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clubdionysus · 3 months

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[BAD DECISION #44] Skinny Dipping

warnings: fluffy goodness <33 a lil smut, creampie, fingers in said creampie, like it's not smut as such but its a thing?? idk lol, v important conversations!! a plot chapter!!

notes: look im sorry it's one chapter again waaa I had work today!! next week we'll get more bc the next 5 or so chapters all need to be uploaded together hehe <3

wc: 10.6K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

As you glance across the beach to where Jeongguk sits with Yoongi and Namjoon, you're pleased to find his eyes on you. Give him a small nod. It's reciprocated, a subtle dimple forming in his cheek.

The laughter of your friends is spliced with the crackle of firewood that burns at seven-hundred degrees Celsius in front of you.

Sitting by the beach, under a crescent moon, you're smitten by the simplicity of a good life.

There's a beauty to Jeongguk and the way he carries himself, and you consider yourself lucky to indulge in it. You hold his gaze until he sips on his beer, at which point Danbi asks you a question—something about whale sharks. Why the fuck she thinks you'll know anything about whale sharks you'll never know, but find yourself back engrossed in conversation regardless.

Jeongguk watches on for a little while longer. Likes how you're wearing your hair loose for a change instead of in a claw clip (of which he also loves). The glitter on your skin sparkles in the light of the fire, and Jeongguk thinks the stars are pale in comparison to you tonight.

If you were looking at him, he'd silently say 'pretty' . Instead, he just thinks about how pretty you are. Pretty, pretty baby.

Compiled by Namjoon and Yoongi, the campfire they've got going would be better referred to as a bonfire. Tall and imposing, it illuminates the darkness of the beach with a warm orange glow.

Tiny embers flutter up into the sky, like the butterflies that so often like to dance around in your stomach these days.

You're reminded of them with every stolen glance in the direction of your best friend.

Freshly showered —alone, because you'd scarpered as soon as you'd laid eyes on Hayun's danger-red lips— Jeongguk is full of boyish charm, hair still waving around his features even if it is a lot shorter than it used to be. His lip ring catches in the light of the flames, silver in a myriad of golden hues, much like his eyes. For once it's not the stars sparkling in his eyes.

It was a conscious yet undiscussed decision that had been made between you both to sit as far apart as you possibly could. Not for a lack of desire —you'd be on his lap right now, if you could be— but more so to keep up the facade you've grown so accustomed to wearing around him. Unbothered. Unaffected. Unswayed by the glow of his honey skin in the warm haze of the fire, and oblivious to the warmth that's also being cast over him by the rose-tinted glasses that you tend to wear in his presence.

It's not like you need to be close right now. You're both wrapped up in different conversations, and truth be told, you like it better this way. Enjoy the ache in your chest that comes with being apart. Perhaps you're a masochist, or perhaps you just forgot how lovely it is to pine without pain.

Sipping on make-shift cocktails of whatever was left in the fridge, there's no real motive to the evening, other than enjoy the company of your nearest and dearest.

Tomorrow morning you'll go on a coastal hike, and then it will be time to bid farewell to the weekend.

Despite the hiccups, you don't think you would have changed a thing - and when Jeongguk once again catches you staring and bites down on his lip, you're certain wouldn't change a thing.

He tilts his head back. Challenges you. Mouths, c'mere.

You shake your head, but lift your empty drink. Knock your head to the side, in the direction of the main house. Silently say, come with?

He's on his feet and heading towards the house before you even get a chance to blink. Is just eager to be with you. Loves his friends, but kinda wishes he could have you all to himself.

He doesn't wait for you. It's deliberate. Not because he doesn't want to, but because he has a tiny little scenario in his head that he wishes to play out.

As soon as you get to the house, you see why.

Standing behind the kitchen island, he's got a tea towel over his shoulder, an empty cup in his hand and a glint in his eyes. The main lights are off, fairy lights sparking just like your heart is.

"Welcome to Dionysus," he grins, all charming and goofy, trying not to giggle. A sight to behold. Beautiful boy. "What can I get for you?"

Half-empty bottles line the kitchen counter, and Jeongguk looks right at home. Right where he belongs.

When you come to stand opposite him, elbows resting on the counter, hands clasped beneath your chin, you're trying to fight a smile.

You're losing. Giggle, too. Bite down on your bottom lip, and close your eyes, 'cause even looking at him like this is enough to drive you wild.

"Something that will fuck me up, but—"

"Is also delicious?" Jeongguk finishes for you, with a smile so fond you think he could end world wars. He's kinda awestruck by the fact you remember anything from that first meeting. Plays it cool, though. "I know just the thing."

He wastes no time scrambling together one of his infamous purple shots. Makes four. Two for you, two for him. You watch on with kind eyes, so inexorably smitten.

He raises his glass to cheers your shot against his, glasses clinking like bells chiming at a church wedding.

Silly, trivial thoughts for a silly, trivial interaction.

"How much do I owe you, Mr barman? For the drinks?" You beam, unaware of the fact you're looking at him like he's responsible for stringing up stars in the night sky.

He shrugs. "Not much. Just a kiss."

"You're a terrible businessman," you tell him, eyes fixed on his smile as he walks around the counter to meet you.

He simply nods. Lets his body fall into a natural state of being as he reaches you, zero thought given to the way he cups your jaw. "A kiss for a shot. Pay up."

Perhaps you shouldn't be so reckless. Perhaps you shouldn't kiss him out in the open for any prying eyes to see. Perhaps you no longer care.

Jeongguk sure as hell doesn't.

Lips on yours, it's innocent. No intrusion of tongue, no pressing of his hips to your tummy. Just a kiss. Him and you. One star to another.

Pulling away, he peppers you with one, two, three more tiny pecks. "Would you like a receipt?"

You shake your head. Pull him back in for another kiss. Just one. "Sorry. Thought you deserved a tip."

Laughing as he hands you your second shot, Jeongguk is in good spirits. Swigs down his own shot, then gets to making the long version of the drink. Says, "Star Lover alright? There's a little coke left if you just want a vodka coke."

Shaking your head, you smile. "Star Lover is perfect."

There's a casual intimacy to the way Jeongguk makes your drink first, his second. Had been drinking beer all evening, but switches to Star Lovers, 'cause it's what you want.

He wants the taste on his tongue to match yours, just so he doesn't go insane thinking about it.

"Sit with me," he says gently as you meander back to the beachfront, a hand on the small of your back.

Sipping your drink, you shake your head. "Hayun'll just glare."

Jeongguk laughs. "She'll glare anyways."

He kind of feels guilty for Hayun's bad behaviour. It's the second time today you've mentioned her intrusive eyes, and it's becoming clear that it's bothering you.

"I can speak to her?" He offers. "I know she can a bit difficult—"

Shaking your head, you don't let him finish his train of thought. "I don't wanna make drama out of nothing —and anyways, it's not like we're... yanno... together."

Jeongguk knows you're right. Doesn't care. Speaks it into existence.

"Kind of are, though, aren't we?"

"No," you reply ever so pleasantly. There's a nonchalance to your tone. One that intrigues him. Makes him disregard any feelings of rejection he could tie to that statement. You glance across to him with a light smirk, then add, "Well, you haven't asked me to be with you, have you?"

Jeongguk stops. Purses his lips. Could ask you right now, if he wanted to, but he's got a plan. Is specific in how he wants to do things.

He also knows that once you get back home and back to reality, there are external factors that will interrupt the sanctuary of what it's like when you're together. It won't just be you and him anymore. It will be you, and him, and responsibilities, and jobs and whatever else the universe wants to throw your way.

He doesn't believe that life can be as easy as it feels like when he's with you. Has never known it to be easy this easy. Has also never known what it's like to be yours, but that's neither here nor there.

You've another exhibition on your plate, and he's got business affairs to sort with the bank. The timing really isn't doing him any favours, but he wants things to be perfect when he asks you to commit to him. Thinks you deserve at least that; security in all aspects. Wants to be the kind of man worthy of you.

Has seen your ex. Seen the guy you casually dated. Both were well-established. Financially sorted. Thinks that it must be your type. Thinks that he has to be like that, too, to be worthy of you.

Thing is, you've never wanted perfect.

These days, all you really want is him. And while yes, it could be argued that Jeon Jeongguk is perfect, he has his flaws too. Is human.

It's his humanity that you adore; the slight overlap of his top teeth when he smiles, and the cute little puffs that form beneath his eyes, too. The noises he makes when he's focusing and the noises that he makes when he's sleeping, entirely unfocused. The way he sinks into his duvet when he's sleepy, and the way he sinks into your body as if it's his most natural state of being. There's little about him you don't love. The freckles on his skin that you've kissed a hundred times over. The scar on his cheek. The way he twists his spine to click his back and the sigh of relief he always exhales afterwards.

Perfect has never been part of your criteria.

Partner has been.

And when you cook, Jeongguk will always wash up. Sometimes, he'll goof around with you at the same time, speaker on, your joint playlist playing while you dry the dishes. Other times, he'll insist you go and wait for him in bed.

He closes his curtains every single time you stay over, even though he's used to sleeping with them open. Turns off his alarm even if his body clock still wakes him at ass o'clock.

You detour your walks home from work to catch him as he's leaving the gym, a cup of coffee from his favourite cafe in your hand. Have his loyalty card linked to your phone so that he can collect your free stamps, even if you buy just as many coffees from there as he does, these days.

The sacrifices you make for each other are minimal. Meaningful.

So no, you're not together.

But you're partners, whether you want to admit to it or not.

"You're so impatient, Disco Ball," he teases as he catches up with you, hooking onto your belt loop to pull you back in line with him. "Good things come to those who wait."

"And great things pass those who wait by," you counter.

You're just teasing, and he knows this. It doesn't fill him with fear. Not really. None more so than normal.

"Patience," he simply states. "It's a virtue, B."

"Always been far more in tune with my vices."

"You're impossible."

"S'why you love me," you flirt, not giving him the chance to respond before you head back down to the shore. "C'mon, Jimin'll be spreading rumours about our sex life if we're any longer."

He hasn't —but he does mumble, "Hmm, quicker than usual. Embarrassing," to Jeongguk as he sits back down.

Jeongguk just lightly slaps the back of his friend's head, and resists ripping into him for the disastrous encounters he knows his housemate has had with you. Thinks it would be a little too mean.

Instead, he just glances back over to you, a pretty smile on his lips as you laugh with your friends. The way in which you've become so integrated with one another's lives proves to Jeongguk that this is right.

It's exactly how it's supposed to be.

Why else would you meld so perfectly into one if it was not aligned by the stars themselves? There's no 'star-crossed' about you two. Were always destined to crash into one another. Was mapped out. Plotted. Planned by Venus, executed by Mars. Solidified by the karmic constance of Saturn, and nurtured by the careful understanding of Mercury.

Written in the stars, were you and Jeongguk; lived out on earth for a finite time. Seems silly to waste it.

But is time together ever wasted?

Jeongguk doesn't think so, but he does miss being in conversation with you. Encourages the group into a series of little drinking games, just so that he maybe gets the chance to banter with you.

The flames of the bonfire lick at your heart every time he glances in your direction. Is charred within seconds. It's not the black hole you've convinced yourself you'll become if you finally give into your feelings; but it's one that you much prefer. A warm heart, in a chest that isn't your own. You'll keep his safe for as long as he keeps yours safe, too.

"Never have I ever," Jimin sucks in a little air between his teeth, the game playing on around you.

You've only half your Star Lover left.

Or should that be you've only half of your drink left. There's a star across the crackling fire who's very much full of love for you.

Never Have I Ever has become a staple across the weekend. With so many players, you're always learning something new about one another, but Jimin doesn't care to learn anything new right now. He just wants to get as many people drinking as he can—and that includes himself.

"Okay," Jimin continues. "Never have I ever slept with someone in the circle."

Little fucker.

Your eyes flicker to Jeongguk. The only people who aren't raising a glass to their lips are Namjoon and Hoseok. Even Nabi drinks, which causes a little bit of a stir from Seoyeon.

"Sorry?!"

"Oh, it was one time," she cringes, bunching up her face.

From across the circle, Jimin snorts.

"With Jimin?!"

"I was young!" Nabi cries. "Naive! He was just there!"

"Okay, one—rude," Jimin interrupts. "And two—many people have shagged me. I've shagged many people. Hardly a surprise, now, is it?"

The rest of the circle laughs and jokes about what a terrible pairing they'd make, but secretly you're relieved. It softens the weight of your encounters with him.

The commotion of it all allows for the sip you take to go largely unnoticed.

Or at least you think it does, until the game reaches Hayun.

"Never have I ever," she hums, stringing out the final word as if deep in thought or contemplation. Maybe you're a cynic, but you don't buy it. Think she knows exactly what she's going to say. She waits it just a moment longer, then finishes. "Hooked up with multiple people in this circle."

Fuck.

It's a smart question, you'll give her that much. It'll force Jeongguk's hand. Make him admit to his history, as well as his present.

Thing is, it'll force yours too. You don't think she's aware of this. Nobody is.

From your peripherals, eyes too busy locked on Jeongguk, you see the subtle shake of Jimin's head. Can't hear him as he whispers to Jeongguk, "I'm not drinking."

The last thing Jimin wants is to give Hayun any ammunition. Doesn't think it should matter at all, not in the slightest, but knows how Hayun works. If she thinks she has one up against you, she'll use it, no doubt. You fucking Jimin and Jeongguk is exactly the kind of shit she'd use to weasel her way into Jeongguk's brain.

Jeongguk's eyes flicker over to you.

Realistically, he doesn't care if anyone knows.

If he drinks, he knows it means announcing your business to the group. Doesn't wanna be the one to take your privacy away from you, should it be something you wish to preserve.

You've never really feared judgement for your past endeavours, but you've also never been in a situation like this. Jimin is Jeongguk's best friend.

Both busy locked in internal battles, you don't realise that it's been a few seconds of vacant staring at one another. Are interrupted by Hayun again, saying, "Gguk?"

Before he even gets a chance to respond, your voice drowns her out.

"Never have I ever been skinny dipping!"

It's not your turn, and you're well aware the distraction will be noticeable, but you don't care.

Hayun had been attempting to turn a fun little game into something far more dramatic than it needs to be, and frankly, you don't have the energy for it. All you want is to have fun, and you can't for the life of you figure out why she insists on being such a miserable cow all of the time.

Thankfully, debate breaks out amongst your friends. Turns out, only Soeyeon and Yoongi have ever done it before, and so the rules are changed.

"Okay, either you take three shots, or you skinny dip now," Jimin declares - because of course he's the one making bad decisions for you all as a collective.

And yet everyone just seems to go along with it, enticed by the allure of released inhibitions under a crescent moon. The water sparkles as if there are a billions stars hidden beneath it. Even though you know it's impossible, part of you feels like you'll be right at home in the waves. They're tepid at this time of night. Settled by the moonlight that shines down upon them.

Pulling his shirt by the nap of his neck, Jeongguk chucks it to the ground and makes sure he's positioned right beside you.

"There's jellyfish in these waters," you mumble, knowing that it's absolutely a stupid idea —yet you shed yourself of your shirt (that really belongs to him), too.

He's loosening the buttons of his pants, as he says, "S'why I'm keeping my boxers on. Not risking my cock."

"They can probably sting through clothes."

They can't. Not the moon jellies, at least.

"Don't say that," he whines, pushing down his trousers while you also slip out yours. "Bra?"

"Do you mind?"

"Not my tits, are they?" Jeongguk just shrugs. Doesn't think he has any right to tell you how much skin you can show, and it's not like anyone is actually gonna be looking. Not like that at least.

You're on the peripherals. The rest of your friends are kind of coupled up; Danbi with Taehyung, Nabi with Hayun, Namjoon with Hoseok and Jimin... Well, Jimin is Jimin. He's kind of everywhere all at once.

Still, he's well acquainted with your tits, and it's not like seeing him stark bollock naked is gonna do anything for you. Been there, done that, got his housemates T-shirt, or however the saying goes.

"Hmm, they kinda are yours," you shrug, looking across to Jeongguk, sultry through your lashes.

"Don't say shit like that," he husks, a hunger in his pained expression. You don't think he realises that he's licking his lips, toying with his lip ring. "I'll get hard."

Smiling, you roll your eyes, as if it's not exactly the reaction you wanted. "You're so easy."

"Fuck off," he grins. "But no, do whatever you like. "

Secretly, Jeongguk likes the idea of other people knowing what you look like beneath your clothes. Likes that he's the one who gets to touch you. Likes that it's mouth that will no doubt be sucking on your nipples before the night is over.

Maybe he does have a thing for exhibitionism... fuck .

One thing is for sure, though: he's getting a semi now that he's thinking about it.

Thankfully, Soeyeon and Yoongi are counting everyone down. Sitting on the beach still, they're watching on. Have done it once before. Don't feel the need to do it again. Also kinda wanna just be alone for a second, just to indulge in one another.

"Three..."

Reaching up your back, you snap the clasp apart, and let your bra drop to the sand below you. Have completely forgotten about the fact that there's more than just you and Jeongguk around. He's all that you're looking at, and it's reciprocated.

"Two..."

"I'm so fucking obsessed with you," Jeongguk states. Plain and simple. No frills. What's the point in pretending like he isn't? Should have told you months ago. "Like... Holy shit."

"One!"

Yelping a little as Jeongguk grabs your hand, your other hand holding onto your poor unsupported tits as you hurtle into the freezing water, the adrenaline is enough to keep you going.

You're far too drunk to be doing something so reckless, but Jeongguk keeps himself close to you. Won't ever let you get into danger. Hooks an arm around your waist. Doesn't let you go.

"Can't just say shit like that," you laugh, water splashing around you.

Your friends are close by, basking in the moonlight, but all you focus on is him.

"Can."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

" 'Cause ," is all you say, and it gets Jeongguk beaming from ear to ear.

Though it's dark, there's enough light from the shoreline lights to clue you in on the dimples that are forming; his happiness hard to hide.

"I can stop, if you like?" he offers, that smile still ever-present.

"No, you can't," you smile right back. "You can't just stop being obsessed with someone. Can't just lose that."

"True," he accepts, and then just decides fuck it. Keeps an arm wrapped around your back, the gentle waves lapping against your shoulders, while his other hand rests at the base of your throat. Gets a little closer. Nudges his nose up against yours. Husks, "think losing you would destroy me, B."

"Mhmm?" You tease, reciprocating, nudging your nose deeper against his. "Better hold me tighter, then."

And so he does. Gets your chest pressed to his. Tightens his grip around your throat. You're at his disposal. Holds every single fucking card —and for once, you're happy to lose control. For Jeongguk, you'll fold.

"Tight enough?" He whispers, keeping both afloat as his lips brush yours—until the sound of Namjoon yelling from across the shallow water pulls you and Jeongguk away from the intimacy of your shared embrace.

"Out!" He bellows. "Jellyfish! Everyone out!"

You and Jeongguk somehow hold onto each other even tighter, yet both turn to face the commotion.

"I'm dying," Hoseok wails as Namjoon drags him from the shallow water, Seoyeon and Yoongi rushing over to see what's happened. Knowing Hoseok, it's a lot of fuss over nothing.

"You're fine," Namjoon mumbles, manhandling Hoseok's leg to get a better look once they're safely on the shore. "Yoongi—" he looks over to ask for his phone, of which Yoongi is already passing over, flash on. "—Ah, thanks."

Jeongguk tosses you his shirt as soon as you get to the sand, blocking you from the sight of anyone else but him. Once you're decent, he holds your hand to drag you a little faster to where Hoseok is on the brink of certain death.

"It's fine. Was just a moon jelly," Namjoon assesses, thumb rubbing over the reddening rash on Hoseok's calf. "There's not been any reports of Nomura's jellies out this far yet."

"Should I piss on it?" Jimin asks, and is subsequently shooed away by Danbi.

"I'll die before I let any of you piss on me," Hoseok hisses, then turns to Namjoon. Is ever so sweet as he says, "Unless you think I should?"

Both you and Jeongguk look on in mildly amused horror.

"Is this... flirting?" Jeongguk quietly asks you, nodding towards the treacle-filled eyes Hoseok is looking at Namjoon with.

"I think so?" you giggle so quietly only he can hear you, as your arms wrap around his bare waist. "Please don't ask me to piss on you, too."

"Might be hot," Jeongguk mumbles, draping his arm over your shoulders, pressing a kiss into your wet hair.

"Shut up."

Once it's been assessed that Hoseok really won't die (and Jimin has offered his piss on at least two more occasions) it's decided that bedtime is calling. Quick showers are had to wash off the remnants of the ocean, taken in tandem as some people busy themselves cleaning up the kitchen to make it easier for the morning.

"Hey," Jeongguk says quietly, catching your arm as you walk towards your door after your shower. A small yelp escapes your lips as he pulls you into your room, but there's no resistance from you.

Not when he shuts the door.

Not when he presses your back up against it.

Not when towers above you and traps you in place with his body.

And most definitely not as he presses a kiss into your lips.

Oh, it's so bloody predictable by now. It's like you lose all sense of authority when Jeongguk shows even the lightest dominance.

But there's an undeniable authority to the way in which he touches you, one hand flat to the door beside your head, while the other grips onto your waist. Lips safely right where they're supposed to be, Jeongguk's hip press against your tummy.

Oh, hello.

You softly moan into his lips, surprised by his sudden need to have you like this -but you're not complaining. Not in the slightest. In fact, the way your hands grip his waist and pull him tighter against you would suggest that this is exactly what you've been craving.

"Missed you," he mumbles against your lips.

"Been ten minutes," you hum into his.

"Too long." His hands roam. They're everywhere all at once. Can't decide which part of your body he wants the most. Knows he wants it all. Won't be satisfied until he has it all. "Fuckin' hate showers without you."

"Careful," you whisper, a pretty smile on your lips as he steals a hundred tiny kisses. "You really are starting to sound obsessed."

He just nods. "I am."

Jeongguk speaks in hyperbole. Embroiders his words with the silliest of sequins. Exaggerates just to make you giggle a little.

Now is no exception; except for the fact it's as honest as it is dramatic.

He's also as horny as he is smitten. Wastes no time getting you right where he wants you.

Hands pinned above your head, pressed into the soft feather down of your pillow, Jeongguk trails his lips up your neck.

Wet and wanting, the kisses he dapples your skin in are intentional. He wants your body squirming beneath his much like it is now; the breaths hitching in your throat reaching a point of instability that will no doubt turn into the moans he adores so much.

"Gguk," you rasp, and struggle a little against the grip he has on you —even though it's really just a ruse to get the friction between you both a little more heightened.

He knows what you're doing. Knows you well. Tightens his grip, and presses your wrists deeper into the cotton.

"Mhmm?" He encourages you to keep talking. Loves your voice. Loves hearing it when he's hard. His hips match the pressure of his hand that's pinning down your wrists as he grinds between your legs.

"The others," you reply, voice a little low in tone. "They're still—"

"Don't care," he tells you, lips pressing up your neck to your ear. His tongue flicks against your lobe. Nibbles down. Lips migrate to your cheek. One, two, three pretty kisses until he finds your lips. Steals just one, and says, "Only care about you."

The way your chest presses up to his as you laugh, face turning slightly away from him as a smile breaks on your pouty lips, has Jeongguk realising maybe you should be quiet. He doesn't want anyone else falling in love with you, too.

Wants to keep you his; your laughter all bottled up for him, and him alone.

He's insane at the mere thought of you with someone else. Insatiable every time he hears you laugh at a joke made by someone that isn't him. Interwoven into the fabric of his DNA is the way he feels about you; chemical. Chronic. Catastrophic.

But you're beneath the weight of his body, now, and you're giggling because of him .

"You do care," you tell him regardless. "Your ex is literally down—"

"Not my ex."

Jeongguk interrupts you in a way that sort of just stops you in your tracks. He loosens the grip he has on your wrists, and fills the space in his palm with your cheek, instead. It's not the first time he's downplayed the magnitude of Hayun's impact, but it's always felt like he was kidding himself. The sternness of his tone, this time, is different. Decisive. Final.

"Please don't be hung up on her," he adds. "I'm not."

"No?"

"No, B." Nose nudging up against yours, he's soft when he asks, "Do you trust me?"

With a tepid nod, you confirm that you do. Let your fingers intertwine with his. Say, "With my life."

And so you sink; into the sheets, into his kisses, into the way it feels to be fucked by a man who wouldn't call this fucking at all.

It's more than that. Leg bent at the knee over his elbow, his lips buried into the crook of your neck, Jeongguk isn't searching for relief. He's seeking refuge. Finding a home inside you - and when your walls begin to tighten around him, nails scratching down his back as his lips latch onto your chest, he knows he's found one. Has the keys. Can lock the door. Keep himself safe.

Safe, safe, safe.

You, you, you.

Doesn't take much for him to come undone. Not much at all. Would be embarrassing, if he didn't feel so secure with you.

"Shit," he husks against you in the comedown of it all. Swears, "You were fuckin' made for me, B. Made for me."

His kisses trail all over your body. There's not an inch of skin he doesn't want.

"Always take me so well, don't you?" He praises your spent body, as he nestles into the sheets beside you. Shuffles a little further down the bed so his lips can wrap around your nipples. Lets his hand dip to your soaked pussy. Says nothing as he begins to rub sensual circles against your clit.

"Gguk," you whine, writhing a little in the sheets. You're just as spent as he is.

"Mhmm?" he mumbles, sucking your nipple deeper into his mouth. The sensation of his tongue rubbing against your hardened bud is enough to drive you insane, but the way he toys with your pussy? Even when he's already made you cum? God, he's criminal . A sinner .

"I'll cum again," you whine, shoulders pressing back into the sheets —which only encourages him more.

He sinks a finger into your cunt, with little care for the fact it's just been stuffed with his cock, and that is currently full of his own cum.

"Fuck," you sigh into the sensation, a second finger joining the first.

"Let yourself," he says, pulling himself away from your chest, sinking further down the sheets, until he's between your legs. Does nothing for a moment. Just takes in the sight of you. "Fuckin' love his cunt." Begins to fuck his fingers into you with a little more precision. Gets you writhing . Smirks. "You like that, don't you, baby? Like me pushing my cum into you, huh?"

"Mhmm," is all you can manage to whimper as he begins to stroke up against your sweetest of spots—and when his lips hungrily lap around your clit, you know you're done for.

It doesn't take long for an orgasm to crash over you like the waves you were caught in with him earlier that night.

He teases you through your orgasm, not easing up his fingers nor the suction of his lips. Praises you in the afterglow. Tells you how pretty you are. Prowls back up the bed. Kisses you slowly, then presses his slick covered fingers to your lips. As you accept them into your mouth, he says, "That's it, baby. Clean them up for me. Good girl. Such a good girl for me."

And yet it's Jeongguk who cleans the sheets up when you go to the bathroom to sort yourself out. He's a good boy. A good boy for you .

Waiting for you by the door afterwards, he simply holds his hand out. Guides you downstairs. Decides you'll sleep in his room. Faces no resistance from you in the slightest.

Why would he? All you ever seem to wanna do these days is curl up beside him. Doesn't matter where, doesn't matter when—but if it did, in a bed at two in the morning would seem like a good place for it.

Come the morning, nobody is particularly pleased for the early wakeup, but the coastal hike itself is pretty painless. Despite your previous deliberations, you decide that Danbi is right. There's no need for you to try and get on Hayun's good side.

She sure as hell hasn't tried to get on yours, so what's the point? Will just bring you unnecessary stress that you could really do without.

That being said, you leave Jeongguk to his own devices for the morning. Spend the hike with Danbi and Tae. Hoseok is back by the house, nursing his 'wounds', and Namjoon—the only person who actually seemed excited about the coastal hike—is right there with him, tending him back to full health.

"They're so into each other," Danbi says. "So smitten . It's gross ."

You just look at her —then at the boy whose hand she's holding— and furrow your brows. "Pot, kettle, black?"

"Fuck off," she laughs. "Not like you've got a leg to stand on, little miss 'ohhh, we're just friends .'"

"Fuck off," you laugh right back, but don't argue against her. She has a point, after all.

It's proven when Jeongguk sheepishly comes to your room as you're packing your bags up.

"Hey," you smile as you glance over towards him for just a second. "Nearly finished. Can't find one of my bras."

"It's in with my stuff," Jeongguk says without missing a beat. Knows he packed a few things of yours up with his. A natural consequence of merging into one another's space in the way that you two so often do.

When you look over at him once again, you notice the way he's got one of his arms outstretched. Is waiting for you to fill the space beneath it.

So you do.

Chin resting on his chest, you're looking up at him, smiling as he looks down. There's a little glitter on his skin. Perfection .

"Gotta run the people who came by train back to the station. Wish I could put you in my pocket and just take you everywhere," he mumbles, as if that's a normal thing to say to the girl he's been trying to convince everyone is simply just a friend.

"That'd be really inconvenient."

"No." He simply says.

"Yes."

He mumbles an indication of his disagreement, as the hazy, love-drunk curve of his lips presses down into yours.

The kiss is quick. Fleeting. Just enough to reassure him that he's been making the right choices. Making good decisions.

Pulling away from him, there's a pleasant smile on your lips that just absolutely refuses to budge. There's one on Jeongguk's face too, as he watches on, still leaning against the door frame.

"That wasn't very friendly," you say softly of the teeny tiny kiss you shared.

"No," he agrees. "It wasn't."

A small pad of paper and pen had been left in every room by the host of the house. Just standard hotel-type stuff. Nothing fancy. Not branded. Barely used, 'cause people just tend to use their phones these days, but still a nice thing to have.

Jeongguk had left a few doodles in yours over the weekend. Nothing big, nor fancy—but notably, they're all ripped out when he goes to open it once more, for you've tucked them away in your purse. Keepsakes. Little mementoes. Line drawings of stars, and sketches of your unmade bed. Yours, forever.

You're not really watching him, too busy making sure you've got the last of your items back, as he begins to scribble down into it once more. This time, he's the one who rips it out. Rips it again, to re-shape the rectangle note into a square. Folds it with little precision. Doesn't care for perfection in the same way that he usually does.

His creation is tucked into his back pocket before you even really notice what he's doing.

"Who's going to the station? Hobes, Nam, and Hayun, right?"

Jeongguk nods. "Yeah."

You nod, too. Turn to look at him. Say, "She's not allowed to ride shotgun."

It's not like you mean it. You're just joking .

But you do also say, "That's my space."

And Jeongguk agrees (even if it will enrage Jimin later in the afternoon). It is your space.

So he makes her ride in the back. Says that the seatbelt isn't working properly. "Safety precautions."

In a way, it is a safety precaution—just one for your heart, instead of Hayun's health.

Once they reach the station, Jeongguk helps to ferry the luggage to the platform with them all, and agrees to watch it with Hayun as Namjoon and Hoseok run to grab coffee. It's just an excuse for them to flirt, and he knows this. Decides to let them indulge it. Knows he'd have been annoyed if anyone got in the way of his time spent with you in the early days.

Hell, he gets annoyed at it now. Wants you all to himself, all of the time.

Small talk is made with Hayun. Weather and whatnot. Events of the weekend. Perfectly pleasant, and entirely forced.

Until she says, "So what's the deal then, huh? What's going on with you two?"

Still, she refuses to address you as anything more than a pronoun. Doesn't want to give you the luxury of an authentic existence in her own mind.

"No deal," Jeongguk says.

"Oh come on," she nudges her shoulder against his arm, but is surprised when he dodges the touch.

The Jeongguk she once knew would have thought about the exchange for weeks. This Jeongguk seems to want it erased entirely.

"God, you're touchy," she says, stifling a laugh. "She's turned you into such a"-

"Don't," Jeongguk says, tone soft but stern. "This kind of conversation isn't fair, Hayun. Not on me, and not on yourself. Not on anyone ."

He doesn't name drop you specifically, but the implication is there. She understands. Wishes she didn't.

It's a strange reality for her to live in. One that feels uncomfortable, and new, and foreign.

Yes, she's with a man who once knew her body better than she knew her own mind, but he's entirely different.

The Jeongguk who had drunkenly sobbed into her voicemail for months on end is not the Jeongguk who came out of his room holding your hand yesterday afternoon.

The Jeongguk who had fucked Hayun with more tenderness, more care, more devotion than any other man ever has, is not the Jeongguk who holds you when you cry.

No, the Jeongguk she once knew no longer exists. His vessel is largely the same, yes, but he's got stardust in his veins, now. When he bleeds, he bleeds for you.

"I took you for granted," Hayun admits, arms folded tight over her chest, cherry-red lips pursed. "You're right. I'm sorry."

And it confuses Jeongguk.

Confuses him, 'cause he would have done anything to hear Hayun say it this time last year.

Confuses him, 'cause she seems sincere and yet he doesn't believe her to be, nor does he really care.

Confuses him, 'cause the only thing it really makes him feel is sick.

He remedies the unpleasantness with thoughts of you. God . He just wants to get back to you.

"Or maybe you were right," he offers instead, trying to ease the situation. "Maybe there really is no such thing as right person, wrong time."

She frowns. "How so?"

"If it was the right person, it'd be the right time," he shrugs.

Thinks he met you at the perfect time. Wishes he had met you sooner, but knows he wouldn't have been ready.

"And is she that person?" Hayun finally pouts, deflated. "Is it the right time for her ?"

Jeongguk presses his lips together. Never imagined a reality in which he'd ever be telling Hayun any of this about another girl. Nods. Says, "Yun, when we... Well, you know. Back then, I projected my feelings onto you a lot. Thought that maybe if you saw how much I cared, that you'd care, too—"

"I did."

"No," Jeongguk stops her. "Not in the same way I did. We both know that. Yun, it felt... Felt like I was always fighting a losing battle with you. Sorta got myself hooked on the pain. Sorta like an addiction, in a way."

"That's morbid."

"That's the truth," he shrugs. "But the only thing I've ever fought when it comes to B is my own bloody head."

For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, he glances down at Hayun. Sees her for exactly what she is: just a girl. Was special, 'cause he decided that she was—but she's never sparkled like you do.

He's never had any control over the way he sees you.

"I really care about her," Jeongguk admits. "I can't... I can't be an emotional crutch for you. Not someone to run back to, not someone to confide in in the way that you do. I'm not someone you can flirt with just because you're bored, or lonely."

Every sentence he speaks is like a sucker punch to her chest. She wishes the train would just hurry up.

"I really want to make things work with B."

Shaking her head, arms still tightly folded over her chest, Hayun can't believe the bullshit he's spewing. Thinks he never would have said this shit before you came around.

"So you're just throwing us away?" She almost spits. "Years of friendship, Jeongguk—"

"Years of you using me," he corrects.

"I never—"

"You did," he says firmly, not caring to let her manipulate the situation. "Might not have been your intention, but it is what it is."

Silence hums in between the roaring of train engines. The platform they're on remains empty. Stagnated.

"I didn't mean to," she grumbles. Looks away. Seems to be a shell of herself.

And Jeongguk really does think she means it. Wants to believe that no one would ever be that intentionally cruel.

"I know."

He's not after a fight. Isn't after anything really. Only wants to solidify the foundations you've been building together, and knows that he has to put in a little extra work on his end. Wants you to be secure. Knows you never will be if Hayun is still in the picture.

"Look," he sighs. "We're still gonna see each other around. Still gonna get on just fine —but there's no need for us to hang out one-on-one. No need to catch up. All my news for the foreseeable future is gonna be about B, anyways, and let's not pretend like it's something you'll actually care to hear about."

"What makes her different?" Hayun huffs, taking a seat on the empty bench in the middle of the platform. "What's so special about her?"

"You've met her," Jeongguk states, not joining her on the bench. Keeps his distance. "You know exactly why she's special, Hayun."

She scoffs. Shakes her head.

"So that's it? We're just not friends any more all because of some girl you've known for five minutes?"

"I'm not fighting with you about this. It doesn't have to be a fight."

"You're abandoning me and you expect me to be cool about it?" she scathes. "Throwing away everything we've ever shared all because of some fucking girl—"

"Hayun, I'm in love with her."

He doesn't mean to say it. Doesn't even really realise that he has until she falls silent.

But it's simple, and it's true, and it's acceptance; the way he feels about you has been spoken into existence. It's not big. Not scary. Just a fact of life.

"If she loved you—"

"You've no right to speak on how someone who loves me should treat me," Jeongguk laughs, cutting Hayun off. Really can't be fucked with her anymore. "She never asked me to have this conversation with you, if that's where you're going with this. She's my priority. I'm having this conversation because I know you have a tendency to overstep boundaries and I'll be damned if I let you fuck this up, Hayun."

Silence resumes.

"Look," he eventually sighs. "You were really important to me for a really long time. I'll always have time for you if you desperately need it... but I can't live in the past. Not when I have a future that I'm really excited about. Not when I have a present that makes me feel the way that it does."

But Hayun doesn't like this. Doesn't understand. Is annoyed. Pissed off that she isn't winning.

"Is she better than me?" She asks, deliberately getting a little vulgar, now. Wants him thinking about what it's like to fuck her. Think it's where she'll always reign supreme.

Jeongguk doesn't want to entertain it. "You're different."

Hayun doubles down. "Is she better?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to," Jeongguk simply shrugs.

"I'll take that as a no," Hayun smirks. Thinks she's won, 'cause why else would not just say 'no'?

But this really does piss Jeongguk off. Gets his jaw tense. Has him snapping.

"This little act of yours ain't cute, Hayun," he laughs—but it's not enough.

There's venom on his tongue, and the only way for him to save himself is to spit it at her instead.

"You ever been fucked by someone who loves you?" He hisses. "Huh? You know how fucking good it is when the person you're with actually gives a shit about you?"

Hayun is silent. They both know the answer. Knows the reason she can't let go is 'cause there's no way she'll get anyone who ever cared as much as he did.

Did.

Past tense.

"Don't ask stupid fuckin' questions," he finally says, a little softer in his tone, but still incredibly stern. She's done damage that can't be undone. He can deal with her being shitty to him, but it's different when she's shitty towards you. "In fact, don't ask jack shit about my fuckin' sex life. That's what I mean by overstepping boundaries. Know your place."

"I didn't mean—"

"I don't care," he says with a shrug of his shoulders as he turns to leave. She doesn't need his help to watch the bags. Her burdens are no longer his. "Conversation's done, Hayun. Couldda been amicable but you just couldn't help yourself. I'm sure I'll see you at the wedding."

He swallows down a 'get home safe', knowing that she'll be fine. Doesn't need his well-wishes, even if he does feel like an asshole.

There's a slight curve to Hayun's lips as he walks away. Proof that she can get under his skin, she thinks. False confirmation that he secretly still cares. Complete delusion. Ignorance of the fact it's his feelings for you that have him riled up. Protective .

His blood is all hot. Those damn stars are burning too brightly in his veins. Feels like they're gonna burst. His chest too, heart beating faster than should really be possible. Matches the speed at which he tanks his car down the country lanes back to the house. Back to you.

And yet when he's parked up in the driveway, he can't help but sit for a little while. Ruminate. Ponder the state of his circumstances. Wonder how it all came to reach this point.

Hands still on his wheel, as he glances up towards the house, it all just kind of fades away. He really did mean it when he said you help him forget about all the bad shit. When he focuses in on you, all he sees is the good.

So he pulls himself together. Greets you with a squeeze of your waist as he walks past and sets to loading up the car. Doesn't check the side-house, 'cause he trusts you to have remembered everything. Relinquishes control to you in a way that's unusual of him—but nothing about the pair of you is entirely 'usual'.

Never has been.

Jeongguk thinks he'd like it if your unusual affection for one another became the usual for you. Strange to others, maybe, but just right for him.

"No, call it again. Reload!" Jimin whines when you call shotgun just before all leave.

Jeongguk doesn't reload. Says, "Don't hate the player, hate the game."

Jimin threatens to use Jeongguk's good towel when he gets home, but it doesn't work.

See, Jeongguk wants you close. Close, close, close. Wants to hold your hand when he drives, but knows that he can't, so settles on this instead.

It's about twenty minutes into the drive when Jimin starts whining again. You've fallen asleep, the lull of the heater and chilled playlist Jeongguk has chosen soothing you. It's been an exhausting weekend, and it's not like you've been sleeping enough. Had told yourself you wouldn't fuck Jeongguk, not even once, throughout the weekend. Failed.

Jeongguk hushes his friend. "Don't wake her. She's not been sleeping well."

Yeah, Jimin internally scoffs. Heard it for myself.

Thankfully, he does settle. Can sense Jeongguk isn't in the mood to bicker. Eventually, Jimin naps too, and so do Danbi and Taehyung. It's a quiet journey, but one that Jeongguk thinks he needed. Alone time was sparse for the past few days. He needs a moment to recharge.

Traffic is light for a Sunday, roads peaceful. Often, he's the only car for miles. Likes it better this way.

It's a solid half an hour before he speaks again.

"Rise and shine," Jeongguk says softly, pulling you from your tranquil state. Still in the passenger seat of his car, he gently squeezes your knee, helping to bring you back to the realm of the living.

"Hmm?" you chirp, a little confused as you begin to stretch out.

You're unfamiliar with your surroundings, but can tell you're at a service station. It's a carbon copy of all the other ones along the motorway, just with slightly different bedazzled tat on offer in the marque stall out the front of it. Trot music blares from the speakers, and the scent of fried snack foods waft in through the open windows of his car.

The parking lot has ample space for three hundred cars, but you're not sure there's even thirty here. Cracks in the cement floor are sprouting with fresh spring weeds, and the empty retail units out front are almost indistinguishable from the ones that are still in business. It's drab. Bleak. Void of life.

"Where are the others?" You question, glancing behind yourself to see that the backseats are all empty.

"Wanted food," he clarifies, hand now resting on your inner thigh. You don't mind. Not in the slightest. "Said I'd wait with you and see if you wanted anything."

It's sweet, the way his eyes are always deep and dark whenever they look at you. There's an innocence to Jeongguk—to his intentions—even if you know that he isn't innocent in the slightest.

It boils down to the fact he's a genuinely good person. Will never let someone be left out, even if they are sleepy and would have happily slept through the entire service stop. The light shining in through the windows illuminates his dewy skin, highlighting all the teeny tiny flecks of glitter on him. It makes you smile. Makes you part your legs a little wider.

It's not like you're actively looking to entice him—you're just sleepy, and cosy, and he's handsome, and lovely. It's a match made in heaven.

The way his half-zipped sweatshirt hangs off his frame, revealing the vest that's tight to his chest, just really does something to you. Paired with the chain you know looks oh so good when it's dangling in front of your face?

Well, who could blame you?

Jeongguk smirks. Narrows those big brown Bambi eyes of his. Says, "From the shop. I'm checking to see if you want anything from the shop. Not from me."

"I'm all good," you shake your head, then stretch into a comfier position. Jeongguk stays with you. Doesn't bother going to get himself a snack. Will eat when he's home. Just wants to revel in the last few moments alone before your friends rejoin you.

Once they do, the rest of the drive is plain sailing.

You're dropped off first, Danbi staying in the car to head straight to Taehyung's place.

In all honesty, you'd been expecting to enjoy the quiet after a weekend of chaos. A chance to recharge your batteries. Time alone is typically your favourite way to unwind.

And yet today it isn't. In fact, you feel lonely, which is a rarity.

There's an emptiness to your bedroom.

With Danbi at Taehyung's, and Jeongguk at his own place, you don't really know what to do with yourself. Your entire afternoon routine feels lethargic. Unexciting. You shower, put on your laundry, have a mild panic because a rogue hair slide makes the washing machine wail for a while, then hang it out to dry on the roof of your apartment building.

You've not got much of a cityscape view from the rooftop—not like Jeongguk's apartment does—but it's something better than nothing. In a block of low-rise apartment buildings, you've always been quietly fond of the area. The traffic is light, a few roads back from the busy main street, and there's only one yappy pomeranian in the next building over to disturb the peace. It's home.

Elbows resting on the rooftop wall, you can't help but frown as a sad reality begins to kick in. The lease is up in a few months. Given how much time Danbi spends at Taehyung's studio, it seems only natural for her to move in with him when the time comes.

Moving doesn't appeal to you right now. You're settled. Content. Sure, Hoseok could move in, but he's gotten used to the expensive end of town. You doubt he'd be willing to come back to the squalor of your district.

Equally, Jeongguk and Jimin already have a pretty stable arrangement - not that you'd even want to live with them. You and Jimin have conflicting interior design tastes, and Jeongguk is annoying enough as it is. Living with him would only serve to make you lose your mind.

You've many options, realistically. Roommates, finding somewhere smaller, keeping the place you currently have but doubling your monthly rent expenses. All viable choices.

Still, it's nothing that needs to be decided yet. Both time and circumstances will change. They always do. Decisions, the good and bad, still have time to be made.

Flopping down onto your bed when you get back into your apartment, there's a weight to your shoulders. A sigh in your lungs. An ache where your heart resides.

With every pulse of your heart you can feel it.

And so can Jeongguk.

On his back, staring up at his own ceiling, he's silent. The echo of the TV vibrates through the wall, Jimin on the other side, but Jeongguk just sort of blocks it all out. Arm draped over his own waist, forlorn eyes studying the slight movement of the washi-taped birds in his AC unit breeze, there's little else he can think of but you.

It's not like this is a new thing. It's been months of Jeongguk having a disco ball for a brain. A slow process, he thinks. Was just flecks of glitter at first, trapped in his limbic system. Somewhere between the amygdala and hypothalamus.

But they multiplied. Spiralled. Crystalised.

And now his brain is hundreds of tiny mirrored shards, all reflecting an image of you.

Part of him thinks it should drive insane; that it should feel claustrophobic to never have his brain to himself.

He simply doesn't feel that way, though. Can't explain it. Just is what it is.

Thoughts of you are interrupted by the presence of Jimin —although it's not like the thoughts actually cease to exist. It's sort of like music playing when you're reading a book, or the sound of crashing waves while you sunbathe on the beach. Just 'cause he's distracted, doesn't mean they aren't there.

Jeongguk says nothing, just grunts as Jimin crashes down onto his bed uninvited. Facedown, Jimin doesn't know nor care of the importance that Jeongguk's origami birds hold. They've been such a staple in his housemate's bedroom for years at this point. Existed well before you—though he did notice the increase in them after you.

"Speak to me," Jimin mumbles, voice muffled by Jeongguk's sheets.

There's no care for formalities. No specification of what Jeongguk should speak about. He already knows.

Still, he says, "About?"

"About Disco Ball, dumbass."

But what's there to say?

"Can't keep bottling shit up, man. It'll destroy your head," Jimin adds. Has seen it happen once before. Cares too much for his friend to let it happen again.

"Not much to say," Jeongguk dismisses, just like Jimin thought he would. It's so typical of him.

"We both know that's not entirely true, don't we?"

"Do we?"

"Gguk."

"Well, what?" Jeongguk sighs. Rubs across his face with the heel of his palm. Keeps his eyes closed as he shakes his head.

"The walls were far thinner than you thought they were, Gguk," is all Jimin says. It's all he needs to say, but also thinks that Jeongguk needs a little push. "Y'know there's this old proverb— Don't let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game."

"That's not a proverb," Jeongguk frowns. "It's a quote from the film B made us watch after the last Notebook screening."

"Shut up," Jimin says, realising that he has just in fact quoted a 'A Cinderella Story ' at Jeongguk. "Doesn't matter. Is still true. The longer you go on with 'just friends' bullshit, the more and more she'll start to believe that's how you really feel, and then you'll lose her."

"I won't"—

"Shut up," Jimin repeats. "You'll lose her, 'cause she'll find someone that's proud to show her off. Will find someone who doesn't hide her. At the moment it's like you're ashamed of her."

It's not like that in the slightest. Jimin doesn't think it comes across like that to anyone, but he needs Jeongguk to wise up. Needs him to do something.

And even though Jimin is unaware of the Seokjin history, and the way in which you were shunned by someone you loved, Jeongguk isn't. Is well too aware that you've been made to feel like that before. Hates the thought of ever doing it to you too. Echoes of 'you sound just like him' makes his hairs stand on end, goosebumps ghosting his skin. He'll be damned if he's ever compared to your scumbag of an ex again.

"What if it's not what she wants?" Jeongguk says quietly.

"But what if it is?"

Jeongguk stays silent for a moment. Glances over to his chessboard, where a dishevelled bird sits. It barely looks like a bird anymore, thanks to his stroppy fists that tossed it across the room a couple of months ago.

Wings crumpled, it's been through the wars.

And yet when Jeongguk shows up at your door unannounced, holding the bird in his palm, he tries to pretend like it's totally normal.

Looks at it, then looks at you.

Says, "It fell."

"Into what?" you laugh, dressed in nothing more than one of his shirts and a pair of tiny shorts that have no business riling him up in the way that they do. "A literal rock-paper-scissors battle?"

"Erm," Jeongguk stutters. "No. I, uh. Fuck."

Showered and changed, he's now wearing a baggy sweater you've seen a few times before. Have always been tempted to steal it, but never got the chance. If it ends up on your bedroom floor tonight, it's fair game. The silver of his chain peeks out from the neckline, his lip ring glistening as he toys with it.

He struggles to find the words—and then just thinks fuck it.

What's the worst that could happen?

Rejection?

"No," he corrects himself. "Fell into my fist. Well, no, onto my back, and then I balled it up in my fists. Couple of months ago, actually. Anyways, I, uh—" he pauses. Is so nervous he's pretty sure he'll be sweating through his sweater. Looks to the floor. Shakes his head. Get a grip, man. "It's one of mine. I want to do it."

"Okay?" You question, raising the pitch of your voice as you gesture for him to come inside. His demeanour is very unlike his usual self, but it kind of reminds you of the Jeongguk you first met. It's cute. Sweet. Timid. "Can I read it?"

Hesitant, Jeongguk passes the bird to you. Kicks off his shoes. Walks away from you. Settles on the sofa. Wants to scream into a pillow, but is trying to look cool about things, even if his blood is burning red hot in his veins.

The way it feels like your heart is in your throat as you go to read the words out loud is a shared experience. Jeongguk's all of a tither, too. Hides it far better. When you glance over at him, you almost can't see his nerves. The soft purple mood lighting helps.

It's his eyes that give him away. So big. So sparky. Full of stars. All for you.

Just like the fear scribbled into his bird is all for you, too.

Admit your feelings.

You look over to him, then back down to the paper. Take a moment.

He says nothing. Nibbles down on his bottom lip. Is beautiful in the breakdown of his bastions. Walls need not be kept up any more. There's no point.

"Okay..." You say slowly. Assumptions would be disastrous right now, you think. "To who?"

Jeongguk swallows back his nerves. Looks you dead in the eye as he confirms the conclusions you're so desperately trying not to jump to.

"You."

It's not enough. You're still second-guessing.

"Admit your feelings to me... about who?"

Jeongguk would laugh if he didn't feel like the world is caving in around him. His head is spinning.

Or maybe it's just him.

Orbiting. Crashing. Colliding.

"You."

55 notes · View notes

silver-itallics · 8 months

Text

My Favorite Inside Source pt 2

Part 1!

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader

Warnings: smut, masturbation, toxic behavior, mentions of rape, heavy choking, Leon being a grumpy old man, p in v, light mentions oral and fingering (f receiving), guilt (kinda)

!! Contains dark content !!

"do it and do it again..."

Leon is silent for a few moments. You're looking at him like he hung the stars. Really all he did was hang your knees over his shoulders last night.

"What?" He blurts.

He never was the type to think before he speaks. But this doesn't throw off your rhythm, though. Maybe there's more cotton in your head than there is a brain.

"I wanted to say thank you." You repeat, holding up the pan of bacon. "I had a good time last night."

You didn't seem like you had a good time. Leon looks down, confirming that you're still not wearing panties. That's because he stuffed them in his drawer, and your blood is still on his sheets.

For once, you're not the one looking stupid. Leon knows he looks like an idiot, but he can't stop staring at you like you're in one of those old carnival freak shows. But this just makes you laugh. You turn back to the stove, finish off the bacon and put it on a plate.

"I actually wanted you to do that. Sorry I freaked you out. No one has ever tried to do something like that to me before," you're grinning, despite the fact that your words could send you to a psychiatric ward.

Leon just stares wide eyed at you, as you sit him down on his ripped couch, putting a plate of food on his lap. First, you're his rape victim, and now you're his housewife? He's not sure if he should be thankful or not. Definitely not.

He pokes at the plate as you set a cup of orange juice near him. "You shouldn't be thanking me," Leon mutters. His voice is cold, shaggy bangs hanging in his eyes. He can't see, but that's the point. He just wishes you'd disappear.

"I know it's messed up, but…" you blabber on about the fantasy, and Leon tunes you out. You're just like him, in a way; you're both stupid, and neither of you know when to shut up. But at least you're not a monster. If anything, you seem like a sweet kid.

Kid.

Fuck.

"How old are you?" Leon asks, completely interrupting you. Slowly, you blink at him a few times. You look like you're going to say something to him about interrupting you, but instead you just answer.

You explain how you're in college, only a semester in. A smile crosses your face again as you chatter on.

Leon groans, covering his face. The plate in his lap tips, but you catch it before the scrambled eggs splatter on the floor. You take it from him gently, setting it on a cluttered table nearby.

"Did I do something wrong?" You ask, kneeling at his side. Your smaller fingers massage the muscles in his knees, and Leon has to try to push your hands away as politely as possible. He's so touch starved he might get hard just from the innocent gesture.

"No. You didn't do anything wrong," Leon sighs. He's the one that's gone and fucked up, yet you can't seem to understand that. The only thing you've done is started to follow him around like a baby duck does to its mother.

You look at him with big, watery eyes and he bites his lip to stop from groaning in annoyance. Before you can say anything, he cuts you off again.

"Don't you have school today?" He asks, trying to get you to take the hint to leave.

"It's Saturday," you reply, squeezing Leon's knee.

"Go buy me a six pack of beer from the gas station, then," he suggests. Please, please leave, Leon pleads in his mind.

"I'm not twenty-one yet," is what you reply. Leon should've known. God abandoned him years ago.

He doesn't want to yell at you, but he does. "Christ, kid!" Leon finally lifts his head up, grabbing his wallet on the crowded table. He shoves a twenty in your hands, the force pushing you back and startling you.

"Go buy some candy or something. Knock yourself out." He stands up, hoping that'll force you to leave. Maybe he'll take an angry shower. Sometimes that helps.

You clasp the dollar bill in your hands, looking like a deer in headlights. "Do you want anything?" You ask cautiously.

Leon turns, giving you a glare. "Go." With that, you scurry out the door to find the nearest gas station.

As soon as you're out of the door, Leon needs a fucking drink. You've definitely got the same type of parasite that he has, but yours is a more obnoxious, loud one, while his is a silent killer.

He's not sure if he'd rather go at the hands of this parasite or his own.

In his room, Leon yanks open one of the drawers in his nightstand. The one that has the "emergency whiskey" as he calls it. Instead, he finds your stupid panties that he shoved in there on a whim.

He reaches forward, hooking a finger in the lacy fabric. Underneath is a flask of whiskey, which Leon downs in a few seconds. As he does, Leon unfolds your panties from the ball he crumpled them into.

They're pretty. He never really looked at them last night. The panties are white lace, with a small bow at the front.

Leon blames the parasite when he lifts them to his nose. He inhales the same sweet musk from the night before. You.

Your pussy is probably your best feature, in look, feel, and now smell.

The drawer snaps closed, the contents disappearing along with the panties he'd thrown back in.

He needs a shower.

The warm water soothes his muscles, but comfort isn't something Leon is used to. Warm reminds him of you. Your cunt, your tits, you sleeping on his chest.

He switches the water to cold.

That's better. The water makes him feel a little more awake, more coherent. Things stopped making sense the moment he slipped those pills in your drink.

As Leon washes himself, he starts to think that the shower is helping with the thoughts of you. Then he gets to his crotch. He's not gross, most of the time, and actually washes his dick.

But the moment he takes it in his hand, he's imagining your smaller hands around it, the teary eyes you were giving him earlier. Which reminds him of the way you sobbed around his cock, and makes everything worse.

Leon can feel himself getting hard in his own hand. He's literally remembering raping you and getting hard?! Well, you did squeeze him tighter than any chokehold he's gotten put in, but that's not the point.

He slams his head against the wall of the shower, causing one of the three shower bottles to clatter to the floor. Your knuckles tap on the door, startling him even more than his own thoughts. You must be back from your trip to the gas station.

"Are you okay, Leon?" You yell over the running water.

The way you say his name reminds him of when you said it before, hands on his chest to try to push him off. He stiffens even more.

"Fine," he yells back. Nothing about this is fine. Why are you still here? And why is he getting hard to the thought of you again? That was supposed to be a one time thing. Or a never thing, really.

Hearing your footsteps recede, he takes his cock in a firm hand, stroking like he's done so many times before. His hand isn't as tight as you. For a moment he wonders how wet he can get you next time.

His fist squeezes hard on his dick, causing Leon to wince. What the hell's gotten into him? Reluctantly, his hand starts moving again, loosening his grip. He cums with a low groan to the thought of your tits.

Panting, Leon watches his cum wash down the drain. He wishes he could wash you away.

Apparently that won't be happening, as when he gets out of the shower and dresses himself, you're in the living room. You're eating gummy bears, sorting them into piles by color. One of the stupid toys out of a kinder egg is on the floor nearby. God, you're really a child. Not really, but you act like one. Can't believe he stuck his dick in you, now he's watching you make Frankenstein gummy bears.

You look up when Leon enters, immediately looking away because he's only wearing sweatpants. He rolls his eyes, but tries to ignore the way your shyness makes his heart thump.

"Why are you still here?" He really needs to work on watching his mouth. And not raping girls he found in bars, but that's a personal issue.

You look a little sad for a moment, but smile as you pick up some coins and a dollar off the table. Leon stares at you with a look of disapproval.

"I gave you a twenty," he scolds, like you're a child. Mentally, you probably are. Physically, you've got some nice tits.

"I know. Inflation is really bad nowadays," you bite the head off a green gummy bear and stick it to the body of a red one.

"What the hell did you even buy?" This is getting ridiculous.

"Uh, a bag of gummy bears, a kinder egg, and a soda. Oh, I also got you this!" You smile, taking a coke and two chocolate bars from behind your back. They're both different kinds because you didn't know what he liked. Leon watches as you set the items on the table.

"I told you not to get me anything," he's standing over you like he's trying to intimidate you, but you don't seem to notice. When he's not angry with you, you think he is. But when he is, you don't care. You're even worse than a child.

"I know," you chirp. "But I didn't want you to be sad while watching me eat."

Leon goes quiet. Really, it's a nice gesture. Even if it's his own money. He sits next to you on the couch, doing his best to put as much space between the two of you. You eat until you feel like you're on the cusp of a stomach ache, and fold up the bag of candy, then put it on the table.

Then you're lying your head on his shoulder, melting into him. Leon wants to push you away, but he's more shocked when you speak. You seem to do that a lot. Surprise him. He never liked surprises.

"Do you know where my underwear went? I accidentally went out without them," you chuckle, like it's funny. It's not. You're stupid, parading your pussy around in a tiny skirt. Don't you know that gets the wrong kind of attention? But Leon isn't the greatest person to give that type of advice, considering he's the one that gave you the wrong kind of attention in the first place.

"I lost 'em," he lies. Leon doesn't even know why he does. Maybe he wants to keep them, or just wants to get a glimpse of your ass when you walk around his house. He used to take an hour to get it up, but now he's popping a boner at the sight of you. Why don't you just kill him already? Y'know, you probably are already. Slowly, and quietly. He won't know he's done for until his eyes fall out of his skull. Maybe you'd finally leave if that happened.

But like that parasite, he can't seem to get rid of you. Like you're a tumor on his frontal lobe, he can't get rid of you without it killing him or changing him permanently. Seems like you've already done the second one, though. He never thought about taking someone unconscious or even without consent before you. You're like the forbidden fruit, but full of maggots and rot.

What the hell are you even doing to him? He's screwed. But probably more screwed up than anything.

But the worst part is: you won't leave.

The sun set a long time ago, leaving you two in the near dark with some cowboy movie playing on the TV. There's a take out box in your lap from a cheap Chinese restaurant that Leon ordered from. He's not really sure why he did it. You were complaining that you were hungry, and he wanted to shut you up like a baby with a pacifier. Did the trick for about fifteen minutes, but now you've got that look on your face that means you're thinking. Leon didn't know you could do that.

"Leon, what are we?" You ask, clicking your chopsticks together after shoving an ungodly amount of noodles into your mouth.

Leon almost powers down at the question.

His silence makes you start to ramble.

"Well, I was just wondering… because I've never really had sex with anyone. We hit it off last night and I-"

Sex. You think that was sex? Good God, he's really messed up. Or just chose the wrong victim. Leon isn't sure if he'd rather you go to the police or do what you're doing now. Honestly, he'd rather you try to lock him up. Maybe that'll control him. He wouldn't get out of his job either way.

"That wasn't sex," he snaps at you.

You wilt like a dying flower. Leon can't look at you when you make a face like that. He feels too guilty.

"I never said you had to have feelings for me. There's like, friends with benefits," you're trying to convince him to put a label to you. Leon wishes he didn't even know your name. That way he wouldn't have any reminder of you. But you're like a tick, digging your fangs into him so you stay stuck to his skin.

Leon remembers some shitty therapy session he had after a mission. They told him to take deep breaths when he's upset. Ground himself. But Leon isn't a man of therapy. He believes he can't really be fixed. So he yells at you. Again.

"Why can't you get it through your thick skull? You're a victim!" He sets his food down. His appetite disappeared a long time ago. Standing up, he tries to get away from you. But there's really nowhere to go. Especially with the way you draw him in like a magnetic force field.

You stir your food a few times, not sure how to feel. On one hand, you're angry that Leon doesn't seem to get your intentions. But mostly, his words hurt.

"I told you: I wanted it. I don't really mind it… whatever you call it," you sigh, setting your food down as well. When you start to clean up after him is what makes Leon's heart ache.

He's so mean to you, but you come back like a dog playing fetch. Each time, you drop the ball by his feet, a smile on your face. You run and go get the ball no matter how loud he yells or how hard he hits you. You remind him a little bit of himself in that sense. He wants you surgically removed.

"We can even do it again if you want. I'll let you," you try to plead with your eyes, doing everything in your power to get Leon to like you. He doesn't really like anything, especially himself.

Your words make him feel sick, leaving the older man to ignore you most of the night. But without a verbal cue to leave, you stay. You're not sure why you do it, but the next thing you know is you're fast asleep on Leon's ratty couch. At least you're smart enough not to sleep in bed with him.

Reluctantly, you sleep on Leon's couch. The springs dig into your back and you can barely get comfortable. Leon didn't give you a blanket either, so you're cold. The only one you found isn't even big enough to cover you.

Leon can't sleep. Your words repeat in his head, over and over. You're like an itch- the more he thinks about you, the more it bothers him. But he can't force himself to stop thinking about you either.

With a groan, he pushes up out of bed. He needs a beer. His emergency whiskey is gone, since he drank it this morning, also because of you.

Past his bedroom is the living room, then the kitchen. You left the light on in the kitchen as a night light, illuminating your form on the couch. You're an obstacle blocking his way from greatness. Technically, a cold beer. Same thing.

He inches forward, and you shift when a floorboard creaks under Leon's weight. Why is he even so scared or cautious? You're just a kid, couldn't do a thing if you woke up. The thought goes directly to his cock, reminding Leon exactly why he's been so guarded around you.

While he's caught in his thoughts, you move onto your stomach, that tiny blanket doing nothing to cover your ass. God, he wishes now that he gave you some clothes, since your puffy lips are poking out from underneath your skirt.

His mission is immediately forgotten.

Leon beelines for you instead, moving faster than he has in ten years. Pushing your legs wider, he kneels between them, hovering over you. Were you always this pretty? Or maybe he just likes you when you're sleeping. Fucking creep.

One hand holding himself up on the arm of the couch, he reaches around you to toy with your nipples. Last time, he was just searching for an object of pleasure, anything would do. But now he's got this little attachment to you.

This relationship, if it can even be called that, is closer to folie a deux than love. The madness of two. You've got this shared sickness between you both and only the other one can quench it.

Which is a very eloquent way to explain that Leon doesn't know why he wants to fuck you. Or why he's gently rubbing his bare knee over your core.

He's rough still, but he pays more attention to you this time. In his mind, you're almost a person. Almost.

Leaning down, Leon pulls his hands away from your tits, prying your thighs open instead. Slowly he licks you open, tasting the sweet slick you produce. It's not like candy, as Leon's a pessimist. He doesn't like to sugar coat things. But he can't stop his tongue from dipping in your slit and down to your clit until you're squirming and whining.

He wants you awake this time.

Maybe you'll fight like last time, maybe you won't. He isn't sure which he likes better. You're sweet, and it almost seems like you'd do anything for him. He wants to earn that privilege. Even if he's nowhere near worthy of your trust.

You moan softly, struggling to break through the barrier of sleep. Leon's tongue moves faster, holding your ass cheeks apart so he can watch the way you clench around nothing. When you cry out is when he knows you're awake. Your hips shift much more, he's not sure if you're fighting or if his tongue just feels good.

"Leon..?" You mumble, looking over your shoulder with glassy eyes. All you can register is the tingly feeling you've got between your legs. Then he stops.

You're flipped over on your back, Leon above you. He didn't know he still had strength like that. Guess being horny gives you superpowers.

This time he actually undresses you. He's treating you better than garbage, but only slightly. Leon's callused hands are still rough as he pulls and pinches your nipples.

Once you're conscious, you seem to be into it. Leon's not used to that. He's used to being pushed away, ridiculed for his taste and constantly manipulated. Maybe that's why he keeps you around: because you treat him nicely. Or just because you don't leave.

But what Leon is good at is self sabotage. He's excellent at it, actually. Once your skirt is off, he pushes two fingers in your hole without bothering to trim his nails earlier. You can feel him scratch your insides as he stretches you out.

He watches you squirm and cry in pleasure and discomfort, ultimately deciding it's not enough for him. Leon pulls himself out of his boxers, spitting on his hand before pumping a few times.

"You said you wanted this, yeah?" He asks, but it's a little late for asking permission. Before you can nod, his bulky hands wrap around your throat. At the same time, Leon pushes his dick inside all the way to the hilt. You feel like you're being torn in half and twisted like a pretzel at the same time.

"Thought you wanted this," he says again, taunting you. He pushes all the way inside just to pull almost all the way out at a slow pace.

You'd scream if his hands weren't blocking your airway.

Leon knows the difference between choking for pleasure and choking to kill. He's knocked his fair share of people out using the same method he's using on you. You can barely focus on the feeling of him moving inside you when you're worried he's going to kill you.

You trust Leon to an extent, but you know he's unpredictable. Which is why you squirm, thrash, and kick as much as you can.

"What, can you not handle it? Can you not handle me?" He lifts you up by the neck just to bring your body back down to the couch as he speaks. Leon feels like he's losing it as his hands clamp down on your fragile windpipe.

If he was choking you for your pleasure, he'd just squeeze the sides of your neck to cut off your blood flow. Make you a little dizzy. But right now, you can't breathe.

After having no oxygen for a few seconds, you start to run on instinct, panic flooding your body. Leon can feel your walls tighten around him as you weakly thrash in his grasp. For a few seconds, he likes it. But your nails are clawing at his arms, eyes wide and mouth open.

You're terrified. Of him.

The same person that refused to leave his apartment all day is looking up at him in pure terror. Leon slows his thrusts when he realizes all the usual pigment in your face is gone. He doesn't choke you for more than a minute, but it feels like eternity.

You gasp, hands flying to your own throat as soon as Leon lets go. Tears flood your eyes in relief. As much as you talk about wanting to be raped, for some reason, Leon's brain is hellbent on making you hate it. Teach you a lesson, maybe.

He means to say he's sorry. He wants to. But the only words that come out of Leon's mouth are: "you're an idiot for staying."

Part of the sentence is an apology in itself, but he's too much of a coward to come to terms with his feelings. In his job, he was always told he was too emotional. But everywhere else, he's too cold.

Leon shallowly thrusts in and out of you, looking at your tits instead of your terror-stricken face. You're still moaning, but the sound is strained and scratchy, not sweet and soft like usual. Turns out toys aren't as fun if you break them.

You don't cum, even if you tighten around him. Your brain is still too fearful to fully relax enough to orgasm. But Leon does. Maybe he gets off to the fear in your eyes. Just a little.

But really, he likes the power he has over you. Nobody else listens to him, but you do. Why do you do that? You're really unlike everyone else. You treat him differently. Which is why he has to treat you differently too.

He has to break you, but not completely. Just enough for you to understand that he's no good. He's a rotten old perverted man that only has a good ten years left. Only if he doesn't get snapped in half on his next mission.

Leon pulls out, groaning quietly as he busts on your stomach. Your skin is painted in white, like he's claiming his territory. You don't speak and he knows that's a bad sign.

He tucks himself back into his boxers, standing up. You expect him to leave and Leon plans to. At first, he did. But you're looking at him with those big, sad eyes of yours. Leon thinks you look like a trembling baby bunny. Seems like his attempts to push you away don't work. You just rely on him more.

"Stay right there," he mumbles before disappearing for a few minutes. Leon comes back with a washcloth and a glass of water. There's also a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel tucked under his arm.

The bruises in the shape of his own hands are starting to form on your neck. Why can't he just leave hickies like a normal person?! This job has fucked him up so bad that all he does is destroy.

Leon sits across from you, a guilty look in his eyes. You can tell he's sorry, but he refuses to say it. He sets the glass of water near you, wiping the cum off your stomach with the wet washcloth. The action is the closest thing to aftercare he's ever done. Mostly because he doesn't get treated very nicely after sex either.

He reaches out for your neck again, causing you to flinch. Leon curses under his breath, wishing he could be better. For himself mostly, but now for you.

"Why do you stick around?" He asks in a strained voice. Leon almost sounds like the one that got choked with how he's struggling not to cry. He picks up the bag of peas and unwraps the towel to show you what's underneath.

"Ice pack," he explains, trying to get you to lie down so he can place it on your neck. You take a few seconds, but eventually you relax enough to lie down. Leon adjusts the ice on your throat, hoping it'll help with the bruising and the pain.

"I'm not a very good person to stick around," Leon says, speaking more than he has before. He's also being more vulnerable than usual.

"It's okay, I'm used to it," you explain, trying to comfort him. But your confession just makes everything ache more. You're worse than any concussion or cut he's ever gotten.

You make him deal with his emotions.

Leon gives you a look that you can't decipher. His expression holds so many things that he wants to say, that he wants to do. But he doesn't let them out. He just needs to drink himself to sleep and bottle up his feelings to make himself feel better.

"Night, kid," he pats your knee before rising with a soft grunt.

Leon disappears for a few seconds before returning with a few things in his arms. He throws them at you, landing on the couch in a heap.

Then he turns and leaves.

You reach out, touching the soft fabric he's given you. When you hold it up, you realize what it is.

Clothes and a blanket.

Maybe he isn't so bad after all.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon smut #leon s kennedy #resident evil #dead dove do not eat #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #x reader #dark content

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st4rb3rries · 1 year

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STAN MARSH and KYLE BROFLOVSKI friendship hc's!! ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

pairings; stan and kyle x fem!reader (all aged up 18+)

summary; goofy friendship head cannons!!

warnings; cussing, underage drinking

a/n; my first time writing so lmk if theres any mistakes

YOUR FRIEND GROUP WITH THEM

you guys try to start a band. stan plays the electric guitar and you play the drums. but kyle.... oh sweet kyle. this orange head plays some type of classical instrument. my boy be playing the cello during a mcr (my chemical romance) song i swear😭😭.

stan: "dude c'mon this ain't the 1700's your piano doesn't belong here."

y/n: "yeah pack it up bethoven"

kyle: "DUDE IM SORWRY YK MY PARENTS MAQDE ME PLAY THIS GAY ASS INSTRUMENT!!!"

you and stan just giggle

there's always sleepovers at your house 24/7. your house is a safe spot for them. like y'all always snuggle and cuddle together in your bed. its so comfy too because you have so many plushies. you guys always watch movies and take naps after for sureee.<33

baking bro. kyle is the best baker out of y'all. one time stan and you tried to bake premade cookies. hell nah the fire department came. kyle was so mad that day becuase it was his oven and his parents were out of town... you and stan had to get summer jobs to pay off his oven. you guys still owe money whoops. you guys really hope kyle forgot about this accident. (he didn't.)

you guys go stargazing!! and it's the best thing to do too. kyle would bring his telescope and. you and stan would bring the snacks, flashlights, and blankets. one time you guys went and there was a mediator shower. all of you guys were in awe as you saw the mediators flash by. lowkey wanna of the best and rememberable moment you guys all have together.

YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH STAN

sometimes when stan is having a bad day with his parents he sneaks into your room and brings some beer to drink with you. kyle doesn't know you guys do this at all. but you guys drink A LOT whenever he comes over. it's literally a problem but #yolo😜. the conversations are worth it though. you guys talk about the meaning of life and. say some random ass shit. for example you both confessed that you had a crush on each other at some point in your guys life. nothing but laughter after that.

one time stan decided he wanted you to bleach his hair. he only wanted to dye it cause he didn't wanna look like his dad. he was having a mental breakdown about it. he never really shows this side to anyone but you, his bestie. he cries into your chest for a long time after venting. once he looks at your shirt (filled with snot and tears) he says "sorry" so much it's literally so cute. once you were done comforting him it was time to bleach his hair:D. (Y'ALL WERE STILL DRUNK) after bleaching his hair it looked good to y'all at that time... when he got sober he literally said, "y/n what the fuck happened to my hair." clearly you remembered what led to his bleached hair but he didn't. stan dyed it back to black himself ha.

he always plays his guitar to you. if he had a crush on you he'd definitely write a love song for you to listen to. definitely hasn't wrote one before. he play's all these catchy riffs for you and loves to see your face in awe. always tries to teach you to play but you get distracted cause he's so close to you😏. you listen to music with him 24/7 and share headphones!! radiohead, deftones, mcr, my bloody valentine are y'alls go to music artists. music is therapy for y'all.

THIRFTING!!! y'all go thrifting everyday bro i swear. he always finds the best stuff too. he finds all the embroidered jeans, vintage tees, and hella cool jewelry. LIKE HELLOO SHARING IS CARINGG!!! nah but you guys do be sharing clothes and accessories. since you guys have the same style. you guys also be pulling up to them yard sales. that's when your luck happens and. that's when stan gets jealous. you guys are depressed but well dressed.

YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH KYLE

you always play with his hair. since its so cute and fluffy. he often gets insecure cause of cartman. but it comforts him when you play and style his hair. when you style his hair i'm talking about pigtails, braids, space buns all that cute stuff. to go with that you add clips, headbands and bows. he looks goofy as hell but anything for his best friend. sometimes when he's so stressed he asks if he can come over to your house. you say yes ofc. he only comes just so he can get his hair played by you. once you guys start chatting away and his hair is getting played with he get's so relaxed. this is what heaven feels like to him!!

starbies and studying at the library. ok out of the 3 of y'all you and kyle are the smartest. when you go to the library you guys always go to your go to spot every time. if someone is setting there. kyle asks them to politely leave. if not his short temper comes out. once the person finally leaves you guys set up everything organized. you guys borrow fancy highlighters for notes and. big wordy text books to read to each other. you guys always go over the answers if you have tests at school. kyle usually is the first to one to passout. so you have to carry him out of the library sometimes. he looks so peaceful why would you wanna wake him up😭. stan secretly gets jealous that you guys study at the library without him. like come on guys he's smart too.

PLAYING DREIDEL WITH HIM!!! he adores when you play dreidel with him! you always loose though🙄. no one can out beat him. when he first asked you to play with him and. you asked him what it was. he was so excited to tell you. you fell asleep because he told you the whole ass history of the dreidel. like you just wanted to learn how to play😭. whenever it's getting close to hannukah you make dreidels out of clay for everyone. you decorate them and stuff. sheila is tearing up cause y'all so cute together making dreidel's. she defenitly takes a photo of you two. after you gave everyone their dreidel. the last person to receive one was cartman.... it didn't go so well.

since you guys are nerds. you guys definitely write emo poems and. it always be late at night too. this is when y'all become so sensitive and emotional. trauma, bullying, blood, sweat, and tears. go into these poems omfg. you guys also write books for ike!! he loves them!! especially the ones from you. you and kyle also write dumb ass books for each other too. they even have lil crayon drawings lmaoo. for example: kyle wrote on called, "jew on the boat". it was one page that said, "jew on the boat". with a silly drawing. HELPPP YOU GUYS LAUGHED AT THIS FOR HOURS AND. IT WASN'T EVEN THAT FUNNY.

#south park x reader #south park hcs #south park x you #south park x y/n #stan marsh x reader #stan marsh x you #stan marsh x y/n #stan marsh #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski x you #kyle broflovski x y/n #kyle broflovski #- kye writes!

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ultravioletwrites · 2 years

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There’s something of a stray problem at Steve and Robin’s first place together. It’s fitting, perhaps, that as soon as they move out of Hawkins, away from the kids for the first time, that the universe decides they need a new Party--albeit a furry, four-legged one.

Steve’s gearing up to go home after work when he gets a call from Robin.

“Hey what’s--”

“Steve!” He pulls the phone away from his ears, because jeez Louise, warn a guy would you? “Are you on your way back?”

“Literally pulling out of the parking lot, as we speak,” he drawls.

There’s some shuffling on the other end of line. “And I’m literally herding cats, like the whole horde, and maintenance just showed up,” she hisses.

Shit. He peels out of the community center lot. “Hold them off as long as you can, I’ll be right there.”

It’d started innocently enough, a mangy orange tabby lingering at the doorstep during their first month in their townhouse. They hadn’t even fed the damn thing--Steve was firm on that, despite the pleading look in Robin’s eye--but he made himself at home on their porch nonetheless. He was relentless little thing, yowling and weaving between the legs of anyone who dared enter the house. Robin christened him O’Malley and Steve begrudgingly accepted the little fur ball as a permanent fixture in their lives.

Naming him was a mistake. It was like Robin had sent out a bat signal (cat signal?) to all the feline vagabonds in the area. There was a rotating line up of about six cats total. They sprawled belly up on the porch, roamed in the backyard, or kept watch from the trees.

Steve pulls into an empty spot along the street and watches, both horrified and transfixed, at the spectacle unfolding on his front lawn.

There’s a van in the driveway--Munson Electric--and all six strays have latched onto the maintenance man. He’s whirling around in circles on the grass, cursing up a storm, to no avail. They’re climbing up his navy coveralls, using his legs as a makeshift cat tree. The twins--two scruffy Siamese kittens, are attempting to burrow in his mass of dark, curly hair. The elastic securing the tech’s hair stands no chance and Steve winces when Thelma, the more mischievous twin, pries it free with her claw. O’Malley’s wrapped around the man’s shoulders like an airport neck pillow.

Robin’s trying to entice the kitties with lunch meat--which hey, Steve needs that for his lunches. She shoots Steve a desperate look as he rushes toward them. “Finally! I don’t know what their fucking problem is!” Robin grabs Louise, the other twin, by the scruff only to be met with a menacing hiss as she clings tighter.

Steve manages to pry Cheese, the smallest of them all, off the guy’s bicep. “Someone’s a real pussy magnet, huh?” he says under his breath.

Steve’s met with a withering glare. “Is now really the time?”

Which, yeah it’s definitely not and the guy’s looking vaguely murderous, but he’s also certifiably gorgeous up close. The pinched look on his face does nothing to distract from warm, brown eyes and pouting lips. Steve schools his expression into something more neutral, or tries to. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Why can’t you and your girlfriend be normal and have, like, a million kids or something?” he huffs.

Robin scoffs. “We’re not--”

“She’s not--”

“Can someone,” he shrieks, as Thelma bats a paw at his ear, “just please get them off me?”

It takes a lot a maneuvering and distracting--Robin snatches some gardening gloves from the garage because, damn, claws--but they finally fend off the cats long enough to usher the maintenance guy inside.

He slumps against the wall, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. “Jesus.”

Steve was already a little rank after work--coaching a youth community basketball team will do that to you--but he's damp with a fresh layer of sweat. “‘M showering real quick, I can, uh, grab you a beer for your troubles?” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” the guy wheezes. “Maybe two, fuck.”

The breathy way he chokes out the last word is taking Steve’s brain to all sorts of inappropriate trains of thought, so he nods and flees to his bathroom.

His hair’s still a little damp when he comes downstairs to the kitchen twenty minutes later and, oh. Robin and the maintenance guy look thick as thieves, chumming it up and laughing at something on her phone. And it’s captivating, the sound of his laugh. The broad grin on his face makes something twinge in Steve’s gut.

They both turn to look at Steve and both pairs of eyes have him fumbling for something, anything to say. “All good?” Better than nothing, Steve supposes.

“Eddie’s got it all fixed,” Robin says with a smarmy smile.

“G-great. That’s great, Eddie!” Steve stammers.

Eddie--knowing his name now makes it exponentially worse, likes the way it rolls of his tongue a little too much--straightens up and pins Steve with narrowed eyes and a charming uptick of his lips. “Got some wires crossed, Stevie.”

A blush creeps up the back of his neck. “What?”

Eddie reaches to readjust the sloppy bun atop his head. Don’t look at his arms, don’t look, okay well now you’re looking. Ogling more like. “You’ve got some wires crossed, behind the breaker panel, Steve. I sorted them out for y’all.”

“Right, yes. Thank you, Eddie.” Time to shoo him out the house before Steve burst into flames.

Robin putzes around the kitchen while Eddie packs his things, no doubt wanting to eavesdrop, and Steve remains frozen.

“Have a good one!” Eddie calls on his way out. He slows down next to Steve, lips alarming close to his ear. “Can’t drink on the job, you’ll just have to buy me one this weekend.”

Steve watches him hightail it to the van, narrowly missing another cat ambush. Robin presses into his side. Steve whips around. “What the hell did you say to him, Buckley?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she quips, before tucking something into Steve’s pocket. “I got you his business card. With his personal phone number.”

#mechanic maintenance trade worker eddie has me in a chokehold #this man WILL work with his hands and it WILL put steve into a coma #steddie #steddie ficlet #stranger things #st #my writing #also gratuitous use of the em dash #ITS MY FAVORITE OKAY

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lemoncrushh · 25 days

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Cubicle // 19) Our Love is Easy

STORY PAGE

Word Count: 2438

Thursday // Harry

Waking next to a beautiful woman is probably one of the best and luckiest things a nineteen-year-old lad like me could ever experience. But waking next to a beautiful woman with whom you're in love... that's indescribable.

The alarm sounded way too early for my liking, and I was ready to throw my phone across the room when I felt the bed shift and heard Roni make a tiny sound of disdain as she rolled over. Wiping my eyes, I rolled over too, my chest pressing against her back as I pulled her to me.

"Good morning," I cooed in her ear.

"Nuh uh," she shook her head, grabbing the sheet. "It's not morning yet."

I chuckled low. "I'm afraid it is, my love."

Roni groaned again before taking my hand that rested on her stomach, bringing it to her mouth and kissing my fingers. She repeated the action a few times, moving further and further down my hand. Finally, she held it with both of her own, gliding her fingers up and down as if to study it in the dark.

"You have great hands," she commented, her voice soft and still laced with sleep. "I really love your hands." Then she kissed the back of it once more before turning over to face me.

The early morning moonlight cast just enough glow on her face that I could make out her features. I lifted my hand that she was still holding to touch her cheek. She released it with a smile that gave me goosebumps. I traced all the curves on her face with the tip of my finger, stopping at the corner of her mouth. Then taking her chin in my hand, I leant in to kiss her.

"I really love you," I murmured against her lips, sure I had atrocious morning breath, but she didn't seem to care so neither did I.

We kissed for a while, so long in fact that the sun had started to rise. I cursed to myself, knowing that if we didn't have to get ready for work, I would have gladly made love to her again.

I told Roni she could shower first while I ran down to the bakery and grabbed us some breakfast. Since I hadn't been prepared for her to stay over, I hadn't bothered to stock up on anything, and I was pretty sure all I had in my fridge was a nearly empty carton of orange juice, a couple bottles of beer and some leftover Chinese.

When I returned from the bakery, I lightly rapped on the bathroom door to let Roni know.

"Be right there," she called back.

I sat at the table with the coffee and doughnuts ready to devour them when Roni opened the door and walked out in nothing but a towel, her damp hair in long locks framing her face. Her skin glowed from the heat of the shower, and I knew before she sat across from me that she smelled amazing.

"Yum, I'm so hungry," she announced, picking up a doughnut. Before she brought it to her mouth, however, she caught me gawking at her, the corners of her mouth curving up at the ends. "What?"

"Pinch me," I said.

She giggled. "What?"

"I've got to be dreaming," I explained. "I can't be this lucky."

Roni's cheeks went pink as she shook her head. "Stop it."

"I'm serious," I remarked as she bit into her doughnut.

"Harry," she said before pausing to swallow, "baby, you don't have to use cheesy lines with me. You've got me."

"I didn't mean for it to be cheesy," I shrugged. "And it wasn't a line."

"Okay," she licked her lips and reached for a napkin.

"You're just so beautiful," I added, still staring at her.

She smiled at me again. "Thank you." Then she raised her eyebrows and gestured to the food in front of me. "Are you gonna eat?"

I let out a breath. "Yeah."

After breakfast, I took my shower whilst Roni got dressed. Or at least, somewhat dressed. When I walked back into the bedroom, still towel drying my hair, I nearly dropped the towel when I saw her. She was stood in front of the long mirror that hung on the back of my closet door, applying her makeup. She was wearing those stockings I'd noticed before with the little bows on the back, her feet in black heels. But that wasn't all. The stockings were clipped at the top to a pink garter belt, and she also wore a matching thong and bra. Her hair was pulled back into a loose bun, though I wasn't certain if that was how she planned to keep it, or if it was strictly for the purpose of putting on her makeup. Regardless, I was a goner.

"Oh my God," I groaned.

Spotting me through the mirror, she glared at me incredulously. "What's wrong?"

"What are you trying to do to me?"

Roni chuckled, grabbing a tube of lipstick and spreading it across her plump lips.

"I'm not trying to do anything to you, silly boy, I'm just making up my face," she said before popping her lips together.

"But what the fuck is this?" I pouted as I stepped up behind her and ran my hands down her hips. "Is this what you wear under your work clothes?"

"Sometimes," she smirked. I could tell she was having fun with this.

"God it's so sexy," I growled, wrapping my arms around her. I nibbled lightly on her neck. "How come I didn't know?"

"I dunno," she whispered, threading her fingers through mine. She allowed me to keep kissing her neck for a bit, even nip at her jaw and shoulder, gingerly pushing down her bra strap past her lily tattoo. But when my hand reached her breast, she stopped me.

"We have to go, baby," she insisted, turning around.

"No we don't," I objected. "Let's just stay here."

She smiled. "No. If we both call in sick it'll be suspicious. Besides, you stayed late to do those reports. Don't you wanna make sure Nina likes them and that you get the credit?"

"Fuck," I cursed under my breath, turning for my bureau to get a clean pair of pants. I watched Roni out of the corner of my eye as she stepped into a black skirt and zipped it up.

"Just so you know, I'm gonna be fantasizing about this all bleeding day," I groaned, slamming the drawer shut.

"Okay, Mr. Biggie," she teased, pulling a pink jumper over her head.

I glared at her as I stepped into my underwear, trying my best to settle my twitching cock.

Roni

"Veronica! Good morning!" I heard to my right.

Oh God, no. Not you, Gerard. Not today. I put on a brave face and looked up at him, his arm slung over the top of my cubicle partition as he leant against it.

"Morning, Gerard," I muttered. "How are you?"

"Splendid. How was your evening with Styles?"

I clicked my tongue, knowing he didn't give two shits how my evening with Harry was, but I quickly decided to play his game.

"Oh, fantastic," I threw my head back with a sigh. "He's so amazing. Such a gentleman."

Gerard glared at me, his jaw set and mouth in a straight line. "How late were you two here?"

I blinked as I tapped my pen on my desk. "Why?"

"Just wondered," he shrugged.

I pursed my lips. "Late enough for him to finish his work."

"And then?"

I rolled my eyes. "I don't think my personal life is any concern of yours, Gerard. Now, did you have a work-related question?"

Looking defeated, Gerard stepping closer into my cubicle. "Yes, actually. I sent you an email with my notes for a report."

"Okay," I nodded. "I'll get started on it today."

"I need it by eleven," he added.

"What?" I stared at him incredulously. "I can't get an entire sales report done in three hours." I looked at the clock on my computer. "Less than three hours. I haven't even opened my emails yet, and Greta has me working on something today. I just got here for fuck's sake."

"Ah, but see, I sent you the email last night," said Gerard, a smug look on his face.

I shifted my eyes. "So?"

"I sent it before I left last night," he continued. "You were still here. With Styles."

"I didn't check my emails last night."

"Perhaps you should have," Gerard countered. "You were staying late anyway, you could have at least been getting some work done instead of snogging your boyfriend."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Are you serious?"

"Miss Graver, you have no idea how serious I am right now."

I chuckled lightly, despite how fast and hot my blood was boiling. "Harry was right. You are a wanker."

Gerard leant forward, placing one hand on my desk, the other on the back of my chair as his gaze pierced through mine. "Don't test me, sweetheart. I gave you plenty of chances, and now I'm at my breaking point."

If I'd been smart, I would have spat in his face. Instead, my voice shook as I tried my best to retaliate. "Chances for what?"

"To get on my good side," he replied low. "But I see now how it's gonna be. Just be careful with your little boy toy. This office may be big, but it's not that big."

Gerard stood up straight then, a grin of satisfaction.

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" I asked.

"Maybe. Just be careful," he repeated before turning for the hall. "Eleven o'clock, Veronica."

As soon as he rounded my cubicle, I threw my pen across my desk. Fuck.

Harry

Much to my relief, Nina was pleased with the reports I'd done. So instead of delving into my next tasks, I spent most of the morning focusing on what Roni was wearing underneath her work clothes. God damn, she was hot. How'd I get so bloody lucky?

Just past ten o'clock, the office in a semi-silent hum except for the sounds of keyboards clicking, I suddenly heard the familiar groan of the scanner coming from the cubicle behind mine. Curious, I walked around.

"Hey," I grinned when I saw her.

"Hi," she replied quickly, her back still to me.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"What does it look like?"

Because I couldn't see her face, I wasn't sure if she was making a joke, but I had to admit her tone stung a bit.

"You need some help?" I offered.

"Nope."

"Roni?"

She turned her head to look at me, her eyebrows raised in question.

"You alright?" I asked meekly.

"Fine," she replied curtly, turning back around to her task at hand.

I cautiously stepped closer to her, placing my hands on her waist. I inhaled her delicious scent as I kissed the back of her head. She quickly wriggled from me, however, causing me to step back and drop my hands.

"What's wrong?"

"You can't do that here," she snapped.

"What? Why not?"

"Because. It's unprofessional," Roni answered. She might as well have turned around and slapped me.

"Since when do you care-"

She twirled around to face me then, her loving expression from that morning completely erased from her beautiful face.

"Harry, we're at work," she contested. "You can't keep pawing at me in public."

As I stood frozen, staring at her in disbelief, her chest puffed up as she took in a deep breath.

"People are watching," she added before turning back to the scanner.

"What?" I asked again as she gathered her papers. "Who's watching?"

She refused to acknowledge my questions, however, and walked past me out of the cubicle.

"Roni!" I called, catching up with her and grabbing her shoulder. "What happened?"

When she stopped and looked up at me, she had tears in her eyes.

"Baby..." I said softly.

"I...I can't talk about this now, Harry," she shook her head. "I have work to do."

"Well, we'll talk about it at lunch then, yeah?"

Roni shook her head. "No. Not today. I...I have too much to do. Something came up that I have to get done now, and I still have the stuff for Greta that I started last night. I'm just...gonna work through lunch."

"Then I'll bring you something. Like you did for me," I smiled. "We'll sit at your desk."

"No," she refused, a cry in her voice. "Please. Don't."

With that, she walked away and down the hall, leaving me standing there dumbfounded. What the hell?

Roni

It was agonizingly difficult to complete my work when all I could picture was the look on Harry's face when I walked away. I just couldn't deal with him right then.

Okay, so yeah. The truth was, I was terrified. I didn't know what kind of pull Gerard Holcomb had in the company, but after knowing what happened with Nina and Storm, I wouldn't put it past him to try to get me fired because I was in a relationship with Harry. I couldn't afford to lose another job. Not because of another man.

Somehow I managed to get the report finished by eleven, printed and bound for Gerard and laying on his desk.

"Good job, Miss Graver," he eyed me as he flipped through the pages. I didn't bother to correct him on my name again.

He stood from his chair, grabbing his briefcase and dropping the report inside. With an easy smile, he patted my shoulder. "Have a good afternoon."

I watched him walk away, feeling sick to my stomach. Then I retreated back to my cubicle to get the rest of my work done for Greta.

Around one o'clock I started to get hungry. Seeing as I still had tons to do, and going out would just take up too much time, I settled on a candy bar and soda from the break room machine. When I returned to my desk, I saw my phone lighting up from a text message. Harry. I realised he'd sent another one an hour ago, but I had missed it.

Did you eat?

I have no idea what's going on. Please talk to me.

I was being unfair to him, I knew. He hadn't done anything wrong, and I couldn't just leave him in the dark.

I'm fine, I texted him back. Just very busy today.

Can you take a break?

Why?

"Because I brought food," he said, standing at the edge of my cubicle.

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

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clarepreed · 1 year

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Mud

Short Story Summary and Content: 5,100 words. Northerner Nikki may not survive her first mudding date with her Southern boyfriend. Suffocation/drowning and on-site resuscitation. Features Zoll AutoPulse.

“So… we’re riding these things down a muddy trail and into a muddy field and spending the day getting covered in mud?” Nikki eyed the four-wheeler askance and tugged on her old, red-and-blue leggings.

“That’s about it.” Caleb grinned at her. “I swear it’s fun.”

“I guess I’m about to see for myself. Are we wearing helmets?”

“Nah, you don’t need one. Everything’s so muddy it’s like falling in melted ice cream. But I won’t tip us over.” He stepped close to her and snaked his arm around her waist, resting his palm against the bare skin between her leggings and sports bra. “Then we can shower off together later.”

“Well, that part I know I’ll like.” She pressed her curves against him and tipped her mouth up to be kissed.

He grinned, gripped her ass with both hands, and kissed her hard.

“Ugh! Get a room!” he heard his older sister, Em, say. “Gross.”

He broke the kiss, but he didn’t release Nikki, pivoting her around with him as he turned to look at Em and the disgusted expression on her face. “Just because you aren’t getting any—”

Em snorted and rolled her eyes. “Like you would know. I’m knee deep in—”

“NOPE!” Caleb released Nikki and clapped his hands to his ears. Em just grinned at him and sashayed over to her own four-wheeler, her thumbs hooked in the belt loops of her cargo shorts.

“You deserved that,” Nikki said when he dropped his hands. She offered him a wicked grin. “Over here playing with fire, of course you’re gonna get burned.”

He rolled his eyes at her, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

A half hour later, their group was headed down the trail. There were five total ATVs carrying eight people, all friends, family, and significant others. There’d been hard rain for two days prior on into the early morning, so the trail was a wide, rutty swath of red clay mud.

“Holy shit!” Nikki exclaimed, her arms tightening around his waist as the four-wheeler bounced and a muddy spray from a nearby vehicle doused them.

“That’s why I gave you those goggles!” Caleb shouted, laughing.

“I’m never getting this out of my hair!” she groaned, reaching up to pat her twists.

Eventually, the trail opened into a large, muddy field that Caleb’s uncle had given over to four-wheelers. During the wet times of the year, the field was nothing more than a vat of thick, orange soup.

He drove over to the edge of the field where the ground was firmer and there were downed trees to sit on, thinking Nikki might want a beer or at least a chance to rinse her mouth out. This was also the end of the field where his uncle’s gravel access drive terminated, giving them quick access to the house, should they need it.

The next hour flew by. Sometimes he rode with Nikki, sometimes he went solo. For being out of her element, he thought she was having a good time.

“I’m gonna take your girl out,” Em said, winking at him. Her short hair was spiked with mud, giving her a rakish look. When he didn’t react, she said: “For a ride…”

“Stop,” Nikki said, laughing as she put on the ATV goggles he’d loaned her.

Em turned and patted the seat behind her, grinning when Nikki climbed on and slipped her arms around her waist. “Wish me luck!”

They took off, pulling in behind Caleb’s friend Mike as he rounded the curve of the field. He chuckled when he heard Nikki squeal, reaching into the cooler to get another beer.

Mike made a point of circling around the women and then cutting across their path, spraying them with a heavy wave of muddy water. Caleb shook his head, a little annoyed. Mike had a tendency to ride too close and go too hard, which is why the friend group often called him “Dumbass” instead of his name.

The far end of the field sloped up toward a ridge of pine trees. Em was more sensible than Mike, and she cut left pretty early before they gained much elevation. Mike, on the other hand, came around them on the right, engine roaring as he overtook them and surged up the hill.

He lost control halfway up, the weight of the ATV tipping back and carrying him and the four-wheeler downhill. He bailed, just before his vehicle crashed into Em’s. The four-wheelers collided and rolled together, dumping the women into the mud.

Caleb sat his beer down, already losing track of who was where. “Hey! Fuckhead! Em? Nikki?”

“I think someone’s hurt,” he heard Robb say from behind him. “No one’s up waving their arms around to say they’re okay.”

“Em! Nikki!” Caleb hopped onto his four-wheeler and rode across the field, his heart pounding. He’d been in a number of rollover accidents over the years and had always been fine. But when he was in elementary school, his neighbor’s dad had died instantly in an ATV accident. He’d been there, too young to exactly understand what was happening, watching people run around trying to revive him. Also, this was his sister and his girlfriend, and he couldn’t help but feel protective.

Caleb jumped off his four-wheeler, his boots squelching in the mud. The ground was especially soft here, water pooling up around his ankles. He heard another ATV roar up behind him.

Mike was bent over next to one of the overturned four-wheelers. “Em! Hey! Em!”

Caleb ran up beside him and saw his sister sprawled on her back in the mud, her eyes closed. Blood trickled from her nose and a gash near her hairline.

“Em!” Caleb shouted, shoving Mike to the side as he dropped to his knees next to her. “What the fuck was that, asshole?!”

Mike sat down hard in the mud. “I didn’t mean to! Fuck, I think one of the tires got her in the face…” Their friends Robb and Dana pulled up beside him, coming from a different angle.

Caleb leaned over her, gingerly touching her muddy skin next to the gash. Em groaned and her hands clenched. “Em?”

She didn’t respond, so he looked up, trying to see where his girlfriend had ended up. “Nikki?”

He almost didn’t spot her due to the mud, but his eyes stopped on something red and blue under one of the ATVs.

He reacted instinctively; he wouldn’t even be able to recall his actions later. Skirting around the ATVs, he slid in next to her, ignoring the sludge that lapped over the top of his boots. Her upper half was completely submerged in the thick, watery mud. He first tried pulling her up at the waist, but the weight of the four-wheeler resting on her lower half pinned her down.

Robb ran over, and they lifted the ATV off her prone body, setting it upright. Mike broke free of his stupor and grabbed Nikki under the arms, hauling her up and out of the divot she was lying in.

“She didn’t jump free?!” Mike exclaimed, mouth agape, still holding her out of the mud. “Why didn’t she jump free?!”

Caleb and Mike turned her over. She flopped boneless onto her back, covered in mud, her goggles lost in the puddle. He cradled her head in one hand and rubbed his other hand down her face, trying to wipe the mud off. Watery muck leaked out of her nose and mouth. In a panic, he pushed his fingers into her mouth, trying to scrape out the mud.

“Nikki! Nikki!” She didn’t respond, her limbs dangling as he shook her. “Fuck! I think she breathed it in!”

Caleb leaned his ear close to Nikki’s face. She was motionless, reclined back in Mike’s lap. He’d never seen someone so still outside of a casket. Her chest wasn’t rising, and he couldn’t feel any movement. “She’s not breathing!”

He pinched her nose shut, not bothering to drag her out of Mike’s lap, and sucked in a deep breath. He covered her mouth with his, felt the grit of the mud on her skin. The chill of her lips. Then he breathed into her. Or tried to. His cheeks puffed out, her cheeks puffed out, but then the air stopped, finally forcing its way out of the side of his mouth with a sputtering sound. He took a breath and tried again, with the same result.

“I can’t get any air in her!” He shouted, looking up at Mike.

“Dana’s calling 9-1-1,” he heard Robb say.

“Is your uncle home?” Mike asked. His own wild eyes reflected Caleb’s fears. “Can he help?”

“Get her on a four-wheeler with you!” Robb shouted. “Get her over to dry land! I’ve got Em!”

Mike and Caleb scrambled to their feet, awkwardly hauling Nikki’s limp body between them. Caleb climbed onto his ATV and dragged her out of Mike’s arms, setting her sideways on the seat in front of him and wrapping his arm around her middle to keep her from falling off. Holding her was like holding some kind of rag doll; there was no muscle tension in her body whatsoever.

His ATV roared and jumped forward, and Nikki’s head lolled back on her neck.

Their friends Leigh and Nina waited on the other side, and they helped him get Nikki off the ATV and over the ring of tree trunks. Then they laid her out on one of the drier sections of grass.

Caleb leaned over Nikki again, forcing his fingers between her teeth to scoop out more muck. Leigh dropped down across from him. “Is she breathing?”

“No, and I can’t get any air into her!”

“I think we need to do chest compressions!” Leigh said, briefly resting her hand on Nikki’s motionless chest. “I know CPR from school!”

Caleb leaned over Nikki and tried to breathe for her again. When the air escaped uselessly out the side of his mouth, Leigh rose up onto her knees. She clasped her hands together and pressed her palm between Nikki’s breasts. It took her several hard compressions to figure out depth and rhythm, and then she started counting, her thrusts making Nikki’s body quake and twitch.

“One and two and three and…”

Caleb turned Nikki’s head to the side, hoping more mud would trickle out. Nina joined him, a bottle of water in hand.

“I’m going to wash off her face,” Nina said, meeting his eyes. “Is that okay?”

Caleb nodded and watched as she used a bottle of water and a cleanish t-shirt to wipe the mud off Nikki’s face.

“…twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine…”

“Mike’s gone to find your uncle!” he heard Robb call out. “And Dana took my four-wheeler to try to find cell service, we couldn’t stay connected long enough to talk to 9-1-1!”

“…thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two…” A faint sound came from Nikki’s mouth with each compression. It was disturbingly like the sound you’d expect to hear if someone were violently squeezing a bag full of liquid.

Now that Nina had washed Nikki’s face, he could see that her beautiful umber skin had gone gray, her full lips purpling. He grasped her jaw, holding her mouth open so he could sweep his finger inside. More muck came out, along with another gush of orange water.

“How’s Em?” he called, his voice cracking.

“She’s okay!” Robb called. “She’s conscious. Keeps trying to get up, but she’s making sense now, so I think she’s alright. No, dammit, stay down, they’re taking care of her!”

“…eighty-six, eighty-seven, eighty-eight! When I get to one hundred… after you try to give her breaths… I need to switch!” Leigh was breathing hard, and if Caleb weren’t so terrified, he would be impressed by her strength. She hadn’t faltered once as she forcefully compressed his girlfriend’s sternum. “Ninety-nine, one hundred!”

Caleb scraped more muck out of Nikki’s mouth and then turned her face to the sky, tipping her chin back and pinching her nose shut. Her cold mouth was still as much of a shock as it had been the last time. He blew hard, but again the seal broke from the pressure. “Fuck!”

“Nina, sit with Em,” he heard Robb say. “I’ll take over compressions.”

Caleb opened her mouth. The inside of her mouth was mostly clear, but he of course couldn’t see into her airway. He tilted her head back further and covered her mouth with his again, blowing hard.

Then Robb was on his knees beside her, his hands coming down hard between her breasts. Caleb turned Nikki’s head back to the side, his fingers lingering on her cheek. Her head was moving with each compression, but her face was still. She looked bad; he’d never seen someone that ashen color, not ever.

The squelching sound coming from her throat resumed. He watched Robb moving over her forcefully, the compressions from his burly arms making her stomach bulge out even further. Looking at her bloated abdomen, he thought she must have swallowed some water. The thrusts caved in her ribcage, jerking her shoulders and making her arms twitch. There was even movement down her legs and into her feet.

“…forty-three, forty-four, forty-five… I’m counting to one hundred, right?” Robb asked.

“I think…” Leigh sounded uncertain, and she was still breathing hard. “I think so, yes. Until we can get air into her. Anyone disagree?”

No one said anything except Robb, who was still counting.

When Caleb looked back at Nikki’s face, he could see foam, mud, and water oozing out of her nose and mouth again. “I think this is helping… the mud is coming out! Come on, baby, I need you to start breathing!”

“I can keep going,” Robb said. “After the next breaths. Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred!”

Caleb quickly cleared her mouth and then leaned in to try another rescue breath. This time, though there seemed to be a lot of resistance, he saw her chest rise. He forced another breath in and got her chest to rise a little further.

“One, two, three…”

“I got some air into her!” Caleb exclaimed. “This is helping!”

“Should we switch to thirty compressions and two breaths?” Leigh asked, her voice anxious and loud. “I think we should.”

“…eighteen, nineteen, twenty…”

The wet bag sound was transitioning to a gurgle, followed by small surges of muddy water and orange-tinged foam leaking from Nikki’s nose and mouth.

A hand suddenly touched his back, and Em dropped down on her knees by Nikki’s head. She looked terrible, her face ghost pale and a dirty shirt pressed to her head wound. “Oh God… Caleb…”

“Thirty!”

Caleb turned Nikki’s face to the sky again and forced another breath into her lungs. Her chest rose, then fell. He gave her another breath.

“One, two, three…”

Caleb spared another look at Em. She was crying, her eyes locked on the violence Robb was doing to Nikki’s chest. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

“It’s not your fault,” Caleb choked out.

Abruptly, Nikki’s body heaved, and a great deal of muck shot up into her mouth.

“I need to turn her on her side for a second!” Caleb exclaimed. Robb stopped compressions and Leigh helped them roll her over so the muck would slide out to the ground and not back into her throat. Nikki made a gagging and choking sound, and then there was another flood of orange water and mud from her mouth. Robb pressed his fingers into her neck as Caleb cleared her mouth.

“She doesn’t have a pulse!” Robb shouted after several long seconds, and they put her on her back again. “Caleb, take over!”

He didn’t hesitate, thinking about what mud might still be in her lungs, and how her heart wasn’t beating. He tried to mimic what he’d seen from the others, his clasped hands thrusting into her chest with a force he never would have previously imagined using on her.

As he worked, wisps of thought kept curling through his mind, threatening to distract him.

How relaxed he’d felt when he’d picked her up that morning, Nikki coming to the door and insisting he approve her outfit before they left. Peeling the clothing off her when they decided they had time to spare. Further back, the look on her face when he’d explained what “mudding” was, and his own surprised laughter when she’d agreed to come along. The day they’d decided to make it serious. The first time they had sex. The day he met her, just a Tinder date that became so much more.

“Hey, Caleb, that’s thirty!” Robb had his hand on his shoulder. Caleb rocked back, lifting his hands. Em had moved, and Leigh leaned over to give Nikki rescue breaths.

“Count out loud,” Robb said. “It helped me concentrate.”

Caleb forced her sternum down. “One, two, three…”

They heard the roar of an ATV coming up the gravel access path behind them.

“… eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…”

“Caleb!” His uncle hit the ground running. “The ambulance is on its way; your aunt and your friend are in place to lead it up here. What the hell happened? Em! You’re bleeding!”

Leigh leaned over and forced a breath into Nikki, her chest rising higher than it had so far.

“I’m okay,” he heard Em say. “But… we rolled and the four-wheeler…”

Another breath.

Em couldn’t speak. Caleb started chest compressions again.

“One, two, three…” Come on, baby! Wake up, wake up…

“We found her face down in the mud with the ATV on her, sir,” Robb said. “We pulled her out and brought her over here. She inhaled a lot of water and mud. She’s not bleeding, we don’t think, but we don’t know how else she might be hurt.”

“…twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

Caleb finally looked up at his uncle. The man’s face was pale, his eyes wide. His uncle David was typically stoic. He’d never seen him look so rattled.

“Rescue station ain’t far,” David muttered. “We should start hearing sirens soon.”

Then it was time for Caleb to perform compressions. He could see her stomach bulge slightly with each thrust into her chest, felt the cartilage in her ribcage give. “…ten, eleven—Are we breaking her ribs? Fifteen, sixteen…”

“I don’t know,” Robb said. His face was blotchy; pale with red splashed across his cheeks. “I think… I don’t know.”

“You’re doing the right thing, son.” he heard his uncle say. “Do you know how long it’s been? The paramedics will want to know.”

“…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Caleb hovered over her, shaking his head as he watched her chest rise with Leigh’s exhalation. “I don’t know how long… Too long!”

“At least eleven minutes,” Nina said, her voice almost too quiet to hear. “That’s when I saw you pull her out.”

Caleb felt his eyes sting as he started compressions again. “One, two, three…”

“I hear the ambulance!” Nina said, her voice much louder.

“…seven, eight, nine…”

“We should switch,” Robb said. “We don’t know how long it will take them to get up here.”

“…twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, okay—”

“I’m going to stand at the top of the drive,” Mike said.

“…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

Caleb leaned back, gasping and shaking out his burning arms, his eyes flying to Nikki’s face as Leigh breathed for her. She was still gray, with bits of dried mud along her jawline. His eyes traced down along her long neck and down to her chest. The sports bra was cut low enough that he could see the top of a bruise, looking like a malevolent shadow cast on her skin.

Robb started compressions, his big hands obscuring the bruise, fingers pressing against her left breast through the sports bra. “…three and four and five…”

The siren was getting louder, and Caleb could hear the tires crunching on the gravel. He reached out, took Nikki’s hand. Squeezed it, then brought it to his lips. He thought it was a good chance he was saying goodbye, and either way they would be loading her up in the ambulance soon and he didn’t know when he would see her again.

Then he gently sat her hand down in the damp grass.

“One and two and three and four…”

The ambulance was close enough now that the sirens and the sound of the tires on the gravel drowned out the squelching sound coming from her swollen stomach and her wet lungs. Caleb’s uncle showed the paramedic driver where to stop so that it wouldn’t get bogged down.

Caleb was about to be in the way. He scrambled to his feet and almost fell back down, the scenery around him tilting madly. He stumbled backward and then dropped to a crouch as the paramedics unloaded and hurried over to Nikki’s side.

“We have another unit on the way, but they’re twenty minutes out. Where’s the second victim?”

“It’s me,” Em said, sounding miserable. “But I’m okay.”

Robb and Leigh were asked to move back, and he watched the medics quickly assess Nikki’s condition. The female paramedic restarted chest compressions.

“How long have you been performing CPR?” the male paramedic asked. He’d grabbed a duffel bag from their collection and produced a mask with a balloon coming off the top of it. He pressed the mask to Nikki’s face, squeezing the bulb twice before moving on to another task.

“We pulled her out of the mud about thirteen, fourteen minutes ago,” Robb said. “We saw the accident. The ATV rolled over her and she ended up unconscious with her face in the mud and the ATV on her legs.”

“...ten, eleven twelve… AutoPulse?” the female medic asked her partner.

Everything was going so fast, and Caleb didn’t know what a lot of what they were saying meant. He jumped in when he could with things like her name and age, and no they didn’t think she was injured but they really weren’t sure. The male paramedic gave her two breaths from the bag and then checked her abdomen and chest for obvious injury. He went on to use a pair of shears to snip the fabric of her bra down one side and across the straps. The female medic lifted her hands for a second, and he pulled the fabric to the side, revealing her breasts. Compressions started again, her breasts undulating.

The two worked together, the female medic giving Nikki forceful chest compressions, lifting her hands again so the male medic could apply a large white defibrillator pad over Nikki’s sternum. Then she went straight back into compressions, Nikki’s head bobbing with the force. The other pad was applied just below and to the side of her left breast. A few seconds later, a high-pitched whine filled the air.

Caleb watched the male paramedic grab a large, flat blue bag and set it on the grass above Nikki’s head. He opened it up, revealing large white pads attached to straps and a short blue backboard. The female paramedic was still pounding mercilessly on Nikki’s chest, her ribcage flattening and rebounding. Caleb was too far away now to hear the sound the forceful compressions made.

The male medic walked around to Nikki’s feet, stepped one foot between her legs, and grasped her wrists. The female paramedic stopped compressions and he pulled Nikki up into a seated position, her head lolling back. Something about the way Nikki’s body flopped made Caleb want to cry, and he pressed his hand to his mouth.

The male medic held her there for a few seconds as the female medic dragged the blue board underneath her. They laid Nikki back, her breasts swaying, and the male medic rapidly fastened the white pads over her chest before pressing a button.

The straps moved automatically, pulling the large white pads down to her chest. Shortly after, the machine started pumping, pulling the pads down across her chest over and over again. The machine was surprisingly quiet against the noise of everything else.

Nikki’s stomach rippled and her arms twitched. The male medic folded something white down by her head to hold it in place, and then clipped a harness over her shoulders.

“I’ll get her going on an IV and epi, you intubate and suction."

The machine clicked away, stopping briefly for the male medic to provide breaths from the bag.

“I didn’t know that a… a CPR machine was a thing,” he heard Leigh murmur.

The male medic tipped back Nikki’s head and angled a device into her throat before he said: “Pause compressions.”

The female medic reached over and pressed a button. The machine beeped, and the compressions stopped. The high-pitched whine from the monitor continued. The male medic made quick work of the intubation, and shortly after he reached around and pressed something on the screen of the compression device.

Compressions started again.

This time, they continued even when the male medic squeezed the bag, which he’d removed from the mask and attached to the end of the tube.

“Caleb.”

He looked up. David kneeled next to him, putting his hand on his back.

“I called your folks.”

He had a hard time paying attention to what his uncle was saying. There was a noisy motor sound, and some commentary about what she’d aspirated. He kept looking back at Nikki. He felt hollow and distant.

“They said they have a number for her parents. They’re going to call her folks and send them on to Grace General. If anything changes, we can let them know.”

“Nothing shockable,” the female medic said, pressing a button on the machine. The pads pulled themselves down hard into Nikki’s chest. “…epi.”

“…time?”

“Caleb?” His ears were ringing.

“Coming up—twenty—”

“Caleb!”

His hearing was fading in and out.

“Give—no ROSC—load and—”

“Caleb!”

Caleb blinked in surprise at his uncle’s worried face. He was laying on back in the wet grass, David looming over him.

Leigh’s worried face joined David’s. “One of the paramedics just asked about Caleb.”

“Okay,” Caleb muttered, though he felt disoriented. “Nikki…”

“He’s conscious and talking,” David said, pitching his voice loud enough for the medics to overhear. “I reckon he fainted.”

“She’s dead,” Caleb whispered.

David’s face changed, unexpected tears glistening in his eyes. Caleb didn’t think he’d seen him cry other than at the funerals of his grandparents. “They’re still working on her, son.”

Caleb didn’t respond. He let his head fall to the side so he could see Nikki. He really couldn’t see much. A bit of her profile, with the tube protruding between her teeth. The machine pumping her chest. Her muddy sneakers, swaying.

He looked back up at his uncle and felt a tear roll down his cheek.

David held out a hand. “You up for sitting up yet?”

“V-fib,” he heard the female medic say. “Let’s shock her.”

David pulled him upright and kept an arm tight around his shoulders. “You don’t have to watch that, Caleb. It might be upsetting. See, your friends are all looking away.”

He watched anyway, as her chest jumped and her limbs twitched. There was a silent few seconds before the whine started up again.

“Damn. Asystole. Resuming AutoPulse. I’m going to push another epi. Give us back something we can work with, Nikki.”

“After that you want to package her up and do another rhythm check in the bus? Before we head on to the hospital?”

“Let’s do it.”

Caleb thought this was probably a bad sign, but he wasn’t sure. David must have felt similarly, because he said: “They haven’t called the time. They haven’t called her.”

The male paramedic stayed with Nikki while the female quickly packaged things up and hauled most of it to the ambulance. When she came back, she spoke briefly to Robb.

The female medic crouched at Nikki’s feet and leaned forward, tugging on the blue fabric at the bottom of the CPR device. It unfurled into a lightweight stretcher. Then she picked up the monitor, slinging the strap over her shoulder, and lifted the IV bag. Caleb was surprised to see Robb helping them with the blue stretcher. His friend’s face had gone white.

When they stood, Nikki’s legs hung limp over the end of the stretcher. The machine kept performing compressions, unfazed by the movement.

The female medic looked over toward David and Caleb. “When we start moving, we’re going to take her to Grace General. They can do more for her there and they’re expecting her.”

They walked her to the gurney, and then loaded the gurney into the ambulance. Both medics climbed in and closed the doors behind them.

Everyone was silent for what felt like a very long time. Caleb let his breath out in a rush and pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. He felt like he was supposed to be doing something, when there was no longer anything for him to do.

David was speaking to him, he realized, and he looked up, though his eyes immediately drifted to the ambulance.

“We’ll ride down after the ambulance and your aunt is going to pick us up at the bottom of the drive,” David said. “She’s already ready to go. Why don’t we go ahead and get ourselves ready to do that?”

Caleb nodded.

“Does she have a bag that you need to grab? She might have insurance cards that she’ll need.”

“Everything’s in my pack,” he muttered, and suddenly his was in front of his face.

Mike, his face anguished, clutched the pack. “Caleb,” he began.

“Not right now.” David took the pack from Mike. “He can’t hear you right now.”

“But I—”

“Go the fuck home,” Caleb heard himself say, his tone ice.

“Don’t push it,” Robb interjected. “Come on.”

“We’re going to go,” Leigh said. “We’ll get him out of here, Caleb. Robb and Dana are going to get Em down to the house. You’ll let us know? Let us know what…?”

“He will when he can,” David said. “Come on, Caleb.”

Caleb let his uncle help him to his feet and steer him over to a waiting four-wheeler.

The back doors of the ambulance suddenly opened, and the female medic jumped out, slamming the doors behind her. She stopped long enough to call out: “We just got her pulse back. We’re transporting her now.”

Caleb climbed into the ATV behind his uncle, stunned into silence as the ambulance started, turned on lights and sirens, and headed down the gravel drive.

“Does that mean she’s going to make it?”

“It might, son. If you pray, do it now.”

#cpr resus #female resus #medical drama #resus writing

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polyklok · 2 years

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This one was so much more detailed and I don’t know why-

Pickles “The” Drummer, physique/appearance

Nathan

Skwisgarr

Toki

Murderface

He got his name legally changed to the dumbest thing possible-

His age was actually a debate in the fandom during the early days, but that dwindled down greatly once a video of him was taken, drunk as all hell, yelling “I’M TWENTY-FUCKING-NINE YEARS OF OLD AND GODDAMN PROUD OF IT!” to a bartender asking for age identification. He’s 31 now. (By now, I mean like…10ish years ago, when the show was out)

5’4, short guy. Especially when compared to his band members. During shows, he started to wear heeled boots that make him 5’8. Still wears normal shoes most days, though. And still gets shit from the other guys for it.

Only 120 lbs. He’s generally pretty scrawny, although his biceps are nicely toned from years of going ham on the drums. Also has a bit of a beer gut, just a little squishy.

FtM, has been on T for a while and has gotten top surgery done. More headcanons regarding his gender journey later!

Let’s talk about his hair for a while-

No one in his family knows why his hair is…that color. Like, they have the ginger gene on his mom’s side. His mom and brother both have nice, brownish-red hair. But he came out with a head full of neON ORANGE HAIR.

It’s very thick and frizzy. When it is in it’s natural state, its a pretty much a lion’s mane. Many people thought he looked like that on purpose during his Snakes ‘N Barrels days to fit in with the ‘glam rock’ fashion. But actually, he started playing glam rock because his hair looks like that.

As for facial hair, he’s very proud of it. It took a long time to grow out properly, so he takes really good care when maintaining it. (Ignore the fact that it’s a different color in the pic. That was my mistake.)

Cannot say the same for his skin. It’s very dry and sort of…leathery? He spends lots of time outside with absolutely no sunscreen, so my man has been BAKED (in more than one way ;))

Also from this, he’s very tan and freckled. It’s cute.

He has a tiny little button nose. Sometimes, he even twitches it like a rabbit. Literally so precious.

His lips are dry and cracked from years and years of smoking various substances. He prays to gods of burt’s bees chapstick.

Also, canon to the show, but he has a very goofy, crooked smile!

Doesn’t take that good of care for his dreadlocks. He spent so much of his life fussing over his hair, he’s honestly sick of it. He only goes to get them redone when they start to seriously stink.

To contrast Skwisgaar; I will say, he has the fattest ass in the band. Murderface is a close second. That is all.

He loves his piercings. Got his ears done when he was a teenager to piss off his parents, did his eyebrows later on. It’s seriously his favorite thing about himself, physically speaking.

He has all sorts of clothes, many of which he altered himself. From his muscle-tees, baggy jeans, leather pants, crop-tops, even a few skirts. He sticks to the same basic getup, but will shock both bandmates and fans occasionally by bringing out some seriously fabulous outfits.

In universe, there are several online accounts completely dedicated to him wearing feminine clothing. He single-handily brought back cheetah-print leggings.

He’s very talented at eye makeup. Doesn’t do it so much nowadays, but still enjoys a little bit of glittery eyeshadow. As a treat.

Call me weird, but I think I’m gonna include a…smell headcanon in all of these. Whatever.

Usually, he’ll smell like alcohol and weed. Sometimes vomit or piss as well. It’s the truth, hun.

But let’s not fool ourselves; he has a collection of very old, very fruity perfumes that he sprays on himself occasionally when he doesn’t feel like showering. Which is often. So he smells like whiskey, piss, and “cherry kiss dream”

Conclusion; he’s one of the few people on Earth who could acceptably wear low-rise jeans. He deserves it.

#metalocalypse #pickles the drummer #dethklok #metalocaypse headcanon #polyklok is real #dethklok headcanon #metalocalypse pickles

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coreytravelogue · 6 months

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Victoria, BC - Apr 1, 2024

4 days have come and 4 days have gone and now I am on my way back to Vancouver hoping that the past few days of escape and battery charging will be enough for me to get through this next little while which will only be more stress inducing for me for sure.

I arrived at Ocean Island Inn at around 9pm as I expected but I hadn’t ate in 9 hours so I went to a place I hadn’t been to since the first time I visited Victoria, Brickyard Pizza. It was expensive but you have to expect that with things. I ate some food, had my free beer at the Inn and slept in the same bed I tend to always have when I am there.

I should try to have a meal before sleep more often because Thursday night along with Saturday gave me some of the best sleep I have had this year and for the last long while.

Friday morning I started it how I always start my mornings; breakfast at John’s Place. I normally stick to French Toast or Eggs Benny and I still did this long weekend but added some variant. John’s Place tends to push gently push the specials on me because they know I how typical I am so this time I tried to accommodate but they made it real easy for me given that their specials were variants of French Toast and Eggs Benny. Friday morning I had a cranberry orange toast version. Very sweet but of course very good and the coffee I just adore.

Followed my big breakfast with walking around the downtown area checking out the movie shop, records shops and second hand shops. During my walk I started to notice something different about my favourite city that was different from how it was in November. The amount of cop cars patrolling the city seemed weird but as the day and weekend progressed I started to understand more and more. The homeless and poor element had also gotten worse in the last few months. There was always an element of this but not like this, it felt like almost anywhere you would turn poor people were there asking for change or a lighter sleeping in tents or cardboard boxes.

I was hoping to spend the day with my friend and her family but her boy was very sick so it wasn’t to be. So instead I spent the evening like I tend to do when all is done, go to The Drake and enjoy the awesome food and a certainly did. The night was then capped off by watching the new Ghostbuster movie which was greatly disappointing.

Sleep Friday and Saturday night was less pleasant, my nose problems have been flaring up a lot lately and those nights especially as I spent much of the night tossing and turning trying to get the septum in my nose level so I could breathe equally clear from both sides of my nose. After my regular eggs Benny I set out to do some light shopping but also go to see another movie but at a theatre I had not been to before, Capital 6.

The moment I set foot in that theatre I instantly fell in love with it. The biggest reason I never went in was that I always vaguely assumed that it was a Landmark Theatre because it seemed too big to be a local but I was wrong, it was all local. I watched Love Lies Bleeding and thoroughly enjoyed it. The most heart breaking part of it all is I found out later that day that this wonderful local theatre I just fell in love with was going to be closing down in the new year to make way for another condo that no one will be able to afford. It angered me, reminding me of The Fort Theatre back in my home town and was torn down simply to be a fucking dirt parking lot.

None the less I capped my night at the Drake, got lots of writing done and tried to sleep.

Sunday wound up being a bit of a day. I woke up, showered and nothing seemed out of place. Till I started going downstairs to the lobby. I noticed police tape was being wrapped around the hostel. As I got to the stairs to the lobby a policeman was there to inform me that the lobby was blocked off and I had to use the back door.once I got to the back door I realized something was definitely wrong I just didn’t know what. I wish I brought my friend’s pie with me because the police woman told me they are shutting down the hostel for the next 8 hours or so.

So for the next 8 hours I wandered around downtown Victoria after having a Turkey eggs Benny and eventually went to the craft beer market to have some hefes and focus on my writing. Much of that morning I was in a deep loneliness driven depression and no way to really let go of it when Heaven’s Galaxy by Kid Cudi suddenly sparked an idea of a novel for me. I desperately went to the craft beer market and spent the next 4 hours writing 10 pages and 2 chapters of this sci fi sort inspired by Kid and using my loneliness.

While I did not accomplish finishing a script or anything significant I did do some serious writing this weekend, more than I have in many years.

After 4 I was able to grab my friend’s pie and family’s presents and deliver it to her. Me and my friend spent a couple minutes chatting outside her apartment but I could not come in. Her son had a viral infection and she did not want to get me infected. After the exchange like with every other night I went to the Drake for a bite and a drink then back to the hostel which felt eerily quiet and subdued. Whatever that may have happened must have been really bad. In between sleeping I could hear cops exchanging words and patrolling around. It felt weird to be there, almost like I shouldn’t have been but I had nowhere else to go. Too many people have that problem than me and more severe so I have no right to complain but it was just an odd night.

And so here we are Monday morning, I had my traditional French Toast, checked out of the hotel and I am on the bus heading to the terminal. I want to try and get back home early in case I need to do any food prep but also give myself plenty of time to go to bed early.

Cannot stress enough how much I am not looking forward to the next couple of days and weeks. It’s all work related and will keep to myself but the only reassurance I can get from this month as all the shit should end by the end of it and a cousin is visiting. If my work drama does not end by the end of this month I don’t know if I can stay there much longer with the amount of disrespect I feel I have been shown through the the past 10 months and counting.

This trip was worth it in the end, I needed a few days of just rest, food and no pressure of anything. Outside of the hostel incident it was a calm and soothing trip. I wish it could have been spent being around those I cared about more but it can’t be helped.

I will be back in Victoria next month but only for a very short trip to see a concert. I may come back in July as well but I can’t say for certain. I can’t make any plans unless I know where I sit in my work situation.

Pretty sure I set myself back budget wise this long weekend but all things considered I did ok. I treated myself to good food, relaxation and peace which is what I needed and could do with more of but this is going to have to keep for me for the next while. I really do hope I can cap my 30s with a big trip but there is still way too much uncertainty in my life right now but looking at the sad state of Victoria it is a sorry un certain and rocky environment in Canada in general. Can’t say I am confident things will get better before it gets much more. All we can do is move forward.

Shazbot nanu nanu

#Spotify

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unknownjpegs · 8 months

Text

bracelet

Xavier’s got the nicer place. Screen-windowed front patio. Fancy shit, even if there's a few tears in certain corners. Maran's never had a nice setup like that to watch the sunrise, so it's usually Maran usually spends his Saturday mornings. There’s an old CRT television in the corner that Lark found at the thrift store. It sits on a fold-out table that tilts slightly, retired from a long career of shouldering chaotic beer pong. He isn’t sure how the television stays working with the humidity how it is in the summer. Yet even with the flicker of pixels down its picture’s center, the image is good enough for cartoons. Nostalgic.

Maran lounges back on the cushioned wicker loveseat to take a picture of the open screen, the post-rain blue sky, and the flicker of static across Teen Titans. He opens his message thread with Nomi, grins at the last meme she’s sent, and offers the little peek into his morning. He knows she likes that sort of thing, the aesthetic of it or whatever.

how did you know i want to do raven for halloween!! o:

Maran stares at the reply, blinks twice, and then sets his phone aside. For sanity’s sake.

He’s about three episodes in when the door to the patio opens. From within the flat float the noises of Benji making breakfast; coffee pot, the blender, buttery something sizzling on the stovetop.

It’s not Benji’s who peeks his head in, but Benny.

Maran smiles upside-down at him, feeling strangely tense and awkward all of a sudden. He’s been paying full attention to the show, but only half attention to the woven bracelets he’s been working on. He learned to make them as a kid; now, he can expertly work through an intricate loop stitch and memorize patterns with his eyes closed. Muscle memory, and all that.

Except when he tips his head back to greet the man, his fingers fumble. He feels the strings, which he’d carefully color separated, lose shape and tangle together.

“What’re you doing?”

Maran holds up the tangle of strings. “Bracelet.”

Benny dances down the steps, drops to sit next to him with legs kicked out onto the coffee table — also thrifted.

“You s-s-shouldn’t have.” Benny coos, putting both hands to his chest. Maran barely glances then back up immediately, which isn’t much better. His dishwater blond eyebrows tuck in, annoyed. Maran’s never understood that. He gets it, sure,. But he figures Benny might feel a bit better directing that annoyance at the people acting like dickheads about how he talks, rather than at himself

He clutches the bracelet to his own, eyes slitting teasingly. “It’s not for you.”

“Yeah?” He tsks, adds a mean little eye roll that makes Maran’s stomach flip. “T-Traitor. Who, then?”

He opens his mouth to answer. Navy blue string between thumb and forefinger. Maran realizes: no, actually. He can’t think about Nomi while looking at Benny, for some strange reason.

The last time he’d been in the same room with both of them, it was the first Benny invited him over for a movie. He hadn’t expected to find Nomi there as well, on her way out (always busy with herself busy, in the lazily introverted way he admired) but fresh from the shower. The smell of her had been dizzying — familiar, too. Benny’s spicy-clean body wash. Up until that exact moment of oh, shit realization, he couldn’t remember a time feeling his face go as warm as it had then.

“What colors you want?” Maran leans forward to turn the show down, but Benny swipes the remote from him and doubles the volume.

“You mind? I’m invested.”

“Pft. You never seen this a day in your life.” Maran snorts. He lifts the organized little box of thread for Benny to point out his selections; the ugly dirt-orange he never uses, an electric green, and clashing white-mottled teal.

“I swear to fucking God, Maran, if you say —“

“Did they even do cartoons in color when you were growin’ up?”

He hadn’t even noticed Ben slip a hand over his knee until it rests just at his thigh — until he pinches. Maran yelps and jerks away, flushing hot at the mean laugh his reaction earns.

Maran loves that laugh. He loves hearing it — earning it, rather. It’s not the laugh Ben usually offers. Has to be a nasty fucking joke, a comment that shocks that noise out of him.

It never gets old.

He watches how it opens Ben’s face up, at least what is visible beneath the tattooed hand splayed over his laughing mouth. It falls back to the mattress with a soft thump. When he turns his head to stare at Maran, eyes softly melted, Maran’s chest compresses like someone has squeezed him right around the center.

“That has got to b-be one of the most fucking unhinged things you have ever said.”

“Well it won’t.” Maran retorts. The laugh creeps in; he’s still regaining his breath, and the next airy giggle undoes all that work. His fingers trace the slightly fraying braid of string around Benny’s wrist;he’s careful with the bracelet, despite its ugly colors having gone uglier over time.

“And what if it does—“ Benny grunts when he pulls himself upright, crawls across messy sheets to flop over that pale chest like deadweight. “Fall off?”

“We’ll make it work, obvs.” He squirms, knees tucking up to rest either side of Benny’s hips. Every bit of them that he’d like to touch does. Maran muffles a little noise into his neck and then sits up. He waits a beat, because the placement of hands on the small of his back is inevitable this way. Benny’s got tells, but even if he hadn’t Maran would be able to read him. The sly quirk of his mouth betraying the feigned exhaustion, fingers groping around his waist and tacky thighs.

Thinking about that, pressing closer and tucking arms between warm skin and the sheet, makes him blush even harder than he already is.

“Yeah I’m s-sure you’re fucking full up on ideas.”

Maran snorts and goes to his elbows, touching their noses together. “Actually I did have one.”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Benny warns, although his hands keep up their appreciative sweeps. And when Maran adjusts a bit more, seated comfortable in his lap, he feels how that’s a lie.

“I wanted to try it like this.”

He blurts it before the words die — no, the confidence. It’s always easier in his imagination, when he’s alone and trying to practice how to be like Benny. Unapologetic about what he wants, never hesitating to say something he knows Maran will want to hear even if it’s nasty. And Maran struggles even with a vague try it like this.

Sitting upright and arching into the next pass of hands over his body seems to get the point across, though. Benny’s eyes do that little switch flip he loves to witness; go dark and liquid, remind him of the awful bitter black coffee he prefers. Except warmer, except there’s depth in that color. It cuts through with a clear ‘this one’s going to make you fucking cry’ edge.

“You say shit like that —“

“Hmmm, I don’t know how.”

Benny drops his head back and groans, both of his hands leaving Maran to press heels against his eyes. “What did I just fuckin’ say.”

“I don’t.” Maran leans forward, hands braced on his chest, and offers him a slow kiss. He can barely keep the smirk off his face when he speaks next: “I think I can manage it with a little help though?”

“I’m g-going to figure out how to say no to you one day, and you’ll be —“

“I can just copy what Nomi does,” Maran says, continuing as if he hadn’t answered at all. He taps his chin, dramatically innocent, and rolls his hips forward with a bit of showmanship. “She makes it look easy.”

When he moves again, it brings more of them into contact. Ben’s properly — predictably — hard against his stomach. So despite the flurry of bitten off swears, despite the twisted expression on his stubbly, handsome face: Maran isn’t told no. He’s told a lot of things in the next few moments, most of them nice and nasty in a way that burns a trail down his spine. And when he’s properly seated again, panting already from the sensation of being filled so much, so soon, he finds it’s actually easy.

The rhythm is unsteady because he feels that way, feels messy and loose but tight all over his body, muscles sore and overworked but still flexing. He’s got to use ones he hasn’t in a long time. His thighs burn from the strain and the rough pace, abdomen sore as he moves.

“This — s’too much— oh, fuck that’s different.” Maran finds himself whining. The breath is punched out of him with every thrust from below. They’re purposeful and hard the way he likes, but at the angle not quite enough; if he wants that, he has to work for it. He isn’t sure he has it in him. He goes, instead, for the strategic route: “Ben.”

“You’re going to tap, huh?” The words get purred right into his ear. “Act like that, try and take charge. Still end up begging for me to lay you out and fuck you right?”

Maran hides a gasping grin into the sheets, clutching them in either fist. Then he musters whatever he can, severe and determined twist to his mouth, to sit up. Makes a bit of a show about it, maybe; beneath his palms, Benny’s chest heaves with a rough inhale.

His cheeks might as well be on fire. He imagines steams escapes him like a cartoon character— he releases his lip caging teeth and makes hooded eye contact. It’s not a slow burn, or a coil that starts like a calf cramp. It’s an immediate, sudden slam of the orgasm into his chest. A surprise. His fingers dig into Benny’s bicep, slip up his shoulder and bury between blond strands as he falls forward with a violent shiver. It worsens, becomes full-body, when hands frame his waist and force him to move more, take more.

And then everything’s nice and soft and cloudy for a long, long moment.

After Ben’s buried himself deep and properly ensured, with a moan that will live in his head for the next week, that Maran will have more stickiness to be embarrassed about, he slips off and flops to the side.

“Holy shit,” he laughs deliriously. He glances at Ben, who already has eyes glued to his face. He grins/. “Once I get good at that—“

He gasps as a hand snaps around his jaw, holding him still as Ben nudges a knee between his to push them open. He looks dangerous and angry above Maran, looming so that a cool shadow blocks out the afternoon sun as it pours through the window. Ben looks incredible, powerful and frightening and handsome, beautiful — Maran can’t decide on a word, faced with that frightening intensity that pours off him in waves.

“Flip over.”

Maran’s breath hitches. He obeys. His eyes cross as a hand lands near his head, planted firmly to the mattress, and then Ben drapes himself across Maran’s back. His other arm bends, journeying down his ribs and around his hip until he has to lift and then it’s —

He stares at the trio of ugly, awful colors until his vision blurs, eyes rolling and jaw slacking as Benny works him to another one. It aches. It’s almost painful. So fucking good, though. Gets him to a volume he’s never heard from himself before. Whatever noises he usually has the brains to muffle come out unbidden. Mostly because Benny decides (knows, maybe) the ideal companion to three expertly angled fingers fucking into him is that particular brand of mean teasing.

Nothing else coherent leaves him. If there are words, syllables, Maran’s hoarse cries eat them away.

“Just copy Nomi,” Benny growls against his shoulder, teeth sliding over sweaty skin. The movements of his wrist are snapping and quick. Maran arches away and into the touch, tries to shove himself back but is held firmly in place. “The fuck’s the matter with you?”

“Harder.”

It’s the singular response he’s capable of, a ragged moan trailing the word. Benny mirrors it, teeth snapping down around flesh. Still doesn’t say no.

Months later, Maran realizes what he misses most about America are the hobby shops. The sprawling, sort-of-scary fluorescent lit aisles. A warehouse. One that he could get happily lost in, preferably with someone, piling his arms full and laughing raucously at the tacky God Bless This Farm mass produced wall art.

He goes to four different shops trying to find that specific orange thread. He pinches his phone screen to zoom in on pictures, spends time scouring hobby forums where weirdos like him value hard to find material. Tucks a hand over his mouth watching videos captured by Nomi and sent to him. Peers at that bracelet on a pale wrist and searches searches searches for a similar shade. He never can find it. And he spirals a bit. Wonders how many of those silly little bracelets he would need to cross the distance. Thousands and thousands of miles, an ugly burnt orange.

He experiments with hair dye and developer until he finds it the closest match. And when he paints the color carefully onto his scalp (alone, for the first time) he misses a spot. He can see it at the nape of his neck, a stark bleach-yellow splotch. There are tears dripping from his chin when he goes to retrieve his phone. He even forgets to take the gloves off; the little bear phone grip Nomi had bought him will forever have a stain of orange.

He snaps a quick half-face selfie, red brimming eyes and the drama of wet cheeks melting the self pitying sadness by a degree. It takes a second for the photo to send (distance, his mind supplies).

i missed a spot :((((((

The response back is immediate. And the image of Ben carrying his phone around for once, keeping it in a pocket instead of losing it for a week in a pile of clothes or someone’s car or a tucked-away study room..

Maran’s crying starts back up. He forgets the timer — lets the dye sit ten minutes over the recommendation. When he finally rinses it out to assess the damage, the orange is wrong.

#writing #mgc #jlb #nw #good taste #college au

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nanalikessurveys · 2 years

Text

Would you ever live with any of your friends? I guess like the thought of it but that would most likely never happen. She lives in a different city that I do because of her job and she also lives with her fiance. I’m completely fine living alone right now anyway.

Do you currently hate someone? I don’t.

Would you ever dye your hair blonde? I am already blonde and have been for the most of my life since it’s my natural color.

What is bothering you right now? I just woke up from a nap and feel like I was asleep for like two weeks. I feel so foggy.

Have you gotten the COVID vaccine? Yes.

Are you available? Yes I’m single.

Have you had alcohol in the last 48 hours? I have, actually. I came home from Estonia last night and I bought a bottle of strawberry liqueur to bring home.

What is your favorite kind of chocolate? Milk chocolateeee.

Do you find piercings to be attractive? They can be pretty but they can also make a person with beautiful features less attractive if there’s many.

Did you reject or accept your last friend request? Is this a Facebook thing? I don’t have FB and I never did.

If you took a drug test right now, would you pass? Yes.

Would you rather have a stomach ache or headache? Uhh neither please? :/ I guess my pick would be headaches, since my headaches are never that bad.

What was your first alcoholic beverage? Red wine or beer.

What do you have pierced on you? My ears and my belly button.

What do you have tattooed on you? I don’t have any tattoos.

When was the last time you saw fireworks? If was some time last summer, I don’t know why there were fireworks though.

When is the next time you will kiss someone? I wouldn’t know :/

What is something you disliked about your day? Just the fact that I took a nap which I’m not a fan of.

What color shirt are you wearing? It’s a dark grey t-shirt dress.

Do you enjoy sleeping late? Sometimes yeah. But I like waking up early too if I have a lot of stuff that I need to do that day. I want to have a lot of time.

What’s the weather like right now? It’s a bit rainy now and it’s 8 degrees celsius.

What was the last thing you dreamed about? I just had a dream while napping where I was in a crowded bus and there was some drunk old lady who kept yelling at everyone :/ Then I fell into some woman’s lap when the bus made a turn and I was standing lol. What a random ass dream.

Do you believe in karma? Nah.

Do you believe in luck? Nah.

Do you like your eggs scrambled or sunny side up? I like both, but scrambled is the way to go.

Are you reliable? I’d say so.

Have you ever had a secret admirer? I doubt it.

Do you like to draw? Yeah I love drawing.

Is your room messy? My living room is a little bit.

What do you like better: oranges or apples? Apples. But orange juice is better than apple juice.

Do you give in easily? Pretty easily yeah.

Are you a good guesser? Uhh I don’t think so. I mean sometimes I guess right sometimes I don’t.

Can you read other people’s expressions? I’m pretty good at that actually.

When was the last time you showered? Yesterday.

What’s your favorite day of the week and why? I don’t have one. I stay home most days since I study from home anyway, so the days all feel the same.

Do you have any nicknames? Not really.

What’s your least favorite color? I don’t like to say I have a least favorite color but not too long ago I saw a color that was supposed to be the “world’s ugliest color” (Pantone 448 C) and it wasn’t too pretty I have admit. Maybe it would work in some contexts though.

Is there someone you have been constantly thinking about? If yes, who? Hmm maybe, but it’s a secret.

What’s the last movie you watched in the comfort of your own home? I watched the first Paranormal Activity few days ago. I want to watch the other parts soon.

What about at the cinema? I think it was Top Gun: Maverick.

What does your last text message say? It’s just my friend agreeing to something I said to her over text.

Who was the last person you spoke over the phone to? My mom.

Do you miss anyone right now? Yeah kind of.

What color are your bed sheets? Green and white.

What’s your ringtone? A basic Samsung one.

Do you like things that glow in the dark? Yeah sure.

What’s your favorite fruity scent? I like fruity scents in general. Not a specific fruit scent.

Has a rumor even been spread about you? I hope not.

Do you sleep with or without clothes on? I sleep with clothes.

Has anyone ever cheated on you? Do you think they would regret it? No one has cheated on me.

Tell me what’s on your mind? My eyes are dry and I’m hungry.

Have you heard a song that reminds you of someone today? No.

Do you say sorry first? Usually.

Something you’re happy about? It was nice going on a little vacation with my mom. I’m also happy that I have a nice meal in my fridge waiting to be eaten.

Does anyone completely understand you? Not completely, no. But my mom is very understanding. So is my best friend. She has gone through/is going through similar struggles that I have and we have a lot of other things in common too.

Is it usually easy for someone to make you smile? Yeah, I smile a lot.

Meet anyone new this year? I did.

Do you have a reason to smile right now? Yes plenty.

Marriage in your future? I don’t know yet. It’s not that important for me.

Are you afraid of commitment? Sometimes. Which is why I’m kind of scared dating people.

Are you scared of growing old alone? Yes.

Do you get depressed about things easily? Yes. I have a mood disorder. My mood fluctuates a lotl.

Do you believe that if you want something bad enough you’ll get it? Certainly not.

Does anyone love you? Yepp.

Did the last person you kissed have tattoos? Nope.

How did you get your last bruise? I hit my thigh on the arm rest of a chair.

Have you ever liked someone older than you? Yes but only few years older.

Last time you had pizza? Two days ago.

How many days until your next birthday? I just had my birthday last week so I don’t feel like countign the days lol.

Are you currently sad about anything? Not right now.

Are you tired? Yeah.

Would you hug the last person you hugged again? Of course. It was my mom.

Name something that made you frown today? Feeling foggy.

Why did you last laugh really hard? I was texting my friend and she was being her funny self.

Do you know anyone who is pregnant? I don’t.

How have you felt today? I’ve felt mostly good.

What’s the background on your cellphone? I just changed it. It’s a bit hard to explain but it’s a drawing of a person making another person smile by pulling their mouth corners up lol.

Have you ever tried your hardest but got disappointed in the end? Yeah many times.

Are you friends with the person who broke you down most? I don’t know who broke me down but my friend definitely hasn’t done that.

What’s the latest you went to bed this week? 2:30am last night since I got home from the train station around 1am.

Do you like anyone? Yes I’m crushing a little bit.

Are you drifting away from any friends? No. I’m afraid of it every now and then but for no good reason.

What are you listening to?

To silence.

Does the last person who put their arms around you mean anything to you? Yes.

Do you have a friend of the opposite sex that you feel comfortable talking to? I have one friend and she’s a female like me.

Do you regret something you did the day before yesterday? No I can’t think of anything.

Do you have anything in your pockets right now? I don’t have any pockets.

Are you comfortable with answering personal questions? Maybe some. Depending on the subject of the question.

Do you believe exes can really ever be “just friends”? Yes.

#was this really long or did it just feel like it bc im so tired #survey #surveys

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bruciemilf · 2 years

Text

I so desperately crave a fic where Bruce forgets all about an interview he scheduled with Clark, specifically, with our boys in this portrayal

He's swallowed up by that ginormous red hoodie Jason always forgets at the manor. It's got a soft undertone of beer and pizza clinging to it, and knowing Jay, the chances of that changing are close to none.

It's Bruce's favourite thing to wear.

Below that, Dick's sweatpants have to be snaked tight around his waist. He's wearing Tim's ridiculously soft socks, Batman themed as well, a flock of bats starting from his calf and gathering into his famous cowl on top of his foot.

On his hands, he's sporting two bracelets that Damian and Cassandra asked him to help craft. He accepted, of course, because his little Damian looked astray, eyebrows down and eyes worried, scared of rejection.

They were both terrible at it. Cassandra had a great time. And Bruce's dark green and sunshine gold bracelets pleased Damian greatly.

But he had no time to shower that morning; His ribs were moaning still, every step he took feeling like Bane's brutal, sledgehammer punches, hitting him right in the gut.

And Dick stole all his conditioner, and Steph smuggled his skincare products, exfoliants, bath salts, and everything she could get her grabby little hands on, and gone she was. Tiny fingers, big damage.

But that was fine; He didn't expect anyone today. He'll just scarf some blueberries and yoghurt and gulp down four espressos before burying his nose in Jim's earliest case.

That's what he thought

Before modern day Adonis suddenly emerged I his living room.

This man, he's...He's... he's beauty. That's all Bruce can muster in his flustered mind, brain itself blushing, cheeks hot and soaring with a fierce flush. Which was impossible to miss with his paleness. God.

There you are! Got me scared for a moment there," oh no. He makes deep voices sound cute. Those pearly whites had no mercy on Bruce, neither did that boyish grin, glowing silver and warm. " Thought I'd fall through a secret door and straight into a shark tank. "

Say something. Say something funny, come on, he's joking with you.

" ... Why are you In my house?"

Fuck.

"This man, - Clark, Bruce knows who he is. Out of all the bad things that had to happen today, being surprised by his favorite journalist just had to be one of them, - blinks, some grin cut down, and Bruce curses in his mind.

"Um. Your father let me in. Did you forget,-"

" I forgot you were coming. I, uh. I," he stuttered; He hasn't stuttered since he was 16, and had to pitch that board meeting to a mile long table of greedy, silver artefacts in suits who wanted to snatch his company. " I, - Coffee. You want...Coffee?"

"...Sure. I'd love some."

Was it just Bruce, or did this report carry a note of amusement in those words? Bruce scrambled for the first cupboard he could see, " NO!"

Clark jumped on his feet, making a dash for him behind the kitchen island. Bruce almost choked, because up close, he could notice the buttons and seams on that baby blue plaid shirt fight for their lives. " What's wrong?!"

" We're out of coffee," he hissed, muttering a ' damn it, Tim, I TOLD you to replace it' but no matter. He had to find Clark something else. " Uh... Water? Juice? Do you like orange juice?"

He could see it, the corners of Clark's lips tugging upwards, " Orange juice is my favourite drink. But it's fine, really. I'm here to unbury your deepest darkest secrets, not have lunch," he smiled, then, most likely noticing Bruce simply froze in place, he added, " That was a joke!"

Bruce forced a laugh, " Of course. Why would I have something to hide? I have nothing to hide," Very well, that sounded entirely too suspicious. " I mean, not anything illegal. Just... Secrets. The normal amount."

Clark nodded, endlessly patient, this saint of a man, " I've had my share of that. Don't worry, Mr. Wayne."

" Oh, just Bruce. That's my name."

The taller man smiled, " I'm just going to ask you about your involvement in renovating Arkham and maybe Mr. Grayson's podcast, but that's all. I won't try to fish for information. I don't believe in peer pressure and bullying."

" I know," his mouth spoke without him, " I, uh, I know you. Your journalism, I mean! My youngest enjoys your online interviews. We watch you together. I'm a fan of your writing, thought. It's magnificent. "

Even if Clark blushed to be polite and thanked him quietly, Bruce wanted to dive off a building without a grappling hook.

" Uh... Bruce? You're murdering your orange."

True enough. The fruit was entirely empty in his clenched fist, spilling over his hand and pooling on the floor. Bruce cursed. Slamming the sad, deflated remaining on the counter, he simply said, " I'll cut this now."

" Okay." Nodded Clark, clear, perfect blue eyes fixed on Bruce and his hands. Bruce only prays his fingers won't tremble like his heart is.

He stabs the orange.

It squirts all over his hoodie, and Bruce offers no reaction. It's almost worth it, this pit of mortification slowly, tortuously devouring his body, to see Clark's impressive frame shake with laughter behind his giant hands, goofy glasses crooked on his nose.

" I'm sorry," he sounds as dead as he feels. " The orange has retaliated." That did it; Clark was full on laughing now. Humiliation burned like liquid fire over Bruce's face.

If Dick were here, or Alfred, he'd hide his face into their chests like a shameful child. But neither are there, so all he can do is slowly place the knife on top of marble, and stand there like a statue.

Coming off his high, Clark watches him closely, a speckle of mirth shining on blue. " You know, you're nothing like I thought you'd be. As much as I enjoy this, you should change."

" I'll try. I don't want to be like this, either."

Clark grinned. " I meant your clothes, Bruce."

" ... Yes. I should. I have a large collection of clean clothes. Because I do my laundry regularly. I know how to do laundry."

Why are you still talking?

Then, gone was that angelic, fond grin from Clark's Greek statue of a face. He smiled hotly, almost...Sultry? At Bruce now. Something saucy. Sweat was sticking to his skin. " Do you want me to pick something for you?"

"... Please?" He squeaked.

Twin steps went inside his bedroom, and they didn't come out for a long time.

#batman #battinson #superman #clark kent #superbat #bruce x clark #soft bruce wayne #good dad bruce wayne #dc comics #dcu #jason todd #fluff #writing #my writing #text

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angry-geese · 2 years

Text

roommates au!Choso x Reader

Warnings: not sfw. shameless smut. virginity loss (choso), handjobs (masc receiving), oral (fem receiving), face riding, mutual masturbation/mutual porn watching, cowgirl, couch sex. mutual pining, not actually unrequited love (kinda?), roommates to lovers, not the most healthy relationship. brief mention of alcohol use, reader is kind of a menace. afab reader

Synopsis: despite having lived together for nearly a year, Choso was certain you two were hardly more than strangers. You never seemed to turn your gaze in his direction, in the same way he looked at you.

Choso had noticed you. And unknown to him, you had noticed him too.

What Choso didn't know was how much of a pervert his roommate really was.

a/n: this fic has been sitting nearly finished in my google docs since like march and i finally got the motivation to finish it skdjskfskfdj

word count: 2.7k

jjk masterlist

"Have you ever masturbated before?"

Your words are the verbal equivalent of a grenade going off in his hands while he’s still holding it. Choso’s ears ring, and his vision spins like he’s about to pass out. The stuffy air of your shared apartment does little to hide the red that creeps up on his cheeks.

Did you really… Did he hear you right?

"Masturbated?" He glances up from his laptop long enough to echo your words. He brings his beer to his lips and swallows hard, but the drink does little to soothe his nerves.

"Don't tell me you've never jacked off before.” You say. “What are you? Twenty?"

Twenty-three. There's a lump in his throat that refuses to go down even as he swallows.

"Of course I have!" Choso says with a tone that's just a bit too defensive.

The giggle you let out sounds to be the furthest thing from innocent, he thinks.

In an instant, like a predator pouncing on its prey, you’re moving from your spot in your chair, and settling down on the couch beside him. He can't help but notice how your legs are nearly touching, your thigh brushing up against his. Choso’s arm slings across the back of the couch, barely touching your shoulders. With your laptop nestled in your lap, angled for him to see it, you open your browser. Immediately he’s met with the sight of an orange and black website.

His first instinct is to turn his gaze away. This is a side of his roommate that he should not see. Yet his curiosity has him glancing right back over your shoulder. You’re not even in an incognito tab.

“So what’s your type?” You ask, eyes glued to the screen. “Blondes? Brunettes? Milfs? Maybe chicks with muscles? Or dudes? I say that with no intention to judge—I'm genuinely curious."

Your nonchalant tone is what strikes him the most about this—like you could be talking about doing laundry, or what you plan to make for dinner.

“I don't know.” Choso says.

“You don't know your type?” You ask.

He nods slowly.

Choso refuses to admit that his type is you. His sweet roommate who—until just now—had paid seemingly little attention to him. Between your classes, friends, and erratic work schedule, you didn't spend much time around him. The work schedules you both had tend to make for little time off together. You never seemed to turn your gaze in his direction, despite how he turned his to you. And though you’ve lived together for nearly a year, Choso was certain you two were hardly more than strangers.

He would watch from a distance. But no guy who wasn't a total creep would ever admit that out loud, he notes. As you’d come home from work in the evening, he’d greet you as you’d soon head to your room for the night. He’s picked up on your habits over time; how you make your coffee in the morning—you used a french press, up until you received a Keurig for Christmas. How your keys are always in the left pocket of your coat. How you always head straight to the shower after work. The soaps you use, and how you tend to favor sweet scents like vanilla. How you leave your laundry just laying around afterwards. He doesn't mind. He was doing a load of laundry anyway. Didn't you need these washed?

Choso just couldn't help it that he liked the smell of your shampoo. How he’d take your spare shirts from the laundry, solely for that scent. How he’d bring it to his nose and his cock would stiffen at the scent. You weren't going to notice the occasional pair of panties missing from your laundry—not if he could sneak them back in your room while you’re at work. You wouldn't notice them gone, would you?

Choso had noticed you, and you had certainly noticed him.

What Choso didn't know was how much of a pervert his roommate really was.

It all came to a head a few weeks ago, as you came home from a night out with friends. Typically when you’d go out drinking, you’d crash over at a friend's apartment. And with your other roommate visiting his parents for the week, Choso had the apartment entirely to himself.

Or so he assumed.

You weren't stupid, and neither was he sneaky. It would take the most oblivious person to miss the way Choso looks at you. Not to mention the various clothes of yours—bras, shirts, and whatnot—had been going missing from your laundry for weeks, only to reappear in the wash later, albeit slightly stiffer.

Once or twice you can chalk up to your own forgetfulness. When it's this frequent, you can only assume foul play is at hand.

“Have you ever watched porn before?” You ask.

“What?!” He sucks in a breath. Is that really something he’s willing to admit? “Of course I have…”

Choso watches the corners of your lips twitch as you click on a video, angling the screen of the laptop so he can see it better.

He can smell you—your shampoo, perfume, and the laundry soap you use. It takes everything within him not to bury his nose in your hair. All those nights he spent with your shirt balled up against his pillow, hand shoved down the front of his boxers, imagining the depraved things he could do to you. How soft your lips would feel—not to mention your hands. How your scent would linger on his sheets long after you’ve left. All the sweet words you would softly coo at him.

You appear completely oblivious to the sins of the flesh on screen. “Personally I don't like the studio made stuff,” you say, “‘cause usually the girls start screaming even though the guy has barely started touching her. And a lot of the men are wayyy too big. Like that can't feel good…”

The feeling of your hand against his half-hard cock is nearly enough to make him leap out of his own skin. Choso has no clue what to do with his hands, let alone any other part of his body. And he’s at your mercy. There's no stopping the moan that leaves him as your fingers trace the outline of his erection.

You have a look in your eyes. It looks like you could eat him. He isn't certain if he should be frightened or not. But the neurons that control fear and arousal often overlap in the human mind. What should be panic in this situation, or maybe just a feeling of wrongness, translates to lust.

“You’ve never had sex before, have you?” You ask.

Choso’s face is red, and his neck is white. He could lie. Though would that be much better? Swallowing his pride, he nods.

“That's fair.” You say. “Although I am surprised, don't get me wrong. You’re a sweet guy—cute too—even if you are a bit shy.”

Choso isn't sure if that's a compliment or an insult. Perhaps both. He just… never got the chance. Or it never showed itself. Choso kept to himself. He always considered himself too busy taking care of his younger brothers to date. Then when they were all old enough to navigate the world on their own, they did so, yet he still never felt the need to seek out a relationship.

“I'm not a fan of one night stands myself. Sometimes they’re nice, don't get me wrong,” you say, “but I much prefer to have known my partner for a while. There's something so intimate about being able to recognize someone by only their touch. Or their smell… or the feeling of their teeth.”

You bring his hand to your lips, gently taking two of his fingers between your teeth. He lets out a quiet gasp as you nip at the digits. Then he’s met with the warm, wet sensation of your tongue, wrapping around his fingers. His cock twitches in response. His eyes widen in a mix of shock, and lust.

Choso tries to memorize the feeling of your teeth, their sharpness against his skin, and the minty smell to your breath.

The realization of it all has finally sunk in: you knew. Of the near two years that you’ve been roommates, you’ve been aware of what he gets up to when you’re not home.

Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, which you swipe away with your thumbs. Choso is trembling. Quite impossibly so. He can't help it, you just feel too nice sitting in his lap like this.

Your hands move to cup his face, thumbs brushing away the tears that form at the corners of his eyes. “Poor baby,” you coo, “this worked up for me?”

He nods as your lips press against his forehead. There's a quiet smack! as you pull away. The faint taste of salt lingers on your lips.

When your lips crash against his, you taste something sweet on them. Choso moans into the kiss, legs widening to allow you room to settle between them. Every movement of yours is dominating. Controlling. You nip at his bottom lip until he relents, allowing your tongue to press into his mouth.

He watches intently as your own hand disappears under the waistband of your shorts. They ride down low on your hips, revealing a small tattoo on your side. The hem of your shirt has ridden up a bit, exposing the lower half of your stomach. His gaze clings to that the longest; the soft skin, the sparse hairs, that tattoo that twitches as you move. He so desperately wants to run his fingers down the curves of your hips. To memorize every inch of your skin.

“All those nights you watched me bring home dates,” you say. “Did you hear us through the walls? Did you imagine that was you? Did you touch yourself while you did it?”

The feeling of your hand wrapping around his length is nearly enough to make him cum on the spot. Your hand, so soft and small compared to his own, just feels too good wrapped around him. He lets out a grunt, then a whimper, which is followed by him squirming underneath you.

“What was that?” You ask. He watches your tongue trace against your glossy lower lip.

“Yes!” He says. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “Yes! I thought about you!”

His head rolls back as your hand strokes along the length of his cock. Slowly at first, before picking up in pace. Your name falls past his lips like a prayer, or more perhaps a curse.

Choso inhales sharply. “M’ gonna-”

“Oh but I didn't say you could cum yet,” you say.

His hips buck upwards at the sudden halt to your touch. The sudden stop to the tension that was building in his stomach is almost enough to make him cry out in frustration, but something tells him that wouldn't end too well for him.

You drag your thumb across the head of his cock, smearing precum along with it. He’s practically throbbing, and dripping across your hand. Choso stands on that edge between release, tetering, but never falling down the other side. He wants to cry out; to beg for that release that won't come.

“But I can't-”

“That sounds like a you problem, my dear,” you say.

For a moment, Choso is nearly too stunned to speak. Your eyes never leave his as you move to straddle his lap. The look in them is nothing short of predatory. He’s never felt so small before. He’s not a small person by any means; neither has he ever considered himself shy. He doesn't worry about the space he takes up, or the attention he draws. Until it comes to you.

Though his noises are rather small, his breathing is growing more erratic. A whimper escapes him as you grab a lock of his hair and tug gently. This draws a moan, low and sweet, the noise of which makes you clench your thighs together.

He can't bear it anymore. An icy feeling runs up his spine. That burning sensation is what snaps him out of his trance. It's as if his muscles are refusing to work.

“Please,” he says, “please can I-”

“No,” you coo, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, “you’re going to have to beg harder than that.”

“Please, please, please,” his head falls against your chest, and that bit of contact is what tips you off to how much he truly is trembling. “I'll fucking die if you don't touch me.”

“Much better,” you say.

Without another word, you’re sliding your shorts down your hips. Choso does little to resist as you shove him backwards on the couch, moving to hover over his face. His eyes only meet yours briefly before he understands what you’re doing.

“Suck,” you say.

And with a certain, charming clumsiness, he does.

Much as if your body has betrayed you, your release creeps up on you far sooner than expected. Tension builds in your stomach like a coil being wound taut. Each clumsy movement of his tongue sends you closer to your own orgasm. Your fingers bury in his hair, using it as leverage to grind down against his mouth. He moans low as you do, hands moving to squeeze your hips. Choso seems content to let you use him, reciprocating eagerly as you do so.

His name spills past your lips as you cum, your grip on his hair tightening. Choso grunts at the mix of pain, and pleasure, and the feeling of his cock twitching from neglect.

Another moment passes before you climb off of him. A mix of your own cum, and his saliva leaves your inner thighs slick.

Still sensitive from your own release, you sheathe him within you in one single motion. Your fingers trace the harsh V formed by the muscles of his lower abdomen. The hairs at the base of his cock are soft, and unruly. Untrimmed. Not that you mind.

Choso looks as if he’ll cum on the spot. As his hips buck up once again, you clench around him, making his vision blur with pleasure. His teeth dig into his lower lips hard enough to draw blood.

“Good boy,” you coo, “so good for me.”

With your fingers, you brush a lock of hair out of his face. It sticks to his forehead with sweat. Such a tender action makes him shudder, and lean into your touch.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the otherwise silent room. Choso has seemingly come undone, whimpering as your hips grind against his. Despite your shallow thrusts, your movements are unforgiving. He can't seem to tear his eyes away from the way your tits bounce as you ride him. Choso’s precum mixes with your own arousal, leaving a thin white line around the base of his cock.

“Please,” Choso can barely get the word out between his own heavy breaths. Your eyes trail a bead of sweat as it rolls down his temple.

“Use your words…”

His cock twitches as you stop moving for a moment, resting with him fully inside of you. The angle of your hips allows him to hit far deeper than before.

“Please can I cum?”

If he could be on his knees, begging, he would be. Your poor, sweet roommate, so stoic and quiet, lies before you in near hysterics. He pleads to you like a worshiper pleads to his benevolent god. His hands find your hips, following along as you bounce on his cock.

“Go ahead,” you say, “cum for me.”

With one final shudder, hot ropes of his cum spill into you. You ride him until long after he’s gone soft, and overstimulation has set in. Cum—if it’s yours or his, you’re uncertain—runs down your inner thighs in streams. You pull off of him slowly, so as to minimize the mess, but it hardly helps. A mix of your fluids, and his, now stains your apartment’s shared couch. Not that you pay it much mind—it belonged to a previous roommate, who left it behind when they moved.

You lay on your side beside him, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. Choso looks as if he’s in a state of shock. Soon, his shock is replaced with fatigue. The warmth of your body against his does little to help him stay awake.

You feel around the floor blindly, finding your shorts, before tugging them back on. You figure it best to get cleaned up—at least before your other roommate comes home.

“Where are you going?” He asks meekly.

“Gonna take a shower,” you say, sitting on the edge of the couch. “Are you coming with me?”

#jjk x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #choso #choso kamo #jujutsu kaisen smut #not osha compliant #i couldnt think of a title for this one ngl #i know the moment i hit post im going to notice all the errors i missed ksjdfksjf

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bucksfucks · 3 years

Text

𝙜𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙗𝙤𝙮 ; 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀

summary┃you’ve always called steve the golden boy, but he snaps one night and decides to show you he’s anything but.

pairing┃roommate!steve x f!reader

word count┃2,382 words

warnings┃hangover, drinking, tipsy sex, pining, teasing, makeout session, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, steve doesn’t think he’ll fit but he makes it, use of toys (vibrator), mocking, edging, hair pulling kink, fingering, oral, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, steve finishes on readers back, steve is lowkey a fuckboy — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

notes┃presidential alert 🚨 the girls, gays, and the they’s are horny

The shower was already running when you had walked out of your room and into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea.

It was Saturday morning and despite your best efforts, your body never let you sleep in last nine in the morning.

You may as well start your day at 8:48 am.

Steve had gone out last night, but you remember the door shutting at three in the morning and a faint shhh falling from his lips as he spoke to whatever inanimate object was making noise.

In your sleepy daze, you didn’t really mind. Instead, turning your pillow onto the cool side and drifting back to sleep.

The kettle was boiling and the bread was getting warmed in the toaster when the shower finally stopped running.

It was a little unusual for Steve to shower for so long, even after his morning runs or workouts, he’d never need more than 10 minutes.

When the door opened, and a groaning Steve emerged, you knew exactly what the problem was.

“Mornin’, Golden Boy,” he didn’t even have the energy to grimace at the sound of his nickname.

His bare feel pattered against the wooden floor until he dropped his large body in one of the bar stools.

“Someone had a fun night.” You mumbled with a small smirk as you slid him a cup of coffee which is took between his fingers.

“I don’t know how Sam and Bucky roped me into shots,” he said into the cup of coffee as he took a cautious sip.

You just rolled your eyes playfully and plated the toast that had popped out a few seconds earlier, slabbing a large helping of butter before adding honey and sliding the plate over to him.

“Eat.”

He groaned again, but put the coffee down in place for the sweet honey toast.

“I can’t drink like I used to, I think I’m dying,” he was being dramatic, a playful glimmer in his eyes as he took a bite and hummed.

“You’re 27, Rogers. I think someone’s being a little dramatic,” you teased with a smile.

You are your breakfasts in silence for the most part, the painkiller Steve had taken not yet kicking in until both of your plates were cleared.

“Did you get lucky last night?” You asked with raised eyebrows as you both placed your plates in the sink.

Steve just laughed, “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

You had to admit that your heart dropped, the same twinge of jealously starting to bloom in your chest as you imagined him with someone else.

“Proud of you, Golden Boy.” You fake cheered, biting your tongue and swallowing your pride.

Above everything, Steve was your friend and he deserved to get laid.

He laughed, “you should’ve come, Bucky couldn’t stop asking about you.”

You rolled your eyes again, slightly in annoyance.

“He knows I’ll never sleep with him,” you sang song, helping Steve dry the dishes as the sink stopped running.

“You never told me why, you know that?” You scoffed, “and for good reason.”

The reason was simple; you didn’t want Bucky, but instead his best friend and your roommate, Steve.

“I’ll get it out of ya one day, sweetheart.” Steve chuckled and you felt your heart sink a little further, “whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The rest of the day was uneventful, nothing to do on a rainy New York day other than read as Steve fiddled with his sketchbook while an old sitcom played on the television.

Steve’s hangover either disappeared or he was great at hiding it, whatever it was, he was humming along to the show tune.

“Pizza and beers for dinner?” Steve asked as he was putting the final touches on his sketch making you laugh.

“What happened to I can’t drink like I used to?” You said, echoing his words from the morning as he shrugged.

“It’s a lazy day essential, now what toppings, and don’t say pineapple.” You acted shocked, mouth twitching into a smile.

“You don’t know anything about good pizza,” you huffed as he tore his eye away from his sketchbook to look at you.

“Pineapple on pizza is a crime, sweetheart. Now if that’s who you are I can’t judge, but I’m jus’ sayin’,” he said raising his hands in mock defeat.

“Whatever Golden Boy, just say you’re a vanilla type of guy,” you winked, standing up to put your book on the shelf as the sun began setting to cast yellow and orange hues over the apartment.

Steve snickered, “whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”

The low timbre of his voice, your own words echoed from this morning sends a shudder down your spine as he grabs his phone.

“The usual?” You manage to nod your head, smiling as you try to distract yourself from the sudden and very evident ache between your thighs.

30 minutes later and the pizza was here, still hot and greasy as Steve set it on the wooden coffee table as you grabbed two beers, scratch that, four beers.

“Cheers, Golden Boy,” you offered with a soft smile as you both clinked your bottle necks against each other before pizza was being devoured.

You didn’t know what it was, but cheap greasy pizza and a cold beer always soothed the soul. No matter how heartbroken you had ever been, or upset at the universe, beer and pizza were always there for you.

As the hours went by, the bottles emptied and the pizza slices disappeared before you and Steve were sat on the couch laughing and giggling at the time Steve locked himself out in nothing but his underwear.

“And where were you to rescue me!” He bellowed, throwing his head back at the memory.

“I was in the shower, you know I blare music. I’m sorry Stevie, I promise the next time you’re locked out and naked I’ll rescue you.”

He shook his head, “well I wasn’t naked.”

You felt a little dizzy, body lighter as you finished off the second beer. You weren’t drunk, but loose enough to rest your head against Steve’s shoulder.

His phone buzzed then, grabbing it off the table as Bucky’s name lit up across the screen.

Steve ignored it.

“He’s jus’ gonna ask me to go out again,” he said before you could ask, seemingly reading your mind.

“Plus, I’m perfectly content right here,” he smiled, finishing off his second beer as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“You’re such a sap,” you teased, “that a bad thing?” He asked and you felt the air around you grow more tense.

“‘Course not, you’re just Stevie,” you tried to explain as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Stevie?” He asked as you sat up and crossed your legs under your body.

“Yeah, you know,” you tried to find the words, “Golden Boy.”

He hums in response, “golden as in pure?”

You nod your head, “pure, sweet, innocent.”

You weren’t sure if you had struck a nerve, but Steve smirked as he leaned into you.

“‘M not so innocent, sweetheart. Not everything is as it seems.” His voice was much lower, raspier as you could smell the beer on his breath.

“Is that so?” Your voice was just a little above a whisper, heart racing in your chest.

“I could even show you, sweetheart, but you gotta answer one question first. Sound fair?” He asked.

You nodded your head slowly, eagerly awaiting his question.

His hands fell to your knees, sliding up until he pulled you into his lap.

You looked up at him, craning your head only slightly as he craned his at you. He was warm, and broad.

“Why,” his voice was low, “won’t you hookup with Bucky, sweetheart?”

Your breath hitched, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you ran your hands up his chest until they rested on his shoulders.

“I think you know,” you whispered as he shook his head and chuckled.

“Uh uh, I wanna hear you say it.” He purred, brushing his nose against yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you smelt his oaky, but sweet body wash. Something like bergamot and oranges.

He squeezed your hips, a soft moan falling from your lips at the sensation.

“It’s because,” you swallowed thickly, “because I want you, Stevie.”

He hummed, hand on the back of your head as he pressed his lips to yours.

You kissed back, the realization hitting you it became hotter and more desperate as you slid your tongue past Steve’s lips.

“All you needed to do was say those words and you could’ve had me all to yourself.” He smirks against your lips making you whimper.

His fingers are digging into your ass, rocking your hips over his. It’s the right amount of friction to have you melting into his touch.

When he picks you up, carrying you into his room to toss you onto his bed, you know you’ve made the wrong assumption about him.

“Now there’s nothin’ wrong with a man who likes vanilla,” he hums, hands exploring your body.

“But I’m a man who prefers a little more,” he meets your eyes, a devilish smirk and twinkle in his eyes, “flavour.”

He’s hovering over you, lips on your neck and jaw as his hips rut over yours.

“Go get that goddamn vibrator of yours,” he breathes as you look at him bewildered.

“You know that one, you like the third setting the most on it.” He winks standing up as your eyes trace along his body and to where his cock is straining.

“Go on, don’t sit there actin’ all dumb,” you spring to your feet, tripping over them as you quickly fetch it from your room.

“Good girl, lie back down on the bed, but get naked first.” He instructs you sternly.

You’d never had anyone tell you to strip, let alone have someone eyes so focused on you as you place the vibrator in his larger hand.

Starting with your sweater, you tear it off—chest exposed as Steve licks his lips.

“Go on, don’t be shy. You’re makin’ him real happy,” he smirks, squeezing his dick through his pants.

You tug your leggings down until you’re in your panties and Steve is giving you a look that tells you to continue.

It’s a thrill, stripping for him and watching his cock twitch at the sight of your curves, dips, and the marks you hate.

“Look at you,” he groans, “perfect little thing aren’t ya? Now I gotta be honest,” you swallow thickly.

“‘M not sure if he’ll fit like I planned, but we’ll make sure to get you warmed up,” he says before placing your hand over his dick.

It causes goosebumps to prickle your skin as he pushes you down onto the bed fully naked now.

“Now this,” he says, holding your vibrator, “isn’t even gonna compare to me by the time I’m done with you.”

It’s a promise that you know Steve will keep as he kneels between your legs.

“I expect you to keep these open, okay? Unless of course,” his cocky attitude breaks through, “you’re squeezin’ my head when you cum.”

You can’t even chide back, all thoughts gone at the sound of the click of your vibrator.

Steve wastes no time, spreading your folds and exploring you with his tongue before he connects the silicone tip to your clit.

It causes your body to jolt and Steve has to keep your legs open.

“What did I say, sweetheart. Keep ‘em open,” he reminds you as he slips a single fingers in you.

It’s already ten times better than your own, longer and thicker as they curl against your sweet spot.

Your walls squeeze him, fluttering as you grip onto his unmade bed sheets.

He teased you, edging you until you’re begging him to let you come with a dry throat.

“Steve, c’mon. ‘S’not fair,” you whine, tugging at his hair. He groans, hips rutting into the bed and you know you’ve found his weakness.

Two can play at this game.

You tug at his hair again, “please, Stevie? Wanna cum so fuckin’ bad—all over your face.”

He groans vibrator tossed on the bed as his mouth wraps around your clit, “fuck, baby.”

It’s a lewd sound, your wetness against his fingers and mouth, but it’s enough to send you over the edge.

“Make a mess, sweetheart. Gotta taste ya,” he groans against your core as you’re nearly suffocating him.

It’s intense, washing over you like a wave followed by a series of smaller ones until he’s flipping you over and your ass is in the air.

“Not so fuckin’ vanilla anymore, huh?” He slaps your ass, a squeak leaving your lips.

“Gonna have the taste of you on my mind for days now, practically have me pussy whipped already.”

His clothes are gone, all necessary ones before he’s bending his body over yours, “grip onto the headboard baby, you’ll need all the support you can get.”

And he’s not wrong, sliding into you and stretching you out as you wrap yourself fingers around the wood until he’s fully seated inside of you.

It’s a new fullness, one that you’ve never experienced and something you never want to forget.

“Bounce, baby.” He then says, as you look over your shoulder.

“Ride me, use the headboard and make yourself cum.” He smirks, slick coating both of your thighs.

Everything is new to you as Steve lets you take control, yet, you’re never truly in control.

“That’s it baby, such a good girl. Look how desperate you are to cum,” he taunts making you whimper.

He joins in soon, meeting your thrusts with his own until you’re both grunting and he can’t hold back.

“Fuck, fuck, gonna cum.” He hissed, quickly pulling out to paint your back as he rubs your clit with his free hand and you feel the white hot explosion of pleasure for the second time that night.

You’ve both made a mess by the time you’re done, Steve cleaning you up with his boxers as you’re collapsing beside him still trying to catch your breath.

“You’ve ruined my vibrator for me,” you chuckled breathlessly as he turns to you with a smirk, “well it’s a good thing I’m your roommate then.”

#steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers x reader #bucksfucks writes — [♡] ;#steve rogers headcanons #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers oneshots #steve rogers one shots #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers drabble

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