS IT TRUE? Im so excited 😳👉👈 Ummmm may i req then? Not for the event, but just a general req 😌 A scenario/hcs of Leona with fem!s/o where s/o needs comfort & gets spoiled cz she's having burnout due to all of the incidents on NRC~ I hope this is not too much, if u want to change the plot it's ok, thank u & have a nice day 😳✨
I See Right Through You...
Leona x FEM! S/O
warnings: leaning on to very angsty, cursing, personal issues
Berry: I'M FINALLY BACK AA-💀 just wrapped up some things and you should have some of the requests from the events roll around within the month or so 😣 I changed a bit of it but the overall theme is the same just something that hits a little too close to home ;=;
Special Thanks to my lovely friends Len and Luna who helped me out with this one ❤️❤️
"This isn't me wanting some semblance of pity, You can keep it for all I care- I'm so goddamn tired but did I ever ask to be in Twisted Wonderland? Oh don't get me started..."
"Did I ask to be Crowley's clean up crew? Did I ask to be in the middle of every. fucking. issue?"
"Sometimes I'd like to be the damsel-but sevens forbid the woman wanting to be saved from all the stupid stress of this world."
"Well I'm so sorry for complaining over a job I didn't ask for but hey- we're in a magical school full fun and dreams, cuz that's sure to make up for ALL the unnecessary emotional and physical labor!" Your voice cracked as you forced a cheery smile.
Leona wasn't expecting you to snap at him when he wanted to mess with you for just a little bit. He had observed you from afar for quite some time now. And most importantly, he wasn't a stranger to people putting up a face for other's sake.
His emerald gaze would glint over your figure as he studies the creases in your eyes from all the work you've been doing. He'd always wondered how much you could take, often times giving you snarky or witty advices in hopes to get you out of your doormat cycle.
He admitted what the Head-mage was doing is a bit too far. He was kinda impressed on how you pushed on with that fiery and stubborn heart of yours.
A sadistic part of him wanted to see when you'll break
He wanted to see you bite back
He anticipated it even more when multiple students come to you for help increased by the day;
You nodded along as Ace and Deuce were once again asking help in doing their chores back at Heartslabyul, you laughed it off as one of their usual antics.
You happily agreed when Kalim invited you to one of his many celebrations despite just finished with your cleanup at Ramshackle, your smile didn't reach you. Those glassy eyes of yours, shifting downwards to hide the reluctance.
It was an asshole move of him in all honesty.
Not lending out a helping a hand but he knew you were capable. For fuck's sake you got him AND his dorm to help you out during Azul's little "tantrum".
He wanted you to overcome this on your own. However, he had an oversight on how much you can take on the world alongside his bullshit attempt of support.
Leona had happened to pass by a class with the door wide open, his lions ears perked at the ongoing conversation.
"Phyn, you're in our group." One student spoke up.
"Oh hell yeah, thanks dude!" Another cheered, followed by the sound of a high-five.
"-And I guess that's everyone.. Oh (Y/N)..hmm I guess you and Grim would be a duo, every other's group is already filled up."
"Uh.." You chuckled with a loppy smile. "No worries, at least I get to stay in my dorm this time." The class chuckled at your comment and nodded along. As the groups filed out chatting amongst each other, he took lighter steps walking closely behind you.
It wasn't until you reached the entrance of Ramshackle is when you finally noticed him. Which led to the situation right now.
"Why the long face herbivore, where's the can-do attitude I know and adore~?"
Your hands balled into fists, shaking as tears were running down your eyes.
"This isn't me wanting some semblance of pity, You can keep it for all I care- I'm so goddamn tired but did I ever ask to be in Twisted Wonderland? Oh don't get me started..."
"Did I ask to be Crowley's clean up crew? Did I ask to be in the middle of every. fucking. issue?"
'Shit...' He said mentally.
"Let's...do this inside. We don't want anyone gawking at ya like this." He laid a hand behind your back inside and joined you not before he scanned the area for any curious on-lookers.
He leaned against the side of the wall of the living room, listening to your continued rant. Throwing hands and even had the strength to throw away the innocent coffee table in the middle, Its legs breaking into splinters as soon as it hit impact onto the cold hard floor.
"-WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME WHO HAS TO FIX THINGS?" You exclaimed towards the pillow you threw towards the ground.
"Helping fix things is nice and all.." You sniffled. "But is it really so wrong to want that shit in return?"
He knew it was bad but he wanted to see how far you're flames would burn him. He wanted it to hurt-what you've been going through, he knows he can take it.
"You're ranting to the wrong person, go off on Crowley, yell at your classmates for ignoring ya. Tell that red-head and blue-haired friend of yours to fuck off and do their own stupid chores."
"Be fucking selfish for once herbivore, Treat yourself to a nice nap-"
"-Oh what? like you? I'm not you Leona." You retorted back. "For fuck sakes you were born here-you were supposed to exist in this plane of existence while I got chucked out of mine."
"You say I exist here but I'm one of the least wanted given my 'cheery' attitude. At the very least I know when to stand my guard."
You huffed as you sat on the couch, tears still spilling from your eyes.
"Is this your way of helping me? because I could clearly feel the love right now..."
Leona let out a dry chuckle as he walked over to you. His imposing figure casts a shadow over you but as you gaze at his eyes, there was a lingering feeling of warmth.
"Dont be like me." He shook his head. "Sevens, I hope you don't end up like me, but what I'm trying to say is..." His voiced trailed as he looked at your shaking form.
A memory sliced through him for a second. For a brief moment he saw his little self all those years ago in the visage of you.
"In a campus full of these jackasses in NRC-including myself sometimes, I... I see right through you." He awkwardly patted your back. "I know it sucks but don't do that shit to yourself where you thought 'hey, I know who to look for if I'm in a room full of folks I adore, but who would look for me?'" Leona had a distant look as he stared at the broken table in the middle of the dorm.
"Look for yourself first, look for that little corner of your room to be selfish with what you want to do. Worry about the details later."
You cleared your throat as you steal a soft glance at him "You may not be the best and most unlikely to look for advice." The air seemed to change as the both of you share a soft laugh. "But you get right to the point...even though you could've done something much earlier."
"What's the fun in that?" He raised an eyebrow. "Besides, You don't need a king's help in chess, a queen...has all the moves she needs."
Leona was surprised to hear your melodic laughter, belting out through your still falling tears at his small comment.
"Oh my God Leona you did not just-" You wiped a tear as you smiled at him. He felt a flutter in his chest from the way you're looking at him now.
"Well you did just say, I'm not the best." He smirked.
The tense feeling in his shoulder now dissipated as he settled himself on the couch strangely close to you, a tiny voice inside him wondered why. Seeing you smile even though you just murdered the poor coffee table not too long ago is a sign to him he did his job.
It's certainly weird but it's you.
People may not look for you or choose you in a room full other characters from their lives, but you can trust that there's always a lion beastman just out in hallway, willing to stand with you through it all.
#twisted wonderland#disney twisted wonderland#twst#disney twst#twstファンアート#twst edit#twst wonderland#twst savanaclaw#savanaclaw x reader#savanaclaw#twst leona#leona kingscholar#leona x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#twst headcanons
310 notes
·
View notes
Text
Best Friend’s Brother
Warnings: noncon, smut, drug use, drinking, violence, choking
The tapping of your nails against your phone screen and the distant sounds of the bass thumping downstairs over the hum of the party were the only noises that greeted your ears in the dark room. You were so drunk you were typing with only one eye open to stop the text from blurring.
needed a breather. give me 10 to 15 and i’ll be back down
You pressed send, clicking the power button on your phone as you sat back onto the bed. Sarah wouldn’t miss you too much, you just needed a minute to get your head back on straight. Swaying slightly, you kicked off your heels before reclining in the bed.
Your head was spinning from the alcohol as you tried to recall how many drinks you had had that night, you had taken at least 4 shots and god knows how many glasses of punch you had.
Your thoughts were interrupted when light streamed in through a crack in the door, and you squinted towards the figure who was approaching.
“Y/N, what the fuck are you doing in my room?” Rafe’s voice was unmistakable, sending a zap of anxious energy down your spine.
You sat up again, glaring at your best friend’s brother. He was definitely high, and anger filled his eyes along with something else that you had never seen in him before but couldn’t quite place.
“I didn’t know it was your room, asshole! I’m fucking drunk.” You snapped back, slurring your words somewhat. You pressed a hand over your eyes, which were hurting from the harsh light coming from the hallway.
“Bullshit,” he drew closer, sneering at you, and you shrank away from him. “You’ve been best friends with Sarah for, what, 8 years now? You’ve been coming over to our house practically everyday. You think I honestly believe you didn’t know this was my room?”
You looked up at him in confusion, not understanding why he was arguing with you about this. He barely even spoke to you normally, your relationship mostly consisted of you cowering from his searing gaze and biting your tongue at his sarcastic remarks. And now he thought you had come into his room on purpose?
Your drunk brain wasn’t able to filter the words coming out of your mouth fast enough, “Well maybe all that fucking coke you do is making you extra paranoid.”
That was the wrong thing to say.
You had always known that Rafe was irrational and quick to anger, but for some stupid reason, you assumed that being Sarah’s best friend shielded you from any physical violence Rafe could dole out.
You definitely weren’t expecting him to grab your wrist, fingers tightening hard enough to bruise as he climbed on top of you, draping his lips over yours.
You struggled beneath him, trying to wrench your wrist free from his grasp to push at him but it was no use.
When his lips found your neck, hands running across your chest and pushing up your shirt, your mind finally accepted what was actually happening.
A choked moan ripped from your throat when his lips attached to one of your nipples, licking and nipping at the tender bud. You tensed when you felt his large hand wrap around your throat in a silent threat.
Rafe brought his other hand to you thighs, easing under your skirt and hooking a finger into the lacy panties you were wearing and dragging them down your legs.
You fought to sit up again, kicking your legs as you did, but he roughly pushed you back down before pulling your underwear off all the way.
“S-SARAH!” You screamed through tears, gasping when the hand at your throat squeezed harder.
“Can’t be that loud, sweetheart,” Rafe mocked in a disappointed tone. “Now I have to shut you up.” You looked up at him with fearful eyes, resisting when his fingers gripped your jaw, opening your mouth and stuffing your panties into it.
You gagged against the material, hot tears filling your eyes as you watched your best friend’s brother undo the button on his shorts, pulling down the zipper and kicking his shorts and boxers off in one move.
You shook your head, breathing heavily as you silently begged with him through your teary eyes, but it was no use.
Rafe lined himself up with your hips, giving you no time to react before he was pushing his cock all the way into you in one stroke. His hand found your neck again, squeezing tight enough that your vision swam and started blacking out at the edges.
You cried against the panties in your mouth, choking as Rafe snapped his hips against yours at a ruthless pace.
You had never been more afraid in your life.
So why could you feel yourself getting slicker the more he jerked into you? He pulled one of your legs up to rest on his shoulder, and your leg shook as he fucked you harder.
“I always-” Rafe panted, growling and batting your hands away when you tried to push him off. “I always knew you’d feel this good.”
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron noncon#outer banks#obx#dark!rafe cameron
474 notes
·
View notes
Note
Omg hii could I request something fluffy where Tom and reader are going to a party or sum so he goes out for a while and comes back to reader crying in their room cause she’s insecure and thinks she looks bad in everything and Tom shows her js how pretty she is (If yk what I mean😏) if ur comfortable with it tho you don’t have to
Stay safe🫶🏼🫶🏼
Change your mind | Tom Kaulitz
you huffed as you picked out some dresses from your wardrobe, not really knowing what to wear for the event you had that night.
your boyfriend tom had to go to an after party with his bandmates after the concert and of course he wanted to bring you as well.
he always wanted to show you off and make everyone see how beautiful his woman was.
but tonight, it was different, you didn’t have the energy to do anything and your insecurities were taking a toll on you.
you had always fought with overthinking about your image, and now being una. relationship with a star, it was too much to handle the media and their comments.
because of course, there were bad comments about you whether it was about your style, looks, personality and relationship.
it brought your anxiety to the top.
tom knew about that and many times had to comfort you and shut down what they said about you during interviews. he was so angry and sometimes blamed himself because he was the reason they talked about you.
when you guys were together and paparazzi saw you, he always hid your face and covered you until you would be our of their sight.
but you didn’t always want to bother him with your insecurities, knowing he liked when you were confident, so many times you shut down and hid your feelings from him.
“baby, i’m gonna go out with the guys for a bit, be ready around nine pm okay?” tom said as he walked into the room, smiling when he saw you already choosing what to wear, thinking it was because you were happy to go out and not because you were panicking.
you simply nodded while biting down your nails, accepting the kiss on the forehead he gave you before walking out of the room.
hours passed and you were still fighting to choose a dress, your make up wasn’t good and your hair was already ruined by you sweating trying to find something in the meanders of your wardrobe.
soon, frustration took over you and tears formed in your eyes. you threw the dress you held in your hand on the ground angrily before going over your bed and throwing yourself on it, beginning to cry your eyes out.
your thoughts became clouded and only negative things were in your mind, like how could tom be with you? he had fucked many models, why choose you?
you were literally sobbing out loud, your tears falling down your neck and on the mattress.
when tom came home and approached the room. he heard you immediately and he slammed the door open.
he saw how the clothes were a mess on the ground and understood what was going on but he wanted you to tell him.
“what’s wrong, meine liebe?” he asked sitting down on the bed, his hand on your back.
you hid your face with your hands not wanting him to see you cry but he took them away. “hey, stop hiding from me, what’s going on?”
his heart broke seeing you so sad.
“n-nothing looks good on me.” you managed to say, looking down and tried to wipe away your tears.
“baby, you know that’s bullshit.” tom softly said, stroking your cheek before taking you in his arms, making you sit down on his lap.
he hugged you tightly against his chest, kissing the top of your head over and over. you calmed down as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.
“you know you’re beautiful baby girl…”. he grabbed you chin and made you look up at him, “we don’t have to go, if you want we can stay home and just relax.”
you shook your head knowing how he liked partying, “n-no, you can go, i will wait for you.”
tom smiled at how you were able to still think about him even when you were upset.
“no, i wanna stay with you.” he kissed your cheek, slowly going down your neck, “and make you see how beautiful you are…”
your breath itched when you understood what he meant, suddenly heat spreading between your legs.
“you want me to change your mind, mh?” you nodded at his words, needing him more than ever.
tom smirked, getting up with you still in his arms. he placed you infront of the mirror, his hands quickly going under the t-shirt you were wearing.
he removed it gently throwing it on the floor, beginning to squeeze your breasts. you were now just in your panties, nothing more.
“you look like a goddess.” tom said kissing slowly down your neck making you tilt your head to give him more space. he sucked on your skin as his hands went through your whole body.
he lowered your panties before undoing his own pants with one hand, the other one going down to play with your clit.
a gasp came out of you as you watched his finger move quickly and easily inside you.
all of a sudden he bent you over, you’d hand coming in contact with the desk infront of you for balance.
he didn’t waste no time, he immediately inserted himself in your entrance, taking his time to make you get used to his size.
“t-tom… oh my god!” you moaned loudly as all his length was inside you. he smirked and grabbed your hair, tilting your head towards the mirror.
“look at you as i fuck you.” tom started to push inside you, your breasts bouncing with the thrusts. one hand was on your hip and the other made its way around your neck.
he put two fingers in your mouth, making you suck on them as he kept his pace steady.
“so beautiful, i wonder why don’t you see what i see…” he whispered in your ear, groaning right after when you started clenching around him, “say you’re beautiful.”
you tried to speak but those words had sent you over the edge and you started to tear up because of it and also because of the pleasure.
“say. you’re. beautiful.” he said with every push, going deeper inside you. you could feel him in your stomach.
“i-i’m beautiful…” you said with a soft voice, between the moans.
“say it louder. louder or i’ll stop.” tom said starting to play with your clit again.
“i’m beautiful!” you managed to scream loudly, your eyes rolling with pleasure.
he understood that he had found your sweet spot and kept hitting it, until the knot in your stomach was too much for you to contain.
“i’m c-coming tom! keep doing it!” your voice was broken because of you crying and you kept whining over and over, until he finally took you to your climax.
tom came right after you, continuing to push to ride out your highs, before stopping and keeping you still as your legs trembled.
he wrapped his arms around you tightly, kissing your cheek repeatedly, still making eye contact through the mirror. “i love you so much.”
“i-i love you too.”
“and you’re gorgeous, everything looks good on you even if you don’t see it.”
you smiled weakly, being tired and overwhelmed with emotions. he picked you up and took you the the bathroom, filling in the water in the bathtub as you waited sitting on the sink.
“roses?” he asked picking up the petals you had put in a jar. you nodded smiling happily at him, loving the way he was taking care of you.
he added the roses and then went between your legs, kissing you sweetly as you guys waited for the bathtub to fill.
the night ended with cuddles, as tom washed your body and hair, repeating you over and over again how amazing and gorgeous you were.
#tokio hotel#tokiohotel#tom kaulitz#fandom#fanfic#writing#masterlist#tom kaulitz imagines#tom kualitz x reader#tom kaulitz fanfic#tom kaulitz x y/n#tom kaulitz x you#smut#fluff
269 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Wanna Marry You
no outbreak!joel miller x fem!OC
Hungry Hearts masterlist
he has a black velvet box waiting in his sock drawer. what will her answer be?
wordcount | 5K
warnings | this bad boy has it all. a little smut, a little angst, a whole lot of fluff
a/n | the jerry proposal and wedding event of the century. i had a lot of fun with this and would love to hear what y'all think <3
................................
Here’s the thing, Joel Miller is not slick. At all. And Cherry is pretty sure she knows what he’s up to.
For starters, she keeps finding him in their bedroom, his arm stuck way back into his sock drawer, though he never fails to whip around and slam it shut when she catches him, face flushed down and palming the back of his neck, a pantomime of casual guilt. He has also started making frequent trips out onto the back porch in the evening, leaving her on the couch while he takes a call.
No, Joel Miller is not slick at all. She bets it’s Tommy’s fault, never far from a carton himself, though he knows better now than to smoke in her house, one too many swats upside the head. But he’s usually got a cigarette between his teeth when he and Joel drive together to work, so she doesn’t have to look far to figure out where Joel has picked it up again.
It isn’t exactly that she minds him smoking. Hell, everyone did it in the eighties, and she even picked it up for a while back in the mid-nineties in the whole artsy-fartsy writing scene. What’s bothering her is that he’s making such a big deal of hiding it from her. Sure, keep it away from the girls, but why all the bullshit with her?
But she’s been waiting for him to bring it to her, something about healthy relationships and building trust and all that good stuff that she heard on some radio show, listened to while she was supposed to be doing edits for her newest project. She hasn’t snooped, she hasn’t pried, even as whatever this is continues to grate on her nerves. Supposed calls being taken, and Joel spending a bit too much time with his hand in his sock drawer.
Here’s the thing, Cherry isn’t very good at waiting. A moment of weakness, what she should be doing is going over the new round of edits she was just sent. What she finds herself doing instead is wandering upstairs into their bedroom. Everyone else out of the house, the girls at school and Joel at work for another half hour, so it’s perfectly quiet when she opens up his sock drawer and starts rifling through it.
She would have preferred to find a carton of cigarettes. Definitely not a necklace, nor a bracelet, and she’s pretty sure it’s not earrings either. No, the black velvet box is the wrong shape for any of those pieces of jewelry. She doesn’t open the box though, doesn’t really have time to when she suddenly hears the garage door opening, followed by what could only be the sound of Joel’s boots shuffling around in the kitchen.
“Cher?” She moves before she can think, something nervous swirling up in her stomach, that damn velvet box still clutched in her hand as she makes her way downstairs. Joel stops himself mid sentence, something about needing to go to the grocery that gets cut off when he catches her pinched expression.
“What happened? What’s the matter?” Anger feels good at least, so she scoffs, setting the ring box down on the kitchen counter between them. Joel’s face goes perfectly slack.
“You tell me. What the hell is this?”
“That’s– you– what’re you doing snooping like that? Jesus christ.” Good, she thinks, let him get angry too. It’ll give her something to bite back at, glaring at each other from across the counter, Joel running a frustrated palm down his face.
“Snooping? Oh please, it was kinda hard not to notice your newfound obsession with the back of your fucking sock drawer. I’m telling you right now, Joel Miller, if this is what I think it is, you’ll return it if you know what’s good for you.”
“Oh come on, Cher, just–”
“No.”
“Let’s just–”
“No, Joel. We’ve talked about this. You know that isn���t something I want.” She sees the sharp wince in his expression, but it’s not enough for her to back down, not when it comes to this. They have talked about this. A few times now. And normally, Joel is on her side, neither of them caring much about a ceremony or the titles that would come with it. Hell would have to freeze over before she took someone else’s name, not when she has built so much out of and on her own.
“I just– it’s paperwork. That’s all it is, and a ring. You and I don’t need that, baby. It’s, we’re past that.” She knows what she’s doing with that soft baby she slips into her words, and for a beat, it seems to melt Joel just the way she wants it to, his eyes rounding a little, grimace softening around the edges. But then he huffs, a harsh drag of his fingers through his hair as he shakes his head at her.
“What about what I want, huh? Is it such a goddamn crime for me to want this? To want something a little more– a little more official? Fuck, Cherry, this isn’t– this is not how I wanted this to go.” Damn him, damn him for the way his words crack, tired and utterly disappointed at the end, a long sigh that slumps his shoulders. Damn him, she can never stay mad at him. Damn him, because she would like to give him whatever he wants, but this is not that easy. Silence falls between them, Joel resting both his palms on the counter, his head hanging down between his shoulders. Careful and quiet, she rounds the counter, one palm to his shoulder, and one covering his hand.
“You deserve to have what you want, you do. But marriage is not– it’s not something– what we have is good, and I don’t want this– this thing to change it.” The truth of it. To her, marriage is cage. Marriage is silent houses, scraping forks at dinner. Marriage is violence. And she thinks that Joel understands that, his palm shuffling to rest over hers, thumb stroking along the side of her hand.
“I don’t want it to be like that, Cher. Like you said, s’just paperwork. We can make it whatever we want it to be. Hell, we can just chalk it up to the tax breaks if we want.” It’s enough to coax a laugh up from her chest, her smile slipping to the side as she rests her cheek against his bicep, anger long forgotten for whatever this is. Something sweet, at least.
“Can I ask why it’s so important to you? Because if it’s just Deedee breathing down your neck I can handle–” He cuts her off with a laugh of his own, a small shuffle for him to lean back against the counter, her stepping between his legs and letting her hands settle along his waist, dipping her head down when his chin drops in something a bit bashful.
“No, it’s not her, though she probably wouldn’t be upset at the prospect. But it is something I want, and– it’s stupid really.” She coaxes him with a quiet no, tell me, baby, squeezing at the soft part of his waist, making him huff again, and maybe flush a little. She loves getting him like this, a little mushy gushy where he’s usually such a hardass. God forbid Joel Miller have feelings, and God forbid he get embarrassed by having said feelings.
“Certainty, you know? That’s what marriage means to me. My folks– they’ve been married for fifty-something years now. And it’s a very real thing to them, that commitment. I just– I’d like that– with you.” And damn him again, for looking at her like that, brow all pinched up, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth when he finishes talking. She gets it now. Where she sees capture, captive, Joel sees comfort, reassurance that yes, this is real. Yes, staying. Got the ring and the paperwork to prove it. Maybe it could be that for her too. Maybe he could show her how.
Her answer doesn’t come in words, not at first, easy to lean forward and press her lips to his, once, twice, feeling the small curl of his smile the second time, hers matching his, fitting with his.
“So, you said something about tax breaks?” Enough to smooth out the scrunch of uncertainty in his expression, that smile threatening at the corners of his mouth while her palms smooth and shift to splay over his chest.
“That a yes?”
“Show me the ring, Miller.” He doesn’t turn around, just fumbles blindly behind himself until he snatches up the box. Of course, it’s perfect. A little unconventional, simple silver band with an opal set in it. Yes feels a little easier just looking at it.
“I’m not wearing white, for the record.”
“I’d expect nothing less, Cher.” Before he can lean in for another kiss, she remembers that initial curl of anger, pressing against his chest to hold him at bay.
“Wait, so you’re not smoking again?”
“What? Why the hell would you think that?”
“I mean, that’s what I assumed was going on with the sock drawer and all the evening calls you were taking on the porch.” While she’s dead serious, Joel just seems entirely amused by the whole thing, letting out a laugh and squeezing at her hips even as she huffs at him.
“That’s not– those were phone calls, with Tommy. I was– well, I was planning something for you.” Damn him, Joel Miller was planning a proposal, and now she looks like a total jackass for ruining it.
“Oh, oh. What were you planning?”
“If you weren’t so goddamned nosy maybe you would’ve gotten to find out, Cherry baby.”
“Hey, watch it. The ring isn’t on my finger yet.” Of course Joel takes that as a challenge, one she doesn’t really care to fight against, letting him pull her closer into his chest while he fumbles with her left hand, a small, petulant grumble when it takes him a few tries to slide the ring onto her finger. When he does succeed, she indulges him with a waggle of her fingers, watching the gem glint, all light and color.
“What do you think?”
“You did good, Miller.”
“The girls helped pick it out.”
“You’re telling me Sarah and Ellie both knew about this? And that Ellie voluntarily looked at jewelry?” Clearly pleased with himself, he hums a yes, so smug she would smack him if it wasn’t a sweet thought. Her girl helping him pick something out for her mom.
“Just to clarify, this does count as a yes, right?”
“I suppose so.” She says it with a sigh, playing at resignation that he jostles out of her, another kiss that’s more answer than anything else.
…
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Uh, putting on my suit jacket.”
“If you think you’re wearing jeans to the goddamn ceremony you’re sorely mistaken.”
“It’s Texas, Joel. You can wear jeans to a wedding.”
“Not to mine you can’t. Does Maria know about your little outfit? Because I reckon she’s not gonna be too pleased with it either.” Tommy’s face falls at that, hands pausing in his adjustment of his cufflinks.
“Shit, you think I got time to run back to my place?”
“You’ll have to meet us there, but I ain’t letting you in the chapel like that either.” Tommy is already shuffling down the hall, though Joel chooses to ignore what he thinks is a grumbled fucking diva that comes from his brother’s mouth. More important things to be thinking about anyways, like the faint sound of Cherry and the girls getting ready down the hall.
Sarah and Ellie had been adamant about this separation, starting last night when they stepped in front of the couch where he and Cherry were sitting. Their girls, with all the solemnity of CIA agents, informing them that the next time Joel would see his woman would be at the altar, no time for him to protest when they were already all but dragging her away from him. Sure, she was just down the hall in the guestroom, but he wasn’t about to rail against their girls’ orders, unsure whose wrath he was more afraid of, Sarah’s or Ellie’s, or the combined, nuclear explosion of the two.
His eyes flick over to the clock on the nightstand, a muttered curse when he realizes they should have left five minutes ago. The plan, him and Sarah, his best maid of honor as she had named herself, in the truck, and Cherry and Ellie, her best maid of honor as dubbed by Sarah, in the minivan. No seeing each other until the altar, right.
“Sarah, you ready to go? We’re already–” He doesn’t get the rest out, stumbling back in the hall when someone clamps their palms over his eyes.
“Don’t look, old man, Jesus. We were just leaving.” He huffs at Ellie’s snappy command, a light tug to her wrists, though her hands don’t budge, clammy over the tops of his cheeks where they’re covering his eyes.
“Kid, my eyes are closed. Lay off, huh?” Albeit reluctantly, Ellie takes her hands away, a seemingly satisfied hum when she sees that his eyes are in fact closed.
“I’ll give you the all clear when we’re down the stairs, alright? But until then, keep ‘em shut.” Lord help him.
“Uh-huh, whatever you say, boss.” Not sure what else to do, he rests his hands on his hips, eyes still scrunched shut as he hears what he thinks is the sound of Ellie and Sarah both bounding down the steps, but his whole spine shivers when he feels a hand slip along his jaw, nails lightly scratching at his scruff.
“Look at you, baby. Always clean up so nice.” He could open his eyes, but now it feels like a game with the way her words graze right over his mouth, and he’s not about to lose.
“How come you get to look?” A bright peel of laughter, her other palm slipping up along his chest. He can picture that grin of hers in his mind.
“Because I’m the bride, Joel. I can do whatever the fuck I want.” He has to laugh, his hands reaching blindly, slipping against silk that makes a hum settle in his chest. His eyes threaten to open on impulse to see, though he manages to keep them scrunched shut.
“You still wanna do this, right? It’s– this is still good?” He knows it’s a stupid question, a small part of him still worried that somehow, there will be a catch to all of this. But Cherry doesn’t even indulge his ask with words, a pfft in the back of her throat before she leans in a little closer, guiding his lips to hers in a sweet, simple kiss.
“I’ll see you at the altar, handsome.”
…
“Dad, don’t cry. We haven’t even gotten to the church yet.” He sniffs hard, knuckles swiping under his nose as his other hand holds the passenger side door open for Sarah.
“I’m not– not crying. You look very beautiful, honey.” An eye roll and a scoff, but he’ll take it, because she really does look lovely in the light purple dress Cherry helped her pick out, a sweet sight, with baby’s breath threaded through her hair.
His heart starts to kick up when they get to the church. It’s a small thing, simple, white clapboard and a single steeple. He knew that Deedee would have thrown a fit if they didn’t get married in a place of worship, not that he or Cherry had stepped foot in a church anytime in their recent adult lives. Still, they were happy to make that compromise, even though the priest had a small aneurysm when they told him that Cherry wouldn’t be taking Joel’s last name, no need for the Mr. and Mrs. Miller congratulations. Doing things their own way, just like they always have.
Only the first two rows are filled across each aisle. His parents, Tommy and Maria, a handful of other friends and family. Will is here too, with his girlfriend who Cherry seems sure will soon be more than his girlfriend. Joel’s family has become hers in many ways, filling in the gaps, something he’s been happy to be able to offer to her, and to Will whenever he visits.
He stands at the altar, waiting, Sarah right next to him, his hand on her shoulder, something to steady whatever this jittery feeling is.
And there’s no fanfare to it, just a sudden wave of silence when she and Ellie appear at the end of the aisle, heads turning over shoulders to see. Ellie looks sharp in her suit, pleased with herself, clear in the set back of her shoulders and the tilt of her chin as she walks her mom down the aisle. And Cherry, well.
He can already hear her snark. We’re way past white, Miller. Like sage, he thinks, soft green silk, a simple slip, her shoulders bare to reveal the dark curl of her tattoo. Her bouquet, made mostly of chrysanthemums, a broken laugh rattling in his chest at the sight. And she’s looking at him, the smallest curl of a smile, maybe a little nervous when her eyes dart to their modest audience, but then right back on him, still certain.
“I like the suit, kid.”
“Thanks, old man.” He’s only a little surprised when Ellie offers him a quick hug, already ducking over to the side so it’s just him and Cherry, and the priest, of course.
And the rest is blissfully easy.
…
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
“Don’t slouch.” Her mother’s hand is a quick curl of ice at the back of her neck, just enough pressure to send her spine back into straightness from her slow slump in the pew. Honestly, she’s not sure why her family insisted on going to this wedding, it’s not like they’re that close with Lisa-Anne’s family, especially not her older sister who is the one getting married. Appearances, she reasons, always appearances with her mother and father. See and be seen.
Right now, after a nearly two-hour long ceremony, she has no interest in what her mother and father want, a little more focused on how her tights are cutting into her waist, sweat starting to drip down her spine beneath the stiff fabric of her dress. Mercifully though, this whole wedding thing seems to be wrapping itself up, man and wife walking down the aisle to a polite chorus of clapping. Meanwhile, she’s trying to figure out how she can escape early from the party afterward, trailing a bit glumly behind Will and their parents as everyone files out of the church.
“Hey, Cherry.” Just above a whisper, it still stops her in her tracks, stepping out of the throng of people to look around for where that sound came from. She scoffs when she sees who it is.
“What do you want, Joel?” He looks like a cartoon character running from the law, peeking out from behind the side of the church, wild grin and a jerk of his chin that she knows means come over here. She glances back to her family, making their way along with everyone else to the tent set up for the reception, and suddenly, whatever Joel’s offer may be is seeming much more appealing, already slinking off to the side and toward him. When she gets within arm’s length, he surprises her with a reach and tug to her forearm, pulling her along and behind the church, finding Tommy already partaking in what she supposes Joel wanted to rope her into.
“Hey, dipshit, I didn’t tell you to light up yet, did I? Have some manners, goddamn.” Tommy smiles sheepish, a thin seep of smoke coming out around the edges of his smile as Joel plucks the blunt from his fingers. He must be exceptionally bored, she thinks, to have wrangled her into this, considering that they haven’t spoken to each other much for the majority of sophomore year.
“I would say ladies’ first, but seeing as someone started without us, I’ll just give you the next hit, Cher.” She knows he’s serious, holding the smoldering blunt out to her pinched between thumb and forefinger, but she still scoffs.
“I can’t do that, Joel. If my mom smelled that on me she’d– well, I can’t do that.” He squints, shrugs. And she hates how beautiful he looks when he takes a languid hit, the top buttons of his rumpled dress shirt undone to display how the long line of his neck trembles with the inhale, the puff of his chest, and then that smooth slump when he lets the smoke out.
“Suit yourself. Tom, Maureen said she’d dance with you–” Tommy’s eyes light up, an exclamation already hanging from his parted lips, though Joel cuts him off with a prim finger pointed in the air.
“If you catch her early. So, you know, best get on with it.” Tommy nods hard, gulps a thank you to Joel, and is off like lightning around the side of the church and toward the reception. She raises her brow at Joel. Another shrug, smug.
“He asked me to talk to Maureen for him.”
“You didn’t talk to Maureen, did you?”
“Nope, he’ll figure that out for himself though. You sure you don’t want some of this?” He takes another hit, hissing out smoke as if to punctuate his question.
“No, and if that’s all you called me over here for then I think I’d rather be over at the–”
“Oh, c’mon, Cher. We can just talk, huh? It’s better than all that bullshit anyways. Look–” With that, he flicks the half-smoked blunt into the grass, stamping it out with the sole of his shoe.
“See? All gone, now we can be civil and proper just like your mama wants us to be.” His smile spreads, and she can’t help her own, finally sighing and leaning back against the side of the church, turning her head on her shoulder to look at him.
“What’d you think of the service?” He snorts, kicking the toe of his shoe into the grass, his gelled hair – Deedee’s work, no doubt – flopping and falling into his eyes.
“Thought it was long. And I thought the groom looked about ready to hoof it.” It feels good to laugh after sitting still for so long, a quick flutter of it in her chest.
“He was sweating so much. And the way he messed up his vows?” Ever the entertainer Joel immediately goes into character, his grin dissolving, brow pinching down and mouth pulling into an over the top frown as he wrings his hands in front of him, the perfect pantomime of fret.
“In, uh, in health– no, in sickness and in health until, uh– what was it again? Oh, death– until death do us part. A–fucking–men.” He concludes with a slap to his thigh and a big bark of laughter, his head tilting to the side as he grins at her own guffaw.
“You make fun now, but just wait until you’re up there at the altar one day. I’d pay money to see that trainwreck.”
“Not very nice, Cherry. And also, bold of you to assume I’m even gonna get married.”
“Oh please, Joel. At the very least, I’m sure Deedee will eventually stick you with some nice girl from the Kiwanis Club.” His whole face scrunches up at that, an indignant sound crawling up the back of his throat as he shakes his head at her.
“Nah, nope, no, ma’am. Reckon I’m not really the marrying type.”
“How can you say that? You don’t even have your driver’s license yet.”
“Uh, yes I do. I got it last week.” He’s already fumbling in his back pocket, movements a little fuzzed around the edges from his couple of hits as he procures his wallet and waves his fresh license in her face.
“Nice mugshot.” He tuts, tucking his wallet away.
“Always so mean. I bet you’ll be a sight at the altar one day, Cher. Gotta be careful not to shred your pretty white dress up with all that bite.” The word bite comes out with a flashy flare of his canines, a dramatic snap of his jaw that makes her snort.
“I won’t have to worry about that, thank you very much.”
“Oh no?”
“No, I’m never getting married.” She regrets it the instant she says it, even though she means it, already bracing for Joel’s mimicry.
“How can you say that? You don’t even have your driver’s license yet.” High and nasally, though he cuts himself off with an oof when she shoves him in the shoulder.
“I got mine two months ago, so there.” He sighs, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he mirrors her stance, leaning back against the church with his shoulder brushing against hers.
“You really ain’t gonna get married, Cher?”
“Not if I can help it, you?” It must be the weed, she thinks, making his face fall and his eyes droop.
“Nah, it’d, uh, have to be someone real special to change my mind.”
…
“You think they’d notice if we sneaked off for a while?” She tries to keep her grin schooled, a hard task with Joel’s hands wandering down her hips, laying a squeeze to the swell of her thighs before skating back up, arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her back flush with his chest.
“Hmm, the cake’s been cut, et cetera, et cetera. I think we could get away with it.” Joel hums, swaying her a little where they’re standing on their back porch, surveying their small but mighty reception. Ellie is dancing a clumsy waltz with Deedee, a few other family members around on the makeshift dance floor, everyone else talking in a haze of booze and sugar, slumped in their folding seats, napkins and plates stacked on the tables in front of them. And her and Joel are already slinking inside and up the steps. Giggling, entirely absurd, they don’t even make it to the bedroom, tangling and traipsing over each other into the bathroom, Joel kicking the door shut behind them as he crowds her up against the sink.
“Looked so beautiful today, I already tell you that?” Words humid and hotly murmured into her sternum, her laugh turns into a gasp when he noses up the column of her throat, teeth grazing that spot he so likes to grin into.
“You may have mentioned it. Not as pretty as you though, baby. All proper for me– oh, right there– waiting for me in your suit and tie.” Said suit and tie has long been shucked down to just his button-up and slacks, now untucked and rumpled, going lopsided with the way she fumbles down the first few buttons of his shirt. She can practically feel the heat flushing up his neck from her words, though Joel hides any bashfulness with a petulant smack to the side of her ass, quick to smooth when she jolts in his hold.
“Don’t tease, Cher, gotta be quick, huh? You gonna turn around for me and show me this pretty dress from the back?” The realization of just what that means settles in her mind, slanting her grin to the side as she shoves him back with a palm in the middle of his chest, for once, doing exactly as he asks and turning around to rest her palms on the counter. For posterity’s sake, she makes a show of it, arching her spine and spreading her stance a little wider, a little sway in her hips. She can’t help her snicker when Joel finally slides the satiny skirt of her dress up over her hips, his movements stuttering still as a quiet curse slips from his mouth.
“How— how long have you been like this?” She turns her gaze over her shoulder, maybe enjoying this too much in the slow bat of her lashes. Joel looks stricken, jaw slack and eyes wide.
“All day, baby, why do you ask?”
“You’re telling me you walked down the aisle– in a house of God– like this?” She shrugs, leaning back into Joel’s palm that’s been idly palming her ass, her very bare ass.
“Don’t tell Deedee.” His laugh comes out on a splutter, clearly unsure if he even should laugh in the first place, though she can’t help her own snort of amusement, soon the both of them dissolving into it, shoulders shaking and eyes crinkling up.
“You are trying to give me a fucking heart attack, goddamn.”
“Think of the lines, Joel, it would have ruined my outfit.” He just shakes his head, leaning over her to find a slanted kiss. And then the realization that yes, they still need to be quick about this, wedding guests downstairs and all that. A little bit of fumbling, and a preening sigh in the back of her throat when he drags the hot weight of his cock through the seam of her cunt.
“Who’s the freak now, huh, Cher?” She tries to laugh, but it’s more of a whine when his hips finally settle against the plush of her ass, so deep that she can’t help but lift up onto her toes, Joel holding her steady with a palm clutching at her breast.
“You’re the one that married the freak.”
“Damn right I did.”
Not romantic at all. Quick, the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin with the way she bounces back to meet his thrusts. And no, not so young anymore, so it isn’t long before they’re both biting back moans, a small hit to hold them over before the guests leave. They slump down against each other in the aftermath, hazy smiles and breaths that try at laughs, Joel pressing his lips to the top of her shoulder, the side of her neck, her temple.
“Love you, freak.”
“You were the freak first, Miller.”
“I believe the correct response is love you too, actually.” Still framing her against the counter, his hand comes to rest over top of hers, fiddling a bit with the ring on her finger.
“Yeah, that too.” He scoffs rubbing his scruff against her cheek with the way he shakes his head at her. It’s annoying how quickly she folds for him, turning around in his hold, a shaky two-step to finally look at him.
“You know I do, baby. I wouldn’t do this with anyone else.” She punctuates her words with a kiss, small and simple, feeling his hum beneath her palm on his chest.
“Me too, Cherry. Only ever imagined it with you.”
...........................................
taglist: taglist: @spookyxsam @libbylou223 @angel-in-beskar @starstruckunknown-princess @casa-boiardi @tieronecrush @swiftispunk @beskarandblasters @trulybetty @amanitacowboy @pr0ximamidnight @wannab-urs @jksprincess10 @suzmagine @everything-isfucked @lanabobana @kittenlittle24 @sarap-77 @officerrrfriendly @val-srz @bitchwitch1981 @redwoodsanddaffodils @themothersmercy @romanarose @lost-inhawkins @youcancallmeelle @hollywoodcaligirl @harryleatherfit @fifia-writes @brighttears @lokanda @hardlystrictlystarwars @sarahxxo3 @harriedandharassed @anoverwhelmingdin
#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#tlou#tlou fanfiction#joel miller angst#the last of us#joel miller fluff#joel miller fics#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller story#joel miller series#joel miller au#hungry hearts
150 notes
·
View notes
Text
Savannaclaw Getting Jealous
Leona:
-He didn’t give a fuck about “over jealousy”, you were his and he was yours. It was a known thing around, yet here this sleezy asshole is over you.
-Yet he knew that he couldn’t over act over this, there was no definitive proof that this guy was flirting with you. Yet as soon as you tried to move, he would follow you around, and that was the absolute last straw.
-Leona walked over, many people clearing the way for the royal. The lion beastman gently clasped his hand in yours, planting a kiss on it, his bright green eyes staring deeply into yours.
-He brought you into him, before letting you go “Herbivore, please go wait over there with drinks, my family wants to get to know you even more.”
-The man behind him was in outrage, not yet seeing Leona’s face and recognizing it was him. “Hey, they were my fucking prize! Who do you think you are-?!”
-As soon as Leona turned around, it was absolute silence from the man and other people around them. Leona decided to handle the situation classy, hence why he was acting a bit out of character. He didn’t want his family to detest him even more from acting like a rambunctious fool.
- “Prize. What a word to use for a living breathing person, isn’t that right?” Leona giggled at the absurdity of it and the look on the man’s face made him love being royalty.
- “Who do I think I am? It seems like you don’t memorize the faces of important people, but maybe you should get a closer look just so you can.”
- “I am Leona Kingscholar, royal son of the Kingscholar family. And you are on my fucking property, disturbing what’s mine,” Leona growled, he let go of the man since he could feel his restraint slipping and he didn’t want alot of eyes on him.
-The man scrambled to his feet and promptly left the party in a great haste. Leona turned his gaze onto you, only to find you right behind with both of your drinks with a smirk on your face.
-While you did find his actions attractive, you did find it a little funny how angry he got. And you teased him about it for a small portion of the night ;)
Jack:
-Would get just a tad bit jealous but nothing serious, Jack would just bite his tongue and glare it...until it was unbearable. I mean, he was all over you and the look in his eyes, staring down like you were a piece of meat to devour.
-He was absolutely disgusted with them, but he didn’t want to act like a jealous boyfriend over you. So he just watched this guy’s pathetic attempts and you looked slightly amused...was what the guy saying that funny?
-So he decided to let you two be, after all he didn't want to act on his feelings of jealousy.
-Until you tried to walk away, flashing Jack a smile signaling you coming over. And that asshole decided to grab your hand.
- "Sweetheart, I was talking to you. Don't be so rude I just want to talk to you!"
-And that was the final straw.
-Jack surged through the crowd, disappearing for a split moment before appearing behind the man. He gripped the boy's hand, ripping it off of you.
- "Get your hands off of them. They're my partner."
-He stuttered out some bullshit excuse before running out of the party, never to be seen the entire night.
-Jack felt a tad bit embarrassed the whole night for acting like that and you teased him slightly.
- You leaned over and tell him in his ear, "Don't worry about those people, I'm all yours."
Ruggie:
-Not jealous very easily because while people may try to get with you, he knows he'll always be yours. However on the occasion that he gets jealous he gets a little heated.
-The guy kept trying so hard to woo you at this party and you were...laughing? Was what the guy saying that funny for you to leave him at the kitchen counter?
-But you after 10 minutes were coming back to Ruggie, waving at him before walking over. Not at all realizing that that he had been trying to flirt.
-Until he decided to grab your shoulder holding a piece of paper in his hand handing it to you, "Make sure you call me later, babe."
- "I'm in a relationship, I cannot be taking offers like that, Jayden," you said, offended that he would offer you something like that in such a scummy manner. His intentions were completely obvious and the fact that he would offer you that after you were gushing about Ruggie was offensive.
- "Babe don't worry it could be our little secret, besides you need a real man to take care of you."
-That was the straw that broke the camel's back, Ruggie used his special ability as he was walking away to make him trip and fall. The display was so dramatic, with him falling over, knocking over the colorful bowls of punch.
- Ruggie was too busy laughing at his clever plan to realize that you were right next to him. Opening his eyes to see you decorated with a smirk.
- "I know that it was you, Ruggie."
- "What! You're crazy Y/N, you know know that I put that stuff behind me," saying proudly before you looked at him with a knowing gaze.
- "Fine, maybe I was a little jealous. But it was coming to him, his shoes were completely untied!"
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#twst#leona kingscholar#leona kingscholar x reader#leona#leona x reader#twisted wonderland imagines#twst leona kingscholar#twst leona#twst jack howl#twst jack#jack howl x reader#jack howl#ruggie bucchi x reader#ruggie bucchi#twst ruggie#ruggie x reader#ruggie#ruggie headcanons#ruggie x yuu#ruggie x y/n#jack x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Out Of The Woods, 6 (ls2)
Logan and Dhanishka finally have the necessary breakthrough, Olivia delivers some bad news that Dhanishka already has a backup plan for. Logan just has a really good time at the end.
warnings/notes: panic attack in the beginning, mentions of alcohol, i don’t really think much else? ok i KNOW viscaal is an actual dude but like. i forgot. so just imagine he has a brother or smthn idk. bit shorter but hey. this is for logan bc fuck williams man
(series masterlist) (ch 7)
-
“Isa!”
I, despite my best efforts, cannot get a solid breath in. Someone's hands are on my face, trying to rouse me from whatever's got my eyes squeezed shut. I gasp again and they're brushing tears off of my cheeks. When I hold my breath, choking on an inhale, the voice is panicked, telling me to breathe. Then blowing a gust of air on my face.
Somehow the air is what snaps my eyes open.
"Christ, Isa." Logan's saying, holding a phone to his ear as he presses my hair down with one hand, "hey, hey, it's okay..."
"Lo-Logan?" I rasp and he nods, a tiny, worried smile crossing his face as he turns to the phone and speaks in a hushed tone.
"I've got her, thanks Anya. I'll text you when I get her in bed."
When he puts his phone down, he hands me a water bottle but holds the bottom of it as I take small slow sips and try not to burst into tears yet again. He doesn't say anything, not even when I lower my hand from where it's been resting over his thudding heart.
"You called my sister?" I ask and he pauses, before nodding.
"Yeah. I figured Anya would know how to help you out of a panic attack." He says and I nearly choke on my water.
"I had a panic attack?" I ask and he stills, before he is everything around me. His hands are gentle, tucking me against his chest, one hand carding through my hair as the other holds me tight.
“Oh, Isa—“ He murmurs into my hair. I whisper out confusion, I had a panic attack? I never have panic attacks? Is that why I blacked out? When did he get here?
“Oh, Isa, I’m so sorry they’ve turned you into me.” Logan presses his hands to either side of my face, lifting me back so I can look at him. I remember how a week ago I was afraid of loving him, how I was terrified I'd lose him, and yet here he was as stubborn and comforting as always. As he had been in China. As he had been in Miami. As he now was in Imola.
"I can't do this Logan." I hiccup, letting him bring me into his arms once more, kisses trailing my forehead as he keeps me locked in tight, "I can't take another day of this comparing bullshit! They hate me, all of them in Ferrari. I don't even know if I still have Charles, and they keep pushing and pushing and I just wanna be good!"
"You are good. You are so good." He murmurs, "You're doing better than I did my first season. I had panic attacks almost every race, I still have them sometimes."
When I look at him in disbelief he sighs, "the difference between us is that you have Ferrari and I have Williams. Alex and I are actually cared for within Williams. They care about our health, our wellbeing. Ferrari always has and always will put you below Charles because he's the predestined or whatever. It's stupid. It's what drove Carlos out according to Oscar, who heard it from Lando so who knows--but my point still stands."
I sniffle, nodding, wiping at my face and huffing when I realize I had cried. Logan convinces me to swap seats with him, and he drives us back to the hotel. He follows the same procedures as he had with my migraine and we settle in to watch Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara-- one of my favorite Bollywood movies I'd forced him to watch with me before. Surprisingly, he remembers a lot of it and then embarrassedly admits,
"We watched it on your birthday every year, I kept up the tradition. Even though Dalton thought it was stupid I did that."
I can't help but kiss him then, fully of my own decision and his hands comes to my waist as he pulls me down to slot against him. I throw my right leg over when he bites my lip, groaning in the back of my throat. The Señorita scene is playing from his laptop, Hrithik Roshan is dancing his heart out, Logan's lips are soft against mine.
He pulls back.
"What are we doing?" He whispers, pausing Netflix by closing his laptop and leaving us in the soft ambient glow of Imola from the half curtained windows.
"What do you mean?" I say, because I know theres more weight behind his words. He just laughs when I press a kiss to his forehead, his arm secure around my waist like he never wants to let me go. I don't want him to.
"Do you love me?" Its so vulnerable it makes me stop and he brings his hand to my throat, but just to dance his finger tips along the side of my jaw until he takes my chin in his hand and pull me a bit closer.
"Because I've always loved you in the way soulmates love each other, but I think you love me like I'm just a casual fuck."
"If you always loved me like that why'd you break up with me?" I ask and Logan sighs, letting go of my chin to place his hand on one of my thighs, the right one I had thrown over his torso when the kisses got a bit more than playful.
Logan takes a long moment to answer, like he's picking each word with the upmost care, but he just says, "I was scared."
"Scared?"
"Of you. Of racing. Of everything." He sighs and I go to slide off his lap when his fingers dig in, keeping me rooted in my seat. Just like earlier, when he was calming me in the car, just like when he had eased my migraine. He needed me.
I card my hands through his hair, being them to his shoulders and smooth the tenseness I can feel. He closes his eyes, leaning his head back as he just lets everything finally break and he hands my his heart once more.
This time, I cradle it to my chest, trying to heal it while his heart tries to smooth out the sharp edges of mine.
"I had been doing so well. I had everything in my finger tips, just within reach and then... fucking Trident rips it out from underneath my feet. I didn't know what to do, and as far as I was concerned, you were just as guilty as everyone else. I... I needed control."
I had been right when I guessed that?
"And control was breaking up with me because it was a decision you could make without having to consult anyone else?" I say and he nods.
"I regretted it every day after. There were so many times my mom had to stop Dalton from calling you or Anya." A light smile crosses his lips and I giggle, taking the hint of his slight pursed lips to press a gentle kiss to them.
"Anya was so mad at you when we broke up, she told me she was gonna go to BWT and cut your brakes." I murmur against his lips and he starts to laugh, his hands slide up to rest along my ribs as he smiles against my lips and innocent pecks.
"I wouldn't have been mad if she had. I beat myself up over it for weeks." Logan shrugged, "but uhm... I talked with Viscaal last week. He was at the race for some sponsorship thing and he stopped to congratulate me on my placement. I asked him of you were involved and he and I talked about the crash for a long time."
"And?"
"And he convinced me you weren't."
The conversation hadn't been easy. Viscaal was sort of up in arms about the idea of even discussing it with Logan, but once let in on the PR nightmare the two were going through... he relented. But he wasn't easy on Logan, he hadn't been the whole time they stood in the blistering sun over the track.
"She literally was inconsolable, how do you think she had anything to do with it?" James Viscaal had said to Logan, eyes narrowing underneath his Formula E cap, "You seriously think Dubey had anything to do with it? She'd rather hurt herself than hurt you."
"I just... I can't shake the feeling--"
"Well you better figure out how, Sargeant, or you're gonna lose a perfectly good girl."
Logan sighs as he replays the conversation two or three times, then gnaws the inside of his lip before saying, "Sorry for saying that shit to you, about not trusting you... it was childish."
"I said stupid shit too, I'm sorry." I say and he presses a more firm kiss to my lips.
"Consider that an apology accepted." He says and I smile,
"Guess I'll have to keep apologizing--" I'm cut off when he sits up abruptly, pulling me to his chest just to lay me on my back under him as he cages me beneath him.
My phone vibrates. A few missed calls from Charles. I ignore him in favor of kissing my boyfriend.
I'll tell him I was sleeping.
-
Monaco is the race for publicity. Everyone knew Monaco, and if they didn't, they just didn't know it was called Monaco. I'm snuck into Williams the day before practice, when it's mostly just vendors setting up and some meetings happening in each paddock. I'm led by Logan to a back office, where I meet with two women, and JAmes Vowles.
Who... is sitting in on the PR meeting for some reason?
The woman who leads Logan's PR is named Astrid Marina, and while I fight to figure out while that name is familiar, Logan idly pokes at my leg. I look over to read what he's showing me and groan internally.
'Ferrari and Williams in talks over suing Sky News reporter Anthony Davis for blackmailing and harassment.'
"Too much is happening this season, I don't even wanna bother." I complain and Logan nods, coaxing me to rest against him as I yawn. It's been a long week of harrowing, exhausting training with Charles. Ferrari gives me no reprieve and as I work to show them I am a capable driver, they still beat me down. Still say Charles is better. It's grown to be annoying for both me and the Monegasque, and something we bond over now in the late hours between a bottle of wine.
"How has your season been with Ferrari so far, Dhanishka?" James asks and I give him a cordial answer that has him raising an eyebrow in question as he says, "Logan's told me otherwise."
I whack Logan's arm, making the Floridian laugh as he raises his hands in defense of his actions. Something in James' eyes tells me it’s alright to say, so I do.
"It's been a terrible time if I'm honest," I sigh, "Charles is praised, I'm ignored and blamed for every mistake, they barely talk to me on radios so I kinda have to figure it all out myself, I'm hardly given real strategy and kinda just make it up myself as I go."
"And with all of that you still place in the top ten every race, and have podiumed twice. That's an incredible feat, Miss Dubey, you should be very proud of yourself."
Somehow, James saying that to me makes it all click that, yeah, it was an incredible feat.
"Alright, Jasmine is here so lets get started." Astrid settles in her seat in front of us and Logan and I sit back up from our lazing positions as Jasmine--my PR manager of several years, takes her own seat next to Astrid. James leans back in his seat as well, taking on a more observing role to this. I wonder if its because he's worried about this, or if Olivia and Lando have told him to keep an eye on it. Not that they knew who Logan's manager was, as far as I was aware.
Jasmine shuffles her papers a bit before asking, "How are you both feeling? You're almost tied for points this season."
"Feeling pretty optimistic." Logan smiles softly in greeting to her, "The car has been preforming well and I've been doing better than where I started last year."
"I'd be a lot better is my damn car worked half the time." I mutter in complaint, making Logan laugh softly as he squeezes my knee.
"I'm glad you both are feeling better." Astrid smiles, "but lets not take up too much time here for small talk, you both have busy days tomorrow."
Yay. Qualifying.
"Dhanishka, social media is your forte here. Keep posting, keep promoting the relationship. You've been doing a fine job with that. Public appearances have been fine, though I've noticed a bit of tension? Is there anything we want to confirm or ask about..?"
"How long is this going on for?" Logan asks and I feel a weird pain settle in my chest. Why did he care?
"Uhm... well..." Jasmine hums, "I'd say you guys can decide when to call it off. Astrid wanted to make sure that, unlike with Lando and Olivia previously, you both have complete control of this situation."
"Oh, Dhanishka, work on befriending some of the WAGs. I know you and Olivia are decently close, but befriending the Lily's or even Carmen would be a good look." Astrid says and I nod, opening my phone to follow them on Instagram. I was already close with Lily Zneimer, she just needed to come to a race other than Australia.
"Logan, we need you to start posting Dhanishka as well." Astrid says and Jasmine nods softly, looking like she's a bit uncomfortable by how strict Astrid is being.
"Yeah, got it." Logan nods. Theres a few more formalities, some publicity things they want us to do and a joint 'couples trivia' gave they want us to play with a bunch of the drivers before the next race on the calendar.
We're dismissed with the promise of posting each other more on social media.
"Lets go to dinner tonight." He says, taking my hand in his and kissing the back of it. I smile and bump his shoulder with mine.
"Alright." I smile, its easy to be in love with Logan and he threads out fingers together and presses a soft kiss to the back of my hand.
Before I can leave though, James speaks, "Jasmine, Dhanishka, can we speak privately? I have Dhanishka's manager Lucille inside my office already.
And I nod, and follow James into his office after a quick goodbye kiss from Logan with his playful grin to match.
-
dhanishkadubey made a new post!
liked by alexalbon, lilymhe, lilyzneimer, and 459k others...
dhanishkadubey: the muse and her artist 💙🩵
tagged: logansargeant
lilymhe: blue suits u sooo much wow
logansargeant: sei incredibilmente bella (i think.)
⤷ charlesleclerc: you think right?? wtf??
user1: MY PARENTS. PARENNNTTSSSS.
logansargeant: you in blue... woof or whatever. xx
anyadubey: blue has ALWAYS been ur color.
user2: dhanishka in blue?? williams dhanishka?? please james vowles.
williamsracing: wow. logan better know how to fight.
⤷ logansargeant: which intern is this i have WORDS.
⤷ williamsracing: LOL CATCH ME FIRST FLORIDA MAN !!!
landonorris: LOGAN TOOK THESE???
⤷ dhanishkadubey: hes an artist ✨
user3: oh to be someones muse...
-
I'm walking through the apartment building Lando had sent me the address for ages ago. Logan's hand is firmly tucked in mine as he idly talks about the desserts we'd brought for the little dinner we're all having tonight. Olivia had invited over quite a few people, her family (consisting of Oscar and Lily, Ophelia and her wife Rosalind, and Oaklynn), Lando's siblings, (sisters Cisca and Flo, brother Oliver with his wife Savannah and their daughters Mila and Athena), Max, Kelly, and Penelope, Alex and Lily, Charles, and me and Logan. It was some sort of dinner party, and due to Logan's training running a bit long we were late.
Which, wasn't surprising.
Olivia said they'd be out on the balcony, so we let ourselves into the spacious apartment. Logan helping me with my shoes while I joke about balancing the three plates, but Charles cursing in Italian sharply makes us both freeze.
"Relax." Olivia scolds, almost like a mother, "she's gonna be fine, I've been in talks with multiple teams and--"
"They're just dropping her?! For Lewis? She's been beating him every damn race save for Australia!" Charles all but roars and I can hear the balcony door slam. Logan tenses, his jaw setting firmly and he tries to coax me back outside but I'm stubborn, I won't move until I know whats wrong. But I have a gut feeling I already know.
"Charles, calm down," Olivia tries again and then there's an overlap of a few voices I can't fight through.
"It's nothing set in stone! Relax!" Max's voice chimes above everyone else's and the room quiets as a soft sigh escapes Logan's mouth. He draws his arm across my back and hushes me softly, pressing a kiss to my hairline.
"Checo's moving to Formula E. I'm taking his spot next season, or I'll go to RB if they choose to move Daniel instead." Alex says softly, "which means Red Bull is set for next season regardless. Mercedes is taking Carlos to race with George, so they're set as well."
"McLaren's got me and Lando, so they're set. Neither Haas or Aston Martin are gonna change." Oscar sighs, "safe bet that Alpine and Sauber will stay the same too."
Max asks, "Is Logan staying with Williams?"
"Can we stop talking about this, they'll be here soon. Dhanishka doesn't even know yet." Olivia complains, "I don't know why you're all so surprised when Ferrari's been treating her like shit! They could care less if she's dead or alive on that track as long as Charles comes out on top. Plus, the FIA is going to investigate them for malpractice."
"Oh, actually?" Lando hums and I hear Charles confirm, and I bury my head against Logan's chest where I can hear his heart pounding. I'm trying to fight back the sense of dread forming in my gut.
"I know Logan's been trying to get her to talk with James." Alex says softly, "As far as I'm aware, Williams is resigning him with the second seat open."
Logan's grip tightens when he realizes I've figured it out and I push past him to enter the main room of the Piastri-Norris apartment. The warm Monaco air feels unwelcome as it floats in from the open balcony door where I can see the kids are being preoccupied from the inside argument. But inside, all the drivers plus Olivia stare at me like I'm not supposed to be there. And then theres movement and--
"Dhaniska!" Olivia's voice chimes and the Aussie to wrap me up tight in her arms, "Oh, honey."
"They're dropping me?" I hate the way my voice sounds so broken and despite what I want, Olivia nods.
"Last week I got both Daniel's and Alex's data from last season to sift through to help the Red Bull team figure out which driver we want next season." She starts to explain, running her fingers through my hair, "I knew some big changes were happening when we also got files for Lewis and Fernando. But.. Lewis just announced he was racing with Ferrari next season, while Charles was here. No one knew except Lewis and Vasseur. I-I can try and get you with some other teams but--"
"Olivia, I love you truly, but that's not your job." I say softly, squeezing her forearms, "A-and besides, I... I might've made a contingency plan."
The whole room pauses.
"Huh?" Logan says, tightening his grip on my wrist and I laugh. It's so stupid, how he thought his and Alex's little plan to have me replace the latter Thai driver would've gone overlooked by James. Who bit down at the chance to have me.
James pulled me and Jasmine into his office, my manager Lucie already inside. When I give a confused look, both women are motioning for me to sit in the middle of three chairs. Lucie on my left, Jasmine on my right. When I do, James takes a seat at his desk and hands me a file in the beautiful William's blue. The logo stamped on front, with words written under that make my heart pause.
'DUBEY CONTRACT DRAFT 1 - 2025'
"Dhanishka." Lucie starts, placing a reassuring hand on my knee as she sets down an identical folder, "Ferrari isn't going to renew your contract next year. I've known since Miami. Lewis is coming to race for them instead, which I thought I'd be more surprised about, but it is close to his retirement I suppose."
"He did always say he'd retire in a Ferrari." James nods, and the conversation continues, still led by Lucie.
"So, I've been in talks with almost every team--thanks to Olivia, who has an almost... deus ex machina power within F1. She got me write up contracts from Mercedes, Alpine, RB, and Stake... but they've all backed out."
James, taking this as his cue, sits forward, "Williams is going to need a driver next year. Alex is moving to one of the Red Bull teams. We'll be resigning Logan."
"Me?" I ask, "you seriously want me? The girl who almost destroyed one of your drivers PR?"
"PR is repairable," James waves a hand, "Your skill on the track is something I can relate to a young Alonso or even someone like Senna or Vettel. It's talent like yours, Charles' and Max's we wont get again soon. To podium on your first race, to stay consistently in the top ten with no support? That's unheard of."
"Williams is offering a three year contract." Lucie says and I finally thumb open the folder and stare down at it. The weight of it all becomes real when I see it all printed out.
James stands to leave as he says, "I'll leave you to speak in private."
So I can’t hide my smile as I announce, "You are looking at the second seat for Williams in 2025!"
I don’t think in my time of knowing Logan had he ever hugged me as tight as this. I can’t help but laugh as his chest presses to my back, his lips finding my cheek and undoubtedly smudging my makeup. I can’t find it in me to care.
Alex decides to make a show of giving me his seat (which includes him physically handing me a chair) and when I turn to hug Olivia and Lando in celebration, Olivia whispers to me, “I knew you guys would figure it out.”
Charles just about squeezes the life out of me with his hug, thanking me for driving with him, and I thank him for teaching me. I know later on we’ll have a more in depth conversation but for now he allows me to celebrate with Logan’s arm tucked firmly around my waist.
Kelly ends up pouring us all shots to celebrate, and when I smidge my lipstick drinking various glasses of champagne and other drinks, Logan fishes my compact and my lipstick out of my purse.
It feels full circle to have him hold the mirror while I fix myself up.
-
logansargeant made a new post!
liked by dhaniskadubey, oscarpiastri, alexalbon, and 345k others...
logansargeant: heres to second chances 💙
dhanishkadubey: AAAA MERI JAANNN <333
- logansargeant: MERI JAAN????
- dhanishkadubey: YEAH U FUCKING COLONIZER. MERI JAAN.
sebvettel: looking good rookies 👍🏻
user1: dhanishka in blue pls be a sign. pls.
dhanishkadubey: i am going to kiss u on the mouth
user2: the girlfriend effect on logans insta shut upp
oscarpiastri: loganishka since day 1
- dhanishkadubey: LOGANISHKA. IS THAT OUR SHIP NAME SHUT UP!!!
-
f1 made a new post!
liked by anyadubey, charlesleclerc, danielricciardo, and 783k others…
f1: Admist the starting investigation into malpractice within Ferrari's team following @ dhanishkadubey ‘s treatment over the past few months, Dubey released a statement about leaving the team.
“Ferrari was a dream, but the reality of Ferrari is that we are not compatible. I will continue to give my best performance for the team, wish them the best of luck next season, and send my love to the tifosi. Thank you for welcoming me.” - Dubey via Twitter this morning.
comments have been disabled for this post!
--
taglist (open, and thank you to those on it now!)
@chasing-liberosis @justsomejess @struggling-with-delia @daemyratwst
#f1 fanfic#f1 smau#formula one fanfiction#logan sargeant social media au#logan sargeant smau#logan sargeant fanfiction#ls2 fanfiction#ls2 fanfic
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
Coming Home - Bonus Chapter 1 - Starfall
Azriel x Reader
⧪
Chaos.
The place was in absolute chaos. Rhys had gone all out for Starfall this year. Or maybe Mor was behind the grandiose decorations, the mammoth spread of food and drink – the additional guests who certainly hadn’t been present last year.
Azriel didn’t know what was wrong with himself; why he couldn’t get in the spirit of the occasion. He didn’t know why he’d barely mingled for an hour or two before skulking off on his own to brood and–
Actually – that was bullshit. He knew perfectly well what was wrong with him. The reason behind his weighing thoughts was only a level beneath him, her trilling laughter floating up from the balcony below.
Az swallowed, letting the cold metal of the railing bite into his skin. Stars were zipping erratically all around him, and yet he paid them no mind. Barely spared them a glance.
How, he wondered, had he gotten himself into this mess?
His stomach was in knots – had been all day, as the hours had ticked by towards evening time, and he knew he would see you. Knew you’d be dressed up to the nines and stunning – like you always were.
He drained the rest of his drink, allowing magic to snatch the empty glass away with a flick of his hand. And he bowed over, pressing his forehead against the balcony rail, hoping the stark cold would somehow wake him up, inject some sense into him.
She is Rhys’s sister. He told himself – a mantra he’d repeated often, as of late. She is Rhys’s sister, and she has been through a lot. She deserves better – better than you.
It certainly didn’t help that these stern conversations he had with himself were often contradicted by his shadows, coiling around him and whispering in his ears, you want her, you want her, you want her. And she wants you.
He groaned quietly, squeezing his eyes shut. You looked incredible tonight, in a tight, navy blue dress that glittered in the starlight and plunged at the neckline. You’d been wearing more and more things like that recently – pushing your own limits, testing yourself. Daring yourself to be comfortable with your scars.
And that was partly the reason that Az had snuck off up here. If he kept staring at you the way he was, eyebrows would raise. People would talk.
He sighed, and considered sacking off the rest of the night, taking to the skies alone, when the roof door opened behind him. He looked up, glanced over his shoulder.
And there you were.
Az thought he may have stopped breathing for a split second. You were…you were brilliant. Otherworldly.
Your eyes were bright and wide, your skin pinched from the cold – and from the booze. With your hair billowing in waves around you and your stunning, somewhat feral smile, Az suddenly wished that he knew someone who could paint – someone who could capture that sight of you eternally.
“I thought I saw you sneak off.” You grinned, shutting the door behind you. You crossed the roof to where he stood – where you’d shared a few conversations as of late. “I hope I’m not bothering you.”
“Not at all.” Az smiled. He tried not to stiffen as you stopped beside him at the railing, close enough for your arms to touch. “The noise gets a bit much after a while.”
“Hmm.” You chuckled fondly. You loved that about him – found it so damn interesting that he was quiet, brooding, favouring solitude. Mysterious. You had the alcohol to thank as you gently nudged his arm and asked, “Anyway – what do you think?”
Az tilted his head. “About…?”
You swept a hand, gesturing to your dress. “Mor forced me to have a makeover.”
Panic bleated inside him, that voice in his head hissing, don’t ask me questions like this. Fuck. Do not make me think about this.
His eyes swept over you, and he cleared his throat, trying not to let his gaze linger on your flushed cheeks – that he bizarrely wanted to lean forward and lick – or the strand of hair that had ripped from your updo and come loose in the icy wind. Or the sculpt of every dip and curve through your tight dress. The plunging neckline – that gods-damn fucking neckline.
He forced a polite smile onto his face. One he would give to any of the females downstairs. “You’re lovely. You don’t need me to tell you that.”
A diplomatic reply, if ever there was one – but you still beamed as brightly as the passing stars, because he had no idea how much you loved hearing him tell you that.
“You’re lovely, too.” You said. And perfect. An absolute vision. The most beautiful male I’ve ever seen–
Az cleared his throat again, tearing his gaze from yours. He tilted his head up to the sky. “There seems to be more this year – stars, I mean. Not sure why. Maybe they know something we don’t…maybe they’re going somewhere in particular…”
What, in the Cauldron, was he fucking rambling about? He could have sworn even his shadows snickered at him. He was too hot. Too tight. He reached up, loosening his collar–
He glanced at you. Had you sidled closer? Your heady, sweet scent filled his nose, and he almost groaned.
“Do you know what I love about it?” You hummed, propping a head on your hand. Your faces were close enough to share a breath. “About watching the stars? It’s that…they’re clearly not afraid…to make this journey, year in and year out. They’re not afraid to go out into that huge expanse of sky and just…travel. And be free. They must be so sure of what awaits them at the other end of that journey. So sure that there are other stars – and love – waiting for them. I think that’s beautiful.”
Az could only stare at you. This – this was what he’d grown to love so much about talking to you. These things that you just came out with, profound thoughts that you, perhaps, didn’t have the courage to share with anyone but him. He found those inner thoughts of yours fascinating – found you fascinating.
Your eyes tracked a star that soared closely above you. “I certainly wish I was as brave as them.
Az frowned. “You are brave.”
Your smile was soft, small. “You think so?”
“I know so.” He dipped his chin. “And I also know that–”
He didn’t have the chance to finish his sentence as you threw caution to the wind. As you placed your drink down and leaned closer.
As you turned his face to yours, and you kissed him.
Az’s body went rigid. Utterly rigid. Every part of him locked up.
His mind cleaved into two parts — one part — the more dominant one — urging him to kiss her, kiss her back, you’ve wanted this for a while now. The other part — the more sensible one — screaming at him to push her away and get the fuck out of there before you really do something stupid.
Kiss her.
Push her away.
Kiss her.
Push her away.
It felt like a lifetime of his mind warring against itself. You had just raised your hand to cup his cheek when he caught your wrist — probably harder than he intended.
He pulled you off him.
You blinked up at him — innocent, confused, a little breathless. And he…he just frowned at you, his hand still gripping your arm.
What that frown didn’t show was the utter panic roaring inside every part of him. The panic of the realisation that your lips on his had felt like home. That he wanted to feel that again.
All over his body.
As if the realisation punched him with even more shock, his body locked up again. He stared at you, wide-eyed.
Be sensible. Be sensible. Be sensible.
You’re the Spymaster. The Shadowsinger. A brother to Rhys before all else.
You are scarred, flawed, and she deserves more.
“Y/N.” He bit out, swallowing. “I…if I’ve given you the wrong impression…I’m sorry…”
The words may as well have been a physical blow, with the effect they landed with. You blinked — and stumbled back. Your arm ripped out of his grasp.
“Y/N—”
Your mind was roaring, your cheeks burning. Pure humiliation was rising up in you, stark and solid and—you thought you may just throw up.
You couldn’t stick around to hear what he had to say. Even though he was stepping towards you, an unreadable expression on his face — you turned before he could reach you.
And you ran.
⧪
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Three days later, Cassian slumped down in the armchair opposite to Az’s — the third night in a row he’d found the Shadowsinger brooding in that very chair, frowning into the fire.
Az could have sworn he still felt your lips on his. That touch of yours that had felt both gloriously light and deliciously dark. The feel of your hand pressing to his cheek.
Gods, he needed to talk to you. Smooth things over.
But he wasn’t sure he trusted himself with what he would say or do when he stood before you.
How was he supposed to look you in the eyes and ask you not to do that again, when all he fucking wanted was for you to do it again? Repeatedly. He wanted to feel those lips all over his skin. Hear you moaning his name—
He cleared his throat — jerked up in the chair, and subtly placed a cushion over his lap. Over the pathetic fucking hardening of his cock inside his trousers.
“Nothing’s wrong.” He gritted out, clearing his throat again. “Just—haven’t been sleeping well.”
Not exactly a lie.
He’d laid awake thinking about you until he could no longer keep his eyes open, and then he’d fallen into a fitful sleep and dreamt of you. Woken afterwards so achingly hard that he had no choice but to fist his cock until he came over his hand, your face in his mind.
Which meant this was probably far, far bigger than he could have anticipated.
But he couldn’t allow it to go any farther.
You were Y/N. Rhys’s sister. Pretty much Cassian’s sister. The beloved female that all three of them had killed for before.
And you were light and bright and beautiful. Incredible.
You deserved someone just as light and bright and beautiful. Just as incredible. Someone who could match that energy instead of someone who roared his stresses to the winds. Instead of someone who brooded in armchairs and spat his thoughts to the dying embers of a fire.
He needed to put a stop to this before it got out of hand.
Cassian let his head fall back against the chair. He exhaled a great, deep sigh.
“What’s wrong with you?” Az shot his question back at him.
Cas cracked one eye open to peer at him. “I think Y/N is struggling a lot more than she lets on.”
Az’s body locked up. He ground out through gritted teeth, “Why.”
“I went over to give Rhys my report from Windhaven — walked in on Y/N curled up on the sofa, crying. I tried to get her to tell me what was wrong, but she just brushed me off. Gave me that little smile — you know the one.”
Gods, Az knew the one. That fucking smile — not that he’d, like, committed it to memory, or anything.
He tried to ignore the way his heart clenched painfully inside of him. Tried to resist the urge to fly over there right then and wipe your tears away himself. Could you…was it possible it was him you were crying over? He couldn’t bear the thought—
But he pulled the shutters down on his emotions as he simply asked Cas, “Did you tell Rhys?”
Cas shook his head. “Not yet. She asked me not to. I’m still deciding what the right thing is to do.”
Stoic. Az was so perfectly stoic. “Well, you should—tell him. Y/N’s his sister. It’s for him to deal with.”
Cassian’s eyebrows shot up immediately. “Damn. Cold, Az, even for you.”
Yes. That was exactly what he needed to be. Cold and stoic and distant. He needed to be both frost and midnight incarnate, someone that was so, so cold, nobody could ever possibly fall for him.
Someone so cold, you could never possibly fall for him.
He needed to sort this out — now.
Before he did something he couldn’t take back.
⧪
It was two nights after that when Rhys came barrelling into the dining room at the House of Wind, slamming the door shut behind him.
He was alone — nobody had seen you since Starfall. And it was clear that something weighed heavily on him as he stormed over to the drinks cabinet, barely sparing anyone a glance.
Amren arched an eyebrow over the playing cards in her hands. “Can’t you ever just make a normal entrance, High Lord?”
Rhys barely acknowledged her. His back was turned to everyone as he poured himself a measure of whiskey and downed it in one go. And then poured another. And another.
Something was very, very wrong.
“Rhys?” Cassian frowned, laying his cards down. “What happened?”
Only then did Rhys turn to face his family. His eyes were bleak, pained, as he drained his glass and rasped, “She’s gone.”
“Who?” Mor sat up.
But Azriel — Azriel, in the corner — already suspected who. His body had gone ice cold.
“Y/N.” Rhys said. “I got home and found her going through a ton of her shit. Suddenly she’s telling me she’s leaving Velaris and going travelling because she wants to see the world.”
“What?” Mor was on her feet in an instant — as if she was going to do…something. Anything. “Where is she?”
No. No, no, no. Azriel’s head was screaming, his shadows snaking around him.
“Gone. She left already. Like it was urgent, or something. She didn’t say how long she’d be gone.” Rhys swallowed. More whiskey was poured. “I don’t—I’ve barely been away from her for more than a few days at a time. How can I just let her go out into the world? I can’t, I—she’s so young.”
“She’s a grown adult.” Amren hummed from the table. “I’m sure she’ll be absolutely fine.”
It took only that for Rhys and Amren to get into a verbal sparring match — and Az heard none of it. None of it, over that screeching, screaming roar inside his head. That voice that was chanting to him, she’s gone, she’s gone. No, no, fuck, no.
He was going to throw up, or—something. Stop breathing altogether, maybe. He couldn’t not have you in his life. Couldn’t be without your conversations, your laughter; the absolute fucking light that you were.
He jolted out of his thoughts to find all four of them now bickering back and forth — pointing fingers, accusations flying about who should have sensed something was wrong.
Az stood up — so abruptly, the arguing ceased immediately. Every pair of eyes was on him.
“I—” He choked, clearing his throat. “I have to go.”
Had to get out of there before he tore the room, the house, the world, apart.
“Az—”
He didn’t wait to hear what Mor had to say. So ungraceful, so unlike him, he darted from the room. From the house.
And everyone just stared after him.
⧪
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this drunk.
Unwise as it was to soar into the skies while he was so wasted, he did it anyway. He couldn’t imagine what he must have looked like up there, dipping and twisting and barely keeping himself aloft over Velaris.
She’s gone, she’s gone, she’s gone. He’d screamed himself hoarse. Told himself that the tears were merely from the brisk wind whipping against his face.
He flew over every bit of Velaris, hoping to spot you — hoping you hadn’t left just yet, and he could swoop down and convince you to stay.
But you were nowhere to be found. Gone. Just a memory.
He stumbled to the ground when he could hold himself up no longer. Walked the streets with that horrible squeezing in his heart that didn’t go away, no matter how much he rubbed his chest.
And then he stopped in front of the building he hadn’t even realised he’d been heading to. The red faelights glowed in the windows, luring him in.
He stumbled into the Pleasure Hall, the scent of too-sweet perfume immediately assaulting him. He wanted your scent, fresh like snow with a hint of something…Vanilla — that was what it was. But nothing of you would be found here.
Sultry gasps and moans snaked out of the room towards him. He stepped up, approaching the first female that passed him by — pretty, sensual, with curves to die for.
“Spymaster.” She shot him a red-lipped smile. “What can I do for you tonight?”
“Everything.” He cleared his throat. “I want to feel—everything.”
The female's eyes lit up. By no means was it the first time Az had come here, but she’d never had the pleasure, herself, of bedding him — in all his glory. She couldn’t wait to tell the others about it.
“Right this way, then.” She hummed, taking his hand.
He followed.
⧪
She was straddling him, his hands palming the generous curves of her hips.
She’d removed every bit of clothing except the flimsy underwear that barely covered the area between her thighs. Az hadn’t allowed her to undress him — not…not yet.
“I want you.” She breathed into his ear, kissing just below it. She moved one of his hands to her breast and rocked against his lap. “Want you to fuck me.”
Ordinarily, he would have been inside the female by now. And yet he was still fully clothed. Barely noticing the friction of her grinding against him. Barely taking notice of the breast he squeezed and pinched.
She let out a shrill yelp as he pinched her nipple, and then giggled. The sound went right through him.
“Hmm.” She hummed, moving from his lap and sinking to her knees. “Let me taste you, Spymaster.
She reached for the buttons on his trousers. Barely brushed them before he was gripping her wrist.
“Stop.” He gritted out. “Just…stop.”
He couldn’t have this — couldn’t have her touching him, tasting him. It felt so incredibly wrong.
Thick, dark lashes frowned up at him. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” He quickly shook his head. He sidled out from beneath her. “No — you’re beautiful. I just…can’t do this. I’m sorry. I’ll still pay you. I—I’m sorry.”
She could only watch him as he jumped up, pulling a wad of cash from his pocket and throwing it onto the bed. He didn’t spare her another glance as he hurried from the room. Practically tore out of the building.
In a blur, he found himself back up at the House of Wind. The arguing had stopped — no voices remained, in fact, and he was thankful for the quiet, the dark, as he stalked up to his bedroom.
He stilled in the doorway, staring around the empty room. And then strode over to the dresser, began rifling inside, searching for—
There it was. The box he liked to keep safe and private. The solstice gift you’d given him last year.
His scarred, trembling fingers opened the box, brushing the small item inside. It just looked like another, smaller box, really, but it was the most thoughtful gift he’d ever received.
“It uses magic…to look into your mind and store your memories.” You’d told him in that private little alcove you’d given it to him in. “You just have to press a fingerprint to that little disk there — your own magical print — and close your eyes. It projects the memory there for you, exactly as it happened.”
He could have kissed you right then. Could have held you forever. And the emotions had washed over him all over again when he later found the note tucked into the box.
For someone as quietly sentimental as I am — live, and relive, and enjoy. Happy Solstice, Az. Love, always. — Y/N.
He prised that note out now. Stared down at it. It wasn’t parchment it was written on, but—some sort of fabric. Something more long-lasting. More magic, no doubt.
He spent a while just…tracing his finger over your handwriting. Feeling every scrape and indentation you’d left in that square of fabric.
And then, without thinking, he strode from the room, the note still in hand. Stalked to the kitchen and practically tore through every drawer looking for what he needed.
Eventually he found it. Shucked his jacket off and sat at the table in that dark, silent kitchen.
He’d never sewn anything before. The stitches were messy and wonky, the pin repeatedly pricking his fingers. But he persevered. Kept going until every edge was stitched.
Until he’d sewn that little Solstice note, with your handwriting on, into the inside of his jacket.
He stared down at his messy work, not even really understanding why, himself, he’d done it.
And he just felt…empty. Wrong. Like the world was suddenly off-kilter.
You were gone.
And you may never come home.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tags: @theravenphoenix26 @safetypinxtales @historygeekqueen @smartiepants217 @mulansaucey @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @issybee0611 @goldentournesol @percyjacksonspeen @high-bi-andreadytocry @esposadomd @positivewitch @bsenpai @cityofidek @shannonsaid @topaz125 @azzydaddy @nobody00sthings @sfhsgrad-blog @elizarikaallen @hanasakr @ruleroftides @mis-lil-red @reiincarnatiion @moonfawnx @new-adventures-every-day @davinaclaire16 @i-am-fascinated @lucyysthings @margssstuff @magneticforceofaswifty @xxoverthinkerxx @marigold-morelli @owllover123 @vera0124 @thewarriormoon @the-book-gnome @favoritecrime1 @pricklepearbloom @icantthinkofanythingplease @ilovespideyyy @kitty-kait @hwas-housewife @localhopedealerr @magical-mischief-makers @holywolfsstuff @grungy-blue-hipster
#acotar#azriel x reader#azriel acotar#azriel spymaster#azriel shadowsinger#shadowsinger x reader#acotar fanfic#rhysand#mating bond#a court of thorns and roses#cassian#feyre#amren#morrigan#nesta#elain#azriel fluff#acotar fandom#acotar series#shadowsinger#spymaster#fluff#azriel fic#azriel fanfic#sarah j maas#acotar headcanon#acotar smut#acotar fluff#acotar writing#acotar x reader
575 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
alex-christos
I Build Up Towers and Break Down Walls
javisbutt
catboy steve
la-baphomette
Cartwheeling The Void
baracimil
Untitled
figure-buy
Untitled