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lisired · 2 months

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who needs cupid’s bow?

pairing: bff!haechan x (f) reader

genre/warnings: bff2l, suggestive, lots of sexual innuedos but no smut, fluff, a teaspoon of angst, mc & hc are oblivious to each other’s feelings and jaemin calls them out on their bullshit, mutual pining

summary: Cupid is not on your side, it seems. He’s made you fall in love with the worst possible person ever, AKA your best friend, AKA the man who still eats tootsie-pops—willingly. And frankly, it feels like the damn candy has a better chance of dating him than you ever will.

word count: 11.1k

a/n: inspired by down for you by kehlani, boyfriend by ariana grande, and serial lover by kehlani. another oldie but i kinda like it… kinda. as always, feedback is appreciated!

It’s safe to say that Cupid is your mortal enemy (Or immortal—whatever. Nonetheless, you aren’t the biggest fan of him.)

You don’t know why, but for some inexplicable reason, he always makes you fall in love with the wrong people. Such as Lee Taeyong from eighth grade, or your failed relationship with Kim Jisoo from your biology class in high school — a pretty girl, but you were as compatible as Mentos and Coca-Cola. Hell, there was even Jung Sungchan from senior year, who you naturally drifted away from during an exam period. They’re all chapters in your book now, but you’re currently stuck on the one about your best friend, Lee Haechan.

It seems like you’re Cupid’s mortal enemy, too. You and Haechan are always side by side, down one another’s throats, there’s no way his arrow could have hit you and missed Haechan.

Perhaps, it’s a hole you dug yourself in. Via mutual friends, when you were seventeen, you met Lee Haechan — jock, senior, and the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen. There was an instant connection between you two, all it took was a convo at a party about coincidentally both failing the same math exam, and you quickly became friends and close enough to pour out your heart into little rants whenever there was something personal bothering either of you, and you needed an outlet. You liked him because he understood you. He was patient witth you. You see, you aren’t the best at communicating how you feel, and he never makes you feel bad about it.

You remember breaking up with your then-boyfriend, Jung Sungchan, and while you weren’t heartbroken since you saw it coming and all the love had evaporated by then, you were devastated that you no longer had someone to kiss. That being your main concern made Haechan laugh. He thought it was the most you thing ever.

“Can I kiss you, then?” you asked, a little grin on your face, although you were very serious. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, kissing your best friend. He has pretty lips, and it isn’t like it’ll mean anything, you think. It’s just one kiss.

Haechan scoffed, biting off the last remaining piece of his Tootsie Pop off the stick. You’re kidding, he thinks. Why would you seriously want to kiss him? And after breaking up with your now ex-boyfriend? The wound’s still fresh. “You wouldn’t dare.”

To Haechan’s surprise, you dared.

He tasted like chocolate, exactly like a Tootsie Pop, as expected of him. You didn’t mind, though. You never do. It was fun, you liked the way Haechan held you in his lap and kissed you back with fierceness, and he still kisses you with that same passion, like there’s no tomorrow.

And that’s the problem.

Fast-forward four years later, you’re still best friends with Lee Haechan, only this time you’re in college, and have the fattest, most gigantic crush on him. Somewhere along the way, those lines between love and friendship were blurred. It’s impossible to pinpoint when, but you fell deep and hard for your best friend.

And the worst part? You doubt he’ll ever reciprocate those feelings.

One kiss turned into more than you can count on your fingers and toes.

Should you continue making out with your best friend who doesn’t reciprocate your romantic interest in him? Probably not.

Are you still going to, though? Absolutely.

“Y/n, I’m going to kill you,” Haechan states as he stumps inside the dining room. His hair is tussled since he’s just waken up from a nap, but you like this raw side of him. He looks gorgeous, and despite him basically threatening to murder you you still want to kiss him.

“Romantic,” you deadpan, training your eyes back on your laptop. It takes everything in you not to stare, but if you want to keep your feelings low-key, you need to follow a couple of rules.

“I know you took my Tootsie Pop. Where is it?”

You smirk a little, but it quickly fades into a line. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Okay, so maybe that’s a lie, and you both know it. You aren’t the only other person in the house, but Jungwoo, Haechan’s stepbrother, is asleep and wouldn’t cut his nap time short to do something as stupid as stealing the last of his brother’s favorite candy. That leaves you. As his best friend, you’re the first person to know Haechan turns murderous over those stupid lollipops, and that he’s the last person to know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie-Pop. In your personal opinion, they’re not even that good. But he’s loved them ever since you’ve known him.

“We’re best friends, y/n. I know when you’re lying,” he remarks, and doesn’t give you the chance to answer before he persists, “where is it?”

There’s only one way out of this.

Run.

Haechan follows almost automatically, and in spite of being barely awake he obviously has the upper hand because he’s always leaned more towards the sport-y side. This doesn’t deter you though, because you have a getaway plan.

In your attempt to somehow outrun a man that used to do track and field, you make a beeline for the backyard door. He’s not going to outrun you in the grass in slippers, you think as you turn to see if he’s caught up on you. You’re in the lead, albeit barely, with your body almost being in arms reach. You try to pick up your speed, and once you reach the door you hurry to turn the knob. Except, there’s one, itty-bitty problem.

The door is fucking locked.

And you already know you won’t have time to open it, so you cave in to defeat, whirling around with your hands up in a surrendering pose. Your plan’s backfired; you’ve been caught.

“Oh, I’ve got you now,” Haechan says cockily. He has you—hook, line, and sinker, and at this point you aren’t even upset. You can’t be upset. His eyes are on you, and his body is close to yours, dangerously so.

“Okay, you win. Happy?” You mumur.

“Not until I get my Tootsie Pop back,” he shakes his head, “now where is it?”

Smiling, you shrug. Of course, you know where the candy is, but he’s either going to have to win or pry the answer out of you.

Then, he steps even closer, and your heart starts pounding in your chest twenty times faster than your feet were against the hardwood. This isn’t your first rodeo, you’ve made out with your best friend countless times, yet the anticipation gives you a rush, like you’ve never done this before. It makes you feel like a teenager in love all over again — seventeen, young and head over heels in love with the man closest to you.

He’s back you into the door, and you can’t keep your eyes off his lips. Beautiful, plush, soft, and your eyes flutter shut as you prepare to feel the same skilled pair against your own, closer, and closer, and closer—

Crunch.

“I fucking knew it!” Haechan yells, jolting your eyes open. You aren’t even given the opportunity to register the situation before his hands are digging into your back pocket, retrieving his fortunately unharmed Tootsie Pop.

It feels like he’s gone before you can even blink, and realizing he’s slipped back into the hall, you begin to follow him into his room. “Hey!” you yell, and he doesn’t say anything, just looking up at you from his gaming chair with that damn candy hanging from his mouth, “why didn’t you kiss me?”

“Why’d you steal my Tootsie Pop?”

Okay, that was stupid, yes, but there was a particular goal in mind which was reached, even if for a short-lived moment.

You frown, “I wanted your attention.”

Haechan shakes his head, laughing. “C’mere.”

Somehow, those words never fail, making you melt and slip into his lap effortlessly every time. You’re like Jell-O to his voice, to his touch, to his whole. You’re a goner, some would say, and a part of you is alright with never coming back if it means you get to feel all the weird, Cupid-y emotions he makes you feel.

At this point, you don’t think you’ll ever stop kissing Haechan. In the time that you’ve been together, you’ve both been in relationships, hence putting the make out sessions on hiatus. They were never really long though, because you’d break up with them and inevitably find your way back to one another in the end.

His fingers guide your chin up, and once more your eyes flutter shut as his lips unite with yours. Haechan kisses in a manner that contrasts with the soft feeling of his lips. He always starts off gentle, but there’s a hunger that overcomes him as he stands up and pushes you against his desk, rough yet graceful and holding you so firmly, like you’re glass, but he wants to break you. And when he shatters you into all those tiny pieces, you don’t care. You want him to glue you back together and do it all over again. He’s intoxicating, he’s an addictive drug, but he tastes like candy, and you can’t stop coming back to him. He feels like home, the place where you belong. The place where you can be one-hundred percent, authentically you, safe and whole, more than the general perception than you. And fuck, does he kiss like the damn devil himself.

You were silly for ever believing it would only be one kiss.

Jungwoo thinks that for people who are trying to keep their not-so relationship-y relationship under wraps, you two are very loud.

Speaking of which, and despite the nature of your relationship, you and Haechan haven’t even discussed your label. You know that you aren’t friends with benefits—you haven’t crossed that line, but to be honest, those lines have been starting to look blurry for a while—but you also aren’t in a relationship. You see other people, you fuck other people, and when other people ask if you’re dating, you both deny it immediately. You’re just best friends, you both say each time like some rehearsed line, even if it breaks your heart to hear him friendzone you.

Karina and Mark even have an ongoing bet about you two. Karina is one-hundred positive there’s something going on, whereas Mark is probably the only person in the world that wants to give you guys the benefit of the doubt.

“For heaven’s sake, I can’t get any type of sleep around here,” Jungwoo rasps, leaning against the doorframe, “I really hope you guys don’t do this shit when Dohwan’s here.”

His judgmental eyes practically bore into your soul, and you thank heaven that you don’t have to worry about keeping this secret from Jungwoo, even if he would probably appreciate it more if you did. He finds you in a rather interesting position, straddling Haechan’s lap as you press kisses into his collarbone.

It’s all Haechan’s fault, really. Three years ago, Jungwoo made the mistake of walking inside Haechan’s bedroom without knocking, accidentally finding you two making out in a very touchy way on his bed because a certain someone didn’t think to lock the door. Not only did you ruin his quote-unquote innocence, but his perception of you forever, and ever since that ordeal, Jungwoo has never opened his stepbrother’s door without knocking. This time, it just so happened to be wide-open.

You bite your lip, feeling bad. Kim Dohwan is Haechan’s halfbrother of whom he babysits whenever available (and you like to tag on, because dealing with children is stressful and Haechan’s already stressed enough), and on weekdays Jungwoo has to wake up from his nap earlier to pick up the kid from school and bring him back home, then leave for work. You were too loud and disrupted the poor guy’s nap time.

“Oh,” Haechan says the syllable blankly, not too sympathetic, “did we wake you?”

“Of course not, I usually wake up at 2pm and take extra longs showers to start my day,” Jungwoo deadpans, “but whatever. I’m heading out. Don’t forget to go grocery shopping today.”

“Noted,” you and Haechan say simultaneously, gazing at one another and stifling giggles when you catch each other’s gaze. Jungwoo smiles at you, then flicks off his brother before parting.

When you’re both all alone again, a few seconds pass before Haechan’s eyes do that thing where they twinkle every time something catches his interest (or perhaps that’s the in love side of your brain making you see things.)

“Hey, you coming to Chenle’s Valentines Day party Monday?” You don’t know why he’s even asking, you follow Haechan everywhere he goes like a lost puppy. Maybe he’s discreetly asking you out. “Unless you’re actually busy, by the way, I hope you know you’re going. And maybe you’ll find some single pringle interested in a relationship. You can’t just kiss me forever, you know.” Oh. Well that eliminates that thought.

A part of you is yelling at you to decline, to lie and say that you actually have a dick or pussy appointment scheduled for the 14th, yet another is weak, in spite of you being aware of how this works. First of all, Valentine’s Day parties are mainly for single people who don’t have anything better to do, and each time one of you go to one, you end up meeting some stranger and hooking up with them. You know that’s more than likely what he’s going to do, and you aren’t strong enough to watch him flirt with other people.

You know how to put up a good front, though, so you’ll fake it until you make it.

“We can do a lot more than kiss,” you suggest with a wink.

Haechan grimaces, “No thanks. Now get off my lap.”

You frown, but climb off his lap nonetheless. “Wow,” you drag dramatically, “You’ll make out with me for what feels like hours, but sticking your dick in me is where you draw the line?”

“Precisely.”

You gasp in faux offense. “Oh, come on. Sex doesn’t seem so bad. Like, think of it as my pussy giving your dick a nice warm hug.”

Haechan’s at a lost for words, his face bright red. How do you even come up with this stuff? “Oh my god, are you coming or not?”

You joke, “I thought you said sticking your dick in me was where you draw the line?”

He shoots you a glare so sharp you’re sure that if you were still on his lap, he’d be barely resisting the urge to shove you off. You don’t miss the way his cheeks heat up, though.

Haechan groans exasperatedly, leaning back his gaming chair, “Y/n, seriously!”

“Fine!” resisting your best friend is literally impossible, you conclude, because you have officially caved in to his request—or, more or less, demand, rather, “fine, fine! I’ll go!”

“Great,” he grins with satisfaction, beaming with his thirty-two teeth, and you even see little gleams of smiles in his eyes, “anyway, Dohwan’s gonna be here soon, so let’s get ready to go shopping.”

You furrow your brows. You have a solid twenty minutes left, and all you really need to do is slip on your shoes.

“I need more Tootsie Pops,” Haechan adds, and suddenly everything makes a lot more sense.

And you roll your eyes. “We’ll get you some more Tootsie Pops, but you better not ditch us for the candy aisle!”

“Of course, not,” he smiles, not even trying to sound or appear convincing. “I’d never leave you guys.”

That’s exactly what he does.

You aren’t even remotely surprised, though heavily disappointed when he announces in the middle of the thankfully empty cereal aisle that he’s going to find Tootsie Pops, managing to run off before you can even protest.

Gripping the shopping cart, you avert your gaze from the Cinnamon Toast Cruch boxes to his figure, almost missing him jog onto the following aisle. You shake your head, a small smile tugging your lips. If it were the end of the world, Haechan would stock up on those candies before he would even think to consider water.

“Auntie Y/N,” you aren’t quite adjusted to being addressed as an aunt, but you aren’t against it either. You have the image all put together—rich, thriving, and the kids adore you, “do you love my brother?”

That was perhaps the very last question you expected the six-year-old boy to ask you. Your eyes are a little wide, but it’s a kid, you remind yourself, so you shouldn’t be worried. But shit, then again, if a first-grader can figure it out, you’re fresh out of luck.

“Why do you think that?” You crouch down to be eye-level with him, having a feeling there’s some misunderstanding here. Dohwan’s bright for his age and doesn’t let anyone forget it, but you’ll be damned if he’s sniffed you out.

He makes a face. “I saw you kiss him, just like mommy and daddy do. And my mommy and daddy love each other very—” he stretches the vowel, and you can’t but giggle, “—much! That’s why they made me!” then he gasps, and you fear what it means, praying he doesn’t ask what you think he will. “Will you and my brother have a baby, too? I wan’ a new friend!”

On second thought, you think you’d rather he would’ve asked you what you thought he was. You nearly have a heart attack in the middle of the aisle, yet still, Dohwan gazes up at you with his innocent, sparkly eyes. You assume it’s in the blood; Jungwoo doesn’t have them, and he isn’t blood-related to Haechan, but Dohwan partially is, and the twinkle is promiment.

Calmly, you reply, “Don’t you already have a lot friends?”

He does, you both know it. You vaguely remember pulling up to his sixth birthday bash and being in shock of all the little kids jumping and flipping on the Spider-Man bouncy house. You haven’t been surrounded by that many children since, hell, probably since kindergarten.

“Yeah, but I wanna be a big brother,” he folds his tiny arms and pouts, “It’s not fair Hyuck and Woo get to be big, but I don’t!”

With minimum success, you manage to stifle your laugh, stretching out your arms to bring the little boy in for a hug, “You’ll be big one day. Trust me, you don’t wanna rush it.”

“And strong like Superman?”

“And strong like Superman,” you reassure, all smiley and convincing. “Now let’s go check up on your big brother, he’s taking too long.”

Dohwan rocks from side to side as he walks, murmuring some Nickelodeon TV show theme song, and you push the cart until you’ve reached your designation.

Quickly, you regret acting on your impatience. The scene taking place at the back of the aisle is anything but comforting—Haechan’s talking to some girl, whom of which is literally throwing herself onto him, and you can’t help but notice the way he wallows in the attention. For fucks sake, all the attention you give him and he doesn’t even give a fraction of it back! Then here comes this random girl from your campus.

Sometimes, you think about how you could do everything she’s doing right now—twirl your hair around your finger, be touchy with him, giggling girlishly at everything he says, funny or not—and yet he wouldn’t bat an eye, because you’re best friends and nothing more. Kissing each other breathless is already normalized between the two of you, what’s a little flirting.

Sometimes, you wish you hadn’t kissed your best friend that day. You’re both too comfortable, everything is too weightless. I love you, Haechan says it back without a thought. C’mere, he calls and pulls you onto his lap or cuddles you to death. Fuck, he—on very rare occasions when making out goes a little too far—groans into your ear, groping you a little. Scratch that. It may be weightless on his end, but it isn’t on yours, and everything has an everlasting effect on you.

“Auntie?”

When you look down at Dohwan, your gaze is so, so tired. Your eyes do the talking; you can’t move your lips.

He hugs your leg. “I love you.”

His face is pure, innocent, but he reads you so perfectly. The corners of your lips turn up, and you ruffle his hair, “Love ya, too. Let’s go get your brother, alright?”

He bounces eagerly, and you both begin to stroll down the aisle until you’re beside Haechan. You’re in a selfish mood today, so you think of some remark to make in the process.

“Nice Tootsie Pops, Bowlcut,” you mask your tiny emotional breakdown with a joke, “Hi, Faith.”

“Hope,” she corrects, evidently annoyed by your presence, though she doesn’t state it outright. “My name is Hope. And… bowl cut?”

“Interchangeable,” you dismiss her correction carelessly. In all honesty, you already knew her name, but you’re feeling like a bitter bitch currently, “and yeah, in high school Haechan had this hideous bowl cut that he—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Haechan grumbles, “that was four years ago!”

“And I’ll never forget,” you’re smiling blissfully, nostalgic. “Anyways, what’cha two doing?”

“We were catching up, it’s been a minute since I’ve seen Hope here,” you hear Hope snicker at this, and something about it is extremely off-putting. He turns to her, “So, I’m in a bit of a time crunch. Could I have your number?”

Ouch. Right in your face, literally.

She giggles some more, typing her number in his phone, and you try to focus on Dohwan so that you don’t cave into your desire to knock her upside the head. There’s already so much on your plate, you don’t need an assault charge.

She smiles, all bubbly and giddy. You know jealousy isn’t a good look, but it’s still pissing you off. “See you around?”

“See you around,” Haechan replies. She hugs him, not forgetting to shoot you a look from across his shoulder as she does, and only once satisfied does she turns on her heel, sashaying away.

“Didn’t know pussy was on the shopping list,” you sneer, relieved once she’s finally gone. Her presence was suffocating.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he rolls his eyes, “at least I’m actually trying, I don’t know what you’re going to do when I’m cuffed down and—holy sh—I mean crap! You’re so quiet, I forgot you were here,” Haechan jumps, only noticing Dohwan when he pokes at his leg. “And don’t you dare make a cuff joke, y/n. Not in front of the kid.”

You yell in that defensive tone which is a tell-tale sign you’re lying, “I wasn’t gonna!”

Haechan gives you the look.

The we’re-best-friends, I-know-when-you’re-lying look.

And that look is utterly withering, so you decide you’re accepting defeat. “Okay fine, maybe I was thinking about it, but I wasn’t actually gonna say it. Not with him around.”

Haechan snorts, like you said something funny, but in reality he just doesn’t believe you. “Yeah, alright. Let’s finish shopping.”

You don’t argue, but there’s a lingering thought in your mind as you push the cart, rattling around in your brain still.

When he’s cuffed. Hmm. You can’t speak for him completely, but you both know how that one goes. When you get into a relationship, you think the person is great and they serve as a nice temporary distraction—that is, until you’re bored and realize no one will ever compare to Haechan, and especially not in the kissing department. So you break up, and then you go back to making out with Haechan, solidifying your suspicion that no one will ever replace your best friend. It’s the reason you don’t do relationships anymore, you feel bad for using people when you know it isn’t going to change a thing. It never does.

As far as your knowledge extends, things aren’t too different with Haechan. You and him don’t push things, you don’t pry too deep. There’s some unspoken boundary, and you know when to drop things. That’s why you both say the same thing each time you ask one another why you and whoever it was that you were previously seeing broke up—it wasn’t working out.

Like a moth to a flame, Haechan always finds his way back to you too, because apparently you’re the only person that can keep him tied down. You don’t think that’s the case, though. Your problem is you’re in love with your best friend, no matter how hard you try to suppress the feelings. His problem? You can’t be sure, but you’d guess commitment issues.

Whatever it is, and as selfish as it may sound, you want it to stay. He isn’t yours, but you like the comfort of knowing that he isn’t anyone else’s, either.

If Cupid had a human counterpart, it would be Na Jaemin in reincarnated form. He may not have wings nor a bow and arrow, but he does have dedication and a gigantic mouth.

“I can’t believe you called me over here for this,” you stand in an effort to leave, but Jaemin pulls you back down by your wrist, so you sigh, accepting that you’re stuck in the cafe and in the middle of a Jaem-terrogation.

“Not so fast, Sonic. You still haven’t answered my question. I don’t have all day, you know, I have other people’s business to be in,” he admits unabashedly, and you snort at his honesty.

Jaemin is an extremely shameless, extremely straightforward individual. He knows what he wants, how to get it, and the only time he’s afraid of letting someone know what he’s chasing for is when it interferes with his goal of obtaining said desire. He loves all things drama and gossip, and these are the lengths he’ll go to squeeze information out of you. No wonder he’s one of the writers for the campus newspaper.

“I don’t have feelings for Haechan,” you fiddle with your fork. “And even if I did, why would it matter? Haechan doesn’t have feelings for me, either.”

“Forgive me, but you’re a fucking dumbass,” Jaemin concludes, and you gasp in dramatic offense. “Why would I be here if he didn’t like you back, y/n? You know that he hasn’t had anyone over in two weeks? There’s like, three things at the top of Haechan’s list of shit he needs to survive, and that’s you, Tootsie Pops, and sex. Yet he’s gone two entire weeks without it. He likes you, really fucking bad.”

“Golly gee, Haechan hasn’t fucked anyone in two entire weeks. He must be head over heels in love with me,” you deadpan, ignoring how Jaemin rolls his eyes in response. “Be serious, Jaem. He literally got this girl’s number the other day. The man said himself that he doesn’t want to stick his dick in me. There’s nothing going on.”

Okay, so maybe Haechan is a raging sexaholic. Maybe he’s been a little horny recently. And maybe contact-full makeout sessions have been a reoccurrence in the past two weeks, but none of that matters, and he typically has extreme self control. Fresh as yesterday, he was definitely trying to get into Hope’s pants. It’s weightless, everything between you. It means absolutely nothing, and you’re trying to come to terms with the possibility that it never will. You wish your friends would accept the fact, too.

At least they don’t know you and Haechan make out, and have been for the past four years. They’d be insufferable, and you two would absolutely never hear the end of it.

“Y/n, please. Your biggest competition is those damn Tootsie Pops.”

“And if you told him that he had to live without me or the candy, he’d choose them over me any day.”

“Actually, he’d tell me to fuck off—and stop asking him stupid questions. You can’t tell me I’m wrong because I’m speaking from experience,” Jaemin grins, “I pushed the question until he gave me a proper answer. He chose you, by the way.”

You groan into your hands, “Unless you have some other evidence to provide besides this stupid question and him not getting laid in two weeks, you’re wasting my time here, Cupid.”

Jaemin sighs, “I thought I could pressure you into admitting your feelings—”

“I don’t have feelings for Haechan!”

“—that you deny having, but I guess taking the high road doesn’t work. Don’t worry, I still have plan B. I mean, you should be worried, but it’s whatever.”

You blink. “Plan B?”

He ignores you, standing up and preparing to take his leave. You’re still curious about whatever his alternative, backup plan is however, and he doesn’t look like he’s going to tell you.

“Jaemin!” You shriek. “What are you talking about?”

“February 14th, Chenle’s party,” he answers vaguely, swinging his bag over his shoulders. “Be there, or be square. Whatever that means.”

He exits without another word, leaving you dumbfounded and with a sudden dread in your chest. They don’t… know, do they? No, of course not. How could they? You’ve been keeping this secret for nearly four years, and the only people that know are Jungwoo and Dohwan.

Great. Another reason to dread the fourteenth, and despise Cupid—and his human counterpart, your actual mortal enemy.

“I know you like Regina George, but the dress code is Cady Heron.”

Bummer. You didn’t exactly plan on attending as a sexy bunny in fishnets and knee-high boots, but you don’t intend on wearing a Party City outfit, neither. It’s only the 6th though, so you still have a week and some change to outfit plan.

You frown, “Why the change? None of his past parties have had much of a dress code.”

“Because Chenle is also stuck babysitting his baby brother on Valentine’s day while his parents are having a date night,” Haechan answers. “I’m not saying you have to dress like a prude, but don’t dress like a slut, either.”

Ignoring the insinuation behind his words, you don’t miss the fact he said also. “What do you mean also? Don’t tell me…”

“Exactly what you think. Dad is whisking my stepmom away on a romantic evening date to only God knows where, and Jungwoo is busy with his girlfriend, so me being the sole single-pringle in the family gave him the bright idea to have me baby sit,” he explains, though he doesn’t seem burdened by the task. “I don’t really mind, though. It’d be one thing if I planned on getting some pussy that night, but no one’s smashing at a party where there’s children. I hope not, at least.”

You wince at that. You hope not, too. It’s a setback that you have to re-plan your outfit, but on the plus side, Haechan can and will help you decide this time, even if you have to force him.

So that’s where you find yourself a couple hours later, your bedroom a mess as the aftermath of the meticulous care you’ve put into your self-styling. You’ve narrowed it down to two outfit selections; option A, the white crop-top with the cute pink pants; or option B, the pretty and red mini-dress with stilettos. It’s a little embarrassing that hours of your indecisiveness have led you to this conclusion, but you want to choose the perfect outfit that’s also not overbearing.

“And I have to help you why?”

“Because you’re my best friend, and that’s what best friends are for, duh.”

Haechan’s favorite thing about your place is you have all his utmost favorite games—and that literally everything there is like a piece of you, from the decoration to the smell of your perfume bottles you keep in your bathroom. He’d never tell you that, though—so he wasn’t too enthusiastic about being interrupted from his video-gaming session. But then, he realized he gets a special preview of your Valentine’s day outfit, and Haechan loves the way you dress, probably an abnormal amount. Slutty or prude-y.

“Then what’cha waiting for? Strip for me, princess,” he demands jokingly. It isn’t normal for you to feel bashful by anything a guy says, but everything is so different with Haechan. It’s the littlest, simplist things that drive you over the edge, that make you want him in ways you probably, scratch that, definitely shouldn’t.

And all the questions, assumptions, and rumors regarding your nonexistent relationship with Haechan aren’t exactly unwarranted. You two flirt and touch an abnormal amount, and while it’s common knowledge that Haechan is a touchy person, and you’re a natural flirt, people say it’s extreme between you two.

That makes you laugh. When it comes to the tension between you both that people speak of, you wish you could see what they see.

“You want to watch me strip?” You’re genuinely surprised, only the other day he seemed repulsed by the thought of you naked. “That’s new. I’m guessing you haven’t gotten laid in a hot minute.”

Haechan rolls his eyes, silently confirming what Jaemin told you at the cafe, but you shake the thought away, refusing to let it spur you on. It doesn’t mean anything. “Anyways. You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen before, baby girl. Now, you gonna strip or what?”

“I’m stripping, I’m stripping! Relax, Liam Payne!” It’s really nothing he hasn’t seen before, because Haechan’s seen naked girls, and he’s seen you half-naked before, so neither of you actually care. You peel off your top, slowly and in a strip tease sort of way and look him in the eye, giggling once you catch him shaking his head. You don’t repeat the movement with your shorts though, simply taking them off and picking up your new shirt to slip it off the hanger.

Successfully discreet, Haechan wallows in the sight of you half-naked for as long as he can before you’re slipping on the crop top and the pink pants. Now that he thinks about it, he bought you those pants, and darn do they make your ass look good. Then he realizes he’s thinking about your ass and taking not as discreet looks at it, and shakes the thought away.

“So?” Your voice cuts through the silence. “What do you think?”

He needs a moment to gather himself and recollect his thoughts, because he feels like turning on Destiny’s Child’s Bootylicious and if spoke his mind he would definitely say something he’d regret. Like, I could fuck the shit out of you. He doesn’t think he should say that.

“What do you mean, what do I think? I bought you those pants, I’d be damned if I thought you didn’t look good in them,” Haechan supplies, making you roll your eyes in response.

“Very underwhelming reaction. I wanted you to fall out on the floor and pass out for a few seconds with your hand on your chest,” you pout.

“Definitely not doing all that,” he chuckles. “But you do look good enough for… somebody to do it. Anyways, it’s stripping time again. Get in that dress for me, princess.”

If he doesn’t stop with the pet names you’re going to combust. You hide it though, taking off outfit option A and putting on option B. You feel confident in your appearance, with or without him, but the way Haechan’s practically gawking at you does boost said confidence.

“What about this one?”

Okay, so Haechan’s one-hundred percent biased in his decision—or maybe he isn’t, since he didn’t buy this outfit—though nonetheless, he loves this dress on you. In his personal opinion, you’ll look good in anything you wear, but the way this particular dress hugs your figure perfectly is a bonus. He knows all eyes are going to be on you the moment you step inside Chenle’s house, and maybe he’s going to have to keep you and Dohwan close to his side.

Rather than replying verbally, Haechan walks forward and pulls you into a kiss. His hands dip around your waist, skirting the area until he’s gripping you like he’s afraid of letting go.

And as always, you melt into his lips. Like ice to the sun, or wax to a flame. It’s the umpteenth kiss in your whole lifetime, but Haechan always makes it feel like the first time. Like two love-struck highschoolers, except with a lot more experience. Haechan kisses you like he loves you, and you hate it. You might even loathe it.

His fingers slip down your hips, to your revealed thighs, like he just so happens to know that’s one of your weak spots. Luckily you’ve learned some of his weak spots too, and not really thinking, you don’t hesitate to aim for his most sensitive one - his neck. You can’t get used to how beautiful he sounds as he moans, your lips pressing into his sweet spot and leaving undoubtedly a mark.

“Fuck,” Haechan moans, “you’re my kryptonite, you know that?”

“A kiss is all it takes for you to fold?” You gasp out with a smirk.

“Shut up.”

Your grin widens. “Make me.”

Just as he leans in, about to pin you down to your duvet and kiss the life out of you while you’re thinking that maybe this is the tension people speak of, his phone rings in his back pocket. It feels like snapping out some trance or spell, like a reverse Cupid’s arrow, and he instantly backs off of you.

He takes a look at his phone screen. “I um, I gotta take this.”

Biting your lip, you nod. “Okay.”

“You look great though,” he comments, and you smile thinly at him as he slips from between your fingertips yet again.

It seems that you’re left all alone, pathetically wet, and wondering if that person on the other line is Hope - but you try to shake that thought off.

Sighing, you flop against your sheets. Love is some extremely cruel, extremely rigged game that only lucky people win, and it seems that Luck has sided with the evil that is Cupid. You’ve been dealt cards, and Haechan refuses to show you his hand. All you can do is watch it play out.

Haechan knew that something was dangerously off when Jaemin bought him a brand-new bag of Tootsie Pops without being asked, and invited you over for a movie night with the guys, offering to open up with you and Haechan’s all-time favorite movie, Mean Girls. He even offered to play The Kissing Booth next! Everyone else instantly protested of course, but the fact he offered in the first place is borderline suspicious.

Sure, Jaemin’s not the devil or anything, depending on who you ask. He’s… kind, and he can be a sweetheart. But Jaemin does nothing for free, and Haechan can’t shake the thought that this is planned bribery. And it isn’t hush-money. Jaemin doesn’t buy silence, he buys words.

By the time Jaemin asks Haechan to help him with the popcorn, he’s ninety-nine point nine percent sure that something is definitely wrong here. Yet still, he follows him into the kitchen.

“Alright, what’s up man?” Haechan wastes zero time, wanting to get to the bottom of all this. “I know you want something out of me. There’s no other reason you would offer to play The Kissing Booth, or buy me Tootsie Pops for free.”

Jaemin scoffs, but he doesn’t try to front, “Glad you know. Since we’re on the same page, let’s address this thing with you and y/n.”

“That’s what this is about?” Haechan grumbles. “I’ve told you, I don’t have feelings for her!” He whisper-yells.

Jaemin has heard that far too many times for it to be convincing. He’s positive that even Helen Keller herself could tell you two are hopelessly in love. Takes one to know one, he thinks. It seems the three of you must be blind, because you and Haechan are oblivious to your feelings for one another, and it’s painfully obvious.

“And Mary wasn’t a virgin,” Jaemin says ironically, making Haechan roll his eyes. “If you’re not in love with her, then explain what the hell is going on between you two. I know that she’s your best friend or whatever, but you don’t act like it at all. From a fresh perspective, someone would totally think you’re in love.”

Haechan hates that he’s right. It doesn’t make sense the amount of times you’ve gone to public places and had cashiers refer to you as a couple, or elderly people ask you if you’re together. Because you’re not. You’re best friends, and even if Haechan wants to be more than that, that’s his label. And he’s sure he’s stuck with it for life.

“You’re fucking Hope to distract yourself from your feelings for y/n,” Jaemin adds, and it’s a statement, not a question.

“I’m not—”

“You are,” Jaemin interjects. “Head over heels, in love with a girl you think doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, and you’re also being an ass to her, whether you know it or not.”

If Haechan was in a situation where he needed to simplify the reason you two click so well, he’d say chalk it up to compatibility and say it’s because you’re like a mirror of one another. Which also means he knows you, better than anyone else even, and he knows neither of you do the whole catching feelings things anymore. You like to fuck and flirt, and fuck some more, to avoid the fact that you love too hard. If you fuck people whose names you don’t even remember, it doesn’t mean a darn thing that you two make out.

No one really knows about that part yet. But they do know that you like to fuck, and that’s why Haechan thinks that if he’s an ass, then that means so are you. What the fuck is he doing that you aren’t?

Even if he is an ass, what is he supposed to do? He’s only recently realized that damn, he actually does have feelings for you, which is where Hope comes along and yes, he is fucking her to distract himself from you. So what? It’s not like it’s working, he’s still stuck on you, obsessed with the thought of you, craving your touch and the sound of your voice. He still loves you, and it’s so scary because no matter what his friends say, he thinks they don’t know you or your relationship like he does. They think they do, but they don’t.

“I’m not in love,” Haechan lies through his teeth, “maybe I’m in like.”

Jaemin snorts. In like? That’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. Not in love his fucking ass. “You’re in denial, that’s what you are.”

Haechan grumbles, trying desperately not to raise his voice so that the others don’t hear him from the living room, “Even if I did like her—and I’m telling you, I don’t—it wouldn’t change anything because she doesn’t like me.”

“You two are the same breed of oblivious and stupid,” Jaemin takes the popcorn out of the microwave, pouring it all into a bowl. He’s even laughing, much to Haechan’s confusion, but he’s apparently unbothered by Haechan’s lack of confession, “but fine. Lie to my face. I still have a backup plan.”

“A back-up plan?” Haechan repeats, lost.

“I just thought it would be nice of me to try and get you to confess before I have to work a Valentine’s day miracle, but unfortunately you two are a match made in heaven—both terribly stubborn,” Jaemin says vaguely, not really answering Haechan’s question, “so I guess we’ll all know the truth at Chenle’s party.”

Jaemin exits with the popcorn bowls before Haechan can even part his lips to ask another question, and he stands there, shocked and unsure of how to react. He’s concerned, though. Jaemin has something cooking (besides the popcorn), and he isn’t sure what, but it’s Na fucking gossiping blabbermouth Jaemin. That means it can’t be anything good.

So apparently when you and Haechan had that heated makeout session the other day, you left a trail - or in other words, you marked his neck the fuck up.

You hadn’t noticed because he covered it up with concealer, but you’re in the middle of another one of those when he stops you, preventing you from repeating your mistake.

“You can’t do that. People will see,” Haechan frowns. You wonder what’s the problem with hickeys. Is he embarrassed? No way. Haechan? Embarrassed? About hickeys? He has much bigger fish to fry.

In contrast, you’re over the moon. Even if he isn’t yours, marking him up makes you feel like he belongs to you. Plus, other people will see, and they’ll know that he isn’t theirs, either. Haechan also has a beautiful neck, you realize as you stare at his skin. It makes you wonder if there’s anything about him that isn’t beautiful.

“Would that be so bad?” You ask. “You’d look sexy all marked up by me.”

Haechan groans, “Do you ever think with your head and not your pussy?”

“I wish my pussy was my head. My head’s just so full of you,” you sigh dramatically.

It’s rare for Haechan to blush, but you somehow manage to make him full-on flush sometimes and you take that as an achievement. It’s partially the reason you love flirting with him so much, he’s so reactive. His reactions are cute sometimes.

“Be serious for 5 seconds,” he whines, and you giggle.

“I was serious,” you insist, “but fine, I’ll think with my head since yours is clearly not working. No one’s gonna assume they’re from me, Hyuck. Just tell them they’re from one of your hoes.”

“I know, but it’s not them I’m worried about. It’s, um…” he trails off.

You’re confused, blinking. If not your friends, then who on earth—oh, for fucks sake.

“It’s Hope,” you utter tonelessly.

“Yeah, uh, yeah,” he wonders why you suddenly sound so dry, and then the whole grocery shopping thing seeps back into his mind. You obviously don’t like Hope, and it’s not just you, really. Lots of people don’t like her. But Haechan needs a pretty face to compete with the image of yours in his head, even if it isn’t winning. “She kinda likes me, and—”

“Do you like her?” You don’t mean to ask so fast. It slips, like your mouth has a mind of its own.

Haechan shrugs. No, he doesn’t like her. He likes you, but he thinks that maybe he can somehow convince himself it’s the other way around. So he replies, “Maybe.”

Fuck. You try not to appear suddenly devoid of life, forcing a cheery smile. “That’s… nice,” you lie through your teeth. “Let me take this opportunity to have one last kiss before I possibly never will again?”

Haechan snickers, to silently say as if. He isn’t wrong for it, either. One kiss is never one kiss with him — never has been, never will be. There’s a reason you both bonded over bombing a math exam.

D-day rolls around, and you’re eyeing your frame in your full-length mirror, smoothing your palms over your dress as you give yourself a quick once-over before the clock strikes 7PM. You look like that bitch, and everyone in that party is going to fucking know it because you’re going to walk in there like that bitch. Fuck Cupid. You don’t need his stupid bow. And fuck Haechan, too. He’s your ride, but he’s gonna ditch you at some point in the party like he always does. It’ll be no different now, and this time, you’ll be the first one to leave.

The chime of the doorbell jolts you from your mental slumber, and you quickly reach for your purse then head towards the door with a heavy heartbeat. You know he’s already seen you in this dress, he chose it for fucks sake, but there’s something else that gets your heart racing—no. You can’t think about him. Fuck Haechan, remember? He’s no good for you.

“Here goes nothing,” you mutter to yourself, palm on the doorknob, “you can do this.”

Haechan’s sucks in a breath the moment you open the door. You look gorgeous. You always do, but in this particular moment, you look better than you ever have before. Those corny romance sayings usually make him laugh with mirth, but he’s genuinely convinced you look better everyday that he sees you. All dressed up like this, or not.

“You look so pretty, Auntie!” Dohwan beats him to a compliment.

You bend down to ruffle the boy’s hair, “Thank you, Dohwan. You look very handsome.” And then you look at Haechan.

He looks handsome as well, unfortunately. Jet black hair, exposed forehead, and his outfit is black with red hearts in the center of the shirt. You try not to pay him too much mind, but your heart and the place between your thighs don’t seem to agree with your mind. He catches you looking at him, and feels a twinge of anxiousness in his heart. Get it together, man, he tells himself. Lee Donghyuck doesn’t get nervous looking at pretty girls. Lee Donghyuck doesn’t hesitate about his actions, either, wondering if he should hold your hand, he doesn’t rethink what he should say. It all comes to him naturally.

“Yeah, you look beautiful,” he settles, mentally cursing himself for being unable to think of anything else. He blames you. Ever since you first snuck in his mind, you’ve been living rent-free there, and make it hard to think about anything else sometimes. That’s why he thought that needed distractions.

If you could relay the message to your heart, you’d tell it stop beating. Instead, you mask your emotion, smiling. “Thank you, likewise. Now c’mon, we gotta get there by 7:30!”

Haechan’s saddened by the dismissal, but you don’t catch his face as you walk to his car.

If you ignore him, you can do this.

Haechan cannot do this.

Something isn’t right. It wasn’t right the second he noticed you gave him a simple, rushed compliment, not bothering to make some sexual remark that usually makes Haechan’s cheeks feel like fire. You didn’t even kiss him before you got in the car. And Haechan’s sure you’ve been avoiding him like the plague, scurrying off and getting lost in the red and pink sea before he could even ask you if you wanted to check out the drink menu.

He doesn’t know where you are, and that haunts him. Turns out Chenle is paying Yangyang, Ten and Jisung to keep the kids entertained on one end of the house, whilst the adults do adult-y things on the other. You could be with someone else for all he knows, hell, you probably are. He was practically fuming when he saw some people staring at you as you walked in.

“Uh oh, I think y/n divorced Haechan,” Chenle jokes, and a choir of laughs follows suit.

Haechan grumbles, “A guy can’t miss his girl best friend?”

“Of course, you can,” Chenle drawls, “but everyone knows she’s more than just a friend to you. Like even if you aren’t together, there’s no way you guys don’t have feelings for each other.”

“Right? And they’re so cute together, too. A literal match made in heaven by angel Cupid,” Jaemin agrees, speaking as though Haechan isn’t right there.

“You’re dating y/n?” gasps Karina, overhearing Jaemin much to Haechan’s dismay. Oh, great, she’s as much as a blabbermouth as he is. The whole world’s going to think Haechan’s dating you in five minutes or less.

“No!”

“Yes, he is, spread the word,” Jaemin says, already knowing he doesn’t have to tell her. Karina’s mumbling I knew it under her breath before jogging somewhere.

“You know,” Haechan starts, downing a shot because if he’s not at least tipsy he’s going to die at this party, “she’s been making me watch murder documentaries with her and I’ve definitely picked up a thing or two. I’d be careful.”

Jaemin scoffs, “Please. You’re going to be kissing my ass and the ground that I walk on by the time this party’s over.”

There it goes. Haechan wonders what’s so special about tonight that Jaemin’s been hinting at vaguely. It’s been keeping him on his toes, but he doesn’t ask because he knows Jaemin, and he isn’t going to tell him a thing. The one time this guy wants to keep something secret.

An hour flies by, and Haechan still hasn’t seen you. He’s looked for you, and refuses to believe his eyes are somehow missing you, even though you’re in a crowd. He literally went up the stars and gazed over the railing for a better view, and you were no where to be found. You’ve refused to answer your phone, too, and Haechan doesn’t know what to do. He would just start talking to some random chick, but that’s not what Haechan wants. He doesn’t want some random chick. He wants to be with you. Hold you. Touch you. Kiss you, with no shame, no fear, in front of everyone, and he isn’t in denial about it. He wants you.

And Jaemin is fed up.

“Alright, I’m tired of you moping around drinking like a divorced man. Let’s go to the kitchen,” Jaemin suggests. Or commands, but still.

Haechan quirks a brow. “Where there’s nothing but more drinks?”

“Trust me, I’m not letting you drink anymore tonight. You have a wife and a kid to drive home,” Jaemin jokes. Usually he’d deny any sort of relationship with you that isn’t best-friendship, but Haechan simply shakes his head, following his friend and roommate into the kitchen.

Then he sees you, and his jaw doesn’t just drop, but it falls flat on the ground, bounces a little, and comes back down. You’re clinging to Chenle’s side with a confused face, equally as surprised to see him, though not very delighted.

“What’s going on?”

You stare at one another.

“Stop copying me!”

Jaemin and Chenle stare at one another, then stare at you two staring at one another, and stare at one another again.

“I hate to interrupt your… stare-off, but there’s a reason we brought you two here,” Jaemin interjects, making you two finally split gazes as you stare at him, confused.

“Which is?”

You glare at him. Jaemin’s success was short-lived, it seems.

“Drum roll, please,” he says, and Chenle begins tapping against the counter, “Dohwan!”

Suddenly, Dohwan pops up from around the corner. He’s on the completely wrong side of the house, and while he’s under adult supervision, you still wonder why he’s here.

You blink. “What’s he doing here?”

Jaemin smirks. “I’m glad you asked. Dohwan tells me he’s witnessing some very interesting sights of the two of you. Go ahead and tell us what you saw, kiddo.”

“I saw Haechan and Auntie y/n kissing, like mommy and daddy do!” Dohwan shares, grimacing in disgust. If you weren’t practically fearing for your life right now, you’d probably laugh at his reaction.

“And how often do you see this?” Chenle adds.

“Um…” the kid ponders, “every time Auntie y/n comes over. I heard them say they wanted to keep it a secret from me, but they’re not very good at it.”

Haechan shoots you a panicked look, and you’re wearing the exact same one. By the time you realize that this is what Jaemin’s been hinting at this whole time, it’s much too late. Your secret has been exposed to the worst people ever, and now they’re definitely going to think you’re dating.

“Thank you for your input, Dohwan,” Jaemin smiles, then turns to look at you and Haechan. You’re both frozen and stiff, unsure of how to respond. “So, anything to say about this?”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Haechan’s quick to say. You hope no one catches the way your face falters with hurt for a split second. “If you want me to be honest, then fine, I will. Yeah, we kiss. We’ve been kissing since high school, but it didn’t mean anything then and it doesn’t mean anything now. We just, I don’t know, do it for fun.”

Chenle deadpans, “So you just kiss for pure, innocent fun.”

“Exactly,” Haechan nods. “It means nothing.”

It means something to me, you think to yourself, and when you notice the silence in the room, you gaze up to see everyone’s eyes on you, Haechan’s a little wide. Oh, fuck.

“I said that aloud, didn’t I?”

“Yep,” Jaemin grins. He was right. “Is there something you want to share with the class?”

Stupidly, you decide to look at Haechan, and he’s re-lost his composure, frozen up and stiff all over again. Your heart is pounding harder than it has been all night. It’s partially the alcohol, but you can feel it in your veins and all around you. It won’t leave you alone, and looking at Haechan, it’s faster, as if to say he’s the one I want.

So you choose to make another decision that you might possibly regret, but you have to get this off your chest. It isn’t news to anyone but Haechan anyways.

“Donghyuck,” you start, and he knows it’s getting serious because you just said his government name. You literally never call him by his government name. “I know we agreed to keep things platonic, and for it to mean nothing, but I want you. Like really, really bad. I think I—no, everyone’s right, I really am, extremely in love with you. If you don’t feel the same I understand, I just had to get this off my che—”

You aren’t given the chance to finish before Haechan swoops you in his arms, reaching for your waist as he pulls you into a kiss. There’s a chorus of cheers from Chenle and Jaemin, followed by a shriek of disgust from Dohwan as he covers his eyes, but you two aren’t trying to hide anymore, you want to scream from the rooftops that you’re in love. Yes, the infamous Lee Donghyuck and y/n know more than flirting and fucking. You’re in love, drunk off of a sip of it and the taste of Haechan’s lips, and god, has kissing your best friend never felt better.

“Let’s give the newlywed couple some privacy now,” Jaemin says with a grin. Gosh, he really is the spawn of Cupid, but you have to thank him. This wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for his stupid ‘gotcha!’ plan. “You two work this out.”

The three of them pile out, and you and Haechan part from one another to breathe. You stay in comfortable silence for a moment, his hands slipping into yours.

“Your hands are sweating,” you comment after a while.

“It’s hot.”

“It’s the middle of February.”

“So? Global warming is real, you know,” Haechan shrugs, refusing to acknowledge the fact that his hand is sweating because he’s nervous. He’s accepted that you make him feel all warm inside and his heart feel like mush, but he still isn’t used to not hiding the way you make him feel.

You laugh but don’t press things. “Newlywed couple, huh. Can’t be, you still haven’t popped the question.”

“Yeah?” He laughs, too. “Then will you take my hand in marriage and take me as your illegally wedded husband?”

You hum, pretending to contemplate, “Hmm, I don’t know. You sure you don’t wanna marry a giant cardboard Tootsie Pop cutout? Or what about that girl? What happened to her, by the way, I thought you said you liked her.”

Haechan groans, not really wanting to think about her right now, “No more Hope. Ironically, she’s a lost cause. I had to cut shit with her because she can’t comprehend what a fling is. She wanted a relationship, and you know, I lied to you when I said that I might want her. I didn’t know you liked me back until, like, now, so I was just saying shit in hopes of convincing myself I could stop liking you. That planned failed, though.”

His words lift a massive weight off of your shoulders, and you finally feel like you can breathe now. Take that, bitch, you think with a smirk. She was giggling in your face so hard at the grocery store, but you’re having the last laugh.

You tilt your head. “What about the Tootsie Pops?”

“Yeah, sorry but I can’t give them up as easily. Would you mind a Tootsie Pop bouquet?”

Gosh, this is the man you love. You roll your eyes, but smile as you reply, “You know, you’re like a Tootsie Pop.”

If Haechan were a dog, his ears would perk up right now. “How come?”

“I’ll never know how long I’ll be able to kiss you without wanting to fuck you,” you lean in his ear to purr, voice tickling his neck. You eye it and his lips, and lord knows you can’t wait to finally be able to mark him up again.

“Yeah? Wanna go home, put Dohwan to sleep, and let me take this dress off you?” He grips at your waist, his hand resting there with the burning urge to dip lower. He bites his lip.

“Thought you drew the line at sticking your dick in me,” you joke.

“That was when I was in denial about wanting you,” Haechan whispers, “but now I can admit to myself that even though you amazing in this dress, I wanna take it off of you. Your body’s perfect.”

“I kinda hate the scar on my thigh.”

“Don’t. It provides depth to your character. It makes someone wonder how you got it, the story of how it happened,” he answers, ever so deeply.

“Poetic,” you snort, “can’t tell if you’re giving me Bruno Mars or John Legend vibes more right now.”

Haechan rolls his eyes, smiling. “You said you’d never know how long you’d be able to kiss me without dying to fuck me, right?”

“I never said dying.”

He ignores you, “Then let’s put it to the test, shall we?”

Your lips wind up pressed firmly to his, with your hands on his cheek and his palms on your hips yet again. It’s fiercer than ever, Haechan’s kissing you like he doesn’t want to let you breathe, like he wants to stay in this moment with you forever. He kisses you with love and lust, with passion and desire, with emotion and no more fear in his chocolate-y eyes. You don’t regret kissing Haechan that day. It took a while, but it brought you to this moment where you can finally call him yours. And that one more kiss stuff is bullshit. His lips are yours and vice versa, and as you’re by each other’s side, you’ll never stop kissing him. And he’ll never stop kissing you.

“They’re here!” Karina suddenly bursts into the kitchen, pointing at you and Haechan. “Look! I told you they were dating!”

Oh, god. You totally forgot about Karina’s stupid bet with Mark. Mark looks entirely devastated and surprised, devastated because that’s twenty-five bucks gone from his wallet, and surprised because he genuinely believed you and Haechan have been best friends this whole time. Technically, he isn’t wrong, but you’re not sure if you want to interrupt to tell them that.

Mark whines, “Oh, c’mon! I really thought you guys were just friends.”

“Pay up, loser,” Karina smirks, and with a pout, Mark pulls cash from his pockets.

Haechan looks at you, and while you don’t say anything, you can tell you’re both thinking the exact same thing. The whole campus is about to know you two are dating. Karina’s for sure going to tell everyone she knows, hell, probably even people she doesn’t know, and there’s a ninety-nine point nine percent chance of Jaemin raining your business on everyone in his latest report for the school newspaper.

You can’t say that you care, though. This is what you wanted, to unashamedly love Haechan, to be able to state it proudly in front of everyone, to let everyone know, to claim him as yours and yours only. So fuck Cupid. Fuck his bow, fuck his arrow, because this relationship is all a product of you and Haechan’s hard work and dedication.

Who needs Cupid’s bow when you have tasty lips and Tootsie-Pops?

“You’re telling me you’ve been in love with me for the past four years? Oh, you’re a soldier. I would have given up in the first month.”

You snort. Part of becoming Haechan’s girlfriend is the process of telling one another the secrets you’ve been keeping, such as how long you can been in love. Haechan’s been in love with you for a solid year, he thinks, maybe two, but it’s been almost four years for you, on the other hand.

“If only it were that easy,” you sigh. “Trust me, I tried getting over you by getting under other people—how Jessie Reyez of me—but that didn’t work out, obviously.”

“You are too much like me,” Haechan shakes his head. “What made you think we should anyways?”

“You mean, four years ago, or now?”

Haechan shrugs. “Either. Give me three reasons.”

“Oh, brace yourself. I could do a presentation on this. One, we know each other’s McDonald’s orders. Two, like you said, we’re very alike. When have we ever argued over pizza toppings?” You reason. “Three, I can’t imagine kissing anybody else. I mean, we’ve basically been practicing on each other for the past four years. I’m the reason you can kiss so good, it would insane for you make out with other people. Four, I have a fat ass and sometimes I catch you staring at—”

“I said three reasons!” Haechan cries, face blooming red as a rose.

“I could go for a fifth,” you grin, “we’re both terrible at math.”

“Damn right we are,” he mutters. “But that’s what makes us… us, isn’t it? The only reason we’re dating right now is because we couldn’t resist kissing each other after one time.”

He’s right. It practically only took one kiss to fall in love with Haechan. He’s giving you major Dua Lipa vibes right now.

“I know you’re thinking about that Dua Lipa song right now.”

You smirk. “You know me very well.”

He tilts his head. “And what else are you thinking about?”

“That you look like all I need,” you say in tune, making Haechan laugh. “And I just want to feel your skin on mine.”

“Then we should do something about that, right?” Haechan smirks back.

You’re kissing the smirk right off his lips seconds later, and this is where you decide that you just can’t get enough of him. Even if one kiss is all it takes, you’re greedy for more, and more, and more, until both your lips are swollen and you’re both gasping for air.

#haechan smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #haechan x reader #nct imagines #haechan imagines #lee haechan smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios

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greynatomy · 2 months

Text

rivals?

alexia putellas x messi!reader

request here

with all the alexia angst being posted (my fault), here’s some fluff

———

In the world of professional football, rivalry between two players are always one that many fans are eager to watch.

In the men’s world of football, there was Messi and Ronaldo.

In the women’s, Messi and Putellas. Two of the most sought after female footballers of this time.

You and Alexia were known as fierce rivals on the field when competing for your country. You for Argentina, Alexia for Spain. Both of your competitiveness fueling debates among fans. Little did everyone know, behind the scenes, you both shared a secret that could rival the on-field intensity.

Away from the spotlight, you and Alexia were much more than rivals and teammates — you were married.

Your love story began when you’d transferred from playing in the Women’s Super League to Barça. From the first time she’d laid her eyes on you, there was an instant connection. At first she didn’t know how to feel about your transfer, only having played against you for the national team, where the rivalry grew and grew, but as you both played for Barça, the understanding and pressure you both experience helped you grow closer.

Late-night rendezvous, secret getaways, and coded messages allowed you to maintain your privacy. It was difficult to keep everything a secret, something you’ve both agreed on. Time moved quickly from the first time she’d seen you in a Barça kit to now, six years later.

You’re both cuddled up on the couch, watching a replay of the match you’ve just played, pointing out the things you and the team could have done better, when you heard some whining on the baby monitor searched up on the coffee table.

With a kiss to your head, Alexia got up to see what the fuss was all about. You watched on through the monitor, seeing how your wife delicately held and talked to your two year old, making you fall in love with her all over again.

“See look there’s Mami.” Alexia points you out, walking in with Rosa in her arms.

“Mami.” Rosa mumbles, arms reaching out for you, cuddling into your body once in your hold.

“How was your nap, bebé?”

All you got was a whine. Alexia cuddles back into your side as Rosa falls back into a slumber.

“I’ve been thinking.” Alexia starts.

“Uh oh. Mamá has been thinking.” You tease, earning you a playful shove.

“Seriously. Rosa turned two a bit ago and I want to be able to show her what her Mami and Mamá do or work. The environment which all the fans.”

Alexia starts to ramble. Saving her from spiraling, you place a hand over her mouth stopping her words.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

With a bright smile on her face, Alexia pulls you in a passionate kiss, careful to not wake your daughter up.

Three weeks later, Spain has a friendly match against Argentina. Everyone played hard no matter that it was only a friendly, the match ending in a draw.

As far as the public knew, you and Alexia were still rivals, enemies, or any other term they use, so whenever they see you conversing after matches, fans and media freak out, like right now.

What the fans didn’t expect was a small child running into your arms with laughter. Standing up with Rosa in your arms, Alexia wraps her arms around both of you, kisses being placed on her cheeks by both of her moms.

To say the fans and media were exploding was an understatement.

“Alexia, they need for media.”

Alexia settles herself at the table in front of all the press, waiting for the questions to come.

“Hola, Alexia. Great game today.”

“Thank you.”

After a couple of questions about the match, a little kid is seen throwing themselves onto Alexia.

“Mamá!”

A second person is seen chasing after the child.

“Sorry, sorry. She’s gotten fast.”

You run in, trying to grab Rosa from your wife, who is wriggling to make her harder to hold.

“You can leave her here.”

“You sure?”

She nods so you give them both a kiss on the head and walk out the room.

“Sorry about that.”

“Who do we have here? If you don’t mind us asking.”

“Bebé can you tell them your name?”

“Soy Rosa Putellas.”

The room let out a collective ‘aww’.

“So-so she’s your daughter?” A reporter stutters, stunned by the little girl.

“Yes.”

“And Messi’s?”

“Yes.”

The room full reporters burst, questions being asked over the others. Alexia just stands up, walking out of the room.

“I think you broke them.” Is the first thing you say when she walks into the locker room.

“Eh.” She shrugs. “Makes it fun.”

#woso x reader #woso #greynatomy #woso imagines #woso imagine #woso community #fcb femeni #barca femeni #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader

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oneirophobic · 10 months

Note

hi friend!! i love your writing! would you be able to write something about matt where this is the readers first relationship and she’s touch deprived and wants to give physical touch but is hesitant about it and asking for it? i hope that makes sense

yearn - matt sturniolo

pairing : matt sturniolo x fem!reader

genre : fluff

warnings : n/a

a/n : AHHH THANK YOU ALL FOR THE SUPPORT ILYY!!!!!!

matt was the first boy to ever commit to me, the first to actually love me and not just use me like some toy. despite our close connection and trust for each other, i still had the irrational fear of asking him for what i wanted. sure, i could ask him to pick me up some food while him and his brothers are out filming, but i couldn't ask for physical affection.

that's where i found myself, on the couch with matt, the others off doing whatever. matt sat on one end lost in his phone as i laid on the other with my nose shoved in a book.

as i read, my hand resides on my thigh, pretending it was matt's fingers drawing shapes along the skin, and kind of just holding onto myself.

matt's eyes wandered over to me, examining me for a moment before scooting over to me. he took my hand off my thigh, allowing himself access to my side.

"what are you doing?" i asked him as he buried himself into my side. "giving my girlfriend the attention she deserves," he mumbled into the crook of my neck, placing a few light kisses here and there.

my body tensed, did i make him feel guilty?

he felt it, "what's wrong?" he asked sitting up to examine my face. i shrugged, "just thought you weren't a fan of physical touch."

"are you kidding me?" he said, burying himself back to where he was before, "i love shit like this." i laughed at his tone, my worry dissolving that instant, "well good, because i really wanted this," i smiled, placing a hand in his hair.

we just stayed like that, for hours. him asleep in my arms, snoring slightly as my eyes bounced between my book and his angelic features.

i can really get used to this.

#oneirophobic #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets

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thebibliosphere · 4 months

Text

It's an ingrained reflex in me to apologize for my living space not being perfectly neat and clean (thanks, mum), but it's so funny when I do it with my friends who have children.

"Sorry," I say over Facetime, "I didn't have time to clean up before you called. Anyway, there's the tree. Ignore the mess."

And all my friends with kids are starting at my slightly cluttered space with tears in their eyes because it looks amazing to them. Like bitch you live like this? Holy shit! You can see the floor! You're living the dream!

Meanwhile, my childhood trauma is screaming that we can't let people know we sit, and also, there's a smudge on the windows that people are definitely going to see and judge me for.

A smudge, which, of course, my mother sees the instant my camera connects and feels the need to point out because why comment on the beautiful, glittering tree when you can focus on an insignificant imperfection and let it consume you 🫠

#this is why I'm fucked #well #it's one of the reasons #but it's a very big one!#hidden in case family are snooping #tw parental issues

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bloodandthestars · 11 months

Note

HOLY FUDGE NUGGETS!! Why is Miguel so beautiful.. 😭

Can I request a Miguel O’Hara x Madam-Web reader? Like maybe she’s well known for being the “Mom” on campus in the Spider-Society, with her and Miguel having a “will they, won’t they” flirty vibe going on?

And she verbally beats his fine a$s for how horrible he treated Miles (who was undoubtedly a victim of circumstance, just like most all Spider-Men) but Miguel can’t really focus on what she’s saying because he just finds her “Mama bear” attitude Hot as hell.. and she can sense it..

Reader: *blank stare*.. horny a$s vampspider~ 😒

Miguel: … 😏

Petter B: guys PLEASE! Not infront of the kids!!!

⸗ 𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄

tags: NO SPOILERS!, spouse! spanish speaking! gn reader

author’s note: hello lovie! you’re my first request ever! i hope you’ll enjoy this, since i had to tweak it due to me not seeing the movie yet and having a few ideas that made me want to write this IMMEDIATELY. translations at the bottom of the post!

wc :: 1.4k masterlist

Spider-man 2099, Miguel O’hara to differentiate him from the rest. The leader and creator of the Spider Society. In the protection of the multiverse, he’s dedicated his life to it. Unwavering, unmoving, if there was an obstacle, he intends to removes it.

“No! It’s not up for discussion.” He snaps back to the group behind him. Peter B., Miles, and Gwen follow behind him in his furious stride to his control center. His voice could echo amongst the society’s campus. Some of the spider-people wince at the boom of his voice. It was easy for them to conclude that it was another day, another problem to handle.

“Oh come on, Miguel.” Peter B. says with a groan. “It’s not a big deal. You can let him off the hook!”

“Having someone watching over like some kind of-” Gwen sputters to find her words. “-parole officer isn’t going to help anyone.”

“Well you said it, not me.” The larger man huffs, causing the trio to roll their eyes.

The doors of his control center slide open with a hiss. Miguel can’t help the scowl on his face, all the more natural with his work. He continues to walk, head turning over his shoulder to speak to them. “I told him and you, if he wants a spot back here he had to earn it-”

Miles frowns. It feels like they’ve been going in endless circles about him coming back into the society and leaving him close to exhausted. “But I-”

“Enough, he’s doing it my way or not at-”

“Uh…Miguel…?” Peter B. trails off with a finger pointing behind him.

“What-?!”

Turning to his vast data center, he stops immediately in his tracks just to practically feel his heart fall into his ass.

You had your arms crossed, a crease to mesh your brows together furiously. Peter B. grimaces at the stern look on your face, knowing it all too well from his own spouse back in his universe. Miles is surprised to witness Miguel drop his hardened expression and voice in an instant. Your husband lets go of his startled state, arms out as he walks towards you. “Dios mío- ¿mi amor? What’s with that look on your face?”

“You went after Miles?!”

The boom in your voice causes the trio to cringe back. Behind his intelligent mind that oversaw the Spider society, you were right beside him in every step. It was a large part of both of your lives, with highs and lows and plenty of difficulties. But it was for the greater good, for a connection of people who’ve been the victims of circumstances. You’d defend your fellow heroines with your heart, including from the wrath of your husband’s stubbornness. Miguel goes up the small step with a sigh. “I wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t for good reason.”

“Good reason? Right, go ahead. Tell me.”

“It was for protecting you! Protecting everyone!”

“At the cost of some of someone so young?!” Your tone shifts. “¡Vas a lastimar a alguien! O tú mismo!”

Miles’s wide eyes shit to the floor. Your switch reminded of his mom, going into Spanish on the phone to let others around her know that their conversation was not for them. You were more charged than her in these circumstances.

He feels eyes on him, and turns to see Peter B. and Gwen spare him a glance from their awkward stance. Peter B. motions with his head towards the couple, eyes darting back and forth with an muffled cough. Miles eventually gives in and sighs. “…they’re saying that he could have gotten someone hurt, or himself.”

“¡No, no lo estoy! El destino del-” Miguel implores.

You groan. “I swear to God if you mention-”

“-the fate of the universe-“ The three spider people behind him join you in unison.

“-one more time-”

The two of you drone on for a bit, with Miles trying his best to whisper translations to Gwen and Peter B.

“This is serious stuff, [name]. And I mean that with my body and soul.” Miguel grabs both your hands at his emphasis, holding them gently despite your heated discussion. “Eres mi vida, él lo puso en riesgo.”

Miles’s eyes go down to the floor, eyes saddened along with his voice. “He said I put them at risk.”

Peter B. and Gwen soften, eyes going back to you both. You look at your hands together. Gold bands shined in the various blues and reds of the room, the diamond on your ring leaving fluorescent reflection on skin. He watched as your lips press together. You look up to him, “He wouldn’t do it on purpose.”

“You don’t know that-we didn’t know that-“

You shake your head, snatching your hands away to point a finger in his face. “No zip it, Miguel!”

He leans back with his eyes wide. The others react in shock as well as you fall back into Spanish to speak to your husband. Peter B. didn’t need a translator to know the man was being reprimanded, cringing back when your emphasis got aggressive. Gwen looks to him, then to Miles— too speechless to keep translating. Peter B. looks to Miguel, slowly squinting at his demeanor. The longer you spoke, the shock dissipated into something else. His eyes were softer, arms holding one another as he leaned further to listen. You didn’t take notice, still chewing him out.

“-esto es ridículo, Miguel! Eres un hombre maduro, no tienes que actuar así. ¿No crees que puede haber un malentendido?”

When you ask him the tantalizing question, he’s in a moment of pause. The man takes a step further to you. You look at him with unwavering eyes, expecting another long speech about your protection that you were all too familiar with. Instead, his fingers curl to brush under your chin, voice dropping to speak to you. “Eres guapa cuando estás enfadada.”

You’re beautiful when you’re angry. Your eyes widen, heat creeping up your back. Was he even listening to a word you said? You know he wouldn’t just ignore you or your opinions. It only took you a minute to realize that distant look on his face the whole time was to focus on your lips as you spoke. Your brows furrow, muttering to him in attempts to hold on to your reprimand. “…No cambies de tema.”

Don’t change the subject. He gives you a slight smile. With a tilt of his head, Miguel brushes his fingers under your chin again, stepping closer. “¿Por qué, no cuando cada uno de mis pensamientos gira en torno a ti?”

You give him a look, though your shoulders loose their tension. “Cabrón descarado…”Despite your words, the ends of your lips quirk up without thinking. His smirk only widens at the sight. “Y todo el tuyo también.”

Peter B. looks between you both with an expression of confusion. Weren’t you just- fighting? He takes his attention to the way you both look at each other. His brows loosen, raising to the sky when the realization hits. Turning to Miles and Gwen, he grabs both their shoulders and turn them around. The pair are forced to walk towards the entrance, eyes in a perpetually widened state.

“Alright!” The father explains. “Time to go, yep, let’s just-”

“But what about-”

Peter hunches down to aggressively whisper to them. “Guys. This is a free get out of jail card.” His head drops for a moment before looking back up. “A scarring one but nonetheless.”

Miguel thought them as out of sight and out of mind, eyes attentive to your frustrated look. How could he pays attention anything else with the way you got? The determination in your eyes and voice, how you would step to him knowing that many rarely could. You were passionate and he’d fall for it every time. The man wouldn’t have anyone else with him. He understood your words, took them in, but god did your lips too good not to take.

Your lips were captured in a plush embrace, eyes fluttering shut when he does so. The fingers under your chin turn to cup your cheek. Your hand goes to his side to invite him to come closer. Tension in your body left in an instant. Your husband lets out a soft sigh, mind enthralled in your presence. He pulls away with a slow blink of his eyes. Your eyes open, your smile now soft.

“Esto no ha terminado.” You mutter with a hand on top of his, thumb brushing over the back of it.

He chuckles darkly, caressing your cheek with a look in his eye. “Cuento con eso.”

translations: “¡vas a lastimar a alguien! o tú mismo!” (you could have gotten someone hurt! or yourself!)

“¡no, no lo estoy! el destino del-” (no i’m not! the fate of the-)

“eres mi vida, él lo puso en riesgo.” (you are my life, he put that at risk.)

“-esto es ridículo, Miguel! Eres un hombre maduro, no tienes que actuar así. ¿No crees que puede haber un malentendido?” (this is ridiculous, Miguel! you are a grown ass man, you don’t have to act like this. don’t you think there may be a misunderstanding?)

“¿por qué, no cuando cada uno de mis pensamientos gira en torno a ti?” (why not when each of my thoughts revolve around you?)

“cabrón descarado…” (cheeky bastard...), “y todo el tuyo también.” (and all yours too.)

“esto no ha terminado.” (this isn’t over), “cuento con eso.” (i’m counting on that)

taglist: @manchuria @mezzke @rea-zxv @vvitcxen @pooiooi @jowtaro @coleseyebrows @deputy-videogamer @vegas-writing-den @m150-50up

#hope you enjoy!#ty you guys for 60 followers #miguel speaking Spanish. ugh #my heart #writing #drabble #miguel o’hara #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099

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ham-st4r · 6 months

Text

𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓪 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓹𝓽.2 - 𝓛. 𝓗𝓮𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓷𝓰

📞Pairing: heeseung + female reader!

Warnings: smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, cursing.

Genre: POS (phone sex operator) heeseung.

Summary: After your steamy call with Ethan, you find yourself thinking about him weeks later, and the temptation to call him was far too strong to avoid.

Number of words: 3,134k

Sorry for the wait this 🗑️ is definitely not worth it but i tried bro😔also probably a lot of mistakes but i couldn’t re-read it another time 💀

Pt.1

Find your way around!

Needless to say, heeseung had been thinking of you for the past couple of weeks. Unfortunately, you hadn’t called him again like he once thought you might of, and it may have been affecting him a little.

Who was he kidding? It was affecting him a lot, and he didn’t even really know why.

Every day, he was waiting on a call from you. Every time his phone rang, he was expecting to hear your sweet voice on the other end again, but alas, he never heard from you.

It was well past midnight, and he was still up taking calls. It was always busy for him around this time of night, but he wasn’t feeling up to it, so after a few more, he’d turn his active status to off.

His night was slowly but surely starting to come to a close a few hours later, so he figured he’d take one last call.

He let out one long sigh as he reclined on his bed. “Last one,” he mumbled to himself, getting into character before pressing the answer button. “Hello, sweetheart. How can I be of service to you tonight?” He says enthusiastically into his speaker despite not having any enthusiasm whatsoever.

You don’t even know why you were thinking of Ethan so much, but you just couldn’t help it. Maybe it was because he gave you that mind-blowing orgasm over the phone, or maybe it was because of how sweetly he talked you through it. Either way, he was still on your mind, and you could barely focus in class.

You contemplated calling him once you got home, but once you got there and, took a shower and sat comfortably on your bed with your phone in your trembling hands, you just couldn’t do it.

No matter how badly you wanted to, the idea just made you feel incredibly nervous and even embarrassed to an extent.

Especially after touching yourself and him hearing literally everything.

You cupped your warm cheeks in your palm, plopping down on your bed. “Ugh, what do I do?” You’ve been wanting to call him for weeks, but you know what: it’s now or never. Without thinking rationally, you sit up on your bed and press the call button, not giving yourself a second chance to regret your decision.

The first couple of rings went by, and you were going to hang up, but before you did, Ethan answered. “Hello, sweetheart. How can I be of service to you tonight?” Your whole body was literally shaking with nerves and a hint of excitement. He sounded just as heavenly as the first time you called him, or maybe even better.

Your mind went back to that night, thinking about when he guided you to bliss and came while moaning his name. There was a bubble of excitement forming in your stomach at the thought of reliving that night with him again.

Heeseung frowned when he didn’t get an answer. He looked at his phone, seeing that it was still connected, before trying again. “Sweetheart?” He called out softly, and he still didn’t get a response. Oddly enough, it reminded him of the night you first called. He remembered how shy and timid you were. Thinking back on it, he smiled at the thought of it, but then it clicked the timing, the timidness. Somehow, he just had a feeling that it was you, and he quickly sat up on his bed. “Angel?” He said, and his heart was literally pounding in his chest.

“H-hi, Ethan,” you mumbled out shyly into the speaker once you calmed yourself.

He melted the instant he heard your sweet voice. “Angel,” he said, sounding a bit too excited for you just to be another one of his customers, but he couldn’t help it. It was you. You had finally called him back after weeks. “I’ve been thinking about you,” he whispers softly.

He had only said a few words, but you already felt dizzy and drunk on his voice alone. “M-me too,” you nibbled on your lip and you didn’t realize it was possible to be this nervous on a phone call seeing how you’ve already done it before.

“Have you now?” He replies cockily, and there’s a slight teasing hint in his tone. “What about me have you been thinking about Angel?”

“Everything,” you answer simply, and he can hear your breath audibly shake.

“Ohh, come on, that’s no fun now, is it?” He chuckled at your vague answer, and somehow, even his laugh sounded hot to you. “You wanna know what I’ve been thinking about you?” He switches his position on the bed to a more comfortable one and rests his back against his headboard.

“Y-yes?” You answer unsurely.

“Angel, we’ve done this before. No need to be so timid,” he says, and evidently, he’d have to ease you into things like he did last time.

“Okay,” you breathe out, still not fully capable of answering him properly, but he doesn’t mind. The longer you stay on a call with him, the better.

“Are you sure you want to know all the things I’ve thought about it’s kind of naughty, angel.” he lowers his tone to a more seductive one and you’re still not sure how he does that so well everything he said made you feel so weak in the knees.

“Yes, I want to know,” you say softly as little tingles of anticipation fill your body.

“Hmm, okay,” he breathed into the speaker, and just the sound of his shaky breath was enough for the first glob of arousal to leak out and dampen your panties. It was embarrassing that just his voice alone could have you dripping. “I’ve thought about that sweet little pussy of yours and just how wet you got for me without me even being there” he bit his lip, thinking about that wonderful night he had the best orgasm of his life with you.

You whimper at his words, and before you could cover it, he had already heard it and was just as pretty as the first time he heard it.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” he swallowed thickly. “I wanted to be there with you so bad, teasing you, touching you, pleasuring you,” he hummed.

“Oh, Ethan,” you moaned his name as your hand traveled into your shorts, and you began rubbing yourself, too impatient to wait any longer.

“Would you like that, Angel?” He slowly laid on his back, resting his palm over his growing bulge.

“Yes,” you moaned quietly, and surely enough, all the nerves that had once controlled your body had completely dissipated, replaced with nothing but the arousal pooling in the pit of your stomach.

“Me too. I’d kiss and lick every single last inch of your beautiful body, trace my fingers over each dip and curve until you’re begging for me.” his eyes fluttered shut at the thought as he imagined caressing you and taking his time with you until you’re writhing in pleasure underneath him. “Till you’re begging me to push it inside,” he groaned while pressing down on the tent in his jeans.

“Fuck yes,” your eyes rolled back in your head as you pushed your panties to the side and started playing with your glistening folds. “I want it so bad, Ethan.” Your inhibitions were of none as you lost yourself in the feeling.

He couldn’t help but smirk at the idea of you getting more comfortable the longer he talked to you it made him feel a sense of pride that he was able to make you show that side of yourself to him. “I can tell, couldn’t even wait for me to give you permission before you started touching yourself. Hmm,” He scolded you teasingly.

“So s-sorry, Ethan,” you whined in embarrassment.

“I’m just teasing, angel, don’t apologize. I’m doing it too,” he breathed deeply, and you heard his belt buckle, followed by the sound of his zipper. “Come on, angel, let’s do it together, yeah? Been waiting for you for so long.”

Your heart was in your stomach. Was he actually going to? Was he really thinking about you? Was he seriously waiting for you to call again? You decided not to entertain those thoughts cause, at the end of the day, this was his job, and he was acting. Of course, he wasn’t thinking of you the way you thought of him. “Okay,” you replied a little reluctantly.

“So, what have you been thinking about m-me?” He stuttered as his fingers brushed over his boxer-clad shaft.

This is the last thing you imagined you’d be saying, yet here you are, spilling your fantasies to a man named Ethan that you’ve never even met. “Your cock” you said so low he barely heard it.

He involuntarily twitched at your straightforward reply, not expecting you to say something like that so easily. “Yeah, angel? I’m stroking it right now just for you,” he whispered while caressing his length over his underwear, nice and slow.

“I wish I could do it for you,” you whimpered as you stuck a finger inside yourself, imagining it was his fingers instead.

“Me too, baby. I just know your hands would make me feel so good” he pulled his cock out of the teeny hole in his boxers, immediately swirling the head of his cock with his palm, impatiently spreading the wetness over his fully hardened shaft.

“I want nothing more than to touch your cock, Ethan,” you say boldly.

“You wanna touch me?” He unknowingly cocks his brow, trailing his hand lower as he squeezes his balls lightly before gripping the thick base of his cock and tugging on it softly.

“Hmm, mmm,” you moan softly, thumb gliding over your clit. “Wanna suck you too” You weren’t even under control of what you were saying the desire and lust you had for him clouded any and all of your better judgment.

“Naughty little thing, I see.” he laughs at the little whimper you let out, and that alone makes you clench around your finger. “It’s okay, Angel. Ethan wants it, too. Wanna feel your pretty little mouth wrapped around me. I’d do anything to feel you sucking me off so good till I cum down that precious throat. Tell me, angel, would you swallow for me? Tell me how good I taste on your tongue?”

“Hmm, yes, Ethan, I want to taste you so bad. Wanna feel your cum going down my throat,” you moaned carelessly, panting into the speaker as you added a second finger and started fucking yourself at a fast pace, the wet sounds of your pussy going straight into his ears. “I’d swallow it all for you.”

“That’s a good Angel can hear that pussys all wet for me wish I could fuck it, stuff you full of my dick, and cum inside you over and over again” At this point, he was so hard and turned on he couldn’t help but jerk his cock faster the sounds of your lewd moans and wet pussy wasn’t helping his case either, and he felt like cumming any minute.

“Yes, Ethan fuck need to feel you in my hand, in my mouth, inside of me just want you everywhere” You pushed your fingers as deep as they could go grinding your hips as you pressed the heel of your palm against your clit desperately fucking yourself to the sound of his voice and dirty talk.

“Fuck Oh my go- fuck angel,” he moaned loudly, relentlessly fisting his cock at your words. “You want that, huh? I’d give it to you so good, fill up your pretty holes cum in your mouth, and that fucking perfect little pussy, baby I’d give you it all just for being so good for me,” he grunts, the pace of his hand moving at an unimaginable speed as his high creeps up on him.

“Ethan!” You screamed, hand cramping up as you fingered yourself to the point of no return. “I’m cumming, I’m Cumming!” You moaned over and over again, feeling another orgasm coming as you kept going, not satisfied with just one.

“Ah fuck!” He threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut and chasing his orgasm with you, his tip filled with precum that dribbled out with every stroke. “That’s it, my angel cum” he whimpers, seconds away from following your lead. “Cum for Ethan,” he grits his teeth, neck veins bulging out, and sweat covering his whole entire body as his hips jerk up off his bed. His eyes shoot open when the first squirt of cum spurts out from his tip. “Oh s-shit,” he whines, rubbing his cock so fast it felt raw, but it was too good to stop. “Cumming, I’m cumming” he pants, hand steadily rubbing out rope after rope of cum as it stains his chest and abdomen.

It didn’t take long at all for your second orgasm to build his voice, and the way he called you his angel had you coming undone embarrassingly quick. “Ethan, I have t-to-“ you mewled out, eyes and brows clashing together as you whimpered continuously, and it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. “I’m cumming again,” you whine helplessly, rubbing your clit into overstimulation.

“Shit, angel again? Fuck go on cum for Ethan again” He squeezed his base tightly coaxing out every last dribble of semen. “Fuck” he whimpers, his whole body shaking violently from the intensity of his orgasm on top of the thought of you coming for him not once but twice.

“Ethan,” you whimpered softly, completely exhausted from having two mind-blowing orgasms in a row. “Feels so good,” you sighed in pleasure, caressing yourself down from your high slowly.

“Mhm, I know, angel,” he spoke softly, making the moment that much better as the waves of euphoria began to wash away from the both of you.

You hum, finally catching your breath, the faint throbbing between your legs settling as your eyes glazed over with post-orgasm bliss.

“Mhhm angel,” he whispers, spreading the copious amounts of seed over his shaft, stroking his length, and getting the most out of his orgasm until it begins to soften.

He was the first one to speak after your minds have had a chance to clear. “So…how was it?” He asks timidly, which isn’t like him at all, but when it came to you, he couldn’t help but feel shy and self-conscious about his performance, especially cause with you, he wasn’t acting. You were getting the raw, unfiltered version. With you, he was just being himself, heeseung, but with everyone else, he was Ethan, the phone sex worker.

“Good,” you say shyly, which makes a wide smile spread on his face as he reaches for some tissues to clean himself, but there is so much cum that he doesn’t even bother. After a while, he just tucked himself away, opting to take a shower before bed.

“Just good? It didn’t sound just good,” he smirks while teasing you.

“Ethan, stop,” you giggle, and you hear him laughing, which makes you even more shy as you pull your blankets up to cover your chest.

“But I’m having fun, Angel,” he chuckles.

“You are?” You asked curiously cause everything all night sounded genuine, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up cause there’s no way he actually had fun talking with you, and there was definitely no way he came with you either, but something deep down inside you wanted it to be real so you asked with a tiny glimmer of hope that this wasn’t one-sided.

“Of course, angel, you’re gonna have to start calling me more often cause you made me wait too long,” he whines. “I missed you.”

“I will, Ethan. I missed you too,” you told him honestly, even though you knew he probably didn’t want to hear from you for real. You knew he was just saying that to make more money off of you, and the thought of having feelings for him kinda left a bitter taste in your mouth when you knew he didn’t care even an ounce for you. “Ethan, it’s late, so I think I’ll hang up now,” you said, feeling down even though you really didn’t have a right to. It was literally your fault for getting your hopes up and feeling any type of way about him in the first place.

“Already?” He frowned. “Why Angel? Just talk to me a little before bed, yeah?”

“I can’t…. I think I should just rest,” you whisper, feeling sleep knocking on your door. Plus, you didn’t want to talk to him longer. It’d only make you like him more, and ultimately, that would ruin your mood even more than it already is. After tonight, you probably wouldn’t call him again either cause. Apparently, you have a habit of getting attached to people who have no interest in you.

“Oh,” he mumbles disappointedly. He sucks in a breath happily, wishing you a goodnight even though he was bummed that he couldn’t talk to you longer. “Okay, well, I’ll hold you to it, angel, 'cause I really, really wanna hear from you again, okay?” He says sincerely, hoping you know he doesn’t want your money and that he genuinely wants to talk to you again soon.

“Okay,” you lie. “Goodnight, Ethan,” you yawned seconds away from sleep.

“Goodnight,” he says reluctantly, but if you were sleepy, he didn’t want to keep you up, especially since you probably had classes the next morning. “Sweet dreams, my angel,” he says just before you hang up.

He sighed softly cause a part of him wanted that call to last longer, not even for the money. Hell, at this point, when you called, he didn’t even see it as work or making money. It just felt oddly romantic in a way.

He knows it’s dumb, but when you called, he kinda felt like he was in a long-distance relationship with you, which again, he knows is stupid cause you didn’t even know him like that, but still, it was fun after a long day you’d call him, and you’d both make each other feel good like a real couple.

He just wanted to talk and talk about anything and everything with you cause your voice was so pretty, and you seemed so sweet. Maybe some nights when you called, you’d both fall asleep on the phone together or something like that.

He shook off the feeling, realizing that he was just being plain ridiculous, and went to take a shower even though his legs still felt completely numb after that mind-blowing orgasm.

Later that night, when he closed his eyes, he just hoped you’d keep your word and call him again tomorrow.

Thank you for reading. Please reblog and leave feedback. - 🐹

Permanent taglist 🔖 @hee-pster @hoyeonheeseung @furious-eagle @heehoonsnemo

Just a call away taglist 🔖 @heeseungshim @rayofsunshineeee @fakeuwus

#heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung #heeseung #lee heeseung smut #enhypen #lee heeseung #smut #heeseung x reader #heeseung enhypen #heeseung fluff #enhypen hard hours #enhypen lee heeseung smut #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #kpop #fanfic #enhypen heeseung fluff

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princessjojo-x · 6 months

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Venus Synastry

1st House 💝

instant attraction & special chemistry. both make evident the fascination they feel for each others bodies. there is a general adoration simply for who the other person is. venus is obsessed & mesmerised by houses appearance. venus finds house physically perfect & irresistible. this could make house feel like the rxship feels superficial & empty, or it could make house feel seen & loved. on the other hand, venus may feel like house isn’t truly ever enough & house may feel like they always have to be “perfect” around venus. depending on how low or high venus’s self esteem is, once venus becomes comfortable around house, they may become envious & critical towards houses looks & image. venus may keep making comments on houses body, reminding house of their flaws. regardless, these partners always look aesthetically good together. their physical appearance just fit perfectly, barbie & ken vybz. (cancer venus/ taurus asc)

2nd House 💝

this couple is patient with their love & rxship. venus feels urged invest, share, gift & value house. house feels urged to make venus happy. venus feels committed & possessive over house. venus wants to build stability with house & sees a stable future with house. however, house may feel used by venus & there can be competition between the two. (leo venus/aries asc)

3rd House 💝

3rd house is ruled by is gemini, represented by twins, which may manifest as this couple looking alike or sharing many things. the gemini influence may cause a lack of commitment between partners too. it feels like a sibling type of love & partners don’t feel judged by one another. venus can increase the courage & willpower of house. venus loves how house carries themselves & communicates. house should be careful as they may like the idea of venus more than the reality . (virgo venus/pisces asc)

4th House 💝

a beautiful aspect for marriage & stability bc both partners find a sense of stability & familiarity within each other. this pair knows how to play house bc they are spouses even in the dating stage. houses family will like & accept venus. venus views house as “home” & venus will want to create a beautiful home/family with house. venus views house as relatable & safe. venus loves to do activities with house that are only "between them" or very private. theres a lot of comfortability & vulnerability here; this connection is built on a shared comfort-zone & shared beliefs. there is a mutual understanding & appreciation of each other's past & childhoods. others may not see how much these two love each other. when the rxship ends partners feel like they’ve left all their deepest secrets & emotions with the other. however, partners may keep secrets from each other to avoid discord within the rxship. venus can lack perspective bc they may idealize house too much. (libra venus/aquarius asc).

5th House 💝

this is a positive synastry aspect bc venus is in its prime when sitting in 5th house. this is a very romantic, lighthearted & adrenaline filled aspect. there’s endless love, passion, sex & flirting between partners. when together they never get bored, they’re always having fun & they tend to play like kids. house loves to be around venus bc they feel accepted by venus. venus may become obsessed with house. it is also a major indication of either having children together or your inner child coming out when together. however, 5th house represents freedom so this aspect doesn’t necessarily promise longevity but definitely good whilst it lasts. this synastry teaches & inspires us to be proud of who we are. (scorpio venus/capricorn asc)

6th House 💝

this aspect is less ideal bc venus is debilitated in 6th house. however, partners tend to enjoy spending a lot of time together, especially working & exercising together. it can feel like the bond is based on work, duty & everyday routine. partners have a good “system” together. partners end up as part of each other's daily lives in some way. they are very chill & calm with each other. expect honesty & straightforward feedback or advice bc partners tend to crtitic each other in attempt to cause improvement. to others it seems venus in more in love than house bc house shows their love in private. (sagittarius venus/sagittarius asc)

7th House 💝

this is known as the soulmate or marriage aspect. this rxship is easily accepted by others bc the connection is too strong to be hidden away & they’re usually a conventionally attractive couple. this rxship brings a high level of cooperation, gentleness & emotional awareness. both love being in partnership & committed to one another. partners usually views commitment as an or nothing contract. partners naturally understand & admire each other but not in a superficial way, in a deep way. there can be reflections of themselves in each other, either good or bad. venus will bring out houses cheesiest side in such a way that they will look unrecognizable not only to themselves but to others too. venus views house as their ideal lover & loves even the darker sides of house. no matter how much house hurts venus, venus will always have unconditional love for house. however, house can feel like venus invades theirs personal space or is coming on too strongly, causing venus to repel house. house will like having venus around, maybe they will like it too much. venus will have house thinking abt romance, weddings & love. however, there maybe possibilities of wandering eyes at times. it takes time for them to move on if they ever break up. (capricorn venus/scorpio asc).

8th House 💝

eight house rules sex, transformations, merged energies, deep attachments & bonding at the deepest level. this is a a highly intense, addictive intoxicating & sexual rxship. since this is such an intense connection, it is difficult for partners to leave each other completely. it’s not the best placement for synastry, unless its backed up by stronger & more grounded placements.

partners bring an intense amount of karma & change into each other's lives. their involvement with each other will drastically change both of them & when these rxships end they aren't the same anymore. the transformation process can be utterly painful. however, it produces a new & improved them.

there is a lot more feminine based energy & themes here unlike ‘marsconjunct eight house’ so manipulation, guilt trips, pettiness & emotional outburst will be occur frequently. themes of strong possession & obsession. this will be amplified beyond belief if venus is insecure in any way. venus embodies pluto traits & behaves more tense. house will protect venus from the world.

there is a mystery surrounding house that venus can't seem to wrap their head around. there may be a lot of secrets shared or a lot of secrets kept in this rxship. the rxship may remain a secret from the public eye. (aquarius venus or libra asc)

the sex will not be the “one-night stand” type. it will be emotionally deep, affecting both partners.

9th House 💝

partners view this connection as a new adventure.this is a light-hearted & peaceful rxship where both partners will learn a lot from each other & expand each others horizons. partners will show each other things that stick with them even after the connection dissolves. they’ll try to go with the flow instead of forcing & rushing so marriage won’t be compulsive requirement. this is the house of luck & karma so venus will help house unlock their luck & their path. if they break up, they will try to move on in a mature manner. (pisces venus or virgo asc)

10th House 💝

this is a public rxship thats very seen by the outside world. partners may care more abt how others perceive the rxship rather than the actual condition of the rxship leading to them putting up a facade & fabricating the rxship to others. partners may be concerned abt the reputation of each other which may lead to shallow connections. house is the dominant partner & they’re either older or more experienced than venus. venus feels like this rxship can change their career, status or life in some way. together you will be able to “achieve“ a lot. power imbalances & big egos are the cause of arguments. (aries venus/leo asc)

11th House 💝

this connection could have started unexpectedly or spontaneously. it could bring forth experiences partners didn't expect to experience. a rxship with a friendship theme to it, ie maybe the rxship was formed from a friendship or maybe other friends are involved in the rxship. this rxship will become more romantic when you’re around friends/others. others wouldn’t assume they are dating bc they seem friendlier compared to other couples. the only downside to this aspect is due to the friendship vibe, there isn’t much romance behind close doors. both partners act as team when on good terms, but on bad terms it becomes rivalry. (taurus venus/cancer asc)

12th House 💝

love is blurry & confusing here. partners hide a lot from each other & there’s a lack of communication. venus may perceive house as too good for them. venus may have a secret crush on house. (gemini venus/gemini asc)

#astro notes #astrology #venus signs #venus in houses #astrology synastry

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bythepen98 · 7 months

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Doodles || Tomarry || Childhood friends/Growing Up Together au

(Ignore the not-so-time-period-accurate outfits)

Think of this as a timetravel au where Harry accidentally gets sent back to the past in Wool's orphanage at a young enough age where he barely notices the changes caused by the time displacement and thus grows up nonethewiser to his destiny as the Chosen One. Even when, objectively, his life at the orphanage could be considered worse considering the growing lack of food, his environment's state of decay and overall unrest happening outside the orphanage's walls, something about his situation felt right(?).

He'd always felt disconnected and out of place based on the few memories he still had from living with the Dursleys but now, it felt like he was home in a way. Like something finally clicked in his brain, his soul.

His instant connection to Tom helped cement that fact. It wasn't easy at first because the pull they felt when they first met was so strong that it scared Harry shtless and Tom, already half-full of resentment by this point, was horrified feeling anything to anyone that wasn't disgust. In the end, it didn't take long for them to meet halfway since they were still children and curiosity at the connection lured them in like candy; Harry wanted a special friend of his own and Tom convinced himself that Harry was worth his time because there was no way anyone ordinary could elicit such a soul deep response from him.

Tom has a mean streak and is more bloodthirsty than his charming facade would show but is honest about it with Harry. Although he doesn't have much to his name, Tom is serious about his self-imposed role as Harry's provider, giving him gifts (from the money he steals) during his birthdays and keeping him as warm and well fed as possible (by bullying the other kids into surrendering their share).

Sometimes, Tom....worries.....that his methods would eventually drive Harry - who has such an inherent goodness in him, so often kind to people who don't deserve it - away but what he fails to understand is that Harry's love and loyalty to the first friend he's ever made trumps any kindness he has for others. He'll never like needless violence and won't react if he was being targeted but all bets are off if he even a catches a whiff of plots against Tom. If he has to help hide a body or two in the future so that they won't be separated by something as inconvenient as jail or the law, then that's nobody's business but his own.

P.S. This Harry will probably go to Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin like in other fics. It just feels right. Probably should've drawn him wearing a yellow tie but only just got the idea as I'm typing this. Tom would rather eat slugs than go to the Hufflepuff common room but he's more than willing to entertain Harry at the Slytherin common room at every available chance. They have their own seat there and everything.

P.P.S. They also co adopt a tiny(??) baby snake when they realize they can both speak parseltongue and bring him along to hogwarts. Imagine being parents at the big old age of 10 to a possibly magical snake that may or may not grow past nagini-level size.

P.P.P.S. Future power couple in the making. Didn't think that far ahead whether I wanted Tom to go the political route or Dark Lord Voldemort style minus the horcruxes. Don't ask for me the details, just know that with Harry's help, Tom finds a way to prolong their lives without the consequences that come with using horcruxes. They may or may not discover that Harry is in fact a horcrux of Tom already but will never get the answer as to how it happened. Harry worries but Tom just chocks it up as the universe's way of paying him back for his shtty pre-Harry childhood. Ironically the type to believe in soulmates and destiny while Harry is a bit more skeptical on that front.

Alternatively, they could also decide not to do anything too significant -politically- at all and instead retire to the country side while doing research on as many branches of magic as they can. A bit laughable because of Tom's world altering ambitions and Harry's indulgent, enabling behavior but at the same time, anything's possible.

#doodles #tomarry #tomarry fanart #tom riddle x harry potter #tom riddle fanart #harry james potter #harry potter fanart #hpfanart #fanart #childhood friends au #growing up together au #actual soulmates #harry never realizes he got sent back in time #though he does find the resemblence to one James Potter just a tad bit surprising #and the green in Lily Evans eyes making Tom stumble the first time they meet #Tom NEVER stumbles #but seeing his beloved's eyes in someone else's face is jarring #overall though they dont pay much attention to it #just think it's another of life's coincidences #power couple in the making #implied hufflepuff Harry #bc his loyalty to tom trumps his morals #sane Tom #but still has psychopathic tendencies #dumbledore loves Harry but hates Tom #insert interesting worldbuilding here bc I cant write to save my life

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wlfpet · 1 year

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(Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader)

— PAPI BONES

A/N: Hi, this is the formerly scrapped, 3x longer, 2 months writing project that I had because I wanted to fuck abby in a closet! this was actually supposed to be my first post on tumblr, but i got mad at it and sent it to the dungeon for two months :/ but yall wanted it, so I'm super happy i got to finish it, even though it took multiple days and cups of coffee to power through. sorry for the wait, hope you fuck wit her.

content tags (can you tell i don't want to write anymore ;w;): college au, childish antics at a big age, drinking, cool, ellie and dina are in this! kind of abstract sexual descriptions, assplay, cunnilingus (r!receiving), boob... touching? small mention of drugs because dealer!ellie, drunk sex, enthusiastic consent! :D, reader is kind of annoying sorry, men being assholes, reader catching feelings for a girl she fucked once, real.

wc: 7.6k ;w; (send help)

proofread?; barely.

tl : @clearheartgreyflowers, @oatmilkchaii, @ghostfacebunny, @ellsbclls (thank you to the sweetest deb @ellsbclls for helping beta read this, i appreciate your suggestions and encouragement and this would probably have been scrapped TWICE without your help ;w; )

synopsis: your best friend dina drags you to a college frat party. you hate shit like this, and you're painfully shy but when she does those puppy dog eyes you can't say no, so in a cruel twist of fate you end up in the closet with abby Anderson, and lose your virginity. yay college! (apart of the 'jackson university' thematic!)

Your idea of a Saturday night well spent wasn’t squeezing through a sea of sweaty backs; but like many things in your life, it wasn’t up to you, because you were easily swayed. Everything was overstimulating, the waves of bodies on bodies that pulsated and threw you between different poses and balances to keep on your feet, the ringing of laughter, of music, of every sound echoing in your head, around your body, vibrating through your very core. The smell of liquor and drunken antics and that one guy puking in the corner made you sick. But somehow, you were here, spurred on by peer pressure friendship and goodwill, trudging through the blackened room to your target; the snack table.

Dina, your roommate, and determinant best friend held a firm hand on the small of your back, pushing you through the crowd and causing a small jolt to run down your body as she steered you around every obstacle and corner in the room. She was a woman on a mission, and the one who dragged you out of bed, convincing you - against your better judgment- that it was fatal that you accompanied her to a frat party. You knew she was good-natured, and your first friend when you moved 500 miles away from home to college. It was an instant click, but you were opposite best friends.

Dina, ever the social butterfly, had connections in all different spaces; she could party with the sorority girls –hold the coke, please,– out-cram everyone, even the National Honor Society kids, all the way to the top of the class, hell, she was on the damn debate team, which was probably why it wasn’t a struggle to get a ‘yes’ out of you. You, on the other hand, were uncomfortable at bars, school sporting events, and parties, and one time you even thre– fuck, never mind. It was all effortless to her, in almost an enviable way. Dina loved to go clubbing, loved to hang, out, and she had been near-begging you to come out with her and her cool friends for months, not that you’re not cool, I mean.

And somehow, despite everything, it worked.

You could almost remember how you got there if you put away the sticky crunch of coke sticking to your shoes with each step, and reached back into the recesses of your mind. Or at least, back three-and-a-half hours ago.

“They’re all great people, no weirdos, promise!”

It was the emphatic plea made to you as you lay on your bed, queuing up the next episode of the apocalypse show you watched each week, watching her make Dina list off every reason why you just had to follow her out tonight. It was clearly very life-or-death shit to her, but you were unconvinced. It was just a party but there was going to be a smaller, more intimate kickback in a friend-of-a-friend’s basement. She was in the middle of getting ready, sitting at her school-issue desk and looking at herself in the mirror, dark hair coned over her head in a bun as she sat in deep concentration, words slurred and simple as she applied mascara, her mouth slacked into an O position.

“So you’re gonna like, fucking go, yeah?”

She said it as though it was obvious, like it wasn’t a question, but one look at you, –curled up in covers, laptop on chest, martini glass pajama pants and teddy bear teeshirt ON, unbothered– showed her that it would be a tall order, and that big guns would be needed.

“Not interested, sorry.”

“Not even a tinyyyyy bit?” Dina squeezed her fingers together for emphasis, throwing her head back in mock exhaust, a theatric groan rumbling out of her throat. “Not even a little bit.” You echoed, your roommate cutting her eye at you through her handheld mirror, but it was what it was. You weren’t into all of that stuff; the bump and grind of sweaty bodies wasn’t alluring, listening to someone else’s shitty music at ear-bleeding levels felt like hell, and if you wanted to get pitifully drunk and throw up all over yourself, there was a garbage can right under your bed. But your friend really, really, wanted your company and it made you feel, really, really bad to always blow her off.

“Why are you going so hard on this?” You bemused as you propped up on your elbows, watching as she stalked around the room in her newly painted face, quickly rummaging through her drawer for a spare outfit.

“Maybe because it bums me out to see my super cool roommate wasting away in her dorm every weekend?” In Dina’s mind, she was making a lot of sense. She was waiting for you to chime in, to say you know what, Dee? You’re right, I get it. But instead, you stared blankly, and she threw down her arms in exasperation. “You’re in fucking college, man! You don’t even wanna have one night of fun?” She punctuated the ‘fucking’ with a wild gesture around her head, which made you chuckle to yourself.

“I mean, I was planning on wa–”

Your body was jostled by an insane amount of weight, almost turned completely over by two roughhousing dudes– a mess of limbs and arms, who looked at you and then at each other, as though they had spontaneously sobered up. You didn’t even have the time to start to be angry when they prattled off a blended, slurred apology and thrashed somewhere away through the mass of hands and faces in the dark room.

Fucking assholes, ruining the flashback sequence.

The room was lit only by haphazard mood lights; soft LEDs and gaudy, flickering Christmas baubles, a solitary television, camped by stoners who laughed madly, and the dim auburn glow of the odd ceiling lamp nestled in the far back of the house. You were out of your element; you couldn’t dance, weren’t the most social, and even though you were with a friend, all of this made you feel very alone.

Dina cut through the crowd with her elbow, bellowing out “Ex–cuse me!” while she pushed you through gaps as they formed. Her voice fell to mutter again, barely audible, chunked and cut by the music bouncing from wall to wall, grumbling that she had places to be, and if E*&^$ didn’t get her off at least once, there would be hell to pay. She was determined to get to the other side of the room, where it was arranged that by the chips, as smokers usually are, she would find her current fuckbuddy and her friends, waiting to hotbox and pregame a bit more before the room peaked. She was driven by horniness and selfishness, as one typically is after four shots of Tito’s vodka, and getting smoked out and ‘taken care of’ upstairs was half the reason she even came.

You’d never met her most recent suitor, and the question of her girlfriend was always met with a ‘no, she’s just my sneaky link.’ but you didn’t question it enough to know more. She was just the girl who Dina would go off campus to meet, and as long as she wasn’t a slasher, and her pre-rolls knocked you on your ass, it would be what it was. You were carried away by your friend’s excitement, by her heavy hand nearly lifting you off of your feet as she beelined to the kitchen, wrangling your twin bodies every which way.

“Ellie! Ellie!” She yelled, jumping up and down a bit to compensate for her voice being swallowed by the bass. She burrowed through the wave, pushing you towards a girl leaning against the sink, nursing a red cup and low, hazy eyes. Her auburn hair was swallowed by a black docker, and a dark-coloured backpack jutted out from behind her as she smiled and waved the two of you –mostly Dina, into her orbit. She looped her head under your shoulder to be pulled into the strong hug of firm biceps, and Arms looked you over, offering a friendly nod.

–

“It’s on streaming. You can watch ‘Many of Them’ literally whenever!”

“Live tweeting is a part of the experience.” You chided matter-of-factly, sitting up cross-legged. It wasn’t like the brunette was wrong, exactly, but you couldn’t give up too much at once. Going soft was not a part of the plan.

“Fuck, whatever– You know the girl I’ve been hooking up with, right?” Her eyebrow raised at your dispassionate ‘not really.’ “Well you know her fucking joints, she sells– weed, shrooms… pills?” Dina listed off with her finger, mulling over the last detail for a second, then confirming in her head with a nod. It’s fine, you’re cool, and the two of you had always bonded over your love of recreational joy anyways. “So, if you wanna smoke orsomething– I got you, all you have to do is show up.” Her hands were up almost sheepishly as she tested the waters, but you weren’t super convinced, and your idea of fun wasn’t exactly playing wingman while she got tongue-fucked by a drug dealer, and the pregnant pause was enough to cue her into having to bring out the big guns.

“-And, and! I'll wash all our dishes, and cleanyoursideoftheroomforaweek.”

Damn, she practically ran through that last part, so under her breath you knew she was hoping that you didn’t hear. But you did, and for a second you could almost see a smirk play on her face as your eyes lit up. She was always up for a good bribe, and even though she would act annoyed, it was great for breaking you out of your shell. She would offer to watch the zombie show if you came out to the bars in your college town with her, pizza if you confessed to your crush instead of instastalking them three times a day, even though it didn’t work, –oh well, shooters shoot– and tonight? A week free from chores if you just spent a couple of hours in your own personal hell. Yeah, you would give her this one.

“Now we’re talking. If you want someone to be the lookout while you and Jesse Pinkman go at it, who am I to deny?” You teased, kicking your legs over the edge of the bed.

Your roommate craned her head up, momentarily stopping her mission of rifling through her clothes. “Who said that?”

“You’re in your ‘good panty’ drawer.” You whispered cheekily.

“Well, you got me. Someone has to get fucked around here.”

“Oh fuck you, bitch!” You laughed, throwing your pillow, hitting smack in the center of her chest.

Dina bounced around the room, practically billowing with glee. There was a descending, barely audible ‘fuck yeah’ as she traipsed down the hall towards the bathroom, rounding the corner and disappearing from your periphery.

“By the way, you know Jesse’s last name is Huang, right, not Pinkman? And we’re uh– not together anymore.” Dina shouted through the silence.

“That’s a character from Breaking Bad. It was a joke– because he’s a drug de–” You stopped yourself midway. “Never mind. It’s not funny if I explain it.”

“Oh– I never watched Breaking Bad. Too Long.” She deadpanned. You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you slid your way off the bed.

That’s how you found yourself in a dimly lit bathroom, missing the comfort of your memories as ‘Ellie’ rolled a blunt. You stood leaning against the door and Dina sat on the closed toilet seat. The dealer sealed the last of the leaf with a flick of the tongue and a lick of spit, maintaining direct eye contact with Dina so she could not-so-subtly show off. She passed it to the brunette first, who mimed a cheeky, ‘why thank you’ and drew poutily. You three sat there for a while, smoking and talking, steam from the hot shower wafting above your heads as music pumped through the foundation of the house.

There was laughter outside of the door and it soon became awkward for you, Ellie and Dina finishing the blunt, –you were a lightweight– and chatting idly as Dina traced a fingertip against the outline of the tattoo Ellie was showing off.

The temperature of the tiny room ran hotter between their reddened eyes, and it was as though you were being banished by a galactic force. You couldn’t mistake how the red-haired girl’s glance caught an extra second or so at the way Dina’s body was hugged just right in her party dress, cleavage strained against the fuchsia PVC of her neckline, and how she bit the corner of her lip when her eyes hooked on a dark mole on Dina’s breast that was framed by the feathers of her black hair.

It was time to go, unless you were interested in seeing your best friend get dug out on the countertop.

You were already a little bit wobbly, hearing a giggle that slipped from Dina’s lips morph into a squeak as you slipped out of the crack you pulled in the door and into the fray, getting carried down the stairs and back over to the drinks. You crossed over a kissing couple, cutting into their makeout and heavy petting session, and through a huddled together group of girls whispering something about seeing an ex across the room.

You gripped onto the countertop for stability when you finally broke free from the pulsating wave of bodies. There was a bit of everything surfing in deep bowls of ice and water, open bags of chips and snacks bunched up together on the island. You could not be sober for this shit. You wedged up the pop cap on a hard seltzer and brought it to your lips, the spirit coating your tongue and boiling its way into your stomach. There it was again, the familiar warm feeling in your hands and feet, the soft pressure already creeping across the flat of your face. Yeah, now that was it. The anxiety began to melt away, and you leaned against the countertop, flexing your legs.

Wow, they’re inviting giants to the shindig too. You laughed to yourself as the scarlet-lit ocean parted, and a tall, wide figure walked through and into the darkness of a descending flight of stairs. If only it was that easy when you needed to piss, notwithstanding that you had already been in the bathroom.

It’s fun being sardonic sometimes.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see your roommate coming down the stairs, the dealer’s deft fingers pulling down part of her dress that rode up her ass. She arched her head up, straining left and right like the eye of a submarine as she looked for you; her eyes lit up, waving to you as she fisted her companion’s belt loop, bouldering through the sea of people. She was high as fuck, if her bright pink eyes were enough to speak to it, and your gaze lingered over the new expanse of a deep purplish hickey on her neck, small indents from teeth glimmering with saliva in the light.

There was that hotness again that burned in the pit of your stomach, not from drunkenness or anxiety, but the can of fruity liquor in your hand covered up for the embarrassing flush of your wild cherry-coloured cheeks. You peeled your eyes back up to her face and smiled dumbly. You’d never had *that* before. You’ve watched things before at least, and obviously, touched yourself to the thought, but you’ve never had someone to fool around with in bathrooms or hold your skirt when it rode up.

There was your first kiss, but it was in middle school, so it didn't count. It was all clammy lips, two noses that couldn’t get the space between them *quite* right, and an overzealous set of chompers that left you with a bloody lip. Actual horseshit, but somehow, a core memory. It was annoying in a way, how it just didn’t come to you, but you wanted to be wanted. To be lusted over, desired even in that casual touchy way that simmered between your best friend and the girl you didn’t know very well. Dina was making grabby hands at you, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed. Your drink bobbed as she whisked you to her will, you and Ellie sharing a knowing look as she pushed your bodies through the hall and down the darkness of the stairwell.

–

“RULES ARE SIMPLE,” some asshole in a hat bellowed as he stood over all of you who sat in the circle, mildly drunk off your asses and looking for easy fun. He held up a black beer bottle, carrying it like a trophy and swishing it around your noses for a closer look. “You kids might know seven minutes in heaven.” You didn’t know him, but according to Dina, this was his house, his party, and his very annoying rules. A light patch of raised skin played against his nose as he scrunched his nose over and over again, hands on hips, clearly trying to steal back whatever thought the liquor took from him. Jason, right?

Whatever.

“But we’re all grown-ups here, so I present to you–” He rolled the bottle in hand, clearly soft-launching his bright idea. “Fifteen minutes in purgatory!” There was a deep groan radiating from some, but there was a small minority that exploded in cheers, and whoops. “Pretty self-explanatory, two adventurers venture deep into purgatory, and come out forever changed.

“Two adventurers go deep into purgatory,” He gestured his head at the foreboding broom closet in the back of the room. “And return forever changed.”

“We’ll use the bottle to choose our unlucky voyagers, and you’ll spend fifteen minutes in the closet.” He explained, dropping the mystique in the second half. “Alright kids, let’s start; and just for the record– If you’re a pussy, get the fuck out of the circle!”

The drunken cast of partiers whooped and cheered, hyping each other up, spilling beer out of red cups as they gestured wildly, entirely too grown for this. The room played ‘not it’ to pick who got the first spin, and the unfortunate soul was a blonde who sat cross-legged, blank-eyed at the black glass handed to her, nodding her head tersely.

“We got our very own Abigail Anderson– !” Her eyes narrowed. “Andddd….” Hat praised, cueing her to spin. She took the bottle, pointing the tip towards herself and then spinning it, the glass doubling, tripling the circle, making you dizzy chasing it with your eyes, and everyone sat with bated breath. It slowed and slowed and slowed, until, like ugly fate, it stopped at your feet.

“Our newbie!” He got up to cheese, leaning over you, placing his hands over your shoulders, and rocking you from side to side. You laughed awkwardly, putting your palms up defensively at nothing.

“Um– uh…” You were at a loss for words, only cut off as his head shot into your field of view, hot, hopsy breath tanging your nostrils. “What, you scared?” He taunted, all eyes on you, watching as you nursed a deep discomfort about the whole thing behind an uneasy smile.

“You’re a fucking asshole, Jordan.” The girl, Abby, groaned. She looked up at you from her downward pointing head, swishing her bottle of hard cider in the hand propped over her knee. Jordan, that was the name of this dickhead. Yeah, fuck him. “If she doesn’t want to get in the closet, she doesn’t want to get in the closet. I’ll just spin again.”

Dina cut in, the redhead still leaning lazily against her. “Yeah, don’t–dont be a dick, Jordan.” Her face was tight, and Ellie was annoyed because Dina was annoyed, and the room held a pregnant silence, and even though it wasn’t your fault, you felt all too responsible and all too uncomfortable with all of the eyes watching you.

“It’s fine, guys. Let’s all– eh, chill out, okay? I’m going to take the dare.” You leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper, trying to steal back the vibe, trying to replace the tension with playful drama as you circled your head around, wiggling the fingers slightly of your held-up palms. “Because I’m not a little bitch.”

The crowd exploded in raucous laughter, each voice clashing together and mimicking the sound of a pipe bursting. You looked over at your partner, who seemed pleasantly surprised, a smirk playing on her peach lips. She placed down her bottle and stood, and as she towered over you, you realised that maybe you were playing with fire. She was scary and nonchalant, but the outer workings of her face were soft and gentle. She didn’t look like the girls in the videos you watched at night; she was something different, uncharted, and before you knew it, a nervousness, and something lower, darker, ran through your body.

Then it was time to go, you piling in first, looking around at some of the half-darkness in the room, barely enough to fit two people in.

The asshole patted the girl’s back, corralling her into the closet behind you. Blood rushed to your head, the pressure was too great, like getting skullfucked through your ears. show her a good time, you could hear him say, and then something that you couldn’t quite understand over the bass. The mountain’s eyes narrowed, but before she could shoot back, her large body crashed into yours and the space became tighter and tighter, just enough for the two of you to put your arms out to either side or turn around. For a split second, you could see Dina’s face from over Jordan’s shoulder, tightened in concern, a timid thumbs up at the side of her head. Then, he closed the door, and the last of the light slipped out through the crack in the wall.

There was a deep silence, and somehow, like the hazy feeling you get right before you wake from a dream, you were chest to chest in the darkness with her blue eyes staring back at you, damn-near bioluminescent. You’d seen her around, because everyone sees her around, but it hadn’t registered that the giant who had parted all of those people in the crowd like they were just water, was standing right in front of you. Outside you could hear the rumble of the music, vibrations of the bass wrapping around you and shaking you from the inside out. The closet was too tight, too warm, too filled with smells from towels and coats and folded blankets and dusty boxes of light bulbs and two cramped, awkward bodies.

Suddenly, you felt all too intimidated.

“You’re Abigail, right?” You questioned. “Off the rugby team?”

“Abby.” You couldn’t read her face in the dark, and though she spoke pointedly she didn’t seem angry, but the accidental overstep was enough to make you want to dig a hole through the floor with your bare hands and die in it. “And yeah– captain, of the rugby team.”

“Oh, sorry, sorry.” You yielded. “So… what are we supposed to do? In here, I mean.” You gestured at nothing, knocking some washcloths from a top shelf down in the dark. “Ah, damn it.” You cursed under your breath, bending down to pick up the small stack. You could hear Abby behind you, sucking her teeth with a judgy hum. Her brows were almost touching her eyelids, captured in secondhand embarrassment, and she almost felt bad for how awkward you were, scrambling to pick them up from the floor.

If you could see her face, you’d be able to tell how her eyes flicked up and down her body, taking everything in. Your black skirt slid slightly to bunch at the front, uncovering portions of your doughy thigh and the ever-so-tiniest range of fabric hiding your prettiest secret. She had to tear her eyes away, almost. She jumped, even, glad you couldn’t see as you popped back up.

You were cute, holding the disheveled stack in your hands, a look of sheer pride on your face. You looked over to the side, tossing them unceremoniously on a free shelf, gravity taking a couple back to the ground. Your sated chuckle, the way your tits pushed up slightly, illuminated, almost framed like art by the neckline of your cream cardigan made her hungry. She pushed the ideas of what she wanted to do with them out of her mind, but damn, she could think about some things that would make the devil embarrassed. She stomped down her desire, stoicism crossing her for a second, only for her to open it back up on second thought.

“They want us to fool around, fuck, ideally.” She started, analysing your expressions for any hint of discomfort at the conversation. “But– we don’t have to do anything.” She tried to cut some of the thick discomforts with a placating smile, almost lost in detail in the low light. She was huge, more so than you, or most anyone else you knew, the jutting-out edge of a shelf knocking the back of her head every time she leaned her head back in the tight space. The hard washboard of her torso was framed by an opening of a grey hoodie and barely much else, just the thick band of her boxers peeking from her sweatpants, and the black of a cropped tank top that stopped right below her bra line.

“Jordan… is typically a good guy, but when he gets drunk he’s a total POS.” Abby was sallow-faced, pursing her lips, tension running through her jawline. “I shouldn’t have let him put you on the spot like that. So… I’m sorry that you got pressured to get in here.”

“It’s fine, I just.” You started, ready to say that big phrase, the one that slightly burned your back to admit. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“What, played seven minutes in heaven? Yeah, kind of a jackass thing to suggest in your twenties.”

Shit. She was going to make you say it.

“No. I mean I’ve never–” and you thought your tiny voice couldn’t get any tinier. “had sex before.”

Abby breathed in the deepest sigh, pure anxiety crossing her face for a split second, before she was feeding you apologies. “It’s fine, we don’t have to do anything we can just sit here and talk. Or be in silence if you want it’s alr–”

“I want to do it.” You said doggedly, pressing yourself into a tiny corner. Her brow perched, and there was something in those narrowing blue eyes that said she didn’t believe you. You were pigeontoed, legs shifting against one another, declaring in your firmest voice that you wanted her to take your virginity.

“Are you sure?” She breathed out, stepping a bit closer. “You don’t have to feel pressured to do anything because you think they want a show.”

“Oh, my god.” You were pouting, annoyed. “I can choose if I want to have sex you know, and I want to have sex right here right n–”

She kissed you, softly as possible, testing your waters to see how far you were willing to go. Her hands were patient, one lightly knotted in the woolen knit of your cardigan to lightly pet your lower back, the other making gentle grips on your sweatered arm. Her fingers were barely bruising, gripping around your wrist almost tight enough, and a tiny shockwave coursed between your thighs and convinced you that you wanted more. In this low light, in this dark room, in this place between space and time, you wanted to be her conquest. To be taken, touched, manhandled, to be made to weather the storm of her overwhelming strength against you, lost in the middle of the ocean.

It was perverted, almost, how the idea of her showing restraint raised hairs on your skin, how you deepened the kiss like you were being overcome with an insatiable, bloody hunger. You had to take back the moment, to steal her attention in a way she couldn’t deny before she thought you were all talk; you stepped closer, positioning yourself so that her thigh hovered right below the heated space under your skirt. Her hand was warm, soft as you grabbed it, moving it lower, deeper down the divot of your back and where the fat of your ass connected. She caught on, groaning into your lips as she kneaded around your body, her tongue sweeter and heavier against yours, working that one damned hand up your skirt to cup bare skin.

You jumped.

As fast as it had come, her hand slipped back from under your skirt and the touch was lost completely, awkwardly hovering for a second until Abby pulled it back into her pocket and stepped back. You were miserable, eyes welling up in frustration like a lost dog at the lack of feeling. She was pulling you into insanity but was too chivalrous to drown you in it, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly as she looked down at you.

“Fuck– didn’t mean to be aggressive like that. I–” The redness bled across her cheeks, freckles on full display as her fingers met the wet spot that you were hiding, your hands guiding hers to the space between your thighs. There was a pause, a knowing, a challenge between the two of you as an unknown heat spread throughout your bodies, and you collided once more. The blonde’s mouth sucked a nasty pressure into your throat, agitating it with bites and licks as her head traveled deeper, hands playing at the front of your sweatered torso to undo the buttons that held your breasts hostage.

Her entrance was assured as she popped the loops open, fingers gripping the fabric of your camisole and lifting up, taking your bra with it. She nipped at the exposed flesh, heat from her mouth traveling directly to your vagina, clit throbbing hard with need. Abby engulfed a nipple with the wetness of her tongue, closing her lips around the rapidly hardening bud to pull it to full attention, chuckling as she scraped the flesh with her teeth. The wet head was replaced with her palms, each thumb and forefinger rolling one or the other. The sensitivity of the tiny flesh was insane, enough to make you whine out loud as she continued, better than anything you had ever done to yourself.

You were biting your lip, eyes big and doe-like as you waded through your pleasure, soft pants heaving your chest. She fished it out from between your teeth and hooked it within her own, popping the plump flesh into her mouth as she pared yours with her tongue. You swore the room was spinning, a wetness slicking between your thighs, a drip positioned between two pairs of hungry lips. You could’ve spent all fifteen minutes– or an eternity, in this beautiful hell, giving and taking and relishing in a different, sort of strange type of want.

“Don’t stop.” You moaned in between stolen breaths, the blonde chasing your mouth each time you pulled away.

“For you, pretty?” Gripping you tighter for emphasis, pressing you closer into the wall, angling further between your spread legs. “Never.”

It was like you were some weird intoxication to her, a drug that she couldn’t get enough of. How your ass molded right into the divots of her palms, those tiny moans that rang through the cage you two were in, the rapid beating of your heart rippling through your body. She wanted to peel your cardigan from your shoulders, wanted to shred your clothes from your body and take you however she liked, and make you feel better than you knew what to do with. Needed to make you scream and fuck you until you cried. But it was your first time, so she resigned to being gentle and soft, like you were a little deer in the forest, and she was trying to get close without scaring you off. so she would give you only what you needed.

She didn’t have a lot of strong feelings about that nickname she had earned in sophomore year, War Machine, from all of the pretty girls she ran through and left unable to walk, unable to talk for a couple of days or more. but when Jordan said it, in front of you, in front of sweet and innocent, pretty and tiny *you* she could’ve reeled back and torn him apart. But she still didn’t want to scare you. So she had forced an alright, the one a child forces when they get scolded, and hid the burning in her palms that made her want to fight in the pocket of her pants.

Your eyes bored x-rays through her formidable thighs as she bent her knees to squad before you, strong hands rubbing up and down your thighs with contrasting gentleness to the hard angles of her face, the brow that was crooked down slightly in concentration, the slightly parted lips playing with mischief as they took you in. You were frightened for just a second, until Abby looked up at you with sympathetic eyes, a hand leaving your thigh and linking with your fingers, guiding you to the base of her skull to envelop her honeyed strands.

She was back at you, the darkness in your stomach leaking out as you palmed her head, and she ran her hands upward, more upward, until the ruffles of your cotton skirt were overturned in her palms. From the waist down, you were completely exposed, a wet spot working itself into your panties from your innermost recesses and a musky scent betraying your shyness.

Abby pressed herself gently into the fabric, her fat lips creating a cool pressure against the hot flesh, her nose itching lightly into your pubis. You bucked your hips unconsciously, nearly fucking her face in your abandon. A vibration from her laugh traveled through you, nestled inside of you, and more wetness began to slick your channel. That friendly ache formed in your rapidly hardening clit, and a similar pain throbbed in your pinkie and middle finger. Her other hand moved up, gripping fistfuls of your ass, less forgiving now, and forcing a squeak from your lips.

You were dumbstruck; a stranger’s hands all over you, mouth nearly on top of your sacred place, nearly leaking from sheer lust. She had barely done anything. Your jaw slacked, and in your mind you felt like a fool, lamenting how you thought your first time would be special. Soft circles rubbed into your inner thigh as she pulled your legs apart, peppering angel kisses throughout the little divots.

“S’okay, baby.” Her voice was barely a whisper, a tiny encouragement that calmed the buzzing in your mind. “Tell me how you want me. I’m yours.”

and you thought that declaration would destroy you,’ I’m yours.’ and it felt very, very real.

“I want you to touch me.” You said, barely a whisper, nodding as she pressed her face to your thigh, sliding down your panties to about knee-level. It was as though she had seen heaven’s gate open, awestruck at the blood rushing to engorge your lips, how your clit stood on end without even being touched. The thatch of hair curling between your thighs and around your depths. She had to have a taste, and there wasn’t much room for second-guessing as she pressed her mouth to the hot spot and flattened her tongue directly against the wettest space.

Juicy noises slid from her mouth as she rolled your clit between her tongue and sucked sharply with her lips, and it was as though you could’ve sunk to the floor, the way your legs became distinctly not yours. It was enough, enough, not enough, then too much. It was like you were an endlessly gushing fountain as Abby’s wet, firm tongue parted your lips, dipping ever so lightly into your hole as she licked out a string of nectar from your drooling cunt. It was as though you were animated, possessed even, as your hands flew into her hair, pushing her head down further and further, to that release you chased violently and madly.

Abby was humble, letting you guide her where you needed her; she was soft at first, but you didn’t want soft, you wanted more.

She obliged.

The blonde slipped her fingers between your thighs and parted your slit, opening up an endless, waiting tightness. She was intrepid, pressing through your clenching muscle and opening you up more than you had ever done; thick digits tearing through you, fucking your pussy at an unforgiving pace, concentration forming in the muscles of her neck. You hid an inhuman growl in the pit of your throat, in the crook of your sweatered elbow, and she moaned out, satisfied with that which she had created inside of you. You were fucking her face in a tight, dirty closet, calf propped over a muscled shoulder for support, the heel of your booties pressing into the wall, locking her in.

It was as though the two of you were fighting, every roll of your hips she chased with her head, every time you shied away from the pleasure she held you harder, taking you even hungrier, diving deeper to a spot you didn’t know was there; every taut pull at her scalp met with an even tighter grip into the flesh of your plush ass. The pads of her fingers violated the sopping warmth of your cunt, and you clenched your stomach unwittingly, walls flexing, holding her hand there. Drool dripped from between her lips, pooling and soaking down into the fibres of an old shag rug, caked with dust and whatever else.

Your own slipped between your lips before you could suck it back in, and the silver trail bounced, the way it does when it breaks, and the thick drop cascaded down her temple, getting lost in your brow. The piece that was yours snaked down your collarbone and between your breasts and somehow, you felt a connection.

Abby snorted, sucked in a breath as her fingers left you empty. Fuck. She didn’t go for her face, wiping them on the skin of your pussy, they traveled upwards, firm grips on your ass. She rubbed the flesh as though she was throwing clay, stretching the skin between her rough fingers, calluses on her palms coasting over every bump and groove. She had found what she had wanted, craning her neck lower, lower, until you could just barely see her eyes. Her fingertips prodded, greedy, opening your lips, tongue leching against your soft fruit as though she was funneling the juices directly into her mouth. You thought your thighs would give out but she held you, stronger, and you fed her willingly.

Her middle finger dipped down into the slit, collecting juices, stealing a breath from your lungs, you wanted to scream her name but it was caught inside of you, so you stood slack-jawed, fuck drunk as she abused your walls, fucking every ridge painfully slow. The tight hole stretched around the meatiness of her finger, and she hooked it as though she was searching, retreating from the warmth, slick with your nastiest of liquids. Again, she split your ass with one hand, and you clenched your tightest hole without thinking about it.

“Don’t worry,” She said, muffled against your mound as she latched against it once more, “gonna help you so fucking good.” You were confused, but you trusted her, a complete stranger. For a second you began to ask what there was to worry about, but your mind was pried away from you as you felt the pressure of her coated fingertip tracing around your asshole. A gentle kiss played at the head of your pussy, comforting you as you nodded your head wildly, something of a ‘yes’ flying from your throat as her middle finger parted that threshold.

Your mind exploded, head shooting straight up into the air, a small yelp burning into a silent open-mouthed cry. You were spinning, the room was spinning, your body heated up instantly. Then, the wet warmth traveled back to your clit, her opposite hand nestling two fingers into your aching, needy twat, her tongue lapping as her fingers resumed digging and that one damned finger fucked in and out of your tightest hole painfully slow.

She fucked you like an animal; you cried out like a bitch in heat. The music trembled through your ears, and you were afraid it wouldn’t be enough, that everyone would hear, everyone would know. You were both drunk and this didn’t matter, didn’t mean anything, but she was bottoming her tongue out in you and you wanted it to mean a lot. Girls talked and you fucking hated them all. She was loose, she got around, and you wanted to be hers.

You wanted to capture her and be interesting to her and walk with her hand on your lower back around campus. Wanted her callused fist in your hair, around your neck as she took you every night. Wanted badly to fucking cum, to open the portal, to wash her face with this unholy water, wanted to kiss wet lips and taste everything. Wanted to know if she could ever like you, after you gave it up, quickly, bellowing like a foghorn against a rack of coats. You wanted to be kept, to keep her spit inside of you like a keepsake but she sucked it back in a quick second, before you could even feel her cheeks hollow between your thighs, and felt dirty for even thinking of it.

A sweet pain formed between your thighs and you couldn’t stop the groan that rose from your throat, every muscle in your face clenching and unclenching, your eyes crossing as your orgasm came quickly into view. Abby fucked you through it, fingers slow and forgiving. It was as though a stream of slowly descending tidal waves were crashing against you, and you needed more, it hurt but you needed more. Something deep burned inside of you, endlessly hot, and you wondered how she could stand the heat as she hit it over and over again. You sobbed, and swore that you could feel a tear roll down your cheek, feeling the need to rub your eyes for good measure.

She looked up, entranced, face softening for a second, watching as you gave up your mind to your body. There was a hard knock at the door, the music lowered a decibel, silence filling the two of you, her fingers still deep inside of your two holes. A sing-song voice bellowed out ‘five minutes!’ and the darkness ridged her eyes.

For the first time, her voice was hard, removing her hand from your cunt, making sure to curl the one in your ass tighter in compensation. She slammed the door twice with her fist, the frame bulging in a way that made you fear the whole thing would just fall down. “Fuck off.” Her voice was loud enough to tear through the uncomfortable tension. There was an apprehensive, ‘woah man,’ that you could barely hear, and the music regained, the party rejoiced, and hopefully, the fear of God being struck enough in your host to leave well enough alone.

Her lips were still slick, soft, kissable with your juices. She flashed you a genuine, pretty smile. Her hands gripped a little too tight but you wanted it all. She looked down at the mess between your trembling thighs, then at your heavy, panting face. She leaned back on her heels as a wide smile played on her face, satisfied with herself. A windy chuckle passed through her glistening lips, wiping her mouth and chin on the inside of her hoodie. “Fuckin’ insane.” She breathed out in between pants.

“Abby.” She said, as though the strength of your orgasm traveled through your brain and made you forget the events of the last 15 minutes. “Constance Hall. Dorm 425 on the second floor.” It was as though your heart skipped a beat, but you punched it down, a weak smile playing against your lips.

She was fucking disheveled, almost inhaling the last sweet smells of your pussy, creating a memory of the flavour and filing it away in her mind for safekeeping. She was delicate, pulling your white panties up to your thighs again, soothing a finger where those soft, curly pussy hairs were hidden again. She let down her hands, skirt furling down, covering the marks of dark possession that she left behind. “Come see me again sometime, ‘kay?” She chuckled, giggled even, and that glint in her eyes was enough to make you faint.

She stood up, waiting for you to compose yourself and straighten everything out before she pushed open the now-unlocked door and peeked her head out.

Jordan was already on her as the door flew open, and you could hear his hushed nosiness as you hugged the wall and tried to act casual, eyes locked on her retreating back as she reentered the room, light haloing her. ‘So what happened?’ you swore his lips read, and your stomach dropped. But she cut through his questions, loud enough for you to hear, convincing enough that he wouldn’t have anything to run his mouth about later on.

“Nothing man, we were just talking.”

Maybe she was actually just that charming.

Yeah.

#tiki writes #abby x reader #abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson ff #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby tlou #abby tlou smut #abby smut #abby anderson x female reader

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heli-writes · 26 days

Text

A dragon's heart, part 10.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of injuries, mentions of forceful behaviour towards women, bad family dynamics

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Note: Sorry, folks! No smut yet, I need some more time to build up the right moment!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It's silly to cry about this, isn't it? No, yeah, it's definitely not silly.

Y/n rubs her eyes. She's standing lost in the abandoned tent in the middle of the pieces of Katsuki's tantrum. Slowly, she starts picking up the things Katsuki has thrown across the room.

It will be alright. You can trust Katsuki. Whatever happened today, it's not your fault and Katsuki knows that. He might get irritated easily but he's not unreasonable.

When y/n is done picking up the pieces of the destroyed chair, she's unsure what to do next. She decides to scrub off the paint in the stone hut. There's only cold water this time but y/n grinds her teeth and scrubs it all off. Afterward, she feels a little bit like herself again.

Back in the tent, she loses the clothes as well. She looks for her dress but she can't find it. This upsets her more than it should. After all, it's just a piece of fabric, she tells herself. Then again, it was her mother's dress. The last thing that connected her with her people.

My bag!, she thinks and looks for it where she dropped it the night before. She finds it next to the bed. She dumps the contents on the bed and looks at the things she's brought along. She takes the small knife and strokes over the carvings in the wooden handle. Her father made it for her for her twelfth birthday. He wanted to paint it one day, but he passed before he ever got the chance.

She remembers her father. He was a kind but firm man. He believed in the way of their people. Y/n remembers how he used to take her and her brother to a meadow in the middle of a summer night. He showed the kids how the fireflies light up when you run through the grass. He dared them to catch one and when they did, he explained to them how every creature was created by the great being of things and therefore should be treated with respect. He made y/n let go of the fireflight she caught and they watched as it disappeared into the night sky.

Y/n clutches the knife. She didn't notice how tears slipped down her cheeks. Quickly, she brushes them away. She shakes her head. Thinking about this, won't change the present. Carefully, she places the things back into her bag and hides it beneath the bed, so that they won't be taken away again like her dress.

She slips out of the skimpy clothes she was put into this morning and puts on the clothes Katsuki gave her yesterday. Also, she wraps a blanket around her since she's planning to go outside. I'm going to look for Katsuki, she determines.

~*~*~*~*~

It's strange walking around the village without Katsuki by her side. Y/n feels a lot more vulnerable without him. Again, there are only men outside the tents and they give her strange looks. She's sure they are talking about her, too.

She tries to shake the thought off when she slips in between two tents to get out of sight. Suddenly, a cold hand grabs her arm.

„A-are you new? When did they bring you in?“, a scared female voice says next to her.

Y/n feels instant relief. Finally, someone who understands her! And a woman too! She turns around to the voice and is instantly stunned.

There's a woman standing at the entrance of a tent. She's about y/n's height. The woman is pale as if she barely sees the sunlight. She looks sickish in a haggard way. Her state is nothing but alarming to y/n.

„Yes, I am. I just arrived yesterday. Are-“, y/n tells her and before y/n can ask her if she's alright, the woman's grip on her arm tightens.

„Did he do it already? The man that took you? Is he near? Is he looking for you?“, the woman asks frantically. There is fear in her eyes.

„Uhm, what do you mean?“, y/n replies uncertainly.

„You need to get away!“, the woman tells her, now grabbing both of y/n's arms. „If he hasn't taken you, you might still have a chance!“

The woman's eyes are ripped open widely and y/n can see how bloodshot they are. She mustn't have slept for days. Y/n tries to wiggle out of the woman's hold.

„I-i'm fine. Thanks for your concern, but-“, y/n tries to shake her off.

„Nadia!“, a voice barks from the side y/n came from. A big, bulky man walks their way. His face looks angry. He continues to speak loudly in his language. The woman winces and lets go of y/n. She quickly retreats back into the tent, leaving y/n alone outside.

The man gives y/n a glance before disappearing into the tent. His loud voice can be heard in the inside. By the tone of his voice, he must be scolding the woman. Y/n isn't sure if that's her cue to disappear like the woman said.

Eventually, the man comes back outside. He doesn't look as angry as before anymore. He says something to y/n that she doesn't understand.

„U-uhm, I'm a friend of Katsuki, I guess. Do you know where he is?“, she asks him and the man looks annoyed. He throws his arms into the air in frustration and rambles something to himself.

Y/n straightens her posture a bit at tells him in a determined voice: „Katsuki“.

The man gives her an uncertain look. Then he grabs her shoulder and makes a gesture to follow him. Y/n does so. The man drags her through half of the village, stopping here and there to talk to people. Y/n can hear the word „Katsuki“ quite often, so she guesses he is asking around where Katsuki is. Eventually, the man makes her walk quite a while outside of the settlement and y/n starts doubting her decision to follow him. What if the woman was right? What if that guy really has something bad on his mind?

The man leads her into a small gorge. Y/n can see how smoke rises from the inside, so she guesses humans must be there as well.

Turns out her guess was kind of wrong. The deeper they get into the gorge, the more clearly it becomes what lives her: dragons. When the first comes into sight, y/n walks a bit closer to the man in front of her. More and more dragons come into sight. Golden ones, blue ones, green ones. Y/n thinks the deep black ones look the scariest. She tries to avoid eye contact with all of them. Also, she wonders if Katsuki's great red one is here. Actually, she'd be really relieved to see the great red one again right now. At least one familiar face, or snout, around here.

The man leads her all the way in, where a small fire is lit. More men sit around it drinking and laughing.

The men cheer and gesture for the man to join him but he declines with a wave of his hand. He says something to them and y/n hears Katsuki's name again. She peeks behind the man and sees Katsuki sitting among the men around the fire. When Katsuki spots her, he immediately gets up.

Katsuki exchanges a few words with the man before said man turns around to leave. Katsuki grabs her shoulder and gives her an angry look. Seems as if he's not too happy that I'm here, y/n thinks.

The men laugh and say something to Katsuki to which he gives them a snarky reply. Katsuki leads her to the fire and motions for her to sit down. Y/n does so and wraps the blanket around her a little bit more tight. The man called Kirishima asks Katsuki something and points at y/n. Katsuki shrugs indifferently.

Kirishima fills a mug with something that's been brewing over the fire and hands the mug to y/n. Y/n takes a sniff. It's definitely alcohool. She takes a sip and is pleasantly surprised.

„Mead!“ she exclaims. The men cheer and raise their cups to her. Y/n does so too and takes another sip. The mead is sweet and rich in her mouth.

Kirishima laughs and says something to her. Y/n smiles. Somehow, this feels comfortable. Like when her people sat around the fire at night drinking some hot mead to keep warm. It's the time when stories and memories are shared. Y/n decides there's no harm in sharing a memory of her own, even if these strange men won't understand her.

„You know“, she tells Kirishima, „My aunt used to make mead together with my father“. Kirishima takes another sip from his cup while listening.

„Of course, you need honey for that.“, y/n continues, „So my aunt and my dad went to the woods to find wild honey for their mead. Unfortunately for them, there also was a bear looking for honey too. When my aunt saw the bear, she screamed so loudly that even the bear was frightened, and in his shock, the bear knocked down the bee nest. Of course, the bee attacked my aunt and my dad and they ran home to our camp, screaming the entire way. I've never heard my father scream like that. Like a little girl.“

Y/n is giggling at the end of the story and has to wipe the side of her eye. When she's done, she notices that the rest of the men fell silent and were watching her intently. Suddenly, she's a bit embarrassed for rambling out a story like that.

„Anyways“, she says and raises her cup, „Cheers!“. Quickly she takes another sip and the men start laughing. Y/n feels incredibly embarrassed. A few of the men clap Katsuki's back who also looks embarrassed. Y/n lowers her head. She didn't want to embarrass Katsuki with her stupid story.

Suddenly, she feels Katsuki slide closer to her. He puts an arm around her tucking her safely into his side. Y/n peers up at him. He keeps his eyes fixed on his peers and y/n snuggles a bit deeper into his side. At least he doesn't seem mad now anymore. She keeps slurping her mead until it's empty. Also, she surely feels the buzz. This mead is a lot stronger than the one her aunt and father brewed.

She watches Katsuki for a while who also seems to be done with his cup. Eventually, she pulls at one of his necklaces trying to get his attention. Katsuki lets go of her and looks down at her. He mumbles something which y/n guess is something like a „what?“. She should write that word down later.

„Where's your dragon?“, she asks him. When Katsuki's brows only furrow, she points at a dragon and says „Dragon?“ and then points at him. It seems as if a light goes up in Katsuki's head. He says something to his men and then gets up taking y/n's hand. They leave the fire together and Katsuki leads her to a cave entrance. He gestures for her to stay behind him and y/n does as she's told. The last thing she wants is to wake up an angry dragon. She peeks behind Katsuki and sees the enormous form of the great red right in front of them. Katsuki gestures for her to step beside him.

„Drami“, Katsuki tells her and y/n looks at him uncertainly. Is that the word for dragon in his language?

„Drami.“, y/n repeats and the great red raises its head. Y/n watches with wide eyes how the dragon moves its big head and nudges Katsuki.

„Oi!“, Katsuki exclaims and tries to push the dragon away. Y/n has to giggle at the sight. Is this how she looks when she tries to push Katsuki away but he doesn't move at all?

The great red notices her as well and moves towards her. Fear strikes her even though she knows that the beast probably won't hurt her. The dragon nudges her as well but in contrast to Katsuki, y/n wasn't prepared for the force of the nudge. She stumbles and falls over. There's a grumbling sound in the dragon's throat and she's sure the beast is laughing at her.

„Hey!“, she complaints and sits up.

Suddenly, there are whistling sounds in the air. Then, y/n gets attacked by all sides. Little dragons nudges her from all sides. Pulling on her blanket and hair. It's not painful and when the first shock wears off, y/n has to laugh and she tries to push the little dragon off of her. When she looks up, her eyes meet Katsuki's who have a mischievous gleam in it. He laughs at her and y/n sticks out her tongue to him while fending off the lizards around her.

There's a deeper grumble in the air and the dragons let go off y/n. They rush back to the great red. The small ones have the same color as the great red and when they climb onto it, they become invisible. No wonder y/n didn't spot them before. Katsuki chuckles and helps her up.

„That was rude.“, y/n tells him and tries to rearrange her messy hair. Katsuki picks up the blanket and puts it around y/n's shoulders again. He ruffles her hair and says something to the great red. He gestures for y/n to follow him.

„Bye, Drami!“, y/n tells the great red and quickly follows Katsuki outside.

~*~*~*~*~

After Katsuki says goodbye to his men, he walks back to the village with y/n. She looks ridiculous, he thinks. She lost the nice clothes picked out for her and instead carries this ratched blanket around with her. Is she really that cold? Katsuki and his men walk around shirtless half of the time and even the women in his tribe wear more revealing clothes than the women from the kingdom. It makes him wonder if his mother might be right about y/n.

They walk back in silence and Katsuki notices how uncomfortable y/n feels. He can't blame her. She probably hasn't got a clue about what happened earlier today. He wants to feel sorry for her but can't find it in him to do so. She should man up a bit, he thinks to himself. Otherwise, she will never be accepted around here.

Doubt gnaws at the inside of his mind. He's been replaying the conversation with his mother again and again. The truth is that Mitsuki's right. Y/n isn't strong enough for his people. Physically and probably also mentally. She doesn't fit in. Hell, she doesn't even speak their language. Fine, that's something that can be tackled. Actually, Katsuki already decided that he'll send for Deku. That damn scholar can make himself useful and teach y/n their language.

And yet, Katsuki knows that he needs a strong mate by his side. One that stands strongly and proudly next to him as the leader of his people. Having a weak mate and weak offspring does not help his position. In contrast, it might give people a reason to doubt him. And who knows what the future holds.

So far the king Todoroki turned a blind eye to the dragonblood tribe's raid on his grounds. It's easier to let them take a few women than to fight his men. But how long will that go well? Katsuki already got the news that the king is stocking up his army. His tribe can handle a few strikes of retaliation. However, if it escalates to a full-blown war things look differently. The plague already decimated their numbers and with almost no women in the tribe to even out the number, the future looks grim.

His men did little to cheer him up. While they tried to support his choice, they also gave insight into their own homes. Comparing y/n to the few women they've brought home and mated. Denki's mate passed only after a few months. She lost weight rapidly after arriving in the village and one nasty cold later, the woman completely withered away. Not enough time to give him an heir. Kirishima's position is not rosy either. While his mate is still alive, the woman is terrified of him and that even though Kirishima is probably the softest of the bunch. The other men urge him to just take her since the tribe needs children and that's what the women are brought in for but Kirishima is too kind of a man to touch her against her will.

Kirishima doesn't speak it out loud but Katsuki knows how disgusted the man felt about himself after he mated her for the first time. Other men are not as docile as Kirishima. They take their new mates as they see fit. They think that if their new mate doesn't find it in themselves to accommodate the situation, at least they can submit to them and fulfill their duty as a mate.

Katsuki is so deep in his own thoughts that he doesn't notice how they arrived back at his tent. Only when y/n stops walking, he looks up. One of his mother's ladies-in-waiting is standing in front of his tent.

„Your mother wishes to speak to you. She's inside.“, the woman informs him. Katsuki gives her a nod and puts a hand on y/n's lower back pushing her inside.

„What do you want?“, Katsuki asks his mother upon entering the tent. His mother sits on the remaining chair with her arms and legs crossed.

„Did you mate her yet?“, she poses a counterquestion.

„Obviously not.“, Katsuki tells her. He gives y/n a side-eye and he notices how tense the smaller woman got. Clearly, she must fear his mother by now.

His mother rubs her temple.

„Katsuki, I didn't mean to upset you earlier.“, his mother states. Katsuki lets go of y/n and sits down on one of the trunks.

„I know that.“, he mumbles.

Mitsuki watches as her son uses a knife to scratch off dirt from the underside of his shoe. Meanwhile, y/n stands at the entrance of the room feeling absolutely lost. She feels like she shouldn't be here for this conversation. She tries to make eye contact with Katsuki who keeps his focus on his shoes. Mitsuki sighs loudly making y/n flinch.

„Katsuki, I'm glad you want to take on a mate. I've been afraid you'd refuse one completely. I'm just worried about your future, our future.“, Mitsuki points out. Her voice isn't exactly soft but probably as soft as the former chief can be.

Katsuki stabs the trunk with his knife.

„Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I'm worried, too?“, he barks at her.

Mitsuki gives her son a pointed look.

„I know you are. Which is more the reason why I don't understand... this.“, Mitsuki says and vaguely gestures towards y/n as if she's a piece of furniture rather than a real person standing in the room.

Looking back at it, y/n doesn't know why that was the reason to get her angry but it does. Y/n decides then and there that she doesn't like the woman who clearly is related to Katsuki. Why does she always pretend like I'm not there, y/n thinks. It makes her angry. It's rude. Also, y/n is pretty sure that his woman has nothing nice to say about her.

Katsuki looks at his mother annoyedly.

„What do you want me to say? I've chosen her. Don't you trust my reasons?“, he tells her.

„Do you trust your reasons? Because if you had, wouldn't you have mated her by now?“, Mitsuki strikes back.

Katsuki feels more and more irritated by each passing second.

„That's none of your business. Or do you also plan to check how often I fuck my mate?“, he bites back.

Mitsuki gives him a piqued look and shakes her head in disgust.

„Seriously, Katsuki. What the hell are you thinking?“, Mitsuki asks him.

Katsuki pushes himself off the trunk and ruffles his own hair roughly.

„I don't know, okay? I met her and we connected. I want her.“, he tells his mother.

„Aha, you want her. If you want her, then take her and pass her on, or let her go.“, Mitsuki replies.

Katsuki gives her an angry look.

„She's different from the other women we brought here.“, he tries to argue.

„In how far?“

Katsuki throws his arms up in the air.

„For one, she's not afraid of us or our dragons. Actually, I think Drami might like her. She's a fighter. I saw her fight a bandit with her bare hands. She can hunt, or at least read tracks to a certain degree. She can treat wounds and she picks up on things quite quickly. I'm sure that if that damn Deku teaches her, she will be speaking...“, Katsuki starts to ramble.

„Stop.“, Mitsuki says coldly and holds up a hand.

„I don't need to hear you sing praise to this woman. Nothing you said proves to me that she will be a good mate to you. You describe basic skills that everyone should have. If you think that...“, his mother continues.

„Can I say something about this?“, y/n enters the conversation. She's sick that she's forced to observe from the sidelines, especially considering that this is a conversation that's clearly about her. Y/n doesn't care that neither Katsuki nor this woman understands her. It's time to give both of them a piece of her mind.

Y/n stems her arm into her hips and points at Mitsuki.

„First of all, who do hell do you think that you are? I don't give a shit if you're their queen or something. My people believe that all humans are equals to one another. Therefore I can't stand how you talk about me pretending I'm not there. Secondly, I might not understand what you say but I'm sure you say very mean things about me. Did nobody teach you basic manners? Like seriously, at least have the decency to talk shit about me behind my back. But making me understand what you think of me without speaking my language? Wow, you must really be determined on making me feel like crap.“, y/n tells Mitsuki while holding eye contact with the woman. Mitsuki looks unpleasantly surprised by y/n's outburst.

„And now to you, mister!“, y/n says turning to Katsuki.

„You drag me all the way to your people, make me do stupid ceremonies that I don't understand and then you let his woman humiliate me in front of all of these people? And after all this, you take me back here just to throw a temper tantrum. What are you? Five? I honestly don't give a fuck about what that woman's issue is. What I do care about is how you handle it. And you're not handling it very successfully, dare I say. You're handling it like a manchild. Drinking your problems away with your buddies only to have another argument with her all over again? Seriously, I start to doubt if I made the right choice in trusting you!“, y/n gives Katsuki an earful.

Katsuki stares at her with wide eyes and an open mouth. Y/n takes a deep breath. She straightens her posture.

„That being said, I exclude myself from this conversation.“, she tells Katsuki proudly with her head held high.

Then, she turns around and stomps outside the tent. Mitsuki stares after her just as perplexed as her son does.

Outside, y/n is fuming. This whole situation frustrates her. Because people talk and decide things over her head. Because she has no way to take any form of action. This time, she doesn't cry.

It's time to find that Nadia woman and get some more information out of her, y/n thinks.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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@gold24fish @notsaelty

[I think I can't tag anymore people, sorry! Unless anybody knows what I'm doing wrong...]

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storydays · 4 months

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Baby Mine

Bruce/Brandi X Daughter! Reader

Bruce groaned as he massaged his temples. He's had this heavy pressure in his head for the last few weeks. At first he thought it was stress..But today, it was a throbbing pressure he'd only ever felt when he inhaled sharply, catching his wife's attention from where she was cooking breakfast. "Something wrong, darling?" wondered Brandi.

Bruce didn't answer, instead he reached into his hair carefully, grimacing from how sensitive his hair was, and stopped shortly when he felt the familiar shape of an egg nestled tightly between his purple locks.

"Bruce?" Brandi called as she turned the stove off, and turned her full attention to her husband. "I-It's an egg." whispered the Troll, feeling a large grin spred across his face. "My love! It's an egg! We're having a baby!" Bruce laughed with glee, his wife leaning down with an amused smile. She kissed her husband's cheek, causing his blue eyes to meet her warm brown eyes.

"We're having another baby." She agreed.

*Timeskip to after Trolls 3 events*

The other Brozone members' and the Pop sisters watched as Bruce worked with his wife, and maneuvered around their 13 kids' chaos. "Bruce, you really should be resting." Brandi commented as she passed out more drinks. "Hon, I'm fine. The baby is fine, too. Their not set to hatch for a few more days." Bruce waved her comment off, as he passed the group's drinks and food out.

"Baby?" Floyd asked. Bruce winced...he forgot to mention the little darling in his hair to his siblings. His tail flicked nervously, but before he could attempt to lie his way out of the situation, Cove and LaBreezey came up with their notebook and crayons and a determined looks on their faces.

Oh no, it was observation time.

Ever since Bruce's two oldest children learned their dad can have babies differently then their relatives on their mother's side, they've been keeping notes, and asking questions about full Trolls' anatomy.

"Yep! And according to our notes, baby 14 should be hatching any day now!" LaBreezy chirped excitedly, as Cove gently checked their Dad's hair to check on the egg, ignoring their dad's hiss of pain and irritation.

Bruce managed to let his oldest child peer at the egg for all of 10 seconds before pulling away with a warning hiss. Cove nodded thoughtfully, before writing something down.

"Are you sure they're okay? I mean, after what Velvet and Veneer did?" Branch asked, fidgeting with his fingers, before Poppy took one of his hands and squeezed in reassurance.

Bruce smiled at his youngest brother, "Yeah, B. I'm fine. when the doctor from Pop Village came to check on Floyd, I pulled her aside and she looked me and the egg over, and--" Bruce let out a groan, dropping the spoon in his hand and holding his head.

Brandi was by his side in an instant and shooed the children away. "Go play, kids. " Turning to her hunched over husband, she leaned down to face him. "Darling, color?" she whispered.

"Red." he whimpered, tail angrily moving about. Moving quickly, but gently, Brandi scooped him and said something to a nearby waiter who nodded. Casting a glace towards the concerned Trolls by the bar, she told them firmly, "Stay here. I'll be right back."

Brozone shared a look and waited nervously for news about their brother and unborn niece or nephew.

After waiting for a good two hours, the Trolls had enough and stormed into the back where his brother's house was connected to the restaurant, and actually ran into Brandi, quite literally. Her eyes widen, before she knelt and allowed them to climb on her hand, bringing them eye level.

"Bruce will be fine. The baby is fine, but it was honestly rough on both of their bodies. They're sleeping right now, and you can come see them in a little bit."

"Mom?" called Freddy as his siblings stood behind him looking worried for their family.

Brandi set the Trolls down and knelt in front of her kids, allowing them to squish in her arms.

"Daddy's okay, he's just really tired. He'll be up in a little bit. The baby is also okay, they also need to sleep a little." She cooed, kissing all their foreheads.

"Mom, is it a boy or girl?" Windy asked, tilting his head. Brandi smiled.

"It's a........"

@cobiplayz

#brozone x reader #dreamworks trolls #trolls band together #clay trolls #trolls 3 #bruce trolls #floyd trolls #branch #john dory trolls #broppy #brandi trolls #bruce and sons

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halfagone · 3 months

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Cassandra Cain and Communication

I've been noticing an interesting trend in DPxDC fanfics lately where people write Cass like she's psychic, or in simpler terms: she can read someone and in an instant know how to help them. And while I can definitely see the merits of this kind of approach, there are a lot of things to keep in mind.

I cannot stress enough how isolated Cass' childhood was. When it's said that David Cain trained her only in the language of killing, it is not an exaggeration. In many early renditions of her character, Cass cannot speak at all, and if she can, only in short, brief sentences. Cass goes the first seventeen years of her life not knowing how to read.

That is a canonical plot point too. We see Barbara teaching Cass to read in Batman Volume 1 #567:

Based on the context surrounding this scene, this is a regular occurrence between the pair. Cass has also sought out Stephanie before to read something for her (Batgirl Volume 1 #20). If you're curious about more analysis surrounding this particular subject, this post has some interesting points and shows the gradual shift in how DC handled her character.

But this is early into her time with the Batfamily. What about later on, when she's more assimilated to the Waynes and her fellow vigilantes?

Well, you don't even have to be a hardcore comic fan to see how she continues to struggle with expression and communication. In Wayne Family Adventures, episodes 32 and 33, we see how Cass' ability to read body language has also hurt her and her relationship with the people around her.

She doesn't mean to hurt Stephanie's feelings in these episodes, but the damage is real and it happened. Cass means well, ultimately, but she still doesn't know how or when to address these problems. She sees that Steph is hurting and wants to help; those are all admirable qualities! But in the end, she only pushes Stephanie further away, and is left feeling guilty and carrying self-loathing in the wake.

Here is also a reminder: Cass killed her first man at the age of 8 years old, and consequently ran away from her father when she realized killing was wrong. She did not know what he felt was fear. She did not know the definition of fear, nor the word for it. She just saw the expression on his face as he died, and realized that something was wrong, and ran away.

Cass doesn't arrive to Gotham until she's 17 years old, around the No Man's Land era, if I remember correctly. She is on the run for 9 years in this time, and sadly, she did not pick up many- if any- language or communication skills during this period. This isn't a fault on her character either, when she likely had to keep moving and didn't have time to connect with anyone like she did with Barbara, who could teach her how to speak and read.

But at the end of the day, it makes sense that Cass doesn't know how to socialize. Think of a real life example: some kids who grow up homeschooled struggle to make connections once they reach adulthood and start looking for a job. They've never had to make small talk, or address strangers face-to-face, so they don't know how to interact with people. Cass' situation is a more extreme version of this scenario, but with blood, brutal training, and child abuse involved.

At her core, Cass is a good person. And she will continue to be that good person. But she doesn't always have the answers. Nobody does! She'll continue to help people to the best of her abilities, but sometimes those abilities can be limited.

Cass is not a perfect person. When Bruce was lost in the timeline, and the remaining Batfamily members started to splinter and fall apart in the wake, Cass didn't remain in Gotham to help with the rising violence with Batman's absence. Instead, when her family needed her most, she went to Hong Kong, because she didn't want to be there without Bruce. She did briefly meet Tim in Paris, when she had saved him from the Daughters of Acheron, but she still doesn't accompany Tim, nor does she return to Gotham even after finding out the city is extremely understaffed.

Cass is well-meaning, but she is not faultless. We might not like to acknowledge the flaws of our favorite characters, but those flaws are a part of them! Just like how Bruce consistently fails to express himself is a part of his. Or how Dick tries to pretend that everything is fine so he doesn't have to address his own problems. Or how Jason can be inconsistent with his motivations and people get hurt as a result. Or how Tim keeps too many secrets and pushes people away, ruining multiple relationships in turn.

I could go on and on, but all these characters are more than just their flaws. The same thing with Cass.

So don't be afraid to show a Cass that doesn't know how to fix things. Don't be afraid to show a Cass that doesn't know what to do, but just tries her best. It's one of her most admirable qualities: always trying no matter what.

#dpxdc #cassandra cain #character analysis #with yours truly :D #look cass is my girl okay #i can and WILL talk nonstop about her

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admirxation · 9 months

Text

Broken Locks | Part 1

𓆩♡𓆪┆ links to other parts: part two | part three | part four | part five

𓆩♡𓆪┆ pairing: las plagas! yandere! re4! leon s. kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

𓆩♡𓆪┆ summary: the reader is leon’s neighbour, she’s always had a crush on him, but has disappeared for a few days to leave the reader to wonder where he has gone. leon’s arrival is quiet and unknown to many, but is connected to the anxiety the reader has felt with the recent attempted break-ins to her apartment.

𓆩♡𓆪┆word count: 2.3k

𓆩♡𓆪┆ disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! i do not condone everything i write, my writing doesn’t reflect all my morals. if any of the following warnings trigger or make you feel uncomfortable, scroll away; you are in charge of what content you’re consuming. this is 18+ only, minors are strongly advised not to interact.

𓆩♡𓆪┆ warnings: NSFW 18+ content, mdni. female anatomy and she/her pronouns used for reader. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. stalking, breaking in, masturbation (m receiving), watching someone sleep, pantie sniffing, and kidnapping. (these will be updated along the way)

Chapter one: strange feeling

Dear Y/N,

I am writing to inform you that your apartment is safe to re-enter after continuous checks. New locks have been installed and keys will be given upon arrival. I want to apologise for any inconvenience this has caused you and encourage you to write if anything peculiar, like this, ever happens again. The police are aware of this and will take further action when more information can be found and given.

Kind regards,

Derek.

You looked at the email, sitting in the hotel room that you had retreated to for the past week. You released a sigh of relief when you finally heard word from Derek — your landlord — knowing that your apartment was now safe gave you some peace of mind.

While packing up your things you couldn’t help but think about all the peculiar things you had found near and on your apartment door; it was only a week ago when you found the peephole on your door had been drilled through, as well as markings on the side which made it look like someone tried to break-in with a crowbar. You remembered how you felt that afternoon when you found them, you had come back from work, absolutely exhausted and needing to get into something comfortable until you saw the evidence that made your heart race and feel watched from every angle. Thankfully you had alerted Derek about it all, he took you seriously and gave you the address of somewhere you could safely retreat to, helping with the finances of it all.

For the past week, trepidation was engraved in your mentality from the image of the scratches on the door, your psyche now full of paranoia and fear. You were grateful that things were sorted but still alarmed at not knowing who was behind all of it. You called your best friend Jill — explaining everything you were going through — and she told you if you had stopped messaging for a long time, she would call the police, so you had some security in safety with Derek’s apartment checks.

Why did this happen to me? You couldn’t help but have this question constantly haunt your mind, you knew you shouldn’t blame yourself — it wasn’t your fault — but having the stalking be anonymous made you think about who it was and why they were harassing you, was it someone you knew? When Derek looked at the camera footage, it was broken, just showing glitched lines on the computer screen; this only made you feel even more uneasy since you couldn’t get instant justice. At first, you and Derek theorised that it was probably the kid at the end of the hall wanting to cause trouble — as he did previously to other tenants — but Derek had spoken to their mother and found out he was with his father so he couldn’t have done it.

Derek met you at the front desk, he could tell you were still shaken up about things, and he had a warm smile with the keys in his hand. You smiled back at him, trying to fit the keys to loop around your index finger as you struggled with your suitcase and handbag.

“You okay?” of course, he knew you weren’t okay, but he didn’t know what else to say.

“I’m still a bit… You know… But I should be okay,” you paused for a bit, “Did you find anything in the apartment?” you couldn’t help but ask these questions; you knew he would have checked properly but you also had that little voice in your head that kept taunting you to ask the question.

“Nothing out of the ordinary, don’t worry okay? New locks have been put in, also the police know about this… Nothing should happen,” this put you at ease.

You nodded, giving a farewell as you went into the elevator to your floor; you gripped your suitcase tightly as you saw the buttons light up and signify you were getting closer to your apartment. When you finally reached it, you hesitated until the last minute when the doors were about to close, looking at your door that had been painted over and a new peephole installed; taking a deep breath you entered. Nothing had changed and it was the place you loved, after looking around you finally locked the door behind you and placed your suitcase in your room. You folded your arms, rubbing them to keep warm in an apartment that hadn’t been heated for over a week; you looked around and saw nothing had changed and everything looked the same and was untouched, but you couldn’t help but feel watched with every movement. You tried to ignore the feeling of paranoia, thinking that you were shaken up about things, but you couldn’t keep relieving your fears and needed to get unpacked.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Later on — when it was getting darker outside — you had finished your unpacking as well as managing to relax with a bath and skin care, you then went into the kitchen and made some dinner, not being able to stop thinking about Leon.

You had lived opposite his apartment for over a year, and still remembered seeing him move in and looking at that handsome face; you were too scared to ask him on a date so you played it off by knocking on his door and offering “leftovers”. You always made a bigger portion of food to give you an excuse to talk to him and recently it became a routine to eat dinner with him. But this routine had come to an end; Leon had been gone for a while and you had no idea where he was, you asked Derek if he moved out which he denied and told you he was still a tenant.

You theorised about where he could have gone: did he go visit family or friends? Go on holiday? Or was he visiting a girlfriend? You thought for a moment, saddened at the thought that Leon would never go for you and that your crush was just pathetic with an inevitable end but for now all you wanted to do was finally eat some good food. You had gotten fed up with the constant instant ramen at the hotel and takeaways were eating at your bank account, you needed something homemade. Looking through your peephole you looked over at Leon’s door — knowing he wasn’t back — you would always hear him this time of night when walking back from work. You never knew what he did but knew the routine he had made around it.

It was lonely to eat alone, adding to your anxiety as you couldn’t have anybody to talk to; you knew Leon worked out and took care of himself, if he was around you would probably feel safer. But of course, you didn’t know where he had gone.

When you were finally getting sleepy, you pushed a chair in front of the door, placing a glass cup on the door handle so you could hear if someone tried to jiggle it; you took no chances and had stuck a box around the peephole, a cover wouldn’t be enough if it was drilled through, but Derek had told you if you stuck it on the door it would come off when you wanted and wouldn’t be moved if the unspeakable happened again. You kept your warm-toned light on as you slept and had the tv play in the back quietly, enough so you could still hear the glass.; total silence and darkness would make it more difficult to sleep. You tried your best to keep your eyes closed and sleep through any fears you were going through.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You slept, hugging your favourite plushie, restless with nightmares but not wanting to stay up all night; you had work in the morning, which couldn’t be ignored. When you finally started to calm down, lost in a trance of slumber…

Leon finally came from under the bed.

He watched you momentarily, your face visible with the warm tones from your lamp; he watched you and stared at how beautiful and vulnerable you were in your sleep, getting harder as the thought of grabbing and making you his was starting to engulf his mind, but he couldn’t do that… yet. He walked over to the bathroom; you had foolishly kept the bedroom door open, making it easy for him to get around the place. He looked at his surroundings — the place you called your own little sanctuary — sliding his fingers on the books you were currently reading, picking up the blanket you slept in on the sofa, starting to smell it and loving how your scent was lingering on the fabric. You were so near, but so far; Leon wanted to do whatever he could while you were asleep.

He had been waiting for your arrival.

Leon had come back from Spain two weeks ago, he had finished his mission successfully but had to sacrifice himself for it; the parasite was slowly taking over him, and the dark veins across his skin started to take over the being he was. Unlike the other victims, he managed to maintain his memories and some of his characteristics, only his humanity and morals were exchanged and surrendered to the virus. He remembered his life before going to Spain: how sweet you were every time you came over to his place, how beautiful you were every time you walked past him, and how delicious you looked in your most vulnerable state.

Derek managed to maintain checks on the apartment, only he was stupid enough to install locks that were easy to pick without any evidence. The original locks were too challenging to get into, making it obvious he was trying to enter, the markings on the door being a last resort of desperation which held him back with you being gone for a week. When the new ones were put in, Derek was lazy and cheap; Leon managed to keep the camera covered and made his return unknown to everyone and every time he pressed himself toward the door to look through the peephole, seeing the hallway was clear, it was easy to get in. Thanks to Derek’s instalment of faulty, broken locks.

Leon knew that Derek would contact you the day the locks were put in, so he stayed in your room, hiding under your bed whenever he heard the sound of the key turning in the door. He remembered when he saw Derek looking around — completing an idle search — and Leon couldn’t help but think how simple-minded he was and what a huge mistake he made in the choices of locks and search methods.

The parasite made Leon think the most profound and darkest of thoughts, he couldn’t help but stare at Derek and think about how easy it would be to just… Kill him; he was out in the open like prey. But he wasn’t what Leon wanted; you were the prize he wanted to steal.

He sat in the bathroom, looking at all the products you used that were left on the side of the sink, but he didn’t care about that; he looked at your laundry basket, not taking a second to waste and rummage through your dirty clothes, looking for something particular.

He found it.

A black lacy thong was sitting at the bottom. Leon loved it when you wore this; you never knew but sometimes when you wore this with a skirt, he would sometimes see it when he accidentally dropped something and you were too kind to pick it up for him, bending over and exposing yourself in front of him. He couldn’t do it too often, but when he could, he would always feel how hard it made him, palming his erection under the table — which you were oblivious to.

He sat on the cold tile, unbuckling the belt on his jeans, allowing his hard cock to be surrounded by the cold air and Leon’s calloused hand, having his free hand press the lacy fabric against his nose. He inhaled your scent, his cock throbbing as he caressed his hard member, precum leaking over his fingertips as he got lost in the scent and thought of you.

He needed you. He needed to make you his, and he didn’t want to wait any longer.

Tonight was the night he was going through with the plan.

The more he thought about his sinful plans, he quickened his movements, trying not to be too loud in his moans: he thought about how you would feel, how it would feel to have those warm walls surround his cock and yearn for his tip to kiss your cervix, how beautiful you would look with his hand around your neck, wanting to know what it would be like to see you cry at his length, and how he would feel when you screamed his name and beg for him to stop.

That was it.

That was the thought that made him release warm ropes, using your panties to clean himself off, throwing it back on top of the basket without a care in the world.

Every time you made a sound, whether it was a whimper or you shuffling in bed, Leon darted his eyes in your direction, making sure you didn’t wake up and ruin his plans — he waited too long for this.

He finally moved to the kitchen, picking up any rag he could find, inching his way closer to the doorframe and covering the rag with the liquid that was a part of his plan. He stood over you, waiting and waiting for you to wake up.

When the sun peaked through, your eyes slowly opened, your vision blurry until you saw a dark figure.

“What the —”

Your eyes widened as the mysterious figure pressed the rag, covering your mouth and nose, making you slowly drift back into another deep slumber; your attempts to fight back failed, and Leon watched as your body became lifeless and easy to take.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this part, please like and reblog (it rlly helps and i appreciate every single one). i just wanted to say that i didn’t do a tag list for this part since i wanted people to know what they were getting themselves into, i will also not be doing separate tag list posts; just comment on the post or message me if you want to be tagged (and maybe mention if you want to be tagged in every part of you want). have a lovely day/evening, ily 🫶

update on the authors note: i won’t be doing tag lists at all for this series it’s hard to keep up with, im sorry 🫶

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy smut #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #yandere!leon kennedy #plagas!leon kennedy x reader #plagas!leon kennedy #resident evil 4 #resident evil x reader #resident evil #fanfiction #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #admirxation #admirxation broken locks

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