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cobaltperun · 9 months

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Lost (8) - Collect Call

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 9.1k

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-Wishing you could keep me closer, I'm a lazy dancer when you move, I move with you-

Woodsboro was a small place, frankly, you were amazed it even had a proper gym, even if it wasn’t as well-equipped as you would prefer. Still, it had a punching bag, plenty of space to do push-ups, you could run, do pull-ups, lift wights, the basics were there, and you easily spent four to five hours in it a day, sometimes more. In fact, you just completed a two-hour work-out and were in the process of taking your gloves off.

Life moves on, no matter how hard you wish to stop it at times, to just remain in the current moment. Right now, however, you eagerly accepted the passage of time, after all, the sooner what Amber and Richie did became left in the past, the better, especially for Tara.

It's been almost three weeks since Tara was first attacked and for the most part, everything was returning back to normal. The wounds healed, well, aside from Tara's broken leg, that would take some time, but the scars remained, with two being more prominent than others, the stab through Tara's left hand and the slash that went horizontally just beneath the right side of your jawline. Other stabs and gunshots left their own scars, but those were easy to cover with clothes. Thus, you caught Tara's regretful gaze checking your scar out. Not that you blamed her, you glanced at her own scar every now and then. You still caught yourself wondering if there was anything you could have done to keep her safe, to prevent the first attack. The answer was always a definitive ‘no’ but you still wondered.

The Babadook theme rang almost immediately after you put your gloves in your bag and wiped the sweat off your face and hands with your towel, and you eagerly answered. "Hey, Snuggle Bear," you said teasingly before taking a sip from your water bottle. Damn, you missed having these phone calls with Tara while she was with Amber, and from the looks of it she had every intention to make up for the lost calls. Even with how much time the two of you spent together she still called you at least three times a day, often more.

"As if you're not as much of a snuggle bear as I am," she teased back, though there was a bit of nervousness in her tone. You’d leave that for when you met up.

With a broad smile on your face you faked sighing in defeat. "You caught me, only with you though," there was a small pause once you said that, but the silence felt comfortable.

"Exactly the way it should be," Tara set the boundaries, your boundaries to be precise. Possessive little snuggle bear. Granted, considering what those cuddles and snuggles included you couldn't say you blamed her for being like that. "Anyway, don't forget to pick me up in an hour," you stopped for a moment. Tara didn't have a check-up today. Hell, her next check up wasn’t until next week.

"Huh?" you were trying to think of the reason for picking her up. You didn't make any plans. Not that you minded abruptly spending time with Tara, but you were still a bit confused.

"Y/N," Tara groaned your name and you could hear her head hitting the pillow. "Your results are in. For your heart. Remember?" oh, that was today, well, at least that explained why she sounded a bit nervous before. She was anxious about the results. Damn, you, on the other hand, managed to forget all that. Your heart felt fine, so you kinda stopped being worried.

"Right, I'll come pick you up in an hour," you reassured her and began packing your stuff as you exchanged goodbyes with Tara.

Almost an hour later you parked in front of Tara's house and knocked several times. Most of the times since the attack you’d just unlock the doors yourself and go in, loudly announcing your presence even though Tara expected you. But most of the times Tara was alone, while this time her mother was home, and you did not want to deal with her mother making a scene for whatever reason. You could hear shuffling inside the house, and then there was some stumbling until the doors finally opened and a very drunk Christina Carpenter leaned against the doors, a bottle of whatever alcohol she was currently drinking in hand.

"Y-" she hiccuped and you could smell the alcohol even if you were over a dozen of feet away from her, let alone right in front of her. "Y/N, how you doing?" well, at least she could form some kind of sentence, even if her words were slurred.

"Good. Is Tara upstairs," you sure hoped she was because you didn't trust the drunk in front of you to help her down the stairs and Sam was out at the moment, probably covering someone's shift to earn enough to get by.

"Tara?" you felt a vein popping on your forehead. "She's not with you?" your blood would have run cold at that if anyone else said it.

"Please let me in," you did your best to be as gentle and polite as you possibly could. You knew the consequences of confronting Christina well enough. The last time you did it took a month and a rather expensive bottle of whiskey to let you back into her house.

"Hmm? Sure, suuuree," she stumbled to the side, and you quickly went up the stairs before she could try to continue the conversation.

You reached Tara's room and knocked.

"Come in," you heard Tara's voice from the other side of the doors. She sounded frustrated.

"Hey, you okay?" you came in and saw the issue. She was struggling with her jeans.

Tara laughed uneasily and just gave up, falling back on her bed and spreading her arms in defeat. "Shit, am I late?" she asked, a bit out of breath.

You offered her a smile and knelt in front of her to help her. You began pulling the jeans over her cast as she sat up, her breath hitching as you pulled her jeans up to the middle of her thighs. You stood up and put your arms around her waist so you could lift Tara up. That way she could pull her jeans up all the way and finish getting dressed. You smiled slightly when you felt her leaning her forehead on your shoulder, still embarrassed by how often she had to rely on you or Sam for even the simplest tasks. You didn’t think anyone could get as red as she did the first time you helped her take a shower. Not that you were unaffected, you just managed to separate doing something out of need and out of want, and that was a need, not a want for Tara. "Nope, I got here early," you reassured her, leaning to the side to kiss the top of her head, you always knew Tara was touchy, and that she craved physical touch and affection, but it only intensified after the attack, and what used to be hugs and occasional cuddles turned into still friendly kisses, sleeping with you almost every night and a lot of snuggling. "Ready now?"

Tara nodded as she pulled away, she picked up her handbag and put her arm around your neck as you lifted her up. "Think we can avoid mom?" she asked as you stepped outside her room.

"She's probably still at the doors, so unlikely," you sighed. It wasn't the first time Tara was uncomfortable about her mom seeing the two of you together, but there was something different about the way she worriedly looked away from you. "Did she say something?"

"Just another fight with Sam, well, another Sam just taking it and mom screaming at her," Tara explained and took a deep breath. "Sorry, you're worried about your results and I'm complaining about my family," she apologized making you nudge her lightly with your head.

"Hey, none of that, or do I need to remind you I forgot about the results? Besides, we support each other, right?" you reminded her as you went down the stairs.

Tara looked away. "It feels one-sided lately," she whispered so quietly you nearly didn't hear it. You were certain she didn't intend for you to hear it, so you just pulled her a tiny bit closer. You'd eventually have to talk about all the feelings that remained unresolved, but it didn't feel like today was the right day.

Luckily Christina wasn’t in the hall, you guess she went somewhere else to drink, and Tara seemed to relax a bit due to that, but she was still tense, even as you sat her down on the passenger seat.

As you drove to the hospital your mind raced in the other direction. You wouldn't say Tara has been difficult ever since what happened, hell, given what she went through, you thought she was handling things better than most people would. However, there were definitely more difficult moments, especially after she learned she would never have full use of her left hand again. She struggled to keep a firm grip on anything smaller than a cup or heavier than half a pound, not to mention reduced mobility and occasional cramps.

Mood swings, while understandable, were abrupt and immediately noticeable, which, you guessed, was to be expected. Something would trigger Tara, and it would be as if a switch got flipped. All Sam and you could do was remain patient with her. Neither of you could say you knew exactly what Tara was thinking, she refused to talk, but there was a pattern you recognized.

Christina screaming at Sam? Mood swing.

Sam being gone for too long? Mood swing.

Anyone mentioning Amber? Being reminded of Amber? Mood swing and a half.

Tara being unable to do something for herself due to her leg? The worst mood swing of them all.

Combination of any of those? Or all of them? Not fun. Currently, you were dealing with a combination of the first and fourth, perhaps the second as well, depending on when Tara last saw Sam.

Sam also told you that being away from you, even if it wasn’t for that long, caused just as big, if not even bigger mood swings, during which it wouldn’t take long to irritate Tara into an angry outburst. You, personally, didn’t deal with angry outbursts, Tara would get annoyed, or alternatively possessive and/or jealous, but you wouldn’t describe it as angry outbursts.

You stopped at the red light, a few more minutes and you'd reach the hospital.

"Y/N," the softness of her voice calmed you down, it let you know she was gradually getting less irritated.

"Yeah?" you allowed yourself a quick look at her, before turning your attention back to the road.

"I've been difficult lately, I'm sorry," that caught you off guard for a moment.

"I'd rather have you expressing everything you're feeling than the opposite. Both Sam and I will be here, no matter what, so be difficult if it helps," the lights switched to green and you drove for a bit before parking the car in the first open parking spot, still a bit away from the hospital. You turned in your seat, looking at Tara with utmost seriousness. "But, if at some point it stops helping, talk to us about that too. Just don't try to deal with it alone, rely on us."

What else could you tell her? This soon after everything happened? You were sure Sam told her something similar at least once a day, you told her as often as you could. There was no way to tell if it was reaching Tara or not. A shaky breath fell from her lips and Tara turned away from you and looked at the cars passing by your own. "We'll be late," she whispered, so you drove once again, choosing not to push or force the conversation further than she was ready to accept it.

By the time you were inside the hospital, with you sitting across from the doctor and Tara standing on her crutches next to you, you could only see the worry in her eyes. The irritation, the frustrations, it all vanished now that you were waiting to hear the results. You could see her anxiety going through the roof and wrapped your left arm around her waist, pulling her closer to you to help her clam down.

The doctor came in and you felt Tara firmly grabbing your shoulder. "Good news, miss L/N," you noticed Tara visibly relaxing and her grip on your shoulder getting weaker. "The heart attack was due to extreme circumstances. According to the tests your heart is a textbook example of healthy. You've got a long MMA career ahead of you with these results," oof, that one wasn't going to age well. You couldn't help but chuckle at that. If only the good doctor in front of you knew...

Tara, overwhelmed with relief and happiness flung her arms around you, causing you to quickly get up so she wouldn't hurt her leg. "Oh, thank goodness," she trembled in your arms as she, over the top happy as she currently was kissed your cheek several times. There was no way the corners of your lips didn’t touch a few times with how she was kissing you and you had to resist the urge to kiss her properly. It was getting more difficult though. Every time she looked you in the eyes a bit longer than she used to, every time she pressed up against you more than it was necessary, every time her lips lingered on your cheek, you had to control yourself and hold the need to kiss her back.

You worried it was too early for her to jump into another relationship, especially given what happened with Amber. "Easy, Tara," you laughed and offered a quick apology to the doctor.

"It's all good," he raised his hands. "I get it. Get out though, other patients are waiting," he chuckled and handed you Tara's crutches that had fallen to the floor.

Still, with Tara this happy, and with a movie night scheduled tonight at the twins' place, you figured nothing could cause another mood swing.

Famous last words, as some would say.

~X~

When you brought Tara back to her house and left her in her room once again, she caught herself glancing at the calendar on her phone. It's been three months now. With some trouble, she went over to the desk in her room and pulled out a box. She went back to her bed and got comfortable before opening it. The necklace inside was her favorite piece of jewelry. Simple at first glance with its round pendant, but the details were intricate and required a closer look to be seen. She traced the round patterns and the small sapphire in the middle with her fingertips, smiling as she remembered what you did back then.

~X~

It was in April 2020, it was a Saturday and you, quite easily, convinced Tara to come with you to another town, one, as you said, better equipped to handle what you wanted to do. You said you needed her help, and it wasn't until you were sitting in a confectionery store that you told her what you needed to do.

"So, there's a girl," she immediately froze when you opened with that. "I really care about her, and her birthday is coming up, and I wanted to get her something, I guess, a bit more, uh something. I thought about getting her a necklace, but I don't know anything about all that stuff."

Tara found it difficult to swallow the piece of cake she mistakenly put in her mouth before you spoke up. She still smiled, even if it didn't reach her eyes. "So, you thought I could help you?" she despised how her voice nearly gave her away when she started talking.

You just rubbed the back of your head sheepishly. The grin on your face told her everything. "I'd appreciate it."

"Do you, uh, do you really care about her?" she couldn't bring herself to ask if you were in love. The way your eyes brightened was enough of an answer without verbal confirmation.

"I do," not a moment of hesitation. Tara felt jealousy consuming her. She felt regret at not saying anything to you. She wanted to yell at you that you weren't being fair, but how could she do that when you looked so happy just thinking about that girl.

How amazing did that girl have to be to get that reaction out of you? She tried to keep her face at least neutral, even as her emotions spiraled out of control, self-doubt consuming her. She dared to hope that maybe, at some point, you might start seeing her as more than just a friend, but now she doubted that would ever happen. It would be too good to be true after all.

"Let's go then," neither one of you was done with the cakes, but she wanted, no, needed to get this over with. She'd help to the best of her abilities, but she wanted to be quick about it.

You blinked a few times, but didn’t say anything. You must have noticed her mood dropping though, because you placed an arm around her shoulders for a brief moment and smiled at her. She returned the smile, as genuinely as she could, but her heart still sank at the thought of you loving someone else.

You got to the store, and she looked around, wondering if she could really do it. "What did you want me to do, exactly?" she asked.

"Uh, look around and find the one that catches your eye the most? Let's say as if you were choosing something for yourself?" you looked around, completely out of place. Tara guessed you really never had the time to figure something like this out, with all the training and fighting, and now a job as a cook, you simply didn't have time.

So, going as far as to ask for Tara's help, not to mention taking an entire day off from everything, really made her envious of that mysterious girl of yours. How far were you going to go for that girl if you were taking a day off for a gift? What if she likes you back and you start dating? Who was she kidding with that last thought? That girl would have to be crazy not to like you back. It wasn't just jealousy over that, it went further, to how it would affect your friendship when your already limited free time got occupied by another girl.

So, to keep her mind off those possibilities Tara turned to her task. "What's your budget?" she asked absentmindedly.

"I didn't really consider it. Don't look at the price," were you being serious now?

"Y/N, what are you doing?" Tara asked in a hushed whisper, she knew how careful you were with money, yet here you were, acting like you’d spend a small fortune if needed.

"Buying a gift?" you didn't seem affected by the prices in the store. Well, if you weren't going to care, then Tara would do it for you.

"Welcome, is there anything I can help you with?" a woman interrupted the two of you and Tara gave her a tight-lipped smile.

“Please do, we’re looking for a gift,” you told her and seeing how certain you were of that the woman didn't seem to mind Tara’s not so happy smile as she began showing the two of you different pieces of jewelry.

Tara considered something cheaper than a necklace, like a ring… actually, no, no ring! Too much! But something like earrings or a bracelet. Despite those intentions her eyes kept going back to one necklace in particular. Simple, golden, necklace with a beautiful circular design on the pendant and a tiny sapphire in the middle of it. You seemed to catch that, and Tara had long since noticed you weren't paying attention to the jewelry as much as her reactions to them.

"Could you maybe try it? You know, to see if it's comfortable?" you sheepishly asked and Tara sighed, that ugly jealousy increasing tenfold. Did you really have to buy that girl one thing that genuinely caught her eye? And to make it even worse it fit her like a glove.

"Thanks," you looked almost mesmerized at the sight of the necklace around her neck.

"Mhm. Lucky girl," she swallowed down those feelings as your eyes met.

"I'm the lucky one," the tiniest bit of raspiness in your voice as you whispered those words sent a shiver down her spine.

With the necklace paid for the two of you went back to Woodsboro. As payback she made you watch The Babadook and Hereditary back to back. You never mentioned the girl again. She asked what her reaction was, you just shrugged. She asked to meet her, you gave vague excuses not to. No matter what she asked, or how she approached the conversation you remained tightlipped about it. You still had that look of absolute adoration in your eyes when you talked about her and Tara just couldn't take it, so she stopped asking.

Eventually, by the middle of November, she couldn't keep it in anymore. Amber really, really disliked you, probably even hated you a bit, and telling her about what happened would only make it worse. Mindy would tease her, so she couldn't go to Mindy either. And while she loved Chad and Wes, she did not want to discuss the jealousy that was eating her up from inside with them. You were obviously not an option, so, she was really left with the worst possible option.

"I don't know what to do, mom," she lamented when she told her mother the story. She was fairly certain half of what she said was already forgotten by the half-drunk woman.

"That's bad," her mom said, looking straight through Tara with her hazy eyes. "Girl's parents are rich, when she sobers up from her rebellious phase, she'll go back to them and all that money will go to her," Tara felt like vomiting as her mother hiccupped and gulped down another glass of wine. "It's not like they have other kids."

Your parents were rich. There was no denying that, but to think that was why her mother was so supportive of her friendship with you. Tara felt sick. She barely kept her breathing under control and, as subtly as she could, used her inhaler.

"You clung too hard Tara, and she got sick of it. Keep doing that and people will abandon you again," with tears in her eyes Tara ran outside, with her mother not even calling after her. She was clutching her inhaler and phone to her chest as tears streamed down her face. It wasn't the first time her mom had said something like that, that she clung too hard and that it was the reason Sam and her dad left her.

She couldn't call you. She couldn't be that clingy. Instead, she ran until her lungs burned, which, admittedly, wasn't too far. Tara gasped for air, trying to calm down and avoid an asthma attack. This wasn't the time or the place, but the cold air made everything more difficult. Almost out of the blue, she began shivering, only now realizing she wasn't exactly dressed for the cold, she was in her pajama shorts and T-shirt and only had slippers on her feet, not to mention she was disoriented, cold, and out of breath.

"Tara, sweetie?" a voice she barely recognized called her name and she abruptly raised her head to see none other than the lady that owned the restaurant you worked in. A middle-aged woman with hair seemingly permanently in a bun and a kind face that made working with customers seem easy. Tara suddenly found it really difficult to recall her or her husband's name, but the couple was amazing from what you told her, and you loved working for them. And they were always kind to her as well, letting her into the kitchen to spend time with you as long as she was careful.

"What are you doing out at this hour and dressed like that?" the woman quickly wrapped Tara in her coat. "Dear Lord, you're freezing," Tara looked down, ashamed of being caught in this state. "Let's go inside," only then did Tara realize she somehow stumbled to the restaurant you worked in. And with that close to your apartment as well.

"N-No, I'm fine," she tried to refuse, her mother's words echoing in her mind.

"Y/N will go crazy if I leave you like this, come on so I don't have to get scolded by my own employee," she guessed she couldn't argue with that. She knew you, if she refused and left, and the woman told you about it, you’d start looking for Tara and then Tara would feel even worse.

The lady took her through the front doors, through the small restaurant with nice wooden tables and into the kitchen where Tara saw you wrapping up the cleaning. The kitchen was still warm and she gave the coat back to your boss. The woman was reluctant to take it, but seeing the look in Tara's eyes as she watched your back made your boss take the coat back.

"Y/N," her voice was barely louder than a whisper, yet somehow you heard her and whipped around almost as if you couldn't believe your own ears.

"Tara?!" your jaw dropped as you saw her. Immediately you dropped what you were doing and pulled her as close to you as possible. Tara didn't know if it was instinct or habit, but whichever it was it took over and she clung to you as if her life depended on it, gripping the back of your uniform and taking all of you in, the warmth of your body, your scent mixed with the smell of the kitchen and all the food you made tonight, the feel of your muscles underneath your clothes, she took it all in. "Shit, you're freezing! And you were crying? What happened?" you turned to your boss, looking for answers.

“I don’t know, I just saw her outside,” your boss raised her hands while Tara kept shivering in your arms.

“I owe you one,” you turned your attention back to Tara and picked her up by her waist. The familiar feeling of being in the air, her body leaning against yours and your arms holding her up was the comfort she desperately needed at the moment. You went over to your hoodie hanging in the back and gave it to Tara the moment you lowered her back down.

“Sorry, Y/N,” Tara whispered and let go of you just enough to put the hoodie on.

“Hey, it’s okay,” your smile warmed her up as you brushed the tears from her cheeks and only then took your white uniform off, leaving you in a plain red T-shirt. The moment that was done Tara went right back to hugging you. Just for a bit longer, she told herself, just until the words her mother spoke became less loud. Just until she was certain you didn't mind. Then she let you go, only to feel you pulling her into your side and leading her outside through the back doors.

"Thanks! I'll make up for this tomorrow!" she heard you hollering as you took her straight to your apartment.

By the time the two of you were in your apartment, Tara was calm, for the most part. You set your priorities straight, cranking the heating up to the max and getting Tara to lie down in your bed to warm up quicker. You even tucked her in, wrapping her in your blankets. Only then did you send a message to her mother. Tara frowned at that. As if her mother cared. And it wasn’t that you thought her mother cared, you just didn’t want to take any chances that her mother would end up calling the police and causing issues.

"What happened?" you finally sat down on the sofa next to the bed and Tara wasn't sure what to tell you. She didn’t know how to even approach the topic, how to tell you what she was feeling and what caused her to run from home like that.

"Am I too clingy? Does it bother you?" she eventually blurted out before she could change her mind.

Your eyes widened at that. "It could never bother me, Tara," you assured her, your eyes carefully studying her. "Where did you get that idea?"

Tara sat up in your bed, now feeling warm, for more than one reason. "Mom said I clung too hard, and you got sick of it," Tara just admitted it, she wouldn't tell you what made her mother say that, but she figured she should tell you what made her run from her house like that. "Then she said people will keep abandoning me and I got emotional, so I ran. I didn't even realize where I was."

You clenched your fists and Tara could see barely contained anger in your eyes. "Of course, it was your damn mother," you growled, leaning back and glaring at the ceiling. “Why don’t you just come and live with me once you turn eighteen?”

It wasn’t the first time you asked that question and Tara wanted that, she wanted that so damn much, but she knew you were saving money for the future, and that you would have to get a bigger apartment if she started living with you. Even if you started sleeping together, which, given you were just friends, might become a bit weird over time, she wondered how the rest of living together would work. And then there were your fights… Frankly, Tara didn’t know if she had the strength to see your bruises after fights, even if everything else was fine.

“I… I don’t think it would work,” she gave you that same answer and at first you assured her you’d make it work, and she’d just tell you she was fine in her house.

“Tara,” you sighed, and she could see the complaint at the tip of your tongue.

"Especially since you will have less time for me," Tara finally opened up about what had been bothering her since April.

"What?" you suddenly sounded confused, the question of Tara moving in forgotten for the time being.

"The girl? The one you bought that necklace for. You'll have less time when you get together with her," she explained, not sure why you didn't get that. You were usually more than aware of how much time you could spare on what. Even if you told her your friendship wouldn't suffer because of your love life, she honestly couldn't believe that. Tara was the one you spent most of your free time with, and that would have to be shared once someone else comes along. And she knew she couldn’t see you hugging and kissing that girl, or any other girl, so the more serious the relationship got the less she’d see you. And she dreaded that thought, she hated how it made her feel like maybe there was some truth in what Amber was saying.

"Is that what you've been worried about?" you asked and moved to kneel on the floor next to her.

Tara just nodded, not trusting her voice right now.

You sighed and reached for the nightstand drawer. Tara's eyes widened when she saw the same box you got from that jewelry store. "There's no girl, Tara, the necklace is for you," you opened the box and looked her in the eyes, almost silently begging for permission. When she, too shocked to say or do anything, just kept looking from the necklace to your eyes you took that as enough of a permission to put it around her neck.

It still fit her like it was made for her, and she felt a shiver run down her spine when your fingers brushed against her neck. "What did you say?" her throat was dry all of a sudden.

You smiled sheepishly, pulling your hands away from her neck. "It was meant to be a gift for your eighteenth birthday, and I really don't know shit about jewelry, so the only way I could find something good would be to, you know, trick you into choosing your own gift like eight months in advance," at least you looked embarrassed.

Tara still couldn't believe what was happening, too speechless to even react. So, you took that as a sign to keep talking.

"I'd rather ruin the surprise than let you worry about something like this. For what it's worth, I didn't think you'd think there could ever be a girl that could take your place. Hell, I was scared you'd see right through me," you chuckled a bit and took her hand. "Please say something," you pleaded, and she pulled you into a hug.

"You're crazy, you know? What were you thinking spending all that money on me, hmm?" she felt tears running down her cheeks. You, damn, dumbass she was so hopelessly in love with.

"Yeah, you kinda make it hard to think clearly," you teased, and she jokingly gave you a light smack on the back.

"I love it," she relented, knowing better than to argue with you about this. "Thanks, Y/N," she muttered into your neck wishing she had the courage to just move up and kiss you.

~X~

Tara smiled as she remembered all that. She spent the night, sleeping right next to you, not quite as close as she did over the past few weeks, but back then it didn't matter. It wasn't the first time the two of you slept like that, but it didn't happen that often, especially in your bed. So, back then she cherished the nights that would end like that. A plan formed in her head, she hadn't worn your necklace over the past three months, due to Amber's jealousy, or well, what she thought was jealousy. So, it was about time to correct that.

~X~

When you arrived at Chad and Mindy’s house, you found Sam on the porch, smoking a cigarette.

"Before you ask, I'm trying to quit," Sam said as you reached her and leaned back against the fence. You just raised your hands, understanding it wasn't the easiest task. As long as she didn't smoke anywhere near Tara you honestly didn't mind.

"You know, I don't think I'll ever miss Woodsboro, but you can't deny the sky is beautiful at night," you pointed out as you looked up over your shoulder.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Sam nodding. "Can I ask you something about you and Tara?"

You met her eyes, slightly confused as to why she'd ask you instead of Tara. "Sure."

"Do you know? How she feels?" it was a question that could make or break your relationship with Sam.

"That she loves me? Yeah, I've known since she was sixteen," you admitted. "Her eyes are just so expressive, you know? I can see the way she looks at me. I know the way she clings to me isn't exactly friendly either," the looks, the lingering touches, the apparent need Tara had to just stay as close to you as she physically could ever since she was attacked… You noticed it all. Truth be told, you and Tara had always been touchy with each other. Whether you were carrying her on your back when you were kids, or she just randomly hugged you and wouldn’t let go until she was content throughout your entire friendship, or falling asleep next to each other and eventually watching a movie while cuddling, sure, you guessed some friends did that, but all things considered you couldn’t deny that Tara was in love with you, or that you were in love with her.

Sam clenched her fist. "And you?"

You looked at her as if she suddenly grew another head. "Seriously? That's a question? I love her, Sam."

Sam relaxed at that, at least a bit. "What's stopping you then?"

You looked away from her and back to the night sky. "It was never the right moment. I figured it out a bit before I turned eighteen, but I was about to leave my parents. Then I had to find the balance between MMA, work, and everything else I now needed to handle on my own. I just wouldn't be able to be what she needed in a relationship," not to mention Tara was sixteen at the time, well, sixteen and a half, but you didn’t want to rush her into a relationship until she was ready. Until she knew what she wanted and needed in a partner, you wanted it to work, and it felt like waiting a few years was the best way to make sure it would work, and not fall apart because you were still too young to know what you wanted.

The circumstances were much different now, though. Age and maturity kinda weren’t a factor anymore, not after what the two of you, and especially Tara, went through.

Sam nodded, apparently understanding your reasoning. "And now she went through a traumatic experience, and you want to give her time to heal?" Sam was spot on. Now you were sure you and Tara would work, but between what happened, and the way Tara was handling it, you didn't think it was the right time to get together. That being said, you doubted you had it in you to resist if, say, a kiss was about to happen.

"If something happened I think I couldn't fight it, but I'm not going to pursue anything right now," you admitted and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence for a couple of minutes.

"Oh, yeah, Tara is waiting for you in the guest room. Apparently, she has something to ask you," Sam's statement puzzled you. You and Tara already spent plenty of time together today. Couldn't she ask before?

"Thanks, Sam," you got inside and found Chad and Mindy in the living room trying to decide which movie to watch. "Hey," Tara's question could wait a minute or two. You approached the twins and gave them a quick hug. "How are you?"

"Doing better," Mindy shrugged, grinning a bit, even though you could see her subconsciously reaching for her chest where Amber stabbed her, it was a miracle she survived. It was a miracle either of the two of them survived, and you could see that night haunting them in the way their eyes lost that childlike innocence they had before this all happened. Other than Tara, the rest of your friends had normal childhoods, parents that were normal, that cared for them, they were never abandoned, and now, completely out of nowhere, a close friend tried to kill them and killed Wes and Liv. They would never be as trusting as they were, and you couldn’t blame them. "You know how it goes, we're all dealing with it one way or another," she said, for once choosing not to be snarky or sarcastic.

You nodded. Hoping the answer was honest because, as much as it hurt to admit, you didn't have it in you to fully be there for anyone else.

"Chad?" he was in a rather special situation, seeing as Liv was his girlfriend. You heard from Tara Liv's parents didn't take it well when he tried to talk to them. He dragged her into that mess, they said. It wasn’t fair, but in their grief and anger and no one left to pay and suffer for their daughter’s death, the only target left was Chad. There was a chance Tara would have been the target of their rage as well, seeing as she did introduce Liv to the rest of the group, but they just never had the chance to take their anger out on Tara.

"Hanging in there. Going back to practice has been helping to get my mind off of things," the only one who visibly took all of this worse than Chad was Tara. For a moment you wondered if Tara would be able to handle it better if she wasn't stuck in one place pretty much all day.

You patted Chad's shoulder. "If you ever want to spar, or train together, you have my number," and you most definitely would train with Chad if he asked.

"I'll keep it in mind Champ," he smiled slightly. "Tara's waiting for you," he gestured upstairs, and you nodded, leaving the two to find Tara.

“Second door to the right!” Mindy added as you began climbing up the stairs.

“Thanks!” it was a testament to how rarely you visited their place. If the times you came to pick Tara up were excluded, you were fairly sure you could count all the times you spent time in this house on your hands. In all the years you’ve known the twins. As kids you just used to spend time in the park, or at the school playground, afterwards Tara’s house became the usual place to hang out, and by the time you turned eighteen most of the time it was just you and Tara anyway.

When you found Tara, she was sitting on the bed, with a box in her hands. It looked like a jewelry box? "Hey, what's up?"

Tara blushed slightly. "Uh, could you open this box?" she offered it to you.

You tilted your head in confusion but still took the box. You remained on your feet, in front of Tara, not entirely sure if you'd need to move right away. Things became even more confusing when you opened the box. You recognized the necklace immediately and you looked at Tara, a bit lost at the moment.

"Could you put it on me?" Tara asked, clearing your confusion.

Your heart began beating a bit faster. "Of course," you spoke softly and leaned forward to put the necklace around her neck. You tried not to notice how her lower lip trembled, or how it felt like your fingertips touched fire. It wasn’t like this when you first put it around her neck, and your heart threatened to leap out of your chest when you looked at the necklace around her neck. It felt good to see it there once again after more or less three months now.

"I took it off exactly three months ago. It felt fitting to put it back on today, especially if you put it on me," her eyes held a bit of uncertainty as she placed her hands around your neck.

With anyone else, they'd have to work for it, but with Tara, you just moved, letting her pull your head down. She kissed your cheek and then moved her lips closer to your ear. "You're the only one whose mark I'll ever wear," your eyes widened, brain short-circuited, body moving on its own as you pulled her closer, heart hammering in your chest as she looked you in the eyes. Was she leaning in or was that you?

"Tara, Y/N, we're ready to start the movie!" Mindy's voice startled both of you and you awkwardly separated from each other the moment Mindy came in. The fuck? Didn't the three of them send you up here? And now they interrupted you? "Come on," she ushered you and then probably connected the dots. "Hey, wait a second, did you two just-" she had the most infuriating shit-eating grin on her face.

"No!" both of you denied even if you could feel the tingling sensation on your lips. It wasn't even an almost kiss, your lips definitely touched for a moment, and judging by Tara absentmindedly touching her lips she felt it too,

"Sure, you didn't," Mindy rolled her eyes. "Make out later, we got a movie to watch."

"We weren't-" Tara began and you could see a very prominent blush on her face. "Why am I even bothering?" she gave up prompting you to chuckle.

"Let's just go and watch the movie," you gave up and picked Tara up. The warning you silently sent Mindy luckily kept her from saying anything, she still had an infuriatingly teasing smirk on her face and it only made Tara hide her face in the crook of your neck.

"T, we all know you're not hiding because you're embarrassed," Mindy just couldn't help herself.

"Dude, let me have this," Tara groaned, making Mindy laugh as she led the two of you to the living room.

Your phone rang just as you and Tara settled in, and you glanced down to see it was your coach. Sighing, you pulled away from Tara and smiled apologetically at her pouting face. "Sorry, I have to take this, don't pause the movie," you stepped outside the house and answered. "How did it go?" you immediately asked, you kinda knew the answer already, you were already perfectly fine with it, you just wanted to hear it.

"You're out Y/N, they agreed to let you have two more fights and then you'll have to retire," you couldn't remember ever hearing him so devastated. You didn't get it, honestly, this was much better than you expected. You thought it would be instant retirement.

"Got it. Well, let's just make those last two fights memorable," you said, you didn't try, he tried, and there was nothing else to do but accept the complementary paycheck and retire without making a fuss.

"Why did you have to go after those two?" he asked again even if you answered that same question when he told you the situation you were in.

"I told you. They hurt the one I love," you'd do it again, and again, and it didn't matter what the cost would be.

"Y/N, come on! The movie's really good!" you heard Chad hollering from the living room.

"Sorry, I have to go, we'll talk tomorrow, okay?" even if you were fine with it, you did wish there was another way, but there wasn't so, that's how it was.

"Yeah, sure. We'll talk," he hung up, sounding even more dejected, before you had the chance to do it and you went back inside. You felt Tara's eyes following your every move, even when Mindy teasingly told her the TV was in the opposite direction. Tara flipped her off, but didn't look away and as you sat back down you saw concern in her eyes.

You smiled, leaning in, and kissing the top of her head before pulling her closer to you. "It's nothing urgent, I'll tell you tonight," she'd sleep at your place tonight. It was a bit of an unspoken deal. If Sam couldn't sleep at Tara's place, then Tara would sleep at your apartment. And since Sam narrowly avoided another fight with her and Tara's mother, they both decided it would be for the best if Sam didn't sleep there for a night or two. Just to let things cool down a bit.

Tara looked you in the eyes with an intensity that made you wonder if she would settle for your answer. Luckily, she nodded and went back to watching the movie.

Three and a half hours later you couldn't avoid telling Tara about what happened anymore. You wanted to delay it a bit longer, let her rest, and not worry her about how you were taking the news because you knew she'd be worrying regardless of what you told her. So, you took your sweet time to get ready for bed, hoping she might fall asleep.

She didn't. Of course, she didn't.

"Y/N," there was a playful warning in her tone, one that told you Tara saw right through you.

"Sorry, sorry," you rubbed the back of your head nervously as you lay down next to her. Tara was on your left side, much like she was in the hospital. And just like in the hospital, you were closer to the doors. Ghostface was gone, but Tara did at one point sleepily mutter to you that she felt safer when she was between you and the wall, safe from both sides.

"So, what was the phone call about?" Tara demanded as she got comfortable next to you, and you pulled the covers over the two of you.

"I'm retiring from MMA," you just dropped it on her and watched as her jaw dropped, as her entire face morphed into pure shock.

"What? Why?" she questioned the moment her brain processed the information you just gave her.

"Apparently, a case can be made that I went looking for a fight, for both times I fought Amber and Richie, especially the one at Amber's house. So, while a lot of people accept the self-defense and/or keeping my loved ones safe as a valid excuse, at least just as many people are saying I could have stayed out of it and/or that I took it too far," you explained the gist of the situation. It was a perfect storm, really. You, a young, new fighter, came along, and defeated a bunch of fan favorites, only to then get caught up in a conflict that left more than half a dozen people dead and just as many heavily injured.

"That makes no sense. What were you supposed to do, let them kill you?" Tara's voice shook with barely restrained fury.

"No one is saying that, but plenty of people are saying I went to Amber's house intending to kill her, which, to be perfectly honest, is true," you couldn't argue against that, you really did plan on killing Amber.

Tara frowned and sat up, looking down as you kept lying there. "We went to save Sam," she argued, even if there really was no point in arguing.

"Tara," you sighed, reaching up to brush a couple of strands of her hair behind her ear. "You and I both know that's the official statement. Yes, saving Sam was important, but if Sam woke me up, or if you had told me it was Amber before we went to sleep I would have done the same thing Sam did."

"I killed Amber," Tara kept arguing, even if she did lift her hand and placed it over your own.

"Valid. I still wanted to do it. I would have done it if I had anything but the gun in my hands," you argued back, still fairly calm about everything. You knew damn well that you would have killed Amber and Richie with your bare fists if you needed.

Tara leaned over you, gripping your shoulders. "Why are you like this? Why are you taking the side of people that are against you?" she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes.

You frowned, choosing the next words carefully. "It's not about sides. It's as simple as acknowledging that I had those intentions. Even if my reason for fighting was justified, and it was, there have to be consequences. Otherwise, you might as well openly give a highly trained group of people a loophole on how to get away with fighting outside the cage, or ring, or whatever," you firmly believed what you were saying. You were fine with this outcome. This was the price to pay to keep Tara safe? Hell, you would have paid a much higher one if it was needed.

"It's not fair," Tara whispered, as she lowered her body down to your own, no longer capable of staying in the position she was in. You were honestly impressed she held out for so long. You just pulled the blanket over your bodies and hugged her. Tara sighed, gently running her fingers through your hair.

"Is the phrase we-" Tara immediately placed a finger over your lips.

"-only use when things don't go our way, I know. You keep repeating that," she huffed, annoyed.

You still kissed the tip of her finger and grinned when she blushed. "It's not so bad. I'm retiring, but I'll have two more fights and I'll get some money to retire quietly. Everyone will end up more or less happy by the end of this deal," you tried to get her to see the brighter side.

Tara, instead, just narrowed her eyes.

"Okay, that's not working. How about this? I get to go to college and work at the same time, while spending plenty of time with you, instead of sacrificing the job in favor of fighting. It's really not that big of a loss Snuggle Bear," you didn't know what else to say to her that could get her to just accept it as it is. It really shouldn't have been this difficult. Tara hated that you fought, before all of this went down, she herself tried to talk you into quitting several times, so all of this, her entire reaction, baffled you.

You understood that she knew how much you loved MMA and you guessed she would be worried about how you'd take all of this, but this was a whole different reaction from what you imagined. And you couldn't put a finger on what was the reason for this shift to save your life.

Though she struggled to do it, Tara moved away from you and tucked herself in the corner. "I wish you didn't pretend you were okay, Y/N. For once be open about your feelings," you didn't have to see her face to know she was crying.

"Tara," you tried, leaning over to wrap an arm around her waist, but she pushed against it. You took a deep breath and sat up. For once you were completely honest about being fine. But that was the point, wasn't it? Because it was for once. So many times, you pretended to be fine, keeping the fact that something was troubling you from Tara and now that she knew you did that for years there was a crack in her trust in you.

You got up from the bed and lay down on the sofa to give her as much space as your apartment allowed. It was a long, silent night, with neither of you saying a word or getting any sleep.

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter #scream #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader

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vivalioo · 2 years

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heyy! hope you're having a good day so far! i was wondering if i could have some headcannons of the stardust crusaders reacting to the fem! reader who's stand powers are mostly based on dreams that she had in the past? forgive me if this all is confusing (i've never really thought deep into a made-up stand power before 😅), but basically, whatever happens in a particular dream (ex: a person slips and falls on the floor), as long as the reader can remember certain details or events, when her stand touches a person (doesn't even have to be a punch, the stand could literally poke them for a brief second if it wanted), that person will be affected (as stated in my example: a person slips and falls in the reader's dream? the affected person will also slip and fall). however, the funny catch is that the reader tends to have strange dreams (some range from "ok, well that was weird" to "WHAT IN THE HELL WAS THAT?! DID I ACTUALLY DREAM THAT?!"), so the weirder/intense/funnier the dream, the more powerful the attack is. sometimes there will be moments where a stand user is defeated in the most hilarious way, which always leaves the reader laughing her ass off at the end of the battle LMAO. apologies again if this all sounds confusing! feel free to change some things up if you want to :) ty! <33

@klvbxlove

This is my first time writing headcanons for characters so I thoroughly enjoyed this, especially because this idea was so fun, thank you for requesting! I hope it's to your liking ^^ I also hope you don't mind me tagging you just to make sure you see this! I know sometimes questions I ask don't give me notifs when people answer lol

No warnings needed I don't think except uhh the reader's gender isn't mentioned because of 2nd person pov, and this is mostly platonic but Polnareff's section has a flirty comment because c'mon it's Polnareff. OH and no Iggy :(

Jotaro Kujo

-Jotaro is still relatively new to the whole situation regarding stands, and although he had thought he'd seen it all by now boy he couldn't be more wrong!

-I think he'd definitely be skeptical of the nature of your ability at first. You're practically able to change fate itself with a simple touch of your stand, it isn't until he sees it in action does he really start to accept how weird but strong the power can be

-Even if he won't admit it he's definitely curious if you've had any dreams involving him lol. Once he starts to believe your ability he'll grumble out something along the lines of "Keep that damn thing away from me" in fear of getting into an embarrassing accident as a result of the dreams

-If your stand happens to swoop in and save the day with some freak occurrence that rivals the likes of Joseph's most ridiculous plans, he's left in disbelief and tries to hide it by pulling his hat down and saying his most famous catch phrase. Expect to hear "Good grief." Every time your stand helps to incapacitate an enemy.

Noriaki Kakyoin

-Kakyoin is very polite when approaching the topic of your stand ability

-He's fascinated with the idea of you being able to control someone's fate in such a way, and is one of the ones who sees the most potential in this stand

-He'll try to protect and lead you in battle more often than not, because he also recognizes that this ability is not really suited for combat. Which is very sweet!

-He doesn't pressure you but definitely makes it known that he'd appreciate any heads up for any dreams that involve him. He doesn't really want to make a fool of himself anytime soon

Jean Pierre Polnareff

-Polnareff is like the second most fascinated with the nature of your stand, he's definitely curious if any of your dreams happen to mention him too. -He'd somehow find a way to make a witty one-liner out of the situation, it's just in his nature. "Ah, so you've been dreaming about me have you?"

-If you decide to tell him of any embarrassing fate that might befall him that day he'll kinda blush a bit and subconsciously shy away from you and your stand's touch while saying "O-oh? Is that so?"

-Please forgive him he's had enough embarrassment on this trip. Mans is traumatized lmfao

Muhammad Avdol

-Avdol, being a fortune teller himself, is probably the one most fascinated with your stand ability! He'll enthusiastically encourage you to tell him of your dreams every morning, so much so that it becomes routine

-He'll always thoughtfully and politely nod along, strategizing about how your premonitions can be used in battle against enemy stand users

-He gets embarrassed if any of your dreams involve him, especially if it's something silly. He feels like he has to apologize for you seeing such an uncharacteristic display

-He will definitely give a hearty chuckle about anything else you tell him about the crusaders though. You've seen how mischievous he can be at times, if it's something non life threatening he'll even subtly encourage you to touch them with your stand. It's like a little inside joke you both get to be on!

Joseph Joestar

-If there's even a mention of himself in your dreams you bet your ass he wants to know every detail! If it's something funny/ridiculous he'll sort of scoff and hide his embarrassment, claiming that such a thing would never happen to him!

-Until it does.

-He'll never get used to seeing this ability in action against enemy stand users, like Jotaro he might even be skeptical and teasing/condescending about it at first (because that's just how he is), and has never been humbled so fast than when you cause some sort of terrifyingly hilarious fate to befall someone

-After that he's like a persistent child, constantly inquiring about your dreams and abusing your stand's power to the fullest, especially to help him out of a tough spot

-He'll get a bit ahead of himself, so you'll have to remind him sometimes that your ability works in a specific way, and no you can't make something happen to an enemy naturally because they're kicking yall's ass in battle lol

#jojos bizarre adventure #jjba #jjba part 3 #stardust crusaders #jojo sdc #sdc x reader #stardust crusaders x reader #headcanons #jotaro kujo x reader #noriaki kakyoin x reader #jean pierre polnareff x reader #muhammad avdol x reader #joseph joestar x reader #requests open

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 6 months

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HELLO BELOVED CKB!! I have been restraining myself for months (hypothetical since I have no sense of time) on the topic of fictional characters that remind people of Yves. Because Oh Boy do I have a big one.

Have you seen Vil Schoenheit from Twisted Wonderland? There are so many parallels it makes me go absolutely bonkers. I might get his character wrong but oh well.

- Vil is insanely rich & a model/actor. Very influential and worked his way to that spot. His skincare and makeup routine is fucking impertinent to him; he must look flawless at all times. He makes sure that he is in prime condition and pushes to make sure that the people in his dorm are of similar regimens.

- Vil is based off of the evil queen (he’s not related to her in any sense btw.) He, by nature, is very nitpicky and motherly towards the people that he cares about even though it can be seen by them as smothering and overwhelming sometimes.

- He specializes in making potions and specifically poisons.

- Oh My God he is so mother and honestly one of my favorite characters and so is Yves which honestly says a lot about me. I need help. Canonically calls his right hand man “dear/darling.”

If I had to relate Yves to another TWST character it would be Malleus Draconia but only looks and obsessiveness and the whole “I want to be with you for eternity” thing.

- 🌷

Oh hell yeah i know Twisted wonderland, I follow a couple of blogs who specialized in making Yandere Fics about them, my favourite is Malleus Fuckin Draconia my man. Im pretty sure you can see my type (Long black hair, green eyes, calm, lithe and vampiric types)

I didn't know shit about twisted wonderland at first, I fr thought it was a yandere dating sim, but I had to learn everything bit by bit from the bits and bobs of canon those authors would sometimes post about, so it was like learning a language from scratch.

I was partially interested in Vil Schoenheit, but I guess most of the fics wrote him as mainly focused on his fanbase and not the reader- like he needs the world to have their eyes on him or he will throw up and die. So that kinda killed my yearning boner off for him because reader's attention is not enough and he requires love from the masses too.

Like fr i appreciate the maternalness of Vil, but it just feels... surface level since I doubt he would be interested in personally wiping reader's ass when they're incapable or cleaning up your puke on himself with a straight face without making a big deal out of it.

and IMO i think he's a little too loud, a little too naggy and his nitpicky comes from a place of self service, not really in the reader's best interest. Like Yves would listen to you and observe 100%, whereas its the other way round for Vil, where you gotta drink the yappuchino he serves. Dont come for me Vil simps i think he is swell despite this </3 I just don't think he would be the parallel of Yves </333

but for MALLEUS tho,,, mans a quiet, antisocial loner from what I saw, only yearning for the attention of the reader (or "yuu"), he's super calm, a recluse, and has like 4 friends. I have read fics that painted him in a maternal light that tickled my heartussy, and I guess thas why i like him more. Because to me, I headcannon he would take care of you himself as if you're paralyzed from the head neck down without complaints or feeling icky when he gotta handle with human bodily fluids. He would mostly listen and observe, maybe infodump about gargoyles but I think he would be a closer match to Yves than Vil in vibes and looks.

Though might wanna consider Jamil Viper from Scarabia, he hates standing out and mans was always depicted as the caretaker to Kalim. And I would like always have the biggest crush on him because,,, hehe caretaker

But he does so begrudgingly and like has a deep hatred for Kalim, I was like damn what if he loves caretaking for me,,, that isn't gonna happen because Jamil comes from a background of injustice and he isn't going to like being subjected to the role forced upon him since birth,,, aha ... unless...

and he's hella smart, but he's moving in silence just like Yves, gritting his teeth but keep on trucking no matter how angery he is. He is calm and quiet, and he listens because he need that information to succeed in his goals, but my delulu ass would be like omg he is so attentive

but theres that spite in Jamil that do be present in Yves though, ironically I would say that Yves is closer in character to Malleus and Jamil than Vil, but i could be just biased and say that because of both appearances are similar to that of Yves rn (Malleus and Jamil has like long, straightish dark hair and them sharp eyes)

#yandere #oc yves #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere oc #male yandere oc x reader

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justsomestoicguy · 1 month

Text

The Red Means I Love You

It's been a week since my ill-fated slip-up with Stain.

He left things off on a "let's continue this another time" note. But it's the kind where he purposefully tries to steer away from the topic.

And honestly? I'm grateful we haven't resumed that convo, because I am far from ready yet.

But on a lighter note, I managed to escape my group's wrath with the 'ol "family emergency" excuse.

Well… mostly.

Tanaka gave me hell for ditching the project and my work. I had to play the sympathy card hard, claiming, "Family's complicated, you know?", knowing damn well she wouldn't buy it for one bit. But hey, it was enough to keep her off my back.

So now, I've settled into a routine: Ops on Tuesdays and Thursdays—schoolwork and friends the rest of the week.

Oh, and keeping in touch with Stain through a burner phone. Very secret agent-y, if I do say so myself.

Today, I'm back at the 2nd Training Corps, which apparently only consists of Toga and me for now.

I had some suspicions about why Stain placed me here with her, and they were immediately confirmed when Stain mentioned Scourge left him a list of people to take in in case of a worst-case scenario (shrewd as always, Scourge).

He thought that, by extension, that also meant getting me close with said people, and so he did what he did and put me here.

It left me wondering, though, what other names are on that list? Dabi? Twice? Other "salvageable" members from the League of Villains?

Unfortunately, I couldn't ask Stain about it since he's too busy running the Ops. Dude's surprisingly competent.

And as for Toga, well…

"Ran-kun!" she calls out, her voice bright and bubbly. "You done sweeping over there?"

I finish up the last bit of dust and lean on my broom, glancing at her. "Yeah, just about. Sensei'll have our heads if she finds a speck of dirt left."

Why are we on cleaning duty, you may ask? Well, because according to our very wise and very pretty mentor, Onibi-sensei (or just Sensei as we call her), "Discipline is the key to success."

Not quite what I imagined when I signed up for secret vigilante work, but hey, I'll take what I can get for now.

Toga skips over to me, her smile widening. "It's kinda fun, y'know? Doing this with you."

"Sure," I say, forcing a chuckle. "As long as it doesn't involve getting yelled at, I'm game."

We've been getting along pretty well, all things considered.

Unlike me, Toga has happily left her old life behind. And while I know her reasons (thanks, MHA fandom), I'm waiting for her to tell me herself. Building rapport and all that.

But, of course, it's never that simple.

Toga has a... unique way of expressing affection.

Case in point: she pulls out a knife, eyes twinkling with that signature, unsettling glee. "Ran-kun…" she addresses sweetly, almost innocently.

Great. Just great. I sigh, trying to keep my cool.

"No, Toga-chan," I say firmly, holding up a hand.

Her smile falters, eyes darkening with a hint of hurt. I quickly add, "You shouldn't just rush into people like that. It's not polite. You should ask nicely first if you want something from them."

She blinks, caught off guard. For a moment, I think I've made a terrible mistake. But then her face lights up with pure unadulterated joy.

"Oh! Okay! Er, Ran-kun, can I taste your blood, please? Pretty please?"

Don't be so blunt about it!

Still, I reluctantly (though I tried not to show it) nod. "I—sure. But let me do the dirty work myself. And no drinking directly from me, okay?" I motion for her to give me the knife.

She pouts, clearly not thrilled with the stipulations, but agrees, handing me the blade.

I scream internally, grabbing a cup from a nearby counter and mentally preparing to make a small incision on my hand.

C'mon, Ran. Just get this over with.

Angling the knife, I slice swiftly, drawing blood from the back of my hand over the cup.

Y'ouch.

It hurts, but I'm thankfully able to keep a neutral face. Toga watches with rapt attention, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

As the cup fills to about a centimeter, I pull my hand back and press some tissues against the cut.

Toga snatches the cup and downs it all in one go, her face glowing with satisfaction as her eyes fluttered shut in apparent ecstasy.

Shivers. Everywhere.

Yeesh.

"So sweet," she murmurs. "God, you're so sweet, Ran-kun." Toga grins and clings to my arm with a dreamy look.

"I love you sooo, so much!"

Ah, the "L" word. Here we go.

Gotta shut this down, fast.

"I don't like girls," I blurted out. If there's anything that can get her to back off, it's this.

She blinks in surprise before beaming again. "That's okay! I can turn into a boy for you!"

"No," I said instantly, "that wouldn't be true to yourself, now wouldn't it?"

That finally gives her pause, and she sulks. "Oh..."

"But," I continue, searching for the right words, "you have the cutest smile a girl could ever have, y'know? And your love for people is... intense, to say the least. Which I deeply admire."

Her face lights up again. "You really think so?"

"Absolutely," I say, patting her on the shoulder. "But you deserve someone who'll love you the way you love them. And that someone just isn't me."

She looks down, clearly disheartened, but I emphasize, "Don't worry, I'll still be here for you as a friend, okay? We're friends, right?"

Her face brightens once more. "Yeah! Friends!"

I chuckle weakly, inwardly sighing in relief.

It's hard work being in good graces with Toga, but I'll put up with it.

She was one of my favorite characters in MHA, for one.

For another…

Having someone with her quirk—perfect for infiltration and espionage—on my side could be invaluable.

Especially with the goal I have in mind.

Just then, I hear the door creak.

Geh—Sensei's back.

"Boss Stendhal!"

…Now that catches my attention.

I turn around and see Stain approaching us.

"Boss Stendhal!" Toga repeats, waving at Stain excitedly. "Ran-kun and I were just finishing up our cleaning duties!"

Stain nods. "Good. Discipline is important."

He then turns his gaze toward me. "Akako Ran, I'd like to have a word with you."

My eyes widen, and a smile begins to blossom.

"Are we finally gonna talk about it?" I ask, skipping as I walk toward Stain.

He nods again. "Yes."

"Talk? About what?" Toga chimes in, gaze flicking back and forth between Stain and me.

"It's confidential, Toga Himiko," he replies.

This makes her pout. "Fiiine," she drawls, huffing her way away from us.

I watch her leave with a chuckle. It's good that she didn't protest, at least.

"Akako Ran."

I glance at Stain.

"Let's go somewhere private," he states.

My nerves and excitement become almost too much for me to handle.

"So you'll hear me out on my plan?" I whisper, wanting to make sure.

Stain studies my face.

"Since it concerns the Hero Public Safety Commission, after all."

Heh.

My grin broadens.

—

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Chapter 1

#mha au #my hero academia #anime and manga #alternate universe #anime #mha oc #mha #manga #bnha oc #bnha #reincarnation #reading #long reads #original character #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader

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the-deep-dark-forest · 4 months

Note

Just out of curiosity

TW: BELOW MENTION IDEAS OF GORE, CANNIBALISM, AND GENERAL UPSETTING MENTALITY OF CANNIBALISM. Please ignore this ask if you're uncomfortable with those things, we would understand. Sorry and thank you

What would Homesick react if Y/n is a total psycho, who has no whims killing or letting some people die? Like somehow someway, they got attached to Wally and saw him as a good friend, and because they only care about his well-being and starvation, and didn't care about some other people's lives, they lured people into the woods as Wally's food. Or worse, they kidnap people and give those "food" to Homesick Wally as "gifts"?

Oh hello!! Creator 🐝 here!

This is SUCH a good question, I am so excited to ramble to you about it, I hope you don't mind!

(Since you didn't ask this directly to Wally or Hunter I assume you meant this towards me, reminder you can always ask on my main blog @the-doodle-cave for those questions too!! Keeps the blog from breaking off character haha! /lh /pos )

TW: mention of c@nn1bali1sm, d3ath, potential triggering topics and such, idealisation of c@nn1bal1sm, k1dnapp1ng

So, if You-

(or Y/N, I prefer to call them "You" capital Y)

-were to do such a thing how would Wally react huh?

Now, it entirely depends on what motives You is doing this for, its one thing to lead food to him so he doesn't starve himself, it's another to do it because you're nonchalant and don't care, or worse, actively enjoy seeing people die/suffer!

Wally loves you so SO much, it's been like that WAYYYY before he got sick-

(Hunter on the other hand...well..it's another can of worms entirely teehee...)

-so you going through all the trouble just to help him kinda flushes him a bit...

But he purposefully starves himself because of the crushing guilt of being stupid enough to have come in contact with what made him sick even with Home's protests, and in turn, makes a lot of people suffer JUST so he can feel better about himself...he constantly berates himself for having to deal with this when the death of many people could have been avoided had he been more careful...

let's play into the different scenarios you brought for me hm?

If You actively lures people into the woods and Wally found out, he'd be HORRIFIED, I think, he'd be scared of you, HELL he's already scared of himself!

Not only are you luring people in, but you're making HIM kill them, wiping the blood clean off of your hands, even worse if he knew you're doing this because you don't care about other people's well being but him, this is like a reverse Yandere type of thing!

that sort of betrayal would crush him so hard, he loves you, but DAMN, what a way to make him go through a spiral!

Now kidnapping is another thing, as mentionned before, he'd rather YOU kill them yourself rather than having him do it, mind you, releasing Hunter to do the job is PAINFUL, it tugs at his stitches and stretches his felt in a matter of minutes!

And if he DOES release him, he could also hurt YOU, you do not want to come across him while he's eating someone, that guy is FERALLLLL

But seeing someone tied up, maybe with a bag over their head-

(and that's being merciful, because they don't have the pain and fear of seeing a monster like him in front of their own eyes)

-begging for mercy, especially if the victim doesn't have a bag and staring back at him crying, squirming and struggling to break free, would be devastating, he already has a hard time looking at them through Hunter's eyes when they get captured, but here that person can't even defend themselves to even TRY to escape!

Why would you make him go through such a painful process?

Now let's say you DO bring a dead person over to him, he'd be terrified still, because that means you also have the capability of hurting innocents without any remorse...-

(also depends how long the person has been dead for, the longer it is, the less energy they have, bringing a carcass thats been sitting there for over months would be absolutely useless, reminder the way food works for hunter is different from how reagular puppets work, and even then, the way food works for puppets is different from how it works from humans! Atleast in my headcanons on puppet anatomy)

-he'd still eat them though, because he would not want the person's death to go in vain, and he'd be on board with suffering less because of the side effects of starvation-

Obviously he would plead with you to not do it again, not to care for that type of stuff for him

(although he'd be secretly very flustered how much you care for him, I'll tell you that)

I hope this answers your questions! Please do tell me if you have more!! I love talking about him!

Have a swell rest of your day and remember to have fun!

- 🐝

#welcome home homesick au #welcome home wally #welcome home wally darling #wh au #wh wally #art #drawing #illustration #ooc #ooc post #tw cannibalism #tw death #tw kidnapping

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cheiyunn · 23 days

Text

Kimisute main story [5部] Part 5

Side: EpsilonΦ

Tadaomi: It looks like everyone’s already gone home. Makes sense since our practice today ended a tad late

Tadaomi: Before I go, I should note down the recent happenings

Tadaomi: As expected, Reiji-kun reacted the most when his previous family is mentioned

Tadaomi: Its the first time I had ever seen him lose his cool this much

Tadaomi: He even raised his voice a bit last practice. It seemed that Kanata-kun and Haruka-kun were troubled by his attitude

Tadaomi: If I mention troubled, then Shu-kun comes to mind as well. As if he was confused, or as if he was hurt… the chances of me seeing those expressions are rare

Tadaomi: When he was let go by his father; the president of Duck Rivers, he had a similar expression, but this one was completely different from that

Tadaomi: He wore an expression similar in likeness to a child you’d see on the street make… how exactly do I explain this one

Tadaomi: I had thought I had already see munch of what everyone in EpsilonΦ is capable of producing in emotions and expressions yet…

Tadaomi: As expected, the human heart is an endless pit. I feel like I’ve come to love everyone so much more… fufu

–-----

[Studio]

Reiji: …sorry. I need to take a break..

--[Walks off]--

Shu: What's up with Reiji. He’s just stuck like that.

Kanata: It’s so rare to see Karasuma-senpai so out of shape like that right~ and for so long too, thats a first~? Am I right, aniki?

Haruka: How would I know

Shu: Haruka, how about you? Surely you’re making progress with Tadaomi on the new song too?

Haruka: ….there’s progress…to an extent

Kanata: On that topic, what kinda song is it? I haven’t heard even a snippet of it so~

Tadaomi: You’ll have to look forward to the demo then.. Right, Shu-kun?

Shu: True. At times maybe it's fun to do it other ways

Shu: But, I’d like it if you didn’t keep us with bated breath either okay~

Haruka: ….can’t you wait a little longer

Shu: I implore you

Kanata: Aniki, you’ve been holed up too much y’know. How ‘bout going out with me a little more often why not~

Kanata: Got it ! Lets stop by at Tennichi later on~ *

Haruka: No way in hell I’m going

Tadaomi: ……..

Shu: Tadaomi, what’s with you

Tadaomi: hm? It’s nothing. I just thought that Reiji-kun is taking a while, thats it

–------

[Sharehouse]

Reiji: Shit…!

Kanata: Woah~ Karasuma-senpai’s super pissed~~ Something happened?

Shu: ….oh come on, cut it out will you?

Haruka: oi, what are you…

Shu: Reiji, how much longer are you going to be short-fused. It’s getting annoying how much we’re needing to wait for you to cool down

Reiji: …my apologies

Shu: …hey, what's with that look. 「Shu’s being noisy and annoying so I’ll just apologize for now」 is written ALL OVER your damn face

Shu: Is the wittle Reiji looking for someone to come cheer him up~? ( ´ ▽ ` )⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎♡

Reiji: …..gh!

--[Reiji grabs Shu ? ]--

Kanata: Whoa– Karasuma-senpai, no violence here!

Reiji: Is it a fun game to you to get on people nerves and rile them up? …no, I’m sure as hell it is !

Shu: You’re the one who said I can use you as I see fit right? You really think you can do your job if everything’s out in the open like that !?

Shu: Reiji, you’ve been acting unbefitting of you for a while now

Reiji: You’re one to talk, considering you don’t know shit about me!

Shu: Hah? What’re you saying? I’ve known you since–

Reiji: …..I need to .. cool down. Let me be alone for a bit…

--[Walks off]--

Shu: What’s his PROBLEM …!

--[Walks off]--

Kanata: oooof~ scary~~

Kanata: But doesn’t this feel right up our alley, aniki~?

Haruka: Hell if I know

– [Flashback] –

Yamato: …I, really want to do something

Yamato: Its normal to want to help out a friend who’s suffering right

–[End] –

Haruka: (Thats the difference between him and me. That I don’t give a damn about others)

Haruka: (However, if they become a hindrance to my goals…)

Haruka: Oi

Tadaomi: hm? Something wrong?

Haruka: Do you have time, tomorrow. I wanna readjust the demo

Tadaomi: Got it, sure

Tadaomi: Then, I’ll be going back to my room. Good night to you both

Kanata: Good night Kurama-senpai~~

--[Tadaomi walks off]--

Kanata: Then I’ll also…

Haruka: Oi–.... Kanata. Come here

*Searched it up and I assume its a chain ramen store? Correct me if I’m wrong

#fromargonavis #epsilon phi

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shinydixon · 2 years

Note

thank the lord he's getting the questions screened!!! last con was just too much. too much. i was there. it was awkward and you could kind feel the tension in the air between the people who just wanted to appreciate him and have fun and the fans who wanted to be invasive or cringe. i know everybody thought that little kid coming up and singing cute and he handled it very well and the hug really punched me in my ovaries but he really didn't know what to do there for a sec. then you have people asking him what he smells like, asking him if he thinks eddie is dead then trying to goad him into answer shippy questions without making it sound like it was a ship question, a fucking kid asking him about his cigarettes and how long he's been smoking, this girl wasting her question by asking him to perform eddie's monologue like he's some damn monkey in a circus ready to entertain her. and she kept insisting on it! so yeah, it was pretty bad. he was amazing, a gentleman. when i went to give him the photo to sign i couldn't stop shaking, like, i was shaking really badly and it's mostly anxiety but at the time i was also starving because i hadn't eaten anything so that made the shaking worse. he noticed, obviously, signed my photo, and when i went to shake his hand by he held it for a second and said 'it's okay, sweetheart' then said a little bye. he's really really really really kind. and he makes you feel like you matter in a way that i don't think can be faked. it's the same thing with jaime too. it's funny 'cause jaime is much more....hm, i forgot the word in english. i want to say 'loud' but it's not quite the right word. but like, if you'd seen jaime the day before and you see him again in the next, he's like 'OH THERE SHE IS WELCOME BACK DARLING' lol but joe does the same thing in a quiet manner. it's very sweet. i went off topic, sorry. but as i was saying, joe doesn't deserve the treatment he go from fans last weekend. he's not at cons to perform for you, he's not there to be asked about his private life. and he's not there to validate your stupid ship. the thing about asking him ship stuff is that he's never, ever ever ever ever, going to say something controversial. he's not dumb nor crazy. he's not going to say eddisy is a bad ship, he's not going to say steddie is a bad ship, hell, that anon who said they like eddie/nancy here, i'm sure if someone asked him about that he'd be 'wow, yeah, it could work, it could work...' he's NOT going to invalidate a ship or the other. he's a chronically offline man but he's smart and he knows what's going on. ...all that to say that i'm so glad the questons are being screened. SPN took a long time to do it and things got really out of hand before they did it but it worked out and made things a bit less stressful.

First of all, I'm so happy you met him and thank you for share your experience! He's so wholesome 🥺🤍

I think that Jamie is more outgoing with affection, I get it what you're trying to say 😂

Anyway i didn't know about the monologue, wtf? I wasn't brave enough to listen to the panel recording, but thinking about the fact that I could be here listening i kinda feel lucky i wasn't able to go in the end💀

It's better like this, hopefully screening questions will help

0 notes

chil2de · 3 years

Note

Your sharing a bed with the JJK men hc's were incredible 😩 special mentions for Megumi's bed head, Nanami being a secret cuddle bug, and Yuuta having to drink both iced coffees (that fucking sent me fjdndnfd I could picture it so clearly).

You're super talented so could I, er, possible get a NSFW version? 👀 💳💥💥💥💳💳💥💳💥

Thank you so much 🥺💕

hello anonie!!! thank you dear i’m so glad you liked them!! please the credit card emojis had me cackling LMFAOOOO you really made my whole day out here!!!(THE ICED COFFEE WAS MY FAVOURITE PART TOO)

well i managed to hit the max amount of characters allowed in a tumblr post with five characters alone so i’m going to have to split this up into several posts. it just kinda happened ig

characters in this post: itadori yuuji, gojo satoru, okkotsu yuuta, fushiguro toji (megumi was supposed to be here but i had to reserve him for next post😔)

this work is nsfw. if you’re new here, please read my disclaimer before proceeding. thank you and enjoy!

based off of this post

itadori

- itadori would prob be a ‘deer in the headlights’ if you woke him up in the middle of the night

- but after that? shit, he’s so nice to you. so kind and generous for his baby girl. whether he’s fucking you ‘cause he thinks you might be able to sleep after an orgasm or there’s just an incessant desire for him- doesn’t really matter all that much to itadori. he loves you either way :)

- gets horny so easily LMFAO

- would 100% dick you down if you asked him to and i like to think that he still keeps his really sweet personality during sex cause aaaa he would be so soft and reassuring

- hardcore dom yuuji sounds sexy as all hell but let’s be real… this man won’t kill a fly and apologises for stepping on ants. only exception being angry sex but overall reserving hard dom for sukuna :)

you pepper tiny kisses onto itadori’s face, treating him with the utmost care like handling fine china. his skin feels so soft against your lips, and he smells very faintly of milky soap. there’s some traces of brand cologne on his shirt, as well as his natural scent.

“yuuujiii-“ you coo, blowing air very gently. when he doesn’t stir, you run your fingertips through a bundle of his cotton candy tainted hair. it evokes a reaction from him, so you continue to press him.

“y-uuuu-ji!”

after a few moments, itadori lets out a soft whine before grumbling incoherent blabber. “i won’t eat the pineapple! kugisaki will scream at me!”

you giggle before prodding him again, when finally he relents and jolts awake, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted at how close your face is to his.

“‘s it morning yet?” he wrinkles his nose, stifling a yawn. you emit a hum in thought before wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling you into him. itadori squeaks in surprise when he feels you latch your lips onto his neck, suckling and carefully breaking the bonds underneath his sensitive skin. his moan comes out groggy, still laced with sleep.

“that drives me crazy, you know that, right?” itadori laughs, though his voice comes as a wobble.

“i know. and they look so good on you too, hm?” you giggle, caressing one hand from his neck and then down to the hem of his shirt. your fingertips flutter against his bare skin and he shivers physically and audibly. you smooth your palm flat along his chest, dragging your nails carefully against his muscles.

“kinda.. wanna.. go to.. sleep.. but i don’t.. wanna fall asleep…” itadori mumbles against his pillow. the fabric muffles most of it, but there’s a strain in his voice that leads you to believe he’s moaning lightly. guess after sukuna ripped his heart out, this area hasn’t been quite the same, huh?

“so? then go to sleep, yuuji. i’ll be fine-“ “-no way! i gotta take care of you”

“so why don’t you?”

“‘m going to! i was asleep just half a minute ago!”

“and besides-“

he shifts himself up into a sitting position, leaning his back against the headrest. itadori opens his arms, motioning for you to crawl on top of him. without any haste, you clamber over his built frame, ghosting just over the print of his hard dick.

“not that i mind but- we did, you know, in the morning already-“ “oh, shit, sorry- it’s totally fine if you don’t want t-“ “-just messing with you!”

itadori pulls your neck down and gifts you with the same treatment you were offering him earlier. his tongue is hot and wet against your skin and you can already feel the precipitation forming at the back of your knees. calloused yet tender hands smooth around your waist and he smooths his palms over your shoulder blades.

after itadori’s satisfied with the mark he left, you can’t help but groan a little into his mouth when his lips suddenly claim yours. he drinks you up, relying solely on your taste like he’s drowning and you’re the air he needs.

itadori takes his sweet time cherishing you, or rather it’s still his state of half slumber, but you can feel a dull ache prick your abdomen. you scratch up his shirt, motioning for him to take it off. you’re unsure what comes over you, but shit, you don’t want him- you need him.

“heyheyhey, ‘s okay. don’t worry, i got you.”

“i’ll take care of you.”

“just relax, okay? i got this.” he only coos with sweet reassurances, peppering small kisses and handling you with the utmost precision.

you whimper, balancing your palms flat against his abdomen for additional support as you sink down onto itadori’s cock. he lets out a hum of content, forehead bumping against yours as he allows you to adjust.

“you good?” he murmurs after a few moments, capturing a few strands of your hair in between his fingertips. you nod meekly and itadori hisses out a breathy exhale. he’s sure that if he goes rough as shit you might end up more broken than being able to sleep, so he screws his eyes shut and exhales to maintain his composure.

blazing hot lips scrape against your ear, and his voice comes out in a husky tone.

“tell me how you want it.”

by the lords of everything and all that is holy, itadori only chants the same phrase over and over in his mind. it’s a miracle that he’s able to think straight with all the blood rushing to his cock. he’s more than happy to take it slow, reward you with slow and long strokes while he showers you with high praises. but he can’t ignore the twitch that he experiences when he envisions that pretty lil fucked out face of yours, all messy and ruined for him.

you mutter that you have no preference, that you don’t care because anything he’ll do for you is perfect, and it only gives him a beaming smile at your words.

itadori grabs the scrunched up ball of his shirt that he was wearing before ripping the fabric into half with his bare teeth. you watch his eyebrows perk when he notices how fucking hot you just found that, evident with the way your walls fluttered around him.

“here, babe.”

you part your lips and he stuffs the fabric into your mouth, there’s a little bit of excess hanging out, but he reminds you that you look sexy as hell either way, on top of his dick like that with your hands on his chest, legs spread, face flushed and ready for him.

“don’t wanna be wakin’ anyone else up.”

yuuta

this man is about to end my whole career

yuuta wouldn’t bring it up on his own accord just because… respect.. and he doesn’t want to pressure you or make you uncomfortable into doing things you’re not ready to.

it’s kind of a gray area for him because he doesn’t relish the idea of bringing up sensitive and/or extremely awkward topics so he really said ‘i’ll leave it up to future me’s problem’

but holy shit. let me absolutely tell you.

the second you hint at it? anything of the sorts? 0 to 100. he is FREAKY you cannot tell me he’s innocent just LOOK at the man

can make you scream with ease. all that practice he’s been doing with handling katanas? he doesn’t need his dick to make you cum. will gladly lick up your leftover juices and remark with a smile on his face how ‘it tastes good, angel’

similarly to itadori, i think he would be sweet and patient when asking for your preferences, etc, but after that you’re gonna have to find something to bite onto

“and? what’d you tell her?” yuuta remarks from over his fanned out deck of three cards. his gaze flickers to you as he awaits a response before using his index and middle finger to lay down a +4 card.

“red, by the way.”

you huff and glare at your boyfriend, picking up four cards and attempting to hold them in such a way that they don’t all fall and rattle to the floor. truth be told? you’re seriously a sore fuckin’ loser. you don’t know how he does it, but you’ve never managed to win a game against yuuta.

“i told maki-san that it’s her problem, not mine. if she’s so pressed about people taking them, why does she keep noodles stored in the fridge? really, noodles in the fridge? they’re really spicy as well! made my nose run like hell.” you scoff in distaste, throwing down a random red card on the pile.

“you totally ate them didn’t you?” yuuta giggles, beaming you a wide smile.

“also.. told her that i didn’t see them instead but- yeah.”

“aren’t you worried she’ll find out? oh, and, uno.”

“she might just beat me up to be honest, and, uno, you say? not anymore, love.” you sneer, throwing down a +4 card.

“i want green.”

“i’d protect you.” yuuta states over his cards. you feel like cracking a joke and laughing, but there’s absolutely zero implication on his facial features to show that he’s joking. that, and his serious tone, of course.

you flip your cards down onto the table and yuuta squeaks, pointing towards them.

“uh- i can see your cards-“

“it’s okay, not like i was gonna win anyway.”

at this point, yuuta’s mind races a hundred miles an hour. he’s panicking, blood pressure raised, heart thumping and throat clogged. oh, shit, did he do something wrong? did he upset you? is it ‘cause he said he’d protect you with no regards to the fact that you’re perfectly capable of fending yourself off against maki? fuck, he’s such a god damn screw-up, can’t even take care of his girlfriend correct-

“hey.”

your fingertips slide around his neck, hands interlocking at the base of his head. your thighs balance on his lap and you straddle him, legs either side of his.

he can’t help but hitch his breath, holding it in as though one wrong move and you would dematerialise.

“what’re you thinking about in that head of yours?”

whether you’re referencing his mini panic attack just now, or if you’re referring to all the multiple times he’s battled just bending you over and railing the absolute shit out of you, there’s not much room for debate when you brush your clothed sex up against the print of his dick.

yuuta snakes his slender hands around your throat, holding it in place. you can feel the arousal pool and wash over you, and you’d be more than surprised if you hadn’t soaked through your clothes.

he lets out a breathy laugh, devastating your stomach with butterflies due to how attractive he sounds. yuuta’s soft lips brush the shell of your ear and his other hand moves to rest on your waist,

“why don’t i show you?”

before you can utter a tease something along the lines of “show me what? how you’re too scared to hit me in bed?” you’re already down, flipped over and bent over the table you and yuuta were using moments prior ago for uno. the cards have splattered all over the wooden floor and you only hiss in discomfort as the cool surface scratches against your delicate skin. your boyfriend towers over you, leaning down as his torso clicks into place against your back. even through his titanium white jacket, you can feel his calm and collected heartbeat. he rests his head on your shoulder, nudging his face into you.

“don’t scream, okay? or, try not to, at least-“

his warm fingertips ghost over the curve of your ass, where he pinches the skin there before delivering a loud slap. you squeak, back arching as you jolt from the action. he proceeds by grabbing the inside of your thighs, long middle finger hoisting around your underwear and pulling it to the side. he makes note of the red lingerie you’re wearing and gives you a small chuckle, peppering a kiss to the side of your face.

“-unless, of course-“

“-you’d prefer everyone hear me fuck you stupid.”

“safe word’s blue, angel. i love you and thank you.”

truth be told, you were never sure what to expect from yuuta. hell, you’d never really seen the man’s dick before, sure you caught glimpses in the morning whenever he’d wake up but it’s really not the same. nothing in the world can compare to the first time you felt his piping hot tip brush up against your slicked cunt. and it was embarrassing, actually, the way your pussy was seething for him already.

with a firm hold on your tailbone, yuuta utilises his lower body strength to ram his dick all the way inside. there’s a garbled and choked moan that hisses from you when you feel your walls wrap and deform around the girth of yuuta’s dick. you whine even more so when you can physically feel a thick vein that decorates his shaft.

“the mirror.” yuuta commands in a low tone, redirecting you to glance at the same mirror you’d always fantasised about him fucking you in front of.

his eyes are half lidded, riddled with concentration. it reminds you of that feral and focused gaze he gets during serious battles.

“don’t look at me. look here.”

you trail the outline of yuuta’s arm veins as a result of him rolling his uniform sleeves up; following his v line that points towards his dick. you can only gawk in awe when you realise you’ve taken him to the base of his shaft.

his gaze locks with yours for a split second and he snaps his hips out until just about his tip is visible inside your cunt.

and shit, if his pretty pink cock isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, especially with that attractive curve. you’re sure the gesture is just to wind you up, but you can’t help but swoon at him showcasing his pride to you.

“so- mmhf- pretty-“ you whine, words jumbled and breath caught when he slams his dick inside without any prior warning. you can only shriek in exclamation when his tip bruises your cervix, and you’re unsure whether you lament the sensation or not.

he only gives you a cheerful hum, reminding you of his usual cheery disposition. it’s not until then that you realise how much of a fucking beast he’s acting right now.

“right? i’ll put it to good use, i promise.”

gojo

- i know we’re all thinking the same thing here lmfao

- trying to sleep? good for you, now, open your legs for satoru.

- oh you can’t sleep? atta girl, down on your knees for satoru.

- bye i can literally imagine gojo saying some dumbass shit like “think you were trying to sleep but i couldn’t help but think how good my dick would look down your throat like that. sorry, love, you’re not sleeping tonight.”

you blink your eyes in turn with the cicadas chirping aside, stifling a yawn. everything around you down to the very last detail screams at you to sleep, but you just cannot. from the pitch black night that floods the room obscurely, to gojo’s even and quiet breathing beside you. you’ve tried it all. you’ve counted an excess amount of sheep, you’ve tensed and relaxed your body more than you can remember. hell, no matter how many times you’ve flipped the pillow you always seemed to feel less exhausted each time.

you can’t watch netflix, because you’ve binged all your favourite shows. it’s not that you’d wake gojo up because, who cares? by the time you finish scrolling through the endless lists it’ll be time to get up.

you ponder over the things you can do, continuing to subconsciously blink furiously. that is until gojo makes note of your stupid actions and starts giggling like a high schooler at his first sleepover.

“what the hell are you doing?” he snorts, cackling into the pillow like it’s the best joke he’s heard for quite some time.

“shut up, satoru. i’m trying to sleep you ass.” you tut at him, berating him for ruining your divine concentration.

gojo audibly shifts onto his stomach, his right arm crosses over the back of his head as he lazily rests his palm onto his scalp. the other arm preoccupies itself by landing it smack bang onto your chest, fingers wandering up to cup your breast.

“satoru, huh? that’s daddy for ya” he remarks, still giggling in a state of half asleep.

“uh-huh. goodnight.” you dismiss him and his nonsense.

“just go take a shower. always helps me whenever i can’t sleep.”

“hm? you’re giving me actual good advice and being a normal boyfriend? i think i might be asleep already, this is the best dream ever.” you remark sarcastically, prying gojo’s glued wrist off of your breast and sitting up. you could go for a shower, actually. you’re not sure why but it’s always so therapeutic to take one at night rather than the morning.

“huuuh? how could you say that? you’re so mean, (y/n)-chaan! i offered you my love and the world and this is how you repay m-“

“-goodnight satoru. i love you.”

“don’t think professing your love for me will change my mind! i’m still upset at you right now, young lady!” gojo shouts from over his pillow, exclaiming and irritating you in the way he knows how to best.

“yeah, yeah. okay.” you mumble softly to yourself, bearing a wide grin from ear to ear nonetheless.

when you move to crank the water on in the shower, you realise that you didn’t bring along a change of clothes. you momentarily pop back into the bedroom to ransack the drawer for anything that you can find.

“are you back to apologise for being so mean to me?” gojo whines and you can see the pout evident on him even when it’s pitch black.

“no, i’m just here for clothes, satoru.”

you hear him mumble something but it’s muffled by the sheets he’s underneath so you don’t heed any attention to it and resume in taking a shower to help keep your insomnia at bay.

with a ginger step and a small ‘oopf’, you heave yourself into the large shower that only a headass like gojo would bother buying. it’s reminiscent to what a hot tub looks like on the inside, with surrounding jets practically in a full 360 degrees. the things so steep that there’s a small step up in front of the shower outside the actual structure. it must have cost quite the fortune.

you reach in for the built in shelf to grab ahold of some of your toiletries as you allow the water to fall in a gentle sprinkle, almost like rain. there’s an audible squeeze reminiscent to trying to get the last ounces of ketchup as you apply some body gel to your hands, lathering it up.

despite standing, the warmth of the water leads your muscles to feel less tense. the only noteworthy downside is that the running water is tremendously loud. how on earth is gojo sleeping through all that racket?

slender fingertips ghost over your inner thighs. you can feel his wet and sturdy chest in place against your spine.

“surprised to see me?”

“you know i can’t let my baby talk shit like that.”

really? that’s his issue at hand here?

“so which is it?”

“acting like an intolerant brat because you’re tired or ‘cause you wanna get dicked down?”

gojo loops his arm underneath your leg, bending it up. you almost topple over in the process and you lay one hand flat against the tile.

“don’t answer that. sometimes it’s so obvious that you’re such a whore for my dick.”

“huh?! what the shit are you saying?” you snap at how correct he is.

gojo yanks your face back, digging his fingers into your cheeks as he forces you to face him. it almost sends your neck into two pieces, straining to look back at him.

“oh, really princess? just the other day you were begging me to fuck you”

“remember that? couldn’t wait so you rode me in the car? you know, baby, all you gotta do is ask.”

your legs tremble and psyche wobbles when he pries your mouth open with his thumb, promptly before spitting into it.

“don’t bother with the bullshit. i’ll play the games, not you.”

he drags his hard cock against the curve of your ass, slapping it against you.

“i don’t think i feel like fuckin’ you right now.” gojo sneers, humming sardonically. his lips quickly latch onto yours when you spin around to meet his gaze. like the fucker he is, gojo moans and whines into the kiss- lips ravaging you whole and tongue capturing your essence.

“baby girl, i was gonna let you top me. you know i don’t let anyone do that.”

his long middle finger prods against your cunt, forcing itself in with ease.

“damn, you’re soaked. you really wanted to milk me dry that bad?”

you hate him. hate him so fucking bad. he flashes you that attractive smile of his, azure eyes sparkling and snow white hair disturbed with water.

gojo pulls his finger out before sucking onto it in front of you, lapping all the excess arousal off.

“i’m not playing with you tonight.”

toji

- i literally don’t even need to say anything here

- just be sure to make a hospital check up appointment or something

- um-i uh- please remember to breathe after this one? maybe touch some grass? ALSO my first time writing for toji AAA i hope he’s okay

maybe if you don’t breathe? nah, that wouldn’t work. there’s still air acting around your limbs when you move so you’d be disturbing the barriers there. let’s see… maybe bit by bit? surely if you slowly inched his shirt up? then again, wouldn’t toji chew you out halfway through? maybe you should just give it to him straight up? just slip your hand under his shirt. come on. but he looks so peaceful, sleeping like that.. long eyelashes fluttered closed, lips relaxed and not scowling. his eyebrows are softly arched. he looks so soft, lips parted, chest rising and falling with every breath.

fuck it. just do it. cuddle him already.

you muster up all your courage in one fell swoop and you bend one leg over toji, resting it just above his groin. your right arm sprawls out over his chest and your hand rests against his toned arm. he’s already sleeping with one arm bent up with his hand supporting the back of his head, so you utilise the free real estate to nestle your head in the crook of where his shoulder and collarbone meet.

when he doesn’t move after a while, you deem your life to be safe and exhale with ease.

“you’re not asleep.” toji states in a groggy, husky tone. it’s supposed to be a question, but, coming from him it almost sounds like a challenge.

“yes?” you squeak out meekly.

“‘yes?’ you asleep or not?”

“i can’t sleep again.” you murmur against his shirt and he exhales a small sigh. the arm that you’re clinging onto moves to draw small circles on your thigh that rests on toji.

“when’d you notice?” you inquire, glancing down at his large wrists.

“like five minutes ago. nice try, kid.” toji snorts indifferently, chuckling at your behaviour.

when you don’t make an effort to respond, toji’s interest peaks and he lets out a small hum of intrigue when he follows your gaze.

he turns his head, brushing his lips up against your temples.

“see anything interesting down there?”

“as a matter of fact-“

you nestle yourself in between toji’s large and built thighs, digits curling around the waistband of his boxers. he only smirks at you through the dark, cock twitching through the fabric. you notice toji hover his hips up so that you can slide his boxers off for him and you happily oblige.

“-i do.” you chime, licking your lips.

it’s cute, though, if you thought toji was gonna let you handle him like that all by yourself.

as you kiss a trail up his thick shaft, toji yanks ahold fistfuls of your hair before grabbing your face off of his cock.

“who said you could suck my dick? that’s real cute.”

“thinking you actually have a place in my house.”

“i didn’t train you to be such a depraved slut. know your fucking place, because this isn’t it.”

“how many times do i gotta tell you? you don’t belong here. look around. do you see anything that shows a woman lives here? no? that’s because you’re nothing but a fuck doll for me.”

toji hisses out profanities at the gag you spew when he slams your tiny little mouth back down on his dick.

“lose the teeth you imbecile. unless you’re trying to tell me that you can’t suck my dick properly.”

incessant whines and garbled sentences are muffled by toji’s cock. whatever remnants you had of your vision are nothing but a blur as tears stream your cheeks, nose running and sniffles resurface in a repeating pattern over the slick sounds of slurping and gagging. your mouth stretches as far as it can go and the corners of your lips shriek in despair. you can feel the skin there stretch and pull beyond what’s considered normal.

even through all that, you manage to glance up at toji through your water logged lashes. you’ll be a good girl for him. you need to be.

“fuuuck. that’s a pretty sight.” he grumbles and a deep chuckle resonates through his chest. within a few moments, toji fumbles to reach for something.

you can only wince and screw your eyes at the suddenly blinding flash of a light in front of you. one can only assume he’s taken a photo of you in your humiliating state.

you can feel the fear settle into your veins when that telltale ping of a message being sent vibrates throughout the room. if you were to listen hard enough, you could hear a notification go off in the next room over.

your throat feels raw, jaw tense and locked open. it’s been a good twenty minutes of toji face fucking you to teach you a valid lesson. it’s all in the will of him wanting to drag this on, savouring every miniscule slurp, whimper or gasp. when his strokes start to feel sloppier than usual, you can’t help but feel relieved.

as you squirm about due to toji shooting hot ropes of his thick cum down your throat, the door softly clicks open.

“megumi. you’re just in time.”

“she’s way more obedient than your mom ever used to be.”

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jenojaemssss · 3 years

Text

stay next to me

a/n: repost bc i think i accidentally deleted it when i was trying to edit it LOL anyways, this is a new style for me so hope you guys enjoy! based on this song by quinn xcii and chelsea cutler

warnings: there IS a makeout session so be advised :D

jaemin and you are pushed against a wall about 2 feet away from each other

when i say pushed against a wall, i mean quite literally pushed against the wall

because there were maybe 20 people dancing around you

and they were all shoving and jumping and swinging their arms back and forth

and no way in hell do you want to be swept away in that mob

the space around you was probably 7 square feet at most with too many sweaty bodies surrounding you

like there are probably 400 people at this place because no way the carrying capacity of 250 would put you in this situation

and you're sweaty and sticky

and so is jaemin

because there are just way too many fucking people

you're trying your best to keep your drink from spilling over because everyone is shoving

jaemin looks just as uncomfortable

you notice this because what kind of best friend are you if you can't tell that he was feeling uncomfortable?

so you reach over to feel for his hand but before you reach it you accidentally brush your hand over someone's butt

and then someone's boob

and then someone's crotch

but you finally reach his hand

you hold onto his hand and he holds yours back

he pulls you in a little closer

you're pressed against each other's sides

sharing even more heat because of how close you are

"i don't even know this band," he yells over the noise

you chuckle in response and nod

"me neither!"

"let's dip?"

you can feel his hot breath on your ear

but you're dumb enough to look up

and you're met with his smile

his smile, god his smile

he was so close too

and you just wanted to kiss him but you shouldn't because he's your best friend

so you nod instead of doing anything dumb

he takes you and literally has to drag you away from the crowd

but you make it to the front door of the club

when you step foot out of the door and feel actual air

you both let out the biggest sigh

deep breaths and all

his hand is still holding yours and you were about to pull away but he just grips it tighter

"are we going somewhere, jaem?"

"anywhere but here," he chuckles

it's the chuckle that kind of rumbles from his chest

and you find that shit so attractive

you guys don't say anything else

you just lead him down the busy streets

it's dark out, but the streetlights and cars are lighting up the road

and it's just so pretty

but there's something prettier?

jaemin.

he looks so pretty illuminated by the lights and you can't help but gawk at him

like, normally yellow lights make people's skin look a little off and saturated

but this man looks so fucking good with this kind of lighting

nah, any kind of lighting

you realize how hard you're staring and focus on the road instead

he's still holding your hand, by the way

and honestly, it was kinda normal for him to hold your hand because he likes affection

correction

he likes affection only when he's comfortable with that person

but this was weird because he doesn't often hold your hand for this long

but hey, you guys are wandering around the city and it's fun

and you were both a little tipsy

not drunk

just one or two drinks each

so tipsy

and then you reach a place that reminds you of something and you smile

it was a skate park that your friends dragged you too a lot

jaemin notices this and leads you there

and he buys both of you water from the vending machine

and you guys just sit down and talk about life and whatnot

like school, jobs, whatever that comes up

he mentions something about prom and high school sweethearts because he sees a group of teens running down the street and laughing

and he's reminiscing how the two of you ditched prom to get mcdonald's your senior year

and then you bring up the topic of first loves

jaemin goes speechless when you ask him who his first love was

because little did you know, jaemin was also pining over you

so he tries switching the subject to something else

he doesn't answer you and shoots you a question instead

"when was the last time you've been in love?"

you're not sure what the hell comes over you but you respond

"now."

and he's like

O.O

and you just blush

and he's like

"same."

and your heart lowkey drops because you're not sure who it is

then you look at his face and realize that he's also blushing

and then it clicks in your airhead

oh.

"cool," is all you can get out 'cause????

jaemin loves you back?

"'cool?' y/n we just confessed and your only response is 'cool?'"

"we confessed?"

"yes, i thought it was obvious?"

"well then yes, because i'm not sure what to do in this situation."

he suddenly lets go of your hand

and you're scared you did something wrong so you look up from your feet

but before you can bring your head all the way up he's already cupping your cheeks

and he's leaning in

you're just frozen because jaemin is about to kiss you???

you?????

and right before he reaches your lips he asks for your permission

"can i kiss you?"

and instead of answering you meet his lips with your own

and now the two of you are kissing

his lips, god you wish you can kiss him forever because they feel like clouds

he smiles mid-kiss and your heart skips like 20 beats

his breath still had the slight hint of burnt whisky

it's so damn addicting

he pokes his tongue against your lips and you slightly open your mouth a little to give him access

and you swear there are spurts of electricity jolting through your body

you're quite literally melting into his touch

and his lips

you two continue to kiss and it's just like you're in heaven but on earth

did i mention how his lips felt like clouds?

sure, they're a little chapped but they're still the softest pair of lips you've ever laid eyes...i mean lips on

it's like his lips and yours were made for each other because the movements the two of you make send chills down your spine

you're breathless at this point

when he finally pulls away you're both grinning like idiots

he rests his forehead against yours and you use this opportunity to reach up a little bit and give him a peck

and he smiles even wider

he grabs you and pulls you into his arms and you rest your head on his chest

you're both leaning against the wall of one of the ramps so he takes this as an opportunity to throw one arm behind your shoulder

he places little kisses on your hairline and whispers little sweet nothings

but then he asks you

"what now?"

"what do you mean?"

"what are we now?"

"jaemin," you sit up straight and look at him dead in the eyes

"will you," you point at him

"be my," you gesture towards yourself

"boyfriend?"

"are you drunk right now?"

"NO! i'm dead serious," and you are

"yes, y/n, i will be your boyfriend," he chuckles and pulls you back into his arms

you hear his heart beating in his chest and you feel so calm

because although his heartbeat was a little fast, it seems to be matching the same rhythm as yours

"it's getting late," you mumble after checking your phone

you turn your head a little, but jaemin's resting his head on top of yours so you can't really move it

"don't you have places to be tomorrow?"

"i don't care," he murmurs against your hair

"just stay next to me."

a/n pt 2: if y'all can't tell, i get a ton of my inspo from quinn xcii songs:) a lot more are in the works, so i recommend listening his album "a letter to my younger self" bc half of my fics are based on that album LOL

#na jaemin #nct dream scenarios #nct dream #jaemin #jaemin scenarios #jaemin fluff #nct dream jaemin #nct dream fluff #nct dream fic #na jaemin fluff #jaemin imagines #jaemin fluff scenario #nct dream na jaemin

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snelbz · 3 years

Text

What Happens Next? {Elorcan}

A/N: The overwhelming response to Watching and Waiting is that y'all wanted a part two, so here we are! This is also to tide y'all over until we drop our new stories next week. As always, written with the lovely @tacmc.

Part one can be found here :)

Aelin rolled out of bed, groaning as she heard rapid knocking on her front door.

“I’m coming,” she muttered, heading through her apartment.

Reaching up on her tiptoes, she looked out the peephole, narrowing her eyes as she beheld who was outside. Throwing open the door, Aelin crossed her arms. “You better have a good reason for getting me out of bed before eight on my day off.”

Elide held up a bag of chocolate croissants and a coffee for each of them. “I come bearing gifts.”

Aelin blinked, staring at one of her oldest friends like she was completely off her rocker. “You look…”

“Hungry?” Elide provided, sweeping past Aelin into her apartment. “No coffee?”

“Well, considering my ass just got out of bed,” Aelin muttered, “No.”

Elide looked at the clock over the stovetop and hesitated. “I’m sorry, I honestly didn’t even notice what time it was. I slept like shit.”

“Like shit?” Aelin repeated, shutting her front door behind her. “Is everything okay?”

“No, yeah, no, everything is…” Elide slumped onto the couch after setting the coffee and bag of goodies on the coffee table. “Weird.”

“I don’t know if that means okay or not,” Aelin replied, sitting on the other side of the couch. “How is it weird? What happened?”

“So. Lorcan came over after he left the library, right?” Elide sighed, tucking her legs beneath her. “We had a bit to drink and… I think we crossed a line last night.”

Pausing as she reached for the bag of croissants, despite denying her own hunger only a moment before, Aelin blinked. “Like what? Did he say something wrong? Do I need to handle this?”

“No,” Elide said, far too quickly.

Aelin stared at her.

Elide stared back.

“Elide,” Aelin pushed.

Elide took a giant bite of her chocolate croissant before she said, “We had…sex. Kinda.”

Aelin’s mouth fell open before she slowly said. “I’m sorry, you think you crossed a line?”

Elide opened her mouth but then Aelin added, “And how do you kinda have sex? Did you or did you not fuck Lorcan? Was his dick inside of you?”

She took another bite and chewed slowly before swallowing. “Technically, no.”

“Did you blow him?” Aelin asked, plucking up a croissant and reaching for her coffee. “Because if his dick was in your mouth, that counts.”

Shaking her head, Elide said, “No, we just—.”

“Then how did you kinda have sex?” Aelin interrupted.

“We…got off together.” Elide mumbled, taking a sip of her coffee and specifically not looking at her friend.

“You… Oh.” Aelin’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Elide’s cheeks were on fire.

Aelin cleared her throat. “And how did that come about?”

The irony in her choice of words wasn’t lost on Elide.

“It’s…” Elide took a long while to come up with a word, but all that she could say was, “complicated.”

Aelin began to rub her temples. “Okay, I’m going to need you to walk me through this from the beginning.”

Elide did just that, starting with the alcohol and ending with Lorcan kissing her, both still completely nude, his body pressed against hers.

Aelin listened the entire time, with no judgment whatsoever. But, when Elide was done with the story, Aelin said, “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.” She didn’t have much more of a sentiment to explain it, so holy shit seemed like a good fit.

“What did he do afterward?” Aelin asked, polishing off her first croissant and getting another.

“We kissed for a while until he noticed what time it was and then he got dressed and hauled ass out the door, promising to text me today.”

“And has he?” Aelin asked, mouth full. “Cause if he hasn’t, you should text him.”

“No, but he’s got two finals early this morning, one that I know he was really worried about.” Elide was twirling a strand of her long, dark hair around her finger and brushed the end over her lips. “I don’t want to distract him.”

Aelin, who had just finished her own final exams, nodded in understanding, and then was up, hurrying back to her bedroom. She returned, phone in hand, and dropped back onto the couch.

“What are you doing?” Elide asked.

“Texting Rowan.”

Aelin’s reply was so nonchalant, but Elide’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “You can’t say anything!”

Aelin waved her off. “Oh, hush, I’m just asking if he’s talked to Lorcan today.” When Elide just blinked, she added, “You told me. You seriously don’t think Lorcan isn’t going to tell Rowan?”

Honestly, the idea hadn’t even occurred to her.

But, once she began to think about it, she felt the need to hurl. “You really think he’d talk to Rowan about it?”

Her voice was quiet.

Almost nervous.

Aelin’s eyes softened. “Can I ask something?”

Elide rolled her eyes. “You will if I say yes or no.”

Aelin chuckled. “True.” She waited a moment before she asked, “What did last night mean to you?”

A hell of a lot more than it did to Lorcan, I’m sure.

She didn’t say that out loud though. She shrugged instead, and quietly muttered, “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it.”

Aelin waited again and then nodded. “You have feelings for him.”

Elide didn’t answer, because she figured it was pretty obvious.

“Are you working today?” Aelin asked, out of nowhere.

The abrupt change in topic nearly gave Elide whiplash. “No, it’s my day off. Why?”

Popping the last bite of croissant in her mouth, Aelin was off the couch and heading for her bathroom. After brushing her teeth and grabbing her purse, she was tugging Elide towards the door. “We’re pampering ourselves today. Getting your mind off of…getting off last night. Let’s go.”

Elide didn’t realize until they were halfway to the spa that she’d left her phone somewhere at Aelin’s.

Rowan had just gotten home from the gym and was chugging a Gatorade when there was a banging on his front door.

He opened it to find Lorcan, who blew past him and began pacing back and forth in his living room.

“What’s wrong with you?” Rowan asked, still holding the half-empty bottle in his hands. “Did you fail one of your exams?”

“I ruined my friendship with Elide.” Lorcan was dragging his hand through his hair. “I texted her and she hasn’t replied all day.”

Rowan said nothing.

Instead, he slowly shut the door, then set his Gatorade down on his kitchen counter before he leaned against it and asked, “And how exactly did you ruin your friendship with Elide?”

Lorcan mumbled something incomprehensible as he fell back onto the couch.

Rowan sat in an armchair. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

Lorcan groaned. “There was kissing and nudity and touching of things, not exactly in that order, and now she won’t text me back. My best friend. I ruined it. Alcohol is stupid.”

Rowan blinked. “You fucked her?”

“No, not in the traditional sense of the word.”

At Rowan’s continued silence, he went on. “We were watching the Notebook, cause it was her turn to pick the stupid movie, and we were drinking and she started talking about how long it’s been since someone has taken care of her—.”

“You offered to do the job for her?” Rowan asked, even as his face twisted slightly in disgust. Elide had become a little sister to him, for all intents and purposes. Hearing about her in a sexual way was not exactly enjoyable.

“I did, but she said no.” He cleared his throat. “So we did the jobs ourselves instead.”

Rowan, as smart as he was, took a moment to understand what Lorcan was saying. Shaking his head, he asked, “You…jacked off in front of her?” Lorcan nodded, clearly too embarrassed for words. “And she…fingered herself?”

“A bit, yeah,” he replied, uncomfortably rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, she mostly rubbed her clit, but—.”

“I don’t need specifics.” Rowan interrupted, holding a hand up. “But you didn’t fuck her afterward?”

“No.”

He was clearly at a loss for words. “What did you do? Clean yourself up, say Thanks for the show and leave?”

“I kissed her,” Lorcan admitted, then amended, “Well, she was on the other side of the couch, so it was more of a tackle, but I got my lips on hers, regardless.”

Rowan just stared at him, then shook his head, slowly. “Damn it, Lorcan.”

Lorcan hesitated. “What?”

“You don’t just kiss her then leave!”

“Who said I left?” Lorcan asked, voice raised.

“Well, didn’t you?” Rowan pushed.

Lorcan didn’t answer.

Rowan let out a breath. “She probably thinks that it meant absolutely nothing to you.”

“How could she possibly think that?” Lorcan asked, quietly.

“What did you do before you left?” Rowan asked.

“We kissed, for a long damn time, I noticed what time it was, had to haul ass out of there and told her I’d talk to her today,” Lorcan said, throwing up his hands. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Not make her feel like a fucked up booty call,”

Rowan replied.

“I've tried to text her today, I’ve even tried calling her, to tell her that, and to tell her how I feel. Clearly, she doesn’t want to talk to me,” Lorcan said, letting his head fall back against the couch. “Like I said. I ruined my friendship with my best friend. Over a stupid fucking orgasm.”

Rowan shook his head, but asked, “What do you mean, tell her how you feel?”

“I care about her.” Lorcan was staring at the ceiling, not at Rowan. “Last night… It meant something to me.”

“Meant something to you?” Rowan repeated. Lorcan nodded, once. “How so?”

Lorcan was quiet for a long time, then he said, “She's not just some booty call. You know that.”

“She doesn’t,” Rowan said, looking at Lorcan, even though he wouldn’t make eye contact. “She needs to know that, Lor.”

“She won’t reply-.”

“Then hunt her down,” Rowan said. “She’s out with Aelin.”

Lorcan’s head snapped up. “Where? How do you know?”

“Because Aelin is my girlfriend and we talk about things, but she didn’t tell me about this, probably because she knew you would.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled back through his messages. “They spent the day at the spa, but it looks like Aelin just got home.”

“And Elide?” Lorcan asked, already heading for the door.

He scrolled back to the most recent texts. “She didn’t mention anything about dropping her off.”

“I’ll call you later,” Lorcan called, grabbing his keys from the table by the door.

He was rushing to Elide’s, who thankfully lived just down the road from Rowan. But her car wasn’t in the lot and when he knocked on her door, incessantly, there was no answer from the other side.

It was her lack of response that bothered him the most, he realized, climbing back into his own car.

I’ve wanted you to do that for so long.

He hadn’t misheard her the night before. She’d imagined it as much as he had, or so he thought.

But maybe he’d misunderstood her. Maybe it wasn’t the connection she’d been after. Maybe it was just the orgasms.

If that had been the case, Lorcan didn’t know if he could handle it.

He drove to Aelin’s, and even if they did have a love/hate relationship, he spent far too much time at her house, with Rowan.

And Elide.

His knuckles whitened on the wheel as he drove a little bit faster through the backroads.

Please be at Aelin’s.

It was half a plea, half a nervous wish, but when he pulled into Aelin’s apartment complex, he saw Elide’s white car.

And nearly had a panic attack.

Parking beside it, he hurried to Aelin’s door, and knocked on it, probably much harder than he should have.

“This isn’t what I meant, asshole.”

He turned and found Rowan striding up the pathway towards him.

“Elide wasn’t at home,” he explained, knowing this didn’t look great, but that Rowan would never actually accuse or even think Lorcan was at Aelin’s for any purpose other than Elide. Rowan was likely coming over to see his own girlfriend. He wasn’t having to hunt her down.

The door opened then and Aelin stood on the other side, a brow raised.

“Hey,” Lorcan and Rowan both said, at once.

Aelin suppressed a laugh. “Can I help you?”

“Usually you’ve already let me in by now,” Rowan said, the same time that Lorcan asked, “Is Elide here?”

Aelin leaned against the doorframe. “Maybe.”

Rowan snorted and kissed her on the forehead before making his way inside, being allowed in be damned.

Lorcan shifted on his feet. “Look, if Elide-.”

“She's in the kitchen,” Aelin answered, simply, stepping aside to let him in.

Elide clearly hadn’t heard the commotion of their arrival because as he entered the small kitchen, her back was to Lorcan. “I’m not sure Chinese takeout was the best idea, Ace,” she sighed, unpacking the boxes from the bag in front of her. “We’re just going to be hungry again in an hour.”

“I could take you to dinner,” Lorcan said, leaning against the counter, effectively blocking the doorway, and her exit out. “If that’s the case.”

Elide whirled around to face him, dark eyes wide. “Lorcan. What— What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

She blinked. “How did your exams go today?”

How in the hell could she even be thinking about his exams? When so much had happened between them the night before.

“Good,” he admitted. “Flew through them with no problems.”

“I knew you would,” she whispered, twirling her loose hair around her finger again.

His eyes caught on those fingers. They were painted a deep red color now, like that shitty wine she liked to drink. But he couldn’t stop thinking of where they’d been the night before.

His voice was quiet when he asked, “Why haven’t you texted me back today?”

Those eyes flared again. “I haven’t had my phone. I forgot it somewhere when we left this morning. We stopped to pick up dinner on the way home and only got back a few minutes ago, I hadn’t even had a chance to look for it.”

Lorcan faltered, thinking about the long list of notifications she would surely receive from him when she did finally look at her phone. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh. Well. Maybe, don’t, then.”

A dark brow slowly lifted. “Why not?”

“Because you’re going to have a shit ton of missed voicemails and texts from me, wondering why you’re not answering me after…” His words trailed off as he took a step into the kitchen and cleared his throat. “After last night.”

Elide swallowed, but she didn’t move from where she was standing, didn’t step closer to where Lorcan stood on the opposite end of the kitchen. “I see.” Her words were quiet. “And what exactly happened last night?”

Lorcan’s stomach dropped. Surely she hadn’t forgotten. Yeah, they’d been drinking, but it hadn’t been that much. Unless she wanted to forget. Unless he really had ruined something between them last night and she was giving him an out to pretend nothing had happened, that nothing had changed.

“I— I guess nothing,” he breathed, his voice quiet. He inclined his head to the food behind her. “I’ll help you carry this into the living room and leave you to your girl’s night. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Elide’s quiet laugh drew his eyes back to hers. “Aelin has already dragged Rowan back to her room. Girl’s night was doomed the second he walked through the door.” She took the smallest step towards him and it took everything in him to stay rooted against the counter he leaned on. “And I guess you and I remember last night very differently, because that wasn’t nothing to me.”

Lorcan’s jaw locked and he swore he felt his cheeks turn red. “It wasn’t?”

Elide shook her head.

“What was it then?”

“I have a feeling you came here to tell me just that,” Elide said, stopping just in front of him. “At least, I hope you-.”

Lorcan took her face in both of his hands and pressed his lips to hers.

He had never been good with words.

He was hoping his actions would help him say what he couldn’t quite string together.

Apparently, they did, because her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down to meet her fully and holding him to her. After a moment, they pulled apart, both panting slightly.

“Was that offer for dinner earlier your version of asking me out?” She breathed.

“Dinner, dessert, coffee, ice cream,” he muttered against her lips, already leaning back in for more. “You tell me what you want and that’s our date.” Pausing, he added, “But last night was…amazing, for more than just…you know.” His words trailed off and they both blushed. “I want to take you out though. On a real date. I’ve wanted to for a long time.”

Elide kissed him again, and he thought that was her answer, until she whispered against his lips, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Lorcan lifted her up, turning them so she sat on the counter and he stepped between her legs.

Dragging her hands down his arms, Elide added, “But it can’t end up how last night did.”

Lorcan was nodding. “I understand, that’s completely fine. I can wait—.”

“I’ll need you to touch me this time,” she interrupted, and Lorcan’s mouth fell open.

He swallowed, eyes going wide in understanding, and then nodded. “I can— I can do that.”

Tugging on the front of his shirt, Elide pulled his lips to hers again. Lorcan took very little convincing.

#snacmc collabs #what happens next?#elorcan #throne of glass #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #lorcan lochan

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klvbxlove · 3 years

Text

lunch (yosuke x introverted! gn! reader)

a/n: damn, i’m really out here with ANOTHER yosuke fic, aren’t i? not that i hate it, i have some fun writing for him! but i still can’t get over that one anon calling me a “subconscious yosuke kin” (to whoever sent me that, thanks LMAO). now, a bit off topic, i really wanna try to write for the investigation team girls as well, but i’m having a bit difficulty. so please note that it’s not like i hate the girls (if anything, they’re cool! i especially love naoto. i may or may not have a crush on her). it might take awhile for me to put out another fanfic for one of them that i actually like.

reader type: gender neutral

reader specification(s): reader is an introvert (**)

genre(s): fluff

trigger warning(s): none

summary: yosuke noticed that you haven’t made the effort to make friends, let alone talk to at least one person, since the day you transferred to his class. he decided he would change that and invite you to lunch.

word count: 1.6k words

(**) i know i could’ve written this in the a/n above, but i felt like i had to point it this right BEFORE the drabble starts. for some people, the reader might not sound like an introvert. i understand. however, being an introvert myself, i did base the reader a little bit off of me and how i act around new people talking to me.

♡ ♡ ♡ (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*) ♡ ♡ ♡

key:

(l/n) = last name

♡ ♡ ♡ (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*) ♡ ♡ ♡

Yosuke knew that sometimes it would be considered rude (and creepy) to stare at a person for an extended period.

But was that enough to stop him from staring at you, though? No.

Whenever he got a chance during class, Yosuke would gaze his brown eyes upon you. Ninety-nine percent of the time, you would be sitting alone at your desk and not paying attention to anyone around you. And either you would be reading a book or going on your phone. You were always so focused, as well. Yosuke swore the whole class could be extremely high on drugs, and you would pay no mind to it whatsoever.

It had only been a few days since you had transferred to his class, but as far as he knew, you still had not made any friends. Although, it did look like you did not care about it. He had never seen you trying to talk to one person in class before, either.

Yosuke knew himself as a bit of an extravert who has no problem making friends most of the time. So if anything, he expected himself to have gone up to you and at least introduced himself. But no, instead, all he has been doing was staring at you. Yosuke was conflicted on whether to talk to you or leave you alone. For all he knew, you probably did not like socializing with anyone.

At the moment you looked up to make eye contact, Yosuke immediately turned around in his seat. Oh God, he could only hope he did not look awkward or creepy doing that. The last thing he wanted was for a new classmate to have a negative impression on him.

Okay, he thought to himself. Maybe I can talk to the new student during lunch later. Maybe I could even invite them to eat with me! Well, unless they don’t want to. I mean, I hope they accept my offer.

Holy crap, I did it! Yosuke felt like he was going stiff for the billionth time. He was currently sitting next to you on the rooftop after you had (surprisingly) accepted his invitation. Although, there was a bit of awkwardness in the air during this time. Yosuke felt too awkward to start eating as he could not help but steal a few more glances at you. Meanwhile, you were eating your lunch in silence while you looked off in the distance.

You gotta say at least one thing to (L/N), you know.

“So, um, what do you think about Yasogami High so far? Is it alright?” Well, it was a bit of an unusual question, but Yosuke figured that he would start with that. “Or, what about Inaba?”

You hummed, thinking of how to answer as you chewed your food. “It’s alright. I mean, I haven’t gotten the chance to explore Inaba yet after moving in, so I can’t say how I feel about it so far.”

Yosuke nodded in understanding. As much as he enjoyed living in Inaba, it was not comparable to big cities in Japan like Tokyo and Osaka.

And now that he thought about it, today was also the first time he got to hear your voice again. The last time Yosuke heard you talk was when you had to introduce yourself in front of your new classmates. Since then, you remained quiet amongst the class.

But then again, it already sent strange beatings to his heart for no reason.

“Is there a reason why you moved here?”

“Oh, one of my guardians just got a new job in Inaba, so we had to relocate so they could be closer,” you explained. “Well, actually, they also got another job offer in Kyoto, but they wanted to settle with the one here in Inaba. So I was just like, ‘Alright,’”

For some reason, this intrigued Yosuke. “Interesting,” he commented as he took a bite of his food. “So I assume your family is the quiet type, right?”

“Not exactly,” you shrugged. “I mean, I got some extraverted family members. But for a few months, my family began thinking maybe moving somewhere quieter would be a nice change. Not that they hated the city or anything, you know?”

“No worries, I get it,” Yosuke smiled at you. “Inaba might not be a big and interesting place, but you learn to like it over time,”

But at this moment, Yosuke felt a weird feeling in him when you chuckled, “Yeah, hopefully, I will,” you noted.

Yosuke had no idea why he suddenly felt a bold of confidence. Just a moment ago, he was hesitant to invite you up to the rooftop for lunch! But he figured he would go through with it.

“If you want, I could show you around Inaba during the weekend! I can even bring along my friends, who are all not at school at the moment.”

You pondered for a bit before you smiled. “That would be nice. I’ll consider it.” Then you tilted your head “And your friends are absent? Like, all of them?”

Yosuke chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah, literally all of them. All I know is that Yukiko is on vacation with her family, Chie got sick yesterday, and Yu lives in Tokyo. Not sure about Rise, Kanji, and Naoto. So I’m pretty much alone for the day.”

Wait, he just caught himself. “Oh. Well, I guess ‘alone’ would be the wrong word now that I’m hanging out with you. Haha, oops!” he scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

The awkwardness was rubbing off on Yosuke, and he hated it. Why can he not ever be awesome? He was almost glad when you spoke up. Although, he was scared of your answer.

“You’re all good,” you smiled as you closed your bento box and put it aside. “I mean, yeah. It honestly sucks when almost all your friends are absent from school. For me, I just sit in class and at lunch alone like, ‘This sucks. Why did you guys have to leave me?!’

“It’s kinda weird. Being an introvert, you would think I love lonely and having little to no friends. But no, I still need my small group of friends with me to make it through the school day, or else it will get boring as hell.”

Yosuke smiled. “Same here! My friends are great, even though sometimes they can be a pain in the ass. I can feel lonely when I’m not with them for long periods. It was why I wanted to invite you to eat lunch with me. And I also wanted to get a chance to get to know you after you arrived here a few days ago.

“Although, I gotta be honest. I was a bit worried that you would decline me. I dunno. I assumed you were the type of person who hated it when someone tries to talk to you. I-Is that a bit weird?”

Why are you asking if it's weird? OF COURSE, IT IS!

Stop making this more awkward for yourself! For all you know, you’re probably making (L/N) uncomfortable!!

OR HOW ABOUT YOU STOP OVERREACTING?!

“Hanamura, it’s fine. Not weird at all!” you let out a light laugh. “Listen, it’s not necessarily a thing where I loathe people talking to me. But only if if they come up to me first. Other than that, I would much rather be quiet. If I’m with my close friends, then I can be a bit more talkative.

“But I mean, it’s so funny,” you continued, smiling. “My guardians say I’m such an extravert around my close friends and cousins. I talk so much around them, yet with strangers or people I barely know, I’m dead silent. I guess if I become more comfortable around a person, I won’t be as shy.”

God damn it, Yosuke knew this might be weird to ask. But he just had to know. “So…I assume you’re slowly becoming comfortable around me? I mean, you are talking a lot!”

“I guess I am!” you said.

Well, that was one hell of a quick answer. Eh, not that he minded!

Moments passed, but before Yosuke knew it, the both of you continued to talk more. It was not as if he had been around you for the longest time, but he felt like he knew more about you. He felt proud of himself for getting you to open up to him.

And at this point, Yosuke looked up. He noticed how many of the students who were also on the rooftop were beginning to head inside.

“Well, class is starting soon. We should probably get going before we’re late,” Yosuke suggested. You nodded in agreement, and both of you stood up.

“Hey, Hanamura,” you spoke up. In turn, Yosuke turned to face you and saw a soft smile on your lips (and a blush on his cheeks! Wait, no—).

“Thanks for inviting me to lunch today, I enjoyed it a lot,” you thanked him, “And I appreciated you talking to me. You were the first person at school to have done that so far. Even though I like being alone, I still liked hanging out with someone after days of barely knowing anyone here.”

Yosuke knew this for sure. He was proud of himself for offering you the invitation. If he had not, high chances were that you would have continued being quiet, and he would have no clue about who you were. So smiling back at you, Yosuke said, “It’s no problem at all, (L/N)! I enjoyed it, too. Wait, give me just a sec.”

You tilted your head in confusion when Yosuke pulled out his phone and gave it to you. In a matter of seconds, you realized what the brown-haired boy wanted, judging by the screen showing. But still, you wanted to hear him say it.

“Put your phone number in here. And I can text you after school!”

With a soft chuckle, you did as Yosuke did. You especially loved seeing his eyes glisten with excitement after handing his phone back.

And the both of you eventually went back to your classroom, feeling bliss in the air.

#persona 4 #persona #persona 4 x reader #persona 4 imagines #persona imagines #yosuke hanamura #fanfiction #persona 4 golden #p4g #yosuke hanamura x reader #oneshot #gn reader #x reader #kristin's writings

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spectracully · 4 years

Text

busy boy.

pairing : fratboy!jaemin x sororitygirl!reader warnings : drinking, mentions of drugs, a bit suggestive (but pls note that this isn’t smut), cursing, mentions of divorce genre : fluff, angst, college!au word count : 2.5k

summary : inspired by chloe x halle - busy boy. basically playing around with the local campus playboy, na jaemin for months is not the best thing, not the worst thing either.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ You face yourself in the bathroom mirror, hands gripping the white sink. You saw him, right there. Dancing in the middle of the frat house’s living room with a girl in his arms. Na Jaemin, the boy you’ve been talking with for 3 months now, who recently just texted you “are you up?” on 9.15, and when you replied to him that you’re actually at his frat house, attending the party that Jaehyun hosts, he just texted you back one hour later by saying he’s with his family.

You’re malfunctioning right now, still dazed, don’t know whether it's because of the alcohol, the weed Lucas gave you, or it’s just you- believing his cheap lies. Cause when you think about it, who the fuck leaves the campus, go home and spend time with family in finals month? Yeah, you’re the one who’s dumb here, actually believing his lies. But who blames you for believing in the first place, anyway? You and your sorority sisters have arrived here since 8.30 anyway, an hour and half is long enough to get you lightheaded from the shots you take.

You glanced at your watch, it’s only 11.28 pm. About an hour since you read his text, and practically 34 minutes after you literally saw him. Facepalming yourself, you close the toilet seat and sit above it. It’s not even right in the middle of the night, but it has been a wild ride for you. It’s kinda frustrating when you are the one who actually started this game, you knew Jaemin is hell of a playboy on campus, yet you decided to get some taste of it just because he’s being a real gentleman with sweet words to you. Yeri was actually furious when she saw Jaemin dropped you off at the sorority house a few weeks ago, she warned you that you should dump him before you’re too attached, but you won’t listen. There it is, the fruit of not listening to Yeri’s 40 minutes lecture of how you should avoid men like Jaemin, Lucas, Yuta, Ten, Johnny and Jaehyun in your love life, big disappointment.

Finally catching your breath, you decided that it is time you get back outside, and actually do something about it, rather than being all somber and gloomy. Jaehyun threw a goddamn frat party in the middle of finals month to relax the fellow students’ mind, not for you to dwell on your sadness, in the bathroom. It’s embarrassing. And a disgrace for your sorority.

You head out, spotting Lucas who’s leaning by the counter with Hendery and Jungwoo. They’re probably hitting more blunt and having some existential crisis over a potato chip wrapping. You continue to scan across the house, only to catch a sight of Joy busy making out with Sungjae on the couch. Or Yeri, who’s currently twerking to Doja Cat’s song, totally shitfaced. You sighed, your friends are either high, shitfaced, or sucking a boy’s face out. You really wanna continue your search for your other sisters, but then suddenly a light brown haired boy appears in front of you.

“Hey, y/n, you alright? You look like you’ve been through 4 divorces.” he asks as he stares at you, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I just went through a fucking divorce. With your homeboy.” you answer him absentmindedly, pointing to the black haired boy who is wearing a black-white patterned wool sweater and a red shirt underneath, along with his slate-grey suit pants and a silver necklace. The boy in the topic is currently talking with the girl you saw earlier, being all smiley and shit.

Mark just laughs lightly as he sips his beer, “Oh him? Yeah he’s quite a busy boy. Probably went through countless divorces with half of the campus.” you chuckle at him, he knows what you’re talking about. All these girls never even had a proper official relationship with Jaemin, including you, but always ended up getting a nasty ass divorce without any reason. You know that, but you did not expect that you’d hang on up until now.

“You wanna do something about it?” Mark asks, nudging your elbow. He’s in a helpful mood now, probably because he is still not completely shitfaced or high. You glance at him, giving him a questioned look.

“Well.. I mean I would do it, but what? Kissing you in front of him so that he’ll get jealous? No, Mark. You know that his head is made out of a fucking rock, right?” You answer him, seizing his beer and take a big ass gulp.

“Hey, that’s my beer- What? Kiss you? Gross, dude. If you are looking for that guy, might as well run to Lucas or Jungwoo.” he lifts his eyebrows, slightly engrossed. You laugh at him, he’s a funny guy when he reacts to your silly jokes.

“Do I look like I wanna give you a kiss, Mark? No offense, but I don’t like crackly lipped boys.” you tease him, now he’s pouting and starts touching his lips, “Is it too crackly though? You have a lipbalm or something?” he asks

You continue to laugh while fishing the watermelon lipbalm out from your black leather jacket and pass it to him. He muttered a small thanks. You set the beer aside to the table then face him once more.

“Anyways, what should I do?” you eye him, who is now done applying the lipbalm.

“Drop your drink to the girl or something? Make sure he notices you dude.” he suggests, shrugging his shoulder.

“You’re dumb, Mark. It’ll cause a fucking catfight in the middle of party.” you deadpanned.

“Oh yeah, you have a point.” he swept his hair to the side, glancing at the whole party situation. That’s when you get the idea. Scratch kissing other boys in front of him, it’s probably the right time to call him the fuck out, you already have alcohol running in your system anyways, might as well go all out tonight, since everybody else also seems like already intoxicated by the liquors.

You lightly brush your hair, stretching your neck and praying to god that he’ll forgive you for what you are about to do. “Toodles, Mark. I’ll think a way when I get drunk, soon enough.” you wave him a goodbye, heading to the dining table to get a bottle of vodka, it’s half empty though, considering you’re being pessimistic tonight.

You chug the bottle with no mercy, wishing it’ll bring you straight to intoxication. You start to feel it kicking in, when you finish the last drop of the vodka. Banging the bottle to the nearby table, you make your way to Jaemin, who is currently sitting on the staircase by himself, checking his phone.

“Ooh, busy boy, aren’t you?” you ask him, not giving anymore fucks. He looks up to you, who is currently squinting at him, face reddening from the alcohol heat. He stares at you, biting his lip.

“Y/n. You’re drunk.” he says lightly as he stands up, tucking strands of your hair to the back of your ear. You squirm from his action. As much as you want to punch him in the face for playing with your emotions, you really miss his touch.

“I am not! Jaemiiiiin, why did you lie to meeeee?” you whine loudly to him on purpose, placing his hand on your face, pouting. Your plan worked, a few people turned their heads to you and Jaemin. He just sighs and snorts, smelling the strong liquor scent that slipped out of your lips. You can feel Yeri is probably trying to kill you with her glare, you know how much she hates Jaemin.

“Listen, baby, what are you trying to pull?” Jaemin whispers close to your ear. You’re not that sure whether it’s because of the loud music blasting in the whole house, or it’s just Jaemin’s voice. Whatever it is, your ears are tingling, sending funny sensations down to your spine.

Jaemin is pissed, you know it damn well from his tone, stern and strong. Oh yes, you love it so much, pissing him off, probably you’ll start humiliating him more and more in his own frat home, because that’s what he deserves for playing with you, and some other random girls.

“Don’t baby me, Jaemin! You said you were with your family, and then I saw you with some random girl!” you shout. At this point, you don’t really care about what others think of you, because they can clearly see you’re being drunk and probably will shrug it off. If that’s what it takes to call Jaemin out in a huge crowd, then you’ll take it. You have nothing to lose, anyway, they’ll agree with you, they all know Jaemin is a big flirt.

And there it is, the anger and humiliation fills Jaemin up. He pulls your wrists, practically dragging you upstairs. You liked it, don’t know why, it’s just fun, making him mad when it’s actually you, who should’ve been mad in the first place. He rushes you to get into his shared bedroom with Jeno and Renjun. Amused, you quickly sit on his bed, acting like you’re dumb.

He shuts the door behind him, crossing his arms. “What’s this all about, baby?”

You snort, “I think you know, Jaemin. You’ve been messing around me for 2 months- or what, I actually lost count because you’re such a busy boy.”

He widen his eyes, “I don’t-”

“Oh shut up, are you surprised that I actually last longer than all your pretty girls?” you stand up, you can’t contain the anger anymore.

“Listen, baby, I-”

“I said, don’t baby me when you do that to probably other 7 girls!” you shout, glaring at him, who is currently freezing on his space.

He sighs and sweeps his hair in frustration, licking his lips. “Will you listen to me first, at least?”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms while glancing at his study desk. Nicely decorated, and you can see his family photograph neatly placed in a small frame. You noticed that he’s quite a reader too, judging from his book collection compared to Jeno and Renjun.

“First, I gotta admit, you last longer than other girls, yes. And second, it’s because I want to keep you-” he starts, taking a seat next to you,

You scoffed, “Keep me? You think I’m some kind of puppy that follows you around, Jaemin? You’re being such a dick right now! Do you think that I’m just some kind of wh-”

“Can you not interrupt me, baby? I’m talking.” he growls, placing his hand to your thigh. You can feel your cheeks heat up from his actions. Jaemin, being Jaemin, can sense that you’re actually flustered, he lightly squeeze your thigh, just to see your cheeks redden even more. God, he’s such a flirt.

“But first, I got to be honest with you, I was torn between ghosting you or continuing. That explains the lie a lot.” he clears his throat, looking into your eyes. You’re not giving him a reaction (except the fact that you’re already as red as a fucking cooked lobster from his hand placement), just like he said, don’t interrupt him.

“I mean- after all those messing around, I grow tired of it. I-I don’t even want to flirt anymore, I want to be comforted.. Those girls, those people.. They know I’m not serious and they do the same, y/n. We just kinda.. Have a good time and dipped.”

You’re still sitting in silence, eyes fixed on Jaemin, who now looks flustered. This is not Jaemin at all, he’s usually cocky, cheeky, and flirty, just exactly like a few seconds ago. He usually throws wink here and there, but now he actually looks… vulnerable.

“I was surprised you’re still holding on for like 3 months.. Those girls won’t even last for 2 days, y/n. It’ll end up me ghosting them or vice versa, no one ever had a second date with me. But you, you can’t seem to give up when I’m not replying, don’t you?” he chuckles as he looks at you softly,

You giggle at him a little, “Yes. I’m THAT dumb, Jaemin.” you admit to him. In reality, you know it, you know when he’s not replying, he’s probably with some other girls. But you are being deadass, you just don’t know what possessed you, you just keep on texting him like it’s nothing.

He rubs the back of his neck, “I was actually scared that you’ll dump me when I develop actual feelings to you.. Or worse, what if I break your heart after we have something? I mean, if I have to, I’d break it now, so the pain is not too harsh. That’s why I keep on lying to you, and maybe, not replying to your messages.”

At first, you feel bad from hearing him speak truthfully. But after he opened his mouth again, you can feel the anger slowly rising again through your veins. He is very very selfish and self-centered. Is this how he show his true color? A man with a big ego? That’s it?

You tilted your head, “Fuck you. Really. Then why did you start the conversation, Jaemin? You could’ve told me how you felt and we’re set. But I can see-”

He shakes his head, interrupting your words, “I-I told you, y/n. I’m very torn between wanting to pursue you, or letting you go. That’s why I often not replying right after I texted you. I’m sorry, I really do.”

You’re angry. You’re sad. But you’re confused that you’re a little happy too, hearing him speak from the bottom of his heart. But that’s very selfish of him, doing those acts to you. He could’ve told you what he actually feels way earlier than this, so you can make sure what are you two doing, instead of playing pointless games of ghosting and chasing around again.

“I see. You’re so fucking selfish, Jaemin. We talked for months and this is all I got? Am I not worth of your explanation from the start? I know you wouldn’t do anything if I hadn’t drag your ass in the middle of the fucking party!” you stand up, you can no longer hide your disappointment to him, tears start rolling down your face.

His heart breaks a little, watching bundle of tears fall from your eyes. He is the heartbreaker, but those girls were never crying when he ghosted them after they had fun, those girls would catch another boys and forget about Jaemin right away. This is Jaemin’s first ever experience, seeing a girl crying because of what he did.

He knows that he’s an asshole for playing fire, but now he feels like he is THE asshole. He broke your heart right on, and it breaks his heart right back.

You sigh deeply, trying to catch a breath after a few sobs. “Don’t fucking find me. Have fun with your girls.” you look at his eyes with full of anger and hate. With heavy steps, you walk to the door, thinking about things you’re about to do once you get downstairs, probably joining Lucas and the gang, stoning yourself out, so you don’t have to think about Jaemin and his stupid beautiful face.

Just when you try to reach the door knob, you can feel Jaemin is grabbing onto your hand.

“Y/n, I am truly sorry.. After what you did earlier, I realized that I’m a big fucking loser. I can’t even admit my feelings. When you call me out earlier, I just wanna dissolve into thin air. I can’t handle the shame of being such a dick, I should’ve told you what I feel instead of making uncertain decisions.”

You turn to him, seeing his eyes glimmering, probably because of the tears pooling up. You’re hurt, you want to push him away as far as possible, you want to see him suffer. Hell, you just want him to extinct. But seeing him like this, you can’t lie to your own feelings, you like him. You really do. But just like your sorority sisters taught you, yourself comes first, not those stupid silly boys who just fuck around.

“Goodbye, Jaemin.” you say to him, holding back more tears coming in.

Just when you’re getting ready to reach the doorknob for the second time, he pulls you into his arms. You want to let go of him, but he’s strong, and you- actually wanting this for so long. You hate him, but you have feelings for him. You can’t help but stay on his embrace.

And then... There it is, the feels. It comes back, the way you hide yourself from Yeri whenever you pick up his calls, or maybe the late night drive to nearby McDonalds, or maybe flirting through the notes you pass during class, or maybe the first kiss you shared with him in front of your sorority house, and ended up being scolded by Yeri and Joy.

You realized that it was a stupid crush with the stupid playboy Na Jaemin, but you enjoyed your time with him. You remembered how he likes to send you goodnight selfies, or maybe the way he pouts a lot when driving. Those 3 months of on-and-off-unofficial-relationships with him, is actually making you feel things.

“Y/n, I know I don’t deserve you, but really.. This time, I mean it. I promise, I won’t mess around. Please, I know I’ve been such a dick, but if you just give me one more chance, y/n.. But I completely understand, if you hate me, and you probably want to slam me to death, and I will allow you-”

You look up to him and grabbed his face, crashing his lips into yours. He tastes like cherry soda, with a hint of cigarettes. He seems like enjoying the kiss, he cupped your cheeks as he deepened the kiss. You can feel his hands travel around your body, only to land in your hips.

You want to trust him this time. He promised you. He meant it. He will take care of you. And you trust him, this time.

“Alright, busy boy. I do want to slam you, though... But remember, just because you’re so damn fine, I won’t even think twice to dump your ass if you act up.” you warn him.

The tears you shed just bloomed into giggles and smiles. The inconsistency between the 3 months before finally disappeared, and reborn again into a new promise.

He nods. “Believe me baby, you’re the one who wants to be slammed right now.” he teases you, glancing to his bed. You can feel your cheeks reddening again, you lightly hit him, and he laughs. He’s a cheeky boy.

“Busy boy, huh?” he giggles, “Your busy boy.”

The anger within you is released now. No more chasing around like a fool, no more getting late replies from Jaemin, no more nights of hoping that he’d reply, because he’s only busy for you now.

304 notes · View notes

dynyamight · 3 years

Note

meet cute number 47 is interesting!

send me a writting ask

47. Texting the incorrect number but continuing the conversation.

“You got all that, right?” Shinsou asks, readjusting his stance, so others can leave their classroom door easily.

Midoriya hums absentmindedly. He’s still quickly jotting down the last few digits onto his planner. “And, you said tomorrow morning, around 7? At the library?”

“Yeah,” Shinsou shrugs, “Or anytime really. The deadline isn’t until next month, you know.”

“I kinda just want to get it done, as soon as possible.”

Shinsou breathes out a snort. “Figured you’d say that much. Just make sure you got my number. Repeat it, if you need to.”

“No time.” Midoriya drops his bag to the side, shoving his now closed notebook inside. “Thank you! I’ll text you later tonight!” He offers hurriedly, before taking off down the campus halls.

Shinsou’s warning falls deaf to his rushed mind.

He has to run the entire way, in order to graciously catch the last bus for the hour. Sweaty and flushed, Midoriya slumps into his seat in relief. Fortunately, he was able to cop a seat for himself, settling by the window and his backpack right next to him.

Staring out, Midoriya tries to remind himself of the rest of his priorities he needed to do.

He still needed to start on Doctor Chiyo’s online Physiology exam, and gather his notes for the open book portion. It was a bit bothersome to handle tests online, but if the rest of class prefers it, there’s nothing Midoriya can do about it.

Speaking of which, Ochako had requested for copies of those exact same notes, since apparently she barely writes anything during lectures. He wants to suggest to her to just simply take better notes, but alas, he will gladly help her out.

And, finally, Midoriya has to collect reliable, approved research articles for his and Shinsou’s debate, in their argumentative project in Communications. Being assigned “PRO SOCIAL MEDIA INFLUENCE”, while being the most uninvolved people on the internet, Midoriya and Shinsou had a lot of work to do.

Not to mention it was already 18:00 by the time he reached the school’s dormitories. And yet, he needed to shower, make dinner, water his plants, and watch the newest episode of his favorite drama, airing tonight.

University was eating him alive.

Thankfully, he’s able to complete half of his list.

He finishes the exam with a 98%, and quickly snaps the pages of his notes over to Ochako and Iida, making sure to highlight the main topics questioned in the exam. Ochako sends a ‘thank you’ gif, and Iida texts a long, yet endearing message of gratitude.

Midoriya doesn’t have time to shower, instead blasting the TV volume loud, as he waters his indoor plants at the same time. He overwaters them a little bit, busy glancing back at the screen for too long. But, at least he’s able to watch the episode. He pouts when it ends on a cliffhanger, almost drowning his bonsai tree in frustration.

He’s only able to warm up a plate of leftovers, and read through only one research article, by the time it’s already blinking 21:30 on his phone. Sighing, Midoriya closes his laptop and grabs his cell phone instead.

An all nighter wasn’t preferable. But, if Shinsou is working overtime at his late night job, Midoriya supposes he can stay up and keep looking through more articles, until he has at least the required ten.

Flipping open his planner, Midoriya inputs Shinsou’s number into his phone. He adds his name, a contact photo of him sleeping, and finally taps a quick message.

(21:38) < You working?

When Shinsou doesn’t respond right away, Midoriya simply sets aside his phone on his desk. Stretching his arms, he sighs in defeat, now expecting Shinsou to be stuck at work.

He’s never worked at a restaurant, but he bets Friday nights can get pretty busy. And, Shinsou always complains that group outings and dates tend to stay over, even after the place is supposed to close. And, Midoriya trusts his word.

So, by the time his phone dings, Midoriya has been clicking through more articles on social media, bookmarking a few to go over later, as he went.

He lifts his phone, and with a bright screen, a message stares back at him.

shinsou hitoshi (21:58) > Who’s this

Oh, he did forget to specify. But, Midoriya smiles, having a small prank in mind. There was no harm in teasing his friends, let alone Shinsou, who definitely needed a good laugh, now and then.

(21:58) < It's the cutie from your communications class ;)

shinsou hitoshi (21:58) > So, no one

(21:59) < Haha! I guess you’re right about that

(21:59) < Anyways, it’s Izuku! You still working late, Hitoshi?

shinsou hitoshi (21:59) > This ain’t Hitoshi

Midoriya's face drops, blinking. Oh god, did he mistype the number?

(21:38) < Wait, you’re not???

Another text pops up, shortly after.

shinsou hitoshi (22:02) > You got the wrong number

Embarrassment burning his entire face red, Midoriya wishes he could delete himself from the world.

(22:03) < I’m so so so so sorry!

(22:03) < God, I thought I wrote down my friend’s number right

(22:03) < But, I was in this stupid rush to get on the bus that I didn’t make sure

(22:04) < And, listen, if I had missed that bus, I would’ve had to wait

(22:04) < Not like a few minutes wait

(22:04) < Like, a whole two hours wait!

shinsou hitoshi (22:05) > I didn’t ask

Deleting the conversation, Midoriya erases the new contact completely. And instead, he looks back to his planner, and retypes the numbers in his phone onto a new conversation.

Hopefully, he has typed the correct series of digits.

(22:07) < Hey, Hitoshi! It’s Izuku

unknown (22:08) > ...

unknown (22:08) > What the actual fuck

unknown (22:08) > You've still got the wrong number, you goddamn idiot

Slamming his phone onto his desk, Midoriya grabs a pillow off his bed and shoves it in his face. The temptation to scream sounds awfully pleasant, but it’s too late at night to do so. His dorm neighbors would definitely wonder what the hell is wrong with him.

What’s wrong? Oh, he has completely done one of the most dreaded imaginary scenarios in his head; text a complete stranger. Twice.

What was he supposed to do now? Never text back? Delete it? Block it?

How is he supposed to contact Shinsou now?

His phone dings again.

Lifting the pillow off his face slightly, Midoriya eyes his phone warily from his swivel chair.

That definitely wasn’t supposed to happen. Another text from the same stranger sounds a bit unheard of.

After a seconds-long hesitation, Midoriya lifts his phone and opens it once more.

unknown (22:13) > Double check next time

unknown (22:13) > You can fucking wait the two hours, dumbass

Midoriya grows a little irked. He has a bad feeling that his stranger isn’t too friendly, to say that least.

There was literally no reason to text back something so rude.

(22:14) < Well, that wasn’t nice

unknown (22:15) > Wasn’t trying to be

(22:15) < ..Are you always like this?

unknown (22:16) > Pretty much

(22:16) < That’s sad

unknown (22:17) > What’s fucking sad is that I was woken up from my sleep

unknown (22:17) > Because a damn moron didn’t write down the right number

Midoriya winces. He hadn’t even thought about the other person’s predicament, let alone if he had interrupted anything.

(22:20) > I really didn’t mean to do that, I’m sorry :(

unknown (22:22) > Yeah whatever

(22:24) > You should try to go back to sleep, then

unknown (22:25) > I was

unknown (22:25) > But the same moron from before keeps texting me

(22:27) > Who?

(22:33) > Oh.

(22:33) > It’s me, huh?

unknown (22:34) > No shit

(22:35) > Right, of course. My bad!

(22:35) > I’m going to just stop now

unknown (22:36) > Thanks

(22:36) > For the umpteenth time, sorry! ><

(22:37) > Okay, Okay! I’m stopping now, for real

Midoriya desperately needs to call it a night.

After going through his nightly routine, he slips under his bedsheets, exhausted. He sets an alarm for 5:00 on his phone, hoping Shinsou will show up at the library, regardless of the missing confirmation text on Midoriya’s end.

He keeps his phone on awhile longer, swiping through his professors’ emails, before a surprising text notification pops in front of him.

unknown (23:01) > FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

(23:02) > …

(23:02) > What was that for??

unknown (23:04) > I CAN’T SLEEP

unknown (23:04) > GOD, I CAN’T GO BACK TO FUCKING SLEEP

unknown (23:05) > AND IT’S YOUR FAULT

(23:06) > What do you expect me to do????

unknown (23:07) > HAHAHAHA OH DON’T WORRY

unknown (23:07) > IF I CAN’T SLEEP, NEITHER CAN YOU

unknown (23:08) > AND IF YOU TURN YOUR PHONE OFF I WILL SEND HELLFIRE

(23:09) > Wait

(23:09) > No, please

(23:09) > My alarm is on my phone, I need it on

(23:10) > I need to go to an important meeting for a group project at 7:00!

unknown (23:10) > Aw, really? :0?!

(23:11) > Yeah! I really do!

unknown (23:11) > Sike. I don’t fucking care

unknown (23:12) > Hope you eat shit tomorrow

(23:13) > ..Why are you like this?

(23:13) > I could literally be a twelve year old, for all you know

unknown (23:14) > I doubt fucking twelve years do group projects

unknown (23:15) > But whether you’re a damn infant, or grown adult, I hate you

(23:16) > I wouldn’t say I hate you. That’s too harsh

(23:16) > But, wow, you are very unlikable :/

unknown (23:17) > That’s the fucking nicest thing anyone has said about me

(23:18) > It wasn’t supposed

(23:19) > Nevermind.

(23:19) > Do you have any friends? Just might as well ask

unknown (23:21) > Surprisingly yeah

(23:22) > Oh, so you also agree. That it’s a surprise

(23:22) > At least you’re self aware :0

unknown (23:23) > Yeah, they are annoying as hell

unknown (23:24) > But, also pretty good people, I guess

(23:25) > Pretty good or pretty dumb?

unknown (23:26) > SHUT IT

unknown (23:27) > Only I can make fun of them

unknown (23:27) > You. Don’t.

(23:28) > You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that

(23:29) > I’m sorry :(

unknown (23:30) > You like apologizing, huh

(23:29) > There’s a lot to apologize for tonight

unknown (23:30) > Still, you don’t have to say it every damn minute

(23:32) > You probably don’t ever apologize

unknown (23:33) > Fuck no

(23:35) > Right, of course

(23:36) > Well, you know what I need to do tomorrow

unknown (23:37) > Unfortunately

(23:38) > What about you?

unknown (23:39) > I’m covering a shift at my shit job at the ass crack of dawn

(23:40) > Unnecessary visual, but I digress

(23:40) > Uh, where do you work?

unknown (23:42) > No. I don’t even know your damn name

(23:43) > I told you?? It was in my first text

unknown (23:44) > Yeah, I ain’t scrolling

(23:48) > Well, it’s Izuku. Midoriya Izuku :)

unknown (23:49) > Great. I still ain’t giving you mine

(23:50) > ?? Is there anything I can know about you??

(23:50) > You know more about me, than I do about you

unknown (23:51) > You know I hate you

unknown (23:51) > That’s plenty

(23:52) > But, I have been staying up for you :(

unknown (23:53) > Because it’s your fault I can’t sleep

(23:54) > You aren’t feeling sleepy yet?

unknown (23:56) > ..Are you

(23:57) > I asked you first

unknown (23:58) > I asked you second

(23:59) > That

(23:59) > Look, it’s almost midnight

(24:00) > Oh, now, it’s actually midnight

unknown (00:01) > I have fucking eyes. I can see the time

(00:02) > And we BOTH have places to be tomorrow

(00:02) > So, let’s just sleep. Call a truce, please

unknown (00:03) > What about my petty retribution

(00:04) > PLEASE LET ME SLEEP

unknown (00:10) > FUCK

unknown (00:10) > FINE

unknown (00:11) > I STILL CAN’T SLEEP BUT WHATEVER

unknown (00:12) > HOPE YOU FUCKING OVERSLEEP TOMORROW

The rest of the night, Midoriya hears his phone go off, but he doesn’t bother to open the messages. Fortunately for him, the time staying awake quickly catches up to his body, the moment he shuts his eyes. And, in an instant, he falls asleep, heavy.

However, he’s jolted awake by the ringing of his phone, the tone alerting him of an incoming phone call. Banging his head on the headboard, Midoriya blindly grabs and answers his phone. “Uh, H-Hello?” He blurts quickly.

“Tch.” A low voice emits, “You owe me, Deku.”

Click. The phone call ends.

Confused, Midoriya hurriedly rubs his eyes open. Running his messy curls through his fingers, he lifts his bangs up, in order to correctly look at the time.

The time was 5:10. And, his 5:00 alarm had been off the entire time.

And, instead, that same unknown number from last night was his saving grace.

#star responds #MY FIRST TEXT FIC??? WOW #i kinda struggled with how i wanted to format the texts #but alas here it is #poor midoriya smh next time repeat the numbers back #never wake bakugou up from his 8PM to 6AM sleeps LMAO #i hope this was okay !!#bakudeku #tigridiae #my beloved #FICLET

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beomglocks · 4 years

Text

test me ; c.yj

pairing: teacher!yeonjun x (of age) student!y/n (fem)

plot: no plot im pretty sure its just smut, part 2 of teacher’s pet

w/c: 1.7K

warnings & other: smut, jealousy, teacher!yeonjun, of age student!y/n, implied cheating, yeonjun possessive, does this count as public sex?, kinda public sex?, revising this at 4am so if there’s still mistakes iM SORRY

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

after what happened the other day with beomgyu and yeonjun you thought you had won. getting yeonjun jealous was one of your many hobbies. although he'd encourage you to find a new or better one. what you didn't know was that yeonjun was not gonna let himself get played that easily.

see, yeonjun is possessive. if he's fooling around with you, you're his now. messing around with him the way you did, did not slide with him. he had thought about what you did all weekend long. even though it was something minor like flirting with another teacher, he couldn't wait for monday to arrive. he felt bad not giving attention to his actual girlfriend but messing around with you was much more exciting.

he was glad you were already legal or else he'd be in real trouble. even though having sexual encounters with one of his own students would cost his job at least he wouldn't be sent to jail. the thought of getting caught was exhilarating. he could only imagine fucking into you on his desk roughly when all of a sudden someone walks in.

he liked the idea of humiliating you like that but realized that he was the only that was allowed to see you in that much of a vulnerable state.

with that, monday arrived. you had forgotten about the way you riled up yeonjun a few days back. you figured he wouldn't be too mad about it so you decided to erase it from your mind. clearly you were wrong.

you weren't dressed too crazy today either, just a cozy sweater and some jeans. the hallways were busy as always but this time there seemed to be a common topic of murmur.

"did you see mr. choi today?" "oh my god he looks so hot." "i can't believe the teachers are allowed to come to school like that as if they aren't already good looking enough." "i want him to fuck me so badly."

you tried to keep your face and mind neutral as you walked through the halls. it's not a secret that the teachers at your school were good looking and were a casual topic among the students but why the hell was yeonjun suddenly trending?

you bit the inside of your cheek thinking about how suddenly everyone had his name in their mouths. you shook your head to get rid of these jealous thoughts bubbling in your brain and started trying to get to class.

you were barely past the threshold of the door when you hear yeonjun's stern voice, "you're late." you have to physically stop yourself from gaping at his appearance. his pink hair was pushed back to showcase the glory of his forehead but the killing part in your opinion was the leather pants.

you're not really sure how he was allowed to dress up to school like that but you thanking the heavens that no one told him off about it. your eyes not so subtly wandered to his crotch area and you almost got on your knees right then and there. the leather clung to him for dear life and showcased his toned thighs and not to mention his dick. god, his dick was literally on full display. the cocky bastard probably wanted the whole world to know he had the biggest cock ever. if he was gonna dress up like that might as well wear nothing at all.

you shiver, thinking about the ways in which he would take you right on the desk beside him-

"y/n," yeonjun's voice rips you out of your thoughts. "if you could take your seat?" you blink at him dumbly but regain yourself, two can play at this game.

"yes sir," you purr. he watches you closely as you stride to your seat. yeonjun liked to act like a closed book but you knew him, he was trying to get back at you. you weren't exactly sure if you'd be able to handle it but you're willing to show him you can try.

he starts the lesson like normal but the whispers beside you are more interesting. "i think i can see his dick print," whispers someone near you. you look to the front of the class and grin.

it's was really a good thing the leather pants were tight, it truly didn't leave any room for the imagination. you licked your lips, lost in your own thoughts when yeonjun calls you for the second time today. he was really starting to get on your nerves since he never ever calls on you. "y/n when your done daydreaming can you answer this question?"

you feel heat rise up your neck and cheeks. why the fuck did he call you out like that? surely you weren't the only one not focused on the lesson. you bite back a snarky remark that would've helped your pride and instead just answer his question.

after that, he thankfully leaves you alone for the rest of the hour. you're sure he knows you're not actually paying attention to what he's saying. screw english, at this point you want yeonjun to teach you a different kind of language.

the bell rings and strangely the girls in class take their time getting out of the room. you watch them eye yeonjun up and down and give him flirty goodbyes before finally leaving. the thing that irks you is that yeonjun is entertaining them. you scoff as he winks to a group of girls and tells them to have a nice day.

you look around and notice you're the last person in class so you decide to get up and leave. yeonjun catches you before you can get out. "where do you think you're going?" he remarks. you roll your eyes and remove his hand from your arm. "i'm leaving?"

"after that little stunt you pulled friday? i dont think so," he growls backing you up onto the door, shutting it closed. "oh? wouldn't you rather go at it with one of those other girls?" you look at him bored and he raises a brow at you. "someone's jealousy is showing," he quips.

"i'm not jealous," you defend. yeonjun leans closer to your ear, taking your lobe into his mouth. he licks a stripe along the side of your ear and kisses it making you shiver from his heavy breaths. "you sure?" he whispers. you sigh shakily and he moves to walk back to his desk. he settles himself in his chair, looking over at you expectantly.

you slowly walk over to his figure. he chuckles, eyeing your actions. you drop your bag on the floor by his desk and situate yourself on his lap so that you're straddling him. he places his hand on your thighs as you lean down to kiss him. you whimper when you feel his hands travel to the front of your jeans while he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. you open your mouth and he wastes no time letting his tongue explore it.

you sigh and find yourself grinding on his crotch. you really can't help it since you can practically feel his cock on you as he gets hard. he moves his hands from your zipper back to your thighs, gripping them roughly. "mm baby," he grunts out in a warning tone.

you don't listen and keep grinding on him, gradually getting quicker in your movements. you're pretty sure you're getting your panties and jeans wet with your cum but you don't care because damn this feels good. at this point you just wanna reach your high, you don't care if yeonjun scolds you afterwards.

yeonjun pulls away from you, scanning over your face. there's a string of saliva from him to you and your eyes are hooded looking down at him. "you're so needy today hm?" he pokes your lip in thought. "i guess i shouldn't have treated you that way today."

"yeonjun please," you whine. you try to grind on him more but he stops you. "take off your pants," he orders. you do as told and get back on his lap. the leather pants feel cold on your thighs making you shiver. "well go on baby," he's smiling up at you evilly. "junnie," you whine again.

he ignores you, watching you make a mess of yourself in front of him. the friction of your panties rubbing against his pants gets you feeling hot instantly. "ah- im s-so close," you mumble. your vision is kind of hazy but you can see yeonjun staring at you hungrily. "don't cum yet."

you smack his chest weakly and he chuckles lowly. "alright." he lifts you up and set you down on his desk. you watch him lower the leather pants and he sighs from relief. "the things i do for you," he smirks. he slides off your panties, licking his lips at how wet you are.

"can you hurry u-," he shuts you up by pushing his dick into you quickly. just by that alone you feel yourself about to cum. "faster," you moan. he complies, thrusting into you at a quicker speed than before.

the sound of skin slapping against skin rings throughout the his classroom and it makes your head spin. it's been a minute since yeonjun fucked you lik ethis but you're glad he's doing it now. you really did feel yeonjun deprived.

"do you feel me?" he teases, placing his cold hand on your lower stomach. you nod, frantically not really caring about whatever he was talking about. "jjun-"

"yeah," he breathes in reply. you let otu a silent scream as you reach your orgasm. the way you clench around his dick makes him moan loudly.

"fuck im gonna cum too," he moans. he pulls his dick out of you and pumps it quickly, making himself cum all over your thighs and lower stomach. after a moment of trying to come to your senses, you flinch as try to get up but he stops you. "leaving so soon," he grunts while pulling his pants back up.

"im just surprised mr. c hasnt shown up," you dont think much of it when you say it but yeonjun frowns. "i told him we were gonna be busy," he mumbles walking back to his chair. you can hear the shift in his voice, "whats wrong now."

"y/n dont test me, you're mine."

#yeonjun imagines #smut #yeonjun reactions #yeonjun drabbles #yeonjun drabble #yeonjun smut #txt imagines #Drabble #tomorrow x together imagines #txt headcannons #yeonjun headcannons #txt reactions #txt scenarios #yeonjun timestamps #yeonjun fic #yeonjun x reader

507 notes · View notes

loversandantiheroes · 4 years

Text

Hotel Hobbies - Part 2

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x f!Reader Author’s Note: This was not going to be a multi-chapter thing, but then people liked it and Whiskey wouldn’t shut the hell up so here we are, folks. I no longer know where this is going so strap the fuck in I guess. This is so long and I am so sorry. Edited for a cleanup 10/5/2020 Summary: A co-worker gives the Reader a little nudge, which backfires just a bit when Whiskey runs unexpectedly late. Warnings: Public sex, exhibitionism, angry sex, mild choking/breath play, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, dirty talk, rough sex, spitting, spanking, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (do as I say not as I fictionalize), creampies, come eating, vague allusions to Whiskey’s job and all the dangers contained therein, Whiskey is a service top and I do not take criticism, very brief mention of Whiskey’s past, exactly one (1) use of Spanish that I hope I didn’t fuck up too badly. Rating: Explicit / NSFW / 18+ / How much clearer can I make this? Word Count: 12k+ (oh GOD do not look at me I have no idea what happened) Previous: Prelude / Part 1 / Interlude Taglist: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @oloreaa @the-feckless-wonder @sarcasmisakindofmagic

The conference drags on into its fourth day in a parade of excessively bored people in suits and pencil skirts toting stale danishes and overpriced coffee; the only comforts provided to distract you from the mobius circle-jerk of tedious corporate bullshit. Most of the assembly hall does little more than nod blandly as yet another guest speaker goes through their presentation, the topic of which you forget at least six times throughout the course of it. Half of the attendees aren't even bothering to take notes anymore. The company could've filled the room with potted plants in cheap suits and gotten a better result. At least the plants would provide a little oxygen to the atmosphere.

It certainly doesn't help your case that half of your brain is circling endlessly around Whiskey. You scribble down a set of shorthand bullet points in your notes and try to blink away the image of his arms straining against taut ropes. You sip your coffee and remember the heat of his tongue chasing the taste of his namesake in your mouth. When you cross your legs and feel the deep, pleasant twinge between them, for a split second all you can think about is the way he felt sinking down into you with his teeth against your neck.

The time absolutely crawls by. There's moments when you half expect to look up at the old analog clock on the wall and see the hands start running backward. Of course this would be the day the presentations run long, wouldn't it? Restless and fidgety, you eventually give up on your notes completely and just resign your attention to the clock and whatever obscenity your brain wants to conjure up from the night before.

Claudia, one of your only work friends that actually opted to attend this fiasco, gives you increasingly amused looks throughout the morning, glancing up at you over her phone (on which, you can't help but notice, she has been playing Bejeweled for the past hour with the brightness turned down). After you check the clock for the fifth time in twenty minutes, unable to really keep yourself from sighing angrily through your nose, she shakes her head at you, laughing quietly.

"So what's his name?" she whispers, leaning over conspiratorially.

You give her a glare, but she only raises her eyebrows expectantly. Goddamn it, why does the entire universe find it so funny when you're irritated?

"Whiskey," you mutter back, glowering.

She has to clamp a hand over her mouth to stop a snorting giggle from being loud enough to cause a disruption. "Oh my god," she sputters. "Are you fucking a biker?"

And okay, maybe that is a little funny. You shake your head, mutter back, "Cowboy."

Claudia grins so wide her shoulders pull up with it. "Save a horse," she whispers, trying to dodge out of the way when you elbow her to cut off the rest of the joke. Three people behind you simultaneously shush the two of you, and you toss a dirty look over your shoulder, settling back into your seat.

A few seconds go by before Claudia's leaning back over to quietly add, "The dick must be good to get you this distracted."

"Shut up," you shoot back, but you're already smiling.

When the presentation ends, the entire auditorium raising up on creaking knees to shuffle out to break for lunch, Claudia's hand clamps down on your arm.

"I'm buying lunch and you're going to tell me everything."

So you do. Parked in her conservative little hybrid over styrofoam boxes of take out, you tell her. Damn near everything, too. She listens with rapt attention, this not being the first time she's poked you for details of your love life, such as it is, but judging by the look on her face it's possibly taken the top spot as the most memorable.

"So you're gonna see him again," she says finally as you tell her about Whiskey's invitation before slipping out the door this morning.

You settle back, trying to make yourself look suitably apathetic before answering in the hopes of not being completely transparent. "I dunno. Maybe."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh please. You're gonna see him again. You've been spaced out with dickbrain all day, there's no way you're turning down that invitation."

You wave the end of your plastic fork threateningly. "I will stab you, I swear."

"Not with this many witnesses," she says with a wave at the horde of pedestrians outside on the sidewalk, blatantly ignoring the shanking motions you make in warning.

When she doesn't drop that annoying, knowing look, you start jabbing at your food, rolling a piece of cucumber around the styrofoam. "I mean...ok yeah I thought about it."

"All morning," Claudia provides.

"Fuck you," you counter lightly, and resist the urge to fling the chunk of cucumber at her. "I just...I don't know. I don't think it's a good idea."

"Oh my god, why not?" she cries, head thrown back in exasperation.

"Well it's not exactly fucking sensible, is it?"

"Honey if you were worried about being sensible you wouldn't have fucked a cowboy you picked up at a hotel bar," she says with a shake of her head.

"Did you miss the part where he tried to convince me he was James fucking Bond? I mean c'mon Claudia. That's gotta be...I dunno, some kinda red flag."

She scoffs, flapping a dismissive hand. "Oh please, when the bullshit's that obvious I don't even think it counts. It’s not like you bought it anyway. Besides, honesty is the backbone of a solid relationship, if you're just poking fun it's more like a bonus. As long as he's not married and not a serial killer, who gives a shit? You’re overthinking the shit outta this, hon.”

That’s...well that’s not wrong. It’s honestly irritating how not wrong that is.

When you don’t give a response save for the idle sounds of plastic scratching on your takeout box, Claudia groans. “God are you really gonna make me talk you into getting yourself laid? Okay, if you wanna be rational about it, fine, here's some rational thought for you." She pops out her thumb, ticking off digits as she lists. "He's hot. He likes to eat pussy. He's a fuckin' sub, which - holy shit, girl. Holy actual fucking shit. Plus he's packing and he actually knows what to do with it. Oh, and he bought you fuckin' breakfast!" She wiggles her fingers as she thrusts her hands out towards you. "Seven outta ten, babe! My god, if you don't fuck him I'll do it for you just so I don't have to eat another shitty continental breakfast."

You laugh, but there's a hot flush creeping up your face, and you have to stare out the window for a minute until it starts to wind back. It's almost successful, until you think of Whiskey again. This time, though, all you think of is him outlined in the door, looking back at you with his face too shaded to see. And then your cheeks flare hot again, not with that lingering sense of want, but with a flighty kind of panic.

And just like that you pin it down, your stomach twisting on itself as you finally put words to that moment of apprehension. Whiskey doesn't scare you. His lines don't scare you. The way he fucks you doesn't even scare you. But that moment that he lingered does. It scares you because you think maybe what was going through his head is the same thing that's been going through yours, a fine little thread looped around every remembered pleasure: the worry that you're about to develop a taste for something that you'll never have the chance to get again.

Maybe it's better to leave it. To chalk it up as a fluke and not risk finding out that he'd feel just as good the second time as he did the first. Cut it off now before that lingering taste turns into a full-blown craving.

Claudia sighs, closing her takeaway box. "Look, hon. I'm not trying to tell you what to do. It just sounds to me like you're overthinking this. You don't need to be fucking sensible all the goddamn time. So what if you're thinking with your pussy right now? You had fun. He was fun. You have the option to have more fun. You are entitled to have some fun. So, hey: fuck sensibility and have some fucking fun."

You nod. It's reflex at first, but slowly becomes more deliberate. More sure. "Okay. Yeah. You're probably right."

"I am always right, thank-you-very-much," she corrects, and then promptly shrieks as you launch a slice of cucumber into her hair.

⁂

The trick of it all, you remind yourself that evening as you cross the hotel lobby for the elevator, is not to think about it. Because if you think about it, really think about it, you will find a way to talk yourself out it. Sensibility is as much of a hindrance as a help at times. But you've decided now: the absolute last thing you want to be tonight is sensible. You've been bored out of your mind all week, and as much as you're loathe to admit it, Whiskey has been the only bright spot in the whole affair. At least he's given you something to look forward to, even if it is just the prospect of getting railed until you forget your own name.

You take the time to change when you make it to your room. Grab yourself a short, but blisteringly hot shower, and conveniently forget your panties when you redress. Eventually you make your way down to the bar with your heart almost strangling you with the way it's seemingly lodged itself in your throat. Whiskey's nowhere to be seen, which isn't a complete surprise. He always seemed to turn up a little late in the evening before. Not wanting to deviate too far from your own habits, if only to make yourself a little easier to spot, you take your familiar place at the far end where you've been set up for so many nights in a row. You order your drink, make friends with the closest basket of pretzels, and you wait.

And wait...and wait.

Your eyes are half on the clock and half on the door, flicking back to that last at every sign of movement. Despite the fact that you're practically nursing your drink, the bartender refills your glass twice over the course of the night. When he offers a third, you shake your head. Your face feels like it's burning. The bartender nods and wanders away, either oblivious to the growing anger on your face or determined not to end up the recipient of it.

It's nearly midnight when you finally push yourself off the bar stool, throwing down enough bills to cover your tab and storming off. He stood you up. You cannot fucking believe it. What's worse is you feel like you should believe it. Should've expected it. As if a man that strutted around like a preening rooster and fed you a bullshit James Bond story would have a streak of honesty.

You punch the elevator button hard enough to make your hand tingle, pushing your way through the doors as they open and hitting the button for your floor. The walls of the elevator are mirrored, and you duck your head, not wanting to know what your face looks like just now, twisted up in anger and more than a little shame. The doors hang for a moment before sliding closed. At the last possible second a hand darts in, stopping them. Broad. Tanned. Tattooed. The man of the hour leans through the doors as they retreat, and gives you a grin.

"Room for one more?"

Your stomach does a back flip, blood rushing in so many directions you're not sure if you've got enough left to power a response. If this little scenario had played out even half an hour earlier, you might've laughed. Might've fallen back into that easy bitchy banter the two of you seemed so good at. Might've even kissed him. But not now. Now you've built up too much steam, and every little ounce of anger – earned or not – that you'd had percolating for this man since you first laid eyes on him bursts out of your mouth in two words, laced with as much venom as you can muster.

"Fuck you."

You can practically hear the record scratch in his head. The smile falls, eyebrows ratchet up so high you can't see them for the brim of his hat. It's satisfying in an awful sort of way. Like scratching an itch hard enough to draw blood. Too late to take it back now, though. You lash out at the elevator panel, punching the button marked CLOSE DOORS, and Whiskey side-steps neatly inside.

"All right," he says slowly. "That is not exactly the reaction I was hoping for."

"Yeah, well tough shit, cowboy," you all but spit, raking a hand through your hair. You keep your eyes down. Forward. Anywhere but on him. It's hard, too many reflections. Even the distorted shape of his silhouette in the door makes your blood boil.

"I know I'm late," he starts, hands raised, and the low and placating tone of his voice hits you like lighter fluid on a match.

"You don't fucking say?"

His hands drop. "Can I at least explain myself?"

Laughing too loud and too sharp, you shrug, shoulders pulling up hard. "Yeah, sure, why not? Let me guess, rough day at Spy HQ? Assassination appointment run over? Or were you just hiding behind the fucking dieffenbachia to see how long I'd stick around before I came to my fucking senses?"

The shrill sound of your own voice almost makes you wince. You're overreacting. It's not like you're unaware of it. But you're pissed off, and worse now, you've committed to being pissed off. Backing down now is damn near impossible, never mind actually apologizing.

Whiskey takes a step forward, his eyes gone all puppy dog again; wide and imploring under twisted brows. "Look, I don't blame you for thinkin' the worst. I know I left you waitin', and I apologize for that -"

You roll your eyes, mouth twisting into a smile that shows too much teeth to be kind. "Christ, y'know what, don't flatter yourself. I like that bar. The pretzels are nice and they don't water down the liquor. I didn't show up for you."

"Oh horseshit," he snaps. He doesn't raise his voice, but there is a whip crack of impatience in it. "If you didn't want to see me tonight you wouldn't have turned up at all. You and I both know that."

Fuming, you jam your hand into your purse, fishing out his flask and tossing it at him hard enough that it hits him square in the chest. He catches it on the rebound.

"Here. You forgot this."

Whiskey turns it over in his hands, thumping the metal against his palm. "Right. I see," he says slowly, slipping the flask into his pocket. Under that thick drawl, there's a twinge of something that might be disappointment. "Just came to do the decent thing and return a man's property."

"Yes." Part of you sinks, screaming in frustration. But it's like you're a spectator now, just watching yourself sabotage the only thing that'd brought you a shred of joy all week just because your pride and temper won't allow any other option.

One hand falls to his hip, the other rubs idly across his mouth. He's scowling now, quite spectacularly at that, and for a second you think you've finally dealt enough of a blow to his pride to piss him off. Then he steps in close, jaw set. The way his eyes travel up and down you sends a flush through your body, and you're not sure if you want to slap him hard enough to knock the mustache off his face or kiss him until his lips bleed. His gaze lingers at your hip, your curves quite plainly displayed under the tight skirt. He reaches out. The back of his fingernails barely brush the fabric.

"Do you always make returns without any panties on?"

You try to swallow, but find your mouth has gone suddenly bone dry, your throat sticking with a sharp and painful click. "Fuck off," you try to tell him, but it comes out a croak.

"You know what I think?" Whiskey continues, and the tone would nearly be conversational if it weren't for the way he's looking at you, eyes perfectly black and hungry under the shade of his hat. "I don't think you're just mad because I'm late. I think you're mad because I can get a rise outta you. Part of you kinda likes it. Enough to wanna come back for a little more of it. And you don't know what to do about that. Bet you can't even decide if you wanna throttle me or ride me 'til you can't come anymore. Bit of both, maybe, huh?"

Oh fuck you very much, Mister Perceptive. "Christ, you and your fucking ego-"

"Oh to hell with my fucking ego, and yours too." He leans in close enough that you can smell aftershave and a fainter, acrid smell that, if you weren't so fucking preoccupied, you might recognize as spent gunpowder. "If you want me to go, just fuckin' say it. But don't bullshit a bullshitter. If you wanted rid of me that bad you would've tossed me out on my ass last night before I'd even finished coming."

Your jaw works, and you push yourself a little harder against the handrail just to keep from slapping him. How dare he-

How dare he what, exactly? Be right? Again?

You clench your jaw, gripping the handrail on the wall tight enough that the corners dig into your fingers. Glare at him like you're trying to light him on fire. He doesn't flinch.

"What you did last night...that made for a hell of a first impression," he says slowly, and the low rasp of his voice almost curls your toes. "One I don't expect I'm liable to forget this side of fuckin' doomsday. Shit, I don't even know your fucking name and I ain't been able to shake the thought of you all damn day. Now you can believe that or not, and I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. But the only thing I'm asking from you right now is to be fucking straight with me. If you want me to go, you fucking tell me, and I'm gone. But if you want me to stay, honeybee I swear I will make up for every second you had to wait."

"Fuck you, Whiskey," you breathe. It's all you've got left, all you can even think to say, but it's too soft. It's too hard not to believe him when he's looking at you like that. Even if he's still got your teeth on edge, ready to bite, the fire in your belly is sinking lower every second. And there's no way to mistake the low rasp of your voice for anger.

He leans in, hovering barely an inch away from you, and tips your chin up with his knuckle. "That ain't an answer, honeybee."

His lip curls into a smirk and for a second all you can think about is running your tongue out to follow the curve of it.

"You can punish me if you like," he offers in a low, darkly sweet voice. The fingers on your chin trace a path along your jaw, up to your ear, and down the side of your neck as he talks; a three-point constellation drawn in goosebumps. "Lord knows I deserve it. Tie me up again. Ride my tongue until you've had your fill and never lay a finger on me. I don't mind a bit. I'll probably come in my fucking jeans like a goddamn high school virgin while you do it, too."

Oh god. It's too hot. It's too hot and he's too close and it feels like there's no air left. Those words took the last of it and left you with nothing. And then your lungs finally unlock, hitching in air so pitifully loud that for a second his eyes drop first to your mouth and then lower to watch the buttons strain on your blouse.

His tongue brushes up against the back of his bottom lip, a strange gesture, but one you can't drag your eyes away from. And the bastard just keeps talking.

"Then again, maybe the way you've been acting up you'd be more inclined for a little punishment yourself. I could take you upstairs. Turn you over my knee and put my hand to that pretty little ass until it blushes like a ripe summer peach. I'd bet you'd drip just as much and twice as sweet, too. I'd kill for a taste of you right now. Fuck, if you really want I could just hike that skirt up and fuck you right here and now. I am a flexible man and I am willing to take you any way you'd see fit to let me. But only if you let me. I ain't here to play bullshit games, and I will not take anything you don't want to give. So I need you to tell me, honeybee. Do you want this? Yes or no?"

Everything inside you burns and twists. Fuck, you want that. All of that. And all you have to do to get it is unstick your stubborn, too-sharp tongue and admit that you want it. That even without the excuse of three shots of tequila on top of a few too many cocktails, you still want it.

You're burning up. There's sweat on your palms. It squeaks as you twist your hands over the railing. He hasn't just turned the tables on you, he's flipped the whole fucking room and cornered you with it. And God help you, it's infuriating how much you like it.

"Hate you. So much."

"Hm." His hand falls away, and you miss the touch instantly. "So you keep sayin'. Decision time, honeybee. You pick or I'm picking for you and we're both gonna be disappointed in that result."

There is a long long beat where that threat hangs between you. Any hope that he might just push forward and take you anyway – push you into the wall and fuck you ragged right here and now without another word – bleeds away as you stare him down, your wordless challenge going unanswered. His gaze is iron; hard and unyielding, and you know if you wait even one more second, this...whatever the hell this is, will be over. Permanently.

Swallowing the last of your pride like so much cheap liquor, you seize the front of his shirt, dragging him forward even as he starts to back away.

"Yes. Fucking goddamn it. Yes, I want this."

"Yeah?" He leans in, nose brushing your cheek. Somehow it's that little gesture that sets off a bomb's worth of butterflies in your stomach.

"Yes."

The heat of his hand is almost shocking as it glides up your thigh and underneath your skirt, his thumb stroking up and finding only bare skin. Whiskey grins. "Knew it."

You choke back a sigh. "Smug bastard."

"Yes ma'am." His thumb brushes up and down your slit idly, slow and considering. He glances around, quirks an eyebrow, and offers: "Here?"

Following his glance, you spot the hunk of plastic mounted in the top corner of the elevator. "Camera. Fuck."

"Sure enough," he drawls, still grinning. "You want to give the boys 'n' girls in the security booth a show, or d'you want to go someplace a little more sensible?"

Sensible. God, If he'd chosen any other word, you might've agreed. Private. Safe. Anything but fucking sensible.

"Fuck sensibility. Fuck security, too. Just shut up and fuck me."

He laughs through your kiss, the touch of his lips too gentle by miles. The last thing you want right now is gentle. You don't fucking deserve gentleness after all that. And so you rake your teeth across his bottom lip, roll your tongue against his. When you nip at his tongue, Whiskey breaks off, cupping your sex with a warm, calloused hand.

"You're gonna eat me alive, honeybee," he growls. He parts you with a thick finger, drawing the pad of it from your entrance to your clit and back again. "Mm, I have been thinkin' about this all day," he murmurs before his finger sinks into you.

Sighing, you curl your arms around his neck, knocking his hat off to run your fingers through his hair and muss up that razor-clean side part. His hand works unhurried between your legs. You rock against it, listening to the obscene smacking sound as he works you open.

"All that fuss and you're wet for me already, darlin'," Whiskey says wonderingly.

All you can do is groan, chasing the sensation of the heel of his hand pressing against your clit. "Shut up and kiss me."

You tug at his hair, try to urge him forward, but he doesn't budge. He sinks down to his knees instead, right hand never leaving the wet heat of your cunt.

"I'll kiss you, baby," he says, pushing up your skirt and lifting your right leg over his shoulder. "Don't you worry."

And he kisses you: a warm, wet slide of lips and tongue where he's got you spread. Gasping, you grab the back of his head. He looks up at you, only the crinkles at the corner of his eyes proof of his smile, and his eyes slip closed like a man savoring his favorite meal.

"Jesus." The word comes out in a squeak as his mouth works on you, your throat tightening in an effort to keep quiet. A second finger joins the first and you whimper, tightening reflexively against the stretch. Christ those fingers are thick. Shuddering, you work your fingers in his hair and pull him closer, your eyes wandering up to the reflection in the far wall. The view is mesmerizing: your back arched, skirt hiked up to your waist, with Whiskey's head buried in between your legs like a man trying to slake an ungodly thirst. The view on the left is even better. From there you can watch his mouth work against you, catching a glimpse of his tongue, wet and shining as it slips between your folds. He sways forward on his knees like a charmed snake, a growing bulge straining against the dark blue denim of his jeans.

There's a gentle ding, and for a moment you're so scrambled you think maybe your phone's going off. And then the elevator doors slide open. An older looking gent with a battered briefcase stands frozen on the other side, eyes wide as dinner plates as he takes in the same view you've been admiring in the mirrored walls of the elevator.

For a single spaced-out second the only thing you can think is, Going down?, which makes you erupt into a fit of breathless, senseless giggles.

The newcomer's mouth hangs, flapping uselessly over words he can't quite formulate. He might be trying to apologize for the intrusion or insist you repent and turn to Jesus. You don't know and you don't care.

Whiskey looks up at him over the line of your thigh, lips glistening. "Get the next one," he snarls, and punches the CLOSE DOORS button.

He plants a rough, sucking kiss at the top of your cleft as the doors close again, utterly unperturbed. "Penthouse, darlin', if you please."

Oh he would be in the fucking penthouse, wouldn't he? Panting, you fumble a hand out trying to find the button just as Whiskey slides in a third finger and you cry out, almost swiping every button in the center row by accident.

The elevator hums to life and begins to move. The red light on the security camera flashes benignly and you stare at it for a long beat while Whiskey gets right back to work, moaning hungrily between your legs. Someone's watching this. The thought excites you more than it should, adding fuel to the already roaring fire Whiskey is so eagerly stoking with his tongue. You roll your hips, swearing roundly. It's not enough. It's fucking glorious, but it's not enough. You know what you need.

"Fuck me," you gasp. "Goddamn it, Whiskey, gimme your cock."

He glances up at you through thick lashes, eyebrows raised. "Is that what you want, honeybee?" he asks.

You bear down on his fingers hard as if to answer and he clenches right back, thumb and pinky giving him leverage against your pubic bone as he grips you tight, fingers stroking along your walls. It's only by virtue of the handrail and the support of his shoulder that you don't sink straight to the floor. Christ that backfired.

You nod fervently, head spinning.

A roll of his shoulder unseats your leg, and he stands. His left hand wraps around your throat, thumb against your jawline, and that's so fucking perfect you can't stop yourself from whimpering. In a flare of desperation you grasp his wrist, urging him to grip your neck just a little tighter. Chuckling, he brushes his lips against yours – soft and strangely tender – while he fucks you steadily with his fingers.

"Shoulda known you'd like that. Well? Cat got your tongue? Come on, darlin', lemme hear it."

"Yes."

"Louder. Tell me you want me to fuck you."

"Oh god-d-d-damn it!"

He chuckles darkly, fingers coaxing inside you. "You can do it, honeybee. I know you want it. I just need hear you say it."

You bare your teeth. "I want you to fuck me."

"Good girl." He grins down at you, wide and wolfish. "Now: ask me nicely."

Oh he would, wouldn't he?

"B-bastard," you snarl, then begin to laugh.

"Oh come on now," he croons, eyes darting between your lips and your own heavy-lidded stare. "I'm sure you can get along without your pride for an hour or two. It ain't so bad. And I promise I'll make it worth your while. C'mon."

You groan, grit your teeth, and hiss out: "Please."

He crooks his fingers and you gasp like you've been burned. "'Please' what?"

"Please fuck me. Please fuck me."

He slots your trembling thigh between his legs, pressing the clothed, solid length of his cock against you. "With this? Hm?"

"Fuck, yes." You writhe, feel it twitch, and he rolls against you in response.

"Come for me first, honeybee. Then I'll fill you up good and proper. Cross my heart."

His fingers press into you harder, spreading gently as he draws them back. Your legs begin to shake so badly that he has to pin you to the wall to hold you up. The rail digs into your back. You'll bruise tomorrow, but you're not sure you've ever cared less in your life.

"You gonna come, for me?" he asks, rutting a little more enthusiastically against you when he feels you begin to tense and flutter around his fingers.

Squeezing your eyes shut tight, you nod, feeling the drag of his lips on your cheek.

"Uh-uh. Talk to me, darlin', I wanna hear it. I want you to tell me every single time you're gonna come, you understand me? Count them out. Let's see just how many you got in you tonight."

"Oh you ass!" You moan and laugh all in the same breath.

"You like it," he says simply.

He kisses you, warm and deep, and you bite his lip for the audacity. "Don't stop. Fuck, I'm close."

He turns your head, slides his hand around to cup the back of your neck. "Open your eyes, honeybee. Watch yourself."

You try. Everything's a blur; inside and out. Fuzzy and disconnected and hot. Blinking to clear the fog, you can see your reflection caught between the wall and Whiskey's body. Your eyes are dazed, unfocused. His cheek is against yours, a look of utterly indecent hunger on his face, lips red and swollen where you've bitten him. He's pressed up against you too tightly to get a good view, but you can see his arm pinned between your bodies, and the flex of muscles working underneath his jacket.

There is, you note with a fuzzy sort of disconnect, a small, ragged hole in the arm of his jacket.

But before you can put any more thought to this discovery he presses his thumb down against your clit – no friction, only a firm, rolling pressure – and that's all you need. If it wasn't for the his body against yours, you'd buckle. As it is, trapped between him and the wall, all you can do is quake and cry out, arms tightening around his shoulders as you come.

He hums indulgently, kissing your cheek. "Count it out."

Panting, you pull hard on his hair until he groans. "One."

"Good girl," he murmurs. Slowly his hand withdraws, giving one last slow swirl over your folds before he sucks you greedily off his fingers.

There's the muffled sound of a zipper and you could almost laugh – finally! But then the elevator slows and stops, doors sliding open with a soft ding. Whiskey glances sidelong at the open door, corner of his mouth pulling up in a half-cocked grin. The disappointed whine you give as you hear him zip himself right back up is wholly involuntary.

"Well wouldn't you know it," he says, pulling away from you and stooping for his hat. It's all you can do not to whack him on the back of the head – or on the ass – as he turns away, wiggling your skirt back down over your hips instead.

He gives a ridiculous wink towards the security camera with his hat held to his chest. Your stomach gives a neat little flip as you look up at that blinking red light – god, you'd forgotten it was even there.

"Sorry to blue-ball ya and run, fellas." He gets an arm around your waist, tugging you into the hall at an easy, languid pace, as if nothing had happened. As if your legs weren't still quivering, with the evidence of your orgasm running in sticky trails down the inside of your thighs.

"Betcha money, marbles, or chalk they'll be jerkin' off over that for weeks," he says jovially, pulling you to his hip when he feels you start to wobble. "C'mon. Let me get you in a bed before I say to hell with it all and fuck you out here on the goddamn floor."

Your knees tremble again; at least one part of you has full support of that particular idea. As the door opens you pull him back to your mouth, kissing him hard even as he steers you by the hips through the suite. You barely see any of it. Recessed halogen lights. The sparkle of painstakingly cleaned glass and marble. Little else. A grunt escapes you as you fetch up hard against the wall and Whiskey crashes into you. The sudden pressure against his groin leaves him winded, rocking forward against you with a shuddering groan.

"Tell me how you want it," he says, words mangled against your mouth. The salt-musk taste of you still clings to his tongue, sharp against some faint remnant of sweet mint.

One hand slips down, squeezing your breast through the material of your blouse. The room spins giddily like a tilt-a-whirl, still riding the coattails of your last orgasm. "Hard," you breathe. The skirt you chose is too fucking tight, and you have to reach down to drag it back up your thigh just to hook a leg around him. "Don't you dare be gentle."

He chuckles as you press into him. "How hard is hard? I can be a little rough if you let me off the leash."

Frustrated, you slip your hands under his sports coat, nails biting into his shoulders through his dress shirt. "Fuck, do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Yeah," he says, and his voice has reached that breathy, sonorous pitch that sends a hot-cold shiver rocketing down your spine. "Yeah you do. A little honesty would be appreciated tonight."

One good shove and his jacket slips to the floor. "That's funny coming from Double-O-Cowpoke."

"Not my fault you don't believe me." It's pitched like a joke, light and breezy, but there's something in his eyes. Sharp and peculiar and gone almost before you can be sure it was really there, but makes your stomach clench with a sudden surety that the next words out of his mouth are completely genuine. "I ain't lied to you yet, honeybee."

And that almost brings you to a halt. Your hands splay out on his shoulders, pushing back to look at him more clearly. If that's true. If that's true...oh god, why would he have told you?

The question is halfway to your lips before he surges his way forward again, his mouth crashing into yours and kissing you hard and urgent and bruising. A faint sound of protest rises in your throat and you push back a little, not wanting him to stop but wanting him to wait because...because....

And the rest of that thought flutters away. He doesn't stop kissing you. He just doesn't stop. And he's moaning as his tongue licks into your mouth and his teeth scrape over your lips like it's the most decadent thing in the world. You grasp at his face, wrists caging in his neck, feeling his pulse race along next to your at such a frantic speed it's almost alarming. Your last little shred of rational thought all but begs you to push him back a little harder, to make him look at you and ask him what's wrong...and then it just flutters away because God this is what you want. This. This, this, this.

"You want it hard?" he rasps into your mouth, rutting up against you hard enough to drive you back into the wall.

Breathless, you nod. Work your fingers through the mess you've made of his hair. "Ruined you last night, didn't I?" You tighten your grip, use your knuckles for leverage and pull.

Whiskey groans, slipping his hands under the bunched hem of your skirt to grip your ass and grind you down against him. "Goddamn right you did, honeybee."

"So ruin me back." The thick denim that covers his fly is rough, but you rub against it all the same, shuddering at the coarseness against your tender skin. "Fair is fair. Right?"

His eyes slip closed and he buries his face against your neck for a moment, breathing unsteady. "Jesus, girl, you're gonna soak straight through my jeans," he mutters. "All right, honeybee. All right. I only got one rule. If I do anything you don't want, you tell me. 'Cause I ain't stopping unless you do. Not tonight. Got it?"

"Whiskey-"

He gets a grip on your chin, levels your eyes on his. "You tell me 'no' or you tell me 'stop.' Got it?"

"Yes." Patience exhausted, you wrench his belt open. "Now come on."

Buttons patter to the floor as he tears open your blouse. And that's good. That's fair. And what's even better is the rough way he puts his hands on you, yanking your bra down to knead and squeeze your bare breasts. When you finally free his cock there's only a brief moment to savor the warm, solid length in your grip before his fingers clamp down on your nipples. The sensation is so sharp and bright and sudden that you yelp, arching up on your tip-toes.

"Hands off, honeybee," he warns.

Whimpering, you flatten your hands against the wall.

"Too much?" he asks softly, that funny little furrow deepening between his eyebrows.

A groaning laugh slips out of you, and you arch your back, pushing your breasts against his hands. "Not enough."

"Fuck, ain't you just the sweetest, dirtiest thing." He twists and you cry out, hips bucking forward. His cock drags against your hip and you chase it, trying to pin it between you.

"Oh, c'mon. You promised," you whine.

"Oh I'm gonna keep my promise, baby, don't you fret. I want you just as fucked-out as you had me. Wanna see you so goddamn cock dumb your eyes roll back. Bet you've been thinking about this all day, too, haven't you?"

The wall warms under your hands as you fight not to push back more. And maybe that's what does it. A little mental-short circuit. Because God knows you haven't been able to think of a single fucking thing other than this. But the denial is on your lips so fast it must be involuntary, a reflexive need to find his buttons and push: "You wish."

Whiskey raises an eyebrow, lip curling. For a second he's amused, seeing the game you want to play. And then it's like a switch flips. Suddenly this isn't the man who'd begged for the privilege of fucking you last night. This isn't even the man who'd put his grateful mouth to your cunt in the elevator. This is the man he'd pretended to be right up until you got his hands tied. The cowboy get up wasn't the costume – this is. This smile. This infuriating swagger.

"Oh, really?" he says, and for the first time you realize just how much that drawl had begun to soften around you, because now that dial's ramped right back up to 11. "You turn up tonight without any goddamn panties on, ride my fingers like a coin-op pony, beggin' to get fucked all the while, and then you try and tell me you ain't been thinkin' about me? I felt how hard you came. How fucking wet you were." His hand darts between your legs as quick a snake-strike, fingers carding through your folds. "Are. Ain't no face left to save, darlin'."

He's in your space, radiating heat, his fingers stroking against your swollen sex, stoking your own fire all over again. But the fire those words kindle burns a little quicker and a little hotter. Without a second thought you strike out, palm tingling as it finds its target against his cheek.

For a moment Whiskey doesn't even seem to breathe. He just stands there leaning heavy against you with his eyes closed and his nostrils flaring. Redness blooms against his cheek. When his eyes open again, the way they bore into you, glittering and eager takes your own breath away.

He hums, that low, pleased sound. But now it slips lower and lower into a breathy rumble that lances straight through you. "Do it again."

Swallowing hard, you slap him again. Harder this time. For a moment the only reaction he gives is the way his cock bobs sharply, slapping against your thigh.

Then he growls, seizing the back of your neck and crushing you to him. You crane up, half expecting a kiss, but his thumb snags the corner of your mouth. He drags it open until your jaw hangs, tilting your head back. A choked sound that's a little too plaintive to be a protest slips from your open mouth a second before Whiskey spits into it.

"Swallow."

You do, sucking hard on his thumb for good measure.

"You nasty little thing," Whiskey says, his voice slow and dark as molasses. His eyes glaze over a little as he works the ball of his thumb against your tongue, watching the way your lips purse around it. "Maybe you are the one that needs the punishin'."

He leans against you, breathing hard as he considers this thought. You frown a little, catching his thumb with your teeth, hoping he'll get the hint and give you something better to put in your mouth. But then his grip loosens, one hand disappearing behind you. Hints, it appears, are completely off the table tonight.

"In," he growls, throwing open the bedroom door. "Now."

Whiskey leads you inside, hitting the lights with his elbow. The room is furnished in that same drab but sparkling minimal style, an impressively large bed swallowing up the majority of the space. One wall is nothing but windows behind drawn shades, a sliding door leading out to a small, isolated balcony.

He steers you directly to the bed, sitting on the edge and pulling you across his lap to straddle his knee. You let out an indignant little yelp at the treatment, but then he shifts his leg under you and the indignance crumbles. It presses against your mound just right, urging you open, and you grind down with a gasp, trying to find a little relief.

Whiskey tuts. "Oh now look at that. Try to tell me you ain't been thinkin' about takin' my dick and then rub on me like a goddamn cat in heat."

There's the sound of a zipper – not his this time, but your own – and then a little tickle at your hip as he undoes the skirt and wrestles it down your legs. He pushes your blouse up, bunching the material up around your shoulder blades. For a second you think he means to pull it off, but then he twists the fabric around his hand. The garment draws up tight, leaving your arms, still in the sleeves, pinned to your sides.

You moan a little when you feel his hand slide across your ass. He bends over you, and you feel the wet heat of his mouth against your ass cheek. A sweet, languid swirl of his tongue before he bites down. You jerk hard enough that your clit drags against the rough weave of his jeans and you cry out, the sound muted by the bedspread.

The pressure of his knee aches beautifully against your cunt, your breathing so shallow and quick it makes you lightheaded. You know what's coming, and you know what you asked for. The last thing you wanted was to be sensible. And this – well this might be the least sensible thing you've ever done.

You buck your hips up sharply. Searching for his hand. "Do it."

The first strikes are quick and brisk. They tingle, warming your skin, but don't hurt. Not yet. This is just a tease of the real thing. A warm up. The tips of his fingers trace the first reddening outline of his hand against your skin, a match for the not-yet faded print against his cheek. Crooning, he kneads your buttocks, spreading them apart, making the slick folds of your pussy slide against each other.

"Sweet Jesus will you look at that. Open that up, baby. Lemme see just how fuckin' wet that gorgeous little pussy is."

You gasp, grinding down again, and then first real slap lands across your ass, unexpected and jarring. The sting is enough to make your eyes water, but the impact drives you forward, almost encouraging your hips to grind into him. A second strike lands on the other cheek, then back to the first, alternating each time. You rock with it, caught between the hot stinging slap of skin on skin and the building heat between your legs.

"This what you wanted?" Crack.

"Fuck!"

"Is it?" he demands. His hand descends again. Crack.

"Yes!" You kick out, struggling not because you want to, but because you have to. And it only makes it worse. Or better, or – God, you don't even know now. It's more. It's just more. His knee digs in harder and your poor neglected cunt throbs with a misplaced ache and you swear you have never needed to feel yourself filled up more than you do right now.

"You gonna behave?" Crack. "You gonna stop lyin' to me now?" CRACK.

"Yes!" The word leaves you in a shuddering sob, thighs clamping down around Whiskey's leg. One more, God help you, one more and you'll tip over, you'll come all over his knee, you're so close.

And then he stops, rubbing and kneading the hot flushed skin, and you whine in desperate frustration as your orgasm begins to retreat.

"Goddamn. Prettier than a Georgia peach," Whiskey says thickly. His hand strays, slips down between your cheeks and presses against the splayed lips of your pussy. You writhe under the sudden attention, feeling the tips of his fingers slide around your clit. "And damned if you don't drip twice as sweet."

"Please." Warmth trickles from the corner of your eyes, blooming against the bedspread.

The swirl of his hand is lazy, almost soothing but for the way it keeps you so frighteningly close to the edge. "Truth first, honeybee. C'mon. You know what I wanna hear."

"Ye-yes," you mutter. "Goddamn it yes. I've been thinking about fucking you all day. All goddamned day...God, Jesus, fuck, and then you didn't show. Thought you'd ditched me. Made me want - want it and then ditch me."

You bury your face in the quilt. It's a fucking cop out and you know it. You don't just want it. You want him. Fuck, what is happening?

Again you feel his mouth against your ass cheek, open and wet, but this time his tongue is almost cool by comparison. "There now. I didn't ditch you, baby. Wouldn't fuckin' dream of it." His voice is low now, placating, nearly apologetic. And then his fingers are slipping inside you again, stroking and curling. "I'm right here here, baby. Right here. Just a little late, is all."

You whine, trying to wriggle back to drive him in deeper. Those thick fingers are like fucking magic but you need more than they can provide. Desperate now, you clutch your fingers back towards him, find his shirttail and tug at it. "Jack. Please."

It doesn't even register to you that you've called him by his name – God, you didn't even think you remembered his name – until the fingers inside you still. If it wasn't for the hammering of your heart in your ears you might've heard his breath catch.

Slowly he twists his fingers inside you, pressing down until you shudder. "What is it, honeybee?" he mutters. The hoarseness in his voice is familiar. You wish you could see his face. "Tell me what you want."

"Please fuck me. Please. I waited all fucking night."

He rolls you off his lap, leaving you dangling half off the bed and folds over you, cock nestled against the heat of your reddened ass. There's a sticky slide to it; you're not the only one that's wet.

"Hand to God, baby, I'll make it worth every minute. On my fuckin' life." The pained edge in his voice sets the room spinning, and for one mad moment you find yourself trying to grab onto the bedspread to keep from rolling away. Whiskey leaves a kiss against the back of your neck before he draws back, the hand fisted in your shirt tugging you along just a bit.

There's a long, wavering moment when his touch leaves you entirely and you almost protest before you hear him frantically shedding his clothes behind you. Then his hands return, his left winding back into your shirt, his right warm and strong against your back. The blunt, weeping head of his cock nudges between the swollen lips of your pussy. He stays there for an infuriatingly long moment, enough that you cry out your frustration into the bedclothes.

And then he finally makes good on his promise.

You go up on your toes, legs straining as he breaches you. After all the hours you spent thinking about it, all the hours you waited, it's bliss. But the pure, unadulterated stretch of it laces that bliss with a white-hot line of fire that only serves to make it all the more urgent. Maybe it's the angle, bent in half with your ass up and your legs closed. Maybe it's just how overwrought you are already. Maybe...fuck, you don't know, maybe somehow he's even harder than the night before. All you do know is that he feels so big you can't hardly stand it. It's so much, bridging the gap between pleasure and pain until it's just an overwhelming sense of pressure and fullness that has you clenching and fluttering around him. As if your body can't make up its mind if it wants to expel the intrusion or welcome it deeper.

He has no right to feel this good. None. But goddamn it you're so glad he does.

"Fuck," he mutters shakily, fingers biting into your hip. "This what you wanted, honeybee? Huh? This what you been waiting for?"

You can't find the air to give him an answer. Whiskey's still moving forward, you're not even sure how. Christ how much more of him is there? He leans forward, pushing you into the mattress, pushing down into you until you start to shake, until he hits that buried junction inside you that sends a flare of heat rocketing clear down to your toes and your stalled orgasm rears up again so sudden and so close that it's startling.

Every muscle in your body tenses, straining. The whine that breaks out of your gaping mouth is pitiful. "Shit, oh shit, Jesus fuck, Jesus fuck-fuck-fuck-"

He feels it. He must. There's no way he can't. "Oh fuck, that's it honeybee," he croons, working his free hand under you to circle your clit as he sinks that last broad inch into you. "Come on. Come all fuckin' over me."

For a second everything shorts out, all senses lost in a white-out. The only tenuous connection you have to your body lies in the grounding pressure of his cock inside you and the faint but rapid fluttering of his pulse in it. And then you're slamming back to yourself with a ragged cry, blood roaring in your ears and coming so hard that you nearly buck off of him entirely. Your arms flex, bend, bunched cloth digging deeply into your skin until you feel rather than hear the seams rip. And then the tightness is gone, Whiskey's hand unwinding immediately from your shirt to stroke up and down your back.

There's a lump in your throat when you finally find enough air to speak: "T-t-two."

Whiskey groans. "Beautiful. Fuck, you shake so pretty when you come for me. I could watch you do that all night. Might just, at that." He drags the torn wreck of your blouse off you, popping the clasp on your bra and bending to place an open, humid kiss in the valley along your spine.

He rocks forward and back, one hand clamped into soft flesh at your hip, humming tunelessly. "Been wantin' to bury myself back in this sweet pussy from the minute I woke up. Ain't been able to think of nothin' else. Just this," he says, drawing back slowly before burying himself to the hilt and rolling his hips against you.

You clamp your teeth down on your lip, fighting the haze. It's hard to swallow. Hard to breathe. But he's rolling into you slow, far too fucking slow. And that isn't what you need. You try to push yourself up on your elbows, but he thrusts forward, a little more force in it this time, and your arms give out.

"Ha-harder," you pant, voice thick and muffled by the quilt. You turn your head, claw the hair out of your face. "F-fuck me harder, god-d-d-damn it. Make me fuckin' feel it tomorrow. Big-dicked b-bastard, oh my God, don't you stop."

He breathes out a laugh, folding over your back. The pressure against your tender ass stings like hell, and you hitch in a hissing gasp as Whiskey's mouth finds your cheek. He kisses you, or does his best to. The angle is strange and your face is half-smashed against the bed, but his mouth slants over the side of yours, tongue dragging against your lips until you open for him, letting him lick against the sharp points of your teeth.

"Careful what you wish for, honeybee," he whispers, grinding forward in a maddening circle. "Words like that will get you in a whole mess of trouble."

The air leaves you in a whooping rush as he stands, dragging you up against his chest, your back bowing to try and keep the searing length of him pressed where you need it. And then – ah god – his hand is around your throat and his teeth are sinking into your shoulder, and you're suddenly glad he can't see the way your eyes flutter and roll back.

Not that he even needs to see it, because just then Whiskey groans into your skin as a rush of wetness courses down his cock.

"Fuck, is it that good, baby? Hm?" His voice quavers as his body impacts yours like a sledgehammer. "My dick finding all the sweet spots in that pretty little pussy for you?"

You grapple at him, find where he clings to you and grip his hands, inadvertently encouraging him to press his hand just a little harder against your throat. And there goes the room again, looping and floating as he starts to move, really move, driving forward harder and harder. You stumble, going up on your toes, some choked and desperate noise caught in your throat somewhere under his hand. Sparks pop behind your eyes, faint and wavering like fireworks reflected on choppy waters. And then the pressure eases, air rushing into your lungs once again. The fire in your belly flares up at it like a backdraft.

"M-more," you grate out. "Oh f-fucking God please more. D-don't...d-d-don't-"

"Don't you worry, baby. Ain't gonna stop," he mutters harshly against your ear. "I'll give you all you want. Ain't stopping 'til you tell me to stop."

You shake your head, or at least try to, the movement restricted by his hand. "N-no. Never. Fuck, never-never stop. Right there f-fuck-"

Whiskey growls out something low and broken and unintelligible as you clamp down on him, your body chasing that bright, blazing heat whether you want it to or not.

"Oh fuck, are you comin' again for me already, angel? Shit, you are, aren't you? Got yourself all riled up today and now you just can't stop. C'mon then, baby. Come on my dick. You feel like fuckin' heaven when you come. Pussy's so good it oughtta be fuckin' blasphemy. C'mon, honeybee, do it for me, come like you fuckin' mean it-"

Before you can breathe a word it hits you and it hits you hard, muscles seizing up so tight it's like they're trying to wring the pleasure out of you. You ride through maybe three or four near-blinding shocks of it and then your knees, traitorous things, finally give out underneath you. The only thing that keeps you up is Whiskey's arms wrapped tight around you, clutching you to him, suspending you on his dick as it grinds up brutally against your g-spot.

"Got you, honeybee," he grunts, rhythm never faltering. "I got you. Keep comin' for me, baby, keep comin'."

And god help you, you are. You're still quivering, still coming, and then his hand falls away from your neck to cup against your sex, palm flat against the rigid little knot of your clit. He doesn't even rub, it's just a heat and a pressure and it's like your whole body stutters upward, launching towards a second, higher peak. Whiskey lets out a broken groan against your neck as you bear down on him so hard it nearly hurts and you wail at the unexpected, overwhelming force of it.

Everything spins off and away in the aftermath, senses blown out like a bad circuit. Sounds are swallowed up in a high, persistent ringing. You haven't got the strength to force your eyes back open. There's a shift and a feeling of soft cloth beneath you and when the haze starts to lift you find you're on your knees on the bed, shoulders down and ass up with Whiskey draped over your back. He murmurs things against your cheek, your ear, your neck. You can't hear a word of it over the ringing in your ears.

You turn your head, knocking your forehead against his by accident. "Thr- I- f-four?" Your voice jumps in your throat, but you can't quite make it steadier. "I...I don't-"

"Honeybee," he drawls, his cock giving a hard, desperate twitch inside you. He grins at you indulgently, gathering your hair up in one broad hand and pulling. "Good girl."

A shudder goes through you as you realize he's still fucking you. Deep, swift strokes that send tingles sparking through you. He drags his cock out of you and drives it back in, pulling it over your blazingly sensitive nerve endings like a bow over violin strings. Like it's a privilege to do it. Like it'd be a fucking crime to stop.

He drags two more orgasms out of you like this. Shuddering, slow-building things that overtake you like flood waters, rising up with an aching, consuming crawl unmindful of the pounding pace Whiskey holds to like a clockwork battering ram. It's only when you gasp out a broken cry of "S-sih-s-six!" that Whiskey's hips finally begin to falter, stuttering and slowing at the feeling of your overworked pussy milking his cock again. His grip on you tightens as he tries to steady himself, tries to hold on, groaning his own restrained pleasure through gritted teeth.

"Tight - fuck! Goddamn it girl you get so fucking tight when you come. So fuckin' wet. Sweet Jesus. I don't know how m-much more of that I can fuckin' take."

"God, fuck, do it, just do it," you whine, reaching back for him with hands that can't stop shaking. "C'mon Jack."

He laughs at that, but it's a little frayed and frantic at the edges. He brushes the hair out of your face, working his fingers into it and giving it a tug. "I – ungh! Oh s-shit – I got... your p-permission this time, honeybee?"

You hum, nodding, and hitch in a breath as he grinds in particularly deep. "Please."

His rhythm falters again, hips canting suddenly at a hard angle. "W-where? Fuck, fuck, where do you want me, baby? Hurry."

"In-inside. Inside me. 'S what you wanted last night? Right?"

Whiskey makes a broken sound, lurching against you. "Y-yeah. Oh shit, yes. Jesus fucking Christ, honeybee."

Growling, he flips you over and slides in deep, pushing your knees up almost to your shoulders and staring raptly down at your face even as his own contorts. The length of him inside you stiffens even more, pushing in so deep his hipbones grind painfully against your own.

And then he breaks with a cry, his whole body locking up with the force of his climax. His head drops between your breasts and his back arches high, fists punching deep divots into the mattress on either side of you. He rocks through it, jerking at every pulse and spasm, and you can't help but shiver at the warmth that pools inside you as he comes.

"Fuck, fuck. Nngh, ho-holy shit." He almost says more, but another tremor wracks his body and it chokes off into a broken mess of Spanish - "¿Que chingas me estás haciendo a mi mujer?"

Winded and boneless, you scratch your nails weakly across his scalp, working your fingers down his neck to his shoulders. "Better be a compliment."

"You have no idea," he pants open-mouthed against your skin. Instead of elaborating he just eases himself out of you and crawls his way down, trailing his mouth over your skin until he's settled between your legs, staring at whatever disaster he's made of you and groaning softly in appreciation.

Take a picture, you almost say, it'll last longer. But before you can work up the air and energy to put breath to the quip he's drawing his tongue against you, cleaning up the mess he's made with a desperate, greedy reverence that sets your knees trembling on either side of his head.

Whimpering, you clamp your lower lip in your teeth, shuddering up against the warm heat of Whiskey's mouth. "Careful," you warn. "Oh, G-God, careful."

The only answer you get is a low moan and the feeling of his fingers sinking diligently back into your cunt, coaxing out the trickling remnants of his orgasm.

A high, lazy heat begins to build again, over-sensitivity easing back into something warm and sweet and giddily aching. Your hands cradle the back of Whiskey's head, carding through his sweat-soaked hair as he licks his own come out of you. It's not a thing you've ever really given much thought before – bodily fluids were always more an incidental part of sex for you than anything else – and you're not sure if he's enjoying the act itself or just the strange submissive edge of it. Curiosity gets the better of you and you glance down at him, expecting to see him staring intently up at you over the rise of your mons, gloating over the state he's put you in. Fuck, he's made you come so many times you're sure he'll never let you forget it.

Only he isn't. His eyes are closed, face lax with a blissful intoxication as he tastes himself inside you, holding your thighs up and apart to let him work his tongue and fingers in deeper. The sight of him so clearly lost in the moment, not goading or gloating, just rapturously gone is maybe the single most erotic thing you've seen in your whole life. And that sweet, lazy heat suddenly licks up to a blaze.

The sudden clench you give is impossible to miss from Whiskey's vantage point, and he groans against you. "One more, honeybee," he almost pleads, breaking away from you with a sucking pop just long enough to gasp air. "You can gimme one more, can't you? I know you can. C'mon baby. Lucky seven."

He lowers his head once more with a decadent hum and you throw yours back as he sets to more deliberate work, hooking his arms around your thighs to keep you right where he wants you.

"God, you greedy b-bastard," you rasp out. The stimulation to your worn nerves leaves you quaking, wriggling underneath him. You're not sure you can stand another one, but a deep, hungry part of you is desperate to find out.

He growls at that, more in agreement than in offense, and when your hands scrabble at his he parries them without even glancing up, seizing your wrists and yanking you down even tighter against his mouth.

You nearly kick him in the ribs when you come. It's not your fault. Honestly it's his for working you up to this point. To this high, nervous overload that's barely left you any control over your body. It doesn't seem to faze him, though. Your heel glances off his side as your shaking legs lock around his back and he just keeps going, like he hasn't even noticed, like he isn't even here. Like the world has spun down smaller and smaller and the only thing left is his mouth and your cunt and leaving that would mean the end of everything.

But it's too much. Goddamn it, it's too much.

You sob, wrench your hands out of his grip and push at his head. "S-s-seven. Sev-seven. F-f-fuck, Jack. No more, n-no more, please, stop, I can't, I can't– "

He's pulling away before you even finish, pressing one last biting kiss against your thigh before crawling shakily over you to put his mouth to yours with a surprising gentleness. The taste on his lips is heady, musky and sharp. His arms tremble at the strain of keeping himself from slumping over on top of you, gasping raggedly between each kiss like they’re just as necessary as air.

For the longest time you can’t even move, you’re far too wrung out and exhausted to even try. All you can do is lie underneath him and do your best to remember how to breathe between slow, lazy kisses. Eventually you work up enough breath to speak. "'M sorry," you whisper hoarsely.

Whiskey shakes his head, trying to focus his eyes. "What for?"

"'Two minutes and a cigarette.'" You bring up a hand, patting his cheek with an awkward bonk. "I stand corrected"

A look of comical confusion takes over his face, brows knitting together, until he finally remembers the jab you'd made after you'd tied him up the night before. "Shit," is all he says before he dissolves into giddy laughter. His arms finally give out on him and he rolls to keep from toppling onto you.

You roll with him, tucking your head into his shoulder and giggling. It aches. The muscles in your abdomen so overworked that even laughing hurts, but somehow that just makes it funnier.

You’ve nearly composed yourselves when Whiskey tries to prop himself up on an elbow that immediately slides out from under him and almost smacks you in the head, and that just sets you both off all over again. Giving up entirely, you just lay there, shoulder-to-shoulder, laughing like a couple of punch-drunk loons.

"You hungry, honeybee?” Whiskey asks breathlessly when he’s got himself back under some semblance of control. “I could eat a goddamn horse."

Now that he mentions it you realize just how long ago lunch was, and your appetite, which had so far taken a backseat to both your temper and libido, roars back to life. "God yeah, actually. 'M fuckin' starving."

So for the second time today, you get room service on Whiskey's dime. Or his employer’s dime, he insists. You're not sure if that's better or worse. It's a little ridiculous. Even more so when you think to look for a clock and realize just how late it is, but you're absolutely famished and the second he's on the phone asking in a pleasantly fuck-drunk voice for a couple hamburgers and french fries you're stomach's growling so insistently you're almost certain the staff on the other end of the line heard it.

He's chuckling as he hangs up the phone, draping over you to nuzzle into your neck. For the first time you notice just how much his mustache tickles, and you squirm under him, giggling all over again.

"Love me a woman with an appetite," he mumbles, nipping playfully at you.

"God, what the fuck are we doing?" you stutter out through your giggles. It's not meant to be a real question. You’re practically a space cadet right now, and you can’t remember the last time you were this giddy after sex. But Whiskey shifts a little, pulling back to look down at you, and you can't quite parse the look on his face. "Never had a one-night-stand like this before.”

"Hm." He drops his head a bit, tapping an idle finger against your collarbone. "Think the repeat offense kinda cancels out the one-night-stand idea, honeybee."

"You didn't strike me as the repeating kind."

"Mm. Didn't strike you as the kind who could hold his dick up for longer'n a minute, either. So I'll try not to take offense at your continued misjudgment of my character." His eyes wander away from yours, pulling up his well-worn crooked smile with some degree of effort. "But if you're looking for a polite way to tell this old man you've had your fill, there ain't no need to beat around the bush about it."

You might've appreciated the easy out once. After tonight, though, you're almost offended at it. You're not in the habit of begging for things you only have a mind to dispose of. A little of that flighty panic starts to take hold, and you tamp it down. Fun. This is just for fun. Even if you do want a little more. Fuck, don’t start overthinking it now.

"Is that what you want?" you ask, and it's only the curiosity in your voice that keeps it from sharpening into an accusation.

Whiskey shakes his head, a bit of incredulity in his eyes. "What I want...shit, what I want is to get me somethin' nice an' artery-clogging to eat and then get some fuckin' sleep. Preferably next to the woman who has fucked me ragged two nights running, if she happens to be amenable to that kind of thing. That's as far as my wants go right this second."

The deflection is so clumsy it’s almost funny. “Chickenshit,” you mutter.

Whiskey blinks down at you, shocked for a moment before you give him a teasing smile. “Fuckin’ comedian,” Whiskey says, snorting laughter. “Ain’t no softening that tongue of yours, is there?”

“You never know.” You shift a little, heart hammering as you consider your next words. "How much longer are you going to be here?"

The crooked smile slips, becoming softer. "Well. That sorta depends on you, honeybee. My work's all wrapped up. But if you're gonna be around a bit longer and are lookin' for a bit of company I might be convinced to stay a bit longer."

You feel the smile creep up on your face before you can stop it. "I wouldn’t mind a little continued reprieve from corporate hell. Under one condition," you insist, waving a finger at him.

Schooling his face into a parody of gravitas, he nods expectantly. Proceed.

"I need to know something first. Some things. Plural."

He cocks an eyebrow. "How many is plural?"

You consider for a second, squinting. "Three."

"All right," he says, resting his chin against your shoulder. "Fire away."

You pop out your thumb. "Are you a serial killer?"

He stares at you for a long, silent beat before his eyes slip closed and he shakes his head, his chest hitching with stifled laughter. "No, honeybee, I am not now nor have I ever been a serial killer."

You nod, grinning. "Okay, one down.” You pop out your pointer finger. “Are you married?"

The levity bleeds out of his face with a swiftness that makes you regret the question instantly, sure he's about to drop a bombshell directly on your head that's going to leave you hating him and yourself. But he shakes his head, holds up his ringless left hand as if in proof, as though nobody having an affair would've ever thought to slip a ring off beforehand. But then, very quietly, he adds: "Was. But not for a long time."

You nod dumbly, mutter, "Okay.”

For a second you wonder if you should apologize – you’ve clearly tripped on something raw by accident – but then he's poking you in the ribs and drawing in a sharp breath. "And number three?"

A little grateful, you pop out your middle finger ask your last question: "What do you do? What do you really do?"

The corner of his mouth gives a twitch. "Shit, is that all? Well. Officially, I'm a businessman. I own a sizable amount of shares in the Statesman distillery company. Which, incidentally, is where that fine stock of bourbon whiskey came from," he adds.

You lean back, eyeing him carefully. You don't think he's lying. And yet....

Your fingers find the catch of a scar against his ribs. "You're scarred to shit for a liquor tycoon, cowboy."

The twitch turns into a grin. "I have been known to get a little rough-and-tumble once in a while."

"I don't know if I believe that story any more than I did the James Bond bullshit."

Whiskey huffs a laugh. His jeans are in a puddle at the end of the bed and he drags them up, pulling out a thick leather wallet out of the back pocket. From one of the compartments he pulls a business card embossed in gold and black and hands it to you.

Jack "Whiskey" Daniels, Statesman Distillery, Kentucky.

You blink at it, giggling a little. "Jesus Christ that is actually your name?"

"More or less. Been Anglicized for flavor, among other things."

"What was it before?"

There's an odd sharpness in his eyes when he looks at you, a shrewdness you'd never have expected from the costume cowboy you'd met down in the bar. For a moment you're sure that not only is he not going to answer, but that you've overstepped a line you weren't even aware existed.

"That's four questions," he says, "not three."

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," you add with a tilt of your head.

The corner of his mouth curls slightly, and the sharpness fades. "Well now, how can I resist that a bargain like that?" He pauses a moment, as if reconsidering, then adds: "It was Joaquin."

"Joaquin?"

"Mm." He nods. There's only a moment of quiet before he tilts his hips to the side, jostling you. "C'mon, darlin. A deal's a deal."

You roll your eyes, staring up at the ceiling. And you tell him your name. He repeats it back, and you don't need to see his face to know he's smiling.

"Pleasure to meet you," he says. "Literally."

"Jackass."

#agent whiskey #jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic #citrus variations #spicy spicy content babes #I really didn't mean for this to end up this long but here we are I guess #ao3 version and fic masterlist will be updated shortishly

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