#cut your hair with for the rest of your life and never get a real haircut again. like me. i havent let anyone else cut my hair since 2019 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tobifuyu · 11 months

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New hair, who dis?

Ran Haitani x f!reader

After years of friendship, Ran is growing and maturing right in front of your eyes but you cannot bring yourself to accept what change brings about.

cw: nsfw, mdni, basically porn with plot, friends to lovers, reader is oblivious, ran is a simp, rindou is so done, masturbation, mirror sex, use of sex toys, hair kink ig, lots of pet names.

wc: 9,7k

a/n: gosh this is way too long I’m so sorry I just have too many ideas and once I start writing I cannot stop myself. many more fics to come, I have a long list of fantasies to satisfy. also, we stan simp ran in this house.

One thing you were not expecting when opening the door of your apartment that evening was for Ran to walk in looking like a completely different person.

You wouldn’t even have recognized him if it weren’t for his purple eyes staring down at you with their ever-present mischievous glint.

Lately, his lanky body has been filling out the new suits he’s wearing in a delicious way, and the time he’s been putting in at the gym, even if reluctantly, is visibly paying off.

You notice he has removed the transparent plaster from the fresh tattoo on his neck, black ink a stark contrast against his pale skin.

There’s something else missing, and the sight is so unsettling that for a moment you think about closing the door on his face.

Who is this man staring back at you? If this is Ran, why are his infamous braids gone?

“Ran, what the fuck?”

“I can explain!” He puts his hands up, gesturing at you to let him come in, and you move out of his way automatically as you take him in from different angles.

The door gets closed behind your back and Ran wraps your wrist in one of his big hands to steer you to your couch in the center of the living room. You’re both silent as you sit down, your eyes fixed on the damage.

“I cut my hair.”

“I can fucking see that!” The smug grin that was stretching his pretty lips slowly fades at the agitation in your voice. The thing is that you don’t understand why you feel so distraught.

It shouldn’t matter, right? It’s not like he went and cut your own hair behind your back. Yeah, he could’ve let you know about such an important decision in his life as he does with pretty much everything else. He could’ve maybe even asked for your opinion. But he didn’t have to.

You and Ran have been friends for years, more than a decade, and you have seen him cut and style his hair multiple times in the past. Just because you are particularly infatuated with the way his two-toned braids swung around while fighting, or how he would twirl them with his baton and long fingers, and how it looked untied, forming a messily shaped halo behind his head while resting on the pillow during one of your many cuddling sessions… doesn’t mean he had to ask for your permission.

It’s not like he knows how much you love to brush his soft locks before twisting them back into the braids that come hunting you on your dream-filled nights. Because you’ve never told him. So it’s not his fault if all these things don’t matter to him.

“You don’t like ‘em?” He coughs to hide the embarrassment he feels after asking such a vulnerable question. Ran has never really cared about what other people think of him, except for maybe Rindou, sometimes. But you’re an exception.

He knows he’s far from ugly and he thought he looked real good with the new haircut. He was excited to match with his little brother once again, and he thought you would also, considering how well you reacted a couple of weeks ago when Rin showed you the light purple color he got done at the saloon.

Maybe, just maybe, you like Rin a bit better? No, he thinks, it can’t be possible. He would’ve noticed something like that.

Then why are you acting so… mad? Or is it hurt he sees painted across your pretty face?

You let out a sigh, “No, it looks good. I overreacted, I’m sorry. I just– I wasn’t expecting you to cut your hair, that’s all.”

He scoffs, as if he doesn’t believe your words, and pulls one of your hands up to his hair. He wants to convince you that not much has changed, and you’ll still get to play with it while watching movies, he thinks it’s soft enough with the treatment he has done, “See, it’s still pretty long, just pushed back. Maybe you can braid it sometimes.”

You laugh at that and Ran smiles at you. You meet his soft gaze before daring another glimpse at his new haircut. It’s styled in such a way that accentuates his sharp facial structure, jawline visible in all its glory.

“You look…” Hot. Fuck. You shake your head, trying to reign yourself in as you stroke the soft hair, “It looks good, more mature. It’s fluffier than I thought, Rannie.”

The more you look at him the more you realize that this new look of his is toying with your already decaying sanity.

Pull yourself together, for fuck’s sake.

Ran lets it go after that, props you to get settled on the couch, and removes his suit jacket before grabbing some drinks and snacks to watch a movie.

An hour in, he lays his head on your chest. It’s routine, he’s always been clingy with you, in private. And you’ve always enjoyed the closeness, no matter how confusing it might be, so you never question him.

Your hands subconsciously bury themselves between his lilac locks. You can hear him let out a deep sigh as you scratch his scalp, relaxing into your hold.

“Looks good, Ran. I like it a lot,” You whisper as if to reassure him, whilst you’re only stopping yourself from confessing that you would like him even if he were bald. Your gentle motions make him fall asleep with his lips curled in a smile.

My sleepy boy, you think.

That night you wake up in a cold sweat. The blond tresses that you constantly dream of softly stroking have been subsided by messy lilac locks. The short length is being gripped by your hands as its owner's head peaks from between your thighs. Unfortunately, it’s not very the first time you dream of Ran in such a compromising position. But the matching lavender gaze staring at you with purpose is now fresh in your memory, and makes his haircut seem even more attractive, the perfect length to shove him back against your heat.

Your cheeks redden as you try to shake the feeling away, you get rid of the covers and turn on your side ready for sleep to take over once again, but his new and improved look keeps hunting you at every toss and turn.

You reach into your bedside table for the only thing that can bring you peace of mind: your trusty vibrator. It’s a small bullet one, but it does its job just fine when you press it against your clit to release the pent-up stress of the day. You think nothing of it when the face that appears behind your closed eyelids as you come is that of your bestfriend.

The next couple of weeks, it doesn’t escape Ran the fact that you’re looking at him a little weird. At first, he thinks you might still be trying to get used to his new look. It was definitely a drastic change, and for you who have known him for such a long time, to be faced with it without him even giving you any heads up must’ve been weird. So he hopes that the gift he has planned to give you, will be enough to make it up to his bestfriend, to show how much he cares about your friendship and your opinions, even if he didn’t ask for it this time.

Then he starts panicking because you stop picking up his phone calls. You don’t make plans to hang out with him anymore, just shoot a text from time to time to let him know that you’re okay but busy. He’d like to believe you, but you’ve always made time for him before. You’re avoiding him.

He doesn’t know that you cannot bring yourself to face him anymore. You had managed to suppress the feelings you harbor for him for years, but seeing him in another light, with his childish braids replaced by a more mature and undoubtedly attractive look, has been the hardest challenge for you.

You feel ashamed by the number of times his face has been appearing in your mind at the most inconvenient times. You feel too dirty to look him in the eyes and pretend like you don’t dream of them at night.

Ran has reached a level of desperation where he has to involve his brother before he loses his cool over something that, he thinks rationally, shouldn’t even bother him that much. The two of you are just friends, you don’t owe him your time.

Luckily, you pick up Rindou’s call on his first try, you haven’t heard from him in a while, so it only makes sense that you do, might be something important. What if something has happened to Ran?

Rin doesn’t want anything to do with this mess, but he can’t bear to stress over the safety of his brother anymore as he comes to their meetings looking tired and miserable as hell. Bonten is just starting out, and they’re dealing with some heavy shit now, his brother needs to fucking focus.

So he invites you over for some drinks. Explains how it’s just a small get-together they’re throwing to celebrate a new deal, only some of the guys will attend. And when you ask about Ran, he rolls his eyes but replies that his brother is not gonna be there. Which is a lie, a big fat lie that is gonna turn into a headache for him soon enough. He knows that already.

You show up just because you’ve been holed up in your apartment for the past week. Work has been… well, work. And your friend group is pretty much the same as Ran’s, so you couldn’t risk him getting word of you being out and about after you’ve turned down all his invitations. You’re joining tonight because Ran hasn’t tried to contact you in a few days, and Rin has promised his brother is gonna be held back at work. Getting a few drinks with your old friends is the perfect way to destress.

You don’t make it that far, though, because the moment you walk in Ran is already there. Mingling about and walking like he owns the place, which he does. You turn to Rindou, who’s conveniently opened the door for you and is now planning to make a run for it, and you look at him as if you’re ready to tear his head off. He must’ve known what’s going on, there’s no other way for him to be so sneaky about this. He sends an apologetic look your way before scrambling away to Sanzu, who’s waiting for him in the dark of the corridor leading to the rooms.

Ran stutters over to you the moment his eyes lay on your fidgeting figure. He’s wearing a pair of dress pants and a shirt that look like they’ve been tailored to fit his lanky body in such a way that makes it hard for you to breathe. His short hair is parted and gelled back, a few pieces falling off the hairstyle and resting effortlessly on his forehead.

“Hey pretty, you’ve made it.”

“Looks like it,” you shrug your shoulders, looking around awkwardly as he ushers you into the middle of the living room. You should’ve known the brothers would’ve stuck together. Fuck you, Rindou.

“D’you want something to drink?” He sits beside you, and the scene reminds you so much of when he last came over to your apartment, except this time you’re surrounded by a handful of people. Gotta make sure you’re on your best behavior, so you turn down the drink.

“C’mon, work has been stealing you from me for weeks now, y’need to let go a little.” He can sense you’re tense, and maybe alcohol isn’t the best choice in this situation, but he doesn’t know how else to let you at least look at him. He feels a pang in his chest. Why won’t you even look at him?

“I’m okay, thanks.” You’re acting so cold and distant. He’s starting to wonder if all of this really has happened over him simply cutting his hair, or if there��s something deeper beneath it. Did you feel betrayed by him not telling you?

“I think I’m just gonna go home, I’m pretty beat actually,” you start to say, and Ran doesn’t want to force you, but he doesn’t want you to go either. “Please, just some more time to catch up. Rin wanted to see you as well,” as he says this he looks around the room and curses his brother for leaving with Sanzu.

Ran’s ass gets saved by Kakucho tapping on your shoulder before he wraps an arm around both of them as you turn to greet him. You’re smiling again, just how Ran likes to see you, but the pit of his stomach is burning with something akin to jealousy.

He’s relieved that Kakucho stopped you from upping and leaving, but he doesn’t like how you get up and join him at the counter to get him another round. Seems like you’re not drinking still, means you don’t plan on sticking around.

Ran is bummed out, he stops staring at you and Kakucho after some others join in on the conversation. He doesn’t want you to mingle with these people too much (most of them have something to do with Bonten, after all), but he’s the one who strategized all of this in the first place, so he lets you enjoy yourself. He’d rather stop pushing you before he makes it worse.

In the meantime, you’re watching a pouting Ran sit on the couch from the corner of your eye. Kakucho snickers as he notices, and you swat him away when he suggests you go sit back down with “your Ran”.

“He’s been a mess these past few weeks, I think he misses you. A lot,” Kakucho has never been anything but kind and truthful to you, that’s why you enjoy his presence so much. He’s a breath of fresh air around the much violence this friend group has experienced growing up. He’s one of those who has suffered the most but he always has a nice word to spare. Such a pure heart, his.

Your eyes wander back to where your heart is, but what you see makes your face turn into a grimace. A pretty girl you’ve known for a while, someone’s girlfriend you recall, has sat down in your spot and is now talking to Ran. They seem to be sharing a laugh as she reaches over to stroke Ran’s hair out of his face, before gesturing at it as if complimenting the new hairstyle.

The interaction is short-lived and friendly, you know her for being nothing but nice, but you feel like shit now.

You don’t like the feeling of jealousy, especially when it’s not even excused. You just don’t like when people touch Ran’s hair, and you do even less now that it has become such a touchy subject for you. He let her, that’s the problem.

“Yeah, I bet he missed me alright,” you mumble bitterly as you excuse yourself from Kakucho.

It doesn’t take you long to stand in front of Ran and stare down at him with cold eyes, “‘m leaving. Have a goodnight,” You direct the last bit to the girl, hoping she doesn’t think you’re remotely even mad at her. Then, you leave the apartment in such a rush that you don’t hear Ran calling for you. You feel like you’re underwater and the first real breath of air you take is back at your flat.

All you had time to do, before hearing the furious knocks banging on your door, is take off your makeup and wear your pajamas. Maybe, just maybe, if they had started shaking the wood just ten minutes later, you would’ve been sleeping already and not giving enough fucks to get up from your bed.

You open the door, no need to check from the peephole as you already know who it could be at this ludicrous hour.

“We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t, I have work early in the morning,” you try arguing as you go to close the door. He blocks it with his shoe, pushing it open with his right hand as he stares at you with a look he usually reserves for Rindou when he gets pissed off about something important. It’s completely different from the one he has while fighting, he’s not being snarky or overconfident, he looks serious and undeniably mad.

“You’ve been avoiding me. For weeks. ‘Cause I cut my fucking hair.” He slams the door as he steps inside the apartment and you jump from the sudden sound, walking towards you as you slowly back away and fidget with your raised hands. You’re not scared of him, you know he’d never do anything to hurt you. You’re just scared of the confrontation that is about to go down, the fact that you’re gonna have to tell the truth, for once and for all, cause you can’t possibly hold it from him anymore. And just like that, you’re gonna lose Ran.

Ran takes in your panicked state and slows down to approach you carefully, his face softens and he clasps your hands in his bigger ones. With the grip he has on them, he drags you closer to his body. The two of you are standing in the center of the room as silence overtakes it. You can feel his stare burning your skin but you keep your own cast down.

“You know I’d never hurt you, right?” His thumbs are stroking your skin in a calming pattern, “I don’t know what I’ve done, but I never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

You don’t understand what he’s talking about. The one apologizing here should be you! “You did nothing wrong, Ra–“

“Please look at me,” you cast him a glance from under your lashes, but the way he’s staring back is so intimidating that you can’t help but feel your face heat up and you have to divert your eyes elsewhere, “You can’t even look at me.”

“Ran, I swear this has nothing to do with you cutting off your piss-colored hair.”

He knows you well enough not to get offended, your self-defensive mechanism has always been that of getting mean.

Two fingers find their way to your chin to grip it and raise it enough so that your eyes meet once again. You can’t escape him this time.

“Tell me how to fix it, how to fix us.”

His voice is almost a whisper, he sounds so distraught, blaming himself for your stupidity. You can’t take it anymore. You love Ran, the last thing you want is for him to be hurting.

“I’m not mad at you Ran, I’m mad at myself,” His purple eyes widen with surprise, but he remains silent as he lets you explain yourself, “This is gonna sound, real bad but… I couldn’t bring myself to face you these past few weeks. Cause I had a wet dream about you. After you cut your hair…” You’re not telling the whole truth as of yet – there have been multiple dreams – but you need to test the waters first.

“Oh,” Well fuck, you’ve said it now. “Oh, wow.” His hands drop his hold on one of yours and fall from your chin, for a moment you think he’s gonna step back and run away far from you, but then you feel his touch on your waist, moving you even closer than before.

His lips settle on your forehead, stamping a kiss on the skin while you feel his mouth vibrate against it as he shakes with laughter.

This is Ran we’re talking about, ‘course he’s not gonna run away, he’s gonna embarrass you to the ground. In a week's time, everyone in your friend group will probably know about this. Not only is your friendship officially ruined, but you’ll never get to step outside of your flat without feeling like a walking joke ever again, “Are you laughing at me?”

“You got embarrassed?” He places another smooch over the same spot, “So what if I made you wet in a dream? It was my haircut, wasn’t it?”

Ran giggles. The motherfucker thinks he’s funny.

“Is that why you reacted that way back at my place? You got mad someone else was gripping my hair?” His mocking voice makes you flush red, but you know better than to give in to his teasing.

“She barely touched you, please. Like I give a damn,” You roll your eyes, finally getting the courage to stare at his smirking face as you fall back into your comfortable routine of making fun of each other. “I can always grip it myself and show you the difference,” You bark back, watching how the side of his curved lips slightly twitches.

“Go at it, babygirl.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Gosh, you seem to be pretty mad still,” he’s pouting, and you swear you wanna bite his lips so badly right now.

Get a fucking grip, oh my goodness. You haven’t even told him the worst part yet. He doesn’t know you’ve masturbated to him. He doesn’t know you like him way more than a simple friend should.

“Should I find some way to make it up to you?” His words snap you back to reality, but he’s been observing you, lavender hues taking in your scrunched-up face as you think hard over something that is still concealed from him. He wants to kiss your cute cheeks, wants to hear you giggle. You’re his precious girl, he feels this visceral need to let you know just how much he cares.

Ran’s mouth presses against the apple of your cheeks once, twice, trice. He’s leaving kisses all over the bare skin, switching from one side to the other, kissing the top of your nose endearingly.

One of the hands he has gripping your waist slides to the center of your back, over the sleep shirt you’re wearing, trying to stop you from running away from his kiss attack – as if you would – and to keep you comfortably pressed against his embrace.

He can feel you melt against his body. Rosy lips parted to take in deep breaths. Your eyelids are now closed and he doesn’t waste time kissing over them as well. He can feel your skin heating up against his mouth, feverish-like, but he can’t stop himself from dragging his lips lower to peck at your jawline.

The kisses he’s giving you are all kinds of kisses, from short and sweet pecks to loud and cute smooches, to more sensual and wet ones, especially when he reaches the skin of your neck. At this point, you can’t help but raise your hands to his hair and grip the short length of it just like you promised to show him. He lets out what sounds like a moan in the croak of your neck, but you think you must’ve imagined it as you can’t really hear much over the sound of your beating heart, the blood furiously pumping in your ears.

You know you’re enjoying this way too much, and for a moment you start to feel dirty again. He’s showering you with love because you’re his best friend, and your head is turning something so pure into nasty thoughts.

It’s not the first time he has smothered your face in kisses, maybe not to this extent, but you guys haven’t seen each other in weeks, so it only makes sense why he’s reacting to your closeness in such a way.

That’s until he sucks on the soft spot behind your ear and takes the lobe between his teeth to pull the skin. The way his name comes out from your mouth, breathless and whiny, makes him weak in the knees.

He’s gonna turn all your wet dreams into reality. You just need to say the word and he’s gonna give you what you deserve and more.

His nose is now bumping against yours, mouth pressing between the space above your cupid’s bow, the corner of your mouth, the bottom of it. Your lips graze each other every time he moves along. At this point, he has kissed every inch of your face except for the mouth. You know that would be taking it a step too far. The already thin lines of friendship between the two of you would blur to a point of no return.

At least on your part; you know Ran doesn’t shy away from human touch as you do, so it might not carry the same weight for him, you’re nearly sure of it.

You can’t possibly know how wrong you are, because as you’re thinking that, Ran is holding himself back from closing the space between you.

He has been dying to kiss you for years, since the first time you offered to braid his hair for him.

“What did you dream of?” he whispers, gruff voice scratching a part of your brain that you didn’t think existed as his hot breath washes over you, only inches away.

“Uhm, I… I don’t really remember.”

“You’re not a good liar, princess,” his mouth moves closer to your ear, trailing on the soft skin on his way there, as one of his hands grasps the fat of your left thigh and hooks it over his hipbone. “What was I doing that made you wet? Did you touch yourself because of me? Tell me.”

You know that if you could see yourself from the outside right now you’d laugh at how red your face probably is, but there’s nothing to laugh about how firm Ran’s voice is when giving orders. It might’ve sounded like he was teasing you before, but he’s being completely serious now. And you’d never dare disobey Ran when he gets like this.

“I- You were eating me out,” you gulp, your throat lets you heave the words out with difficulty. “It was either that or… some other nights, you’d do more.”

So it’s multiple dreams, different nights. Ran’s grip on you tightens, “Did you touch yourself?” He repeats the question, eyes dark and attentive, as if he’s dying to know. As if he can’t picture it in his head without you guiding him through it. Fuck it, you think.

“I did, used my vibrator-“You can’t even finish your sentence because Ran is grasping your other leg and lifting you up in the air. You circle his neck with your arms and hold on tight in fear of him dropping you, but his strength makes it seem like he’s barely breaking a sweat.

“Fuck, can I kiss you? I’m dying to taste you.”

It takes you some time to elaborate on his desperate plea, but once you do, you consent enthusiastically, “Yeah? Yes!“

The moment your lips meet, it’s like nothing else matters in the world. Ran is kissing you, his lips are moving over yours with expertise. He starts slow and deepens it to the point you have to push him away slightly to regain your breath.

Sometime during the kisses that come after, Ran has you up against the wall. He runs the tip of his tongue over the seam of your mouth, but you don’t open it straight away to pay him back for all his usual teasing. That’s until he presses his hips against yours, and you feel his hardness rubbing on you.

“Oh my god, fuck, Ran.” He takes your surprise as an opportunity to tangle his tongue with yours. You moan in his mouth, and he groans back, parting just enough to let you know what he needs, “I want you so bad, pretty girl.”

You buck into him as if asking for more and bite his lip before letting it go, watching as it falls back into place.

Ran laughs at that, starting a trail of kisses from your puffy lips all the way to your exposed collarbones. He knows you’re not wearing a bra, you don’t sleep in them. The first thing he noticed when he stepped foot inside your apartment tonight is how your nipples were perked up against the cotton of the shirt. He also knows the only thing covering your bottom is a pair of panties. Keeping this in mind, he sends you a look while reaching for the hem of your sleep shirt, as if asking for permission.

You nod and he frees you of it, chunking it somewhere behind his frame. He’s holding you up with his hips alone, navel pressed tightly against yours. That’s so fucking hot.

His hands make a b-line to your breasts, squeezing them to get a feel, and the motion is as pleasurable to you as it is for him, making his cock jump in his pants. You can feel his length twitching and it’s driving you crazy.

“Please-“ Your voice breaks the moment Ran puts you back down, you struggle to keep yourself on your feet and watch as he bends to bite at one of your nipples.

“Oh my god, yes,” he’s twisting the other with his fingers, and regretfully leaves them behind as he moves in a downward path over your body. He’s so close to your heat that he can smell your arousal, and when he casts his eyes toward your mound, he sees the wet patch staining your panties.

“Is this because of me?” a slap on your covered cunt follows his question. He knows already, you’ve made it clear, but he wants to hear you say it.

“Yes, yeah, Ran, baby. It’s all because of you.”

He thinks you must be already pretty out of it, because you’re not usually this straightforward when it comes to sex, in front of him at least. He heard how dirty you can get when talking about it with other friends, so he’s happy he’s found the key to open you up to him, literally.

It’s after your nth confirmation that Ran decides to grasp the side of your cotton panties and slowly drag them down your quivering legs. Both of you still can’t believe this is happening. You’re about to satisfy his every craving, and he’ll make sure to do the same for you.

Ran is on his knees, staring up at your body as if it’s a piece of art that has moved something inside of him. His admiring gaze is pushing all of your shyness and insecurities to leave you. His making you feel comfortable while being so exposed and vulnerable is exactly why you fell in love with him in the first place.

The weight of a peck being stamped on the inner skin of your thigh is what you feel before your body starts being covered in kisses. He’s raising to his full height while doing so, and the last one he gives you is on your forehead, just like the first of the night.

“I need you, Ran.”

Everything is still around the two of you, in the silence of the night you can hear the deep breath he takes. You lean forward to kiss the tattoo peeking from the collar of his dress shirt.

The hanafuda is a bright reminder of the life he has selfishly involved you in, and for a second he rethinks his next move, but you quickly realize he’s getting into his head and raise on your tippy toes to kiss his pink lips.

“Take me to bed, Ran. Don’t make me beg.”

You’ve told him multiple times that you can take care of yourself, and you know that where you can’t on your own he’s gonna be there to save you. You believe him, and he has to do the same when you tell him that he’s not gonna get rid of you that easily.

“You’re gonna beg either way,” he promises with a sneaky smile as he grabs your ass in his hands, making you straddle his hips as he carries you to your bedroom.

More kisses are being shared between the two of you during the short way, and he can barely tear himself from you as he lays you on your mattress.

You think he’s reaching into your bedside table for condoms but what he finds is even better: your pink vibrator. He looks at it as if he’s discovered gold. When he orders you to take it and use it on yourself, you realize he wants to watch. He wants to recreate what you’ve so cutely told him you’ve been doing for the past few weeks while thinking about him. Ran wants to see for himself.

He stands at the foot of the bed while you tease your entrance with the bullet vibrator, collecting your wetness to make it glide more easily over your clit. You keep your legs spread to give him a show, watching as he pays you back by removing piece by piece of clothing.

His full-body tattoo reveals itself to your greedy eyes. You’ve seen it multiple times, but have never gotten to take it in all together.

You’re panting, reaching your slit with one of your fingers as your opening clenches around nothing under his lust-filled gaze. “Hold it,” his deep voice tells you, and you follow his instruction, regretfully so.

“Keep it spread fo’ me.” You spread yourself open with two fingers, bucking up to chase the sensation of your vibrator. “Fuck, such a good girl fo’ me. Doing anything I tell her.” He grasps his hardness over the cloth of the boxers, the grey fabric sticking to his skin and forming a wet patch where his precome is leaking.

He strokes himself a couple of times before removing the last piece of clothing on his body, finally letting you see the place where his tattoo connects, but most importantly his cock.

It’s so pretty, lengthy, and a girth that would scare you if it weren’t for how long you’ve been dreaming of this moment. It bobs between his legs as he crawls over the bed to you and the pink on its head is glistening, you wish you could clean it up with your tongue right now.

You think he must also have an oral fixation because the moment he reaches you and settles between your open legs he chunks the vibrator to the side of the bed to cover your wetness with his mouth.

Curious tongue running over the mess you made, the sounds he’s making giving away how much he’s enjoying getting a taste.

“Can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this. You taste like heaven, princess.” He’s raising as he mutters the words. He takes one look at your withering figure from above, before letting a glob of spit fall on your cunt.

Ran bends and goes right back in, the muscles on his shoulders moving along as his hands come up to hold your thighs open before you can crush his head, you can already feel the bruises from the tight grip forming on the skin.

It’s like the wet dreams that have been plaguing your mind ever since he cut his hair have finally turned into reality. His shorts locks are peeking from between your thighs and you’re gripping them for dear life as he feasts on you, mouth sucking around your clit and lilac eyes peeking from below your mound with a stare so intense that you can feel your legs trembling from that alone.

When his fingers join in the fun you feel yourself getting closer, he’s moving them in a come hither motion and hitting your spot just right. He’s not building up momentum or taking his time in opening you up, that’s how desperate he is. Two of them are fucking into you quickly and with precision, while his dexterous tongue flicks your bundle of nerves.

“Ran, fuck, you look so good between my legs,” You can feel him smirking against you, the boost of ego you know he needs to get him right where you want him.

“I’m gonna cum, plea– please, don’t stop.” The problem is that Ran doesn’t exactly like being told what to do, and he’s being greedy now. He has waited too long to have you, he can’t possibly wait anymore.

He stops his movements, triggering a cry on your part. You nearly kick him with one of your feet but he’s fast enough to move to the edge of the bed, sitting in front of the full-length mirror that covers your wardrobe and conveniently faces the mattress.

You stare at him, spread legs and hard length resting on his lower abdomen as he settles reclined on the palm of his hands. “Come sit on my cock.”

You’re facing his back, laying down on the bed still, and from your position you get to admire the tattoo on his back, and how his muscles flex beneath the skin every time he moves. His body is as sinful as it can be, he drips sex and makes you want to mold yourself to him and never let go. It has always scared you, this pull he has on you, but now he’s the one inviting you over. It’s not the time to shy away.

He’s watching you from the reflection in the mirror as you get up. Your naked body is to him like a tall glass of water after weeks without drinking, he feels like he would die right here, right now, if you were to walk away without letting him have a sip.

Even his wet dreams – yes, you’re not the only one fantasizing about your best friend – don’t compare to the sight of you standing in front of his spread legs looking down at him.

“Uh nah, turn around pretty,” he prompts when he sees you’re about to straddle his lap. He enjoys the sight of you doing whatever he tells you to without even having to touch your body, and he stores that information inside a little drawer in his head for later.

You finally sit down, sliding against his hot skin until you’re resting only half of your weight on his thighs. His cock is now sandwiched between your bodies, and he groans when your asscheeks rub against it while you are wiggling onto him purposely.

“I said sit on my cock, I want you on top of it.”

You’re about to fuck your best friend, it doesn’t seem real. Should the two of you even be doing this? This will change everything forever, there would be no going back from it.

You know that once he’s gonna slide inside you you won’t be able to look at any other man ever again. You barely do now, anyway.

Your right hand goes under you to grasp his length, the angle is uncomfortable but you make it work enough to give him a few pumps. His girth feels hot in your hold, and you bring it to your opening to tease yourself with his wet tip.

“Fuck baby, don’t tease me.” The reflection in the mirror shows his tensed body in all his glory, and you get a glimpse of his hands buried in the sheets, he’s gripping the fabric so tight you think blood might’ve stopped flowing.

Ran is trying not to buck up into you, he’s giving you time to adjust to his size, and you realize how needed it is when you finally lower yourself on it.

You’re watching the scene unfold in the mirror, how his cock is slowly sinking inside of you. The stretch leaves you with a burning feeling and when you nearly reach his base you realize how full you are. All your bumps and ridges are being deliciously stroked by his skin.

Your lips fall open in a pant and Ran is groaning right by your ear as he straightens his posture and bends slightly over your body. “I’ve been dreaming of this for years,” he confesses while his hands grasp the fat of your thighs, spreading you to him as he loops your legs over his, keeping them open just like that with his knees.

He can’t believe his eyes when he gets to fully glimpse how far he’s stretching your cunt with his cock. All the patience in the world wouldn’t help him hold back anymore.

He bucks up into you, having you take his cock down to the base. You let out a shriek at how big he feels inside, and after that, he starts moving. Being on top made you, at first, feel like you could be in control, but it seems like the orders he was barking at you weren’t the only thing he was planning on doing on his part.

Ran starts pounding into you from below, strong thighs helping him in bucking up. You’re being split open on his cock and he’s enjoying the show. The sound of skin slapping against skin is so sinful, but your eyes are now closed in pleasure as you’re reduced to nothing but a moaning mess. His thrusts are so powerful that it takes you very little time to lose your mind.

He’s calling for you, you can hear his deep voice and feel his hot breath on your ear after you slumped against his bigger body, resting your leaned-back head on the crook of his neck. “Mhmh, open your eyes, pretty girl,” like the good girl you are, you do as said, even if you’re struggling to keep them open when his thrusts don’t let up, but instead seem to be getting deeper every time you do something he asks of you right.

He grabs your chin with his thumb and pointer, redirecting your line of sight towards the mirror, where you can see his heavy balls slap over your glistening skin from below. “Look at how much you’re dripping, that’s how I slid in so quickly.” You whimper at that, Ran always had a way with words that could get to you even when nothing of sorts was being said, always the teasing one, but now that he’s running his mouth with all these dirty thoughts you can’t help but be even more affected than usual.

“You take my cock like a pro, mh. You like it, don’t you, my pretty little slut? Oh, I just know you’re loving this. Bet your little vibrator couldn’t make you feel this good.”

He’s pressing down on your belly, making the pressure on your navel feel ten times more intense, and all you can focus on is how he’s spreading you open. “It’s so big Ran- Ah,” he thinks your words are gonna get to his head. He has to keep a solid grip on you not to melt at your praise, “Fuck Ran, please, please baby.”

“What is it that you want, use your words.”

“I wanna come, pleasee, I need it so bad,” He loves how polite you are, asking for it with a please. He’d give it to you no matter what, but he appreciates how much you’re trying for him. He knows you can get a little hot-headed, or maybe he just found that one field where you finally succumb and let others take care of you.

Ran reaches over to the forgotten toy and switches it back on before placing it over your neglected and pulsating clit. He never had anything against sex toys, he doesn’t see the harm in using them to bring more pleasure to his partners. He knows you could come from his cock alone, but he needs to feel you gushing around him right about now, before he loses it. He wants to see you dripping to the ground before he fills you up to the brim.

You grasp a handful of his hair and pull it without shame as he fucks you with abandon while rubbing your clit with the vibrating toy. He has to hold your thigh open with one of his big hands because you keep clenching your muscles, and he needs to watch as you come undone.

“Fuuck,” you’re cursing loudly, without a care for your poor neighbors who must be going crazy with the loud noises at such a late hour.

Ran is hitting all the right places, he’s prodding and searching all over your body like he needs to study it, to learn it, and knowing him and how attentive he is, you’re sure that the next time it will take him half of the time to get you there. Or maybe he’ll use his knowledge to drag it out like the teasing little shit he is.

But who said anything about a next time? You’re not even sure as to why the two of you have fallen into bed together, but what you know with certainty is that you’re perception of Ran has shifted the moment he cut his hair.

It might be crazy, ruining a years-long friendship over something so trivial, but it’s like your best friend Ran was the one with the braids, and the one you’re sitting on top of, who’s kissing your neck and whispering sweet praises in your ear, who’s bulkier and more charming and wears purple striped suits, is someone else entirely, but someone that you love all the same.

You’ll always cherish your braided Ran as your friend, but this older version of him will not be able to live inside your mind while battling your feelings as you’ve always done.

The man in the mirror looks at you with lust, but under all of that is the shade of his unchanging lavender hues, the ones who have been staring at you with unnamed affection for years. Maybe it’s time to let go of that uncertainty and fall into him once and for all.

“Ran, I’m gonna come.” He’s so good at reading your body already that he doesn’t stop, he just forgoes the vibrator opting to massage your clit with his thumb, spreading you open with two fingers, while his other hand reaches your boobs. He knows how sensitive they are, he remembers you telling him once, and that’s why he has avoided touching them until now.

His fingers alternate pinching and pulling at the erected nipples, and his hand grasps the entirety of your left beast to pull you down as you try to fight his thrusting and press you onto him.

He noses at your cheek, inviting you to meet him for a kiss. It’s a deep one, with tongues entangling and teeth bumping against each other, he has to rein you in as you’re panting and mumbling.

You don’t have the strength to speak anymore, but Ran knows the exact moment you dangle and trip over the edge because you squeeze him so tight he lets out a string of curses.

He feels you gushing around him, the squelch of wetness becoming even more loud making his cheeks tint red. He’s never been shy when it comes to sex, but the way he’s fucking you now it’s so nasty that he can’t believe how you’re letting him. His sweet girl.

Now that you’ve come on his cock, he slows down his hips to avoid overstimulating you, and he helps you regain your breathing as he kisses your cheek, “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. Mh- Fuck,” Your cunt is squeezing him so hard, coherent thoughts are slowly leaving his mind in favor of you. Nothing else matters now but you.

Ran has to gather all of his remaining strength to slip from you and lay you down on your white sheets. Big eyes are looking up at him as he just hung the moon and the stars, and from his position, he gets to watch your face contort in pleasure as he slides right back inside your wet heat.

“Ran-“ “I know, baby.” Your nails are raking down his chest, red marks showing up on the untattooed side of his body. Your neck is straining as you press the back of your head into the pillow, and he eyes the still unblemished skin before placing his lips on your pulse point, sucking and biting as he goes.

His thrusts are slow but deep, you can feel the heat building up in the pit of your belly all over again. You buck up against him, watching as he lets out moan after moan, getting closer to his end. He sounds so fucking good.

He wants to drag this out, scared of what might come after the both of you come down from your highs, so he pins down the side of your hips with one hand, resting on his hunches as he grasps both of your wrists in the other and raises them over your head.

He’s circling his hips now, rubbing his navel against your clit and relishing in all the pretty noises you’re letting out.

“Pretty girl- can you come fo’ me one more time? You’ve been s’good to me, gimme another. Just one- one more,” Ran’s voice is strangled, he’s trying to hide how much the pulsing of your cunt is affecting him, with very little success. His balls are strained and heavy with cum, he wants you to come around him as paints your walls in white.

You’re moving to break free from his grip but his strength doesn’t let you, so you try begging for him, “Rannn, more! Please, need more, I’m so close- Wanna cum.” You’re whining, sweat running down your body, he looks at how your skin is glistening and wants to lick you up.

Ran has never been able to tell you no, so he moves the hand that was holding you down to your neck, thumb resting over your pulse as he squeezes enough to make you feel it. His hips resume his thrusting with a purpose.

“Cream on my cock, ‘m gonna fill you up, angel,” and you do just that, on command. Ran thinks you ruined every other woman for him, right there and there. It’s like you were fucking made for him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, babygirl.”

He’s right behind you, mouth parting as he groans and repeats your name like a fucking prayer. You’re arching your back, your chests are pressed together and Ran swears he can hear the sound of your heartbeat as he fills you up with cum.

With scrunched-up eyebrows and eyelids fighting to stay open, his purple eyes are taking you in. Your legs are locked behind his back and his hips keep pressing against yours as he slowly drags out your highs, cum dripping down his thighs as he tries to fuck it back into you.

“Fuck, I feel so full,” you manage to let out in surprise after regaining your breath. Ran lets go of you the moment his mind is clearer, and when you feel him slip out from within you, for a moment you’re scared he’s gonna get dressed and leave you laying there.

But Ran just parts your legs before you can close them in shyness, and takes one good look at the mess you’ve both made before diving in. He’s happy he’s gotten to fuck you raw, so now he gets to taste how good you are together.

You’re still so sensitive that when his tongue makes contact with your folds, you tremble. He takes his time in eating it out of you, loud smacks and wet noises can be heard as he does, along with his hums of approval, “Mhh, taste so fucking good, baby. Wanna try?”

You furiously nod at that, dragging him away from your heat before he gets in his head that he needs to make you come again; you don’t think you’d be able to do that now, the overstimulation from those simple touches already taking you to the verge of crying for him.

Ran finally kisses you again, tongue slipping past your lips to make do with his promise, and you moan in appreciation at the taste of you combined. Everything he does is just so fucking hot.

He doesn’t stop once you do, and risks stripping you of your breath completely, but you’re not any better. The last thing you want now is for him to not kiss you anymore, so you grip his infamous hair once again, scratching his scalp with your nails as you’ve always liked doing to get a reaction out of him.

Ran shakes in your hold, he has to pull away or he’s gonna fuck you all over. He can feel himself getting hard against your thigh, so he decides to leave your embrace. He’s aware of the elephant in the room, and his maturity is screaming at him to talk things out before he can fall right back into it.

“Ran… please, don’t leave,” he glances back at you because of the way your voice breaks while muttering that sentence. His heart clenches when he sees your lash line glisten with unshed tears, so his hands find their way to your pretty face to hold it as he stands close to the edge of the bed, bending over you. He kisses the tip of your nose, then takes your mouth in a chaste kiss.

“‘M not going anywhere, my love. Just need to take care of my pretty girl. Give me one minute and I’ll be right back, okay?”

A simple “‘mkay,” leaves your lips in a mumble, and Ran helps remove the sheet from under your spent body to cover you with it before leaving the room.

It takes you a few seconds to elaborate on everything. Aside from what happened in the past hour, you’re now fixating on the names he just called you. My love. My pretty girl.

His? You definitely are, you just didn’t think he knew.

Once he steps back in the room, you notice he’s cleaned himself up and wore his discarded boxers. You take him in while he walks closer, silently appreciating his physique as you’re used to doing. But this time you get to recognize the bruises and red marks littering his body as something you’ve done yourself.

As promised, he’s carrying a wet towel and a bottle of water, and he carefully cleans you up with the former.

After making sure you’re hydrated, he settles by your side under the sheets and drapes his arms around your waist as both of you lay on your respective sides, facing one another.

“I was planning on giving you a gift, after the party was over, y’know? But you just had to run away,” he lets out a big sigh, as if thinking back to your fight makes him drained all over again.

“What is it?” You ask, as curious as always. He loves this side of you. He loves you, actually.

“I gave Rin one of my braids after I cut them off. I was thinking about giving you the other one,” your eyes widen, and the movement of your fingers running over his collarbone stops as you ponder over his words. “I know how much you like them, so did I. Want my two favorite people to keep them safe for me.”

Your heart has never beaten this fast, you think it might start overheating and set your whole body on fire. You bat your eyelashes, willing the tears away as you hook your hands under his face, gently stroking his jaw.

“Thank you,” is the last thing you whisper before closing the distance, repaying him with another short but sweet kiss.

When you separate, you lean your forehead against his and he softly calls your name. In the closeness of your embrace, you meet his lavender haze, “I love you.”

The only thing that follows his sentence is silence. You think you must’ve fallen asleep, this has to be another one of your dreams, one of those sweet ones you used to have when Ran still had his braids and the two of you were younger.

Ran could easily take your stillness as an answer. He could fall victim to his hidden insecurities and make you think he meant it in a platonic way to somewhat try and save what remains of your friendship. But he knows that no matter what your response to his confession might be, he wouldn’t take it back for the world. There’s simply no getting over you.

“Don’t misunderstand,” He knows how much you overthink, that’s why he should’ve said this before. “I’m in love with you, always have been.”

You think your heart must’ve stopped completely now.

“Ran…” “Sh, I know, it’s okay.” He feels the need to comfort you straight away, to let you know that not sharing his feelings is okay. He’s always gonna be there for you, no matter what. “God, Ran, I love you so much.”

The lips that suddenly find his, again and again, are not the only thing taking his breath away. Both of you cannot believe how stupid you are, how you’ve been in love this whole time while thinking the other could never see you that way. His hands are all over your heated skin, caressing down your back as you hold him closer.

“Want you to be mine, baby.”

“‘m yours Ran,” his kisses are spreading everywhere he can reach, he’s getting drunk on you once again. Bitten lips part to let out panting breaths, and you notice soon enough how the newfound confessions are affecting not only yours truly.

Heady eyes and tinted cheeks present themselves to you. You think the marron of his natural blush and the shade of purple staining his pale skin look a lot like the color of the hair that started this all. You love it already, just like you love him.

And Ran lets you happily grip onto it as he takes you again and again, that night. No more wet dreams that leave you running away from him, he’s gonna make sure to fill your nights with something that’ll make you want him even closer, every day, from now on.

Right before falling asleep, as dawn leaves space for daylight behind your closed curtains, you take one last look at your sleepy Ran.

You comb back his messy hair to uncover his pretty face, softly kissing his forehead before falling into a dreamless sleep. There’s no need for dreaming anymore, you have everything you want and need right here in your arms.

Might have to send his hairstylist a bottle of wine as thanks, though.

#ran haitani #ran smut #ran haitani smut #ran x reader #ran haitani x reader #ran x you #ran haitani x you #ran x y/n #ran haitani x y/n #ran x oc #ran imagines #ran haitani imagines #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev smut #bonten smut #bonten #haitani rindou

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wtfsteveharrington · 3 months

Text

after midnight | carmen berzatto x reader

summary: chicago is expensive, okay? so you pick up a job outside of the restaurant which just so happens to involve your camera. everything's fine until richie stumbles upon the website and shares it with camry.

contents: perv!carmy, male & female masturbation, sex toys, dirty talk, cam sex, slight dub-con kinda if you look for it. carmy’s honestly a wreck. mentions of unprotected sex, choking, oral sex, overstimulation. please note!! no formal intercourse takes place yet but it's cuming coming but ya girl wants a slow burn

reader description: she/her pronouns, there is semi a hair scene but i use no real descriptors so still vague!

word count: basically 3.9k

author notes: first fic in a year baby and boy did i lose the plot!! filth!! also i sure love saying fuck in this so enjoy that

part two

★–————————–

Richie’s voice is annoying. It echos, ricochets off the walls, and can’t be contained by even the highest quality of sound proofing. Which is why, at 8 in the morning, Carmen’s already considering having to take Excedrin as Richie bursts through the doors.

“Carmy, Cousin, you’re never gonna fuckin’ believe what I found last night.” He’s out of breath after running in, fumbling around with his phone in a rush to pull something up. He’d spent all night contemplating if he texted Carmen or waited to show him in person. Ultimately the urge to see his reaction won but that didn’t stop Richie from waking up before his alarm out of excitement. “Listen, we’re both grown ass men so I’m gonna say it -“ he’s glancing around to make sure they’re alone, “- So I’m laying there and jerkin’ my shit, right?”

Carmen’s wincing, pinching the bridge of his nose and contemplating every decision that brought him back to Chicago.

“Dude, fuck off. I don’t wanna hear -“ Richie tsks, cutting him off.

“Nah, shut the fuck up because you wanna hear this. In fact, you’re gonna wanna fall to your knees and kiss my shoes and praise my ass as a thank you for finding this.”

He’s holding up his phone, an iPhone 8 he refuses to upgrade, and illuminated on the screen is a video of you. You, on your knees, in lingerie. You, with your fingers dragging down your chest, across the lace that covers your breasts. Your head falls back as you run your thumbs across your nipples. A sound so angelic coming from your lips that Carmen starts to understand why people spend so much time at Church. He’s convinced you’re hand carved by God, or Buddha, or whatever might be up there.

Carmy’s instantly feeling a rush of heat across his chest and his cheeks as he takes the sight of you in. It feels wrong but at the same time the coiling in his stomach feels so good he can’t look away quite yet. “Why the…” He’s cut off by a whine coming from Richie’s speaker as you keep teasing yourself. His brain is frying for a second as he tries to focus on finishing his sentence. “How the hell did you find this?”

“Listen, sometimes I get bored on the same ole sites, okay? Clicked an ad to see who was live and ended up here. Now I stopped watching, obviously, out of respect but this? I’ve known you long enough to know when you gotta thing for someone and you’re not gonna act on it. Also, I caught you staring at her ass as she filled the deep freeze the other night. Kinda gave it away. So this is the way you can still get some pussy while being a fuckin’ pussy.” Richie’s punching the air, clearly proud of himself.

Carmy’s smacking him upside the head, his body now torn between lust and annoyance. “Watch your mouth, alright? That is so fucked, Richie. Put that shit anyway and I better not see you tell a single other person this exists.”

And yeah, he took note of your screen name before he walked away. Don’t judge him.

———★–————————–

Look - There have been a lot of times in his life where Carmen hasn’t been proud of himself. But settling back into bed, hooking his thumbs on the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down to rest under his balls? Yeah, he’s not proud to say the least. After seeing even just the glimpse of you this morning though it’s been all he could think about. The. Whole. Fucking. Day. He watched out of the corner of his eye while you bent over the line to scrub down the wall behind your station tonight. Burning to memory the way your ass just slightly jiggled from the aggressive motion of wiping down the surface. A soft grunt coming from you as you reach for something just a little too high. He finally snapped out of it when the smell of the chemicals he sprayed down on his own surface got a little too strong and refocused.

He wasn’t proud when he ran to the restroom and contemplated just jacking off over the toilet to get some relief. You were clouding his brain, only the rush of the evening giving him some small relief.

You seemed vocal in the small clip he saw. He’s wondering if you would have asked him to cum for you. Would you think it’s a waste that he’s cumming down the drain instead of covering your ass with it? Filling your mouth and making you swallow every drop around him? Or, Jesus Christ, would you wrap your legs around his waist and beg him not to pull out?

So yeah. Carmy’s had quite the fucking day to say the least.

He’s finally home and running straight to bed. His stuff dropped in a heap by the front door and was easily forgotten. Throwing himself back onto the mattress after ripping off his shirt and his pants. Left just groaning into the empty room, his cock twitching at the thought of you. Your page has been sitting on an Incognito tab all day and it’s finally, finally being loaded up. This feels like an invasion of privacy in a way but Carmen can’t quite think logically with how heavy his balls feel and how painfully hard he is. There’s not much time to spare so he clicks the first video you’ve uploaded that he can.

And there you are.

Sitting in the middle of a big bed and rubbing your hands along your thighs, smiling at the camera. His heart is twitching, cock is twitching, everything is fucking twitching. And you’re just sitting there, licking your lips and sliding your hands under the thin material of some weird lace one piece he wants to rip off.

“Hi there, Pretty Boy.” Your voice is music to his ears and Carmy can’t take it any longer. His fist is wrapping around his cock, a broken moan filling the room as he finally gets some relief. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home all day.”

Sue him, but he’s skipping ahead a little. There’s not much time until he cums and he needs to see you. All of you. He’s gripping his phone with one hand, bringing the other that’s around his cock up to his mouth to spit in. His thumb is haphazardly trying to keep the phone balanced while scrubbing through the video until he thinks he’s at a good spot. You’re laid back now, thighs spread for the camera and pussy on display. Carmen’s muttering to himself about how gorgeous you are, longing to tell you in person. You’re holding this royal blue dildo in your hands that’s suddenly his biggest enemy. He deserves to be there, not this stupid, useless chuck of silicone. There’s a whimper from the speaker as you take the toy and slide it along yourself, tapping it twice against your clit. “Fuck, I need you.”

Fuckin’ hell does he needs you too.

His fist is clamped around his dick once again, fucking his hips up into the the slick, tight grip. You’re still teasing yourself by sticking just the head of the dildo in before gasping and pulling it back out. “Please, Baby. I need you so bad, need to come for you.” His brain is breaking. An animalistic urge taking over to fuck you until you can’t move, can’t think, just a blubbering mess begging him for more. Without warning you push the dildo all the way in, throwing your head back with a pleasured scream.

Carmy gasps, hips sputtering and losing their rhythm as he watches you fuck yourself. He’s stroking himself at the same pace you’re moving the dildo, imaging it’s you he’s fucking into. Picturing you laid under him, your breasts covered in hickies because he hates the idea of these… Perverts watching you get off. He wants to mark you, claim you as his. His balls are tightening and he can’t think of the last time he came this quick. It’s almost embarrassing - What are you doing to him?

Your free hand comes up to shove two fingers in your mouth, lewdly sucking them for the camera. The sucking noise now accompanying the wet, addictive sounds of your pussy being fucked. Carmen whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, and twists his wrist over his cock to get a little more friction. Your voice hits him once again as you slide your wet fingers out of your mouth and down your throat. “Oh fuck I’m so close. So, so close. Are you close, Baby? Want you to come with me.” You’re lightly choking yourself, a whining mess.

Carmy’s aware he’s talking to an empty room but he can’t stop himself. “Fuck, oh fuck. Gonna come for you.” And his stomach coils, hips sputter, the phone falling to the bed as he has to let go of it as his orgasm washes over him. He’s slack jaw, warm cum landing on his chest and the sounds of you finishing at the same time ringing out from his phone.

Oh he’s so fucked.

————–——★–————

Carmy slept well for once in his life. His orgasm lulling his body to sleep, dreams filled of you. How beautiful you look sucking his cock. The way you must sound while he eats you out. And he takes his time in his dream. Tongue dragging between your folds as his rough hands hold your hips in place. You’re powerless, made to lay back and let him eat you out for his own pleasure. Tongue circling around your clit but he waits until you’re close to tears to stop teasing. He’d praise you. “Look how fucking wet you are, Princess. You’re already getting the bed wet, aren’t you? Gonna have to lick you for hours to get you all cleaned up. Can you say please, huh? Ask me to suck on your clit, Baby. You know you need it.”

He woke up hard and overstimulated, rolling over onto his stomach and pathetically dragging his hips against the warm bed to get some much needed friction along his cock. Carmy’s telling himself how pathetic this is and forcing himself to push off the bed and get into the shower before he’s late.

Yes, he jacked off in the shower before work.

He had to.

Carmy can’t decide if it’s heaven or hell when he walks in to see you standing in the kitchen.

You’re on your tiptoes, balancing haphazardly as you’re reaching up to change the light. There’s a wobbly step stool under you. Everyone keeps saying it needs to be replaced but it continues to live on. Your face is scrunching up in concentration. Carmy’s chuckling at the sight and ignoring the way he feels his balls tug at the sight of you. “What’re you doing there, Chef?”

You huff in annoyance, finally untwisting the light cover from the ceiling. “Damn light went out right as I started veggie prep. Hate to be a bother but will you come spot me while I’m up on this thing? I’ve seen Fak bust his ass one too many times to trust it.”

Carmy can’t verbally respond at first, instead stalking over to stand next to you. His hand comes up to cup the back of your knee and he’s lying to himself saying it’s for your own safety. To keep you balanced. “Yea well something tells me you’re less clumsy than Fak. I’ve seen that guy fall over while just standing still.”

And you laugh.

You laugh. At him. At his joke. He, Carmen Berzatto, made you laugh. The sound filling his ears and now his damn heart and balls are both reacting to you and what the hell is he supposed to do with all these emotions.

“Don’t distract me up here, Chef.” He doesn’t mind taking commands from you. Silently reaching up to hold the light fixture you’re passing him as you change gears to switch out the lightbulbs now.

And maybe his eyes are wandering around the kitchen to see who else might catch a glimpse of you two together. Everyone who’s in so far is honed in on their prep task and Carmy thanks God that Richie hasn’t shown up yet today.

He’s become quite faithful since he started falling for you it seems.

It happens, by chance, that you feel a little unsteady and Carmen tightens his grip on the back of your leg. Fingers digging into your soft skin. He’s looking down at the stool to make sure it’s level before looking up to take in the sight that is his hand around your leg.

And he stops looking there.

Okay fine that’s a fucking lie - he’s looking up. Eyes trailing up your thighs, following along the curve of your ass. When you have to lean forward just slightly to twist in the light cover he’s convinced he can see the outline of your pussy through the thin material of your leggings. He’s contemplating his options - If he could, would he lean in and lick over the outline? His warm mouth teasing you through your leggings. Through your underwear. Are you wearing underwear? He’s torn between picturing you with or without them.

Or would he slide his hand up your leg, palming your thigh as he goes. Cupping over you and dragging his middle finger across the shape of you. Memorizing the feeling. Would you whine? Grind down against his hand? He doesn’t think you’d shoo his touch away.

God he just knows you’re a needy little thing.

He wonders what it would feel like for you to lick your own wetness from his jaw after he’s decided he’s done savoring you. To taste you on your own tongue when he kissed you after. You’d look so pretty with his cum dripping down your lips too. All fucked out and exhausted and full of bliss.

“Okay, I think I got it fixed, Carmy.” God, he’s so fucked for thinking of you like this as you’re innocently changing the light. Just trying to improve the kitchen and he’s thinking about ruining you. He was so caught up in daydreaming that he didn’t even feel you take the light cover back out of his hand and screw it into place again.

You’re beaming down at him, using his shoulders as arm rests as you bounce down from the stepping stool. His hand grazes your ass - A total accident. He swears it. You reach behind him to sit the screwdriver down, your chest firmly against his. Nothing thinking anything of the personal space violation as you’re used to it from so many slammed nights in the kitchen.

“Thank you for helping me. Sorry it was basically just five minutes of my ass in your face.” Carmy chokes.

His cheeks are hot.

Fuck is he blushing?

He’s sputtering out of his words. “It uh, it wasn’t in my face. Not that I looked, y’know. Just uh… Just - just trying to say that I’m happy to help.” He sounds like an idiot

You’re cocking an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Holy shit, Carmy.” You pat your hands against his chest, not knowing your touch was like fire on his skin. He grabs the screwdriver and makes a beeline to the office to put it away for you.

Sure he grabbed a rag on the way. No it’s not for him to jack off into while he thinks of you.

Okay fine, it is.

“Fuck me.” The only thing Carmy can risk trying to say as the door shuts heavy behind him and his pants hit the ground.

———————–★–———

Carmen doesn’t avoid you now but he certainly makes it hard to get close to you. He’s too distracted when you’re around. Maybe there’s a bit of guilt mixed in too at his new night routine. Leave the restaurant, load your page, and wait to see what happens. New videos? New pictures? You were wormed into the back of his brain and it had to stop.

So your station got moved further down rotation. You’re at the end of the line on the left, he’s at the start on the right. It helps clear his mind, lets him hone in on perfecting what goes to the floor.

He’s able to move quickly, shifts blowing by as the restaurant’s rush takes all his attention. The clock clicks down two minutes till close, everyone working in silence to get the place flipped and go home. He’s wrapping up with Syd, helping her make a few adjustments to expo before grabbing a dead plate off of the end of the line and heading to the office with his food and a cup of water in hand. He needs a mental minute, a bite of food, and to let his thoughts all catch up.

The door’s already cracked and he’s halfway through the entry way when he registers you. Sitting there. At his desk. Your legs are crossed, a cool damp towel resting over your eyes. He wants to turn on his heel and retreat but decides that he can’t treat you any differently just because he’s developed some silly little crush. Running away would be treating you different.

“You good, Chef?”

To which you groan. Different from the ones he’s used to - This one is guttural, pained. You press your hands flat against the rag and will the cool temperature to help the pressure in your head. “Killer migraine, that’s all. Shit was moving so fast tonight and I wacked the back of my head on something in the walk in. Sorry for being in here, Carm. Just uh, needed a second.” You should push up out of the chair, show your respect. But right now you’re half convinced that standing up would be detrimental so for now you’re cemented to the seat.

“Heard.” Carmen nods to himself, sitting down the plate before opening up the desk drawer as quietly as possible. Your knee is pressing into the side of his thigh, grounding and warm. He fishes out a bottle of medicine, shaking out two pills. “Hold out your hand.”

You take a second to brace yourself for movement, sitting up and moving the towel off your eyes. Letting it pile up into a clump on the desk besides you. There’s no way around it - You look pitiful. Pouting up at Carmen as he hands over two pills and his cup out water. You take the pills diligently, taking a few gulps and letting your eyes fall back closed as you will them to kick in instantly. “Can I ask a favor?”

“Anything, Chef.”

Slowly, so not to shake yourself up, you turn the chair until your back is to Carmen. “Will you see if I gotta bump back there? Kinda terrified I gave myself a concussion but I don’t wanna believe it was that hard.”

He snickering, a grin pulling up the corners of his mouth as he steps closer. “Well you’d absolutely fuck me if you needed to file workmen’s comp so I’m gonna need you to be fine, ‘kay? Way too much fuckin’ paperwork to do on a Friday night.” You start to laugh but it’s quickly cut off into a small groan of appreciation as you feel warm, rough hands clasp either side of your shoulders.

Carmen works his way up your neck and catches himself holding his breath as his fingers brush along your scalp. He’s taking his time, savoring the moment, all under the pretense of taking care of his employee. That’s all. “Think we’re both in the clear. You feeling alright besides the headache? Need me to hold up some fingers for ya to guess? Haven’t managed to cut any off so we’ve got all ten to work with.” He’s got you laughing again while rough fingers work their way back down to your neck. The feeling of the vibration of your laughter against his hands sending chills down his back.

Wordlessly Carmen gets to work rubbing your shoulders. Tender, deep. Years of practice rolling out dough and desserts and tenderizing meat coming into play as he continues to knead away at your tense body. You let out an appreciative moan and Carmen has to start thinking of something to keep his inevitable hard on from being obvious.

When his hands come up closer to your neck once again he’s hit with flashbacks of the first video he watched. You choking yourself — Is that something you truly liked? If his hand came around to cup your throat, palm resting on one side with his fingertips firmly against the other, and lightly squeezed would you moan? Rub your thighs together in search of some hint of relief?

“Are you always this good with your hands, Chef? Hmm? Can’t imagine you giving Marcus this treatment.” You’re laughing and can practically hear the smirk in Carmen’s voice as he responds. “Yeah - You uh, didn’t know that? I just love you know, rubbing shoulders. It’s my thing. Kick your ass all night and then rub the stress out.”

He’s blanching a little at his reply. Kinda obvious but okay then, Carmen. You reach up, putting your hands atop his with a little smile. “Well thank you for… Rubbing my stress out, Chef.”

Carmen’s red. Head to toe just bright red. “Of course, Chef. Anytime.” He’s entertaining to say the least as you pat his hands before spinning around in his chair. You snag another drink of water, throwing him a wink before moving to exit the office. Your hand runs along his chest, an appreciative gesture, as you head back to the floor.

——————————★–

Late Saturday night Carmen’s so exhausted that he barely has the energy to take his work clothes off. Falling haphazardly onto his old couch, kicking his work boots off one at a time. His eyes are heavy, body aching, and he almost falls asleep before he gets to see you.

But he’s fishing his phone from his pocket, refreshing the all too familiar landing page to see you’re actively live. How you have the energy is beyond him.

You’re standing there trying on clothes that someone must send in and Carmy feels a pang of jealousy. He’s watching through half hooded eyes as you slip in a pair of shorts, turning your behind towards the camera and pulling them up just slightly to put more of your ass on display. You’re chatting away about the material while slowly pulling them down to reveal just this frilly little pair of panties that was sent in as well.

He’s propping the phone up on the armrest of the couch, laying on his side while he watches you chat away. It’s soothing. Almost like an ASMR video.

Carmen’s not sure when he fell asleep - Somewhere in-between you trying on a third outfit and attempting to clean up your bed from all the packaging. He finds you soothing, comforting. He makes a mental note to hunt out some sort of wish list you must have for these items before passing out and, once again, dreaming of you.

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #so many versions of his name #🤍: the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #♡: carmen berzatto #the bear x reader #the bear smut #the bear #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy smut #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you

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miffette · 5 days

Text

‎ ˖ ࣪ ⊹ ༺ BLING OUT .ᐟ ༻ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

01 ⁺ act like a man ᯓ⛧

༺ PAIRING soccer player!jungkook x mcbling!fem!reader

༺ SYNOPSIS every single person who was acquainted with choi yn knew she wasn’t big on soccer, she never even came close to a soccer ball, it just wasn’t her thing. following an event with her ex that left her rattled, she was determined to prove him wrong. even if it meant pretending to be her twin brother and attending the school rivalling hers just to join their soccer team. she never planned to fall in love with her pierced and tatted roommate, who just happened to be in the aforementioned soccer team. when her feelings became far too much to handle, she cursed the fact that she was under a disguise, as it was the only obstacle in her way. that and the cute girl in their chemistry class, who was oddly infatuated with her.

༺ GENRE soccer au, college au, mid 2000s au, roommate au, she’s the man inspired

༺ WARNINGS lowercase intended, profanity, misogyny, suggestive content/jokes, gender stereotypes, cringy 2000s slang, proofread but there might be typos, this is fiction it doesn’t reflect the personalities of the idols in real life

༺ WORD COUNT 6.2k

༺ NOTE this was originally planned to be a one shot but i honestly love the whole vibe of this fic that i decided to make it a little series !! this is very story driven and focuses a lot on yn’s character, but she does meet jk in this chapter yay :D hope u like it <3

“i came as soon as i heard!” YN’S WORRIED voice first entered the bedroom, then her figure appeared standing in the doorway.

minjeong, one of yn’s best friends, let out a guttural groan under her checkered comforter, her messy bleached blonde hair peeking out from underneath it.

yn quickly noticed that avril lavigne’s ‘keep holding on’ was softly playing from minjeong’s bright blue cd player, probably only fuelling minjeong’s current sour mood.

yn’s pink wedged flip flops slapped against her heels when she got closer to minjeong, before she sat down on the edge of the bed.

“i’m sorry.” yn began, her voice hushed as to not provoke minjeong, “i can’t believe they cut off the womens’ soccer team.”

minjeong pushed off her comforter away from her face, making her hair rise and fall from the pressure, “it’s whatever. i’m over it.”

yn frowned but decided against adding her own thoughts on the matter, instead she pulled out her bedazzled flip phone from her pink twinkling shoulder bag, and read a text she just received, “aeri just texted me. she said that she and jimin are on their way.”

“great.” minjeong bitterly muttered, turning around in her bed to lay on her side, with her cheek resting on her white pillow.

yn wanted to tell minjeong that everything would work out, and that she, one day, would get her chance to play soccer with a team, but she opted to stay silent.

yn was the oldest in her friend group, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t act like the mom friend; jimin did it better than she ever could anyway.

oftentimes, yn was the friend who would give fashion advice, and be there for her friends when they were having boy troubles. she didn’t know how to deal with sensitive topics, such as a dream being crushed to tiny bits.

sometimes, yn felt incompetent because of it. she felt like everything she had to offer was superficial.

“we’re here!” aeri’s familiar voice rang in yn’s ears.

yn turned her head in the direction of the doorway, and caught the sight of aeri and jimin walking towards minjeong’s bed. yn couldn’t help but guiltily feel immense relief at their arrival.

“you don’t have to be here.” minjeong expressed, her facial features were blank yet her eyes were swirling with hurt.

“don’t be silly, we’re your bffs. of course we’d be here for you.” jimin replied, as she climbed onto minjeong’s bed and sat next to yn.

aeri followed suit, and plopped herself beside jimin, choosing to sit cross-legged.

“how do you feel?” aeri asked, as she pushed her long bangs out of her face.

“fine.” minjeong mumbled, fidgeting with her fingers that were inflamed and reddened due to her picking on them all day.

“clearly you’re not.” jimin noted, grabbing hold of minjeong’s hands to stop her from further hurting herself, “you can talk to us.”

minjeong gazed up at her friends, each one harboured concern in their eyes, wanting minjeong to speak about how she felt but not forcing her to either.

“it just sucks.” minjeong answered with a sigh, her eyes were set on jimin’s hands that gently held hers, “i was so excited to tryout for the womens’ soccer team just to find out that not enough girls signed up and they had to cut off the team.”

“there’s always next year.” aeri remarked, “it’s not like you’re graduating anytime soon.”

“i know.” minjeong grumbled, “it just… i wanted to play this year. i know i’ll get three more chances, but you know… it sucks.”

“i bet.” jimin added, solemnly nodding in empathy, “you were so looking forward to playing in college after high school. i’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

yn straightened up in her seat, a sudden thought infiltrating her mind. if this were a cartoon, a shiny lightbulb would emerge above her head.

yn hastily spoke up, her voice brimming with jubilance, “what if i ask if you can join the mens’ team? i know that they’re practicing all summer because my boyfriend’s in the team.”

minjeong deadpanned, “i doubt it, yn. but thanks for the offer.”

“why not?” jimin commented, “you have nothing to lose.”

“jimin, think for a second. a girl in a team full of men?” minjeong raised an eyebrow before shaking her head in disapproval.

“again, why not?” aeri spoke up, “it’s 2006. they shouldn’t discriminate by gender and it won’t hurt to ask.”

“plus, you’re better than half of the men on that team.” yn emphasised, a toothy grin spreading on her glossy plump lips.

“thanks but—“ minjeong breathed out, a small smile was threatening to take over her face, until she was interrupted by jimin, “yn, you should still go and ask.”

“yeah, totally.” aeri grinned, nodding her head.

“yn don’t, it’s useless.”

minjeong’s words fell on deaf ears, she watched with defeat as yn stood up, and brushed off imaginary dust from her sparkling low rise jeans.

“i’ll go there now!” yn concluded with a bright smile on her dainty face, and elatedly trotted out of minjeong’s bedroom.

the summer sun felt scalding against yn’s bare arms, her hand that kept a hold on her shoulder bag was beginning to slightly sweat. in spite of that, yn proceeded to make her way through the campus of sherwood, and in the direction of the soccer field.

yn halted her footsteps when she reached the field, and stood beside the school’s soccer coach, who oversaw his team, the mens’ team, practice.

“hey coach.” yn greeted the older man with a polite smile, choosing to speak again when he nodded in acknowledgment of her presence, “i have a question.”

“shoot.” the coach gruffly replied, merely glancing in her direction.

“is there a possibility that a woman can join the mens’ soccer team?” yn wondered, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

the coach was taken aback by her question, he turned around and faced her, “what kind of fucking question is that?”

yn gulped, she didn’t expect that kind of reaction from the man standing next to her.

she faltered for a minute, adjusting her hold on her shoulder bag, and parted her lips, “well.. um..”

“babe!” the voice of yn’s boyfriend echoed throughout the field and into her ears.

yn watched his figure, that seemed small due to the distance between them, become bigger and bigger as he dashed towards her.

“hi baby.” her boyfriend playfully grinned once he reached her, somewhat out of breath, and embraced her tightly in his arms.

“jaehyun, get off of me! you smell like sweat!” yn whined, one hand was gripping her nostrils while the other was lightly smacking jaehyun’s shoulder.

jaehyun let her go after taking his time holding her despite her complaints about his body odour, and gave her an open-mouthed kiss on her cheek, “what are you doing here?”

“your little girlfriend is wondering if a woman can join the mens’ soccer team.” the coach interjected, when he wasn’t even a part of the conversation the two shared, with such disdain colouring his voice, as if even the thought of a woman joining the mens’ team was so disgraceful. it rubbed yn the wrong way, though she remained silent.

“babe what?” jaehyun uttered, gazing at his delicate girlfriend standing in front of him, completely donned in pink and sparkles, “you want to be in the mens’ soccer team?”

“what? no.” yn furrowed her brows and shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. she didn’t like the tone jaehyun had when he asked that question, she felt like he was belittling her and her capabilities.

“even if i was, you think i won’t be able to?” yn inquired, tilting her head to the side as a form of a warning that jaehyun didn’t quite catch.

“babe, look at you.” jaehyun mentioned, gesturing his hand up and down at her figure, “you won’t even be able to go on the field because you’d be scared that you’d get dirty.”

“i could totally get dirty if i wanted to.” yn revealed matter-of-factly, ignoring the subdued chuckles that erupted from jaehyun’s teammates, who slowly trickled towards the couple until they surrounded them.

“just last week you called me crying that you broke a nail.” jaehyun insisted, grinning when his teammates laughed at his words, “you can never play soccer, especially not in a team full of men.”

it was as if he was enjoying this, enjoyed humiliating her in front of his teammates and his coach.

yn never felt so insulted before, and it made her feel way worse knowing that it came from jaehyun’s own mouth. those were his own thoughts and beliefs.

as if she wasn’t already insecure because of her appearance, and he knew that, he knew that she was afraid that people would assume that she was dumb and inept, yet he still said what he said without any regard to her feelings.

yn scowled prior to letting her facial features morph into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, “got it.”

“see? i’m glad you understood.” jaehyun expressed, not realising that the smile that yn had on her face wasn’t genuine.

yn took out her flip phone from her shoulder bag, and pressed a few buttons to find jaehyun’s contact, before hurriedly texting him.

she sent out the text and placed her phone back in her bag, waiting a few seconds until jaehyun’s flip phone buzzed in the pocket of his shorts.

jaehyun fished out his flip phone and flicked it open, glancing at yn with bewilderment swimming in his eyes as he noticed that he received a text from her, when she was standing right in front of him.

he hesitated for a moment, gauging yn’s reaction, when she kept smiling up at him, he opened the text with a few clicks.

FROM: baby

consider urself dumped :-,(

“what?! yn you can’t just dump me because you can’t play soccer!” jaehyun immediately retorted, while dismissing the oohs and aahs that emanated from his teammates.

yn scoffed and turned on her heels, briskly walking away from the field and towards the front gates.

“babe! c’mon!” jaehyun shouted, his feet were staggering towards yn’s figure that was getting farther and farther away from him, only to be stopped by his coach, who tightly grabbed his t-shirt.

that still didn’t stop jaehyun from continuously calling out yn’s name, in hopes that it would make her come back to him.

eventually, jaehyun’s calls of her name dissipated into nothingness as she was left to her own thoughts.

in a sense, yn felt relief from the break up, as if her heart was floating, yet it was pushed back down with a sense of heaviness knowing that was who she naively dated her entire freshman year of college.

maybe she was dumb and inept.

yn was supposed to go back to minjeong’s house with the answer the coach had given her, but not only did the coach not directly answer her question, she also got her feelings hurt in the process.

she ultimately decided to return home, and send a short text to her friends about her whereabouts, promising to eventually explain what happened.

yn entered her home, and shut the front door close with a resounding click. she kept her hand on the door handle, as her mind kept her preoccupied.

ever since she stepped out of campus, her mind constantly brought her back to the coach’s hostility and jaehyun’s words.

she was able to shake off the coach’s attitude in some way, after all he was just a bitter old man, who was supposed to retire but refused to.

but jaehyun? that was her boyfriend, who she genuinely loved and adored. yet yn had a feeling that this entire time she was just eye candy wrapped around his arm to flaunt to the masses.

even if jaehyun didn’t outright say it, his disrespect towards her told her more than words ever could.

speak of the devil. yn’s flip phone rang inside of her shoulder bag, a muffled version of aqua’s ‘barbie girl’ blaring through the interior of her bag.

yn, bemused, reached her hand in her bag and pulled out her flip phone. she glanced at the little screen indicating who was calling her without having to flip it open, the letters spelling out ‘jaehyun <3’ felt like they were burning her retinas.

yn rolled her eyes and declined the call, before chucking her phone back in her bag.

“yn, you’re home.” yn’s mother emerged from the living room, approaching her daughter who remained idle near the front door.

“hey mom.” yn forced a small smile at her mother, she took off her wedged flip flops and slipped on her hello kitty slippers, before proceeding to stroll towards the stairs.

“how’s minjeong? does she feel better?” yn’s mother wondered, remembering the conversation she had with yn, about minjeong’s circumstances, before she left earlier that day. in response, yn only shrugged.

yn’s mother frowned, clearly recognising that something was wrong, “are you okay? you seem a little off.”

“i’m fine, mom. i just need to rest in my room.” yn muttered, with her cloudy eyes cast downwards, “had a long day.”

yn made her way upstairs and reached her room, she cracked the door open but didn’t let it close all the way once she entered.

her bedroom was as pink and as glittery as her outfit was, with black and white cheetah and zebra prints cluttered throughout her room. little hello kitty trinkets were dangling on the walls, and black and pink silk pillows were assorted on her made queen sized bed.

in yn’s humble opinion, her bedroom was pretty simple considering she also had a college dorm, but one wouldn’t believe that it used to be way more crowded when she was in high school, thanks to the already packed design of her room.

yn let out a loud exhale and laid her weary body on her comfortable pink silk bedsheets, prior to shimmying out of the hold she had on her shoulder bag the entire day, and shaking off her slippers off her feet.

she fluttered her eyes shut and shifted her body to lay on her side, bringing her knees close to her chest.

yn was planning to nap, in order to forget about everything that happened that day, at least momentarily, however a thunking noise repeatedly jerked her awake until she had enough.

yn huffed in annoyance, and quickly got out of bed, putting on her slippers and stomping in the direction of the noise.

the irritating noise came from her twin brother’s room, just as yn suspected. she pushed the door open, revealing her brother leaning over the open window in his bedroom, the same thunking noise repeating itself.

“yeonjun, what the hell are you doing?” yn folded her arms over her chest and leaned her shoulder against the doorframe.

yeonjun whipped his body around, defensively hiding what he was doing with his tall stature, his eyes glimmering with fear, before he realised it was just his sister.

yeonjun slouched his body, loosening the tight grip he had on the windowsill, as a sense of ease passed through his body, “i thought you were mom.”

“i’m throwing my things out the window, what’s it look like?” yeonjun added, shrugging in nonchalance and returning back to what he was doing; throwing bags out of his window and hoping the fall won’t break anything.

“why?” yn asked, she hastily glanced at the hallway, on the lookout for their mother, before returning her attention back on yeonjun.

“i’m flying to london.” yeonjun replied, he took out a rope from god knows where and flung one side of it out of the window, “my band just got a gig at a music festival.”

“what?!” yn emitted, “what about school? you just got expelled from sherwood, if you get expelled from hybla, you’re done for!”

yn shook her head in disbelief, “and how will you even pull this off without mom and dad knowing?”

“listen, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, i can’t miss this. you know it’s been my dream to get a gig with my band since forever.” yeonjun expressed, his face lighting up just from the thought of playing with his band in front of a crowd, “i got it all figured out. mom thinks i’m at dad’s and dad thinks i’m at mom’s. and in three days, they’ll both think i’m at school. easy!”

ah, the perks of having divorced parents.

yn’s gaze softened as one corner of her lips quirked up in amusement, “still you didn’t tell me what you’re gonna do about school.”

“i was kind of hoping you’d help me.” yeonjun sheepishly disclosed, rubbing the back of his neck.

yn raised her brow in question that signalled yeonjun to explain how, “you can pretend to be me! it’s just for two weeks then i’ll be back.”

“yeonjun, did you forget that i’m a woman and you’re a man? i’m sure people will realise that i’m not a man by the first day.” yn began, scrunching her eyebrows, “and, we look nothing alike other than a few facial features like our lips.”

yeonjun jokingly collapsed onto his messy bed, and clasped his hands together, giving yn the best puppy eyes he could muster, “oh please please my darling older sister! help your little brother out!”

yn contorted her delicate face in disgust in reaction to whatever the hell yeonjun was doing, “firstly, gross. i’m only 30 minutes older than you. secondly, i’ll see what i can do about it.”

yeonjun perked up, and pushed himself off of his bed, “thanks yn, you’re the best!”

yn watched yeonjun climb onto the window, one foot pressed against the floor while the other dangled out the window.

he briefly turned his head in her direction, “by the way, soobin says hi.”

“i’m still not letting him fuck me.” yn deadpanned.

“yn, that’s nasty!” yeonjun mimicked a hurl, and with the use of the rope, he cleanly leaped out of the window and onto the green grass.

with yeonjun gone, yn was left to be with her thoughts. she sat on his bed, and flitted her eyes across his room.

pretend to be her twin brother for two weeks? as if she’d do that!

yn shook her head, the movement of her head rippling her hair, and laughed at the absurdity of yeonjun’s proposition.

then an image of jaehyun’s smug face popped up in her mind, which instantly sullied her mood.

“asshole...” yn grumbled under her breath, allowing her body to descend and lay on her brother’s bed.

sherwood and hybla were rival schools, it’s been that way since their conception. every time soccer season began, they’d be pitted against each other in the very first bracket.

just last year, during yn’s freshman year, sherwood’s mens soccer team played against hybla’s mens team, which led to jaehyun crying once sherwood lost. yn still remembers how she had to comfort him when the game ended.

she recalled his snot on her cute zebra printed shirt, back then she didn’t mind it but now, she shuddered in revulsion at the thought.

she was aware of the upcoming tournaments this year’s soccer season would have, courtesy of jaehyun telling her all about them, and that the first one of the season would be sherwood against hybla.

which meant, that if yn pretended to be yeonjun and attended hybla, then she could tryout for the soccer team, get really good at it, beat sherwood and prove jaehyun wrong.

yn jolted her body upright, opting to sit cross-legged on her twin’s bed.

no matter how preposterous her plan sounded or how it might seem that she would be going too far just to prove a point, the idea excited her to no end.

yn beamed, her entire body buzzing with thrill, and swiftly returned to her bedroom to continue thinking of her plan.

“let me get this straight,” jimin announced, her hand resting on her hip, “you want us to make you look like yeonjun so you could go to his school, just so you could beat jaehyun in a soccer game to make him cry again because he hurt you?”

it was the very next day, yn called her friends to come over to her place, so that she could explain everything and declare her carefully thought out plan.

yn and her friends were scattered around yeonjun’s room, each one was preoccupied with a different activity, despite that, they were still perfectly conversing with each other.

jimin was standing in the middle of the room, her eyes were roaming around and taking note of the band posters that were plastered on the walls.

aeri was fixed beside a cd rack, skimming through the various cds that yeonjun acquired throughout the years.

minjeong was sat on yeonjun’s bed, with her back leaning against the headboard, holding her green flip phone, as her thumbs smoothly clicked the buttons to make her blocks fall in the correct sequence.

yn was taking yeonjun’s clothes out of his closet and putting them on his bed, after unfolding them and folding them again, planning to try them on later.

“pretty much, yeah.” yn nodded, pulling out another band tee from her brother’s closet before folding it, “look, i know it sounds crazy but i don’t just want to do it for revenge or to prove a point.”

“oh, really?” minjeong hummed, her eyes staying glued to the game on her phone, “‘cause after what jaehyun said to you, i would’ve done all that and more out of spite.”

aeri laughed, her signature laughter being shrill, “right, he was a total douche!”

“well yeah, that’s what my initial plan is after all.” yn responded, while she paused rummaging through her twin’s closet, her eyes glazing over, “but i realised i struggle a lot with my self-esteem, so… i wanted to also do this for myself, to show myself that i’m more than capable.”

jimin, aeri and minjeong all halted their respective activities and gazed at yn with adoration in their eyes, in reaction to her vulnerable confession.

“let’s do it.” jimin firmly decided, before moving towards yn to help her peruse through yeonjun’s clothes.

yn’s eyes widened in perplexity, as she spotted aeri and minjeong dropping what they were previously doing and joining her and jimin.

“you guys will actually help me?” yn questioned, her eyes twinkling just like how her clothes usually do, “you do realise that this is all very crazy, right?”

“of course, but we love crazy.” aeri giggled, squeezing yn’s dainty face, the action only served to widen the smile on yn’s plump lips.

jimin clapped once, refocusing the attention on her, “alright team! we have a lot of work ahead of us, plus, we have a deadline. yn has to be at hybla in two days, we have to do the best we can to transform our bff into her twin brother.”

“we also have to make up an excuse for her at school since she’d be absent.” minjeong clarified, prior to catching the sight of yn’s concerned gaze, “yn, stop looking at me like that.”

“you don’t have to help me. i know you’re going through your own stuff as it is.” yn shared, guiltily fidgeting with her wrist.

“yn, i’m fine and even if i wasn’t i’ll be fine.” minjeong replied, smiling brightly in yn’s direction, “i really appreciated that you even tried to find a way for me to play soccer this year, regardless if it didn’t work out. you always go above and beyond for us. i know you think you’re not a good friend, but i think otherwise.”

yn’s eyes welled up with tears, as she hastily raised her hands to shelter them away from the peering eyes of her friends.

she didn’t believe minjeong’s words, at least not yet, she still felt so shallow, as if she needed to prove herself worthy of friendship and love. until then, she won’t believe it but it sure felt reassuring to hear that.

yn sensed three pairs of arms wrapping themselves around her figure, and she instantly recognised what her friends were doing; they just initiated a group hug.

“get your arms off of me, i’m not crying!” yn facetiously complained, wiping the tears off her cheeks, and laughed to alleviate the heavy feeling she felt inside just from minjeong’s sincere words.

they eventually released their hold on her, but not before affectionately pinching her, and proceeded to carry out their plan.

“what are we gonna do about yn’s body?” aeri asked, glancing up and down at yn’s well endowed figure.

“what about my body?” yn innocently inquired.

minjeong rolled her eyes, “yn, don’t be daft.”

“well, we can bind down her chest and make her wear very baggy jeans or pants.” jimin suggested, retrieving a pair of yeonjun’s jeans from the closet, “though, i doubt yeonjun’s would fit you, i think they’ll just fall and reveal your butt if you wore them. we’d need to buy you some new ones.”

“okay, what about her hair?” minjeong interjected, grasping a few of yn’s hair strands in her hand, “do we cut it?”

“no!” yn instantly responded, rapidly shaking her head in objection.

“no need, i’m sure we’ll find a good quality wig somewhere in the mall.” aeri addressed, “yeonjun currently has a middle part, so a middle parted wig.”

“what about school or yn’s parents?” jimin wondered, “they’ll definitely get suspicious at her absence and it’ll blow her cover.”

“well, i can do what my brother did.” yn answered, “tell my mom i’m at my dad’s, and tell my dad i’m at my mom’s. they don’t talk so they won’t get suspicious.”

minjeong pursed her lips in thought, “for school, yn can pretend to be sick and since she’s an adult they won’t call her parents to confirm her condition.”

“sick with what? meningitis?” yn jested, wiping the smile off of her face when she saw that her friends were utterly on board with her suggestion, “guys! i can’t pretend to be sick with meningitis!”

“yeah, you can! because that’s a great idea.” aeri grinned, lightly patting yn’s shoulder to indicate that her little joke was more than perfect for their plan.

yn fluttered her eyes shut, an amused smile playing on her lips. there was still a long way to go. long way until she felt whole, until she’d see jaehyun realise what he lost.

but god, she couldn’t help but feel excitement at the thought of seeing him sobbing once she beats him in a soccer game, the same sport he said she could never play.

my chemical romance’s ‘helena’ played, reverberating inside aeri’s black and sleek car, as she drove yn to hybla, with jimin and minjeong tagging along in the backseat to support yn.

yn was fully transformed into yeonjun, wearing a black short middle parted wig, a black band tee over a white long sleeved shirt, washed out baggy jeans, and black sneakers.

she had eyebrow stickers on as well, to mimic yeonjun’s thick brows, since hers were daintier and thinner.

she did look like yeonjun, but a younger version of him; she looked like how he looked back in middle school.

minjeong leaned towards the driver and passenger seats, fitting her blonde head of hair between the seats, “you’ve played the same song over and over, it’s getting annoying.”

aeri pouted, glancing at minjeong from the rear-view mirror, “that’s the only song i have on a cd, and i don’t like the radio. they don’t play my favourite songs.”

“just turn it off for now.” jimin proposed, and gently pushed minjeong back onto her seat.

aeri huffed but complied with her older friend, she switched off the cd player, as silence replaced the guitar riffs and emotional vocals.

“yn, how do you feel?” jimin was the first to ask, her eyes gazing upon the changed yn.

yn let out a shaky exhale, “nervous, what if people get suspicious that i’m not yeonjun?”

“won’t happen, because they’ve never seen yeonjun before.” minjeong shook her head, and squeezed yn’s shoulder from the backseat, “we did a good job, you look pretty convincing. well, if you were a fifteen year old boy that is.”

yn groaned, hitting her head against her seat’s headrest, “i don’t know what i was thinking. i’m sitting here realising i don’t know how to play soccer, how will i get in the team?”

“you can’t back down now.” aeri reminded her, “you wanted to prove to jaehyun that you could beat him, and more importantly you wanted to prove it to yourself.”

yn frowned, her voice soft-spoken, “right.”

“you know, i was really surprised when yn didn’t get upset when she had to remove her manicure.” jimin changed the topic, chuckling, her shoulders rising and falling.

yn forced an inauthentic smile at jimin’s words, her mind bringing her back to what jaehyun told her, how she cried when her nail broke.

inadvertently, yn hid that part of herself just because jaehyun laughed about it with his pals.

“she got more upset about removing the jewels from her phone.” aeri chimed in, laughter bubbling in her voice, to which minjeong snorted in reaction.

yn jutted out her bottom lip, her tone sounding melancholic, “my bling bling….”

they arrived at yn’s destination, hybla university. aeri parked the car as yn looked out the window, her own nerves doing somersaults in her stomach and entangling themselves in one another.

“alright, i’m leaving.” yn announced, briefly glancing at her supportive friends, who all smiled towards her.

“do the man voice.” minjeong requested, a cheeky grin taking over her lips.

“alright, i’m leaving.” yn repeated, now with a deeper voice and a weird accent for some reason.

“perfect.” jimin laughed. aeri and minjeong nodded and grinned in agreement.

yn shut her eyes, repeating a mantra in her head to calm herself down.

act like a man.. act like a man.. act like a man..

when she opened her eyes, she felt a little more confident, still nervous, but a little more self-assured.

she exited the car, with a black backpack in her hand and a black duffle bag in the other, and shut the door behind her with a soft thud. she took a deep breath in and examined hybla’s fancy front gates, slinging the strap of the backpack onto her shoulder.

yn took a few steps forward, her eyes comically widening in realisation that she was being perceived, not as the blinged out yn, who rarely showed her insecurities, but as yeonjun, a strange version of yeonjun, who would rather run away than be looked at, in fear of being suspected of actually being a girl.

she wasn’t confident or self-assured at all.

yn whipped her body around, her sneakers grinding to a halt against the concrete ground, only to observe in defeat as aeri’s car pulled out of the parking spot and drove away, all the while her three friends were waving at her. now she had no way out.

she just had to face it, she wanted this, she can do it.

the only way yn soothed herself as she strolled through the unfamiliar campus was by imagining jaehyun crying with snot running down his nose.

going through hybla’s male residence hall was a disaster, the resident assistants clearly weren’t doing their jobs properly; yn was unfortunate enough to encounter someone’s junk from the very first day, just because they felt like streaking that day.

nevertheless, yn persevered and stood in front of the door of the dorm room that would be hers for the next twelve days.

her heart was beating loudly in her chest, so loud that she could hear the thumping in her ears. she wondered who her roommate would be, and hoped, prayed, that he’d be nice.

she didn’t want to imagine how she’d fare if her roommate ended up being some kind of misogynistic moron like jaehyun.

the door’s hinges let out a creak as yn pushed it open by the handle, the view of the dorm room she’d stay in for the next two weeks slowly materialised in her vision.

the dorm room seemed cluttered, similar to her dorm room back at sherwood and bedroom back at home. though instead of hello kitty and animal prints, the walls’ decorations were of famous soccer players, with each poster varying in size.

she was either rooming with a soccer player or a soccer fan.

yn glanced at her bed, that was completely bare of bedsheets and pillows of any kind. that would mean she’d have to retrieve them from a resident assistant and make her bed on her own. she doubted they had silk sheets and pillowcases.

yn’s eyes wandered around the room, gazing at the various soccer trophies that were lined up on the wooden shelves—definitely a soccer player—until she horridly discovered she wasn’t the only person in the room.

there were two guys sitting in front of computer screens, playing a game with controllers in their hands, and they were staring at her.

the third one, was standing facing her, he too, was staring at her. but this one, was shirtless and completely ripped. his abs lined up one after the other like bars of chocolate.

a strange analogy really, but that was the only image that went through her mind when she saw his abs.

if that wasn’t enough, he had a tattoo sleeve on his muscular arm, and piercings; two in his bottom lip, one in his eyebrow, and several of them in his ears.

his dark hair was styled in a mullet, the ends of his hair reaching the nape of his neck, as his shorter bangs were all ruffled and messy, only further adding to his appeal.

and his face, he was so pretty for a man with such a muscular body. each facial feature more delicate and rounded than the other.

he quirked his eyebrow in confusion, wondering why the new guy was staring at him so intently.

crap, yn was staring. she didn’t mean to, he just looked too good not to.

she mentally shook her thoughts away, about how this guy was the hottest man she’d ever seen, and parted her lips to speak, “hey.”

her voice came out much higher than she intended it to be, she hurriedly cleared her throat and spoke again, now in a deeper tone that was almost comical, “hey dawg.”

“hey…” for some reason he was apprehensive—she would be too to be fair—but to yn it wasn’t a good sign, she didn’t act natural enough.

“i’m choi yeonjun.” yn introduced herself as her brother, reaching her hand out for him to shake after dropping her duffel bag onto the floor.

“jeon jungkook.” jungkook placed his hand in hers, and lightly shook her hand before letting go.

“that’s mingyu and taehyung.” jungkook jabbed his thumb in the direction of the men, who just a few minutes ago were busy playing their game, that yn couldn’t scrutinise due to her being too busy ogling jungkook, but now were giving yn their undivided attention out of curiosity.

“dude, how old are you?” mingyu asked her, while eyeing her up and down. he quickly took notice of how young she looked; a youthful face, large eyes and plump lips.

as a woman, yn was beautiful. but as a woman disguising herself as a man, she just looked like a kid, who hadn’t went through puberty yet.

“i’ll have you know i’m a sophomore.” yn replied, slapping her chest to assert masculinity, only to regret it immediately after. it hurt and she couldn’t show that she was in pain, otherwise it would seem odd and they would start questioning her.

“jk, you’re rooming with a sophomore.” taehyung giggled at the thought of yn, a sophomore, rooming with jungkook.

he’s her roommate? yn assumed it was either one of them but she wasn’t sure whether to feel elated or absolutely terrified that it was him. whatever she felt inside she refused to let it show, and shoved it down the deepest depths of her heart.

yn furrowed her fake bushy brows, her unnatural deep voice cutting through the air, “why what grade are you dudes in?”

“mingyu and i are juniors, and taehyung is a senior.” jungkook answered, tucking his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants.

yn genuinely didn’t see an issue with a sophomore rooming with a junior, and generally found it baffling that taehyung thought it was funny.

though, since she was supposed to be yeonjun, and he got enough slack as it is from his bandmates due to him being older than them. yn knew he would’ve been exhilarated at the thought of being the youngest, so she chose to stay silent on the matter.

she only nodded in response, before turning around, placing her backpack and duffle bag on her bare bed.

she shifted her head towards jungkook, who was still staring at her, inspecting her every move, “are you in the soccer team?”

jungkook was pleasantly surprised, it was clear on his face that seemingly lit up at her question. he nodded his head whilst biting down on his lip piercings, “yeah, why?”

“i want to tryout for the team. do you know when tryouts start?”

༺ TAGLIST @cookysstuff @sftykth

#👛˖ ⊹ bling out .ᐟ #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic

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imdead770 · 4 months

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MDNI!

Loser!Luke Castellan who's so, so loud whenever you touch him for the first time. It's just that he's so sensitive. With all of his counselor duties, he rarely has the time to touch himself. Whenever you finally get your hands on him it's been weeks since he's had relief, and it's been his whole life since he's felt other hands.

Loser!Luke Castellan who whimpers whenever you palm him through his jeans, already so needy. Only a bit of pressure and his face is already flushed.

"Ma, please... need ya.."

Loser!Luke Castellan who moans whenever you finally touch him directly, his eyes squeezing shut as you spread the surprising amount of precum around his cock. You've never heard a boy make noises like this in real life. But fuck it's so, so hot. The way his hips buck up the first time you pump him with your hand, his plump lips parted as he desperately tries to keep quiet, but it's so hard.

By the time you use your mouth on him, kitten licking his hot pink, swollen tip. The sound that leaves his mouth is something no porn video could ever compete with. It's more than pornographic, it's something that makes you nearly cum on the spot. Once you take him in his mouth he's gripping the strands of your hair, looking for anything to ground him. He might have been able to be quiet if it weren't for your eyes looking up at him, almost begging him not to be quiet.

Within 2 minutes he's already desperately bucking his hips into your mouth, praises and moans and gasps leaving his mouth.

"Yeah, baby.. so fuckin'.. fuuck gonna..."

His own whimper cuts him off, his grip on your hair tightening as his hips buck into your throat one last time.

That sound will be looping in your head for the rest of your life.

#luke castellan #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagines #luke #luke castellan pjo #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell smut #200 #300

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earlgreydream · 2 months

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gods, I’m so sorry. this has been in my drafts since APRIL 2023…. I’m finally getting to it, thanks so much for this sweet request ♥️

requested: bucky needing to have a hand on you (stroking ur hair, hand on ur knee, etc) at all times after he nearly loses u 🥺 to reassure u that ure safe and he's there but mostly to reassure himself

The silence was deafening, and it was so dark. Had it always been this way? James couldn’t remember. The Brooklyn apartment didn’t feel like a home anymore. It was empty without you, your absence ripping the essence of life from his home.

He sighed, not bothering to turn on the light. James didn’t have any intention to stay, the emptiness held an eerie feeling that he just couldn’t shake. He almost forgot what he’d gone home for — to get a change of clothes before heading back to the Tower, to wait for you.

James felt like he should have been out looking. You’d been missing for weeks — disappearing on a mission with Sam, to gather intel. There wasn’t supposed to be any real danger, he would never have let you go if he was worried about a threat to your safety.

“We need to go back, they found her,” Steve’s voice cut through the silence, and Bucky’s heart seized at his words.

“Is she alive?”

The first thing your mind registered was pain. There was a dull, heavy throbbing in every part of your body. When you tried to open your eyes, everything was too bright, and a terrible beeping worsened your splitting headache.

You blinked away the fog in your vision, a hospital room slowly coming into focus. James stood up from a chair in the corner and ran to your side, speaking frantically. You couldn’t understand him, it sounded like his voice was underwater, unclear and garbled.

Panic surged through your chest when you looked down to see an IV in your arm, and you registered the tubes on your face that were meant to help you breathe. You clawed at the IV in your arm, nails scratching your skin as you attempted to rip the needle out.

“Stop, please, baby,” James begged, grabbing your wrist to keep you from accidentally hurting yourself.

“James?” You rasped, the fear in your voice breaking his heart.

“I’m here. You’re safe, you’re in the hospital at Stark Tower. Nothing can hurt you anymore,” he promised, the words sounding clearer in your head this time.

Your chest heaved and tears started to leak down your cheeks, whimpering as a nurse emptied a sedative into your system.

James held your hand, so the nurse didn’t cuff your wrists to the bed. Your memory was foggy, but your body remembered what you’d been through — your heart rate monitor beginning to scream as the nurse talked about restraining you.

“Get out. Just get out!” James shouted, one of the few times you’d ever seen him with tears running down his face.

You began to fade as the sedative kicked in, the room quieting once it was just you and James. He listened to your shallow breathing, gently rubbing his thumb across your forearm, needing to touch you as he sat next to the bed. He had to have his hands on you, to remind himself you were there, safe.

“Don’t leave me,” you begged softly, your trembling hand laying over his.

“I won’t leave you, I promise… just get some rest, okay?” He kissed your knuckles, gazing at you with wet blue eyes.

“I can stay with her, so you can go home, change, sleep in your own bed?” Steve offered, coming in while you were asleep.

“I'm not leaving,” James murmured, barely looking up at his best friend.

“Has she told you anything about what happened?” Steve took a seat on the other side of your bed, an action that James was grateful for, even if he didn’t say so.

“No. She’s barely coherent, they’ve got her on some pretty intense medication…. Steve, she’s in rough shape. How was she when you found her?”

James was afraid to ask, but had to know. Steve shifted his weight, looking down at the floor before finally looking back at your sleeping form, bruised and battered.

"Bad, James. Hydra had her tied up, suspended from the ceiling."

James rubbed his fingers over the raw, red rings around your wrists from the restraints, stopping as you winced in your sleep.

You opened your eyes, looking over at him, reaching out to trail your fingertips over the scruff on his cheek.

"Steve, thank you," you spoke hoarsely, turning to the blond who stood at the end of the hospital bed.

"Of course. How are you feeling?" he approached and gently took your outstretched hand.

"Everything hurts," you groaned, shaking as you tried to sit up.

"Here," James helped you, supporting your weight as you settled into a seated position.

Two weeks later, you'd recovered enough to be discharged.

"I don't want to stay at the tower, I want to go home," you insisted to James, anxious to be back in the shared Brooklyn apartment.

You held his hand as he drove you to the brownstone, flinching at car horns and loud noises. As much as you ached to be home, the trauma still exhausted your nervous system, and kept James on edge.

Your friends had been kind enough to clean your place for you, warm and smelling of the dinner that was in the oven, waiting for you and James. He followed you to the kitchen, smiling softly as you eagerly dug into the first real food you’d got since your return.

Despite have the whole table to yourself, you sat on Bucky’s knee as you ate, his arm around your waist. He was quieter than usual, his face pressed into your shoulder, needing to be as close as possible. He was unable to let you go, afraid you’d slip through his fingers.

Later that night, Bucky sat on the edge of the tub, helping rinse your hair. He had all but gotten in the water with you, his sleeves rolled up as he tenderly washed your skin. Candles flickered on the counters, dimly lighting the fragrant room.

“I’m okay,” you whispered to James, your hand going to his jaw as he kissed you. His lips were soft against yours, parting just enough to catch your small gasp. You chased his mouth when he pulled away, only briefly satisfied as he planted another firm kiss to your lips. He stood to get you a towel, wrapping you up as you rose from the water.

“Let’s go to bed,” he urged, unable to hide his anxiety.

“You won’t sleep,” you accused, knowing he’d be up all night, just as he had for days.

“We can put on a movie. I just need to hold you,” his big eyes were framed by dark lashes, eyes that were impossible to say no to.

You slipped into one of his tee shirts before following him, letting yourself snuggle against his side, his arms tightly wrapping around your middle. The rhythm of his heartbeat and soft sounds of the television lulled you to sleep, resting safely in his embrace.

#Bucky #Bucky barnes #Bucky fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky imagine

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arieslost · 3 months

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act up | op81

summary: you and oscar have been skirting around each other for ages. it ends tonight.

word count: 949

warnings: drinking (we’re back in the club!), suggestive comments/moments

masterlist — join my tag list here!

oscar couldn’t stop staring at you, and he had no one to blame but himself.

well, himself and the empty shot glass in his hand. he’d lost count of how many times he’d tipped the contents of the glass down his throat, and it’s like that saying— a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts. or however it goes. if oscar were to insert himself in that equation now, he’d be the drunk guy.

the drunk guy who wanted to do nothing but stare at the girl sitting on his lap: you. he couldn’t remember how you got there for the life of him, but hell, he wouldn’t be caught dead complaining about it. it felt good to let his inhibitions go and his anxiety with them, even if all he was doing was sitting there with his arm around your waist, hand resting on your thigh.

you’re waving down the bartender to pour the two of you another round of shots from where you both sit in a booth, and he uses the liquid courage to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“are you trying to make me act up tonight?” he murmurs in your ear.

you press your lips together, tilting your head towards him so you’re practically cheek to cheek. “maybe. got a problem with that?”

“nope.”

he’s surprised at himself for his lack of filter and complete honesty with you; normally he isn’t even able to look anywhere near you without feeling his face getting hot. the same could be said about you, honestly. the boldest you’ve ever been towards him is giving him a kiss on the cheek when he got a podium finish a month ago, and both of you were bright red afterwards even though you both loved it. it didn’t help that lando had, of course, been there to make fun.

“i’m sick of the two of you. oscar, mate, be a man and kiss her for real.” he’d said, laughing as the two of you somehow turned an even deeper shade of red and looked in opposite directions.

“shut up, lando, for fuck’s sake.” oscar grumbled, punching him in the shoulder a little harder than normal.

“ah,” lando had just laughed harder before setting his sights on you. “if he doesn’t grow a pair it’s gonna have to be you.”

“die,” you told him, not being dramatic about it at all.

“i love you guys too. but not as much as you love each other!” he called before being chased out of the room by oscar’s balaclava and your empty water bottle hurtling towards him.

neither of you could endure lando’s teasing sober, especially not oscar, who spent way more time with him. but here he is, so many shots in that he’s lost count, and you on his lap. he’s going to run with it for as long as possible.

the bartender brings over the shots you ordered, and you pick up both.

“don’t cut me off now, i’m almost drunk enough to ask you to come home with me,” oscar says, lips brushing your neck.

he smiles when he feels you shiver, dragging his hand a little further up your thigh. “save it for when we’re sober,” you giggle as his fingers play with the bottom of your shorts.

“i’m not brave enough to say this stuff to you when i’m sober,” he confesses with a sigh.

“you should be. you know i’ll say yes.” you down a shot, and then hold up the other. “you want this?”

he nods. clearly there’s some magic in the shots that finally allows him to be forward with you.

you lift yourself up, much to his dismay, but he relaxes when you simply turn to face him and straddle his hips. “come and get it, then,” you say with a playful smirk, before tipping back the shot and looking at him expectantly.

you don’t swallow. oscar feels like he’s about to explode. he doesn’t waste any time in leaning forward and firmly pressing his lips to yours, knowing that he would never be daring enough to do this sober, as much as he always wants to. your fingers slide into his hair, carding through the long strands like you’ve done it a thousand times. his hands find purchase on your back, pulling you forward, before they slide down to your hips and squeeze. your mouth opens in surprise, but he’s expecting it and opens his mouth as well, allowing the alcohol to pass from yours to his.

you part from each other for a moment, and oscar barely even registers the harsh burn of the alcohol when he swallows, too intent on kissing you until he can’t breathe.

“oscar,” you moan out against his lips, and fuck, you sound so hot that he can only moan back at you, hands traveling down to your ass and grasping it firmly.

you’re pressed so close to him that he can hear the hitch in your breathing when he does so. he moves his attention to your jaw, your neck, your collarbones, wanting to know what places draw out those beautiful sounds from your mouth.

“oscar,” you say again, sounding more insistent, and he reluctantly lets you pull away. “not here.”

you giggle when his eyes light up. “but somewhere else?”

“somewhere else, when we’re sober.”

oscar pouts. “i don’t know if i can do this when i’m sober.”

“then i guess it’s gonna have to be me,” you echo lando’s words from last month with raised brows.

“lando can kiss my ass,” oscar says with a newfound determination. “i will do this when i’m sober.”

you grin. “that’s what I’m hoping for.”

note: the beginning of this was actually written for a fun little passion project of mine and i wanted to turn it into something a bit more. i hope u all enjoyed!

since this is being posted on march 12 it is important for me to say that this is most specially dedicated to @venusacrossthestars. my entire op81 week event is, but three years ago on this day, we met through a discord server, and i am so grateful to still know you today and call you my best friend. i love you bestie <3

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika !

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#blurb #op81 week #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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devilmademewriteit · 1 year

Text

Ultraviolence

pairing: raider!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: thank god—a handsome stranger saves you from the grips of a pack of cruel, cruel men. unfortunately, said stranger, joel miller, is cut from the exact same cloth as the rest of them.

warnings: oh. boy. rough sex/smut (fem penetration, fingering, cum play if you squint) so 18+ only content; fem!afab!reader; raider!joel; canon typical violence; mentions of hair pulling/reader having long hair; light dacryphilia; age gap; pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, girl); slapping, spanking, choking; !!!NONCON!!! (sexual violence/assault, coercion, allusions to more sexual abuse—Dead Dove, Do Not Eat y’all, protect yourselves).

word count: 4k+

no use of y/n in this fic

alright y’all!!! here is the non-con raider!joel fic!! stay tuned for the version coming out soon wherein Joel actually rescues the reader LOL join the taglist to be notified when I post it!!! y’all’s requests will quite legit be the death of me BUT this was fun to write so im not mad. this version is just purely depraved & Joel ‘Big Dick’ Miller is a mean mean man. wrote it pretty fast too so b nice 2 me.

love u all, sorry for searing your eyeballs:)

-em<3

—

The stucco prickles and tears at the flushed skin of your cheek, a reminder that it’ll be winter soon. The birds are sure of it, and most of them managed to get away before the frost stood a chance of nipping them.

You didn’t.

After a few years of non-stop struggle, losing everything but your own life, you figured there were worse ways to go. At least you would be… well—you, in the end.

In whatever shape this man and his leering group of accomplices left you in.

“Against the wall,” and his voice had been the crack of a whip, snapping by your ear as electricity shot up and down your spine, as the tingling realization that the chase was over—the jig, up—settled into your bones. “Spread your fuckin’ legs.”

There were more hounds around… waiting.

Always waiting.

They’d already gotten to your old, tattered clothes. The brisk air bites at your exposed skin, but at least the cold would account for the violent shivers wracking your limbs. Even as the beast pins you to the side of the decrepit house, forces himself between your knees, your primary preoccupation is to stifle your fear.

They’d get everything else on display—but they would never get to see that.

When the screaming starts, those confused grunts, huffs, and squelches of a blade carving into flesh, you mostly commend your own imagination:

“I did it. I’m in my happy place. This will be quick, then.”

But then a rough, unfamiliar hand grabs hold of your naked waist, flipping you around, slamming your spine against the frosty stucco.

This is real.

And you bear witness to his carnage.

He painted the side of the house into a mosaic of inter-mingling blood, splattered like a Pollock against the grass, the wrinkled clothes and the rugged face of your salvation.

His eyes rake over your still-trembling body before he wrenches a red-coated knife—never breaking eye-contact—from the throat of the man you’d been at the mercy of just a few seconds ago.

Blood gushes up from the fatal wound, and you both watch the cruel scene, mesmerized. The attacker’s eyes dull, all evil dissipating from that once-ferocious gaze. The rescuer’s big, wide hands flip him over, stripping him of his stained beige jacket. Then, he carelessly kicks the lifeless form face-down onto the yellowing grass.

“Put it on.”

You uncross your arms, snatching the coat from the stranger’s extended hands. It doesn’t bother you, its belonging to him.

He’s dead; you get his coat.

A fair exchange.

He keeps an eye on you as he sorts through the pickings: a few strips of dried meat here, a loaded gun there (two bullets in the clip—you watch as he checks), and a few good blades, stashed inside pockets, bags, and down shirt-fronts.

The man straightens up.

Tall.

“Get in front of me,” his low baritone strikes you, causing your knees to concede to a slight wobble. “You run, you die. Got it?”

Texan.

Slowly, you nod, and a firm grip circles your wrist, tearing you from the wall.

“Walk.”

Your heart hammers—near deafening in your ears—as the stranger stalks behind you, directing your trembling movements with brusque, snapped commands.

Finally, the scattered orangey-red leaves begin to multiply, the domestic remnants of a past civilization thinning. The neighborhood opens into a field; large oaks and slouching willows shiver under the weak glare of the afternoon sun.

There’s a house up there. It seems to be in alright shape (some things are built tougher than others) and it’s certainly a step up from a few of the more… unsavory places the outbreak had led you to.

Nearing it, you take not of how much it resembles a barn-house. Red, pentagonal roof, and a big, wide, brown front door.

Gingerly stepping a foot on the cracked wood of the porch, you turn to face your rescuer, uncertainty tying slippery knots in your tummy.

Because there’s clamour coming from inside. There’s people in there.

The momentary hesitation allows you to get a good look at your rescuer: he’s greying and dark—mixed, likely, or just disposed to a stubborn tan—and probably in his mid forties. Probably handsome, too, if it weren’t for the resident cruel scowl deepening his apathetic expression, or the violence dancing in his eyes.

A raise of his eyebrows.

“I tell you to stop?” He nods towards the looming house. “Move.”

But… you don’t.

“Are you gonna kill me?” and you’re downright shocked by the strength—the resignation—of your tone, the way the question comes out so matter-of-fact.

That sparse mustache crinkles in the corners, teasing into something wicked. “You want me to?”

“No.”

“So get movin’, then.”

That left little room for debate.

So, you turn, fingers and knees shaking with anxious anticipation. He cuts in front of you at the last minute, shoving the front door open with his knife at his side—for you or for something else, you’re not entirely certain.

He pulls you into the foyer by your forearm; to your great dismay, you’re faced with an entire group of middle-aged men. Killers—for sure—leering at you with that same starved, animalistic look your rescuer had fixed you with.

Then, he tosses the bag on the floor.

“Found ‘em by the school. Decent haul.”

Their eyes tilt to your shuddering frame, dwarfed by the jacket weighing down your shoulders. One of them looks strangely familiar, proud features reminding you of something else you were afraid of. “No shit, huh,” he commends, “Nice work, Joel.”

Joel.

As the shaggy-haired man speaks, his voice strikes familial resemblance, and it dawns on you. Your rescuer’s brother, or at the very least a cousin.

And what he says is a clearly marked taunt. That much is clear. Uttered with the kind of cruel camaraderie which collected on the tongues of men who committed acts of violence together.

Who hunted together.

And it’s obvious you’re not being rescued. Just… reclaimed. Redistributed.

Fuck.

Another voice joins the mix. “How much you think y’could get for her?”

Joel’s profile turns, harsh, brutal lines forming as he assesses you. “Depends,” and then—ohmothermary—he smirks.

“Gonna have to test her out first.”

A few snickers.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

You’re trapped with nowhere to go, once again surrounded by a gaggle of soulless monsters. Fear grips you, but thankfully, it’s muted, now, having been mostly expended during the harrowing events of the morning.

Just an hour ago, pressed to the side of an abandoned house, you’d allowed yourself to give up.

So, it feels easy—natural—settling back into that rhythm.

To submit to your inevitable, violent fate.

Joel’s voice cuts through the clamour of your racing thoughts. “Upstairs, the room with the open door. Go.”

Eyes glued to the floor, you put one foot in front of the other, your insides twisting and turning inside your core. Fuck, you can feel the pairs of eyes following you with every step you take. The stairs creak as your weight presses into them, squealing like wounded prey.

“N’ take that fuckin’ jacket off,” Joel calls after you, the echoes of his booming voice and the group’s degrading laughter chasing you all the way up into the room—the one with the open door.

And it’s nice, surprisingly. Dusty, admittedly, and clearly having belonged to someone else—a long, long time ago—but the bed is made, the window lets the light in, and the walls remind you of cinnamon.

No, this wouldn’t be the worst prison. Or the worst place to die. It’s a sure-fire step up from the gutter between two dilapidated houses.

You keep the jacket on, shivering under its weight. Even as you hear footsteps climbing the stairs, even as the more rational, civilized side of your mind urges you to accede to your (non)rescuer’s every command.

The conversation downstairs dies off just as Joel rounds the corner, appearing in the doorway—a giant. Though your stomach lurches, and though your legs feel like putty, you hold your ground.

“I’ll fight, you know,” you hiss, watching him seal off the entrance to the room behind him. His flannel has droplets of blood on the collar—reminders of your previous captor—would your other attacker have been a better option? Who’d be more merciful to your quivering body?

You charge your voice with every last modicum of strength at your disposal. “I’ll fight.”

He turns, smirking softly at your clenched fists. “S’good, sweetheart. I like a little fight.” He stalks towards you, swiping his thumb along the plushness of his bottom lip, his intimidating presence forcing your back to meet the flat hardness of the wall behind you.

So much for fighting.

There’s nothing living in his eyes as he says it—nothing save the roiling flames of hunger: “You see those guys downstairs?”

You glare up at him, trying not to notice the alluring hook of his nose, or the way your body works against you, responding to the earthy smell of him.

Then, you nod, wordlessly.

“Did you count ‘em?” He splays a hand beside your head, using one hand to pry your arms uncrossed.

Again, you nod. “How many?” He asks, his voice deceptively soft.

“Five.” Breathless.

“S’right, sweetheart. Ever had your lil’ holes stuffed by five guys at once?”

A swallow, and your voice cracks when you’re finally able to put it to use. “No.”

He pries your elbows to your sides, pulling the beige fabric open, revealing the torn remains of your underwear.

It’s almost a croon, feigned concern underpinning his low tone. “You wanna see what it’s like?” He drinks in the sight of your bare chest, almost groaning at the sight of your naked front.

It’s not cold anymore; no, suddenly you’re very hot.

“No, please, no.”

He slips the coat off of your shoulders, letting it fall in a heap to the ground. He assesses you once more: studying every square inch of your skin under his shadowed eyes.

“M’only gonna say this once, sweetheart.” All that fake-gentleness fades from his tone, replaced by the sadistic, authoritative timbre he’d first greeted you with. “I need you to be very careful.”

You’re frozen—all that fight, it drains out of you, captivated by the raider’s looming form, his mesmerizing speech.

“You’re alone, yeah?” A nod, which he acknowledges, trailing a hand up the length of your waist. “S’what I thought. N’ the way I found you today? That’s a best-case-scenario for a girl like you, out here on your own.”

He drags a finger up the centre of your breast, skilled fingertips just barely brushing the peaked nipple. You lean into his touch—the near imperceptible arch of your back doesn’t go unnoticed, and you kick yourself internally as the corners of his lips twitch up.

Still, the raider ignores your trembling.

“You’re mine, now,” he continues, egged on by your involuntary movement. “Means you’re gonna be a good girl n’ do as I say, n’ I’ll make sure I’m the only man who touches you.” His big hand drops to his heavy silver buckle, and the clearly defined, bulging lines underneath it have your heart clawing out of your chest. Joel senses your fear—and it only makes him harder. “I don’t like sharin’ what’s mine, y’know? But you try anything—you step outta line—I’ll throw you to my guys downstairs.”

His hand finds your throat, hunger and warning beating to the same rhythm in his gaze. “I have no problem watching.” He gives your larynx a squeeze, multitasking as he pulls the strap of his belt through the worn loops of his denim. “Understood?”

You have no words left, shaking from head to toe as the reality of the situation finally settles in.

As he works the intimidating weight of his cock out of his jeans.

A huff. Joel flips you over, impatient, pressing your scraped up cheek to the cinnamon-brown of the wall.

Déjà vù.

Your knees are separated by his own, and his weight flattens you. He wastes no time: lining himself up, his tip separates your folds. Resistance is futile—with one hand, he holds your thighs open—even as they try to press themselves closed, even as you whimper at the rough, male knuckles pressed to bruise on the insides of your legs.

Leaving his mark.

It’s not an option to simply take it. Joel forces you to participate in the sinful act: “I asked you a fuckin’ question,” he growls, gripping your chin indelicately. “You understand me, girl?”

A swallow and a flinch as you feel the head of his cock poke at your entrance. “Yes. Okay. Yes.”

“Yes, Joel,” he corrects. “Use my name. You’re mine now. Use my fuckin’ name.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes at the promised savagery in his tone. Holding back a sob, you respond: “Yes, Joel.”

You watch his hand, large and capable, splaying out a mere inch away from the tip of your nose. “Good,” he commends. “Z’are the only fuckin’ words you know, from now on.”

His free hand slaps against your hip, yanking you down onto his hard length. Your hips buck up against his abdomen, responding to the pull of his fingertips, even as you cry out at the sting, the stretch. The raider tries to force himself between your walls—muttering a grunted “shit”—and thrusting up against your ass.

But you’re too tight, too tense, and your stubborn body refuses to open up for him. Finally listening to you.

“Relax,” he orders, surprisingly softly. He moves his hand from your hip to the apex of your thighs, rubbing rough circles against your clit. Fuck, how’d he find it so fast? You gasp at the feel of his fingertips against your most sensitive, touch-starved spot, hating yourself for the way his pressure makes you feel.

Because…

Because—fuck.

It feels… good. The man knows exactly what he’s doing—methodical in his ministrations, prepping you only enough to ensure his own eventual pleasure. “S’too tight, baby,” he breathes against your neck, “Need to loosen up for me, yeah?”

He’s not gentle. No part of it is gentle. Nonetheless, pleasure ripples through your centre and down your thighs as he effectively turns you on.

“Thaaaaaa’s right,” and his voice is mocking and taunting and degrading as he drags his digits away, grabbing and pulling at your breasts, instead. Feeling the involuntary release of your cunt, Joel finally pushes himself in, sheathing the long, thick length of his cock inside you.

“Need to show this pussy what it’s fuckin’ made for.”

A current of pain flutters up your cunt just as he fills it up to the brim. You can’t help it—your stoicism crumbles to dust—and a soft, scared, pained whimper tumbles from your lips.

And he groans at it, thrusting roughly, over and over again. And again. “Hurts, does it?”

His breath is hot against your ear, and despite the fear, the ancient instincts gripping your bones, telling you to run, run, run, fight, fight, fight—it’s… enticing.

Hot.

“It hurts.”

He laughs, low and dark, bringing his hands to circle your hips, steadying you as you stumble on your tip-toes.

“Cry about it.”

And he keeps on going, tearing you open. The way his girth touches every starved part of your insides leaves you wanting, even despite the sting of his fingernails biting into your hips, the tears and cuts stinging at your opening.

You hate yourself for it.

But you clench around him, stifling a pathetic moan.

God, no—I am not enjoying this.

He breathes another laugh. “Feelin’ full, baby? Tell me how good it feels, c’mon,” and your inhalations come in heaves as he pounds into you, delivering a harsh slap to the side of your hip, hard enough for your skin to ripple from the contact. “Do as I say.”

When you refuse to sate him, swallowing all of your little noises, Joel grips your throat, bringing your head slamming against his shoulder. Your back arches into a perfect crescent, spine contorting at his will. A gasped cry fans out against his salt-and-pepper jaw.

A sob—of fear, of frustration, of reluctant pleasure. “You’re evil.”

The grip on your throat tightens, and he looses another laugh, squeezing your skin, muscles, and tendons oh-so-tight.

You’d be wrecked, bruised—branded—come sunrise.

“Yeah?” He groans, cock slamming up into your very guts.

“M-mhmm—” and the saltwater tears start pouring, trailing glistening slopes down your cheeks in long, long lines. Distantly, you hear his answer—“Yeah, well, you’re wet”—as those silver droplets keep on falling. Where they come from, you aren’t certain; of course, the terror, the physical torture, and the frustration at your entrapment contribute to the mess under your eyes.

But that warmth… the unbridled desire radiating between your thighs… that wasn’t helping, either.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans, muttering another “S’it—s’right,” and releasing your throat to tilt your head up to face him. He drinks in his creation, the ruined sight of your tear-stricken face, and his cock swells between your beaten walls. “God, you look so fuckin’ pretty takin’ it from me—cryin’ like your lil’ pussy ain’t desperate for this.”

Joel smiles when you sob.

It goes on for a while. He doesn’t tire quickly, bringing you right up to the edge of reluctant ecstasy before you remind yourself of the hatred you owed the man fucking into you. You get used to the sound of his hips snapping against your skin, your cries mingling with his gravelly, low grunts. It’s a dirty, depraved symphony—orchestrated by the monster between your thighs.

You can’t help the moan that escapes your lips when he finally, finally brings his fingers back down between your legs. He grunts in approval, barely grazing the length of your folds, pressing his thumb into the delicate flesh of your thigh, instead. “Dirty lil’ girl—fuckin’ dyin’ to be an old man’s whore, z’that it?” and he doesn’t even touch you, focussed on his own pleasure, but the proximity alone is enough to have you wrecked.

And you just can’t help it: “J-joel—”

“Y’know,” he chuckles, slightly out of breath, slowing his strokes to address your wanton whine, “You’re gonna make such a good lil’ fuck-toy, baby, f’you keep makin’ those pretty lil’ noises for me.”

The reality of the situation comes barrelling down on you as he acknowledges—praises—your enjoyment of his torture.

This man… this man was cruel. He was hurting you, and enjoying it.

You struggle against him, a pathetic show of weakness. Joel holds you in place effortlessly, arching your back further, keeping your hips preened back to receive the harsh thrusts he delivers to your torn, ruined cunt. “Where you goin’?” He laughs at your pathetic attempt at resistance, grips tightening. “Thought we were havin’ fun, baby—don’t it feel good?”

And he quickens again, slamming into every needy spot inside you. His breaths grow shallow, as rough as his hands and the ferocity of this punishment.

“No,” you manage, fingernails digging into his forearm.

He tuts, the vocal click constricted with lust, and his hand travels the length of you, settling against that aching bud between your thighs. “Fuckin’ liar.”

He presses down, proving his point. Your entire body tenses as pleasure ripples through you—despite your best efforts, climax crests through your core, threatening to implode within you. Joel hums, smirking when he feels your legs parting even wider.

“S’mine now, alright? You’re mine now.” He crams every inch of his cock up inside you, pulling you flush against his chest. “S’okay to come for me—s’okay, baby, I want you to—s’fuckin’ right, let go for me, baby—” and his crooning takes you over the edge.

Christ, it feels so good.

You clench around him, high-pitched pleas and moans tumbling from your lips, his own pair dragging down the swoop of your ear. In that split second, Joel—the devil at your back—is your favourite thing in the world: your hero, your haven, your God. Fuck, you could just kiss him, marry him, fuck him over and over and over and over—

A hand clamps over your mouth during those brief, blissful moments; the man practically bounces you up and down the length of him, muffling the cries of pain and pleasure tearing from your sore throat against the rough skin of his palm. He groans inside your ear—a stammered, sinful “fuuuck”—and then he’s spilling his seed inside you, shoving it impossibly deep as those quick, harsh strokes stutter and slow.

You come to, waking up from your pleasure-drunk daze. Before you get the opportunity to wriggle away from him, the monster flips you over again, slamming your shoulders to the wall. With his forearm barring your chest, and despite your fear and ire—somehow, all you can think about is the fact that he’s not as out of breath as he really should be (given his age and, of course, what he’d just done to you).

Joel leaks out of you. His cum paints masterpieces down your legs.

He slides his free hand down the length of his cock, collecting the last bits of slick clinging to him and not dripping out of you. The intermingling juices are brought to the roundness of your breasts—the raider slathers your sore peaks with his own spend.

“Nobody’s gonna fuck with you—but that means you’re Joel’s girl. Hear me?” With your head bowed, you glare up at him through silver-lined spider lashes, shame beating at your cheeks. When you hum your acknowledging “uh-huh,” the stranger continues on, gripping your jaw to angle your gaze up: “Means you listen—you-you don’t fuckin’ try me—n’ you take everything I give you, every fuckin’ time. Understand?” He tucks his softening length back in his pants, dark eyes dancing with satisfaction as he leers at your destroyed form.

When you don’t respond, he brings the back of his punishing hand colliding with the side of your face.

Something between a squeal and a gasp tumbles from your lips; Joel catches it, placing the pad of his thumb to your bottom lip, pressing down. Your cheek stings from his harsh slap, delivered on top of the scrapes and wounds a different cruel man had left upon your skin.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, baby, but I will f’I have to,” and he’s earnest, commanding and pleading at once. “You gotta answer me.”

Slowly, you croak out a timid, “Yes,” and an “I understand,” followed by a final “Joel.”

Nodding, he straightens, the violence in his gaze fading just minutely. When he lets go, you stagger—the raider senses the instability of your knees, reflexively snaking a steadying arm around your waist.

You’re not sure where the impulse comes from. Perhaps it’s exhaustion, the aftermath of your orgasm, or maybe it’s just a sick, twisted desire to sink into something beyond your body—either way, you respond to Joel’s support by throwing your arms around his neck.

And he responds by lifting you, walking you over to the bed, and tossing you down on the sheets. Awakening into reality, you scamper back, grabbing and yanking at the surrounding bedding in a desperate attempt to cover yourself.

But Joel pays you no mind.

Having had his way, he’s through with you—for now. Nonchalantly, apathetically, he runs a hand through his hair, tracing heavy steps towards the door.

“Lock the door when I leave,” he instructs, but his tone is soft… possessive and commanding, yes, but… caring. “Don’t open it for anyone but me.”

He waits for your show of understanding, your near imperceptible nod.

Then, he sighs, yanking on the handle and giving you his final address over a pair of creaky, squeaky, rusted hinges. “Try to sleep, sweetheart—got a long night ahead of you.” Chuckling to himself, he leaves the sanctuary of the room.

All you can hear as your body grows heavy and warm, travelling somewhere far, far beyond this violent world are the echoes of male laughter down the hall, and a familiar, satisfied, gravelly voice:

“Not worth much, now. Might just fuckin’ keep her.”

And you slip away, dreaming of belt buckles, blood-stained collars, and the lung-squeezing heat of the setting Texan sun.

—

He used to call me DN

That stood for deadly nightshade

'Cause I was filled with poison

But blessed with beauty and rage

Jim told me that

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

Jim brought me back

Reminding me of when we were kids

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

He used to call me poison

Like I was poison ivy

I could've died right then

'Cause he was right beside me

Jim raised me up

He hurt me but it felt like true love

Jim taught me that

Loving him was never enough

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

We can go back to New York

Loving you was really hard

We could go back to Woodstock

Where they don't know who we are

Heaven is on earth

I would do anything for you, babe

Blessed is this union

Crying tears of gold, like lemonade

I love you the first time

I love you the last time

Yo soy la princesa, comprende mis white lines

'Cause I'm your jazz singer

And you're my cult leader

I love you forever

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

—

TAGLIST: @millllenniawrites @inkedells @stardust-chords-enthusiast @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @bookofbee @liviloo12346 @anyas-stuff @readingsunshine97 @maudlinflowers @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @chapterhappygirl @raeluvshammett @silkiers @jupitersmoon-cal @supernaturaldean67 @razrsharpwhiteteeth @peqchsoup @corrodedcherries @hawsx3 @monboudoir @theonewithacrush @pono-pura-vida @sallymilkweed @fruitcupsworld @mads-grace4 @ayehomo @dzaga890 @killerrxger @niallsbunny @cilliansangel @snowyarcher @grnherbs @mswarriorbabe80 @tercabed @sweettea-and-honeybutter @bbyanarchist @thisgirl-knm @pedrit0-pascalit0

TAGS WILL CONTINUE IN A REBLOG (there are simply too many of you & I don’t want this post to crash <3)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #raider!joel miller #raider!joel #tlou #the last of us #joel miller the last of us #Joel miller fanfiction #Pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel miller tlou

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mylovelo-ak · 11 months

Text

meeting imbibitor lunae

pairing: dan heng x gn!reader

wc: 688

synopsis: it's been a while since dan heng left for xianzhou, and he came back looking different??

notes: established relationship; spoilers!!! wrote bc im stressed w school </3

"i don't know, himeko, i haven't been able to reach him for days."

himeko let out a light laugh before sipping at her tea.

"he's a strong guy, (name). i guarantee you he's fine."

it's been a while since you last saw dan heng on the astral express after he decided to go after the others on the xianzhou. and he hasn't been replying to your messages since. dan heng has always been quick to reply to you, so his silence was frankly, out of character.

you're worried he's been involved in something keeping him busy or in danger.

dan heng never told you anything about his life before the express, and he never mentioned anything about xianzhou. but his uncertain expression when the place was mentioned, was a dead giveaway that something must've happened before.

"well yes, but he's all alone there and—"

a loud noise cut you off, followed by march's excited voice exclaiming about something.

"well looks like they're back!" himeko smiled before getting up to greet the returning members. you follow suit, eager to see your stoic boyfriend.

your footsteps were hurried, and you only mumbled a quick hello to the rest and went straight to... dan heng?

"did xianzhou give you a voucher for a salon or something?"

dan heng looked different.

his hair was longer, ears pointed, and is that eyeliner?

"hello." was all he said as his eyes darted to look everywhere but straight at you. there was a faint blush on his cheeks, which you assume is a result of your staring.

"must've been a wild trip, huh?"

"so let me get this straight, you were reincarnated, then thrown out of xianzhou, and you're actually some former big shot over there?"

"something like that."

after slipping away from everyone, you and dan heng settled in your bed in your room. his head was nestled in your lap as you hand your back against the bed frame. it's a position you both resort to after a long day, or in this case, a week.

you were mindlessly toying with his hair, almost convinced it wasn't real. for not being in this form for so long, his hair was pretty smooth.

"can i braid your hair?" you asked, already separating strands because you knew what he was going to say. he hummed in response. he leaned into your touch and let himself relax.

it wouldn't be the first time that you've done this. he used to leave the express with tiny braids scattered in his hair.

you started at the part where his hair split into two directions. you figured it would be better to do two huge braids instead of potentially hurting his scalp by doing what you used to do when his locks were shorter.

it frustrated you a little since his position would make the braids turn out wonky and inconsistent, but it's been a long week for your poor lover, you'd rather he lie down and relax.

it took you a while to finish because you took so many breaks admiring dan heng, but eventually you did.

"hey, can you move so i can lie down with you?" you tapped his cheeks to grab his attention.

you waited but to no avail. dan heng was fast asleep on your lap. you took the time to properly look at him. he looked so different from the dan heng you first met. every feature felt amplified and a lot to take in.

you let curiosity take the best of you, tapping on the horns on his head. he frowned in his sleep. he shuffled a bit and you almost panicked that your tap woke him up. but he only moved to nuzzle further into your thigh.

he was still dan heng after all. a boy of a few words who rarely smiled unless it was with you. dan heng who loved to fall asleep on any part of you and would whine when you’d try to escape from his hug (he’d never admit to doing that when he’s awake though).

you'd endure your legs falling asleep anytime for this man.

#dan heng #dan heng x reader #hsr x reader #hsr #hsr x you #hsr dan heng #honkai x reader #honkai dan heng #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #dan heng x y/n #imbibitor lunae

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crybaby-bkg · 6 months

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method actor boyfriend yuuta who gets a little too invested in his upcoming movie role. he’s playing some psycho character; someone calculated and manipulative; cunning; a stalker; eventually a killer. he’s always been a good actor, but sometimes he has to delve deep in order to portray a role to the best of his abilities.

you start to notice a difference in him after a while, though. he tells you he has to leave you for a few hours at a time, only for you to catch sight of his gaze lingering in the bushes outside of your home. or do you? you’re never really sure, always catching glimpses and glances that make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. but you’re never really sure if you see him, his low stare, his tightly pulled mouth, the weapon his character uses slung over his shoulder.

he starts speaking to you differently, too. his vocabulary starts to be riddled with love and devotion and adoration, every chance he gets. he holds you close to him, too close, too tight, rests his face against your hairline, whispers against your skin, “don’t leave me—don’t ever leave me—I love you—you love me, don’t you?—don’t you?—you love me, right?”

sex with him isn’t really the same, either. he doesn’t even call it that anymore, calls it making love, and it wouldn’t be as unsettling if he didn’t look at you like that every time. like you hung the moon and the stars with your bare hands, like you breathed life into his very being, like you broke off a piece of your rib to place it so delicately inside his sternum.

his eyes get so rounded, so wide, seeing every inch of you, even the pieces hidden under the covers. his hands are so soft but they grip you so tightly, as if he’s scared that you might slip away if he blinks too long. his mouth constantly connected to your skin, whispering praises, his love for you, how you’re meant for him, how he can’t wait to be one.

he’s already inside of you, though. how else could he connect his body to yours? you know he’s playing a killer, someone willing to cut and scrape and bruise and maim the one he loves most. but he knows that it’s just a movie, right? that you’re not the star, that you’re his real partner, that he’s not actually like that? right?

#first posting of him ever and it’s on New Year’s Day 😝#but that means I have to make a masterlist for him tho 😔#I love writing this kind of stuff tho #creepy and unsettling without ever being full on horror #bc I’m too scared of my own imagination LOL #I have to watch the new season too bc I also wanna write for choso #he is. so pretty. but I don’t know him well enough yet :(#—new treat in the streets! 🍫#yuuta treats! 🍬

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thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels · 1 month

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Remember me, please (don't let me die a second time)

love is not designed for the cynical - series masterlist here

pairing: jason todd x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.7k

genre: hurt/comfort, angsty fluff

warnings: turns out your bf being dead for three years leaves some lasting scars on both of you, lots of talk of grieving and recovering

a/n: three posts in one night ok gnight I die now until next weekend

Your legs swing back and forth where you're sitting perched on the counter of your kitchen, scrolling idly through take-out options on your phone while you wait for Jason. You'd sent him into the living room to put music on, admittedly, long enough ago to get suspicious, having told him that your record collection is expansive enough that he should be able to find something he likes.

Hopping off the counter, you make your way after him, turning the corner to see him standing in front of the bookcase next to your TV stand, staring at the records piled onto the shelves.

"Jay?" You ask gently, moving next to him to put a hand on his arm, smoothing over his skin under his t-shirt. He doesn't look at you yet, his eyes staying forward with his fists balled at his sides. You bring your hand up to brush through his hair gently and sigh.

"You'd talked about it so many times, you know," you explain. "The kind of turntable you'd get, the records you'd collect. When I started buying them for myself, I just thought… I don't know, it just felt right." Jason, as you speak, reaches forward to brush his fingers along the spines, tracing titles of all his favourites. He knows what you're talking about, of course - remembers the days of the two of you, young and broke and wandering the streets of Gotham, dreaming about all the things you knew you'd never really become. He just didn't think…

"I didn't," he clears his throat. "I didn't think you'd remember all this." You don't quite have it in you to hide your hurt at that.

"Of course… I remember everything about you, Jay. It's all - it was all I had left of you. Of course, I held onto it." There's an honesty in your words and Jason thinks he should be grateful for it, should thank you for cutting open your chest for him and letting him see inside.

"You shouldn't have," is what he says instead, and you pull your hand away from where it had been resting on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around your waist, instead.

"I'm going to go order dinner," you say gently, and Jason squeezes his eyes shut. "Take your time." When you leave, going back to the kitchen to find your phone, he stays standing in front of the records, letting his fingers brush over all the edges of them. There's something real about seeing them, about seeing the ways in which your grief manifested, real and tangible and taking up all this space in your life.

He picks up one of them, eventually, the sound of you chatting on the phone with whatever restaurant you've decided on snapping him back into the present movement and leading him to grab it. When he gets it set up on the turntable, letting the music fill your apartment, your home, the life you built while you were waiting for someone you thought would never come back, Jason finds himself wishing, just for a moment, that you had just moved on.

The guilt, of course, immediately follows this as he digs the heels of his hands into his closed eyes before following you into the kitchen just in time to see you hang up and drop your phone back onto the counter. You smile when you see him, patient and understanding in a way that makes his stomach roll.

"Do you want a drink?" You ask him.

"I'll get it," is all he responds with, putting his hands on your waist to quickly move you back up to the counter, sitting you there before making his way to the fridge. You let him - you always let him, seemingly knowing when he needs to be kind, to do something good with this body of his. You let him pull a beer out of the fridge, popping the cap off and catching it. You let him wipe the condensation off of it before he hands it to you so that your palm doesn't get wet. You let him do whatever it is that he needs to do while he thinks whatever it is that he needs to think, sipping slowly while he stands between your parted legs.

"You shouldn't have waited for me," he says quietly, and you pause with the bottle half to your lips.

"I wasn't waiting. I was remembering." You put the bottle down next to you on the counter, placing a cold hand onto Jason's cheek.

"You should've forgotten," he pushes.

"I chose not to," you retort, voice still gentle, hands still kind. "I didn't want to forget about you, baby. I couldn't let myself." Jason sighs, letting his head hang as his hands tighten their grip on the edge of the counter on either side of your hips.

"You deserve better than that, baby," he says sullenly, and you cup his cheek in your hand as you coax him to look at you.

"There is nothing better than the ways that you've loved me, Jason. I couldn't possibly deserve more," you say, blinking as your eyes mist over. Jason notices it, naturally, making a wounded sort of noise and cupping your face in his hands, his palms solid and warm and grounding as he leans his forehead against yours.

"You wasted three years on me and I… I can't forgive myself for that. I can't forgive myself for doing that to you, for leaving you the way I did," Jason says, his voice choked. You pull back to look at him firmly.

"You didn't leave me, Jay - you were taken from me. I mourned you because I lost you. None of that is your fault… and it never will be." Your voice is clear when you say it and Jason almost, almost smiles at the stubbornness that you wear so well. But he can't help but see those records every time he closes his eyes and he can't help but imagine you buying them, putting them on your shelf one by one as you let the grief consume you.

"Did you ever date? While I was dead?" He says it easily - or, in a way that's supposed to seem easy, pulling away from you to get his own beer from the fridge and leaning against the opposite counter while he pops it open.

"Excuse me?" Is your only response. He doesn't say anything more. "No, Jason, I… No. No, there was never anyone other than you. You know that - I've told you that. If you don't believe me, I -" "I believe you, baby," he says, and the relieved slump of your shoulders only lasts until he speaks again. "I just think you were wrong for that."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You should've moved on with your life," he says, and there's a hard edge to his voice that you're sure you don't appreciate being pointed in your direction. "You should've moved on from me."

"Well…" you say carefully. "That's not a decision you get to make for me. And it's not a decision that holds a lot of weight now, seeing as you're, well, alive and standing in my kitchen wearing my sweater."

"You wasted three years on me," he presses on. You stiffen.

"I grieved for three years," you retort. "I sent flowers to your grave every week for three years. I - I built a home and a life for myself and I had to do it without you and, yes, I tried to fill that life with whatever pieces of you I could hold onto because I loved you and I missed you. And you're telling me now, what? I should have just gotten over it?" Jason stares at you through your outburst, at your trembling lip and watery eyes and your hands, fists clenched so tight he's sure your nails are digging into your skin. He stares, eyes wide and mouth open as he searches for words, until you burst into tears.

That, of course, is enough to have him lurching forward, slamming his beer bottle onto the counter as he gravitates towards you, slotting himself between your parted legs again to shush you and hold you and wipe the tears from your cheeks.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispers, over and over. "I'm so sorry, please don't cry for me." Your palm connects with his chest as you slap him weakly, your other hand scrubbing at your eyes.

"You still don't get it, Jay," you lament. "You're the only person worth crying for." He laughs a bit at that, finally, and pulls you impossibly closer.

"I'm sorry, pretty," he says again, his lips pressed to your forehead. "I just…"

"I know, baby," you sigh, letting yourself relax against him, your tears slowing as you sniffle. "I know."

"I love you so much," he says earnestly. "And I - I'm grateful that you waited. That you remembered. I…" he sighs then, his grip tightening on you as he blinks back his own tears. "Thank you for remembering me," is all he says, and he hopes so desperately that the way he clutches onto you will help you realize how much it all means to him.

"Of course, Jay," you soothe, running a hand through his tousled hair. "That's what being loved is, I think. It's remembering. And I… I love you always, you know? I'm happy to remember you, always - even when that's all I have left of you." Jason sighs at your words, his eyes squeezing shut. He knows what you mean - knows his mask will claim his life once again, that you'll be left alone once more. You never talk about it, too scared to bring it up, but you both know the truth. The possibility is just too high that one day, Jason won't come home for the second time.

He isn't sure who takes more comfort in knowing that he's solidified in your life enough that he'll never really be gone. He isn't sure it's so good - that he wouldn't still prefer you move on to something with hope and safety and happy endings.

But he knows that he's loved and that he's remembered, and that's enough for him to settle for tonight.

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beautiful-is-boring · 9 months

Text

Made it out alive, just for you

Gojo x gn!reader , angst to fluff, hurt/comfort

Au where gojo lives

Warning: y/n has a nightmare about gojo, MAJOR JJK MANGA SPOILERS FOR CH 236, so ya it involves blood and a lil bit of gore, and crying.

A/n: i love this man so so much, and whenever I get a bad dream about my loved ones dying, it mostly includes the part after their death and I'm living without them, and when I wake up it's such a relief, so this fic is based on that

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'i miss you so much toru'

the scene never left your head, the love of your life, now lifeless, laid on the ground, wounded and dying after the fight with sukuna

you cried all day, the next day and the next. You couldn't let go of him, and how could you? Satoru was the shining sun in your life. He had the brightest smile, the prettiest baby blue eyes, the strongest will and his love for you was endless. You loved him so so much.

Coming home everyday from work pained you. You would forget that he wasn't here anymore, you would buy mochi on the way home, only to come home and realize he was never coming back, the reality settling in as you cried once more.

'please come back toru, i can't do this without you'

you eat dinner alone again, hugging the adorable custom made plushie of satoru. It was a gift from him. He lovingly said that day, that the plushie would keep you company when he was not with you.

The memory of gojo cut and bloodied plagued your mind and you hugged the plushie tighter

'you are bigger than the whole sky toru, the strongest and bravest of them all. Wherever you are, I hope you rest well. Watch over me, my love'

And then your eyes opened.

You sat up on the bed quickly, looking around everywhere and breathing heavily, just trying to ground yourself into reality.

It was just a dream. A bad one, but just a dream. You're fully awake by now.

"breathe for me sweetheart"

"T-toru?"

He was right there, your beautiful satoru, gently hugging your shaking body close to him.

"whatever you saw, it wasn't real. I'm here now baby"

You nod. Your mind was a mess. You barely remember what you saw, but it left you feeling terrified.

"Hang in there, I'll get you some water"

He slowly left your shared bedroom and you watched the white tuft of hair disappear into the kitchen. Waking up after countless bad dreams and nightmares was unfortunately common for the both of you, after the fight with sukuna in shibuya.

Right. Gojo defeated sukuna. He won. And he made it out alive.

Your eyes landed upon the custom plushie across the room that gojo gifted you all those years ago

The same one from your dream.

The dam broke. A quiet whimper left your lips as memories of the dream flashed through your mind's eye and by the time satoru returned, you were curled up on your side of the bed, sniffling and weeping.

You heard him place the glass of water on the nightstand, and in the next second he's got you enveloped in his warm arms, gently rubbing your back.

"I-I saw you die toru..I had to live without you and I had to c-come home and you weren't there, a-and you were never coming back" You were sobbing and crying as you hugged him, both from the unsettling dream, and the relief that it wasn't real. You were so, so relieved to be awake, to find your one and only alive and well. Satoru continued to whisper sweet nothings and comforting words into your ears and never once did he loosen up his hold on your trembling frame.

"its okay baby, i know how you feel, and i love you so much, and I'm right here" His sweet and gentle tone combined with his comforting voice made you cry even harder. You didn't know where the tears were coming from.

"i know toru, i know you won, it's just that ever since I saw you like that..." You take a deep breath in and gaze into his beautiful blue orbs that you love. "Just one wrong move, and you would have been gone and i-i don't know what I would do without you being there with me."

Satoru's own eyes welled up with tears because he couldn't bear to see you cry. He cupped your face in his arms, a relieved sigh leaving his lips as he saw you closing your eyes and leaning into his touch.

"you are my whole world y/n" His voice wasn't louder than a whisper. Satoru wiped your tears with the pads of his fingers, and kissed your forehead. "That day, I was thinking about you the whole time. I knew I had to come back to you, and I did." A single tear drop trailed down his face and he stroked your head to comfort you. " You don't have to worry anymore, my love. It's all over, and I'm here right here, right now. " You looked at him, reassured and he could feel his heart swell as he looked at his world, his universe, right there in his hands. "Thankyou satoru" He smiled, and you did too.

Satoru leant in and kissed you ever so slowly, reminding you that he was right there with you, alive. You both smiled into the kiss, knowing that you love each other with every fiber of your being and most importantly,

You were right there with each other; physically, and in each other's hearts.

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dearsnow · 6 months

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WE’RE BORN AT NIGHT

- in which you hold johnny cade like water, or, christ, you hold him like a knife (you’re worried that your touch brings up unpleasant memories for your boyfriend, but he feels differently. johnny cade x gn!reader, angst -> fluff but still bittersweet bc there’s nothing you can really do but hold him, yes this is based off of who we are by hozier because i am a heathen for the irish man).

word count: 1,022

a/n - my first johnny piece and the first piece that i’ve done in actual months 🥹 this is likely not my comeback though and i’m sorry for that 😭 i will always write and i will probably post most of it, but life has been rocky for me lately and my available free time reflects that. in any case, i hope you enjoy my short return (there will inevitably be more as i work things out), and plsss talk to me about the outsiders and literally anything else because i will most definitely love to hear it.

It’s not often that Johnny Cade comes knocking at your door, despite the fact that he’s been your boyfriend for three months now. He never wants to put you out, he says, but when he shows up with a black eye and hand-shaped bruises on his arm, you usher him inside as quickly as you can.

“What happened?” You murmur, eyes scanning over his injuries.

“Just my old man again.” He hesitates. There’s a sharp edge to his words, like they cut his mouth just to say. “Look, I shouldn’t have come.”

You cut him off, tone brimming with concern. If he doesn’t feel safe with you, with staying at your house when his is dangerous, then you need to try harder to keep his quiet heart intact. “You can always come.”

“I know. I mean, the gang’s all out at a party ‘n I guess I just didn’t know where else to go.” He shifts his stance uncomfortably as you hand him two bags of frozen vegetables. “As much as you say you want me here, I know there are some places where I ain’t welcome.”

You would kill his parents if you could. Fuck, you would send them straight to Hell without a second thought. Anyone that truly knew what was going on in that house would. All you can do, though, is take care of him as well as you’re able to.

“I promise, you’re welcome. More than anyone or anything else. I need you here, when things are rough and when they aren’t. Tell me you’ll come when you can.” You speak.

He looks so beautiful in this light, despite everything. You love him so badly that your heart aches from just the movements of his sad brown eyes. “I will.”

“Good.” You smooth down the collar of his jacket, making careful, delicate movements. You fear that if you go a hair too close, he will shatter like the glass bottles thrown at him. “Let’s go to my room, okay? My parents won’t be home until later. We can get you some rest.”

There’s a small part of Johnny that detests himself for holding you back. You could be doing greater things than pressing a wet rag to his forehead, and yet, you stay. You always stay. No matter how horrible the situation, you stay with a pinky linked around his and a warmth so hopeful he thinks he might implode every time he feels it.

You pull your thick blankets over him, uncaring of his grease and the slightly grungy clothes rubbing against your bedsheets. If he needs you, and god, does he look it, you will always be there.

You’re facing him in bed, hands outstretched to card through his hair, but they don’t make contact. His eyes are lightly closed. You wish you could just touch him, hold his hands between your fingers and warm your feet against his calves. There’s some sort of unbreakable barrier between you when you feel that your every movement could send him spiraling into memories of an unkind fist. And yet, an unconscious twitch sends your leg just a centimeter forward to touch his. If you think real, real hard about it, you might have felt him jolt.

“I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable, Johnny.” You whisper, shifting your legs so they’re no longer against him. “I’m real sorry. I know sometimes you don’t like that kind of stuff.”

“No.” He starts, opening his eyes. The rasp in his voice makes your heart sting like a bee’s last breath. “I like it, I mean, I think I do.” His gaze turns towards yours again, brimming with a kind of beautiful emotion, and his fingers move towards your sleeve. “It kinda… it tells me a bit that fingers ain’t always gonna ball up in fists and a palm against my cheek don’t have to hurt.” He breathes. You stare at him. He likes it? Lord, he likes it, and you like it, and you will die if you cannot swathe your entire body around him like you’re trying to keep him together. “‘S like you hold me like water, or, I dunno, a knife. Real gentle and secure n’ such.”

You travel the distance between you, tenderly wrapping your arms around his midsection. He pulls you closer, and suddenly, you feel complete.

If he was being honest, Johnny thinks you saved him. His whole life, he chased and chased the peace that evaded him every second of every day. Like a dog, kicked and dark-eyed, he put his nose to the ground and simply smelled the greater things on the horizon. They were out of reach to him, the silence just barely kissing the tip of his head before dancing so far away he couldn’t reach it if he sprinted. But you, God, you gave him everything he could ever want.

When merciful you came waltzing into his life, he thought nothing could ever be quite so horrible again. You have a forgiving hand and a quiet smile, laced with words that tickle his cheeks rather than grinding him into the earth. When he can reach out to you, gripping your warm arm like a lifeline, everything makes sense. He wouldn’t give that up for the world. He drinks in the affection you give him like sand in a bone-dry desert, and the thought that you could ever be worried about how much you love sets his heart ablaze.

“I’m glad.” You whisper. He can feel your breath against his shirt, and it makes him shiver in a pleasant way. “I love you.“

His breath hitches, heart picking up its pace, as he gently buries his warming face into the top of your head. “I love you too. And… and if you’re here, I want to be here forever.”

He squeezes you just a little bit, just enough to let you know that he never wants to let you go.

“Then I’m never leaving.” You smile. He smiles back, and for the first time that night, he thinks that he might be able to do more than just survive.

#solar eclipse.#johnny cade x reader #johnny cade #johnny cade headcanons #the outsiders #the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders fandom #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders hcs #fanfic #angst #fluff

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auras-moonstone · 10 months

Note

Hi beautiful, are you ok? You could write where Ethan has a "best friend" who is really in love with him and purposely creates a situation where he is confused who to believe, leaving the hurt reader not wanting to see him for a while. It can be a anguish with a happy ending, please :) thank you.

hi! i’m okay, hope you are too💖 this turned out to be longer than i expected, hope you don’t mind! enjoy <3

hell is when i fight with you — ethan landry

word count: 3,227

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: ethan takes y/n to his hometown to introduce her to his family and friends. kara, ethan’s best friend who is in love with him, makes up a lie that makes the couple fight.

WHEN ETHAN INTRODUCED Y/N TO HIS FRIENDS AND FAMILY, SHE FELT HER HEART MIGHT HAVE BURSTED FROM HAPPINESS. She had been in relationships before him, but never felt quite what she felt with Ethan. With him, Y/N was the happiest she had ever been, and sometimes she wondered if it was a dream, but the touch of his hand and his sweet kisses reminded her it wasn’t. It was real life, and she was extremely lucky to have found someone like him.

She loved him, and of course she wanted his family to lover her too, so Y/N was quite disappointed when she sensed Ethan’s best friend, Kara, didn’t entirely like her. Scratch that, she could feel her hatred for her with just one look. So Y/N made it her mission to change that.

“Hey, Kara! How are you?” Y/N greeted her.

“I’m good” she said drily. “What do you want?”

“I heard they’re playing The breakfast club at that old cinema down the street. I was wondering if you’d like to go with me? You know, it’d be nice to get to know the other” Y/N said with a sweet smile.

The girl shifted uncomfortably “I don’t think so… I mean, I’m busy with college assignments and all that. But, you can ask the rest of the group. I’m sure they would love to go with you”

Y/N furrowed her eyes in disappointment “I understand. Well, good luck with your stuff. And if you happen to have some free time or want a break, I’d love to hang out with you”

“I’ll keep that in mind” the fake smile on her face made Y/N know Kara’d rather drown herself in finals and assignments than spend time with her.

Y/N walked back to Ethan’s house completely defeated. She didn’t know why Kara was acting that way towards her. They met hours ago, Y/N and her had barely interacted, so she didn’t understand where her attitude was coming from.

“Hey, love” Ethan welcomed her with a kiss and a tight hug.

“Hi, Eth” she laid on top of him on the couch, burring her head on the crook of his neck. “Oh, they’re playing The Breakfast Club tonight!”

Ethan smiled, knowing how much she adored that movie “You want to go?”

Y/N nodded “I was thinking we could go with your friends, to get to know them better. If that’s okay”

The boy caressed her cheeks as he looked at her with eyes filled with love and adoration “You’re the best girlfriend in the world, did you know that?”

“You’re exaggerating a bit” Y/N laughed “It’s literally the bare minimum”

“Well, I don’t care. I love you for it”

Ethan kissed her. His hands went to her hair, gripping it with a bit of force, and she couldn’t help but moan. He rolled them over, so that he was now on top of her. Ethan then started kissing her neck as his hand wandered under her t-shirt.

“We are not having sex in your parents’ couch” Y/N giggled, pushing him off.

“It’s fine, let’s go to our room” his lips attached to her neck.

Y/N rolled her eyes in amusement “Let me re-phrase that. We are not having sex in your parents’ house”

“There’s a motel down the-“

Y/N cut him off “I’m sure you can survive four more days without sex, you hormonal idiot” she hit him with the pillow, making him detached his lips from her skin.

“I really doubt that. I really miss being insid-“

Y/N put her hand on his mouth “No dirty talking either”

“Why do you have to be so respectful?” Ethan rolled his eyes in frustration.

“I’m sorry, babe. Kissing and cuddling will have to suffice”

“Fine” he crossed his arms in front of his chest and huffed. Y/N couldn’t stop her laughter “Don’t laugh at me, I’m mad.”

“I’m sorry, but you look so adorable. I love you very much”

He opened his arms so that she could cuddle his side “I love you very much too”

AFTER THE MOVIE, TARA INVITED Y/N FOR A SLEEPOVER AT HER HOUSE, WHICH SHE GLADLY ACCEPTED. Turns out, Ethan’s friends welcomed her to the group with open and warm arms—except for Kara, of course.

“Ew, Econ” Y/N said, shivering in disgust, when she saw the book lying on Tara’s desk. The four girls—Tara, Mindy, Quinn and Anika—laughed at her reaction. “It haunts me, I swear. I have to do the final exam next week”.

“We’re so lucky to be on summer vacations now” Mindy smiled contently.

Y/N furrowed her eyes “You are?”

“Yup, our college gives us one more week. So we started vacations this week” Tara explained.

“But-“ Y/N shook her head. “Never mind”

“No, tells us” Quinn encouraged.

“It’s just that today I invited Kara to the movies, and she said she had lots of college assignments to do, so she couldn’t come” Y/N said.

The girls exchanged glances “Maybe she just wasn’t in the mood and didn’t want you to feel rejected” Anika suggested.

“Yeah, that makes sense… yes, maybe you’re right” Y/N said, feeling a little bit better. Maybe she was overthinking.

“I mean, she did tell us we should invite you to a sleep over so you’d feel more comfortable” Tara said.

“Really? That’s nice of her. Yeah, I’m totally overreacting” Y/N shook her head, the pressure on her chest loosened.

“You’re really cool, Y/N/N. I don’t know how Ethan pulled you” Mindy said, making his girlfriend elbow her in the ribs. “Ouch! She knows I’m joking”.

Y/N laughed “You guys are really cool too”.

hey babe!

everything okay?

She texted Ethan, who replied a few short minutes later.

yup, everything’s good

um, when you get here in the morning we should talk

That text made Y/N confused. He seemed dry, but she didn’t want to think about it so she just answered him shortly.

yeah, okay

we’re going to sleep now, so see you tomorrow<3

good night

Y/N fell asleep with a big knot in her stomach. She could feel something was not right at all, and it scared the hell out of her.

Y/N AND QUINN WALKED BACK TO HER HOUSE THE NEXT MORNING, and the red-head could sense something was going on inside her head. She looked completely sad and her face was the physical representation of anguish.

“You’re like an open book, you know? Come on, tell me what’s wrong” Quinn said. Y/N sighed and showed her the texts from last night. “He seems normal, he always texts like that”.

“Not to me”

“What could you possibly have done wrong? He was fine when we left the cinema, and then you didn’t talk to him until that text”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m worried”

“Well, whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll both be okay. I know my brother very well, and I can tell he loves you very much. Like literally, you don’t know how much he talks about you, Y/N/N” she bumped her shoulder with hers.

“I hope it’s nothing, because he’s everything to me” she smiled sadly. At Quinn’s curious glance, she explained, “After my parents kicked me out of the house, because I didn’t follow the career they wanted, I was left in a dark place. And then I met your brother, and he helped me heal. I don’t know where I would be if it wasn’t for him, so the thought of losing him completely terrifies me”.

Quinn hugged her in comfort, her heart breaking for the girl. “You’re not losing him, Y/N. Couples fight, but they talk and they solve it, especially when love is present. And you and my brother have an incredibly amount of love for each other.”

“Thank you, Quinn” Y/N smiled gratefully.

“Anytime, you’re part of the family now, which I’m glad because you’re a sweetheart”

When they both arrived to the house, Quinn went to her bedroom, after telling Y/N to keep her updated on what was going on, and Y/N went to Ethan’s room. He was sitting with his back against the blue bedpost and was watching Tik Toks.

When he heard the door of the room being opened, he looked up and frowned “You didn’t sleep well” he stated, looking at the bags under her eyes.

“Um, no. I couldn’t sleep, I was worried about your texts, to be honest. You seemed off, is everything okay?”

“Kara came here last night” Ethan said.

Y/N frowned “Okay?”

“She said she came here to confront you”

“Confront me?” she asked confused.

“Because of the invitation” Ethan explained.

“Oh! It’s not a big deal” Y/N brushed it off.

Ethan scoffed and looked at her in anger, taking her aback “Not a big deal? What the hell, Y/N?”

“Why are you angry?” Y/N asked surprised.

He stood up from the bed “Oh, I don’t know! Maybe because my best friend was crying because my girlfriend leaves her aside. Because she wanted to get to know you and you just hung out with the rest of the group, but not with her”

“How is that my fault?!” Y/N asked in disbelief “I didn’t leave her out of the plan, she was the first person I asked to come!”

“Then why wasn’t she there?” Ethan asked in an accusatory tone.

“Because she told me she had college stuff to do and wouldn’t be able to make it” she explained.

Ethan laughed drily “Come up with a better excuse, Y/N, they are on summer break. Look, I understand if you are jealous, but you honestly have no reason to be. I love you and only you, you didn’t have to act like a bitch.”

The last word felt like stab to the chest “I didn’t do anything! I now know that she’s on holidays. The girls told me, they said Kara might have said that because she wasn’t in the mood for movies and didn’t want to make me feel bad for declining the invitation. But now she’s acting like I have been scheming against her, so I don’t know what to think anymore” she scoffed. She couldn’t believe Kara would be capable of going that far.

Ethan sat on the edge of the bed and sighed “I don’t know, Y/N”

“You don’t believe me” it wasn’t a question, it was an statement. And it pierced her heart that Ethan couldn’t even look at her “You really think I’m a crazy jealous girlfriend that only wants you to herself” the sadness was mixed with disbelief.

“I just… I need time to think” Ethan said softly, which made her a bit angry. He really believed she was capable of doing something like that.

Y/N shook her head, trying to hold back the tears “Whatever, Ethan. I just want you to remind you that I came here because I wanted to meet your family”

“Y/N-“

“I made sure all of your friends were going to be here, I made a fucking list of things we could do to get to know the other, I wrote down recipes I could do with your mom and sister-“

“Okay, I get it” Ethan said, trying to grab her hand, but she pushed it away.

“Do you?” her voice was thin, and she hated it. She hated crying so much “Because you didn’t hesitate for a second to believe I would be capable of purposely doing something to hurt the people you love”

“She’s my best friend” he tried to explain.

“Yes, I get that. But I’m your girlfriend, and I don’t expect you to call her bluff instantly, but you had no trouble at all believing I would do something as shitty as that” she pressed her lips in a thin line and brushed the tears off with her hands “And that fucking hurts. Especially because you know how much you mean to me”

“I’m sorry, Y/N/N. I’m just really confused” Ethan sighed, the sight of her crying made him feel like he had just kicked a puppy.

“I’ll give you space” Y/N said, grabbing her suitcase.

“What are you doing?” Ethan asked, panic present in his voice.

“You need time to think, and I do too” Y/N said, starting to pack her things.

“Are you breaking up with me?” the pressure on his chest was like nothing he had ever felt before. As if someone was stepping on it, not allowing him to breathe properly.

“No. We can’t talk to each other when we’re like this, we need time to process everything before we discuss it. We will end up saying things we might regret” Y/N said, facing away from him.

The pressure decreased but Ethan could still feel it. “Where are you going?”

“Back home, you should stay here. I’ll see you in a couple of days” Y/N said, standing in the doorway.

Ethan watched her walk away, fingers itching to hold her back. That was supposed to be a happy trip, she had been so excited to meet everyone. “Fuck” he grabbed a pillow and buried his face there, allowing the tears to fall.

ETHAN’S HEAD FELT LIKE EXPLODING AFTER CRYING SO MUCH, SO HE DECIDED TO GO FOR A WALK. He tried to take a nap, but without Y/N by his side, it was impossible. He felt complete emptiness now that she wasn’t around, and even if it had just been a couple of hours since they last saw each other, he missed her insanely. They had never fought like that, and it felt like hell.

“Ethan! Hey, we were just going to your house” Chad said, the rest of the group standing next to him.

“The cinema is playing Mamma Mia, Y/N’s favorite, and we thought we should definitely go” Anika said.

Ethan felt a pang on his heart at the mention of her name. “Um, Y/N left.”

“Oh, where?” Tara asked confused.

“We had a fight. It was pretty bad, and she went back home” even mentioning the fight made him want to crawl into a ball and cry like a little kid. He could hear his own broken voice.

“What happened?” Chad asked, rubbing his friend’s shoulder in a comforting way.

“Kara came over last night to tell me Y/N left her out of the plan because she was jealous of our friendship” Ethan said.

“That doesn’t sound like Y/N” Mindy said confused. “In fact, I think Kara was the first person she asked”.

“That’s what she told me, but Kara says the exact opposite. I don’t know what to believe, I mean, I trust them both and one of them is definitely lying” he exposed his frustration.

“Wait, Kara was the one who told us to invite Y/N for a sleepover” Anika said, frowning. “Why would she want to make Y/N feel part of the group if she was supposedly leaving her stranded?”

“Yeah, you’re right. That’s weird” Tara nodded.

Mindy gasped, scaring the group “What if she told us to invite her so she could talk to Ethan alone?”

“You make her seem like a movie villain, Mindy” Chad rolled his eyes. “But then again, this feels like a movie conflict”.

“Besides, she has a motive” Mindy said, ignoring her twin’s comment. Ethan looked at her confused, and the girl rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. Are you that oblivious? Kara’s been in love with you for ages.”

“What?” Ethan asked shocked.

“Actually, now that I think about it, Kara had been acting strange since Ethan told us he would be coming with his girlfriend” Chad spoke.

“I’m a fucking idiot” Ethan groaned.

“Agreed” Mindy said, and Anika elbowed her on the side.

“She’s hates me now. She’s going to break up with me” Ethan said in panic.

“She won’t” Anika reassured him. “Wish you’ve heard how she talked about you last night, Eth. She has you on a fucking pedestal, don’t worry about it. You’ll be alright.”

“I hope so, guys. Because I love her way too much, and I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her”

THE SECOND THEY FIGURED IT OUT, ETHAN ALMOST GRABBED HIS KEYS TO CHASE AFTER HIS GIRLFRIEND. But his friends convinced him to let her be for a couple of days, which felt like torture because Ethan couldn’t stand being far away from her. He was so used to being with her that now he didn’t know how to be without her.

Now that the days had passed, he drove back to the city. His gaze constantly fell on the seat next to him, as if expecting Y/N to materialise there, he longed for her terrible voice screaming Taylor Swift songs like crazy.

Ethan stared at the door of their shared apartment anxiously. His stomach was revolted and his hands were so shaky that the knock on the door was barely audible. Yet, Y/N opened the door instantly, almost as if she had been expecting him—which she had.

When Ethan left his town, Quinn sent her a text telling her, so she could be prepared. And when she heard the sound of his knuckles against the wood, she ran towards it with desperation.

The couple almost cried at the sight of the other and in that moment, they both somehow knew they’d be okay. They still needed to talk, though.

“Hi” at the sound of her voice, he couldn’t help but engulfing her in a hug. They both melted at the touch of the other, and relief washed over their bodies. “I’m sorry, Ethan. Fuck, I missed you. I’m sorry.”

“No, no” he said, closing the door behind him while still hugging his girlfriend by the waist. “I’m the one who should be apologising. Shit, I’m such an asshole. Of course you’d never do something to hurt me, I’m sorry, Y/N. That thought should’ve never crossed my mind, and you had every right to be mad at me.”

“Yes, but I should’ve been more understanding. I mean, you had known her for longer than you’ve known me. Of course you wouldn’t distrust her”

“Still, I said some shitty things I really don’t think. You’re not a crazy jealous girlfriend or a bitch. You’re the best girlfriend I could ever ask for, and I’m so lucky to have you”

“I’m lucky to have you too. I missed you” she pressed her forehead against his, bumping their noses. Y/N traced the outline of his cheekbones delicately, loving the feeling of his soft skin and the way it seemed to relax him.

They went to sit on the couch, and Ethan pulled her on his lap, hugging her waist as she rested her head on his chest.

“I missed you too. I should’ve chased after you. I was about to do it, but the group held me back, saying you needed some time”

Y/N smiled “That was probably wise. I was a bit mad”

“They loved you, by the way. Especially Quinn” he said playing with her hair.

The girl laughed “I loved them too. Especially Quinn too, like I might have a tiny crush on her”

“Ouch, one visit and you’re already leaving me for my sister?” Ethan poked her in the ribs, making her squirm.

“Sorry. She’s just that great” Y/N said.

Ethan rolled his eyes and then smiled “I’m really glad you like her. Um, she told me that if I don’t fix things with you, I shouldn’t bother to go back”

Y/N giggled “See? She’s fricking awesome”

“Stop complimenting my sister, compliment me” he gave her a fake pout.

Y/N shook her head, grinning “You’ll always be my number one, Eth”

He pecked her lips “And you’ll always be mine.”

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