#but anyway yeah good day. he was very talkative today. and he is so cute sometimes i cant stand it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

g0ldenzinnie · 2 months

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Princess Treatment x NCT 127

Featuring: Nct 127 Hyung line Genre: Fluff, suggestive, sweet boys and a little of them being dom. Word count: 2.7k Note: Sorry for the delay but here they are, soon I'll publish the maknae line and then the Johhny fic. Hope you like it <3.

Taeil x cooking for you.

Even though he has the money to buy you a whole restaurant, he cooks for you every time he can. And I don’t mean cooking fried eggs and rice for dinner. I mean plates worth three Michelin stars. He would make you try new and extravagant things. However, every single one of them is cooked magnificent under his hands.

“Try this” He spoke, offering you a spoon with sautéed vegetables. You were sitting on the counter with your legs crossed. Watching your boyfriend getting inspiration. You bend over and eat his creation, being delighted with the result.

“Taeil, it’s so good.” You said smiling. He was looking at you determined. “Really? He asked looking at every detail of your expression to see if you were telling the truth. “Because I think it’s salty.” He says, trying another spoon, leaning his head and nodding. “Yeah, it’s salty.”

“Baby, it’s fine. Now can I help you please? I feel useless here.” You said getting down from the kitchen counter and facing the other vegetables he had on a kitchen board. But you couldn’t even touch them, since Taeil wrapped you in his arms and took you away from his working area. You tried to resist, but he made his grip stronger. Smiling at how cute you looked, trying to get away from his arms.

“You won’t move a finger my love. You are my princess after all.” He then leaves you on the door of the kitchen and places a kiss on your forehead.

“Now, please relax on the couch, watch your series and your dinner will be there in no time.” He said smiling brightly to you. You sigh and roll your eyes. “Fine. But next time, dinner’s on me.” You reclaim while you direct to the couch. But both of you knew Taeil would still cook for you anyway.

You were watching half of the episode of your series when Taeil arrives with two plates. He then comes with a fancy bottle of wine and two glasses. Maybe the dinner looked fancy, but you would still sit on the couch with the coffee table as your dining room.

That is the thing you loved about being with Taeil. He felt like home, a comfy and warm home. But still he would never make you feel ordinary.

You talk about everything, Taeil listening carefully as always, asking you questions about your day or the gossip of your workplace. His focus is completely into your words. As if it were some kind of sonnet. When you finished talking and eating, you tried to get up to clean up the dishes, but he stopped you, pushing you to the couch.

“Baby, at least let me clean the pl-” You were interrupted by a kiss on your lips. He smoothly takes the plate from your hands and leaves it on the coffee table. Guiding his hands now to your tights, going up slowly to your waist. “They can’t wait.” He said close to your lips with a playful smile. You chuckle before kissing him back.

Johnny x Princess Passenger.

Johnny's favorite dates were when you just got into the car and drove. It didn’t have to be somewhere in particular. He just needed you in the passenger seat, some music and the road. So, everything you asked for in the car was yours. You wanted to drive through? Right away. You wanted to put on the music? Ok for him. You wanted just to sleep? Bend the seat, he’ll be quiet.

For him, you could be doing anything and still love your company in the car. But he had one condition. As you know your boyfriend very well, he is very clingy. He needs to touch you to feel easy. And that includes even when you are in the same car. It can be touching your hand, or your thigh, or something else. Even though you love that about him, you would still tease him some days.

And today was definitely one of those days.

It was 10:00 PM, when Johnny called you. It was a surprise since you thought he would be working till late at night. “Hello?” You responded confused on the phone. “Let 's ride.” Your boyfriend responded with his usual excited voice. You can already imagine that playful smile on his face at the other side of the line.

“I thought you were working late.” You said while putting your shoes on. “Well, I am…” He said on the speaker. You try not to laugh, because you know your boyfriend. “And?...” You responded, making him continue. “Well, I escaped.” He confessed. You laugh. “Johnny, one day you will get fired.” You said getting up from your bed. You heard the laugh of Johnny through your phone.

“Just get your ass in my car. We’re going to get ice cream.” The thoughts in your head disappeared when you heard the magical word. “Yay! Ice cream!” So now you were in his car eating your favorite ice cream, hearing pitch perfect. Your life couldn’t get any better. “Give me some.” Johnny asked while driving. You handed him a spoon, and naturally like a professional he ate it with his eyes on the road. You found that so hot about him.

By instinct, he then leaned his head towards your hand. Looking for your caring, As I mentioned before, you were feeling a little playful. So instead of letting him feel your hand as you usually did, you removed your hand.

Him, completely confused, tries to catch your hand again. But you put it out of his reach, again. “Hey, what’s gotten into you?” he asks, looking at you weird. “Nothing” you say while holding your laughter. He nods and tries another move, this time reaching your tight. His grip was firm and secure. You bite your lip, knowing that he is just trying to provoke you. You loved when he grabbed your tight like that.

But still you removed his hand. You let out a little giggle when your boyfriend again tried to touch you. Letting him know that you were just messing with him. So he decided to pay you back. This time he used a little more force into his grip. Leaving your skin with red marks. You hold a moan biting your inner cheek. Johnny smirking at your reaction.

“If you take out your hand one more time, I’m gonna have to pull over and punish you princess.”

Taeyong x Giving you flowers

It was believed that victorians gave the yellow tulips the meaning of “there's sunshine in your smile.”

This man would remind himself that every time he encountered you, he would have to give you flowers. And not just any kind of flower. Every time he gave you one, this would be different than the last one.

And every single one of them had a specific meaning. He would probably investigate what kind of flower is and the meaning of his color. And do you think these flowers come alone? No, no. There is always a little note with a rhyme he created just for you.

You were at your work cafe when you suddenly felt two taps on your shoulder and turned to find no one. You shrink your eyebrows, thinking you definitely feel someone calling you. To your surprise, you turned around and found a beautiful bouquet on your face. The man holding them was hiding behind them. But of course you knew who it was.

“Tae, I thought you were on practice.” You say holding the bouquet and finding Taeyong behind with a smile. “I was, but that doesn't stop me from seeing my princess.” You smile sweetly hearing those words and looking at the flowers.

They were beautiful yellow tulips. Taeyong, seeing your smile, grins for himself and says “That’s the smile.” You look at him confused, not understanding what he said. “What?” He shakes his head and just gets closer to you, placing a short and sweet kiss on your lips.

“Nothing baby, c’mon I only have 10 minutes.” He quickly takes your hand and runs to one of the tables in the coffee shop.

During those 10 minutes you talk about nonsense. Taboo topics like the gossip in your workplace and in his. Some drama that happened with the members, ending in another hilarious fight between Haechan and Doyoung.

You laugh when Taeyong tells you this, imagining the dynamic duo screaming like they usually do. But you didn’t notice the moment you started laughing, Taeyongs chest filled with the air, gasping at how beautiful you looked right now.

It’s just when you laughed, you took his breath away. It was like a hundred start lights were blinding him every time your smile appeared. And he was delighted by it. Without him noticing, he raised his hand to take yours.

His gaze softened, focusing on you and you only. You stop giggling and look at him confused. “What?” He shakes his head, smiling now. “Nothing just… I love you so much.” You smile and intertwine your fingers with his. “I love you too.” He responds smiling and leaning closer to kiss your lips, but he was interrupted by your boss.

“Y/n, stop smooching and get your ass back to work.” She says from the board. Your boyfriend giggles and looks at you mischievous. “Someone is calling you.” You sigh and nod.

You get up from the chair, grabbing the flowers. “Thank you.” He smiles and caresses your cheek. “Of course princess.” He kissed you and left waving his hand like a little kid. You waved him back and went back to work.

Afterwards, when you were alone and more calm, you checked the card that was attached to the flowers. When you read the message you blush and feel a warmness in your chest.

"Her smile shines like rays of sunlight on a gloomy day, just like an angel, with every smile, she shines away the rain clouds, making my heart sway.”

Yuta x dress you.

This might be understood as he chooses all of your clothes, but no. He literally dresses you. He must put on your clothes all the time. Zip your dress, put on your hoodie, lock your necklace, anything.

But his favorite thing in the whole world is to tie your heels. He has something with your legs, So whenever he finds an opportunity, he touches them. And you knew it, so you used it every time for your own pleasure.

One night, you were preparing yourselves for a gala party of the company. Yuta was tying the aces of his shoes on the bed, wearing a black suit that fit him in a way that should be illegal. The first two buttons of his black blouse were open, making his chest clear to the open. You bite your lip, watching your sexy boyfriend being totally naive of his reaction to you.

So, since this morning you have been feeling a little… playful, you decided to tease him a little. You walked smoothly to him, Yuta still unaware of your presence. Just when you were in front of him, he raised his gaze.

“What’s wrong darling?” He asked softly. You smiled in return, looking down at him. Slowly you raised your leg, leaving it discovered because of your black long leg cutout dress, until your heel was between his legs, pressed against the mattress.

You gave him an innocent look, that both of you know it was fake. Still, he smiled wide looking at you up and down. He loved this act of yours. You smile in response and ask softly. “Would you help me baby?”

He analyzes your leg, going down slowly, finishing in your unwrapped heel. He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re trying to provoke me, princess?” He says before straightening to have a better posture. You just shrink your shoulders. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” He giggles at your act of innocence.

His hand went to your leg slowly. Caressing your calf with his thumb, sending you chills to your core. He then reached out for your heel. Tying it like a professional, since he has done this so many times.

After finishing, he gets close to your ankle leaving a soft kiss on your skin. You chuckle at the sensation, making your boyfriend have his known playful smile. He tapped your leg twice. “The other one, please”.

You obey him by changing the leg. He makes the same process. His thumbs moved gently, like your skin was made of glass. You close your eyes, feeling relaxed and aroused by his movements. As you always did.

But you suddenly feel a little puncture on your leg. You let out a little scream and open your eyes, to find Yuta giggling. He had just bitten you. You gasp looking at him outraged. “Meany” You say smiling. “Teaser” He responds by getting up quickly, wrapping you in his arms and starting to kiss your neck.

You giggle and try to stop him. "Baby the gala." He separates and smiles playful. "Don't think you're getting away with this. The night has just started princess."

Doyoung x pays for everything

This man doesn’t even let you take out your wallet. You find amazing the ability Doyoung has to pay that fast. Whenever you try to pay, he already has his card in his hand, saying that “he got it.” It happens in restaurants, fairs, malls, even in gift shops. You can’t escape Doyoung’s money.

Even when he was not present.

You were facing yourself in front of the hairdresser mirror. With your new haircut, that you would still be trying to settle with. You wanted a change for this year, so you thought that your hair would be the perfect victim.

“So what do you think?” Your aunt asks, owner of the hairdresser. You always got your hair with her. She had an undisputed talent.

“It 's amazing. Thank you auntie.” You respond, getting up from the chair. “So how much do I owe you?” You turn around, facing her. When you do, you find a nervous face. Shrinking eyes and a tense smile.

“Yeah well, about that…” You look at her confused, but in just two seconds you got your answer. “No he didn’t” You say angry. Your aunt gives you an expression of defeat. “I told him it wasn’t necessary, but he insisted. And he gave me, well, a good tip.”

Of course he did, you thought. You thanked your aunt once again and went directly to your shared apartment you had with your boyfriend downtown. Knowing he would be there, to finally face him.

After a 10 minute walk, you finally reach your apartment, finding Doyoung on the couch. He gave you a wide smile, analyzing your look and instantly loving it. “Someone is looking gorgeous.” He says flirty getting up to embrace you with a hug.

“Thanks to you.” You say in a not so motivated way. He separates from you, looking confused. “What do you mean?”

“You paid my aunt for my haircut.” He didn’t change his confused look. “So?” He asks you. You sigh and separate to go to the kitchen. “I wanted, for once, to pay for something by myself.” You turn quickly. “It’s not that I’m not thankful.” Doyoung shrinks his eyebrows. “Good, because you don’t seem like it.” You close your eyes in desperation.

“That is not what I wanted to express.” You pause for a moment, and sight. “I just… I just feel like I’m taking advantage of you.” You feel your chest heavy, finally confessing that you felt guilty everytime he wasted his money with you.

But for him, it wasn't a waste. He got close to you, slowly to not scare you. You long for an exhausted or tired face on your boyfriend. But you only find a sweet and dearing face. Doyoung takes your face gently, caressing your cheeks with your thumbs.

“My princess, you can use me in any way you want.” He got close and gave you a peek on the lips. “It will never bother me.” You giggle and shake your head. “That doesn’t make me feel better.” You respond, wrapping your arms around your neck. He chuckles and gives another kiss on the lips. This one is deeper and stronger. He separates, giving you little kisses on the cheek and starts to talk in your ear.

“Maybe you’ll feel better when we go out and eat in a nice restaurant. So everyone can see that new haircut of yours.” You smirk, taking your boyfriend's face, for him to see you. “At least let me pay for dessert.”

He then smirks and leans his forehead against yours. “You are the only dessert I need.”

#nct #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct 127 scenarios #127 #moon taeil #nct yuta nakamoto #doyoung #lee taeyong #taeyong nct #johnny nct

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shadeysprings · 6 months

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So Good. So Bad.

—Stalker!Ex-Boyfriend!Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader

Summary — The Halloween party you and your friends attend turns upside down all because of your jealous ex.

Warnings — noncon/dubcon, toxic relationship, mass murd3r, k!lling spree, somewhat public sex, cuckolding of some sort, almost drugging, Lloyd being toxic and psychotic. There may be more I haven't mentioned but please read with caution.

Word Count — 7.2K

A/N — I know I said Sunday but my muse said no. Story #2 for my FREAKtober Fest and my second time exploring Lloyd as a character. The writing process was tedious yet exciting. The title and inspiration of this fic was taken from the song ILYSB.

Gif by the amazing @steve-kemp

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

Aside from having the same shift as your best friends, restocking is the only thing you like about your work. Although it’s physical, it’s mostly mindless tasks done repeatedly, and the black shirt you wear acts like a shield from annoying customers who pester the ones in blue.

Your shift starts like clockwork; time in, grab the products from the warehouse, and begin stocking the shelves until you have to clock out. Though today was a bit more taxing than you expected with the cable aisle once more in disarray and you being tasked to reorganize and set everything in its proper place. You don’t understand the need to put in so much effort into something that will just end up messy at the end of the day.

But you do it anyway.

Upon arriving at the aisle, you begin sorting out the boxes and dismantling the hooks from the shelves. You’re happy enough to be doing this alone—the quicker you work, the faster you’ll be able to relax and waste the time away. That is, until Kate stands beside you, seemingly tensed as she starts helping you.

“He’s here again. TV aisle.” You don’t need for her to say anything more to know who she’s referring to and it just makes you sigh as you grab a box of an HDMI cable and hang it on the hook. “Jensen’s trying to help him but he’s being pushy about talking to you. How does he always know when you’re here? Didn’t you already change shifts?” She asks.

How you wish you knew the answer to that. “I did.” You say in exasperation. “Did he say I was on break?”

“You know we can’t lie. Besides, we have no idea if he already saw you before he came in. He could have seen you while you were on your smoke break.” She expounds and you feel a sudden wave of exhaustion wash over you. “Just—talk to him. Tell him to leave. If he tries anything, we’ll call the cops.”

“Yeah. Like they’ll do anything about it. Vince wouldn’t even allow that—bad publicity and all.” The sigh that once more leaves your lips is despondent. You don’t know what else you can do to make him leave you alone. “Fine. I’ll deal with him.” The box in your hand ends up being crumpled from annoyance.

“We’ll be keeping watch.” She says, a measly attempt to comfort you. But you take it anyway with a smile and push away from your cart to hopefully turn away the pesky client.

It’s been almost two years since you broke up with Lloyd. The sweet air that he once had turned bitter when you saw just how jealous of a person he was. You thought it was cute at first, comforting him after a fit and telling him that he was the only man in your life—until it wasn’t and he threatened your friend, John, even challenging him to a fight at the back of the club when he placed his arm on your shoulder as he introduced you to his girlfriend.

Since then, he changed and the relationship you thought was almost perfect, snowballed into endless fights and the revelation of the toxicity he kept hidden. You thought you could make him realize that there was truly nothing to worry about, that his jealousy was misplaced. But you were very wrong, especially after he demanded you quit your job and move in with him instead. You’d make a really good housewife, was what he said and you knew you had to draw the line.

It wasn’t the life you wanted. And it pained you to leave because you did love him but with the way he acted, you questioned if he truly felt the same for you for even the simplest of things, he failed to trust you. And ever since, he hasn’t stopped following you. Everywhere you went, at work or home, he was there, simply watching, observing and you’ve done all you can to push him away. But no matter how hard you try, he can’t take the word no.

The first thing you notice when you see him is the twitch of his mustache when he smirks. He looks pristine as ever with his yellow polo shirt and white slacks that match his black loafers—a complete mismatch to your black shirt, jeans and sneakers uniform. And it has you thinking, what the hell did he see in you?

“The new models just came in yesterday,” You hear Jensen tell him but it’s obvious that Lloyd is not listening, certain that he’s staring at you even with his blue eyes covered by sunglasses. “I can show them—”

“Ah, just the girl I was looking for.” He says, cutting off Jensen and stepping past him to head over to you.

“Sir, she’s one of our warehouse staff. I’d be happy to assist you in—”

“Beat it, nerd!” Lloyd snaps as he stops to face Jensen, rolling your eyes at his misplaced annoyance. “She’s the one I want to talk to.”

“It’s okay, Jen. I got this.” You tell your co-worker, gesturing for him to leave.

“You sure? I can stay if you need any he—”

“Are you fucking deaf?! She said she’s got it, loser!” Lloyd turns from where he stands and you’re suddenly alarmed to see him charge over at Jensen. “Beat it or I’ll make you.” He threatens and you immediately wedge yourself between both men when you see Jensen isn’t backing down.

You place your hands against Lloyd’s chest, stopping him from getting any closer. “Lloyd, stop it! Not here—Christ!” Your voice raises an octave when you scold him, facing Jensen right after and unintentionally glaring at him. “Just go, Jake! I said I got this!” It surprises you that you sound quite like Lloyd but it doesn’t deter you from pushing Lloyd back further.

You hear Jensen speak but don’t understand him as you grab Lloyd by the hand and pull him over to the other aisle, heat rising up your neck when you notice several of the shoppers looking in your direction. There’s never any peace with Lloyd—everywhere he goes, chaos follows.

Once you’ve pulled him away from prying eyes, you startle when he stops walking and tugs on your hand, his arm immediately wrapping around your waist as he holds you close. He gives you a sickeningly sweet grin, effectively trapping your hand against his chest.

“What the fuck do you want, Lloyd? Why are you here?” You bite.

“I’m looking for a TV.” He says smoothly, “Besides, I missed my little Kitten and I know that kitty of yours misses me too.”

You want to roll your eyes at his crass comment. “You know I work in the damn warehouse. I know nothing about them.” You reason, grunting as you try to get away from his hold. “We have a sales specialist who can help you with that.”

“Oh, but I want you to show me the options.” The hair on his lip twitches when he smirks, “Or I can complain to your manager that his employees aren’t helpful to their customers.”

“Seriously? You’re going to act like a fucking Karen?”

“Would you like to see me try?” He challenges.

That’s the last thing you needed from him and you don’t question that he would stay true to his word and make sure his complaint reached top management. Letting out a sigh, you nod at his request and show your best customer service smile before saying, “How can I help you?”

Your shift finally ends and you can’t wait to go home to wash off the day. After Lloyd pestered you with all the TV selections you showed him, he left with nothing and you tried your best not to show your annoyance at him though he knows he’s riled you up—he always does.

Bidding your goodbyes to Kate and the rest as you leave the store with Jensen in tow. He offered a ride to the station—something he always does and one you couldn’t refuse after the long day. You just want to go home and curl up in your room and hope that Lloyd doesn’t show himself again after that awful stint.

“Tough day, huh?” Jensen asks as he brings the engine to life and drives off from the parking lot.

“Yeah. I’m just glad it’s over.” You respond, leaning back against your seat while you hug your backpack against your chest.

“Yeah.” He echoes, hearing his fingers tap against the wheel. “The line at the tech depot was pretty long too. Seems like every computer within town is falling apart.” He jokes, and you think it’s an attempt to lighten the mood. You still feel tense with the altercation he had with Lloyd—you just wish for once one of them would listen to you.

“Hey, sorry about earlier.” He says and you visibly cringe when he mentions it. “I know you could handle him but knowing that he’s bothering you, I couldn’t just step away from—”

“Look. Jensen.” You sigh as you turn to face him. “I appreciate your concern, really, I do. But no offense, it’s none of your business. I don’t need a knight in shining armor to come and rescue me each time that idiot shows up. The others stay away because of how reckless he can be and I just don’t want you to get caught in the line of fire. Just let me handle him.”

You know full well why Jensen couldn’t get past that. After admitting to you his feelings since he found out you were single, he’s been subtly dropping hints about asking you out. You’d probably have taken up the offer if you met him before Lloyd but the trauma your ex has imprinted on you just leaves you thinking that any man who would dare go near would be the same.

Silence fills the small space, along with a flicker of tension. You think Jensen would disapprove of your words, that he would insist on giving his unwarranted help. But all you hear is a sigh and you see the nod of his head.

“Okay.” He utters, the rubber covering the steering wheel squeaking when his hold on it tightens. “I won’t meddle any—”

“JENSEN!” You shout and grab onto the handle of your seat when a car suddenly turns and blocks your path, Jensen stepping hard onto the brakes.

“What the fuck?!” He shouts as he rolls down his window but you, on the other hand, sit still when you see Conrad, one of Lloyd’s buddies, step out of the car and walk over to Jensen’s side. “What the hell is wrong with you, bro?!” Jensen growls as he unlocks his door, ready to step out.

But you’re too late to warn him—Conrad pulling open the door and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, trapping him against the side of his car. Lloyd then suddenly appears, with Chris in tow. He goes first to Jensen, the latter flinching when he raises his fist at him, threatening to lay a punch before leaning down and framing his arms over the edge of the window.

Your eyes dart to Jensen when he grunts against Conrad’s grip, glaring at Lloyd when he stares you down. “What the fuck are you doing here, Lloyd?!”

His eyes meet yours, darkness swirling around the blue and you can already tell that he’s angry. “What are you doing here, Kitten?” He says, a cocky grin on his face. “You couldn’t wait for me to pick you up so you got into this loser’s car?” He tuts, chin nodding over to your side and your door suddenly opens, Chris, pulling you out aggressively.

You look around, hoping to call for help but you curse Jensen when you notice he went through the back roads. No one ever passes here, especially at this hour, and now the both of you are at the mercy of your ex who you see looming over your co-worker.

You gasp when Lloyd sends him a punch, trying to pull away from Chris’ grasp to help Jensen, but it’s no use. You’re rendered helpless as you watch him send another blow, making the other bowl over to which Conrad pushes him further to the ground.

“Stay away from my girl, asshole!” Lloyd threatens before spitting at the other man, your eyes grow wide when Lloyd takes you from Chris and drags you to his car.

You hear the sound of tires being slashed and several glass breaking along with Jensen’s pained grunts. You knew Lloyd could be reckless but you’ve never seen him this way before. He opens the passenger door and pushes you in, slamming the door harshly before getting inside himself. He doesn’t wait for his companions before driving off, your hand grabbing the side of the door with the speed he’s going.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” You shout. “Let me out of here!”

“You keep testing me, Kitten. Running off with other men like that.” He growls and you scream when he takes a sharp left, cars honking left and right at how careless he’s driving.

“Are you that daft?! We’re over, Lloyd! We’ve been for years!” You shout amidst the panic that rolls through your veins, eventually getting the courage to hit him on the shoulder when he gets on the main road.

But you soon realize your mistake when he stops at an alley and his hand immediately wraps around your neck, pulling you towards him. You grab on his wrist when he squeezes tight, your eyes wide as you fear that he would choke you, kill you on the spot.

“Lloyd—” you gasp, slapping on his hand as tears fall from your eyes. “Y—you’re hurting me.”

“I will only say this once, Kitten, so you better listen.” His hot breath spreads across your cheek when he pulls you closer, the tick on his jaw setting you on edge. “You’re mine and no one, not even you, can change that fact. Got it?”

All you can do is nod, to agree with every word he says if it means you get to keep your life.

“Good.” He huffs, the anger in him somewhat seeping away, loosening his hold around your neck. “Good girl.” The praise that used to send shivers of desire within you now has your stomach twisting in disgust. “And if I see that weirdo or any other man going near you again, you know what will happen.”

You nod once more and gasp when he completely releases you, leaning against your seat as you try to regulate your breathing.

He drives once more and you’re thankful he’s slower this time, doing your best to stay calm as you look out the window. “Where are you taking me?” You ask, although you already have an inkling of his answer when you recognize the area you’re in and the direction he’s driving to. You haven’t driven in and out of these roads for almost two years. After you and Lloyd broke up.

The smirk he gives you is enough of an answer.

“Are we going to pre-game before the party?” Bucky asks as he plops down onto the couch in the employee lounge, shaking a tumbler of his protein shake in his hand. “Last year’s booze ran out so fast, I went home seeing straight. I don’t want to be sober on Halloween night.”

“You never want to be sober, Barnes,” Kate comments as she rolls her eyes, yet her interest seems to already be piqued. “But he’s right. Are we going to drink before the party or should we just hit the club after? I have a friend who can get us in at this club for free.”

“That could work but I’d rather enjoy the night drunk then get wasted at the club.” Bucky responds, taking a sip of his drink. “We could just meet up at someone’s place and pre-game there, then we can all go to the party together. Would save us gas too if we just take one car.”

“Who even lives near the venue?”

You tune yourself out from their conversation and stab your fork into your lunch as the Halloween party is the last of your concerns. Besides, you don’t think Lloyd would be happy with you attending and you wouldn’t dare give him the opportunity to ruin the event for you and your friends or give him any reason to be mad again.

Your friends exchange ideas, listing down people’s names of who they’ll be inviting for their plan of drinks and whose place they’ll be crashing when the door of the lounge opens and you freeze in your seat when Bucky calls out Jensen’s name.

“Hey buddy! You live downtown, right?” Bucky asks, patting the space beside him to which Jensen accepts. “We were thinking that—the fuck happened to your face?”

Your grip on your fork tightens when you chance a peek at both men, feeling your stomach drop when you see the bruise staining Jensen’s cheek.

“Oh that?” Jensen chuckles, his fingers running against the side of his face. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and I slammed against my door frame.” You know he’s lying, though you’re somewhat thankful he didn’t expose what Lloyd and his friends did. Still, you feel the guilt nipping at the back of your neck.

“You’re such a klutz, Jake.” Kate says with a laugh.

Jensen makes a face in her direction and you look away when his eyes meet yours. “Why were you guys asking if I lived downtown?” He suddenly asks, shifting the topic.

Bucky takes the lead again. “We were thinking of doing drinks before heading to the party. And since you live closer to the venue, maybe we could just meet at your place?”

“Depends. Do I have to provide the booze?”

“We can bring some and you prepare some.” Kate responds. “Sounds good?”

Jensen hums audibly as he thinks of his decision. You feel the tension circling around you as you sense his eyes on you while he speaks. You don’t dare to look up, keeping your focus trained on the lifeless pasta in your lunch container.

“I’m in. Though who’s coming? My apartment isn’t that big so I can’t really hold a huge crowd.” He finally says.

“I’m there.” Bucky says, mouth full of his protein shake. “Tell me what you guys want and I’ll bring it.”

“Me too. Though I’m bringing my boyfriend along—that cool with you guys?” No one seems to object and you look up to face your best friend when she nudges you. “You’re coming too, right? Amber’s dragging Nick along and we won’t be complete without you. I even planned this super cool costume for us.”

You feel your body shake at her question. The pressure of going to the event with your best friends growing in your chest, colliding with the added stress of meeting at Jensen’s place and the fear of Lloyd finding out about the plan.

“I don’t know.” You say with a frown, closing up your container as your appetite has already turned sour from the anxiety crawling up your spine. “You know I don’t do well at parties. I’ll just stink up the mood.”

“Aww come on. Please?” She begs with those puppy eyes she always uses to convince you. “You’ll be with us and if it gets too much, we’ll leave. And if you’re worried about that psycho ex of yours showing up, I can just show Andy in his direction and he’ll show him a thing or two.” You want to latch onto the assurance she gives you but she doesn’t know Lloyd like you do.

Still, you could probably think of a way to convince him—he’s never been apprehensive of you spending time with your friends. Except it’s not only them who would be with you; Bucky and Jensen would be there as well, and you’ve already witnessed what he’s done to the latter, the evidence staring you in the face.

And that would mean you would have to lie. Though is it really lying if you’re just omitting out the information he doesn’t want to hear?

But the plan didn’t go as expected.

Instead of heading over to the company party after drinks at Jensen’s apartment, like what was discussed, you find yourself nursing a red cup full of shitty alcohol in a dimly lit house while surrounded by your friend group and people you only assume to be Bucky’s college frat buddies.

You tug on the skirt of your black dress that’s a little too short for your liking, the cat headband already irritating you with how long you’ve been wearing it. You don’t know why you’ve agreed to Kate’s idea for the three of you to imitate the costume from that movie—you’re just glad she didn’t push you to wear a bodysuit and that Amber was happy to trade with the mouse theme you were originally assigned to do.

Speaking of your best friends, you walk around the living room as you try to look for them, no longer wanting to be alone amidst the foreign crowd. But you frown when you see Kate at the corner of the room, her boyfriend’s hand planted firmly on her ass while they make out. Amber, on the other hand, was just on the other side, with Nick barricading her against the wall like some prison guard. Though with the smile you see on her face, she doesn’t seem to mind being isolated by him.

Your eyes then dart towards the front door when the cheers of men grow louder than the music blasting in the house. Three people walk in, each one wearing a mask over some effortless casual clothes underneath. But the one wearing the iconic ghostface catches your attention, noticing him looking your way with the other two standing behind him following suit. There’s a somewhat eerie familiarity to their masked gaze that makes you look away and leave from where you stand.

“Not really what you’re expecting, huh?” You startle when someone says too close against your ear, making you look up and chuckle when you see Jensen smiling at you, an opened beer bottle in his hand.

“It feels like I’m back in college attending a frat party.” You comment, making the both of you laugh and tapping your cup against his bottle when he raises it to you.

“You went to a lot of parties in college?”

You shake your head. “Not really. Wasn’t really a party type.”

“Same. But I had no choice with my roommate dragging me to every party.”

You have no idea why Jensen is speaking to you—after what he endured with Lloyd and his buddies, you’d think he’d steer clear of you, probably even fear you thinking that history would repeat itself. But deep down, you’re happy to be in his company, choosing it over being alone in a place you don’t even know half the people in.

The both of you chat for a while, finding a less crowded spot in the kitchen and helping yourselves with the food and the drinks that are out and free for the taking. You still feel bad when the bruise on his cheek remains prominent, though with his purple button up and baggy gray slacks, you think it blends well with his cosplay of Bruce Banner when you asked him who he was supposed to be.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you, Jen.” You tell him with a frown, leaning against the edge of the counter as you look down at your drink. “I didn’t think Lloyd would actually hurt anyone.”

“It’s fine. It’s just a bruise.” He assures, giving your arm a pat.

“What about your car? Didn’t they trash it?”

“They did. But good thing I have insurance.”

It surprises you how positive the air around him still is despite the misfortune he’s met because of you. You almost envy his happiness, and the happiness that your friends have and you find it almost unfair that Lloyd wasn’t like Andy and Nick, doting and loving towards their girls, when both those men are his friends. You wish he’d learn a thing or two from them about handling relationships the proper way.

Sadness then swirls around you as you contemplate on what your life has become; always scared and cautious, that Lloyd would hurt another because of his jealousy, because of his unspoken obsession to completely possess you.

Your train of thought stops when you feel your cup being taken from your grasp, Jensen replacing it with a fresh one, fizz floating to the top of the amber liquid. “Jack and Coke.” He says. “Your drink looked a little stale.”

But before you could even take a sip, you hear spine tingling screams coming from the living room. You think it’s some scary prank someone has pulled on another, you and Jensen looking at each other and pushing away from your perch to investigate the commotion. But in just a flash of a second, the whole house is in chaos, people running, scrambling for their lives while the three masked men you saw earlier run amok, shooting and stabbing the party goers one by one and leaving them bloody and dead on the ground.

No sound escapes your lips as you’re gripped by fear upon witnessing the bloodbath, your body refusing to move even when your brain tells it to. But the hand that grabs onto your arm has you shouting in shock, only to be muffled by another and your eyes wide with horror thinking that they’ve got you. But to your relief, it’s only Jensen and he places a finger against his lips, telling you to be quiet before pulling you amongst the havoc for a way out.

You try the backdoor first but for some unknown reason it wouldn’t budge open no matter how hard he yanks it. He tries the window above the kitchen sink as well but just like the door, it’s screwed shut. He pulls on you once more, leading you down the hall this time, the rave music playing loudly in your ears pumping the adrenaline in your veins while the sound of the screams die out one by one.

He makes it to the end of the hall, the staircase free from the killers but with bodies lying lifeless on the steps—a woman with her throat cut wide open and a man with a bullet right between his eyes. He looks back at you, telling you to be quiet once more as he gestures that you both will be heading up. But before he could even set foot on the first step, one of the masked men appears and kicks him forward, making him topple over the corpses.

A scream is then wretched from your throat when you’re suddenly pulled back, the stranger trapping you against him while he positions his knife just under your chin, feeling the sharp edge of the blade kiss your skin. The man from the stairs kicks Jensen in the stomach then again, your co-worker writhing in pain as another joins his attacker, this time with a metal bar which he slams against his chest.

“Hello, nerd! Long time no see.” The one who kicked him greets, the timbre of his voice making your heart pound against your chest. No! “Whatcha doin’ with my girl, huh?” The stranger asks before pulling off his mask and you freeze when you see Lloyd’s face. He then turns to you, a cocky smirk playing on his lips and sending you a wink before he asks, “Whatcha doin’ here, Kitten? Thought you were at a company party?” The sly twist in his voice has you on edge.

The smirk on his face then fades, turning into a scowl when he nods at the man who’s got you trapped against him. You’re then released from his hold but not for long as Lloyd simply takes his place, grabbing you by your arm, wincing from his tight grip and dragging you into the living room where you see countless bodies lying lifeless on the ground and the walls of the house painted crimson.

He shoves you against the couch where you fall against something cold and sticky, only to realize too late, crying out to see that it’s Bucky you landed on; his blood staining your dress and your hands. But you’re then pushed away from him, falling back on the cushions as Lloyd kicks his body off the surface to take the space he once occupied.

You feel like you’re about to convulse as you cry when Lloyd wraps an arm around you. You try to push away from him, not wanting to be near him but he shakes you like a rag doll, making you stop before gesturing over to someone you cannot see as your eyes are blurry from your tears and remain locked on your dead friend’s feet.

“Gentlemen, thank you for all your help.” Lloyd says when the music finally dies and you look up, surprised to see Andy and Nick standing unscathed with only splatters of blood staining their costumes. But what has you more jarred is seeing Kate and Amber bound and gagged, sitting against the floor, they’re eyes wide in fear as they squirm to be free from their restraints.

You’re suddenly off your seat and on your feet, determined to get to them, to help set them free and run away from this horrid place. But Lloyd is quick to yank you back, grunting when you fall onto his lap and his strong arm wrapping around your waist to hold you in place.

“Relax, Kitten. They’re safe.” Lloyd assures, his gloved finger grazing against your cheek. “Just had to go through some extra measures to keep them out of the way.”

“We did our part, Hansen.” Andy says, pulling Kate from the ground who forcefully tries to pull away from his grip while Nick does the same with Amber, who in turn quietly follows while tears keep running down her face. “Just don’t forget the deal.”

“Yeah yeah. Just make sure your bitches know what to say if they’re questioned.” Lloyd responds with disinterest. “Meet me by the end of this week for your payment.”

It’s all the words the men exchange before dragging away your friends, their wide and fearful eyes being the last you see before the door closes behind them.

The sound of wood being dragged across the tiled floor then makes you look forward, seeing Chris and Conrad, now with their masks off, placing a chair in front of you and Lloyd while the latter drags Jensen’s beaten body and forces him to take a seat. Both men then go to work, effectively binding their captive’s wrists behind his back with tape and his ankles to the legs of the chair.

The sight of his damaged state breaks your heart as you helplessly feel guilty upon thinking that everything that has happened to him is all your fault. You never should have come here in the first place as soon as you found out about the change of plans. You should have just gone home or better yet, you should have just stayed at home where you know Lloyd would be.

Yet the universe could be so cruel.

“Look what we found on him.” Chris says in a serious tone before pulling out a small ziplock bag from Jensen’s shirt pocket and tossing it over your lap. You glance down at the clear packaging, seeing several small white tablets enclosed in it. What?

“Lover boy here was so desperate to get laid he brought roofies with him.” Conrad adds with a laugh, pushing on the back of Jensen’s head hard that his body jolts forward.

The bag is then taken from your lap, Lloyd holding it up close to his face as he inspects the white circles. You yelp when you’re suddenly shoved off his lap, falling over to the floor while Lloyd steps over to Jensen and grabs him by his hair, pulling his head back while he holds the baggie in front of him, breathing heavily like some wild animal through gritted teeth.

“You were gonna drug my girl, weren’t you?!” Lloyd spits out his words and on Jensen’s face, tossing the tablets in Conrad’s direction, your throat eliciting a gasp when he holds a knife to his neck this time. “Did you take any drink from him?!” He asks, but it takes a second for you to realize that he’s talking to you. He turns in your direction, eyes dark with anger. “Any fizzy shit this asshole gave you?!”

You don’t understand what he’s asking, why the sudden interrogation—then it hits you. In the kitchen while you were busy with your thoughts, Jensen took your stale drink, as he claimed, and replaced it with another. No—it can’t be. He said it had coke in it and sodas make a fizz.

“I won’t ask again, Kitten.” Lloyd pushes and you nod out of fear, knowing that he would find out that you’re lying to him if you said otherwise.

The look on Lloyd’s face shifts into something that makes the hair on the back of your head stand. Like something sinister has possessed him with the way his lips curl in a playful manner.

A groan leaves Jensen’s lips when Lloyd releases him and you push yourself back against the couch when he goes for you next.

“Lloyd, please—!” you beg as he tucks the knife in his pocket, yanking you from the ground and shoving you forward, planting you firmly in front of Jensen before forcing you to bend over. “Let’s just go home—you already beat him!” You cry, pushing against Jensen’s thighs when Lloyd doesn’t budge and keeps dipping you further.

You feel like you’re going to gag when the metallic stench fills your nose especially with how close you are to your bleeding co-worker and you attempt once more to push away from him, no longer wanting the both of you to suffer. But the world suddenly feels like it’s turning upside down when you feel Lloyd pushing up the skirt of your dress, a grunt leaving his chest when he roughly rips your panties off your thighs.

“Now, don’t be like that, Kitten.” He says in a syrupy tone. “Don’t you want to at least show him his sick fantasy of fucking you?” The tell tale sound of his zipper being undone fills your ears and you’re shocked frozen, scared to the wits end that Lloyd would take you here amongst the dead and in front of your friend who he’s beaten to a pulp.

You look away from Jensen when you feel Lloyd’s cock brush against your ass, his tip teasing your pussy lips. You then shout when Lloyd grabs you by the back of your neck, forcing you to look back at your friend who has one eye swollen shut, while the other is stained with blood and brimming with unshed tears.

In one swift move, Lloyd enters you, gasping for air at his sudden intrusion. Pain blooms at the pit of your stomach when he doesn’t allow your walls to adjust and begins fucking you at a brutal pace, your nails digging into Jensen’s thighs as you try to endure your abuser’s torment.

Your body jolts against the chair, following Lloyd’s callous thrusts. You’re then washed in humiliation when you hear Chris and Conrad snickering at your sides, seeing them watch you with perverse eyes, sickened to the core as the thought that they enjoy what they are witnessing comes to your mind.

Both men then hold Jensen in place when he starts squirming in his seat that he almost topples over. Lloyd then abruptly pulls you up, pressing your back against his chest but only to grab on the straps of your dress and harshly pull them down from your shoulders, having your breasts spill into the open.

“She’s got perfect tits, doesn’t she, lover boy?” Lloyd taunts as he keeps up the pace of his hips, grabbing your breasts, kneading, squeezing, and pushing them together. “Why don’t you feel how soft they are?” And it’s as if things couldn’t get any worse, Lloyd moves you forward along with him, tipping forward when your knees hit the edge of the seat. His hands grab onto the back of the chair and you wail in horror when he forces your breasts to press against Jensen’s face, the sticky blood smearing all over your skin.

Lloyd laughs and so do his friends and all you feel is shame and disgust at what he’s doing to you—that the man you once loved would hurt you in the sickest way possible.

A gasp is once more wretched from your throat when Lloyd slams hard against your cunt, feeling his thick cock slide even deeper when your walls grow wet, the toe curling sensation from his tip repeatedly hitting that sweet spot of yours trying to take over. You feel like a woman possessed as you grit your teeth, pushing hard against the unwanted pleasure that slowly begins to crawl up your skin and seep into your bones, not wanting to give Lloyd the satisfaction that, despite such circumstances, he still manages to make you feel such a way.

Yet your attempts are deemed fruitless when you whimper and eventually turn into a moaning mess, your body responding to each of Lloyd’s touch; your pussy walls clenching around his throbbing cock with each thrust he makes and how your skin shivers, singing each note in sheer perfection as you climb higher and higher to your peak.

“You see that, nerd? You see how she turns into a fucking slut when you fuck her good?” He goads between heavy breaths, adjusting the position of his legs to have you lean more against his victim, his hands grabbing onto your tits once again only to rub it further against Jensen’s face, feeling the bristles of his goatee rub roughly against your skin.

“Too bad you’ll never get to have this.”

Lloyd's hips begin moving more erratically, the sound of your skins slapping with one another filling the stolid air. You swallow thickly, refusing for any more moans to leave your lips as you’re slowly enveloped in ecstasy, Lloyd’s cock pulsing deep in your pussy.

A blinding white light suddenly fills your vision and you shake uncontrollably as you come hard around Lloyd’s shaft. Tears once again spring from your eyes and you’re confused about what causes it. Is it embarrassment from feeling the pleasure? Pain from Lloyd’s roughness? Or is it sadness of how the evening of fun turned into a nightmare? You can’t think as you’re dissolved into nothing, your body floating in orgasmic bliss.

Lloyd follows soon, growling low and animalistic as he keeps his cock buried balls deep, painting your pussy walls with streaks of white as he spills his seed, filling you to the brim.

You think that it’s finally over, that Lloyd’s objective has finally been met. But a life draining gasp then fills your ears—not from you or from Lloyd but from Jensen. And it’s only then that you realize what has happened when you see Lloyd’s hand gripped on the hilt of the knife with the blade stuck deep into Jensen’s chest.

“No!” You cry out as Lloyd stabs him repeatedly, grunts of passionate anger escaping him each time he sinks the blade into the body before you.

Tears of despair and horror are what fall from your eyes, closing them as you hope that this is all a bad dream. You ball your hands into fists as you try your hardest to close in on yourself, to leave this place of torment that Lloyd has condemned you into.

Yet, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t. With the sound of metal hitting bone, along with the devious laugh of the men around you and the way your body shakes from Lloyd’s continuous blow, you’re repeatedly pulled back into the present, unwillingly witnessing the murder of your friend.

You suddenly feel your body shake, your chest tightening that you think the room is losing air and the smell of blood getting stronger and stronger that it makes bile ride up your throat. With Lloyd’s final stab, he pulls you away with him, leaving the knife buried in Jensen’s throat. The world around you suddenly turns, your vision spinning uncontrollably that before you could even let out a scream, everything suddenly goes dark.

You sit inside the employee lounge along with the others in somber idleness. The police came over just before the store opened and ordered that it remained closed for the rest of the day to make way for an investigation. Vince wasn’t happy with the commands of the law enforcers but there’s nothing he could do—there was nothing anybody could do.

A massacre, one of the officers said. A mass murder, another voices, declaring that some of the victims were employees of the store. You already knew who it was—Bucky and Jensen.

One by one, the employees were interrogated, some taking minutes while others taking hours. You glance at Kate who sits across from you on the lunch table, noting the small bruise on the side of her neck. You try not to imagine what Andy told her or did to her that night. You don’t even dare to ask as you refuse to relive the grim evening, nor want to feed her any memory of it.

You sit up once your name is called and you feel the eyes of your other co-workers land on you. The detective, stout and looking somewhat annoyed to be doing such a thing, looks your way and asks your name once more to confirm your identity.

He beckons you to follow him and you do, but not before looking down at your best friend when she grabs your hand, seeing the fear etched in her eyes. You give her a small smile and give her hand a reassuring squeeze before letting her go and following the detective into the other room.

You do as you’re told when he tells you to sit, staring down at the round table that sits between the both of you as you wait for his first question.

“I’m Detective Bodecker.” He starts, his belly protruding as he leans back against his seat. “And I just want to ask you a few questions regarding your co-workers. Is that okay?”

You nod.

“Do you need some water? Anything to make you comfortable?”

You shake your head.

“Very well. Let’s begin.” He hums and grabs his notebook from the desk, flipping a page. “Where were you on the night of October 31st?”

Your mind suddenly begins reliving the night in question. Jensen’s bloody face and Lloyd’s devious smile playing in your head. You blink those thoughts away, not wanting to give out any information on your face.

Taking a breath, you begin your tale.

“I was at a party—”

#lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x f!reader #so good so bad #the gray man #chris evans characters #dark fic #horror fic #beanie's freaktober fest #freaktober fest #shadeysprings fics

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gloryy-vs · 1 year

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hii! can i request a neteyam x metkayina!reader where she’s really quiet/shy (being closer to kiri and tuk) and doesn’t think he notices her a lot, but neteyam is actually very attentive of her and one day he confesses about this in a maybe fluffy/personal moment? i’m sorry if this sounds confusing and thank you in advance. <3

Those Ocean Eyes

|| AS YOU WISH. sorry if it isn’t as good but again, NOT PROOF READ i’m a lil lazy and just woke up

characters: neteyam x metkayina!reader

ratings: SFW , fluffy soft shit , aonung being a butt , neteyam being protective , reader bein all timid 🤭

Kiri dipped into the water first, playing around with the sea creatures and Tuk was around collecting shells. Sitting down in the sand, Neteyam and Lo’ak sat on the beach rock next to you and their sisters. You made small drawings in the sand, glancing over to Neteyam occasionally who seemed to be engrossed in Lo’ak talking about his Tulkun.

Each time you looked away, Neteyam glanced at you. Still paying attention to his younger brother talking about his adventures today. You frowned in annoyance, seeing Rotxo and Aonung heading towards you and the Sully’s smugly. Before you knew it, Lo’ak dropped down first much to Neteyams dislike. You kept still, hoping it wouldn’t turn into a fight again, while Aonung was already picking on Lo’ak for his ‘demon blood’. They both tarted pushing each other around, Aonung being right in front of you and honestly he was losing. He kept getting pushed into you, while you struggled getting up in the sand that kept fighting against you. Guess like you were losing too.

Neteyam scowled, dropping down from the rock and hoisting you up carefully, pushing you behind him. “Ay, Skxawngs. Watch where the hell you’re fighting. You could’ve crushed her.” He said with a booming voice. Dusting you off and holding your shoulder protectively. Aonung huffed a small laugh, turning around to say some more bullshit, “If you like her just say that forest boy, she’ll never wanna be your mate anyway-“

Neteyam pushed him back with a strong force, and Aonung tumbled back. Holding his arm out to stop Rotxo. “I said leave, now bro.” Neteyam said before pushing them off into the opposite direction again. You were embarrassed at the mention of you in the conversation. Yet you failed to notice how upset Neteyam got, his breathing growing quick and heavy with annoyance. “You alright?” He asked you, patting the side of your head. You nodded quickly, “Yeah, yeah. It’s nothing i’m not used to around those morons.” You took the first step back, feeling like your heart would explode if you stayed. Tuk came back, along with Kiri. Both of them were ragging you away. reading to make their necklaces with all the shells they ended up finding. You wanted to speak to Neteyam more, but he was already turned around to scold Lo’ak gently.

You weaved through the shells intricately, do sucking on each pattern you tried to make. Big shell, medium shell, tiny shells. You hoped Neteyam would find the necklace flattering, and would appreciate it. The salty wind came through, nearly blowing away your vines and leaves. Before you could react s blue hand pressed them down before picking them up and plopping down next to you in the sand.

It was Neteyam. “Ay, that necklace for me?” He said teasingly, his thigh pressing against you. It was like he had no sense of personal space, not that you minded but you thought it was cute.

“Actually it is, it was supposed to be a surprise.” You laid the necklace into the sand, slowly lowering your hands. Neteyam did the same with all the materials, digging up a place to safely put your hard earned vines. Your bright teal eyes met his gold ones, and he smiled, it could show in his eyes too. Your thoughts kept getting louder, yearning for his affection more and more. Even though you were so timid and shy, you were sure his affection could only be platonic, you were always to yourself, or with his little sisters. Introverted like Kiri was, but as playful as Tuk when it came to the right people.

You dropped your hands into your lap. Holding your breath.

“I need to tell you something,”

“I need to tell you something.”

You both laughed, his teeth showing a lot from the coincidence. “Alright, me first.” He said eagerly, not even waiting for a retort. Neteyams body turned to face yours more, the ocean just barely touching the two of you.

Before he started he noticed the glisten in your eyes, how pretty they looked when the sun was setting. “You’re a gentle girl. There’s this soft light about you, always so caring. Helping us learn the ways of the water people, even though you’re so shy, you were the first to talk to me.” Neteyam placed his hand onto your thigh, reassuringly. His heart was beating as fast as yours.

“I see you. I really do. Everything about you. Even those pretty ocean eyes.” He said, leaning in a little.

Your heart almost dropped to your ass, mouth slightly agape from the compliments he showered you with. He noticed your sincerity, and even admitted to loving the shy and introverted bits. You took his hand, crawling into his arms and he welcomed you eagerly. “I’ve never had someone say that. I was drawn to you the moment I saw you Neteyam.” The moment was very heartfelt, both of you pouring your emotions out just from the tight embrace. “I…see you too, Neteyam. I always did.” He held you tighter, a warm feeling washing over him as the waves engulfed you to up to the waist. Neither of you minded, as you both laid in the sand, holding onto each other.

#neteyam x reader #neteyam imagine #neteyam x you #neteyam sully #avatar neteyam #neteyam #atwow loak #loak imagine #avatar way of water #metkayina #omaticaya

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lis-likes-fics · 2 months

Text

All the Things I Hate About You

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader Word Count: 11.5k words Warnings: Swearing, torture, violence, kidnapping, enemies to lovers... A/N: This was actually really fun to write. I forgot I had this idea for months until I was looking through my wips and saw the planning completely finished. Anyway, here it is and I hope you enjoy!

The bar is quite busy tonight. It's full of patrons talking and laughing and carrying on in classic New Orleans style. Nights like these are always nice, especially when it's between you and Klaus, this time with the added company of Marcel, as you bring the lip of your bourbon to your own, smiling around the glass.

You chuckle into the cup at one of Klaus’ quips, raising a finger at him and wiping your bottom lip. You're about to speak when your attention diverts to the door at the sound of a ringing bell.

Your face falls.

“Goddamn it,” you mutter, putting your hand down and wrapping it around your glass again.

Looking toward the source of your new frustration, Klaus can't help his chuckle. “Now, now, dove,” he bids, swirling the contents of his glass. “Do not let his intrusion sour your mood. I'm sure he has a good reason for being here. Don't you, big brother?”

You all look at the man in question as Elijah places his hand on the back of his brother's chair. He disregards you altogether, and somehow that's more frustrating than him showing up in the first place.

“Niklaus, we need to talk,” he says, turning his head toward him with a clenched jaw.

You whine, leaning forward and letting your head fall to the table with a dull thump. “But the night was just getting good.” Marcel laughs at you.

Amused, Klaus raises a brow. “About?”

Elijah finally spares you a sliver of attention as his eyes dart toward you, narrowed to slits. “Privately,” he insists.

Klaus rolls his eyes, uninterested and ready to shift his attention back to you. “We can talk about the eternal crisis of my soul’s redemption another day, Elijah. For now,” he looks at you, smirking devilishly, “we were just headed to this cute little place around the corner for a bite.”

You aren't a vampire, but you've never had an issue with encouraging his less-than-innocent activities. In fact, through the course of your friendship, Klaus has found that you enjoy indulging in vampiric lifestyles. He found that you lack a certain morality most humans tend to hold when it comes to the supernatural. It's one of his favorite things about you—you're not obsessed with saving his immortal soul.

But Elijah does not sympathize.

“I'm sure you've had plenty of ‘bites’ today,” he says, shooting you a glare.

Preening under his attention—however negative it may be—you continue. “Yeah, well, bite me. You're ruining the fun.”

His gaze unwavering, Elijah continues to glare. “Oh, I just might.”

You scoff, turning your body more towards him. “I'm not afraid of you.”

He's so used to being feared, but you've never feared him for a moment—it's another one of those things he hates about you.

He takes a step closer to you, and you have to tilt your head back to look up at him. You don't falter, even as he speaks. “I don't need you to be afraid in order to be lethal, sweetling.”

It's very derogative, the way he says it. All of his pet names toward you are. You're sure he thinks you hate it, but—of all his insults—it's one of your favorites.

Marcel and Klaus watch on, enjoying the scene as much as you as the both of you stare the other down. Your gazes are unwavering, a game of dominance which you have a clear disadvantage in—though that's never stopped you before.

“Uh-oh,” Marcel grins, bringing his glass to his lips. He chuckles as he glances at Klaus, who does the same. “It's gonna be a cat fight.”

But when nothing happens, and you continue to stare, Klaus sighs as he lounges in his chair. “What is it that cannot wait, brother?”

It takes a moment for him to finally respond, to tear his eyes away from you and look back at his little brother. “Supernatural business,” he says plainly.

“You mean supernatural drama,” Marcel corrects. “Spill.”

Raising a brow, Elijah's eyes, one again, fall back to you—as though he couldn't resist looking away for more than a moment. “You could probably ‘spill’ yourself, couldn't you?”

You sigh. “To be honest,” you stretch and turn back to your drink, “I'm just trying to get drunk, and your presence is unnervingly sobering.” You take a sip, your eyes still watching him as you do.

Taking every opportunity to spite you, he hums. “Good.”

Marcel refocuses. “What kind of drama?”

Again, Elijah turns away. “The kind that includes a vampire dead in the Quarter.”

You lift your chin, remembering as your lips form an “oh” and you return to your drink.

Marcel, ever annoyed by Mikaelson and Co. mischief, turns to you and Klaus with an immense amount of exhaustion. “You killed one of my guys?”

You raise your hands. “To be completely fair, he was just a tourist.”

“To be completely fair,” Elijah echoes, “he was visiting family, a group of residents here. Now they are threatening to break the peace.”

“That is…quite unfortunate,” Klaus sighs. He stands then, patting Elijah back in a chummy way. “However, I don't know how much I care. This place was becoming rather tedious anyway.”

Elijah is exhausted by all of this. “And I'm sure the same can be said for your human companion.”

You raise your hands in defense. “Don't look at me! He catcalled me, all I did was punch him really hard in the face.”

Klaus nods. “Yes, and I was the one to gut him and string up his corpse in a tree like a Christmas ornament.”

“Before I suggested that we leave him someplace not so out in the open,” you nod, “because humans tend to panic.”

Elijah clenches his jaw. “Of course.”

There are many reasons Elijah doesn't like you.

For one, you seem to have no care or respect for other people's lives. You're just as bad as Niklaus, you may as well be slaughtering these people yourself.

Your encouragement in his brother's misdeeds, entirely contrary to Elijah's attempts at helping his brother, are so frustrating. It makes his job a lot harder when he's got this other voice in his head telling him that it's okay to snap his neck, as long as you put some nice beads and sunglasses on him so he looks cool.

Then there's your sass. You always have some sly comeback, another thing to add to conversation that doesn't need to be contributed.

If it didn't stop there, your eyes. You're always looking at him, always challenging him. You stare him down, your gaze unwavering. You watch his every move just to find something to pick apart.

And you're never scared of him. Never. You have no problem with talking back to this man. He could kill you in a moment, and you could do nothing to stop him. But you don't even consider that possibility, you're too busy being–

“Okay, I'm calling it a night,” Marcel stands, pulling Elijah from his obsessive thoughts. “I've got business to take care of. Thank you for that.” He says the last part to you and Klaus, dipping his head as a goodbye as he leaves. He pauses by Elijah, not meaning his words but—fuck, he's tired. “Couldn't have waited a few more hours?”

You groan, looking up at Klaus. “We don't have to go, do we?”

Klaus shrugs. “So long as you don't get hurt, I don't see why we should.”

You stand, taking one last sip from your drink as you smile. “Great.” You link arms with Klaus, patting Elijah's chest, even as he rolls his eyes. “Buh-bye now.”

Elijah turns as the two of you are leaving, his firm voice stopping the both of you as he continues to glare. “Niklaus,” he says. “We need to talk.”

Klaus lets go of your arm and walks back toward his brother. “You need a drink, my friend,” he suggests. He puts an arm on his shoulders and points toward a woman at the bar. She's sitting on her own, a finger tracing the lip of her glass. “I'm sure that lovely lady there would certainly be happy to help you.”

He pats his chest, smiling slyly. “Cheers.”

Klaus takes your arm again, and you wiggle your fingers in goodbye at Elijah. He huffs gently, shaking his head and deciding he may actually need a drink.

“Niklaus!”

You groan, laying your head on the table as Elijah's graining voice reverberates through the courtyard. You lay a hand over your head trying to ease the pain throbbing in the back of your skull.

“Could you be any louder?” you grumble, the pain too great to add the malice you intend.

Elijah comes to a stop, not bothering to look at you as his eyes scan the mezzanine. “It's your own fault,” he mutters.

“How charming,” you sigh. He's the brother meant to have manners. You lean your head up to look at him through the dark lenses of your glasses.

“Where is Niklaus?” he questions, finally looking down at you.

You shrug, massaging your temples to ease your migraine. “Probably eating some wayward college girls to spite you.”

He hums, fixing the collar of his sleeve. “Oh, are some of your friends in town?”

Despite the pain in your skull, you laugh, looking up at him. “I like this narrative in your head that the bad influence in this relationship is the helpless mortal rather than the immortal big bad wolf who is literally known for murder and mayhem.” You smile, giggling lightly. “It makes me sound like a mastermind.”

He looks toward you. “The only mastery you've achieved is in ruthless schemes against my sanity.”

“Oh,” you nod. “All good things then.”

Rather than answer you, he yells. “Niklaus!”

You're abusing your temples at this point as you try to ease the pain. “Fuck you,” you spit, resting your head down again.

He smirks. “I'm sure you would love to. Fortunately, I have more interesting things to take care of.”

You hum, your voice muffled by the table. “Dunno what your problem is.”

He's growing impatient at Klaus’ tardiness to his calls, but it seems eased at the prospect of taunting you. “I've got only a handful of issues, and your name is plastered all over 98% of them. Ni-klaus!”

There are many reasons you don't like Elijah.

For one, he always seems to show up when you don't need him to. He's a buzz kill, a sour puss, and a pain in the ass.

And, for an Original, he seems to have a strange distaste for havoc. All you ever really wanted to do was have fun, and he never seemed to sympathize.

You grew up in this city, fully aware of the fact that it was crawling with the supernatural. You grew with it, and you grew into it, and now you hold ideals more aligned with that of the vampires of the Quarter, rather than the humans of the city, desensitized from death and pain and sorrow and indulging instead in the highs and adrenaline rushes of being freed from such moralities. You've never had an issue with that.

But for a woman who'd grown in the heart of the city he loved, Elijah seemed to hate your guts.

If that wasn't enough, his penchant for immaculacy drove you mad, there was no reason to find that much stress in being a little disorganized. Hell, your whole life was practically a disorganized mess, but he doesn't see you spiraling.

And his fucking face disgusted you. The way he watched you, so closely, tracking every movement. His eyes hardly left you, and when they did, it was simply to show you how little you were to him. But you just kept staring. He wanted you to be afraid of him, but you aren't. And you'll never be.

You want him to know that. You know it ticks him off.

Klaus comes to your rescue, but not without an infliction of his own as he arrives at the mezzanine. “Alright! Don't get your knickers in a twist. I'm here.” He sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes as he looks down at the both of you in the courtyard. “Now what are you so insistent on telling me?”

Elijah squares his jaw. “Walk with me.”

Klaus groans. “Must we?”

True to his fashion, rather than answer, Elijah simply turns and begins walking. As he disappears, you lift your head, pushing your sunglasses further up your nose. “Good luck with that one,” you mumble, pointing in Elijah's direction. You look after him as Klaus descends the steps. “He's especially pissy.”

Klaus comes next to you, pushing some hair behind your ear. “Do you have something to do with that?”

You smile a bit. “Don't I always?”

Klaus laughs, tapping the tip of your nose with his finger and laughing some more when you wipe it. He fishes a little bottle of Tylenol from his pocket and sets it in front of you as he makes his way toward the front, leaving you to your misery as you rest your head back down on the table.

You snatch the bottle, clutching it like golden treasure.

Your migraine is gone by the time they return. You've still got your sunglasses on the bridge of your nose, but it's more for fashion than it is comfort now. Your music is practically blasting through the courtyard, and the brothers walk in to see you dancing to “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys.

Why? Why not?

“Oh,” Elijah sighs, raising a brow and glancing away. “It dances.”

You turn, taking off the sunglasses and pausing your music. You point at him with the pair, “Aren't you supposed to be a feminist or something?”

Klaus laughs at your antics and simply brushes past you. You wave tauntingly at Elijah and follow Klaus up the steps as you both leave him by his lonesome.

“So what did you talk about?” you ask once he's out of sight. You weave your hand through his arm and smile up at him. “Was it little ole me?” You shoot him a charming grin.

He chuckles, “As always.”

He shrugs, continuing down the hall with you happily on his arm. You and Klaus have been joined at the hip since you met just a little after he moved back to the city. He's your best friend, as you are his. You adore this man, though many try to warn you of his danger.

But you like the danger. You practically live and breathe the supernatural. Whether you should be afraid or not, you aren't. It's in your veins as though you were one of them already.

“What about?” you hum.

“You and your terrible influence.” He turns into Hope's room, pushing the door open and walking further inside as he looks around.

“I'm just cool like that,” you say. Glancing around, you furrow your brow. “What are you doing?”

“Hayley called,” he says simply. He turns over a blanket to look underneath it. “Apparently she forgot one of Hope's favorite toys when she was last here. She refuses to take her nap without it, needs me to retrieve it for her.”

You walk toward the bed, picking up a powder pink pillow and seeing the little pastel blue bunny underneath it, its floppy ears lazy at the sides of its head.

“Isn't this it?”

You show it off to him, wiggling it to make its arms flop around. Klaus nods, taking the offered creature. “That, it is.”

He leans forward, lowering his voice to a whisper to avoid Elijah's prying ears. “Why don't you come with me, and we can ditch the police downstairs.”

You smile wide, whispering back at him. “I thought you'd never ask.”

He offers his hand. You take it.

The both of you take one of the many “secret” exits of the building, ditching Elijah in the courtyard to go have some real fun. He takes you to one of the back entrances, where it’s a little darker and you’re surrounded by brick. Klaus opens the gate and steps onto the street, and as you go behind him to cross the threshold–

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

You furrow your brow at the resistance that meets the toe of your shoe. Raising a hand, you reach forward…

“Klaus, I can't get out,” you say as you press it against air, and you press hard. But to no avail…

“What do you mean?” he asks.

You make a face ‘What do you think I mean?’ You slap your hand against the force again, and nothing. “There's something keeping me from leaving.”

Hoping your teasing, he reaches for your hand and is immediately stopped from doing so. “What the hell?” he mutters.

“You think it's trouble?”

Klaus sighs, exhaustion slipping into his tone. “When isn't it?”

A gush of air whips behind you and suddenly Elijah is at your side, facing his brother. “We're sealed in.”

You roll your eyes, “We kind of figured that out already.”

He furrows his brows at Klaus, raising a hand to the barrier. “You're not trapped?” he questions.

Klaus raises his hands and lets them drop at his sides. “As it seems.”

“Shit,” you whisper. You shake your head, turning to face both of them as you sink into your “something-is-wrong-how-do-we-fix-it” mode, well-versed in the world of Mikaelson drama by this point. “What do we do?”

Klaus retrieves his phone from his back pocket. “I'll figure something out. You stay here.” He turns to leave. You roll your eyes at his back.

“Don't have much of a choice.”

“Try not to kill each other before I get back,” he says as he leaves.

You groan, leaning against the barrier dramatically. “Don't leave me here!” He ignores you.

You sigh, grumbling as you turn to face Elijah. “Wonderful.”

“I'm not exactly thrilled myself.”

You turn to leave him, walking away back toward the courtyard where the stairs are. Elijah follows you, walking behind.

And as you reach the stairs, still he walks behind.

“You're following me,” you point out, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“I'm not following you.”

You pick up the pace up the stairs. “Yes, you are.” It's almost fun, the senseless bickering. Like children. If only it were that simple…

“We are going in the same direction,” he states, rolling his eyes when you keep looking over your shoulder at the top of the stairs.

“Go away!” you exclaim, disappearing into Klaus’ room. He continues walking, grumbling to himself as he carries on to his own.

Closing the door behind you, you're almost disappointed. But you remember that you don't like him. You aren't friends. He isn't going to humor you, and you won't humor him either.

You plop down on the bed, laying back with your arms sprawled out like a bird. You stare at the ceiling, trying to decide what to do trapped in the compound with naught to do but stare at the ceiling.

And you're bored.

You pull your phone out and tap on it, humming to yourself as you do. But that can only sustain you for so long. And you're right. Because it has been exactly five minutes since you closed Klaus’ door, and now you're standing in Elijah's doorway with your arms crossed over your chest.

He doesn't acknowledge you. He's perfectly content to sit there reading, paying you absolutely no mind.

But you can't have that.

“I'm bored.”

He hums, his finger tapping the top corner of his book. “Go do something.”

“I can't, wise guy,” you roll your eyes. You take a step farther into his room. “We're trapped here.”

He doesn't seem to care. “I'm occupied.”

For a moment, you wonder why he's so calm. If you're trapped in the compound, that means there's a witch involved. And if there's a witch involved, that likely means there's another dangerous issue that needs to be solved before someone gets hurt.

But then you remember. He's an Original. If there's an issue, let it come. It won't hurt him.

You look along the shelves in his room, lined with books and belongings. “I'm not,” you hum.

He rolls his eyes and sets his book down. “Why are you here?”

You shrug. You're bored, and you like messing with him. And that's what you tell him: “Because I'm bored, and I like messing with you.”

“You can't stand not being within my presence, is it?”

“Ew, gross!” you exclaim, feeling slightly giddy before you remember that you aren't friends and you, in fact, hate him as he does, you.

To distract yourself from the fondness in your chest, you take a small book off the shelf and toss it at him. He catches it with ease and sets it on the table next to him. Wordlessly, he shoots you a glare to tell you to stop. But you've finally been entertained.

To be fair, this was childish and unnecessary and you really shouldn't have done it. But you're stupid around Elijah, and you're childish and unnecessary because he entertains you and makes you upset and drives you crazy.

So you keep throwing things at him. First, another book. Then one of the expensive and, likely, old knick-knacks on his shelf. Then whatever goes in your hand because he keeps catching them like it's nothing.

“Leave me alone,” he says, his voice firm and final. But you don't listen to him. You never listen to him.

“I'm bored,” you tell him, bracing another book in your hands. If you knew he wouldn't catch it, you wouldn't throw it. “Do something funny.”

You toss it, he catches it. Like clockwork. “I am not here to occupy you. I am here because I have no other choice, as we are trapped. You said to go away. I left. And now you are here tormenting me.”

He's fed up, and you know he is. And it only excites you more. That means he'll react, he'll pay attention to you. He'll look at you. And you can look at him. You love the way he looks when he's frustrated.

“I am here to torment you,” you shrug. “Did you want another book, by the way? I think you might enjoy this one.”

You toss it. Like clockwork. “Stop.”

You should stop. A figurine leaves your hand.

“Stop,” harsher this time. “I will not tell you again.”

You smirk. “Do something about it.” The challenge leaves your lips just as the last book does.

He catches it, and then suddenly you're being pushed up against the wall, your wrists pinned at either side of your head in a tight grip that makes your fingers tingle. You wince as your head hits the brick, not hard enough to really hurt you but hard enough to sting as you bare your teeth.

Your eyes go wide as your gaze locks with his. He's furious, face inches from yours and eyes full of frustration.

For the very first time, you're afraid of Elijah Mikaelson.

“You are behaving like a child.” His voice is low and dangerous, his eyes are dark as they bore into your own, unflinching. But you flinch. Each little syllabus he stresses has you squinting your eyes and wanting to shrink away from him.

You truly understand now how someone like him can inspire so much fear in others.

“If you continue this nonsense, I assure you…” he leans even closer, his words caressing your face in a terrifying way, “I will put an end to it as quickly as it started.” You close your eyes and turn your face slightly away from him as you feel each letter in his words spell out on your cheek. “Do I make myself absolutely clear?”

Silence. Silence fills the air.

The only exception to the quiet suspense lingering in the space between the both of you are his steady breaths and your quivering ones. As you open your eyes and look at him again, you feel like he's stolen the air in the room and the adrenaline pumping through your veins is not out of the excitement of action, but the fear of actually being hurt.

Because he may actually intend on hurting you.

You definitely feel it in the tips of your fingers, going numb with his tightened grip. You feel it in the sting of the back of your skull after it met the brick of his bedroom wall. You feel it in the scrape of your skin against said brick. And as he's met with silence from you, you feel it in the clutch of his hands around your wrist, his thumb pressing into your pulse and forcing your fingers to curl.

You whimper. You actually whimper—a soft and nearly silent little slip of sound from your lips as you force them to part and whisper meekly to him.

“You're hurting me.”

The fog of frustration lifts from his eyes and he immediately seems to come to his senses. In the next second, he's let you go and take several steps away from you. His eyes are a tad bit wider, and his lips are parted.

He hadn't realized he was actually hurting you.

You wince, holding your wrists as you massage them. Elijah notices the way you actually sink into yourself, trying to play it down but so easy to read in his eyes, eyes that watch you at every point he gets.

“Ow,” you whisper. “Jesus.”

Your wrists really hurt. They'll probably bruise. You reach a hand to the back of your head, wincing once again when your fingers brush the tiny bump that may form there, but feel relieved when there is no blood.

You sigh, glancing up at him and taking a couple small steps back. You think you may be standing too close, even still.

Elijah watches you, swallowing thickly. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you.

“I need a drink,” you mumble without the implied, ‘away from you’. Then you roll your eyes, “Oh, wait.”

You hate the feeling being pumped through your system right now. Fear. Fear or Elijah Mikaelson. A man you've never feared in your life. Even for a moment. Suddenly, you're terrified.

Because he may actually hurt you.

Elijah licks his bottom lip and looks down at his shoes. He takes a step back, and then makes a slow and straight path to a cupboard in his bedroom. He opens it, and pulls out a bottle of bourbon he kept hidden away there. In silence he pours two glasses and leaves yours on the edge of the table for you.

Tentatively, you take it.

It takes a moment for the word to form, afraid to vex him again, “...Thanks.”

He hums and says nothing else.

There's another long silence. You bring the glass to your lips and take a generous gulp, letting the alcohol burn down your throat and warm your chest. Elijah does the same.

He holds his glass in his hands, and for a moment you think he looks almost...shy.

He taps his glass, the sound filling the air between you. Without looking up at you, he takes in a gentle breath and speaks.

“Forgive me.”

You look at him. He meets your gaze slowly, making no attempt to step closer but offering all his sincerity. “I didn't mean to hurt you.”

You scoff lightly. “Your threat said otherwise.”

It's your own fault. You were being unnecessary, you were being stupid…

His voice, though firmer, doesn't betray the softness he'd utilized in his apology before. This is the gentlest you've ever experienced Elijah.

“I would not have hurt you to make you stop.”

“Wouldn't you?” you challenge lightly. You're afraid to provoke him some more.

But his reply is still just as firm. “No.” There's a gravity in his words that you don't have the capacity to dissect right now. “I would not.”

More silence. Longer silence.

You stare at him, taking in the sight of his face, which grows softer and softer as time goes on. Your fear slowly dwindles but it's still there, seemingly ever-present. You should apologize.

“You just…” you look down at the floor, “You just don't seem the type to feel bad about hurting me. You don't seem to like me very much.”

You don't want to sound as pathetic as you feel. Especially at the “don't seem to like me”. It feels so…childish, small, insignificant. You don't like me.

He shrugs, speaks matter-of-factly. “I don't. But I do not hate you, either.”

You scoff again, shaking your head lightly. You don't understand him…

Elijah sighs, moving slowly to take a seat again. He sits at the edge of his chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and he cradles his glass in his hands. “As much as your penchant for wreaking havoc with my brother frustrates me… You do remain his friend.” And he doesn't have many of those.

You chuckle, shaking your head, feeling the conflicts of your emotions and turning it to disdain to make it easier on you.

“Is that why you keep me around?”

“What?”

“You want your baby brother to have a bestie?” You bring the cup to your lips but do not drink yet. “Otherwise I'd have already been dead in an alleyway or something?” You take a sip then, to hide the hurt you feel.

He shakes his head, staring at the contents of his cup. “You say that like I've always hated you.”

You raise a brow. “Haven't you?” You don't understand him.

He actually smiles, shaking his head. “You're so stubborn, aren't you?”

Without missing a beat, “It's my best quality.” You don't reciprocate his smile. As he watches you, his slowly fades anyway.

He looks down at your hands. They're shaking slightly. “You're hurt,” he frowns. “Let me help you.”

You take a step back, “I don't need your help.”

“Please.” He sounds small, non-confrontational. He doesn't sound like him, he sounds almost weak—almost like you.

You think about it, and then you take a breath of courage and relent. “No blood, though,” you mumble, trying to sound light-hearted and failing. You're still a bit shaken.

“God forbid you were healed,” he mumbles as he stands and makes your trade places with him as he sits you with the gentlest touches in his chair. He crouches in front of you and takes your hands in his own, frowning in an almost pained way at the cuts and scrapes that litter the lengths of your forearms. He did this.

Elijah stands, disappears, and reappears with a first-aid kit in his hands. He kneels in front of you once more, taking your hands and covering your skin in ointment and wrapping your wrists carefully with deft fingers.

Almost like he cares about you.

A warm feeling swells in your chest, but you stifle it before it can get too familiar, too comfortable. You take your hands back, holding your wrists gently as you rub your fingers over the bandages. You try not to be sentimental.

“Thanks,” you whisper, hating how weak you sound. You clear your throat and stand. He stands with you, moving slowly so as not to scare you. He doesn't want you to be afraid of him. You are never afraid of him.

“Sorry…” you clear your throat, “about the…throwing things. I overdid it.” You can't look him in the eyes. “It was childish—I'm childish, and I'm sorry.”

“Careful,” the slightest smirk teases his lips. “Someone may think we were actually friends.”

Friends.

“God forbid,” you joke weakly.

As has become natural…there is silence. You're not used to so much silence with him. It's usually filled with petty insults and shallow jabs at the others shortcomings.

You look up at him, into his eyes. It's easier to see him a little more clearly in the silence. You can take in more information, like the depths of his eyes, the gleam of them, the richness of his brown irises…

“I'm gonna…” you break the silence as gently as you can, “go keep myself busy.”

He doesn't stop you. He doesn't salvage the strange, silent truce with a sly remark, he doesn't scoff or roll his eyes or walk away. He takes a step to the side and allows you to pass, watching you leave with tentative steps as you stare at the floor to keep from looking back at him. You don't understand him. He doesn't understand you. But you think that maybe, in this silent moment, you understand each other more than you ever have since the moment you first met.

You leave his room. He stands there, watching the open door, unblinking but thinking a million thoughts. He hears your gentle steps descend the stairs. Elijah sits back down, looking at your glasses, both still half-full and forgotten. He sighs. He's stupid.

He hears you downstairs. The soft steps of your shoes against the floor, the scoot of a chair.

He'd never meant to hurt you. As much as he threatens, as much as he remarks, he'd never lay a finger on you with the actual intent of hurting you.

He sighs, turning to take the books you'd thrown in his hands to set back on the shelf. He thinks as he arranges them into their original order. He thinks as he places his knick-knacks in their rightful positions.

He listens to your heart beat, a steady rhythm in the back of his mind. A few moments pass, and there is complete stillness in the compound.

But just as quickly as it settled, it was disrupted once more.

He hears your heart pick up, a fast and unsteady beat against your ribcage that all too suddenly disappears.

It only takes a moment to check every room in the compound. It takes only one other to check them all twice.

But you're gone.

His phone is in his hand and ringing in no time. He paces, unsettled as he bids his brother to answer quickly.

The dial tone ends. Klaus’ voice comes through, “I've just got the little witch. I'm sure being alone with her isn't as excruciating as you claim, broth–”

“Niklaus. She's gone.”

A pause. “What do you mean ‘she's gone’?” His voice is low, menacing. He's ready to draw blood.

“Her heartbeat raced, and then it disappeared.” He looks around again, in case he missed something the first two times. He hates to say that he feels like he may begin panicking. “She isn't in the compound, and I am still trapped.”

He knows. He checked. Three times.

“We're coming.”

He hangs up. Elijah lets his hand drop to his side, running the other through his hair and sighing. He closes his eyes, takes a breath.

It'll be fine.

There's a terrible pain at the base of your skull, and you wince when you become conscious enough to feel the pounding of it. Your neck is sore, but it's held back by something rather than left to hang freely. Duct tape, wrapped tightly around your throat.

Your fingers tingle with a numbing sensation spreading up to your wrist. Your hands are tied down to a chair, your ankles are restrained to the legs, and your back is sore from the very uncomfortable position you've been put in. The sticky adhesive hurts your skin.

You're not going anywhere.

You blink quickly as you open your eyes, a bright light flashing in your face and blinding. It's hot and humid, each breath you take is thick and sluggish. You look around, taking in your surroundings to try and see if you know where you are.

The walls are rundown with mold and cracks. The floorboards are weak and creaky. The light directed into your face is your only source of light. The sun has set, and it's a new moon tonight.

A groan slips through your lips before you can stop it.

“She's awake,” a voice announces. A woman.

The floorboards groan under the weight of someone's steps. You look up (as if you have much of a choice), your eyes still adjusting, especially with the pain becoming background noise in your mind.

“I heard.” A man, whose voice isn't particularly strong. After spending so much time with the Originals, you're sure to know the difference.

You'll be fine.

You watch him take his phone from his back pocket, holding up to your face. The flash goes off, and you wince as the tiny click of his phone sounds.

You groan, thinking quickly as you take in a breath. “Wait,” you say. “You didn't get my good side. You gotta do it again.”

Your voice is thick with exhaustion and dehydration, but it doesn't deter you. Just because you're the one in restraints doesn't mean you're the weak one here.

He bends down, moving his face into the light. He doesn't look very intimidating, though he tries to be. In fact, he looks terrible—tired and upset.

“So you're the little human Klaus keeps around?” he hums. His lip curls slightly into a scowl, and he shakes his head. “You don't look like much.”

You smile, shrugging as best you can. “I don't need to.” You tilt your head, “I have an endless supply of charm to work with.”

“That's funny,” he says humorlessly. He turns to the woman sitting in the corner. “She's funny.”

You assume she's a witch. After the incident at the compound and now the apparent kidnapping, that assumption isn't too far off.

You nod. “I'm hilarious.”

“All the time?” he wonders.

“24/7.”

He makes a face, one to say he disagrees. He stands straight up again, walking around your chair. His knuckles rap against the back of it, and you roll your eyes. His tactics are amateur. Even the witch is bored, because she stands up and leaves.

“I personally don't think so.”

You furrow your brows, mocking sorrow. “Really? Why not? Wait,” you think for a moment. “I don't care.”

His hands fall on your shoulder, and you scowl. He's actually touching you. That's disgusting. If you could bite his hand or something, you would. But that currently isn't an option.

“There was one joke that wasn't very funny,” he says, bending down once more so you can see him.

“I always love feedback on my work. How'd it go?”

He smiles, but it's a sour thing on his face. “It went up in a tree, gutted like a fish and hanged. Like he was nothing.” Realization hits you. “You got my brother killed.”

So that's why you're here.

“Is that what this is about?” You shake your head, raising an uninterested brow. “Look, bud, all I did was punch him. Klaus killed him.”

He shrugs, “You definitely didn't stop him.” His words drip with a pain you can no longer empathize with.

“I didn't, no,” you tell him plainly, “because I didn't care and your brother was a jerk—and also Klaus is freakishly strong and I don't stand a chance.”

He's losing his patience. Now he's just pissed, and he's losing his power—what little he had to begin with anyway.

“Being a jerk isn't a fair enough reason to be slaughtered like that,” he argues. “Otherwise you'd already be dead.”

“So you're not going to kill me?” you ask. “Oh, that's a relief. I have a massage tomorrow at two. My shoulders have been killing me.”

“I think tense shoulders are the least of your worries right now.”

“I'm getting mixed signals here. Am I in danger or–”

“Shut up!” His hand wraps around your throat, tighter than the tape he has secured there as he pushes you up against the chair.

Adrenaline pumps through your veins, but it's well hidden as you watch him straight on. He's on the verge, you can tell. He might snap at any moment and it likely won't end well for you.

“You never stop talking, do you?” His voice is low and rough, his breath is thick with rage. “I don't know how anyone puts up with you and your constant blabbing, it's honestly pathetic.”

Your breath is thin but you won't let him have the last word. “Trust me, sweetheart,” you strain against his grip. “Nothing you say is really going to get under my skin. I've probably said it already.”

He leans in closer. You can feel his warm breath on your face, and you'd squirm if it wouldn't empower him. “You're a child.”

“I know. It keeps me young.”

He lets go of you, and before you can think of something else to say, the back of his hands smacks against your cheek. You grunt, your face whipping to the side as the tape cuts into your skin. It stings. He's very strong, and it shows in the dark stain arising in your cheek. You think his daylight ring clipped you because it really stings, and you think he may have drawn blood.

Your suspicions are validated when you see the veins in his eyes wriggling under his skin, his eyes darkening with the scent of your blood.

“Ah, shit!” you gasp, wanting to soothe the spot but being unable to. It really hurts. But you can't let him have the satisfaction. “I mean,” you catch your breath, “harder, Daddy.” You shake your head, wincing harshly. “God, that hurt, actually.”

He gets real close to your face again, but the pain of his smack makes it harder to show indifference. But it's not without trying. “You killed my brother,” he spits. “I'm going to hurt you really bad. And then…” he smiles, “I am going to kill you.”

Your breath is uneven, riled up with the anxiety of maybe not having the upper hand. If there's a witch, it means you're likely cloaked. The compound may still be sealed, so Elijah is still trapped—not that he would save you if he wasn't. Klaus, with all his power, may not be able to find you.

You might not get out of this alive.

Nevertheless. “You really shouldn't start with your big threat.” He turns away from you, annoyed. “There's no way to go from there.”

“I'm going to beat the shit out of you.

“See?” you ask, getting a little desperate now. Maybe you can distract him? “You already threatened my life. Anything else you say is significantly less impactful.”

“Shut up!” he shouts.

A gleam shines off a knife he pulls from his back pocket. Your eyes go wide with panic, and you try to react but there's nothing you can do. He raises it high, and in the next second, he's stabbed it into the meat of your thigh.

A scream tears from your throat. It's loud and rough and brings tears to your eyes as the pain rips through you like a fire. Your hands flex towards it, trying to soothe it in some way—any way—but to no avail.

He sneers, a dark chuckle leaving his throat. You watch his face change, his vampiric features creeping through again. “That's better.”

He pulls his phone out and snaps another picture. a wicked grin sneaks onto his face.

You're in full panic mode. You can't even attempt to be funny anymore, you've begin genuinely freaking out because there's a fucking knife in your leg.

“Okay, I'm sorry,” the words leave your mouth at the speed of light. “I'm sorry. I fucked up. I shouldn't have let Klaus do it. Granted, I can't really stop him when he's got murder on his mind, but I should have tried, and I didn't, and that's on me. I'm sorry. No, no, no, no, I'm sorr–!”

Another painful shout rips through you as he tears the knife from your leg. It bleeds, and it bleeds bad. Tears have begun pooling in your eyes, and dropping down your face and off your chin. Your screams stutter with sobs, and you gasp but there's too much air in your lungs to actually inhale each breath. The tape around your neck chokes you.

More flashes, more pictures

“You can scream as loud as you like, sweetheart. Your precious Mikaelsons are trapped in their house, and we're cloaked. No one's gonna find us until I'm done.”

Mikaelsons. Not Mikaelson. He thinks Klaus is trapped. If you can stall just long enough…

But your hope is running out and the blood is pooling. It's hard to think past the pain.

Klaus will save me. He always saves me.

This guy hates you and your jokes. He wants nothing more than to shut you up for good, but he isn't going to kill you unless he's broken you. He isn't going to take your life until your jokes have run dry and there's no more fun in stripping you of your depleted humor. If you want to live a little longer, you've got to keep them locked and loaded.

You just don't know how long you'll last.

“Well,” you stutter, whispering a confidence you don't have, “if I'm truly fucked, I guess I'm gonna have to use the rest of my good jokes on you.”

His hands wrap around your throat again. He squeezes, and your head feels hot and heavy. Every inch of your face tingles in a terrible way. Your lungs burn as the pressure builds. You flex your hands, you pull at the layers and layers of tape, you try to do something to get you out of here.

He watched you struggle, crude fingers digging into your pulse points. He watches the fight diminish to a dull scrape of your chair against the floor. When you begin to go limp and the life sinks from your eyes, he lets go.

You've never taken a deeper breath in your life.

Click.

A fit of coughs forces its way from your throat. It feels so good to breathe, a dull euphoria buzzing in the back of your brain against the horrible pain of your leg, but—fuck—you can't do it.

“Try speaking through that,” he huffs, satisfied with his method.

For a moment, you think, Maybe… Maybe I should just let him kill me and get it over with.

But Klaus would never forgive you, and if Elijah hadn't hated you before, he surely would then.

For the boys. Not for you. I'm doing this for the boys.

“C-Come clo–” You cough, the hoarseness of your throat too much to be coherent. “Closer.”

He relent, leaning down as his hands brace himself on your arms. It hurts as he transfers most of his weight on them, but you try not to wince.

“That was…” you take in a terrible breath, your voice is a squeak, “really hot.”

Apparently, he doesn't like your jokes.

Snatching up the tape, he presses it against your mouth in generous amounts to ensure not a single word comes out of you.

He picks up the knife, flipping it in his hands as he examines you. You pull weakly against your restraints—to no avail, of course—as he steps closer and closer. You mumble incoherently against your muffle. You try to say something, anything. You need to bargain, you need to joke, you need to do something.

“I'm going to enjoy this.”

The torture is too much. He slices and stabs and scrapes, his movements both swift and slow and ragged and clean. You scream, sob, choke, make all the noise you can. He cuts you in all the right ways, missing your major arteries to ensure you don't bleed out before he's finished with you.

You're lightheaded, and it's hard to see. The pain is so great, you're not even sure you're feeling all of it by this point. Your voice is so abused by your cries that they're hardly audible anymore.

Every time he lets up, taking your silence for defeat, you grant him a look with all the defiance you can muster and brace for the pain to come.

Klaus is going to owe you so much when he gets here.

If he gets here.

You don't know how much more you can take.

He takes a picture at every point. He's gotten so many photos on his phone by now. So many of you screaming and crying, so many of you hurting and so close to broken.

You don't want him to see them.

He grips the knife again. You feel another weak sob rising in your throat when suddenly–

He turns toward the door, his movements halting to listen. There was a rustle, leaves and twigs. Probably nothing…

“Witch!” he yells. No response. “Avaline!” Nothing. He grunts, shaking his head. His knuckles tighten around the knife. “She's gone.”

You mumble against the tape. He looks at you and relents. He rips the tape off, ensuring it hurts you. You cry a little.

“You gonna…” your mouth and your throat are dry, “go investigate that…suspicious noise?”

He smacks you. You make no sound. He looks over his shoulder. “It's just a possum,” he mumbles, not believing himself. “They're all over the place.”

There's another rustle, a possum. He turns to you, silent.

“What? No funny quip?”

You try to think of something, but you come up dry. You let your head lean forward, ignoring the way the tape strains on your throat. It takes so much strength to hold up your head, and you're tired. You're covered in blood and sweat and tears, and you just want to sleep.

When you remain silent, he smiles, triumphant. He checks the time, sighing almost regretfully.

Click. Click.

“Okay,” he says. “Time to wrap this up.”

He tightens his grip around the knife. You want to fight…but you've gotten nothing left. You think of Klaus, how pissed he'll be, the upset he'll feel when you're gone. You don't think of yourself as having a huge impact on others and their lives. You've always thought you were disposable, and you flitted through people's lives holding that ideal.

But Klaus. Klaus is the one person you know loves you, in his way. And when you're dead, he will raise hell. You want to smile at the idea, but it takes too much.

Elijah will be upset.

A choked sound catches in your throat when the knife slices through the flesh of your belly. It drives in, and you don't have the energy to scream. The satisfaction in his eyes beams.

I'm sorry.

He smiles, readjusting his hold on his knife. He goes to twist–

“Keep your filthy hands off of her.”

They move too fast for you to realize he's already pressed up against the wall, held by his neck by a curling hand intent on ripping out throats. A tiny blossom of hope swells in your chest.

You're too dizzy to pay attention to your hero, it's all so fuzzy.

“How did you get out?” he says, panicking as he claws at his attacker’s hand.

“You've got a poor witch.”

You know that voice. Don't you? Somewhere in your brain. He's familiar…

“Your brother killed mine,” he keeps trying. It's retribution. It's retribution. “I'm only repaying a debt.”

He gets close to his face, squeezing his throat even tighter as he begins to sputter and choke. His jaw is clenched, his eyes are black, his face is dangerous.

“So am I.”

A hand bursts through his chest, squeezing around his beating heart. And he holds it there, he ensures that this creature feels every last thing. His grip tightens, and tightens, and tightens, and he relishes in the feeling of his beating heart slowly failing.

He pulls it out, holding the useless organ in his palm with the same disgust he grants the man it belongs to. It falls to the ground with a splat, as does he.

Your savior steps into your line of sight, his dark eyes wide with intense emotion you can't quite place. And you would smile if you could find the will.

He came for you. Elijah.

His bloodied hand presses against the side of your face. You don't flinch, even as he takes hold of the tape and rips it apart like he's nothing. He takes care to remove it from your neck, and you slump forward with your newfound freedom. Your neck is so tight, it really hurts.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his eyes falling on the knife in your belly.

“Do I look alright…” you struggle to gasp, adding on the end so he doesn't worry too much. You don't want him to worry. “...Genius?”

He tries to look calm. He doesn't want to worry you. “Well, you're still funny, so you can't be hurt that badly.” That's a lie. You look terrible. There's blood everywhere. It takes every ounce of control he's got not to vamp out. He's never seen you worse.

“Fuck you.”

“Another time,” he says. You like jokes. He'll joke for you. “Breathe for me.”

You can't breathe. If you breathe, the knife moves, and it hurts so much. The gears are building so much, you can't even see his face. It's too late. You feel it coming. You tried.

He places his hand on the knife’s handle and begins to move. Before he can do anything, a scream tears from your throat with an energy you weren't aware you still possessed.

You begin to sob, a weak thing that slips from your throat and breaks his heart. He's never seen you so…broken. You were as strong and relentless as his brother, and now you're sobbing in his hands.

“No, don't,” you cry. “Don't, please.” You babble incoherently, in too much pain to properly pronounce your agony.

“I know,” he bids as softly as he can, “but it must come out so I can heal you.”

But your sobs overpower his gentle pleas. “It hurts. Elijah, it hurts so bad.”

He's getting choked up. He can't stand seeing you like this but he refuses to look away. “I know.”

“Please make it stop. Please.”

“I will,” he says, rolling up his sleeve. Biting into his wrist, he forces it to your lips as the blood rolls down his skin. “But you must drink.”

You refuse, sealing your lips shut and turning away from him. He doesn't have time for this—you don't have time for this. “You are in no position to refuse.”

It's getting harder and harder to breathe, to think straight. You can't think straight.

You shake your head weakly, slumping forward still as you feel your body giving out. “I don't want…” You lick your dry lips. “I'm not ready…”

He hears what you can't say. You're not ready to turn…

“You have to drink,” he tries, sounding as desperate not as he feels. His hand braces around the back of your head, he holds your dearly. “You must drink.”

You can't breathe. You try to inhale, but your breath is shallow and quick, fast pulls of air that don't reach your lungs before they're being forced out again. He says your name, pleading.

It's coming. You have to say it before it's too late.

“Elijah…”

He shakes his head. “Save your strength.”

No. You can do this. You can spend the last of your strength on this. “I never hated you…” your voice is barely above a whisper. It's choppy and slow, and you try to say everything you need to. “Just thought…” you try to clear your throat, you can taste the blood in the back of your throat, “just thought…” just a few more words, “...you hated…” you take in a weak breath struggling, “...me…”

His eyes are so full, so full of unshed tears and words he wants to say but cannot. “I don't,” he tries, keeping you awake for as long as you can, though you're fading quick. “But I can't prove it to you unless you live. Now drink.”

With all the strength you have left, you smile. It's a tiny, weak, painful little thing, but you do it for him. You don't want the last thing he knows of you to be petty insults or weak confessions of truth. You want him to know that you died with a real smile on your face, one you've wanted to give to him for a long time.

He calls your name, you don't respond as your drooping eyes begin to close. Your heart still beats, your pulse is weak but it still beats.

And he refuses to let you die. You will not die.

“If you won't save yourself, I will.”

Elijah flicks through the photos he'd found of that bastard’s phone. He looks at them all, one by one. He sees your eyes, so full of fear and pain and anger and hopelessness. Through each picture, he watches the resilience in your eyes fade until there's nothing but the emptiness of acceptance. He hates it, and he punishes himself with every single photo, refusing to forget that he almost lost you.

He hasn't shown Niklaus. And he doesn't intend to.

Your steady breaths are the only thing keeping him sane. If not for those, he would be losing his mind, pacing around the room and wanting nothing more than to punish someone for his shortcomings.

You almost died.

You should have died.

The rhythm of your breath is disrupted by a long inhale. He looks at you, watching your eyelids flicker and your brows furrow. A tiny hum arises from your throat.

Elijah crushes the phone in his palm. It crumbles to the floor.

You open your eyes, immediately blinded by the daylight peaking through the curtains. He moves his chair a little closer, giving you a small smile.

“Hey,” he says. Not ‘hello’, not ‘good afternoon’, not some smart and quick-witted comment. Just ‘hey’.

You grumble your response. Your body is heavy but not nearly as painful as you should feel. The memories of the night before flood into you before you can even see properly, but you know something is off before you can even react to them. You shouldn't be able to move right now.

“How are you feeling?” he asks gently.

You sit up slowly, rising onto your elbows and staying there. “Like there's no longer a knife in my gut.”

“Technically, it missed your gut. The luck you have astounds me.”

You hum and look around. “Where's Klaus?”

He sits back again, but not in any comfortable way. “Trying to locate the witch who got away.”

You're not surprised, though you'd hoped he would be at your side when you awoke. “So the normal murder and mayhem thing?”

He hums. “The normal murder and mayhem thing.”

You got to sit up some more, stopping when you feel the ache in your body keeping you from doing so. You grunt. “Well,” you sigh, “that answered my question.”

A gentle hand presses against your completely bandaged arm. “Sit back,” he commands softly. “I've healed your deep wounds but everything else is still very much in recovery.”

You state the obvious as you sit back against the headboard, not looking at him. “You used your blood.”

“I did,” he says, unashamed. “I'm so sorry to have saved your life.”

You glance away from him. “Yeah…”

You look around the room, thinking silently. You're alive. You're in his room in the compound, tucked in his covers, secured in bandages that you're sure he did himself, and you're alive.

It's confusing.

He could have been rid of you, but he's here healing your wounds and watching over you while you rest. He could have let you die and say he came too late, said good riddance and left you be, but he's here making sure you recover. He could have just healed you and left. You would wake on your own and come to terms on your own with the fact that you are still breathing air.

He could have let you turn. He could have let you turn and left you to deal with the life of a vampire on your own, not ready and completely lost.

But he didn't.

It's confusing.

“Why are you still here, anyway?” you ask, turning to him with a furrowed brow. “I'm fine, you don't have to stay.”

He clenches his jaw, sitting back. “You were under my protection, and I let you get hurt.” His voice is soft, but it holds a gravity foreign to you on his lips. “It's my fault this happened. I'm making sure it doesn't happen again.”

So he feels guilty.

“Elijah, I know the only reason you saved me is because of me being Klaus’ friend or whatever,” you hide how much it hurts to say it out loud, “but you really don't have to stay behind and watch my every move anymore.” You swallow thickly, “You can get back to your life.”

He scoffs. “I did not only save you because of your relationship with my brother.” He seems almost offended. “Has it ever occurred to you that I actually care?”

You answer honestly.

“Not really. Once or twice on a maybe.” He nearly winces. It actually hurts him to hear you speak so truthfully about it. Had he really been so terrible to you?

You almost died, and you would have died thinking he despised you. The thought makes him cold.

“We aren't friends, I know,” you whisper.

There's a long silence. You don't look at him, but he can't look away from you.

“Do you remember what you told me?” His voice is gentle.

“When?”

“Before you passed out.”

You sigh, looking down at your hands as you brush your finger over the large band-aid going across the back of your palm. Yes, you remember. You remember how hard it was to say, you remember feeling your heart gushing in your chest, you remember the dizzying sight of his saddened face.

“I said…I didn't hate you.” You breathe in, looking at him. “And I don't.”

He shrugs, as if that answers all your questions. “Neither do I.”

That makes no sense. Now more than ever, you need something to make sense. You want him to give you a straight answer, you want your heart to stop pounding, you want your head to stop hurting, and you just want to tell him the truth, rather than the sarcasm-coated taunts you've had prepared for him for years.

“I don't get this,” you groan, resting your face in your hands and ignoring the pain blossoming from the bruises.

You look at him, dropping your hands in your lap. “From day one, you've been glaring daggers at me, threatening me, proving constantly that you want nothing to do with me and that my life to you is petty and needless.” His lips part, but he says nothing. “Now you're healing my wounds and saving my life and telling me you don't hate me.”

You're still so vulnerable from the night before, your emotions are still so raw from the fresh wounds you'd accumulated and the desperate confessions you'd revealed. Your eyes burn with tears, glowing easily with all that practice last night. And it only frustrates you, because you're tired of crying. You're tired of feeling so vulnerable, especially in front of him.

“Telling me,” you sniffle, wiping at your face roughly, groaning at the pain but doing nothing to stop it, “you actually care about me.” You're so tired.

He's hurt you again. He can't seem to stop hurting you.

He sits forward, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Do you want to know why I treated you as I did?”

“Yes,” you nod definitely. “Yes, I do. As much as I'd love to deny it I really wanna fucking know why you're playing with me like this.”

You want the truth. So he'll give it to you. It's the only thing he can really give to you.

“Because I'm a stupid man who is unable to articulate my feelings.” You go silent ad he stares at you, his gaze unyielding and yet so comforting in the way he watches you. You love his eyes, always watching, always on you, even when you both pretended they weren't.

He speaks softly but with a sincerity you feel pulling in your chest. “I haven't felt the way I have for anyone the way I feel for you in hundreds of years. Do you know what happened the last time I did?” You don't answer him, knowing the answer. Always knowing the answer to that question. The life of an immortal, a painful existence. His voice nearly broke with unshed tears. “She died. She was taken from me, and she died.”

He looks away from you, collecting himself once more with a steadying breath. Slowly, he makes himself look at you again. You stare at him, eyes wide and…fond. He was so afraid to find fear there, ever since he first saw it in your eyes yesterday, he's been terrified of finding your gaze to be a horrified stare.

But you gaze.

It gives him the courage to continue on. “I don't want to feel that way again. I don't want to lose like that again.” He almost lost you. “I did it to protect myself, and you. It's just my luck you stayed. My luck you let yourself fight me, too. Because with every petty insult, every little name, my love for you grew, and I hated it because I was trying so hard to hate you.”

Silence. Complete silence.

You stare at him, eyes wide, brows pinched. He watches you with all the emotion brimming in his chest, and you have to take a long moment to yourself to think clearly.

You look down at your hands, your bottom lip trembling. You take a slow breath in, suddenly remembering to breathe as you cast your eyes upon him once more.

“You love me?”

He sighs, nodding, reaching out slowly and taking your hand. His are large and warm, and you could sit there holding his hand forever.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, I love you.” This can't be real, surely. “I love you, and I'm sorry.”

Your breath shakes. He's sorry.

“I'm sorry, too,” you whisper, your voice weak but just as determined to tell him the truth: the cold, naked, selfish truth. “Because if I ever had to live without you, Elijah, I think I'd die.” You swallow thickly. “I'd rather spend my whole life pretending to hate you than spend the rest of it without you.”

You shake your head, squeezing his hand. “I love you so much it hurts.” You hate that you're crying again, especially when he is not.

But then you watch a lonely tear slip down his cheek, and you start to feel a little better. He laughs, a startled thing that takes him by surprise as he looks down at your hands. A laugh of your own bubbles out of your chest, you're perfectly content to sit there, holding hands and laughing. God, you love him.

His thumb brushes the back of your palm. A watery chuckle escapes you as you shake your head and roll your eyes. You wipe your tears away, sick of crying and wanting to take the victory with a smile instead of tears.

“God forbid we handle our feelings like adults, though, right?”

He nods, flicking his own away. “God forbid.”

You lick your lip briefly. “Please come here and kiss me.”

He wastes no time in covering the distance between you, wrapping a hand carefully around the back of your neck as he cradles your head. He pulls you in to meet halfway, his lips pressing up against yours. It's a perfect kiss, a perfect fit. One you had certainly not imagined a million times between insults and remarks.

You love him, you love him, you love him. And he loves you.

It feels so nice to finally tell the truth.

Because there are many things to love about Elijah Mikaelson, and there are many things to love about you. And you do. You love them through and through, finally finding solace in all the wrongs and not-quite-rights you'd lived with all these years.

“If we do this,” he says, pulling away from your lips but keeping his forehead pressed against yours, unable to pull apart from you after finally building that bridge, “your life will always be in danger.”

You smile. “Klaus Mikaelson is my best friend. My life is already in danger.” Your lips softly peck his own. “Might as well keep it up.”

A smile of his own tugs at his mouth and he pulls you in yet again, already so addicted to the taste of him. You love the way he loves you.

“Well, I suppose you're stuck with me now,” he sighs between kisses.

You chuckle lightly. You have no problem with that.

“Back at you.”

Klaus will have a field day when he finds out.

Always and Forever taglist: @avala-moon @xxwritemeastoryxx @melodiclovesong @katsukis1wife @thebrotherssalvatore321 @strangerliaa @njeancastro316 @dumble-daddy @thelastpyle @lovelyy-moonlight @hb8301 @athena-royal @alexxavicry @dumb-fawkin-bitch @papichulo120627 @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @evansstan-akya @anotherblackreader Suit and Staglist: @deviously-innocent @wanniiieeee @brandyovereager @starkleila @amythedoctor @slytherinlyn16 @anastacia1705 @sugakookieswithacupoftae16

#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson x you #elijah mikaelson fanfic #elijah mikaelson fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #female reader #reader insert #the originals #the originals fanfiction #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries fanfiction #enemies to lovers

192 notes · View notes

lemons4u · 8 months

Note

Hello, Pri! How are you? If you're ok w/ it, may I have the anemo boys with a s/o who enjoys seating on their lap? (Sfw)

notes ! OKAY THIS LITERALLY TOOK SO LONG FOR ME TO ANSWER, so i’m really sorry 😭 and also i’m doing great thank you! also not proofread (my grammar is a little bad anyways so)

warnings ! fluff, heizou’s part is suggestive

v e n t i

he loves it when you sit on his lap! it gives him a nice a sense of comfort… to have you so close to him.

he also thinks it adorable lmao.

IMAGINE.

sitting in his lap while you both are out at the statue of seven at windrise— he’s putting windwheel asters in your hair as you read to him or something.

or maybe he’ll hum a tune for you!

it’s depends what he’s feelings like :3

“your hair is looking beautiful today, hehe..” venti cooed, tucking yet another flower in your hair.

“hmmh..” he pressed a delicate kiss to your temple. “no thank you?” he asked with a grin.

“no.” you reply, continuing to read your book.

“hmph. are you really going to treat your darling boyfriend like this?” he pouted before smiling again.

“yeah.”

“your so mean to me.”

x i a o

xiao gets a bit (very) flustered, the poor guy isn’t used to all of these acts of affection :<

the first time you asked he was like.

“you… wanna sit on my lap?” he’s adorable, oh my god.

IMAGINE.

sitting out on like a hill or smth, idk, watching the stars— on xiao’s lap.

it’s a really cute a wholesome thing that both of you (i’m assuming) like to do.

it’s usually really quiet, unless xiao decides to tell you about his day.

“i spoke a little with the traveller today.” he murmured, fiddling with your hair.

“aw.. you did?” you tilted your head.

xiao didn’t really speak to anyone aside from you, so it made you happy when your boyfriend finally decides to speak with someone.

“about what though?”

“about you.. the traveller wanted to ask you some questions— but i told them i could answer them instead.” he said dully.

“i could’ve answered them myself..” you mutter.

“i know that… but i felt like talking about you at that moment.”

you laugh a little. “oh really? you wanted to speak about me?”

“yes… i mean you are my s/o right? i can speak about you… unless you don’t want me to?”

“no! it’s fine if you wanna talk about me…”

“are you… sure?”

“yes i’m sure!”

k a z u h a

he’s like venti, he loves when you sit on his lap :3

maybe he’d be a little surprised at first, but he doesn’t object.

IMAGINE.

the two of you sitting out on the crux, watching the sunset reflect on the ocean. (idk)

you could be reading a poem he wrote to you— or you could just genuinely be talking to each other.

either way it’s adorable.

“kazuuu.. this poem is adorable.” you coo, smiling fondly at the piece he dedicated to you.

“is it? i really don’t think it’s all that good.. compared to my other poems.”

“nono! it is! i absolutely love this one..” you say in defense.

“oh…? i thought it was a bit… um.. corny?” kazuha said with a laugh.

“well it’s not… i think it’s quite lovely.” you cross your arms.

“whatever you say, love…” he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“whatever you say..”

h e i z o u

he finds a way to tease you for it… like this man literally will not stop teasing you when you ask him to sit on his lap.

when you first ask him he’s like this though…

“oh? you wanna sit on my lap?” he grinned at you.

“how could i ever deny such a request?” he cooed.

“but… may i ask why you wanna sit on my lap?”

he’s got a very dirty mind so like… um, just be aware.

IMAGINE.

sitting on his lap while he works on his cases or smth, idk.

i actually hc he rushes through his work, so like he always makes mistakes.

but then you, his beautiful s/o, can help him fix them!

(he 100% makes mistakes on purpose)

“mmhhm..” heizou arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his body.

he craved to feel your body against his.

“you… made a mistake over here..” your murmur, circling it so he could fix it later.

“oh? did i? my, my… i’ve been making so many mistakes recently.” he smiled innocently.

“maybe you should doublecheck my papers, just in case.”

that… was just excuse to have on his lap for even longer. ( he probably wants it and likes more than you do )

“i’m already double checking them.”

“hmm… triple check?”

“heizou.”

“hehe..”

w a n d e r / s c a r a m o u c h e

“no.”

was the only thing you heard when you first asked scara.

you would just have to beg then.

IMAGINE.

whining and complaining to scara about literally just sitting on his lap—

it was a small thing, really, but were you just going to let it go? nope.

“pleaseee scara! all the other couples do it!” you pout, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

“yeah… and i’m not like those other couples.” he responded coldly.

“arghh.. you suck.” you whine, flopping down on the bed.

“hmph..” he crossed his arms.

“you are making such a big deal. it’s really nothing major.”

“to me it is.” you frown.

there’s a moment of silence before a idea pops up in your head, it was probably a bad one… but whatever!

“i bet any other guy would let me..” you sigh, almost dreamily.

“what?”

“mhm.. like childe…”

you were answered by silence once again.. scaramouche was just staring out, arms crossed with a unreadable expression.

“fine then.”

before you knew scaramouche rushed to the bed beside you— tackling you into his lap.

“your gonna stay here now.”

“but..”

“nuh uh.”

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042502 · 17 days

Text

Cinema // M. Sturniolo x Reader.

SYNOPSIS: Your boyfriend Matt leaves work early and sees the hot messages you left him, invites you to the movies and returns the trick you made on him.

WARNINGS: Sex in public, masturbation in public, dom! Matt, fingers, oral sex receiving fem!, dirty talk, cute nicknames, Wet kisses.

WORDS: 3.719

NOTES: My first language is not English, so if you find any grammatical errors you already know why :) Avoid making offensive comments about it and if this is too much for you, fuck off. MASTERLIST!!

Matt had finished his work early, He was so relaxed about it, he took his cell phone to send you a text message with the good news, but then he realized he had some messages from you.

He opened the chat and his face transformed, there were some sensual photographs and some audio notes that before playing he lowered the volume enough so that only he could hear it.

His ears were filled with moans screaming his name and asking for attention.

Finally he smiles and decides to send you a voice note as well.

"Good night, precious, dear, darling, little thing" starts your audio message. "It's nice to get out of work, I leave with a smile on my face because seeing you like this and listening to those rich audios, anyway, I don't want to get cloying although I think I already have" He remains thoughtful, before returning to what he was doing. "Well, I'll give you thirty minutes, okay? "I've been out before." He comments with a smile on his lips. "Look pretty, we're going to the movies, or rather make yourself comfortable because it's going to be very hot, "I would wear a dress or something." He rambles and walks through the hallways while licking his lips. "You know I'm capricious, you're going to put on the dress, the white of flowers, nothing else. I catch you ¿Ok? I send a kiss, I want to see you bye" He sends a kiss and sends the audio to his girl.

You were waiting for your boyfriend, you were as he asked you, wearing that short white dress with some scattered flowers.

"But look how pretty my girl is, please" His voice was present and you couldn't help but smile happily. "Hello" He greets you with a long kiss on the lips and before separating he kisses you again, but this time it's a short one. "God" He places a short kiss again and finally distances himself. "Wait, Let me see you."

He scans you completely with his eyes, He had a big smile on his lips and his eyes shone in an unusual way.

"I love it, I love that fucking dress you're wearing." He approaches you again and kisses you, taking your face in his hands to go a little deeper.

You carefully move it away timidly, There were too many people in the place.

"Matt, Please there are people watching."

"Well, "But I do what I can't get my nose into." He says raising an eyebrow. "¿Or are you going to stop me? Come on."

He resumes his position again and kisses you as he pleases without caring about the people around him. It was almost like an intimate kiss, a much needed kiss.

Once he distances himself, he gives you a smile.

"I really wanted to see you" He confesses to you and your heart races because of his words. "Well I would give you the choice, but they have told me about one..." refers to the movie they would see. "Well, I know it won't be your favorite." He laughs guiltily. "But then you can choose where we have dinner ¿Ok?"

"Shots, scenes of war and chases" you roll your eyes knowing what your boyfriend will surely want to see.

"Yeah, shooting, war" list. "You said it" confirm your theory. "It is what it is, it's what it's up to, no... Today no" defends himself. "Today the movie appeals to me, ¿Ok? Then you mistreat me at the dinner you choose."

You hum in response and you walk side by side, Matt looked so handsome today, so damn good.

"How was your day? How are you?" He asks you and then you begin your endless talk of your arduous day in his absence.

You told him about a random situation that had happened that day, until they reached the ticket booth, There was a long line so he asked you to sit not far away while he got them. During his absence you couldn't help but see him in great detail, The view from behind was not unpleasant either. Once he got the tickets he returned to you.

"Yeah, Yeah. I'm here now, Have you had a bad time in these two minutes of absence?" You smile nodding as you stand next to him. "Me too" He smiles and you look at the jar of popcorn along with a soda in his hands.

"How delicious!" You take some popcorn and hold the soda for him, freeing one of his hands.

"It's no big deal, I bought some jelly beans" He looks in his pocket for the package and shows it to you, You smile, excited about it. "Well let's go there, They are in..." wanders looking at the tickets "a side."

"Did you buy the side seats? They are terrible" You pout.

"If I bought them on the side... I like it" He shrugs.

"How do you like them? Seriously, they are one of the worst places in a movie theater."

"Well, because I like. Look from the side, people don't bother you, it still looks good" lists randomly. "That area is very discriminated against." he comments with a frown. "Very much" exaggerates the word. "So today you and I are going to enjoy it."

You sigh heavily and continue your walk towards the living room.

"By the way, you are welcome" You look at him expectantly. "I told you that it was going to be disgustingly hot and in fact it is a little bit hot, a little bit." You nod at his words agreeing with him.

Arriving at the room with the lights off, You look at him waiting for instructions.

"Yeah, go up" points out.

They managed to sit in their corresponding seats and the movie started right on time.

It had been a few minutes since the movie had started, You were overwhelmed with the topic, As your boyfriend had mentioned before, You weren't this style of movies that are about wars and shootings. But he wanted to see her.

"How was the movie?" Matt asked close to your ear.

"Is not my style."

"I already know" makes a face. "Well, it's not that bad actually. No problem...

You raise your shoulders and take some popcorn to taste, then again you listen to your boyfriend.

"Wait let me..." Matt's hand gave your bare thighs a squeeze, They give him a quick slap, but he, without caring, raises his hand running through your skin.

In a desperate movement you try to push his hand away from there.

"Uff love" you look at him. "Pulls out, don't take my hand away, stop" he tells you seriously, but you continue to put pressure on his hand to push it away. "Stop, fuck, be still, Watch the movie."

Your hand left his and finally made its way between your legs, can feel your heat. You look around, The people who were present were looking at the big screen.

"Stop Matt." you beg him.

"That no one is looking at us, fuck, you to yours" He murmurs and continues rubbing your intimacy. "The only one looking at others is you." He caresses your legs again, you can feel your skin boiling at his touch. "God, I love touching your legs, they are so soft..." your eyes meet Matt's. "You look ahead, Don't worry" He whispers, trying to calm you down.

He continued caressing your thighs with a slow rhythm, He was with his eyes on the screen, so you just do the same thing he does.

The movie was extremely boring. not just because it wasn't to your liking, it really sucked.

"It's going a little slow, right?"

"What do you think?" You respond, annoyed, Matt laughs silently.

"You don't know how much I love that you come here like this." your eyes leave the screen and look at him, He had a silly smile on his lips. "Come here" He breaks the short distance between you and put his tongue in your mouth, forming a warm kiss. "How delicious you taste, love" He says on your lips as he kisses you needily, His hand on one of your thighs begins to exert pressure and that makes you open your mouth even more. "I love holding your thighs tight while we're not kissing... Shit... Whore movie. When are they going to start shooting?"

You look at him confused by his annoyance..

"Because you said so?"

"Not for nothing" sighs, seeking to regulate his breathing. "Don't worry."

We returned to our positions to see the screen, There was not so much popcorn left in the jar and the movie seemed to be taking flight, An action scene was shown on the screen.

"Come on! Run, run, run!" shouted one of the military actors.

"Brian back!" shouts one of the soldiers who appear on the scene.

"Get in the car!! Get in the car!!" responds the other actor.

My eyes were on the scene, it was so confusing... Matt leans close to my ear and whispers.

"A chase."

He put his hand awkwardly in the popcorn jar, but I ended up throwing what was left of you on the ground.

"Damn...! Shit..." He curses and my attention goes straight to the jar on the ground and the popcorn that is scattered.

Matt leans over to grab the jar and scoop up some popcorn, intending to clean up the mess he made, Or that's what I thought he was doing because suddenly I felt his hands go under my dress and pull away my underwear.

By reflex I look around and cover my pussy with my hands, Worried that someone might see us.

"Take your hand away, Stay still, Stay still Fuck!" he scolds me in whispers, taking my hands out of the way, He buries his face between my legs and leaves a wet kiss on my pussy.

Start giving one, two and three kisses right in the center of my pussy, I increase the suction on each one.

"Matt they're not looking! Stop!" I whisper loud enough so only he can hear me.

"No shit! Nobody sees us!" use my same tone. "I'm collecting the fucking popcorn!" uses an almost ironic tone.

Hold my knees with your hands, exerting a little pressure.

"Spread your legs a little more darling, open them."

I timidly open my legs little by little, this seems to exasperate Matt, because his hands pressed their grip on my knees and spread them apart without fear.

He gets closer to my pussy and spits on it to lubricate it more. His lips close on my clitoris, They open again and his tongue gives it some stimulating strokes, repeat the sequences a few times, varying speed and intensity.

His hands go up from my knees to my thighs, caressing and squeezing them hard.

My hand was restless, I was too afraid that someone could see us or even hear us. Because from my position on the padded seat with my legs spread wide, I could hear some faint lewd sounds that Matt's mouth was making sucking my pussy. They were slightly muffled by the film shots.

"Give me your hand darling."

Matt lets go of my thigh and reaches for my hand, I tremblingly hold it, He presses my hand with his, giving me confidence.

His kisses became wetter, maybe it was because my pussy was already excited enough.

"Matt... Stop, They can seriously catch us..." My legs try to close, but he grunts against my pussy and lets go of my hand to spread my legs.

"No one sees us, shut up!"

I have some moans between my lips, this felt really hot. I don't know if it's because Matt really knows how to get on my nerves or because we were in a compromising situation.

"And cover your fucking mouth." Matt orders me from between my legs.

Matt's fingers penetrated my pussy and I swear to God I had to put my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming in that damn movie theater.

His fingers entered my wet pussy and withdrew with the same speed, god, this was being too much, I wasn't sure how many fingers were inside me, but damn, it feels so good. My eyes wanted to focus on the movie, but God, that was impossible.

His damn fingers moved frantically inside me. My eyes connect with Matt, his mouth was half open, I could swear I heard him moan.

The noise of the siren of patrol cars and ambulances were present, thanks to the film.

Matt's fingers left my pussy, but his lips quickly took their place again.

The chase was culminating, Matt continued with his face entertained in my pussy, but I could see his hands carelessly putting some popcorn into the jar.

When the sirens stop wailing and we enter a quiet scene, Matt returns to his seat with the jar of popcorn in his hands.

He clears his throat as he settles back into his seat. He puts the bottle aside and looks at the big screen, while he runs his hand over his mouth to clean himself.

"Damn... What a disaster..."

My legs close, feeling the absence of his fingers inside me. My gaze was fixed on the screen, Matt got close enough to my ear to whisper.

"Damn darling, if the chase lasted a little longer I would stay down there... I already told you that you were going to be hot." Matt makes fun of me. "You know I love the taste of your pussy, you know that?"

I felt like I was shaking because of his dirty words, it's doing hundreds of things in me right now.

"I want to share it with you, come give me that tongue."

I turn my head towards him and my mouth opens timidly, my tongue peeking out, which instantly meets Matt's tongue. A dirty game begins between them, hitting each other, Matt's lips catch my tongue and I felt my pussy get wet from that hot action.

My hand searched for his belt buckle, but I went down a little further, rubbing his clothed and bulging cock. The kiss breaks and Matt removes my hand from his cock.

"Stop, darling, stop, stop, don't touch me." I hold my hand tightly. "Don't fucking touch me, stay still, stay still.

He sighs heavily, I guess he was looking to control himself a little more or I just saw we wouldn't be fucking right there.

"Did you like how I ate your pussy?" Matt asked in a whisper.

"Language."

"Yes the pussy, fuck, your fucking pussy" breathe loudly. "God... I'm breathing and I can still smell the smell... I hope they shoot again soon, because I want to go down there again and eat it."

My thighs collided with all the force I could muster, my pussy was completely wet, eager for attention and not just any attention, Matt's attention.

"And that you leave my face, a Christ for your fluids..."

He breathes hard again and his hand is placed on one of my thighs.

"Meanwhile, keep opening those legs for me because I want to reach out and grab those thighs that are mine."

My legs open and he holds my thighs from the inside, giving it a strong squeeze.

"Let's continue watching the movie."

The following scenes were extremely boring, these types of movies were obviously not my favorites. Even right now they seemed twice as boring to me, perhaps because I was anxious for Matt to come down and pay attention to me...

It seems that Matt noticed my impatience about it.

"Do you want me to come down again?" His question forced me to look at him eagerly. "Wait, wait, you already got dirty..."

The engine of a motorcycle was present and my legs moved impatiently.

"I can't go back down there" He looks at me and has a desperate expression. "No... I can't come down and eat your pussy now... As long as it's not too loud a scene, I can't."

Let me explain and the scene at this moment consisted of a conversation between two men arguing.

"But... Taking advantage of this..." His hand, which was on my thigh, pulls my underwear aside and rubs my g-spot with one of his fingers. "Yes I can..."

Two of his fingers enter me inside and my teeth catch my inner lip, thus holding back a moan.

"Look at the bitch face you're giving me, you're serious..."

His sentence is cut off because the scene changes to a quieter one. Still Matt's fingers kept moving between my legs.

"Spread your legs a little love."

My legs spread wide without any shame. He had his hand between my legs with his fingers buried in my pussy, and his head near the crook of my neck whispering dirty things to me.

"God... Her pussy is soaked babe, her pussy is in a fucking fountain."

This moment was being too hot, my pairs closed around his fingers, my lips parted and a moan of excitement escaped me.

"Cover your damn mouth, because I'm going to put another finger in you, honey."

I bite my lip hard, his fingers moved so well inside me, I wanted to just get on top of him and jump on his damn cock while he spanked my ass.

"How perverted you get sometimes..."

The speed at which his fingers were buried in my pussy increased, it wasn't the next thing I could go, because if he exerted more speed against my wet pussy the friction and splashing would be heard.

But I squirmed subtly in my seat, and some grunts escaped me uncontrollably.

His fingers stop suddenly, and it frustrates me.

"Cover your fucking mouth, when you don't cover your fucking mouth and don't stop making noise I'll stop" that threat from Matt turned me on too much.

I shake my head, nodding and pressing my lips together as a sign that I would keep my mouth closed.

"That's it, good girl... I'll think whatever the hell you want, but let me continue enjoying this pussy with my fingers."

His fingers resumed their movements, entering and leaving without any concern, little by little adding speed while being careful not to make lewd noises.

"God, he's soaked..." my fluids were dripping down his fingers. "Let me see that neck, while I continue touching you."

He stretched my neck giving him access and he breathed against my skin, almost caressing the skin of my neck with his nose.

"I love the way you smell honey."

He began to leave wet kisses down my neck, with his fingers still penetrating my pussy with precision.

"I'm sure right now you'd like me to spread your legs and shove my hard cock into you."

"Faster Matt... Please."

"I can't speed up, I can't, your heart is soaked. Everyone will hear you" I knew perfectly well that he also wanted to speed up. "Get ready because in the next action scene... I plan to spank that pussy with my fingers."

This was torturing me in an impressive way. Even Matt was looking forward to this damn action.

A small fight scene appears on the scene, my eyes meet Matt's.

"I can't take it anymore, you're going to take advantage of this noise to put your fingers in, you son of a bitch," he accelerated his fingers, God this is so good.

"Matt... This feels too good" my legs move.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck."

The scene stops and Matt's fingers stop dead, she huffs in annoyance at this.

"Damn it, shut up," he orders me.

He moved his fingers carefully so as not to make much noise, but it was so slow that it tortured me.

"Matt, move them now...."

"But what the hell do you want me to do if the fucking movie doesn't make any noise?"

"Then stop..."

"I just don't want to stop touching you..."

Some shots appear on the screen.

"Damn! Are you ready?"

""I'm ready Matt."

His fingers enter and exit at the speed he was longing for, My legs tremble and close little by little.

"Spread those damn legs."

My mouth opens wide and my eyes close, Some heavy sighs come out of my mouth.

""You're going to make me put my fucking hand in that fucking mouth of yours to make you shut up."

His fingers move desperately, almost searching for my organ with precision.

"Matt, I'm going to run right here, if you don't stop."

"I don't care, give it to me, cum for me honey."

He accelerated his movements and his fingers went deeper inside me, my lips were trapped between my teeth, he could feel that he would cut them off from the force he was using.

I close my eyes and my body relaxes completely, I had reached my orgasm, My legs were shaking and Matt's hand kept moving inside me.

A few seconds later he removes his fingers from my pussy and pats me a few times to calm my spasms.

"Kiss me darling."

My eyes meet Matt and he brings my face closer to his, my mouth meets his with total desire.

My hands catching his hair to further intensify our kiss, with his hands squeezing my thighs.

"Shit... I have a cock that fits in my pants right now, but get ready in the bathroom, because when we go out I plan to use you."

"But Darling..."

""I don't care, I think that in about a minute when I put it in your pussy, I'm going to cum like a beast."

"I loved this" I left a kiss on his lips.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it" matt looks at the big screen and frowns. "I'm going to have to come see the movie again because I haven't found out anything."

"Yeah" I laughed about it. "I love you."

"I love you too honey."

NOTES: Remember to hit the heart and share it with your friends! Thanks for reading^^ If you want to be part of the taglist leave a comment!

TAGLIST: @luverboychris @alexandernvr @prisciliin @sturncakez @imwetforyourmom @hotreaderliin @tillies33ssss

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pterodactyl-hater · 2 months

Text

Just not him

・❥・ Your situationship doesn’t like that you were seen with another man

・❥・word count: 1.2k

・❥・warnings: Homelander and The Deep (they’re their own warnings), fade to black smut, Homie is a little toxic, supe!reader

・❥・I don't write smut because I'm not good at it, but I'm not good at it because I don't write it, a viscous cycle.

Also sorry if this doesn't make much sense I was in and out of consciousness while writing 😝

"No. No way am I doing that."

"(Y/n), your sexuality is part of your brand. May I remind you your approval rates are going down by the minute." Madelyn sighs.

"Yeah, I get that, but you expect me to go out there and flirt with The Deep? I'd be making a fool of myself." Your cheeks are hot as you try to defend yourself.

"Ah, ah, you'd be making a spectacle, and that's exactly what we need right now. Drama, scandal, rumors."

"And it has to be him?" You deadpanned. "It can't be anyone else? What about Homelander?" You felt yourself becoming desperate.

“Homelander? And you?” A smile breaks out on her face, but she tries to hide it. “I don’t mean any offense, but you two aren’t an ideal pair up.” She talks to you like you’re a child. You fight the urge to tell her that you and Homelander are actually a very good pair. “Anyways, recently you and The Deep have been trending, as a couple.” You scoff.

Recently on a podcast with some man you’re sure is very popular in a different crowd, The Deep confessed that he found you to be the most attractive member of The Seven. Ever since then a burst of videos were posted of cute moments between the two of you, which turned into edits, which turned into fan art, which turned into fanfiction. You fought the urge to gag, who even makes that stuff? From a marketing perspective, it made for great business, a romance angle brought new eyes to the scene. To you, it was demeaning.

“Fine. But I’m not going to take this any further than a few flirtatious remarks at tomorrow’s gala.” You remind yourself it’s not good to anger someone like Madelyn, she’s scarier than she lets on. Madelyn nods and you walk out of her office, much more embarrassed than you were when you entered. As you stormed down the hallway to the safety of your own home, none other than The Deep greeted you.

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive.

“Hey! How are you doing today, cutie?” He starts. He practically salivates as he walks beside you. You feel like you’re gonna be sick.

“I’m not in the mood right now.”

“C’mon, why don’t you let me take you out for a drink or two? We’re supposed to be all over each other tom-“

“Not in the mood!” You cut him off. Your walking increases to practically sprinting until you reach your home. You slam the door shut behind you. You shrugged off your clothes and crawled into bed. No way in hell were you getting out of bed until the last possible minute.

You stood, still as a statue. You wore a deep purple outfit. The silks enveloped your body in a sexy, yet elegant way. You had never felt more bored in your life. The Deep had his hand positioned on your lower back, where it had been all night. You had already talked to everyone important, you made sure the photographers got enough shots of you coquettishly whispering in The Deep’s ear, or leaning on him while being in conversation. You had taken notice to the fact that Homelander had yet to arrive. The gala would be ending soon, and without an appearance from the leader of The Seven himself. His absence further ruined your mood.

You and Homelander were in a bit of a situationship. There was no official label for your relationship. He’d come to your house just to sleep with you one day, then act like you two were strangers the next. You had learned to accept that nothing serious would come from the relationship. But there was still a part of you that wished he had come tonight.

“(Y/n), big smiles.” The Deep reminded. “Why do you look so fucking depressed?” His voice was low enough that it would look like casual banter to any outsider. His hold on the small of your back grew tight.

“Back off and mind your own business.” You said through gritted teeth. You forced a coy smile and blush onto your face as if he had just said something really flustering to you.

“Hey you two!” You felt your brows furrow. Sometime between two minutes ago, when you last scanned the room, and now Homelander had entered, and without you noticing. Your fake smile melted into a real one.

“Homelander.” You greeted. The Deep pulled you in impossibly closer. He didn’t say anything, just nodded. You had a feeling he was scared of Homelander.

“Do you mind if I borrow them?” Homelander asked The Deep. All of you knew it wasn’t a question, just a thinly veiled demand. “You seem to have them chained down.” He laughed, referring to the vice grip currently on your back. After a second the hold was gone, The Deep had already walked off to get himself another drink.

It was just you and Homelander now. He moved close to you to whisper in your ear.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked with a plastic smile. You felt your stomach drop.

“My job.” You shot back with an equally fake smile. You watched as his cheeks turned red with anger.

“No.” He grabbed your wrist. “We’re leaving.” You planted your feet in the ground.

“Excuse you?”

“I said, we’re leaving.” He hissed.

“They’ll have my head if I’m seen leaving with you.”

“They can fucking suck it up. I’m The Homelander. I get who I want, when I want. We’re leaving.” He dragged you by the wrist to pull you out the back doors. You were acutely aware that all the photographers turned away their cameras after seeing the expression on Homelander’s face.

The cold night air curled around your exposed skin, but you had no time to even breathe it in before your head hit the wall behind you and Homelander’s lips were on yours. His hands gripped your waist as he pulled you closer to him. You push him away, sucking in deep breaths.

“What’s gotten into you? Why are you acting like this?” You ask breathlessly. You can’t say you don’t enjoy this possessiveness, but he’s never made such a scene for you before, especially in public. He doesn’t answer before pulling you back into another hungry kiss.

He pulls away, his breath hot against your neck. “You’re mine. All fucking mine. No one else can have you, especially not that fucker Deep.” He pants. His grip tightened in a way you’re sure would bruise if it wasn’t for your invulnerable skin. “Fucking say it. Say that you’re mine.” A tone of pathetic desperation creeps into his voice. You smile and curl your fingers in his hair.

You wish Madelyn could see you now. Not a good pair, as if.

“I’m yours, Homelander.” You assure him. He whines against your collarbone. You’re sure tomorrow he’ll go back to pretending none of this happened, but for now you revel in his attention. “Why don’t you show them that I belong to you?”

It’s so petty, just a cheap way to stick it in Madelyn’s face. Homelander grins as he tries to suck a hickey on your neck. Both of your smiles quickly faded at the realization that there’s no way to bruise invincible skin. “Shit.” You cursed under your breath. Homelander looked up at you with his big blue eyes. You run your fingers through his hair.

“I’m sure you could show them in a different way.” You smirked.

#the boys x reader #homelander x reader #homelander #request #pterodactyl hater

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misc-obeyme · 8 months

Note

Obey me characters reacting to seeing chubby MC wearing something skimpy that shows off their curves? Thank you~

Hi there, anon!

I assumed you were looking for something nsfw for this request, so that's what I did! I also only did the brothers since I don't do all the characters in a single post anymore. Hopefully that's all okay!

Thank you for the request!

the brothers react to chubby GN!MC wearing revealing clothes - NSFW MDNI

Warnings: mentions of rolls and curves, possessive behavior, jealousy, suggestive content

Lucifer

He considers it a challenge. If you don't normally wear skimpy clothes, he thinks you're doing it just to catch his attention. And you might be, but he's not going to give you that satisfaction. Not at first, anyway. He will compliment your clothes casually, a simple "You look nice today, MC" that gives away nothing.

Lucifer is convinced that he has the upper hand, that he isn't completely entranced by the way he can see every curve of your body. And he probably does a good job of acting like this is the case, too. Whatever it is you're doing that day, he continues on as he always does, but you can see the way his eyes follow you when he thinks you aren't looking.

Keeps up his responsible older brother persona until you're alone. The second that happens, his hands are all over you, squeezing at your flesh, his lips on your neck, he's completely undone. If you respond as if you've been waiting for his touch all day, it won't be long before he decides to just have his way with you.

He wants to have you while you're still wearing the clothes that were driving him crazy, so he only removes anything that's in his way. If he can just push fabric aside, he'll do that instead. Puts you on the desk in his office so he can sit down on his chair and bury his face between your legs.

Mammon

The moment he sees you, he reacts with wide eyes and a creeping blush. He might try to keep his cool, but it's a pointless endeavor. Especially bad if you don't normally wear clothes like this and it's the first time he's seeing you in them. He'll tell you how good you look, but it comes out with a stutter. His hands are twitching because he wants to touch you so bad.

Does not have the same restraint as the others might. He doesn't completely lose his mind, but he does touch you. He'll put his hand on the small of your back or place it on your leg if you're sitting next to him. He wants to be near you all the time anyway, but he's even more clingy now.

Mammon will loudly fight off anybody who so much as looks at you. He loves the clothes you're wearing and the way your curves are accentuated, but he doesn't love the way everyone else gets to see it, too. He might even shield you with his body if he thinks someone is looking at you too much.

Even if you get him alone, he won't do anything until you ask. You have to give him permission, but the second you do, he is taking all those cute clothes right off. Yeah, ya looked good in 'em, but he prefers ya like this, MC. He just wants to make you feel good, so tell him what you want and he's more than happy to do it. Pays extra attention to all your little chubby rolls because he loves them so much.

Leviathan

Oh you can be sure this guy's anxiety is now through the roof. Levi loves your soft body, but when you wear revealing things like this, it's impossible for him to focus on anything else. Any time you're anywhere near him, he's a blushing mess. He can barely look at you, let alone talk to you. He tries very hard to keep himself together. He doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable.

Whatever it is you're doing, he's going to be hovering around you constantly. If he feels like this just from being near you, that means everybody else likely is, too. And that idea bothers him. He doesn't feel like he can tell people off or anything, but he does give them dirty looks.

He sometimes starts to stare at you, watching the way you move in that outfit, his mind completely somewhere else. He doesn't know what's going on around him until someone tries to talk to him. Then he has a hard time tearing his eyes away from you.

He doesn't expect anything to happen, he's planning to just go back to his room alone and deal with his neediness himself. If you follow him there or show up at his door, his mind stops working altogether. Break it further by kissing him, but after a minute he gets it together enough to start begging. Please, MC, he needs you so bad. Take control and tell him exactly how you want to be touched.

Satan

He will not react. He will give you compliments, but it's nothing beyond what he normally does. He will keep an eye on his brothers, though, because he doesn't trust any of them with you when you look like this. Puts himself between you and anyone he thinks is too close to you. He won't allow anyone to touch you at all.

And that's probably the only way you know he's even affected. He does things like putting an arm around your shoulder or lacing your fingers with his. A subtle indication to everyone around you that you're with him. He doesn't like the way other people look at you when your curves are on full display.

Satan might start to let his anger show if you're getting hit on a lot. But this also makes him feel guilty, so then he gets angry at himself, too. You shouldn't have to deal with his insecurities just because you felt like wearing something a little revealing.

Eventually, he will just ask you directly if he can take you back to his room. There's no doubt what he means, so you get to decide if you accept or not. If you do, he will finally let out everything he's been holding back. Did you wear this outfit to rile him up on purpose, MC? It doesn't matter what you say at this point. He's going to ravage you now that you're in his arms.

Asmodeus

The usual immediate reaction. He's instantly showering you in compliments, telling you how gorgeous you are, how lovely your curves and rolls look in this outfit, how impressed he is with your coordination of it. If you don't stop him, he will just continue to talk about how much he loves the way you look, how stunning you are, how perfect.

He's already kissing your cheeks, holding your hands, making sure you're always by his side. He's not worried about other people looking at you. He's more than happy to show you off. But this confidence comes from the security of knowing that you're his.

Asmo might even have picked out your outfit for you. He thinks you look really good in tight clothes that accentuate your roundness. He's always touching you subtly in those places, too, letting you know that he likes what he's seeing. You're just so cute like this, MC!

He surprises you by letting the tension build. While his brothers seem to be incapable of holding themselves back from you, he's waiting for you to come begging to him. And you do because that was why you wore this outfit to begin with. You wanted his attention. As soon as you ask, he will simply worship every part of you. Kisses you all over, slowly and deliberately, until you're wild with need, then makes sure you cry out his name multiple times.

Beelzebub

Here is another one who's brain just sort of short circuits. Especially if you don't normally wear stuff like this, he's just baffled for a long moment while he takes in the way you look. Your rolls and curves look tasty and for once he's not thinking about that in a food way. Snaps out of it, though, and just blushes sweetly for a while as he compliments you. You look really good, MC. Is that a new outfit?

He doesn't want you to think he's desperate to touch you, but he's kinda desperate to touch you. Holds his hands behind his back when he's next to you, but it only works for so long. Eventually he's got his hand on your back, your shoulder, your thigh.

Frowns at anyone who gets too close. He doesn't mind if other people look at you. He's proud of the fact that you're by his side, looking the way you do. But he definitely won't let anyone else touch you. There is a hard boundary he won't allow anyone else to cross.

Beel is prepared to eat away his desires because he doesn't want to expect anything from you. But all you have to do is look at him a certain way and he's all over it. Carries you to your room where he takes his time removing every piece of your nice clothing. Because in the end, he likes you best without anything on at all.

Belphegor

He's noticed your skimpy outfit, but he has nothing to say about it. He might tell you that you look nice, but that's all you're getting out of him. This doesn't mean it isn't affecting him or anything. He's just not about to let you know it. It's a little cute and funny because you can still see the blush on his cheeks and the way he keeps sneaking glances at you.

He takes the opportunity to snuggle in your lap or otherwise cuddle up to you. If anyone says anything, he acts innocently confused. What? He always sleeps on MC, no matter what they're wearing. They're his favorite pillow, everyone knows that. Leave him alone, he just wants to take a nap.

And he will, too. If you don't move him, he will drift off, fingers slightly clutching one of your rolls. He doesn't stay asleep for long, though, because the image of you in those revealing clothes keeps popping up in his dreams. He wakes up and complains to you about it, asking if you're going to help him out with this or what.

Let him take you somewhere quiet - whether it's the attic, your room, or his own room, he doesn't care. The moment you do, he's going to be far more honest about how much he wants you. Presses himself into your soft body. Whimpers against you until you cover him in kisses, both of you exhausting yourselves with each other until he's finally able to sleep peacefully in your arms.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

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mimsynims · 6 months

Text

Fool For Love

part 3

~~~

part 1, part 2

~~~

Author’s Note: First of all, thank you for the lovely comments! 🥰 Second, I’m writing this as I go, so while I’ll try to post every other day, it might come a point when I’m not done on time. Just so you know if it suddenly takes longer for the next part to be posted.

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (mild?) angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, eventual happy ending

Summary: You thought you knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn’t have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only… now you do. And you’re not handling it very well.

~~~

It’s almost sundown when you and the others are back at the camp again. It’s been a good day, all in all. You were able to stock up on potions and scrolls, and Karlach sweet-talked her way into a good deal on a handaxe. Not that you were there to watch it happen — Halsin’s favour had you talking to both the new leader of the Druids, Francesca, and Rath, the latter engaging you in a longer conversation than originally planned. Not that you minded, Rath is a good conversationalist. And quite handsome.

Yes, you did notice, but you kept it polite, not at all in the mood for flirting. Not when your thoughts continuously drifted back to a certain vampire that declined tagging along at the last minute.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but your eyes roam Halsin’s tent when you search him out to relay the information you gathered today. It’s probably a coincidence that Astarion decided to remain, but you can’t help but look for signs of someone sharing Halsin’s bed.

If Halsin sees you snooping, he doesn’t confront you about it, and you feel silly when you leave him to find the others. Who he sleeps with is none of your business, and you tell yourself that this is enough. Either you get over yourself, or you let Astarion go.

Which is easier said than done.

“Hey Karlach, let me see that axe of yours.” The rest of your party is gathered around the fire, preparing tonight’s meal. “From what I hear, I should bring you every time I need to haggle down the price for something.”

“Look at this beauty!” Karlach happily shows you her new weapon. “I’m going to polish it tomorrow, really bring out the shine it deserves.”

“How come you weren’t there, Tav?” Astarion sounds nonchalant, like he couldn’t care less but decides to ask anyway.

“I believe Tav had more important things to do.” Trust Lae’zel to come to your rescue.

“Halsin wanted some updates from the Grove,” you add.

“Mhmm, but surely that’s not the only reason why you talked for so long with Rath, Tav?” Shadowheart teases. “It seemed like you two really hit it off.”

“Yeah, he’s cute, Tav. Go for it!”

You want to look at Astarion, but you force yourself to turn your attention to Karlach instead, making sure to sound as casual as possible. “He’s nice, but…” You already have someone. “Perhaps you should go for him, Karlach, if you find him cute?”

“Nah, I have my eyes on someone else.”

It’s adorable, the way she lights up, and you wish you could hug her. “Hmmm, might this be a blacksmith we all know?”

“Tav!”

“This is secret to none, Karlach,” Lae’zel says. “Even a blind fool couldn’t help but notice the way you swooned when he helped you in the Grove.”

“I didn’t swoon!”

“There was definitely some swooning happening,” Shadowheart chimes in. “We all saw it.”

“Aaaanyway…! This was about Tav, not me.”

Dammit. You should’ve left for your tent when you had the chance. “No, no, I think we should talk more about you and Dammon.”

“Come on, Tav.”

“Yes, Tav, tell us all about your conversation with Rath.”

For a moment you somehow forgot that Astarion is there, too. “There’s nothing to tell. He’s just nice and easy to talk to.”

“Hmm, you’re not very convincing, Tav.”

With a groan, you turn to the wizard. “Not you too, Gale.” For someone so hung up on his ex, he sure looks jealous over the fact that you might be interested in someone else. “I know you all probably only mean well, but if you don’t drop this right now…”

You expect either Astarion or Lae’zel to make some kind of comment, but none of your companions say a peep. There’s an awkward silence for a few tension-filled moments and you wonder if you sounded too harsh. They only want your best, after all.

Thankfully, Shadowheart steps in, clearing her throat. “I think our food is ready.”

Once you sit down to eat, you watch them all as they talk and laugh. It feels like usual again, and you’re reminded how lucky you are to have come across such amazing people in this extraordinary situation life put you in.

Your gaze rests a little bit longer on your lover. He’s always beautiful, but it’s entrancing the way the flickering flames seem to caress his cheekbones, the arch of his nose. His smile. He’s laughing at something Lae’zel just said, and going by the look on her face, it wasn’t meant to be funny.

It’s quite the motley crew you’re leading — and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

You freeze when you suddenly find yourself locking eyes with Astarion. He isn’t supposed to catch you staring, and you quickly look away even though you know it’s too late. You wait a few minutes, and when you glance in his direction again, he’s talking to Gale.

Why must it be so difficult? Are you making it more difficult than it needs to be? You want to be with him and only him, so why not just ask it of him? If he says no, you’ll at least know instead of always wondering. And if he says yes, maybe he’ll grow to love you back.

Once again, you wish you had someone to talk to — and after today you think you can confide in Karlach — but it feels good to have come to a decision. Hopefully you can get him alone after dinner, because you would prefer to have it done before the stargazing Gale has planned.

You allow yourself to imagine the two of you lying next to each other in the grass, holding hands, smiling. Or his arm around you, holding you near.

You refuse to think about the other option, even though it’s the far more likely outcome.

For now, you’re going to pretend that everything’s going to be alright.

#bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #fic wip #bg3 spoilers

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augustinewrites · 11 months

Text

it’s the middle of summer, it’s way too hot, and it’s his one day off, but atsumu’s dragged himself into the heart of downtown osaka for this.

“let me get those for ya.”

he takes the bags of rice from your arms, hoping you notice the way his biceps flex when he grabs the second bag from kita’s truck with little effort.

“oh, thank you. i’ll grab the door for you,” you offer, wiping your hands on your apron and pulling the back door open.

he thanks you with a nod and a bright smile, leaving you outside to sign for the delivery.

“hey,” he greets the manager as he passes the small back office. “where do you want these?”

osamu glances up from his laptop, pausing to do a double take. “uh, just set them down in the pantry— wait,” he’s about to go do that before his brother stops him. “so you’re just…helping? unprompted?”

“yeah? sometimes my heart’s just so big i can’t stand it.”

his twin leans back in his seat and looks at him. really looks at him, in the way that their ma would when she knew they were lying. “only when you want something.”

the back door swings open, atsumu diverting his full attention to you once more. “i just sweet talked kita into waiving the delivery fee again this month.”

“that’s my girl,” he grins, lifting his hand. you roll your eyes and call him cheesy under your breath, but indulge him with a crisp high-five anyway.

his heart swells in his chest when you look up at him. and oh man, you look good. with your gorgeous eyes and even prettier—

“atsumu?”

“yeah?” he blinks.

“i’ve got work to do…”

atsumu, not quite understanding, follows your gaze to where his hand is clutching yours. he hadn’t even realized…

he drops your hand immediately, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “oh, right. sorry. it’s just not that often that i get to work side-by-side with someone as pretty as you.”

“wow. was that meant to be a line?” you ask.

“depends,” he shrugs, leaning just the slightest bit closer. “did it work?”

you lean your hip against the counter, staring up at him. “what is going on with you?”

“nothing.”

“really? because you’re being very cute today.”

“what are you talking about? i’m cute everyday,” he states like it’s a fact, tying an apron around his waist. “unrelated…have i told you how beautiful you are today?”

“not since this morning,” you quip, your smile growing as you begin pulling ingredients from the pantry. “why? are you trying to butter me up for something?”

“well…” he starts, drawing a deep breath. “i was going to see if you wanted to get lunch today. on me, of course.”

you set your knife down, turning to face him. “are you insinuating that i can be bought?”

he hesitates at that, his heart practically falling out of his asshole. “i– i mean we can split it if that makes you feel better.”

“atsumu?”

“yeah?”

“i was kidding, of course we can get lunch together,” you assure him, patting his arm as you step around him. “let me just finish prepping for tonight, then we can go.”

once you’ve stepped out of the kitchen, atsumu turns to face his twin, who’s watching from the office. “just say it, ya scrub.”

osamu doesn’t pull his punches, shaking his head slightly. “so that’s what you wanted.”

#atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq drabbles #holy crap i haven't written atsumu since forever

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sexyfoxlady · 6 months

Text

Missing You📱

Father-Figure!Satoru Gojo x Mother-Figure!Reader

Summary: young!Megumi/Tsumiki wants to talk to father-figure!Satoru Gojo on the phone who is away on a mission

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️ one curse word 'shit' butt other than that nothing 🤷‍♀️ (imk in comments)

"haha...no Toru everything is fine here,you just make sure you get home all in one piece"

Tsumiki perks up after hearing you use Satoru's nickname 'Toru' she didn't know who you were talking to before that because you walked out of your room on the call but now Tsumiki knows it's her father on the other side of the phone she zoomed off her spot from the couch placing the book she was reading on the spot she was sitting, running over to you to speak to Satoru

"Excuse me Mama but I want to say hi to Papa" Tsumiki asked politely and sweetly just like the angel child she is

"Aw of course baby...Toru,Tsumiki wants to say hi...ok here you go" handing the phone to Tsumiki with a gentle head pat to her head before walking into the kitchen to make a light snack for the kiddos

"Hi Papa!"

"Heyo my little monkey how are you, you being helpful for mama, how was school, learn anything new today, miss you guys so much"

Tsumiki giggles at Satoru overload of questions before answering him

"I'm doing good and Mama doesn't let me help as much as I want, keeps saying I do a lot already but I like helping Mama...and school was okay I guess. We are reading a new book though, it's really good so far I can't wait to talk about it in class."

It takes a moment for Satoru to process all the information given to him from his daughter

"Mmmm you know your mom is right you do a lot already and your so cute monkey liking helping your mama out and why was your day just "okay I guess" that's not what I want to hear from my monkey why was it just okay? Do you want to tell your old man about it?"

"It's silly" Tsumiki responds meekly

"It's not silly if it means you can't have a good day because of it, come on tell papa what's wrong"

Tsumiki gives a small sigh before admitting why her day was 'okay I guess'

"It's just I forgot you were away on a mission and when we got our new book for class I wanted to read with you"

"Awww Tsumiki I'm sorry I'm not there I promise as soon as Im home we'll read alllll the books you want, how does that sound?"

"Thanks papa, I'm going to give mama the phone back now, love you, be safe"

"Love you too and I'll be home soon promise"

Satoru feels his heart is about to burst from how much love is waiting for him at home

"Hey Toru you still there?" (Y/N) asked with the phone in one hand while handing sliced apples and bananas to Tsumiki reminding her to share with her brother

"Yeah I'm here gorgeous, monkey was just trying to give me a heart attack with all her love, man she's such a great kid she probably gets it from me"

"HA doubtful very doubtful, what did she say anyways"

"Just that she misses me and how she wishes she was reading with me and how she loves me sooooo much more than you and Gumi"

Rolling your eyes at the obvious lie at the end

"Yeah I'm soooo sure she said all that especially the end part"

"Aw don't get jealous now you know you'll always be my first love" you can basically see Toru sly smile on his stupid gorgeous face

"Well you'll always be my second love" bitting back a laugh from Satoru to hear his freak out to being second especially second in your heart~

"WHAT WHO'S YOUR FIRST LOVE!?" Absolutely appalled that he second to anyone

"My Gumi of course,his is my precious baby boy" when you inform your boyfriend that Megmi is your first love you can hear Satoru's world come crashing down around him

"Why would you say that, just say you don't want me home it would be easier for my HEART" there goes your drama queen boyfriend doing what he does best being dramatic. Hearing your laugh through the phone did not help Satoru in being any less dramatic

"YOUR SO MEANNNN TO ME" basically crying through the phone. You're so engrossed into the conversation with your boyfriend you don't notice right away the tiny hand pulling on your pant leg to get your attention, putting a hand over the speaker to look down at your son to see what the matter is

"Everything okay Gumi did you get some slice apple and bananas from your sister" nodding yes before communicating what he needed your attention for

"Is that Gojo-sensei" looking at the phone in your hand

"Yeah it's Toru you want to say hi?" You asked your normally quiet son but when you did he got embarrassed looking anywhere but the phone and started messing with the end of his children's cartoon graphic t-shirt. Kneeling down before Megumi with your hand still on the speaker of the phone where your boyfriend is still most likely freaking out

"Hey it's ok if you miss Turo you can say hi if you want" Megumi's eyes widen as if you accuse him of something heinous he whipped his head around so fast to correct you

"I don't miss that idiot!" With his arms crossed and a foot stomp its hard to take his dislike for your boyfriend seriously, putting a hand gently on top of Megumi's head letting him know it's ok if he doesn't want to say hi but in his need to show how strong he is on his own, he forgot the purpose he asked you in the first place because he DOES want to say hi but not wanting to embarrass himself even more he almost decided to forget about it but you know your precious boy better then the back of your hand plus you saw how his eyes sadden when you said he didn't have to say hi so you did what a mother does best reverse psychology(🥸)

"Well I know you don't want to say hi to Toru but I know he wants to say hi to you, can he say hi?" Gumi not realizing he's nod to your question was a very excited nod not backing up his last statement in not wanting to talk to his sensei -dad, putting the phone back up to your ear to let him know another one of his children want to talk to him well "not" talk to him

"Hey handsome I have Gumi here like you wanted, to say hi" Satoru not needing any more information than that because this is not the first time Megmi "didn't" want to say hi,before handing the phone to Megmi you tell Satoru 'love you'

"Hey hey Gumi what's up" Satoru cheerfully came through from the other side of the line but nothing came after his greeting but silence

"Megumi? You okay bud?" The concern in his voice showing just a little bit

"Yes...um I" Megumi obviously not feeling quite yet comfortable with whatever he wants to say

"Hey it's okay monkey take your time you can talk to me about anything alright" hoping that Satoru using his nickname that he uses for his sister and himself will give Gumi the boost he needs to say whatever he needs. It takes him about 30 seconds to respond to Toru

"Miss you and be safe" if Satoru wasn't paying attention he would have missed what Gumi had said but he is always vigilant when it comes to his children but Satoru didn't have time to say 'miss you' back before the phone is handed back to you is a hurry

"Toru?" Came your sweet angelic voice not expecting for the call to still be going

"MY HEART!" He practically blows your earphones out with his love

"SHIT Toru my ears" you should have known better than to put the phone up to your ear after he's done talking to his children

"MY BABIES MY BABIES MONKEYS ARE SO CUTE" rolling your eyes playfully because not only are Megumi and Tsumiki too old to hold on him like monkeys anymore but this was not the first and it won't be the last time this call happens it happens every time Satoru has a long mission or sometimes even the short missions

"I promise I'll be home soon I love you. Don't miss me too much like the kids" chuckling a soft 'i love you too' at the end of the call.

.......……….……………...........……………

THATS IT!!!🫰😜

ART/GIFS AREN'T MINE 🩷

Hope you enjoy cool if not don't care or read more if there is more 🙃

#jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #fluff #jjk megumi #satoru gojō x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen satoru #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 3 months

Text

A/N ::: I woke up on the weird side of the bed today so, yeah. I don't usually write like this. But change is the spice of life, right? I read this as many times as I could to make sure I got everything. If I missed anything that should say "he", "him" or "Mikey", please let me know! I initially didn't know who I was going to make this about and I may not have caught all of those things. Thanks!!

C/W ::: Mikey (Tok_Rev) x F.reader/roommate, language, pillow licking & sniffing, dirty day-old boxer fucking, masturbation, lip biting (vvv brief mention of blood), oral F->M & M->F, quick deepthroating, anal, fingers->ass, names: slut, whore, little fuck, pet names: good girl, F->begging, "gonna punish you again if you ...", overuse of italics

WC ::: 2,100 (ish)

You walk out of your room, sleep still heavy in your eyes. Mikey is in the kitchen, pouring himself a 2nd cup of coffee. "Hey," you say releasing a big yawn, "pour me one? Please?"

He looks up and smiles at you, taking in your cute, soft body stretching the material of your worn old band shirt. The writing on the front is so illegible that you can't even see who the hell the band was to begin with. It hugs you perfectly, they think.

"Sure." He reaches out to the shelf in front of him and pulls down a cup to fill for you. You're already pulling the creamer from the fridge, probably giving them a fair view of your ass in your cute little panties. If they were looking, that is.

But there's no shame between roommates, no. You're both mature adults who can maintain a platonic relationship with one another.

"Thanks," is all you say as you stir the milky white flavoring into the dark liquid. You take a sip and wince at how hot it is against your tongue. "Fuck, is that a new coffee maker? It's hot as shit. Could have warned me, man."

You start heading back to your room, but then stop. "What uh, what time will you be home today?" It's a seemingly innocuous question. Though it strikes Mikey as odd. You never really ask when he'll be home.

"Why? You gonna have a big party while I'm out?" He jokes.

Blinking at them with a blank stare you fake a laugh. "Ha, yeah. You know me. I'm a party animal. Anyway, when?"

Mikey narrows his eyes, "I dunno. Around 5? Same as always. I gotta run. I'll see you." Hes pick up his backpack and coffee and heads out the door. You hear his bike start and pull out onto the street until it gets so quiet you can no longer could make out its rumble.

Glancing at the clock on the wall above the kitchen table, it's 7:40 AM. You have all day before he comes home. Finishing your coffee, you walk down the hallway and stand in front of his door.

There is a voice screaming in your head about how you need to stop doing this. How it's a complete violation of Mikey's privacy - and not to mention, just pretty fucking disgusting. But you can't.

You can't stop climbing into his bed after he leaves for the day. You can't stop burying your face in his pillow while you rub yourself on his most recently worn pair of boxers. Mikey's scent has far exceeded intoxicating to you by this point. And though you can't even remember how long you've been doing this, you do know that it's been happening for too fucking long.

Lately, you've even caught yourself slipping up. Talking about something you saw in his room that you don't think you were even supposed to be aware of.

There's not a doubt in your mind, you need to stop. But first, you need to be more careful.

However, today is not that day. You turn the knob on his door and help yourself to the bed as if it were your very own. His room still smells of that heavy sleep smell. Morning breath and man sweat and BO. And it doesn't turn you off like it probably should. Nah, it turns you on in the sickest way.

You pull the blanket back and see the outline of his body imprinted on the sheets. It's still warm from when he was there not so long ago. You take your clothes off and lay there, imagining him. Imagining that he is still here, in bed with you. That he is holding you and that he wants to fuck you just as badly as you want to fuck him and not his stuff.

You grab his pillow and shove your nose into it, taking in his scent as close to the source as you could get without swallowing him whole. There's a little splop of drool on his dark gray pillowcase and you lick at it. Anything at this point to have a piece of him inside of you.

You begin to rub your clit. It's already wet and thrumming at the thought of him. Of his smell in your nose, his spit on your tongue. You keen as you get yourself closer and closer to cumming. You can feel it building in your belly, you're getting so close.

Your breaths are coming quicker, your tits are jiggling as you bounce yourself around on your fingers - that will never measure up to what his cock would feel like being fucked into your cunt. You bite your lip and you taste blood, but you don't care.

You cum hard, harder than you have in months. You're moaning his name over and over and over, wishing he was here to fuck you like you want him to. Like you NEED him to.

And you hear the front door as it opens. You hear Mikey's voice call out to you and it all comes crashing down.

"Hey, I forgot something, just ran back to gr-" he says, until he walks into his bedroom. "Y/n, what ... the ... fuck ... are you ... doing?"

You scramble to cover yourself as you try to make up some excuse for why you were in here. But it's too late. You know it is.

"You sick, sick, little fuck."

"I - I - I - I ..." you stutter out, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"The actual fuck do you think you're doing in here? In my bed." Mikey looks at what's between your legs, "and my boxers?"

You get up, pulling on your clothes as quickly as you can. Your hands are shaking and your heart is racing. You don't know what to say or do, so you just leave.

You walk passed him, to go, you feel a hand come down on your ass. "You fucked up, big time. And now? You're gonna fuckin' fix it." He gestures for you to go back to their bed. "Go on. Slut."

You do as you're told, hoping he won't kill you after what you'd just been caught doing. And as you watch Mikey take his clothes off, you realize that this might not be going the way you expected it to. But it might be easier if he did just kill you.

"Knees." He orders.

"What?"

He raises an eyebrow at you, "Fucking. Knees."

You obey and drop to your knees, your face level with his dick. "Suck."

Without saying a word, he opens your mouth and shoves himself in. Mikey grabs the back of your head and pulls you forward, making you gag. And he doesn't care. You deserve it for being such a little slut.

He fucks your mouth, thrusting his hips into your face, slapping his balls against your chin, until he pushes you off. "Up."

You do as you're told. "Face the bed. Bend over."

Again, you do as you're told. You feel him spread your ass and rub his cock against you. You can feel it pulsing between your cheeks. "Please. Please ..." You say softly.

"You don't deserve mercy, you little whore. Unless you're begging for something else? What'd you have in mind, hm? You gonna make this up to me? You fucking pervert."

You can't see it, but Mikey is smiling at your exposed cunt. It's dripping wet and begging to be filled. He spit on his hand and rubbed it on his dick before spitting on his fingers and rubbing it around your asshole.

He pushes two fingers into you, slowly, while rubbing your clit with his other hand. Mikey pumps his fingers in and out of you, stretching you open. You moan and whimper at the feeling of fingers inside of you, at the sensation of being touched like this.

"Fuck me, please. Fuck me. I want to feel you inside of me. I've wanted it for so long." You whimper. You sound so pitiful but can't help yourself.

Mikey laughs at how pathetic you sound. He pulls his fingers out and spreads your ass again. "Beg for it. Beg ... for my cock, slut."

You feel him press the head of his dick against your hole. It's throbbing and you're about ready to explode. "Please! Please fuck me!"

Mikey eases his cock into you slowly. You gasp at the feeling of it stretching you open. It hurts ... but it's so fucking good. He thrusts into you hard and fast, filling you up and fucking you like the little whore you both know you are.

Mikey grunts and moans as he pounds your ass. You can feel him getting close as he pulls out of you and cums all over your back. It drips down between your cheeks and onto the floor. "If you were a good girl, I'd have cum inside of you. But here we are," he whispered against your skin.

He smacks your ass and you feel his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Turn around. Lay down."

You do as you're told and lay down on your back. He climbs on top of you and straddles your hips. "Open." Mikey says, grabbing your jaw.

He spits on your tongue, "Swallow."

You swallow his spit. "Good girl. Now, let's see, ultimately, just how good you can be."

He grabs your tits and squeezes them, pinching your nipples and pulling on them, assaulting your chest, leaving marks and bruises. You moan and arch your back, loving the feeling of his weight on you. The attention he's finally giving you.

Mikey kisses and licks and bites his way down to your pussy and buries his face between your legs. His tongue wandered around on your clit and he put a finger in your pussy, making you squirm.

He pulled back and smiled, "You like that? Don't you, you little slut?"

You nod your head and whimper, "Yes."

Chuckling, he spits on your clit and rubs it with the pad of his thumb. He starts lapping at your cunt so feverishly that it sounds like a dog drinking water from a bowl. Licking and sucking and biting at your clit so dedicatedly that you feel yourself getting closer to another orgasm.

"Please, please, please let me cum. Let me cum," you beg him.

Mikey looks up at you, his face soaked from your juices, "You want to cum? You want me ... to make you cum?"

You nod your head furiously, "Yes, yes, yes."

"Did you not? Earlier, I mean. Because your pussy was pretty fucking wet when I walked in."

You whimper and shake your head, "No, not like this. Not with you."

He smiles, "You're such a little fuck, you know that?"

You furrow your brow as he starts to rub your clit again. He sucks on your tits, making you writhe beneath him. He's biting and nipping at your sensitive skin. It's the most exquisite pain you've ever felt.

"Do you want to cum now, baby girl?" He asks, as he rubs your clit, harder and faster. Faster and harder.

You moan and nod your head, "Y-yeh-hess, please! Please, please."

He smirks at you and stops touching you all at once. "You gonna stop breakin' into my room and fuckin' my dirty clothes?"

The question caught you off guard. Fucking his day-old boxers was the furthest thing from your mind right now. "Wh-wha -"

He starts in rubbing your clit again, even faster and harder than before, "I asked you a fucking question."

"Yes! Yes, I'll stop! I'll ... I promise to stop, Mikey."

He smiles at you and keeps rubbing your clit until you feel that warm, bubbling feeling in your stomach again. "Cum for me, baby girl."

You twist and turn beneath him as you cum. Your pussy clenches around nothing as he keeps rubbing you until you feel like you can't take it anymore.

As you come down, he looks at you and gives you a sly smile. "Good. You wanna be a good girl for me, huh?"

You nod your head. "Yes. Yes. Yes ... I'll be so good for you."

Mikey chuckles, "You better be. Or else."

He gives you a long kiss on the forehead and stands up. "I'm going back to work. Don't do anything stupid. I'll be home in a few hours."

You lay there, naked and spent, unable to even think about doing anything but sleep. "Yes, sir." You say softly.

Mikey walks out of his room and goes back to work, leaving you in a state of blissful exhaustion.

"Wait," you call out, "what if I can't be good for you? What if I just ... can't stop?"

He turns and looks at you, a calm look on his sweet face. "Well, I guess you'll just have to learn your lesson all over again, won't you?"

Taglist ::: @darkstarlight82 @viburnt

#tokyo revengers #mikey sano #manjiro sano #sano manjiro #tokrev #mikey tokyo revengers #mikey tokrev #mikey x reader #mikey x you #mikey x y/n #manjiro x reader #manjiro x you #manjiro x y/n #tokyo revengers smut #tok rev x reader #tr x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo rev x reader

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fariesoiree · 1 month

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caution! mdni 13k wrdz, best friend's bother!hobie x black fem! reader, hobie is twenty one, reader is 19, small town in the country, everyone knows everyone, a very brief moment of angst, reader is jealous, misunderstanding troupe (?) but quickly resolved, crybaby reader, kitchen sex w/people in the house, unprotected sex, fingering, handjob, cunnilingus, p in v sex, unprotected sex, facial, cum eating, open ending

miffy's note! this took me like two weeks to write which is so much faster than every other fic i’ve written in a while. i knowwww she has a lot of words but she is my baby and I hope everyone loves her as much as I do. enjoy <3 pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

there’s a waxy smell in the freshly opened soda shop, one that reminds you of the shiny tiles that line the floor of the high school you graduated from, the high school most people graduated from.

highbury high, smack dab in the middle of highbury hills. it’s the only high school for miles, operating on a set curriculum and generic uniforms. fits right in with the small town vibe.

“do you know what you want?” your long-time friend, maise, glances over at you. she’s a darling thing, curly hair braided into pigtails and tied with two white ribbons. her arms are crossed over her stomach, clothed in a white tank top just barely cropped. “there’s so many options, i can’t decide.”

you sniff, eyes glazing over the yellow tinted menu. your tongue skims over your lips, getting a taste of the vanilla flavored lip gloss. “i dunno. i don’t even think i want anything. i’m too nervous, like i’m gonna throw up.”

maise’s deer shaped eyes find yours in sympathetic understanding. “aw, honey. it’ll be okay. it’s been years, now. i doubt he even remembers.” her hands massage the kinks out your tense shoulders in a tight grip. “you were a kid, anyway.”

“yeah, maybe.” you offer a small smile in return. you find you’re disinterested in the menu, stomach rolling in its queasiness for the anticipated scenario. “i still don’t think i want anything. i don’t think i could keep it down.”

maise just shrugs and orders a rootbeer float for herself. she gets your anxiety but she’s never been the best at helping you through your emotions, even more so when she can’t relate. maise doesn’t have an older brother, not one with an attractive best friend that she used to have a crush on as a child.

with the acrylic, milkshake cup settled between the fingers of your friend, you both move towards the booths surrounding the perimeter of the retro-styled shop.

it’s really, very cute. quaint with pop music softly wafting from the speakers and a red, white, and blue theme consistent throughout. america’s sweetheart is what this place is known as, although you prefer to think it’s talking about a better, more ethical version of the country.

“you have to admit it’s kind of exciting, though.” despite your claims, maise still pops a second straw into the float and settles the cup between you. “i mean, your brother and hobie are coming home today and you haven’t seen hobie in like, two years. the last time anyone saw him was on graduation day, right? and then he packed up and left town. and your brother! he kept contact this whole time and didn’t tell anyone? doesn’t that bother you a little bit?”

you wait until she’s retreated to grab the straw between your thumb and pointer finger and tap a long, drawn out sip. the sugary sweetness does nothing to quell your nerves but it gives you time to come up with a response. “mm, not really. hobie is quen’s friend. plus, everyone knew he was gonna skip town. he didn’t like it here and he made that very clear.”

although your words convey otherwise, there’s a small seed of discomfort in your tummy. it would have been nice to keep you in loop, especially since you were under the impression that you and hobie were somewhat acquainted with each other. after all, he’s been good friends with quentin since elementary school and has known you for just about the same amount of time.

“okay but you’re not even curious? not even a little?” maise tilts her head inquisitively, lips drawn in a pout. “hobie is coming home after being gone for two whole years and you don’t care at all.”

“i didn't say i don’t care, mai. i do care and it's nice that he’s stopping by for a visit but let’s be serious, it’s hobie. in all the years we’ve known him, when has he ever committed to anything?” you turn your gaze towards your baby pink nails, shiny and just long enough to clack against your phone when you text. “i don’t want you to get excited over a summer romance that hasn’t even happened and won’t happen. we’re friends and barely that. his loyalty is with quen.”

you can feel the change in the atmosphere the longer you sit in silence. you’re hesitant to look her in the eyes and find a sudden interest in the condensation trickling down the side of the glass.

“uh huh. so if you feel all of that, why are you nervous? you don’t like hobie anymore, and he owes you nothing. what’s the problem then?” she rests her cheek in the palm of her hand, supported by the elbow resting on the table.

instead of answering her question, your hand smacks down against the table. it echoes in the empty room, filled by only you two and mr. terry, the owner of the shop.

“you know what, i have to go. it’s almost three and quen should be home soon. you know how punctual he is.” you grab your purse and sling the strap over your shoulder.

“chicken!” maise points a finger at you. she’s glowing with a toothy grin while watching you prepare to bolt for the door. “you can’t avoid it forever, honey.”

you brush off her comment with a hug and a wave. “whatever. love you. i’ll call you tonight with the details, maybe. bye!”

you all but run out of the shop, white sundress blowing with the opposing force of your movement. it’s not quite three o’clock yet but leaving is better than letting maise interrogate you further. she’s a riot but she got you pinned up against the wall and there’s nothing fun about being forced to answer her questions and face the music you’ve been tuning out for weeks. at least now you’d have some time to freshen up before the great arrival.

by the time you’re finished primping and set the hot curler down to refresh your styled silk press, you can hear the engine of your brother's lexus rolling into the driveway.

you lean forward and tug the curtains back in a firm grip to peak out into the driveway. between you and quentin, you received the larger room with the connected bathroom and it offered a perfect view of the front yard. said view is particularly handy for times like these.

you watch the driver door pop open, breath hitched in your throat and refuse to make any movements until you get the answers you're looking for.

a polished sneaker makes its appearance and becomes stationed on the white pavement. a body follows, tall and stocky and unlike the statuesque frame you’re subconsciously excited about.

pushing yourself even more to your feet and across the expanse of your vanity, you flick the latch of your window until it clicks to signal its unlocked. you push it up with such force that it soars much farther than you anticipated but that’s the least of your concerns right now.

“quentin!” you yell from your bedroom with a wide smile and a vigorous wave at your older brother below you.

your voice gets his attention and he snaps his head in your direction. “ ☆ !” he mirrors your expression, arms open wide in a hug as if he expected you to fly down into his embrace. he bumps the car door closed with his side. “i’m coming up.”

quentin’s words don’t stop you from flinging your door open, running down the stairs, fingertips grazing the wooden railing as you go. to some it may seem odd to be so cheery over the reappearance of your sibling but he’s your best friend, a staple part of your life to which you’d be lost without. if you aren’t running to the front door to see him, then there’s clearly a problem.

he’s already in the entryway, though, and peeling off his jacket to hang in the coat closet. the pittering of your feet long alerted quentin of your presence so he’s not shocked when you’re throwing yourself at him. “jeez, girl. did you eat a whole cow? you’re strong as shit.” his arm comes to wrap around your back and become settled between your shoulder blades.

“shut up,” you roll your eyes in return and separate yourself from him. you give him a once over, from the two strand twists at the top of his head, across the gray nike tech, and to the pristine white laces of his shoes. “wow, you really don’t look like you belong here anymore. that’s crazy, quen. you’re all grown up.”

“yeah well,” he pushes the closet door closed, waiting for its creaking hinges to silence before continuing his sentence, “gotta get out of this town someday. not you, though. you can stay. it suits you.” quentin’s eyes are filled with a brotherly fondness while giving you a similar once over. “where’s ma?”

you follow him to the bathroom to watch him wash his hands. “at work. dad, too. told me to text them when you get home but, uh, where’s all your stuff?”

quentin flicks his wrists into the sink and side-steps you. he rounds the corner to enter the kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge and popping it open. “oh, it’s at hobie’s place. i figured i’d leave the extra shit there since he has his own crib. do you know what mom’s making for dinner?”

you’re still trailing behind him, now leaned against the countertop with your arms crossed over your chest. when you’re face to face with the source of your turmoil, it’s hard to pretend it doesn’t exist. “so he really is back in town, huh.” it's not a question with the way you say it, staring at your fluffy sandals designated for wearing inside the house.

“mhm. forgot how talkative people here are. news spreads fast.” he pulls out a container of last night's leftovers and sets it beside you, already closing the fridge and moving on to find a plate. when his eyes find their way back to you, he’s surprised to see you glaring at him. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“because i’m a little upset that you didn’t tell me he was coming home. i get it if he didn’t want to draw attention to himself but it’s just me. i thought we were all cool.”

“we are all cool. it just slipped my mind, swear.” quentin bounces around the kitchen. he’s still engaged in your conversation though his sole focus is getting some food in his system but every now and then, he’ll glance at you while scooping fried rice onto a plate. “i didn’t intentionally not tell you. i just had a lot to do with the packing and the whole coming home thing. plus, you just finished your first year of college so i didn’t think you’d care so much. which you also still have to tell me how it went,” he puts the fork in his mouth and sticks the plate in the microwave.

“quentin,” you’re tempted to stomp your foot, no matter how childish it will come across.

“i didn’t exclude you on purpose, ☆ . i forgot and i’m sorry. next time, i’ll tell you as soon as i know.”

you’re somewhat pacified with his response, tossing his words over and over in your head until your concerns are soothed and the gloomy feeling dissipates. “fine but you have no idea what i had to go through with maise today. i swear she had all these theories and speculations about what its going to be like that i could have avoided if you told me.”

the microwave beeps, ringing its alarm that the timer has finished all throughout the kitchen. quentin is quick to take out his steaming plate and make his way towards the table with you still in tow. “oh, maise! how is she? i haven’t seen her in a minute.”

“she’s good. good grades, likes her college, majoring in child development. who cares, though. i want to know about hobie. it’s been two years.” you sit next to him, even going as far as pushing the chairs closer as if the topic needed it, as if hobie is a taboo subject.

“he’s great. he’ll be by later, said he wanted to stop by and see you and then he has to make his rounds.” quen shovels a forkful of food into his mouth. he’s eyeing his plate with an almost blank stare. you’re too close for him to feel comfortable looking at you, expectantly. as if he’s going to drop some big news about hobie’s return.

he's not an idiot. he knows, knew, about your crush on his best friend. it was obvious watching you go through all the childish phases, giggling to clinging onto to him to trying to play it cool. quentin has seen it all and he doesn’t think he can handle watching your excitement grow and dull when hobie ultimately makes his decision to leave. “he’s got that place he rents out when he’s not here. don’t know how long he plans on staying, though. when i asked, hobie said two months so i guess we’ll see.”

you’re blissfully unaware of the idea that quentin’s words are for your sanity, to calm the budding excitement as you gather strands of your hair between the tips of your fingers and stare at the freshly trimmed ends. “that’s nice. maybe he’ll come to the summer festival in a few days.”

that elicits a scoff out of your brother. “fat chance. hobie brown? he’s not showing his face at those things. he thinks they’re capitalistic holidays that prey on children. personally, i think he just really hates this town and is coming up with a bullshit excuse not to go.”

you let the bundle of hair between your fingers go and it drops back towards your shoulder in a soft heap. “did he say that or are you speaking for him?”

“he doesn’t have to say it, stupid. i just know.” quentin points his fork at you, flinging grains of cooked rice in your direction. despite the gross reaction that flashes across your face, all he does is laugh. genuine laughter with his head tilted back, clearly delighted to have bothered his dear sister. “it was an accident. i didn’t mean to.”

“get away from me.” you scrunch your face in disgust and shove the chair away from the table. it screeches against the floorboards with each movement. “you don’t point your fork at someone, dumbass. that’s fucking gross.” you say as you rise to your feet and make your exit, rolling your eyes on the way out.

it’s futile to pretend you aren’t looking forward to hobie pulling into the driveway. behind the closed door of your room, you barely watch the virgin suicides. the volume to the movie is turned down so low, you can almost hear your neighbor’s dog trotting on the pavement enjoying its walk. you’ve even gone as far as to open your window just in case you’d be too preoccupied to hear him as is.

you haven’t bothered to change out of the pretty dress, wanting to give off the best first impression you possibly could. after all these years have passed, it’s nearly critical that hobie sees you as you are, an adult. not because you still harbor feelings for him, but because that’s what you are now. you’re all grown up, just as he is.

quentin’s asleep in his room and offering you no answers as to when his friend is actually arriving nor did he request you to wake up when he does so. it’s only right to assume he’d rather stay asleep when hobie arrives then, isn’t it? especially after such a long trip.

hence why when the sound of hobie’s motorcycle reverberates through the glass pane of your window, you roll off your bed and to your feet with a sudden quickness. contrary to the excitement you greeted your brother with from your upstairs bedroom, you close the window the moment you reach it.

as soon as the white latch clinks shut, you’re flying out the door and down the stairs. the tips of your fingers graze the railing, only truly grasping it when you find yourself losing your balance at the speed you’re moving. if only maise could see you now.

you pull the front door open before hobie has a chance to ring the doorbell with such force, he flinches. there’s still a finger hanging in the air, adorned in silver rings and what seems to be a hand tattoo. that same hand is connected to a body, just as tall as you remember. your eyes trail as far as his shoulders, gaze already tilted upwards and too nervous to continue. it never occurred to you what being face to face with hobie would mean, would entail.

you didn’t think about him and his pine scent, paired with the natural musk of being outside. not once did you even think about the possible changes he’d go through within the past two years. even without looking at his face, you can already point out differences. he’s leaner, more muscles protruding from his tank top. grungier too, with dark wash baggy jorts sitting so low on his waist, you can see the calvin klein boxers peeking through the bottom. if you thought seeing hobie show off his toned stomach was a lot, the sight of the ink on his arm has you at a loss for words. a full sleeve of various line art and doodles.

you’re sick to your stomach.

“you’re back in town!” you finally gain the courage to look him in his eyes and nearly fall to your knees. “and you pierced your face!” your eyes dart between the nose piercing, the lip piercing, and the eyebrow piercing. slowly, you soak it all in, including the shoulder length locs tied into a ponytail. only after all of that do you look him in his eyes, filled with the same warmth and wonder as they were two years ago.

“ ☆ !” hobie’s face lights up with the same childlike glee as before, too. it’s like nothing has changed when he throws his arms around you to envelop you into a tight hug. “you noticed, did you?” he chuckles, deep and smooth right in your ear. unfortunately for you, it sends spirals into your stomach.

“do you like them? i want to get my tongue pierced this summer, too.” he finally pulls away and reveals his toothy grin, full of dazzling white teeth that can only come from regularly visiting a dentist. “but how have you been? i haven’t seen you in forever. you’re so . . .” he gives you his own once-over, much shorter than the one you gave him, “not a little kid anymore.”

you aren’t too sure what to make of that but you step aside anyway to welcome him into your home. suddenly, you’re far more nervous than you were at the mere thought of hobie coming over. he was intimidating just as a concept but in person? he’s even worse. he’s too pretty and composed. “i’m so not a little kid anymore?” you try to offset your awkwardness by turning the situation back to him.

“yeah. i mean, you look nice, ☆ .” hobie stands with his hands in his pockets and a lazy smile. there’s not one ounce of embarrassment or hesitation written on his face. however, it oozes out of you. “so, where’s your brother at? he’s supposed to be going around town with me. it makes it less weird if we’re both there.”

“oh, quen fell asleep a few minutes ago.” you say with your back to hobie, disguising your reluctance as a sudden interest in turning the lock rather slowly. “you’re welcome to wait until he wakes up but he’s out cold.”

hobie clicks his tongue with a sigh, eyeing the walls of your childhood home. it’s still lined with the same family portraits and kindergarten crafts. there’s even his own graduation picture on the mantle, sandwiched between yours and quentin’s. he snorts at the sight, dressed in the same black graduation cap and gown but missing some of the cords adorned by the others. not only was hobie not too involved in the community, but he merely did what he had to in school with the exception of a few clubs and hobbies. “no, he’ll probably be knocked for a while. i’ll just do it later, i guess.”

you nod, hugging yourself in a tight grip. your act to self soothe during your one-on-one isn’t very effective. the air feels thick with tension. you have the impression that it’s one-sided because hobie turns to face you.

“how about you come with me instead? we can ride around and go to that one park we used to go to as kids.”

for a moment, your heart drops to your feet. staring into his eyes does nothing good for your nervous system. as much as you attempted to convince both maise and yourself that you harbor no feelings towards hobie at all, everything in you is screaming otherwise.

your eyes settle on the floorboards and you sniff. “i don’t know. i don’t think i’d feel comfortable on your bike. don’t you have to wear gear and stuff?”

“well, yeah i’m supposed to.” he shrugs. his head is tilted to one side. “i don’t, though. not here at least. if i’m on the highway or in a big city then yeah but not here. nothing ever happens here.” parts of the hobie you subconsciously fear appear as a shadow on his face. the corners of his mouth twitch downwards and his eyes become clouded, but only for a second. “we can take your car if you’d like. i saw it in the driveway. it’s cute.”

he’s referring to the little volkswagen beetle parked just outside with a tan exterior and a decorated interior. it’s full of flower vent clips, pink seat covers, and scented with gain car air freshener.

“um,” you busy yourself by smoothing your hands over the skirt of your dress. suddenly, you’re reflecting on the fact that you are somewhat dressed up. sure, you curl your hair and wear cute dresses on the regular but never have you worn a cute dress, curled your hair, waited for someone to come over, and beat them to the door before they could announce their arrival. “sure. i guess we can do that. i don’t want you to think you have to, though. you came for quentin and he’s asleep so don’t force yourself.”

you’re surprised when hobie laughs, nose wrinkling with genuine enjoyment. he shakes his head and places his hand on your shoulder. it engulfs your skin like a warm blanket and gives you a squeeze. “never change, okay? you’re so sweet. get your keys and let’s go.”

there’s a strawberry field just across the park guarded by a wire fence. some kids gather around the edges and pluck the berries off the overgrown branches that poke just close enough for them to reach with their little fingers.

the breeze carries the sounds of high-pitched laughter and squeals from the children running about. with school just recently letting out, the park is well occupied. it’s a surprise to no one to see a crowd of elementary schoolers running around the slides and pushing each other on the swing.

you sit at a bench. the metal is warmed from the sunlight beaming down. you have your phone in your hand, pumping out back to back texts to maise filled with terrible grammar and even worse spelling. to say you're panicked would be an understatement. you’re more than panicked. you feel so wrong about being here, more or less alone with your brother’s best friend. the same best friend that you’ve had the biggest crush on for years, only for him to disappear and for you to assume everything you’ve ever felt and thought would be gone with him. the same best friend who’s return brought back the juvenile feelings from your youth.

he’s gone to the ice cream truck parked in the parking lot to buy you both popsicles and therefore, giving you about five minutes to figure out your game plan. maise is no help. most her texts consist of “i told you so” and laughing at your inevitable demise. you feel just about ready to melt into the pavement and through your phone across the park, in no particular order. your nails just might break your screen with the amount of force between each push.

“are you mad at someone?”

you're quick to turn your phone off in the amount of time it takes for you to look up at hobie, standing in front of you with two popsicles, one in each hand. “huh? oh, no. it’s just maise. she’s being so stupid.” the frustration has yet to dissipate and your face shows it, huffing a breath of annoyance. “you’d think you ask someone for advice and they’d actually give it to you instead of making fun of you.”

“mm,” hobie has a seat next to you. he hands you the powerpuff girls popsicle, very obviously supposed to be styled after bubbles. its still in it’s wrapper and it’s a good thing at that. already the popsicle began to get a little soft in the summer heat. “advice about what?” he, himself, holds one of those spongebob ones that never come out right. for a moment, you consider that perhaps he’s reminiscing about the days where you, quentin, and hobie would run out at the sound of the ice cream truck and get the silly cartoon popsicles, only to compare who’s looks the worst.

“oh, just about my classes. i don’t know if i want to take one of my electives or not.” you spit out the lie faster than you can really process it. you peel the wrapper off the popsicle and stick it in your mouth to give you an excuse not to speak.

“i definitely can’t help you with that. i didn’t go to college so i really wouldn’t know.” for a brief moment, hobie finds humor in the distorted face of his spongebob popsicle before taking a small bite of the cold corner. “what’s it like? do you like it?”

the question makes you sigh. there really is no response you can give him that would push the conversation forward, especially when you have been asked the very same thing so many times by almost every adult in your life. “um, it’s okay. it’s hard, y’know, to find the motivation to make myself go to class and there’s always some sort of drama going on between someone and someone else.” you reminisce on the boy and friend drama you’ve both witnessed and experienced from a bittersweet perspective.

hobie nods, watching a group of giggling ten year olds run by. they seem to be participating in a game of tag, their cheeks rosy and eyes glistening with what can only be found in childhood. “can’t believe you’re in college now. that used to be us, playing at the park and then going to your house to have dinner.”

you don’t mention that hobie didn’t come to your graduation. instead, you kick a rock by your foot and change the topic of the conversation. “so, if you don't go to college, what do you do?”

“i’m a server at a restaurant. it makes pretty good money, actually. i can afford a one bedroom apartment in the city so i don’t mind. i’m in a band now too and sometimes i make stuff to sell.” he pulls out his phone for a split second to check the notification that vibrated in his phone before sliding it back into his pocket.

you’re grateful that he doesn’t outright tell you what he makes so you’re able to participate in the conversation and ask him, “what kind of stuff?”

“oh, like paintings, crochet stuff, stuff like that. arts and crafts that people like to buy. it does pretty well since that kind of thing is trending.”

the conversation falls a bit flat after that. you fault yourself, too self conscious to relax around him. a part of you is overjoyed to have him back and another part of you feels like a neglected afterthought. all this time, hobie was doing just fine. he was living his life and choosing who to keep contact with. it hurts your heart that he didn’t consider you at all but is so comfortable with returning and acting like nothing has changed. perhaps he didn’t take you as seriously as you would like.

“oh, that’s cool.” you try not to sound too sour when you say it. “it’s great that you made a life you enjoy.” you watch a blue drop of melted popsicle roll down and drip onto the white plastic gripped between your fingers. gravity continues to pull the droplet down towards the stick and it stains the wood blue.

hobie glances at you, eyebrows knitted together. he takes in your expression and the subtext behind it. it’s obvious what he’s doing behind his scrutinizing gaze. “yeah? you can be honest. you know that, right?”

“mhm,” you nod with a hum. you’re not interested in engaging any further with the topic. instead, you eye a ladybug crawling on the bench armrest. it’s not like you planned on discussing your deep emotional feelings with him anyway, especially not here. “i’m happy for you, really.”

you can still feel hobie’s eyes boring into the side of your face but the feeling does nothing to capture your attention and turn your head back towards him. instead, you nearly praise whatever higher power caused your conversation to be interrupted by an onlooker.

“oh my gosh, hobie brown!”

you both turn your head to the perpetrator. hobie is just as surprised as you are to see magnolia, from high school, walking up to you both. you don’t know her very well considering she was in the same graduating class as your brother but you’re aware of her.

truthfully, you’ve never liked her very much during your younger years. you despised the way she’d cling onto hobie and quentin, often forcing her way into their circle. at least, you’d consider it forcing. quentin always told you not to worry about it.

here she is again, forcing herself into your hangout with your supposed friend who’s there with you. she’s grinning as she walks up to you both, hands planted on her waist. you so badly want to judge her for her outfit choice but you know you can’t. it’s not like you don’t know what type of person magnolia is and how much she pushes the social standards most people operate with. still, something vile twists inside you and even more so when you catch hobie’s eyes wandering across her body.

that is also no surprise because you know their history. of course hobie wouldn’t be able to deny himself from staring at magnolia like this when she’s wearing daisy dukes, a tiny shirt, and so ready to reopen the book of their past.

“look at you. can’t believe you didn’t come by the moment you got back,” she teasingly smacks his arm with a tinkling laugh. her eyes briefly drift to your direction and she smiles out of politeness. “oh hey, sugar. tell your brother i said hi, would you?”

you nod and pull your lips tight. suddenly, what interest you did have died a painful death and you turn back to the ladybug as your only comfort. unfortunately, that too is gone and you’re left with nothing but the ability to listen in on a conversation you want nothing to do with.

“aw, maggie. don’t worry, i’m still planning on it. you’ll get a very special and personal visit, just for you.”

“promise?”

you nearly choke, face scrunching up in disgust. you’re not five and can read between the very obvious lines. you feel the need to remind them that you are quite literally right there and swallow the green monster making a nice home in your heart. “i don’t mean to interrupt but i have to get home and get ready for dinner. do you want me to give you a ride, hobie, or are you good?”

you try to hide your disappointment before hobie can say anything. you can tell by his hesitation and expression what decision he’s going to make, glancing between both you and magnolia. he’s going to spend some quality time with her. “i think i’m good but you should get back. drive safe, okay? text me when you get home.”

“okay. then, i’ll see you later.” you rise to your feet and dig your hand into your purse, searching for the keys to your car. “bye magnolia. it was nice seeing you again.” her words of the returned gesture fall on deaf ears as you turn and head back to the parking lot. there’s a frown etched on your face and you dump the mostly-eaten popsicle into the trash.

it never crossed your mind that you’re not the only one who is looking forward to hobie back around. you’ve been so used to viewing yourself as the center of the universe that not once did you think about literally anyone else who has been involved in hobie’s past.

you pull the door open of your car and get inside, staring out of the windshield. you feel so teenage girl romcom movie but you don’t know what to do about it. one half of you wants to sob and rot in your bed and claim your heart is broken and the other part of you just wants to go home, eat dinner, and call maise.

you sit there like that for a few minutes before eventually turning on your car and starting the drive home. sza blares through the radio and is your only solace on your lonely drive home.

“no! and then she just shows up and takes him?” maise pulls out two small boxes of sour patch kids out of the plastic grocery bags on the counter. her eyes are wide and she’s hanging on to every part of your story.

it’s been about a week and a half since that time in the park with hobie and you’re still reveling in the emotions of it. you have yet to make a decision on how to conduct yourself around him and as a result, have begun to avoid him. you find it’s better not to be near him at all than to stand there and know that he wanted you to leave him so he could probably have mind blowing sex with his small-town fling.

“she just walks right over and he basically starts drooling.” you’re also unloading various snacks and a liter of soda from the grocery bags. tonight, you both plan to watch movies and eat junk food until your tummies are threatening to burst and you’re both ready to pass out from exhaustion. “i’m so stupid. i should have known. we weren’t even in the same crowd back then. why did i think anything would be different now?”

maise pities you just a bit. she sympathetically presses her lips into a pouty frown and reaches over the counter to grab your hand. “poor baby. in your defense, you have more of a southern belle, sweetest girl in town thing going for you and hobie is the exact opposite. it makes sense why he’d go for magnolia. you two have nothing in common and you’re virtually inexperienced.”

“i have experience!” you begin to pile the various snacks into the bin you brought down from your room just for the special occasion. “i have plenty of experience.”

“you had one situationship for half of your first year of college that treated you like shit. that’s not experience, babe. that’s trauma.”

you whip your head to give maise a pointed glare at bringing up what you’re trying so hard to forget. that chapter of your life is over and it died the moment the academic year ended. “okay but the point is, i am not a baby and i bet i could fuck just as good as she can. he just sees me as a little girl and i can never change that.”

“so what are you going to do?” your friend leans against the counter on the opposing side of you. she crosses her arms over her chest after adjusting her black leggings as they have risen above her ankles.

“nothing,” you say with a sigh. you grab the basket and hoist it onto your hips. “like i said, he sees me as a child. i’m just going to do what i’ve been doing, nothing. ignore him. just keep my distance until he goes home and forget all about him.”

what you don’t tell maise is that magnolia isn’t the only one. sometimes, the habits from your childhood return and you sit yourself at quentin’s door with your ear pressed up against the wood. you listen to his conversations with hobie, sometimes on the phone and sometimes in person, about his recent endeavors with the locals in town. so far, there has been at least one other girl since magnolia. whether he bounces between spending his nights with the two, you’re unsure and you don’t think you even want to know.

maise begins to open her mouth to say something but snaps it shut at the sound of the front door opening. there’s an irregular pattern that comes from two people coming through the door and for a moment, your face flashes with panic.

“i’m beginning to hate going out with you. every single time there’s always some girl ready to — oh hey.” quentin stops in the middle of his sentence as soon as he spots you standing in the kitchen. he jumps a bit, not having expected to see both you girls watching him walk into the house. “what are you doing here, maise?”

“we’re having a movie night.”she rises to standing and positions herself at your side.

“the sun is still out.” quentin lifts a finger to point to the window with the blinds open. sunlight streams through the trees of your backyard and reaches the living room.

“yeah. we just came back from the store and now we’re pregaming by talking shit.” she throws an arm around your shoulder, taking notice of your silence and lack of movement. it’s almost like you’re not breathing and it’s definitely because hobie is standing right there in all his glory, smiling right at you. maise using her grip on you to subtly nudge some sort of humanity back in you.

“anyway,” you clear your throat and take a sudden interest in reorganizing the bin of snacks, “we’re going to get going. we have a lot of girl stuff to talk about so see you later.” you take maise’s hand and take the lead in walking past the two and up the stairs of your house. you don’t miss the quizzical looks from both men at your hastiness to get out of being around them.

frankly, this isn’t the first time you’ve made a bolt to get out of being in the same room as them, but only when hobie is around. however, no one makes a move to question it and lets you do as you please. to quentin, it’s a sign you’re no longer hung up over his best friend and is far better than getting your hopes up for nothing. to hobie, you’re abhorrently avoiding him for some reason and he can’t stand it at all.

it makes him antsy, as if there’s some big impending doom coming that he won’t be able to stop. it makes him uncomfortable to see you get along so well with others and flee the moment he steps into the room and oddly enough, it’s only ever started happening since that one day. was it something he said or did? surely it can’t be because he didn’t accompany you back home. after all, you did text him to let him know you made it safely like he requested so he thought everything was fine. what is going on with you?

it’s somewhere between the hours of two and three am when you make the decision to trek downstairs for a cold glass of water. maise had fallen asleep on the left side of your bed a half hour ago and you had beaten her. you won by staying out longer than she did and decide to reward yourself with a neutral drink to wash the syrupy taste out your mouth.

the house feels awfully cold during such hours of the night and you regret leaving the warmth of your room in your oversized shirt and little pink shorts. both of your parents came home hours ago, wished you a fun night and retired to their beds in preparation for work the next day. you’re assuming no one else is awake with the only other options being quentin and hobie, if hobie is even here.

you sniff and rub your hands along your arms as you round the corner and enter the catch. in the darkness of night and with your squinting eyes, you use what spatial awareness you have to guide your way to the glasses in the cabinet.

you just manage to wrap your fingers around it before there’s some sort of shuffling behind you. you’re unnerved, almost dropping the glass in the time it takes you to look over your shoulder at the perpetrator. “hello?” you try to make out the form in the dark and find purchase in the knife drawer in front of you.

“it’s just me.” the voice is gruff and familiar and washes over you like a relaxing wave of warm water. “sorry, i wasn’t trying to scare you.”

“hobie?” you lean towards him to make out his figure in the shadows. the moonlight does little to aid in visibility. there is only a pale light struggling to come through the window. you have to reach over and turn on the stove light just to see him since your eyes have yet to adjust. “i thought you went home?”

“i did. i went to see my parents and it went just about as well as i thought.” hobie takes a seat at the bar stools behind the aisle. he seems strained, running his hand over his face with a sigh. “so i came back because i like it here more.”

“why didn’t you just go to your own house?” you feel a little underdressed in your attire all of the sudden. sure, you are preparing to go to sleep and in the comfort of your own house but you’d hate to give off the impression that you’re walking around without pants on.

“because i like it here more. pretty sure i said that,” now he’s rubbing his eyes, sitting up to lean against the back of the chair. “if you’re getting a glass of water, can you get me one too?” hobie’s lips turn up into a small, sad smile. his eyes look tired, worn out from whatever went down at his parents’ house.

you forgot all about the glass in your hand, looking down at it as if it’s appeared from the ether. “oh, you can just have mine. i’m probably going to go back to bed.” you’re still dead set on ignoring hobie. for one, it makes it so much easier to get used to the feeling of disappointment that he doesn’t see you when you literally don’t have to see him. not to mention, it’s difficult enough to look him in his eyes but to be alone with him and look him in the eyes? you have to go.

you set the glass down on the island and slide it over to him, prepared to take a quick and silent walk back to the safety of your room and your best friend asleep on your bed. “goodnight, hobie.”

you don’t make it very far before hobie is speaking to you, again. his gaze is following your attempt at escaping him and it’s annoying him that this is probably the thousandth time you’ve evaded him. “what is up with you? i’m clearly going through something and would benefit from talking about it with someone. i literally just left your house and showed up again and you’re not even going to ask me how i got in?”

you try to not huff when you turn to face him with an eyebrow quirked. “what are you talking about?” you clench your hands into small fists, only to flex them and release what tension you carry.

“what am i talking about? you speak like, five words to me now. i don’t know what i did to make this happen and i’m sorry but you’re literally avoiding me. you came down here for what, a glass of water? you gave me yours before you even got one and now you’re going back upstairs so you don’t have to talk to me. what did i do?”

you shake your head at his words. he’s not wrong. you have been avoiding him and looking for any way out not to speak or be around him more than you need to. still, hobie doesn’t have to bring it up. he shouldn't have brought it up. what are you going to do now? “i still don’t know what you’re talking about. i haven’t done anything to avoid you. i just don’t want water anymore and i want to go back to sleep.”

hobie presses his lips together. he’s doing his best not to stare at you with hardened eyes so he turns away, looking at the countertop instead. his frustration is palpable but he’s sensible enough to restrain himself, to keep himself from turning it into an argument. “okay, go to sleep then. goodnight.” he taps his nails against the side of the glass, listening to the little plinks ro distract himself from the unrest in his soul.

you stand there, staring at the back of hobie’s head even though he’s dismissed you. you’re free to go with no repercussions but the guilt from doing so while knowing he wanted to talk about whatever is plaguing him is too much to handle. “oh my god, fine. what is it? what happened at your parents'?”

your feet drag all the way towards the island and you sit on the bench beside him. you rest your hands in your lap and stare at the numbers reading back the time on the stove. they’re green and a great source of something to look at that isn’t hobie.

“no, it’s okay. you don’t want to hear about my problems because it’s such an inconvenience to you. i’m just going to sit here and mope, maybe cry, and go home.”

“don’t piss me off.” you tsk, picking a strand of string off your shirt. your eyes cut to him in a sideways glare, urging him to talk and quickly before you change your mind. “what’s wrong? what happened?”

hobie pokes his cheek with his tongue. he stares at the ceiling before slowly closing his eyes. “i dunno, man. it was so bad. they think i’m a disappointment or somethin’. it’s written all over their faces.”

“that’s not true. they probably were just overwhelmed that you came home.” you do your best to reassure him but even you know that’s probably a lie. hobie’s parents disapprove of him, everyone knows it. they’re embarrassed their only son turned out to be some sort of punk neanderthal and actively denounce him in public.

“don’t kid yourself, dove. my parents hate me and you know it. we all know it. i went over and they practically screamed it in my face. we had dinner for five seconds and got into a screamin’ match about how i let everyone down by runnin’ wild in the streets.” he’s squinting now. “when have i ever run wild in the streets?”

you can only shrug, unable to give him a response. you don’t know what to say to him. there is no denying what he experienced. all you can do is listen and shrug. “i’m sorry about that. you’re not a disappointment. they just can’t understand why they like it here so much and why you don’t. that can’t be easy to understand.”

“yeah well, i’ll get over it. i’ll just stay away from them and they can stay away from me and we can all pretend we aren’t related.” hobie doesn’t sound bitter, he sounds defeated. he sounds like he’s been down this road many times before and expected an outcome no different than before. however, it’s only natural for a child to wish for their parents to understand them. “anyway . . .,” his head lolls to the side until he’s looking at you, staring at you, “why are you avoiding’ me?”

your lips curl into themselves and you feel the need to excuse yourself. “i’m not avoiding you. if you’re done with your rant, i’m going to go to sleep now.” you go to rise to your feet but your attempt is short-lived when hobie catches you with his hands on your shoulders.

“yes, you are. look. you’re trying to do it right now. you’re tryin’ to leave because i’m confrontin’ you about it. i’m not going to stop pressin’ you about it until you tell me.”

one look in his eyes and you can tell he’s serious. hobie has caught you alone in the dead of night. he’s got you face-to-face and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it but lie or tell the truth, neither of which would work here.

“i’m not avoiding you, hobie. i just –,” you avert your gaze until you’re looking at literally anything else, “– i just think it’s best if we keep a distance and remain cordial. we don’t have to be friends because you're friends with quentin. you don’t have to feel like you have to be friends with me.”

“what?” the man lets you go. his arms drop back into his lap and he’s looking at you as if you’ve just proclaimed your undying love for present day denzel washington. “where is this coming from? you’ve always been a friend of mine. we grew up together. just because i’m closer to quentin doesn’t mean we aren’t close at all.”

you rack your brain to find a way around the real reason by cherry picking the words until they form a sentence that makes sense. “well, yes but i’m not like you. i don’t think there’s anything you – i just – we aren’t the same. we’re in very different crowds and i don’t want you to force yourself to get along with me.”

“okay, we’re in different crowds. what’s that supposed to mean? i’m friends with you because you are different from me. if i didn’t want to be around you or anyone who isn’t the exact same as me, i wouldn’t have come home. you’ve never been insecure about our friendship before so what’s going on?”

you’ve just about reached the end of the line. you’re frazzled and unable to keep pumping out excuses. he’s just going to disprove every single one and deny you a reason to run away. he doesn’t get it and he won’t get it. there’s only one option left to do. every ounce of your soul is screaming at you not to, already burning from the humiliation but as far as you’re concerned, you have no other option. “you don’t get it. jeez, hobie, you’re so stupid. obviously, i’m avoiding you because i have feelings for you and you don’t feel the same. i don’t want to be around you when i know you’re just going to go out and fuck every girl in town.”

your little spiel is followed by silence. while what weight was lifted off your chest, your hands are beginning to sweat from the anxiousness. still, you’ve already said it and you can’t back down so you sit firm in your decision. your eyes still begin to water from the overwhelming emotion that comes with speaking your mind like that and being met with absolutely nothing.

finally, hobie tilts his head. “fuck every girl in town? what are you talking about? is that what people are saying about me?”

you burst into tears, partly because you took that as rejection and partly because you think he doesn’t care. he just brushed off everything you said to talk about his sexual endeavors. “you’re so mean. you’re so mean and you hate me and you want me to die,” you blubber through a watery gargle. your hands are unable to keep up with the tears that stream down your face. by the time you brush one away, there’s another one that takes its place.

“oh my god.” hobie’s eyes widened in shock at your immediate reaction. it happened faster than he can blink and he’s terrified that someone is going to wake up, find you crying, and blame it all on him. “why are you crying?” he pulls you into an embrace, tucking your head beneath his chin and into his chest. despite what many would think, his skin is awfully warm to the touch and it would have been comforting if he didn’t stomp on your heart.

“because i just spilled my deepest, darkest secret to you and you don’t care. you’re bragging about how many times you got laid instead of having human emotions.” you only sob louder as he runs his fingers along your spine in what’s supposed to be a soothing manner.

“i’m not bragging about anything. i haven’t even fucked anyone since i’ve been here. where are you getting your information from?” hobie can’t decide whether or not he’s concerned or humored. he lifts your head, but only briefly, to wipe the tears on your cheeks. the moment he sees your lip tremble, he allows you to go back into the comfort of hiding against him.

“i don’t have to get my information from someone. i just know. you literally left me for magnolia and i know that you’ve been seeing some other girl. plus, quen was saying something about every girl and you when you walked in.” your words are muffled in his shirt. you feel a little guilty because of how wet it is but then you think about how hobie wronged you and wish you soaked it with your sobs.

“okay, first of all, i did not fuck magnolia. i’d have to bash my head with a brick to consider doing that. second of all, i’m not seeing anyone. i’m trying to get a temporary job while i’m still here and i have to suck up to the manager because she doesn’t like me. and why is it my fault that people like me? i can’t stop them from liking me and i can’t stop someone else from talking about it. you’ve misunderstood every single thing and now you’re yelling at me.”

you sniffle and tilt your head up. there is suspicion and doubt written all over your face. “so if you don’t like magnolia like that, then why were you looking at her like that? like you were thinking about taking her clothes off.”

hobie reels his head back, giving you a similar mystified expression. “girl, what are you talking about? if i was looking at her any sort of way it was probably because she was standing in front of the actual sun and I couldn't see. i wear contacts and i forgot to put them in. you know i wear contacts so now i’m confused.”

for a moment, you don’t say anything. you sit there and replay his explanations over and over again, searching for any holes in his story. you slowly run your tongue over your lip as the embarrassment slowly sets in. he’s right, he does wear contacts. he got them senior year of high school and you suppose you just forgot. you forgot and cried and went on him for no reason.

hobie watches you come to the realization. he can tell it’s dawning on you when your face relaxes and forms into one of mortification. this is where he decides it’s humorous to him. it’s even more hilarious when he adds the cherry on top. “and your deepest, darkest secret? i already knew. it’s not really a secret if everyone knows.”

that brings you an entire new wave of waterworks but instead, they build and build in your waterline until they eventually spill over in an occasional spill. “so you knew this whole time and let me embarrass myself? and you’re rejecting me?”

hobie reaches off and tears a paper towel square off the roll. he shakes his head, bending the square into a smaller one. he uses it to dab your cheek with a tut of his tongue. “you have to stop crying. i can’t talk to you when you’re refusing to listen to me. at least cry silently or ask questions that i can actually answer.”

“no,” you take the square from his fingers. really, you snatch it and use it to clean your dribbling nose. “i’m so mad at you. i don’t want to talk anymore.” you take this chance to get off the bar stool and move towards the trash can. you’re still sniffling and occasionally gasping for air while you clean yourself up. “you knew this entire time and didn’t say anything? i’d rather you turn me down from the beginning than give me this false sense of security. you led me on.”

“no. no, i didn’t.” hobie watches you rinse your face with water. hearing his denial just makes you angrier.

“yes you did. you knew and you said nothing.”

“no i did not. you didn’t even ask me –”

“i don’t have to ask you because i already know. you’re the worst person alive and you only care about yourself –”

“ ☆ , listen. you’ve been assuming things for weeks and look where that got you. just, stop talking and let me speak, please.” his firm tone knocks any thought out of your brain and gets you to tighten up, real quick.

you look over your shoulder, not yet ready to look at him but finally ready to accept that you just might be wrong. you lift the neckline of your shirt over your face and use it as a method to dry it.

“in order for me to have led you on, you’d have to actually confess your feelings to me. at what point do you think i should have just walked up to you and say ‘hey, i know you have feelings for me that you aren’t ready to talk about yet but i just wanted to let you know that i’m not interested’? why do you assume that i don’t feel anything towards you, anyway? maybe i do but i don’t say anything because i know it’s not going to work. let’s think about it, i rarely ever come into town. you love town. at what point would i ever come along and see you?”

“you would get your ass on your bike and drive here like you did this time,” you mumble under your breath. you stand by the sink for a moment to gather your thoughts. you’re gaining clarity through the fog but now you’re drained. you’re tired and you don’t have the energy to feel displeased over whatever he has to say. it doesn’t matter what he has to say because in the end, it’s all going to be a no. “but whatever you say. we don’t work, okay. you’re leaving soon, okay. if that’s all, i’d like to go to bed now.”

“are you mad at me?” he asks from behind you, softly. he almost purrs it and it tugs at your will. you want so badly to let him in but he doesn’t want that and so you must persevere.

you shake your head with a breath. “no. i’m not mad at you. you’re entitled to your own opinion.” you put on the blankest expression you can manage and turn to face him. you cross your arms over your chest and manage to maintain what little composure you have.

he quips a brow at you, obviously not believing your claim and even more so when you don’t say anything to confirm it. “come here for a second.”

you shift your weight until your weight is all on your right side and your hip is popped. “hobie . . .”

“just for a second,” he outstretched his hand as an offer for you.

reluctantly, you take it and give no resistance when hobie pulls you into his personal space. his hands find your cheeks and squish them together until your lips are forced into a pout. “be honest with me, baby. are you mad at me?”

he doesn’t act surprised when you pause before nodding in response. “are you still going to be mad at me if i kiss you?”

hobie watches the thought go through your mind. you consider it and the consequences that come with it. it’s going to be a meaningless kiss because hobie has drawn the line. he can’t be attached to anything from this town and you know that. still, it’s an incredible opportunity to just pass up because of morality.

you shake your head.

hobie’s lips are soft against yours. there’s a subtly sweet taste but it’s possible you’re high off oxytocin. again, you clench your hands into fists but this time it’s to restrain yourself from holding onto him and pulling him tighter. you have to keep reminding yourself that it’s a meaningless kiss.

it’s even harder to maintain that thought when hobie’s mouth fits so perfectly against yours. he doesn’t move his hands from your cheeks but the kiss grows heated, regardless. his tongue, wet and warm, runs over the expanse of your bottom lip before worming its way into your mouth.

you mewl when it finds yours and sucks. you have to tuck your hands behind your back to hold onto your composure. your feet betray you, though, by bringing you even closer into him and in turn, into his lips.

“are you done cryin’?” he kisses the corner of your mouth and jumps to the skin along your jawline. like before, he kisses and sucks the trail of skin from there to your neck. “because it wouldn’t be right if i just left you here.”

you squirm in your spot and do your best to conceal the whines that threaten to bubble up out of your throat. “hobie, you said – you –” you finally rested your hands on the tops of his thighs. the voice in the back of your head telling you to give in is getting more and more convincing with each passing second.

“what did i say?” he pauses his ministrations to catch his breath and give you a second to find yours. he isn’t sure how the conversation took this turn but he isn’t complaining. if anything, he’s hoping it’ll never end.

you stare at him in the yellow light from the stove. there’s still a chill in the air but you’re buzzed with need. suddenly, you’re hot. it’s sweltering even without the heat being on. you need to find a solution to your lust and quick. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back into you, deciding the solution right there in the moment.

your lips crash against each other with a burning passion. hobie stands up out of the bar stool, his hands circling around your waist. he takes steps forward and forces you back against the counter across from you. you don’t mind, entangling your hands within his scalp. you’re willing to let him do whatever he wants to you and it shows.

hobie turns you around and presses his hardening cock against the plumpness of your ass. you gasp at the feeling of him rutting against you with his breath fanning over your shoulder, warm and sticky. there’s something that takes over, a horny little monster that throws all your inhibitions out the window. you’re equally as turned on, rolling your hips back on his in tandem with him.

“fuck, okay. don’t get too loud.” he whispers under the sound of the fabrics moving together. out of he corner of your eye, you barely get a glimpse of him shoving his fingers in his mouth before sliding underneath your clothing. he pulls your shirt up in a balled up fist and watches his hand disappear beneath the waistband of your shorts and elastic of your panties.

they waste no time finding your clit, sticky and growing swollen from your insatiable desire. “already so fuckin’ wet.” he rubs the nub in little circles, growing accustomed to your body and what you like most. occasionally, his fingers slip and unintentionally fall too close to your entrance.

your mouth falls open in a tiny “o”. you throw your head back onto his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and grinding against both his dick and his fingers. you’re sandwiched between pleasure and doing your best to keep your moans limited to a whisper. you grip the edge of the counter and you’re actually grateful for it. it’s the solace that’s keeping you grounded to reality because without it, you’re sure you would have soared to the sky. “d – don’t tease,” you pant. you reach behind you searching for hobie’s dick and you find it easily. it’s hard to miss with the hard feeling of it against your skin and you swear you feel it grow harder when you wrap your fingers around it, still clothed over his sweats.

“sorry, dove. whatever you want,” hobie flattens his palm against your pussy. his middle finger prod at your sticky entrance to test your reaction but it slips right in, much to your pleasure. he has to take it slow with your sensitivity but hobie savors every moment. he’s not in a rush, especially when your fingers squeeze and rub at his clothed cock. he’s ready to stick it in now if he truly wanted but hobie wants this moment to last. he wants to burn the memory into his head and stain his life with whatever effects you have on him.

“mmm,” you hum, spreading your legs farther to accommodate his size. just one of his fingers could make you feel so full that you’re nearly satisfied like this. you have to close your lips and run your tongue along the inside of your cheeks to wet them again. “that feels so good.”

“yeah?” hobie asks. he’s so focused on you, he doesn’t notice how you’ve also managed to get your hand under the waistband of his boxers. he only realized what’s happening when your hand brushes against the stubble of his pubes and wraps around his shaft. “oh baby,” he whines in your ear. you can feel his dick twitch and jump at the tightness of your palm. he nearly falls over your frame when your thumb begins to circle around his tip.

hobie’s fingers stutter inside you. they push farther, deeper, making contact with your g-spot accidentally. he hasn’t gotten a chance to stick another finger in before you’re whimpering and nearly finger fucking yourself with his hand. “oh my gosh, right there. right there, right there!”

if hobie could have laughed at you, he would have. however, he has better things to worry about. like how your voice is beginning to rise in volume and he just cannot have that happen. “shhh,” is all he can manage throughout his full-body shudders. he uses his other hand to drop your shirt and instead stick his fingers in your mouth. they serve the purpose he intended, muffling your noises. he didn’t anticipate for you to suckle on them as if it’s the last thing you’d ever have in your mouth.

that, paired with the handjob and your gushing pussy around his fingers, he could have came right then and there. he could have exploded in his pants and made you cum and end it there but he didn’t. instead, he forces himself to pay attention to you. he puts his pleasure on the back burner and pushes his finger deeper, even going as far as to stretch you farther by adding a second one.

with his fingers deep in your throat and drool pouring out the corner of your mouth, your legs begin to shake. your chest rises and falls with each heaved breath. if you weren’t forced into somewhat silence, you’re sure you would have been calling out hobie’s name, drunk of him and him alone.

he has no idea what words you’re gurgling but unless you’re chanting about how you’re on the verge of cumming, he doesn’t care. luckily for him, it’s almost certain that you were and it’s evident with how your body falls slack in his arms and your cunt spasms around his fingers. the sight is an ultimate turn on.

hobie pulls his fingers out of your mouth and wipes the saliva over your cheek. he takes the opportunity to yank your bottoms down until they’re confined to your ankles. you step out of them and turn around, reconnecting your lips with his.

once again, you’re kissing hobie as an act of hunger, pushing your lips so hard together that they nearly swell. you cup the back of his head to draw him in. you’re delighted to feel his hands on the globes on your cheeks and set you onto the counter. it’s cold on your skin and so you flinch but it becomes a faint thought when hobie’s hands are anchored on the backs of your thighs. he pushes them back until your feet are flat on the counter and your glistening pussy is all on display, still creamy from your recent orgasm.

“just gotta get a taste,” he mumbles, mostly to himself as he eyes the shining cunt open and throbbing for him. he wastes no time wrapping his lips around your puffy clit, slurping at your slick. he enjoys the sapidity that’s unique to you, tangy and a bit sweet, like a refreshing dessert he could eat for the rest of his life.

he can feel the juices drip down his chin and coat the lower half of his face but that doesn’t stop him from eating your pussy like a starved man. you have to bring a hand up to your mouth to muffle the moans, watching the hobie lick between your folds and lap at your clit. your eyes are ready to roll back when hobie’s tongue pokes at your entrance. you want so badly to scream, to pull hobie’s head even closer to your aching pussy but you can’t. you can’t risk moving your hand off your mouth, knowing that the moment you do, you’ll wake up the whole house.

you compromise by using your other hand to support your weight and shift toward, putting yourself a little more onto your toes. in this new position, you’re able to move your cunt along his face. you push farther, going as far as to brush your clit along hobie’s nose.

his response is to tug your body to the edge of the counter and wrap your legs over his shoulders. your lower body is solely held up by him, his shoulder, and his hands. he swallows every ounce of your slick and sears your clit with a kiss.

it doesn’t take long before you’re finding yourself closer to the edge of a second orgasm. you ball your shirt up and shove the jumbled mess into your own mouth. your brain is foggy. you can’t think of a single thought that isn’t full of hobie, the pleasure, and the need to cum, immediately.

“mmmf,” you wrap your legs around his neck. dig your fingers into his hair, and tug just in time for another gush of cum to come flowing out of your pussy. every muscle in your body has relaxed and become putty by now. you’re at hobie’s disposal and you love that.

“you’re so perfect, i’m devastated.” he kisses your inner thigh, continuing to trail those kisses up your stomach, between your tits, and onto your lips. he doesn’t wipe the cum off his face as he does it. instead, he makes you taste it, wrapping his tongue around yours and wetting your cheeks with the stickiness as your arousal as he does it.

“no you’re not. you won’t stay for me.” you whisper between kisses, running your hands along his bare chest under his shirt. you grab the hem and pull it up until hobie inevitably allows you to pull it off. it’s discarded and tossed onto the floor.

“i won’t stay for anyone. you know this.” he disconnects from the kiss, but only for a moment. during this time, he drops his pants to pull out his cock, raging from watching you cum not once, but twice. in the darkness, you can make out an outline of it, long and skinny with a mushroom tip and bulging veins. he’s been straining this whole time but hadn’t complained at all, loving every second of pleasing you. he could do it for hours if he had the time.

you resort to pouting as hobie sets your feet back onto the ground. with his hands on his hips, he turns you back around until your back is pressed against his chest, once again. “just say you hate me.”

“keep saying that and i’ll shove my dick in your mouth.” he says, aligning his tip with his sticky entrance. you don’t mention how his threat holds no weight if you’d enjoy it. instead, you play into it and huff, resting your hands flat on the counter.

you brace yourself when hobie begins to push deep into you. the stretch is painful at first, enough that you have to grit your teeth and will yourself to relax through the shallow thrusts to ease his way into you. it only takes a few seconds before the pain is blooming into satisfaction.

he fits so well inside you, filling you as if he was created solely for this purpose. you reach up, resting your hand on his cheek for a source of intimacy in the slow thrusts. you use the leverage of the counter to push your ass back to meet his thrusts.

you don’t know how much willpower you have to continue standing on your own when hobie is doing such a good job of fucking you dumb. even with the slow pace, you have to give in, leaning over the counter. to hobie, this is leverage for him to take control of the situation. he slots a large hand over your mouth and the other rests on the small of your back.

almost instantly, his thrusts increase tenfold. you’re certain if this was done on a bed, it would have been rocking with such an intensity against the wall. you grasp his hand covering your mouth with yours, almost screaming into his hand.

“shh, you’ll w – wake someone u – up.” he leans over you. hobie doesn’t compensate for the sound of skin slapping against each other by speaking louder. instead, he gets closer to you and because of that, angles his dick deeper into your cunt.

in this new state, you can hear every soft moan and whimper that leaves his mouth. he’s not rough about it, almost singing in your ear. his breath feels moist on your skin and adds to the fire burning in your core. “just t – take it, baby.”

you almost sob, rising onto your toes and writhe underneath him. it didn’t occur to you that you’d be overstimulated by the time you’ve reached this point. as much of your fault as it is, you like to blame most of it on hobie for pushing it this far. you wouldn’t be tempted to push him away, feeling as though he would be forcing another one out of you, if he didn’t.

you’re still, almost stuck in place. he’s too good at delivering. your body craves more and less of him at the same time. you’re certain you can feel him in your throat, ready to pop out the other side and through your mouth if this continues long enough. it’s driving you crazy, so crazy you squeeze your legs together.

it doesn’t last long because coincidentally, hobie hooks his hand under your leg and pushes it onto the counter. your cunt squelches as it swallows his size greedily. he’s obsessed with watching his length disappear inside you and the white sheen that surrounds the base. “shit, you’re gettin’ tight. gonna make me cum.”

you can only wail at his words and press your forehead against the granite. your legs have begun to quiver for the second time that night and you’re almost certain your insides are about to explode. you’re unsure what is building up inside you but it’s drawing from somewhere deep in the pits of your stomach and you’re getting nervous. there’s not much you can do about it, nor can you think about it too much because hobie’s fingers are rolling your clit between them.

the bud is all swollen and practically hot to the touch. you’re dripping down your own thighs at this point. there’s a musk that accompanies sex in the air, thick and sending you into a daze. your eyes flutter closed before they roll back. you let loose, weak streams of squirt falling into the floor beneath you.

“holy fuckin’ shit,” hobie pulls out of you so fast, you whine and crumple onto the floor. he, as the kind gentleman he is, don’t force your weak body to move positions again. instead, he steps to your side and turns your head with a hand under your chin. “open your mouth for me. atta’ girl.”

you watch him through half lidded eyes jerk his swollen cock in front of your face until he’s spurting cum all over it. your tongue dangles open and catches what remnants dribble downwards into your mouth.

hobie’s equally sensitive body stands there for a moment to catch his breath. he slowly lowers himself onto the ground until he’s able to run his thumb over your cum-covered face to collect some of it on the pad of his finger and swipe it over your tongue. “how do you feel? want water or something?”

you wordlessly shake your head and crawl into his arms, despite the fact that your face is ultimately covered in his nut. you don’t mention that what you really want to know is what happens now. “just want to shower and sleep.”

he looks at you, half asleep against him, and then around the kitchen and the few pieces of evidence left behind. for one, the scent has got to go. “i’ll get you into the bath and i’ll handle the cleanup, okay? you just rest your pretty little head.”

you’ve already beat him to it, humming in response and envisioning the comfort of your queen sized bed. if you considered things awkward before, just what until you see how you try to navigate it in the morning.

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