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attapullman · 3 months

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Bob From Stats | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: College is a wild time, but absolutely nothing could prepare you for the quiet guy from Stats riding around campus as a cowboy. Or what a good kisser he is.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: f!reader, smut, 18+ ONLY as always, dry humping, alcohol, drunken party games, mentions of studying because that gives me PTSD, semi-exaggerated Greek life for theatrical reasons

A Note From Mo: Somehow my frat!Bob, drunk Bob is Rhett, and 7 minutes in heaven ideas all rolled into one fic - wild! Massive shoutout to everyone who listened to me talk about Stats Bob (who is now officially my #2 Bob, I love him) and for supporting this here lil blog. May you find a hobby-horse-wielding future WSO to sweep you off your feet too!

“I hate this. I’m going to quit school and become a stripper.”

Anna gives you a wry look. “That joke was only funny the first time you said it.”

“So you admit I’m funny!”

The two of you have been spread out in the library the majority of the evening. Textbooks, snacks, and highlighters littering the glossy dark wood. You’re on hour five of assignments and your brain is pounding against the front of your skull. Your other classes aren’t too bad, a bit time consuming, but Statistics is a foreign language. Thinking in probable numbers? It was one thing when the nice guy who sat behind you helped explain concepts, but Anna does not have quite the same analytical mind.

The sky outside is an inky black and the library is quiet except for your frustrated huffs. It’s Saturday night. The rest of campus is indulging in cheap beers at Barney’s, slinking along Greek Row, or enjoying tonight’s episode of Saturday Night Live. It’s time to get out of here and crawl into your soft bed. Torturing yourself with Stats homework will be just as painful on Sunday.

“If I buy us a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough, can we blow this off and hang out back at the dorms?” Anna is nodding before you’ve even finished. Stuffing notebooks into backpacks and capping pens low on ink, you’re strolling down the library stairs not even five minutes later.

As the balmy evening campus air hits your face, you already feel fresher. Campus is quiet, late enough that most people are settled into their Saturday night plans. As the two of you near Greek Row, there’s a comfortable silence as you appreciate the breeze through the trees and the warm glow of campus housing windows.

That is, until a low whoop rings out. An undercurrent of boisterous cheering and what sounds like stomping feet. You exchange eyes with your roommate. What is that?

As if summoned, a group comes galloping through the neatly trimmed cypress trees around the corner. They’re stomping their feet in a rhythm, hands held mid-air to imitate holding reigns. Drunken laughs ring out between cries of “Whoa!” and “Steady there, Lucky!” To round it off, the leader of their horse play (literally) is full-on cosplaying as a cowboy, his jeans tucked into boots and a Stetson perched atop his head.

Wait, is he holding a hobby horse? It’s been decades since you’ve seen those horse heads stuck on a stick. The stuffed felt Appaloosa head is reigned in the cowboy’s hands, where he pretends to spur it back into action.

Just when you think you’ve seen it all.

The group continues its way toward you and you’re equally secondhand embarrassed and amused. As they grow closer you recognize a few guys from the Pi Kapp house and wave. But it’s Anna who makes the most shocking discovery when Mr. Cowboy tilts his brim up.

"Is that Bob from Stats?"

It takes a second to look past the brown felt hat and the hobby horse he's taking for a spin, but that's definitely the same pink-cheeked Bob Floyd who has lent you a pencil all semester.

“Howdy, ladies.” He tips his hat to you, all toothy grin and droopy drunk eyes. "Can I offer you a ride?"

You stare open-mouthed. Shocked. That slow rancher drawl is new. The unbridled confidence is new. Actually, the entire getup is new. For nine weeks you’ve seen him in the same trucker hat and sweatshirt combo while going over homework answers together. What is going on?

He’s clearly in the middle of his house party crawl, bright blue eyes half open behind his metal frames. Just as gorgeous as ever as a tendril of sandy hair curls against his forehead. Normally your reaction to him is tender, a puppy dog crush. But this wild, inebriated version of him? You’re hot under the collar.

“You think there’s room on your horse?” Ever since that first Stats class he’s made your brain feel like it’s on RedBull. The way he noticed you missing a writing utensil and offering you his extra. His kind smile when you get a homework answer completely wrong. Anna hasn’t noticed your crush, but it feels obvious with the way you can barely keep eye contact with him yet are unable to look away. Especially with that stupid cowboy hat on.

He bites his lip, considering your response, and his buddies all razz him as he drawls out, “There will be if we squeeze in.”

The wink makes your mouth dry.

Someone from the back of the group complains of the cold and the group prepares their steeds to head back to Pi Kapp. Anna explains you’re headed back to the dorms, tone deaf to the sexual tension, and Bob nods with his brow furrowed.

“Another time then.” His white tshirt practically glows in the moonlight. “Have a good night, chickadees. Get home safe!”

With another tip of his Stetson to you, Bob Floyd gallops away toward another keg.

You’re sprinting across campus, cursing how late your meeting with your advisor went. There was ten minutes to get across campus and he had spent four of those questioning whether you really needed another semester of French. You make it into the lecture hall with a minute to spare, finding your preferred spot in the lower rows where you can actually see the board. Right in front of Bob.

“What? No cowboy hat for class?” His cheeks flame red, the hope you’ve forgotten about his Saturday antics lost. He looks like himself today, his signature trucker cap keeping the hair off his face. Those friendly ultramarine eyes shyly focusing on his notebook because god forbid he makes eye contact after you’ve seen him gallop across campus on a fake horse.

He rubs the back of his neck over his soft-looking crewneck, an awkward smile playing on his lips. “It’s at the cleaners.”

You give him an amused grin before settling yourself into one of the classically uncomfortable lecture seats. Anna waves to you from where she’s rushing in, historically always late. The professor is shuffling notes at the podium as she collapses into the seat next to you, nodding her head in greeting to you and to Bob. She raises her eyebrows to you, a “remember when Bob was dressed as a cowboy” gesture, and your lips twist happily.

“Alright, class, who’s ready to talk probability?” The collective groans and hollers mark the start of lecture. You flip open your notebook and start digging around for a writing instrument in your bag. Like usual, you seem to be missing a pen or pencil when you need one most.

A tap on your shoulder. You turn and lock eyes with the frat boy-turned-cowboy with the shy smile. He holds out a pencil to you. Taking it sheepishly, you mouth a thank you and turn back to lecture. After nine weeks it shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but every week he’s given you a pencil since you whispered shoot! a little too loud on Week 1.

Risking a quick glance back at him, engrossed in the Empirical Law of Averages while he twirls his pencil, you’re not sure you can survive the rest of the semester.

By the end of the Stats lecture on Thursday, you have one brain cell to your name and seven pages of notes. What a brutal class. Midterms were quickly approaching and not a single professor had any mercy. As you pack up your stuff - including the borrowed pencil that would promptly disappear before next class - you make a study plan with Anna for that evening. She brings the chips, you’ll supply the vodka.

“Are you two not hitting the houses tonight?” He looks uncomfortable having interrupted the two of you.

Bob shifts his backpack to his other shoulder, adjusting the collar of his navy blue sweatshirt. Other than when he’s kindly exchanged homework answers before class - or been drunkenly galloping across campus - the two of you don’t speak much. The odd quip here and there, but overall the two of you exist in pencil-sharing quiet. “Everyone’s having pre-midterm parties before buckling down to study.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!” You look at Anna encouragingly. As needed as a vodka-infused study session was, one night out couldn’t hurt. And it was Thursday. No classes tomorrow meant you had three days to buckle down and attempt to understand anything you’ve learned this semester.

She eyes you warily, but agrees that Greek Row sounds like a better option than highlighting textbooks. Bob flashes you his timid smile beneath the brim of his cap. “It’ll be a fun night. Maybe I’ll see you? If not, have a good weekend!”

As he starts to walk out, a feeling takes over you. “Bob?” You watch him slow down and turn, wide blue eyes watching you from behind those unconventionally cute glasses. “You’ll be at the Pi Kapp house, yeah?” He nods. “Cool. See you around!”

Despite standing next to it the entire conversation, neither of you notice the pencil sitting on the desk, left behind as you head out for your respective weekends.

“What did you say?” You’re practically yelling to be heard over the EDM that Sigma Chi is blaring. They’ve turned their house into a rave with glow sticks, body paint, and music so loud your eardrums must be burst. The beer is warm, your arm has supernaturally purple paint smeared across it, and Anna has been unsuccessfully telling you a story for ten minutes.

Huffing, she grabs your arm and drags you toward the entrance, tossing your cups onto a random hallway table where a heated makeout session is taking place. They move out of the way just enough so the two of you can slip out of the old colonial house and out into the cool night. The ringing in your ears subsides slowly as you lean against the columns of the front porch.

“House number three? Also sucked. Three strikes and you’re out? Can we go home?” Anna grabs your wrist and pouts. She wanted movie night with vodka and a pizza from Pietro’s. You wanted to blow off steam.

But Alpha Sig had mostly been freshman and Phi Delt, while not a terrible party, had the most smarmy men on campus. The bleeding eardrums of Sigma Chi was preferable to pushing off men in polos just to grab another drink. You just wanted a semi-decently flavored alcoholic beverage - maybe three - while chatting with some friends. You weren’t asking for much.

Allowing Anna to drag you in the direction of the dorms, ready to admit defeat, you slow to a stop seeing the bricked entrance to Pi Kappa Phi. Bob’s fraternity. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

It takes a little convincing, but soon you’re in the warmly lit foyer of the Pi Kapp house. The vibe is more relaxed than Sigma Chi, with a keg in the corner, an array of liquor bottles in the kitchen, and hip-hop softly filling the house. You’re impressed they’ve even gone the extra mile with multi-colored string lights across every surface to brighten up the otherwise dark house.

“Yooooo, how’s it going?” A drunken loaf of snapback and Deep Eddy envelopes you in a hug. It’s Tyler, one of your freshman seminar PK friends. Exchanging pleasantries - the best you can with someone that far gone - he drags you further into the house. Miscellaneous groups of Greek and geed litter the hallways. Anna sees her friends from Delta Gamma and ditches you, promising to get home safe. Tyler continues on his mission to god knows where.

At least he’s considerate enough to stop in the kitchen so you can grab a whiskey lemonade to sip.

Eventually you’re spat into a sitting room of sorts, groups crowding the ring of sofas while drunkenly jeering at the game. You set yourself on the arm of one, trying to make sense of the theatrics. The latest victim laughs out a “Truth!” before everyone giggles wickedly. Are they playing truth or dare?

Your eyes gloss over the group, trying to figure out who else you know. A few PK’s you recognize, a girl who smiles but looks unfamiliar, and…a cowboy hat that is a dead giveaway.

Standing up and walking around the group, you tap him on the shoulder. The biggest blue eyes meet yours, a surprised smile splitting his face.

“You made it!” That deep drawl is back and that tingle reappears on your spine. Bob jumps up from the couch, beer bottle dwarfed in his hand, and comes to stand with you. “You having a good night?”

Ironically, your night is much better now that you’ve found him. He’s back in his cowboy gear, a worn denim shirt tucked into his jeans and those same cowboy boots scuff against the hardwood. You’re tempted to steal the felt hat from his head just so he looks a little bit more like Bob from Stats.

Squeezing your eyes shut, letting the alcohol be an excuse, you succumb to the obvious question. “I need to know - what’s with the…cowboy?” You gesture up and down, drawing a chuckle from him.

He blushes under the felt brim. “You know I have a slight accent, yeah?” You attempt to stifle your laugh as he incidentally talks in a thicker accent. “When I was a pledge they started calling me cowboy. Saw the hat while I was in town one week, ended up leaning into the joke.”

“And the hobby horse?”

He beckons you closer, bringing his lips to your ear. “Stolen from my little sister over summer break.”

There’s that wink again making your knees weak. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and takes another sip from his beer. Despite the party raging around you, nothing else seems to exist past him asking about your night and if you want another drink. You’re wrapped in the warmth of his words, itching to snuggle into his broad chest.

The spell is broken when “Cowboy Bob!” rings out from the crowd. The entire room is turned to you two. “Truth or dare, man?”

In the background of your intimate conversation with Bob, the truths and dares have reached full raunchiness. People have been stripped of clothes and dirty secrets. A bead of sweat gathers at Bob’s collar, aware that neither option is safe.

His worried gaze flits to you, as if you hold the correct answer, before tipping his hat back and exhaling, “Dare?”

It’s gutsy, but if there’s one thing you’re learning about the quiet guy from Stats, he’s full of surprises. The crowd bubbles with excitement, anticipating what dare will be dealt out. Next to you, the wannabe cowboy looks more annoyed than anything. He was enjoying talking to you not in a classroom and with a little liquid courage.

An evil smile crosses the dare-dealer’s face. He knows Bob and isn’t blind to what’s going on. He’s gonna help his buddy out on this one.

His arm stretches out and he points (with the red plastic cup in his hand) to the coat closet at the end of the hall. “Hmmmmm, I dare you to, hmm, play Seven Minutes in Heaven with…” It’s no surprise when the cup-turned-pointer lands on you.

Ice water down your back wouldn’t be as panic inducing. It’s hard to tell who swallows harder, you or Cowboy Bob. Every instinct is telling you to run, but that little voice in the back of your head wins out. As Bob starts to tell you it’s okay, they’re joking, you don’t have to, you grab his thick wrist and give him a nervous smile. You don’t even care what the punishment is for not completing a dare, this stupid drunken game has given you an opportunity.

The dealer of the dare follows the two of you down the hallway, leading the whoops and wolf whistles. Bob’s cheeks flame scarlet in the low light. You keep your chin high and eyes forward. He can definitely feel the way you’re trembling around his wrist.

Whether in anxiety or excitement it’s hard to tell.

The inside of the closet is dark, the faint light under the door casting only the faintest of shadows. Your heart is pounding, blood pulsing through your ears. Bob rubs his lips together nervously. It’s all you can do to not run your tongue along them.

“We don’t have to do anything, we can just talk.” The way he prioritizes your comfort makes heat pool between your legs. The brim of his hat is as far back as it can go, his eyes tracing the lines of your face as he gauges your emotions. He’s welcome to figure them out, you’re unsure of them yourself.

His large, warm hand rubs your forearm comfortingly, your skin too cold without his touch. You’re suffocating under his sweat-and-bergamot scent, citrusy and warm.

You bite the bullet. “What if I want to?”

His breath stops. Fingers find yours in the dark, interlocking on either side of your hips. Eyes you know are the deepest blue lock onto your gaze, a million emotions passing behind his irises. Face descending upon the space between you, tentatively showing his intentions. You meet him in the middle, caution out the window.

The kiss is gentle, puzzle pieces slotting together for the first time. He tastes like malt sugar and peppermint. Mouth warm and soft, enveloping you fully in his comfort. It’s even better than what you’ve imagined for the past nine weeks.

Bob begins to pull away, ever the gentleman. Your hand finds his collar, holding him in place. “Not yet, we still have, like, five and a half minutes.”

Despite the low light, his smile lights up the closet.

His lips return to yours in a rush, swallowing your mouth in a passionate heat. The press of his body to yours is delicious. Hands previously at your side meet your hips, lightly squeezing as you moan into his mouth. You reach up and hold the back of his neck, bringing him even closer as your lips toy with the tiniest bit of stubble along his jaw.

“You know,” he starts, holding the moan in the back of his throat. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since September.”

You pull back momentarily, a crinkle upon your brow. “Bob, we didn’t start Stats until January.”

He kisses the confusion from your face, his hands wrapping further around your body. “And you looked very pretty in that green dress at the homecoming barbecue.”

Bless your love of school spirit and free food. “Why didn’t you? Kiss me?”

“I don’t normally make a habit of kissing girls I don’t know. And clearly it takes an entire fraternity for me to get you alone.” The way his chuckle bounces against your skin has you squirming. Your schoolgirl crush on him wasn’t one-sided, and suddenly you’re hot for teacher.

You capture him in another kiss, tongue searching the seam of his lips for entrance. He obliges immediately, groaning as you explore his taste. Four hands roam skin, finding purchase in anything and everything. Your body has a mind of its own as you press against him, chest heaving with your passion. The right shift of fabric on fabric reveals that he’s equally as affected by the chemistry.

Reluctantly, he pulls away once more, threading his fingers across the back of your neck. Takes a moment to capture his breath as he sees the lust in your eyes. A deep breath. “As much as I like you, I don’t want to do anything if you’re drunk.”

Soft fingers follow the line of his arm to where it wraps around your waist. How is he this impossibly sweet? Thoughtful, respectful, and looking hot as sin with swollen lips. It’s unfair.

“I promise I’m not.” You stroke the back of his hand. “Please kiss me?”

His large hands unwrap from your waist and travel down, shifting behind your legs and pulling you up, resting your back against the wall. You tangle your legs around his waist as best you can in the small space, relishing his firm body pressed deliciously close, warm and solid. Kisses smeared across lips and jaws as noises crescendo. You’re panting as you trail down to his impossibly long neck, desperate to cover it in affection.

You’ve barely explored the expanse of skin when the door flies open, the boisterous party sounds flooding in. Reality strikes like a slap across the face. The truth-or-dare ringleader takes you in - legs wrapped around Bob and hands creeping toward your ass - and whoops in delight. Who knew Cowboy Bob had it in him!

“Time’s up, lovebirds!” He crows and reaches forward to slug Bob lightly on the shoulder.

Not skipping a beat, Bob shoves his friend back and throws up his middle finger. “Fuck off, Milburn.”

The closet door slams shut, blanketing you again in the intimacy of the moment. You’re looking at him with unsure eyes and he’s praying the moment hasn’t been ruined. He’s waited seven calendar months for this opportunity and his fingers are so close to enjoying the plump squeeze of your ass.

“We can go back to the party if you want?” Your voice is so small, nervous outside of those bold seven minutes. Tentative breaths exist between you.

In lieu of an answer, he bows his head to give you a searing yet gentle kiss.

That cramped coat closet suddenly is an inferno, his tongue slipping inside your mouth and groaning at the burning sweetness of your taste. Your hands grip his shoulders as you fight for dominance, fingers tangling in denim. Hips brushing together, still clinging to the idea of this being innocent.

An innocence immediately lost when Bob strikes up the courage and palms your ass. Soft and pliable and perfect to squeeze in his palms. He remembers the exact day you came to class in the tightest jeans known to man (laundry day) and the way he had dug his pencil in his palm to avoid a semi as your curved ass met the lecture seat. Something unavoidable now as you squirm against him, moaning your pleasure against the pulse in his neck.

Nothing has ever felt as good as rubbing against Bob Floyd’s clothed bulge. One glance down and you’re dizzy with arousal. Rutting yourself against him as best you can with your limited mobility, sloppy kisses exchanged as the two of you can barely keep your mouths closed. It feels so good, too good.

Lost in the moment, one hand slips below the hem of your skirt, warm skin on skin. Any noise from outside the closet dims to a hum. Two hearts beating rapidly as desire fully consumes, directing lips to too hot exposed skin. You murmur your need in his ear. You don’t care where you are, you need him.

Bob tucks a finger under your thong, feeling the slick coating your folds. The whine that leaves him is desperate and gruff. He groans against your throat. “Shit, I don’t have a condom.”

Undeterred, your lip catches between your teeth, core muscles contracting as you grind your hips forward. “Doesn’t mean I can’t go for a ride.”

He’s immediately on board, teasing you briefly before extricating his hand to support you better against the wall. His hands practically swallow your ass, flooding you with lust. You thrust your chest against him, desperate to touch every spot on his handsome body as your hips begin to grind.

His hands are sweltering as they trail down, effortlessly clutching the back of your thighs to give you leverage. Your clit finds friction against his jeans and your mouth hangs open as you buck frantically into him.

“Look at you move, cowgirl,” he breathes out, infatuated. The nickname spurrs you on, whimpering against his lips.

One hand clutching his bicep, holding on for desperate life, while the other snakes its way atop the damned cowboy hat that’s stayed on the entire encounter. Gripping the top of it and holding fast as you ride his clothed bulge with everything you’ve got. Denim and lace against your clit, rubbing deliciously as your brain fuzzes. His hot mouth focused at the hinge of your jaw, sucking soft bruises into the skin; moaning when you brush him just right.

“I’m close,” you whisper against his cheek. Time has stood still, but it’s embarrassing how close he’s gotten you to orgasm with just his clothed cock and strong hands.

He ruts his hips forward, meeting your thrusts in heavenly synchronization. You’re panting as the pressure on your clit catapults you, so close to the ultimate prize. Whispers of you can do it, cowgirl, cum for me, doing so good riding me, just a bit more, cowgirl fizzle your senses.

“O-oh!”

It’s intense, the blinding pleasure coursing through your body. Prolonged by the thick bulge still rutting against you, ready to burst itself. Lips tickling your ear as he praises you. You want to live in this perfect moment of bliss. A moment only perfected when Bob’s fingers grip too hard and his hips stutter up into yours. His all-consuming orgasm only muffled by the skin of your shoulder as he rides it out.

The rhythmic slowing of your breaths is all you can focus on. You breathe in, he breathes out. Small smiles and a blush barely visible in the low light.

Delicately, like he knows you might break, he releases you back to the ground; taking his time to smooth down your skirt and straight out your top. Your own hands reach up to his chest, fixing the fabric that had bunched up in your passion. Adjusting his fogged glasses to look into his beautiful eyes.

It doesn’t matter how much you clean up, one look at you two and anyone would comment you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet.

With one final kiss to your lips, you feel something land on your head. The brown cowboy hat with the rip along the edge. Cowboy Bob showing off his cowgirl.

You tentatively open the closet door, eyes adjusting to the normal light. Painfully aware of the wet splotch on the obvious front of his jeans, Bob holds your body against him as a human shield. The party is still going strong - your antics have not interrupted anything - and you slip toward the front door without notice. Well…mostly, as a few wolf whistles reach your ears.

“It’s not that late, you want to go back to mine? I’m just off Thornton. It’s quiet since everyone is here.” His eyes are so hopeful in the dark night. So desperate for you to say yes. For you to be his cowgirl beyond tonight.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him close, careful to avoid the spot where your bodily fluids have drenched his jeans. “I’m in.” Your smile is blinding. “We have about nine weeks of Stats to make up.”

The brick is uncomfortable behind your back, but it’s hard to care when his lips feel so good. Broad shoulders shielding you from the hallway, trucker hat turned around and glasses in his pocket so there’s not an inch between your faces. Agreeing to meet outside before lecture was such a good idea.

Despite spending most of the time between Thursday night and Tuesday afternoon in Bob’s apartment trying every position in the book (with teasing hollers from his Pi Kapp roommates adding to the soundtrack) you can’t help but steal these five minutes. He looks so cute, to not kiss him would be a crime.

Bob squeezes your hips, lips trailing down your jaw. “What’s on your mind, cowgirl?”

“I’m trying very hard to convince myself that we pay a lot of money to attend this school and should go learn about statistics. Even though I really only want to head back to my dorm and see how sturdy that loft bed is.”

From where his nose traces your ear, a guttural whine leaves him. “You can’t say something like that and expect me to go to class.”

You pull back to look at him, fingers tickling the close cropped hair at his neck. God, he makes it so hard to want to be responsible.

“Let’s make a deal, okay? We’ll go to class, learn, and tonight you come over and for every study guide question you get right I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Sound good?” He’s practically panting as he smothers your mouth in another kiss. He’s really good at Stats. A steady stream of students files past Bob’s back, a sign that class is about to start.

You press another kiss to his lips. “Let’s go or we’ll miss out on seats. Plus I need to dig through my bag for a pencil.”

“Do you think you actually have one today?” He smirks, amused. The eighteen pencils he’s lent you say otherwise.

Your cheeks are hot under where he kisses them. “Uh…if I don’t can I borrow one? If you have one, that is.”

He lets out a soft chuckle and holds you closer, rubbing your noses softly.

“You do realize I’ve been buying pencils all semester just to give to you, right?”

Turning his cap around - insides fully melted - you know you’re in this rodeo for the long run.

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andvys · 9 months

Text

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 6

Warnings: angst, mentions of heartbreak, alcohol consumption

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler

Summary: Steve finally gets the answer to a question that has been haunting him for days.

Word count: 6k+

A/N: @belokhvostikova remember the ask you sent me about the idea with the denim jacket? I had to include it in this chapter, so thank you hehe <;3

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Steve’s phone kept ringing all day, since the early morning hours. He doesn’t know if it was her or his mom, he didn’t bother to get up and check. At some point, the doorbell rang twice, he didn’t get up to open it either. He wanted to be left alone. He didn’t want to see anyone except for you. The thought of you just made him cry harder and made him feel more pathetic about himself – he kept reminding himself that it was him who fucked it all up.

He never felt such self hatred for himself the way he does now. All day, he laid in bed thinking about you and all the things that happened that led him here, getting drunk at a bar he used to hate, wallowing in self pity while he knocks back one drink after the other after throwing his fake ID on the counter.

How will he keep going?

Steve downs his fourth drink of the night and slides the empty glass over to the bartender, asking for another one.

The man gives him a look of concern, eying Steve for a moment.

“Just.. please,” Steve mumbles.

The bartender sighs, shaking his head, he mumbles something under his breath but still, he picks up the bottle and pours the whiskey into the glass, “you’re getting water after this one, son.”

“I have water at home,” Steve says. He reaches for the glass and slides it back towards himself. He leans his elbow on the counter and looks around the mostly empty room. Some rock song is playing in the background, one he doesn’t recognize. There’s a heavy cloud of smoke in the corner of the room where two men are sitting, laughing at some jokes that probably aren’t funny as they smoke their cigarettes and drink their beer.

The door opens and in walks the guy that is probably one of the most irritating people at Hawkins High – to him, at least. Steve bites back a groan when their eyes lock. He turns back around, avoiding eye contact. From the corner of his eye, he sees him walking towards the bar.

“Hey Tony.”

Steve lifts his head a little to see the Bartender smiling.

“Hey Ed, how’s it going?”

Eddie drums his fingers against the wooden counter, he looks around the room, “good, uh, have you seen my notebook? I’ve been looking for it everywhere but I can’t find it – I even cleaned out my van, can you believe it?”

Tony chuckles, “was about time you cleaned out that thing, boy.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, snorting, “yeah, well I’m busy.”

“With what?”

Eddie pretends to think as he raises his brows and looks up at the ceiling, “well, working my ass off so I don’t have to repeat senior year again, I recently found a good tutor,” Eddie smirks, “got myself a muse to help me write the song texts,” Eddie wiggles his brows, making the older man laugh, “working on a new campaign. Oh and of course, how could I forget, comforting the broken hearted – you know, just the usual,” he shrugs as his eyes flicker over to Steve for a moment.

“What a busy man you are, Eddie,” Tony chuckles, shaking his head. He throws the towel on the counter, “I’ll take a look in the back.”

“Thanks man,” Eddie smiles, watching him disappear in the hallways. He turns his head to look at Steve.

“What is King Steve doing at the Hideout?”

Steve turns to face him and Eddie raises his brows in surprise, “damn, you look like shit, man.” Eddie says. Taking in the puffy eyes and the dark circles beneath them, he almost feels bad for him. His hair looks messy, not as perfectly done the way it always is.

“Get lost, freak.”

“Always the douchebag,” Eddie mumbles, rolling his eyes.

Steve turns away, he raises the glass to his lips and takes a sip, swallowing the bitterness.

“Are you pre drinking for the dance tomorrow or are you just drowning your sorrows in alcohol because you finally realized what a piece of shit you are?” Eddie asks. Not being able to hold back.

Steve frowns, he turns to face him. There is something in Eddie’s eyes that Steve can’t read.

“What the hell is your problem?” He asks. Not understanding the anger that is directed at him. They never liked each other but they never attacked each other either. Steve avoided him, he never had the jock’s back when they bullied him but he never really did anything about it either.

Eddie looks at him for a moment. He opens his mouth to speak but decides against it. He sighs and looks away but Steve keeps staring at him. A weird feeling takes over him when he looks down at the jacket Eddie is wearing. His heart stops and his face pales.

It’s that jacket. The one that has been in your room all week. It’s just a normal dark denim jacket, it could just be a similar one, he tells himself. But the Metallica pin on the sleeve is the exact same one that he had seen on the jacket in your room.

Eddie smells like cigarettes and weed, the cologne that he can smell even from a distance is the same one that he had smelled on you. Realization floods through him in a cold wave.

Eddie Munson is the stoner Billy had talked about?

Eddie Munson is the guy you have been seeing?

How did you even meet him?

You never even talked to him when you were still with him.

“You got lucky, Ed,” Tony says, holding up Eddie’s notebook, “you gotta take better care of your things.”

Eddie chuckles, feeling relief. He takes the notebook and sighs, “I know, I know,” he mumbles and steps back, “I’ll see you on Tuesday, Tony.”

“Tell your old man to come by too.”

“Yes sir,” Eddie salutes, grinning at the older man, he takes another look at Steve, who stares into blank space as he holds the half empty glass in his hand. Sighing, he turns around and leaves.

Steve snaps out of his thoughts, he reaches for the wallet in his back pocket and picks out a fifty dollar bill. He throws it on the counter and puts his wallet back into place, he grabs his jacket and makes his way out of the bar, following Eddie.

“Hey! This is too much, kid!”

“Keep the change,” Steve mumbles before he stumbles out into the cold. He clumsily puts on his jacket. The cold air hits him harshly and he suddenly feels much tipsier than he did while he was in there.

Eddie stands by his van, the notebook is tucked under his arm, his hand is cupped over the cigarette that is between his lips as he lights it up.

“Hey!” Steve calls out to him. He stumbles through the snow. He blinks, trying to get rid of the blurriness in his eyes.

Eddie turns around to face him, a curious look residing on his face. He blows the smoke into the other direction and leans against his van.

“What do you want, Harrington?”

Steve stops in front of him. The wind feels harsh on his skin, not even the thick jacket does anything to shield him from the cold. How Eddie is able to walk around with a denim jacket and not freeze to death makes him wonder.

“W-Where did you get that jacket?” He asks. Not knowing what else to ask now that he stands in front of him.

Eddie stares at him with a serious look on his face, eyeing him up and down. “Why?” He asks. “You wanna buy it?”

Steve furrows his brows, he shakes his head, “no?”

“Why do you wanna know?”

Steve’s mind is a little hazy, he feels more drunk than tipsy, right now.

“You’re the stoner.”

Eddie raises his brows, his dark eyes flash with amusement and confusion, “the stoner?” He chuckles and takes another drag from his cigarette. “They usually call me a drug dealer but sure, I’m also a stoner – sometimes.”

Steve shakes his head. “A-Are you with y/n?”

Eddie tilts his head. “With y/n?”

“Are you hooking up with her?” Steve asks, angrily.

A knowing look takes over Eddie’s expression. He pulls back and sighs in annoyance.

“Not that it’s any of your business but no, I don’t take advantage of vulnerable girls. And not everything is about sex,” he glares at him. He feels irritated by Steve and by the way he looks so confused about this revelation.

“Then what is it about?” He slurs. Throwing his hands up.

“Jesus, you’re a real douchebag. Is that all you think about? Sex?” He asks. “Can’t two people that like each other just be friends?”

The look on his face tells him no. For some reason, Steve can’t comprehend that thought. How can Eddie be your friend and not want you? He always wanted you. Ever since you were little kids. He always loved you. He always wanted you to be his – until he didn’t.

Eddie shakes his head and rolls his eyes, he throws the cigarette into the snow and walks away. The sound of Steve’s keys jingling makes him halt in his tracks though. He closes his eyes, annoyance rushes through him. He doesn’t like Steve, he never did and after what he did to you, he started liking him even less but you are his friend and you still care about him. He takes a deep breath and turns around.

“Put those keys away, dude.”

“Huh?” Steve mumbles. Looking up in confusion.

“You’re not driving home like that,” he says. Pointing to his drunken state, he watches Steve trip over a small pile of snow. Maybe if things were different, he would’ve laughed at him. “Get in the van, I’ll drive you home.”

Steve looks at his car, knowing he is in no state to drive himself but he refuses to get into a car with Eddie Munson.

“I’ll walk.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that you let the freak drive you home.”

It’s not about that, it’s about you.

Steve looks at Eddie, who stares at him in annoyance.

“Get in the car, dude. She’d kick my ass if she knew that I let you drive home like this.”

Steve looks down for a moment. He takes a few deep breaths and nods. He puts the keys back in his pocket and opens the door, careful not to slip on the icy ground, he looks down and gets into the van.

Eddie jumps into the driver's seat and closes the door. He throws the notebook on the windshield and puts the key into the ignition, startling Steve with the loud music when he starts the car. He scrunches his face up and turns down the volume, “shit, my bad.”

Steve’s heart is pumping in his chest, sighing, he opts to look out the window after putting the seatbelt on.

“Your music sucks.”

“The audacity you have, Harrington,” Eddie scoffs. “Here I am being nice, inviting you into my van and you dare to insult the best music that there is!” He says dramatically.

Eddie hits the buttons, turning on the radio instead, Heroes by David Bowie starts playing, “here, just for you, King Steve.” He snorts. Not knowing that this will turn out to be a bad idea. Steve tenses up when he hears the song but Eddie doesn’t notice, he is too focused on the street as he backs out of the parking spot.

The song takes him back to last year, back to you.

“If you had to give us – our relationship a song, which one would it be?” You asked him as you sat on his lap.

“A Song?" He asked, chuckling.

You nodded with a smile on your face as you looked through your new polaroid pictures that you have taken with him in the snow. He leaned his chin on your shoulder and tightened his grip on your waist.

“Uh– probably, Heroes.”

“By David Bowie?”

“Yeah.”

You nodded, humming. For a moment, it was silent between the two of you, you placed the polaroids back on the table and turned to face him.

“Isn’t it sad though?”

Steve shrugged, not thinking as deeply as you did.

“He sings,” you cleared your throat and looked at him shyly. “And you, you can be mean,

and I, I'll drink all the time. 'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact. Yes we're lovers, and that is that. Though nothing will keep us together. We could steal time just for one day. We can be heroes for ever and ever. What d'you say?”

Steve was smiling at you, his heart was fluttering in his chest and you, you were blushing by the time you were done singing.

He poked your waist and leaned in to kiss your cheek, giving you one of his rare soft moments. “Exactly, he sings ‘we’re lovers’.”

“You are not listening to the rest of the song, Steve!”

“Then keep going.”

“No,” you giggled.

“Please,” he whispered, pouting. “I love your voice.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully. You kissed his cheek and began to sing again, clearly loving the sweet moment between the two of you when he watched you with soft eyes. He cleared his throat and picked you up, laughing at the squeal that fell from your lips, he leaned in to steal a kiss before he placed your feet on the ground. He grabbed your hairbrush from your desk and held it up to his lips.

“I, I will be king and you, you will be queen.” He sang.

You giggled and walked backwards as he began to walk you towards your bed.

“Though nothing will drive them away. We can be Heroes, just for one day.” He furrowed his brows as he tried to remember the rest of the lyrics. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you back against him, “and we kissed, as though nothing could fall.”

“You forgot the rest of the lyrics–” he cut you off with his lips on yours, kissing you passionately. He pulled your body so close against his, he could feel your heartbeat.

Now he feels his heart breaking in his chest.

Maybe it’s the ache in his chest, maybe it’s the alcohol in his system or maybe it’s just a combination of both that makes him break down in Eddie Munson’s van. Startling the man who was bobbing his head to the music until he heard Steve’s quiet sob. Stopping at the red light, he furrows his brows and looks over at Steve.

“Uh– you good?” He asks. He feels a little stupid to ask him that, clearly, Steve is feeling anything but good. He taps his fingers against the steering wheel and presses his lips together. How does he comfort a man that he doesn’t even like?

Steve cries softly, the shame isn’t there yet, right now, he doesn’t care that he is crying in front of Eddie who could tell everyone that King Steve broke down in his car while listening to David Bowie.

“Need a tissue?” Eddie asks even though he knows he doesn’t have any in his van.

Steve just shakes his head, clearly wanting to be left alone.

Eddie nods to himself, taking a deep breath, he sighs. Eddie knows why he is crying, it doesn’t take him long to figure it out. The moment he saw him getting drunk at the Hideout, he just knew.

He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the drive over to Steve’s house. The music and Steve’s soft cries sound through the van. A part of Eddie pities Steve, the other part doesn’t – after all, it’s all his own fault.

He pulls up into Steve’s driveway, still remembering the way to his house from the last party he threw back in august when he had first talked to you. He stops the car and turns down the music a little.

“We’re here.”

Steve nods. He wipes the tears away and he reaches for the door handle but he doesn’t leave, not yet. His eyes fall on the note lying on the floor, it must’ve slipped out from his notebook. He instantly recognizes your handwriting and his heart drops a little when he realizes that you are writing them for someone else now. It’s not affectionate or romantic, the note only says ‘good luck on the test today. Can’t wait for the milkshakes you promised!’ Next to a smiley.

“I miss her.”

Eddie didn’t expect to hear those words from him. He leans back in his seat.

“I-I miss her so much,” he whispers. “I-I don’t know what to do without her. I want her back.”

“You have a girlfriend, man. You left y/n for her,” Eddie mumbles. “Do you even know what you want?”

Steve feels the bile rising in his throat. He feels sick.

“I do now, b-but it’s too late.”

Eddie glances at him. The look of sadness and the tears are genuine and so are his words but there isn’t anything that he could say that could make Steve feel better. He doesn’t deserve you, you are too good for him and you have suffered enough to give him another chance to break you again.

“I don’t know what you wanna hear, dude. You broke her heart and you did it in such a fucked up way too, there’s no coming back from that.”

Steve isn’t sure about what he wanted to hear but it’s definitely not that.

“Just leave her alone, you’re only making things worse,” Eddie sighs as he thinks about you. “Go home, Steve.”

Steve sniffles, he opens the door and nods.

“And don’t ruin the night for her tomorrow.”

Steve’s eyes widen, he looks at him through the tears. “She's coming?”

Eddie nods, “yeah, her friends convinced her to come.” He can see the look in Steve’s eyes, it’s the same one he sees in your eyes. He loves you, which makes everything so much more confusing. Why did he leave you for someone else when he loves you so much?

Steve blinks. He looks down for a moment, staring at the note that makes his heart ache. “Oh okay,” he whispers. “T-Thanks for driving me home.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, this is the most kindness he had ever shown to him.

“Don’t mention it,” he mumbles. He narrows his eyes at him. Steve doesn’t move yet. The look on his face tells him that he wants to say more.

“Spit it out, dude.”

Steve looks up. Tears continue to brim in his eyes, the words are strangled in his throat. He takes a few deep breaths as he tries to stay calm.

“T-Take care of her?”

Eddie wants to tell him that you are capable of taking care of yourself but he decides against it. He nods. Even though he can’t understand why Steve did what he did, he can imagine the self hatred and the sadness he is feeling. A flicker of sympathy flashes in Eddie’s eyes.

“I will.”

Steve almost breaks down when he thinks of your words again, of the way you cried when you begged for him to leave, when you called him bullshit.

He walks away when he feels like breaking down again.

He fumbles with the keys, almost dropping them when his hands begin to shake. He manages to open the door, he steps inside and closes it. Leaning against it, he drops the floor and buries his face in his hands, a broken sob leaves his lips.

He knows he has to let you go, the way you let him go but how?

How?

You stare at your reflection in the full length mirror. You apply the red lipstick that Chrissy convinced you to get when you stopped by the drug store after you bought the dress that you had caught your eye the last time you went shopping with them. A black, glittery dress. It’s not too tight but it’s not a wide one either, though it fits your body perfectly. The straps are thin and it has a cut on the side. You love it. It’s not something you would usually wear, you always opted for the colorful dresses but, you feel like it’s time to switch things up.

How you let them convince you to come to the dance after all? You have no idea but the thought of spending another night filled with tears made you feel miserable.

Heather is standing behind you with the curling iron as she finishes off the rest of your hairstyle.

Some Christmas song is playing on the radio, the room smells like a mix of hairspray and perfume.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask as you stop applying the lipstick.

She hums, glancing at you through your mirror.

Heather purses her lips, she pulls the curling iron away from your hair and twists the wave.

“Is it just me or is Chrissy being weird towards me?”

“What do you mean?” She asks. But you can see the knowing look in her eyes, you know she – they are both not telling you something.

She runs her fingers through your hair and smooths down your waves and applies more hairspray.

“She’s just, I don’t know. I feel like she’s keeping something from me,” you mumble. “And she seemed so sad when I agreed to go with you.”

Heather hesitates to speak up. You can tell that she is trying to come up with a lie.

“She’s probably just sad because she has to go with Jason Carver.”

You look down at your painted nails and nod, “yeah, I guess.”

“Which I totally get, who would want to go with him?” Heather tries to change the topic, you know she is.

“Literally no one,” you snort. “But he will probably be the new King of Hawkins High once Steve and Billy graduate and the naive freshman girls will throw themselves at him,” you say with a disgusted look on your face.

“God, that’s a disgusting thought,” Heather says. “Let’s talk about something else – look at you,” she smirks as she leans down, placing her finger under your chin, she raises your head, “queen of Haw–”

“Don’t say that,” you groan as you tilt your head up to look at her.

She chuckles and ruffles your hair a little. “You look amazing, now get your ass into that dress and let’s go. Maybe Munson will show up for you and steal you for a dance,” she wiggles her brows.

You roll your eyes but you can’t fight the smile off your face.

“Shut up,” you mumble. You reach for your half finished drink. Maybe it’s not a good idea to drink alcohol but you need it, right now. You don’t plan on getting drunk, just a little tipsy to make it through the night.

You both finish getting ready, you put your dresses on and take a few polaroid pictures in front of the fairy lights in your room. You throw a mint into your mouth and spray more perfume on yourself, hoping that your mom won’t smell the wine on you.

She doesn’t notice it or at least, it seems like she doesn’t. She takes more pictures of you and Heather in front of the Christmas tree before you leave.

The school hall is bustling with people, loud music is playing and everything is decorated in gold, red and green colors – fitting the Christmas season. Your arm is linked with Heather’s. She seems excited, you feel overwhelmed.

The lights are flashing, girls in colorful dresses rush past you with their dates. You look around, trying to spot Chrissy but you don’t see her anywhere. You sigh, the first few minutes of a big event are always the most awkward ones.

Where do you stand? Where do you sit? Who do you talk to? Is it too early to dance? Is it too early to leave?

“Hey, are you okay?” Heather asks.

You nod, smiling at her.

“You seem a little overwhelmed.”

“I’m fine, I-I just need something to drink.”

“A drink?” A deeper voice asks. One that instantly makes you roll your eyes.

Billy steps in front of you with a smirk on his face, he eyes you up and down before he looks over at Heather, checking her out as well. He is wearing a tux, the button down underneath the jacket is almost fully unbuttoned.

“You look slutty, Billy.” You joke, “you’re lucky Mrs. Myers isn’t around or you’d be sent home for violating the dress code.”

He chuckles darkly, leaning closer to you, he holds up one finger, “the slutty look is exactly what I was going for.”

“As always,” you snort.

“Do you wanna dance?” Billy asks you.

“No thanks but Heather wants to dance.”

She turns to you with wide eyes and red cheeks.

“I know you want to,” you whisper into her ear before you pull away and place her hand into Billy’s, who smirks at you.

“I’ll drown you in the punch if you don’t treat her well.”

He only laughs in amusement, clearly not taking the threat seriously.

“Y/n?” Heather glares at you.

“Have fun, babe.”

You know all about her not so secret crush on Billy – she is good at hiding it but you saw right through it.

You make your way over to the snack table. Waving at some of the girls from the cheer squad who are taking pictures with their dates.

A huge bowl is in the middle of the table, filled with red liquid and fresh fruit. You wonder if someone spiked it with alcohol yet. You pour some of it into a cup and take a sip. Definitely spiked. You down the rest of the drink and pour yourself a second cup.

“Hey.”

You freeze. You stare down at your drink. Yeah, you definitely need the alcohol tonight. You haven’t talked to him since that night, you sat next to him during English class today and you had submitted the essay together but you didn’t talk and you hoped that it would stay that way. You didn’t want to talk to him anymore.

“Careful with the punch, Tommy spiked it.”

You turn around to face him, his eyes widen a little when he takes in the sight of you. He looks you up and down, not in the same way Billy did but in a way that leaves your skin crawling and your heart racing.

He is wearing a black tuxedo with a red bow tie. His hair looks amazing as always but his eyes are filled with sadness.

“Good,” you mumble as you drink the spiked punch.

“Y-You look beautiful,” Steve says. His heart flutters, you steal his breath away. The dark eyeshadow makes your eye color more prominent. Your red lips look so kissable and the dress looks like it was made for you. You are perfect.

“Where’s your girlfriend, Steve?” You sigh. You refuse to look into his eyes, knowing that it will only make things worse.

He blinks, furrowing his brows. He looks over your shoulder to where she’s standing with Jonathan, smiling at him. “She’s uh–” he stops talking when he sees you walking away. He sighs, clenching his hand into a fist, “shit..”

You already feel like going home – you knew you would run into him, you still weren’t prepared, you never are. You are sick of the feeling he leaves you with whenever you see him. You are so over it.

You take a seat at your assigned table and look around, finally spotting Chrissy in the crowd. She’s dancing with Jason, you can see the forced smile even from a mile away.

You can’t stand him. You always hated the way he treats others – the way he thinks that he is so much better than everyone else and the way he thinks he can have anyone he wants. The way he uses Mrs. Cunningham’s liking towards him to force himself into Chrissy’s life, knowing that she doesn’t actually like him.

You relax a little when you see Heather heading towards Chrissy, pulling her away from Jason so that they can dance together. You lean back in the chair and sip on your drink.

You wish you would have stayed at home.

You wish you would have listened to Eddie when he said that this sucks.

You feel like a loser, sitting by yourself at this empty table, sipping one drink after the other as your eyes continuously move back to him. You see him with her and it breaks your heart all over again. By now, you should be used to it and you were – you have gotten used to this. To him not being yours anymore, to him loving someone else, to him being with someone else but then he turned everything upside down.

His confession left you in shambles. He had broken everything, again. All the strength you have gathered since the day he left you, he took it all away from you with a few words and a kiss that almost happened.

He loves you, that’s what he said. But he is here, holding her in his arms, kissing her as though he didn’t try to kiss you, two nights ago. He is dancing with her, whispering things into her and holding her tightly.

None of it makes sense to you.

If he loves you so much, then why is he dancing with her as though nothing ever happened?

Why is he still with her?

Is she a rebound now or were you just the backup plan all along?

The girl he’d come back to once things with her go downhill?

Are they already going downhill?

Is that why he told you he still loves you?

So that he has someone to come back to?

You feel so miserable. The longer you stare at him. You begin to feel worse and worse.

Not even a dance with your friends helps you lift your mood. Not even the compliments and the nice things that people have said to you tonight, make you feel better. Nothing makes you feel better but you force a smile on your face, a happy one. The way you always do and you dance with Heather and Chrissy, holding their hands and pretending to have the time of your life when all you wanna do is go home and cry yourself to sleep.

It’s when you find yourself sitting on the bleachers with a sad expression on your face, ready to say ‘fuck it’ and go home, that your night takes a turn for the better.

You don’t hear the footsteps coming your way, you are too busy looking at all the happy couples. Someone clears their throat.

“May the Master of Dungeons have a dance with the ethereal Queen of Hawkins High?”

Your eyes widen and a smile tugs at your lips, you straighten up and turn to look at Eddie who playfully bows in front of you with a smile on his face, getting a few weird looks from the other, which neither of you care about.

A giggle falls from your lips, “Eddie!”

“Come on, give me your hand, Queen.”

You laugh and place your hand in his. He pulls you up and smiles at you when your eyes lock. “Look at you,” he beams. He raises your hand over your head, “give me a twirl,” he winks.

You roll your eyes, playfully. Giving him the twirl that he asked for, you can’t help but giggle when he begins to whistle.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart!”

He grabs your waist when you stumble a little. He instantly smells the alcohol on you.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

He eyes you with a smile on his face, “love the smokey eyes and the dress – honestly, you look like a witchy fairy.”

“A witchy fairy?” You laugh, tilting your head.

He puts his hand over his heart, “I mean that as a compliment – a badass witchy, fairy, shit, I’m gonna have to create a character based on you now.”

You shake your head, laughing at the concentrated look on his face. He is wearing a white button down, a few buttons are left undone, one of his tattoos is peeking out from beneath the shirt, and a silver chain is around his neck. His curly hair looks as good as always.

“You look amazing, Eddie.”

He raises his brows in surprise, his dark eyes light up.

“Thank you, badass fairy witch,” he winks. “Look, I stole these pants from Wayne, I have none without holes in them,” he laughs, pointing to the black pants he is wearing.

You can’t even help but giggle.

“I thought this isn’t your thing,” you say. Gesturing to the dance.

He shrugs, “yeah well, I thought you could use a dance partner.”

Your gaze softens. A feeling of warmth and comfort rushes through you. “You came for me?”

He holds your hand tighter, “who else would I come here for?” He asks as he looks into your big eyes.

“My knight in shining armor,” you tease.

He snorts at your words, “come on.” He says as he pushes you in front of him and leads you into the middle of the dance floor, pushing some jock out of the way. You can feel the eyes on you, you can see the weird looks from the cheerleaders when they see you with Eddie. It only makes you scoff at them.

A squeal leaves your lips when Eddie suddenly twirls you again, laughing when you hold onto his hand tightly. He wraps his arms around you from behind and leans in, “let me guess, you had some of that spiked punch?” He whispers into your ear.

"Absolutely,” you giggle and turn around to face him. You place your hands on his shoulders.

“Bad girl,” he smirks, tapping your nose.

“I learned from the best.” You tap his nose back, making him laugh.

Steve watches you and Eddie with an irritated look on his face. You seem so carefree and happy with him. So familiar. Like you have known each other for a long time already. You melt into his touch so easily and laugh at whatever he is whispering into your ear.

The feeling in his chest is sickening. He knows it’s jealousy. He can’t do anything about it though. The girl in his arms is his, you aren’t – not anymore.

Every breath you take by The Police starts playing. Some leave the dance floor, some stay to slow dance with their partner. Steve pulls Nancy closer and looks over her shoulder to see what you will do.

Eddie pulls you closer and you wrap your arms around him, you lay your head on his chest, melting into him so easily. It breaks Steve’s heart a little. He feels tense, it’s hard to see you with someone else, even when Eddie said that there is nothing but friendship between the two of you, it certainly looks more than just that to Steve.

You don’t even notice the weird looks you are getting from the people around you. You are only focused on him. The thought of you and Eddie somehow hurts more than the thought of you and Billy. Because Billy would be nothing more than a hookup but Eddie? Eddie is a good guy, one who will treat you well and love you the way he couldn’t.

“Is everything okay?” Nancy asks as she lifts her head to look at him.

“Yeah,” he mumbles with a frown on his face. “Why?”

Her blue eyes are filled with confusion, she shrugs, “you seem tense.”

“I’m fine, Nance,” he says, softly.

“Okay,” she smiles.

When she lays her head on his chest, he squeezes her and looks back up. His breath hitches in his throat when his eyes lock with yours as you rest your chin on Eddie’s shoulder, who’s back is turned towards him. For a moment, you look at each other. Steve’s heart begins to beat faster in his chest, the longer you look at each other. He longs for you. This, all of this, feels so wrong. He shouldn’t be here with her and you shouldn’t be there with him.

But while his eyes soften, your eyes harden.

His are filled with longing and sadness.

Yours are filled with indifference.

You look at each other for a few long seconds and then you take one final look at him before you tear your eyes away from him. Somehow, that felt like a stab to his heart because that moment felt like the end. The realization that it is truly over makes his blood run cold. He feels paralyzed by the pain that he had caused himself.

Eddie tightens his hold on you when he feels how tense you are, he looks down at you with a look of concern in his eyes.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

"Yes, please."

next part

only tagging friends & mutuals

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @screammunson @hellfire--cult @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked @nemesis729 @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #stranger things angst

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star-girl69 · 5 months

Text

The Last Time

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

Part One - The Last Time

Part Two - Cowboy Like Me

Part Three - Tomorrow Never Came (coming soon!)

Part Four - Living Legend (coming soon!)

Part Five - Pretty When You Cry (coming soon!)

—-

synopsis: the last night you spend with clarisse before she goes on a quest

a/n: had to put my own take on the clarisse leaving reader behind to go on a quest SORRY Y’ALLLLL this is like devastating fr tho i’m kinda sorry like 😭

The Last Time - Taylor Swift (Feat. Gary Lightbody of Snow Patrol)

warnings: angst, like so much angst i’m gonna say it 5 times, angst angst angst angst angst, angst, hurt comfort and also hurt NO comfort bc i’m evil, kissing, cutesy until it’s not but it never really is, i felt like choosing pain, y’all should start calling me she-devil this is just so mean and evil, swearing, fighting, allusions to death, daddy issues lol, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

June 4, 12:08 PM

It’s a cold summer night. You sneak out of your bed, sheets slipping off of your shaking body, the same memories playing in your mind. It always comes down to this, the nights.

In the dreams, she doesn’t come back to you, and the nights without her are so cold, so lonely, so horrible you can stand it. They’re only in your mind, but they hurt just as bad. It’s not every night you slip into each others beds, but whenever you have a nightmare, you find your way to hers. Whenever she has a nightmare, she finds her way to yours.

You both have nightmares about the same things.

The usual cryptic prophesies, the various monsters you just can’t seem to kill, and losing each other. Demigods die. They die easily. You both know that.

Some people swear off love.

And Clarisse told you she wishes she could, she wishes she could pretend you aren’t her entire heart, but she never had a choice. You are her Achilles heel, her one weakness.

You couldn’t either. You took one look at the beautiful daughter of Ares and never looked back again.

Still, there’s a certain desperation in every demigod relationship. Touches are just a bit tighter, hugs a bit longer. Because you all have lost so much, and you all feel absence heavily. Every time could be the last time.

Your footsteps creek against the porch of the Ares cabin. You open the door only a crack, slipping in silently the way you always do, avoiding the creaky floorboards.

Clarisse is awake in her bed, the corner of the cabin. She’s staring at the moon fiddling with her fingers. You frown, but Clarisse turns to you.

You’re sure you look as wrecked as you feel.

“Oh, baby,” she murmurs. “C’mere, what happened?”

You always ask each other, but you both know.

You crawl towards her, sitting in between her legs, arms around her neck, head pressed to her chest. She holds you up so you don’t have to. You can’t, not right now.

She kisses your forehead and her hand smooths down your hair.

“You went on a quest,” you whisper. You miss the way she stiffens. “You didn’t come back.”

She doesn’t tell you she’s not going on a quest. She doesn’t tell you she’s going to come back.

“I’m here,” she says. “Do you feel my heart? I’m here, and I feel yours. It’s beating so fast, baby, you have to take a deep breath.”

Tears well in your eyes. You dig your nails into her soldiers.

“Oh, Gods, please don’t leave me,” you cry.

She doesn’t tell you she won’t.

“I’m here, I’m here right now. I’m here right now, listen to my heart, baby, listen to my heart.”

Clarisse swallows back the bile in her throat. She tries not to lie to you, she tries. But sometimes, on cold summer nights when you find your way into her bed, and she doubts you’ll remember this in the morning-

“I’ll always be here, Y/N. I’ll always be here.”

—-

June 11, 5:46 PM

If you thought the nights without Clarisse were bad, then the days are even worse. You miss her. You never realized how much she was there, silently, always watching, not until you told her to stay away from you.

You sit at the dinner table, the sun setting. Most of your siblings have left- but you’re here with May, sitting there as she watches you like a hawk and interrogates you.

“You haven’t been the same. Not since, like, last week. And something happened with Clarisse, it’s obvious. I gave you a few days because I thought you were just having a fight, but you’re not.” She sighs and grabs your hands. “What happened?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” you dismiss. She stares at you with such heartbreak in her eyes.

May is the sibling you’re by far the closest with- you like similar things, and people sometimes think you’re actual full-blooded siblings because you look so alike. She was the first person you ever met at Camp Half Blood, and after Clarisse, she’s the first person you run too. But now that Clarisse is leaving, and she’s already gone, May is all you have left.

You squeeze her hands. Your best friend, you want to tell her, but saying the words aloud makes them real.

She’ll find out tomorrow.

—-

June 8, 10:57 AM

She tells you privately, she smiles softly and leads you into the woods, she holds your hands and touches your face and kisses you like she’s not about to break your heart.

“Why are you bringing me out here?”

You know her like your own mind. You spend so much time with Clarisse, next to her, it’s like you have a window to her heart tattooed on your arm. You know, even when she doesn’t want you to.

“I just have something to tell you. And I wanted privacy.”

She doesn’t tell you it’s not a bad thing.

Your stomach sinks and you hold her hand tighter, and even though she’s about to break your heart she kisses your cheek and squeezes your hand.

“Just you and me, pretty girl. I just wanna talk, okay?”

She leads you to a clearing with a beautiful view of the strawberry fields and you smile, sitting down and letting your face feel the sun. You can feel her looking at you, but the beauty of this place and each other only blinds the two of you temporarily.

“Okay, what do you have to tell me?”

There’s stones in your stomach. Your heart is squeezing, you can physically feel the tension and anticipation in your organs.

You look in her eyes and you pray to every God that it’s nothing.

“I love you, you know that?”

Clarisse never says I love you, and your stomach twists more.

“Of course I know.”

She lays down on her back and opens her arms. She sighs when you lay your arm over her stomach, head on your chest. Her hands grip onto you tight.

She doesn’t speak for another minute, like she’s just soaking you and the sunshine up, like it’s the last she’s ever gonna get.

“Chiron… a week ago, I think, he called me to the Big House.” You hum, staring at the treetops. “Him and Mr. D… they… uh.”

“You can tell me,” you pretend you aren’t scared.

“A quest,” she blurts. “They have a quest for me.”

“Oh,” you mumble, stupidly.

A quest could mean a million different things. It could be an errand for Chiron and Mr. D, or it could be something preordained by the Fates.

She could have a choice or she could not.

“It’s three children of Ares. It’s about some sort of ancient blood feud between my father and- it doesn’t matter. But it- it doesn’t look good-”

You sit up. She follows you, eyes wide, hands splaying around where your body used to be on hers.

“‘It doesn’t look good’? Clarisse, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

She grabs your hands. “It’s dangerous, like any quest-”

“It’s not like any quest though, is it?”

She presses her lips together. “No. No, it’s not.”

“You didn’t accept it, did you?”

She stares into your eyes.

She looks so pretty today, her hair half-up half-down. Her eyes always shine so brightly in the sun- they reflect it. Sunny days with her make your heart squeeze, because it always looks like she’s got suns for eyes.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I am-”

You tear your hands away from her.

“Why- why would you- Oh, my Gods, Clarisse, why would you do this?”

You cry, and she reaches for you, her face twisting into something painful. But how can she expect you to run to her when she’s the one hurting you?

“Just- just not right now. Not until the 13th, let’s just have this together, okay?”

“How, Clar, how?”

She grabs your hands and doesn’t let you pull away.

“My father asked for me, he asked for me. I have to go. I can’t refuse my father, Y/N-”

You rip your hands away. “He doesn’t care about you, Clarisse. But I do. I care about you.”

She rubs her temples with one hand, the other still reaching for you, eyes screwed shut.

“Please don’t be like this. Don’t be selfish, I have to this. He asked for me, Y/N. This is such a huge step-”

“A huge step to him loving you? He’ll never love you. Our parents will never love us, because they’re incapable of caring about us. But you have me, Clarisse. You have me, and I love you so much-”

“You don’t know that,” she whispers. “You don’t know they can’t love us.”

“And neither do you.”

She reaches out to touch the tears falling down your face.

“Clarisse, please,” you cry. “I’m here. I’m always here, and just- just don’t put your father over me, please don’t, not anymore-”

She grabs your face. “I’m not going to choose between you and him.”

You’re full on sobbing now, and Clarisse never cries, but just the look on her face at seeing you cry makes you cry more.

“But I’m here, Clar, I’m here, I’ve always been here, please-”

She shushes you and tries to hug you, but you can’t, not when your mind is spinning to fast, not when you want nothing more than to be in her arms because you know if she just holds you then you’ll shut up and forget. But you can’t, you can’t, not this time.

Not when all the pieces are sinking together.

The only time you see her is when you sneak into each others beds, dates in the woods, secret looks across the courtyard, pulling each other into the bathrooms or sheds or something to make out.

You needed her so bad you didn’t realize that you were never first. You didn’t care, but at least she was still there.

“Did you even think about me when you said yes?”

She tries to hug you again. You stand on shaky legs.

“Y/N,” she whispers, half-broken, half-disbelief. “Don’t do this.”

“I just need a day,” you say, but you both know what this means.

She laughs, runs her hand through her hair.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this. Fuck, I know it’s not perfect, we’ve never been perfect, but I need you right now. Don’t walk away. Don’t be like that.”

“And if I asked you not to walk away? If I asked you not to be like that?”

“I’m not being like anything!” she yells. “You’re the one who’s being a selfish brat.”

You cross your arms and look at her. You want the ground to swallow you whole. You want to jump into her arms and never leave.

“Don’t, okay. Just don’t. Stay, and we’ll talk, I’ll try, you know I’m not good at this but I want to try, we have to try for us.”

“Clarisse, there’s no us anymore. You’re leaving.”

“Not until the 13th, Y/N. We could have something so good if we just… pretend.”

You could play pretend with her for hours. You could be married and you could live in a place where no monsters can touch you, where there’s no one to hide from. Where there’s no memory of her father, no axe hanging over you.

“I don’t want to pretend. I want you.”

But it’s Clarisse. It’s the girl you love, and you’re young so you believe you can fix this.

“Don’t go,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

You’re both glaring at each other, stupid teenage girls who fell in love too hard too fast, and now you’re scrambling at the world changes around you. You love her so much, but you finally realized that she doesn’t care about you, you’re her secret, and you haven’t had a backbone for so long but you will have one now.

“He asked for me. I already accepted. I need you right now, so stop being selfish and accept it.”

“How am I being selfish? How am I being selfish for not asking you to kill yourself? For asking you to put me first, for once?! You never put me first. I see that now. You never-”

She scoffs. “We both know that’s not true.”

“But I don’t, Clar. I don’t know that’s not true. So tell me, show me, make me believe it’s not true-”

She crosses the distance between you, even though it feels like a thousand miles, and plants her hands on your face. She kisses you, she kisses you like she loves you but not enough to stay.

But you kiss her back. You kiss her back, because she’s the love of your life. You’ll always come back like a kicked dog, like a ball on a chain. You’ll always come back to her like you go back to your bed each night- mindlessly, wordlessly, because it’s routine. Because you sleep in your bed and you need sleep to live, you need her to live.

She pulls back, breathing heavily against your lips.

“You are the only person who matters to me.”

Your grab her wrists and take her hands off your face. She tries to resist you, keep touching you, but it’s halfhearted because she’ll always end up doing the little things that you want.

“Only because the Gods aren’t people.”

“Y/N, stop.”

“Why do you go back to him? Why? Again and again, you go back even though he feels nothing for you- and you know it-”

She steps back, takes your hands off of her wrists.

“I-I’m sorry,” you breathe, you see the hurt on her face. “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t, it’s just, I love you-”

She blinks and stares at you like you just broke her favorite toy.

“I-I should go.”

You want her to say something, you want her to protest, you want her to kiss you again.

“Maybe you should,” she agrees. “Before we both say more things we’ll regret.”

Her face twists back into what she lets everyone else see, that hard mask of indifference, of cruelty and ruthlessness.

How can she hold you so tenderly and look at you like this? How can you pretend you’re still the girl she loves when the fog clears and you realize what you said?

“Yeah.”

You turn and leave the clearing, you can’t look at her hurt face anymore, tears streaming down your face. Clarisse stays there. You swear you hear the sound of muffled crying.

—-

June 12, 3:46 PM

Chiron announces the quest. It’s dangerous, that’s what he says, and he didn’t want to cause commotion in the camp by letting it come to light.

Are you horrible for wishing you had found out now? You would have had this untainted time with Clarisse. You would have loved her. You wouldn’t have had to pretend, because it would be real.

She’s selfish at every turn. She only tells you when it’s convenient for her to tell you, when she knows it’ll ruin it, ruin you, and lose this time together.

Her and her siblings stand next to Chiron.

She stares at you the entire time, and you don’t look at her once.

May hugs you when she hears, and you don’t speak, because how can you speak when everything is wrong? Everything is broken?

The mirror is broken, and what you thought you saw is no longer there. You only see your shattered self.

—-

June 13, 12:38 PM

You lasted maybe 20 minutes. You went to bed early, slept fitfully for a few hours, and woke up gasping about another nightmare- the same one you had the last time you slipped into Clarisse’s bed. You barely remember the nights you have nightmares, but you always know you go to her bed and she holds you, tells you it’s alright.

The dream, anxiously waiting for her to come back, spending your nights alone but warmed by anticipation and hope- and she just doesn’t. She doesn’t, and it all becomes dark and dull in the dreams and they turn into nightmares.

You cry and you scream and you curse the Gods for not bringing her back to you, but no one can hear you. You’re laying in your bed screaming and your siblings are gone, you know Clarisse is, and you feel so alone.

Feeling so alone it makes your bones shaking is terrifying. And you should be used to it. But you got used to Clarisse and her warm body. You got used to her touches, her words, the way she made you feel even just being in her bed- you could always sleep in her bed because she was there.

After she leaves, would anyone notice if you snuck into her bed? Would anyone notice if you laid your head on her pillow and pretended it was her chest? Would anyone notice if you slept in the shirts she left behind?

You last 20 minutes staring at the ceiling before you’re up.

You don’t care if Chiron will catch you. You don’t care if the entire camp will see you, you never did, but a private relationship was nice. It was yours and hers and no one else’s.

Private is different from secret.

Your feet sink into the soft grass, wrapping your arms around yourself, legs freezing in a cold breeze. You stop, looking at the Ares cabin.

The Ares cabin is just a house full of the best fighters at camp. Everyone looks at it and feels a little safer. You look at it and feel safer.

You’re filled with dread but you don’t care, because you know she’ll let you in, you know she’ll let you into her arms.

The door to the Ares cabin whips open.

Clarisse is there, feet turned left, toward you and your cabin behind you.

She stops and stares.

“Sorry,” you breathe. “It’s your last night, and I…”

“I know,” she says.

You step forward, all you want is to forget, all you want is one more peaceful night. As soon as you step up onto the porch Clarisse grabs you and pulls you in tight for a hug.

Her hands are spread wide across your shoulder blades, her body is pressed to yours, her head hooks over your neck.

“You’re so cold,” she whispers, because that’s all you can say when you don’t want to talk about the things that really matter. Of course she’s warm. She’s like your own personal heater, always warm and always comforting.

She lets go after a moment, hesitantly, but winds your fingers into hers. She leads you to your bed, you avoid the freaky floorboards better than her-

“I never have to be quiet in here,” she whispers. “It’s funny.”

You hum, she urges you onto her bed and climbs in behind you. You face the wall, breathing in heavily, shivering as she wraps herself around you. You didn’t realize how cold you were until she was holding you.

You didn’t realize how damaging this relationship was until you were so wrecked by it.

You didn’t realize how much you loved her until she was leaving.

You can feel her wanting to say something.

“Shut up,” you mumble, holding her hand.

She laughs.

“Okay, whatever you want.”

You remember this might be the last time you’ll ever hear her laugh.

This might be the last time she ever holds you.

“Don’t cry, please,” she begs, kissing the back of your head. “If I can’t talk you can’t cry, I hate when you cry.”

“I can’t,” you breathe, shoving your face into her pillow.

“Hey, hey,” she murmurs, flipping you around so you’re facing each other. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You don’t think she’s ever apologized this much in her life.

“It hurts me too,” she continues, you press your face into her neck and feel yourself exhale against her warm skin. “If it didn’t have to be like this…”

“It doesn’t,” you mumble. “It doesn’t have to be like this, so don’t let it, Clarisse.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” she whispers, her voice cracking just a bit. So quiet only you can hear it because you’re pressed up right against her.

You want to just climb into her, make a home for yourself in between her ribs where you could always feel her heartbeat and always know she’s there.

“Can’t I just come with you?” you cry.

She grabs you a little tighter, like she’s annoyed just by the thought of you being in danger. “No, Y/N. No, you’re going to stay here at camp, and you’ll be safe. I made my siblings promise to look after you, you’ll be okay without me-”

Her siblings are the only ones who know, but that’s only because every once in a while Clarisse won’t let you leave and you’ll oversleep and they’ll see you in her bed.

She swears them all to secrecy and as their cabin leader and their sister, a fellow child of Ares who’s doomed to want someone they can’t have, doomed to hide in the shadows- there’s so many campers who sneak into the Ares cabin at night, and you all ignore it.

There is a certain desperation with demigods and love. Every time could be the last time.

You wish you could swear off love, you wish you could, but Clarisse has you so wrecked you can’t breathe without thinking about her. You run on her, like she’s coffee or sunshine, she’s the IV stuck into your arm, and you don’t want to imagine living without her.

You think of a future without her and it’s just blank.

She holds you tighter and let’s you cry, louder and louder, muffled into her neck. She says she’s sorry but she doesn’t mean it, she can’t, and you don’t care. You can’t care, not right now, not when this is the last time.

“But I’m here right now, okay? I’m here right now, so just listen to my heart.” You grab onto her, trying to keep her here with you- but she won’t. She’ll go. She’ll leave you, and there’s nothing you can do.

You realize with such a startling finality that this is the last time. How deeply you feel it in your heart, not a pain but just an ache, an emptiness- it’s almost beautiful how it washes over you like a wave, like your heart stops and you’re just left a shell.

You breathe in wildly, but you can’t catch your breath, not when she’s half-here, you’re stuck in this hazy reality. Fading in and out. Her heartbeat. Her breath. Her touch. Her voice.

“I’m here right now,” she says. “I’m here right now,” and it’s the last time.

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss

—-

DID WE HAVE FUN OR DID WE HAVE FUN?!?!??!??

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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chastiefoul · 3 months

Text

wriothesley who’s always very composed but breaks when this happened.

“yes, she said so when i was drinking some tea with her and neuvilette!” you claimed excitedly, but wriothesley has his cup mid-air, hanging awkwardly as he stared at you. he blinked, and then blinked once more, as if processing the sentence you just said.

“you.. you went to drink tea with them?” he asked quietly, hoping for a certain answer. “yes?” you answered just as quiet, sensing the drastic change of the atmosphere. he put his cup on the table, as he fold his hands the gesture was almost like a slow-motion. “without inviting me...?” he whispered, the rough of his voice made it almost impossible.

now you understood the problem, as the guilt arises.

“wriothesley i have a sound explanation for this,” you sat across him, putting both of your palms on the table. the male crossed his arms. “do enlighten me, then.”

“tuesday, 7 a.m. you told me you were going to be busy all day. so of course being a considerate lover that i am, i didn’t tell you since i knew you probably couldn't make it.” you nodded to yourself, pleased by the lengthy excuse you gave him. but judging by the blank expression of your boyfriend it was clear that he didn’t feel the same way.

“tuesday, 12 p.m. on fortress of meropide coupon cafeteria table number 2. we were having lunch together and you mentioned nothing of the little tea party i'd speculated you're having. why is that? the only thing i’m hearing now is that you couldn’t be bothered to mention it to me or at least pretend to invite me out of formality.” he raised an eyebrow questioningly. what’s your excuse this time, hm?

“speculation? is that what you’re basing your entire argument on, wrio? i must admit i’m a little offended that you would deem me that untrustworthy that you would accuse-“

“was i wrong?”

“no, no you weren’t. i had the tea party right after having lunch with you. and you’re right i could’ve mention it to you, but i didn’t.”

wriothesley only shook his head, dissapointed that he had to find out this way. he stood up, continuing the dramatic parade. and you just had to hold your laugh in, since you rarely get to see this side of his if it wasn’t about his dear tea. “how could you, (y/n)? you know how much i loved tea,” he said, sighing as if you just did the cruelest crime. “wrio, i’ll make it up to you,” you said, approaching him as you put a hand on his chest.

“yes, i’d like to hear more of that.” he nodded solemnly, although the sulk in his demeanor was still apparent. you planted a kiss on his lips and he clearly didn’t expect that judging by his surprised features. “you’re trying to get me to go easy on you, aren’t you? alright, i just need a hundred more of that for you to at least make up half of the crime you did.” he leaned down, fully believing that you owed him at least two hundred kisses. you just laughed at the siliness, “that’s way too much! how about this then, what if i arrange us another tea party? and i’ll invite even more people.” you offered, grabbing a hold of his face. he pretended to think hard about it before breaking out into a smile. “now that’s something i could get on board with.”

he held you close, resting his head on your shoulder. “thank you baby.” you only chuckled at this rare indulgent side of him, another side you wished you could see more of. “and can i please get invited to every tea party you’re having in the future?”

#genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin fanfic #genshin fluff #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x y/n

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knavesflames · 1 month

Note

Childhood friend Arlecchino and Reader that Arle never truly found her to be a friend, despite the reader saying they are and Arle did kinda ditch em during middle school. Until college rolls around, the newfound (or unrealized) sentiments towards Reader become more clear to her - infatuated.

I feel like I kind of strayed from this because I’m totally into angst rn but if wanted it to be sexual I can indeed make another part OR I can also make an even angstier ending. Anyway!! Here it is.

Contents: just sad reader, Arlecchino is lowkey mean in middle school, one (sexual) slap.

Word count: 1672

Writing (kind of NSFW at the end) under the cut!!

You skipped up to the small girl who sits reading on a bench, holding a small pile of rocks and a wide smile on your face. You don’t have many friends, you’re too quiet, too ‘weird’, so when you befriended Arlecchino, you actually began looking forward to school each day. It was almost too good to be true. She’s been a bit distant with you the last couple of weeks but that’s fine, right? She’s probably stuck into that book of hers, her nose has always been in a book or playing with insects.

“Look!! I found rocks that matched your eyes and I thought they were cool, you can-“

“Stop it.”

“..huh? Stop what?”

“Stop bothering me. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

You pause at that. In a sense, she is busy reading, but can’t she put her book down for two seconds? You haven’t properly spoken in weeks.

“Yeah but I was excited about the rocks. I can never find any that remind me of you and now I have.”

“Okay? I am still busy.”

“But we’re friends.”

A sigh leaves Arlecchino’s lips, and she finally looks up from that book.

“No, we aren’t. When did I ever say we were friends?”

You feel your shoulders sinking, a frown tugging at the corner of your lips. Your hand falls to your side, the rocks held tightly within the constraints of your fist.

“No, I.. you didn’t, but I just assumed that.. I don’t know. I thought we were friends.”

“You assumed wrong. I don’t like you anymore, you’re weird, and you never stop talking. I don’t want to talk.”

Your cheeks puff slightly before you let out a puff of air. Your teeth graze your lip, biting down firmly as you stand there in silence, processing. Weird. There’s that word again, no? You feel a sort of pain rise in your chest, but you swallow it.

“Okay. I’m sorry. You can keep the rocks.”

The rocks are placed onto the table beside her, an assortment of black and white and grey all decorating the rocks. And one, one black one with a red cross on it, clearly drawn. You just wanted to make her feel included, everyone was finding rocks that matched their eyes. You keep staring at her for a while longer, but she doesn’t look back up, so you turn.

“I’ll tell my mom you can’t come for dinner, then.”

Arlecchino finally looks up when she hears that. God, she hears the hurt you’re masking, the tears threatening to spill over your lashes. She shouldn’t have been so crass with you, she knows that, but that’s who she is. Blunt, and she was sick of having to pretend. She watches as your figure shrinks towards the school library, where she first met you. You didn’t have any friends, so you ate there. It was better than sitting at that dreaded buddy bench and waiting for someone to ask you to be their friend. As you walk, you pass said bench, a feeling of slight dread rising. To the library, then.

It’s then that Arlecchino notices the rock you drew on, her face softening for just a second. She brushes the rocks off of the table, pocketing the one you drew on before continuing her book without a word. She moves seats in class after that, and she’s not unaware of your eyes that burn sadly into her as she picks up her books. They’re rimmed red and slightly glassy, and it stabs her heart. You two never talk again after that. She goes back to being the girl at the back of the class that enjoys being alone, that enjoys the misconceptions people make about her. You sit in the middle of the class, staring down at your textbooks, silently yearning to be part of the conversations the kids around you have.

Each year passes and both of you grow older. She kept that rock, it’s in her pocket always. It’s become some sort of lucky charm for her, and god she can’t help but stare at you in class as you become more beautiful with every passing year. By senior year, you’re the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen. She can’t stop thinking about you. She finds herself stalking your social media when she’s at home, her finger always hovering over the like button, her fingers always hovering over the send message button before deleting the entire paragraph. She knows you’re both off to college soon, she’ll most likely never see you again, and yet she still can’t bring herself to admit her feelings. She can still see the hurt in your eyes from that day, the way you dismissed it like it was nothing only to cry in secret after. She dreams of you at night. Dreams of how she regrets what she said and the way she said it, dreams of her holding your hand and looking at rocks together, dreams of your whimpers as she fucks you. She hates that last dream. The dream that gets stuck in her brain constantly, so much so that she nearly failed her biology final. On graduation day, she makes a promise to herself that she’ll never think of you again.

But she does. Fast forward to junior year of college and you’re walking with your headphones on, looking down at your phone until you collide with someone, a harsh “watch it” in your ear.

“Sorry! I’m sor- ah. Sorry.”

You look up into the same red and black eyes you once considered a friend. How stupid. Out of all the colleges she could have possibly chosen, she chose the one you chose too.

“It’s fine. Just.. Watch it. You’re as clumsy as you ever were.”

“I’m sorry, I just wasn’t looking.”

Arlecchino swallows the nerves rising in her body and finally makes a conversation with you, her voice blunt, awkward.

“How have you been?”

“Fine, thank you. You?”

She scowls slightly as your dismissive tone reaches her ears. You were never like this before.

“Good. I’m good. What are you majoring in?”

“I’m going into geology.”

Of course it’s geology. She didn’t expect anything less from you, really.

“Fun. I’m going to study insects.”

“Go figure.”

“I’m sorry. For what I said back then. I know I hurt you.”

“You didn’t.”

“You cried.”

She has you there. She saw your eyes when she moved seats in class, it wasn’t exactly easy to hide the redness. You pause, not saying anything for a while.

“We weren’t friends. We aren’t friends. What does it have to do with you?”

“You were lonely and it made me rethink.”

“Weird people are meant to be lonely, don’t you think?”

You’ve carried those words with you ever since. It didn’t really matter when other children called you that, but the one person you considered a friend.. well, it hurt.

“I just.. didn’t appreciate the eccentricity. That’s all. I miss you.”

“Okay.”

“I dream about you.”

“It isn’t like you to be this emotional. Do you feel guilty because I was lonely afterwards or because you want to clear your conscience?”

“Both.”

As honest as ever. You take a deep breath, the music still playing in your headphones that now hang around your neck.

“We can talk in my dorm room.”

You turn on your heel, walking straight to the block of dorms. At least she’s not in the same block, she thinks. She can at least avoid you if this goes bad. The thought of going to your room though.. her dreams of fucking you have only come back, and stronger. Your room is cozy, so very you.

“Is that.. KISS?”

She points to the poster on your desk. She hates that she’s familiar with them, because she hates that she’s more like you than she could ever want to be.

“Yep.”

“I like them too.”

She gingerly sits on your bed, letting her bag drop with a thud. As you walk over to join her, in all your clumsy glory you kick the bag by mistake as you stumble over it, watching as the rock you once painted on tumbles out. Silence.

“You still have that.”

“I never got rid of it.”

Her heart beats faster. So does yours. Your face, so beautiful in the light of your room, the way your hair shines, the way your eyes have a mix of sadness, anger and happiness in them, all of them fighting to take over.

“You’re beautiful.”

Her words cut through your thoughts. You look up at her and you can’t deny the way your heart flutters as you look at her. You suppose you’ve always felt the way you do about her, that it’s why it hurt you so much when she said you weren’t friends. And once again, your mind is brought out of your thoughts by a sudden crash of her lips on yours. A surprised sound comes from your throat, but you don’t fight against it.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“It isn’t.”

“You’re here now.”

Hands wrap around your waist, tightening and pulling you closer to her as her lips leave yours and pepper kisses on your jaw, trailing down to your neck, and then your shoulder. And you don’t stop her. Your hands entangle themselves in her hair. What the hell has gotten into you? And her, for that matter, as her hand slides under your shirt and you feel the coldness of her skin on your stomach. Your own hands shed her jacket and she whispers against your skin.

“Let me.”

“Hm?”

“Let me do what I do in my dreams.”

“What’s that, then? Dissect insects?”

A gentle, sensual, almost desperate and loving slap of your face as she grips your chin, forcing you to look into her eyes, those ones you avoided for so long. You wonder how she knew exactly what to do to turn you on.

“Let me fuck you and show you how sorry I am. How much I missed you.”

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wildernessuntothemselves · 6 months

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy... | Final Part

A/N: this is the main ending. there is an alternative ending available for the other boy on patreon. the link for which is found at the end of this chapter.

Word count: 13k

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff

Warnings: fem!reader, mostly dom!reader, face-sitting, PIV sex, dirty talk, creampie, handjob, heartbreak.

“Hey, baby.” You greet Yeonjun, giving him a kiss on the lips. “Ready to go?”

You were picking him up to go home after a long day of work for the both of you. You had in mind a night of drinking wine and complaining about your day until you passed out in his arms and you can’t wait to get home already.

“Just a little longer, doll.” He tells you and you immediately start whining. “Junnie… those two bottles of wine I bought aren’t gonna drink themselves. We gotta get cracking.”

He chuckles tiredly. “While I appreciate your efforts to get me drunk, Beomgyu has composed a new song and I need to stay back to hear it.”

“Oh.” It’s still so weird to you how you now have to hear news about what your best friend is up to from other people. You used to know these things first. If this was a few months ago, you’d have already heard the song before anyone else did. But now you’re lucky if you even get to hear it at all.

But that’s for the best. You’re doing good with Yeonjun. You’re doing good without Beomgyu. You’re breathing. You’re eating. Your heart is beating… maybe even for someone else for a change. It may have been excruciatingly painful at first–forcing yourself to step away from him, not seeking him out to try to make things better after your most recent fallout, not jumping at the chance when he reached out himself, pretending like you’re too busy to see him, making up excuses so you won’t be alone with him, building up your walls so maybe one day you can stand in a room with him and not have to hold back every cell of your body from throwing yourself at his feet and begging him to love you, but you’ve gotten a lot better at it.

“Do you wanna listen to it?” Yeonjun asks when he sees your curiosity, but you hesitate. Should you? Maybe you should just wait in the car…

But when you see Beomgyu come out with his acoustic guitar and set it on his lap, you find yourself nodding and grabbing a seat next to Yeonjun. You miss hearing him sing. You miss being privy to his passions and whims. Maybe it's selfish of you to allow yourself the opportunity to witness more of him than you’re willing to give him but you never claimed to not be selfish.

As if Beomgyu shares your thoughts, he glances at you, hesitating for a second and you can see the thoughts flitting behind his pretty eyes–you know him too well. Is he thinking about kicking you out? Does he not want you to hear the song because you’ve been keeping your distance from him?

Eventually though he looks down at his guitar and starts to play, and as soon as the first words leave his lips, your heart drops.

Oh, I’m falling in love

As time goes by

As my feelings grow

I’m becoming more anxious

How deep is your love?

I want to ask

Couldn’t it be the same if not deeper?

Your heart lurches in your chest at the lyrics. Falling in love? Is Beomgyu falling in love with Haeun? You know you have no right to feel hurt by this but you do. Why couldn’t he have loved you? What does he see in her that you couldn’t have given him? Is she prettier than you? Smarter? Kinder? Funnier? What was it that made you fall short of deserving his love?

Seeing you change little by little

I’m afraid I’ll lose you

Not mine

My one minute, one second

Take them all

All my time is yours

Why?

Why have you changed?

Why are you so far away from me?

Now we are at different paths.

It hurts even more that it seems she’s not reciprocating his feelings. She has everything you want and she doesn’t even want it. He’s willing to give her everything but it seems it’s not enough for her. Oh how cruelly ironic.

She seemed to be very into him before, at least after the band got more popular, and with every increase in their popularity, she attached herself to him more and more, but something must’ve gone wrong along the line. You have known for some time that Beomgyu and Haeun have been having relationship troubles but you don’t know exactly what because Beomgyu hasn’t told anyone but you guess it’s really bad if this song is about them.

Is she in love with someone else? Has she lost interest? How could she do it so easily when it’s taking everything in you to do the same. Can she tell you her secret so you can stop suffering and give your heart completely to the man who actually wants it?

How can I go back

To our beginning

When we were looking at the same place

The when we had the same heart

I hope you don’t know it

This feeling

Even though I love you

I still feel alone

He’s hiding it from her, afraid to reveal his feelings–maybe because he thinks she doesn’t feel the same way, that if he reveals them she’ll reject him. You know that feeling all too well. You wish you could protect him from it even if he was the cause of your own similar pain.

As the chorus repeats, you become even more sure that the song is about him. You can hear the anguish so clearly in his voice. Beomgyu has always been so talented, always able to give his all to the song and live it as if it’s his own, but you know him too well. You know this is real pain.

I’m drowning in you

Don’t leave me like this

As the bridge reaches its climax, your body shakes, wanting to lunge forward and take him into your arms, to save him from himself even if it would tear you to pieces. But you can’t. You don’t have the right to anymore. All you can do is sit there and wait for him to finish his song, wait for the boys to discuss it as if it’s not his heart being laid out in the open to be dissected.

“What do you think?” He asks once the song is over, biting the skin of his finger, a nervous habit you’ve always quietly found adorable. You would always grab his hand and kiss the poor finger better, scolding him for hurting himself, but secretly you loved it. You loved having his hand in yours. You loved having an excuse to press your lips against him. And you loved the smile he would always give you in response.

“It’s really good." Kai says, impressed. "Didn’t know that someone as emotionally stunted as you could come up with such a moving song."

"Fuck off." Beomgyu mutters, not in the mood for jokes, obviously nervous to see what the others think.

“Yeah, I like it too. You said you’re thinking of having violins in the opening?” Taehyun asks, picking up a music sheet.

Beomgyu nods. “Yeah. I know we’ve never done that before but I feel like it would really add to the atmosphere of the song.”

"I think it could be fun." Taehyun hums, turning to Soobin. “What do you think?”

"I agree. It's good to experiment a bit while still maintaining our sound which I think this song does really well. It could expose us to more people while still not alienating our existing fanbase.” He praises and Beomgyu smiles, relieved at his song being so well-received by the other members. “I especially like the bridge part. I think once Yeonjun sings it, it would really elevate the song.”

Beomgyu's face falls at that but he quickly covers it up. You furrow your eyebrows. That can't feel good, being compared negatively with Yeonjun, even if Soobin didn't mean it like that.

You look at Yeonjun, who hadn't said a word so far. He was staring at Beomgyu weirdly. Did he not like the song?

You nudge him, giving him a questioning look and he just shakes his head, smiling at you before saying, "I like it. Good job, man."

Beomgyu gives him a tense smile in response, and the group falls into an awkward silence for a few seconds–a weird tension hanging in the air, before Soobin clears his throat and begins discussing how they'll play the song, what parts could be improved and who will get which part. You don’t really listen anymore, just looking between Yeonjun and Beomgyu.

Your boyfriend seems to have gotten over his weird reaction, now focused on the technicalities. Beomgyu is focused too but he doesn’t look as enthusiastic as you expected him to be–as you'd seen him get when talking about his songs before–and it's more proof to you that this is a very personal song to him.

As the boys finally break up after a while, most of them going their separate ways to pack up their stuff and get ready to leave, your boyfriend stays behind with Soobin, still discussing something with him. That’s when you spot Beomgyu alone, putting his guitar in its case, and you take the opportunity to go talk to him, unable to hold yourself back this time.

“Hey, Beomgyu, that song was really good.” You start by saying, wanting to congratulate him on a really good song but also needing an opener. But Beomgyu doesn’t say anything in response, simply giving you a blank look–which fucking hurt but you guess you deserve it–so you continue lamely, trying to get him to respond. “You’re really talented. I don’t think you’re gonna need to moonlight as a stripper anymore.” You try to joke but again he doesn’t really say anything, turning his attention back to his guitar bag which he zips up.

“Umm… Beomgyu, that song… is it about you?” You bite the bullet, and he finally gives you some sort of response, albeit nonverbal. He looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. “Is it about you and Haeun?”

“What?” He frowns and you explain yourself nervously, hoping you weren��t overstepping boundaries that have sprung up in your absence. “Well, the song is about a guy who loves someone who doesn’t feel the same about him and how she’s changing and being distant… is that what’s happening with Haeun?”

He sighs. “Maybe. So what?”

You wince at his callousness, like he doesn’t have time for you. You suppose you brought it on yourself with the way you've been avoiding him. Still you ignore it, determined to tell him what you think anyway. “Well, if it is, you should tell her. Tell her how you feel, she might feel the same way and you don’t even know. You might both be pulling away when all you want is to be with each other.” Yes, you know how hypocritical it is of you to say that but you can’t imagine a world in which anyone would reject Beomgyu’s love. “If you love her then you should tell her, right?”

He snorts. “What do you even know about how I feel? Do you have any idea about the amount of hurt and self-loathing it would cause me if she doesn’t feel the same way? How it would ruin our relationship if she’s not where I am?”

“I know.” You grit down on that same pain. “I know.”

He pauses, his anger burning out as soon as it ignites. Then he asks quietly, “Yeonjun?”

You press down on your lips. You know if you say no then he might figure it out. He might finally discover your wretched secret, so you smile and nod, fully knowing how hypocritical you are being right now. You’re such a fucking coward, you disgust even yourself.

“Right.” He is quiet for a minute, and the atmosphere is charged with weird, unreadable emotions that buzz in your ear and form sparks over your skin. You almost excuse yourself–not really wanting to leave despite how uncomfortable it is but knowing you should. You’ve said what you wanted to say. There is no good reason for you to linger around any longer.

But then Beomgyu speaks again. "Are you happy?"

You pause, frowning in suspicion at the unexpected question, which Beomgyu notices right away and clarifies, "We haven't talked in a while. I wanna make sure you're doing alright." He says, tone genuine… and a bit sad.

"I am." You allow, not being untruthful. You are alright, no matter how bad you feel doing it without him. "We're doing well. Yeonjun is as wonderful as ever. He is sweet and funny and he shows me something new everyday. Which is a bit scary for me–you know how I am afraid of change, but he makes it exciting.”

“I’m glad. I want you to be happy.” He smiles at you. It doesn’t reach his eyes but you know he means it. “And I wish I could be there to see it for myself. Do you think you can let me?”

That’s what you were afraid of. This is why you shouldn’t have talked to him. You knew he might use it to try to get back into your life, and you know how hard it would be for you to say no. But you do it anyway. You have to do it for yourself and for Yeonjun.

“I can’t. Not now.” Each meager letter leaving your mouth feels like a blow to the heart. It lays battered in your chest, asking you why the hell you would refuse it its salvation, but you just push it down again, silencing it.

“But I miss you.” His words come out choppy and weak, and you know he’s holding back tears. You hate him for it because it makes you want to cry too. “Don’t you miss me?”

“Of course, I miss you!” You whisper as if you don’t want the universe to hear it. "I'll always miss you. But I can't keep doing this with you anymore. I'm tired of the whiplash."

"No more whiplash.” He shakes his head harshly, getting closer to you but you step back, causing pain to bloom across his teary face. “I get it now. I've worked through my stuff and I'm ready to be a real friend again."

"Well, I haven't worked through mine.” You stand strong. Or as strongly as you can be under such duress. “I still need time and I will not have you rush me."

He moves back, shoulders hunched down. "I'm sorry."

"I know." You say tiredly before walking away, your bruised heart bleeding out at the bottom of your chest.

____________

Beomgyu’s song has become some kind of a local sensation. It is being listened to by a lot of the young people in your city–resonating with many youths who have gone through similar heartbreaks. From small unrequited crushes to the person you love falling out of love with you–who hasn’t loved more than they have been loved before?

The painfully relatable song has gained the boys a considerable amount of fame online too. They were being asked to do more gigs than ever. They’ve even gotten an interview, which you’re currently preparing them for, dressing them up to look their best on camera.

Like always, you’ve left Beomgyu for last, dreading being close to him still. And he gives you every reason to, staring at you the whole time you fix his clothes.

"What?" You finally ask, and he gives you a dumb look. "What?"

"You're staring." You tell him, and he averts his gaze. You can see from the ear poking out of his long hair that he’s blushing. "Oh. Didn't realize."

Oh, how many times you’ve teased him over the way his ears turn red when he’s embarrassed. It was such an endearing quality in him, just one of the many small reasons that made up the whole of you loving him.

You got back to styling him, pretending it doesn’t tug at your heartstrings anymore, and he goes back to staring at you.

After a long beat of silence, he asks awkwardly, "So what are you up to? What's new with you?"

"Well, I'm the creative director for this up and coming band's new song." You joke, trying to ease off the tension. Or maybe his cute involuntary reaction softened up your defenses a little bit.

"Oh, are they good?" He grins, falling gladly into your familiar banter.

"They are, but I think their bass guitarist only got the job because of his looks."

He gives an affronted gasp. "What the hell? Hater! What, you think just because he's so pretty he can't possibly be talented too? Us pretty people are always misjudged."

"Oh, you poor pretty boy." You reach out to pinch his chin, before you realize what you’re doing and quickly take your hand away, clearing your throat and stepping back. “All done.”

You give him a tense smile and turn to leave but his hand shoots out to grab your wrist.

"Wait." He shouts, and you look down at his hand wrapped around your wrist. He notices your discomfort and immediately lets you go. "Do you want to get together for some food or a movie or something?"

Why does he have to make this so hard? Why does he do this every time?

"Not yet." You repeat what you must’ve told him a dozen times before. You can't slip back into it. Because your skin still buzzes whenever you touch him and your heart clenches painfully around the hole he left in it whenever you see him. You need time apart to fully let the love you have for him go.

"When?” He asks, frustrated. “When will it end? What can I do to help? What do you need me to do so you can be my friend again?"

"I need you to give me space." You say firmly, standing your ground.

“But–”

“No buts, Beomgyu. You’re the one who made it this way. If you had been my friend when I needed you to, we wouldn’t have gotten into this situation. You need to deal with the consequences of your own actions.”

He stares at the ground, not answering you. You sigh, turning around to leave with no restrictions this time.

Though what you said to him about his previous behavior causing a rift between you wasn’t false, it wasn’t entirely the truth either. The other reason you felt you couldn’t be his friend again yet is that you’re still not over him, and you’ve made a promise to yourself and to Yeonjun that you will only be devoting yourself to him from now on, and Beomgyu being there is just going to hinder your progress.

But as you watch the boys do their interview, you can’t help but feel guilty for what you’d said to Beomgyu. You know it was the right thing to do, but seeing him look so glum, his light dimmed and his spirits down, you wish you had held it off at least for later.

He is acting nothing like his normal loud, talkative self. He looks down and doesn’t speak unless directly asked a question. It hurts your heart because you know the people watching this won’t get to see how funny and bright and passionate he is. They’ll see him as the quiet guy staring at his own feet. He might still get some fans who would be into the quiet, sad look but that’s not who Beomgyu is. That’s not what he wants to be known as.

But the rest of the boys are covering for him well, especially Yeonjun. He is so charming, you know he’s gonna be stealing hearts left and right when this airs. He certainly has managed to put a smile on your face despite all the conflicting feelings you’re feeling, and you make sure he sees it whenever he glances in your direction.

_______________

The boys are doing better than ever, more interviews and gigs coming in and filling their schedule up so rapidly they’ll barely have any free time soon. They’re already in talks with a record company looking to sign them. Which is why you’re actively savoring moments like this when you get to just hangout with Yeonjun at the mall, eating a snack as you take a break from shopping–one of your favorite activities to do as a couple.

“Just think, soon enough we won’t even be able to do this. We’d be getting mobbed by crowds wanting your autograph and pushing me out of the way to take pictures of you.” You say to Yeonjun, half-joking. It might really happen one day with how quickly they’re gaining popularity. They might have small fame now but who knows what tomorrow will bring, and you believe in the boys. They’re talented enough to do it, and that both worries you and excites you.

“Well, I’ll only ever have eyes for you.” He winks at you, and you give him a small smile.

In moments like this you should feel happy. You are happy. But your happiness is incomplete. It is shadowed by worry and doubt. Yeonjun is so wonderful. He is so sweet and he can be very caring, but sometimes you can’t help but question how much he really feels for you. It keeps you from letting yourself completely go with him. He tells you words that are supposed to be charming, but they don’t sound personal. They don’t feel deep. You know he likes you, but is he ever going to love you?

Maybe you’re overthinking it. This is what a budding relationship is like–the novelty comes with uncertainty. The first times come with doubt. The young fire sometimes burns. You shouldn’t let yourself ruin it for you.

Yes, your love for him isn’t as old and deep-rooted as your love for Beomgyu but maybe that’s a good thing. It will take time to grow and flourish and become something just as beautiful or even more so. In time, you can learn to let go of your all-consuming love for your best friend, cover that gaping hole that Beomgyu has left in your heart, forget about the way every time you see Beomgyu with her you feel like screaming out so loud the gods themselves will weep–

“Beomgyu.” You gasp, seeing him in front of you. Fuck, he’s like bloody marry. Call his name three times and he appears.

You try to hide, putting your head down and attempting to cover your face with your hair but there is no mistaking Yeonjun’s bright orange head and Beomgyu quickly spots you and makes his way over to you with Haeun of all people.

“Curse your stupid hair.” You hiss at Yeonjun just before Beomgyu and Haeun arrive at the table.

"Hey, guys, are you on a date?" Beomgyu asks as if there was any doubt about it.

"Yes, actually." Yeonjun tells him in a tone that clearly conveys that you don’t want to be disturbed, But Beomgyu doesn’t care, grabbing a chair and pulling it out.

"Oh sweet." He sits down. "How have you guys been?"

“What are you doing, Beommie? We have a lot of shopping to do.” Haeun complains, and every time you hear her call him that you want to claw her tongue out.

"In a minute, baby. Let's rest our legs for a bit." He motions for Haeun to sit down, but she puts her hands on her hips. “I don’t want to rest.”

“Well then you go on and I’ll catch up with you.” He suggests and she huffs, deciding to sit down after all. Oh, joy.

“But I can’t leave you alone, Beommie.” She whines, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his neck, making you almost hurl.

Thankfully, Yeonjun takes your attention away from them. “So, what new crazy thing is your boss asking from you?”

You turn fully to him, trying your best to ignore the disgusting intruders. “Ugh, don’t even get me started. This morning, she–”

“Boss? What boss?” Beomgyu interrupts, and you clench your teeth, preparing yourself before turning your head to look towards him.

“The editor of Elements magazine. She saw the Frost shoot and wanted me to do a pictorial for them.”

“Oh my god, that is amazing.” He shouts, startling Haeun who was so close to his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

An awkward moment passes after his mindless question. Because we don’t talk? Because we’re not friends anymore?

Eventually, you decide to just shrug. “I guess it must’ve slipped my mind.”

“Right.” He clears his throat, going along. “Well, show me what you’ve done so far.”

You hesitate, glancing at Yeonjun who sighs and gestures for you to go ahead. So you pull up your phone, showing him some of the pictures you’ve already taken.

"Wow this is real artistic shit." Beomgyu awes and you laugh. Trust in Beomgyu to give such an un-nuanced but still somehow very flattering opinion.

“I don’t get it. It’s just a guy in a bathtub.” Haeun speaks up, obviously intending to antagonize you. “My friend Jiwon takes better pictures than this and he didn’t even go to college. If that’s what they teach you at school then you’ve wasted your money.”

Oh fuck no. You may be spineless but you won’t allow Haeun of all people to make fun of your work. You prepare to launch into a screaming match with her condescending ass, but before you could even open your mouth to speak, Beomgyu beats you to it. “Your friend Jiwon takes back camera pictures of weird strangers on the street and makes up an exaggerated or completely false backstory about them to try to make the obviously amateur pictures appear more interesting. How fucking original.”

Beomgyu’s quick defense of you makes your heart swell. Some things never change.

“Yeah? Like this is original!” She sputters indignantly.

“I know it’s nothing groundbreaking.” You interrupt their quarrel, “Like a guy in a tub staring longingly at the camera isn’t something that hasn’t exactly been done before but… umm, it’s actually inspired by your song. The colored water is supposed to represent love, you know the “I’m drowning in you” part? It’s killing him but he can’t get himself to get out. He wants to drown in it… I don’t know it may be stupid but I hope you don’t mind.”

"Oh. No, I'm… flattered." He trails off, staring at you wide-eyed. “I didn’t think I would be able to inspire you again…”

“Yeah, well...” You mumble bashfully, a charged moment passes over you as you stare silently at each other.

"Are you done?" Haeun complains, and for once you’re thankful to her for cutting the strange moment. "I'm bored. Let's go."

“We haven’t even eaten anything yet. Take a look at the menus and order something for us, won’t you?” He asks her, but doesn’t even wait for her response before turning back to you. "You know what would be hilarious. If you get the editor to let you do a shoot with the plastic watermelon dress you made."

“It’s not plastic.” You roll your eyes at him, knowing exactly which dress he’s referring to. “It’s coral organza.”

“Looked like plastic to me.” He shrugs with a mischievous grin on his face.

“That’s because you're fashion illiterate.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I’m very fashion forward and hip.” He proclaims, sounding decidedly NOT neither fashion forward nor hip.

“Yes, because a punk guitarist wearing ratty shirts and ripped jeans is so revolutionary.” You drawl teasingly and he pouts, pulling at his shirt. “Hey! You were there when I picked these out. You said I looked cool.”

“Yeah, she’ll say you look cool wearing a garbage bag.” Yeonjun scoffs and you blush, realizing that you’ve completely neglected Yeonjun as soon as Beomgyu got here. You move back from your huddled forward stance to lean against your boyfriend.

“What?” Beomgyu asks and you quickly brush Yeonjun’s comment off. “Nothing. Now Yeonjun is very stylish. He knows all the trends and he knows how to make them work for him.”

Beomgyu snorts, glancing at your hand that is caressing Yeonjun’s chest. “I don’t follow trends. I make trends.”

“That’s right, baby. You’re a trendsetter.” Haeun coos, getting her hands on him too, touching him much more inappropriately than you were touching Yeonjun.

But Beomgyu ignores her once again, asking you, "How did you even reach the editor of Elements?"

"Oh, Yeonjun knew her." Your hand falls down to wrap around Yeonjun’s, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Of course, Yeonjun knows the editor." For some reason that piece of information really seemed to annoy Beomgyu. But you ignore his unnecessarily snarky tone and turn to smile at Yeonjun, hoping he’d forgive you for your earlier mishap. “Yeah, he’s amazing, isn’t he?”

"Yes, he’s great.” Beomgyu mutters, standing up. “I think me and Haeun have stuff to do. Let’s go, baby."

"Yes!" She claps happily, standing up too.

"Oh, okay. Bye, I guess." You mumble, watching them abruptly scurry off as you try to process the weird interaction. "What's wrong with him?"

“Maybe he’s just being his usual weird self.” Yeonjun shrugs, removing his hand from yours, making you frown. "Or maybe he feels inadequate because I was able to get you the job and he couldn't."

"That's ridiculous." Why would Beomgyu feel inadequate about that? He doesn’t have any obligation to get you work.

"Is it? If I was in love with a girl and another guy gave her what I couldn't. I would be pretty bummed out too."

"What?" The world suddenly screeches to a halt, as does Yeonjun. He looks at you, slowly contemplating something as if he doesn’t know that the world has stopped and is waiting on him.

Finally, he sighs. "I tried to ignore it. Partly because the idiot is trying to hide it and partly because I like you, but ever since we got together, it's been pretty damn hard to ignore. Beomgyu is clearly in love with you.”

"No. You’re getting it wrong.” You shake your head, hoping to get rid of the cotton that has replaced your brain, your thoughts feeling fuzzy and slow as they travel through it. “He's just upset because he thinks us dating will drive me and him apart… which I guess has been true."

"No, he's upset because he wants to be with you and it's killing him to see us together.” Yeonjun clarifies, irritated at having to explain to you how some other guy is in love with you.

"How can you be so sure? Did he tell you that?"

"He doesn't have to tell me. I have eyes…" He looks you up and down. "And well, I'm not stupid like you two."

"That's ridiculous." You denounce once more.

"You said that already."

"Well, it is! Beomgyu doesn’t love me. I mean as a friend, sure but not… like that."

"Oh my god, I'm dealing with two idiots. I don’t even know why the fuck I’m explaining this to you but here goes,” Yeonjun exclaims in frustration, obviously not enjoying this conversation any more than you are. “Think about it, no guy gets this worked up over just a fuck. His first explanation of his anger being just because he’s afraid our relationship is going to ruin the band was total bullshit. It was just to throw you off his scent and have a way to get you to stay away from me without revealing anything. And his second explanation is even more bullshit. Why the fuck would us being in a relationship make you lose him as a friend if he didn’t hold anything but platonic love for you? Why does he get mad every time you and I take a step forward in our relationship? Because he’s fucking in love with you. He literally wrote a whole song about how he’s secretly in love with you and it’s killing him that you’re not his!"

“That song was about me?” You ask and he gives you a look as if to say he can’t believe a single human being can be this dumb. “No, it’s obviously about the girl he’s been ignoring the entire time he was sat with us just so he could talk to you.”

Your mouth opens slowly, tongue dry as it forms the words. "Let’s say he does love me. Why wouldn't he just tell me?"

"Why wouldn't you just tell him?"

You sputter uselessly for a while, not really saying anything. Until you give up and just stop, submerging the both of you in a suffocating silence. You’d think that your thoughts would be racing a million miles an hour right now, trying to process all this information, but nothing is going through your head except one question.

Beomgyu loves me? Beomgyu loves me? Beomgyu loves me?

You’re only taken out of your looping thought when Yeonjun sighs again. "Well, this was fun while it lasted."

"What?" Your mouth hangs open, your frozen brain somehow still having enough power to be shocked.

"You're obviously still completely in love with him. When he's there it's like you don't even see me. You don't see anyone else." Yeonjun says defeatedly.

"No, I–" You try to deny, but he gives you a pointed look, daring you to lie to him.

“Okay, I love him but I’m with you.”

“Only to get over him.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No. My feelings for you are real. Don’t you dare deny that.”

“Maybe, but they’re not as strong as your feelings for him.”

“But they can be.” You insist–trying to convince yourself or him, you don’t know. Maybe if you give me the chance to–”

“To what? Wait and see if you’ll finally look for me first when you walk into a room instead of him? Pretend that I don’t know that time and distance haven’t dulled your love for him one bit? I can’t go on in a relationship where I know my partner will always be thinking ‘what if’. I won’t let myself be hurt like that by you. Not anymore.”

You tear up. You were hurting him? You didn't even think he cared all that much. You must be a terrible judge of character to be getting both boys so wrong. “I’m sorry, Yeonjun. I never meant to hurt you. I really, really tried.”

You really did. You didn’t do this just to get over Beomgyu. Yes, it was part of it, but you liked him too. You really thought this could work, and you really think it would have if Beomgyu wasn’t in the picture, and so you did everything in your power to take him out of it. You moved out from your apartment. You cut Beomgyu off. You dedicated yourself to Yeonjun.

But how can you stop your heart from beating for Beomgyu? It’s entirely out of your control.

"But you did anyway.” He says and you wince, one tear escaping your lashes and falling down the left side of your face. “Do you hate me?”

“I could never hate you.” He sighs, and your lips tremble as you confess, “I wish you would. It might make me feel better.”

“Maybe you don’t deserve to feel better.” His words pierce your heart, and you know you deserve every ounce of pain it inflicts.

“That’s fair.”

You’re both silent for a long while–you trying to keep your tears under control, not wishing for him to see it as any intention to garner sympathy or guilt from him, and him sitting there quietly, his thoughts entirely hidden from you, but you know there is pain and anger in him. You can feel it radiating off of him.

But eventually your tears dry out, and you gather enough courage to ask one last thing of him. “I know I have no right to ask this but can you not tell Beomgyu about us breaking up? I don’t want him to know yet. But don’t worry, I’ll gather my things and move out. You won’t have to live with me.”

"You're not done playing games?" He frowns and you shake your head. "I'm not. It’s just because you guys are working out that record deal and if anything goes wrong, I don’t want to risk ruining things for you.”

“Fine.” Yeonjun graciously accepts. “And you can stay. I’m not gonna kick you out into the street. I’m not that kinda guy.”

____________________

Despite your love for Beomgyu, your break-up with Yeonjun wasn’t easy. You really liked him and had grown attached to him. And even though you still lived together, you hardly talked when it was just the two of you alone. You realize with time just how hurt he is by everything even though he tries his best to hide it from the others–not just because they think you’re still together, but because he has always refused to burden his younger members with his troubles, ever the selfless older brother. It’s one of the qualities you both admired and despised about him simultaneously. You wanted him to share his fears and worries, to lighten the load on his shoulders, and for a short while you were able to do that for him, but now that you’ve broken up, he’s left to carry all of it by himself again and with heartbreak to boot.

You feel incredibly guilty about it, and you mourn for the love that could’ve blossomed between you had you not been so hung up about your best friend. The best friend you still haven’t talked to by the way.

Yeonjun's words have not left your mind since the day he revealed everything to you. No moment passes by when you don't think about them. But you haven’t confronted Beomgyu about it yet because the record deal was still underway, and because you weren’t sure if Yeonjun is even right about it all. What if he’s wrong?

Yeah, what? You'll ruin your friendship with Beomgyu? It's already in shambles anyway. Still, the rejection will be brutal. You've lived in the shadows for years. You're used to ignoring your feelings, that kind of pain is familiar to you now, but if you reveal them to Beomgyu and he shoots you down, you might not bear it.

You'll tell him soon enough though, after the party tonight. The boys have finally reached an agreement with the record company and the contract has come through. They're officially signed to a label now and tonight’s party is a small celebration of that.

You’ll do it after the party tonight. You’ll ask to talk to him after everyone leaves and you’ll confess everything. You're ready to come clean and end it all. Well, as ready as you can be.

But as the party drags on, you get restless, and when you spot Beomgyu alone, refilling his drink, you can’t help but steal a little moment with him.

“Congratulations, Beommie. I hear your song sealed the deal.” You smile widely, your lips buzzing with the desire to tell him what you really want to say–that you love him, that you’re proud of him, and that if his song is really about you then he needs to know that you’ve always been his.

“Yeah. I’m not so useless after all.” Beomgyu’s reply is short and bitter.

“What?”

Yeonjun’s words ring in your ears. If I was in love with a girl and another guy gave her what I couldn't. I would be pretty bummed out too. Is this Beomgyu being insecure like Yeonjun said?

But before you can get him to clarify what he means, Haeun comes running over, incapable of leaving him alone for more than a minute. Can you really blame her? If you had him, you would never let him go either.

“Baby, there you are! My star boy.” She throws her arms around him, pulling him into an open mouthed kiss that makes you want to vomit.

You quickly retreat, not having missed the soft-core porn you used to witness while living with Beomgyu. Fucking Yeonjun, is this what he calls Beomgyu being in love with you? You don’t see him pushing her away or anything. He seems pretty happy with the kiss if his tongue in her mouth is any indication.

"Foul." You mutter, swigging your cider, almost choking on it when a voice speaks up next to you. "That can't be good for the heart, huh?"

You look at Yeonjun sheepishly, not sure if you can talk to him about this. After all, you did break up because of your love for the man currently getting his face sucked off by Haeun. So you just settle on mumbling out a weak yeah.

"Well, you know you could always fix it by confronting him about his undying love for you." He tells you and you can’t help but snort, annoyance overcoming your trepidation. "Yeah, right. He's so heartbroken, he's going to drown his sorrows in her pussy."

“He’s just doing this because he thinks we’re still together. If he knows you’re free, I can guarantee you he’ll be dropping her so fast she won’t hit the ground before he’s on his knees for you.”

“How can you be so confident?” You ask and he shrugs. “Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.”

He walks away, leaving you to think over his words. Funny, that’s how you feel about the sight still playing out in front of you, the disgusting view getting burned into your retinas.

Deciding you needed a break, you slip away from the living room, heading towards the bathroom to wash your face off. But on the way there, you pass by your old room, stopping when you see the door slightly cracked open.

Your feet take you inside without you realizing it, compelled by curiosity to see what he’s done with the room in your absence. Has he turned it into a gaming room? Is he using it for storage? Is he letting her use it as her own? Oh, god, you really hope not. Anything but that.

But you’re surprised when you step inside and find it mostly empty except for your old mattress and a few items you must’ve forgotten during your move. A T-shirt here, a sleeping mask there–they were all strewn around on your bed with the odd piece of clothing from Beomgyu himself in the mix.

You step closer, examining the items when something in particular catches your eyes. A flash of pink under a pillow that makes you reach forward to pull it out, realizing just what it was once it’s in your hands–a pair of pink panties. Your pink panties that you’d been missing for a while. Why does Beomgyu have this? You thought he just used this because he was so pent up he needed any form of release but now Haeun is never off his dick so why does he still do this?

Could Yeonjun have been right all along?

As you continue to hold it in your hands, puzzling over it, you hear the door open and close behind you and Beomgyu’s panicky voice calling out your name.

"What are you doing in here?" He squeaks as if this wasn’t your room. Well, your old room but still. It’s not like he made any changes to it yet.

You turn to face him with the panties in your hands, silent, and his eyes grow wide as he stammers, trying to explain himself. “These are old.”

“They’re wet.” You say plainly, which means he has just used them, and he knows it too.

He scoffs, attempting to appear unaffected. As if this is just a completely reasonable situation that you’ve blown way out of proportion. “Well–it’s just–they were on hand.” He gives you what may possibly be the flimsiest excuse in history.

Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

"Did you leave these out for me to see?" You question, and he rushes to deny. "No! I just forgot to put them away."

His eyes widen again at what he just said, basically admitting that he took them from you on purpose to do with them exactly what you had in mind. God, he's such a stupid loser.

You walk towards him until you’re standing right in front of him, leaving him no room to breathe. “Make everyone leave.”

“It’s our celebratory party, I can’t just–”

You grab his hand and put it under your skirt, pressing his fingers against your warm pussy. “And I want to give you your reward. Make them leave.”

He looks at you, shocked, and suddenly you realize what you're asking of him. You're coming onto him after weeks of ignoring him. You're asking him to have sex with you when he has a girlfriend–when he thinks you have a boyfriend. Oh god.

But then he gulps and says. "Okay."

You watch from behind the door as he stops the music and kicks everyone out, telling them that he doesn’t feel good and needs to rest, and when Kai complains loudly, he asks him if he’d like to stay back and hold his hair while he vomits. That quickly convinces everyone to take the party elsewhere, even his girlfriend. But one person knows better, and you see him peeking around Beomgyu to catch your hidden eyes. You share a look before he turns around and leaves the apartment. This is it. You’re going to do this.

As soon as Beomgyu comes back, you pull him into a kiss, releasing your overflowing nerves with each frustrated and needy moan you let out against his lips. Fuck, you missed kissing him so much. His lips may not be as soft as Yeonjun’s–he may not be as good of a kisser–but god does he still make your heart sing.

“Strip.” You order when you finally tear yourself away from him, though Beomgyu doesn’t make it easy, resisting you the first couple of times you try and pulling you right back into the hungry kiss. But you finally do, and Beomgyu doesn’t hesitate to follow your cue then.

After he’s all stripped down, he looks at you, gaze speaking of his own need to devour you. “Will you strip too?”

“Do you want it?” You ask, putting on an alluring voice but deep down you were just nervous about letting him see you fully for the first time. Even though your experience with Yeonjun has made you gain confidence, you’re still insecure, especially when it comes to Beomgyu. You want to impress him. You want him to think you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. You want him to forget about her. You want him to only think of you.

Naturally, that is a lot to live up too.

Beomgyu nods enthusiastically, somehow managing to come across as adorable in this situation. “Yes, please. Take it all off.”

He tries to reach out to do it himself but you shake your head, pushing him onto the bed.

“No. We do this my way.” You tell him, and he nods again, keeping himself in check.

You reach for the zipper on your dress, hesitantly letting it fall to the floor. You aren’t wearing any bra so now you are almost nude except for your panties as you stand in front of him.

“Fuck. You’re so hot.” He takes his cock into his hand, pumping it as he leers at you. You should feel dirty having him openly masturbate to the sight of you but it makes you feel so fucking good about yourself. It’s just what you needed–for him to show you how much he wants you. “Please, take off your panties too. Wanna see your pussy.”

Despite his lewd display–or more accurately because of it–you’re given the courage to finally fully undress yourself in front of him, overcoming years of insecurities of what he’ll think of your body and any unfavorable comparisons he might make.

“Oh fuck–” He licks his lips, squeezing his cock as he stares at your pussy. “You’re perfect.”

“You think so?” You ask demurely, trying to hide your shock. Is he really telling the truth? It feels like it but you still need confirmation after years of doubting yourself.

“God, yes. Your tits are divine. I wanna suck on them and play with them all night. Your little pussy is so pretty, I wanna be buried in it forever. Come here, please, ride me, sit on my face, anything…”

Is this what you were worried about all these years? He looks pretty fucking happy with what he’s seeing. Why were you so scared? You’re so mad at yourself for wasting all this time with self-doubt when you could’ve had him long ago.

“You really need that?” You throw your panties at him, feeling more confident than ever after his proclamations. “Isn't this usually enough for you?”

“No, please, you said you’d give me a reward." He whines, distraught at the thought of you being so close but not attainable yet again. "I’ve been good.”

“Have you?” You scoff, straddling him, pressing your pussy against his cock and his body goes limp, letting you do what you want. “You’ve been nothing but a horndog, getting your rocks off wherever you can, whether it’s backstage getting sucked off by her or stealing my panties and fisting your cock with them. You’ve been such a bad boy.”

“I’m sorry.” He slurs, mouth hanging open.

"Are you? You seem to be enjoying this."

"I'm sorry." He repeats again, staring at your pussy as it moves forwards and backwards over his cock, covering it in your slick.

"You're fucking hopeless, Beomgyu. You'd do anything to get a piece of me, huh?"

"Yes." He nods eagerly, "Can you sit on my face?"

You laugh, climbing up his body until you’re hovering over his face and digging your fingers in his hair to keep his head down so he wouldn’t make any unwanted moves before you’re ready. "Is my pussy the only thing on your empty brain?"

"Uh-huh." He says dumbly, almost going cross eyes with the way he's staring at your pussy. You fucking love it. This is what you needed–to be needed. And Beomgyu gives it all to you without you even asking for it.

"Good boy." You tell him and he shoots you a searing look at that–at you finally calling him that again–before you sit down on his face.

You try not to put too much weight on him, not wanting to hurt him but Beomgyu has other ideas. He grabs your ass and pulls you down on his ready mouth, tongue flicking out to give eager licks to your already wet pussy.

"Bad–bad boy–" You hiss, pulling at his hair but he won't let go, too intent on eating you out, nuzzling his whole lower face into your pussy, his tongue and lips alternating between long messy licks and needy sucking motions, his nose brushing against your clit every now and then in his fervor.

"Fuck, Beomgyu slow down."

But that word isn't in Beomgyu's dictionary, not when he's wanted this for so long. His fingers dig into your ass, making sure you can’t escape as his tongue presses inside your hole, flicking around as much as he can while your pussy flutters around it.

"So good–tastes so good." He slurs, drool and your juices covering his lower face but he doesn’t even care. In fact if anything it turns him on if his hard, leaking cock that you see when you throw a glance backwards is anything to go by.

"You fucking the air, Beommie?" You pant, not faring much better than him but needing to tease him anyway. "Need my pussy this bad?"

But Beomgyu can't be teased. Not when he's so shameless.

"Yes. Will you sit on my cock?"

"How bad do you need it?" You sit up, pulling away from him and cutting off strings of your combined need.

"So bad. Feels like I might die without it."

"You sound like a horny fuckboy, Beommie. You know I only like good boys." You chastise, and Beomgyu shoots back, "Is that why you’re dating a whore?"

You growl, sinking back on his face, this time not caring so much about your weight over him. "Don't talk about Yeonjun like that."

He turns his face to the side to nip at your thigh in protest so you just straighten his head again and sit down on him fully, not allowing him any space to move. "You know the only whore here is you. So stick your tongue out like a good whore and let me ride it or I'll leave your dirty cock all red and weeping."

He whines in fear, sticking his tongue out for you, not daring to risk it. You move yourself over him, grinding your pussy over his tongue as he stares up at you pleadingly.

“You like it, baby? You like me using you to get off?”

He moans out in response, not having any other way to communicate his agreement and not willing to pull away from you. But you hear a wet noise coming from behind you and you look back to see him fisting his cock, clearly excited by it all. He wants this as much as you do. He has been begging for it for so long, and so you’re not so cruel as to make him take his hand away, but you need to make sure your excitement doesn’t end too soon.

“Fuck, you really wanted this, huh? Can’t help yourself whenever you get a taste of this pussy?” You tease, and he whines again, his cock thrusting into his own fist pitifully. “But don’t get too excited. You want to feel this pussy around you, don’t you?”

The needy noises he keeps letting out vibrate against your pussy, driving you even wilder as you pull on his hair harshly and desperately grind yourself on his tongue, your high so close you could taste it.

“Good boy, gonna make me cum… you want it? Want me to cum all of that pretty face?” You growl, and his hands leave his cock to grab your ass, pressing you so tightly against him, you worry that he won’t be able to breathe.

But Beomgyu clearly loves it. He wants you to do it. He moves your hips so you’re fucking his face harder, faster, all while those slutty eyes of his never leave your face.

“I’m cumming–fuck, Beommie… good boy–” You scream, shuddering as you cum over him. But as you stop moving, paralyzed by the intense orgasm, he starts moving his tongue, lapping up every drop you let out, giving your pussy open mouthed filthy kisses as he wraps his lips around you and eagerly sticks his tongue into your hole to get even more.

You have to pull away from him when it becomes too much, and Beomgyu chases after you, not having had his fill yet somehow. He's still so needy that he ends up pushing you down and laying over you, his lips incessant against yours as his cock lays heavy on your pussy.

You tug on his hair, finally detaching his lips from yours. "That's enough, Beomgyu."

“I made you cum.” He says in a daze, a stupid smile on his face.

“Yes, you did.” You wipe his bottom lip with your thumb before sticking it in his mouth, letting him suck on it. It’s useless of course. The entire bottom half of his face was glistening with your cum. Not that you were actually trying to clean him up. You liked seeing him covered in you too much. “Ready for your reward, baby?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” He groans, his hips bucking up against you, gliding his cock against your wet pussy. "Wanna fuck you so bad. Can I put it in now?"

"Are you gonna keep being a good boy for me? Gonna listen to my instructions and not let your cock take over your dumb brain and make you hump me like a dog?"

He shakes his head even though he was literally humping you right now. "I'll listen. I'll be so good."

"Okay, Beommie. You can put it in–slowly!"

He rushes to push his cock inside your pussy, only stopping when it's all the way inside you. "Oh god–I'm finally inside you. Wanted it for so long."

This is exactly what you had been missing. This is what you needed that Yeonjun wasn't able to give to you. Beomgyu isn't shy when expressing how much he wants you. He'll beg and plead until you give it to him.

"Can I move, baby?" He asks, voice strained with the effort of holding back.

You nod. "Go ahead. But slowly."

He makes a valiant effort, pulling his hips back and thrusting in slowly, shuddering every time his cock is fully enveloped by your pussy.

“Good?" You ask as if his mouth wasn't hung open, as if his eyes weren't all hazy, as if he wasn't holding onto you for dear life.

"So good. Can't believe I'm fucking you."

Neither can you. You had really begun to lose hope but here you are, laid on your back with Beomgyu fucking you, following your instruction as best he could–the strain of it obvious on his face. It's everything you wanted and you finally have it.

"Can I touch your tits?" He pleads, giving you his classic puppy eyes and you smile. "Go ahead, honey."

He groans, reaching out and cupping them in his hands. "Oh god. Missed them." He leans down and attaches his lips to them, biting and kissing all over them as his hips pick up speed.

"Beomgyu…" You warn, pulling on his hair. He fights against you, looking up but not detaching from your tits. "Don't get ahead of yourself now. You want me to feel good too, don't you?"

He nods, his face still firmly buried in your lips but finally letting go of your nipple to moan out, "Yes, wanna make you feel better than anyone else."

His own words rile him up and he bites down on the skin next to your areola, making sure not to hurt you but still expressing his frustration.

"You're such a bratty baby." You scold him, but in reality you love it. You love how possessive and needy he is acting. It doesn't allow a single negative or insecure thought to enter your mind. How could it when he's so obvious about his need for you? "You can go faster now, baby."

"Oh, thank you." He groans, hips picking up speed.

"Better, honey?" You pant, brushing his wet hair out of his face so you can fully see how lost he is in the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him.

"So much better. Never wanna stop." He leans down, kissing you harshly, lips opening and closing around yours, his tongue pressing into your mouth hungrily. His hands grab at your thighs, pushing them against your body as he goes even faster, a constant stream of whines and whimpers released into your mouth.

You force yourself to sober up despite the smoldering fire breaking out in your body from the way he's fucking you so good. You want him to keep going. You want him to keep fucking you until your mind has turned to mush and your limbs have turned to jelly. But you can’t let him have it this easily. You can't let him get away with the amount of pain and suffering he has caused you. He needs to feel it too, even if just a fraction of it. He needs to feel the longing and despair he has made you feel for so long.

"Slow down." You order, pulling his head away from you, doing it extra mean just the way he likes it.

"No, no, please." He cries, not slowing down. "Please… I thought this was a reward. You’re driving me crazy."

"Do you want me to push you down and tie your hand to the headboard to make sure you behave?" You threaten, trying to keep your voice under control against the incessant thrusts of his cock into your poor pussy. "It's only gonna be worse for you."

"No. No. Wanna keep touching you." He blabbers, hands groping at every inch of you he could reach, worried you'd make good on your threats.

"Then be good." You suck in a sharp breath as he pulls on your nipples before kneading the soft flesh.

"I will. I'm your good boy, right?" He slurs, his hips slowing down.

Damn, he's really addicted to hearing you say that, huh?

"Yes, you are. You’re my best boy." You coo, stroking his soft hair and he nuzzles into your hand like a puppy, seeking any form of contact with you.

"Thank you." He groans, fingers digging into your skin as he tries to hold himself back, his poor cock screaming at him to just take you like he wants. "So pretty. Look so pretty getting fucked."

"Yeah? Is it how you imagined it when you'd fuck my panties?" You ask but once again Beomgyu has no shame, his hips faltering at the reminder of his debauched actions.

"Better. So pretty. So tight. Could stay in your cunt forever." He almost drools at the thought, and you really believe he'd love to do just that.

"Dirty boy. Dirty little boy going all dumb for me." You stroke his face lovingly and he peers at you with pleading eyes. "Baby, please, hurts… can I go faster?"

"Aw, poor pup, do you need to hammer your cock into my pussy that bad?" You scold, giving his face light slaps.

"Uh-huh… will make you feel good. I promise." He babbles, his hips already going faster as if he's sure you'll give him permission.

"No." This may or may not be the one and only time you get to fuck him. You need to savor it. "Slow down."

Your hands go to his hips, clawing at his skin to slow down his thrusts and he relents, albeit begrudgingly. "You're so mean."

"But you love it." You laugh at his tearful pout. "God, you love it so much you can't stop shaking your hips like a whore. It's like you've never been fucked before.”

"I haven't. You’re my first.” He admits, knocking any remaining breath out of your lungs.

This is his first time. He and Haeun never did it? What the fuck?

"Did you let him fuck you?" He asks, and you stay silent. He knows you’ve fucked Yeonjun. There is no way he thinks you live with Yeonjun and aren’t fucking him. But then again, he hasn’t fucked Haeun, and you were so sure that he did.

"Did you?" He asks again, an edge to his voice and you nod minutely. "I didn't know. I thought you and Haeun–"

Beomgyu's whole face changes. "God, you're such a slut. Fucking two men at the same time."

You immediately get defensive. Yeonjun was your boyfriend. You had dated for months. You’re not a whore for fucking him. It would be more understandable if he’s referring to the fact (or what he thinks is a fact) of you fucking him when you have a boyfriend, but you’re almost certain that’s not what he’s upset about. He’s just jealous you’ve fucked Yeonjun at all. "Just because she won't let you put it in, doesn't make me a slut."

That just angers him more, and he practically bends you in half as his dick pumps in and out of you at a brutal pace, his anger at what you’ve done making him lose it, not caring about your instructions anymore. "I hate you."

You laugh, fighting hard to hide the pain his statement elicits in your gut as well as to keep your voice steady as he practically plows his cock into you. God, he makes you so mad but he’s fucking you so good.

"But you sure love my pussy."

"My pussy." He growls, catching you off guard once again. He bends his head down to kiss your neck harshly, and can already feel the marks blooming there under his teeth. "Mine. Not his. All mine."

"What?” You sputter. Is this it? Is this how he confesses to you? “Beomgyu, what–”

"Shut up." He smacks your ass, not willing to hear your protests right now. "You've played with me long enough. Now be good and take it."

Played with him? What the hell is he talking about? You’ve never played with him. But any attempt to get a sane answer out of him right now is useless as the sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the room and Beomgyu latches his mouth onto yours, trying to dominate you in a way he has never attempted to do before–as if he’s trying to prove that you really are his.

And you are. He may not know it but you’ve always been his.

But his strong facade is paper-thin and you can see right through it to the insecure boy below when he pulls back to look at you. “Fuck, why did you have to be so pretty?”

“Make me cum, Beommie.” You murmur, moving a hand between your bodies to rest over your pussy, your middle and index fingers on either side of his cock as it fucks into you. “Do you feel how wet I am for you? I’m soaking the bed, baby.”

“Fuck…” He pulls your hand away, taking a look at how wet it has become already before he grunts and pushes one of your thighs against the bed to allow space for his own hand between your bodies, quickly finding your pussy to rub your clit.

“Oh… oh, fuck… baby…” You gasp, back arching as you’re quickly hurled towards your orgasm. “That’s it, honey. Make me cum on your big cock.”

He groans, his hips stuttering as your pussy begins to clench around him. “Don’t talk like that. Gonna make me lose it.”

“It riles you up when I talk dirty to you? Tell you how good you're fucking me?”

He nods.

“Dirty boy.” You moan out for him, “Do it. Empty that cock inside me. Want my pussy dripping with you.”

“Holy s-shit,” Beomgyu cries, and you feel his cum shooting inside of you, his hips not stopping for a second. And though his thrusts become erratic, his thumb keeps up its assault on your clit until your pussy is clamping down on his cock and milking the last drops of cum from him. “Good girl. My good girl.”

He fucks you through your orgasm, babbling on about how pretty you are and how well you took it. He looks so fucking pathetic with his shiny eyes and needy whimpers that before you even know it, he’s ripping another orgasm out of your already fucked out body.

“Goddammit, Beomgyu…” You squeal, toes curling at the very intense second orgasm, your body shuddering with the unexpected sharp waves of pleasure racking through it. And through it all, Beomgyu continues fucking you. You can feel his cock begin to harden once again inside you, and as the brutal second orgasm leaves your body, you wince at the overstimulation, putting your hands against his sweaty chest and starting to push him away.

“That’s enough, Beomgyu. I can’t take any more.”

But he resists you, shaking his head. “One more. Please, one more.”

“No.” You tell him firmly, “Don’t be bad. Pull out.”

He searches your face for any hint of leniency, his big pretty eyes trying to convince you to change your mind but you can’t. He’s fucked you so hard, your poor pussy requires a much needed rest.

You both watch as he slowly pulls out, his once again hard cock glistening with your cum and his, his seed dripping down your ass now that he wasn’t plugging your pussy up.

“Oh, baby, does that hurt?” You coo, grabbing his cock. He lets out a sigh of relief as you begin stroking it. “Yeah. So bad.”

The little shit is milking this, but you play along. “Poor baby. Let me make it go away.” You grin, suddenly speeding up, the slide of your hand so easy when his cock is well-lubricated. You make sure to maintain your position, with him hovering over your splayed open body so he can rake his eyes over it, and you clearly seeing him struggling to choose where to look between your tits that jiggle as you jerk him off quickly, the cum leaking out of your puffy pussy, and your swollen lips as you swipe your tongue over them.

It doesn’t take long for you to have him spilling his seed again, landing on your tummy as he doubles over and buries his head in your neck.

“That’s it, good boy.” You praise him, using your free hand to stroke his long hair that you love so much.

You let him lay there for a whole, catching his breath that is so irregular and stuttered that you almost don’t notice when he starts crying if it wasn’t for the hot tears falling on your skin.

“Beomgyu?” You call out, and a heart-breaking sob breaks out of his chest.

"Please, come back to me." He croaks against your neck.

"What?" You sit up, making him sit up with you and pulling his face away from your shoulder so you can look at him, your heart sinking at the tears streaming down his face. "I can't fucking bear seeing you with him any longer. It hurts so much."

Oh fuck.

"Beomgyu… Yeonjun isn't–" You try to explain that you and Yeonjun had broken up but he cuts you off.

"It's not him, it's you!" He shouts, "I love you and I can't bear it any longer. And I know it's selfish and that you don't love me back, at least not in that way, but then you keep messing with me."

He loves you? He really loves you?

"But I thought you loved Haeun?" You need to know what exactly is happening with him and Haeun first.

"I thought I did too but whenever I'm with her, I find myself thinking of you. You’re always in my head, it ruins every moment I have with her. She hates you too, you know? She can't stand how much I love you. The reason we haven't fucked is not because she won't put out. It's because I only want you. I didn't want to lose it to anyone else but you."

"Beomgyu–"

"But you don’t fucking care. You just see me as your disgusting best friend who you can play with and push away when you're done with him and I can't even bring myself to hate you for it. That's how much I love you. So just please… please give me a break."

“You think I was playing with you?” The idea seems absurd to you. How can he possibly think that? You've done everything in your power to not show how much you love him but never in your wildest dreams would you think that would mean he would see it as you playing with him.

“Weren’t you? I mean the way you spoke to me… you always pushed me away. I had to beg each time for you to even kiss me.” He peers at you, pain and vulnerability shining in his eyes as he recalls the way you treated him.

Fuck, you've been so obsessed with not letting your love for him show that you've done the same thing to him you thought he was doing to you. Knowing that pain all too well, you can’t bear the thought of being the cause of it.

You grab his face in your hands and kiss him, intending to pour out your own feelings the same way he did, hoping to staunch the flood of heartbreak you’re witnessing and calm him down enough for him to realize you feel the same way.

But his reaction wasn't what you expected. He breaks down crying. "You're so cruel."

"No, no! I love you too!" Your hands are in a flurry around his face, wiping his tears, stroking his hair, caressing his cheeks, anything to calm him down.

"What? This is not funny." He sobs, looking like a wounded animal. Your heart aches at the sight.

"No, fuck, I've loved you for years! The whole friends with benefits thing I started was just an excuse to have a way to be with you."

He stares at you in utter shock, the confusion the only thing stopping his tears from drowning you. "But you never even hinted that you liked me. You called me all kinds of names, freak, disgusting, pervert…"

"I thought you liked these..." You trail off sheepishly.

"I did but it still makes a guy think.” He mumbles, his fingers playing with yours nervously. “You wouldn’t let me touch you or kiss you."

"I was afraid if I let you kiss me, I wouldn't want you to stop. And I didn’t want you to touch me because I was afraid you wouldn’t like what you saw." It sounds so silly now that you're saying it out loud–now that you know he loves you and has wanted you just as badly.

"That's stupid. I had already seen it all." He tells you casually and you frown. "When?"

"You don't always shut the door when you're changing." He shrugs.

"Pervert!" You gasp, hitting him with no real power behind it. "What about you? You never hinted at anything either. You only ever talked about my body."

"Well, it did start just physical but I quickly realized that I'm in love with you. Then I kept only mentioning your body because you'd freak out on me whenever I hinted at anything else."

"Fair." You pout, realizing you’ve done as much to hurt yourself as he did.

"I didn't want to let it show that I loved you because I was so afraid you'd pull away like you did a couple of times. And then you were with Yeonjun and it fucking killed me so I had to pretend it was just sexual."

"Oh god, that's exactly what I've been doing.” You cover your face with your hands, mortified at your stupidity. We're fucking dumbasses."

“Yes, we are.” He replies fondly, taking your hands away from your face so you can look at him, refusing to let you hide anymore. "So you'll break up with him and be with me?"

"We broke up a while back.” You admit sheepishly. “He said he can't be with me when you and I are clearly in love with each other."

“So let me get this straight, Yeonjun could tell we love each other but somehow we, the two people involved, didn’t have a clue?” He raises an eyebrow at you and you nod. “I think it’s safe to say we won’t be winning any genius awards anytime soon.”

“We could win the biggest dumbasses award though.” He cracks a smile, pulling you close to him and resting his forehead against yours.

“No one could even compete.” You grin, kissing him. He immediately deepens the kiss, frantic and hungry still.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, Beommie. We have all the time in the world.” You tease as if you weren’t just as needy, making him whine. “I can’t help it. You made me yearn for so long.”

“Yearn? Oh, that’s bad. I made you use the word yearn.”

He yanks your legs up, sending the rest of your body flying backwards and hitting the mattress, your loud giggles quickly covered by his mouth as he kisses you harshly, his teeth biting down on your lips in annoyance when you still don’t stop laughing.

“Stop it.” He whines in defeat as he pulls back, and you try to keep your giggles under control, his pout is entirely too devastating to look at.

"Are you gonna break up with her?" You ask and he doesn't hesitate to say, "Of course."

That makes you smile, happy with how easily he chose you, but then a thought pops into your mind and you frown. "You know, I hated her but I still feel kinda bad for fucking you behind her back." You really do. You've never condoned cheating, even if it was on someone as vile as Haeun.

"Oh you mean the same way she fucked the whole football team?" He counters and you gape at him, "God damn. Why did you even stay with her for that long?"

He shrugs. "Needed a distraction. And to not come across as a loser in front of you. I mean you were with Yeonjun. I couldn't just be alone."

"Oh, honey…" You coo, but anything you planned to say is suddenly forgotten as you feel his cock pressing against your entrance.

"Beommie!" You squeak. “What are you doing?”

"You thought we were done? You spread your legs for my bandmate. I'm gonna have to look at him every day knowing he had you first. I gotta make sure you and everyone else knows who exactly you belong to."

It may not be the most healthy coping mechanism, but you’ll let him have it for now. You’re sure you wouldn't be very happy if you were in his position either. Besides, getting to fuck Beomgyu isn’t exactly what you would consider a punishment.

_________

A/N: Click here for the Yeonjun ending on Patreon.

Also for my patreons, you could suggest a scene from gyu's pov and I'll choose one. There will also most likely be some drabbles about oc and gyu's life after the ending (mostly smut featuring our favorite desperate boy lol) and some will be released on tumblr and others will be exclusive to patreon.

Patreons may also suggest a continuation of a previous fic/drabble. I will do my best to release at least something monthly on there.

Taglist: @blxxsss@sanasour@tinkw1nks@lol6sposts@zuzuhasablog@beomsl@seolis-world@stantxtorurmissingout@wonwooz1@yaorzu-blog@allylikesdabee@rkivezzs@malieno@leviathanlee26@yomomas-stuff@kurisaiyunobara@girlwholovekpop@zuzuhasablog@viaaasdiary@ho3forkpop@skzvcr@th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @izzyexe @boomfrogg @kpop-cakepops-recs @chronicallygyu @girlwholovekpop

#txt smut #dom!reader #sub!idol #tomorrow x together smut

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sixosix · 9 days

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HE BUILT A FIRE JUST TO KEEP ME WARM | LYNEY

notes wc 2.5k, a LOT of talking. but i hope you can enjoy:)) because im so nervous to post this

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“So that’s your decision. Alright.”

…That’s it?

The confusion on your face must have shown. Arlecchino casts a glance and smiles in her own way, only a ghost of it.

The ease of her answer feels like walls cracking, chipping slowly one by one, then collapsing altogether. It’s such a surreal, nearly maddening feeling. The glaring reminder that it has always been your choice dawns on you. So that’s it.

“I don’t want to chain you to the throne.” How embarrassing it is to realize that you were the one chaining yourself in, locking it in place, and suffering from the weight of it this entire time.

‘Father’ accepts it; it’s about time you did, too.

“Alright,” you echo numbly, lagging from disbelief.

As it turns out, the teacup in Rosalie’s hands had been the poison ‘Father’ was offering. She wanted to show Rosalie what it looked like, but Rosalie’s answer was pretty clear when she flung it away the moment you entered the room.

‘Father’ offers the cup meant for you, and you inspect it nervously. The glass feels fragile and smooth to the touch. The fate of your future, your memories, the people you’ve met that have led you all the way here, your entire being—

All in one cup.

You already gave your answer. It took a good minute, but still, it was the quickest choice you’ve made yet. The ‘tea’ seemed tempting for a split second: an easy way out, a free restart button. You know better now, though. Arlecchino’s showing you mercy, and Rosalie’s giving you a choice.

You look up at Arlecchino, uncertainty in your nerves. “But I can’t go back here?”

Arlecchino tilts her head. “You mean to return here as a child of the House?” She chuckles shortly. “Of course not.”

Oh. Ah, well. That is to be expected.

“Why would you be? You’re not an orphan anymore, are you not?” Arlecchino’s gaze swings pointedly at Rosalie’s direction, who is talking animatedly to Freminet. Freminet blushes as Rosalie coos and frets over him like she does to you.

You find yourself smiling fondly, then promptly realize that this is what Arlecchino means. You have a new home now, with Rosalie.

“So I guess this is really my goodbye to the House?” you mutter, feeling limp suddenly.

Arlecchino gently places her clawed hand on your head. You stiffen for a tense moment but eventually relax into it, realizing that this could be the last time she would even see you as her child, even when you weren’t a long time ago.

“It’s been your goodbye when you left,” she reminds you coolly.

Your shoulders slump in defeat.

“But I’m sure the children still see you as family, and you would be our most important guest of all,” Arlecchino says, looking ahead. “Don’t underestimate their love for you, even if you’ve already forgotten them.”

“I don’t think I could ever forget my first home even if I tried,” you laugh, a little bittersweet thing.

“Then still feel welcomed here, on behalf of their feelings.”

Her voice isn’t gentle, nor does she assume to be part of the House that would want you back—she still wears that cold detachment in her words, but you know her. You know this is the closest she can give you. You want to hug her, pull her in, and bury your face in like a child, but again, you know her. Arlecchino doesn’t like things like that—so you’ll settle for sniffling and pretending like you aren’t crying.

“Thank you for everything, ‘Father’,” you whisper, voice quivering.

She doesn’t say anything in return, but her gaze is more open. It’s enough of an answer for you.

“Come,” Arlecchino calls out, her voice ringing clearly and making everyone halt to listen. “Let us meet up with Tartaglia; it’s about time he arrived.”

The warmth of her hand slips off as she walks out. You would’ve chased after it, but Rosalie comes dashing over and squishing your cheeks until your lips are puckered. Freminet spares you a secretive smile before he runs after Arlecchino and your vision is swallowed by Rosalie’s worried face.

“Ma chérie,” she coos. “You’re really sure about your decision? I promise I won’t get mad if you stay with Miss Arlecchino!”

“Maman, you’re my home now,” you say. “I’m already grateful that you still choose to keep me. I know it’ll be difficult to adjust—”

“Nonsense.” Rosalie releases your cheek, only to pinch one gently. Her face is stern, daring you to finish. “I’ve raised you as my own long enough; what’s years more? But this time, you share with me, okay? Whatever danger lies ahead of you, I want to be a part of.”

The waterworks continue. “O-Okay.”

You’re positively drained, tired, and fatigued when the long hand strikes 10 in the evening. You yawn, then lay flat on the grass, the blades of green tickling, but that’s the least of your worries. Paimon flutters around unsurely before eventually settling on Aether’s side. Aether smiles stiffly, all tense and awkward, as he pats your arm in comfort but doesn’t even touch you.

You eye his gloved hand. “Do you think I’m going to bite you or something?”

“I— I don’t know!” Aether says, sounding genuinely distressed.

“I already apologized.”

Aether grimaces. “That’s the thing. I don’t feel like I deserve it. If anything, I should be begging for forgiveness for even blackmailing you.”

You shrug. “You can’t blackmail me anymore. Maman already knows.”

“Still…”

“Aether,” you give him a helpless smile that has him blinking dumbly in awe. “I’m the one who gained everything here. I couldn’t even give you anything even when I was supposed to help you.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Aether murmurs in embarrassment. “You led me to The Knave. We have a meeting tomorrow about my sister—fingers crossed she knows something.”

“I hope the best for you,” you say lightheartedly.

Aether smiles weakly, a little unsettled by this sudden act of kindness. “So what’s your plan from now on?”

“In the eyes of the public, The Knave transferred me out of her care and assigned me to Master Childe. In reality, I don’t have to leave anything behind by staying with the Fatui. Master Childe will be training me personally, and I can be of aid to the House whenever they need it—I just wouldn’t be one of the orphans anymore.”

Aether hums thoughtfully. “So you’re going to leave Fontaine?”

“Only for a bit. I’m taking maman with me, but I would still get homesick, so I’d convince Master Childe to drop by now and then.”

Aether laughs softly. “I guess we’ll be seeing each other occasionally.”

You stare at him momentarily, wondering what would’ve happened to you if you never met him. “If anything, I should thank you, Aether. Your friendship with Master Childe made me an easy ally for him. I don’t know where I would’ve gone if it weren’t for him volunteering.”

Aether waves dismissively. “It’s nothing. I’m sure Childe’s excited to spar with you. I really did nothing.”

You hug him.

Aether is frozen for about two minutes before Paimon nudges him, and he reboots back into life by throwing his arms around you and squeezing you into a hug. It holds the same warmth as Arlecchino’s sweet gesture, so you stay like that for a little while. You gesture for Paimon to join in, and she beams and envelops your heads with her tiny arms.

At least until Aether drops his arms and suddenly looks anxious. “Okay, we should stop before Lyney hears about this again.”

Your heart jumps out of your throat at the mention of that name.

Right… You need to talk to him next.

Aether seems to know what’s going on in your head and grins. “Good luck.”

It’s the next day. You haven’t heard of Lyney nor Lynette since Rosalie’s kidnapping, and you realize belatedly that they’re giving you space. Or perhaps just straight-up avoiding you. You don’t know which is easier.

With the help of Aether, you stand face to face with the house they moved into once they were adults. It’s small and blended in with all the rest, but the cat blinking up at you slowly in a hat was surely a rarity.

“Hello, kitty,” you say.

The cat responds with a slow, measured blink.

It’s the cat from the party Lyney invited you, but that has led to a series of unfortunate, humiliating events that you’d rather forget, so to you, the cat has done nothing.

“May I come in?” you ask politely as if expecting a proper, eloquent response.

The cat meows and then starts scratching on their door. The worn marks on the bottom of the door imply that this isn't the cat's first time either. One, two, three— Then you’re faced with Lynette, who has that expression on her face that seems to say she had been expecting you, but you were a little late.

“Y/N,” she says as the cat saunters inside.

“Hey, Lynette,” you say, playing with your fingers. “Sorry about… lashing out yesterday.”

Lynette tilts her head. “I was never upset about that. I was simply worried about you—you’re family to me, too.”

Your chest aches. “Lynette…”

She steps aside, gesturing vaguely. “Come inside. Lyney is probably fixing himself up in his room; we’ll give him three minutes.”

“He has a show?”

“No. He’s meeting you,” Lynette says, then doesn’t clarify. She walks in calm strides toward the kitchen. “Want some tea?”

“Um, yes, please.”

Their home looks well-worn in a loved way, with trinkets sprinkled everywhere. There are different models of Lyney’s hats displayed on a shelf, which you find endearing. You ask Lynette about the cat, which she tells you goes by the name Rosseland, an assistant to their shows and their beloved pet, and the cause for the mountain of hats in their home.

It’s a little terrifying how easily she indulges you in conversation, just as with Arlecchino. She resembles ‘Father’ in that way. You feel like you aren’t deserving of their mercy. Lynette should be angry at you; you hurt them by being selfish. Instead, Lynette pours you tea and smiles.

“You seem uneasy,” Lynette observes, sipping.

“Well, I think you know the reason why.”

Lynette shakes her head. “There’s no reason to be. If you think I forgave easily, Lyney has forgiven you long ago.”

“That’s awful.”

Lynette smiles. “I think it’s special. We’re twins, Lyney and I, but I think if I were in his body for even a day, I wouldn’t be able to recreate what you two have. He treasures you deeply, more than you know.”

Speechless, your mouth hangs open. “That’s…”

A door bursts open, and a disheveled Lyney emerges, looking around in confusion until his gaze finally settles on you. He breathes out. You straighten up under the full intensity of his undivided attention, just like it had always been.

“Seven minutes,” Lynette says impatiently.

Lyney flushes, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

Lynette sighs, then turns to you. “Go on. Go to him.”

What! Why do you have to be the one to move? You want to voice your complaints, but Lyney is already moving aside to give you space through his doorway.

You cast a fearful look at Lynette, but she avoids your gaze as if expecting it. Betrayed, you shuffle through the living room and brush past Lyney, into his room. It’s messier than the rest of their house, with makeup, clothes, and props. But you find it endearing—it’s Lyney’s room and reflects him.

“Sorry,” Lyney says. Before you could interrupt, he clarifies: “I couldn’t clean this all up properly before you came over.”

But you had time to fix yourself up? You want to ask in amusement, but you settle for shaking your head instead. You’ve visited to apologize, not bully him more.

“I’m sorry, too,” you say. “For the way I treated you yesterday—no, the entire time we were together, I mean.”

Lynney coughs, turning redder. “I know you are. And you know that I forgive you.”

Just like Lynette had said. “You shouldn’t.”

“It’s my feelings, you know.”

At the mention of feelings, you suddenly recall a few words he said in the heat of the moment and suddenly find yourself flustered, squirming on the bed. As if hearing what you’re thinking, Lyney flinches and stumbles back, his face layers and layers of red.

“I still mean it, though,” Lyney stammers out.

“Mean what?”

“My… confession,” he trails off lamely, blushing like a maiden.

You blink in surprise. “I thought you were just saying that to make me stay?”

At the moment in the flower shop, you had a feeling you knew what he was going to say as if you were reading it from a book, and the sequence would go as follows: Your heart was not the first for Lyney to steal. But there was Rosalie, there was ‘Father’, there was the throne, and believing that Lyney was just using whatever he could to get what he wanted again seemed better.

“What?” Lyney’s face falls, horrified. “No, no, of course not! You asked me why I would go to… lengths for you, and I answered honestly.”

“Oh.”

Lyney frowns. “Y/N, I knew I couldn’t make you stay, but I still wanted to say it.”

You find yourself struggling to keep contact with his eyes all of a sudden. “So you meant it? You actually really like me?”

“Yes,” Lyney says, so painfully sure of himself that your face bursts into flames.

You can’t handle the sight of his eagerness laid bare just for you—vulnerable, open, and unapologetically honest.

“I’m not easy to love, you know.”

“A little bit late for the warning.” Lyney smiles sadly. “I love you anyway.”

“Even when I’m like this?”

Lyney tilts his head. “This is just one of the many reasons I’m helplessly devoted to you. There’s really no use in trying to push me away, you know. We’ll find each other again eventually— Are you crying?”

Lyney stutters and frets over you like Rosalie does when you’ve iced yourself to her plants. It’s a little funny, so you give him a pathetic, wet laugh.

“W-Was it something I said? Was it too soon? I’m sorry. Pretend you didn’t hear anything. Fuck, I’m so bad at this.” Lyney groans, burying his face in his hands and continuing his self-criticism.

“Shut up for a bit, Lyney.”

He shuts up right away.

You draw closer to him, wiping your tears away. His breathing halts and his eyes have been swallowed up, pupils dilated. You pause until you can feel his breath on your face, looking up at him for permission. Lyney nods but seems confused, so you just show him.

‘Father’, Aether, and Rosalie have their own kind of warmth, but kissing Lyney is entirely different. It feels as if he’s burning you from within, from your cheeks down to your toes, in a pleasant shiver.

notes last chapter next:( I AM KIND OF SAD ACTUALLY

taglist moved to comments because Tumblris strange

#606: THAWED #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n

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fushigowo · 2 years

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𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐍𝐄 | 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐅𝐓. 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

╰┈➤ professor!gojo x student!reader x professor!getou

╰┈➤ synopsis: your friend, maki, set you up on a date with her friend named okkotsu yuta but unfortunately, your beloved professors were opposed to this so-called date.

╰┈➤ warnings: teacher x student (gojo and getou are in their mid 30s and reader in her early 20s), dubious consent, dom/sub dynamics, threesome, overstimulation, oral sex, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, sex toys, size kink, dumbification, nonconsensual filming, bondage, degradation, squirting, tummy bulge, orgasm denial, getou and gojo are so mean :((

╰┈➤ a/n: well well well look who posted a fic again after suddenly disappearing

╰┈➤ PART I ➸ PART II

Gojo Satoru and Getou Suguru are both great professors. In front of class, they both have their own unique ways of teaching and how they interact with their students, which makes them both fun and great professors. Seeing how friendly they are to their students and colleagues, how they’re considered a fun duo, and how lively they are, one won’t seem to think of them as rude and rough and aggressive towards other people. Well, that is what others think, including your friends, Nobara, Megumi, and Yuuji. You though—you know damn well how rough and aggressive your professors are behind closed doors.

At this point, you basically have a hidden relationship with your professors and every night you pray that both men won’t leak the lewd photos and videos of you fucking your beloved professor Gojo and Getou. Despite worrying about some homemade porno of you fucking them, you can’t deny the fact that you like it. You like every bit of it; the attention, the mixture of pain and pleasure, and the mere thought that you’re the one who just so happens to have a sexual relationship with the professors who are constantly fantasized about in your university.

In class, however, you try your best to focus on the lectures and papers and work that your professors would give. Sometimes, they would tease you and sometimes they would completely ignore you. As much as you want to focus on your works, you don’t want to be ignored as if you’re now a useless thing for them to throw away. You wanted their attention; you want them to only have eyes for you and yet you also don’t want anyone else to know that you’re fucking two of the hottest professors in your university.

Even your friends don’t know about it because god knows what Nobara will say when she finds out. She won’t just say anything, she would freak out. The only thing you could pretend to do is, to pretend you aren’t seeing anyone, which led to Maki setting you up on a date with her friend from another university.

Now, you’re waiting at a nearby coffee shop for Yuta, which Maki said his name was.

You can’t deny the fact that you’re interested in this guy. As much as you want to spend your time alone now that your schedule is clear, you’re curious what kind of guy Yuta is and hopefully, this date would be the start of another romantic relationship for you. Waiting for Yuta had your mind occupied with something else other than thinking about your professors, Gojo and Getou.

“H-Hey,” you heard a voice called out.

“Oh, hi!” you smile at him, making him smile back.

Yuta possesses disheveled black hair with bangs hanging down to his forehead, dark blue eyes and bags under his eyes that, you think, added to his attractiveness. He wears a casual clothing, black shit underneath a denim jacket and pants with black leather boots.

The sight of Yuta smiling in front of you had you flustered and you didn’t even notice how long you’re staring until he shakes your shoulder, taking you out of your daydreaming.

“You’re the one Maki told me about, right?” he ask.

“Yes, that’s me,” you smile. “And you’re Okkotsu Yuta, right?”

“Just Yuta,” he scratches the back of his head. “You look great, by the way. To be honest, I’m really nervous about this date thing since I’m new to this.”

“Don’t worry, I am too,” you smile. “Come on. There’s this coffee shop near my university where we can talk. The food they serve there are amazing!” you took his hand as you lead him to your destination and Yuta didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he was joyous at how lively you are and he just knows that he’ll enjoy your company for the next hours.

Coffee date with Yuta is by far the most enjoyable date you’ve ever had. The both of you talked and laughed together and you liked how Yuta went from being shy and nervous to talkative and comfortable.

The coffee shop is packed, mostly students who are busy finishing their work or studying for exams and the constant ringing of the bell on the front door of the shop didn’t bother you at all until you saw two tall figures came in, one possessing white hair and the other with black hair.

Seeing your professors, Gojo and Getou, outside of the school grounds and with Yuta might not be the best scenario for you. Who knows what they might say or do to ruin your special day with someone you’re actually interested in.

Your eyes were too busy tracking down Gojo and Getou’s movements and your mind was too occupied to listen to Yuta as you thought about your professors ruining your date. Yuta seems to have notice about the sudden lack of attention so he asked what was wrong, snapping you out of your thoughts and your eyes are now back on Yuta. You apologized to him for not paying attention, to which he said it was okay but not a minute later, your gaze were back on eyeing Gojo and Getou. But then again, the two of them haven’t spoken to you or called you to their offices for weeks now and you couldn’t help but think that they’re tired of you so why not occupy your time and attention with someone who’s really interested in you? Wasting your time with your horny professors aren’t worth it so you sat there, now paying close attention to Yuta.

“Where do you want to go to next?” he asks. “We could go to the arcade if you like? Or watch movies?”

“Both are great. We could go the arcade first then we can watch movies at the cinema,” you smile. “Come on, let’s go.”

You stand up from your seat and take Yuta’s hand and walk towards the door. A pair of cerulean eyes seem to have notice your presence, making him look over his shoulder, only to see you smiling and holding another man’s hand. Gojo scoffs before pointing you to Getou who is now handing him a cup of coffee.

“Oh? Looks like our precious student found a replacement for us,” Getou chuckles.

Gojo might be mean behind closed doors but Getou is by far crueler than him. It’s as if the two of them are competing over you on who makes you cum the fastest or who’s got the better dick between them. You, however, were too fucked up to care which of them has the bigger dick. Maybe when it comes to personality, Gojo wins that title.

Gojo follows Getou out of the coffee shop as he walks towards you. The black-haired man tied in a man bun placed a hand on shoulder, which startled you, making you look over your shoulder. You feel Yuta’s hand tighten around yours and he couldn’t help but pull you even closer to him.

“Easy there,” Getou chuckles as he put both of his hands up in the air as if he’s being arrested. “We’re looking all over for you,” he says to you, making Yuta raise an eyebrow.

“Do you know them?” Yuta asks.

“Oh, she knows us very well, right, Y/N?” This time, Gojo interrupts. “We’re her bodyguards. Her mother is looking for her since she has a date coming over their place tonight.” Gojo puts both of his hands on top of your shoulders, giving it a squeeze as he smiles at Yuta, who is still suspicious about the situation.

“It’s okay, Yuta. They’re… they won’g hurt me, it’s fine,” you say. You turn your back against Yuta and faced Gojo and Getou. “My mom didn’t tell me anything about having a date for tonight. Tell them I already have a date and I don’t need another man who I’m not interested in.”

“Sorry but we’re just doing our job. We still have to take you home,” Gojo smiles. “Well, if you want your parents to get angry again—which you probably don’t—we’ll let you carry on this date. Let’s go, Suguru.”

“Wait!” you call out to them before looking back to Yuta. “Let’s continue this date some other time, okay? I’m really sorry, Yuta, but I have to go. I had a really great time with you. I’ll see you next time.” With that, you give him a kiss on the cheek before waving goodbye at him and join the two men.

“Call me when you get home, okay?” he waves goodbye, his cheeks blushing and he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

“I will!” you yelled before getting inside Gojo’s car.

The white-haired man hops on the driver’s while Getou sits beside you. You moved further away from him and sit beside the window. You kept quiet for the first minutes of the ride, asking yourself why you had ruined your date with Yuta by going along these two men who ignored your presence for a weeks. Maybe it’s because you wanted their attention again? Or maybe it’s because you wanted them to make you feel good again after what feels like an eternity of ignoring you.

“He’s a keeper,” Gojo chuckles. “You got yourself a good one, sweetheart. Did you tell him that you’re fucking two of your professors?”

“Shut up, Satoru,” you rolled your eyes at the man. “I really wanted this date to go well but you two decided to ruin it.”

“If you wanted it to go well then why did you come with us?” Suguru asks, making you silent.

You know damn well why. You couldn’t admit out loud how you missed Suguru and Satoru’s kisses, how you missed their hands roaming around your body, and how they make you feel good. However, you are still ashamed that you had left Yuta to come with your professors. You like the man. You really do. You like how Yuta makes you comfortable and how he attentive he is to you, how he makes you flustered even with the little things he does and you thank whatever god there is for making you and Yuta get along so well. But if you want to make this work with him, you have to stop the sexual relationship you have with your professors, which is… something that you can’t seem to let go.

Suguru’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, you look at him and see his fingers signaling you to come towards him. You bite your lips, trying to stop yourself from doing so yet your body gave in and the next thing you knew, you’re sitting on his lap, arms circled around his neck while his hands are on your waist.

“Why did the two of you ignored me the past few weeks?” you ask. “I thought you—you wanted to stop. I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“Why did you think that?” Suguru whispers. “We were avoiding you because you don’t want others to know of our relationship, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“We were avoiding you because we’re protecting you, sweetheart,” Gojo was the one who spoke this time. “Don’t want others to think that you have something going on with your professors, yeah?”

“Yeah… I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“You should be sorry,” Suguru says before pressing kisses on your neck, making you tilt your head up to give him more access. “We didn’t like that you’re hanging out with that guy,” he whispers in between his kisses.

You let out a soft moan when Suguru bit your neck and his hands start to roam around your body, feeling your warmth as you press yourself on to him, your hips grinding against his crotch. Suguru removes your shirt and letting it drop on the floor of the car. The cold air inside the vehicle sent shivers down your spine as you were left wearing your bra. Suguru’s hand unclasped the hook expertly, tossing the undergarment somewhere.

“Wait for me, you impatient assholes,” Satoru scoffs yet you and Suguru decides to ignore him. All you could let out is a yelp when the black-haired man suddenly bit your nipple while his hand is rubbing circles around your clothed cunt.

“Ah, Sugu—Suguru,” you whimper against his neck, letting your hips grind against him.

“That’s not what you call me.”

“‘m sorry… Sir.”

Suguru’s slender fingers pull your panties to the sides, your wetness coating the tip of his fingers as he rubs your slit, making you grip his shoulder. His kisses went even further down, leaving marks on your collarbone and chest and even sucking and biting your nipples that caused you to let out a whimper. You’re panting hard when Suguru suddenly pushes you down the passenger seat, fully removing your skirt and panties as if he’s trying to tear your clothing apart at how aggressive and rough he is.

You couldn’t even protest when Suguru suddenly positioned himself in between your legs, letting it rest on his shoulder. A pornographic moan escapes your lips when you suddenly feel Suguru’s tongue meet your wet slit, licking it from top to bottom. He hums against your pussy, making your back arch as his moans sent vibrations. Your hands went to grip Suguru’s hair, tangling the strands in between your fingers. His tongue continues to pleasure you, licking and sucking your clit as if it’s his last meal. Even though his tongue is already too much for you, he smirks and slowly inserts one finger inside you, making you whine and grip his hair even tighter in your grasp.

“Oh, fuck! Ah—Sir, wait!” you whine when he inserts another finger in you. This time, his tongue is licking and sucking you while his fingers are thrusting in and out of you in a fast pace.

You didn’t know whether you’d push Suguru away or press yourself even more to him. The sensation is too much for you and yet you wanted to feel more of him after ignoring your for weeks. Suguru can’t deny that he misses your pussy. He had to endure the past few weeks without fucking you because of Satoru’s stupid idea of ignoring you in order for others to not get suspicious. He spent the entire weeks fisting himself to the thought of you and to every photos and videos he has on his phone, fucking you mercilessly.

The thought of it had Suguru picking up the pace, thrusting his fingers rapidly as his tongue alternated between licking and sucking your wet folds. You didn’t know whether you’d grip his hair or cover your mouth or hold on to the leather seat of Satoru’s car. The white-haired man chuckles as he watches you squirm underneath Suguru’s grasp and noticed how your hands don’t know where to hold on to. Satoru creeps his way onto the back where you’re sprawled on the seat as Suguru continues to eat you out. Satoru guides your left hand to the base of cock, motioning your hand in an up and down motion. Your entire body shook as you feel yourself getting closer and closer into climax, your back arching and your toes curling against Suguru’s back.

“Ngh—Fuck! I’m—’m cumming!” Just as you’re about to reach your orgasm, Suguru suddenly pulls away, making you whine as he smirks above you. “N-No, why’d you stop? I was—ngh—I was so close.”

“I don’t think you deserve to cum after seeing what happened today, right, Satoru?” Suguru chuckles as he wipes his lips.

“Yeah. To think that we’re protecting you from allegations and here you are, replacing us for such a lame student,” Satoru grins. “That doesn’t seem fair, sweetheart. Now, let’s continue this inside, yeah?”

“Mmph! Nngh…” you whimper as you try to struggle out of your restraints.

As soon as Satoru and Suguru brought you inside Suguru’s house, they immediately tossed you on the bed and restrained your wrists to the bed, legs spread because of the spreader bar around your ankles, a vibrator pushing against your clit and a ball gag to silence your moans and whining. Your face is soaked with sweat and tears as you wait for Satoru and Suguru to finish grading some papers. It’s so cruel of them to leave you inside the master bedroom, all tied up and muffled and a camera set up in front of the bed.

It’s been—what? An hour? An hour and you already came four times. You’re so fucked out yet the men who’s taking possession of the remote of the vibrator kept setting it on a high level, making your back arch and your toes to curl. The bedsheets are now wet and slicked with your juices yet it was the last thing you could think of. When you felt the vibrations lower down, you relaxed yourself on the bed, panting hard and trying to keep yourself awake until suddenly—

“Mmph!” you whimper when the vibrations suddenly went high, even higher than before. You’re guessing it’s the maximum level, which made your back arch and your toes to curl as you climaxed again for what feels like the umpteenth time.

A few minutes after, you hear the door clicked, revealing Satoru and Suguru. Your vision is blurry because of the tears yet you could still see the sinister grins on their faces as they walk towards you. Satoru removes the gag around your lips and the first word to escape from you is please.

“You’re so fucked out,” Satoru chuckles. “We haven’t even started yet.”

“Satoru, get her out of her restraints, but don’t remove her cuffs. I have an idea.”

Satoru did what the black-haired man told him to do. The vibe against your clit is gone now, so is the spreader bar. The only thing left on you is the cuffs around your wrists behind your back. Suguru forces you to sit on his lap in front of the camera while Satoru settles himself in between your legs.

“W-wait, ‘Toru,” you whimper and try to push his head away from your pussy. “’m still—still sensitive… need a break—ah! Fuck!”

You let out a moan as Satoru’s tongue met your aching clit, still sensitive from the vibrations earlier. You try to close your thighs yet Suguru holds both of them, opening your legs even wider and knowing that Suguru is much bigger than you, he is also stronger so there’s no use to trying to close your thighs despite the overstimulation, your head fall backwards on Suguru’s shoulder.

Satoru would moan every now and then, sending vibrations to your clit, making you whimper while Suguru spreads your legs even wider as his lips travel down the sides of your neck, leaving marks and hickeys on your skin. Suguru’s hand travels up to your face, cupping your jaw to make you look at the camera in front of the three of you, capturing the lewd sight and showing how fucked you are.

Your toes start to curl and your back starts to arch, making you squirm against Suguru’s hold while Satoru continues to eat you out. Your moans are almost pornographic as you can feel yourself reaching your climax again.

“Toru! ‘m gonna—oh, fuck—gonna cum! ‘m so close, please!”

“Then cum, slut,” Suguru whispers, enough to make you see stars and your mind to go blank as you cum on Satoru’s mouth. “C’mere, Toru,” the black-haired man says from behind before pressing his lips against Satoru’s, tasting your juices that is coating his mouth.

“You bit my tongue, you asshole,” Suguru says, pushing the white-haired man.

“My bad,” Satoru chuckles before turning his attention back to you. “C’mere, sweetheart,” he mumbles and you immediately obey, settling yourself in between Satoru’s legs, your face on level with the bulge inside his pants.

Satoru opens the top buttons of his shirt, allowing himself to breathe before pulling down his pants and boxers, his hard cock slapping against his abdomen. You gulp at the sight of its pink tip leaking with pre-cum and how aching it is to be sucked by you and to fuck you mercilessly. You didn’t utter another word and immediately licked the tip of his cock, making him take a sharp breath.

“Oh, fuck. God, I missed this mouth of yours,” Satoru moans as you take him in deeper, in a slow and sensual way possible. Satoru sits on the edge of the bed while you’re on the floor, sucking him slowly.

“Lift your hips for me, love,” Suguru whispers behind you, which you obeyed. The black-haired man settles himself on the floor in between your thighs, giving him a clear view of your glistening cunt.

“Suguru, what are you doing?” you ask. “I—ah—I’ll crush you down there.”

“Don’t worry about it, babe. He likes it when his face is being sat on,” Satoru chuckles. “Tell you what, if you make me cum first before Suguru makes you, we’ll give you a reward.”

“What kind of reward—ah!” you shriek when Suguru suddenly slapped your cunt before licking your slit and burying his nose on your clit.

“Let’s change the agreement then. If you cum before I do, we’ll punish you.” Satoru mumbles. You nod before continuing to suck him off as Suguru eats you out.

Suguru’s tongue alternates between licking and sucking your cunt as his nose touches your aching clit. You couldn’t help but moan around Satoru’s cock, your pace becoming faster that the room starts to fill with the lewd noises that you’re making as you suck him off. The more you try to lift your hips away from Suguru’s mouth, the more he circles his arm around your thighs to keep you in place, leaving you no chance of escape against him. Even Satoru’s hand is on your head, guiding you to continue giving him pleasure.

Your pace became even faster when you felt Suguru insert his tongue in between your folds, making your legs shake. You sucked Satoru's cock deeper, hitting the back of your throat and that your nose is buried on his pubes. Satoru releases a moan as he guides your head. Your eyes start to fill up with tears, both from gagging and the overstimulation that Suguru’s tongue is making you feel.

“Oh, god! Fuck! Keep going faster, baby. C’mon, you can do it—oh, shit!” Satoru can already feel himself getting closer and closer yet he doesn’t want to give in. Not until you cum first so he can punish you.

You feel Suguru chuckle against your cunt, sending vibrations which made you moan around Satoru’s cock. Suguru’s licking and sucking intensifies that it had you grinding your hips against his mouth, forgetting about your agreement with the white-haired man, for your only thought right now is to make yourself cum.

You notice Satoru’s breathing became even heavier, his abs flexing as he can already feel himself getting closer and so do you. You’re so close yet you also want to make Satoru cum. When you suddenly feel Suguru’s fingers slide inside your folds, you lost it. You moan against Satoru’s cock, feeling your orgasm rip through you as your body shake above Suguru’s face.

Satoru’s hand pushes your head, making you pull away from his cock. A smirk is visible on his face, knowing that you lost the agreement that the both of you had decided on. His slender fingers wipe your tears away while Suguru gives your cunt one last lick before standing up the floor. You whimper from the overstimulation but that doesn’t stop the both of them when Suguru removes his belt to circle it around your neck while Satoru brings out their favorite toy to use on you—a silicone dildo—almost as big and thick as the white-haired man’s cock. Well, scratch that. It wasn’t the dildo that was their favorite toy, it was you.

Satoru suctioned the toy on the wooden floor in between your thighs, signaling you to lower yourself on the dildo right in front of the two of them. You watch the two of them make out with each other as you whimper, feeling the toy sink deeper into you, coating it with your juices. You hear Satoru’s mumbles against Suguru’s mouth as the black-haired man run his hand up and down along Satoru’s cock while you watch, riding the toy up and down in slow pace.

“Faster, slut,” you hear Suguru’s reprimanding tone, leaving you no choice but to ride the plastic dick even faster. “That the best you can do?”

“Ngh—can’t. I can’t take it, Suguru. ‘m so—so sensitive,” you cry, making the black-haired man roll his eyes before yanking the belt around your neck to make you look up at him with tears blurring your vision. “I can—I can go even faster, sir. I’m—I’m sorry.”

“Nah, I just need to do all the work for you,” Suguru smirks. Something that you have a bad feeling of.

Suguru orders you to stand up, leaving the dildo on the floor that is coated with your essence. He, then, told you to sit in between his legs while he sits on the edge of the bed in front of the camera that—you didn’t notice—is still in front of you. Suguru spreads your legs once more while his other hand is holding the dildo. You squirm against his touch but couldn’t do anything because of how big he is compared to you. Without any warning, Suguru slowly inserted the tip of the dildo inside your soaking cunt, making you yelp and squirm against him.

“You can take it, right, doll?” he whispers against your ear. All you can do is nod as he slowly plunges the entire length of the toy inside you. “Atta girl.”

Suguru plunges the toy in and out of you while Satoru pleasures himself behind the camera, stroking his cock that matches the same pace that black-haired man inserts the dildo inside of you. Your soft groans and whimpers turned into moans as Suguru’s pace starts to quicken.

“Ahh! Suguru! S-slow down, please!” you cry, but instead of slowing down, Suguru’s pace became even faster.

The pace was enough to make you curl your toes and bit your lips as you can feel yourself releasing another orgasm again and it didn’t help when Suguru’s other hand came down to feel your sensitive clit while the other plunges the dildo inside you in a merciful pace. The combination of Suguru’s fingers against your clit and the dildo going in and out inside of you was enough to make you squeal and a transparent liquid starts squirting out of you, making you mumble under your breath, saying your sorry for making such a mess.

“Think you can do that again, doll?” Suguru whispers against you. You shake your head, telling him that you can’t take much more.

“You’re—ngh—you’re gonna break me,” you cry against him.

“Well, that’s the whole point.”

“Do you want me to answer it for you, sweetheart?” Satoru asks as he stares at your ringing phone beside you on the creaking bed.

Your face is buried on the sheets, hands clasping on the pillows as the white-haired man takes you from behind. You try to ignore the ringing and even shook your head to tell Satoru to leave it alone. But, as expected, he didn’t. Still continuing his thrusts, Satoru picks up the phone and answers it while you try so hard to muffle your whimpers and moans on the sheets.

“It would be rude not to answer,” he chuckles as he holds the phone in front of you.

Seeing the contact name, it’s Yuta. You didn’t even remember anyone with that name but your mind suddenly wandered off to the man you had a date with earlier. It’s only been a couple of hours yet you had already forgotten him, thanks to your dear professors.

“Hello?” you ask, trying to muffle your whimpers.

[“Hey, it’s me! You didn’t call earlier so I got a little worried. Did you get home safe?”]

“Ngh, fuck—yeah, yes, I’m fine. I got—got home safe.”

[“Are you okay? Sounds like you’re… running or something?”]

Without any warning, Satoru pulls his cock out and plunges into you so suddenly, making you yelp and grip the sheets even tighter. His pace became even more faster than before, making the headboard create even more louder banging against the wall.

“Oh, god—fuck! I’m okay—I’m fine, Yuta.”

[“Are—are you sure? Hey, what’s going on?”]

Satoru rolls his eyes and takes the phone from your hand, bringing it up to his ears.

“Heya, buddy. She’s kinda busy right now and probably too cock-drunk to make a conversation so… bye!” the white-haired man chuckles before ending the call. “Heh, you’re lucky I didn’t open the front cam.”

“I hate you, ‘Toru,” you whisper.

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo smut #getou x you #getou x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk fanfic #getou smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #getou suguru smut

4K notes · View notes

lowkeyerror · 8 months

Text

A New Victim

Sam Carpenter x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Notes: 1st part of a lil mini-series, had to post something for Halloween, will contain suspected Scream warnings eventually

Summary: You knew something of the rumors surround your classmate, Tara but you never took them seriously. However you find yourself wrapped up in the real life horror story.

Pt2 | Pt3 | Masterlist

You had heard the rumors about Tara Carpenter and her sister circulating around campus. The rumors didn’t bother you much. Or rather they didn’t persuade you to treat your classmate, Tara, any differently than you would treat anyone else.

Some people were afraid to interact with her in fear of pissing her off. They were more afraid that getting on Tara’s bad side would alert her sister, Sam.

Now Sam was a little scary. You had seen her with Tara a few times. The woman looked like her primary state of being was upset. She looked like a very serious figure.

You didn’t blame her. Their whole group of friends had almost been murdered. Instead of sympathy and compassion the public offered accusations and scrutiny. So much so that they moved away from their hometown to escape the media.

“You’re friends with my sister, right?”

You were sat under a tree on campus the first time you heard Sam speak. Looking at her this close made your heart flutter. She was an attractive woman and that was enough to make you sweat a bit.

Unable to speak for a moment, you nod dumbly.

Sam ignores it and continues with her questioning,” Have you seen her today? I’ve been looking for her everywhere and I can’t find her.”

“She left class a bit early today. I think she said something about Chad needing her help with something.”

Sam rolls her eyes, “Of course she did. I’m Sam by the way, sorry to interrupt you."

Before you can say your own name, the younger Carpenter sister is shouting it as she approaches the tree with Chad trailing behind her.

“Y/n! Don’t mind my overprotective and obsessive sister. What ever she threatened you with, I can promise she won’t do.”

“Where have you been? Y/n told me you left class to meet Chad.”

Tara glares at the girl sitting,” You told her I skipped.”

You shrug,” She seemed worried, so I just told her you left with Chad.”

“Where I am is none of her business. She has my number if she’s looking for me.”

Sam scoffs, “Having your number doesn’t mean shit if you don’t answer your fucking phone.”

“I think we should all just calm down for a second, okay. Tara is safe and everything is fine,” Chad tries to de-escalate the situation.

“No, it’s not fine Chad. Why is my sister skipping classes to meet up with you? And why isn’t she answering my text or calls?”

Y/n had no place in this conversation, but she felt like moving away would only cause a bigger fuss.

“Because we were fucking. Is that what you want to hear Sam?”

Sam runs a hand through her hair,” I don’t care that you’re fucking. I care that I can’t get in contact with you when I’m worried about you.”

“What are you worried about?”

Sam looks at the girl as if she’s grown two heads,” Are you fucking serious Tara?”

Tara groans,” We aren’t there anymore, Sam. We left Woodsboro. No one is coming after us. So why should I have to live my life in paranoia because you can’t move on?”

“Fine, you know what I'm done. Don't pretend you don't have that feeling like someone is always fucking watching us. Don't pretend like what happened back there doesn’t fucking traumatize you and make it hard to live your day-to-day life. But most of all don’t act like there aren’t psychos out there willing to try to fucking replicate that shit because it happens every fucking time, Tara.”

Sam storms off after that. Tara’s eyes soften for a moment before her mask comes back on. Chad goes to rest his hand on her shoulder, but she shakes him off.

It’s only then that her eyes land on you, “You must feel like it’s your lucky day getting front row tickets to the freak show.”

You shook your head, “It’s none of my business, so I don’t really care.”

Chad senses that there’s more you want to say, “But…”

“But your sister kind of has a point. There’s a lot of sick fucks out there that have a weird obsession over him and over y’all. Entire internet communities are filled with those kinds of people. It’s a little naïve to think that just because you moved away that you’re safe.”

Neither Tara nor Chad like the way the last sentence sounds in your voice. They both eye you suspiciously. That’s when you realize what you said could come off wrong.

You began to sputter and put your hands up in surrender, “I’m just agreeing with Sam.”

Chad wasn’t convinced, but Tara had known you a little better. She knew that your awkward demeanor was tried and true.

“Anything else you want to pile on, Y/n?”

You look between the standing pair,” You left class to fuck your boyfriend?”

That leaves them both blushing rapidly. Tara quickly spews out, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

While Chad opts for, “We did not hook up.”

You laugh at their response. Unfortunately for you, this brought you a step to close to the kids from Woodsboro in the eyes of Ghostface.

The killer had watched the entire interaction from start to finish. From the moment Sam approached you, the killer began analyzing you.

They saw the potential interest you had in Sam and your budding friendship with Tara as enough reason to add you to their list.

Tara and Chad eventually left you alone. Shortly after their departure you decided that it was time for you to leave as well.

It was still daylight when you decided to make your way to your apartment. There was a pit in your stomach as you walked. Though the streets were crowded, it felt like someone was staring at you.

You wanted to dismiss the feeling, but you checked your surroundings first. It was almost as if the crowd had faded away and the sounds of the bustling New York streets came to a halt.

Staring at you from across the street, was Ghostface. In your mind this wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been. You had stopped walking, almost paralyzed in your spot.

The killer sent a wave your way, before dragging their finger across their neck. You shut your eyes as you stood still. You were trying to convince yourself that when you opened them, you’d wake up from a dream.

When you feel a body collide with yours, you shriek and push the person away. Your eyes shoot open instantly.

You don’t know if it’s lucky or unlucky that Samantha Carpenter was on the ground in front of you.

The woman wanted to yell at you, but the look of terror on your face stopped her. It was like you were in a trance, your eyes were glued to a spot across the street. Sam looks in that direction but doesn’t see anything.

She slowly picks herself off of the floor. She’s hesitant to touch you, so instead she just calls your name, “Y/n, what was that about?”

You turn your attention to the woman, but you look physically ill, and she takes note of that.

“I saw- He’s going to kill me. Oh fuck, I’m going to throw up.”

The bile quickly rises up your throat. You rush to the end of the street and hunch over.

Sam is instantly by your side. She holds your hair with one hand and rubs your back with the other. The Carpenter sister couldn’t really make out what you said the first time.

Once you finish vomiting, she wants to question you again, but refrains from doing so. Though it is against her own set of strict rules, you look unwell, and she can’t leave you like this in good conscious.

The apartment is close by, so she helps you stand and guides you to her apartment. You don’t say anything during the walk, you barely have even the cognizance to pick up your feet.

The only image that keeps replaying in your head is the cloaked figure dragging their finger across their throat. It makes you want to puke all over again.

When she enters the apartment it’s a full house. Tara, Chad, Anika, Mindy, Ethan, and Quinn; were all congregated in the living room.

Sam motions the people on the couch to move out of the way. She sits you up straight and everyone is silent.

“Who is that? I thought we strictly had a no one, except Quinn's hook ups and us, in this apartment rules.” Mindy is the first to speak up.

“Why is Y/n here and why does she look like that?” Tara gives her sister a pointed look.

“Don’t look at me I found her on the street like this. She shoved me to the ground and vomited in the street.”

“Poor thing,” Quinn reacts to Sam’s words.

“Did she say anything? Because it looks like she’s a walking zombie,” Ethan adds.

Sam nods, “She did, but I didn’t understand her and seconds later she was puking.”

Anika nudges Tara,” She’s your friend, try to get through to her.”

Tara slowly approaches Y/n. She gets eye level with the girl who seems to be in a catatonic state.

“Y/n, what happened? Talk to me,” Tara’s voice is gentle when she speaks. A side of her that no one in the house is used to seeing emerges.

You begin to tremble, and your eyes suddenly come alive. Your voice is shaky,” He’s going to kill me."

It was a whisper, but Tara heard you perfectly clear. Sam notices her sister’s body tense after the words left your lips.

“Who?”

You begin to shake your head as tears start to stream down your face. Your head buries itself in your hands.

“I saw him, across the street,” your throat burns as you spoke.

Sam hears that part and interjects herself in the conversation,” Who did you see Y/n?”

“Ghostface.”

#lowkeyerror #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #scream #tara carpenter #anika kayoko #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #ethan landry #quinn bailey

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futurecorps3 · 11 months

Note

can i request a jj x reader where she keeps saying she's sick but jj doesnt believe it and thinks it's just an excuse to not go to the midsummers or whatever u choose, but then when they both go, she passes out and jj gets worried and protective. thank uuu smm!!

𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐞

Masterlist<3

Summary: JJ thinks you're lying Pairing: JJ Maybank x kook!reader Warnings: JJ kind of being an ass lmao, sickness, mentions of headaches, reader faints and I think that's it, lmk if I missed any! Word Count: 2.6K Requested: Yes

A/N: Took me a while to figure this one out cause I think J wouldn't be like that in the first place but let's try!! Hope u like, nonnie<3

Everything sucked. There was no way a human could have this bad luck, and Y/N had begun to think the universe had it against her at this point. She had spent almost a month finding the perfect dress and headpiece for Midsummers' night, two months in convincing her parents to let her bring JJ as her plus one and a solid three weeks in convincing JJ.

Only for a mind bending migraine to come storming its way right in the morning. She tried ignoring it for a while, taking some pain-killers to try to ease the pain, but they did absolutely nothing. Her parents had left early to help the Camerons set everything up (sitting around and ordering people) and the party started around five, so she opted for sleeping to see if the headache would subside.

It didn't; she realized right when JJ's booming voice rang through her ears, waking her up. "Figured I'd come down here so we could get ready together!" Her boyfriend said with a grin, holding the tuxedo she had bought for him in his arms. She incorporated from her bed. Standing up with a little dizziness, she couldn't let slide and kissed him as a greeting.

"For an event, it took me days to convince you to go to, you truly are excited." Y/N smiled, feeling a little light-headed. "Did you shower?" She asked as she buried her head in his chest as JJ's arms wrapped around her waist "'Course mamma, just for you... but by the looks of it you haven't" he smiled as his girlfriend hit his chest playfully.

"You're right though, be right back". Y/N stepped in her bathroom as she heard JJ play some music on her speaker. Hopefully, the shower would help the pain she could no longer stand. She tried massaging her scalp and breathe in the scents of her soaps, relax in the water and whatnot but it didn’t help.

She felt as if someone was pushing her eyeballs into the inside her skull while pounding the sides of her head with a hammer, the worst migraine she ever had. Now, this whole thing was important for both Y/N and JJ, as it was the first time they’d be attending an event of this nature together… but she wasn’t sure the headache would allow her.

The thought made her sulk a little, but in the end, the migraine was stronger. She stepped out of the shower wrapped in a towel as well as her hair, watching JJ play around with her necklaces and rings. “J, I-I don’t think we can go” she muttered, disappointment clear in her shaking voice when she noticed how his face fell.

“What do you mean?” he sounded almost shocked. “My head’s been hurting like a motherfucker since I woke up, I-I tried taking some painkillers but they worked for shit and-“ “Y/N you ain’t gotta lie… just say you don’t wanna go with me”.

She couldn’t bear thinking JJ thought it had to do with him “Baby no, I-I’m serious! We could stay in and cuddle if you want, maybe watch Top Gun or-“ then he laughed. “Stop pretending”

“What?” “I know you don’t want me to meet all your kook friends and I know you're kind of ashamed of dating me even though you say you aren’t and-“ “What are you talking about!?”

This was a very JJ thing to think. And no, he wasn’t being manipulative. Y/N knew he meant every word he was saying. And that’s what hurt the most. He could get insecure and honestly, she couldn’t blame him. He grew up in a place that condemned him for the blood running through his veins, hearing things like “he’s just like his old man” or “a Maybank after all” when he fucked up.

Yes, he was reckless and stupid, but he was also kind and a good man. Y/N knew he had some reservations coming into this entire relationship with her because being friends differed completely from being boyfriend and girlfriend. The judgments they were to face were clear, but she always reassured him that as long as they were together they’d be okay.

She could see why he’d think that way. “It’s not like that, baby-“ “Except it is” he said, running his hands through his hair and pacing around the room. “Let’s go then” she gave in. Physical pain hurt way more than knowing JJ thought she was embarrassed to be dating him. She could handle it.

“Oh, so suddenly your headache goes away?” He snapped, throwing air quotes in the word headache which made Y/N, who was already getting her hair done, give him a look of “drop it” and he did, kissing her in the cheek before changing into his suit.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

When they got there, Y/N’s headache was nowhere near better, but she tried paying no mind to it; what mattered was she was walking down to the party with JJ holding her hand. She squeezed his fingers gently as they approached her parents; him squeezing her's back.

“Hi sweetie!” My mom smiles, hugging her tightly with the sweetest grin and then moves to hug her boyfriend. “JJ, we’re so glad you could make it! Go ahead to our table. It’s four over there and I made sure to seat you with Sarah and Kie”. The woman was always kind to J, making sure he felt welcomed in their lives.

Who was really hard to convince was her dad, always wary of the boys Y/N brings home. Now, him being a pogue well… that stir shit up to say the least. “Thank you” the boy answered her mom, then turning to her dad. “Hello, sir”. Her dad gave JJ a stern look and held out his hand “Hello JJ”. And that was it for him.

As they were walking to their table, Y/N realized her boyfriend’s face fell a little at the interaction with her dad. “Hey hey, it’s okay… you know how he gets,” she quickly assured and he directed those sad blue eyes to her “I just don’t get why he doesn’t like me” he sighed, a sad chuckle leaving his lips.

“You don’t usually care what people think of you, J. Why do yo-“ “I care because he’s your dad! I don’t care if Pope’s parents or- or Kie’s don’t like me, I couldn’t give less of a fuck but not with you. He’s your dad and as much as we know he’s unfair with me for being a pogue, I-I would like him to like me”

Y/N’s heart broke at his words, making her feet stop next to the dancefloor, her headache pulsating at the strong wave of emotions. “We can’t make him like you but when we get married…” JJ laughed at that, placing big hands around her waist and smiling “When we get married, he’ll realize I couldn’t wish for a better person to be with me forever. Because you love me, and I love you.” She grinned, pecking his nose to then resume their way to their seats.

When a waiter approached them and Y/N ordered water instead of some champagne, JJ looked at her funny. "Water? Who are you? Kie?" He joked, the aforementioned throwing a small napkin to his head "At least I'm not going to die of some weird liver disease like you J!" Kiara countered, giggling slightly. "I told you I'm not feeling well" Y/N mumbled, and before he could say anything, she joined Sarah and Kie's conversation.

As the conversations flowed and laughter filled the air, Y/N valiantly pushed through the discomfort, not wanting her condition to dampen the joyous occasion. Engaging in lighthearted banter with her friends, she managed to mask the underlying pain she felt. Yet, behind her radiant smile, an unrelenting throbbing persisted, casting a shadow on her otherwise vibrant spirit.

As Y/N's voice intertwined with the playful chatter, a sudden surge of dizziness overwhelmed her senses. Her head felt heavy, as if wrapped in a dense fog, and her vision blurred around the edges. The familiar pain that had been nagging her intensified, clawing at her temples.

She desperately clung to the facade of normalcy, but her body betrayed her resilience. Y/N's grip on the conversation faltered, her words becoming muddled as her mind struggled to keep pace. Her friends noticed the change in her demeanor, a fleeting flicker of concern crossing their faces. "You 'kay Y/N/N?" John B asked.

In that moment, Y/N's world seemed to spin out of control. Sensations of disorientation and weakness cascaded through her body, leaving her feeling adrift and vulnerable. The sounds of her friends' voices morphed into a distant echo, as if they were calling to her from a great distance.

The once vibrant party faded into the background, overshadowed by the overwhelming intensity of Y/N's migraine. Her focus narrowed to a single point of struggle, her every instinct urging her to find solace and relief from the torment that gripped her. "Baby?" She heard JJ mumble as her consciousness teetered on the precipice. Y/N's body succumbed to the overpowering sensations, causing her to lose consciousness.

A profound stillness enveloped Y/N as she drifted away, suspended in a momentary limbo between wakefulness and oblivion. Time became a fleeting concept, and the outside world ceased to exist for those brief moments.

In that suspended state, Y/N's body rested, unaware of the commotion that unfolded around her. JJ held her full weight in his arms, shock written all over his features. "Y/N! Baby, wake up!" he hopelessly pleads, the attention of the nearby tables focusing entirely on him. Kiara rushed over to her as well as Sarah and John, all in a frenzy, knowing nothing of what was going on.

"John, go get the twinkie! Ambulances will take a while to come to this side of the island." JJ hurried, feeling everyone's gaze on him but caring only for the peaceful look on his girlfriend's face. John B nodded and left quickly to get the van as close as he could. Then, guilt came rushing through J's veins like injected adrenaline; this was hois fault.

Y/N had tried to tell him she wasn't feeling okay, but he was too petty and way more inside his head when she was just being honest. He felt a sting in his eyes and as soon as he blinked; the tears stained Y/N's dress. "I'm so sorry baby" he whispered, Sarah and Kie looking puzzled at him asking for forgiveness at a time like this.

"JJ, this is not your fault" the blonde said, rubbing his back reassuringly but before she could continue, he began shaking his head "Y-You don't understand, she told me her head was hurting but-but I was stupid and thought she didn't wanna be seen with me and-" a sob interrupted his sentence, making Kie hug him tightly. "It's still not your fault".

He cried for a few more seconds, holding Y/N close so he could feel her still steady heartbeat against his ear until John B came rolling down in the twinkie. JJ noticed Y/N's dad approaching when he lifted up his girlfriend, but he needed to get her to the hospital quick. "I'll get her to the hospital sir, meet you there," He said in a panic, his friends and him getting in the van and speeding off to the emergency room.

He felt his heart sink as John drove and he could notice Y/N's breath quicken, then falter. JJ rarely felt guilt, but this was the way the universe was punishing him, he figured. "Hurry" he mumbled, knowing his best friend was doing his best not to crash while getting his girl to the hospital as soon as he could.

Eventually they got there. Everything from when the car stopped to him sitting next to her bed was a blur for JJ; he had a vague memory of the doctors saying she passed out from the migraine and dehydration, nothing fatal but if JJ hadn't been there to catch her when she blacked out it could've caused a concussion.

The pogues stayed there against the professional's advice, saying they should go home and sleep, that Y/N would be awake by morning and they would be able to talk to her then. They refused. Kie and Pope (who got there as soon as he heard the news) cuddled on a couch. Sarah and John did the same as JJ just sat next to Y/N's bed, holding her hand.

The doctors instructed her boyfriend to give her water as soon as she woke up and notify a nurse that would help her immediately, but in the meantime, all they could do was wait. Her parents walked in to find a room of teenagers sleeping at around eleven. Her mom woke JJ up so he could fill them in.

"Mrs. Y/L/N... hi" he sleepily mumbled, rearranging the wild mess his hair was by brushing it back to later rub the sleep out of her face. Her father was standing behind her with an angry expression, and before Y/N's mother could speak, he approached JJ menacingly. "You explain to me right this second why you didn't ask me what was to be done as soon as she passed out! We were so-" the man whisper yelled so the others wouldn't wake up.

"I'm sorry sir, and with all due respect, I could not care less about what you thought would be appropriate other than bringing her to the hospital. I couldn't care less about how you both were feeling; she needed help, and she needed it right that second. I'm sorry if I crossed any boundaries but, as you would be able to tell if you gave me a chance, I have no limit when it comes to your daughter's well being" JJ declared, not once getting his eyes off Y/N's dad.

And he was telling the truth, too. He would go to the ends of earth for her and if her being safe meant her dad would hate him more, it was okay for him. Suddenly, Y/N's mother engulfed him in a tight hug. "She couldn't be with someone better than you. We're just glad she's safe and to know our girl is with someone who will look after her. Thank you, JJ" she smiled.

He smiled wide, returning the hug. "No problem, ma'am. The doc said she'd be just fine. Apparently she had a migraine and hadn't drunk enough water... we're all just waiting for her to wake up". When the blonde raised his eyes to the man behind her, there was something different. Respect, maybe. He didn't really care in this moment.

Her parents stayed in some chairs outside, and, at around midnight, Y/N woke up. JJ was the first one to notice when her hand moved to wrap around his finger while he mindlessly scrolled through twitter. He dropped his phone, almost falling to the ground when he tossed it somewhere as he turned to look at Y/N. "Hi, hi baby" He cooed, pretty y/e/c staring at him just like he needed "Mmm, my hero", Y/N's voice was hoarse.

JJ giggled, handing her a bottle of water and stroking her cheek softly. "I'm sorry baby, I-I should've listened to you when you tried to tell me" He sighed the apologies he repeated like a prayer hours ago "S'okay J" "It's not. Shouldn't have let my mind get in the way. I'm glad you're okay" "Yeah me too... I'm also glad to see you, baby... Dreamt about you while I was out" "As you should," he jokingly said, both of them laughing and sharing a sweet kiss.

The story after that is short. Y/N recovered, JJ was finally allowed at family dinner (and exchanged pleasant conversations with his soon to be father-in-law as he called him). ♡

˚ · • . ° .

The ending feels rushed, I'm sorry ahhhh. Tysm for reading! Hope you enjoyed

Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!

Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO REPOST AS THEIR OWN/TRANSLATE/OR COPY MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM OR SPACE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT.

#jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #jj smut #jj x reader #jj x you #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank x routledge!reader #jj x reader x rafe #obx imagine #obx x reader #obx #obx fanfiction #obx fluff #obx angst

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lulublack90 · 23 days

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Prompt 11 - Fake Date

@wolfstarmicrofic May 11, word count 875

“Eugh, my mum keeps asking who I’m bringing to my cousin's wedding!” Remus groaned as he checked the new message on his phone. “She’s getting worse. Ever since Oscar and I broke up it’s all she cares about.” He shook his head and put on a high-pitched voice, imitating Hope. “Reemuss,” He elongated his name like Hope did with her lilting accent. “Remus, why don’t you have a nice boy to bring to Gwen’s wedding? You should go find yourself someone, Remus.” He grimaced. “Like it’s so easy. She met dad in the middle of a forest when that guy jumped out of the trees at her and dad came to her rescue. Knowing my luck, the would be murderer would fall for me.” He leaned his head back and cursed the heavens.

Sirius had sat there patiently listening to Remus grouse. He snatched Remus’s phone from his lap and typed a quick message to Hope.

“There,” He said. “Now you have a date.” He grinned mischievously. Remus paled.

“What did you do?” He picked up his phone and gasped. “Sirius! What the actual?!” His phone pinged as Hope started gushing about how happy she was and how much she’d always loved Sirius. He had to put his phone on silent to shut it up. Sirius had messaged Hope telling her that he was bringing Sirius as his date. Sirius who he’d had a crush on for years and told his mother every little thing about it. Oh gods, this was going to be a disaster.

“It’ll be fine, Remus. I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend for the day, and then we’ll mysteriously break up, none of them will be the wiser, and it'll make your mum happy.” Remus groaned into his hands.

They travelled to Wales the day before the wedding and stayed at Remus’s parents house. Lyall greeted them at the door but then disappeared into his study. He was happy in there and Remus was happy he was in there, to be honest. They’d never quite seemed to quite understand each other and this way was easier, much to Hope’s annoyance.

Hope, on the other hand, wrapped them both in her arms and cooed over Sirius.

“I knew you’d end up together. You’re perfect for each other.” Sirius lapped it up. The only problem they had was Hope put them in Remus’s old bedroom. They hadn’t thought of that when they’d agreed to stay there. There wasn’t even another spare room.

“It’ll be fun,” Sirius beamed. “Like being back at school.”

“We never shared a bed. That was you and James,” Remus reminded him.

“Well, better late than never then, I guess,” Sirius responded. So that was how Remus found himself in bed with Sirius.

Thankfully, morning came quickly and then it was time for the wedding.

Everybody made a fuss about Sirius.

“He’s so handsome Remus,” His grandmother had declared when he’d introduced him. “You ought to put a ring on his finger, so he doesn’t get away,” She’d said loudly. Remus went beet red.

“Nain, you can’t just yell that out!” He hushed her.

“And why not? I want to see some great grand kids before I pop my clogs, and you aren’t getting any younger,”

“Oh my god,” He didn’t know how to handle her apart from with a gin and tonic and the bar wasn’t open yet.

“Don’t you worry, Mrs Howell, I’ll make an honest man out of him.” Sirius said, linking her arm with his and leading her away to her table. He turned and winked at Remus. Remus wished he could turn invisible.

By the end of the wedding, Sirius had won over all of Remus’s family and all of the grooms. In fact, more people knew who Sirius was at the wedding than knew who Remus was.

Remus was glad when they were on their way back to his parents house. It had been a long day. “So,” Sirius asked him. “When are you going to pop the question? Your Nain’s promised me her engagement ring.” He grinned, fighting back a laugh at Remus.

“Oh, haha, Sirius,” Remus rolled his eyes and said no more about the subject.

That night, much to Remus’s surprise, Sirius snuggled under his arm and rested his head on Remus’s chest.

“I had fun today.” Sirius told him with a sleepy voice. “Your family is really nice, and I might just steal your Nain. She was brilliant.” He turned his head to look at Remus. “Thank you for letting me come.” He said quietly.

“You invited yourself. I had nothing to do with it.” Remus huffed.

He closed his eyes hoping Sirius would take the hint. But instead, Sirius pushed up and kissed him. Remus’s eyes shot open, and he stared at Sirius.

“I was serious about that ring, Moony. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be there.” Remus didn’t know what to say, so he dragged Sirius’s face back to his and kissed him deeper than their first. He melted as Sirius kissed him back. “Took you long enough,” Sirius murmured against his lips. Remus had never been happier. He made a note to send a bottle of champagne to his cousin, because without her this might never have happened.

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beskarandblasters · 2 months

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Enchanted to Meet You

Security Guard!Din Djarin x Senator/F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: Inspired by Enchanted by Taylor Swift! Part of the Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge! This is also way more than a drabble and possibly some of my favorite smut I’ve ever written?!?!

Summary: You’re a senator for the New Republic and tonight you’re forced to attend the New Republic Gala. Senator Xiono won’t leave you alone but that in turn leads you to meet Mando, a security guard at the event. And that leaves you wonderstruck.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, reader has consumed alcohol, creepy guy at the gala, fingering, semi public sex, vaginal sex, pull out method, pet names (cyar’ika, mesh’la), no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

Small talk. Painful small talk. Your cheeks hurt from faking smiles and pretending to nod at people’s boring anecdotes. If you fake laugh at one more unfunny story you’re going to lose it. Everyone here is so insincere, only here to further their own political gain. It’s a gala for the New Republic, sure but what happened to the social aspect of it? It just feels fake, like the whole thing is a facade.

The only thing that makes tonight semi-bearable is your dress– midnight blue chiffon with silver stars embroidered throughout the fabric. A dress that you’d like to meet someone in if you weren’t surrounded by self-absorbed politicians.

The gala is decorated extravagantly. The lights on the dance floor reflect gorgeously off your dress and your jewelry. The music is actually quite catchy for a party full of bureaucrats. And the multiple rounds of revnog are certainly helping you loosen up.

If only you had someone to share it all with.

You don’t feel like you fit in here. Most of the senators are Coruscant, Chandrila, and other Core planets. You’re from Naboo and that makes you feel like an outsider among the Galaxy’s elite.

A tap on your shoulder interrupts your train of thought.

“Care to dance?”

You turn around, the skirt of your dress swaying with the motion, and find Senator Hamato Xiono.

“With you? Not a chance.”

“Aw, come on. Perfect opportunity to talk trade routes. The music, the lights… it might make you think differently about voting no on my proposal.”

“Because your proposal lacks any real research.”

“You’ll change your mind once I’m done with you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, stepping towards you and grabbing your arm.

You attempt to pull away from him but his grip is tight, snug around your wrist. The blood drains from your face and adrenaline courses through you. He’s trying to talk about politics now… at a party? And on top of all that he put his kriffing hands on you.

“Is there a problem here?” a sultry-toned voice asks.

You look to your left and find a man wearing silver armor. Tall, broad, an absolute unit. His face is concealed by a helmet that matches the rest of his armor, a T-shaped visor running down the middle.

Senator Xiono lets go of your wrist and you let it fall to your side. His touch leaves tingling marks on your skin, and not the good kind.

��Nope. We’re fine. Aren’t we?” Senator Xiono asks, a fake smile gracing his face.

You look at him and then back at the strange masked man before saying, “I need some air.”

You walk past both of them, your ears ringing with anger as the other partygoers' faces blur around you. The adrenaline doesn’t start to subside until the cool nighttime air hits your face.

Alone on the balcony, leaning against the railing and looking at the sea of speeders beneath you. Deep breaths and counting to ten calm you down. And once your mind is finally clear you ask yourself… Who was that man?

“Are you alright?” the same silky voice as before asks.

You don’t have to see him to know who it is but you turn around anyway, meeting his visor.

“I’m fine… But thank you for checking on me,” you say before glancing at the view of Coruscant again. Your hands grip the cool metal railing and the wind causes goosebumps to prick your skin.

“...Who are you?” you ask, still not looking at him.

“I was hired as security for the event,” he says, not saying who he really is.

“I see…”

You sense him standing next to you at the railing, matching the same pose you’re making, his gloved hand so dangerously close to yours.

“Thanks for stepping in back there,” you say, turning your head and looking at him. Your eyes are always drawn to his visor. It should be unsettling looking at something without a discernible face. And yet all it does is intrigue you.

“He was disrespecting you.”

“He tends to do that.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“I’m sure you deal with much worse… Are you always doing security?”

“I’m a bounty hunter,” he says, turning to face you.

“A bounty hunter?” you ask, facing him too, your eyes widening.

“Mhm.”

You’re not sure why… but that excites you. It’s a contrast from your boring day-to-day routine of paperwork and meetings– a life on your own, living by no one’s rules.

“Tell me more about that.”

He gestures to a bench in the center of the balcony where you follow him, sitting side by side, thighs touching ever so slightly. You listen to him recount fascinating stories, ones where he’s brave and slaying countless people left and right. But he also tells you a story about the time he was bested by a blurgg. He makes you laugh. And surprisingly he laughs, too.

Maker, his laugh.

You’ve only just met him yet his laugh is like music to your ears. The conversation is so natural, so easygoing. You feel like you can be yourself around him. You hope he feels the same way about you. Your mind starts to wander… What does he look like underneath the helmet?

“Can I tell you something?” you say.

“What?”

“I wish I could kiss you.”

“...Really?”

“But you can’t take off the helmet.”

“You’re right. It’s a part of my creed.”

He pauses for a moment before saying, “Let me show you other things I can do.”

He rises from the bench and extends his hand out to you. You take it, interlocking your fingers with his as he leads you back inside. He pushes through crowds of people, leading you down a hallway and into a refresher.

He locks the door and turns to face you, looking you up and down as he walks closer to you. You take a step back and feel your back touch the sink. His hands ghost your waist and his helmet cocks to the side.

“Is this okay?”

“More than okay,” you breathe out.

His hands slide up your waist, caressing the outline of your breasts.

“I may not be able to kiss you… But I can show you a good time.”

He spins you around so you’re facing the mirror. Excitement pools between your legs as you watch him hike up your dress. Not once did you think you’d be having sex in this dress, let alone in the refresher at the gala.

He leans forward and whispers in your ear, “Bend over for me, cyar’ika.”

You follow his instructions, internally wondering what the nickname means.

“No underwear?” he asks once your lower half is fully exposed, “Naughty girl.”

You giggle and rest against the sink, gripping the ceramic as he tugs off his glove. He lifts his helmet for a split second, just barely enough to expose his mouth. You close your eyes out of respect and hear him spit in his hand. Once you feel his fingers tease your entrance you open your eyes. His helmet is secured on his head and his body leans over yours, a finger sliding inside you slowly. A small gasp escapes your lips. He barely gives you any time to warm up to one finger before sliding in the second. Not that you’re complaining. He curls his fingers against your walls, pushing against your g-spot. Your moans fill the refresher, gradually getting louder and louder as he brings you closer to the edge.

“Shhh,” he whispers in your ear, “Be quiet, mesh’la. There are people in the hallway.”

Another nickname.

You bite your lip and meet his visor in the reflection of the mirror, doing your best to not make too much noise. He pulls your first orgasm from you, knees trembling beneath you as you grip the sink. You bite your lip harder and try to be quiet but it’s hard. It’s too hard when he’s making you feel this good. He’s so skilled with just his fingers but you suppose it makes sense given the helmet.

Once you’re done coming he pulls his fingers from you, one hand holding your hip as the other slathers his cock with the wetness you just produced. He leans forward again and whispers, “Got so wet for me, cyar’ika. I’m not even done with you yet,” just as he thrust his cock into you.

A sharp gasp of surprise escapes your lips. He’s large, splitting you apart. If it weren’t for the sink holding you up your knees would surely give out. Your entire body trembles with pleasure and he hasn’t even moved inside you yet.

You bite your lip again as he draws his hips back, slamming into you swiftly. It’s too hard to be quiet. A whimper forces its way out of your throat. And then again as he thrusts into you a second time. Staying quiet is impossible as he’s railing you. You watch him in the reflection, stone-cold visor staring back at you as you’re reduced to a shivering mess beneath him. Yet he remains his composure, his pace never faltering.

You wonder what his cock looks like; a clue as to what the rest of him looks like. He wasn’t kidding when he said he could show you all the other things he can do. His cock hits the most perfect angles inside you. And the refresher is not only filled with your moans but also the wet squelching sounds of your cunt.

Your walls tense up in anticipation of a release. And though your second orgasm hasn’t happened yet you know this one is going to be bigger than the last, thanks to his impressive size. But aside from the sheer size of his cock he knows how to use it. He knows how to melt you into a puddle, putty in his hands as you’re brought to the edge of orgasm.

With one last thrust of his hips, you’re coming around his cock. You’re fully whining and moaning now, bordering on screaming. For a moment you forget you’re in a public refresher, completely blissed out. He doesn’t remind you to keep quiet this time, watching your face in the mirror as you cum.

“Good girl,” he praises, slapping your ass with his bare hand. You let out another small gasp but it’s cut off by a moan of pleasure. He continues thrusting into you through your high, prolonging it even further. Stars dance in your vision and there’s a strange haze around Mando in the reflection. This…. This is euphoria. All from a man you just met tonight.

He hangs on until you’re done coming, pulling out of you right before he comes. He paints your ass with his release, a modulated groan slipping out from under the helmet. You wish you could see his face as he cums. You can only imagine what he looks like, eyes closed and mouth open as cum leaks from his cock.

Once he’s done he quickly reaches for a towel, cleaning up the mess on your ass. He tosses it in the trash and helps you stand upright as you smooth down the skirt of your dress.

“That was incredible,” you breathe out, voice still high-pitched from your two climaxes tonight.

He grabs your hand, thumb rubbing against yours. You glance down at his bare hand and you’re greeted with tan skin. You can’t help but wonder about him, more of his story, more of what he looks like. You could’ve stayed on the balcony and talked with him for hours. But you’re not complaining about what just happened either.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, cyar’ika,” he says.

But before either of you can ask what that and the other nickname means, there’s a knock on the door.

“Mando? Are you in there? You’re needed on the dance floor. There’s been an incident,” a man’s voice says.

“I’m sorry…” he says, putting his cock away and bending down to grab his other glove, “I’ll find you after?”

“I’m okay! Go do your job,” you tell him.

He lingers for a moment, looking at you one last time before leaving the refresher and meeting whoever is in the hallway. You hang back for a moment until they’re both gone.

You glance at yourself in the mirror, ensuring you’re presentable before returning to the gala. There’s a bunch of commotion and groups of people are being ushered out. It must’ve ended early due to whatever incident happened on the dance floor. It’s all so overwhelming, loud noises and bustling crowds of people.

You spot Mando, talking to none other than Senator Xiono and another small group of people. You roll your eyes. Mon Mothma’s going to have to reprimand him. You figure you’ll just wait around until Mando’s done but another security guard comes up behind you and shouts.

“Everyone out! Party’s over!” he shouts, ushering you out with the sea of people. You open your mouth to protest but he shouts, “Let’s go! Get a move on!”

You glance over your shoulder at Mando, who’s still talking to Senator Xiono. His hands are on his hips as Senator Xiono argues with him. Mon Mothma’s there too now. It looks like he’ll be a while much to your dismay.

You follow the crowd outside, trying to wait on the platform for Mando but yet again security guards are ushering people into speeders. It isn’t until a guard practically shoves you into one that you accept your fate. You’re leaving whether you like it or not.

You stare at the tapestry of stars above you, replaying the night’s events. You were dreading coming to this event and here you are leaving… enchanted; wonderstruck. As the speeder takes you back to your hotel you wonder to yourself…

When will you see him again? Is he promised to someone else? Is there some other woman waiting on him somewhere else in the Galaxy? What did those nicknames mean?

The walk to your room is spent with your cheeks on fire, staring at the floor smiling, giddy like a little kid. Tonight was magical, flawless up until you were ripped away from each other too soon.

There’s one thing for certain, you were enchanted to meet him.

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