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imaginedisish · 1 month

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Modern Love (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all! Here's something short and sweet. This is based on a request, so I hope the requester enjoys :) No song references here, but "Modern Love" by David Bowie seems appropriate. It's 80s, New Wave-y, and we're in an arcade in this fic, so it fits.

Summary: The team goes out to an arcade, and Logan is his usual grumpy self...but his soft spot for you is more clear than ever.

Warnings: Suggestive content (would totally write a second part with some true smut), tooth rotting fluff, friends to lovers, kissing, cursing, f!reader/afab!reader, grumpy!Logan, Jubilee is a cock block LOL, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 1,685 short and sweet indeed

“I do not want to be here,” Logan complains, rolling his eyes as the team strolls into the arcade.

Jubilee skips inside, twirling with excitement. “Well, that’s just too bad, Logan!” She calls, running over to the arcade’s version of Dance Dance Revolution. Kurt is laughing, following at her heels. “Because everyone else is going to have a great time!”

“Gambit’s winning big tonight,” Gambit says, taking Rogue’s hand in his. “Gambit’s winning chere a prize, he is.” Rogue blushes, letting Gambit pull her to one of the fake slot machines.

Jean and Scott walk over to an older machine—Pac-Man or something similar, probably. Storm and Charles head towards the seating area near the snack bar in the back, leaving you and Logan to yourselves. Of course. You’re alone with Logan. The person you want but you know you can’t have.

You’re friends—just friends. You’ve accepted that he’ll never see you as anything more, but it still hurts.

“So…” You say, trailing off as Logan looks around the arcade. “Not your kind of place, huh?”

“Not particularly,” he says back, his eyes finding yours. You can’t help but smile at that stupid, grumpy look on his face. “You like this shit?” He asks, smiling back at you.

You shrug your shoulders, noncommittal. “I think you’d have fun if you tried,” you say, nodding towards the crane machine, and walking over. You can hear Logan’s footsteps against the carpet, following you close behind.

You peer into the glass, looking at all the stuffed animals filling the machine. Your smile widens when you spot the cute little turtle in the back—green and brown, wide eyes, and extra plush and round. Logan leans against the machine, arms crossed tightly against his chest. “Which one are we going for?” He asks. We—you can’t help but replay the word in your head. There’s a “we” in this. You and Logan.

You point to the turtle in the back row. “We’re going for that one,” you say, and his eyes find the green little thing. “Isn’t he cute?”

He shakes his head, grinning ear to ear, his grumpiness seemingly gone now. “Sure, princess, sure he is.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the sound of the familiar pet name. You lean down to put a quarter in the machine, trying your best not to overthink the situation. The crane starts up, whirring to life, giving you three tries to win the stuffy.

You maneuver the crane to the back row, just above the turtle. “Do you think that’s good?” You ask, looking towards Logan. But he isn’t looking at the machine; he’s looking at you, smirking. “What?” You ask, narrowing your eyes incredulously.

“You’re cute when you concentrate,” Logan says, his smirk unwavering. You can feel the heat rising to your chest as he peers into the machine. He nods, his eyes finding yours again, changing the subject before you can respond to his comment. “Looks good to me.”

You swallow nervously, pressing the button on the top of the stick, sending the crane down to the stuffy. It grabs the turtle, holding it up. It looks like it’s going to make it, but it falls in the center of the glass box. You groan, annoyed as the crane moves back to position. You try again, bringing the crane to the center of the machine, just above the turtle, and dropping it again. The silver claws grip the plushy, but it’s a bad grab—the turtle slipping right out of its grasp.

“Fucking rigged,” you mutter, moving the crane over the turtle for the final time. “This is it,” you say, looking at Logan. He’s suddenly shifting closer to you, standing behind you and pressing his front to your back. His arms rest on either side of the crane machine’s controls, caging you in.

“Much better view from here,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. You’re distracted by how close he is. You can smell him—tobacco and pine and musk. “Let’s see if it works, princess.” This is too much. Far more than you can possibly handle.

You take a deep breath, your eyes surveying the crane’s distance from the turtle carefully, and you press the button. The crane drops, grabbing the stuffy, and picking it up successfully. “Yes!” You say, looking back at Logan. His face is inches from yours. You can feel his breath fan across your lips. Your noses are so close, brushing together softly. He leans in, lips parted.

“Game over!” A robotic, automated voice rings out, the crane whirling back into position. It snaps you back to reality, and you look inside the machine. There, off to the side just next to the machine’s drop box, is the turtle.

“Shit,” you mumble, shoulders slumping with disappointment. You know it’s just a game, and you are an adult after all, but you can’t help the frown that forms across your face. “I really wanted him. I was gonna name him Bernie.”

Logan chuckles. “Bernie?” he asks, and you nod. He’s centimeters away from you again, leaning in. “Don’t sweat the loss, princess. You’re cuter than that little thing is anyw—"

“Look what Kurt and I got with our tickets!” Jubilee is suddenly in front of you, a stuffed, sparkly blue dinosaur in her hand. She’s tugging you away from Logan and across the arcade before you can protest. “You gotta dance with me!” You look back at Logan, who’s standing alone in front of the crane machine, arms tucked against his chest.

Have fun, he mouths. And good luck. He winks at you as Jubilee whisks you off to Dance Dance Revolution. You let her pick the song, and you struggle through the round, your feet tapping to the beat. You and Jubilee are a laughing mess. You know you look absolutely ridiculous, but it’s fun.

And yet, your mind still wanders to Logan. You think about how close he was to you, the way his lips practically brushed against yours—the ghost of a kiss. You think about the way he caged you in, pressed against your back. You’re so distracted that you don’t even realize how badly you’re fumbling all the moves; you don’t hear Jubilee calling your name.

“Hey!” She shouts, finally bringing you back to reality. The round is over; you missed the entire second half of the dance. “Where’d you go just there?” She asks, concern hidden within her smile.

You look over to the crane machine, expecting to see Logan, but he’s gone. In fact, you can’t find him anywhere. “Sorry Jubes, but I gotta go see about something,” you say, stepping off the platform.

Your eyes search the arcade. Gambit and Rogue are at the ticket redemption counter, picking out a big stuffed bear. Kurt is fooling around on one of those motorcycle racing games. Storm and Charles are—uncharacteristically—sharing a soft pretzel, while Jean and Scott share a milkshake. Everyone is here and accounted for except Logan.

That is, until you notice the puff of smoke in the corner of the glass door at the front of the arcade. You smirk, walking towards the entrance and pushing the door open.

Logan leans against the brick wall of the building, cigar in his mouth. His head turns towards you, and he immediately takes the cigar out, dropping it to the ground and extinguishing it with the heel of his boot.

“Hi,” you whisper, standing next to him.

He looks down at you, smiling widely. “Hi.” He’s leaning in again—so close—and a shiver runs up your spine. “Cold?” He asks, shrugging out of his leather jacket before you have a chance to answer. He helps you into the jacket one arm at a time, his eyes drinking you in once it’s on, trailing up and down your body. “Looks good on you,” he hums. “Way better than it does on me.”

You shake your head, letting your shoulder brush against his. You look over at him and suddenly notice something green and round in his hand. “What’s that?” You ask. But you already know. You recognize the little brown spots and the wide eyes.

Logan smirks, lifting the turtle up. “Couldn’t let you go home without him,” he says, holding it out towards you.

“No way!” You shout, ignoring the turtle and throwing your arms around Logan’s neck. It’s instinctive, natural. He tugs you in closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Thank you so much,” you mumble into the crook of his neck. “I can’t believe you ended up playing a game at an arcade.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers against your temple. The sudden vulnerability of his words makes your heart tighten in your chest. You stay like that for a while, his lips ghosting your forehead, your chests pressed together. You finally lift your head, looking up at Logan.

“Lo?” You whisper, and his gaze meets yours, flitting between your eyes and your lips. He drops the plushy onto the bench next to him and walks you back into the brick wall, caging you in, hands on either side of your waist.

He leans in. “Yeah, pretty girl?” He brings one hand to your hip, gripping gently. “What do you need?”

“Y-you,” you stutter. “I need y—"

His lips swallow your words, fitting against yours like a puzzle piece. The kiss is slow, languid, but you can feel his need in the way he moves against you, hands slipping underneath the borrowed jacket and your shirt to explore your skin. His fingertips drag along your back, relaxing you into his touch.

“Maybe we should get out of here,” Logan mumbles against your lips.

Your heart flutters in your chest. “But what about the others?” You ask, nodding to the arcade.

Logan smirks, stealing another kiss. “All the more reason to get back to the mansion before they do.”

“But how are we going to—”

He grips your waist, tugging you towards the parking lot. “I took my bike, pretty girl.”

Oh?

Oh.

tags: @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @movhoney @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie

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cry4mina · 5 months

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Lascivious

(BackTattoo!Sana x Fem!Reader)

Word Count: 4.9k

Smut

Summary: You unintentionally walk in on Sana, completely naked, and see a large tattoo you never noticed before. You're admiring the artwork but she has her eyes on something else.

TW: this is literally just fucking. If that’s not something you want to read, please don’t! Slapping, teasing, biting, fighting for who is on top, Sana has a dragon back tattoo, overstimulation, choking...uh degradation maybe? Let me know if I missed anything

A/N: Thank you @neoplatinum for letting me write a story *cough porn cough* about back tattoo Sana and to @nr1chaedickrider for scheming hehehe. And thank you to @tttwiceeluvrr for the request that I thieved from Neo! @myouicieloz for helping me spark the idea for the same cuz i was STRUGGLING lmaoo Please enjoy what my Sana brain rot produce and thank you for reading<3

—

Music bumps through the house, vibrating the walls and rattling the framing of the pictures scattered.The high hats ringing off the ceilings, bass reverberating through the floor. Sana knew you were coming. You made plans to go out to eat that day at 1:30pm after schedules, she couldn’t have forgotten right?

Letting yourself in, you walked through the halls to the source of the loudness, finding the master bedroom cracked with about an inch of space between the door and threshold. Yelling her name was useless, music blanketing any sound that could’ve been made in a 20 foot proximity.

Pushing the door open curiously, you take your first few steps into the room when her shadow comes into your view, stopping you dead in your tracks.

Sana was in her walk-in closet, completely nude, facing her clothes and attempting to pick out an outfit. The curvature of her was enough to send you into a panic, perfectly smooth skin draped over a frame even Gods were jealous of. Muscles noticeably flexing as she slid a shirt across the rod bolted into the wall.

Seeing her bare like this wasn’t the only thing that surprised you.

An entire back piece, a dragon in Japanese traditional style, lay across her, fitting that perfect frame in a way that was almost natural. Like she was born with it. Getting lost in the intricacies of the details, beautifully designed with near perfect line work ascending her spine.

Head of the dragon on her shoulder, body of scales intertwining down her back over part of her ribs, claws on her hips and tailed stretched down her butt and ending at the top of her thigh. Cherry blossom petals balancing the negative space throughout the piece, shading perfectly balanced and clear. This was a work of art.

You are suddenly hyper aware of everything around you. The loudness of the music, the softness of the carpet, the way your heartbeat picks up its pace, arguing with the bass in the music, and how your lungs are struggling to function properly. Your underwear is in the beginning stages of being ruined, unable to help yourself imagining her looking down at you between her legs.

Mind completely mesmerized and your body moving without your permission, you step into the closet to get a closer look at the artwork on the masterpiece that was Minatozaki Sana.

Your hands lift and lightly start tracing the line of the dragon’s head on her shoulder, startling her. Her back muscle tensed underneath your touch, before she whipped around to see you absolutely enchanted by her naked body along with the ink laid into her skin.

Attempting to keep eye contact and not look down at her chest, already feeling horrible about invading this much of her privacy to begin with but your pussy was soaking at the thought of making her cum.

There’s a glimmer of something present behind her eyes, a slight smirk slithers across her face when she sees how red you are. Your brain immediately releasing cortisol into your veins causing your blood to run cold in panic.

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve knocked.” abruptly shouted over the speaker system before attempting to get out of that room. Absolutely embarrassed that you didn’t just turn around and leave in the first place.

Speeding to the door, the music was halting mid song and you hear “I’ll be ready in a minute!” before you close the door behind you and almost sprint to the living room. Thinking about just leaving entirely when your phone vibrates twice in your pocket. A text from Sana.

Sana: You better not leave! We have lunch plans.

You: Fine.

Sana: :)

How could she just know you were going to try and escape the situation? More importantly, how could you not just stop yourself from approaching her? What an invasion of space.

Hands reach to cover your face in shame when you hear Sana’s crisp giggle emerge from the hall that connects the living room to the rest of the house. A long heavy sigh leaves your chest, raising your head to face her.

She’s wearing a short sleeve cropped shirt that’s nearly see through, a black sports bra underneath, black cargo pants that are a little too big for her, and some white sneakers. Giving a little spin to show her outfit, but all you can focus on is the bold lines that shows through her shirt and exposed on her lower back.

You swallow roughly, standing up and attempting to explain yourself and apologize.

“I am so sorry, Sana. I do not know what came over me, I should’ve knocked or texted you or something instead of just walking right into your space and then not leaving immediately when I saw you were…unclothed” not wanting to bring attention to the fact that she was naked. So uncomfortable with the idea of violating a good friend's boundaries that you could barely even make eye contact with her.

Sana is smiling at you in an endearing way, placing a finger under your chin and tilting your head up to force you to look her directly in the eye.

“Y/n…it’s completely okay. It was only a matter of time, okay?”

Only a matter of time?!

“What do you mean by that?” regrettably leaving your mouth before you could even question the thought.

“Maybe I’ll show you after lunch.” winking and grabbing her keys before ushering you out the front door, giving no time to question what she had just been spoken so nonchalantly.

Pushing you playfully to the car, opening the passenger side door, and motioning for you to get in. Baffled by what is happening currently, you can’t imagine why she would say what she did…unless?

Unless she actually meant it…peering over to her, watching her carefully put the key into the ignition, pull the car out of park and speed off down the road.

“We are going to go to that Italian place down the road, I’m feeling like pasta today! Is that okay?” still peeking at her, you forget to respond entirely. Distracted by the sentence that plays back in your head over and over and over again, causing a slight ache between your legs.

“Y/n? Are you there?” reaching over to lay her hand on your upper thigh, lightly tapping to try and get you to pay attention to what she was saying. The tap causes you to clench your thighs together, holding your breath as a devious smile appears on sana’s face.

“Too distracted? What’s on your mind?” knowing full well she already knew the answer to what was occupying your thoughts.

Flashes of those details on the cherry blossom petals and the dragon's teeth cascade through your mind, you know what? Fuck it.

Finally exhaling and beginning to breathe regularly again, you shift back in your seat and mutter “I saw you naked once and now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

A little surprised by your boldness, that was not the version of you she was familiar with, sunglasses slid to the end of her nose as she raised her eyebrows at you.

“Let’s discuss over lunch, hm? I’m interested in the thoughts you’re having.” sultry tone coating you in absolute need for her.

“Maybe I’ll show you after lunch?” oh my god, why did you say that?

A snide chuckle knocks on the windows of the sedan as she pulls up to the restaurant.

“Playing my own game against me?” sultry tone still present with half lidded eyes, leaning over the center console to get closer to your face.

“How am I doing?” leaning towards her, almost mocking her movements, even playfully, she takes it as a challenge.

Smirk, a hum, and a tongue in cheek as she picks up her phone and makes a call. You’re confused until she speaks.

“Hello, I would like to play a to go order please.”

She’s calling the restaurant you were parked out in front of...I guess we will be dining in today.

—

Food in hand, you walk back into the house you left about 20 minutes ago, Sana throwing her bag and keys on the counter as you place the food down. Having no moments to register what’s about to happen, she places her hands on either side of you, trapping you against the counter.

“What were you going to show me?” lowly reveals itself from her throat, inching closer to your face, somewhat teasing you and attempting to ignite the tension that had been building since you were caught admiring her shamelessly.

Sana’s hands travel up your sides under your shirt, you’re stoic in all of this. Waiting for the opportunity to show her exactly what you meant as she continues you softly run her nails down your ribcage.

Goosebumps pepper your skin as you throw your arm around her waist to hold her tightly against you. Skin warm on yours while your forearm locks her into place, bringing your face so close to hers, mouths almost touching, her lips chasing yours in an act of desperation.

“Tell me what you want,” whispered into her mouth, eye contact all consuming, completely converting your mind from slightly nervous to absolutely lust drive.

Sana watches how you change, the shift in dynamic between the two of you tenses the air even further. Though she was the instigator, she was no longer in control and she knew that.

“I think you know what I want.” lips moving closer to yours before you pull back again, making her a little annoyed that you keep making her work for it.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Satang.” a warning disguised as playful banter. Neither of you had ever experienced each other in this way before, even if it felt natural to hold Sana so close to you.

Chuckling at your statement, she’s having a hard time taking you seriously. The friend version of you sits in her mind's eye. Always so sweet and caring, she assumed that carried over into the bedroom too.

“Oh, are you a top? Well you’ll have to fight me for that. I’ve waited too long for this…I’m not going to give up control so easily.” big brown eyes blinking at you, almost challenging you, pushing you a little farther off the edge.

“Safe word?” coldly uttered as your pointer finger trails up her stomach to the neck of her shirt.

“Do we need one?” head cocked to the side. She truly has no clue what’s about to come.

“Hmm…let’s go with colors instead. Stoplight style.” smirking at you, eyes full of lust and curiosity waiting for you to make your move.

“Deal.” Hand maneuvering from the neck of her shirt to her actual neck, the soft sweet human she knew was no longer present in this. Almost predatory in your movements as you lightly pulled her to her bedroom.

—

“You’re going to listen to every word I say, understand?” ice shards spewing around your words before throwing her onto her bed.

She looks confused by this, never expecting the sweet anxious Y/n to be so…dominant. It tastes like a daydream she’s had continuously since she’s met you.

“And if I don't? What happens then?” curiously inquiring about your plans, testing the waters to see if being a brat was something you wanted.

Glaring down at her, ignoring the question, you simply had one instruction for her.

“Strip.”

Sana hesitates, another push, intrigued by the demeanor you’ve presented to her. It’s just so unexpected, you’re usually so docile and reserved about sexual things. This is what she dreamed of most nights, unable to grasp that it was coming true before her eyes.

“Now.” taking a seat in the chair in the corner to watch the show you insisted she put on.

Sana stands up, sauntering over to you while grabbing the hem of her shirt and peeling it from her body. She slowly turns around, removing her sports bra in the process, dragon tattoo on full display, making sure to slowly slide her pants and underwear down to her ankles before kicking them to the side.

Refusing to pull your eyes from her body as you take in the ink and curves. Her skin is silky smooth, a perfect ass you just wanted to take a bite out of, and not a single mark on her to tell the world who she now belonged to.

“Turn around.” rotating to face you, she takes a few steps forward and leans down, placing her hands on the arms of the chair and invading your space again.

“Demanding, aren’t we? Especially since you were the one who came into my room unannounced” standing up straight and walking over to the bed. Her ass on the edge leaning back on her hands, legs spread apart in front of you. She is leaving nothing to the imagination.

Jaw tensing at the new view you had, practically ripping your shirt off before leaning back into the chair again. Unable to keep your eyes off of hers as she continued on in that low tone that nearly made you rabid.

“Were you expecting to see me like this? Sprawled out on the bed for you? I’ve thought about inviting you over, just to give you a show like this.” one hand raises up and you know exactly where it’s headed.

“Stop.” eye contact maintained as she halts in her tracks, surprised you said anything.

You stand and walk over to her, removing your bra and pants along the way.

“Don’t touch what’s mine.” growled at her before roughly cupping her face and bombarding her with a fiery kiss, tongues intertwining, her hands wandering up to you as she tries to flip you onto your back.

Grabbing her hands, locking your fingers in hers, and pinning her to the mattress. She lightly whimpers into your mouth causing your knees to buckle. Feeling her lips curve up before she uses a leg to literally sweep you off your feet. Your knees hitting the ground roughly, causing you to wince, squeezing her hands tightly and pulling her forward with you.

“How can you expect to be the dominant one from the floor? I thought you were actually going to put me in my place…such a shame.” glowering at you from above.

“You wanted a fight didn’t you?” jumping to your feet, pushing her onto her back, rolling her over harshly, inciting a giggle of excitement out of her.

Cocking your arm back, you smack her ass roughly, watching her flesh ripple underneath your touch, only to lay another immediately after. Hearing her suck air through her teeth as you lay another handprint to the canvas.

“Color?” cuts through the sound of Sana panting, admiring the red welts left behind and watching a string of slick drip from her.

“Green…so so green” between breaths.

Expressing amusement at her enthusiasm with a dark chuckle, you apply one more solid smack to her before placing a kiss at the bottom of her spine, confusingly soft in your touches and light pecks up her spine, over the line beautiful line work, across every cherry blossom petal and up to her neck.

Sana breathing heavily underneath you with your tits pressed firmly against her back to hold her in place to avoid her squirming, you take a second to appreciate the position you found yourself in, and how absolutely drenched you were for her.

Your right hand follows the curvature of her hips wrapping around her and sliding down between her legs. She groans before you even touch her.

“Awhh, baby’s all worked up, hm? How long have you been dreaming about what I would feel like between your legs?” dragging your middle finger lightly over her dripping cunt to gather a little wetness before coasting over her clit a few times, just to rile her up a little more.

The bed muffling her whines, you grab a hand full of her hair and pull it towards you, forcing her head back to allow the honeyed moans to drench the room in their sickly sweet stickiness.

Sounds reverberating through her body, causing a reaction in yours, solidifying the ruination of your underwear. Sana’s hips start rocking back and forth in the rhythm of you set with your hand so you still your movements and let her fuck herself on your hand.

“Awh, look how desperate you are for me. Grinding into my hand to feel something? How pitiful. You might as well beg.”

Sana squeals in frustration, grinding down into you harder as you watch her pathetically try to earn some sense of pleasure, tail of the tattoo snapping with her subtle movements. It’s like watching a scene unfold.

Removing your hand suddenly brings her even more anger, rolling over, forcing you onto your back with the movement and quickly finding her seat on your abdomen, slick warm against your skin. Your breath hitching silently so she can’t see how weak she has you.

“Why can’t you just fuck me like I want you too? Have to make it about teasing me?! I obviously fucking want you so why won’t you just take what’s yours?” almost maliciously spat at you, her hands dragging down your chest and brushing over your nipples. You're clenching around nothing as Sana touches your body, trying to tease you back.

You’ve had enough of her trying to be the dominant one, even if it’s only for a second. You sit up, halfway getting in her face, foreheads pressed together and noses brushing, her arms instinctively wrap around your neck.

“I don’t need you to tell me what to do…color?” Wrestling her onto her back again before she has more time to protest.

“Green,” moaned back to you, her eyes half-lidded, screaming fuck me through the tension. Lowly growling as you press your lips together, urgently trying to absorb as much of her as possible.

Making your way to her neck, you bite down viscously. She moans your name into your skin as you refuse to let go of her. You’re practically dripping onto her as she rakes her nails cruelly down your back, causing you to whimper into her.

“Fuck baby, I need you.” hoarsely stated, shaky hands tug at your waistband, trying to pull them off, moving . You’re inclined to help her remove them from your frame, finally unlatching from her neck and giving her just enough leverage to slide them off you.

“Let me feel you, baby. I’ve waited so long- need to feel you.” running her hands up your thighs, grazing over your slick covered skin until she reaches your core. Her finger glides past your clit a couple times causing you to almost get carried away grinding into her, before you snatch her hand away from you.

“Who’s the desperate one now?” Spat at you as your slick drips down her fingers slowly.

“It’s still you.” guiding her hand down to her own pussy, letting her smear your cum onto her. A loud wail leaves her mouth, feeling the warmth from your wetness against her, unable to stop herself from shoving her fingers inside.

Grabbing her cheeks, forcing her lips to pucker and making eye contact, you utter one single word that halts her in her tracks. “No.”

You remove her hand for her knowing she wasn’t going to do it herself. Whimpering at the lack of something inside of her, she’s reduced to just a begging mess for you. Your little whiney play thing.

“Pleaseeee, I’ve been so good.” rocking her hips, the attempt to feel something overpowers her need to be the little brat she was attempting to portray.

Smirking at her, you lean in to kiss her again. She’s melting into you, exactly where you want her to be. So desperate for you. Your hand wraps around her throat again, squeezing lightly before your fingers descend her torso, scratching along the way, and stopping right above her slit.

“Begging looks good on you. Are you sure you’re needy enough? Maybe I’ll make you wait all day…maybe I’ll make you wait all week, actually. I think you look too good like this…” sharply spat into her mouth as her brows furrow. The whiny little whore beneath you squirming, writhing for your touch, bucking her hips up.

“Maybe it’s because you can’t make me cum.” the whiney tone contradicts the words hissed, neediness has taken over and now she’s just trying to make you fuck her.

A smack on her cunt, followed by a loud shriek fills the room, her juices coating your hand and splatter against her thighs and yours.

“Try again” straight faced, despite how badly you want her, how badly you crave the way she tastes. She doesn’t need to know how close you are to fully devouring her.

“Unghh…fuck, please y/n. Please fuck me! I’m so fucking desperate for you. Want to cum for you. Fuck please please please.” tears brimming at how badly Sana aches for you. The knot building in your stomach pulls at all your senses, this was just as bad for you as it was for her.

“So pathetic…color?” gripping her hips tightly before getting on your knees, pulling her forward just a little bit and resting her legs on your shoulders.

“Gre-eeen…oh, shit.” stuttered as the warmth of your breath radiates up her thighs

The sounds she's making could make anyone weak for her. Yelping and arching her back, rutting her hips forward for more contact, the lustful whimpers begging you to use her in a way that you never thought you would.

“Look at me.”demanded before laying a long, slow, tantalizing lick from her entrance to her clit that has her unable to keep still, she’s absolutely rabid.

“More, please…fuc- I’ll do anything, just please…” almost weeping, running her fingers through your hair, gripping tightly and attempting to pull you closer to where she needed you the most. Putting your tongue out in preparation; you knew she was going to try to do this.

Allowing her to use your face for mere seconds, you force her hips down onto the mattress and give her another slow long lick. Taking back the control you allowed her to have and driving her insane all in one swift motion.

Hair completely all over the place, face red, and half lidded watery eyes look down at you, a single tear, reflecting your diligence in working her up, sluggishly plummets down her features before hitting the bedding with a thick thwap.

You mewl into her, securing your lips around her clit before running your tongue over it incessantly. She’s already close, body tensing under you, unable to keep still as you overstimulate her. You spent all this time working her up just for this moment where she would absolutely crumble for you.

“Fuck fuck fuck” followed by another string of unintelligible sounds solicited from her mouth. Immediately adding 2 fingers into her with no intention of taking it easy on her, immediately pumping at full speed just to watch her fall apart for you.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Screamed out into the negative space of the room as Sana came around your fingers. Her silky smooth thighs tighten around your head, one hand grasping at sheets the other tugging your hair as you keep lapping at her aggressively.

“Fuck…wait wait…I’m gonna- oh my god” already hitting another stride of pleasure.

Pressing up into her roughly, the sound of her pussy crying for you makes you want to shatter her. Sucking, licking, and sliding a third finger into her, Sana falls apart around you again. Shaking violently as you hold her down against the sheets, tears running down her face as a flash of heat dances across her entire body in pure ecstasy.

Breathing heavily and sitting up, she grabs a fist full of your hair with one hand and leans back onto the other. Bucking her hips into your tongue wildly, panting and moaning loudly without a single care in the world.

Firmly holding your head in place, smearing her cum along your tongue and lips, completely lost in pleasure as she fucks your face in an attempt to push herself over the edge another time.

Letting her have her moment, you left your tongue out for her to use. Slurping every drop of her as she rides your mouth. Her pants are getting faster, body tensing again, moans being cut off by curses. She’s completely lost in her own pleasure when she finally manages to formulate a short and simple sentence..

“Good girl”

Ripping her off of you before she can fully finish using you. The frustration behind her eyes seers into you like a brand, eyes carving into your skin as you start sifting through nightstand drawers.

“Where is it?” almost shouted at her, trying to quickly locate the last thing you needed to prove the point that you were in charge. She knows exactly what you’re looking for, huffing over your question and pointing to the bottom drawer of the dresser across the room.

Quickly stepping over and finding it, the 8 inch strap heavy as you fix it around your hips, balance feeling almost off as you bring your attention back to Sana who is still rocking her hips and whimpering. Just where you want her.

“Flip over…color?” You’re practically leaking down your thighs and she fixes herself, ass up for you. Her back arched, face in the mattress and massive tattoo on full display as she taunts you by wiggling her ass against you.

“Fucking green…Fuck me, please! Need you inside so so so bad.” desperation weighs heavy in her voice and only grows worse as you grind the strap against her clit, teasing her even further. How far could you push her?

Smacking her sensitive little clit with the silicone a few times, building it up even further than you needed, just to see how she would react.

The sounds coming out of her are so pitiful, whining incoherently for you.

“You want it, Hm?” teasing the tip at the entrance before running it over her slit one last time. Pressing the head into her entrance, only the head.

“I’d bet you’ve dreamed about this moment.” removing the tip to watch her clench before gliding it back in painfully slow. Sana is just nodding her head and making sounds that could only be described as painfully needy.

“Dreamed about what it would be like for me to slam into you?” rapidly bottoming out into her, touching her cervix and staying in place.

“Does the little slut want to cockwarm my strap while I mark all over this tattoo? Let the world know who you belong to? Hm?” brutally sinking your teeth into the line work of the dragon that graced her back.

Reeling your hips back slowly, torturously staying with half the tip in, waiting to re-sheath it and leaving it buried inside of Minatozaki Sana. Just where it belonged, inside your perfect little toy and she couldn’t be any more feral for it. Trying to push back into you to feel something, even if it was just to feel full.

Finding a place on the other shoulder to bite down on, railing into her again. Creating a slow building rhythm that harmonizes with the symphony ejecting from Sana’s perfect lips. Like a crescendo building higher and higher as you slam into, getting faster in every thrust.

A scream, the snap of a knot, another belligerent bite down, and a continuous pace that wasn’t going to stop until she was unable to hold herself up, creating a whirlwind of heat and passion. Dragon tattoo on her waving into the waves the both of you created, Sana slamming back into you with your hands on her hip, pulling down and creating leverage for yourself.

It didn’t take long for her legs to give out, fully spasming into the bedding, gasping for air when you finally let go of the flesh on her back, tasting a mixture of her and iron on your tongue, licking the wound before laying sweet kisses on her back and neck.

Carefully removing the strap from her, she moans at the loss of what filled her. You watch her muscles contract and laugh to yourself as you remove the leather off your hips and crawl up next to her.

Sana’s still laying stomach down horizontally across the bed, breathing heavily with her eyes closed. Tapping her shoulder, you lift an arm and offer for her to cozy up with you and she is happy to take it.

Arms and legs wrapped around each other, dragging the tips of your fingers over the bite marks and ink, you can’t help but ponder when she got the tattoo.

“Can I ask you something?” whispered to her, not willing to remove any comfort that she currently had from her grasp.

“Mhm.” hummed back at you in pure exhaustion, you can feel her body relaxing onto yours- she’s about to fall asleep.

‘Why did you go for a back tattoo? Out of all the tattoos I thought you could get, a very large dragon was not on my list.” chuckling as you spoke, watching the coy smile form on her face through a sleep filled haze.

“I wanted to give you something to look at.”

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farfallasims · 10 months

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Golden Gate Apartments, built by FarfallaSims ♡

Experience the best of San Sequoia living in this stunning apartment listing located near the iconic Golden Gate Bridge. This pet-friendly property not only offers stunning views but also features a rooftop lounge where you can relax and enjoy the breathtaking surroundings.

Every unit comes with 1 bedroom & 1 bathroom with in-unit laundry. Along with the apartment, tenants will also have access to the private gym & rooftop lounge as well as private parking.

All Information & Link Under Cut

Gallery ID | FarfallaSims

$441,650.00

3 Units

1 Bedroom & 1 Bathroom Per Unit

In-Unit Laundry, Gym & Rooftop Lounge

Lot Size 30x20 in San Sequoia

Move-In Ready

Used BB.MoveObjects On

Packs in the Build | Growing Together, Island Living, City Living. Get Together, Get To Work & Spa Day

CC Used

Other Notes

GShade Preset | Pearl by PixelGlam

Lighting Mod | Sunblind by Softerhaze

Enable BB.MoveObjects Before Placing

Floorplan shown on last slides.

Kindly, please let me know if there are any missing mods or issues with the build!

Link to Build | Golden Gate Apartments

Massive thank you to the CC Creators! @harrie-cc @felixandresims @lorysims @pierisim @peacemaker-ic @littledica @ravasheencc @tudtuds @awingedllama @dscombobulate

#farfallasims #mydownloads #sims build #sims 4 build #the sims 4 build #showusyourbuilds #sims 4 #the sims #the sims 4 #the sims community #sims #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 maxis match #thesims4 #sims4 #the sims4 #ts4 simblr #sims 4 simblr #simblr

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johnbrand · 3 months

Text

Mists

It had been a lot easier for Miles to get into the groove of the gym than he had anticipated. When he had first entered, the recently-graduated meek college graduate had originally planned only utilizing the treadmills. Miles wanted to stay fit while he applied for new jobs, and nothing more than that.

“Hey shrimp, over here!”

Miles immediately went red, pivoting towards the bellowing voice. A shirtless jock was waving him over to a small booth near the front. Trying his best to stay calm, Miles approached, the hulking figure of the other party looming over his skinny frame as he drew closer.

“I assume you’re new here?” the jock grunted.

“How could you tell?” Miles replied.

“It’s Shirtless Saturday bro!” the jock chuckled. “Mandatory requirement of the gym, should’ve been in your membership details. Helps encourage self-positivity or whatever.”

Miles took a quick scan around the gym to confirm, taking in all the shirtless, muscular, sweaty bodies. To his further embarrassment, he found a certain part of his midsection perking up a bit in response. Miles could not believe there were so many hot guys in one space.

“Uh…ok…” Miles mumbled, slowly removing his top article. The jock snatched it from him once he was finished, placing it in a waste bin behind the booth.

Before Miles could complain, the jock stopped him. “Trust me, most dudes go shirtless every day here. Our gym mists the place every five to ten minutes, like produce at a grocery store. Keeps everyone cool and fresh.”

As if on cue, a spray of mist rained down from the ceilings, trickling onto each one of the shirtless men at the gym. A coating fell onto Miles, absorbing into his hairless, near-translucent skin. Figuring it was time to move on, Miles nodded and left the station. Although instead of finding himself at the treadmill, his feet led him towards a workout bench. He did not even realize his mistake until the soft buzz of another coat of mist fell onto his body.

Rubbing his head with a meatier palm, Miles took in his surroundings, trying to make sense of the situation. Once again he found himself boning up as he took in all the attractive men working out. Believing he had regained a sense of direction, Miles got up from the bench, placing his weights aside before once again moving across the floor. However, his body sat him down at a machine, a leg pump to be specific. Miles did not notice this until another wave of mist rained down. He also did not notice the muscular definition that expanded from his calves, quads, and buttocks.

The pattern continued slowly, all without Miles’ intention or attention. The jock from the booth followed along, bemused as with each spray Miles shifted from one machine to the next, his frame piling on pound after pound of muscle. After a while, the constant misting began to affect more than just Miles’ figure. One coating helped calm the poor boy’s nerves, granting him the confidence to swagger rather than scurry across the gym floor. Another vocalized this transition, literally, with Miles grunting and groaning with each exertion like every other lunk.

The jock could almost predict each wave that followed. The masculinized features, the carpet of hair, the constant rearranging of a larger, yet dormant package. The jock had noticed Miles’ excited pecker right away, knowing his fagginess would eventually be washed away. Yet that conversion was the only wave he could not predict: did it come after the spray of manly conformity or the vapor of fraternal commitment?

In the end, it did not matter. Once a person walked into the building, they became a permanent member of the gym. The jock had been serious when he stated the gym’s mists kept everyone “cool and fresh”. Miles just did not realize that the gym’s definition of “cool” meant a stereotypically masculine, arrogant, heterosexual perspective; and “fresh” reflected a more casual discretion.

A final layer of mist hailed down from above, programming Miles to carry on to the chest press. Unlike the previous coats however, this one stayed on the surface, as no more could be absorbed. It now remained as sweat on the undeniably straight man’s skin, reproducing before dropping back into the floor. From there, it was absorbed and then processed back up into the sprinklers above. A water cycle of pure, heterosexual testosterone.

But Miles did not know this, nor would he ever. His past self was forgotten history, now nothing more than just another straight bro.

#gay to straight #male tf #male transformation #jock tf #dumbification

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ddejavvu · 11 months

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eddie brock is the og loser boyfriend and i can’t stop thinking about venom just like completely bullying him when he’s in a relationship like his partner is like this drop dead gorgeous person and eddie wears the same sweaty jacket all the time and eats frozen tater tots haha

"There are crumbs on your shirt." Venom observes, and when Eddie nods with a noncommittal grunt, he continues, "And it is not a shirt. It is a sweatshirt. A sweaty sweatshirt, Eddie. And you wore it yesterday."

"That I did," Eddie crams another handful of chips into his mouth, salted and straight from the bag. His attention remains solely on the television in front of him, and Venom's goopy form shakes its head.

"Y/N is coming over later." He reminds the human, watching with disdain as Eddie chokes slightly on his mouthful because of the way he's slouched in his seat. He swallows regardless, and when he speaks, his voice is gruff from the irritation in his throat.

"Yeah, she'll be here in a few minutes," Eddie nods, "Hey, do you think they fake this show? The drama, and all."

Venom has no interest in whether the trashy reality show that Eddie is so enraptured by is fake or not. He cares that you'll be here any minute now, and Eddie looks like a corpse that's been rotting for a few days.

When the doorbell rings, Eddie moves to get up. Crumbs begin raining onto the carpet and he groans as his lazy joints ache, so Venom shoves him back into place with a strong tentacle and uses another to stretch and open the door for you.

You're clearly expecting a person on the other side, but you're quick to recognize the tentacle you're met with instead. It wraps greedily around your waist and you place your hand over its sticky form, grinning as you're barely able to shut the door behind you before Venom yanks you over to the couch.

"Hi, baby," Eddie greets, tipping his head onto the back of the sofa to grin upside-down at you, "How are you?"

"Good," You lean down to kiss him upside down, and Venom is appalled that you're willing to put your lips on Eddie's crumb-coated ones.

"Sour cream and onion?" You guess, and you're rewarded with the near-empty bag of them that Eddie had been demolishing.

You settle happily onto the couch by Eddie's side with the chips in your hand, and when Venom begins to let go of you you hold his tentacle in place. The symbiote watches you silently for a moment, observing your behavior and thinking a whole host of unsavory thoughts about humans and their disgusting tendencies.

"I do not understand," Venom interrupts your gushy sentiments with Eddie about how terrible the acting is on so-called 'reality' shows, "Eddie is disgusting."

The man's nose wrinkles and you let out a scoff of a laugh.

"Thank you, Venom. That's very kind of you. Did you forget you're made of slime?"

"Slime does not sweat. And I do not have crumbs stuck all over me."

"Venom, being in a relationship with someone means that you need to be comfortable with them. We don't have to dress up all the time, Y/N knows what I look like in pajamas and I've seen her hair unbrushed in the morning."

Venom, too, recalls the rather impressive tangled mess of hair that you sport after a night of deep sleep.

"You do not mind that he smells?" Venom turns to you, his milky-white eyes blinking with a squelch.

"He's smelled worse," You give a half-shrug, only one of your shoulders moving as you squirm closer to Eddie beneath the blanket he's draped over you.

"You're both too good to me," Eddie grins, batting his lashes sarcastically, "Careful not to flatter me too much, don't want my head to get too big to fit in my helmet."

Venom regards Eddie for a moment, then thinks of the motorcycle helmet the man breathes into every day. It's repulsive.

"Your head is already abnormally large," Venom observes, settling into Eddie's shoulder opposite from you, "I will keep insulting you so that it does not get bigger. You are repulsive."

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pieroulette · 1 year

Text

Did I, A Side Character Became the Male Lead's Wife?!

2023 | 13+ | ONESHOT | YANG JUNGWON × READER | -> PART 2

SUMMARY you — a side character in a royal novel doing absolutely nothing but enjoy your rich ass yet boring life, only watching over the female lead and doing your job in protecting her, only for a pair of kittenish eyes to fall not upon the female lead but on you, unfortunately.

AUTHOR'S NOTE not me writing a whole ass oneshot at 5am bcs of that sweet ask from that one anon, imma name u serotonin dopamine anon lmao- and jungwon bae u r truly my muse.. also inspired by sum manhwas cuz I binge read 90+ chapters in less than a day 💀💀💀 plus happy 900+ followers for me <333 mom wake up I'm famous even tho I'll never let u know what my secret writing blog is about 😊😊

a side character, how cute?

well, you only came to know of this very horrible (not really) fact that you're nothing close to a main character's vibes cause look at you babe, where's the sparkling shiny starry dust on you as you walked through the red carpet at the ball?

and did they even spare a glance at you? unfortunately, nope. because the female lead, Liz; was your enemy, at least in how your character was written in the novel by the goddamn author which was you.

yes, that's right!

you, a hella introverted author dwelling in the deepest corner of her room doing nothing but spent an ungodly amount of hours creating the perfect and enchanting characters after crying for major character death of a fic a few years ago. wiping your dripping tears off your cheeks in a comical way as you pull open your laptop and risk your 20/20 vision for life, just so you can reverse the aching pain in your chest that you wore a thick ass glasses now.

Liz, the female lead. Swooning over her was your religion, throwing not one but a ten whole buckets explaining how perfect she was—or how tremendously kind she was, delicate and utterly sweet. patting yourself on the back for creating such a goddess of a character, so it's only wise for you to give her a fitting male lead, right? Okay we'll talk about that later since it's about you right now.

So how did you end up in your novel? Well, because of one fateful day of you doing absolutely nothing but taking a goddamn rest, and whoever the god in heaven that just randomly decided to throw you in the novel you wrote yourself—must be utterly insane. Perfect indeed!

it took you a humongous realisation to see yourself in a dark green puffy dress that represents jealousy, envy, and betrayal—which also represents the side character standing behind the female lead on the thick cover of your book. you've originally written her as that wicked best friend that uses her seductive way of speech to seduce men, and at last turning her back at the female lead by accusing her of a horrendous crime.

her fatal fate consists of her head being snapped by the guillotine, unfortunately. but for you, not really, cause you are so in for destroying wicked characters but jokes on you—you're now in the body of that character.

pfft, can't the gods put you in a character that lives near the sea, with your straw hat on and as you drank your lemon juice away from the public drama, angsty dialogues, cringe moments you yourself have created because you don't have atleast an ounce of social skills that's why you pour it all on your characters.

"oh my apologies, milady— pfft—" three ladies sticking with each other like a super glue, had thrown the glass of wine on the female lead's gown—earning a series of gasps from everyone who saw but you were sure won't pay an ounce of consideration towards her as you had written almost everyone in this novel as "the world against the weak, fragile character."

oh, right. the hyena laughters of those you describe in episode 3 of "the flashy ball"; the three evil sisters, because why not? they added the extra spices in your tongue to the point you couldn't wait for them to get slap by the female lead or possibly someone.

ah, the tremendous satisfaction.

and you were one of that person whose hands itching to smash their skull apart, you cringed enormously at them as they were the ones that brought total trouble wherever they went or whoever are unlucky enough to get in their way. unfortunately, you seal your female lead's fate with them as she need some little obstacles, doesn't she?

you as hell were not sure what you're supposed to do, whether to just let things happen as the story goes or you do the male lead's job in protecting the female lead cause you have no idea why is he taking such a long time to appear, when he should've made his grand entrance at the freaking introduction?

and you wrote it that way cause you got fed up with male leads making their first appearance at the ball, and somehow quickly gaining the female lead's heart like Cinderella cause dear lord where's the slow burn?

just say, you're a conservative grandma type of a mindset or that you are skeptical over love at first sight. yep, you're right. that's why you ain't gonna let your precious female lead get bullied in front of your very eyes. she's like your granddaughter right now, seriously.

a shriek echoed through the entire ball, gaining everyone's attention. "oh my god! my dress! you— lady Liz! who did you even brought with you?!"

oh right, you forgot it's your first time at the ball either. "my apologies, milady. it's just that i saw a bunch of hyenas roaming around.." you rubbed the back of your neck.

"hyenas?! guards—"

"chill, what's the commotion here?" a bright dashing blonde haired man in a red royal suit came around, with sets of stars dusting upon his form which you already realise to be part of the main characters but unfortunately you forgot. you ain't having that extra superhuman memory just because you are an author.

the bunch of hyenas before you reasoned with the prince, but you slowly realise that the prince was none other than Prince Jake. Inspired by that one puppy image idol from fourth generation of kpop, you were apparently slurping your noodles in the local restaurant when you watched him imitating a dog from the tv, causing you to choke on your noodles.

it's safe to say, he's hot enough that he had to be part of your main characters. aah, that signature dashing smile of his as he defended the female lead with his wisely chosen string of words which immediately melted everyone's heart at sight.

times like this you wish you were actually the female lead, but the logical side of you beg to differ; you are not emotionally capable of spewing cringy romantic words for that's only reserved for writing. So thank you, i'll pass.

Surely, Prince Jake ain't the male lead for your precious female lead but you just let them converse with each other despite her with her absolute kindness, urging you to talk with them too, atleast a word. it sort of felt for a moment like she was trying to match you with the prince.

like no please, you'd rather not to. hot guys are hot, but they're not worth the emotional investment past the fangirling section.

plus the prince doesn't seem interested you as he doesn't spare not even one look at you which obviously you couldn't care any less, you sneakily went out the ball after a series of mishaps—for example your heavy puffy ass gown with its sole purpose to only look pretty but the reality ain't that pretty to say the least, panting like a dog as you took each step towards the entrance all while cussing yourself for ignoring your logical part of brain that you shouldn't have been adding humongous useless words to describe the gown just to make it sound extremely pleasing to the readers.

now you're the one to bear the consequences of your own writing, the fuck.

"one! two!—" a long, long, depressing sigh echoes. "three! ah!—" consequently falling upon your face, what a perfect day indeed. you just wanted to go home, tuck yourself in your comforting blanket, eat your hot cup of ramen or indulge yourself in the sea of chocolate while daydreaming of your favourite idols and fictional characters.

not this awful disaster of you getting tangled in the courts' affairs.

"i suppose, you need help, milady?"

oh no, certainly not. don't call me milady, pretend i do not exist for i certainly do not have the social skills to pretend that i like you, or form a decent conversation especially with men.

"milady?"

you curled yourself, burying your head into the comfort of your gowns. wondering quite a bit of how odd you look in the middle of the hallway.

"milady?" his voice-like whisper came closer, obviously standing beside you right now. "are you okay?"

fuck it. "please, i beg of you to kindly leave me alone as my day has been utterly ruined and—" oh wait, he seems oddly familiar. those lush fluffy hair and kittenish orbs that only softens among those he were close enough.

prince jungwon.

oh! the male lead, oh my god! your jaw hang so low it fell on the ground, your eyes sparkled in dozens of star like universe as you took in his marvelous beauty that you had spent creating meticulously after studying all the '101 rules of how to create the perfect male lead that had the readers heart evaporating & a huge ass green forest that certainly would cause blazing flames'.

"oh my god! you look absolutely gorgeous, i've done it really well didn't i?! oh my god!"

"o-oh—! absolutely, you did well!" he immediately replied back, pressing his lips tight nervously.

wait what? what did he say? oh shit, oh well, covering your mouth instantly as you accidentally let it out before the prince, your precious male lead that you solely created for the female lead. "i—.."

the prince, your very precious character—obviously taken aback with a slight blush dusting of his adorable cheeks as he raise his fist up to his lips, coughing a couple of seconds. a personality trait you very well are familiar of cause that's how you wrote him when he fall in love with the female lead.

your eyes ogled out at that familiar sight, screaming at the back of your mind—wait, wait! you're not supposed to fall in love with me, you idiot! go back! go inside the ball, she's inside there!

"that's oddly brave of you, milady. i'd certainly go as far as to say that i've never seen such traits from a lady." kitten eyes softening at you, crouching down as he lend both of his hands for you. you raised your eyebrow confusingly at what is he trying to pull at but you realise he was intending to get you up.

"u-uhm? uh, sorry. i could get up on my own, actually." yeah, that's what you did. pushing yourself back up despite his protests because you ain't gonna let him fall any further for you, nah uh, not in this life, your mission is to get him and your female lead together inside the frames of birds holding flower wreaths as they went on to their happily ever after.

not with you!

"may i have the honour to know your name, though, milady?" why the fuck isn't he leaving, what is there so interesting in you that he is still standing here asking you such generic questions.

you shouldn't be having the characters attention on you as you obviously wrote it that way, and that even though your character in the novel had tried to get the prince's heart, despite resorting to foul actions, that he never truly had been attracted to her despite this characters' seductive aura.

for you squealed so loud at the scene you wrote, with jungwon putting her in her place. "you are not her, and you would never be her." along with the bunch of your readers hosting a flamboyant celebration under the comments, screaming over how loyal he was.

so what in the actual fuck is this?

"you don't need my name." you nonchalantly answered.

"my apologies?"

"you see, my best friend is in the ball—" you gestured your hands to the entrance of the ballroom, "and she needs your help more than i do."

"wait? why would she need my help?" his eyebrows knitted together in utter confusion as you pushed him through his back.

"of course, she do! don't ask anything!"

"wait!— my name is!" he forcefully turn to face you again, but you immediately covered his mouth with your hands—kabedonning him against the wall.

an excruciating silence occured between you two in the silent hallway, Jungwon freezing to his core when your other hand shoot beside his head.

"listen i don't need your name, dear sir." you emphasise each word, you certainly don't need to know his name nor his status as a prince, not wanting to risk any possible connection with him judging by how he acted before you just now.

"b-but!" his words were muffled into the void as you cupped his mouth tighter.

"shh, shh. stop talking and listen, will you?!"

jungwon nodded slowly, what an odd situation he was in right now, he thought. but somehow he likes it.

"so first step, is go inside the ballroom. second, look for the lady in pink gown, and third—"

"t-third?"

"third is tell her your name! my best friend needs it more than i do!" you release him from your grasp as you went to swing open the huge double door, "now go!" waving a goodbye before kicking his body through the entrance, pulling the door back with your entire strength despite his protests.

oh of course, you finally let out a gag after suppressing it in front of him the entire time as you've never had a proper conversation with a male without stuttering, somewhat a sad tragedy for you, unfortunately. you felt quite guilty about your readers who swoon over the romances you wrote between your leads, weeping over how you're so good at it—not knowing you're a complete introvert with only a gigantic ass dictionary with you.

finally, the male lead and female lead's romances are about to start! you squealed with your hands clasping as you went on your way to the carriage, gesturing for the rider to embark on the way to your heavenly puffy manor with the widest big grin ever that it had him questioning you, "has any gentleman had caught your heart, milady? a couple of hours ago, you were often beyond distraught to attend the ball but insisted when you heard Lady Liz was going."

"oh, you silly." you giggled as you swayed your hand, "of course, that's one of the reasons. but there's another one.."

"may i ask what is it, then?"

you leaned in closer, urging him to get closer as you whispered. "i got the chance to become a Cupid!"

"a Cupid?" you squealed before the old man, hopping like a child for quite awhile before flying into the carriage much to his surprise, but only shook his head in amusement—appalled by how his mistress had changed so much.

"so?" you couldn't help yourself from pulling out the widest eccentric grin at the female lead, extremely curious and ecstatic over what romances had bloom between her and Jungwon.

Liz raises her eyebrow in confusion, "so?.. what do you mean, milady?"

you shrugged, falling back to your seat as you raise your eyebrow in a comical way, "that.." whispering ever so seductively, "prince."

"p-prince?

"yes!" the teacup rattles at your excitement oozing so much that you tapped the table a couple of times. "what happen? what's the tea~"

she lets out a soft giggle, a bit amused by your excitement. "i have no idea what you're trying to imply, milady."

"wait? what are you saying? didn't the prince went to you last night?"

Liz shook her head slowly, her expressions clearly stating that she absolutely don't know what and who you were talking about as a smile pulled up on her lips once again, taking a few sip from her teacup.

veins popped out from your neck as it dawned on you, your head snapped towards the castle on top of the mountain, you stupid of a prince! you cussed at him endlessly at the back of your mind, tightening your fist as your ears and nose fuming in anger. how dare he? he didn't listen to you at all? what in the actual fuck? would this somehow divert the original route? a dozen question arise into your mind one after another, causing you to let out an exaggerated sigh.

facepalming yourself as you imagined the imaginary heavenly light on top of you, weeping to yourself about how tremendously unlucky you are to have a hard headed male lead. it's impossible, you have never added a trait so irritating like this in his profile so how could this happen?

"milady?" the gentle voice of your precious female lead pulled you out of your inner desperation, you leaned in closer, whining so much over how unlucky you were and such, the rest only being in your mind as you pouted.

"ah, i remember now, the prince—"

"WHAT?—" you immediately seated yourself after giving her a potential heart attack, "my apologies, what did you actually.. remember?"

"i assume you were talking about the prince from yesterday? prince jake?"

"no not that bitch— oh certainly not him, ehem.." you took a couple of exaggerated coughs, avoiding her evident confusion. "isn't there a prince.. name jungwon with you that night?"

"oh my goodness! right! prince jungwon!" she shook her head in disbelief with her finger on her head.

right, how did you even forgot that the female lead in front of you had a "weak ass memory" in her profile description. tsk tsk, truly a forgetful author you are. you should be trying your best to remember the things you wrote before and revise it as best as you can, to avoid any possible problems in the future, atleast.

"right, how did i even forget, the prince asked me for your name, milady—"

"huh?" you look at her with confusion, as you were out of reality a couple of seconds ago. your orbs terribly widened as her words slowly sinking in to your brain. "HUH?"

ask your name?! why your name, why not hers?! what did the prince ate that night before stumbling onto your way that he had to ask for your name before the female lead—his own lover?!

laughing awkwardly, you raise your leg on top of another as you nervously swayed your hands repeatedly. "oh dear, oh dear. you might have heard it wrong, the prince?—" snorting outloud as you gestured to yourself, "asking for my name? what a funny news!"

"i didn't, milady. the prince came to me and asked me for your name, as he was immensely curious of who you are so i—"

"so what?—" you can't believe this, you really can't bring yourself to believe any words she was uttering. you should have been bestowed by the news that the prince had taken an interest in her, a hand in marriage, or anything, anything as long as you're out of the picture! "y-you didn't tell him my name, d-didn't you?"

"of course, i did!" exclaimed she did with the widest grin ever.

why are you so freaking happy over this?! clasping your head in your hands as you tragically fall on your knees causing the lady to gasp in shock, ushering to your side to get you up.

"milady?! what's wrong?"

"d-dear," you pouted as you look up to her, "you didn't tell him where my manor's at, r-right?"

she simply replied, "i did? the prince informed me that he's going to send a letter for you to be his partner to the ball."

an imaginary arrow struck back to your heart, forming a humongous hole that threatens to give you a panic attack. what? what in the actual fuck? did you accidentally did something to divert the original story you yourself created? but you didn't even do anything! you tried to do your best to keep the interaction with him as short as possible and he dared to take an interest in you?!

"milady, a letter from the royal palace had arrived for you."

"discard it. throw it. keep it away from my sight."

"milady?!" Liz and the head of the maid exclaimed in utter shock at your nonchalant answer.

"forget about it, forget about it." you clasped your forehead in utter disappointment, yet your brain were creating another plan b for this unexpected turn of events. what should you do? even more so, what would you do now that the prince had asked for you to be by his side to the ballroom?

this won't do, you won't let this happen—you had to look as unattractive and ugly as possible for him to cringe on and finally divert his attention back to the rightfully person who deserved it; the female lead.

your maids could only fall apart every single time you pluck out the enchanting gems they attached on your hair, ears and wrists. their efforts deemed futile as always as you had no mood for any sort of events, it was like a slap to their face as you initially weren't like this. you overheard them that they couldn't get used to how you were adamant in staying behind the spotlight as you often did your very best in dressing yourself up before, with the sole intention of gaining the favour of men and even more better, a prince.

of course, they are totally oblivious to your real identity. only a series of jaw gaping one after another with your change of character, at first—you had a dilemma over whether you should act like the character you created but you later scrap the idea as soon as the anxiety of being engulfed in the crowd suffocated your chest. opting to avoid as many as balls or public events as possible, but that obviously didn't work out that well since you heard of the female lead's arrival from the country side—just like you intended it to be.

and being the proud mother (writer) you are, of course why wouldn't you take one single look at her and see of how far she had came? but alas, one interaction leads to another one and so on—till finally, you became her best friend throughout her entire journey. waiting for the male lead's arrival, and watch their romances blooming and per se—but oh well, look at the situation you were in right now; total disaster.

you truly despise being in such an extravagant puffy gown and the numerous accessories hugging your skin, it's tremendously uncomfortable that you wanted to rip it off part in front of the prince standing before you right now, and right here.

asking for your hand to dance with that odd kittenish smile, that you swore you had never ever written in his personality profile; he should never have been this casual and chill over a person he had just met. he should've been cold as fuck, icy to touch, and a spiralling disaster if you dare to talk to him, so why?

plus how could he have taken an interest in you? you couldn't possibly have added a dose of the love at first sight trope, didn't you? you despised that trope to your very core.

"milady? may i?" he extended his hand before you, patiently waiting for your answer.

you had decided that you're going to reject him quick and efficient—just like the local fast food restaurant your mouth kept drooling over for, smashing a five star review for their inhuman speedy delivery.

"you see, prince jungwon. i have no desire to have a connection with you, a relationship, as a matter of fact."

he raised his eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by your bold words. "i'm curious milady, why so? have i done something that perhaps had annoyed you?"

cliché question, you loathe that. "what if i said you did?"

"then tell me, milady. i'll try my hardest to own up to you—" he took a steps forward, which causes you to immediately step back as well with a frown on your face. you can't, not in this life, to even give him a single chance to get close to you. nah uh.

"no need, and stay one meter apart, please." you pointed your index finger towards the floor and he hesitated, but complied immediately.

"i." you raise your index finger back to yourself and then at him, "don't like you. do you understand?"

"b-but?"

"stop questioning me, prince jungwon." you stayed firm in your spot, "i believe it's a common decency to step back when a lady had voiced out her opinion, a prince like you certainly would understand, am i right?"

Jungwon was clearly taken aback, the fact that you didn't give him a single chance to utter a word nor take a step closer was a hard punch to his face. It feels as if he was trying to reach for you, but you efficiently dodged it with ease. It kind of.. annoys him.

"base on how you didn't say anything anymore, i assumed we're done here! well then, goodbye prince jungwon." you turned your heels towards the entrance, not bothering to waste any time at this goddamn ball. "i hope this will be the very last." you scoffed inside your mind, eager for the story to return to it's original route, and that the prince would soon deem you useless and such—returning to the female lead's arms.

hm, now where's your precious female lead? she should've appeared right now and right here, strike the pot while it's hot!

"i'm afraid i can't back down that easily, milady." jungwon took a few steps forward, wrapping his hand round your wrist as he spun you around to face his eyes filled with blazing determination. one that you specifically added on top of his profile so that your readers would kept it in mind.

your breath hitched down your throat as you remembered there's only two reasons he could have this; one that reminds you when he was at war, shouting at the top of his voice to encourage his soldiers as they push through the enemies, and another reason of it appearing is when he have to get what he wanted, or else all hell will break loose, chaos will ensue.

right, you're truly an idiot. staying a few years in this novel without any memories, and only for it to surface back when you stumble upon the library—dozens of books flickering a series of eccentric images in your mind. It had cause you to lose all memories of important details, only emerging everytime you are presented with a situation you couldn't comprehend. such as when you forgot that the female lead had memory problems and such.

"i'll only present this choices to you, milady. since you tremendously intrigued me over how well spoken you were and fascinating indeed—" bitch, you don't even know how you had the sudden ability to confront him but you were just sure as hell that you don't want to ruin your own novel. no fucking way.

you can't let him have the upper hand on you.

"let me go." irritated to your core, you tried untangle Jungwon's tight grasp on your wrist but he won't budge even an inch which only had you fuming in anger. "i said let me go, bitch!"

the crowd emits a series of gasps and murmurs as you spun around—twisting the prince's arms which had him yelping in pain, and ultimately pinning him onto the ground. with rage consuming you that nothing was going in your way, you slammed your hands on the both side of his head. clenching your jaw and gritting your teeth as you emphasised each word. "you are one a dumb hell of a bitch, when i said i do not want to see you anymore. i mean it. so—"

"so what?" his smug look resurfaces, one that emerges whenever he was being challenged. yes, do that! he should despise you, not take an interest in you! he should loathe you so much that he can't even gaze at you for a second. excitement surged through your veins as you open your mouth, preparing for the last blow.

"so, get lost. just because you're a prince doesn't mean every girl would fall for you, idiot."

an even more louder gasp emits from the crowd as they clearly heard what you said, their jaw gaping and some covering their mouths with their hands as their mind are now bombarded with random questions over how exceedingly brave you are to insult the royal prince, and of what fate will you met now that you've done such an atrocious act.

a low giggle sent shivers down your spine, and goosebumps to riled over your neck as you realise the prince under you had the widest smirk on his face. you frowned deeply, he shouldn't be smirking! he should be fuming in anger and throwing you out of the palace at this moment. so why?!...

"oh milady, how truly fascinating you are." you let out a loud yelp when he grabbed both of your wrists, pulling you closer to his face—a dangerous close proximity against his fluttering eyelashes and lips that your breath caught up in your throat which causes your cheeks to heated up in embarrassment of what kind of position you two were in right now. "i like you, you would certainly be a perfect fit to be by my side."

"what?!" you exclaimed, jaws dropping and eyes about to pop out at his very words. "i don't want to be by your side—"

"a lady like you, i'm afraid to say, intrigues me very much..." Jungwon shots a kittenish wink right through your heart. "be my wife, milady. i'll show you how good I can be for you."

#「 talesofyuan 」 fics #did i. a side character became the male lead's wife?!#enha #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha imagines #enha x reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen scenarios #enha fanfic #enhypen x female reader #enha fluff #jungwon smut #enhypen fluff #enha smau #enhypen jungwon #yang jungwon

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coeurify · 10 months

Text

TIS’ THE DAMN SEASON 1

ELLIE WILLIAMS

𖤐 . ─┈ the holidays linger like a bad perfume. you can run, but only so far. i escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave? ˚* .

pairing: modern!ellie williams x ex!reader. summary: three years after the worst high school graduation you could imagine, you come home for the holidays— and find you can’t run from the past forever. ( series summary!!! ) chapter warnings: the first half is a flashback to high school. underage drinking & smoking (18). slight mommy issues, slight angst. blink and you miss it talks of anxiety. reblogs, likes and conversations about this fic in my inbox are highly encouraged and LOVED!! (plz come talk to me) special thanks to @elliesbelle for proof reading and hyping me up when i was struggling LOL

Your graduation gown was bright red. Not the sort the class before you graduated in, one that danced the soft line between burgundy and crimson. That would have looked beautiful against your skin, complimented the dress you picked out on the very first day of senior year. Your best friend told you it was too early, that you might decide on a different dress later on, but you were quite stubborn. You held the dress on a velvet hanger in the very smallest corner of your wooden closet, olive green and untouched. Gazing at it became a ritual, a fixation that found you stood at your closet any bad day, staring until your eyelashes fluttered closed and you let a soft breath out. Just a while longer until you could wear it.

The graduation gown was bright red and hadn’t gone with the shade of your dress at all. The material scratched against your arms, and fit too snuggly against your shoulders. Each thread felt too small, too constricting as you pulled it over your body. The sewn-on emblem of your school irritated the space on your chest it stuck over, and all you wanted to do was take it off. To be free of it.

Still, you had pushed aside the open suitcase at the bottom of your closet with a lump in your throat and sought out the same olive-colored dress from the start of the year. You had to wear it. You left the suitcase outside of your closet as well.

Nestled on the quiet corner of Church Street, named so for the methodist that sat closely down the avenue, was your childhood home. Faded paint peels from its timeworn white picket fence, revealing spots you picked at as a child— crashed into with your bike when you were ten and split the repainted wood. The wood creaks on the porch outside, which your mother consistently complained about. One of the window panes on the second floor is weathered by the rain.

It’s your bedroom window, and sometimes when you’re bored you would push up the glass, and let in the Wyoming air, trying to make your bedroom feel less suffocatingly small. You would scratch your nail against the dead wood, watch pieces fall to the ground outside, over the small garden of seasonal flowers your parents always tried to tend to, and failed at each year. You do so that day, with your bright red sleeves pushed up as you let the June breeze into your yellow-painted room, picking— prodding at the pieces that hardly hold on before your mother called your name, “Joel and Ellie are here!” her voice carried up the carpeted stairs, echoing with a sense of impatience.

Those names had your ears perked up, hardly feeling the tightness on the shoulder stitches of your graduation gown anymore, and you hurried down the stairs, welcomed by the smell of ripe peaches and freshly cut grass. It’s likely the candles balanced on nearly every corner of the living room your feet carry you near, lit by your mother who leans over yet another she must have gotten from the home goods store three towns away.

A smile pulled at your lips for the first time that day as you took in the two at your door. Joel was wearing a suit— an actual suit, and he had shaved. When you ‘oooh’ and ‘ahhed’ at his get-up, he raised a hand, still tinged with a soft amount of dirt, likely from sneaking to his carpentry job that morning. Ms. Pam’s house, four streets over.

Then you saw her, through the sun-drenched light that came in with the open door. Ellie had a frown on her lips, maybe because her gown was also too small as she pulled it over her body. God, couldn’t that school get anything right?

For once her hair was out of its usual bun, pushed uncomfortably behind her ears. All you wanted to do was rush forward and kiss her rosy cheeks, poke at the freckles on her nose, prominent as ever under the Jackson sun. But you had a little too much shame lodged in your chest to do so.

Your parents had been accepting, as did Joel, when the two of you curled your hands into one another’s in November of your sophomore year, and announced that you and Ellie, your two doors down neighbor, were girlfriends. Accepting as they could have been, at least. It took your mother a while, she’d excused herself from the wooden kitchen table she sat at the day you told her— and took a few weeks before asking you where along the line your childhood friend became more. She asked how innocently kissing the knees Ellie scraped on her skateboard, and Ellie’s fingers scooping into the frosting of the cookies you were making for your eighth-grade bake sale had turned into... this. You just gave her more time to understand.

By Junior year prom, your mother was almost smiling as Ellie hugged you to her chest behind the small camera Joel held outside of their one story soft blue ranch-style home. She pressed a hand to your cheek as Ellie tugged your hand into Dina’s, your shared friend, car and told you to be safe. That was always her way of telling you to have fun.

So you shouldn’t feel ashamed to lean forward and kiss your girlfriend of over two years as you two got ready for graduation, but you still did— just not because of your company.

Ellie didn’t notice the slightly odd feeling radiating off your body as she had launched her converse covered feet over the small welcome mat near the door and into your arms as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Today’s the day!” She’d cried, fern eyes sparkling. You smiled and nodded, though when you parroted, “Today’s the day,” it didn’t mean the same.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

Halfway through the graduation, your feet began to hurt. Not because you were standing too long. No, all 350 of your small-town senior class were given pull-out plastic chairs that sunk into the green grass of your football field, facing the rows of fading grey bleachers that families sat at, folding the pamphlets handed out to fan their sweating faces, a backdrop to the relentless drone of teachers delivering speeches under the sun.

Your feet hurt because your shoes were too small, the heel too tall. You had bought them when you were thirteen and visited New York City. The ankle strap was wearing thin, clamped around your flesh in a way that kept you rolling your ankle over and over. They were the nicest pair of shoes you had, and the only ones that didn’t make you cringe to look at. A shiny black color, with a gold gem on the strap. Surely you could have found any that looked the same at a department store near the Ski resorts at the edge of town, abandoned for the summer season. But then they wouldn’t be special, wouldn’t have been from the bright-lit city on the east coast.

They looked beautiful with your dress.

Ellie tipped her head down to rest on your shoulder, mumbling a soft, “This is soooo boring.”

Her red graduation cal tumbled off, landing on the green blades at your feet with a muted thump. Unaware of the tension, she nuzzled against you. Her cheek brushed softly, oblivious to the subtle stiffness that coursed through you, raising nervous goosebumps beneath the red fabric. You, however, couldn't escape the feeling, your heart gently aching at the touch. With a sigh, you surrendered, melting into her.

Jesse, stationed to Ellie's left, couldn't resist a snicker. His messy black hair peeked from under his cap as he playfully kicked Ellie’s fallen cap forward. Ellie leaned down to grasp before a nosy teacher scolded her for not paying attention. “Hey!” Ellie whisper shouted at her friend, before finally grabbing and fitting the red cap on her head again.

Ellie had decorated her’s with a beautiful hand drawing, black and brown inked sharpies on the red cloth, bleeding gently out on her lines of a moth and leaves, surrounding the blue inked symbol of a college forty minutes away.

You hadn’t decorated yours at all.

“It's almost over,” you console, fingers reaching out of the red fabric sleeve, sliding over the heated plastic of your chair to grasp at Ellie’s hand, squeezing it gently.

It’s almost over.

You smiled as best you could when your name was called, ignoring the tightness of your gown, or how the color of the dress contrasted the bright red. You ignored the pain in your toes as you kept your eyes straight on the podium where your Principal stood, grinning too brightly for someone who never once looked your way in the school— as he handed you your diploma. You put on your best smile as you posed for the hired photographer, but it never reached your eyes.

The smile that did reach your eyes was that of when your best friend walked across the stage. You whooped her name loudly and tried not to let your heel dig into the dirt as you clapped and jumped. “WOO CAT!”

The true smiles, the ones that found your eyes, came out as each of your friends crossed the stage. Your heart swelled to the brink as Dina and Jesse walked, followed by Ellie.

Your eyes fixated on her auburn hair swaying in the soft breeze, clapping so fervently that it stung, your grin stretching from ear to ear. The joy became tangible when Ellie received her diploma, a scratched scream leaving your lips.

Ellie graduated, your Ellie graduated.

Ellie who held your hand so tightly as everyone stood, who glanced at you with that cheeky smile when the microphone scratched during the countdown to throwing your caps.

Ellie who tugged you against her and smashed her lips into yours the moment she heard, “You are now graduates! flip your tassel!”

You do your best to focus on how perfect her smiling lips feel against yours instead of the impending doom filling your stomach.

Dina on your left tugged your cap off your head, throwing it in the air the same moment Jesse did so for Ellie.

You were sure your heart should have bursted through your ribs right then and there, your lips slotted against Ellie’s, giggling so hard against the kiss that you had to suck in a deep breath whenever she gave you a second— forgetting the awful feeling in your gut as Ellie brushed her nose against your own.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” her warm breath heated your cheeks, “We can do whatever we want now, we have all the time in the world.”

Your bursting heart had sunk as quickly as the graduation caps that fell on the ground around you.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

Your parents never really let you go to parties in high school. In fact, they were rather strict, your phone on a table downstairs after 10 pm, doors locked when the sun came down. Rules about where you could go, and when you could go. The sort of rules that just made you sneakier. But graduation was different, no sneaking was required when your father shrugged at the explanation of the after party your class planned. A bonfire for students to throw all of their papers into, cheer, and celebrate around the burning memories of high school.

You left out the part about how it was being held by James Summers, whose parents never questioned why heaps of six packs and half drained liquor was being carted into their backyard.

“Go have fun,” your father sighed, lips around a mug, the smell of black coffee in your nostrils. You never understood why he drank it with dinner. “You're a graduate, celebrate. A lot going on tomorrow, anyway.”

His head nodded toward the sealed envelope on the table, a stamp with a zip code from California.

You swallowed and turned on your heel.

The air was thick when you stepped outside, the sun setting, grass slightly dewy with humidity. You hated how it smelt, how it felt against the tank top you changed into. You kicked rocks under the toe of your shoe, staring up at the hues in the sky, counting each new star that appeared in the darkening colors behind pursed lips until you heard the boom of music behind the metal doors of Jesse’s car.

He had the biggest car of the group, a black SUV from 2010, scratched up on the left side from when he bumped into a pole. You only ever used his car when everyone needed a ride, and seeing as how you had expected the party to go— you definitely should’ve only used one car, the driver agreeing to be the designated sober friend.

A faint whiff of weed lingered on her grey sweatshirt, likely courtesy of Cat, who sat beside her, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. She blinked lazily, black liner smudged down in the corner. “Ellie fought me for that damn seat,” she muttered as her head poked out, “So greedy with you.”

Dina poked her head back from the passenger seat, smoky eyeshadow caught in the yellow color of the overhead light. “If she’s choosing the shittiest seat, let her.”

“Buckle up and let's go!” Jesse declared, hitting the gas hard enough to elicit a yelp from you, your head thudding against the back seat as the door slammed shut.

“Shit Jesse, you’re such a dick,” you whined.

“A dick who’s gonna be sober at the biggest fuckin’ party ever so he can drive you all home.”

All of you groaned because he was right.

The windows were down the whole ride, the music too loud and pouring out into the open wind as they sang along. Your friend’s eyes were closed and heads tipped back, Cat leaned out the window and sang loudly to the 2000s pop song she demanded, Dina laughed loudly and leaned into the back to cheer her on, curly ponytail swishing as her brown eyes crinkled at the corners sweetly.

You just smiled gently, taking in the moment as much as you could. Ignoring how much you hated seeing the same road you did every day outside the window, how you could close your eyes and still list off every patch of land you zipped passed.

Instead, you try to take in what Dina’s laugh sounded like against your eardrums, how it sunk into your heart and squeezed it with a harsh grip. You took in how Cat’s short raven locks whipped against her forehead as she fell back into the car, lips parted and pearly white teeth sparkling.

You took in how Ellie’s eyes flicked around everyone, looking at ease as she slapped her hand against the back of Jesse’s seat to the beat of the song, a strand of reddish hair falling from its place in the hair tie she stole from you. You memorized what her throaty voice sounded like as she sang along in a tune that was not at all like her actual, beautiful, singing tone. One you only heard when the crickets sang outside, pressed against her windowsill as her fingers strummed over the old guitar from Joel’s study, deep into the night when you snuck over and asked for her to play a song. No, this was goofy and loud, a stupid loud bellow from her cracked lips, cut up by laughs and gasps after every few words. You made sure to commit to your Ellie-labeled folder of memories how she turned to you, nose crinkled as she urged you to sing along, shoulder bumping into yours.

You wanted to remember it all.

You knew this may be one of the last times you saw them all together, at least this happy— this excited for what came next.

“Guys,” you call suddenly, a rush of emotion forcing the word off your tongue and right to your feet as you realize what you’d done, three heads turning your way as Jesse lowers the radio.

Tell them. Tell them.

“I just, I really love you.”

What a pussy.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

The setting for your final party was a tightly packed backyard with no fence near the woods. Clusters of seniors and underclassmen that snuck in filtered across the cobblestone near the glass door of the basement and all the way into the green leaved trees. Small fold-out tables held jungle juice, as bright red with cranberry juice as your gowns had been, and half empty and scattered beer cans. People whooped and hollered, they threw down graduate caps and little posters with your classes graduating year in the form of all different kinds of party favors.

In the middle of the backyard sat a large rock pit, filled with cut chunks of wood and smaller, sadder branches that drunk senior boys likely raced around the woods to find and throw into the fire. heaps of papers sat at the side, collections of every paper assignment from the groups of students.

Everyone at the party agreed to throw in and burn the papers at midnight, signifying the first day of summer and the end of your last day of high school.

By 11:30, all of your friends but you and Jesse were drunk. You were tipsy, enough to make your head light and your limbs heavy— tight heart a little less tethered in your chest as your back settled against a tree, curling your legs to your knees, tucking your chin on the soft skin there, eyes lidded as you watched your friends pass around a half gone blunt.

You should tell them.

“D’ya think we’ll like— be friends forever and stuff?” Dina questioned as her fingers brushed against yours, your pointer and thumb pressing gently against the blunt and bringing it to your lips, not answering.

“Don’t ask that type of shit,” Cat chastised, shaking her head. “So cheesy.”

“Of course we will,” Ellie muttered quickly, scooting closer to you on the rock you were seated on, taking the burning blunt after you.

You felt a little too sick for more than one hit, tilting your knees away from Ellie’s arms that sought affection.

Her eyes caught on you just for a brief moment, a soft look of barely there confusion before being interrupted by Jesse’s kick on her shin, “Blunt.”

You let yourself drown out the following conversation about the graduation, humming half interested or offering a small nod and chuckle of approval as your eyes focused on the cliques behind your friends' heads. Kids you’d grown up with your whole life, smiling widely and knocking into each other, chanting words you couldn’t decipher over the speaker that blasted as loud as it could across the lawn. You wondered if any of them had the same sense of dread you did. If the graduation felt more like a guilty secret than a moment of freedom for them too.

You should tell them.

Your thoughts snapped back to your friends when a voice filtered through the cloudy blockage. “Babe.”

“Hm?” your gaze fell back to the flushed face of your girlfriend, who held her hand out, now stood up. “I said they’re lighting the fire soon, doofus.” She frowned, confused by your sudden zone out.

“Oh shit,” you stood, fingers clasped around hers as she yanked you up.

You let go of her hand as soon as you stand, and ignore how your palm burns at the loss.

Ellie looks at you again, oh so observant Ellie, who reaches for your hand again, squeezing it so can’t push it away. You can’t bother to try anyway.

“You good?”

“Yea, jus’ smoked a bit much.” You nodded and smiled weakly, pointing your joined hands to where Jesse, Dina, and Cat stepped slowly in front of you. Ellie hurried both your feet over the grass to meet them as they shoved each other for the best look on the bonfire.

You and Ellie ended up behind the group a bit, as neither of you had brought your own papers to throw in the fire. Ellie said she hadn’t ever been good at collecting old assignments. You threw them out the moment your last class ended. You’d torn down every studying calendar, shoved every textbook and damn ruler into a trash bag and tossed it away. None was left by graduation.

You need to tell her.

James Summers perched on a stack of logs behind the bonfire, his throat cleared, bellowing as he shook around a small container of gasoline in hand, “We’re fucking free!”

The entire crowd erupted in cheers as Ellie's hand discreetly looped around your waist, offering a squeeze. She pressed a kiss to the side of your face, and you bit the inside of your cheek.

You were sick.

Everyone began throwing their papers into the pit, the gasoline scent filling the small and tightly packed area, mixing with the overwhelming stench of sweat and cheap alcohol. You could barely breathe it in anymore.

“Three!” James called.

“Ellie.” your voice cracked.

“Two!” The crowd yelled. Ellie looked over at you, noticing the discomfort etched across your face, and furrowed her brow.

“What’s wrong?”

“One!”

“I'm leaving. I’m leaving Jackson in three days.”

Ellie gleamed in a sudden surge of bright orange, heat tickling your face and screams ringing your ears. The fire had been lit, sparks of embers flying through the air as students swatted at them and laughed.

All you could see was Ellie. You watched slowly as her face dropped, as her sun kissed freckles flashed to a sudden pale. You watched as her hand dropped from around you, letting the sickeningly humid air hug your middle instead. Far less comforting than the itch of her bracelet against your skin.

All you can hear is the sharp gasp of air Ellie intakes, all you can hear is the choked question that dies on her lips. All you can hear is the crack of your ribs, maybe your heart, under your chest.

“What?”

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

“What?”

You blink blearily, rubbing your heavy eyes as you’re pulled into reality for a moment, staring at the tilted number of James Summer’s mailbox. The seven at the end barely holds on as it hangs loosely over the faded white paint. Your name follows the one word question, and then again. Shit, how long had you been unfocused? Your cold fingerprints dance over your fogged window absentmindedly.

“Mom,” your voice sounds whiny, like a tired child whose bones ached in the cold Wyoming winter. Being in this town sort of made you feel that way. “I said I’m about fifteen minutes out. My car made a weird noise on Maple Street, I took a break.”

Your father’s voice crashes through the grainy sounding speaker next, and you can almost imagine his face poked down to the place where your mother held the phone out. “Well did you check your gas?” You sigh. “Yes, dad.”

“And you’ve had the heat on? Know you probably haven't used it down in California much, but it’s important,” the slight edge to his voice has you twisting your hand down the window a bit harsher, “I’m not stupid, of course my heat is on. It gets cold there too, y’know,” Your eyes shoot to the dial, craning your neck with embarrassment, the heat was barely on. Thank god your parents didn’t like the concept of facetime.

“It was probably the fact that I dunno– I drove it fourteen hours?” you snap, any other building complaints dying in your throat as you instead focus your head out the window, a familiar flash of black hair nodding down the slick and cracked sidewalk to the left of you.

It was Jesse.

He looked the same, kept his hair the same overly complicated hairdo that you knew took him ages, even if he defended he woke up like that. He still had the same winter coat, though it landed awkwardly above his wrist as he whistled to his family dog, Lena. It almost shakes you, how stuck you feel in a moment of the past. You ignore your mother's calls of your name, chewing nervously on your lip. Hadn't he transferred to an out-of-state college two years ago? You saw so on one of your drunken social media stalkings. Maybe he was visiting for the Holidays? Maybe he was visiting Dina and Cat.. and–

“Turn your car on again!” your dad’s voice cut through your thoughts. You take one more look at Jesse, blinking like you were looking at some old photo or video from high school. He really did look the same. Only he was taller now, if that was even possible– less boyish in the charming smile he offered as Lena slid gently on a patch of ice. You slump down against your seat, shielding your face as your fingers turn the keychain filled car key still in the ignition. It rumbles to life softly, with a few spurts of an angry sounding engine before it settles into a normal low hum.

“It’s fine now.” You grumble, hearing your father’s tongue click. “Well hurry then, we have things to get ready for.” Your mother scolded as you shifted the old car into drive, refusing to look to your left as you started down the street, knuckles holding the wheel so tightly they hurt. “Bye.”

The click of your call ending allows you to take a long loud breath, sitting straighter in your seat as your eyes glance to the overstuffed duffle bag in your passenger seat. It’s with the heaviest clothes you could find in your mini closet back home– back in your home in San Francisco. It was a lot of sweaters and old tattered jeans you would have to layer to survive the cold without being ushered to wear your mother's awful coats or have an old scarf from middle school thrown around your neck to keep your cheeks warm. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do.

You hadn't had much time to pack properly, pull boxes down of clothes you only wore when it got really cold in your city during the winter. A split second decision after another fight over text messages with your mother sent you in a whirlwind of getting to Jackson as soon as possible.

You had narrowly avoided coming to your hometown for any holiday, let alone winter ones, ever since you left three summers ago. Both Christmases since then were spent in California, the promises of a beach holiday with warm sun pricking at your parents' skin and all the best events in Malibu lured them the first year, and car troubles you couldn’t afford to fix if you bought a plane ticket drove them to your home in San Fran the next.

It had not been enough this time. Your mother begged for months, going back and forth with you during every call, every picture she sent of a new poster lined on the local grocery store of Ski lodge events, light shows, any snowy magic that you could not find on the concrete streets of your home.

What finally broke you was your mother's rushed words last week, against a little screen you stared at in your dark living room as your roommate’s rushed words about work drowned out around you. ‘What are you avoiding?’ the text message read, ‘Do you hate where we raised you that much? Are you that embarrassed by where you're from?’ the next came. The words danced in your head, mingling with the soft music that played from the record player in your area.

You planned the trip the next day.

Maybe that made you weak. Maybe avoiding coming back to the small cold town this long made you weak. You weren’t sure anymore. Either way, you ended up here, after a very long drive with constant pauses and lots and lots of music to drown any thought that built inside your nerve wracked brain during the lovely endeavor of making it across the different states.

Taking your car in the first place was a decision no one you spoke to really understood. It would have been a short flight, easy to get through the airports, easy to be picked up by your parents or a cab. Maybe somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew why you had chosen this route. it prolonged the journey. It gave you more time to wallow in the kingdom of pity you had built yourself in these past years since you’d left. It provided the perfect out, need be. Your tire popped on the interstate. Your engine started sounding weird 10 hours in— something like that. Something to cower away as you had done three summers ago.

Surprisingly, you made it past the large sign that wrote Jackson’s town name in big green letters without making an excuse with your old car.

You could just coop up in your parent's house anyway, avoid prying eyes or curious old friends you may run into at the local market or the bar you used to always wish you could creep into. You could just…hide away, right?

By the time your mind cycles through every thought that sits in the divets of your creased brow, you realize you have arrived at your parent's driveway. It must have been muscle memory to get you to this point, and your tight grip loosens as you come to a soft stop behind the other car in your— your parents driveway. You settle back into the cushion of your seat as you peer outside the windshield, sighing gently.

Nothing has changed, of course. The grass was yellowed now, as it did every winter when bogged down by the constant frost and flurries. You were pretty sure it hadn’t snowed here yet, but the vegetation sure looked just as dead anyway. The large tree that edged the property, longest branches brushing against one of the side windows— one you used to squeal at in the dark as a child, make your father show you to was not a monster, scratched against the house still.

Your mother got the front porch fixed though, it was all she could talk about last spring. Without the burden, even if she wouldn’t call it that, of raising a child or putting them through college, she had the money to fix the creaky wood. It was replaced now by pretty and perfect panes that showed no signs of the little feet dragged over it for eighteen years. No one would know how many times you fell forward on the second step and scraped your knees or busted a lip. No one could tell the stains of ice cream you and.. you and friends had dropped on the light wood every summer. It had all been erased with the renovation, and you shouldn't feel so odd about it, but you do.

Your eyes are blurring from how long you are staring, unmoving as your skin runs as cold as the air outside, rushing through the memories. But the swing of the front door has your attention, your mother waltzing out quickly, her head twisting around as she searches for you. Your fingers twist your ignition off, hand reaching to your passenger for the purple duffle bag.

Your name is called shrilly from behind the fogged glass, and your eyes fall closed for a moment, begging the sky above for the patience you need as you step into the Jackson air. “Hi Mom,” you greet, one arm reaching over your head to stretch with a large yawn as your mother rushes over, fists clenching and then unclenching as if she was in thought.

She wouldn’t hug you. She never did. But when she blinks at you and says, “You should change out of those clothes, take a shower,” you know she’s doing the closest thing she can to an actual sign of comfort.

You nod, not willing to start an argument in the first few minutes of your trip. Your eyes fall to your sweater and soft pants. “Yea— yea.”

Your mother gives a tight lipped smile, nodding her head toward the door like you needed any assistance on how to reach the entrance, scurrying in front of you.

You follow silently, catching glances at your neighbor's houses. You almost pause, almost tilt your chin back and try to find the powder blue house you couldn’t get out of your mind, but you fight against the impulse, following your speeding mother to the door as she ushers you into the warmth of the entryway.

“Where’s dad?” you ask, freezing hands tingled as you step into the dense house, enveloped in the heat with a sigh. Now it smelt like cinnamon and cedar, the candles of the season for your mother. Your hands rubbed over your sweater, trying to rid the awful feeling of such a quick temperature change.

“Kitchen,” your mother hummed, tugging the duffle bag from your arms, frowning as she moved to the zipper to inspect what was inside. Nosy as ever. “You’re fine with staying in your old room?”

“Yea?”

“Just never know with you,” she sighed, clambering up the stairs before you could question what she meant. Your feet turn to the hallway, trailing your hand over the soft white wall, counting each picture that lines the wall. Only one included you and your parents, the biggest frame in the hallway.

You remember the day it was taken. Your freshman winter break, a knitted hat pressed over your head, face scrunched in a laugh as your father slapped his hand on your back, hot chocolate running down your fingers and into the white sweater you wore. Your mother looked horrified, a half smile on her face as she leaned over your father. It was one of the only moments you remember fondly all together. A moment you truly felt that warm feeling people described about family. Your fingers had been burning with the spilled drink, and your father couldn’t stop laughing at the sight, even as your mother scolded the both of you.

Maybe you remember it so fondly because of who took it. Joel had, and you can almost bear the chuckle of his now, beating against your ears as you meet the tile of your kitchen.

Your father is hovering over a kitchen counter, frowning and squinting at one of the cookbooks that’s almost as old as you. “Hi,” you interrupt his focus.

His head turns, and crow's feet crowd the space at the corner of his eyes as he smiles. “Hi kid,” his fingers release the cookbook, meeting your steps into the kitchen, which they must have just changed the lightbulb in— because the soft yellow was much too bright now— and wraps you into a hug.

“You made it in one piece! I'm surprised!” he teases, and you nod as you wiggle free from his embrace, stepping back. “sure did,” you throw a thumbs up, “why are you looking at that?” You nod to the book.

Your dad’s eyes flit away from yours, and you swear there’s a sense of nervousness as he shrugs. “Looking for something to make with the soup. Think I’m just gonna grab crackers and cheese though.”

“Soup?” you groan.

“Uh uh, no whining,” he shook his head. “only make food the people who live here like.”

You throw a hand over your chest and hiss, “Ouch?”

You smile when he rolls his eyes. “Your mom has people coming over,” he refuses to meet your eyes again. “She wanted soup.”

“What?” you pause, “someone’s coming over?”

Before your dad can answer, your mom is in the room again, sniffling. “The window up there is still letting in cold air,” she speaks to your dad, ignoring your frown. “They’re going to be here any minute.”

“Who?” you ask again, this time a little louder. You don’t like the feeling in your stomach, the rock that feels lodged there, pulling down your posture, making your hands shaky.

Your mother doesn’t answer you, instead pursing her lips. “fix your sweater. or take a shower like I asked.”

Your hands reach to do so without a second thought, and you find yourself cursing your instincts to listen. Maybe she would have answered you if you refused.

A ring at the doorbell has all three of your heads turning. Your father turns away when you try and meet your gaze, going back to the stove to stir the soup.

You follow on your mother’s heels as she goes down the hallway. “Why didn’t you tell me someone was coming over? I just got here! what if I wanted to sleep?”

“You can go up to your room if you want. I planned this before you decided to finally come home for once.”

Ouch.

“What do you mean you planned it?”

Your mother looked your way for a second, her chin over her shoulder as she frowned at all of your questions. “They're alone all of the time,” she called your name like a scold, “we let them spend holidays with us. that includes the preparations.”

You want to rip your hair out as you groan, more high pitched as she reaches the door, “who?”

The doorknob turns with your mother’s hand, and the air is knocked from your chest as she grins at the open door.

“Joel! Ellie!” she greets.

You truly think your knees are going to give in at that very moment, the rush of frozen air against your cheeks the only presence keeping your body held up as you stumble away from your mother.

You look at Joel first, you see his greying hair, you see the beard he was now sporting, gruff as his lips quirk up, wrinkles more pronounced against his cheeks and forehead as it dips down to greet your mother respectfully, the person behind him eyes stay glued to the floor. “Evenin’ ”

You don’t want to look at her. You don’t want to let your chest exhale any air as her chin tilts up, and her eyes find the space behind your mother’s head. Find you.

She looks at you, and you feel every single stepping stone you had made these past years, every damn lock you’d formed over your chest, every stone you had leveled to your ankles to keep your head out of the clouds, your feet on the ground— all collapse. They crumble right at your toes, and your chest heaves with the very first flash of that fern green.

If you were a stronger person you would have turned your cheek, maybe even turned right around and back to the kitchen, the safe haven of your father’s quiet stirring. But you weren’t. You were weak, and that weakness manifested in the eyes you couldn’t pull away from Ellie.

Was she breathing? You couldn't see her chest moving. Were you breathing?

“Ellie,” Joel called, snapping the staring contest to a sudden stop. Your name follows, “Hey, ‘s nice seeing you.”

You try to smile, try to be polite like your mother taught you. It comes off a little shaky when you say, “Nice to see you too sir.”

“Naw it hasn’t been that long has it? You can still call me Joel.”

“Right,” you giggle, hoping no one notices how forced it sounds. “Nice to see you, Joel.”

Ellie’s eyes move back to you, looking nearly shocked by your voice. It reminds you how long it has been. How the last time she had heard you speak it was your raw throat in the corner of that graduation party, cheeks wet with tears. Was that all she could remember you by? You shake off the thought, not willing to dip into the memory of what happened after you told Ellie you were leaving that night.

“Why don’t you two catch up while Joel helps me and Dad with dinner?” your mother suggests.

God no. Please no, no, no.

“Uh—” she turned to look at Joel. Did she cut her hair? When did she cut her hair? It was shaggy against her cheek, jaggedly cut and settling longer in the back. “Oh uh— yeah. yea.” she nods.

When her lips part, you have to force yourself to swallow, have to will yourself to focus on the words she’s actually saying. On how her tone is shaky and nervous, on how it’s just a twinge deeper. Maybe that was just you making things up. Maybe it was just the cold.

Your mother nods at you, a cold hand on your arm as she passes, giving it a quick and tight squeeze. It wasn’t a comfort, more a warning as she flashed her eyes at you.

A swallow forced its way down your throat as you planted your feet into the ground, unwilling to move as you watched your mother escape down the hallway with Joel. Did they know what happened? Was she warning you to be nice?

Surely they didn’t know. You hadn’t told your parents what your break up was like. What that night was like. Your move was a death wish on the relationship anyway, so when you told your parents it was a mutual split… neither of them questioned it. They weren’t as privy to that hollow look in your eyes the following days, or how you holed yourself up in a sweatshirt that wasn’t yours. It was easy to lie to them.

But Ellie.. had Ellie lied? Would you blame her if she hadn’t? If you were the villain in the story she told, would you even really have any right to fight that? You’d tasted the poison on your tongue the last time you saw her, and felt it spill into the summer air with every word. You felt the sting of salt twinged angry tears on your cheeks, the heat of your touch on a bewildered Ellie. You press nails into your palms before the memory plays.

Maybe you *had* been the villain.

“Hey.”

You find your attention following the low word, finding the pair of lips they fell from. Ellie’s cheeks were red, and you began to count the freckles on the bridge of her nose. Her eyes almost met yours though, so you turned to watch how she stuffed her hands quickly in the loose dark jeans she wore, rocking back on the feet, the white shoelace stuck under the tip of the shoe.

“You still don’t tie the knots tight enough?” was all you could say. Not hi, not the most basic respect of eye contact. Just.. that.

“What?” Ellie asked, a noise that almost sounded like a chuckle coming next.

“Your shoe, it’s untied.” You offer, straightening your trembling hand to point down to where she stepped on the lace. She used to always tie her laces too loose.

“Oh,” Ellie’s head dips down, and you focus on the new haircut again. She had to have done it herself, the ends that fall just below the middle of her neck are slightly uneven and jostled, slightly grown out from what you suspect was the original cut.

“Yea.”

You didn’t know what to say other than that, and the silence hung heavy in the air as you both opened your mouths, only to simultaneously close them again.

“Girls,” the sweet, saving voice of your father flew down the tension thick hallway. “Soup’s ready.”

“Cool— or uh— yea. Coming,” you stutter, not bothering to catch Ellie’s gaze, avoiding the nausea it would bring.

“Just a second,” Ellie says after, pausing before she adds, “jus’ have to tie my shoe.”

Your eyes flick closed for a second, an odd mixture of that nausea and something a bit more delicate in your stomach, one that almost makes you want to pull the frown from your lips to instead quirk up.

You pad down to the kitchen, the soft muttering of your mother and Joel at the small wooden table, your mother’s favorite patterned ceramic bowls on top of soft flower table mats pushed in front of them. They have a Christmas magazine in front of them, and Joel is rubbing his fingers over his chin as your mother prattles on.

“You think you could make that?”

“Oh, I mean— that’s an awful lot just to have done in two weeks, but I could try..”

“Stop hounding the man,” your dad warns playfully, setting down two more bowls at the table, two chairs pulled out next to each other.

There was no way you would survive this dinner.

Ellie’s footsteps find the tile of the kitchen soon thereafter, and you avoid taking a seat, eyes stuck on the suddenly very interesting change of kitchen window curtains. “I have to um— use the bathroom,” the other girl said, jutting a thumb toward the hallway again.

Joel huffs quietly, giving a look to Ellie that you can’t quite discern through the quick glances you offer that way every few seconds. “Soup’s gonna get cold.”

“Really have to piss dude.”

“Ellie!” Joel scolds, eyes wide as he looks between the girl in the doorway and your mother at the table.

“I know- I know, sorry, I’ll be quick,” Ellie stumbles over her words, something she always did in conversations she didn’t know how to handle, shoes squeaking against the floor as she finds the bathroom door again.

“I think—” you clear your throat, looking toward your mom. “I’m gonna take you up on the offer of shower and sleeping.”

As always, you’re choosing the easy way out, avoiding the situation as a whole. “I’m sorry, sir—uh— Joel.”

Your head dips respectfully, a sign of apology for escaping out of the dinner, but Joel and your father are both shaking their heads. “Did one hell of a drive, go sleep,” Joel waves you off.

“Goodnight,” your father adds, one of his soft smiles aimed at you, speaking for both himself and your mother who remains silent and staring at you.

“Night,” you whisper, turning out of the kitchen and to your right, but instead of heading to the stairs, you press your back to the wall, squeezing your eyes closed as you try to find a most average breathing pattern.

1…2…3…4, fuck.. what were you supposed to count? 5 things you can see.. 4 you can touch.. 3 you can...

“Well that was… awkward.. a bit of a mess,” your mother’s voice flows through the white wall, and your cheek turns, as if pressing your ear to the paint would actually make the echoed voices clearer.

“Of course it is, it’s been three years, it'll take time, that’s all.” your father muttered, and you can imagine perfectly how his eyebrows furrowed at your mom’s comment.

“Dunno,” Joel, ever the gossip, sighed. “I don’t think those two ended off well.”

You hear your name in the mix as your father continues, “She said she left on good terms.”

“Maybe. But, shit, I’d never seen Ellie like that, how she was that summer.”

Your head fell back on the wall, a bottom lip sucked between your teeth as you breathe through your nose. You shouldn’t listen to this.

“That girl.. she doesn’t like to talk,” Joel muttered, pausing— maybe to take a sip of soup.

“Her either,” your dad offers on your behalf.

“But,” Joel added, “tchh, she was a wreck. Yellin’ at me more and ignoring Jesse at the door. Had to force her to go shower, like a little kid— drag her out her room to eat,” Joel added.

Your fingers pressed into the bottom of your sweater, and you try to rid your eyes of the pictures it painted of a messy Ellie, of swollen eyes and glossy green irises. You tried not to imagine Ellie with red cheeks and tangled hair, ignoring Joel’s pleas to leave her dark bedroom. You’d loved that bedroom, but the thought of her pressed under the grey comforter, blank expression as she ignored your— her friends, well it ruins that nostalgic illusion.

“Wouldn’t tell me why, but.. when I found out your girl had left.. ahh, well I knew. We never talked about it, but it was a rough few weeks.”

The bathroom door clicks open, and Ellie’s eyes look a little red as she moves past you in the hallway.

“They were teenagers then,” your mother concluded quietly. “I’m sure they’re over it.”

Sometime during your eavesdropping, your hand found the space over your chest on your sweater instead of the bottom, fingertips pressing over your ribs as if the pressure pain could remove the ache that settled much lower from the words.

Ellie’s flushed face met your gaze for a moment, and yes— her eyes definitely were a bit red. She didn’t smile at you, but she didn’t scowl either. You would have rathered that, than the unreadable eyes she gives you, a soft pause as her eyelashes flutter, probably confused why you were pressed against the wall.

You scurry past her, shoulders knocking as you do. A quick shock spreads down your shoulder and arm, fist clenching and then loosening. Ellie disappeared into the kitchen as you found the stairs.

This was going to be a very, very long holiday season.

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#𖤐 . ─┈ tis the damn season #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x fem reader

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ohimsummer · 11 months

Text

✎ . . .❝ KEEP IT ON, ANGEL…❞

— satosugu x fem! reader, shoko might be a little into you, pet names (princess, angel) bratty reader, slightly suggestive near the end, outfit is inspired by something like this

summary; you're all getting ready to go out, but both your boyfriends' clothes make a better outfit than your own

Shoko steadily eyes your silhouette behind the partition, watches as you eventually step out in your third outfit of the night. A pout is still etched onto your glossed lips, and she giggles at the exasperated stomp of your bare foot against the floor. Heaving out a sigh, you look over your figure in the nearby floor-to-ceiling mirror. This fit looks nice, cute even…but it's just not good enough. Your last handfuls of attire have all been missing something, a certain razzle-dazzle that left them lackluster and needing a little something more.

“Well?”, Shoko asks, though the answer is evident from your adorable frown and stiff pose. “This one a winner?”

You hum in response, throwing your hands on your hips and lolling your head to the side in a desperate attempt to make the outfit work. Maybe a different angle will make it look better is your logic. Alas, it has the same problem as your previous attempts.

You groan. “I don’t like it.”

“Looks cute, though.” You’re too busy drowning out the bickering from the bathroom and wondering where this outfit went wrong to notice how her eyes trace over your body.

What you do notice, however, is Suguru’s shirt laying idly on the bed.

It’s a neatly ironed black tee decorated with warm-coloured graphics on the front of some band Suguru liked to listen to. Shoko follows your gaze to the shirt, but remains quiet. She decides to see where you might go with this.

You glance towards the bathroom. In the mirror, you catch a sneak peak of Suguru’s irritated expression as he fails to tune out Satoru’s nonsensical rambling. Both are too busy sabotaging eachother to spot you prancing over to the bed where their clothes are laid out. Next to Suguru’s shirt is Gojo’s black, leather jacket, lustrous and extremely expensive. The gears are starting to turn in your head. Shoko, intrigued, watches you strip down at record speed. The faster you can get their clothes on, the easier it’ll be for you to keep them. You slide Suguru’s oversized shirt over your body, fabric still a little warm even though it's been a minute since he ironed it. The shirt hangs loosely around your waist; you’ll fix that in a second. Satoru’s jacket is cool and heavy on your skin, but it looks incredible with the shirt.

“Need a hand?” Your attention draws to the couch, where Shoko balances a few safety pins between her fingers.

It takes a couple minutes to pin the shirt how you like, and you both listen for the end of the boys' bickering to make sure they don't catch the two little partners in crime. In the end, the final result looks amazing. Geto's tee now fits you like a glove, and the thigh high stiletto boots really bring the whole thing together. All that’s left is a matching handbag and accessories, so off you disappear into the closet. You’re so engrossed in the hunt for that one name-brand handbag from Satoru, that the pair of heavy footsteps approaching you from behind fall on deaf ears.

“Hey.” Suguru says to you, appearing over your now frozen form kneeled on the carpet. “My shirt. Where is it?”

Satoru chimes in from his spot leant against the doorframe. “And hand over my jacket, would ya, princess?”

You cross your arms underneath your chest, plumping your tits up just enough to get them to stare, and jut your lips out in a pout as you glare up at them both. “But I’m wearing them.”

“...And who authorized that idea?”, Geto asks in that ever-so-tolerant tone of his.

“They looked abandoned to me," You quip back. “And the shirt’s wrinkled now, anyway." You turn your attention back to the shelf of handbags. "It needs re-ironing, so might as well just find somethin' else.”

Satoru interrupts before Suguru can argue any further. “Okay. And my jacket?”

“Mine now.” You reply in a sing-songy tease, topped off with the same shit-eating grin Satoru's always giving everyone else, and blink your lashes up at them. “Besides, I look great as fuck! You two aren’t gonna make me take it off now when I look so-," You tuck a hand under your chin and breathe out," ravishing, are you?”

Gojo chuckles and starts to fire back, “We’re gonna end up taking it off you later anyw-“

“Fine.” Suguru quickly cuts him off. “Fine. Keep it on, angel.”

Even a deaf person could hear the absolutely treacherous tone laced beneath the pet name. But if there’s one thing you and Satoru are good at, it is waning a poor Suguru Geto’s patience.

“Thank you, Suguru, so kind, so generous.” You purr his name and give Geto those puppy dog eyes that make him wanna choke you on his fingers. And you’re sure he will, later when Shoko has long gone home.

“Hmph.” Gojo pouts over Geto’s shoulder. “No wonder she’s so spoiled when you give her everything she wants.”

And just like that, you’re coming for Gojo as well, pouting and whining at him, “You gonna take your jacket back from me, Satoru?”

Geto turns to look at him and, underneath two pairs of eyes, suddenly the great Satoru Gojo finds the closet wall extremely interesting. He really wanted to wear that jacket out to the festival tonight, but when you whine his name like that…

His thoughts are interrupted as Suguru gives a huff and shrugs out of his grasp, turning to exit the closet. “No wonder she’s so spoiled.”

“Shut up, Suguru.” You can hear Geto and Shoko laughing at him in the next room. And, now that their attention has moved elsewhere, you can focus on finding that pesky, elusive handbag.

#satosugu x reader #x reader #jjk x reader #suguru x reader #satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk drabble #geto x reader #gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #satoru gojo x reader

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luveline · 8 months

Note

hi hello!! I want to say I absolutely adore and love your writing and have for a few years now! I have a steve request (could fit with kbd or not!) (also so self indulgent lol) where reader grew up with a very emotionally distant father and was determined to make her own family so different than the one she grew up with, and sees steve be so kind and loving towards their children and is so happy her kids won’t feel how she does with her own father and thanks him for being wonderful 🫶🏽 sorry so long and personal but i know you would write this so beautifully!!

thank u for requesting! dad!steve x mom!reader, 1.4k

“What do you want to get your sister for her birthday?”

You can barely hear his whispering, let alone Avery’s response. “We want…” she’s lisping and listing, unfamiliar with her own voice even as her vocabulary grows, “to get her… um, a big teddy bear.”

“How big?” Steve whispers back.

You hold Bethie’s face above your shoulder, your arm around her, the other patting the base of her spine. She’s getting heavy, but she’s only little. She can barely speak, only mumble nonsense into your neck as she fights sleep. “Shh, shh,” you shush her gently. “It’s okay, Bethie.”

Across the landing, Avery and Steve lay on their stomachs in her room. There’s a pad of paper between them and crayons spilled rainbow across the carpet. Steve draws without looking up; he’s a brilliant artist even now he doesn’t have time for it. Avery chokes a purple crayon with each of her fingers and draws a huge jagged line under his work. “What’s that?” he asks.

“Lightning. I think we should get her a big teddy, like, big as your hands.”

“That’s not big in terms of teddy bear, honey.”

“Oh.”

“What’s the lightning for?”

“The cloud.”

“You want me to draw some puddles?”

She thinks Steve being able to draw things near immediately is as magical as the television, and the radio. Something seemingly out of nothing. She doesn’t understand how often he’d practise, didn’t see his box of sketchbooks, the hundreds of iterations of your face, your hands, the trees lining the street on the way to your first apartment, her baby wrinkles.

“What else should we get for Beth?”

“Um.” Avery pauses, lifting her face to Steve’s. An odd feeling swells when he immediately looks up from the paper pad to meet her eyes. He smiles at her. She smiles back. “Why are we smiling?” she asks eventually.

“I’m just looking at you. You know you’re beautiful.”

“I don’t know!” she says, immediately flustered.

“Yes, you do. You’re sooo pretty, like mommy.” He reaches over to chuck her chin gently with his knuckle. “That’s why I’m smiling. Looking at you makes me happy.”

“Looking at you makes me happy.”

His chin tucks in gently. “It’s ‘cos we love each other.”

“Yes,” Avery says, like she’d suggested it herself. “That’s what it is.”

You feel Beth fall asleep though you can’t see her. She curls into you all warm and soft, her pyjamas and her hair tickling you, her soft snores damp against your shoulder. You press a kiss to her arm.

Laid to bed for the night, you dot another kiss onto Beth’s smooth forehead and turn out her light, shutting the door carefully so as not to make any noise.

Avery and Steve are still on the floor, though she’s climbed over the pad to hug him. They look funny, both on their tummies, Steve’s long legs out. He’s sort of curling around her, his nose to the side of her neck, his one arm up on an elbow and the other behind her back.

“I love you too,” he’s saying.

“A lot.”

“Yeah, Avery. So much they don’t have a word for it.”

“It’s a big feeling.”

“Love is the biggest feeling.”

She laughs as he starts to tip onto his side. One moment she’s on her belly and the next he’s pulled her onto his chest, totally corkscrewed her and then put her right. “Let’s stay here forever,” he says.

You’re pretty sure your father would’ve had a heart attack rather than confess he liked you. It’s a weird thing to know you’re loved —to be told you’re loved without being told, to expect it because you should— but to feel the absence of it more strongly. Your father never would’ve laid down with you like that. He wouldn’t have kissed you behind the ear, or talked about big feelings without hesitation. He never looked after you like that.

“Your back will hurt.”

“Avery, my back always hurts.”

“Not good. You can go to the hospital.”

“I don’t think I’ll go to hospital, I’ll,” —he feels you watching, and smiles at you as he tips his head to see you— “be okay without that. Maybe I’ll go to the doctor at his office instead.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He rubs her back. “Thanks, honey.”

Later, after you’ve knelt down to draw with them for a while and Avery’s succumbed to the childhood pain of feeling sleepy, you’re sliding clean towels onto a shelf in the linen closet with Steve beside you choosing new sheets for the next two (or four depending on how busy things get) weeks. It’s not work that needs talking, and after a few years together you start to run out of things to say, but you decide you’ll fill it anyway.

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“You’re a good dad.”

Steve kisses your cheek, squeezing your arm as he bundles the new linens to his chest and passes back out of the closet. You follow him out.

“Hey, I mean it,” you say.

Steve looks at you in surprise. “Oh, sorry. That’s the miscommunication thing, right? I was supposed to say something, not just kiss you.”

“No, I don’t need you to acknowledge me, Steve.” You laugh softly, “Just need you to know. You’re such a good dad. It means a lot to me that you’re so good because I know they can feel it. The girls.” You clear your throat.

You hadn’t been expecting to get teary. Heat burns behind your eyes unbidden.

Steve’s eyebrows jump. “You’re upset?”

“It’s such a relief to know you’re you.”

And Steve must understand how you feel about it, his parents stunningly absent for the majority of his teen years and even now. You don’t see them much, but when you do you’re greeted with handshakes and strange looks, like this is a blip in both of your lives. Like somehow your children will grow themselves and Steve can be the man they wanted him to be. He knows what it’s like to be alone and not enough. To miss the mark. To physically feel the space between you and the person who should love you most.

He puts the linens on the end of the bed before standing in front of you. Your cheek is warm in his hand when he gives it a brief squeeze, your shoulder less so, your hand similarly cold. He threads your fingers together for a playful yank. “What are you thinking about?” he asks seriously.

“Avery’s never gonna question if you love her.”

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

“You’re very emotionally mature.”

“Wouldn’t say that.”

“Me neither.”

He looks tired tonight, hair falling into his eyes, t-shirt ill-fitting, rumpled at the hem, and his voice slightly scratchy as he murmurs, “Loving you makes me who I am, maybe you should be thanking yourself.” His lips twitch. “I should’ve said that at our wedding.”

“You should’ve, I bet your mom would’ve cried.”

“I doubt it.”

He opens his arms invitingly, and you fall into one another for a quick, tight hug. You’d been expecting a longer embrace with a sweeter touch, but you know why he’s doing it this way: he doesn’t want to cry before bed, and the wound of your absent parents is a weary one. It’s taken too much time and energy from you both already.

“Love you,” he says.

You weasel your head back to take him in, savouring the stretch of his hands behind your shoulders and his genuine smile. “Biggest feeling in the world,” you say.

“Liked that one?” he asks, encouraging your face back into his neck. “You gave me a family,” he adds, quieter, “I don’t really get how there are parents walking around who aren’t obsessed with their kids. I love them so much I can’t breathe sometimes. All i want is to make sure they know that… I was looking at Avery earlier and I couldn’t believe she was mine.”

“Steve.”

“I think she has my two moles on her cheek. That’s crazy.”

“What?”

You and Steve creep into her bedroom to investigate. Sleeping, she’s his carbon copy, and sure enough, on her right cheek just adjacent to her lips, she has two small moles just like him.

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dgcarpets · 8 days

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cinhomi · 1 year

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Can you write about a female reader giving Han a blowjob under a desk and then ALMOST getting caught by changbin? (Make han spit in her mouth too😍) I’ve read something like this before and I can’t find it anymore so can you write it? 😭 I will literally love you forever if u write this😭💕

I debated with myself for a few days about writing this or not because I actually don't take requests but... you asked nicely and the idea is hot, so I'll elaborate a bit, yeah? (spoiler: I got carried away) maybe try to pone it differently next time!! 🩷 you could start with "imagine giving Han a blowjob under a desk and..." nonetheless, thank you for thinking of me when asking for this delicious scenario, I had a lot of fun!! now you have to love me forever :)

He can't stop thinking about it... from the way creamy toothpaste was all around your lips this morning, how they delicately rested on your mug to sip your preferred beverage for breakfast, how they pronounced his name and pursed to kiss him when he left to work... Jisung does try to wrap a hand around his cock when he's finally alone but he specifically needs your mouth to do it today.

And it was so frustrating having people continuously asking him if he was alright all morning, with his face flushed, sweating, adjusting his clothes every two seconds, and the day goes on and he can't stop the patting and tugging between his legs as if to shoo away his rock hard erection.

So he just... calls you, in the end. He doesn't know what else to do. And he kind of fools you into thinking that he's his not so uncommon soft and pleading kind of needy self, making you feel guilty for not being there with him, taking care of the little problem that poor clueless you caused, so you decide to help. There's nothing more important than your sweet boyfriend, right? It's just that when you get there and knock on the door of his studio he rushes to forcefully grab your arm to pull you onto him, while he shuts the door with a hard slam. Where is the cutie you left behind the phone few minutes before?

Jisung reaches your hand and directs it to his crotch, making you feel him, guiding you in a up-and-down motion as he hisses and buries his face in the crook of your neck.

"Where the fuck were you?" he whispers near your ear, hot breath making your skin rise with goosebumps, light grazing of his teeth accompanying his smooth tongue, cause of the gasp coming from you. He starts to move against your hand, grinding on it as you squeeze a little bit, fingers playing around there and tugging at his waistband.

"Sorry baby... I'm here to help now," you kiss his cheek and stop yourself from moaning when he returns his sharp gaze to you. "What do you need?" you ask him in a whisper.

"On your knees." and you start to go down, but he stops you and takes your chin to guide your head dowards the desk, "Under there, baby. Go under there."

It's a little tight and uncomfy at first, but when you adjust your knees on the fluffy carpet and he spreads his legs once sitted you magically fit perfectly. Jisung has his sweats lowered just enough for his hard, leaky lenght to be exposed, and your mouth waters at the sight, just like always. His breath is heavy and his eyes can't stay open for too long because your pretty face with the shadow of his cock across it could make him cum on the spot.

Jisung carefully spreads precum on his tip trying to not jump from how sensitive he is. For as much as he's excited, it's not enough to reach the base yet, so he detaches from the back of the expensive work chair and spits on himself, saliva lingering on his plump bottom lip, making it shine like when he wears gloss. You whimper. He notices.

He spits again, it lands on his dark bush and it slides down slowly. You shift in place to close your thighs as much as you can, afraid of your wetness seeping through your panties. Jisung notices that too. The gears in his head start to move... and his thought sounds just right. His light touch makes you lean against his hand as he delicately tucks some stray hair behind your ears, before slowly gripping the ones on your nape to pull you a bit closer, mere centimeters away from where he wanted you for hours.

With the other hand he makes his thumb travel over your lips, parting them until he's holding your jaw open, and without a warning his spit lands inside your mouth, making you flinch from the surprise. When you look at him again his tongue is still lolled out and he's smiling. Oh, you're clenching. And it just comes so natural to swallow it, the action making him hiss and throw his head back while he chuckles, "I'm so glad that you're as disgusting as me."

That's how you spend a good amount of time taking his saliva in your mouth, patienty waiting for him to gather some to give to you, being scolded because you let it slide from the corners of your mouth, having to collect some more because Jisung smears it all over your face. He did spurt a bit while watching you like this, doing something so gross... but he called you for a reason after all, no?

And god, the way the shiny trasparent fluid overflows and drips on the floor when you take his cock, some going down him too staining his sweats, he has to hold the armrests to gather enough strenght to not immediately cum and possibly appear like a poor virgin boy. Who needs lube when you can spit into your girlfriend's mouth? This is his new obsession, this might be the best blowjob of his life.

Your hands grip his clothed thighs, holding the fabric of his pants as you try to take him whole, nose nuzzling against his wet hair as you feel the tip hitting the back of your throat. He loves the way you squeeze around him when you choke, Jisung fucking loves how you swirl your tongue, how you hold him up and leave long licks from his balls to his frenulum where you pay sweet attention. Little things that his hand can't do.

"God you're so fucking perfect baby," he wipes some tears from your eyes before one hand gently closes around your throat and the other leaves little pats at the top of your head, "keep going like that, yeah..."

The sound of his notification makes him groan in annoyance. Jisung leaves you without his touch and you whine around him lacking the opportunity to pout, vibrations making him moan, but he still hushes you while he tries to adjust to the brightness of the screen.

His eyes winden. A hand is back on top of your head and if you're happy at first, you get confused a second after when you feel him push you away.

"Babe we gotta stop, Bin is coming here."

But you don't move. He tries to make you, but you look up at him with your big beautiful eyes and you feel him twitch.

"He's down the fucking isle- for- for fuck's sake move from- here!" he tries to keep his voice in a whisper but it cracks with a moan when you start sucking him harder. He's close, he's so fucking close. The idea of getting caught by one of his best friends is making you dizzy... so risky and wrong and embarassing but oh if it's tempting, letting Changbin see how you're so pretty for Jisung and take all of him even if you gag and your knees burn... and he thinks the same. His belly starts to contract and his breath is frantic and panicked. What if Changbin enters now? What if he sees him about to cum on the chair everyone uses? Jisung's cheeks become so hot and red and he can imagine his head exploding before he feels your smooth fingers trace his abs with featherlight touches, then taking all of him once again.

He lets out a strangled moan, knuckles whitening from how hard he's holding the backrest above his head, thick white cum all down your throat and you start to swallow even before him finishing his release.

The doorknob clicks. His cock is still inside your mouth but he's quick to reach for the jacket near him and place it on his lap, moving a bit closer to the desk to cover you too.

"Ji? Are you alright?" Changbin's voice isn't as loud as always, probably worried about his friend that was grumpy and easily irritable all day, and obviously physically unwell.

Jisung is still coming down from his high and it doesn't help that you keep on licking him clean, making him jolt and soak in sweat.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm alright Bin, 's all good." he tries to ressure him to make him leave faster.

"You're... so red Ji, and you're sweating and panting, I don't think you're alright..." he approaches, and Jisung adjusts the jacket before an idea comes to mind.

"Can you do me a favor?" he asks, Changbin immediately listening and ready to help his friend, "Can you go ask if I can leave early? And maybe ask for a fever thermometer too, I might have a flu, to be honest."

Changbin nods, finally satisfied with his sincerity. If only he knew the real reason why he's like this...

"You have to stop being a workaholic Ji, I say it because I care!"

"Bin just... I know. Thank you. Can you please go now?"

"And y/n? Where did she go?"

Oh, shit.

"She went to the bathroom."

There's a bit of tension that fills the air for a few seconds, while you try to stay as silent as possible, not really resisting the urge to kiss Jisung's tip.

"Oh, okay. Hope I'll be able to say goodbye later, haven't seen her in a while." and with that Changbin exits the room without a suspect.

You two make sure he's far enaugh before you come out of the crampled space and he adjusts his pants to let you sit on his lap. Laughter spontaneously comes from both of you and he hugs you tight, your chest flat on his. Jisung kisses you and he can still feel a bit of saltiness in your mouth, but he doesn't care.

"It was,"

"So hot." he finishes. "Risky. We never did something so risky..." his hands wander until they find the soft curves of your ass and rest there. You nod and clutch your arms around his neck and get comfy, as close as possible.

"Thank you, I really needed this baby." another tender kiss is set on your forehead now, while he caresses your back, "But I guess I'll have to punish you at home, hm? Bin could have seen us, and you didn't listen to me. Bad girl, bad bad girl..." dirty smile spreading on his lips, plans of what he wants to do to you playing in his head nonstop like a creative flow.

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cosmosis · 1 year

Text

MOVED TO @seratopia

miles morales x reader - purple

miles takes you out to get slushies

You’re in the zone, notebooks and textbooks laid out, pens scattered everywhere, music from your headphones blasting in your headphones. You’re studying in your dorm, nodding your head to the music while you scratch down a few notes on paper.

Midterms are coming up, and you’re studying hard. Students have been clawing their way through classes like zombies, grunting and sighing to themselves like half-dead corpses.

It’s already dark outside, the only source of light in your room being the technicolor laptop screen in front of you. You hear a beeping and occasional crash outside, but that’s just New York.

At first, you don’t hear the knocking on your window, too endorsed in your music to notice. It’s only when the knocking gets louder and faster that you pause your study session.

Hesitantly pulling down your headphones, you look towards your glass window. You recognize that black suit anywhere, the one that looks like he’s bleeding from his armpits.

It’s Miles.

You get up from your desk chair, flipping the lock on the window and pushing the glass pane all the way up. Like the thousands of times he’s done before, Miles crawls through your window, stepping onto the soft carpet of your dorm.

He’s been getting bigger, stronger, lately. Only shame of that is the fact that it’s harder for him to fit through your window.

Miles dusts himself off, and you spread your arms wide for a hug with a smile on your face. He practically lands into you, squeezing you tight and forcing the air out of your lungs. He’s so happy to see you.

He sighs into your hair.

“M’ glad you’ve been keeping your window locked.“

“You said you hated it yesterday.“

“Shhh....“

The two of you unclasp, and Miles tugs his mask off his face. He presses a kiss to your temple, shifting his gaze towards the array of study materials on your desk.

“Midterms?“

“Yep.“ You say, popping the “p.“

Miles ponders for a moment, peering from the bags under your eyes to the impossibly large stack of papers on your study space. Subconsciously, he kneads a hand into your side.

“Hey, you wanna go somewhere?“

“Miles, it’s 10 at night.“

“How bout’ the 7-Eleven down the street?“

“Mmmm....“

“I’ll keep you safe. You’re lookin’ at the one and only Spiderman.“ Miles says, gesturing to himself with a smirk.

You playfully roll your eyes. “Alright. I think I need a break anyway.”

“For real.“ Miles mutters.

Miles scouts your dorm room for a jacket, maybe some sweatpants. He usually leaves clothes at your dorm anyway. You throw a pair of grey sweatpants at his head, but he catches them in his fist. Over his suit, Miles throws on a jacket, slotting his legs through the sweatpants.

It’s cold out, so you throw on a jacket, putting on slippers over your fuzzy socks. Miles shoves his mask back on just so his identity is concealed. If anyone asks, Spiderman was just saving a person who got lost

“C’mere.“ Miles says, his arms already out near your window.

You gingerly rise up on your tip-toes, wrapping your arms around Miles’s neck. He slots one hand onto the lower curve of your back, and the other where your thighs and calves meet, carrying you in a somewhat twisted princess carry.

Miles carefully inches through your tiny apartment window, and you duck your head down to make sure you don’t hit it on the way out.

Your heart already pumping in your veins, Miles jumps out into the open air, one hand slinging the both of you through Brooklyn, the other slotted underneath your upper thighs to keep you from plummeting to the ground.

You never really admit it, but you love when Miles slings you both places. The wind in your face, Miles holding you close, the sounds of New York. You adore it.

It’s not very long before the ride ends, and Miles pulls lands in a very suspicious alleyway.

“I knew you were plotting against me all along.“ You joke, and he sets you down onto the concrete. He yanks his mask off, shoving it into his jacket pocket.

The florescent lights of the 7-Eleven glow a bright white, as if it were it’s own sun. Miles pulls the door open for you, such a gentleman. You step inside, and Miles gives a nod to the cashier.

“Ooh! Slushies.“ You say, staring at the almost hypnotizing swirl of neon colors in the tank. It’s so inviting, the perfect thing to have at 10pm.

Miles already helps himself, grabbing a cup and handing one to you. As you suspect, Miles gets the blue flavor, while you get the red cherry cola. You can hear the light pop and sizzle of the slush as it pours, making you all the more thirsty.

You take a sip, and you sigh in enjoyment.

“You want anything else?“ Miles asks, and you shake your head no. He guides you with a hand on your back to the cashier counter, and the man already starts typing in the order.

Miles reaches into both jacket pockets, but no avail.

“Shit, forgot my wallet.“

A.K.A, Miles doesn’t keep his wallet on him during patrol.

“All good man, on the house.“

“Thanks, man.“

You nod, and Miles reaches his arm past your head, pushing the door open in front you. The cold air of Brooklyn engulfs you, and you can nearly see your breath cloud up.

Slowly, the both of you talk, inching back towards the dark alleyway from before. On your tip-toes again, you press a chilled kiss to Miles’s chin.

“Thanks, Miles.“

“I didn’t even buy it.“ He chuckles, shamelessly pulling you into him after taking another sip of his slush.

One thing leads to another, and Miles starts kissing you, starting from your cheeks but eventually leading down to your lips. Simultaneously, he draws you in and holds his slush with the same hand, using the other to bury it in your hair.

Miles chuckles into your mouth; it’s fun to kiss when you taste like cherry cola. Miles is taken by surprise when you boldly prod your tongue into his mouth, a blush rising high onto his face. With the slight privacy of the alleyway, Miles feels brave enough prod and poke your lips with his teeth.

When you finally let go, Miles’s face is warm in contrast to the cold air, almost hot to the touch. It’s rare when you two ever truly swap spit, but Miles thinks its special when you do.

Its a bit silent for a moment after, but neither of you can stop smiling. Miles in particular can’t stop touching you all over.

A thought pops into your head.

You rummage through your pockets for your phone, switching it on and pressing the button to activate your flashlight.

“Miles, open your mouth.“

“Woah, babe, didn’t know you were into th-“ He jokes.

“Oh my gosh Miles, it’s not that.“

Miles chuckles. He loves poking at you. As he was told, he opens his mouth, and you point the flashlight at it. You start laughing to yourself, the light of the flash flickering everywhere.

“What? Is it my face?“

“No, look!“ You pull up the selfie mode on your phone, using the brightness of your phone to the best of it’s ability. You press your cheek to Miles, sticking your tongue out for the camera.

“It’s purple!“ You cackle, and Miles starts chuckling along with you.

There’s spots on Miles’s tongue that are deeper in blue, but still nonetheless a lavender color. You giggle, snapping a few photos.

“We should try again but with different colors.” Miles smirks, slyly resting his head against your temple.

You smirk. “Just tell me you wanna make out more, Miles.”

He shrugs, dropping an arm around your shoulders. “Hmm. Maybe.“

#miles morales #spiderman #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv #miles morales x you #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #fluff #making out #romance #reader insert #spiderman 1610B #atsv miles morales #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #cosmosis-writes ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

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blogport · 2 months

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EPOXYSHİNE - DRAGON+ (3)

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number1mingyustan · 9 months

Text

-Cuffing Season-

Your Call

boyfriend!mingyu x fem!reader

Warnings: established relationship, cursing, explicit smut, mutual masturbation (m+f), virtual sex, size kink, fingering (f.)

Summary: Even a thousand miles away you still have the same effects on him

Word Count: 1.8k

_______________________________________________

(a/n: i'm baaaack!! im so sorry for going MIA I was busy with school and now that I'm on break I've had literally no motivation to write but I've got a few more drafts I'm working on so expect me to be more active!)

The hotel door swings open and Mingyu walks through it, hand already pulling at the navy blue tie draped around his neck.

He undoes it with one hand before dropping it onto the carpeted hotel floor. He lets out a sigh of pure exhaustion and leans his back against the wall as his briefcase meets the floor.

He’s been in meetings all day and tired can’t even describe what he’s feeling right now. He’s away from you in Tokyo on a business trip and he’s miserable. His days prior to this were light, a meeting here and there and a couple of conventions. But today?

Back-to-back meetings with potential investors and clients have worn him out. He hasn’t even gotten the chance to call you yet today.

For the two weeks, he’s called you at least three times and you’ve texted back and forth every day. Now it’s nearing 1am and he hasn’t spoken to you at all.

He strips himself down to his boxers and lays down on top of the bed. He scrambles for his phone and immediately dials your number.

You pick up on the first ring. “Gyu?”

“Hi baby,” He rasps.

"Was beginning to think you forgot about me," you pout.

"Never, I was just swamped. I knew it was gonna be a heavy day, but I had literally no time to myself. I just now got back to the hotel," he sighs.

"You work so hard babe," You say. "I'm proud of you, but take it easy."

He nods. "It'll only be this bad for the next few days. I think it'll be worth it though, seems like a lot of good can come out of this for the company."

You shift on the bed, making yourself more comfortable as you lie down. "That's good Gyu, I would hope so."

The call goes silent for a few moments. You can hear each other breathing lightly into the phone as you lay in comfortable silence.

"I really miss you," Mingyu says, finally breaking the silence.

"I know, I miss you too." You sigh. "I've been miserable without you. I'm so lonely here, we should've gotten like a cat or something."

Mingyu lets out a breathy chuckle. "Noted. It'll be the first thing I do when I come home next week."

"Ugh," You groan dramatically. "Don't remind me I have to wait a whole week to see you again."

You can practically hear him smiling into the phone. "A week can go by fast, don't worry. I'll be home in no time."

"Good," You smile. "Bed's cold without you here."

"Must be," He yawns.

"Yeah Gyu, I hate it. Need you here now," Your voice is just above a whisper.

"What are you wearing?" He asks.

"You want me to tell you or show you?" You ask.

"Fuck," he whispers. "Show me."

Before he can even finish his thought, his phone is already ringing with an incoming Facetime call. He presses on the green button and sees you adjusting the camera.

Your phone is leaning against something to hold it up and you're sitting crisis cross applesauce on the bed in front of him. "Hi Gyu."

"Hi pretty girl," He smirks.

He rises to his feet, holding his phone in hand as he makes his way over to the desk in his room. He sits down, angling the camera so you can see him.

"Really missed you today," You tell him.

"Missed you too," He licks his lips. "You wearing my shirt?"

You nod. "Yeah. Still smells like you and everything."

You pick up the phone, angling it down so he can see the black and white striped button-up you have on. It fits you big, coming down mid-thigh.

He rasps. "Looks good on you baby."

"It does, doesn't it?" You smirk. "Think it might look better off though, right?"

Suddenly Mingyu isn't sleepy anymore.

"Shit baby, don't do this to me. You know I'm going crazy cuz I can't touch you," He groans, tilting his head back.

"This is the next best thing, no?" You lick your lips, allowing your hand to undo the first button.

"Damn right, it is," He agrees, slipping his hand into his boxers. To no one's surprise, he's already sprouting a semi at the mere thought of having phone sex with you.

It was only a matter of time before this happened anyway. You and Mingyu would rarely go this long without being intimate with one another.

"You didn't seriously call me in nothing but your underwear and expect me not to want you Gyu," You breathe out.

"Didn't do it on purpose sweetheart," He grins.

You've already undone half the buttons of his shirt. He can see your bra peaking through the open material. His cock twitches in anticipation.

He watches like a hawk as you slide the shirt off your shoulders and let it fall off your body entirely. "Shit," he whispers.

You're kneeling in front of the camera in nothing but your bra and underwear. It's a matching lavender set that he bought you a while back.

His eyes are glued to his screen as he watches you. You play with your bra straps, sliding them off your shoulders slowly to expose your breasts to him. He lets out a low groan and feels his cock harden more in his boxers.

He's suddenly feeling suffocated by the material on his hips. He sits up, sliding his underwear off and exposing his leaking cock. He lets out a breath of relief as he wraps his hand around his length.

He swipes his thumb across the tip, using the bit of precum to lubricate his cock. He licks his lips slowly, watching you as you slide your soaked underwear off your body.

"You're so big," you whisper. You're practically drooling at the sight of his cock.

He spits on his hand and starts pumping himself slowly. "Touch yourself f'r me."

You sit back on the bed and slide your hand down between your thighs. He watches as you spread your legs, revealing just how soaked you were for him.

You let out a shaky breath as your finger circles your clit.

"Need you so bad Gyu," You whine.

'i'm here baby-fuck," he groans.

He pumps his length faster, gliding his hand along his hard cock as he watches you touch yourself. He strokes himself, swiping his hand across the sensitive tip every time he pumps himself.

"Inside me.. need you inside me," You whimper. You slip two fingers into yourself slowly. You spread your legs wider to give him a better look. You push your fingers deeper, curling your digits against your inner walls.

"Soon baby, 'm all yours." He breathes out.

"You're so big Gyu, want you to fuck me so bad-ah," You pump your fingers deeper inside of yourself, desperately trying to coax yourself toward an orgasm.

"F-fuck y/n... keep talking," He drops his head back and groans. His muscles are bulging and his grip on his cock is tightening. "Missed your voice."

Even through the low quality of your phone camera, Mingyu was still in awe of you. His eyes were hyperfixated on the way your fingers disappear deep inside of you. His hips jerk up into his fist, warm blood pumping through his veins and making his limbs grow hot with arousal.

You lean back, fingers tightening around his bedsheets clumped in your hand as you push your hips into your hand. "Hah- my fingers are hardly big enough. Need your cock baby–" You whine.

You curl your fingers the same way he does when he touches you, pressing your fingertips against your inner walls. The sensation has your toes curling with a familiar feeling building up inside of you.

His dick twitches in his hand. Fuck, he's so reactive when it comes to you. No one can make him feel the way you do. He lets out a low groan, squeezing the head of his cock to stop himself from cumming when he hears you.

You continue pushing your hips into your hand with erratic movements. You look at your screen, watching your boyfriend strokes his cock. You watch the way his large hand glide along the length of his cock.

"Gyu–fuck, I'm cumming," You warn him.

Mingyu stops holding back the second the words pass your lips. He speeds up his hand, loosening his grip every so slightly. You cum together, bodies shuddering with sloppy movements as you drive yourselves into a state of euphoric pleasure.

He fights to keep his eyes open. They remain half lidded as he refuses to rip his eyes way from the scene before him. He's fixaed on the way your fingers dip into your pussy, coating them with more of your slick arousal as your body spasms and jerks.

He can feel the way his load spills all over his hand and onto his lower abs, but he can't take his eyes off of you. He missed being able to see you fall apart. It's one of his favorite views. Even a thousand miles away, he was still going to see it for himself.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you come down. You draw your slick fingers out of your hole slowly, licking your lips as you tap back into all of your senses.

He blinks slowly as he comes down from his high. He grabs a tissue from the desk, cleaning up the mess on his skin. He discards it and slouches against the chair.

"Can't believe we just did that," He lets out a breathy chuckle.

"Thought it would've happened sooner. Been expecting it since your first night away," You smirk.

Mingyu yawns and decides to call it a night. He grabs his phone, plugging it into the charger and pulling his boxers back up onto his waist.

"Sleepy?" You ask.

"Exhausted," He turns off the lights and climbs under the hotel bedsheets. "I feel a lot better though."

"Good," You say.

You mirror his actions, redressing yourself, turning off the lights, and plugging your phone into the charger before climbing under the bedsheets. You're yawning too, snuggling in the sheets with your boyfriend on the phone.

The call goes quiet and it doesn't take long before both of you are fast asleep.

Mingyu can't wait to go back home and sleep next to you properly. For now, FaceTime calls will have to do. But once he can have you in his arms again, his home will feel complete again.

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