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downins · 5 months ago

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˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚you, again (han yuri)˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

a/n: more yuri!! because i love her and i love gia kim so much (im gay)

warning(s): reader smokes, basic clubbing stuff, creepy men (ew), swearing, mentions of consuming alcohol

summary: after breaking up with yuri, you've been staying single since you've felt that relationships were too complicated and you're only going to end up breaking your own heart. ever since then, you've been minding your own business, even when you're clubbing, you're mostly there to have a drink or just act as a wingman for your friends.

"you ready for tonight?" it was 11:41 pm on a friday night, your phone buzzes for the second time, urging you to unlock it and check your messages. "yeah, i'll be out in a sec, i just need to grab my keys then we'll be good to go" you responded after fixing your hair and going over your outfit the last time. you walked out of your room and collected your car keys on your table. after looking your door, you went down and saw your friends Q and kitty waving at you with a huge grin on their faces. "somebody's not going home alone tonight" Q joked as he lightly nudged you on your shoulder causing you to scoff, "you're just saying that so i'd help you talk to some guy tonight". all three of you laughed while walking towards your car. "noo but you really do look nice!!" kitty exclaimed and you thanked both of them

at the club (sugar bar, itaewon)

you could feel the vibration of the bass through the floor from the speakers causing you to raise your voice as you try and tell kitty and Q that you're going to be sitting at the bar and just having a drink there. they both nodded and urged you to be safe, you left rather quickly after noticing that the space was getting even more crowded as time passed. you ordered a mimosa and sat on the empty stool without having any idea who was beside you, it was geon, he's your classmate but you never liked him because he was mostly an asshole to your friends, mostly yuri. "you look good" he said as he swirled his drink. "thanks, i'm still not interested" your tone was neutral. "oh come on, can't you believe in second chances?" he sighed after taking another sip. "the shit you said about yuri led me to decide that i don't" you argued back. "why're you still defending her? aren't the two of you broken up?" you could feel the frustration in you building up. "nope, we're still together and frankly, i have no idea why you're hitting on my girlfriend" you heard a familiar voice come up from behind you, it was none other than, yuri.

she wrapped her arm around your shoulder and gave you a kiss on the cheek causing it to heat up, "sorry for being late baby i couldn't find a good outfit." you turned to look at her, she was giving you a signal to play along with the act. "yeah no that's fine" you let out a little laugh. "by the way you're in my seat, i think it's best if you were to leave now" she shooed him away and made him leave with ease. "thanks for that, i was going to leave but i figured it'd make me look pathetic if i just left" you thanked her as you gestured to the empty seat after geon left. "don't worry about it, i'm just glad you didn't punch him" you laughed at her statement and tried to sneak a peek at her since you weren't able to earlier. "you look really beautiful, and you're also wearing that signature perfume of yours" the smell gave you nostalgia of when you were together, maybe some parts of you did miss her but you were set on staying single to avoid any complications. a smile flickered across her face as she adjusted herself in her seat, "thanks, oh sorry i left a stain on your cheek", she wiped it off and fixed your hair by tucking it back your ear. "so, it's you again" you stated as you ordered another drink. "i guess so, is that bad?" you shook your head and responded with a simple no. "have you found somebody new?" you scoffed, "i'm just tired of trying to salvage relationships, plus it's a distraction and i need to maintain excellent grades so i could keep my scholarship" she nodded in agreement.

"what about you?" something inside of you hoped that she'd say no but you were also going to support her fully if she were seeing someone new. "same as you, i just keep seeing you in everybody that i meet" her words made you turn your head towards her quickly. "what do you mean by that?" you felt your heart beating slightly faster, "it's just that how we were, i can't find that in other people except you", her confession made you speechless. you're confused as to why she hasn't moved on since she was the one who brought up the idea of parting ways. "i know it's stupid to say this especially because i'm the one who suggested we break up" she rested her head on her arm. you placed on hand on her shoulder and tried to comfort her. "it's not, you did what you had to do, i'm completely fine with that" you lied, obviously you weren't fine with it. "hey it's feeling kind of stuffy in here, i'm going outside to take a breather, wanna join?" you stood up and offered your hand to her. "you're gonna smoke, aren't you?" she cracked a joke and took your hand

outside the club

you leaned against a rail and so did yuri, she was admiring the night view and you were too. without hesitation, you pulled a pack out of your back pocket and took a cigarette then placed it between your lips, taking a small drag after lighting it up. "same old habit?" she scooched closer to you. "not that you have ever minded, you even smoked with me a couple times", she slapped your arm jokingly, "no shut up" she tried to defend herself. both of you laughed together and you could feel some tension between you two. "i've missed this" she muttered under her breath. "what'd you say?" you hummed. "you missed me?" you moved closer to her while she was covering her face with both hands, trying to deny everything. "oh come on say it" you cornered her. she grabbed your collar gently and closed the gap between the two of you, at this point your lips were inches away from each other. "you smell like cigarettes" her voice was really soft, it sounded like she was whispering. "you've never complained" you smirked a little. without noticing, you were already kissing her, she had her arms wrapped around your neck with yours around her waist. you pulled away a little, "what is this now?" you asked with a smile on your face. "me winning you back?" she responded while running her hands through your hair. you giggled and connected your lips together once again, "i love you, yuri"

#xo kitty x fem!reader #xo kitty x reader #xo kitty #xo kitty imagines #xo kitty oneshots #yuri x fem!reader #yuri #yuri han oneshots #han yuri oneshots #yuri han imagines #han yuri imagines

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love-kurdt · 17 days ago

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Don't Blame Me (byler): 9

word count: 4,200

warnings for this chapter: cheating, spiraling, depression, mentions of past SA/rape. this is semi-autobiographical (not the cheating part!!!) so pls be kind <3

in short: if you are emotionally or mentally vulnerable, please dni.

The small yellow house with blue shutters on Maple Street had never been so empty. Will had never deserved it more. It was the first thing he thought every time he walked through the door, every time he sat alone on the living room couch, every time he went to sleep at night, avoiding the other side of the bed like the plague.

The small yellow house with blue shutters on Maple Street was also expensive. Way too expensive for one person to manage rent on his own. For the first month or so, Will had been able to handle it– with having two jobs, the coffee shop every morning before class and the gallery every other evening, he was making just enough, but eventually it got to be too much, both on his finances and on his body. He was working himself to the bone, and he was barely making enough to cover the rest of his bills. So he sadly had to trade the small yellow house with blue shutters on Maple Street for a one bedroom apartment on the West Side, and brought all of Mike’s stuff with him. He hadn’t come back for it, and he wasn’t about to impede on Mike’s space, especially given Matt’s “You’ve done enough,” back in May. He deserved that one too, for sure.

But one Saturday at the coffee shop while Will was in the middle of clocking out for the day, Matt had appeared next to him and said “Hey,” so casually it made him hit the ceiling. He then proceeded to tell Will that Pete was moving out of the apartment to live with his girlfriend and Mike was moving in permanently, and that he was going to stop by the house to pick up the rest of Mike’s things for him, and asked Will what time worked for him to do so. He didn’t even know how to begin. Don’t sneak up on me like that? Okay, that works? I’m sorry? Why is he sending you to do his dirty work? Instead, what came out was “I moved, actually. To an apartment on 18th Place.”

“So I’ll go there, then. Tonight work?”

“Tonight is fine.”

“I’ll be there around seven,” Matt said, and Will nodded, gulping. He was nervous around him. While he’d been planning to simply wallow in self pity, pace the living room with the phone cord following him back and forth as he did so without actually calling anyone (especially not Mike), and resort to reading Hamlet to end the night (he felt very much like Hamlet nowadays, what with losing his mind and all), his evening was now going to be infiltrated by yet another reminder of how much he sucked, how shitty of a person he was, and how much he’d lost because of his complete and utter stupidity.

What happened to the kid who dressed up in wizard robes and demanded his party to call him by his full name? What happened to the kid who drew a Rainbow Ship for his mom? What happened to the boy who was dead terrified to share a cigarette in the barn with his best friend during an apocalypse? He looked in the mirror, heard himself speak, but didn’t feel like himself. He’d… changed so much. Who knew that he was capable of doing something as heinous as cheating on Mike? He wouldn’t have dreamed of it! It wasn’t in his DNA! His dad was an abusive alcoholic, sure, but he never cheated. He had officially stooped lower than Lonnie Byers, and that left a bitter taste on his tongue. Literally. Ew.

Will had been pacing his apartment like he’d been doing every other night ever since he’d moved in (thankfully he was on the first floor so there were no downstairs neighbors to annoy) when there was a firm knock at the door. He knew it was Matt, but he wished deep down that it was Mike. He knew it wouldn’t be Mike. That would just be dumb. And would you look at that, Will thought to himself as he opened the door to see Matt and only Matt, you were right! No Mike in sight!

“Hey,” Matt said for the second time that day, and Will didn’t feel as afraid as before, just more ashamed.

“Hey,” he replied, stepping aside to let Matt in. The hot June wind moved with him through the doorway, pushing his overgrown bangs back a little bit and giving him a clearer view of Matt. He looked better than he had ever seen him. His legs looked tanned, muscular. His basketball shorts cut themselves off just before his knee. He was wearing grey New Balance sneakers and a Depeche Mode shirt, and… his hair was longer. Mike was rubbing off on him. He’d always loved Mike’s long hair– what the hell was wrong with him? He wanted to smack himself in the face.

“Um… this way, I guess,” Will began after clearing his throat. “I tried to get as much as I could before you got here.”

They made their way through the living room, which was still not really finished; boxes had remained stacked for weeks along the perimeter, labeled things like “MISC SHIT,” “ART SUPPLIES,” and “WYATT’S VHS’S– RETURN ASAP.” Behind him, Will heard Matt inhale sharply, his eyes probably having met that same box. Fucking hell.

Matt wandered over to the boxes labeled “MIKE,” which were lined up in the hallway between the living room and bedroom. “This it?”

Will gulped. Loudly. “Yeah.”

Matt then proceeded to kneel down, opening each box and pushing through everything he’d so neatly packed, handled so delicately. “What about that red sweatshirt?” It was maroon, but Will was in no position to argue shade technicalities.

“It’s right here.”

Matt looked up. “And the photo?”

That photo with the bike that currently still stood on Will’s side of the bed, because he couldn’t dare to part with it. He had been deep in the throes of denial when he had done that. He’d been hopeful that he’d be able to see Mike again. Explain himself. Sort things out. Reconcile. But he knew now that he’d destroyed everything, and a picture, although worth a thousand words, couldn’t do much except twist the knife a little more.

“Yeah, okay.” He attempted to move towards his room, but Matt stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. It felt like a straitjacket.

“Will, I’m here to get everything,” he said, his eyes stormy and determined. “You need to be honest with me if you’re keeping anything.”

Will wanted to say he wasn’t. He wanted to lie because it would have been easier. But instead of retreating down the apologetic route he’d adopted as a routine at this point, he opted to be audacious for a change: he pushed back. Rolled his eyes, shoved Matt’s hand off his shoulder, and marched into the bedroom. “Wow, Matt, I’m sooo sorry if I forgot a few things.”

“Luckily for you,” Matt replied coolly from behind him, “I’ve got a list. Here.”

Will turned around and there Matt was, again, this time with a folded piece of lined notebook paper. Was it from the blue spiral bound one? Or the new green one? Or maybe the composition one he used for The Wanderer? It made Will want to throw up not knowing which notebook Mike used anymore. He unfolded the paper and read, in Mike’s loopy yet coordinated handwriting, the list that he’d titled SHIT, underlined twice.

He skimmed the items. Everything from sweatshirts to a stormtrooper coffee mug, from D&D dice to desk furniture. There were notes beside some, little comments that only deepened the wound. Bike photo (honestly burn it). Will laughed bitterly under his breath. Of course Mike didn’t want it. Of course he wanted him to be the one to destroy it.

“I’ll… go get the stuff from the kitchen.”

“Okay. And you’re gonna help me carry this stuff out.”

“That’s fine,” Will muttered. And it was. It was the least he could do, the very least, and even that felt inadequate.

They moved together in silence, a rhythm more functional than familiar. Will’s gym neglect had finally caught up with him; his arms ached under the weight of furniture and boxes, and the back of his shirt clung to him with sweat. When they were halfway through, he couldn’t hold the question in any longer.

“Is he… okay?” he asked.

Matt didn’t look up from the box he was taping. “No, Will, he’s not okay. He’s devastated.”

Will flinched, but nodded. “I know. I know. I wasn’t trying to sound like nothing happened. I just wanted to know if–”

“If he’s okay,” Matt interrupted. “Got that part. You don’t get to know how he is. You lost that right the second you kissed Wyatt.”

“I know,” Will said again, quieter.

Matt didn’t even sigh this time. Just shook his head. “You keep saying that.”

“You keep saying things I know.”

A long pause stretched between them. The tape made another loud tear. Matt stood.

“We should… get this done, okay?”

Will nodded. “Okay.”

By the time they’d finished packing the U-Haul to the brim, the sky had turned a dull orange, and the air outside was heavy and still. Will wiped his forehead with the hem of his shirt, feeling wrung-out and hollow.

“Thanks. For the help,” Matt said, just neutrally enough to sting.

“It was the least I could do.”

“Yeah. It was.”

That one landed deeper. Will let out a small, exhausted laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Okay, listen. I can take a few jabs here and there. That’s fine. I deserve it. But do you have to be so cruel? Can’t you just leave it at ‘yeah’?”

Matt’s expression shifted, just for a second. Regret tried to peek through, but anger closed the door too fast. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “I just… I can’t believe you did this.”

“Me neither, honestly.” Will’s voice cracked a little. “This isn’t like me.”

Matt turned to look at him then, really look. “Isn’t it, though? You left me for Mike, and you left him for Wyatt.”

Will’s chest seized, breath lodging in his throat. That was the thing about Matt– he didn’t yell. He just delivered the truth like a guillotine. Chopping his head off and watching it roll, maybe topple down like a cantaloupe down the steps of a platform and down onto the cobblestone streets, the layers of piss and mud seeping into the follicles of his hair. Very Medieval. Very violent. Fucking gnarly.

“Okay,” Will said sharply, stepping back. “We’re done here. Have a nice life, Matt.”

Matt took one last look at Will before opening the driver’s side door, dropping down into the seat and closing the door. He pressed the gas so hard that the tires screeched against the pavement. He was obviously in a rush to get out of the situation. Must be nice, Will thought, to be able to escape. He had no other option except to remain in this hurt, to exist in it, to suffer in it.

He resignedly trudged back into his apartment, locking the door behind him and tossing himself onto the couch with a sigh. It was summer, so he couldn’t distract himself with school. He had no energy left for the gym. He had no motivation to paint anything. And going to work felt like its own unique version of hell, because all of his usual coworkers went home for the summer, and their manager no longer gave a shit about forcing Matt and Will to work together. And, at the end of the day, money’s money. The world runs on money. And if Will had to make said money beside his ex-boyfriend-turned-Mike’s-now-roommate, so fucking be it.

Will had been hesitant to tell anyone in his close circle about what he’d done. His family and friends (with the exceptions of Dustin and El, who had gone into his mind without consent and forced the information out of him over the phone– yes, he was still bitter about it) didn’t have any reason to think that Will would do something to this magnitude, and he would’ve rather kept it that way.

But of course, Hannah had called him up on the same day that Mike had left, just to catch up, and had read him like a fucking book. She’d asked what was going on, that he sounded stressed, and Will had pathetically sobbed out, “I’m a terrible person,” before explaining everything in the most detailed manner he was capable of, because he didn’t want his percepted vagueness to come off as apathy, and that would make him more of a villain than he already was.

The worst part about telling Hannah wasn’t the fact that he’d cheated, rather, it was the fact that she understood why he did it. She confessed that she’d sensed a vibe between them when they’d all hung out together, and that she had a feeling Wyatt had moved to Chicago to get closer to Will. She said that Wyatt looked at him like he was a constellation in an otherwise dark sky. And in any other situation, Will would’ve faked a gagging noise, because similes of a cliche nature were so fucking gross, but he knew that Hannah was right. He had felt it too. He’d caught himself looking at Wyatt and feeling… better, for lack of a better word. Will wasn’t good with words. Wyatt was the beacon of hope in Will’s otherwise lonely life. And to think that they’d hated each other at first. They’d been jealous of each other. But that connection eventually turned into a spark (another gross metaphor but what other options did he have) and that spark turned into an explosion, leaving debris and casualties by the dozen.

His family hadn’t been as understanding as Hannah had been. In part, he knew it was because they knew Mike on a much deeper level than Hannah did. They’d watched Mike grow up, raising him when Ted and Karen had failed to do the bare minimum. So, the day after Mike left, when Will had called Jonathan to confess, Jonathan told Hop, who told Joyce, who called Will up that night yelling in a way he’d never heard her yell before.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” she’d shouted, and Will had to hold the phone away from his ear. “That boy has been through enough, and now this? With his best friend of all people! William Jacob Byers, I raised you better than this, and I am so ashamed of you right now. So ashamed.”

He apologized, of course, profusely, desperately, pathetically, and the word “sorry” didn’t even mean anything to him anymore, it was synonymous in his head with “yes,” and “no,” and “okay,” and “fuck, Wyatt, harder.” Hovering, holding, heavy, heady. Whore.

He’d called Dustin after that, hoping that this next interaction would serve as a palate cleanser for the karma pie his mom had just shoved down his throat. Dustin answered happily, all bright and clueless.

“Yo, Will! What’s up, man?”

Will didn’t waste a second. “He found us yesterday,” he said, blunt and flat. “You happy now?”

Silence on the other end of the line.

“…He found you and Wyatt.”

Will sank back against the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest. “He came home a week early,” he muttered. “I was going to tell him. I was. But he walked in and saw us, and it was just–done.”

Dustin’s voice came quieter, knowing. “So you didn’t tell him.”

Will squeezed his eyes shut. “I was going to. I swear. I just–I thought I had more time.”

He could hear background noise shift– faint voices, the scrape of a chair. Then El’s soft voice in the distance: “Is it Will?” She sounded worried.

Dustin must’ve covered the receiver, murmuring something back, before his voice returned. “You had time, man,” he said, gentle but honest. “You had ample time. But… that’s not what matters right now.”

Will didn’t respond. The lump in his throat had grown too thick.

“I’m not mad, okay? Neither is El. We’re just… sad. For all of you. I mean– Mike loves you. He’s never not loved you. Even when he didn’t know how to show it. And I know you love him too.”

Will blinked, hard. A tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it.

“Look,” Dustin continued, “I know things are messy. And I know what happened hurts. But if you need someone to talk to– we’re here. Me and El. She’s staying with me for the summer. You can call anytime. Seriously.”

Will curled tighter into himself, the phone pressed against his ear like a lifeline.

“How is she?” he asked quietly.

“El?” Dustin smiled a little. Will could hear it. “She’s good. She’s, uh… kind of perfect, actually.”

Despite everything, Will let out a small, broken laugh. “Figures.”

“She was worried about you,” Dustin added. “She’s the one who made me pick up the phone. She said you’d be spiraling.”

Will let his head fall back against the wall, tears slipping freely now. “She was right.”

Another pause. “Well,” Dustin said gently, “we’ve got you. You’re not alone, okay? Even when you do dumb shit. Especially then.”

Will nodded, even though Dustin couldn’t see it.

“…Thanks,” he whispered.

“Anytime, dude.”

At least he had Dustin and El in his corner. Well, in Massachusetts. And over the past month, they’d been the only people he could talk to. He’d had no choice but to talk to Matt today. And that ended terribly, as he’d predicted. He thought briefly about becoming a psychic before remembering that El already sort of was, and that he should definitely take a shower and go to bed early so he didn’t have to think for any longer than he had to.

Will couldn’t sleep.

The heat in the apartment was too thick, the silence too loud, and every time he closed his eyes, his brain played another rerun of the Wyatt, Matt, and Mike Show. He tried lying on his side. On his back. On his stomach with his arm thrown over his eyes. He tried pulling the comforter up to his chin, then kicking it off completely. Nothing worked. His body pulsed with something unbearable, not quite panic, not quite grief, just a sour electricity that wouldn’t let him rest.

It was almost three in the morning. He stood up without deciding to, padded barefoot across the floor, tugged on the nearest clothes he could find. A soft t-shirt from Jonathan. Sweatpants. Mismatched socks. Shoes with shredded laces. He didn’t bring water. Didn’t even grab his wallet. The keys were already in his pocket.

Outside, the air pressed in on him like a fever. The sky was a dull purple-grey, that strange nowhere hue it turns when the world forgets what time it is. He walked without direction, only realizing halfway through a crosswalk that he was headed toward the gym. The decision hadn’t happened consciously. It was just muscle memory taking the wheel.

The gym looked closed from the outside, all its windows dark except the one over the vending machines. But when he pressed his key card to the panel, the door gave way with a hollow beep. The hallway lights flickered to life. Inside, it was dead quiet except for the distant, haunted hum of air conditioning and the occasional clink of metal from the weight machines.

He didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t want anything. He wanted to stop feeling like this. Like his skin was made of static. Like his body didn’t fit. Like he could still feel Matt’s hand on his shoulder, heavy and unforgiving.

“You need to be honest with me if you’re keeping anything.”

Will made for the treadmill. He didn’t stretch. Didn’t hesitate. Just stepped onto the belt, pressed the buttons he always pressed, and let it start. The machine whirred, then dragged him forward.

“Luckily for you, I’ve got a list. Here.”

The movement felt stupidly mechanical. His muscles weren’t warm enough, and each footfall sent a dull ache up his shins. Still, he kept going. Sweat came fast and uncomfortable. His breath shortened. Good. That was the point. He wanted to feel something real, something concrete– his lungs straining, his legs burning. He wanted to beat the noise in his head into submission.

“You don’t get to know how he is. You lost that right the second you kissed Wyatt.”

The thoughts didn’t quiet. They only splintered. He saw Mike’s face, tear-soaked and tormented, the day he found out. The defensiveness, the sheer protectiveness in Matt’s expression as they loaded the last of the boxes into the U-Haul. He saw Wyatt, with those goddamn bruises that he knew weren’t his doing, something was very wrong, and he just hadn’t seen it, because he was blind, because he was lovesick, was it even love? Or was it just delusion? He saw himself, ugly, evil, honestly Vecna-adjacent, minus the telepathic murders. And under it all, the same unrelenting refrain: You fucked everything up.

He clenched his jaw, picked up the pace. Faster. Louder. If he ran hard enough, maybe his brain would stop narrating his own destruction. Then, a flicker. Movement in the corner of his eye. Someone by the weight racks, adjusting their grip on a barbell. At first, Will didn’t look. Just assumed it was the same faceless stranger as always, another person working out their demons in the middle of the night. But then the hairs on his neck rose. Something familiar in the posture. The stillness. He looked, and everything stopped.

Aaron.

It didn’t make sense. It had been a year and a half or so since Will had last seen him, since his college roommate had raped him in the middle of the night, and yet there he was, as though summoned by some sick joke, standing just a few feet away. Buzzcut. Broad. Bloodthirsty. Aaron saw him staring almost immediately. Of course he did. He didn’t even flinch. Just offered a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Just that same casual, insidious charm.

"Will. Long time no see," he said.

He didn’t reply. Couldn’t. His throat clamped shut. His vision narrowed to a tunnel. The treadmill was still running, but his legs didn’t know how to move anymore. His foot caught on the edge. He stumbled, slapped the stop button, and staggered forward like the air had been stolen from his lungs. The gym spun.

He bolted.

The door slammed behind him with a sharp metallic rattle. He didn’t know where he was going. He just ran. Down sidewalks, across empty intersections, through back alleys slick with city grease. The world blurred around him. His chest was on fire. His limbs screamed. But he didn’t stop.

By the time he reached the front gate of his apartment complex, he was shaking. He typed in the code wrong three times. When the lock finally gave way, he shoved the gate open and slammed it shut behind him like something was chasing him still.

He sprinted across the parking lot to his door, ripping the keys out of his pocket and watching them fly before his eyes. He caught them before they hit the ground, which thank God, that would’ve been so loud. He got inside. His hands fumbled with the deadbolt. Then the chain. Then the knob. He twisted it again just to be sure.

Only when everything was locked did he allow himself to breathe. Sort of.

He peeled off his shirt. It was soaked through. His skin was clammy, ice-cold despite the heat. He moved toward the bedroom on unsteady legs, dragging his feet like a child too tired to cry. The sweatpants hung low on his hips. He kicked them off with effort. Then collapsed into bed, shoes still on, limbs trembling. He turned his eyes to the ceiling.

The Painting™ stared back.

Mike had stared at that thing every night for a year while Will was gone. Will used to imagine him sitting there, cross-legged on the bed, headphones in, looking up at it like it held the answers.

Now Will stared at it too.

He didn’t cry right away. Not at first. He just lay there, throat tight, lungs full of glass. His vision blurred. He let the sweat on his face be mistaken for tears. Until the tears came too. And when they came, they didn’t stop. They weren’t beautiful. They weren’t cinematic. They were wet and uneven and pathetic. They came in stuttering gasps and strangled exhales. His whole chest hitched. His hands curled into fists around the sheets. The sobs made no sound but left him breathless.

The painting watched him.

The monster was a mirror.

And eventually, when his body had finally worn itself to the bone, when his lungs no longer had the strength to ache, sleep came for him.

He went under.

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marsian-tango · 2 months ago

Note

I have some really important information that may concern you and a blogger on Tumblr that I think you might know of, or could be mutuals with…

This was an anon send in that can be found on @running-with-kn1ves blog…

“Ew, you're collaborating with a white supremacist's best friend?

Just a heads up, but @fangdokja-anon has been called out by multiple authors here for being homophobic, fatphobic, and racist, as well as making multiple problematic posts (like wanting to write about genocide and infant SA). The only person who publicly supported her was @yanderedrabbles who praised her in the comments and even made a post to defend her friendship.

It's your choice to have her as a writer for the zine, but please make it public knowledge so people can at least opt out. I myself won't sign up to share space with a bigot.”

Then there was this follow up post by the same anon, who goes into detail of the issues above…

“Sorry for the sudden accusatory ask, I'm one of the people who unfollowed @yanderedrabbles after she openly expressed her support for the homophobe and I was annoyed to see her acting so careless on another blog I follow. I guess she's hoping we'll just forget about it at some point and keeps quiet on her main.

Here's the first post where she explained in many empty words she doesn't care about the issue because the blog has been nice to her and they're friends: https://www.tumblr.com/yanderedrabbles/780435897593315328/hi-idk-if-your-mutuals-with-fangdokja-but-shes?source=share

The problematic post on @fangdokja-anon blog has since been deleted or removed, but I have a screenshot of @yanderedrabbles commenting on it with ‘THATS why your pro pic went all blurry when I logged in. Literally freaked me out so bad. I'm glad to see you reorganising fang! Gonna learn to use AO3 just for you 😘’ while the rest of us were freaking out at the atrocities mentioned.

Instead of coming out and telling us why she chose to publicly support someone who fetishizes stuff like concentration camps and pedophilia she's all giddy about writing for a yandere magazine, like we're dumbasses who'll just swallow up any content. The audacity is amazing.”

Since this all seems to be true, please reconsider any relationship you have with @yanderedrabbles and @fangdokja-anon

This is an unfortunate situation, I would've never expected something like this. Yandere drabbles is a blog that I've always liked, it was one of the many blogs here on Tumblr that inspired me to make my own blog. And with Fangdokja-anon, I've seen her posts on my fyp, she seems to have always been pretty popular, but I wasn't aware of this controversy up until now. I know that it's two different things to "not support" something, than to directly condemn it or attack it. In this case, Fangdokja-anon seems to "not support" gay people–and in all honesty, that confuses me. I can't fully grasp the notion of "not supporting" gay people, I get that the bible says that it's bad, that it's a sin, that people are gonna go to hell for that, etc. But, at the end of the day, I don't believe that this is something that should be up to discussion. To support it or not to support it? We're talking about people. Normal people, just living their lives. People who are not doing anything weird, they're doing the same thing that straight people do. To "not support" something as normal as people loving other people baffles me. I know it's a religious thing, but it's still so confusing. And regarding the other topics such as her, seemingly wanting, but holding back on writing various problematic, or downright wrong subjects. I don't think that I need to say much on that, it's pretty obvious that if those accusations are true, then we're dealing with someone who should not be allowed to express herself freely on this platform. Wether you think this is a drastic take against Fangdokja-anon and Yandere drabbles or not, I think it's important to let people know about this. I do feel like it's a relevant piece of information that people who follow them should know.

I'd like to thank the anon who sent me this. Thank you for letting me know and taking time out of your life to share this.

#yanderedrabbles #fangdokja-anon #please read

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miikishii · 2 years ago

Text

To Hold the Sea | Ch. 8

main masterlist

series masterpost | previous chapter | next chapter

Synopsis: Something changes.

Warnings: reader experiencing self-doubt, romance (ew)

When you return to your apartment, Dazai is laying on the couch, something plays on the TV, but he’s not paying it any mind. When you walk in he looks at you, waiting for something to happen. You sigh and walk toward the kitchenette.

“Rough night?”

You look over at him, an aggravated look on your face,

“Something like that.”

“What happened?”

“I’m sure you already know.”

He gives you a sideways smile and a shrug,

“I just wanted to hear it from you.”

You escape to your room, rather, the only other room in the apartment that isn’t a bathroom. He doesn’t ask you about it again, but part of you wishes he would. You wanted to confide in him. You wanted him to confide in you too. After a few hours pass, he asks if you’d like to watch a movie with him. You agree and he lets you choose.

“We should probably buy a few more movies, I’m not sure how many times we can watch the same 5 over again…”

He hums in response as you slide the disc into the player. When you turn to the couch he’s barely left you any room, but when you walk towards the only empty space he opens his arms wide. You smile and fall into his arms,

“Thought you were just gonna be a couch hog.” he feigns an offended look,

“I would never!” he scoffs.

You don’t pay attention to the movie. Your mind is locked in on the way his arms cross over your waist, how he leans his head into the crook of your neck every so often, how it feels so loving.

“I was at Ango’s last night.”

“What happened?”

“I think I got tired of walking so I called him. He picked me up.”

“Nothing else?”

“Well, I was mad when I woke up. He just scolded me for drinking too much, said he cares about us.” Dazai gives a bitter laugh. A heavy silence falls between you and lingers for the rest of the movie, at least, the part where you were still awake. When you do wake up, you’re still laying with him, the TV now off, and Dazai likely asleep behind you. You go to move to your bed and you hear him stir.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, go back to sleep,” you whisper. He takes a deep breath in and gets up, following you to your room and tucking himself in comfortably. You take your time to look at his face, even in darkness you think he’s beautiful. In darkness metaphorical and literal, he has always been beautiful to you. You wouldn’t lie and say you fully understand him but, in your own way, you know him, and he knows this. You think back to the two of you dancing in the living room. You think back to nights at Lupin. You think of moments you figure he was truly happy, even just a little, something you always hoped for him. You wonder if you alone are enough for him. A new kind of fear fills your heart. Without opening his eyes, Dazai reaches a hand out to your shoulder and pulls himself closer to you.

“Go to sleep,” he grumbles. Something strange washes over you at this. Who knows if it was what he intended, but his actions foster comfort within you.

“Are you glad to have me?” you half hope he doesn’t hear you.

“Of course.” His response is automatic.

“Are you sure?” he chuckles,

“When am I not? Do you need me to reassure you?”

“A little bit.” He clicks his tongue,

“I am glad I met you. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

You nod slightly and finally lay down fully. When you wake again it’s morning and Dazai is still beside you, not asleep, but beside you. He stares blankly at the ceiling, thinking about something. He notices you’re awake and glances your way,

“Good morning,” he smiles peacefully. You close your eyes and nuzzle into your pillow,

“Mornin’.” he rolls onto his stomach next to you, his face close to yours,

“Dream of me?” he laughs

“You wish.”

“Sometimes I do.” You peek an eye out of the pillow fluff at this,

“Dream of me? Or wish I dreamed of you?” You raise a brow.

“Both,” You give him a playful thwack on the head and ruffle his hair,

“Shut it.”

“We should do something today.”

“Like what?”

“Dunno.”

You groan into your pillow.

“Go get something at a cafe, see the light of day for a while?”

“Mhm, sounds nice.” He rolls out of the bed and the sheets pull you toward him,

“Shall we?”

You lift your head to look at him; his hair disheveled from sleep and your teasing, his face a little puffy, the clothes and bandages he wears in a twisted sort of mess. You’re brought back to your thoughts and worries from last night. He is beautiful. The way the sun sneaks into the room through the curtains makes his eyes glow.

“Five more minutes?” you ask. He nods and walks away. You don’t have the courage to ask him to stay. When you get yourself together and meet him in the kitchen, the smell of tea catches your attention, he made a cup for you. You smile to yourself and join him on the couch. You drink your tea quietly and he asks you out to breakfast. The two of you get ready and walk to a cafe a few blocks away. He pays.

“Such a gentleman, aren’t you?”

“When I want to be, yes,” his smile evident in his words.

You both watch the people outside. Some making their daily commute, a few on their daily runs or walks, and couples wandering into the cafe you were in.

“A bit of a romantic place for you, huh?” you question,

“You don't have to think of it like that.”

“I don’t have to? So I can.” He smirks and sips his drink

“You can.” his eyes bore into yours with such gravity it takes you by surprise.

Butterflies swarm in your stomach. You take another bite of your pastry and he relaxes in his chair. When you met Dazai he wasn’t so… flirty. He loosened up a bit over the years as anyone does, but it was something that became more obvious with his friends. With you. It was something you were proud of.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, still looking out the window.

“You.” You giggle and he turns to you, leaning his head in his hands,

“I hoped so. Where should we go next?”

“I thought the park would be nice,” he stands up and offers you his hand. When you take it he smiles and winks. As you walk he swings your hands lightly. When you comment on it he just laughs and says, “Am I not allowed to enjoy myself?” You roll your eyes and continue walking. Your day goes on like this, playful, relaxing; you feel the best you have in a while. You feel loved. From that day on, the days you spent in hiding were a little more pleasant. You realize how completely lost in thought you are when Ango pokes you on the shoulder. It’s funny how much comes back to you in the blink of an eye.

“Are you alright?” his voice is soft as he rouses you from thought.

“Oh, yeah… I’m fine.”

“I should get going now, it’s pretty late.”

“Yeah- sorry- Um, get home safe.” You blurt,

“I will, I will. Thanks,” he laughs.

You follow him awkwardly to your door and close it behind him. You haphazardly put your bowl down in the sink, more focused on the nostalgic feeling Ango resurfaced. You walk sluggishly to your room but when you look to your bed, it’s not empty like you’re expecting. You freeze, a little startled to see Dazai lying down and reading peacefully.

note: hehe I'm causing problems

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #dazai x reader #ango x reader #bungo stray dogs #ango sakaguchi #bsd imagines #bsd ango #dazai bsd #dazai angst #dazai fluff #dazai imagines #bsd dazai #bsd fluff #bsd angst

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fair-night-starry-tears · 2 years ago

Text

Okay here’s sad cosmic being officially breaking up with their ex, finished stuff gets their bio after this mess

——————————————————————————

How many years were these two together? They don’t know. But long when they first started working their jobs. Fresh new workers.

Asteria, fresh new and vibrant wish maker, and Jericho, serious and stern auditor, they were new to the business. New to their own work. Literally. Being formed by their creator. They were, special. Asteria was the luckier ones to be a wish master. Their physical form are put to slumber for thousands aeons, while Jericho. He was different. He was a strict and reasonable man, he was much the opposite of Asteria extroverted and excited energy. He was, introverted, calm, and riddler for the rules and law. When Jericho actually saw Asteria wish master form, he was smitten to their looks. And same for Asteria to Jericho charismatic and noble looks. The fact the two ever hit it off was like a surprising tale. The office was surprise as well. Shocked looks when they announce to be together were the strangest. They do show each other their places, and share each other keys to each other houses. But sadly…..

Unique love, always flattens by someone greed.

——————————————————————————

Asteria was just sitting at their empty wish making room. Just an empty yellows room with only a giant screen and hot tub. Asteria sighed as they hover around. Their long beautiful pink hair flowing like water, they used their special unique remote to summon their jar of pickles. Asteria opened the jar until they pause hearing a knock, they open the cube entrances as they were gleaming to see Jericho. “Oh babe! Hey! Didn’t get your message. Uhhh, it’s like 00730000 in the hour. Why the visit?” They ask. “No time for talk. Just going to chill in your time room.” That’s right. Asteria showed Jericho their time room, the creation and beauty of time and space. “Oh….. uhhh….. do you want something to eat? I could order.” They responded.

“You pick.” He said. Asteria sighed, “what about pizza today? I’m gonna watch the multiverse. Wanna join?” They asked. “Ew. Pizza. Can’t we have something else? We ate that junk last week.” Jericho responded, as he enter the few staircases underground to make way to the tile room. With Asteria following and hovering. “oh yeah but like. You always do that. I offer, you say you don’t mind, but when I say something you shoot it down and we always don’t eat. Then I always watch the multiverse without you again. Come on babe. Just for the day. Please…..?” They asked. “And it’s always my time room. It’s not like you’re just staying with me for it. Right?” They asked. As Jericho paused and glared at them. “Are you accusing me of such things?” He asked. “U-uhhh uhhh…. I mean…. It’s always my time room after I showed you-” Asteria pause. As a stinging pain slapped them across the face. “Honestly Asteria. To accuse me of that, that’s absurd. Be better.”

This was the same thing too. Their relationship became rocky. They break up, get back together, and rinse repeat. They are thousands of years old together. But now. It doesn’t feel like the same guy Asteria fell for years ago. “Jericho please, relax. I’m sorry! It’s just, you stop hanging out with me.” They responded. “Being an auditor is tough work. Finding lowly criminals and egging them to capsulation is tough work. Unlike yours just lazing ‘bout and granting wishes.” He shot to the cosmic figments toon. “Hey, my wishes are like monkeys paws. There’s always a catch to each wish.” But Jericho rolled his eyes and found the time room. “Sometimes I wish you just leave me alone.” He said as he made his way to the door. Asteria rushed over it. “And I wish you answer my question better. We’ve been together for so long! I sensed your heart! You jolted! You only jolt for our boss or being interrogated!” They shouted. “Answer me! Answer me if you’re just actually staying with me for my goddamn time room!” They shouted, their face glowing red and tears peaking from their eyes. Jericho scoffed, and finally spoke. “Yes.” The dreaded weight crashed onto Asteria. “Was it…. Since the day I showed you the room?” They asked. “No….. when we first started working.” He said. Asteria gasped. “When I heard your job, you had it easy.” Jericho answered.

“You laze around, you grant wishes, you’re not in physical form and you’re creating dimensions and universes by your own will. I. Was. Jealous.” He said. “I only said yes to you, is because I wanted to see it all. Everything! You’re just sad, and pathetic…..” Asteria was stunned. They were shocked. They were…. Betrayed. By the person they love…. Correction, LOVED. “….. out….” They mumbled. “What was that?” Jericho rudely spoke. “I said….. get OUTTTTTTT!!!” As Asteria beautiful and shimmering pink hair turned into a darken black. Their blue eyes turned to of black with the sclera turning red. Jericho knew this look, he seen it so much when Asteria looses their mind. Asteria pulled out their remote, and zapped Jericho to their place. Then they calmed down, and immediately began to sob and feel on their knees to the ground. They used the remote to send all of Jericho junk back to his place. And Asteria could son knowing the truth. They did an immediate lock down. Closing all entrances to the inside of the cube. They went back up stairs, grabbing their phone and texted their boyfriend.

StellarFiend: it’s over. We are officially down. Like, shove a fork. Through! Don’t ever visit me. Don’t look at me. Don’t ever talk to me! You cheesebag!

And the boy cosmic being bawled their eyes, sitting at the center of the empty room, as it feels lonely. They kept Jericho, because they are really alone. They haven’t had visitors for a while. It was just sad. They guess they tolerated their partner behavior, just because to ignore their weight of loneliness. But, it feels better knowing then being used. Asteria just wished for someone, just someone. To finally love them without seeing them as a useful tool. But that day will never come. It’s just a sad cycle for them.

And it always been that way. For aeons.

@adrianasunderworld @mangacupcake @writing-heiress @the-weirdos-mind @skboba-stars @nproduction626 @rose-tea-and-strawberries @anxious-twisted-vampire @luxstring

Rip Asteria. Poor fella bf just straight up betrayed and used them. And also abused the fact Asteria spent alone in the wish making cube for aeons.

——————————————————————————

Aleistar

Age: 25000+

Occupation: wish master (kinda wish they were normal but they are stuck their)

Gender: gender fluid but mainly uses they/them pronouns

Pre break up: happy and delight

Post break up: depressed and just alone

Jericho

Age: same as Aleistar

Occupation: god auditor/basically capturing criminals of time and space law into eggs capsules

Gender: male (he/him)

Pre greedy: just actually pretty nice and decent

Post greedy for time room: absolutely dickbutt and jerkwad to Asteria and not considering their relationship

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #marron ocs #twst oc #Asteria (Twst oc)#Jericho (Twst oc)#Marron writes

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telltalebatman · 2 years ago

Note

post the frankie size queen essay

in form of a ficlet as im wating for my food delivery. nsfw btw

"So," Angelo asked her one day. "Mac Gargan, huh?"

"Ugh, don't start this again," she sighed as he laughed. "I've told you already. I'm sorry, okay? I didn't know he's coming to our wedding-"

"Franks, I couldn't be any less mad about not getting married to a girl if I tried. All things considered, it is a miracle it took pops this long to figure out I'm gay, and I never liked lavender to begin with. Nice touch with having lavender in your wedding bouquet, by the way," he added with a grin as she laughed. "Subtle."

"Yeah, I thought you'd like that," she said with a giggle. "I just saw they had this option and went - holy shit, Angel Boy's gonna love it."

"Well, I did love it. Buuuuuut... I didn't get you here just to reminisce about our failed wedding. Come on, Franks. I need to know - why him?" he asked finally, his dark eyes glimmering with curiosity; and Frankie bit her lip.

"Well, he does make me feel safe," she said slowly, wincing slightly as the irony of a guy who once kidnapped her making her feel safe was not entirely lost on her. "He's patient. Like, really patient."

"Uh-uh," Angelo said, rolling his eyes. "Fucking boooriiiiingggggg. I want to know the juicy stuff. Come on. How's your sex life?" he asked in his worst Tommy Wiseau voice; and Frankie groaned. Rationally, she knew this question was coming; and it wasn't the question she was dreading - it was the answer.

"I had never been fucked better in my entire life," she said with a deep sigh. "You know that club bouncer guy I told you about, the one that looks like Don Costa? He has a huge schlong, but can't use it. And Mackie... Holy shit, Angel Boy. Now I know what the Muppet puppets would feel if they ever came alive and felt the hand inside of them."

"Ew," Angelo said with a wide grin. "Gross. Keep going though."

"The first time he put it in I thought he's gonna poke my eye out from within," she continued, her cheeks flushing slightly as she thought back to their first time. "It felt so fucking good. I had never realized how much empty space I have inside of me until he fucked me. It was fucking unreal."

"Jesus, is that why you went radio silent for a week? Because he fucked you so good you forgot how to speak?"

"I didn't just forget how to speak, I forgot where I live," she said with a pained sigh as Angelo laughed. "And I thought to myself - great! Now that I've fucked him, he's out of my system. I can move on with my life now. But then I hooked up with another guy, and... It was just not the same. Nobody could fill me like he did. And it wasn't even a metaphorical, emotional void or anything. No, I mean it in the most literal, physical sense. He filled me up, alllllll the way. I then tried to, you know, get a dildo, but... Eh. It's just not the same, you know?"

"Yeah, I get that. An artificial dick up your ass is just not the same as the real thing," he said, nodding sagely. "Been there. Done that. Disinfected that afterwards."

"Yeah, I sure hope you disinfect your dildos. But anyway, that's how I figured out I'm physically incompatible with anyone whose dick I can wrap my fingers around. If it doesn't make me feel like I'm about to have to go to the ER, I don't want it. Apparently whenever we fuck, I look like I'm having a stroke and a heart attack at the same time, but he kinda likes it. He says it's hot when I can't even talk properly and he can really feel me."

"God, I am so glad we didn't end up married, our sex life would be so fucking bad for both of us. Me, I just can't top. You... Ugh, I can't even say it."

"Don't say it then. Just know that I do not think about you when I'm riding that Burj Khalifa of dicks. All I think about is how good it feels to my esophagus."

"Yeah, okay, Miss Piggy. What I hate the most about this conversation is that it's the same exact for me. And I love being a Muppet. I just wish dicks had fingers, you know? So they could wiggle them inside of me. That, I think, would ruin me completely."

"Oh god," Frankie breathed out, biting her bottom lip. "That would fucking rule. And also result in my eyeballs falling out for real, I'm pretty sure."

"Can the two of you shut the fuck up for five fucking minutes?" Mac asked tiredly from another room; Frankie and Angelo laughed in unison. They were having their weird little conversation in the living room of an apartment Frankie was renting together with Mac - who was trying to take a nap in the other room. Clearly that was not working out, and she hoped he had heard every single word. Because that'd mean a oh so you like it big, huh? kind of sex later on - and the only thing she liked more than his massive dick was when he made fun of her for not being able to string together a simple coherent sentence as he fucked her. "Please. Jesus."

"We'll be quiet now," Frankie said, kicking Angelo under the table. "Right, Angel Boy?"

"Yeah, as quiet as she gets when your dick pierces her intestines," Angelo replied in a sing-song voice; Mac groaned. Frankie laughed. For just a single afternoon, all was right in the world; and when the night fell, once again she forgot her own name.

ohmygodohmygodohgodohgodohgod

"You like it big, huh?" he said as she gasped loudly and grabbed the sheets as she tried to spread her legs even further. "Aww, look at yourself. Can't even talk," he added mockingly as she moaned and arched her back. "Hold still," he added, grabbing her by her waist as he fucked her. "Tell me how much you like it, or I'll stop."

"No," she moaned out, her thought slowing down to a crawl. "Pl... Please... Oh, god..."

In return, he only laughed; and she could feel his laughter, deep inside of herself. His every word, every chuckle echoed through herself; and she

fucking

loved it.

ohgodohgodohgodohgodIMCUMMING

"I barely even moved," he said mockingly as her eyes rolled back and barely any sound got out of her wide open mouth. "Aww, you're so precious. You don't even need friction, you just need to be filled up," he added; and she didn't protest. She didn't argue. Truth be told, she wasn't even sure what exactly was he saying in the first place; all that mattered were his hands around her waist, and his cock inside of her, and his beautiful body towering over her.

holy fucking shit.

he should fist me one day

#4.txt #good for her honestly #otp: sorcione

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cataclyisms · 10 months ago

Text

YOHAN —

Eventually, he swivels around on the bar stool, eyes narrowly avoiding hers before she catches something darker in them. "I'll buy yours," he toys with his bottom lip between two fingers, gaze darting across the floor. He would much rather spend all of what was left of his father's money. "Will that help you leave me alone?"

It’s the oldest trick in the book, to bare your teeth without biting. Scare tactics 101: angry boy edition. Unfortunate for him that she’s a graduate of the Spoiled Brat School of Youngest Sisters, because she can sense an empty threat from a mile away. She’ll never pick a fight she knows she won’t win.

And if she doesn’t — well, there’s always the perfectly manufactured tear.

“Because,” she starts, matching his swivel towards her with her own. Her winning smile is a show of amusement at his obvious annoyance, more to get a rise out of him than anything – though she can’t deny she enjoys a challenge. “Whiskey neat is so stereotypical brooding man. It’s, like, the drink you choose when you want to torture yourself.”

A quick signal and a bartender manifests in front of them. “Two of whatever that was, thanks,” she says, finger pointed at Yohan’s empty glass. Before long she’s nursing one drink and practically shoving the other into Yohan’s hand, quickly darting across the open space to clink glasses before an effervescent: “Cheers!”

And as expected: “Ugh — ew, no, hate that.”

The burn slides down her throat, twisting her face into a sour pout. God, the things she does to help others; she’s practically a candidate for sainthood. The half-drunk glass is slid over with a deft hand to her unwilling partner as she signals the waiter again. “That’s horrible, sorry. You have that and I’ll get a gin and tonic, thanks.” New (better) cocktail in hand, she settles back into her seat and grins as if he hadn’t just seen her dramatics over his (worse) choice of drink. “This one’s on you, by the way.” As if it wasn’t obvious.

The thing she’s learned about anger is that it’s always about how you hold it. How to grip it so it doesn’t shatter you. She knows his type well: raw, serrated fury. A weapon that self-inflicts as it strikes. Understands it because it is often her own. Best to keep it in check before the scar is permanent. Just this time, she’ll help him out – she’s held fast through worse. Sainthood, remember? “I’m not sure leaving you alone is a good idea right now. Like, look at all the drinks you have — people are going to think you’re a drunkard.” Nevermind it’s because one of them is technically hers. “At least if I’m here beside you people will think you’re doing it to impress me.”

“What’re you going to do by yourself anyway? Mope around? You don’t have to talk to me about it, but I’m not leaving you alone to do that. Mope with me; I’m sure I can cheer you up in no time.”

#t: red light #w: yohan #cm:breaking #istg this is long bc all she does is BLAH BLAH BLAH #2016

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appocalipse · 2 years ago

Text

RIGHT WHERE I WANT TO BE : ̗̀➛ SIRIUS BLACK

summary: it's only when lily accidentally spills amortentia on you and all you can smell is cigarettes and dog fur that you realize you're in love with sirius — probably the only person in the world you shouldn't be in love with.

"Oh, crap!" Lily seems on the verge of panic as she stares at the fresh stain on your clothes. "I'm so sorry!"

Somewhat shocked, you reach your hand to the front of your uniform and try to rub it away. It's no use. "It's okay," you assure her gently, relieved that the liquid didn't spill on the clean set of clothes you were folding instead, "it was an accident."

You put the clothes safely away in the trunk near your bed. They still have the fresh and clean scent of lavender. Your uniform, however…

Lily points her wand at your chest, and the stain quickly disappears. She had rushed through the entrance of the dormitory fast as lightning, crashing right into you and spilling…

Well, what exactly?

"Lily," you bring a hand to your own face, sniffing, then sniffing again. "What is this? It smells like a wet dog and-"

Your eyes meet and you immediately dislike the look on her face. Too much restrained excitement slowly bubbling up...

"-cigarettes…" you trail off, some sort of realization dawning on you way too late.

It can't be.

Lily bites her lower lip as if trying to hold back a smile. "Is that what it smells like to you?"

You also catch the scent of quill ink and freshly brewed coffee, so it can only be…

You put your hand away from your nose as if it's on fire.

"Tell me this is not what I think this is."

"If you're not thinking of Amortentia, then yes."

"Why would you brew Amortentia?!"

"For Professor Slughorn," she sees the confusion etched on your face and looks positively horrified. "Not for Professor Slughorn to drink! Ew! I said I'd like to try brewing one because it's, you know, a bit complicated and I've never tried before. He said he'd give Gryffindor some points if I succeeded. I didn't know you would… you know, smell Sirius."

"I never said I smelled him!"

"Okay! Okay," Lily raises both hands in surrender. Then, quieter, she adds, "You can pretend all you want."

You sigh. "Did you only have this vial?"

"Well, there should be some potion left in the cauldron, I think."

Great. An opportunity to escape this beyond strange situation. "I'll go get it for you."

"But I-"

You're out the Gryffindor common room before Lily has a chance to question your offer. The need to get away from that impending conversation is stronger than anything else right now.

Your heart is racing as you walk through the corridors of the castle, heading towards the dungeons, where Potions class usually take place. Each step is an effort to calm your turbulent mind and find some peace.

Upon reaching the Potions classroom, you welcome the silent space as you enter. The characteristic smell of magical ingredients and herbs fills your nostrils, bringing a familiar and almost comforting sensation… until you catch that smell. Amortentia.

You look around, searching for Lily's cauldron, which she mentioned leaving behind.

It's not hard to find; the smell is quite distinct, enchanting, all the things you love most in the world somehow united in a single aroma.

The cauldron is sitting on one of the workbenches. You approach cautiously, making sure not to knock anything over. Then you rummage through the shelves for an empty vial and pour some of the potion into it, feeling like you're doing something wrong even though Lily had Slughorn's permission.

The door opens, and you almost drop a row of glass bottles as you turn to look.

"What are you doing here?" he asks.

It's Sirius. Of course, it's him.

He closes the door behind him, and your heart skips a beat as it usually does whenever he's around. He's wearing the Gryffindor uniform, the first two buttons undone, revealing a patch of delicate skin just below his neck.

You don't need to wonder how he got there or why. Chances are, he extracted every piece of information he needed from Lily with little to no effort.

"What are you doing?" he asks calmly. You, on the other hand, don't feel calm at all.

"Nothing, just..."

"Just?" He takes a step closer, and you instinctively move away from the workbench, trying not to show the nervousness you truly feel.

"I just came to get something," you say.

Sirius gives a suspicious glance at the cauldron. "Is it a love potion?" He's a skilled wizard. Skilled enough to know the answer to that question, yet he waits for you to respond.

"Lily made it," you say defensively, holding up the vial containing the potion to illustrate your point unnecessarily.

"And what scent do you smell?" he questions, with a genuine curiosity in his tone that catches you off guard. "What does the potion smell like to you?"

"Lily told you," it's far from a question.

But Sirius has a knack for playing games.

"She told me what?"

"You know what."

This time, you step back as he advances, unable to help yourself, swallowing hard and Sirius notices. He takes another step forward, and you take another step back.

"Sirius," you warn.

In return, Sirius says your name, his tone lighter, more playful, soft as a feather. Then, another step.

You nearly bump your hip against one of the workbenches as you take another desperate step back. Sirius, being Sirius, raises an eyebrow, making no effort to hide his amusement.

It's unfair. It's simply unfair that he's so good-looking, starting at you without feeling the need to averting his gaze. "You don't have to do this," you find yourself saying.

Sirius seems genuinely puzzled.

"Do what?"

You steal a glance in your peripheral vision. The room won't go on forever; you need to say something to get out of this situation before he gets too close. You don't trust yourself near Sirius.

"Turn me down. Be all nice-" you stutter. He keeps advancing toward you. Back almost against the wall, you dodge another workbench and turn to the left, trying to prevent him from cornering you.

Sirius chuckles. "Is that what you think?"

"I'm a big girl. I can take rejection."

He glances in the direction of the cauldron. "Do you want to know what scent I smell?"

"No."

"Leather-"

"Sirius-"

"Gasoline," he raises his chin, nose in the air as if enjoying one scent after another. "Apple pie."

For a moment, you close your eyes. "Stop it."

"And lavender."

Your heart is pounding in your chest. He's not being serious, a little voice in your mind insists. It can't be serious. He's just teasing you... or maybe just being a good friend. Too good a friend.

It would be easier if he wasn't. If he were less kind to you, less handsome, less charming.

It's not easy.

You're breathless, trying to keep your distance from Sirius as he sets a slow advance, a constant tease. It's an internal battle between the desire to give in to the attraction you feel for him and the need to protect yourself — but the latter wins, for now.

"Sirius," you plead, your voice quiet, "stop"

He pauses for a moment, his gray eyes fixed on yours. "You think I'm joking, don't you? You think I'm just being nice?"

"I... I don't know, Sirius. It's so...confusing."

He takes yet another step towards you, his lips curling into a challenging smile. Always challenging. "Confusing or scary?"

The tension between you two is palpable, and you wonder if he can hear the rapid beating of your heart, threatening to break out of your rib cage any given moment. You know you're fighting your own feelings, afraid of surrendering to something that may - and probably will - end in heartbreak.

"It's not fair," you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady. "It's not fair that you're so... so-"

"So what?" he teases, closer. "So handsome? So charming? So... irresistible?"

You can tell he's somehow having fun. You don't understand how he can maintain a playful tone in a moment like this.

You catch a whiff of his cologne, feel the warmth of his body, and your heart races once again. If there's a way to prevent Sirius from getting what he wants, you don't know what it is. "So confusing," you finish, almost in a whisper. "You confuse the hell out of me."

Sirius pauses for a moment, his eyes locked with yours, and you momentarily catch a flicker of something deeper in this playful gaze. He slowly raises a hand and gently, gentler than ever, caresses your face, his fingers tracing a delicate path along your skin.

"I don't see how I could be confusing you," he murmurs, his voice soft and husky. "I thought I was being pretty clear..." It's teasing, of course it is; when it comes to Sirius, few things aren't.

But there's something else behind it, too.

The air grows heavier.

"You're not clear about anything, Sirius," you reply, your voice faltering slightly. "I never know what you're thinking. I never know what you really mean."

"Maybe you're just not paying attention."

You furrow your brow, confused by Sirius' response. He's playing with you, as he always does, but this time it feels more intense, more meaningful. You struggle against the temptation to give in completely, to say something you might not be able to take back.

"I do pay attention, Sirius," you respond, your voice showing determination you're not entirely sure you feel. "It's you who likes to make everything more difficult than it needs to be."

He moves closer once again, so close now that you can feel his breath against your skin, the tip of his nose an inch away from touching yours.

"Do you want me to be clearer?" he whispers, voice laced with a hint of his usual mischief. "Make it easier?"

You swallow, feeling your heart race. You know you can't admit your feelings for him, you can't let your defenses down. Not when he makes a point to hide comfortably behind a facade, away from anything that makes him feel vulnerable.

You need honesty.

"Yes," you whisper, your voice almost faltering. "Yes, I do."

Sirius pauses for a moment, eyes searching yours, and you can feel your breath catch in your throat. Then, slowly, he moves closer and closer still, until his lips almost touch yours.

There is a feeling that you can't quite put into words.

"I want you," he murmurs, an admission that hangs in the air like a charged electric current. "I want to be with you. I want you to be happy– I'll even accept your awful taste in music," he adds with a playful smirk, teasingly referencing your occasional guilty pleasure for a particular genre of music that he often mocks.

A laugh escapes your lips, a combination of relief and affection. His sincerity is pretty close to melting away any remaining doubts that linger in your heart. "I have great taste in music," you state playfully.

Sirius brushes the side of his nose against yours affectionately. "Sometimes," he gives in, voice filled with genuine warmth.

You lean into his touch, savoring the tenderness and intimacy of the moment. It's as if the world around you has faded away, leaving only the two of you in this bubble of shared emotions.

"Sometimes?" you raise an eyebrow, pretending to be offended.

He chuckles, a low and melodic sound that resonates deep within your chest, a sound you don't get to hear as often as you'd like. "You're lucky you're pretty," he teases, his voice filled with affectionate playfulness.

"Oh?"

"I have a soft spot for pretty girls."

You roll your eyes but can't help the smile that forms on your lips. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Black."

Sirius leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, pulling away with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Who said I was trying to get anywhere?" he whispers, fingers trailing along the curve of your waist, drawing you closer. "I'm already where I want to be."

Your heart swells with warmth, and you can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Smooth talker."

It doesn't sound like an accusation when you're about to kiss him.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius black oneshot #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfic #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black angst #sirius x you #sirius x reader #marauders fanfic #marauders imagine #sirius black drabble #marauders drabble #marauders era

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starlightsearches · 3 years ago

Note

I have a request for Eddie x Reader where the reader is his best friend. They’ve been best friends for years, and are extremely close, sharing everything with each other. While hanging out and teasing one another the reader admits to Eddie that she’s worried she’s not good at giving head, (maybe an ex made a comment or something.) Eddie laughs at first, thinking she’s joking, but when he realizes she’s seriously upset about it he tries to comfort her. She ends up asking him if she can blow him to see if she’s bad at it and he’s reluctant, because he’s secretly been in love with her for a while, but eventually let’s her. She’s in love with him too, which is partially why she’s wanting to blow him. After or during the blow job she finally admits to him she’s loved him for a while. (Bonus points for praise kink/princess or good girl used)

Feel free to change anything to make it work for you! Thanks in advance.

What Are Friends For?

This was such a fun idea, bestie! I'm sorry it took me so fucking long!

Eddie Munson x F! Reader / 4.4k words

18+ only, best friends to lovers, pornos, oral (m recieving), fingering (f receiving) praise, nicknames for reader (princess, sweetheart, babe), language.

When Eddie asked you to run some errands with him, this wasn't what you had in mind.

You'd never been in the back room of Family Video—the bold, red 18+ only sign had kept you far away even after the warning stopped applying to you. But Eddie breezed past the curtain like he fucking lived there, so of course you had to follow.

It's really not that exciting. Just a bunch of shelves—the same ones they have in the rest of the store—and if you don't look anywhere for too long, it's like you're watching him browse for a regular movie.

Kind of.

"Hey, look at this," Eddie laughs, flashing one of the covers in front of you. It's a picture of a girl—half-naked but wearing a wide-eyed expression—a cheap replica of the Freddy Krueger glove reaching towards her tits, covered demurely with the palms of her hands.

"Ew, Eddie! Tell me you're not actually watching shit like . . . Wet Dream on Elm Street?"

You'd only been back in Hawkins a day or two—finally home from your first semester of college—but you're glad to see that things with Eddie are the same as always. After the shit storm the last few weeks had been, you needed this to be normal . . . or at least, as normal as it can be when you're shopping for porn together.

Eddie scoffs, but he places the tape back in the same empty space on the shelves. "Jesus, when did you turn into such a prude, princess? I thought going to college was supposed to fix that."

Ouch. Eddie may know you better than anyone, but that doesn't make him a mind reader. You shrug the comment off, despite the sting. "Guess it didn't work on me."

Leaving Eddie where he is, you sneak off to a new aisle, one where you can feel a little more comfortable letting your eyes brush over the lewd pictures to satisfy your curiosity, if nothing else. It's actually kind of . . . fun, in a weird way—comparing the sex appeal of all the bare-chested men stretched out on silk sheets, laughing at the cheesy titles.

Until you catch Brian's eyes staring back at you from the front of one of the video tapes.

Then there's his shining, wet smile, the feeling of his hands slipping against your skin in the darkness of somebody else's bedroom, heavy breaths and muffled music and is this okay?

"Blowjobs, huh?"

You flinch, heart stuttering when you turn towards the voice, feeling stupid for getting so worked up. It's just Eddie.

"What?"

He points to the same video that shoved you into the spiral. On second glance, the man doesn't really look like Brian—older, for sure, with a little less boyish charm . . . and a much bigger dick bulging against his underwear.

There's a girl on her knees in front of him, dainty hands planted on his thighs, and you wonder if you'd looked like that when it happened—all coquettish and doe-eyed, pink tongue hanging out of your wide-open mouth.

Maybe then he would have called you back.

"Oh, no, I was just—" you swallow hard, skin itching where it grows warm across your chest. You don’t get the chance to think through what you say next. "What does it feel like?"

There's a little crease between Eddie's knitted brows. "What does what feel like?"

"Um, getting your dick sucked?" You're all hot with shame, but Eddie's hardly phased.

"It feels awesome. Why?"

You could brush it off. He'd take your words at face value if you hit him with a just curious, but you're tired carrying this secret, and the longer it sits inside of you the more it feels like you're lying.

"You remember that guy I told you about, right?"

Eddie frowns. "What guy?"

"You know . . . Brian. The one from my Creative Writing class?"

"You never said anything about a guy," he says, and the tone of his voice is hard as he doubles down.

Damn him. Eddie had been paying more attention than you'd given him credit for in those weekly phone calls. You had to keep most of the conversation PG anyways—since there was always somebody waiting for their chance to snatch up the hall phone the second you'd set it back on the receiver—but you could have told Eddie about the whole thing without mentioning any of the nitty gritty.

If you had wanted to.

"Maybe I forgot." You shrug, pretending to browse, like Eddie wouldn't see through that act in half a minute. "Anyways, we went out a couple of times right before finals, and kind of . . . hooked up at a party and I went down on him. I dunno, I thought he might've liked me, but he stopped calling me back."

Eddie lets out a sharp sigh. "Christ. What an asshole."

"You don't know that," you snap, feeling oddly defensive, "maybe it was bad." Maybe I was bad, you think.

But that just makes him laugh in his distinctly Eddie way. "Unlikely, babe."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Uh, it means that getting your dick sucked is pretty much always great," —he shrugs one shoulder, eyes tracing along the shelves again without seeing anything— “besides, you’re good at everything.”

You've developed a sudden, irresistible interest in ceiling tiles. "Whatever."

The silence between you is uncomfortable, and loaded like a gun, neither able to look at each other but both too flustered to look anywhere else.

"Well," Eddie cuts the tension in a voice that rides the line between serious and ironic, "there is one way to improve your technique."

He's got the not-Brian video again, waggling it in front of your face.

Your first instinct is to slap it out of his hand, but you manage to keep your arms down, turning away from him instead.

"Gross, Eds," you mumble, but just thinking about it still makes you warm between your thighs.

The more Eddie waits, though, the more he's convincing himself of it. He leans up against the shelf with his idea face on. The one that always comes before trouble.

"You wanna learn, right? Then you gotta learn from the best."

He holds the video out to you, but this time you can tell he's serious.

"I can't, I- my parents would see."

"Okay. I'll check it out for you." He adds it to his stack with the other video he’s grabbed before tucking it under his arm. You lunge for the tape, eyes wide, boxing him out with your shoulder when he reaches for it. Eddie doesn’t hold back, leaning all his weight against you until you’re pushed against the shelves, the hard slats digging into your chest and thighs.

You’re a little too old for play-fighting, but that’s not what’s got you all embarrassed. Eddie’s body smothers yours, warm and soft and so much fucking better than you’d imagined it, and he’s making these little grunting noises in your ear, trying to get a hold of the tape.

Oh fuck.

You let him take it. Not the best option, but it’s more mature than throwing the fucking thing across the room, and that’s not a conversation you’re willing to have with the guy at the front desk. Eddie’s distracted enough by his success that you can finally slip past him, into the open air. He adds the tape triumphantly back under his arm, wearing a cheeky grin.

The victory’s gone to his head, clearly. “Should we go, or do you want to find another one while we’re here?”

"I don’t have anywhere to watch it, Eds." You’re still breathing hard, and the heat in your cheeks won’t dissipate.

“Watch it at the trailer, dummy."

"Okay,” you laugh, “what are you gonna do while I'm watching porn?"

He shrugs, looking down at his hands, picking some dirt out from under a nail. "We needed something for movie night, anyways.”

Jesus. That stuns the laughter right out of you. "This is different, Eddie."

He’s got this smile on when he gets in your face, your favorite little cheeky, shit-eating grin that makes your heart flop around in your chest.

"Why? You worried you're gonna go all crazy with lust, baby? You afraid you're gonna fall in love with me?" He bats his big eyes at you, just joking again.

Like you needed a reminder of what got you in this mess in the first place. Fuck somebody else to get over Eddie Munson sounded like a way easier thing in your head.

Still, it's not the worst idea ever. You mull it over, chewing on the thought like a tough piece of meat. Watching a porno with your best friend would be all kinds of awkward, but it also might be the least embarrassing way to get the answers you need.

Which says a lot about how dire your situation is.

Eddie misreads your silence, slipping the tape back from underneath his arm, holding it out to you, a peace offering. “Listen—we don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

You keep your hands at your sides, eyes flashing between Eddie’s soft brown ones and not-Brian’s on the box.

"Do you think- do you think it would actually help?"

Eddie makes a sound like I don't know, shrugging his shoulders. "There's one way to find out."

He’s right about that. You dig your nails into your palms and let out a heavy breath.

"Okay . . . but let's find a different video."

The couch cushions are squishy beneath your palms, and you rock back and forth, eyes anywhere but the TV or Eddie. He’s on one knee in front of the wobbly little stand, bent in half and fiddling with the controls, pretty cavalier about the whole thing as he tosses the case on the floor. He flops down beside you once he reaches the couch, grabbing a pillow off the floor and tossing it in his lap.

"Comfortable?"

Eddie leans over, sticking his fingers in your side until you squirm and let out a few little high-pitched giggles that sound nothing like your usual laugh.

"I'm good, Eds."

He hums a sound, making it clear he doesn’t believe you. You hope the whirr of the tape will cover how heavy you're breathing.

It doesn’t start out so bad. The screen lights up with the little blonde girl from the cover lying spread out on the red sheets. She shifts around for a few seconds, posing seductively while the guy—who looks nothing like Brian, this time—kisses at her pink lips, big and barrel chested, swallowing her body under his as he crawls on the bed. Just kissing and moaning, with loud wet mouths.

You know, like any other movie.

Eddie shifts beside you, just settling into the couch cushions, and you try to stay relaxed, gripping at your knees tight enough to feel the bones moving underneath.

The man pets a big hand down over the woman’s hip as he adjusts for the camera, slipping it between her thighs and pressing tight against the lace of her underwear while she moans, writhing against the sheets.

It’s getting harder to breathe. Brian hadn’t really touched you the night it happened—just second base—cupping your tits over your clothes while he kissed you all sloppy and wet. You’ve thought about hands under your skirt before, late at night in your dorm—imagining thick, long fingers and heavy rings.

But that part doesn’t last long enough for you to dwell on it. She’s getting on her knees.

The air in the room grows tighter, like saran wrap across your face, and you think Eddie is watching you, the burn of his eyes warm against your cheek. Maybe he is, but you don’t dare check, glued to the screen while the girl slips the man’s cock from under the band of his boxers.

Jesus. It’s not like you’ve seen that many dicks—just the one—but there’s got to be something wrong with this guy. They’re definitely not supposed to be that big. It looks like a monster from a sci-fi movie, like the chest-burster from Alien, red and throbbing. The girl can barely wrap her hands around him, trying to unhinge her jaw just to get his cock part way in her mouth.

“You okay, sailor?”

Eddie’s nudging you with his foot, graying sock planted against your clenched thigh. You let your eyes fall closed, counting back from ten.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, but your voice is tight.

It feels like you’re gonna crack a tooth the way you can’t get your jaw to release, watching on the TV as the big man takes that poor girl’s head in his hands, shoving her down farther and farther over his angry, red, monster dick until she’s gagging, shining tears in her eyes. The retching sounds pour out of the tinny speakers, rattling your whole brain.

“Okay,”—you’re off the couch before you can really think about where you’re headed, fumbling for the power button on the front of the TV, pressing a bunch of others in your haste, stopping when you hear the heavy click. The screen buzzes out with a hum, and you fall on your ass to the carpet.

You can see Eddie on the couch in the screen’s distorted gray reflection, eyes so big they’re taking up half his face.

“You okay?” he asks, quiet.

It’s hard to know for sure. Your body buzzes with the static of conflicting feelings, like you’re only half-way here.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine. That was just, you know . . . a lot.”

Eddie clears his throat, and maybe you should turn around and face him, but you’re not sure what he’d see when he looked at you—if all your emotions are just sitting there on the surface of your skin, waiting for him to pick them apart.

“Yeah,” Eddie hums, “they’re not all that intense, though. We could always go find another one.”

“I think the one was enough.”

You try to laugh, to show him that it wasn’t his fault you couldn’t handle it. Maybe that’s why Brian had left you in the dust. He was probably looking for a girl to give him something like that. Maybe all guys were. And that’s got you feeling really small.

Eddie crawls from the couch, moving to sit beside you, one hand still bunched in the pillow to keep it tight against his lap.

“It’s no big deal, sweetheart. We could always—”

Whatever he’s about to say next though, you’re not even thinking about it—too busy putting the pieces together for an entirely different puzzle.

“Are you hard?” you blurt the question out.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Eddie flushes, and that’s answer enough.

Your mouth floods wet and hot, and you curl your fingers into the carpet, trying to swallow it all back down. Now is not the time to think about Eddie’s cock in your mouth. There is no good time to think about your best friend’s cock in your mouth. Thinking about his rings catching in your hair, the way his head would fall back as you tasted him, his deep voice full of whimpered moans and praise while you sucked the soul out of him.

“I mean— we were just watching porn, so it would be normal, you know, if you were.”

“I, uh, yeah. I can’t help it.”

He laughs, maybe to make you feel more comfortable, but it’s got you wishing the floor would raise up and swallow you. You should have kept your fucking mouth shut.

“Oh.”

A few beats of silence pass, and you wonder if you’re ever gonna be able to come back from this, or if you’re gonna spend the rest of your life wishing you could drive into oncoming traffic.

“Why’d you wanna know?” He nudges you on the shoulder, and your hands find their way to your cheeks, pressing in until it hurts, trying to hide from him and to stop the sting of tears at the back of your throat.

“It’s stupid,” you whisper.

Eddie takes both your wrists in his gentle, calloused hands, tugging until he can look you in the eyes.

“Now you gotta tell me, princess.”

His thumb traces little shapes on the inside of your wrist, and there has to be some kind of magic he’s hiding from you, because you’re actually thinking about telling him the truth.

“It’s really dumb, okay? I just thought . . . if I’m gonna learn . . .”

What you don’t say is that he’s the only person you trust enough for something like this. You don’t tell him that it feels like your only hope. You don’t tell Eddie how badly you want it to be him.

His thumb stops right against your thrumming pulse.

“Oh.”

“Sorry, sorry, it was fucking stupid and I should just go—” You’re almost to your feet when he grabs at you again, pulling you to a stop.

“It’s not stupid.”

Eddie lets the pillow drop from his lap, and your eyes trace over him—down the Metallica logo on his shirt and his belt buckle and the bulge in his jeans.

The weight of the moment slows your movements, has you straining to meet his eyes before you ask, “are you sure, Eds?”

“Yeah, of course I’m sure,”—he swallows— “if it’ll help you out, yeah.”

You didn’t expect that. Didn’t think he’d give you a yes, and now you’ve got to ask yourself if it would be better to see Eddie Munson fall apart for you just once in your life, or never at all.

“Should we just-” you gesture back to the couch, and Eddie takes a couple steps in that direction until his knees buckle against the cushions. You slip to the ground with a little help, steadying yourself on the arm rest.

It’s fucking weird, finding your balance with your hands at his thighs, feeling the denim beneath your palms and the soft give of his skin beneath that. Eddie’s taking heavy breaths through his parted lips when you look at him, looking almost as scared as you feel.

“You’re still gonna be friends with me, right? Even if this sucks?”

That makes him laugh, and he nods. One of your hands snakes towards his belt.

“Wait,”—Eddie catches your fingers between his, tugging a little— “do you think we should kiss first?”

“What?”

“I mean,” his cheeks go pink, and he won’t look you in the eye, staring at the hand that’s caught yours while he fiddles with one of his rings, “you’re about to have my dick in your mouth. I just thought, maybe that would be weird, so . . .”

“You think kissing first would make this less weird?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Eddie says, but the dejected look on his face talks louder, “I’m just being stupid—”

You catch his jaw in your hand, pressing your lips to his before you can talk yourself out of it.

Eddie’s kiss is warm and soft after he gets over the shock of it, relaxing into you with a gentle sigh that sends a jolt through you, whole body electrified. Something about him tastes familiar—like he’s been stealing all your chapstick from your bag again—but there’s nothing greasy left on your skin when he shifts, catching your bottom lip between his own. He just tastes like Eddie.

And you can’t get enough of it. Even when you know that you should pull away—when you recognize that this is more than a friendly pre-blowjob peck—you don’t want to. You press forward instead, just letting your tongue brush the seam of his lips. Eddie smiles against you.

Then he jumps back with a little huh, almost like a moan. You’re surprised to see that your hand had slipped from his belt buckle, tracing the shape of his cock through his jeans.

“Oh,” your cheeks go flush, and you pull your hand back just a little, “sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” Eddie tells you, “did you wanna . . .?”

He glances back down at his bulge.

“Oh, yeah. Right.”

You slip the strap of his belt through the loops before fiddling around with the buckle. The metal clinks when you push it to the side, jingling a little as Eddie shifts. There’s the soft pop of the button, and the metallic rumble of his zipper, uncovering more and more of Eddie’s blue boxers, and it’s all got you on pins and needles, shaking with anticipation. You keep your eyes on his when you reach inside the fabric, finding him by touch instead of sight.

Oh. Eddie’s cock is warm in your palm as you slip it from the gap in his boxers. He’s a little bigger than Brian was, but not enough to scare you, deep blue veins tracing paths from the patch of dark hair at the base up to the pink flushed head.

This one only brings the total number of dicks you’ve seen up to three, but Eddie’s is definitely the prettiest.

His thighs are tense under your arms as you explore him with your fist, bouncing your hand just slightly, your thumb tracing one of his veins. Eddie’s trying to keep it together for you—lips pressed tight so you won’t hear the little sounds he’s making, or the pink flush climbing up his neck, but you know, and you see it, and you want more.

You lean in just close enough for your lips to hover over the tip, stopping before your lips brush against him.

“Let me know what feels good?” you ask.

Eddie nods, voice tight. “Just . . . start slow.”

Easy enough. You let some spit collect at the front of your mouth, coat the tip of your tongue with it before parting your lips against his burning skin, just wide enough that you can take the head inside, sealing your lips under the seam.

“Yeah, shit, just- just like that.”

You’ve hardly done anything—just circled your tongue around him, pressing at the slit a little, but Eddie’s acting like you’ve fucking put a man on the moon, curling one hand in your hair, the other in a white-knuckle grip against the couch cushions. You take a little more of him, and the stretch isn’t so bad when you glance up through your lashes.

Eddie’s got his head thrown back, jaw taut and chest heaving, and it’s got you wondering if he was right earlier.

Maybe you are good at everything.

The praise goes straight to your head, of course, confidence doubled knowing that Eddie likes the way your mouth feels around him, and wasn’t that what all of this was for?

“Fuck, princess, that’s so fucking good. Fucking perfect.”

The hand in your hair guides you, but gently, as you bounce up and down on his cock, tugging a little at your roots until you whine. There’s a swell of pleasure in your belly, one that travels straight to your cunt when he groans, and you know you’ll be thinking about this moment for a long time, every night you’re alone.

You’re getting far enough down that you can feel the head of his dick nudging at your soft palate, eliciting a soft gag each time your head dips to kiss the edge of your fingers. Some spit leaks down from the seal of your lips, and you spread it with your palm, coating all the spaces you’re not going to be able to reach.

And Eddie’s so fucking loud—just the way you want him—whining and babbling as his hips shift and his dick twitches and you’re sure you’re gonna make him cum some place besides your dreams.

“Jesus, princess,” Eddie pants, and he can’t get a whole word out between his heavy breaths, “knew you’d be good at this. Never could stop thinking about you on your knees for me.”

What?

Maybe he forgot you were here. Maybe he’s thinking about somebody else to get through this, imagining their lips and their hands, but you don’t think so, even if it’s always seemed impossible. With the way he’s cupping the back of your head so gently, how you can feel his muscles shift under the palm of your hand, you know Eddie’s too far gone to lie to you.

And maybe that makes you a little crazy, doubling your efforts as you hollow your cheeks around him, letting your tongue lave over his sticky tip, tracing the shape of him until he can’t help himself.

“Jesus, fuck, baby—” he’s trying to pull you off him, maybe embarrassed about how easy it was for you to get him so close, maybe worried that you don’t want a mouthful of his cum.

But that’s exactly what you want. You hear his deep groan, feel it shaking in your chest as it drips down your throat, and you swallow every drop of it.

“Jesus H. Christ.”

That’s all Eddie has for you when you finally pull off him, eyes blown wide and expression slack. For the first time, you let yourself think about how pretty he is without the accompanying guilt.

When he gets a hold of himself, he can’t meet your eyes, too busy tucking his spit-coated dick back into his pants to look at you.

You crawl up on the couch beside him, just watching, smiling too wide. It makes your jaw ache, but you can’t help it. Eddie’s all embarrassed when he finally meets your eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you tell him, scooting a little closer, pressing chest to chest. It’s your turn now to be a tease, after all the shit he’s given you. “I’m just wondering how long you’ve had your little crush on me.”

“Okay,” Eddie blanches, looking for some kind of escape route, but you’re not giving him an inch, “it’s not that big of a deal . . .”

“Yes it is, Eddie. Because, if we’re being honest with each other now, I want you, too.”

Eddie’s hand shakes when you take it in your own, trembling against your thighs when you press it up your skirt, holding against the soaked fabric between your thighs. He lets out a little surprised breath, eyes searching. He looks scared to death of you.

“Oh, fuck. Really?”

You hum, pressing his fingers tighter against your core until one slips between your lips, right up against your dripping hole.

“Since I made one of your fantasies come true, why don’t you return the favor?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, like he still can’t believe his luck, “okay.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #eddie the freak munson #eddie x reader #stranger things fanfic #my writing #requests

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run-me-through-but-not-like-that · 3 years ago

Note

Could you do an Izzy Hands/Reader where the Izzy gets up in the readers face to give them orders bc they won’t listen and the reader bites back with a sarcastic remark and they both kinda pause, realizing at the same exact time that they like each other and both their first thoughts are somewhat along: “Ew what the hell-“

i love your writing!:)

This isn't Happening:

It was just another normal day on the Revenge for the crew, a part of the day they had come to expect, no longer surprised by. The crew not so subtly gathering around to listen into whatever argument you and Izzy had gotten into now.

The two of you were always bickering, always at each other's throats. The crew had started making bets on how long the arguments would last and who would stab the other first.

They were pretty sure the two of you had started out on opposite sides of the deck, pretty much anyway, but now the two of you were only a couple of feet away from each other. Standing toe to toe, still snarling like rabid animals.

"Oh fuck you, you have no idea what you're talking about. You're all fucking idiots," Izzy seethed, throwing insults at you and the crew, even though the crew had been improving impressively fast. It was never enough for him.

"We'll we're really sorry for not being the mighty Blackbeard or his ass-kissing first mate," you scoffed, glare not faltering for a moment. He had been a long time since he had manage to intimidate you, his threats were empty now.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" his voice lowered dangerously, something flashing behind his eyes that sent a small thrill down your spine. You had to admit that you enjoyed messing with him.

"Oh, I think you heard me just fine. Or are you going deaf, old man? One too many cannon battles? Might be time to retire soon," you knew that you were just pushing and pushing, purposely making him angrier.

"I'll retire when you and the rest of this so-called-crew get your heads out of your arses and act like real fucking pirates," Izzy flashed his teeth in a grimace, a strand of hair falling out of place.

"I'll show you a real fucking pirate," you snarled, inching closer.

This close, you could see every fine detail on each other's faces, could make out every little micro expression. This close, it was impossible to miss the way Izzy's gaze dropped to your mouth. Impossible it ignore the way you repeated the glanced.

His lips pink and wet, the threat of teeth behind them. Fucking hell, they were practically begging you to kiss them. And damn, you wanted too. The realisation was sudden, knocking you off balance.

The realisation seemed to hit both of you at the same time, faces scrunching up in sync with each other.

“Fuck,” Izzy spat, flinching backwards like you struck him.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” you were shaking your head at yourself, in disbelief and disgust.

“Fuck you."

“In your dreams, Iggy."

“…fuck!” you both exclaimed simultaneously before stomping off in opposite directions.

Any of the crew that were in the way parted, watching with interest.

“Did…they just have a moment?” Black Pete asked, leaning towards Lucius.

“More like a revelation, I think. And not one that either of them were happy about…” Lucius leaned right back, resting against his shoulder.

"It was kinda hot," Black Pete hummed, a smirk growing on his face.

"Yeah, in a kind of...dysfunctional way. Still hot, though," Lucius agreed. "Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to go stir the pot a little," he planted a kiss to Pete's cheek before standing up and stretching.

"Go get 'em, babe!" Pete cheered, watching his boyfriend cross the deck to cause some trouble.

It didn't take long for Lucius to find you in the galley. You didn't seem to have any real reason to be there, other than enjoying the empty space as you paced back and forth muttering to yourself.

"Hey there," Lucius interrupted your...muttering session?

You paused, clearly haven't heard him come in, and turned to him. "Hey, Luce," you aimed for casual but you already knew he was up to something from the look on his face.

"Quite the show you put on up there," he smirked, far too knowingly for your liking.

"Sure. The asshole doesn't know when to drop it," you huffed, hoping Lucius would know when to drop it. He always had an eye for this kind of thing, and you just knew he must have sensed something was off.

"Right, that's the problem," Lucius rolled his eyes, "totally not because you got all hot under the collar for the first mate."

"What are you talking about?" you questioned slowly, as if warning him to take the hint, to back down now.

"Oh, please. Izzy...getting all up on your face, doing that thing where he just can't look away from your mouth, getting all snarky. Spoiler alert, babe. He wants you," Lucius informed you with a little wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Lucius, you better be getting to the point," you warned.

"Are you gonna...?" he was wiggling his eyebrow again with a suggestive look in his eye.

"Fuck no," your face twisted in offence. "Izzy? He's the worst. Why would I-"

"Uh, because I couldn't tell which one of you was going to pounce first?" Lucius laughed, he couldn't believe you were still denying it after that little display. You and Izzy had always been weird about each other, everything a little too intense for it to be pure dislike for each other. "You have it bad for each other, deal with it," he shrugged.

"Lucius, I am this close to using one of Roach's precious knives on you," you held you hand up, the pad of your thumb and forefinger nearly touching, grazing each other.

"He'd kill you for touching them," he called your bluff.

"It'd be worth it," you smirked, a glint in your eye that made the scribe wonder just how much of a bluff it was.

"Damn, you and Dizzy really are right for each other, huh?" Lucius teased. Even if you had the urge, he knew you wouldn't draw blood from him.

"Lucius," you warn lowly, picking up Roach's cleaver from the counter, twirling it between your fingers.

"I'm going!" Lucius threw his hands up in surrender, laughing as he fled.

On his way out, he nearly knocked Roach over. Meaning the cook already wasn't in the best of moods when he eyed his prized possession in you hand. "Hey, what the fuck are you doing with my baby?" he questioned accusingly, striding over to you.

"Didn't use it, I swear! Was just threatening Luce," you promised, holding the blade out to him, not wanting to keep it away from the cook.

"Damn right you didn't use it. Give it here," Roach snatched it from your hand before ordering, "scram."

"Yes, boss," you nodded, giving him a placating smile before leaving the galley.

"-and we'll be reaching port in two days if there are no sudden weather changes. Buttons says the winds should stay relatively consistent," Izzy finished his report to the captains, itching to leave the cabin, though perhaps not itching to risk seeing you again. Not after that embarrassing production, he never had been the best at keeping his cards close to his chest.

Edward used to say he wore every feeling he ever had on his face, all in his eyes, just like Jack used to call him a sentimental bastard. Maybe they weren't too far off.

"Sounds good, Iz," Edward nodded, only half paying attention. There was nothing in the report that required his attention, everything had been taken care of.

"Roach will be glad to reach a port, he's already complaining about lack of rations," Stede commented, a smile on his face. Too happy about being near to a port.

"Because you made him make another cake," Izzy glared at him, he had already given the lecture about wasting rations.

"Ah, the reasons don't matter," Stede shrugged it off.

"So...is that business all dealt with?" Edward asked, perking up slightly.

"Yes, captain. I'll have a list made for all supplies needed-" Izzy began, only to be interrupted.

"Yeah, yeah, that's real good, Iz," Edward nodded, gesturing toward one of the chairs across from the couch that the captains say on, "hey, c'mon, sit down. I wanna talk to you about something."

"Is it urgent, boss?" Izzy asked. Something told him this wasn't going to be a conversation he enjoyed.

"Extremely," Edward insisted.

"And I have to sit for this?" Izzy would prefer to stand closer to the door.

"I'd prefer it," Edward told him, as if he was really giving him a choice. "C'mon, Iz. We can't talk anymore? Like the old days," now he was practically whining, and Izzy could never deny him anything, could he?

"Fine, whatever," Izzy sighed, dropping down onto the chair.

"Heard about your little...altercation up on deck," Edward was clearly amused, but Izzy knew better than to take that at face value.

"Right," Izzy nodded, voice stoic. "It won't happen again," he assured them.

"Yep, Stede told me all about it," Edward grinned. Once again, Izzy was glaring at Bonnet, feeling like a child being scolded. Stede just smiled nervously in response. "You got into an argument, said some mean shit about the crew," his captain tutted.

"Like I said, won't happen again," Izzy reiterated.

"Eh, don't worry about that. Heard they gave as good as they got," Edward shrugged, making Izzy roll his eyes. "Oh yeah, Stede told me all the details. Thought I might have to do something about it...until he mentioned how you got all up in each other's faces," he continued, his playful grin morphing into a smirk.

"Ed, what are you talking about?" Izzy prompted, growing tired of the topic.

"Oh come on, Iz!" Edward lean forward, elbows on his knees. "I know you, how you get. When somebody's getting you all frustrated, you get all up in their face. Stede said he thought about intervening but he couldn't figure out if you were going to kiss or kill each other," he was clearly enjoying this too much.

"I mean, if it's the former, do as you please. I have no involvement in the relationships of the crew, though perhaps no foreplay up on the deck without the consent of the rest of the crew, I'm sure you understand." Izzy officially wanted to wring out Bonnet's neck.

"Fucking hell, it wasn't-" he began to protest.

"But if it's the latter, I'd really prefer it if you didn't kill a valued member of the crew," Stede finished before gesturing for Izzy to speak.

"Fuck this. I'm leaving," Izzy stood abruptly, not wanting to hear another word. Didn't need to sit their while they amused themselves with his predicament. A predicament that he didn't even fully understand.

"Iz, man, come on!" Edward was on his feet, laughing as he pleaded for the other man to stay. "I say, go for it! I'm happy for you mate!" but Izzy was still heading for the door, not looking back. "Where are you going?" Edward asked, practically pouting.

"To throw myself over the railing," Izzy muttered, leaving the cabin and slamming the door shut behind him.

You had found yourself a sound little hiding spot in the Ballroom of the Revenge. It wasn't a secret room or anything, of course, but it wasn't a room that the crew thought about often or tended to visit.

And it was the crew that you were avoiding. You loved them, really you did, they had become your family, but you just couldn't put up with the comments or questions anymore. It was all well meaning harmless fun, of course, but you really did not need to talk about the whole Izzy thing right now. You didn't even want to think about it.

You let out a sigh of defeat when the door opened. You had been caught, you knew it was only a matter of time. Though your defeat quickly turned to confused frustration when Izzy stepped into the room, hurriedly closing the door behind him and let out a breath of relief.

"Fuck off, get your own hiding spot," you huffed, aware you were practically sulking as you slumped back against the wall.

"I'm not hiding," Izzy scoffed, as if you weren't doing the exact same thing.

"Sure you're not," you rolled your eyes.

Izzy looked between you and the door, weighing his options and sighing. He made a point of taking a spot on the other side of the room, sitting on the floor just like you were.

"Who are you hiding from?" Izzy asked, a reluctant attempt at conversation.

"The crew," you answered. You wouldn't be surprised if his answer was the same, but still you asked. "You?"

"The captains."

That caught your interest but it was still too easy to poke at him. "Hey, you just referred to Stede as one of your captains. Wasn't so hard, was it?" you couldn't help but taunt him, just a little.

"This does not make us friends," Izzy's expression hardened into a familiar grimace.

"Well, duh, obviously," you readily agreed, rolling your eyes at him once more for good measure.

The two of you sat in silence then, cherishing the peace and quiet. Thankfully, the cannonballs had been neatly stored away rather than being allowed to wreak havoc. You may have been stuck in a tiny room with Izzy Hands, but at least you didn't have to avoid rouge cannonballs.

Eventually, you just had to ask. "What are the captains bothering you about? Nothing we should worry about, right?"

"None of your concern," Izzy dismissed, earning a displeased huff from you. Glancing over at you, he let out a sigh, before answering, "it's personal. The ship is fine." If you didn't know any better, you'd think it was an attempt to reassure you.

"Ooo, personal," you whistled lowly.

"Why are you hiding from your ridiculous crew?" Izzy asked.

"It's personal," you retorted smugly.

Izzy rolled his eyes, making no further attempts at small talk. The two of you fell into silence again.

You should have brought something with you to keep yourself entertained because you were quickly growing bored. Drumming your fingers against the wooden floor.

It earnt you a glare from Izzy but you ignored him, getting a nice little beat going.

Izzy's patience was already next to non-existent, so you weren't at all surprised when he finally snapped. "Fucking stop that!"

"Fucking make me," you shot back, not even attempting to supress your smirk, knowing it would only wind him up further.

"Why do you always have to be such a pain in the ass?"

"Why do you always have to be so uptight?"

"Because nobody fucking listens!"

"Well, maybe if you weren't such an asshole about everything people would listen to you."

Izzy pushed up to his feet and stomped over you, at least pleased to hear that the gentle drumming had stopped. He stood over you, scowling, but you just continued to smirk up at him.

"What are you going to do about it, Hands?" you cocked an eyebrow, knowing there was nothing he could do, Stede and Edward wouldn't like it. "Things work differently here," you reminded him, holding his gaze as you stood.

"That so?"

You leaned back against the wall casually, arms folded over your chest. "You can't just throw your weight around until people do what you say. Nobody here is scared of you anymore, so threats don't work. Act like a normal fucking person and life will be a little smoother."

Izzy pushed forward, teeth baring to respond, only for the door to swing open. You both jumped and turned to the sudden intrusion.

"Iz!" Edward grinned in the doorway, Lucius smirking by his side. "Told you they had to be around here somewhere," he nudged Lucius' shoulder and you wondered when those two got so friendly.

"And I told you they'd likely be together," Lucius bragged.

"Edward," Izzy warned.

"Alright, alright, just letting you know we'll be coming into port soon, thought you'd want to make sure we don't wreck," Edward teased, only laughing when Izzy growled under his breath. "But we'll leave you to it. Please, carry on."

They were both laughing as Edward dragged the scribe off, the door slamming shut again.

"Fucking idiots," you both muttered, both pulling a face when you realised you had agreed on something simultaneously.

"Show your captain some respect," Izzy spun around to face you again, glowering.

"Oh fuck you," you laughed, not even pissed off with him anymore, more amused than anything.

"You're a goddamn nightmare," Izzy grumbled before striding over to the door.

"Takes one to know one!" you called out playfully.

Izzy opened the door before looking back over his shoulder at you. "Find a better hiding place, I doubt they're going to drop this whole thing anytime soon," Izzy advised.

"...I'll find one of Stede's secret compartments," you promised, a silent agreement being shared between the two of you.

Izzy nodded before leaving, pulling the door shut behind him.

You ran your hand over your face, stuck between the urge to grin and complain. It looked like the two of you were going to be spending a lot more time together, even if it was to actively avoid confronting whatever the hell was going on between you.

#israel hands x reader #izzy hands x reader #izzy hands #ofmd izzy #ofmd x reader #ofmd #our flag means death

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

Text

not shy

megumi was not shy around his crush — and that’s a fucking lie.

request: shy megumi who is really flustered around his crush + his friends and gojo-sensei helping him confess

note: this is fluff and a semi crack fic too LOL i hope you guys enjoy this, i had a lot of fun with this one! unedited too, as usual!

word count: 4.5k

masterlist !

playlist made by the lovely @savantsoulfinder thank you so much!

“Yo, Megumi-kun, can you take—” Satoru halted in his steps, following the trail of sight that his dark-haired student seemed to be so enamoured in to not even notice his teacher walk his way. “What are you staring at?” when his gaze landed on you, head thrown back in laughter and slapping Panda’s arm over Yuuji’s joke, Satoru’s eyes beamed even under the blindfold. “Oh? You like Y/N?”

Upon hearing your name, Megumi immediately snapped back to life. He scoffed and turned away from you, scowling to himself with his arms crossed against his chest. “No, I don’t. I don’t like anyone.” So defensive.

“Is that so?” Satoru teased while biting back his laughter, “Guess you won’t mind if I call her then. Hey, Y/N!”

“Gojo-sensei, what’re you doing?!” Megumi grabbed his teacher’s sleeve, whisper-hissing and cursing under his breath when Satoru caught your attention. You waved at them both, skipping until you were getting impossibly closer and closer and closer.

“Well, I don’t want you to carry these all alone. You’re gonna need some help.”

“I’m perfectly fine – h-hi.”

Shit, you were now here. You smiled up at him, hands folded below your bottom before tipping your head to the side, looking under Megumi’s ducked head to see his face. “Hey there, Megumi! Looking cute today,” you winked, causing the poor boy to blush madly. You never noticed, though, your attention now taken by your teacher turning red as he stopped his laughter. “Gojo-sensei! You called me?”

“Oh yeah, you’re just right on time. I was going to ask Megumi here to bring these books all back to my office but it’s probably too heavy for him so I asked—”

“It’s not heavy,” Megumi took the books that Satoru placed in your welcoming arms, the slightest touch sending jolts of electricity down his spine. He pulled away and clutched the books closer to himself at the sudden buzz, narrowing his eyes at his teacher who obviously couldn’t mind his own business. “I can carry it by myself.”

“I still wanna help, and I really don’t mind. Plus, I haven’t talked to you in a long time. I actually kind of feel like you’re avoiding me,” you pouted, and that simple gesture had Megumi feeling like he was sinking deeper into the ground.

He was ready for the whole world to swallow him up.

Satoru took pleasure in Megumi’s reddish ears and clenched jaw, cupping his own jaw with his hands as if to mock. “Aw, Megumi, why would you avoid precious Y/N? Did she do something wrong to you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Well, if there’s nothing wrong, you two better scoot before you get late to your other class!”

“Alright, see you around, Gojo-sensei!” Shit, why were you such a good girl? Now he was stuck with you, and Megumi huffed while hesitantly sharing the books with him. You walked close enough to him that he caught a slight whiff of your shampoo, the scent clouding over his usually sharp mind. Now, though, Megumi could barely recognize the hallways he walked on, relying only on you to lead the way. “So...how’ve you been?”

“Fine.”

“How about your studies? We have an exam next week – maybe you want to study together? Inumaki-senpai and I were supposed to have a study group with the others but everyone just wants to study by themselves,” you turned to him with a small smile, “I do better when I’m with someone though.”

Megumi managed to give you a split second glance before he darted his eyes back in front of him again, swallowing audibly because he couldn’t understand why you had to look so pretty smiling like that.

His palms grew sweaty with each passing second, and he grimaced at the uncomfortably feeling of his collar getting sticky. “Uh, wh-where would we study? We don’t have a library or anything.”

“The training grounds is refreshing, but I’d like it to do it better in my room.”

“Do what?” Megumi halted in his steps, his eyes blown wide at your words.

“Study, of course. What else?”

He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be worried that you frowned in confusion, almost as if you didn’t understand the weight of your words. But then again, you’d always been so damn oblivious that it made sense. Megumi shook his head, continuing on to the teacher’s office before remembering he still lost his sense of direction, so he bit his lip, obediently following you around like a puppy.

“You shouldn’t just invite anyone to your room, you know.”

Once you both made it to the empty room, you carefully placed the books down on Satoru’s desk. He raised a brow at the extra detail you put into, tongue peeking out from the edges of your lips as you made sure all of them were placed together neatly.

Satisfied with your work, you clapped your hands and turned to him.

“I’m not. You’re not just anyone to me, Megumi,” Suddenly, you leaned over him, his mind screaming at him when your lips lowered down to his neck. Megumi’s spine stiffened so quick he might as well be a flat board, his chin pressed to his neck when he felt your teeth graze his exposed skin for a moment. “There’s a loose thread,” you showed him a small thread with a small smile, which fell as fast when you saw Megumi standing uncomfortably straight. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to invade your personal space like that!” “I’m a little weird, aren’t I? That would explain why you’ve been avoiding me. Do I make you feel uncomfortable?”

“No, it’s not that...it’s just...”

“Just what?”

His mind blanked. Ask him anything about curses or their history and pretty much anything – he’d be able to answer – but not this. They didn’t teach this in the books and out of frantic nervousness, Megumi ended up spewing the first thing he could think of, his brows drawn together that only added to his intimidating look.

“I’m just annoyed that you scored higher than me on the previous exam.”

“Oh,” you fell for it, snapping your fingers together as you laughed. Somehow, the sound of your melodious laughter had his shoulders easing from the tension, the smallest of smiles hinting at the edge of his lips. Gosh, he was so whipped for you. “Was that really it? I thought you were avoiding me for something serious! Well, how about this, let’s study together and let’s see who’s the smarter one. The loser will get tickled to death!”

“I haven’t even agreed to that condition yet.”

“Okay, what do you want if you win?”

Megumi blushed as he blurted out, “You.”

Before he could regret what he just said, you scrunched your nose and pointed to yourself. “Me what? You want me to do something? You want me to buy you ice cream or—”

“Never mind,” he mumbled behind his palm that was now covering his mouth, refusing to show you that he actually wanted to laugh at how naive you could be. Not that he was complaining; it saved him great pain that you could never know his feelings for you. “I’ll ask for it when I’m sure I’ll win.”

“Ah, not a man of uncalculated risks, I see,” you ruffled his hair, the poor boy stiffening up again under your touch. “This is why I like you so much. You’re so thoughtful.”

“Please don’t touch my hair.”

Megumi was complaining, his shoulders raised beside his ears while he scowled at you, but the way a small, almost inaudible purr left his lips said otherwise. He didn’t want you touching his hair – only because he was shy and it would be the death of him if you saw how easily flustered he was around you.

Thankfully, you showered mercy upon him, raising your hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, we should go back to class now.”

Megumi sighed in relief, content for now to walk you all the way back to class as you talked about your day. He wasn’t actually listening, but a stupid smile was there on his face, anyway. He likened the sound of your voice to those of birds chirping and sunshine waking – and he felt like he was the fresh earth you always kissed.

“You’re going to burn a hole in her if you keep staring at her like that.”

“Shut up,” Megumi averted his eyes away from you, stabbing his yogurt with his plastic fork. A part of him felt annoyed that you just had to look so pretty today, your bright voice filling in the cafeteria that put his constant sour mood to shame. The stark difference between you two made Megumi sigh in his seat, abandoning his fork as he leaned back. There was no way you’d like him back. “I wasn’t looking at anyone.”

“Ugh, why are boys so creepy? Staring at Y/N like that, ew.”

Yuuji ignored Nobara’s comment, and for once, Megumi let it slide when Nobara stealed his untouched yogurt. “Why don’t you just tell her you like her? She’s literally the sweetest person ever – the chances of her turning you down are low!”

Nobara snorted, “Yeah, but if the sweetest girl in school rejects you, that’s really humiliating. That would mean she likes everyone but you.”

Satoru popped out of nowhere – that stupid blindfolded bastard who started all this – his arms looped around Yuuji’s neck whose entire face illuminated at having his favourite teacher around. “I think the scary-looking Megumi-chan is actually just too shy to be confess,” he wiggled his eyebrows, pointing a finger fun to Megumi’s deadly narrowed gaze. “Can you believe it? My dark, brooding student is hopelessly in love with the cute, sunshine girl next door that he’s so scared around her? Isn’t that so adorable—”

“Everyone shut up!” he hissed through gritted teeth, “I’m not scared of anyone or anything.”

“Then tell her you like her.”

“Fine, I will.”

“I bet you ten dollars he won’t do it,” Satoru whispered, the two students who shared one brain cell beside him nodding eagerly.

“I said I will!”

“Good morning, Megumi! Come in, come in,” you ushered him in once he stood frozen at your door, his hands now awkwardly clutching his own notes. “You can take a seat on the bed.”

Megumi wasn’t nervous of the fact this was his first time visiting a girl’s room, but rather because it was yours, and each part of your room resembled you greatly. From the organized and clean space, but the noticeable adorable little trinkets and polaroids of you with everyone sticking on the wall, he could feel your entire soul living in that room. When his eyes landed on an old photo of you holding up the peace sign and noticed for the first time he was standing in the background, unaware he was captured in the frame, Megumi inhaled sharply.

Had you pretended to take a selfie just to see him there?

No, he shook his head, there was just no way. He really couldn’t ponder about it long enough because you’d dragged him by the sleeve until he was sitting right next to you, the fresh scent of your body wash making him feel stunningly warm inside his clothes even when the windows were open.

The whole time, Megumi couldn’t absorb a single thing you were saying.

He was just too distracted by everything about you – the way your lips moved when you spoke, how you’d tuck back a stray hair behind your ear, even to the way your mouth would form an ‘o’ shape as you learned something new. No, he couldn’t focus at all.

Megumi has lost count of the times he’d wiped his shaky, sweaty palms on the pads of his sweatpants, hitching his breath every time you leaned close to him to glance at his notes.

At this rate, he’d be the loser in your little competition. It was just impossible for him to focus on anything else.

“Megumi?” you waved your hands in front of him. When it wasn’t enough to get his attention, you resorted to flicking his forehead and he yelped, rubbing at the sore spot. He faced you, a complaint ready to be spoken when his eyes widened at the sudden lack of proximity, your nose booping against his. “Hello, Megumi? I’ve asked you the same question twice now and you haven’t answered yet.”

As nicely as he could, he pushed your face away, his heart thumping loudly when you laughed as you went back to your own space. “Sorry, could you repeat that? I wasn’t really listening.”

“Yeah, I can tell, you were just staring at me the whole time,” you held your phone up in front of your face, checking your reflection on the screen on different angles. He watched, enchanted by how gorgeous you looked no matter what side. “Is there something on my face...? I’ve been checking non-stop and I don’t see anything weird.”

Megumi swallowed nervously, “There’s nothing wrong with your face. I just can’t focus. You’re too close and I-I can smell you.”

“Do I smell bad?!”

“No, you don’t! You smell really sweet!”

“Aw, thanks! You smell sexy too,” you winked at him, wiggling your shoulders as if to share your scent with him. Megumi’s eyes widened when your shoulder rubbed against his, and he recoiled, arm placed over his nose to hide his emotions that were a train wreck right now.

“Sexy?” he spluttered, “Why would you say – me – sexy? You’re so weird, Y/N. You shouldn’t say stuff like that.”

You patted his thigh in a manner that should be comforting, but the teasing smile on your face only had him wanting to jump out the window even more. Then, you stood up and stretched the material of your shirt riding up until he caught sight of your navel. Megumi turned away and closed his eyes, cheeks trapped between his teeth. “We should take a break. Treat’s on me – where do you want to go?”

“Err,” he scratched the back of his head.

“Oh, don’t look too worried, it’s a weekend. Plus, Gojo-Sensei isn’t around to bother us or something.”

“You...you want to go out...” he drawled out slowly, tentatively, surely – just to make sure that he was hearing it right. “...with me?”

“Yeah, I did just ask where you want to go.”

“Oh,” Megumi nodded with a blank face. Then, your words sank in, and he folded his knees to his chest to hide his face and his sickly sweet smile, the butterflies in his stomach progressing into a fucking zoo. “Oh.”

“Are you sick? You’re so red,” your palm connected with his heated forehead, “Megumi, you’re burning! Should I take you to Ieri-san?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he pushed your hand away, still repudiating to look you in the eye. He just couldn’t, not when you were too inquisitive and he could easily give a dead clue before he got the chance to properly confess. “I mean, I don’t really have a certain place in mind. I’ll go wherever you want to go.”

He should’ve noticed it then – the mischievous glint in your eye that told him you weren’t up to no good. But because his knees always weakened around you, Megumi agreed way too eagerly than he’d like. “Just make sure you don’t regret it, okay? There’s something I’ve always been wanting to try but I never got the chance to and no one wanted to go with me, so you’ll be my willing victim!” And so, half an hour later, Megumi’s jaw dropped as the chill of the arena nipped at his skin. You didn’t even tell him to bring a jacket. “Ta-da!”

“Ice skating?”

You nodded happily, dragging him all the way to the shoe fittings. “It’s going to be fun, come on!”

“But I don’t know how to.”

“Neither do I!” Megumi wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t know how to. No matter how much he tried so hard to learn, he just couldn’t balance himself. The sound of your laughter that let him know you enjoyed this way too much reached his ears as he glared at the ice, his ears red either from the cold or the humiliation of being an utter failure in front of you, of all people! “Need some help there, buddy?”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking. And no, I can do this by myself.”

You masked your chuckle with a snicker, squatting to watch as he struggled to heave himself up back to his feet. “Really? You’ve fallen like, a hundred times now.”

“Shut up. Humans aren’t naturally supposed to do this anyway. We don’t have a human instinct to be upright – whoa!” Megumi slipped again from the ice, this time knocking you down with him. Instead of it being romantic where you two ended up gazing at each other with love in your eyes, your eyes widened into saucers as his elbow landed into your belly, crushing the wind out of your body.

“Ow!”

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to – ugh, this is why I said it was a bad idea!”

All the way back home, Megumi was still entirely convinced it was a bad idea. You were limping beside him, having to use his bicep as a crutch with your head resting on his shoulder. You and your stupid ideas, really, now you were injured and sprained your ankle from the fall. Instead of worrying about your own safety, you only slapped your knee in laughter as the medics fixed you up, still in disbelief that Megumi had fallen a lot of times yet came out unscathed.

“Megumi~ are you still mad at me? Why won’t you talk to me?” you pouted, squeezing his bicep to get his attention.

“It’s because I told you it was dangerous. Look at you – your knees are all scraped and your legs are all wobbly. We’ve still got a long way back home.”

“Maybe you should carry me then.”

“C-carry you?”

“Yeah, so I don’t fall,” you snorted, pointing to your shoeless ankle covered in bandages. “I mean, it was your fault I’m injured. If you hadn’t fallen for me, then this wouldn’t have happened.”

Fallen for you? Did you know that he – ? Megumi’s head snapped to yours so hard he nearly had whiplash, but the only thing he could focus on was the pounding of drums within his chest. “F-fall? How did you know?”

“Megumi, you literally fell on top of me. Don’t think I’ve forgotten already.”

That had him blinking back, his face flattening into a blank expression. Then, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stopped in his tracks. “Sometimes I forget you’re terribly naive.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Now get on,” With burning cheeks and a heart that fluttered way too much than what was considered healthy, Megumi squatted down to the ground, patting his back with a groan. You less than jumped into his arms, a little too excited to get a piggyback ride and Megumi expressed his faux distress with a groan. You only pinched his ear and told him to pay you back for your injuries, which made him complain again.

In the end, he was just happy you couldn’t see how much he struggled to hide his smile then, for if you saw it, you’d surely believe he was crazy.

Or so he thought. By the time you’d gotten back to the dorms, you were long passed out on his back. There was a small patch of drool on the back of his shirt and he shuddered, then wiped it away by whispering to himself, it’s okay – as long as it’s you.

Padding back to the dorms wasn’t as difficult as he thought it would be, considering everyone was almost asleep or out to the city as well.

Megumi gently laid you down on the bed, wrapping the blanket around you and making sure your head was comfortable on the pillow. He stayed there for a solid minute, just staring and memorizing your pretty features until he felt confident he could draw it upon memory. Not wanting to be creepy though, he cleared his throat, about to leave the room when your fingers tugged at his wrist.

“Megumi,” you moaned sleepily, “Don’t go. It’s too cold.”

“I’ll get you another blanket.”

“No, stay,” you whined, patting the space next to you. “Please?”

“To sleep here with you?” he asked, baffled and at the same time elated. The last thing he wanted to be was a pervert and he’d never outright admit that his thoughts of you hadn’t always been giggles and rainbows, but he pushed those down, reminding himself that this is you – he respected you above all else. His self restraint slowly thinned though, whatnot with you pouting up at him like that.

Megumi groaned and took off his shoes anyway, planting himself beside you. “This is insane. I think I’m losing my mind,” he muttered to himself. “Move over and make space for me,” you obediently followed his command, using his bicep as a pillow while your cheek squished against his chest. He wondered how you weren’t bothered by his heart’s beating, or maybe it soothed you to sleep because you were falling deeper and deeper asleep, burying yourself in his arms. “God, this is so uncomfortable. I feel like I’m crushing you—”

“So warm,” you cut him off, his mind turning completely mental as he felt your lips pad over his chin. “Goodnight, Megumi.”

How did you expect him to sleep now?

But as soon as you’d settled and only your stabled breathing could be heard from the room, Megumi’s eyes began to droop as well, and it didn’t take long before his arms relaxed around you, lazily pulling the covers up to cover the both of you.

He’ll tell you another time.

“MEGUMI!” you pushed through everyone and showed him your paper, the bold red mark of 100 glaring back at him. Before he could respond, you stole his test paper from him, laughing at the sad 98 that showed. “Ah, I won!” In the blink of an eye, you’d tackled him to the ground, your knees keeping his legs locked underneath you, test papers flying around the field. Your hands were relentless and brutal as it ran and poked up his sides, eliciting squeaky little gasps from him.

“Stop, stop!” Megumi doubled over in laughter, keeping his feet flat on the ground to prevent himself from accidentally kneeing you. He’d hurt you enough during the ice skating dilemma – he didn’t want to cause you anymore injuries. “No, stop!”

“I won, Megumi, I won! Face the tickle monster!”

“I said stop or else!” he warned, completely aware that he wasn’t as threatening or serious as he wanted to be when tears leaked from his eyes, his laughter embarrassingly giggly and high pitched.

“Or what, loser?”

“I’ll kiss you until you shut up!”

“That’s adorable, but let’s see you try!” you kept tickling his sides, the both of you completely oblivious that the rest of your classmates – your teacher who was more than supportive of this pairing included – were hiding behind a bush, their phones whipped out to capture each second of this moment. “Loser!”

As you mocked him one more time that you wouldn’t stop tickling “losers,” Megumi had to draw the line. Using all his strength, he flipped you over until you were underneath him, the sheer force of the impact keeping you nestled between his arms.

Both of you were panting, but this time his breath was taken away from how beautiful you looked under him like that. Such innocent eyes staring back up at him, but don’t think for a moment he didn’t notice how your eyes trailed over his lips. He knew – because he was doing the same, his grip subconsciously gripping harder at your wrists. If he leaned down...

“This is taking too long!” someone whined from behind the bushes, tips of white hair peaking from the plant. “Just kiss her already!”

Both of you turned at the source of the voice, simultaneously shouting, “Gojo-sensei?!”

“Don’t be shy, Megumi-kun! Just tell her already or I’ll tell her myself.”

“Tell me what?”

Now that your face was peering up at him, he knew he was trapped. Cornered. Megumi closed his eyes, hands trembling and losing their grip around you as he was confronted by the situation. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner,” he fumbled over his words, “But I...I actually—”

“Boring! What kind of confession is this? Say it louder and clearer or she won’t be impressed! Is that how a man does it, Megumi-kun? You can do better—”

“All of you, shut the fuck up!” he roared to his peers who only cackled around the bushes, Yuuji and Gojo-sensei doubling over in laughter while Toge bit his collar to stop the gleeful sounds leaving his mouth. Irritation and humiliation bubbling up in his chest, Megumi finally found the courage to confess. “I like you, okay? I’ve always had a crush—”

You sat up to wrap your arms around his neck, silencing him with a sloppy kiss. At first, your lips kissed the edges of his mouth before Megumi groaned, his large hand clasping the back of your neck to guide you to where he wanted you to be. Smiling through the kiss, you pulled away, rubbing your nose on him affectionately. “Me too, Megumi,” you giggled, “I like you too. Actually, no, I fell in love the moment you almost broke your nose on the ice—” he cut you off by kissing you again, his grip on your waist threatening, “Hey, no fair, I was still confessing!”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ll kiss you to make you shut up,” his confidence had now risen up, all traces of the shy Megumi now gone. “Now tell me that again. Tell me you like me.”

“Okay, but can I get another kiss?”

“You’ll be spoiled rotten.”

“I think I deserve it, don’t you think? I’m pretty cute – you’re lucky you get to kiss—” Megumi tugged you by your collar to slam your lips on his, his teeth nibbling at your lower lip. You tugged at his hair playfully and laughed, slapping his shoulder gently to tap out. “Fine, fine. I like you too!”

“Say it again. Please.”

“Not so shy now, eh, Megumi?” Satoru teased for the final time, and Megumi was so close to bursting a vein in his neck when his teacher showed up from the bushes, sexily posing on the grass as he winked at the both of you.

“SHUT UP!”

#fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader imagines #megumi x reader imagines #fushiguro megumi x reader romance #fushiguro megumi x reader fluff #megumi x reader romance #megumi x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen romance #jujutsu kaisen x you #fushiguro megumi x you #jujutsu kaisen crack #jujutsu kaisen comedy #suki: 500 milestone event

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mushroomlupin · 4 years ago

Text

A Big Misunderstanding

Pairing: sirius black x fem!reader

Summary: sirius and reader have a date night scheduled, though things take a turn when reader gets her period and is too scared to tell sirius

Requested: yes or no (please feel free to send in some requests!)

Warnings: sexual situations, mentioning of oral sex, menstruation, brief mention of period sex but blink and you'll miss it

Word Count: 1,371

Masterlist & A03

You weren't sure why getting your period was such a big deal. You figured that everyone with a vagina experienced monthly periods–and this specific kind of people made up half of Hogwarts. So, what was the big deal exactly?

Well, there was that one time in third year when Gwynivere Haywood asked Professor Flitwick to go to the lavatory and whilst exiting the classroom, her tampon fell out of her hand. All of the boys began laughing and muttering a chorus of "ew"'s and "that's so gross". And there was that other time in fourth year when Mary Maconald got her period on the Hogwarts Express and a 7th year had to use a cleaning spell to get the stain out of the seat. People called her Bloody Mary all year.

Alas, you were absolutely horrified when you found out that you'd have your period for you and your boyfriend's date night.

And your boyfriend was none other than Sirius Black.

He was notorious for being a womanizer at Hogwarts, but the both of you had been taking your relationship slowly. It'd been five months and you had yet to have sex–though this didn't exclude other stuff. When the two of you scheduled a specific date night, this meant that one of you had an empty dorm for the night. And on these said date nights, the two of you would be having oral sex. This made things exciting, and something he managed to remind you of throughout the week, making your cheeks redden in front of your friends.

He'd bend down to your ear at breakfast: "Mmm, can't stop thinkin' 'bout the taste of you. Can't wait for tomorrow night," and walk away as if those dirty words had never escaped his mouth.

You'd been giddy about it all week, crossing your legs at the thought of his mouth against your sex. Throughout the school days, you could feel his eyes undressing you, observing your bottom every time you stood up and when you walked. Sometimes, he would pinch your bottom or give it a light smack just to make you squeal. "'M sorry, couldn't help it, babe." Your face would turn as red as a tomato.

The afternoon before the big day, the two of you had been watching James and Peter play wizard's chess. His hand rested innocently on your knee for a moment, before traveling up your thigh. You couldn't help but insistently open your legs for him. He chuckled, removing his hand from your flesh. "Not today, love, remember? Gotta wait until tomorrow night."

You'd been tossing and turning all night, butterflies fluttering inside your stomach. And when you awoke, you froze at the red stain that'd bled through to your pajama pants.

"Bloody hell," you muttered aloud.

"Literally," one of your roommates joked.

You face-palmed, unsure of what the hell you'd tell Sirius.

You decided to skip breakfast, you didn't have an appetite anyway. In potions, you felt Lily Evans tap on your shoulder.

"James says that Sirius didn't see you at breakfast and he was worried that you were ill or something," she whispered. "Is everything alright?"

You nodded quickly before returning your attention to Professor Slughorn. You heart was hammering in your chest now. Fan-fucking-tastic. How does one explain to their partner that they can't attend to the plans you'd been making for weeks, because you got your period? You swiftly left class as soon as Slughorn dismissed you all, attempting to avoid any further interrogation from Lily.

Once dinner came, you made an appearance, sitting as far away from your boyfriend's view as possible. You stuffed your face with as much food as possible, your stomach aching from not eating all day. And when you felt as though your skirt couldn't possibly be any tighter against your stomach, you returned to your common room.

You headed up to your room, sat in the empty dorm on your bed, and opened up a book in your lap. You waited for his secret knock.

Knock. Pause. Knock knock. Pause. Knock. Pause. Knock.

Your pulse quickening, you closed the book and walked to the door. You opened it slowly, revealing your boyfriend with a soft expression on his face.

"Hey," he greeted.

Usually, he would have pounced on you already and kicked the door shut behind you two.

"Hi."

He looked around the dorm, as if he'd never been in there before. "May I come in?"

You nodded, standing aside as he entered the room.

He took a seat on the edge of your bed, patting the space next to him. You took it nervously. Once you'd sat down next to him, your gaze rested on the floor. You had no idea how to tell him and what his reaction would be. Would he be upset? Would he leave?

You felt his finger brush against the bottom of your temple, gently pushing strands of hair back behind your ear. You blushed, your eyes landing on his blue ones.

"Hey," he whispered, his thumb going to your chin to softly caress it. "What's goin' on, hm?"

Suddenly, the waterworks unleashed.

Your hormones were at an all time high, and for some reason, they decided that now would be a good time to let it all out.

"Oh, Sirius," you sobbed, throwing your hands onto your face to conceal yourself.

He instinctively wrapped an arm around you, rubbing your back in soothing circles. He kept himself together, though he hoped you couldn't hear his heart hammering in his chest. Ignoring him all day and now crying in front of him? He was almost sure you were going to break up with him.

"I was looking forward to this night for weeks, and I'm afraid I've ruined it," you groaned, wiping your eyes with the sleeves of your sweater.

Your boyfriend furrowed his eyebrows. "How could you have ruined it?"

You looked up at him, loosing a sigh as you built up the courage to explain yourself. "I got my period this morning."

The room fell silent as he cocked an eyebrow. "Is that it?"

Your stomach dropped. What?

"Well, I mean, yes but–"

"Babe, I was worried you were going to dump me!"

Your eyes widened. "Dump you?"

He shrugged. "You've been acting strange all day, and you looked so upset when I came in here," he gestured to the door. "I was prepared to get on my knees and beg you not to."

Your shoulders hunched in relief.

"Were you afraid that I'd be upset you got your period on our date night?" he questioned softly.

You weren't sure what to say. "I don't know," you began, picking at a loose thread on one of the sleeves of your sweater. "I suppose that I did expect you to be upset. It's just that when we have date nights like this, we usually...you know," you felt your cheeks redden.

He brought his hand to your cheek, turning your face to look at him.

"I would never be upset about that, Y/n. Never," he used his thumb to stroke your cheekbone. "And, we don't always have to do that stuff when we have date nights. I don't want you to ever feel like you have to do anything sexual. We can just hang out like this and you still manage to make me feel like I'm on fucking cloud nine."

You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. You reached up to peck his lips, nudging your nose gently with his after. He mirrored your smile, taking your hand and bringing it up to his lips.

"I guess it was all just one big misunderstanding."

"Yeah," Sirius sighed, letting go of your hand. "Oh, and if you ever wanted to try having sex on your period, just let me know; I'm not afraid of getting a little messy." He winked.

You grabbed your pillow and threw it at his head. He merely dodged it, but fell off the mattress in the process.

"You just had to ruin it."

He grinned, his hair a mess. "Yeah, but that's what makes it fun, right?"

He groaned as another pillow was thrown at him.

#sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black imagine #fluff #sirius black fic

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lovelyminnieee · 4 years ago

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Without you- J.J.H

Pairing: Jaehyun x reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Car accident mentions, mentions of death, father!Jaehyun, Coma, mentions of losing a loved one

Summary: Jaehyun doesn't want to deal with life anymore. Without you there to hug him, or tell him it was okay to cry, he didn't want to even come home, unless it was for his daughter. He missed you, so much he could go crazy. Maybe you will never come back, he hasn't lost hope yet. Will you be able to comeback to him and your daughter's lives again?

A/n: this is my first fic on my account, feedbacks would be deeply appreciated. Uh, I am a little nervous to post it, but please do give me feedbacks. And the paragraphs written in italics are memories

❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎

It's been 3 years. Three years without you. There wasn't one day where he didn't think of you. Your daughter and the way she reminds him of you. He's tired of it, tired of life. Without you there to comfort him, tell him it's okay to cry, he's tired.

"Eun ha, we have to get to school!" Jaehyun shouts from one end of the apartment, packing her lunch. "Coming daddy!" His daughter waddles over to him, struggling to put her shoes on. "Let me do it," Jaehyun said as he picked her up and put her on the table. He smiles as he puts her shoes on quickly, placing her down after. "Let's go, okay baby?" Jaehyun holds her little hand, her bag in his other hand.

Jaehyun opened the door to the apartment and sighed. An empty home was not really welcoming. You weren't there to hug him, tell him that you love him. His habits haven't changed, he sat down on the couch and pulled out his phone.

"I miss you so fucking much..."

He texted your number. He missed you so much, he was going crazy. He closed his eyes, trying to hold tears bay. He sent you a picture of Eun ha in her dress up outfit. Like a princess.

"Look at Eun ha, she looks so pretty. Just like you baby"

His fingers type, the memories flooding in. He took you for granted while you were there, and that is the thing he regrets the most in life.

"I understand, but you can't just ignore me like that, Jae," you said, angry. He was ignoring you for the past few days, and you had no idea why. He said it was because of work, but he wasn't there at work during work hours. "No Jae, you're not working, you're somewhere else during work hours," you said, your eyes staring at him. Jaehyun paused for a minute, speechless. He was preparing something special for you, and that was the reason. "I- I was-" Jaehyun sighed. You were getting on his nerves. "Y/n, just leave me alone. You don't understand," he said and walked away, frustrated at your behaviour. You didn't know why you got angry so quickly, you were usually so calm and collected during arguments. "So now you want me to leave you alone?" You scoffed. Jaehyun turned around and stared at you. "Isn't that what I just said?" He stares back at you. "So it's completely okay for you to go out during work hours? And ignore me when you come home? What the fuck, Jae?" You raised your voice a little. "Can you not right now? I'm frustrated, Y/n." Jaehyun tried to keep his cool. "Jae, I've been dealing with so many things, do you think you're the only one who deals with stress?" You ask him, tears swelling in your eyes. Jaehyun closed his eyes, trying to stay collected. Maybe you had a reason to be mad this quick. "You might as well be cheating on me, or lying to me. And what not-"

"WHY ARE YOU BEING LIKE THIS Y/N?-"

"BECAUSE I WANTED TO TELL YOU I WAS PREGNANT, JAE!"

Jaehyun went silent. His heart pounded in his chest at the news. Well, that certainly wasn't a good way to release the news. She was pregnant? He thought.

"You're what?"

"You know what, nevermind," you walked away, wiping your tears. Jaehyun ran up to you and hugged you from behind. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Jaehyun whispered, kissing your neck softly. "I'm hurt, Jae." You whispered, your voice cracking. "I'm so sorry," he said, his hands softly resting over your tummy. Jaehyun's face ceased into a smile, continuing to press his lips against your neck. "I'm going to be a father," Jaehyun's eyes teared up as he twirled you around and kissed you softly. Everything felt unreal at that moment. He was going to be a dad. His heart swelled in happiness, pulling your waist closer to him.

"I'm so sorry about everything. I love you so much"

He pressed the send button, his eyes tearing up.

"Please come back to me, to Eun ha"

Tears ran down his cheeks and his world darkened again. Three years of torture. Three years without you. He doesn't know how he's going to manage. He shifted on the couch, staring mindlessly at the ceiling. "I miss you so much, Y/N." He whispered, holding his tears in. He had to visit you at the hospital soon, so he put his emotions aside for a moment and got up. He walked to his room and changed in a few minutes, grabbing his bag and walking out the door.

"Hi baby, I'm here," he whispers softly, walking closer to your bed. Your parents had been taking care of you for the past two days because he was busy, but now that he's here, he wants to tell you everything. He knows you're listening, unable to talk. "How are you, love? Is everything okay? Does it hurt?" He asks, gently caressing your hands. He misses your whiny self. Whatever he said, the room was so silent when it was supposed to be filled with your sweet voice. He sighs and closes his eyes, trying to hold in his emotions. "I miss you so much," his voice comes out as a broken whisper. "I can't do this anymore. I can't do this without you, please come back, I'm sorry," he cries, holding your hand close to him. Jaehyun remembers the day the accident happened.

"I'll meet you at home, babe. I love you," he said, cutting the call with a smile on his face. "You make me feel so single," Johnny whispers from his work desk, sighing. "Come on, John. You can bag girls if you try," Jaehyun chuckled as he put on his jacket. "Lucky, you get to go home early while I'm stuck with hyuck, great." Johnny rolls his eyes. Jaehyun just chuckles, walking out of his shared office space.

"So, how was work today?" Jaehyun asked, his eyes focused on the road. "Bad, all that man had to say was I did a bad job and screamed at me. The audacity," you scoffed on the other side of the phone. "Which man? The manager or the CEO?"

"Of course it has to be the manager. He's so annoying I swear," you sighed.

"Oh well, I'll ask him to shut the fuck up next time so he won't annoy you, okay?"

"Ew that was so cheesy, Jae," you cringed behind the phone. Before Jaehyun could even process your reply, loud crashes and screams were heard. He called for you repeatedly, only to realise that you weren't replying.

"I'm so sorry, if I hadn't distracted you, you would still be here for me." Jaehyun cries hard. He looks up at you to see tears running down the side of your face. "Sssh, don't cry," he said, wiping your tears and letting his hand rest on your face. He places a soft kiss on your forehead, his heart hurting at the sight of you. You laid in the bed, limp and pale. "Hey, you know..." He sniffled. "I met your manager on my way here today," he smiled, trying to get the mood better.

"And then, she was trying to write C, but Eun ha wrote it like it was mirrored," Jaehyun giggles softly, his hand still caressing yours. Your hands felt warm to him, and it was the best thing in the world to him. Just as he was about to let the unknown tears in his eyes fall, he felt something. He felt your hand move. His gaze snapped to your hands, which once moved. "Baby, can you do that again for me?" He says hastily, trying not to cry. And he sees a movement, yet again. "Wait for me, I'll go get the doctors, okay?" He says and hurries out of the room, holding himself together. He will come apart any second, but now was not the time.

Doctors rush in and out of the room as Jaehyun watches from the side, tears falling. He had called his mother and asked her to pick Eun ha up from school, just so that he can stay with you longer. "Mr. Jeong?" The doctor called. Jaehyun's cloudy gaze snapped to the doctor, hurrying over to the man. His first clenches in the anticipation of the news as the doctor smiles. "This is the first time I've seen something like this. Her senses are responding to the tests, after a full three years." The doctor tells him. "Is that good?" Jaehyun askes, sniffling. "Yes. Mrs. Jeong's health seems to be progressing so much more than the last three years, she has a higher chance of recovering from the coma for a week or so," Dr. Cho assures him, patting him on the shoulder before he leaves. Jaehyun stares at you for a moment before he comes closer to you. "Hey baby, you're gonna come back to me and Eun ha, aren't you?" Jaehyun asks softly, tears welling in his eyes yet again. "You will, I know it." He kissed your forehead again.

The hopeful week was crucial. Jaehyun visits you everyday of the week with Eun ha, trying his best to make you happy. He'd give his life up for you because what he and his daughter needed the most during this time was you. He had to go to work nevertheless, but you would never be left without a visitor. Mostly being his or your parents and your kid, or him and Eun ha. He was hopeful until the last day of the week rolled over, and he got a call from the doctor.

"Mr. Jeong, I need to talk to you as fast as possible."

"Is there a problem, Dr. Cho?"

He hears a sigh from the other side that sends fear through him.

"We need to talk as fast as possible. Can you make it to the hospital now?"

"Of course, give me 30 minutes, doc,"

Jaehyun cut the call, panic settling within him.

"Johnny, please take care of this document for me. I just got a call from Dr. Cho. I need to go, okay?"

"Yes sir, don't worry about it,"

Johnny said, gesturing to him to hurry on his way. Jaehyun rushed out of the building, getting into his car in no time. In fifteen minutes, he was there at the hospital. He found the same office he's been visiting for the last three years in a couple of minutes, panting as he barged in through the door.

"I was expecting you, Mr. Jeong," Dr. Cho said, sitting upright. He had a bad feeling about what he was going to hear. "I need you to sit down and take a deep breath," the doctor said, sympathy marked in his eyes. Jaehyun sat down hesitatingly, staring at the doctor.

"Would you like something to drink or...?"

"Cut the crap, Dr. Cho,"

Jaehyun snapped. The man just sighed, looking him in the eye. "Your wife, Mrs. Jeong, was pronounced brain dead over 20 minute ago. She had a stroke which caused the brain to stop working," Jaehyun's broken world came crashing down in a few seconds as soon as he heard the news.

"What?"

"Sir, you need to calm-"

"No no no, she hasn't died yet. She can't die yet. You said she was making steady progress, YOU SAID SHE MIGHT WAKE UP, WHY CHANGE YOUR WORDS NOW?!" Jaehyun asked, tears running down his cheeks.

"Jaehyun, listen. It was a stroke that prompted brain death. We can keep her on a machine which pumps oxygen onto her organs which will keep her warm, but it won't do anything,"

"Can you step out for a minute?" Jaehyun asked him, his voice soft. "Of course," the doctor said, moving on his way out.

Jaehyun takes in the news, tears pouring out of his eyes. All he asked for was you and God denied. Great, he hopes that he at least gets to see you one last time. He stepped out of the doctor's office with red eyes and nose. "Can I see her for the last time?" Jaehyun requests, to which the doctor agrees. Tears kept flowing on his way to the room, wiping then with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Go on in," the doctor says, gesturing at the door. Jaehyun holds onto the handle and hesitates before sliding the door open. He keeps his eyes locked on to the floor and when he does lift his eyes, surprise strikes him. You were up, alive and well. Jaehyun blinks before wiping his eyes and looking again. "Jae..." His name rolls off your tongue, bringing him back to earth. He didn't say anything, but he rushed to you and engulfed you in a big hug. He held you close to him, not letting go. It's not like you wanted to let go either. "Jae..." You said, letting your head rest on his shoulder, arms wrapped around him tightly. "I missed you so much," he whispered, breaking into tears again. "God, you're so warm. I missed this so much," you say softly. He missed your voice so much. Jaehyun pulls back gently and stares at your famished face, wiping your tears. "I love you so much, so much," he said, cupping your cheeks in his hands. Your tears ran down again, you missed him so much.

"So what was that?" Jaehyun questions the doctor, glaring at him. "Well uh, your wife had a special request," the doctor smiles, looking away after. "Cho Si-hyeon, I will smack you," he glares, shooting lasers through his eyes. "Hey! Yell at her, not me!" Si-hyeon, his fellow classmate who was a year older than him exclaimed, pointing at you. "No," Jaehyun said, kissing you all over your face as you giggled softly. "She needs to get physiotherapy for her legs and you can go home after," Si-hyeon says, watching them both enjoy each other's presence. "Mhm, 'kay. What else?" Jaehyun said, his gaze fixed on you. "This is disgusting. Bye, I can't stand it," Si-hyeon scrunched his face, leaving the room. "Tsk, he's just jealous that I have such a pretty wife," Jaehyun says and places a small kiss on your lips. "Oh well," you whispered, pulling him into a soft and we'll needed kiss, for both.

❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎

Taglist: @sparklysung @trying-to-love-myself

#nct smut #k-pop smut #jaehyun #nct 127 smut #nct #nct angst #nct fluff #nct jaehyun #nct fanfic #nct u smut #nct u jaehyun #nct 127 jaehyun #romance #nct senarios

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lord-explosion-baku · 5 years ago

Text

Keep Away

Yandere!Bakugou x reader

It’s a special occasion, so Bakugou decides to wine and dine you. It’s too bad for him that you’re intent on ignoring him.

Warnings: yandere, dark themes, lime, forced orgasm, minor food kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, light violence

A/N: I woke up at like three in the morning and decided to finish this. I saw a bad ending to a certain cyberpunk bl dating sim, and thought “would be kinda cool to be force fed cake,” but then it didn’t really turn into all that much cake feeding which is probably for the best. Who’s to say. It’s just kinda fun to say “it came to me during a cyberpunk bl dating sim bad end,” rather than, “it came to me in a dream.” Also, I’m so sorry if you read this and go “ew strawberry cake isn’t my jam. Belgium chocolate 5evah!!!!1!!” but if you do happen to like strawberry cake, I got you fam.

“So you’re not talkin’ to me now, is that it?”

You keep your gaze low, careful not to even lock eyes with your captor—because no, you’re not talking to him, you’re not looking at him, you’re not even going to acknowledge his existence. It’s your verbal keep away. You’ve decided that it’s the worst possible punishment for Bakugou—ignoring him. You’ve tried just about everything: screaming at him, hitting him, crying to him, begging for your release, and it’s all given you nothing. You figure, why be anymore of a source for his entertainment?

“You should at least thank me for cookin’ you a proper meal.”

From across the candlelit table, Bakugou uncrosses his arms, glaring from the admittedly very well-made plate, to you. He clicks his tongue when you don’t respond, then moans around a mouthful of pad-see-ew, just like he knows you can’t stand.

“It’s so good, baby. Practically melts on my tongue…”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at that. It would be different if it wasn’t his food he complimented, but that’s Bakugou for you. Insolent, prideful, and terrible.

Bakugou stabs his chopsticks into his plate. “You’re not wearing the dress I bought. Not good enough for you?”

You didn’t even try it on. You want to tell him, but that would only spur him on. Bakugou likes it when you challenge him. He always gets that stupid smirk on his face, that daring look in his eye—always like he’s ready to bend you over and fuck you into submission. More often than not, that’s what ends up happening.

“Your ass would look great in it,” he says before taking another mouthful. You can feel his crimson glower scorching your skin, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “You can wear whatever you want, though. I want your ass even in those sweats.”

You exhale and lean back back in your chair. He really has to be so vulgar, doesn’t he? Well, that’s not gonna make you crack.

“Yeah, I won’t force you in it. Not yet, at least.” Bakugou grins at the thought, chewing loudly. “I wouldn’t mind playing a little dress up with my doll.”

Your lip twitches, and you hope he doesn’t see. You have to squeeze your thighs together and ignore impending thoughts of Bakugou’s hands on you—first tearing your clothes off, then slowly, sensually zipping that tight, black dress up. You can’t keep from imagining his lips grazing your back, hands running through your hair, him pressing into your backside…

“Need some water, babe? You’re looking a little flushed.”

Your eyes snap to Bakugou’s and your cheeks warm even more when you realize he’s just caught you fantasizing. At least he doesn’t know what you were thinking about. Christ, you could only imagine the field day he’d have with you if he found out you ever thought about him like that.

After you’ve spent plenty of time hating yourself for having these thoughts, you’ve come to the conclusion that it has to be natural. In a psyche class you’ve taken, you learned a bit about Stockholm syndrome, and though you’re sure you’re definitely not falling in love with your captor, it’s perfectly fine that you occasionally think about him in the lusty kinda way. Admittedly, he’s earned it with the amount of orgasms he’s given you since you’ve been taken. But he hasn’t earned your love. Definitely not.

Bakugou stands, folding his napkin onto the table, and walks over to the ice chest he has on standby. He’s wearing his red dress shirt, paired with that white floral vest and nice slacks. You want to know what the occasion is for, but you won’t ask. You’re definitely underdressed, and a part of you wishes you had put on that dress he picked out for you.

You close your eyes and empty your mind of such stupid thoughts.

“How about some champagne?” Bakugou flips a knife out and cuts the cork off with a pop!, making you jump a little bit. He glides over to you, puts his hand on your shoulder, leans in, and fills the crystalline flute sitting on the table. He smells like spice and that natural burnt toffee aroma he has. It’s so nice that you can’t help but lean into him just a teeny bit. And he notices.

“You’re gonna eat somethin’ for me, yeah?” he whispers lowly into your hair before kissing your temple. You freeze while he moves down your neck, brushing a finger along the opposing side of your face, coaxing your head to turn. “Or are you not in the mood for Thai? We can always skip straight to dessert.”

Bakugou dips down to kiss you, but you turn so he misses and kisses your ear. He growls out a sigh and you clench your hands into fists. You’re waiting for it—for him to lose his cool. You don’t know why he’s trying to act kindly to you, but that’s sure to end at any moment, and when it does, he’s going to feel guilty. You’re planning on exposing him as the monster you’re always accusing him of being.

“I’m serious, I made cake,” he says, a slight edge in his voice. He twirls a finger around a strand of your hair, tugging it so you face him. “Your favorite. Strawberry cream frosting, and it tastes fucking fantastic.”

Bakugou’s gaze drops down to your lips before finding your eyes. “I could feed it to you—have you lick that sweet cream right off the tips of my fingers.”

Your scowl tightens on him. He smirks.

“Your lips always look the prettiest when they’re wrapped around something. I’m startin’ to really like that idea.”

“Why?” you bite out, because you can’t take it anymore. You’re either going to die from curiosity or die from embarrassment when he inevitably undresses you and finds out just how much his teasing gets to you, and you won’t let him have that.

Even still, Bakugou looks as triumphant as ever because you gave him what he wants: your attention.

“Why what, huh?”

“Why the dress!” You bark, resolve out the damn window. “The meal, the champagne, the cake?! Why are you trying to be so nice to me all of a sudden?”

“I’m not trying to be nice. I am nice.” Bakugou rolls his eyes as if he’s explaining something simple to a child.

“No, you’re not!” You insist. “You’re...you’re…” Shock sets in and your shoulders grow rigid. He couldn’t possibly be...but if he is...he’d be absolutely daft to think you’ll say yes. “You’re not proposing to me, are you?”

“Hah?” Bakugou’s eyes widen. You definitely caught him off guard, and you could melt from the steaming blaze in your cheeks. “You want me to put a rock on those pretty fingers of yours? Make an honest man out of me?”

“No! No!” You exclaim on a head shake. “I just thought...with the whole atmosphere-“

“Princess,” he interrupts, taking your hand into his. He brings the back of your wrist to his lips, and for a moment, you think you could be right about him proposing after all. At least, until he speaks again. “We ain’t gonna get hitched ‘til you’re good and knocked up—at least four months in, too. That way, there won’t be a chance in hell you can skip out on me.”

There won’t be a chance in hell he will knock you up with your IUD in, so good luck to him on that endeavor. It’s not like he doesn’t know about it, either. There’s a reason why he’s never been hesitant to enter you unwrapped. Although, considering what he just said, you don’t believe he’d be any different if the circumstances were different.

Your lips curl into a snarl. “Then what’s going on?!”

“You seriously don’t know?” He scoffs, then leads your hand to your champagne flute. Once you take it, Bakugou tells you he’ll be right back, and you down the drink. You let the bubbles wash down your throat and quickly take a bite of noodles before he sees. You sigh. They really do melt on your tongue. Bastard.

Before you know it, the faint smell of burning wics envelope your space, and all the lights in the room besides the candles on the table dim. Then, there’s a cake placed in front of you—pink, with intricate, white designs lining its frosted edges. You count the candles and there are exactly the same amount of years you’ve been on this earth, plus one—no, not plus one.

You look up to Bakugou for an explanation. He’s simply grinning down at you, looking proud.

“Happy birthday, baby.” Bakugou kisses the top of your head. “Make a wish.”

Absently, you blow the candles out, but you don’t make a wish, because your brain is too busy doing mental math. On your last birthday, you’d gone on a date with Hitoshi Shinsou. He took you to a cute, little café, bought you a coffee and a tiny cake. He’d ended the night with one of the shyest, sweetest kisses you’ve ever received. Not even four days later, Bakugou took you. You never got to thank Shinsou for that perfect day.

The hair on the back of your neck rises with the sudden realization that you’ve been with Bakugou for nearly an entire year. That’s one year of your life ripped away from you. One year where you haven’t made any progress achieving your dreams. One year that you’ll never get back.

“What’d ya wish for?” Bakugou asks, but you hardly hear him due to the scathing fury that rings in your ears and burns your back. You’re unsure of what you should say or how you should react; you already pulled the silent treatment and you think you’re far too livid to go zipping your lips again.

There’s only one thing you can do: go absolutely batshit crazy.

“I hate you!”

With a quick shuffle, the cake is splattered on the table, your plate flies across the room, and chopsticks are in your hand, aiming for Bakugou’s eyes. It’s too bad for you that Bakugou either expects it, or his reflexes are just so good that he catches you by the wrist before you can stab him. You’re immediately twisted around, chest on the table, arm pinned to your back, and his erection pressing into your ass.

“Yeah? You hate me?” Bakugou’s voice is erratic, husky, dripping with lust. He climbs on top of you, grinds into your behind, and hisses, “wanna say that again?”

“Let me go, asshole!” You below and try to buck him off of you, which only encourages him to pull your arm tighter, forcing you into paralysis. You grit your teeth while tears sting your lower lashes. The only weapon you have is your voice, and that’s always proven ineffective against him in the past. Still, you can’t stop yourself from yelling. “It’s been a goddamn year! I’m sick of being your prisoner!”

“Is that right?” Bakugou shifts, and you hear the sounds of metal clanking. You know instantly that he’s taking off his belt. You writhe as much as you possibly can, fearing a lashing. He hasn’t ever really hit you before, and though getting him to the point had been your end goal, taking the belt is a whole other level of pain you’re not willing to endure.

“Katsuki,” you pant, desperate. “Please, no. Please don’t. It’s...it’s my birthday!”

“You think I don’t fucking know that?” Bakugou releases your wrist, and goes for your hair instead. He yanks you back so that his chest presses against your back. His lips are against the junction of your shoulder and neck as he growls, “after everything I’ve fuckin’ done for you? Ungrateful little slut.”

He pulls your sweats down, cupping your ass roughly with his large, calloused hands. They feel good—his rough touch against your soft cheeks—and despite feeling fearful for the state of your ass, you can feel yourself getting aroused. “I really gotta put you in your place today of all days?” He squeezes your ass tight and possessive, like he owns it, and in the moment, you can’t really say that he doesn’t.

“No,” you cry and god you’re pathetic. You had this entire plan set up and now it’s barreling out of your control. As his lips graze your shoulder, you let out a sigh and say, “the cake was really, really pretty, Katsuki. I’m sure I would’ve loved it. I’m sorry I did that. I just…”

“Just what?” He rasps against your neck before his hot tongue draws a long line across your skin, making you shiver in response.

“I was just...overwhelmed,” you admit. “Our anniversary-“ you choke out, the words sour on your tongue, but you manage to make it sound sweet-“is just around the corner. I wasn’t prepared...I don’t have a whole lot of resources to do something special for you…”

Katsuki Bakugou sure is a lot of things, but he’s not a moron. You’re positive he can read your facade like a book and he’s certainly not one to play along. .

“Oh yeah? You wanna do something for me?” He sucks in your earlobe between his teeth, nibbling playfully. You mewl as Bakugou reaches around your body, large fingers moving down the front of you and sliding down your pubic bone. He dips two fingers between your lips, swiping smugly at the traitorous puddling at your core. “Is this really what gets you off, sweetheart? Lying to me just so I get a little rough with you?”

“N-no.” You try to sound stern, sure of yourself, but Bakugou is light to the touch, fingers barely teasing your sensitivity. You catch yourself grinding into them, directly resulting in your ass moving against his erection. You can feel him pulse against you, and it only makes your pussy throb in direct result, which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Just admit you want me,” he seethes, pressing more firmly against you while his middle finger teases your entrance. “You like me like this. You don’t want sweet—you want me to be a hard ass, don't you? Why else would you act like such a slutty little brat? Good girls don’t get wet after shit like this, baby. Good girls don’t like to be thrown around.”

“Katsuki,” you say on a sigh while bringing a hand to his arm, hoping to direct him to break through your surface.

“Put your hands on the table,” he growls.

“Please.” You ignore him, pulling his arm more insistently, needing him to deepen his touch.

“This is the last time I’m gonna ask you; put your hands on the table, or I won’t hesitate to use this belt against your bare fuckin’ ass. I’ll lick you so good, you’ll have bruises for months. You’ll need to sit on a fuckin’ ice pack the next time I’m courteous enough to have you dine with me at my table.”

Shuddering, you obey him, planting your palms against the flat of the table, away from the splattered cake. Bakugou lets out a contemptuous scoff, brings your wrists together, and easily wraps his belt around them, tight and with no leeway.

He then pushes your shirt up so that it’s around your wrist with the belt, and pulls your sweats down all the way off of your legs. You’re virtually naked in front of him, with the exception of your bra and panties, helpless to do anything about it. Just like he likes it. He always wants you to bite back until he gets you to submit. He was probably enjoying your little silent treatment show, too; it was just another kind of rebellion, another barbel that he’s fought and won.

A tingle runs down your spine as he traces it with calloused fingers. You feel your stomach tighten from anticipation when he reaches your tailbone and his touch leaves your body. You hear him chuckle as he pulls at a strap of your thong, snapping it back into place. “At least I know you like the panties I got you.”

Pain bursts on your right cheek as the sound of his sharp slap ricochets around the dining room. You have to bite your lip to keep from crying out—even still, you’re trembling when he rubs the sore spot.

“Awww,” he coos, snickering. “You gonna try and act tough?”

You exhale, trying and failing to keep a steady breath, but it’s all wrong and you’re already panting.

“Show me how much you hate me, baby, I wanna hear you sing it.”

The next lick comes without any precursor, no warning, no time for you to brace yourself, so when he slaps your ass, you can’t help but cry out—ecstatic or indignant—it’s not your place to decide.

“Katsuki!” You fall forward, forehead on the table, inches away from the ruined cake.

He chuckles at your position, petting the back of your hair. “If you want me to stop, you’re gonna have to lick it up, Princess.”

Your eyes narrow and you shoot a sideways glare back at him. “I’m not a dog.”

His lips tilt sideways, cocky and annoyingly hot, cheeks red, brow raised provocatively. “You sure look like a bitch to me.”

He spanks you a third and fourth time, and your mouth hangs open with unspoken yelps, a familiar, shameful feeling traveling down your stomach to your throbbing heat.

Taking a second, Bakugou dips his fingers into the pink frosted mess in front of your eyes, and brings it to your mouth. “Taste it for me. I worked hard to get the flavor right,” he commands, smearing the cream over your bottom lip. You’re helpless to oblige. Only, when you stick your tongue out, he pushes two fingers into your mouth.

“Bite me, and I’ll have you tied up for the entire night. I’ll make you scream until you’re on the edge of passing out, then I’ll fuck you awake. I’ll use you—fill every hole you’ve got ‘til you’re nothing but a leaky drainpipe full of my cum. Do I make myself clear?”

“Mhmm…” Not wanting to test to see if he was just making empty promises, because he never makes empty promises, you glide your tongue around his fingers, aiming to please. You let out a soft, appreciative hum when you taste the sweet, strawberry flavored frosting, and suck his fingers clean.

“Good girl,” he says, his fingers leaving your mouth, only to dip back into the cake. He brings them back to your lips and you take him in willingly. “Now, I don’t want to hear another word out of that pretty little mouth, until I tell you to speak. Understand?”

You look at him with affirmation. He spanks you again.

Your body jolts, spit and cream drooling out of your mouth as you moan, trying not to utter a comprehensive word. The vibrations from the impact sends waves of pleasure dancing across your clenching heat. He hasn’t even really touched your sex, and yet, you feel the coils of an approaching orgasm winding up in the pit of your stomach.

The sixth and seventh spank has tears falling down your cheeks. The heat is too much to bear and you can feel sweat sliding down your back. You want to warn him—to request that he takes a break, because the oncoming shame that’s making your toes tingle and your heart race might be a little more humiliating than having him torture you for the entire night. But you say nothing, your curiosity besting your dignity. The next spank does you in. Your body shakes as you wail, your coils breaking while you pool out, thighs sheened with your arousal. There’s absolutely no hiding yourself, and Bakugou is going to be all too smug about this. You simply cannot believe yourself.

“No way,” Bakugou husks, fingers leaving your mouth. You’re panting again when he brings his fingers to your fluttering pussy. He pushes them in and all you can offer is a sigh when he’s up to his digits in you.

“Aww...oh no.” You can’t tell if his concern is genuine or not, but it doesn’t matter to you. You’re ashamed, embarrassed, and defeated. He’s never going to let you live this down. You can already hear his future taunts buzzing around in your head. ‘You can’t pretend like you don’t like me when I’ve made you cum just by spanking your perfect little ass.’

God-fucking-damn it.

He has all the merit to tease you for it now, and you’re expecting him to—hell, you’re practically bracing yourself for it, but instead, he pulls his fingers back and pushes your bottom over, so you face him.

“Ah~Ow!” You wince when your butt hits the table.

“Ah. C’mere.” He frowns and pulls you up by the belt at your wrist. You don’t stop yourself from falling into his embrace. He might be the source of all of your dread, but he’s also your only means of comfort. You let your tears roll onto his chest, muffling your sobs into his shirt. He hushes you, nails tickling your back as he kisses your hair. “S’okay, princess. You’re okay. I’m here.”

“I’m s-sorry,” you cry, and though your wrists are still bound, you manage to clutch onto his shirt. You pull him into you, shamelessly reveling in the familiarity of his scent.

“Hmm?” He lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “What for?”

Your lips tremble and you shake your head, unable to voice exactly what you’re sorry for. Climaxing? Telling him that you hate him? Treating him so poorly when all he does is take care of you? You shake your head again when the actualization of your situation sets into the forefront of your mind. There’s practically a river of tears streaming down your face now and you wish for nothing more than to do disappear, because you’re a stupid girl, there’s cake in your hair, and Stockholm syndrome is bullshit!

“What is it?” He insists, he is tone low, caring.

Dumb. You’re so dumb. Your brain is screaming at you to not say anything, but your skin still buzzes from the thrill of your orgasm. Despite loathing yourself more than ever, you’re practically high, both from catharsis and euphoria.

“I don’t...hate you.” It’s small but it’s there—your voice. There’s a lot to decode from your confession, and by the way Bakugou’s eyes soften just the tiniest bit, you know that he knows what you will not say..

His thumb brushes across the corner of your mouth, wiping away at some residual frosting, then brings it up to where your lips part.

“I know,” he says as you take him in again, swirling your tongue around his thumb, now enjoying the taste of the cake. “Of course I know.”

Your heart swells when he doesn’t laugh at you. He doesn’t even look all that proud of himself. He simply gazes at you with adoration and amazement—and, of course, lust because you have your lips wrapped around something. Prick.

“That was very hot, babe,” he says before kissing your forehead. “I really didn’t think that you could be so responsive to me.” He chuckles darkly, but it lacks his familiar malicious undertone. “Don’t really feel like I earned it, either.”

His thumb leaves your mouth, slides against your bottom lip, and is abruptly replaced with a kiss. Bakugou’s tongue teases your mouth open, then caresses yours with his. “Mmm,” he hums, the reverberations of his voice sending sensational buzzes down your neck. He nips at your bottom lip, then smirks against you. “Tastes good.”

He kisses you again, molding his lips perfectly to yours, and you feel his arousal poke at your bound hands. Not quite lucid enough to think it through, but feeling a bit mischievous yourself, you cup his girth through his trousers, rubbing his hard length up and down. You run your tongue against his, wanting to taste the power he has over you.

“You want me, baby?” Bakugou asks, pressing himself more firmly into your hands. “You wanna feel me slide inside that wet pussy of yours?”

Still not willing to give him a verbal confirmation, you squeeze his cock, legs wrapping around his torso to pull him closer to you. He growls when you have him grinding against your heat, a dark stain appearing on the prominent bulge he rubs against you. When he pulls away, you see that his pupils are blown, barely a sliver of his crimson iris to be seen. He looks moonstruck, predatory, and beautiful.

“Naughty girl,” he scolds, a tick in his jaw. He pushes you lightly, easing so that your back is on the table, your legs spread out for him. He groans when he runs a finger up your damp, clothed slit.

“I asked you a question,” he continues, playing with your core. He gets a dreamy look in his eye when he pulls your panties to the side, and feels exactly how wet you are for him. Then, he shoots a scathing glower your way. “Do. You. Want. Me. To. Fuck. You?”

“Yes,” you say with a nod. “I want you to fuck me, Katsuki.”

“That’s really too bad.” He snickers arrogantly and your heart falls into your stomach. Didn’t you just have a soft moment?! “Only good girls get fucked, pretty baby. You can’t confess your undying love for me and expect that gets you out of your punishment.”

“I did not!” You argue which earns you a dangerous look.

“You and I both know what the hell you meant,” he says with a threateningly sexy lilt. “You can’t take something like that back at the drop of a hat.”

”I think you’ve punished me enough already,” you bite out defensively, quick to change the subject, because you‘re bitterly aware that he’s right.

“And who are you to decide that?” He smirks, brushing a thumb across your pubic bone. “Thought you were my prisoner.”

“I didn’t mean that!”

“No?” Bakugou gets down to his knees, leveling his face with your center. “Actions speak louder than words, angelface.” He kisses your clit, making the same noise he does when he’s trying to bother you while eating, only when he does it on your cunt, all of your nerve endings catch flame and you’re spiraling back to needy senselessness. “Prove to me that you’ve earned my cock by riding my tongue.”

He’s nothing if not altruistic when he’s between your legs. He’s always been generous and dedicated to getting you off, but there’s something different about how he’s moving now. He uses the flat of his tongue and draws languid strokes up your entrance, taking his time while he swirls around your clit. He groans into you, and if the vibrations of his voice weren’t enough to finish you off then and there, his fingers sure as hell do it for you. He pushes them into you, reveling in the feel of your spongy walls hugging him tightly. He traces intricate patterns across your skin, mapping out the places that make you moan the loudest, just to be keen on teasing you for harrowing minutes. He’s going about this agonizing slow, but there’s something about him taking his time, rather than completely ravaging you to prove just how good he is at eating you out, that already has your walls clamping down around his fingers, your back arching, whimpers and pleas tumbling out of your mouth.

It hits you like a brisk wave crashing against the oceanic shoreline. First it was one liquescent sensation, then a pandemonium of your nerves roaring to life. Your thighs close against his head, locking him into place while your fingers twine with his hair. He moans into you, multiplying the excruciating thrill tenfold. You rock against his tongue, savoring this magnificently prolonged ecstatic escapade.

When your nerves cool down and you’re no longer twitching too much, Bakugou offers you a wry grin before licking his lips.

“Look at what a mess you’ve become,” he coos , kissing your shaking thighs, eyes locked on yours. “Was that all because of me, princess.”

“I...don’t think I’ve come so hard in my life.” You breathe, disoriented by the fact. “Oh my god.”

“That so?” He asks as his tongue travels up your thigh.

Bakugou fervently laps up your post-orgasmic juices all the way back up to your drenched cunt. He groans dramatically while his tongue dives back into you. You’re far too sensitive now, and he doesn’t stop—he likes having you squirm around, bucking your hips this was and that, all attempts at finding an escape for his erotic torture futile. Soon he has you spasming out of control for the third time this night, and he rides the waves of your grudging pleasure with delight.

“K-katsukiiii, pleeease!” You’re breathless, hot, and irrational. He has a large hand gripped tightly on your side while three fingers continue to curl inside of you. “I can’t t-take it anymore! It’s t-too much!”

“What? You don’t think you’ve got another one in you?” He keeps your eyes locked on his as his hands push your thighs farther apart, his tongue slowly gliding across your throbbing clit.

You shake your head, practically sputtering your pleas. “I will do whatever you want, so please-“

‘’S that right?” Bakugou grins up at you, smug and triumphant. He pushes you farther up on the table and climbs over you, one hand at the side of your head, holding him up—the other reaching out to grab a coin-sized piece of cake. He presses it against your mouth as he prompts you with an, “ahh.”

“Ah,” you mimic and he pushes the cake into your mouth. The moment you swallow is the moment his lips latch onto yours. You taste your headiness mixing in with the creamy texture of the cake and you can’t help but moan openly into his mouth.

Bakugou ends the kiss too soon, catching you out of breath and wanting more.

“You can be a good girl, can’t you?” His voice is raspy, thick with need, and you know he’s close to falling apart. You want him to. You need him to. He’s broken you, so it’s only just that he breaks sometimes too.

You nod, cautious to see what he’ll be doing next. He’s certainly not taking off his pants, which was the only thing he should be doing.

He moves your arms over his shoulders and leans down low, breath hot on your ear. “You’ll do anything for my cock?”

“Yes,” you sigh and wish more than anything for your hands to be free so tear his shirt off.

“Because you don’t hate me at all. In fact, you fuckin’ love me. You love everything I do to you, but you’re too stubborn to admit it. That right?”

You scowl ahead, teeth clenched. “Yes.”

He draws a line with his tongue against the most sensitive part of your neck, making you shudder, and asks, “yes, what, princess?”

You narrow your eyes. “Yes, I am stubborn.”

With a “teh!” Bakugou kisses your cheek and leads you up so that you’re sitting straight, and guides you both carefully off the table, sweeping you up to carry you so that you don’t step in any of the food you’ve tossed around. He cradles you in his arms, you half-naked, him fully dressed, and smiles sardonically.

“I’m not gonna make you say it, because it is your birthday, but I will have you know that your punishment is not over.”

“You’re kidding me!” You bark back, leaning away to look him in the eyes to see if he’s serious.

“Sorry, baby.” He laughs. “But I had a romantic evening planned out for the two of us and you just had to throw your little bratty tantrums.”

“What do I have to do—?”

“—to get me to fuck you?”

“Yes!”

“You’re going to take a shower, put on that fuckin’ dress, then we’re gonna do this whole dinner thing over again. If you can behave, then maybe—maybe you’ll get my cock. If not—well princess, history tends to repeat itself, but I was hoping we could act like a normal couple just for one night. Thought maybe you’d be into it too, but that’s not what you want at all, is it?”

“I...want to be a normal couple,” you say unenthusiastically. You’re not sure if you meant you wanted to be a normal couple with Bakugou or if you wanted to be free and normal with somebody else entirely.

Bakugou snickers, as if you said something childish. “No you don’t.”

“Because you think I don’t want to be with you.”

“Nah...I know you want to be with me. But you don’t want to be a normal couple. You want this, babe. You want what we have. You want the chaos. You revel in it.”

“Well, I—“ you begin, desperate to find an argument point that doesn’t make you sound dumb. Is he right? Do you enjoy this? Everyday is like a game with him, and it drives you up the fucking wall, but what would you be without it?

“I hope you can keep your self-control,” you retort flippantly, abandoning the argument. “Hope your dick didn’t burst your buttons, Katsuki.” Your gaze drops down to the tent in his pants, then snaps pointedly back at his face.

He’s absolutely unfazed. In fact, he’s more chipper than you’ve ever seen him—like he’s the cat who caught the mouse. “Just for that, I’m gonna join you in the shower. Keep my belt around those wrists and have you watch me wash myself—see all that you’re missing out on.”

You groan, head falling into his chest as he begins walking towards the stairs. “I really do fucking hate you.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, sweetheart,” he says back, a smile in his voice. “Just as long as you know that you’re not the only person here that knows how to play keep away.”

#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha x reader #yandere!bakugou #yandere!bakugou x reader #yandere bnha #yandere male #bnha yandere #yandere au #bnha au #bnha imagines #bnha reader insert #reader insert #tw yandere #katsuki x reader

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supernovanim · 5 years ago

Text

Strike, Dear Mistress, and Cure His Heart

I was lying in bed yesterday morning, when I realised I would like to tie Dylan O’Brien up. So i wrote this, and I’m not even the slightest bit sorry. It’s just one shortish fic as I don’t know how you’d continue it - there is no plot to speak of, it’s very self indulgent. I wrote it very quickly, although I did have to go back and rewrite some bits in case I ended up breaking his arms (I can’t be the only one that hates physically impossible smut). Let me know if you like it.

Title comes from Venus in Furs by The Velvet Underground, which is itself based on the book by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch. I’d highly recommend both the song and the book.

Summary: Dylan is bad so you decide to punish him

Pairing: Female Reader x Dylan O’Brien

Warnings: References to alcohol and drinking, Swearing, light BDSM (bondage and hitting), Sub/Dom dynamic, Smut, unprotected sex (use protection!), orgasm denial, might be some British spellings

Word count: 3,554

Taglist: @hernameisnoellex3

You woke in the dark to a crashing sound coming from the hallway and sat up in bed rubbing your eyes. You reached across and turned on the light before you heard it again. There it was, unmistakably the sound of someone stumbling around outside the bedroom door.

Sitting up in your large warm bed you looked over at the space next to you. Empty. Which meant…ah yes, you thought, as the bedroom door crashed open and your boyfriend Dylan tripped across the threshold.

“Sssh” he slurred, putting his finger across his lips “You’ll wake Y/N. She doesn’t…doesn’t like it when I’m drunk”

“It’s not the drunkenness Dylan” you sighed sleepily “You can have as much fun with your friends as you like” you watched as he tried to remove one of his shoes without sitting down, resulting in him hopping awkwardly on one leg “I just don’t know why you always have to wake me up when you get back”

“It’s no…no fun if you’re not there” he finally crashed awkwardly onto the side of the bed and tore off his shoes “gotta wake you up to have fun” his socks followed swiftly afterwards and he removed his shirt in one surprisingly co-ordinated movement, then ruined it by tipping over sideways.

You admired the way his movements had messed up his hair, leaving it stuck up every which way. You also couldn’t help but look at his lean chest and the smattering of moles across his now bare skin.

He caught you looking and leered knowingly, crawling towards you across the covers wearing only his jeans. “There’s my best girl. Missed you” he bent his head towards you and kissed you softly on the lips, his denim clad thighs bracketing you on the bed. Unfortunately, the effect was ruined by him tasting of beer, whiskey and cigarettes.

“Ew Dylan” you squeaked “you taste like an ashtray”

His caramel-coloured eyes widened, and he looked hurt “Sorry, I’ll go...go brush them” he yawned, but instead lay back with his head on the pillow next to you. “Just…just going to have a small rest first” and with that he closed his eyes and passed out, leaving you to remove his jeans and go back to sleep.

***

The next morning Dylan took ages to emerge from the bedroom. In fact, it was pretty much the afternoon when he did, and then he spent a while having a slow shower, getting food and groaning softly to himself every so often.

This meant he didn’t notice how angry you were for a worryingly long time. You weren’t sulking, you didn’t sulk, you just stayed on your laptop out of his way and didn’t talk to him. When he bent to kiss you, you moved your head, so it landed on your cheek, and responded to his apology with a non-committal “hmm”

“Baby, baby I’m sorry” he said, the aftereffects of the drinking and smoking adding a gravelly tone to his voice. “It won’t happen again”

“But you always say that, and it always does happen again” you practically growled, letting your anger colour your voice.

“It won’t, I swear” he pleaded “let me make it up to you, I’ll do whatever you want”

“Whatever I want? You mean that?” you spoke thoughtfully, a few ideas running through your head.

“Anything” he put his hand over his heart and looked at you, sincerity filling his gaze. You wanted to believe him, but he’d always been an excellent actor.

“You’d do anything I say, without question?” you asked

“Anything” he repeated, a spark of fear appearing in his eyes. He licked his lips as he stood in front of you though, so you knew he was interested.

You stood and slowly walked around him, contemplating your options. You’d never showed Dylan your dominant side so far in your short but intense relationship, happy for him to take the reins. But now, now seemed a good opportunity to let some of your kinks show, see how he took it.

“Here’s how it’s going to go” you let your voice drop an octave and leant towards his ear “you’re going to do exactly what I say, and if you don’t, I’m going to punish you. Hard” you saw him gulp. “Do you know what the traffic light system is?” you asked

“Y-yes” he stuttered

“Tell me then” you asked thoughtfully. If he’d done this before it was going to be easier than you thought to get him to comply.

“Green means everything is good. Orange means slow down, discuss things. Red is stop straight away” he answered

“Good boy. Have you tried this before?” you asked, curious

“N-no. Just read some stuff, watched some things” he shifted from foot to foot, embarrassed

“You happy with it?” you questioned, mentally crossing your fingers for luck

“Fuck yes” he let out with a gasp, so you moved to stand directly behind him, pressing yourself against his back

“That’s the correct answer” you spoke into his ear “anything you don’t want me to do?”

“Um…no marks that can’t be covered by a shirt, I’ve got that thing I’m filming next week”

“Sure” you said, shrugging, “wouldn’t want any of your co-stars knowing what a naughty boy you’ve been”

He swallowed thickly, his throat moving “apart from that I’m all in. You can even get a little rough. That would be…that would be hot” you see him shiver in anticipation.

“Excellent” you practically purred. Then your tone changed, becoming sharp and demanding “I want you to strip completely. Then I want you to kneel on the floor right here, with your hands behind your head”

Speedily Dylan stripped off his clothes, throwing his shirt to one side. He hopped on one leg to remove his shoes, reminding you of last night.

“Wait” you said firmly, and he stopped, both shoes off but still wearing his jeans. You moved round him to go sit on the sofa. “Ok you can keep going, but slower”

He looked at you and slowly popped the button on his jeans. “Good boy” you smiled, and he smirked back as he lowered the zipper. You’d always liked this view, watching as he pushed the denim down and off. Then he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his grey boxer briefs and you unconsciously licked your lips and crossed your legs. Your eyes followed the trail of hair leading down as he slowly removed them, revealing his far from inadequate cock.

You watched admiringly as he tossed aside the briefs and knelt as you’d asked, hands behind his head showing off his biceps.

“Nice” you complimented “what a good boy you are”

You noticed his pupils widen at that, and his dick twitched, starting to harden. Interesting.

“Now stay there, don’t move an inch while I go get ready” you ordered

“Yes” he said quietly

“Oh, and from now on you’ll address me only as Mistress” you added

“Yes mistress” he replied obediently. Oh, this was going to be fun, you thought.

Quickly you returned to the bedroom and stripped, changing into your black satin lingerie set. It was one of Dylan’s favourites. Then you put on your highest black stilettos, the soft suede ones that you only wore if you knew you didn’t have to do much walking. They were unbelievably sexy but made you slightly taller than Dylan which always felt strange. Not today though, today feeling more powerful was the point.

Then you crossed to the closet, reaching into the back and pulling out a small cardboard box. You removed some items from inside, placing them on the bedside table. A couple of silk scarves, a soft leather flogger, and your favourite item – a length of black rope. It was deceptively strong but coated in something to make it comfortable. After all you didn’t want Dylan arriving on set with rope burns. That would take some explaining. You thought for a moment before taking it out of the bedroom with you.

Dylan was exactly as you’d left him, kneeling in front of the sofa, hands placed on the back of his head. You walked slowly in front of him, listening to the sharp tap of your heels on the polished floor and letting your hips sway seductively. You heard him take a sharp intake of breath before you turned to face him.

“God” he groaned “you look incredible”

“Did I say you could talk?” you snapped, the smirk on your face in contrast to your sharp tone

“N-no. Sorry…mistress” he responded quickly

“I’ll have to punish you for that” you said, eyes narrowing. At that his eyes widened, and he bit his lower lip, biting back another noise.

You stepped slowly towards him “hands held out in front” you commanded, smiling to yourself as he quickly complied. You stood in front of him, not being able to stop yourself running a hand through his hair. He started turning his head into it, but you quickly removed your hand - “eyes forwards”

His head snapped up “yes mistress. Sorry”

You bent in front of him and wrapped the rope around his wrists, tying each one tightly but leaving a length in between. You made sure the knots were secure but could be undone quickly if needed. “Colour?” you checked

“Green. Definitely green” he replied.

“Good boy” you praised, and tugged on the rope to lift him to his feet “I think we should take this to the bedroom, don’t you?”

“Yes mistress” he complied, following as you pulled him along by the rope.

When you got to the bedroom you led him over to the bed and made him lie on his back, hooking the rope between his hands over the bedpost so he couldn’t move. You made sure the pillows propped his head up and took some of the pressure off his wrists.

“Comfy?”

“Not entirely, but still green. So green” he grinned up at you.

“Good. Going to blindfold you now” you said, picking up one of the silk scarves and moving towards his head.

Dylan pouted “but…wanna see you. You look so good; you have no idea”

“Did I ask for your permission Dylan?” you questioned. He shook his head. “You’re just making this worse for yourself. If you’re a very good boy, I’ll let you see me later. Let’s try that again - I’m going to blindfold you now.”

“Yes mistress” he replied sulkily

“Better. Still think you need to learn your place though – we’ll work on that” you said sharply as you placed the scarf over his eyes and tied it at the back, taking the opportunity to give his hair a swift tug while you did so.

Now Dylan could no longer see you, you stood back and admired the view. He looked delectable, his arms stretched over his head, his pale skin with a flush starting on his chest, his impressive cock half hard between his legs. You wanted to touch him, to lick a path between all his moles and get him moaning. Oh wait, you could totally do that.

You moved onto the bed to straddle him, first kissing a path across his stubbled jawline and rubbing your nose across his cheek before pressing your mouth to his. You licked into him, deepening the kiss and tangling a hand in his hair to tip his head back, exposing the long line of his neck. As you bit gently at the tendon of his shoulder, he bucked his hips up and you felt him fully hard against you.

“No – no moving” you admonished, pushing him down with your hips and being rewarded with a pained moan from Dylan. “And try not to make too much noise or I’ll need to gag you”

At that Dylan made a strangled sound, biting it off before it could fully leave his lips. You shut off any protests by returning your mouth to his and enjoying the feeling of his tongue against yours.

Soon it wasn’t enough, and you started licking down his body, interspersing broad stripes with your tongue with small nips and bites. When you reached his nipples, you let your tongue lave over them, then tweaked them with your fingers causing Dylan to buck his hips again. To stop his movements, you placed both hands on his hips and pushed him into the mattress firmly, turning your attention to his cock.

This was the easy bit – blow jobs always got Dylan worked up. You breathed over his cock, hearing him hold his breath in return. Slowly you licked from the base to the head, collecting the drops of pre cum that had collected and savouring them on your tongue. As you took the head into your mouth and wrapped your hand around the base Dylan started moaning

“Fuck yes, yes baby. So good, so good to me”

“Sssh” you stopped touching him to admonish “no talking”

You returned your attention to your actions, taking him towards the back of your throat and working past your instinctive gag reflex by breathing through your nose. You bobbed your head for a while, enjoying the heaviness of him on your tongue. You reached down with your other hand and cupped his balls loosely. And as you twisted your tongue over the sensitive spot below the head you felt Dylan tense up and his balls tighten.

“Oh god right there yes, so good gonna – gonna” he moaned above you

So, you stopped. You removed yourself completely from him and climbed off the bed. Dylan let out a frustrated huff.

“N-no! Why did you stop?” he pleaded, breathless.

“I told you to be quiet. You’re not being very good. Only good boys get to come” you stated simply.

“I’m sorry mistress. Please, please let me come”

“Nope” you said, emphasising the ‘p’ sound with a pop of your lips “you’ll have to be good first. Now, I think we can put your mouth to better use, don’t you?”

Dylan made a sound that was half pained, half hopeful. A kind of questioning whine. Quickly you removed your bra and panties, leaving you just in your black suede stilettos. You climbed back onto the bed and moved up, so your knees were at his chest. You dug your sharp heels slightly into his sides, just to remind him they were there. Placing a hand on the headboard for leverage, you moved so your core was in front of his face.

“Lick” you instructed “and make it good, you’ve got to make it up to me”

“Yes mistress” he said obediently, already moving his face forwards and feeling you out with his tongue. Quickly he started to lap over your clit, sending electric signals down your spine.

“See” you groaned “you can be a good boy”

He groaned in return, clearly enjoying this. You let go of the headboard and moved higher, placing your hands flat on the wall so you could manoeuvre yourself over his face more. You buried his lips in your core, gasping as his tongue prodded up into your entrance before returning to your clit and moving in small circles. You moved a hand to your breasts, pinching hard at the nipples to increase the feeling. Slowly but surely you felt your release start building from your toes upwards.

“C-colour?” you rasped, worried you might be suffocating him below you

“Green…green…green” came the muffled reply, and it was the vibrations from his words that finally sent you tumbling over the edge, crying out. “Fuck yes. There, there!”. He kept licking you through your orgasm until you felt over sensitive and moved away from him.

You moved back down the bed on slightly shaky knees and looked at Dylan. He looked almost as fucked as you felt, his face slick with your juices and his cock leaking pre cum onto his stomach. The scarf blindfold still sat over his eyes and the blush that had started on his chest now extended to his throat. A light sheen of sweat covered his body as he panted.

“Very good” you praised him “I knew you could be a good boy really. Eating me up so well”

At your words he twisted slightly on the bed, his cock looking harder if that was even possible.

“Do you like that Dylan? Do you like hearing what a good boy you are?” you asked

He seemed to struggle with words for a moment, and then replied his voice cracking “Yes, yes I like that mistress. Want to be a good boy for you”

“Of course you do. Good boys get to come. But not yet, right now I think you should be punished a bit more until you know your place. Then if you’re very good and quiet and don’t move, I’ll ride you until you come” you promised

“Yes mistress” he capitulated quickly

You nodded in satisfaction even though he couldn’t see you and got off the bed to walk to the bedside table. There you picked up the soft black leather flogger – made up of many strips of leather with a handle it resembled a small whip but could be used in a number of different ways.

First you ran it over Dylan’s face letting him smell the leather. Then you moved it downwards, letting the tips fall over the planes of his chest like a brush. The blush on his throat moved up to his face, and you saw him bite off a sound.

“Good, that’s really good Dylan” you said softly, continuing your ministrations with the flogger. You teased it down his chest and the trail of hair there, ending up brushing over his balls and cock softly. At that he couldn’t help it, his hips bucked off the bed desperate to get more contact on his hard leaking length.

“Oh no, what did I say about moving?” you admonished “I can see I’ll have to punish you more harshly. Colour?”

“Green. Still green, goddamn you” he replied

“There’s no call for that” you said and brought the flogger down sharply on his stomach letting the leather snap. He gasped at the feeling but managed not to make any other sound or move.

“I’m going to do that five more times” you stated, “and you’re going to count for me, ok?”

“Y-yes mistress” he said shakily

You moved the flogger down to his inner thighs so he could feel it there, and then snapped it against his pale skin again.

“One” he dutifully counted

The second hit landed on his other thigh, and you alternated back and forth each time. The skin reddened until you knew it was overly sensitive. When he got to a gasped out five, you bent over and sucked right over the reddened skin, leaving a darker mark that would remind him of the feeling for days.

“Well done” you praised “that was excellent. I think you deserve a reward now, don’t you Dylan?”

“Yes mistress. Please, please” he didn’t seem able to get any more words out. His cock looked painfully hard now, and he gasped against the pillows. You decided he’d probably had enough punishment and could be put out of his misery.

You returned to straddle him on the bed. Still soaking wet from before, you easily took his whole length as you lowered yourself onto him in one movement. You felt your walls flex around him and you braced your hands against his chest as you started riding him. Slowly at first, then faster as you heard his breathing quicken. You reached down to circle your clit with your fingers, determined to come before him.

“Hold on Dylan, just be a good boy for a bit longer and don’t come until I say so”

“Please mistress. No more. I c-can’t” he pleaded; his voice wrecked

“You can, I know you can. Hold on” you increased the pressure on your clit and felt yourself tense up. Below you Dylan bit his lip to stop himself crying out as he desperately tried to hold off his own orgasm. As you felt your release wash over you you clenched around him, and you took pity on him

“Ok, go on – come for me Dylan” you whispered into his ear

His hips bucked up into you at that, and you reached up and removed the blindfold. It seemed that the sight of you finally did it, and he came with a scream, his body arching against the wrist restraints. You felt the warmth of his cum filling you up as you rode out the last waves of your own orgasm.

You reached up and quickly untied the knots securing the rope, removing it and examining his wrists for any damage. Luckily there was nothing permanent, and you tossed the rope away, letting him slip out of you and moving to cuddle against his side. You licked a bead of sweat from one of his nipples and he twitched sensitively.

“So” you asked, “will you be waking me up drunk anymore?”

“Baby, if we get to do that again I’ll give up smoking and drinking completely” he growled, voice low “that was incredible”

“That’s the correct answer” you smiled back… “what a very, very good boy you are”

THE END

#dylan o'brien smut #dylan o'brien fanfic #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien smut

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