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itneverendshere · 2 days

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school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron blurb (+18)

warnings: smart!reader (doesn't take shit) x bimbo!rafe <3; pope being an absolute menace; mentions of sex but no actual p in v okay; this shit is football and y'all can argue with a wall <3 IT PAINS ME TO WRITE SOCCER Y'ALL BETTER APPRECIATE IT !!!

ps: this is just for fun cause someone asked me to post it (it was just a draft😬)

you’ve never been one for academic sports spirit.

what’s the point? okay, your school as incredible athletes, that’s good, but why the fuck would you kiss and praise the ground they walk on? you’re a fantastic student and no one gives a shit. why do they get all the glory while brainiacs get zilch?

the double standards piss you off. somehow academics always take the backseat to sports. maybe that explained your dislike towards jocks like rafe cameron.

up until sophomore year, you’d only heard about him, saw him occasionally around school. it was understandable why people talked about him so often. he looked like he’d just been ripped off a page of an abercrombie and fitch catalog, and apparently – you’d never attended a game to check – he was the best player on the team, playing forward. but, unlike many, you didn’t form an opinion about him until you met him. the veridic? total pain in your fucking ass.

ever since you two were paired in a class project together, an annual class at that, he suddenly took an interest in you, like you were some sort of exotic animal he’d never encountered in his life, only because you wouldn’t flirt with him. outrageous, never done before. for the first four months, it was just him laying on the cheesy pickup lines and you rolling your eyes so hard you thought they'd pop out of your head. eventually, rafe dialed it down and you were able to be civil, perhaps friends. if you could call it that.

wich is why, as his friend, you’re starting to lose your fucking patience. the season was not going well for his team. at all. there’s little to no chance they’re going to be able to win the championship.

not that you care, but apparently the whole school does. everyone seems to be on the verge of a meltdown.

“i swear to god if they lose to standford next week–“

“pope, will you kindly shut the fuck up? it’s just soccer.”

“just soccer?”

you let out an exasperated sigh, glancing over at pope who looks at you like you’ve just shot someone, “can we study? peacefully?”

"it’s not just soccer! it's about school spirit, camaraderie, y’know?"

you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. "camaraderie? please. more like a bunch of testosterone-fueled egos chasing after a ball," you retort, disdain evident in your tone.

“you don't know what you're talking about. and i'm being dead serious, cameron’s been on edge lately. never seen him like this."

you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. "yeah, well, losing does that to people. don't why you're complaining soooo much" you sigh, "i’m the one who has to put up with all the brooding and pouting.”

pope’s quiet. too quiet. you can picture the gears turning in his brain as he blankly stares at you. nothing good ever comes out of that.

“what?” you press, wondering if you have to break the school spirit out of him.

“you should fuck him. after or before, don't care. but you should."

you recoil, nearly tumbling out of your chair at pope's suggestion.

your eyes widen in disbelief, your mind struggling to process what he just said. for a moment, the room spins around you, and you feel like you’ve been thrust into some surreal alternate universe.

“what?! pope?" you finally manage to sputter, acting like you're about to go into cardiac arrest, "the fuck's wrong with you?"

“don’t look at me like that,” he merely shrugs, “that man is depressed. he needs to get laid if he’s going to win something.“

you hardly think a guy like rafe is not getting laid every other day, but that’s irrelevant. your jaw drops, stunned by his audacity. "are you kidding me? you don’t even like him!”

“but i like winning!” he whines, all but pushing his books aside to place in his elbows on the table, “and he’s so obsessed with you it hurts watching. he’s like one of those little crusty white dogs always running after you.”

you shake your head in disbelief, "he does it to be funny, okay? he’s not actually interested.. t's just a joke”

your best friend only laughs, a raucous, almost maniacal sound that echoes through the room. he clutches his stomach, "just joking?" pope gasps out, his laughter still bubbling to the surface. "oh man. you're hilarious, honestly, wow."

you stare at him, lips set in a straight line, feeling like you missed the entire joke. "what's so funny?"

pope wipes away a fake tear, trying to compose himself. "he almost ripped a new one to jj after he pulled that stunt last semester.”

your eyebrows knit together in skepticism. “and? i still don’t follow.”

rafe and jj couldn’t stand each other. both are incredible athletes and everyone always gushes about how great they are together on the field. outside, however? not so much. they don't mix. ever.

“and?! why do you think jj randomly talked about you in the locker room?”

“because he’s a horny creep and got a kink for fist fights with undressed men?”

you love jj. really, you do. but sometimes he’d win a lot more if he just kept his mouth shut or thought before speaking. you've lost count of how many times that boy has been suspended.

pope leans in, his tone low and conspiratorial, “cameron practically threatened to rearrange jj's face if he ever mentioned you again.”

you narrow your eyes, “nop. you’re making that up.”

pope shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. "nah, i'm dead serious.”

your mind races, trying to piece it all together. while your brain always clicks instantly in class, feelings...emotions are a little more complicated to grasp sometimes.

"wait, so you're saying he actually cares about me?"

he nods, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "yep.”

“seriously?”

pope chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "head over heels. you’re our school’s only hope.”

your brain's on overdrive trying to process pope's bombshell revelation. rafe cameron, the big-shot jock, actually giving a fuck about you? it's like some twisted plot line from a teen drama. you didn’t see this one coming. but then again, you hardly pay attention to anything outside academics.

“so what? ’m supposed to fuck the mediocrity out of him?”

he grins, clapping you on the shoulder, “there’s that school spirit!”

you slap his hand away, “oh fuck off. ‘m being serious.”

he’s still grinning like he just cracked the code to life. "come on, hear me out. it's like a strategic move, y’ know? boost his morale, boost the team's performance. win-win."

you roll your eyes, not buying into his scheme. "yeah, because my sex habilities are definitely the key to winning soccer games."

he shrugs, undeterred. "it's not like you'd be doing it for him. it's all about the greater good."

you scoff, rearranging your notes for the millionth time, "this isn't some feel-good sports movie."

it’s not like you never thought about rafe. sure, he's a yapping idiot around you most of the time, but every time you need help or an extra hand, he’s always the first one to offer. that has to count for something, right?

“the ball’s in your court.”

yeah it is.

truth to be told, you’ve been sick and tired of rafe acting like a loser over soccer. what was the point in whining about it if he wasn’t going to try and do better? god, you'd never seen him like this before and it's been irking you to beyond. even more now that pope mentioned it again.

at this point, you just want to march up to him, shake him and make it come to his senses. you can’t even remember that last time he tried to hit on you. that’s how bad it is! the memory is buried under the weight of his brooding.

so maybe….maybe pope's onto something, y'know? maybe there's more to it than just you and rafe. and yeah, okay, you're not exactly thrilled about the idea of hopping into bed with him, but only because you’d hate the attention that comes along with his name.

but...a part of you is weirdly intrigued. not because you're dying to be his next conquest, but because you're just done with watching him drown in his own misery. maybe this could be the wake-up call he needs. a swift kick in the ass to snap him out of his funk.

you wouldn’t be doing out of selfish reasons! school spirit and all. you’d be doing everyone a favor. and you wouldn't need to blame it on yourself if things went downhill.

you had pope for that.

which is why you’re standing in front of rafe's room in his frat.

a jock and a frat boy? charming. you’ve certainly hit the jackass lottery. but you’ve been here before. he always saved the day when the library was packed or when your roommate was too busy fucking her boyfriend in your dorm room. this was weirdly your safe place to work.

taking a deep breath, you rap your knuckles against the door, trying to ignore the butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach. it's not about you! get a grip.

the door swings open, and there's the fucker, all brooding and rugged, like he just walked off the set of a sports movie. you roll your eyes at the cliché, but there's something weird about the way he looks at you. or maybe the tight wife-beater is doing a number on you.

you still notice the bags underneath his swollen eyes.

there's a flicker of surprise in him, like he wasn't expecting to see you, out of everyone in this school, standing there and you can't blame him; after all, you're not exactly a regular visitor to the frat house, only when your academic needs force you to.

“hey?”

“you look like shit, cameron.”

rafe's eyebrows raise in surprise at your blunt remark, “uh, what?”

you roll your eyes resisting the urge to scoff. "can i come in or are you going to stand there looking like an idiot all day?”

rafe chuckles, stepping aside to let you into his room, “come on in.”

you step inside, taking in the cluttered room with a mixture of amusement and mild disgust. it was never this bad before, you know rafe’s a clean freak and this? this is not him. but it is exactly how you imagined a frat boy's room would look like—dirty.

there’s laundry strewn across the floor, empty beer cans littering the desk, and a distinct musky smell lingering in the air. you shake your head in disbelief, shooting rafe a disapproving look.

"what are you? a divorced forty-five-year-old man?”

rafe laughs at your comment, though there's a hint of embarrassment in his expression as he scratches the back of his neck. "yeah, i know. sorry about that."

he’s doing worse than what you realized and it tugs a little at your heartstrings.

you raise an eyebrow, unconvinced by his apology. "sorry doesn't cut it, cameron. you should be ashamed of yourself.”

"okay, fair point. i'll clean up, promise."

“not just your stupid room. i mean your whole attitude. you've been moping around like a loser!”

rafe's expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his features. "hey, ‘m not—"

"don't even try to deny it," you interrupt, not backing down. "everyone’s noticed. you’re pissing me off.”

you don’t know why you’re suddenly so tempted to give him the scolding of a lifetime, but there’s just something about seeing someone with so much potential and drive wasting it all away without a fight. it’s not like him.

and by the kicked-puppy look on his face, you can tell he's not used to being called out so openly. but you're dead set on breaking through to him, no matter how awkward it gets.

“see! you’re just staring at me like—like, a fucking idiot!”, you fire off, frustration lacing your tone. the irony of the situation isn't lost on you. “will you speak for gods sake? for more than five seconds? i spent months trying to get you to shut up and now you do?”

rafe's stunned expression makes you second guess your approach for a moment, but you push the feeling aside, knowing you can't afford to let sympathy cloud your purpose here.

“why are you mad at me?”

you can't believe he's still clueless after all this time.

"why am i mad at you?" you repeat incredulously, feeling the irritation rising your my chest. "seriously, rafe? have you even looked in the mirror lately?"

he blinks at you, his confusion evident, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"you've been moping around like the world's about to end.”

rafe's brows furrow even further, and for a moment, you wonder if he's playing dumb or if he genuinely has no idea what you’re talking about. "i don't—uh, i don't understand," he finally stammers out, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

that’s it.

you’re gonna pull the feelings card and hope it doesn’t backfire.

“do you like me?” you blurt out, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

rafe snorts as he lifts his finger to scratch his face, “course i do. pretty obvious.”

for a second you get a glimpse of the real rafe and it soothes you inside.

“and you want to fuck me?”

you’ve never seen him look so gobsmacked in his life, you’d laugh in his face if it wasn’t such a serious matter.

“what?” he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly. you can’t believe the rafe cameron is blushing. over you.

you let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. "do you want to fuck me? do i need to spell it out for you?”

he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out, and you can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at finally catching him off guard, “’m sorry? is this—are you…is this for punk’d?”

"punk'd? seriously, rafe?" you snap, incredulous that he would think this is some sort of prank, “it’s 2024.”

rafe's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, and he stammers again "no, i mean— i just...didn't expect you to— uhh”

“yes or no.”

rafe blinks at you before breathing out, “yes.”

“okay. so win your next match and you will.”

he looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, exhaling through his nose, trying to keep his agitation to a minimum. “what?”

“i’m sick and tired of this version of you. i need you to win, and if this” you gesture to the both of you with your hand, “is your motivation, then we’re doing it.”

"y’serious?" he takes a step closer, his demeanor suddenly more serious, “me and you?”

you nod firmly, crossing your arms over your chest as you tilt your head up to look at his features, “dead serious. and it’s not just you and me. it’s for the team, and for the school spirit or whatever nonsense pope keeps going on about."

rafe lets out a small chuckle, a hint of his usual cocky confident demeanor returning. "is that so? can't say no to that kind of motivation."

“i figured.”

he reaches out a hand, his fingers lightly grazing the strands of your hair, eyes fixed on your lips. "are there any rules?”

you swallow hard, feeling your heart race at his touch. “no, just win.”

rafe's lips curl into a playful smirk— the money-making smirk that makes you want to punch him and kiss him, not necessarily in that order — as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"never would've guessed you'd be the one to offer yourself as my motivation, though," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, "i'm surprised."

you try to maintain your composure, but his proximity is making it increasingly difficult to think straight. "just doing what needs to be done," you manage to stammer out, trying to sound perfectly unaffected by his words.

rafe chuckles softly, his hand still lingering in your hair as he leans back slightly to look at you. "my pretty prize, huh?" he says, his tone teasing as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

you feel a flush spread across your features at his boldness. you blame him entirely for this side of you. without thinking, you reach up to brush your fingers against his cheek, tips pressings against his skin lightly.

“just win the fucking match, cameron."

rafe's nasty smirk widens into a heart-stopping, soul-gripping grin as he leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours.

"consider it done."

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron au #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fic #rafe imagine #bimbo!rafe #smart!reader #soccer!rafe #frat!rafe #rafe blurb

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candyradium · 1 year

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god i forgot just how much i missed tlovm. and also how fucking PAINFUL the week-long waits are. i want to cry over the twins NOW,

#candy posts #tlovm spoilers #to be fair i am already doing that. but you know exactly what i fucking mean #GODDDDDDDD THEYRE SO. H #also im gay but holy fuck zahra is fine af #like. yessss girl be a rude as hell. be money motivated. sharpen your horns into weapons. be generally competent and badass. slay ✨#kashaw is also hot but in that really specific ''anime hot boy'' way. like that castlevania mf. yk what i mean #i also processed during this episode that holy FUCK we are getting paladin vax and the fucking WINGS HELLO. that shit is gonna be ANIMATED #''do you trust me?'' GIRLLLLLL I CANNOT WAIT AAHHHHHHHH FUCK i wanna rewatch campaign one so BAD (<- is still 2 eps behind on campaign 3)#i. dont know how far theyre gonna get into chroma conclave bc its split into 2 seasons but GOD do i hope we get the do you trust me.#that shit will actually fuel me for MONTHS

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seventh-district · 1 month

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so uh. that 2.2 Special Program, huh

#hsr #honkai star rail #hsr 2.2 #hsr spoilers #hsr leaks #the body of this post reads as far less enthusiastic than i really am #i just don’t know how to casually return from my latest 2 week hiatus only to gush abt a game i’ve hardly blogged abt before #but i’m not making a whole ass sideblog for it like i did for Genshin. nah y’all r gonna bear witness to my fixation with this one #so anyways don’t mind me. vibrating into another dimension with anticipation for the next 11 days #it’s insane man. a year ago i Never ever woulda thought i’d be so invested in this game. and it took Months for the game to really grab me #but i’m v glad i kept coming back even when i was struggling to really get into it. like i just had this feeling that if i stuck around and #gave the game a chance to really like. come into its stride. i just always felt like there was Something there and i just hadn’t found it #and holy shit i finally found it in Penacony. the devs really truly outdid themselves with this region and these characters and this story #not to discount everything that’s happened prior. like i was genuinely Liking it all before now but i wasn’t Loving it y’know #but that may be more a ‘me having to fight tooth n’ nail to force myself to consume new media’ thing than it is a matter of the actual game #anyways i came here to talk abt the program! bc since i’m not filming my HSR stuff i’m gonna be insufferable abt it on Tumblr instead ! :)#and i’m probably not filming any more Genshin stuff. or anything else at all for that matter but let’s not talk abt that dead dream #pun not intended lmao. Anyways let’s return to the subject at hand while there’s still room left in these tags shall we #i’m so fucking glad they had Aventurine on this program man. especially since he’s leaked to only have 18 lines in 2.2… it was nice to see-#-him here at least 🥹 i’ll take what i can get. his unenthusiastic little bird noises at the beginning.. him being reluctant to come out..#the way one of the first things to come out of his mouth was ‘y’know DR RATIO once told me…’ like boy we get it ur in love with him 🙄 (/J!)#i love how they can’t go on these programs w/o talking abt each other it’s adorable. AND THE WAY HE WAS THE ONE TO EXPLAIN BOOTHILL’S KIT!?#they can’t just fuel my crackship like this… god and his whole ‘muddle-fudger.. son-of-a-nice-lady?’ thing had me wheezing #Aven mocking Boothill’s inability to curse was not on my special program bingo card but fuck i’m here for it #and Robin being all curious abt him was so cute.. ‘who /is/ he? … does he order milk at the bar?’ i’m crying she’s so sweet #also the trailer was fucking insane. which feels redundant as hell bc all of HoYo’s version trailers go hard but like. still. wow.#that millisecond long shot of Boothill surveying the skyline is so fucking good. also what the fuck is Jing Yuan doing here!!#not complaining at all tho. we’ve got JY & DH(IL?). Argenti(?). Boothill. Sunday. Aven. all my men r here and i am eating so fucking good #Seven.txt #viddy game stuff

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fan-mans · 4 months

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After much deliberation, despite unpopular opinion, I have decided to become MORE annoying about my ships. No longer shall I worry about other people's opinions, even if i think they're cool and agree with them.

If you're gonna hate me over liking a character, making a meme, or liking a ship or a fic- go ahead.

I AM CRINGE BUT I AM FREE

#Expect rarepair posting soon #like rarepair rarepair #it's mostly for the po fandom lol #I think I'm the one person in the world who actually ships one of my ot3s #it's hilarious #sad too but mostly hilarious #lowkey i'm kinda glad the drama from earlier this year happened #dealing with people being weird about fictional guys has made me more entranced in my belief that it doesn't matter anyways #like it hurts to see people you think are cool just shit talk you #and it hurts to know they hate ur guts over trivial shit #but also it's nice to just be like: nah i'm not playing that game #evicting this bullshit from living in my head rent free #beating the shit out of my rsd #reminding myself I have lots of friends who care about me and know me as a person #gonna use spite to fuel my art #expect moodboards in the coming month #mans speaking

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todayisafridaynight · 2 years

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thinkin back to the rggo story where mine saves daigo after he gets kidnapped because daigo thought kiryu was in danger and mine immediately scolds him for acting recklessly and daigo’s just ‘no one’s ever stood up to me before aside from kashiwagi’ and how that calls back to daigo’s Y0 substory where kiryu tells him only true friends will stand up to him and put him in his place and im--

#snap chats #'i'm going to be normal' WELL I WAS LYING. LIKE A LIAR. WHO LIES.#ill go in my kitchen in a sec im just. I'm Just.#*gross sobbing*#rgg really made up for Y3's Everything by giving the rggo stories and im so serious about this #people I Am Also A Part Of People complained about not being able to see mine and daigo together much and see their friendship #and.... the rggo stories..... bro theyve been fueling me for months..... im so ill......#BUT SERIOUSLY THOUGH THATS WHY I GET INSANE OVER DAIGO'S Y0 SUBSTORY TOO #like daigo just wanted- NEEDED real friends who would ACTUALLY be there for him for him #not for his status or money or any of that superficial shit #it genuinely makes me happy how dedicated mine is to daigo like No Shit but it's just. *crying*#i love how mine does tell daigo when he fucks up though i love that so much #like mine's such a funny character... he's so cynical yet when he gets the chance to pour his heart out he does #he meant it when he said he didn't take sharing a cup lightly and /i/ want to eat a cup because of it #THIS IS THE SAME SUBSTORY WHERE MINE BUYS A STOCK IN EVERY TAXI COMPANY LIKE DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN #ALL OF THAT JUST TO BE ABLE TO FIND DAIGO #dear god dont get me started on the hamazaki/mine rggo story. oh my god it's THAT but 10 billion i'm going to throw up #i'm just. i HAVE to go into my kitchen or i'll end up typing another essay jesus CHRIST #LIKE AGAIN I FEEL LIKE IM NOT SAYING WHAT I WANT OR GETTING MY POINT ACROSS BUT AAAA #i just need everyone to know i AM still ill over them i just havent had time or many ideas to sit and draw/write something

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explicit-tae · 7 months

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Ungodly Hour: Day 3

You’re feeling petty, so sending Jungkook nudes is how you get your revenge on him for leaving you.

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.212

Warning: jungkook getting clowned, face riding, oral sex, smut, simp jungkook, dirty talking, ass slapping, shit talking reader bs that's what she does, slight sexting

You ponder what life would be like if you lived with Jungkook - the weekend is long and waking up besides the man felt nice. He cooked breakfast after allowing you to sleep in, you two eating together. You’d shower, spend the day together (sex came randomly in between) and then go to bed.

Work was a task you’d dreaded, but you’d refuse to give up so quickly, even when Jungkook agreed to your joke of quitting, stating that you could always live off of him - an agreement the man was too quick to settle for.

Even after your boring, easy job, you acted as if it was the worst day of your life. Jungkook had bought takeout to make up for it and you were content for a while.

And now, you and Jungkook are in his bathroom, you attempting to concentrate on your task. You were dressed in nothing but a black silk robe - a gift from Jungkook - the both of you fresh out of the shower. He has a match one that he tied loosely around himself.

“Is it supposed to burn?” Jungkook asks, opening one eye to look at you. He sits on his closed toilet, you directly in front of him.

“If you ask me that one more time, Jungkook, I swear-”

“You want me to fuck you so bad, Y/N.” Jungkook closes his eyes, his hands reaching out for your waist to bring you close to him.

You groan, squirming out of his reach. “We’re doing face masks.” you deadpan, your mind not comprehending how the man could be thinking about sex at a time like this. “Nothing about this is sexy, Kook.”

Jungkook scoffs - he begs to differ. There was never a moment Jungkook didn’t want you - but he was a man and maybe that was just the way his body reacts around you. He’d remain quiet, however, to make you any more irritated with him. Your irritation only fueled his sexual desire.

“‘Kay, done.” you lean back to admire your work on Jungkook’s face. Now the both of you matched - both sporting a cream colored face mask. “Our skins going to be so smooth when we’re done!” you squeal, and for a moment you’re excited - until you see the smile on Jungkook’s lips. “Ugh, didn’t mean to do that. Don’t think I like doing things like this with you.” you quickly scoff.

Jungkook cackles at your fraudulent change of tune. “You’re so down bad for me, Y/N.” Jungkook snatches your waist this time, bringing you closer to him. He then stands. “Give it a few more months, baby, and you’ll finally admit it outside of sex.”

“Fuck off.” you murmur, hands pushing Jungkook back - even if you didn’t put that much force into it because you actually did like his embrace.

Jungkook brings his face closer, the need to kiss you heavy. He doesn’t get the chance to, however, a loud banging noise sounding throughout his home. His eyebrows furrow. “Someone’s at the door.” he says aloud. “Be right back.”

You turn away from the man to clean up the mess you’ve made. As you turned on the water to clean the silicon brush, Jungkook takes it upon himself to slap your ass.

“Jung-” you swung around to snap, but Jungkook’s already out the door and down the hall, a loud trail of laughter echoing behind him.

Jungkook makes his way towards his front door, not caring about his appearance as he swings it open.

“Oop, jump scare.” Jimin walks past him, shoving three large pizzas in his arms. “Why do you never answer your phone?”

Jungkook is dumbfounded as Hoseok and Taehyung steps in, as well, and for a moment he thinks about what he’s going to say.

However, Jungkook remembers that it’s Sunday - and Sunday’s were movie nights. He swallows the lump in his throat.

He didn’t need Jimin knowing that you were here - not because Jimin hated you, it was quite the opposite. Jimin loved you (from afar) and your antics. He liked you and him together, stating that you made a good couple.

Jimin knowing that you were here meant that Jungkook forgot about the weekly movie night - and then he’d have to hear Jimin’s mouth about how “pussy was worth more than the friendship” as he liked to put it.

“I was, uh, showering.” Jungkook responds, closing the door behind Hoseok. “Where’s Joon?” he questions, as if he wasn’t the one who lost track of his days.

“Running late.” Jimin takes off his shoes and proceeds to go to the living room. “I wonder what’s new on the streaming services. Not like I’d know…” he trails off, side eyeing the younger male.

“You’ll have to get over that.” Hoseok snickers, taking his seat beside Jimin. “We all know Jungkook would find a girl that would take all his time.”

Jungkook laughs awkwardly, placing the boxes of pizza on the coffee table.

“Ah, yes.” Taehyung sits on one of the leather chairs, a boxy smirk on his lips. “So…did Y/N teach you any new tricks?”

“Or is barking all you do?” Jimin scoffs, then proceeds to go out in full laughter, followed by Hoseok and Taehyung.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. It was bad enough he had to hear it in the groupchat. This was a moment they’ll never let him live down.

“I just want to be a fly on the wall.” Hoseok shakes his head. “Y/N has to be doing something lethal to have you bark-”

“It was a joke.” Jungkook hisses. “Pick a movie while I take this off.” he murmurs, making his way down the hall and back towards the bathroom. Jungkook opens the door and eyes you, face mask already off. “So, we have a dilemma.” he mumbles, coming towards the sink.

“I heard Jimin.” your arms are crossed. “Is he talking shit again?”

“It’s Jimin.” Jungkook scoffs. He begins to wipe the face mask off of his skin, scrubbing aggressively. “I forgot tonight was movie night.”

“Movie night?” you furrow your brows. “But I thought you said we were continuing Law & Order?”

Jungkook sighs. He turns off the water and turns towards you. “I did,” he admits. “but we have movie nights every Sunday and…” he trails off.

“And…” you shake your head, not comprehending. Jungkook grabs a small hand towel and wipes his face “...you’re saying fuck Lieutenant Olivia Benson? Because you want to watch a lame ass movie?” you cross your arms, even if you couldn’t be upset about it. You just wanted a reason to give him shit.

Jungkook licks his lips and smirks. “You’re so jealous, baby. I knew you’d-”

“Ew. Go watch your lame movie with your lame friends.” you push him away, fighting the smile stretching on your lips when you feel his hands on your wrist. “I’ll be in the room, I guess.”

Jungkook pokes his head out the bathroom door to assure no one was looking. Then, he drags you towards his room and shuts the door. “I’ll sneak you some pizza.” he murmurs. He rushes towards his closet to change into clothes.

“I…I can’t come out?” you scoff in disbelief.

Jungkook shakes his head. “They’ve been cooking me in the groupchat and when they walked in. You walking out will only be my 13th reason.” Jungkook is dressed in under a minute, a black shirt and iron man pajama shorts. He comes towards you when he sees your wide eyed expression and wraps you in a sudden embrace, peppering your face with kisses. “I’ll let you sit on my face later.” he murmurs.

“You do that everyday.” you deadpan.

“Exactly.” Jungkook smiles. “So you’ll be okay for a few hours. I’ll try to kick them out after one movie, though.”

Again, Jungkook slaps your ass, but this time brings you in for a kiss. He’s out the door before you can say anything further. You eye his bedroom door for a moment and scoff with a shake of your head.

“Hyung, when did you get here?” Jungkook asks when he strolls through the living room to see Namjoon. “Did you find a movie yet?”

“Got here a minute ago.” Namjoon responds.

“Haven’t been on here in so long. Forgot how to work the app.” Jimin retorts.

“Eventually you’re going to have to get over it.” Jungkook makes his way towards the kitchen to grab a plate. He then walks back towards the livingroom to gather a few slices of pizza for you.

“Forget about the ultimate betrayal?” Jimin scoffs. “Never.”

“Where are you going?” Taehyung asks, eyeing Jungkook.

“I’m just saving myself some pizza.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “Might be hungry in the middle of the night.”

Taehyung doesn’t respond.

Jungkook makes his way down the hall and back towards his room. “Special delivery.” he scurries in to drop the plate on his bedside table. “I can’t wait for you to sit on my face later.”

“Don’t think you getting any pussy after keeping me in this room.” you retort, not removing your eyes from the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “We’ll see about that.” He doesn’t have time for a petty argument, because that would only turn it to him fucking you into the mattress - and now, he didn’t have time for that.

“Since when do you eat in your room?” Hoseok questions as Jungkook returns, a confused look on his face. “Since I got lazy.” Jungkook responds without a second thought, sitting next to Namjoon. “What are we watching?” Jungkook is barely able to focus on the movie. He eats a couple slices of pizza, his eyes watching the movie that his mind refuses to acknowledge. He would rather be with you watching Law & Order - he knows by now you two would be cuddling. You would rub your ass against him slightly, pretending to be occupied with the show and that would be his que to-

“You don’t look interested.”

Jungkook blinks a few times and then turns to Namjoon, the source of the voice.

“Just thinking.” Jungkook shrugs.

“About Y/N?”

Jungkook cracks his neck, only snorting.

“Jimin told me you were whipped. Didn’t tell me you couldn’t go a day without thinking about her.” Namjoon teases, his dimples deepening when he smirks.

“Are you two talking about Y/N?” Jimin crosses his arms. He’s laying against the arm of the couch, his eyes piercing at Jungkook.

“I sense one sided beef.” Taehyung calls.

“Because of her,” Jimin starts, and Namjoon groans, having heard this rant time and time again. “I was removed from all the streaming services. Not just one - all.”

“I gave you several warnings.” Jungkook grumbles.

Hoseok snickers. “Like what?”

“I told him when Y/N usually watches her shows.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

“You give her access to streaming services so she can watch True Crime.” Jimin deadpans, an unamused look on his face. “When you end up on one of those documentaries because she slipped something in your drink-”

Jungkook sighs, leaning back into the couch. “Can we watch the movie-”

“- and murdered you, Jungkook. I will be on there telling the audience that there was red flags.”

Jungkook’s phone vibrates in his lap. He unlocks it, your name popping up.

Y/N 🥰: does jimin want to fight me?

Jungkook smirks.

“When are you going to admit you like Y/N?” Jungkook asks as he responds to your text.

“And while we’re on the topic,” Taehyung pauses the movie. “how did you get her mother’s number?”

You were only curious in the conversation outside the bedroom once you began to hear speaking. You never turn down an episode of Law & Order, and thankfully you had. You were told by Jungkook that Jimin liked you - his words now say otherwise.

You were growing bored. The pizza was already gone and Jungkook didn’t bring you anything to drink.

But the most important thing was that you were bored - and feeling petty.

you: I miss you

You didn’t miss him - you were bored and that’s different.

You watch as Jungkook reads the text instantly and begins typing.

kookie 🍪: i miss you too 🥹😍😏

you: can’t tell

you: you’re shit talking me with your lame friends

kookie 🍪: never. I got jimin to admit that he likes you more than he admits 🤙🏻

kookie 🍪: are you hungry still?

You grunt. You couldn’t be petty with Jungkook if he was offering to feed you.

you: no

you: just bored…

You bite your lip as Jungkook types. You suddenly open the camera app and take a picture. It’s a simple picture, you smiling in the camera.

Jungkook swallows, his eyes zoning in on the picture of you. Your robe was opened slightly more and he has a peak at your breast.

“If it wasn’t for me he’d still be in the friend zone probably leasing cars for her attention.” Jimin retorts at Taehyung. Hoseok laughs at the comment.

kookie 🍪: you’re so beautiful ♥️

kookie 🍪: the robe is nice on you

kookie 🍪: i can buy you more if you’d like

You snicker at Jungkook’s response. The man didn’t know what to do now and his first option was to spend if it meant that you’d send him more pictures.

“I feel like I should be compensated for my hard work.” Jimin exclaims. “Who else can say they got Jungkook out of the friendzone?”

“They were fucking. Don’t think that’s just a friend zone.” Namjoon announces. “Raw at that.”

Y/N 😍: i seem to be the topic of conversation tonight

Y/N 😍: i wish you were as interested in me as your friends are 🤭

Jungkook glances up at his bickering friends for a moment before texting back.

kookie 🍪: im beginning to think i spoil you if you cant be without me for a few hours… 😌

You’re taken aback by the tone in the message. As if you needed him - you didn’t. You were just bored and feeling a little confrontational today.

Besides, Jungkook wasn’t going to have the last word.

“I still want to be a fly on the wall.” Hoseok adds. “Whatever she’s doing that has Jungkook worshiping the ground she walks on needs to be studied.”

“That or you’re just a pervert.” Taehyung shrugs.

Jungkook glances down at his phone and coughs. Eyes turn to him suddenly and Jungkook stands. “I-I’m not feeling…my stomach hurts.” he makes his way down the hall and goes to open his bedroom door.

You giggle when you hear the bedroom door twist.

You’ve locked it before sending Jungkook the picture. You were already naked, mind as well use it to your advantage.

kookie 🍪: oh

kookie: open the door

you: enjoy your movie night

You hear the door knob shuffle once more.

kookie 🍪: open the door

kookie 🍪: stop ignoring me baby

kookie 🍪: i can always break the door down

kookie 🍪 : then they’ll know you’re here

kookie 🍪: and hoseok already wants to be a fly on the wall

kookie 🍪: and i have no intentions of stopping once i have you on my tongue

You flung the door open with wide eyes. “Are you-”

Jungkook pushes you inside, closing the door behind him. “Just sit on my face.” he grumbles, hands pushing you backwards.

It doesn’t take long for your robe to be discarded on the ground. He takes in your naked sight and sighs with a shake of his head. “So needy.” he murmurs, laying down on his bed. “You missed me, huh? And it hasn’t even been a full movie length.”

“Did not.” you reject, pussy already in his face.

Jungkook clenches both of your legs. “Is that why you’re already wet?” his tongue licks your clit and hums. “It’s okay to admit you missed me, baby.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond, he’s already diving head first into your. He suckles and slurps loudly, his hands keeping you in place. This time, he doesn’t care if you preferred him to now watch - he does anyways. His eyes are intense on watching you be pleasured by him - the cute needy moans, the fucked out look on your face. He wanted to experience it all.

“Your friends are gonna know you’re gone.” you whimper as Jungkook laps his tongue slowly between your folds.

Jungkook leans back only slightly. “Do you want me to stop?” he questions.

You shake your head, and that’s all the convincing Jungkook needs. His right palm slapped your thigh. “Then I won’t. Now just ride my face until you cum.”

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his excessive need to make you cum.

However, you do as you’re told. Your hips buckle against his tongue, your head falling back - mainly to avoid Jungkook’s gaze. It was his favorite part, he once told you, to watch you cum.

Jungkook’s tongue feels amazing - and it’s the same tongue. It shouldn’t feel better than the last time, but somehow it does. Maybe it’s the way his hands rub along your thighs as you ride along his tongue - or maybe it’s the way he grips your breast and pinch your nipples that are an added bonus.

Jungkook’s hands never stayed in one spot. They’re soon cupping your ass to encourage you to grind against him harder - how he never suffocates is beyond you.

“O-Oh, fuck.” Jungkook hears you hiss and he squeezes your ass even harder. His own breathing increases as he watches you - he can do this for as long as you wanted. You were so beautiful when you were aroused and cumming - it’s a sight he has engraved in his mind.

“I know you’re about to cum.” Jungkook says muffledly. His head bops back and forth, in rhythm with your grinding. He also knows how you enjoy the way he touches you, your ass being your favorite part. He probably will never know why girls enjoyed pain mixed with pleasure, but he was nothing but a man made to pleasure you.

So, Jungkook slaps your ass encouragingly, making sure to give it a good grip after each slap.

You needed to know what it was about Jungkook - and his tongue, fingers or cock - that has you cumming so harshly on his tongue like he wants you to; and even then he refuses to stop until you’re twitching.

Jungkook doesn’t allow you to fall back like you want to, his hands grasp your twitching form and assures that you’re placed on the bed.

Licking his lips, Jungkook smirks. “My pretty girl.” he says, kissing your forehead. “I’m going to continue my movie night, okay? Then I’m going to come back here and you’re going to sit on my face again.”

You nod your head lazily, not having it in you to argue.

“I knew you were so down bad for me, baby.” Jungkook teases. He places the blanket over your naked body. “One day, I won’t need to fuck it out of you for you to admit.”

“Fuck you.” you hiss when Jungkook is half-way out the door.

“Trust me. I will.” Jungkook chuckles, closing the door behind him, leaving you in a state of arousal and anticipation.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his good dick, fingers, tongue and heart.

Series Masterlist

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#bts smut #bangtanwritershq #btsmasterlist2022 #btswritersclub #bangtan smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #ungodly hour #explicit-tae #bts college au #jungkook college au #fake tweets #bts fake tweets #simp jk #tsundere reader

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loserlvrss · 10 days

Text

꒰ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐄 ꒱ 박성훈

summary : you and your boyfriend were too much alike in a lot of aspects, especially stubbornness

genre : angst, suggestive, sunghoon x afab!reader, drabble tws : language, suggestive content, arguments author notes : this ones for my wife xx word count : 0.6k

"sunghoon," your thumb and index finger pressed to the bridge of your nose in an attempt to ease the tension coursing through you, "you're not listening right now."

truthfully, neither one of you wanted to hear the other out — and that's resulted in an argument. one that seems like it won't fizzle out no matter how much the two of you raise your voice.

you both had too much pride to give the other the last word. you were too much alike; your friends and family only confirming your hard-headedness. but, you had to admit that he was pretty when he was mad.

"no, y/n," he laughed, humor twisted with frustration and disbelief, "you're not listening. i have to do this, it's not something i can just skip — believe me!"

you rolled your prettily-done eyes, which only furthered his annoyance, slumping into the wooden chair you paired with your pine table, "i don't care that you made other plans — we decided months ago. we have to go, sunghoon, we've already canceled... twice!"

"and now i'm saying that i can't go. you can go by yourself, can't you? it's not a big deal, is it?"

your mouth practically hit the floor at his audacity, "it is a big-fucking-deal, babe! i need you there, you know this!"

and despite being mad at each other, the love was still there. he drove you up a wall, but at the end of the day, there's no one else you'd rather have push your buttons. yes, it was a hostile environment right now, but it was bound to break; it always does.

"well, i can't go."

your head met your hand, elbow pressed to the table, "fuck," you were going around in circles, neither one willing to compromise, "sunghoon, how many times do i have to tell you that i don't care? you promised the last time we canceled that that would be the last time. so, you just lied to me?"

it seems like fuel to the fire was the only thing you both could throw at it, poisonous words with a twisted tongue, "oh my god, are you kidding me? you're really going to fucking hold that to me, baby?"

your eyes widened, hand hitting the wood with a smack, "well, when i promise you shit, i actually mean it. so, yeah, i'm going to hold it over your fucking head."

"we're getting nowhere." he stated the obvious, making you huff, "let's talk later."

he wasn't asking, but you honestly didn't have a care in the world for it; to you that was just as good as a suggestion. you got up, approaching him with a calm demeanor. you didn't want to back down, but you knew you'd be here for a lifetime if you didn't let the dust settle — even if only a little bit.

as you were passing, you mumbled out a defeated, "fine, hoon. do whatever you want."

you felt a firm grip on your wrist, him pulling so you'd face him again. and before you got the chance to angrily-question his intentions, his lips were pressed to yours, a firm, yet gentle, hold on your cheek.

you both felt the wire snap, your bodies relaxing into each other.

between alternating sides, he whispered a confession of love to you; reminding you that despite the attitude, he was made for you.

you pulled back momentarily, still prideful enough to not let him have the last word, "i'm still mad at you."

"you know i'll make it up to you, baby," he smiled, hoisting you onto the wooden surface carefully, and slotting between your parted knees, "i promise."

but he was just like you, wasn't he?

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

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diejager · 5 months

Note

Can i make a request?

i thought of this yesterday what about y/n or the reader has been in 141 for 2 years now and one day 141 gets a new member konig but y\n or the reader is 26 and konig is 19 i feel like this has to be done😍😍

also konig: shy,sweet,tall,big,puppy like for the reader

reader: small,short,sassy,mommy🤭🤭

PLEASEEEE!!!!!

Young Cw: major canon divergence, bullying, intimidation, beating, protective reader, tell me if I missed any.

He hated attention, having people stare at him because he was tall —unnaturally so, towering over everyone despite his young age and timid and anti-social demeanour. He was grateful, really, after Laswell called in some favours to have him transferred from his platoon to a British Task Force as a trainee, someone on probation while he trained and learned how to integrate with the team. He worked well with them, the tall and muscular battering ram that opened up a path and shocked the enemy, working flawlessly beside to team, and yet, he couldn’t work up the energy or want to socialise with them, to open himself up and let them see the raw and softer part of his mind.

That, however, was the least of his problems, they were cordial - nice - with him, Soap and Gaz even went out of their way to include him in their banter, throwing jokes and good-minded laughs, Price acted as the protective figure of his team and extended it to him, Ghost - ever silent and glaring - didn’t mind looming over others and growling orders when someone overwhelmed him, and you were no stranger to threats and blackmail to get someone off his back. His problem, the biggest one, were the envious glares and insulting hisses older soldiers threw at him in hushed tones and occasionally glances when he found himself alone, either training or walking around.

Even in a place where he could let out all his aggression and pent up frustration, he was still victim to bullying, verbal rather than physical, no one would dare lay a hand on him when he was the youngest of the Task Force and under their protective eye. Despite the shielding from brutality, other men still found time and places to openly beat him down with demeaning and aggressive words, belittling his exploits, his awards and all his hard work to escape the hell of his little village (his Mutter was the only exception, he willingly went back on Holidays to see her).

“Look at that giant freak. Reckon he’d break if we put too much weight on him.”

“Bastard’s only here because he’s tall, that’s all he’s good at.”

“Aye, makes sense, never liked him. He might be a nepo baby, pop’s probably a powerful man.”

His Vater was a piece of shit that left him long before he was born, leaving his Mutter to fend for herself and rot away to feed and provide for him until he joined the army to care for her.

He didn’t want to give them more fuel, to retaliate meant more bullying, he learned that the hard way as a child. All König could do was take and take until they got bored, walking away from him to busy themselves with something else. That didn’t mean he didn’t get mad, frustrated or insulted, his hands curling into fists to hold itself back from pummelling them, they were his superiors, he’d be discharged or thrown out for hitting his superiors, especially since he was a foreigner and still new.

“Fuckin’ bastard is glaring.”

He was unknowingly glaring at them, he couldn’t help it, then he turned away, his gaze wandering to the floor before they’d escalate it. He heard one of them spit something out before he stomped towards König, shoulders and chest pushed out to seem bigger than they actually were in an attempt to intimidate him. Standing before him, he felt someone raise their fist, ready to strike him for simply glaring at them after months of being subjected to their intimidation. He was ready to stop them if needed, not a pushover or someone who’d take a beating quietly, eyes cued on the raised arm of an older man, but then he fell, moaning loudly as he fell to his knees.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, huh?!” You appeared behind him, yelling out at the man you just kicked.

They were as surprised to see you, their faces draining of colour as the others scrambled to come up with an excuse. You snuck up on him as much as you did on them, using his height and size to your advantage to land your blow. You moved to stand before him, a shield to a man as tall as he was, protecting him with a vicious glare and damning words, and somehow, he found himself gripping onto the back of your jacket, your name printed on the back and the Task Force’s insignia on your sleeve.

“He was disrespecting us, Lieutenant!”

You didn’t hold back your disbelief, scoffing so loudly that other people had turned their attention to your group.

“Disrespecting? Do you take me for an idiot, Corporal? I’m no blind,” your words were silencing, sending them panicking for another reason to excuse their actions, something disbelieving or idiotic, “This isn’t the first time I’ve written you up to HR, Corporal Matt, Davis, Brown. You’ve done this many times with other operators, especially to König.”

“That’s because-”

“Save your fucking excuses and fuck off!” You nodded away, watching them scramble off.

Glee and smugness filled him, a disgusting feeling that he couldn’t help but enjoy, even as you huff and turn to look at him, head craned upwards to meet his eyes with soft adoration. You were always so warm and caring, as if you weren’t made to be the ruthless killer people made you out to be, but he’d seen you kill, the cold and calculated look in your eyes when you were deployed. You patted his arm, a smile gracing your lips as you reassured him that they wouldn’t bother him anymore.

”Time for dinner, yeah?”

He learned the next day that they were transferred to another base, seen packing up their bags with black eyes and bruises littering their bodies. Sparring, he heard from whispers, from one at to another, the word spread and he found his days quiet and anxiety-free.

“Danke, Leutnantin.”

“You know my name, König. I think you’ve earned the right to say it.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig cod #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig #tw: bullying

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atticrissfinch · 7 months

Text

No Soul to Sell (dark!joel miller x reader) (18+) (oneshot)

pairing: dark!ex-boyfriend’s dad!joel miller x fem!reader summary: divorced joel is fucking his way through his newly acquired bachelor status, when he remembers you—the (recent) ex-girlfriend of his son—are now an option for him. CAUTION: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. NONCON WARNING. Warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT] Joel POV, misogynist!joel, slut!joel, general evil menace!joel, dubcon that devolves into explicit noncon mid-act, age gap (unspecified, but joel is old enough to be reader’s father), mentions of infidelity (joel is a lying cheater, reader has been cheated on previously—not by joel), little/no prep, coerced unprotected piv, noncon creampie, lying/manipulation, sexist and derogatory/degrading language word count: ~2.8K | ao3 a/n: here’s my contribution to @chloeangelic’s divorced!slut!joel challenge. It was supposed to be 1.5k or less, but daddy chloe gave me special permission to go over. she also convinced me to write a fucked up alternate ending to this already fucked up fic, and I’ll provide the warnings for that before the alt ending, below the initial fic. Masterlist | Kofi A little post-fic drabble for those interested :)

Joel was acutely aware of his perpetual need to keep his dick wet. Hell, it’s the primary reason his wife left him in the first place.

Whenever the old bitch went frigid, he was forced to dip his wick elsewhere. Preferably somewhere young and pretty. If you put a gun to his head, he would admit that the papers weren’t a shock. He wasn’t exactly the most diligent at covering his tracks, and his wife wasn’t that stupid. So she had them drawn up the day she discovered he had been stepping out.

He shrugged it off, said some less-than-polite words, and—after some nauseating mediation proceedings—signed the fuckers. Packed his shit and went on his way to his recently secured apartment.

It wasn’t until after about a week of being by himself that he came to terms with how shitty being alone really was. Having to actually put in work to get sex again was a chore. When he was married, if he’d wanted it badly enough, his wife would usually give it up one way or another. But now he was severely lacking in a live-in cock warmer, and he needed it. He needed a warm hole to fuck, or he felt like he was going to shrivel up and turn to dust. After a few days without one, he would start getting jittery, and no amount of coming in a tube sock would satiate his carnal, irrepressible need for pussy. Any pussy.

And now, three months into his bachelor lifestyle, he’s already worked his way through most of his ex-wife’s (less loyal) friends, and all available female acquaintances that he could reasonably plow into. He’s run dry to the point where he’s started fucking the better pussies a second time. Since the divorce, Joel has learned that he really doesn’t like repeats anymore. He likes the thrill of sinking into a new hole, the challenge of what makes them tick. As soon as he cracks the code, the mystery is gone.

One evening, he’s lazily scrolling through the contacts on his phone, his dick once again fueling his decisions, when he comes across you.

Of course. It’s so obvious, he’s frustrated he hasn’t thought of you before. He knew you’d always had a thing for him. He had for you as well. The moment the two of you met, there was an energy between you. Purely sexual. He saw it in your eyes, he felt it in his dick. You had wanted him. And he had wanted to give it to you. But both of you were well aware that the other was off-limits, especially with your respective partners at each other’s sides. One of those partners being his own son.

A son he never truly connected with. A mama’s boy through and through. Sensitive and soft like her, but selfish and surly like him.

And ultimately, to Joel, a disappointment.

But now. Now that his wife is out of the picture. Now that Preston is out of your picture…

Joel: Hey you. Would you mind if I stopped by tonight? I think we’re overdue for a talk.

Not even an hour later, Joel is knocking at your door.

You open it, and you’re nothing short of a fuckable vision, clad in your black cotton leggings and your tank top, hands glistening and damp from what he parses is water from the dishes you’re in the middle of doing.

“Sorry, just finishing up,” You pardon yourself, bending at the waist like a fucking siren beckoning him as you pull up the door on your dishwasher to latch it shut and start the cycle.

He can’t resist it. Not for another second. He can hear, feel your breath hitch as he presses dangerously close against your back, your stomach hitting the lip of the counter as his breath fans out over your neck.

“Joel…” You start to object as he slides his hands down your torso, landing on your hips and rolling his own into yours to show you just how quickly you’re getting him where he desperately craves to be. “What are you doing?”

“What we’ve both wanted to do since we first laid eyes on each other,” Joel replies huskily, ghosting his lips over your ear to nip at your earlobe.

You half-heartedly attempt to bring your shoulder to your ear to nudge him away, but he just gives a small chuckle. “Am I wrong about that?” He bites kisses down the expanse of your neck, flexing his fingers around your hips. “Have you not been fuckin’ me with those beautiful eyes since we met?”

“We can’t do this,” You puff out, your breath already shallow with your own desire.

Joel’s fingers squeeze heavily at your hips as his fully hard cock grinds between your asscheeks in those sinful leggings, resulting in your head lulling back on your shoulders with a moan.

“We’re both single,” Joel counters, “We can do whatever the fuck we want.”

And then Joel is spinning you around, crashing your lips together in a hungry, brutal kiss. His tongue doesn’t request entry, it just takes it, filling the expanse of your mouth for his own exploration and pleasure and tasting of his filthiest dreams. His hands rake up your tank top over your tits for his mouth to devour, your head falling back again as obscene noises spill out of it.

Joel hitches your leg at his hip and drags his cock up your cunt, pulling a whimper from you that has him feeling feral, crazed enough to want to rip right through your clothes.

“Wait, wait, wait,” You pant out, shoving some space between the two of you in a way that makes Joel want to show you exactly what he thinks of that little move at this current juncture. But he huffs a sigh, caging you in with his hands gripping the counter at your back, but leaving precious inches of atmosphere between you.

“I don’t wanna wait,” Joel growls out, grinding his teeth.

“Look, I just need to know something, okay?”

Joel struggles not to roll his eyes in impatience, forcing himself into some semblance of concern. “Alright. What do you need to know, darlin’?”

Your eyes flutter momentarily at the name, but you push through. “When Preston told me about you and your wife—”

“Ex,” He corrects with gusto.

“Right, sorry, ex-wife. Well, he made it sound like she left you…” You hesitate a moment before exhaling, “Because you cheated.”

And Joel isn’t daft, so he slides his hands around you and nuzzles at your nose with his own. “Darlin’, that’s the opposite of what happened. She cheated on me.”

It’s as easy as breathing.

He can feel the tension sapping from your body at the words, so he continues. “And maybe it makes me a bad man, but all I’ve had the strength to do lately is try to fuck her, and her unfaithfulness, out of my system.”

“I get that,” You reply softly, your fingers creeping up to lock into his flannel and your eyes meeting his with only slight trepidation.

Once he sees he has you reeled in, he goes for the kill. “And could you think of any tastier revenge for what he did to you? For takin’ after his mama like that? Steppin’ out on you?”

A rattled shame shimmers in your eyes as he abruptly brings your reality to light. “Joel—”

“I know. I know all about it. His mama told me before we split.”

Your eyes dip down, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill.

“Hey,” Joel coaxes, tipping your chin back up to look at him. “Wouldn’t you like to get back at them? Cause I can’t think of a better way. You get to fuck the older, more mature version of him. The man who brought that cheating motherfucker into this world. And I get to slide into someone so much fuckin’ tighter and younger and cuter than her. It’s a win-win.”

“I don’t know…”

“Yes, you do,” Joel whispers, and determines that you have had quite enough conversation, silencing you with his mouth on yours again. This time you melt into him, clutching his flannel as hard as he hopes your pussy will be on his cock in a few blistering moments.

You’re face down on your mattress in record time, Joel wrenching off your leggings and underwear and shoving his own bottom half free of clothing before pulling your now bare hips into his throbbing cock.

“C-condoms in the nightstand,” You stutter out.

He groans. “Don’t make me, darlin’. Wanna feel you.”

“Joel,” You protest again, and he’s starting to really fucking hate how his name sounds on your tongue when you’re reprimanding him like that. It reminds him of his ex-wife, every fucking time he did something she didn’t like.

Joel, stop tracking mud on the hardwood.

Joel, stop shoving things in the closet.

Joel, stop trying to put it in my ass.

Just non-stop nagging, nagging, nagging.

Joel shakes his mind clear and refocuses on the delicious, plump ass raised in the air for him.

“Aren’t you on birth control, darlin’?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then that’s all we need. How about you just trust me and we’ll have some fun, huh?”

“Okay,” He hears you mutter into your arm. “Just pull out, please. I still don’t wanna risk—” Your words are cut off by an almost shrieking moan of your own making as Joel fucks into you without warning, your insides clenching around him like a fucking vice.

Joel’s own moan rings out loud, animal, as your slick insides open up around him, parting easily as he starts to fuck you with abandon. “So fuckin’ tight, darlin’. Squeezin’ this cock just right. So fuckin’ good.”

You mewl into the sheets, wrinkling them with your fingers as he ravages your insides with ferocity.

“Knew this pussy would be good to me. Open up so easy for this big cock. You openin’ up easy for me, darlin’?”

You whine, lost for speech as his fingers bruise at your hips, smooth down your spine under your shirt to keep you pressed into the bed for him.

The sound of your skin slapping together penetrates the room, and Joel is getting tired of only hearing his own voice. He likes when they talk him up, tell him how good he feels, how much better he is than their husbands or boyfriends. He prods at you between breaths, “C’mon, talk to me, sweetheart. Been fuckin’ a lot of bitches like you since my split, you really gonna let them show you up? You don’t wanna go down in my little black book as a boring piece of ass, do ya? Keep it interestin' for me.”

He thinks he hears you whine mutedly, “‘S good.”

But that’s it. Just more of Joel’s grunts, more skin-on-skin, more of your shitty bed frame squeaking.

Boring, boring, boring.

Joel feels his façade sloughing off of him in sheets as your pussy grips him, taking him all the way in and soaking him an amount that he thinks you should probably be embarrassed about, with how desperate you are for him and how little you’re showing it.

“Just a piece of fuckin’ meat for me, huh? Nothin’ to say. No brains, no nothin’. Just a fucked-out little cocksleeve whore.”

He hears you make a weird noise beneath him and then your voice finally rising and skipping with the tempo of his harsh thrusts, “Joel…I’m not sure I like this.”

He knew this was coming. He just laughs it off, redoubling his imprints on your hips. “Oh, you don’t like this, huh? What don’t you like?”

“I-I don’t think I—”

“No, lemme just stop you there, sweetheart,” Joel growls out, halting his thrusts when he’s pressed balls deep inside you, holding you flush against his hips. “Lemme stop you, ‘cause I already know you don’t think. You’re a fuckin’ woman.”

You squeak below him as he picks his pace right back up, punishing your cervix for the sins of your protests as he blabbers on, “You were created to be a vessel for cock. Holes to fuck. Everything else is secondary. This is what you were made for. This doesn’t make you happy?”

“I’m really not having fun anymore, Joel! Please stop!” You plead, lashing out a hand to push against his hip, only to be slapped away. Joel’s face turns vengeful as he secures a hand around the back of your neck and forces your hips down onto the bed, pinning you with his full body weight and knocking the air out of your chest as his cock continues to split you open.

“Well, lucky for me, I’m having enough fun for the both of us right now. I’d say that’s all that matters.”

“I said stop!” You let out a violent sob, using all your strength to buck up against him to no avail.

Joel scoffs, bringing a hand around to shove four thick fingers into your incessant mouth, cutting off any comprehensible dissent from you. “Shut the fuck up, bitch. I’m gettin’ what I came for.”

Your muffled screams propel him forward into your trembling wet heat, grunting when your walls clutch him as if your life, your sanity depends on it. And shit if that doesn’t make him that much harder.

“Oh, fuck yeah, keep squeezin’ me like that baby, just like that. Don’t wanna hear a goddamn word about you not droolin’ for this cock, darlin’. Cause I can fuckin’ feel it. Droolin’ from your mouth and your pussy.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind he registers that you’re biting into his fingers as you scream over them, but for reasons foreign to him prior to this point, the pain spurs him on. Your saliva drips down his fingers, flowing in rivulets down his wrist as he hammers into your cunt.

“Not sure why you’re fightin’ me, when I gave you the chance to speak the fuck up. The one time I don’t want a bitch to shut her goddamn trap and you refused to do it. ‘F you’re not gonna make it worth my while, I’ll do it my damn self,” He grunts, holding open your jaw with his crooked fingers and railing into you with every ounce of resentment he has for his ex, for his son, and for every cunt who dared not impress him.

Joel feels his release building, his cock twitching inside you as he fucks your tightening hole, but he begs his body to hold out just a little longer. He pistons his hips in shallower thrusts as he levels with your ear, speaking over your whimpers, “I got a little confession, sweetheart. I lied. I did cheat on my wife.”

You whine, sob around his fingers, bending your knees against the mattress as you try and get leverage, but Joel’s smart enough to know you’re no match for his strength. The new position you’ve ended up in has Joel fucking even deeper into you, your keening growing more unhinged as Joel takes and takes and takes.

“Yeah, I cheated on that bitch over and over and over,” He spits, punctuating each repetition with a relentless slam of his hips into your ass. “And now that I’ve been where he’s been, felt what you got to offer, I can see why my son cheated on you, too.” He thrusts into you one last, brutal time, looping his free arm your neck to hold you in place as your sobs go quiet, more like resignation. Like defeat.

Joel’s forehead presses into the back of your neck as his cock pulses inside you, filling you with his load and claiming you for himself. He grunts out, “I know you wanted me to pull out, but…well, shit, I didn’t wanna. Want you to remember this.”

You finally go limp underneath him, and Joel hums a rumbling sound of approval. “That’s right. Just let it happen. All filled up with me now. What would Preston say? Spreadin’ your legs for his father, wringin’ his cock dry for his come?”

His fingers slip out of your mouth, drenched and a little pruned with purpling divots from your teeth adorning them. You just sniffle, your head collapsing into the sheets upon Joel relinquishing his hold.

“You stupid bitches never learn,” He mutters, groaning as his cock slips free of your clutches and lifting his weight off of you. He watches you take your first full-chested breath since he pinned you down, and it looks a little pathetic to him. When you don’t make an effort to move, Joel just goes about pulling himself back together. He leans against your bedroom door frame, studying the rise and fall of your body with each breath, his come leaking out of your spent cunt, the spots on your hip where he guarantees color will bloom where his fingers had been.

“All the same,” He mumbles. “All of ya. You’re nothin’ but fodder. Spread you out, devour you bit by bit.”

You lay silent, but he knows you hear him.

“And if there ain’t nothin’ left of ya when I’m finished,” He says, shrugging a little as he turns to leave, “far as I’m concerned, that’s when I know I done my job right.”

—-

Post-fic drabble

Alternate Ending

Further warnings/tags: noncon piss!kink (f receiving), disrespect/violation of someone in a presumed catatonic or dissociative state

word count: ~500

a/n: Chloeangelic is 100% to blame for this. I was fully content with the original ending, and then she said “but what about piss kink?? Maybe??” and I’m nothing if not a subby little bitch for her, so here it is.

----

But he stops. Takes in the sight of you. You look so goddamn helpless.

“Hey,” He prompts, shaking your foot in search of a response from you. You don’t budge. You don’t speak. The only signs of life are your tear-filled, periodically blinking eyes and the undulation of your breathing.

He thinks you may be in shock or something. Typical woman.

Something about that pisses him off. Deep inside the darkest recesses of his psyche, he craves a response from you. And you’re not giving it.

As he ponders how to earn that response, nature poses its own suggestion for him. He bats the idea around in his head. His gaze lingers on your bare ass, your exposed back, your overall catatonic state. He thinks about his wife—ex-wife—and every time she complained that he was too rough with her, that he asked too much of her, that it seemed like he didn’t care about her.

Well, fuck her, maybe he fucking didn’t.

Rage flares up inside him again, staring at your pitiful, fucked out body. And he decides to just release it.

Propped up on his knees between your spread thighs, flaccid cock in hand, he expels a cathartic sigh as he starts to relieve himself.

He expects you to bolt up the second the hot, wet pressure hits your back, but you are surprisingly unphased. He cocks his head to the side as his piss soaks the back of your rucked-up shirt, darkening the white and bleeding up the ribbed fabric.

He tilts the head of his cock down, his piss shooting against the globes of your ass and splashing back a little on impact. His eyes go dark as he aims for the crack of your ass, devouring the sight of it seeping down to the creampie he made of your sorry cunt. The substances intermingle on the wet spot directly below the opening of your pussy where you’d already made a mess on the sheets with your combined fluids. Something about adding one more to the mix has him transfixed. Less upset at your lack of reaction.

He’s actually disappointed when he feels his cock emptying, sputtering out the final remnants of his piss directly toward your creamy slit.

Satisfaction settles in his chest for the first time in a long while…maybe since before his divorce. Seeing a woman totally destroyed by his own hands, his own dick. A phantom shiver vibrates down his spine at the magnitude of this self-discovery, and he rolls his neck in a circle as he stuffs himself back into his pants.

He flicks off the lights, leaving you reeking in a puddle of his come and piss, and contemplating whether he should call his son to come find you.

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asterias-record-shop · 11 months

Note

MORE DAVE LIZEWSKI PLEASE

╭════• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •═══╮

— i can’t stop!

╰════• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •═══╯

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Dave slowly becomes a sex addict after you fuck him on the daily. Part 1

Dave truly didn’t know what hit him the day he found you in the copy room humping his jacket. He certainly wasn’t prepared to actually be fucked daily, and to be honest, he couldn’t stop thinking about it anymore. He was now used to fucking you daily, more than once, being taken out of class by you posing as someone who helped the office to take him out and pull him to fuck somewhere in the school.

Today, though, was different. He had been squirming in his seat all day, desperately trying to calm down his raging boner. These past few days you both had been having sex, it was beautiful and amazing and passionate, it was something you both had basically become addicted to.

Sex with you was different than what he would have ever expected to have loved so much. It was exhilarating with you, fueling him day and night with energy until it was replenished the next time he was able to fuck you, push his cock so deep inside of your perfect cunt he couldn't stop thinking about-

"Hi Ms. Grey, the office needs David Lizewski again. This time it's for early release." Your voice made him stand up immediately, grabbing his bag and walking toward the door.

“Make sure you finish the chapter, Dave!” She yelled, but he truly wasn’t listening when he pushed you into an empty classroom.

“David? What’s wrong?” Over the past few months, you had gotten more attached to him other than seeing him as just your sex partner, and you had never seen him like this before.

“I-I can’t stop!” He whined, bucking his hips against your cunt as you gasped. “I can’t stop thinking about fucking you, holy shit I was humping my desk before you came in there… I swear, I’ve cum like four times today, I need to fuck you.”

His words make you laugh, gasping as he tucked under your jaw to press kisses to your cheek and down your neck, desperate and needy as he rushed to unzip his pants as he started lifting up your skirt. "L-Let me fuck you, Y/N, please?"

"D-David, as much as I want to - fuck - have sex with you right now, there's supposed to be a class coming in here soon and we have to leave." You panted as he whined, pulling away as he pouted up at you. "But I pulled you out of class... for the entire day, and it's a Friday. So, we have all weekend to fuck and get high and just fuck."

Dave smiled as you zipped up his pants, gripping his cock with a giggle as you pushed him back. "Aren't you glad that my daddy bought us an apartment? No one will interrupt our seventy-two-hour sex spree."

And a spree it was. As soon as you both got home, Dave had you against the wall, pushing your chest to press against the soft grey painted wall and pulling up your skirt. He was quick to pull up your skirt and unzip his pants, quickly pushing into you with a loud exhale. "Fuck, you feel so good, Y/N."

"I better feel good if you've came four times- fuck!" You cursed as his hips snap forward, his large hands holding your hips as he pushed his fingers to rub against your clit. "D-David, baby, slow down-"

"I can't," he whispers, gasping as his hips start rutting automatically against your ass, your slick folds making the wet noises fill the home. The noises fueled him, his thrusts getting faster and rougher, loud moans falling from his mouth as you basically scratched against the walls. "Fucking hell, I can't stop thinking about you... I never want to stop fucking you."

And to be honest, he didn't. He held himself to that standard, never once pulling out of you as he maneuvered all throughout the house and fucked you literally against anything he could, resulting in you ultimately passing out as soon as he got you to the bed.

Dave sighed as he hovered over your body, smiling slightly when he saw your hickey littered form and cum caked thighs, you smelled perfect, a mix of your perfume and the cologne you bought him. He cleaned you up with your favorite towels, the special ones made of a special fabric that you loved the texture of.

He pulled away, not without a soft kiss to your temple. He walked away immediately, inhaling as he started to draw a bath for you after cleaning himself up. After walking out, he smiled when he saw you already curled up against his pillow, eyes opening and closing before he came behind you.

Your eyes snapped open as you giggled, reaching back to hold his hand and gasping as he started to push into you again. "You really know the meaning of a spree, don't you?"

"I just... I can't explain it. I love fucking you so much, I feel like I can't stop," he whispers, holding back tears as you softly stroked your cheek. He couldn't think about anything else other than fucking you anymore. "Fuck, it's bad."

"It can be," you whisper back, squeezing his wrist. "But not for us. I know... I know it's a lot, but I'll help you. I swear."

"Thank you, baby," Dave whispers, pressing soft kisses to your neck. "You wanna take a bath?"

You giggled. "Desperately so."

Your giggle makes him smile. "Then it's good that I drew you a bath with your favorite scent. Come on."

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scudslut · 2 months

Text

too sweet

daryl x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, mdni

a/n: okay, is this like the song? IDK i listened to it on repeat tryna decipher shit and come up with a good plot but i think i got a little lost in the sauce, or maybe im just being mean to myself🫢 ANYWAY I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANON BYEEE🤍

you two never got along, never saw eye to eye.

years you’d known each other and all it ever did was reveal those differences all the more. highlighting them in bold letters for you to gaze at thoughtfully, but did that stop you?

it was a game you played, back and forth for so long that it became a routine. bicker and disagree till you were blue in the face and at each other's mercy for only the moon to bear witness too.

how many times had you dug into him for his habits. he smoked, kept to himself, he fought, but where had that ever gotten him? it was against your nature. a way of being that you genuinely could not understand.

and he’d be right there with you, matching each dig with his own. you were sweet, too soft. you pleased and walked among ice like you weighed as much as a feather, so predictable it was almost humorous. if you didn’t understand him, he was absolutely riddled by you.

“how do ya sleep at night? huh? don’ya ever get tired of keeping everyone so fuckin happy?” he’d mutter, all the while tearing articles of clothing off of your supple skin, one by one. skin that was pristine by default and worn as if only heaven itself had touched it.

“believe it or not, i actually want people to like me daryl. i like when i can make people happy. it’s not a fucking act,” you sneer back.

who was he to talk? he lived inside his own head. could go days… no, months by himself, not muttering a single word to a breathing soul. and you’d tried to reason, guide, and help, but if anyone knew daryl dixon, they knew he didn’t budge easily. he had to want it for himself and he simply didn’t see the glory in your people-pleasing nature, as he’d like to call it.

sure he saw the value in it, somewhat. but he liked things the way they were, as they were meant to be. if he disagreed with something he sure as shit wasn’t gonna prance around trying not to hurt no feelings.

“alright, you keep tellin’ yerself that, princess.”

so what was it that kept you two coming back for more? why was the tension and aversion between your minds so magnetic between your bodies? he wanted to snap those annoying, pretty lips shut with his. maybe if he kissed you hard enough something would click in that head of yours. maybe he could fuck some clarity into you.

his fingers would rub fast circles over your clit, watching you keen and moan into the pillow beneath you, “how’s that princess? good enough for ya? hm?” he’d mock, “faster? slower?”

“god, would you shut up already?” you tried to sneer only for it to come out as a breathy whine, adding fuel to his pride and smirk across his face. your lips crashed into his in an attempt to diminish it but it was right there, now pressed up against your face, and fuck, why was that so hot? why was his rugged stubble, his long hair kissing your shoulders, and his broad, strong body so infuriatingly sexy to you? muscles built from years of fights, kills, and hunting. you didn’t like it… but you did.

“fuck, i’m gonna-“ you cried to him softy.

“nuh, uh. not yet pretty girl.”

his belt was loud throughout the quiet room. your eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure but you heard the familiar clanks and zips, and then you felt his weight above you — warm and spicy. it pulled you so far and close that you sucked him in before he even got his pants all the way off.

“fuckin’ christ girl,” he groaned, snapping down to meet your hips flush. it was rapid and hot, both of you pouring all your frustrations into each push and pull. frustrations with each other, frustrations with yourselves that you liked this so fucking much.

he fucked you deep and hard like his body hated you, but somehow kissed you so tenderly through it all. his tongue massaging and tangling with yours as if you created his oxygen for him.

“so fucking sweet, princess, y’know that?” he whispered against you, “no good fer me.”

he was telling himself that; convincing himself and you knew it. your body rolled to meet his quickly, feeling every gooey, warm muscle against your skin and drooling over it, “more.”

as if to prove a point he slowed down, pulling out till just his tip was caught at your entrance, and then would thrust in, hard. over, and over, and over until you were singing his name and muffling it with his neck. warm and spicy.

“ya like that? thought ya wanted faster?”

he knew he was walking a line, but what had you guys ever been but a definitive line? a clear distinction of night and day, the only time ever seeing eye to eye being these moments. as one.

you were sent over the edge instantly, spasms of pleasure rolling languidly through your body. the tight swelling of your cunt causing daryl to finish with you and fuck if he didn’t cum the prettiest, sexiest way you had ever seen. straight out of your dirty, teenage fantasies and above you to soak in while you wreathed along with him.

he groaned and cursed into your chest, riding out each wave until he was shaking above you and so sensitive he couldn’t help but hiss as he pulled away, flopping down beside you.

a cigarette was quickly fished from his strewn jeans pockets and placed between his lips, lighting up and rolling back into the pillows lazily. every ounce of mending and merging you had just done was palpably tossed out the window, your scoff loudly filling the silence.

“that will kill you one day, hope you know that,” you muttered whilst gathering your clothes and slipping them on.

he didn’t bat an eye, nothing he hadn’t heard before from you and honestly, he didn’t really care. plenty of things in the world that’ll kill you, your naivety being one of them.

“lemme guess, gotta be up bright n’ early? tendin’ ta all yer charity cases?” he mused as he watched you head for the door. there had never been a night you’d spent together, probably would end up ripping each others faces off alone in room together for that long.

he didn’t get an answer, just an amused eye roll as you opened his bedroom door, “bye daryl.”

and then you were gone, quiet stomps heard as you floated up the stairs and he knew it would only be a matter of days before you were right back here, glued to his body and singing his name like you needed him to survive.

“figures,” he mumbled, taking a long drag from his smoke and smirking softly to himself.

what’s that saying? opposites always attract?

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loves4ge · 19 days

Text

office hours

nanami kento x gn!reader

workplace romance

you had to give it to him, the man was dedicated. you don't think you've ever seen nanami kento not working. it was actually kind of disconcerting. made you want to almost invite him for happy hour. almost. you looked at your little office desk succulent, the small mug of markers and pencils, and a tiny picture of you and your little cat.

you thought it was quite plain, but compared to nanami's near-empty desk, it might as well be festive.

"did you send over the email yet?" that was nanami. he asked you politely, in a measured voice that was distant without being rude. you turn to face him, god, he looked good in that tie. your mind processed his question slowly, as you just stared at him.

"um, sorry- the email? what e- oh! yeah, i sent it. sorry, i'm feeling a bit scatterbrained, i suppose." you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. nanami would not be invited to your funeral. you'd die a second time if that happened.

"alright then." and that was it. the quota of your talking time with nanami today was up and you'd have to survive on that sentence to fuel your crush on him. the gravelly tone in which he said alright, you could almost imagine how he'd sound like when he would say sweetheart.

god, you sounded psychotic.

"i'm not a psycho. i'm not a psycho," you repeated in whispers, typing your keyboard with aggressive strokes.

the clock struck 12, and people started filing out of the office for lunch. you texted a friend to see if she could join you for lunch but fate likes to kick you at the worst times possible; she was going to lunch with her coworkers.

your coworkers were nice, but you'd rather not spend a minute more with them unless at gunpoint. even then, you'd probably weigh the pros and cons. you'd love to have lunch with nanami, but after he turned your first two invites down, you never really built up the courage to ask again.

you stood up, making sure you had your wallet on you. you glanced at nanami; he was still seated. pursing your lips, your fingers curled into a fist out of hesitation.

"no plans for lunch today, huh?" you asked, an awkward smile painted onto your face. lord have mercy, your nerves were so visible, it was painful.

"i do." you immediately thought of another place where he could say that phrase, with you standing opposite him—you were psychotic.

"oh, well. guess you can't keep me company today, haha." you wanted to close your eyes out of sheer embarrassment. who says haha?

"that's not true. i could, if you wanted me to." your eyes shot towards him. suddenly, your mouth was dry.

"uh, well. so you'd like to have lunch with me?"

"yes, i'd love to." oh my god, he said love.

"you're sure?" he cracked a slight smile at that, and you were sure your heart was going to burst. in fact, there was 20% chance you were already dead and this was your reward for suffering through a lifetime of humiliations. you weren't sure if this was an appropriate time to pinch your arm to check.

"yes, i'm sure. you have any place in mind?"

nanami kento was going to kill gojo satoru for being the inconvenient piece of shit to ever live. not only did he have the most unserious "emergencies", he also had them at the worst possible times.

first, it was when his beautiful coworker, the one with a blue-potted succulent, invited him for lunch. nanami had noticed them when it was their first day at work, their desks being so close to each other and all. and who wouldn't notice them? nanami certainly had.

the second time nanami had to help with an emergency, it was when you invited him to dinner. this was three weeks after the first invite, so it was obvious that you had worked yourself to ask him. god, it killed him to turn you down.

"no plans for lunch today, huh?" he turned from his desk to look at you. this was a month after the dinner invite. he didn't have any plans for lunch today. he was behind on work, actually. he needed this lunch hour to catch up on things. besides, he had a big breakfast. he could always get something quick to eat at his desk from a convenience store.

"i do."

he was going to kill gojo satoru, right after he took you out for lunch.

#sage -> writes!#jjk #jjk fluff #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #gojo satoru #geto suguru #toji fushiguro #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk nanami #jujustu kaisen #jujustu nanami

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fuctacles · 2 months

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Trans is fine, but you better not be a Swiftie!

For @subeddieweek Day 5 | T | 1502 | cw: hinted transphobia | transfem Steve, PDA, rockstar Eddie, jealousy, possesive Stevie, bitchy Stevie | Ao3

It took the whole of Corroded Coffin to convince her to go to the concert. It may make her sound like an unsupportive girlfriend, but she hasn't been to any of their gigs in months. Eddie never complained about it, aware that metal concerts aren't for everyone, even if they do like the music. She's also hit a weird stage in her transition when she didn't feel like going to public events.

But here she was, at their first solo concert, no festival to crutch on. In the newest band t-shirt, one she saw through every stage of designing, her tits barely making a dent (Eddie had a different opinion on that topic), while two skanks next to her had her cleavages on full display in their tiny cut-up t-shirts.

They were in the VIP lounge, waiting for the band to emerge from backstage. Stevie could have been there with them, but the rush and heat behind a concert like this gave her a worse headache than the actual music. So instead, she had to sit there with two textbook examples of a groupie. And one of them looked meaner than Carol, back from high school, when she didn't get her chocolate pudding.

"You sure you're in the right place?" one of them finally speaks up.

Stevie looks pointedly at her band t-shirt.

"Is this not a Taylor Swift concert?" she asks, eyes going wide. The second girl presses her lips, holding back a laugh. The first one narrows her eyes, though.

"Don't sass me, girlie, you know what I mean," she hisses. "Wearing plain jeans and a hoodie to meet Eddie Munson? That's so disrespectful."

Stevie wouldn't call her jeans plain. They were expensive mom-cut and made her ass look good. The girl didn't need to know she treated them like a premium version of sweatpants. And the hoodie was Eddie's. He gave it to her before going on stage tonight.

She shrugs off her words.

"I don't think he'll mind."

The girl scoffs.

"Oh, he's too nice to say anything, but he'll know you're a poser. Who goes to a metal concert dressed like that? He'd never go for you."

Stevie raises her eyebrows, taken aback.

"Excuse me?"

"Excuse you," the girl barks back, nonsensically. Her friend touches her arm as if giving her a sign to back dial it down, but she either doesn't notice or chooses to ignore her. "You don't look like you're here for the music, hell, you probably can't name a single song!"

(Stevie named some of them herself.)

"So you must be here for Eddie," she concludes with a sneer.

"Well, I am here for him," Stevie deadpans truthfully. This seems to further fuel her VIP lounge companion.

"Keep dreaming. He's into real metalheads," she says haughtily, popping the collar of her battle vest. It's so cartoonish it takes everything from Stevie not to burst out laughing. "What do you even listen to? Country?"

"Taylor Swift, I already told you."

"See, Eddie hates normies like you. Swifties are so fucking mainstream, you'll just embarrass yourself. Maybe you should go," she suggests with a pointed look.

Stevie gives her a pitying smile back. Clearly, she wasn't as big of a fan as she claimed to be if she hadn't seen the photos of Eddie in official Taylor Swift merch that were trending just a couple of months ago.

"Eddie's looking for someone real, not a fake bitch like you."

She was going to play nice, but that was taking it too far. She felt her hackles rise and her face turned into a frown.

But before she could say anything, the second girl slapped her friend on the chest.

"What the fuck, dude?! You can't just say shit like that!"

"Like what?!" She slaps her back. "Do you think she actually cares about their music? She screams fake pop shit!" She throws her hand back, motioning at Stevie.

Who was too taken aback to react at this point.

"Fuck, I thought you were being transphobic." The girl lets out a nervous laugh. "Sorry."

"What?" The first girl takes a glance back at Stevie like she hasn't noticed before. It was kind of flattering, considering she wasn't that far in her transition, but she wouldn't take an idiot's oversight as a compliment. "I don't care about that! Mainstream music is a bigger sin than being transgender!"

"I'll drink to that."

The band chose this moment to appear at the steps to the lounge, Eddie raising the water bottle in his hand in a mock cheer.

"Eddie!" The two girls stand up in unison, and it takes all of Stephanie's willpower not to roll her eyes. Instead, she gives a wry smile to Jeff, who seems to be in a similar state of mind.

"We're here too, you know," he murmurs under his breath.

Gareth nudges his arm.

"Well, I'm glad they're not here for me," he whispers back.

Stevie snorts after hearing that, but the girls are none the wiser, too preoccupied with their beloved frontman.

"Hello ladies, hope you didn't wait too long," he greets them, accepting their enthusiastic hugs and letting them kiss his cheek.

Stevie keeps her face carefully neutral.

"It's okay, we know you're exhausted after the concert." The first girl smiles sweetly at him, and it's becoming increasingly difficult for Stevie not to gag at the shift in attitude. "I'd wait the whole night to meet you." She might need a bucket right now.

Eddie laughs nervously, taking a step back to put some distance between them.

"Ashley and Xena, right?" he asks.

"I'm Xena!" The girl exclaims, clearly proud of her unusual name. Stevie does roll her eyes this time.

Gareth appears in front of her, snickering, and she punches him softly in the thigh before raising the same fist to fist bump him. He offers her the tray of cookies he picked up from the table.

"Hi. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine." She shrugs and picks up one of the cookies. "Thanks."

He nods and retreats to one of the couches. There are three of them, set up in a triangle around a table with snacks and drinks. Which is very convenient, making Stevie think Chrissy has planned it out.

"You already know them, but it's rude not to introduce my friend." Eddie grins, making room for the rest of the band to properly greet the fans. "This is Jeff, Gareth, and Grizzly the Teddy-bear. He gives the best hugs," he says with a grin. Ted rolls his eyes.

"Just Ted is fine. But I do give the best hugs." He grins.

Eddie leaves them to it and finally goes to sit next to his girlfriend, throwing his arms over the back of the sofa and sinking into the cushions.

"I'm so tired," he groans.

"Too tired to greet me properly?" she asks with a raised eyebrow. She can feel the eyes of the other girls on them.

"Never." Eddie raises his head immediately. "Sorry, baby." He leans in to kiss her on the cheek, but she moves her head away.

"I said properly," she repeats, but her tone shifts into her more authoritative one. He hesitates for a millisecond, but his eyes don't even shift away to look at their surroundings. Stevie enjoys the power trip, seeing him uncaring of who's looking and where they are.

"Of course, sorry," he amends, straightening up to go in for a proper kiss.

He lets out a surprised whimper when she dominates it immediately, grasping his chin and claiming his mouth like she's been starving for it throughout the whole concert. Eddie goes limp in her grasp, but she wants to make it clear who he belongs to. She grabs his knee possessively, angling him even more towards her, and her other hand moves from his chin to his hair. His locks are damp with sweat after the concert, but she doesn't mind, because it's exactly how she likes him. Dirty, unkempt, falling apart under her hands.

She tugs at his hair, messing further the haphazard bun he's tied it into. He sighs, melting further into her, and it makes it easier to grasp his thighs and pull him into her lap. They finally part with a wet smack, and she can look into her boyfriend's glossy eyes.

"There's my good boy," she praises. "Hi."

"Hi," he croaks back with a dazed smile.

"Booo, get a room!" one of their friends speaks up.

Eddie groans and hides in the crook of her neck, too weak from the kiss to face the teasing yet. So Stevie takes over the social interaction for him, lacing her hands together at the small of his back while he collects himself. She sticks out her tongue to Gareth.

"Shut up, we'll behave now," she says, before turning to the two girls, her jaws shattered on the floor and there to stay for her to stomp on. She smiles charmingly at them. "You guys were saying?"

Shameless plug: @stevieweek

#cj x subeddieweek #subeddieweek #sub eddie week #sub eddie munson #steddie #stevierything #transfem stevie harrington #transfem stevie #stevie harrington #transfem steve harrington #transfeminine steve harrington #trans steve harrington

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juniefruit · 4 months

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☆- biker bf minho -☆

y'all, happy almost friday. winter gloominess is kicking my butt fr. p.s, I like motorcycles, so this is totally not self indulgent...

word count: 946

Before you met, he was closed off and not really all that personable. His friends pestered him about it, too. He would never go back to living like that, though. Just looking at you brings a smile to his face without him realising it. Has he gone soft? Just for you. One thing he loves you for is that you understand his humor. He’s naturally sarcastic and witty. He can let his guard down around you and truly be himself. He knows when it’s time to joke around, or when to just chill out and take it easy.

Bonus points if you have a bike of your own, he would eat that up. Like, you get to go on little motorcycle adventures together? Sign him up. He loves when you can ride side by side looking cool af.

Granted, he also loves having you on the back of his bike. He tries to act like having your arms wrapped around his waist doesn't affect him, but of course it does. He’s a sucker for physical touch, perhaps even touch starved before you started dating. When he has to speed up and he can feel your arms tighten… he has got to stay focused on the road.

He looks absolutely godly in his tight leather riding gear. The jacket hugs his torso and shoulders just right, and the pants… (redacted)

If you have your own gear already, cool. If you don’t, he would love to go shopping with you to find something. It has to be perfect (his own words), because safety is the most important thing.

So there’s this thing called a Cardo, but there's other brands too. It’s like a bluetooth speaker you can put inside your helmet, it can play music or act as a microphone. He got you one immediately. He couldn’t wait for Christmas, or Valentines, or your birthday. He’s too impatient for that. He enthusiastically ran up to you one day, with the box in his hand. For you!! He exclaimed. He helped you set it up, and afterwards, to test it out, he insisted you try talking through it in separate rooms. He was all smiles and giggles for the rest of the day.

He’s not big on PDA, but he’s fine with holding hands or wrapping his around your waist in crowded spaces. Also, he definitely puts his hand on your lower back when he has to squeeze by or grab something near you, muttering a small ‘excuse me babe’.

When you’re riding seperately, he will try to annoy you through the intercom. He’ll spew dad jokes, or honestly just make random noises. Until he figures out you muted him and he gets whiny and upset. You pull up to a stop light when he flips up his visor hastily. “Yah! y/nnie, did you mute me? What if I had something suuuper important to say?”

Even though you constantly tell him to be careful… He knows his limits. As a biker, it’s in his blood to do at least a couple risky things a week. Whether it was a dare, or just to show off, he will pop a wheelie on the road. A couple times a month, he meets up with his other biker friends just to hang out. At first, you were intimidated. I mean, being surrounded by 8 biker dudes doesn’t sound too inviting. Minho promised they were nice, or at least some of them tried to be. He begged and whined, promising to take your share of cleaning the house for a week. When you finally complied, it really only took about 15 minutes but to Minho it felt excruciating. Minho gave you a soul crushing hug while repeating thank-you’s for a good while. Lucky for you, they were actually quite nice, but they take some getting used to.

He definitely custom ordered sticker packs of his cats to plaster onto his helmet. He was so ecstatic when they came in the mail, and he spent the rest of the day showing off his newly decorated helmet to you.

He definitely sends you funny videos or selfies of him in his gear while he’s out. He’s a victim of “helmet confidence”. Meaning, as long as nobody knows who he is, he’s 100% doing funny weird shit. It fuels something in him when he sees you flustered or embarrassed, it’s just a part of his nature.

Motorcycles do require a bit of regular maintenance (if you want them to run properly) and over the years, Minho has learned how to do repairs on his bike at home. It’s cheaper than always going to the shop. He’s well versed in what his bike needs. He’s always offering up his help for your own bike. On bright spring days, the garage to your condo is pulled up, and the bikes are parked in the driveway. The bright green leaves are practically glowing as they shimmer against the blue sky. Minho’s got on a tank top and shorts; with a few tools by his side. When he calls you over, it’s because he made the executive decision to show you how to fix this one specific thing he’s working on. You lean in close to him. His teaching voice is soft but firm as he’s always checking to see if you’re still paying attention. You’re more so paying attention to the way his biceps ripple when he moves, or the tiny sweat droplets forming on his brow.

I would like to think that his motorcycle would be all black with a few mint/teal accents. It’s a sports bike, something along the lines of a Ninja or GSXR.

If you like drabbles like this, check out my masterlist :3

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #skz x reader #lee know x reader #minho x reader #lee know imagines #lino skz #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #lee know #lee minho

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save-the-villainous-cat · 2 months

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The hero couldn’t believe their own exhaustion. Apparently, their limbs didn’t want to work and neither did their brain. Even though they had sort of expected this, there was enough energy left to recognise and frown at their nemesis.

“You’re here to kidnap me?” the hero asked. They looked down at the saved city, at the aftermath of the chaos.

Some streets and buildings were scathed but all together, the hero would’ve called this a good job with little casualties. They leaned back and let out a long overdue breath.

“Presumably.” The hero turned their head to glance at their nemesis. Every muscle hurt. Hell, muscles the hero didn’t even know they had hurt.

“Two months. I thought you were dead,” they said eventually and the words were heavy on their tongue. Sadly, they didn’t even have the energy left to be mad at their nemesis.

“I’m…” The villain stared at the ground. They still looked the same. Still the same scary villain that would break ankles and wrists to get what they want. And the hero supposed they were still the same pathetic hero that followed them around like a dog, trying to convince them to use their powers for the good. Even in death.

“You have to carry me if you want to kidnap me. I can’t really move.”

“Okay.” The villain approached them and picked them up immediately without any struggles. All the hero could do was whimper when the villain touched their sore muscles. The hero felt a little stupid in the villain’s arms but they didn’t really have a choice either when the villain walked towards their car.

“Where were you?” the hero asked quietly. Some questions they only dared to whisper.

“I was injured,” the villain explained.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me? What happened!?” Suddenly they panicked. The villain had been injured? Had licked their wounds in their lair alone? The hero wanted to be mad but above all, they were concerned.

“Yeah, I needed a new kidney and everything.”

“What?!” The hero’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“So you disappeared for two months instead?” the hero asked. By now, their voice was hoarse and their head unforgivingly heavy.

“…yeah.”

“Listen, I could’ve donated, I could’ve—”

“Do you think it’s smart for the two most powerful beings in the city to recover from surgery at the same time?” the villain asked. The hero hated that, they hated when they used logic against them. It didn’t change that they were pissed, in fact, it only added fuel to the fire.

“You could have at least told me.”

“So you’d worry and neglect your duties?” The villain shook their head. “I love this city. I want what’s best for it and while I was gone, you were the only one left who actually cared for it.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that? A fucking asshole,” the hero said. They were overwhelmed and confused, numb and aggressive. They hadn’t seen the villain in two months and now they were back with a stranger’s kidney inside them and their strong arms around the hero.

Had they made a mistake? Felt the hero closer to them than they actually were?

“Why are you hurt?” The hero closed their eyes and let out another long breath.

“I fought some machine. The blades were quick and the bullets even quicker so I had to be faster than that and now I am just…tired.” They leaned their head against the villain’s chest.

“No, I meant my recovery. You’re hurt because I left.”

“I’m mad that you didn’t tell me.”

“You’re disappointed that I didn’t ask you to donate your kidney,” the villain said. The hero swallowed. “Is there something more intimate than keeping your nemesis alive that way? You’re mad you got robbed of that.”

“Ugh you’re so full of shit.” And yet, the hero’s face was burning.

Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe they wanted a connection to the villain that was deeper than “work.”

Whatever.

“I didn’t know you’d be this upset.” Either the hero imagined it or it was true; the villain pulled them closer.

“I am not…I tried reaching out but you were nowhere. Do you know how frustrating that was? As if you got killed and thrown into a ditch. I could barely concentrate on anything.”

“I didn’t know that. Maybe I mean more to you than I thought,” the villain said and the hero couldn’t believe how dense their villain could be. As structured and intelligent as they were, their social skills were an abnormality the hero usually knew how to handle.

But now, in their arms, they were grateful.

“Of course you do, dumbass.” The hero met their eyes and they felt at peace. Completely. Utterly.

How could they waste their life like this? Yearning without making a move? Never daring, always tip-toeing. To the point where they wished they had given them their kidney.

“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” The villain didn’t joke. They didn’t wink. They rarely did any of that.

“Kidnap me faster, will you?”

“If you insist.”

Back at the lair, the villain allowed them to touch the fresh scar and the hero did. Over and over and over again.

#show me your teeth teeth teeth teeth #sry I love torturing my heroes #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request

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appleblueberry-pie · 2 months

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OOOHHHH, OKAY HERE MY REQUEST FOR YANDERE MILE MORALES SCENARIO! I imagine him being the type of guy to break into the reader's locker and leave a CD(the song is probably cheesy like Radiohead-creep) while leaving a sticky note like “I really, really, like you. And I wanna get to know you more, can you meet at [insert abandoned building here] ❣️”~secret admirer (*cough* it's Miles *cough*) This freaks the reader out, cuz they've been dealing with this bs for 3 months and the authorities can't do shit, can I request the reader confronting their “secret admirer”? 🥺

N/A: I hope you heard me evilly laugh when I first read this. Boutta spill all of my delusions on this. Also i've never written worse luck than the reader had in this one.

Be Mine? Yes or No.

It's about ten minutes before first period begins and you've already spent five of them rereading the 20th love letter you've received over the course of a few months. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise as you continue to find more and more things to worry about in this letter. You'd think that this person would stop pestering you, but they really weren't. At all whatsoever. The same little sweet names they'd compliment you with. The same main idea they had in the previous note continuing into the next one. This has been happening over and over.

And it was so, so sweet when this fiasco first started. When you first opened your locker and it was placed so nicely in the center as if someone carefully placed it there. It was definitely spritzed with some kind of cologne, because no scent from someone just rubs off onto a letter like that. The beautiful envelope it was put in, the paper on the inside. The neat handwriting that was clearly practiced just to put some love onto the paper for you to hopefully absorb. And it worked the first three times, but it just kept getting weirder from there.

The way they wrote to you was extremely genuine, something that was hard to find in relationships nowadays. It really made you want to meet this person. They mixed in casual sweet names in Spanish into the writing in a way that wasn't hard for you to understand at all. They definitely had a crush on you. But then they began mentioning you in ways that seemed to make you borderline uncomfortable. Mentioning your beautiful hair, your eyes, your lips, the way you spoke, how you smelled. How they'd watch you and your friends in the park. Slipping in a few mentions of you walking to and from a corner store nobody in your school but you knew about.

They would write about how they could help you with specific classes that they knew you were struggling with. What foods they theorized you don't like(they were right), your type of man and how they fit that exact description, if not, more. How he knows he's the one you'd want and need. How the two of you are meant to be, he'd love you the way you need to be loved and he cant wait to actually meet you. How he'd bring you to the address of your favorite breakfast spot that no one should know about and he'd buy you that plate you always wanted to get that you couldn't afford. How he'd spoil you and-

All of this tension he built up on his own, which was all fueled by his own delusions, drew you to the conclusion that this nigga needed to be put in his place. You wanted a boyfriend. Not a fucking perverted stalker. Whoever this was, he was taking it too far, and was ultimately scaring you. It took you fifteen of these letters for you to realize that he wasn't actually slipping the letter into the locker between the cracks, but he was putting in the real code of your lock to properly unlock it. How he found it out, you have no idea. You didn't know what this guy was capable of and didn't know if he'd hurt you if you said no. But it had to be done somehow or he'd take shit too far and kidnap you or some crazy shit like that.

None of the school officials would help you because they're pieces of shit. Your friends tell you to bag him like dumbasses, and what the fuck are your parents gonna do? Yell at the dean and stand by your locker all day to wait for the guy?? You were all alone in this. So the most reasonable thing you came up with is to bluntly write to him to meet you after school at the park you and your friends go to often since he knows the spot already.

And quite literally the day after, you sat at the bench at the park after school, and he showed up.

You remember being so damn scared. What if he was big and burly and angry? What if he was one of the popular boys and would record the entire interaction? What if he follows you back home? What does he plan to do once you try to tell him off? You shouldn't have done this. The setting sun wasn't comforting you. The abandoned playground that usually was bustling with squealing kids was just making you more nervous. It was silent and cold today, but your mind just wouldn't shut up. Suddenly, the school uniform you wore wasn't as comfortable and you clutched your backpack closer to your body.

The wind blew gently on your bare knees and you heard someone call out your name. You flinched and felt your heart drop and turned to see the source of the voice, hoping for the worst. There was a boy sitting on a bench right next to yours. He was staring at you. It made you feel....unsettled and something else you couldn't put your finger on. To calm yourself, you listed his characteristics in his head. He was....reasonably attractive. Light brown eyes. Sculpted face. A light Spanish accent to his voice exactly how you'd imagine. Neat braids on his head. But something about his aura messed with you. He wasn't as good as he portrayed himself to be. You didn't want to speak and watched him stand from his spot to sit next to you on your bench. You clutched your bag to your chest as you watched him try to calmly approach you without making you too nervous.

With nervous eyes on him, he sits down next to you, letting a small smile grace his lips. "Hey, ma...how you doin'?" He sounded like he was trying to lure a scared dog into his arms. But it was awkward because he was trying to act normal with his dream girl and it was an actual human being and not a dog. "....fine." You respond. He scratches his nape and averted his eyes for a quick second. He really wanted to know why you wanted to talk to him. You gave no context within your letter, and it was a blessing, nonetheless. You actually responded to him. He predicted that he wouldn't get one for another good three weeks to two months almost. But this must be serious. He prepared himself for all possible scenarios that this could end up being.

"So....why'd you want to meet all of a sudden? It's getting late and I don't want you going home in the dark, you know?" You nod and take a deep breath, scared as fuck for how this could end. "Yeah.....so....I just wanted to tell you that I just- I don't want to be with you." It felt like you had to pull the words out of your throat for him to hear. You saw his face drop and decided to explain before he did anything else. "Like....I don't know you. I just realized that. You know so much about me and about my friends and the places I go to. I don't know a damn thing- Are you stalking me??" You turn to face him and stare into his wide eyes. He almost seemed as if he was caught doing some weird shit. And it was weird.

The silence started to make you angry when you realized he probably has been following you all this time. He shakes his head and sits up. "No...no, I haven't been stalking you at all, ma, I promise. I never want to make you uncomfortable, ever. Where are you getting that?" Oh, so now he's gaslighting you. If you brought all of his envelopes to this meeting, you would've dumped all of the evidence on his lap. You roll your eyes, grab your bag, and stand to leave. He stands at the same time as you when he sees you're trying to leave and stands in your way. "Wait, wait, wait, that's it? You not gon' give me a chance?" "A chance? Nigga, you lost your chance when you started being weird and fucking acting like you wasn't being weird this entire time!"

It was hard to get mad at you or reason with you. You were too pretty to get mad at even when you were nearly yelling in his face. And he had no logical reason to behave the way he was behaving, either. So, he might lose you unless he does something risky. And to risk your trust and love is something he doesn't want on the line.

You watch him watch you leave and he picks up his bag as well. The street lights turn on once it gets dark enough and Miles interrupts you walking away. "I'm not letting you walk home in the dark, Y/n." You flinch at his voice and growl a groan in fuming anger. An older lady passes the both of you and praises the mystery boy for being such a good gentleman and how 'there needs to be more of you out on these streets'. You almost slapped the fuck out of her for even hyping him up. He gives her a beautiful smile and tells her to get home safe, while walking you in the direction of your home.

He turns back to you and almost laughs at the face you're making. "I wonder how your mom would feel about you going home in the dark." "Mind yo fucking business." He happily leaves it there, continuing to walk with you down the street. Maybe this way, he can have more than one excuse to continue walking you home from now on. "Ion even know yo name." You mutter under your breath and Miles smiles at you. "My name is Miles. Great to finally meet you in person, Mami." You scoff and gladly let him scroll on his phone. You tried to speed ahead of him in hopes he'd stay at his slower pace, but he always caught up to you. You inwardly groan, knowing he'd probably make it to your door before you get rid of him.

"Glad to know the name of the person who's been stalking me. Now I can report you officially." You smirk at him and he gives one right back. "Just a name won't cut it, ma." "I got photos." "Where?" He hands you your phone back and you snatch it, realizing he was scrolling on your phone the whole time AND deleted your photo evidence. Before you can shove him into the street for a car to run him over, your mom bursts the door open and eyes the boy next to you. "Girl, you finally brought someone home with you." You didn't even realize you were on your street, better yet, your house. And your mom liked him already??

Your face dropped as you approached the front door. "No, no, no, it's not like that-" "What's your name, sweetie?" Miles steps up to the door and holds out his hand for her to shake, a beaming smile on his face. "My name is Miles Morales, ma'am." She shakes his hand before scrunching her eyebrows. " 'Morales'? You know Rio??" "That's my mamá, right there." Horrifying, how quickly a new relationship between the two bloomed right before your eyes as they continued to converse.

How are you going to get out of this? Your stalker is making great friends with your mom, no one can help because he deleted the evidence, and you would soon find out the next morning at school that your locker was clean of envelopes as well. Nothing was working in your favor and you realized that there was no way to escape. He included himself into your life so easily, when you wanted him out, out, out. You hated this shit, but he seemed to love it, sending you a look of appreciation as you both stepped into your abode.

Miles was so grateful for having you as a part of his life. The stars aligned and allowed you both a chance at beauty and growth. He wouldn't let this opportunity waste away like he had done many times in the past. You were his chance at redemption for all of the things he had done and the things that he planned to do later on. You were finally his.

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