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libraryofgage · 11 months

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Good Vibrations Two

This AU got a lot more attention than I expected actually hfjdks I'm so glad everyone likes it!

Anyway, here's part two! We get some concert, some peeks at how Robin helps Steve navigate social situations, and a little Eddie having an itsy-bitsy crisis over Steve's fashion choices.

Have fun! And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't (especially for this one since I wrote most of it on my phone actually lmao)

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Steve stares at the shirts laid out on his bed, arms crossed over his chest. Choosing jeans had been easy, but choosing a shirt is giving him trouble. What do you wear to a metal show at the local dive bar for a small-town band in which the lead singer is a long-time and way-out-of-your-league crush that you've been holding a candle for since the first time you saw him laugh on top of a cafeteria table?

You definitely don't show up in a plain black shirt, that's for sure.

The lights in the hall outside Steve's room flicker, switching off and on three times. Steve just barely notices, which means he doesn't get his pants scared off when Robin appears in the doorway, grinning at him while pocketing the key to the front door he'd given her months ago into a messenger bag. "Hey, dingus," she says, striding into the room and flopping onto the bed.

Steve rolls his eyes, yanking the shirts out from under her and laying them once more over Robin's stomach and legs. "What shirt should I wear?" he asks.

It takes a few seconds for Steve to look from the shirts to Robin, and she patiently waits until he's staring at her to say, "Just pick one. Nobody's gonna care what you're wearing."

"I care," Steve says, frowning as he looks back at the shirts. For the aforementioned crush reason, Steve cares very much about the shirt he wears. "What says 'Hi, we've never talked before but your music is the only thing I can hear and I think your hair is in desperate need of quality shampoo and also I've been halfway in love with you since, like, sophomore year'?"

Robin considers the question for a long moment before picking up a red sweater. "This one says 'I'm horny'," she offers.

Steve blinks, staring at the sweater for a few beats before laughing. "But I'm not," he says.

Despite looking at Robin, she happens to angle her head toward the sweater, and her response is lost on Steve. He frowns, waits until her jaw has stopped moving, and says, "I didn't get that."

After Robin first learned about Steve's deafness, he'd been overly anxious about asking her to repeat things. Somehow, it was worse to constantly ask when the person knew he couldn't hear well, if at all. But Robin had never shown annoyance; she'd just adjust her posture, make sure Steve could see her lips, and repeat her words. She does all of this now, and Steve gets to read her joking response, "Yeah, but you will be."

And, yeah, she has him there. Steve huffs and collapses onto the bed beside her, sacrificing the shirts. "I'll need a jacket," he says, turning his head to look at Robin so he can read her response.

Instead of words, though, he sees her face light up, and she jumps off the bed. Steve sits up, watching as she digs in her messenger bag before pulling out a t-shirt. "Remember when I stayed over a few weeks ago? And you let me borrow a shirt? You should wear it!"

Thankfully, Robin waits until she's done talking to throw the shirt in Steve's face. Honestly, he only understood a few words ("remember," "borrow," and "wear") but he's gathered enough context clues to get the gist of things.

He spreads the shirt out, humming at the Iron Maiden design. It's not one he wears often; for the most part, it's a shirt he wears on lazy days at home because of how soft it is. But as he's studying the design, Steve is suddenly hit with a stroke of pure genius.

He quickly changes into the shirt and then grabs a varsity jacket (not his letterman, but one he'd seen at the mall and bought on a whim because it used a nice shade of yellow) off his desk, tugging it on over the shirt but leaving it unbuttoned. After a few more seconds of digging around, he finds sneakers under the bed and tugs them on.

"Okay," he says, turning so Robin can see the outfit from every angle. He comes to a stop when he's facing her once more, hands buried in his jacket pockets, and asks, "What do you think? How's it look?"

"I think you'll give Eddie a crisis," Robin replies, wrinkling her nose at the varsity jacket. "Not, like, a bad one. But he'll probably ask where you got the shirt from."

Steve grins, thinking that sounds about perfect, and turns to study himself in the mirror. It's a surprisingly solid blend of metal and jock, and it makes him feel oddly confident, the same way he felt the first time he did his hair just right and everyone complimented it.

"Perfect," he decides. "Let's go."

----

The ride to the Hideout isn't exactly quiet, but it's not like Steve can talk and drive at the same time. So it's filled with music blasted as high as it can go on his car stereo, causing the whole vehicle to vibrate with each beat. When he finally turns the car off after parking, Robin grimaces as she rubs her ears.

She waits for Steve to be in front of her before saying, "We're putting the windows down next time."

"Oh. Sorry," Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck a little awkwardly as Robin dismissively waves off his apology.

"No, it's fine, I'm just saying. Now, let's get inside before they start."

With that, she loops her arm through Steve's and drags him into the Hideout. They're hit with a wave of cigarette smoke, spilled beer, and sweat as they walk through the door, the combined smells making Steve dizzy. He frowns, leaning closer to Robin as she squeezes his arm. He feels her thumb tap him twice, their code for asking if the other is okay.

"I'm fine," he mumbles, nodding to a table in the corner. "Let's go sit. I just need to get used to...everything."

The lights are weird, too. Despite the place being dim, the few lights that are on are flickering, and Steve is having trouble processing all the new information his (working) senses are taking in.

Thankfully, Robin pulls him over to the table he pointed to, a small circle near a stage of dubious sturdiness. It looks like it can barely hold the instruments, much less those plus the people who will play them. There's an amp on the side of the stage near the table, which means they'll have the perfect spot to feel the music's vibrations. Steve slides into one of the chairs there and closes his eyes, resting his arms on a table that is surprisingly not sticky.

He feels Robin move the other chair next to him, slide in, and start pulling things out of her bag. When Steve opens his eyes again, there's a notebook between them and a variety of pens in all different colors spread out across the open pages. Robin has already picked up a red pen and is writing with it as Steve chooses a purple one.

When Robin is done writing, she taps the page so Steve can read, "Want something to drink?"

"I'm not sure we can trust the glasses here," he writes back.

"The fact you're calling them "glasses" tells me everything. Just sit tight."

With that, Robin drops her pen, winks at Steve, and heads over to the bar where a woman is wiping the counter. Steve watches her for a few seconds before looking around at the other people in the place. Most of them are sitting in groups, talking amongst themselves. Most of them also have mustaches or beards, making it downright impossible for Steve to read their lips.

Instead, Steve just gets a dull kind of rush in his ears, an ever-present background noise he can't escape. Soon enough, maybe because he's thinking about it too much, a high-pitched ringing starts up in his right ear, growing and growing in pitch until it's all he can focus on. Steve grimaces and looks down at the notebook, trying to keep his shoulders relaxed so he doesn't look as tense as he feels. The ringing persists, and he rubs his ear like that's going to help.

His ear is still ringing, though it has started to diminish, when a water bottle is placed in front of him. Steve jerks, forcing himself to calm down as Robin slides into her seat again with a mug of beer that's more foam than anything else. "They're about to start," she says, waiting until Steve has nodded once to show understanding before taking a sip.

Steve looks up at the stage and wonders how he missed Eddie and his friends arriving. As his friends are setting up behind him, Eddie is resting one hand on the neck of his guitar and using the other to hold the mic close to his mouth. Steve can't read his lips, but Eddie's grin is a little contagious as he says something to a guy by the bar. The guy must say something back, because Eddie bursts out laughing, his head thrown back to show off a neck Steve wants to bite.

A tap on his arm brings his attention away, and he looks at the notebook to see Robin has scrawled out a transcript:

"Eddie: Thanks for coming out tonight, everyone

Guy: Fuck off, Munson

Eddie: Love you, too, Jeremy"

Steve snorts, looking up to see Robin's equally amused smile as she continues to write on another page. When he glances at the stage, Steve sees Eddie still talking into the mic, his eyes roaming over the audience until they reach Steve and Robin. Eddie seems to grip the mic tighter, and he holds Steve's eyes for a few seconds, giving just enough time for Steve to wave awkwardly before Eddie looks away. But his smile seems a little bigger than before, and Steve is happy to let himself think he caused it.

When he looks down again, Robin has finished writing, and she nudges the notebook closer to him. Eddie must talk fast, because her writing is almost indistinguishable from chicken scratch in dirt that a cat got dragged through. Thankfully, Steve is an expert at this point.

"Eddie: Anyway, you know the drill. We'll start with some Metallica, treat you to Iron Maiden, throw in a dash of Black Sabbath, and then grace you with a Corroded Coffin original. If you don't like it, not my problem."

Steve feels the beginning of the set as he finishes reading. He sits a little straighter, planting his feet firmly on the floor and placing his palms on the table with his fingers spread. Robin is still writing next to him, most likely transcribing the bits and pieces of conversation she can hear for Steve to read later and laugh at. She doesn't try to get his attention while she does, already knowing it won't be worth it after Steve has shifted into Music Mode.

In the same way that people can tell what song is playing based simply on the first note, Steve can sometimes tell based on the strength and length of the first vibration. In the same way people know the lyrics of songs after listening to them enough times, Steve knows the vibration patterns like the back of his hand. In the same way people who hear their favorite songs played live can tell when a note is wrong or a lyric is sung too fast, Steve can tell when the drummer or bassist makes tiny mistakes that wouldn't be caught otherwise.

And Steve loves it. He loves how his entire body thrums with each vibration that travels from the amp. He loves how he can close his eyes and picture a story based on the music, one that probably doesn't match the lyrics but tends to replace them in his heart. He loves that this is something he can still share with his friends, even if most of them don't realize how different his experience with music is.

So, for all the little bumps and dips that occur in the vibrations as Corroded Coffin plays, for all the tiny slips that certainly go unnoticed by anyone else, and for all the fact that Steve doesn't get to hear Eddie's voice, he can confidently say he loves the show. He's never heard the songs played like this before, and it helps diminish the gut-deep desperation for new music.

And then Corroded Coffin starts a new song. It's one Steve doesn't recognize, one with vibrations that are completely foreign to him, and he jerks his head up to watch Eddie play his guitar in an opening solo. It thrums across the floor, climbing up his legs and spreading in waves from his palms on the table. Steve feels goosebumps chase after it, a new wave washing over him when the guitar solo ends with a particularly strong vibration that's immediately followed by the drums and bass.

Eddie throws himself into the music, moving and twisting and strutting around the stage like he's playing to Madison Square Garden. Steve can't look away, the lyrics incomprehensible but replaced by the jerk of Eddie's hips and the tilt of his head and the little half-spin he does on his heel.

It ends too quickly with one final, reverberating strum that lingers in Steve's bones, burrowing into his marrows as Eddie pushes his hair back and grins into the mic. He says something breathlessly, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath, and Steve knows he's gone.

He's hopeless.

He's desperate.

He needs more Corroded Coffin, more Eddie, in whatever form he can get.

----

For the first time, Corroded Coffin gets genuine applause after playing. Usually, the patrons of the Hideout will politely clap (if they even notice the set is over) for about two seconds. Tonight, however, Eddie and his friends are graced with excited clapping, a few shouts, and one very strong whistle from a small table to the left of the stage. And it spreads because even rough biker dudes can fall to peer pressure when it's that enthusiastic.

So, yeah, genuine applause all because of Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley who, Eddie thinks, is surprising company for the former King of Hawkins High. No matter how unexpected, he should still thank them and ask what they thought of the set now that it's over. He carefully sets his guitar on a stand and glances over his shoulder, catching Jeff's gaze and flashing a grin. "I'll be right back," he says before jumping off the stage and heading over to Steve and Robin's table.

As he gets closer, he notices the notebook and pens spread out, colorful writing filling the pages and Steve grinning with amusement as he reads it. Robin is watching him like she's waiting for him to understand an inside joke already so they can laugh about it together. If Eddie didn't already know Robin was like him (band camp, summer after his junior year, during an unfortunate game of Seven Minutes in Heaven where they awkwardly stood in a closet together before Robin commented on his black bandana), he'd wonder if something was going on between them.

"How'd you like the set?" Eddie asks when he reaches the table, suddenly nervous enough to tug on a lock of his hair and pull it in front of his mouth.

Robin looks up, but Steve doesn't. He's still reading the notebook, snorting at whatever is written there like he didn't hear Eddie. It's not until Robin elbows him that he raises his head, eyes widening when he sees Eddie. "Sorry, could you repeat that?" Steve asks, his gaze dropping to Eddie's mouth (Eddie definitely isn't imagining that) and faltering some.

"I asked if you liked the set," Eddie says, frowning slightly as Robin grabs a pen and scribbles something on the notebook. It's too small for him to read, but he doesn't miss how Steve glances down for less than a second before his eyes light up with realization.

"Oh!" he says, looking back at Eddie and flashing a charming grin. "It was great. You guys are so loud, and I've never f-uh, heard anything like your original song before."

Eddie catches the way Steve fumbles, faltering like he wanted to say one word but forced himself to say another. Something is tugging at the back of Eddie's mind, but he can't quite grab onto it just yet. For now, he leans forward, placing both hands on the table so he can be closer to Steve. "You listen to metal often, Harrington?" he asks.

Steve stares at his mouth for a few seconds before nodding, and Eddie feels the thrill of learning something completely unexpected. "I like Black Sabbath best, but Judas Priest and Guns N' Roses are close seconds," Steve says.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, "What do you like most about it?" He wants to know. Does Steve Harrington (King Steve, Steve "The Hair" Harrington, Steve fucking Harrington) like metal for the same reasons he does? Does he like the stories and the passion and the heavy theatricality of it all?

Steve seems to hesitate, possibly thinking about how to answer, before finally saying, "I like how it's music I can feel. When I listen to metal, it digs into my bones. Other music doesn't."

Somehow, Eddie's grin gets impossibly wider, and his cheeks are hurting from the sheer force of it. He's about to say more when Robin glances at the clock and swears under her breath. "Shit, I promised Mom I'd be home ten minutes ago," she says, grabbing the pens and recklessly throwing them into her bag.

It's the movement that seems to catch Steve's attention, and he looks down at Robin's hands before looking up at the clock. "Oh, fuck, your curfew," he says, looking at Robin like she hadn't just said the same thing two seconds ago.

"Yeah, no shit, dingus," Robin says, pausing long enough to speak while looking straight at Steve before throwing the notebook into her bag, too. She jumps to her feet and hauls Steve out of the chair, making his varsity jacket fall open to reveal an Iron Maiden shirt.

And Eddie thinks his heart just about stops. He doesn't know why, but seeing Steve in a metal band shirt under an undeniably jock jacket makes him feel....something. This is, like, sacrilege, right? How dare Steve Harrington allow Metal and Jock to meet? Doesn't he know the two styles clash? Or, well, they're supposed to clash, but Steve somehow wears them well, and Eddie thinks he's upset and annoyed by the fact.

Before Eddie can analyze that feeling, Steve says, "Sorry to run, Eddie. You played really well. Let me know when the next show is."

There's a lot to unpack there, too. Steve Harrington wants to come to another Corroded Coffin gig. Steve Harrington is sorry he has to cut the conversation short. Steve Harrington thinks his band played really well. Before Eddie can say anything in response, Robin is dragging Steve away, throwing a goodbye over her shoulder.

Eddie doesn't want Steve to go without something, though, some kind of departing word, so he shouts, "See ya later, big boy!"

Steve doesn't look back, but Robin nearly trips over the doorway. She then pauses long enough to say something to Steve, watching with sheer delight as he splutters and glances at Eddie before dragging her through the door. Eddie couldn't stop the grin if he tried, and he didn't try.

Later, when Eddie is sprawled on the floor of his room, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about Steve's stupid combination of Metal and Jock, he'll be struck by a sudden, consuming thought. What if Steve was wearing just the Iron Maiden shirt? What if he wore just the jacket?

Eddie swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, his mouth going dry as he scrambles to his feet and gets ready to take a very, very cold shower.

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Tag List (the tag list is completely filled up! There definitely wasn't enough room for everyone who requested a tag orz

Please follow the tag "good vibrations Steddie" or put on notifications for my blog to see when new parts are posted :D)

@hallucinatedjosten, @queenie-ofthe-void, @r0binscript, @jewellthebooknerd, @paintgonewrong, @vacantwatchers, @newagemyth, @gutterflower77, @just-a-tiny-void, @littlebluejane

@whenindoubtb72, @different-tale-student, @sharingisntkaren, @current-steddie-brainrot, @willim-billiam-byerson, @nuggies4life

@lostgurl-12, @anomalygal, @synonym-for-strange, @sani-86, @missmagillicuddy, @ilikechocolatemilkh, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @harringrieve, @awesomeimportantfan, @fredtheemoplant, @warlordess, @therealscarletpumpernickel, @gsvshsjsbs, @mightbeasleep, @mollymawkwrites

@lil-gremlin-things, @honorarybrit81, @sonny-ray-of-goth, @potent-idiocy, @fandomcartographer, @heartsong18, @lingeringmirth, @ko0kyco0kies, @ccomandercody, @spiderman-stilinski, @l0st-strawberry, @xxsky-shockxx, @stilesstickitinme, @boxsam, @thepansexualsnake, @37-screamingfrogs, @yourmom-isgay, @brainsteddielyrotted, @plasticcrotches, @hannahhook7744

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fluff #good vibrations steddie #deaf steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things #my writing

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wildernessuntothemselves · 10 months

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Jealousy, Jealousy... | Final Part

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

Word count: 13k

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, I’m falling in love

As time goes by

As my feelings grow

I’m becoming more anxious

How deep is your love?

I want to ask

Couldn’t it be the same if not deeper?

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

Seeing you change little by little

I’m afraid I’ll lose you

Not mine

My one minute, one second

Take them all

All my time is yours

Why?

Why have you changed?

Why are you so far away from me?

Now we are at different paths.

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

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

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

How can I go back

To our beginning

When we were looking at the same place

The when we had the same heart

I hope you don’t know it

This feeling

Even though I love you

I still feel alone

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

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

I’m drowning in you

Don’t leave me like this

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighs. “Maybe. So what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

____________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You said that already."

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

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

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

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

"Why wouldn't you just tell him?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, I love him but I’m with you.”

“Only to get over him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s fair.”

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

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

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

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

____________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could Yeonjun have been right all along?

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

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

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

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

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

Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then he gulps and says. "Okay."

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

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

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

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

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

Naturally, that is a lot to live up too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck, Beomgyu slow down."

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

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

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

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

"Yes. Will you sit on my cock?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. "Go ahead. But slowly."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, you are. You’re my best boy." You coo, stroking his soft hair and he nuzzles into your hand like a puppy, seeking any form of contact with you.

"Thank you." He groans, fingers digging into your skin as he tries to hold himself back, his poor cock screaming at him to just take you like he wants. "So pretty. Look so pretty getting fucked."

"Yeah? Is it how you imagined it when you'd fuck my panties?" You ask but once again Beomgyu has no shame, his hips faltering at the reminder of his debauched actions.

"Better. So pretty. So tight. Could stay in your cunt forever." He almost drools at the thought, and you really believe he'd love to do just that.

"Dirty boy. Dirty little boy going all dumb for me." You stroke his face lovingly and he peers at you with pleading eyes. "Baby, please, hurts… can I go faster?"

"Aw, poor pup, do you need to hammer your cock into my pussy that bad?" You scold, giving his face light slaps.

"Uh-huh… will make you feel good. I promise." He babbles, his hips already going faster as if he's sure you'll give him permission.

"No." This may or may not be the one and only time you get to fuck him. You need to savor it. "Slow down."

Your hands go to his hips, clawing at his skin to slow down his thrusts and he relents, albeit begrudgingly. "You're so mean."

"But you love it." You laugh at his tearful pout. "God, you love it so much you can't stop shaking your hips like a whore. It's like you've never been fucked before.”

"I haven't. You’re my first.” He admits, knocking any remaining breath out of your lungs.

This is his first time. He and Haeun never did it? What the fuck?

"Did you let him fuck you?" He asks, and you stay silent. He knows you’ve fucked Yeonjun. There is no way he thinks you live with Yeonjun and aren’t fucking him. But then again, he hasn’t fucked Haeun, and you were so sure that he did.

"Did you?" He asks again, an edge to his voice and you nod minutely. "I didn't know. I thought you and Haeun–"

Beomgyu's whole face changes. "God, you're such a slut. Fucking two men at the same time."

You immediately get defensive. Yeonjun was your boyfriend. You had dated for months. You’re not a whore for fucking him. It would be more understandable if he’s referring to the fact (or what he thinks is a fact) of you fucking him when you have a boyfriend, but you’re almost certain that’s not what he’s upset about. He’s just jealous you’ve fucked Yeonjun at all. "Just because she won't let you put it in, doesn't make me a slut."

That just angers him more, and he practically bends you in half as his dick pumps in and out of you at a brutal pace, his anger at what you’ve done making him lose it, not caring about your instructions anymore. "I hate you."

You laugh, fighting hard to hide the pain his statement elicits in your gut as well as to keep your voice steady as he practically plows his cock into you. God, he makes you so mad but he’s fucking you so good.

"But you sure love my pussy."

"My pussy." He growls, catching you off guard once again. He bends his head down to kiss your neck harshly, and can already feel the marks blooming there under his teeth. "Mine. Not his. All mine."

"What?” You sputter. Is this it? Is this how he confesses to you? “Beomgyu, what–”

"Shut up." He smacks your ass, not willing to hear your protests right now. "You've played with me long enough. Now be good and take it."

Played with him? What the hell is he talking about? You’ve never played with him. But any attempt to get a sane answer out of him right now is useless as the sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the room and Beomgyu latches his mouth onto yours, trying to dominate you in a way he has never attempted to do before–as if he’s trying to prove that you really are his.

And you are. He may not know it but you’ve always been his.

But his strong facade is paper-thin and you can see right through it to the insecure boy below when he pulls back to look at you. “Fuck, why did you have to be so pretty?”

“Make me cum, Beommie.” You murmur, moving a hand between your bodies to rest over your pussy, your middle and index fingers on either side of his cock as it fucks into you. “Do you feel how wet I am for you? I’m soaking the bed, baby.”

“Fuck…” He pulls your hand away, taking a look at how wet it has become already before he grunts and pushes one of your thighs against the bed to allow space for his own hand between your bodies, quickly finding your pussy to rub your clit.

“Oh… oh, fuck… baby…” You gasp, back arching as you’re quickly hurled towards your orgasm. “That’s it, honey. Make me cum on your big cock.”

He groans, his hips stuttering as your pussy begins to clench around him. “Don’t talk like that. Gonna make me lose it.”

“It riles you up when I talk dirty to you? Tell you how good you're fucking me?”

He nods.

“Dirty boy.” You moan out for him, “Do it. Empty that cock inside me. Want my pussy dripping with you.”

“Holy s-shit,” Beomgyu cries, and you feel his cum shooting inside of you, his hips not stopping for a second. And though his thrusts become erratic, his thumb keeps up its assault on your clit until your pussy is clamping down on his cock and milking the last drops of cum from him. “Good girl. My good girl.”

He fucks you through your orgasm, babbling on about how pretty you are and how well you took it. He looks so fucking pathetic with his shiny eyes and needy whimpers that before you even know it, he’s ripping another orgasm out of your already fucked out body.

“Goddammit, Beomgyu…” You squeal, toes curling at the very intense second orgasm, your body shuddering with the unexpected sharp waves of pleasure racking through it. And through it all, Beomgyu continues fucking you. You can feel his cock begin to harden once again inside you, and as the brutal second orgasm leaves your body, you wince at the overstimulation, putting your hands against his sweaty chest and starting to push him away.

“That’s enough, Beomgyu. I can’t take any more.”

But he resists you, shaking his head. “One more. Please, one more.”

“No.” You tell him firmly, “Don’t be bad. Pull out.”

He searches your face for any hint of leniency, his big pretty eyes trying to convince you to change your mind but you can’t. He’s fucked you so hard, your poor pussy requires a much needed rest.

You both watch as he slowly pulls out, his once again hard cock glistening with your cum and his, his seed dripping down your ass now that he wasn’t plugging your pussy up.

“Oh, baby, does that hurt?” You coo, grabbing his cock. He lets out a sigh of relief as you begin stroking it. “Yeah. So bad.”

The little shit is milking this, but you play along. “Poor baby. Let me make it go away.” You grin, suddenly speeding up, the slide of your hand so easy when his cock is well-lubricated. You make sure to maintain your position, with him hovering over your splayed open body so he can rake his eyes over it, and you clearly seeing him struggling to choose where to look between your tits that jiggle as you jerk him off quickly, the cum leaking out of your puffy pussy, and your swollen lips as you swipe your tongue over them.

It doesn’t take long for you to have him spilling his seed again, landing on your tummy as he doubles over and buries his head in your neck.

“That’s it, good boy.” You praise him, using your free hand to stroke his long hair that you love so much.

You let him lay there for a whole, catching his breath that is so irregular and stuttered that you almost don’t notice when he starts crying if it wasn’t for the hot tears falling on your skin.

“Beomgyu?” You call out, and a heart-breaking sob breaks out of his chest.

"Please, come back to me." He croaks against your neck.

"What?" You sit up, making him sit up with you and pulling his face away from your shoulder so you can look at him, your heart sinking at the tears streaming down his face. "I can't fucking bear seeing you with him any longer. It hurts so much."

Oh fuck.

"Beomgyu… Yeonjun isn't–" You try to explain that you and Yeonjun had broken up but he cuts you off.

"It's not him, it's you!" He shouts, "I love you and I can't bear it any longer. And I know it's selfish and that you don't love me back, at least not in that way, but then you keep messing with me."

He loves you? He really loves you?

"But I thought you loved Haeun?" You need to know what exactly is happening with him and Haeun first.

"I thought I did too but whenever I'm with her, I find myself thinking of you. You’re always in my head, it ruins every moment I have with her. She hates you too, you know? She can't stand how much I love you. The reason we haven't fucked is not because she won't put out. It's because I only want you. I didn't want to lose it to anyone else but you."

"Beomgyu–"

"But you don’t fucking care. You just see me as your disgusting best friend who you can play with and push away when you're done with him and I can't even bring myself to hate you for it. That's how much I love you. So just please… please give me a break."

“You think I was playing with you?” The idea seems absurd to you. How can he possibly think that? You've done everything in your power to not show how much you love him but never in your wildest dreams would you think that would mean he would see it as you playing with him.

“Weren’t you? I mean the way you spoke to me… you always pushed me away. I had to beg each time for you to even kiss me.” He peers at you, pain and vulnerability shining in his eyes as he recalls the way you treated him.

Fuck, you've been so obsessed with not letting your love for him show that you've done the same thing to him you thought he was doing to you. Knowing that pain all too well, you can’t bear the thought of being the cause of it.

You grab his face in your hands and kiss him, intending to pour out your own feelings the same way he did, hoping to staunch the flood of heartbreak you’re witnessing and calm him down enough for him to realize you feel the same way.

But his reaction wasn't what you expected. He breaks down crying. "You're so cruel."

"No, no! I love you too!" Your hands are in a flurry around his face, wiping his tears, stroking his hair, caressing his cheeks, anything to calm him down.

"What? This is not funny." He sobs, looking like a wounded animal. Your heart aches at the sight.

"No, fuck, I've loved you for years! The whole friends with benefits thing I started was just an excuse to have a way to be with you."

He stares at you in utter shock, the confusion the only thing stopping his tears from drowning you. "But you never even hinted that you liked me. You called me all kinds of names, freak, disgusting, pervert…"

"I thought you liked these..." You trail off sheepishly.

"I did but it still makes a guy think.” He mumbles, his fingers playing with yours nervously. “You wouldn’t let me touch you or kiss you."

"I was afraid if I let you kiss me, I wouldn't want you to stop. And I didn’t want you to touch me because I was afraid you wouldn’t like what you saw." It sounds so silly now that you're saying it out loud–now that you know he loves you and has wanted you just as badly.

"That's stupid. I had already seen it all." He tells you casually and you frown. "When?"

"You don't always shut the door when you're changing." He shrugs.

"Pervert!" You gasp, hitting him with no real power behind it. "What about you? You never hinted at anything either. You only ever talked about my body."

"Well, it did start just physical but I quickly realized that I'm in love with you. Then I kept only mentioning your body because you'd freak out on me whenever I hinted at anything else."

"Fair." You pout, realizing you’ve done as much to hurt yourself as he did.

"I didn't want to let it show that I loved you because I was so afraid you'd pull away like you did a couple of times. And then you were with Yeonjun and it fucking killed me so I had to pretend it was just sexual."

"Oh god, that's exactly what I've been doing.” You cover your face with your hands, mortified at your stupidity. We're fucking dumbasses."

“Yes, we are.” He replies fondly, taking your hands away from your face so you can look at him, refusing to let you hide anymore. "So you'll break up with him and be with me?"

"We broke up a while back.” You admit sheepishly. “He said he can't be with me when you and I are clearly in love with each other."

“So let me get this straight, Yeonjun could tell we love each other but somehow we, the two people involved, didn’t have a clue?” He raises an eyebrow at you and you nod. “I think it’s safe to say we won’t be winning any genius awards anytime soon.”

“We could win the biggest dumbasses award though.” He cracks a smile, pulling you close to him and resting his forehead against yours.

“No one could even compete.” You grin, kissing him. He immediately deepens the kiss, frantic and hungry still.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, Beommie. We have all the time in the world.” You tease as if you weren’t just as needy, making him whine. “I can’t help it. You made me yearn for so long.”

“Yearn? Oh, that’s bad. I made you use the word yearn.”

He yanks your legs up, sending the rest of your body flying backwards and hitting the mattress, your loud giggles quickly covered by his mouth as he kisses you harshly, his teeth biting down on your lips in annoyance when you still don’t stop laughing.

“Stop it.” He whines in defeat as he pulls back, and you try to keep your giggles under control, his pout is entirely too devastating to look at.

"Are you gonna break up with her?" You ask and he doesn't hesitate to say, "Of course."

That makes you smile, happy with how easily he chose you, but then a thought pops into your mind and you frown. "You know, I hated her but I still feel kinda bad for fucking you behind her back." You really do. You've never condoned cheating, even if it was on someone as vile as Haeun.

"Oh you mean the same way she fucked the whole football team?" He counters and you gape at him, "God damn. Why did you even stay with her for that long?"

He shrugs. "Needed a distraction. And to not come across as a loser in front of you. I mean you were with Yeonjun. I couldn't just be alone."

"Oh, honey…" You coo, but anything you planned to say is suddenly forgotten as you feel his cock pressing against your entrance.

"Beommie!" You squeak. “What are you doing?”

"You thought we were done? You spread your legs for my bandmate. I'm gonna have to look at him every day knowing he had you first. I gotta make sure you and everyone else knows who exactly you belong to."

It may not be the most healthy coping mechanism, but you’ll let him have it for now. You’re sure you wouldn't be very happy if you were in his position either. Besides, getting to fuck Beomgyu isn’t exactly what you would consider a punishment.

_________

A/N: Click here for the Yeonjun ending on Patreon.

Also for my patreons, you could suggest a scene from gyu's pov and I'll choose one. There will also most likely be some drabbles about oc and gyu's life after the ending (mostly smut featuring our favorite desperate boy lol) and some will be released on tumblr and others will be exclusive to patreon.

Patreons may also suggest a continuation of a previous fic/drabble. I will do my best to release at least something monthly on there.

Taglist: @blxxsss@sanasour@tinkw1nks@lol6sposts@zuzuhasablog@beomsl@seolis-world@stantxtorurmissingout@wonwooz1@yaorzu-blog@allylikesdabee@rkivezzs@malieno@leviathanlee26@yomomas-stuff@kurisaiyunobara@girlwholovekpop@zuzuhasablog@viaaasdiary@ho3forkpop@skzvcr@th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @izzyexe @boomfrogg @kpop-cakepops-recs @chronicallygyu @girlwholovekpop

#txt smut #dom!reader #sub!idol #tomorrow x together smut

786 notes · View notes

janeyseymour · 7 months

Note

your personal and professional was soooooo good hear me out

pt 2 the date. reader takes their time and truly goes all out alt baddie for their date as per mel’s request. melissa realizes those weren’t the only piercings and tattoos reader was camouflaging. a top that accentuates her nipple piercing and a slitted skirt that shows leg tattoos for days mel doesn’t know how many more surprises she can take

ask and you shall receive. written half drunk, on the phone with my boyfriend, and inhaling a pad thai. not edited in the slightest and hoping it's good enough :)

Personal and Professional pt 2

Part 1

WC: ~1.75k

Melissa just had you pinned up against your desk, her mouth roughly on your own. It takes you a few minutes to even be able to function again, brain now all over the place as you try to process what just happened.

She told you to meet her at The Capital Grille at six… That’s a couple hours from now. And she doesn’t want you to wear the outfit you’re in now: your clean yellow blouse and sweater, your dress pants and flats. So you shake your head and practically sprint out to your car. If she wants the alt girl that you are, she’ll get it.

You spend the entire drive home planning what you’ll wear on this date. You know that The Capital Grille is a relatively fancy place to go out to eat, so you can’t roll up in the usual band t-shirt or tank top and your jeans.

But you know that have quite a few skirts that you wouldn’t wear to school, and you have more than enough tops to impress the woman.

When you get home, you immediately change out your clear stud for your nose ring, and your small hoops are exchanged for your bigger, black hoops and put in your ear spike. Your blouse is switched out for a rather revealing, black top that accentuates the piercings on your chest. You swap out your slacks for the shortest black skirt that you own that has a nice slit up the side to show off the tattoos that make their way up your thighs and hips. The ballet flats that you chose to wear to school are off, and you instead lace up your heeled boots.

You glance in the mirror, and while you would usually change your eye makeup for something a bit more… daring, you decide to just touch up the light and minimal makeup that you had on for today. There should be at least some small aspect of you that the redhead can recognize. And besides, you think your makeup looks good today. So, you head for the bathroom and start heating up your curling iron. An hour later, your hair is curled into big bombshell curls, and you make sure the few front pieces frame your face.

You still have a bit of time before you have to meet her, so you head back into the living room, pull out some of your work, and grade some papers until it’s finally an appropriate time to start heading out to the restaurant.

You park your car, and text Melissa that you’re on your way.

I’m sitting in the back, she replies back. Do you want a drink?

Whatever you’re having, is your answer, and you continue walking towards the restaurant.

When you walk in though, she’s waiting by the door to escort you over to your table.

“Hey there, pretty lady,” you say suavely.

The redhead doesn’t answer right away. She’s too busy practically drooling over your appearance.

“Mel,” you chuckle.

She blinks a few times before she’s able to take her eyes away from your chest and the rest of your outfit. “Wow.”

“Like what you see?” you give her a little twirl.

“More than I think you realize.”

You roll your eyes playfully before looping your arm through hers. “You look beautiful.”

“You look… holy shit,” she whispers as she pulls you in close and kisses you with more passion than she had in the classroom.

You kiss her back, but you do pull away. Your cheeks are red and hot. Despite appearances, you still are the woman that you are at school, and you can’t help but feel quite flustered with the public display of affection.

She takes you into the back of the restaurant, where your table is. There’s a small bouquet of flowers waiting for you, along with two glasses of wine.

She pulls out your seat, and you gently kiss her cheek as she helps you situate yourself before she takes a seat across the table from you.

You smile softly as she practically drinks in the sight of you. Feeling just a bit flustered, you reach for the glass that she has waiting for you and wait for her to grab her own. The two of you silently toast to each other before you take a rather large gulp of wine.

“This place,” you say softly. “It’s… really nice.”

“I know I flirt with you rather crassly at school,” Melissa chuckles. “But you deserve the best, hun.”

You feel your cheeks heat up even more, and you can’t help the warm feeling that settles in your chest. “Thank you.”

You glance down at the table for a menu, but there isn’t one.

“Food is already on its way,” your coworker tells you. “I know what you like.”

She’s right. She had ordered you a nice filet minion, and she had ordered the same for herself. This food is to die for.

Conversation flows between the two of you easily, but you’ve noticed that the redhead has a hard time focusing on your eyes the way that she usually can at school.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you finally ask.

Her eyes flit from your chest to your eyes, cheeks flushed. Whether that’s from the wine or from her being caught staring at your tasteful piercings, you don’t know.

“I know I told you to come dressed as your little alt girl self, but…” she hums. “Wow. I wasn’t expecting… those piercings, or the flowery vines that travel up your legs.”

“You saw those?”

“Of course I did,”she whispers. “You look absolutely… stunning.”

You feel the way that her boot finds its way to your leg, and she runs it up your calf. You feel a shiver run up to your spine. But before you can really react, it’s gone, and she’s acting like nothing had ever happened.

The two of you are back to talking about your days and the things that your students had gotten up to today.

Before you know it, dessert is being brought out, along with two glasses of champagne. She moves from the seat across from you, and the teacher makes her way around the table and to your side. She takes up the seat next to you, daringly running a hand up your thigh. You can’t quite help the way that your body reacts. You nearly purr.

“You like that?” she whispers.

You nod, words caught in your throat. You don’t think you can answer without letting out a soft moan.

“No time for that now,” she says huskily. She dips the spoon into the tiramisu that had been brought to your table before bringing it up to your lips.

Deciding two can play at that game, you take the spoonful of dessert before letting out a moan. You lick the spoon clean as seductively as you can.

Melissa’s eyes go wide before she spoons another bite and taking it herself. The two of you finish off the dish in front of you, her hand on your thigh the entire time. She’s rubbing gentle circles on your skin with the pad of your thumb before tracing the tattooed vines up your leg as high as your skirt will allow.

“You cold, hun?” Melissa whispers into your ear.

You swallow harshly before shaking your head. Daringly, you take her hand and move it to your hipbone. She doesn’t know it, but that’s where the vines end- they’re attached to a beautiful flower that is engraved into your hip.

Her eyes linger where her hand has been placed before looking into your eyes. She pulls you in for a gentle kiss, one that conveys just how she feels for you: that this isn’t just some small fling but instead holds deep and passionate feelings for you. She gently squeezes your hip, and you whimper at that.

“Mel,” you mumble into her mouth.

She pulls away, and she can tell with the way that you’re looking at her that you feel the same as her. “Should we go to my place?”

You nod, and she grabs both of your bags before gesturing for you to stand.

“The bill,” you say softly, not moving from your place.

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes.

“We can’t just dine and dash… especially at a restaurant like this,” you whisper.

She waves you off. “My cousin Anthony owns this jawn. It’s fine.” She offers you a hand, and you take it gently.

As the two of you exit, she waves to a few of the people, expressing her thanks to them. They all give her small smiles, a few of them raise their eyebrows as they look you over, and the two of you walk out hand in hand.

“Where’s your car, babe?” she asks you.

“In the garage on Samson,” you tell her, and she walks you over.

“Anthony let me park by their loading docks,” she grins as she opens the door to your driver’s seat.

“Let me drive you back over then,” you offer.

“If you insist,” she chuckles as she makes her way around and settles next to you. Your hand rests gently on her thigh as you pull out of your spot and exit the garage, only to turn back onto the street that you had dinner on. Her car is waiting for her, and she gives you a quick kiss before heading to her car.

“Follow me over?” she asks. You nod and wait for her to start leading the way.

As you pull in behind her in her driveway, you glance at yourself in the rear view mirror. You make sure that your hair looks nice, you wipe away some of the makeup that is under your eyes, and you grin when you see her standing at your door waiting.

You open the door, and her arm is immediately out and waiting for you to take it. She leads you up the walkway before she unlocks her door.

You barely have a foot in the door before she has you pinned up against it.

“You have any other surprises in store for me?” she asks huskily as her mouth finds your neck.

You hum, entirely distracting with the things that she’s doing to you. “That’s for you to find out, isn’t it?”

Her eyes turn dark and full of lust, and as she’s leading you up to her bedroom, you silently thank God that she found you in that grocery store the other day.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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hothothotch · 1 year

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Heeey ! I have a Hotch request 😄

Context: she’s one of his first case, some young girl who hacked the Pentagone to make a point to a teacher that you don’t have to be good in class to be a genius in something. They try to arrest her but she didn’t did anything just enter their server and disconnect. But all the way into interrogation she flirts with him. They let her go and he sees her a couple years later?

I don’t know how to end this, but yeah just a thing I got in my head for a while 🥹

hey! i loved writing this one and, again, i want a part two of it, so maybe you should expect one haha. i hope you like it, anon <3

Requests are open!

1991

"I'll plead the fifth in this one..." you smirked up at Agent Hotchner, batting your eyes seductively — or as seductively as you believed you could be — as you observed him through your eyelashes, "And I'm very good at pleading, just so you know".

Aaron didn't react visibly, even though the urge to roll his eyes was definitely there. After a few minutes of interrogation (probably ten, but he wasn't sure, since you were a delight to hear — ironically speaking), Aaron had lost count of how many flirtatious comments you had thrown at him, the situation way more annoying considering that his boss, SSA Gideon, was sitting by his side, observing everything with as neutral as an expression he could have, clearly as unamused as Aaron.

"Oh, come on!" you groaned, clearly unpleased with Aaron's lack of response to your flirt, "You can laugh, right? There's nowhere on your contract saying 'FBI Agents have to be stiff and serious, even the hot ones'!".

"I don't usually laugh when interrogating someone" Aaron replied, opening up the file he had in front of him to read your name out loud, "Much less when they invade the Pentagon's system".

You tried to bit back the proud smile that showed up on your face at the acknowledgment of what you've done — you highly doubted one of those Agents would clap their hands at your achievement, and still you'd rather face them than your parents, that were probably fuming on their way to the Bureau.

If SSA Hotchner and Gideon's faces were the last things you'd see for the rest of your life (that probably wouldn't be as long as you once thought it would), you might as well fall in style.

"That was impressive, wasn't it?" you asked, your voice clearly smug as you leaned against your chair, "I'm really good at that!".

"Not that much" SSA Gideon intervened, "I can name a few hackers that can do the same".

You raised one brow in defiance, trying to mask the way his words had evidently hurt your ego, "I didn't say I'm unique, I said I'm impressive. There's a difference" you pointed in a matter-of-factly way, before turning back at Agent Hotchner, "From now on, I'm only answering your questions, pretty boy".

"It's Agent Hotchner".

You chuckled, "Okay" you nodded curtly, "Pretty Agent Hotchner boy".

That time you saw the way he reacted, his body language denouncing you was starting to frustrate him. If you didn't know it was overstepping — more than you've already overstepped — you probably would make a joke about how you could help him with his frustration, but you weren't really into going to jail over harassment.

Trying to exhaust his patience was one thing. Crossing the line between amusement and crime was something you didn't want to do.

Oh, yeah. You had hacked into the Pentagon.

"Okay, look..." you started, straightening your pose on your chair, grimacing when the metal of the cuffs (an unnecessary accessory, if you will) skimmed on your skin, a clear indicative that you'd soon have a new bruise at that spot, "I've hacked into the Pentagon, true" she directed a pointed look at Gideon, rolling her eyes, "Yes, I'm aware there are a lot of other hackers that can pull that out, but I had a point to make!".

"Which was?" Aaron questioned, his eyes still trained on you. With a quick look to his hand, you noticed he was wearing a wedding band — golden, brilliant; he was probably freshly married. You questioned if he looked at his wife in that intimidating way, or if it was reserved to people like you, or that he judged to be like you.

You took a deep breath, leaning against your chair, "I'm graduating on MIT" you started explaining, even if you knew they could find that information on your file, and that they probably already knew that, considering you'd been smart enough to hack into the Pentagon from your college's computer, but not enough to hide your tracks, "And I was unlucky enough not to get good grades at this specific subject, and my teacher made a point to humiliate me in front of everyone. So I made a point in showing her that while she's theoretically smart, I'm technically smart".

The single raise of Agent Hotchner's brow was enough to reveal what he was thinking about you after your explanation — that you were a spoiled child, that you couldn't have things any other way except for yours, that he could have you arrested solely by how bad your reasoning had been.

"Yeah, pretty Agent Hotchner boy..." you crossed your arms in front of your body, "Not everyone is born with everything on a silver plate, y'know? My attention is not as good as it was supposed to be".

Aaron switched a quick glance with Gideon, his demeanor betraying nothing as they kept their eyes locked for a few minutes, expectation suddenly building on your body along with the urge to pick at your nails, an anxious behavior you had.

"Let her go" Agent Gideon finally said, standing up from his chair, turning his back on you both to walk out of the interrogation room.

"What?" you squealed in confusion, placing the palms of your hands on top of the metallic desk you had between Agent Hotchner and you, "That's all?".

Aaron hummed in agreement, standing up to grab the cuff keys' in his pockets, his hands brushing with yours for a second, and you could swear there was a sudden electricity on that touch, causing you to push your hand away.

He looked up at you with one brow raised again, his voice a bit more humored now, "What? You want to be arrested?".

"You arrested me, pretty Agent Hotchner boy" you reminded, shaking your cuffed hands, "And while I think being cuffed is sexy, I can't wait to remove those. They're hurting my pulse".

"You should've told us, we'd lose it a bit" he shrugged, opening the lock expertly, before sitting on the desk, "You only logged into the system and turned it off. We can't arrest you for turning the computers off, so you're free to go".

You faced him for a while more, trying to find something to say, maybe a snarky remark — a joke? But nothing came to mind. So you only nodded, standing up from the chair with a smile.

"So off I go" you told him, massaging your pulses, "Guess we won't see each other again, pretty Agent Hotchner boy".

Aaron shook his head, crossing his arms, "I hope not".

"Ouch" you put your hand over your chest dramatically, "You wound me, honey. Hope you don't miss me too much".

Aaron finally allowed himself to roll his eyes, standing up from the desk to walk toward the door, "It won't be a problem".

...

2011

You were honestly — and positively — surprised when the message arrived in your inbox, the (a rather last minute) white invitation warming your heart in a way you didn't think it would.

JJ and Will were getting married.

It was a surprise not because you thought you wouldn't be invited, but because you didn't think it would happen at all; the last time you and JJ talked (only a year prior to that date), the woman had been pretty straightforward about not being ready to get married, even if Will clearly was. You were surprised to know that he supported her and it wasn't an issue, even though JJ sometimes complained about how they ended up fighting over the topic.

You were happy they finally got to an agreement. And even happier that their agreement gave her an excuse to leave her house, even for only a few hours.

"You look beautiful!" you stated once you spotted JJ on the dancefloor, bringing her for a hug when she finally recognized you.

"I can't believe you're here!" JJ held you against her body happily, and you could feel her smile on your shoulder as she rocked you from side to side, "I thought you were in Paris!".

You nodded when she pulled back, allowing you to move and embrace Will, that had a similar smile on his face, "I was. But the Pentagon called me back and I was forced to come back. Which is a loss, because I was starting to get used with the accent. And the paycheck".

Will shook his head, laughing at your last comment, "I'm sure Interpol will be missing a great Agent".

"That they will" you nodded eagerly, playfully throwing your hair over your shoulder, "I was their jewel, and now they have nothing. But I'm happy to be back home. Will be even happier when I find a good house for me, since I've sold my old house".

"Oh, that's your lucky day!" JJ commented, immediately taking your hand in hers, already guiding you through the dancefloor to a table where a few people were gathered, laughing at something one of them had said, "My friends' neighbor just passed away, and their old apartment is vacant. Maybe you can rent it".

You smiled, ready to give JJ an answer when you looked at the table again, your eyes widening at the sight of one man in the middle of the group. You froze in your place when you recognized him, your jaw slightly dropped when your eyes met, recognition clearly passing through his eyes as well.

You heard JJ saying your name, and you were fairly aware that she was introducing you to the group, though the only name you managed to hear was, "This is Aaron Hotchner, my boss, and friend".

Boss. It was curious — last time you've seen Agent Hotchner (or pretty Agent Hotchner boy, as you once called him), he was an Agent working under Jason Gideon's supervision.

Ten years had gone by, though. A lot had changed. You, to begin with.

"Oh, huh... hi!" you waved at the group, trying to pretend you had gathered any of their names, "JJ was telling me that one of you had a neighbor who had passed and may have an apartment free for me?".

Aaron — who seemed to be on a trance just as you'd been in the past few seconds — cleared his throat at your question, trying to brush away the embarrassment of how you kept looking at each other. If someone in his group noticed, though, none of them made a comment about it.

"That would be me" he stated, and you held the urge to mutter an 'of course that is', "Maybe we can talk—".

"On the dancefloor" the old man beside him suggested, nudging Aaron slightly with a mischievous smirk on his lips as he took a sip of his drink (whiskey, you deduced), "Do you like to dance?".

"Very much" you nodded, directing your response at the man who asked the question, but your eyes were focused on Aaron, "That's one of my technical skills".

If there was any doubt to Aaron that you remembered him, this doubt fade away at that exact moment — and you noticed it by the way his body language immediately changed, going from an almost nervous one to a more relaxed one.

"I guess you can show me, then" Aaron offered his hand to you, a smile appearing on his face when you immediately accepted it, guiding you back to the dancefloor, "Let's just try and not be arrested tonight, okay?".

You snorted, patting on his shoulder when the song turned into a slower one, and your eyes met one more time before you replied, "I won't make any promises".

Thank you for your request ✨

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner oneshot

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alpaca-clouds · 1 month

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Hayao Miyazaki & Solarpunk

Hayao Miyazaki probably never planned to become this super influential voice for Solarpunk. He did become it though. In fact a lot of his movies are considered to be Solarpunk to some degree, which in a way does make a lot of sense. After all, not only does he generally feature stories about preserving the environment, and stories that are very much anti-war and often also anti-capitalist, but - and I think this is something often ignores - he also is heavily influenced by indigenous Japanese storytelling. There are very few creatives in Japan that outright reference the indigenous cultures of Japan - but Hayao Miyazaki is one of them.

The strongest Solarpunk vibes in his movies can obviously be found with Nausicaä, and with Princess Mononoke. One a post-apocalyptic movie, the other one a historical fantasy piece, which makes this entire thing even more interesting. Laputa, too, is often seen as Solarpunk - a story that is pretty much high fantasy with some scifi elements. And I would argue that you still very much can find Solarpunk themes in both Spirited Away and My Neighbour Totoro.

Not one of those movies is SciFi. And I very much find this worthy of discussing, because I think it is one of those aspects where a lot of people who would like to write something more Solarpunk could learn from.

One point that cannot be ignored is of course that Miyazaki aside from traditional and indigenous Japanese storytelling also drew heavy influence from Ursula K. LeGuin in some of his works - who also is one of the big influences on Solarpunk. And yes, there might be some essay of mine about LeGuin coming some day in the future - but not too soon.

From the very beginning of Studio Ghibli at least, Miyazaki's movies always had a heavy emphasis on some themes. These included feminism (by showing both women who can fight, and the importance of care work done by women), anti-war and pacifism, and environmentalism.

It should be noted that very much no Miyazaki movie is set in an utopia. Instead the movies are concerned with the idea of finding solutions for the characters - and with the characters empowering themselves.

Nausicaä and Princess Mononoke might be the clearest examples here. In both movies the protagonists take the role of creating peace between nature and those, trying to destroy it. However this ending is never quite a compromise, rather than the destroyers seeing that they are doing wrong and promising to do better. Which is another core thing that is there in most of Miyazaki's movies: They show a big hope for humanity and its ability to be good. Only rarely are we shown irredeemable villains in those movies - most of the times just people blinded by their lust for money and power. Or, at times, there is simply the problem that the two different sides can literally not understand each other.

This is a theme that gets explored again and again. How so many conflicts are rooted in the different sides not communicating - or at times literally being unable to communicate. With the protagonists being the ones who will be able to listen and understand.

The other aspect is that the protagonist in Miyazaki's movies also will empower themselves, while the antagonists do try and depower them. The protagonists have their own wishes and believes and stay true to them. They will also manage to succeed by befriending other people they meet along their way, by meeting them without any prejudice in many cases. Be it Ashitaka, who meets both the gods and the people of Iron Town without hatred, or be it Chihiro, who manages to befriend almost everyone she meets along her way.

The important aspect is, that the movies here offer a hopeful outlook and also show the importance of helping each other and banding up against a greater evil. In fact they do show a heavy emphasis on Mutual Aid in some interesting ways.

Here is the thing: Yes, I really want to see more Solarpunk fiction that is set in possible, but really positive Solarpunk worlds that dare to imagine anarchist and communist worlds. But we absolutely need these kinds of stories. Stories that are about the fight for the environment, for a better word. Stories in which the characters do offer mutual aid to others, work together and find understanding. And stories in which there can be hope found.

And I think we just need to give this more of a chance - and talk more about it.

#solarpunk #studio ghibli #hayao miyazaki #princess mononoke #spirited away #ghibli #ghibli films #nausicaä of the valley of the wind #laputa #anime #anime and manga

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nebulaafterdark · 2 years

Text

More Than Anyone Pt. 3

Aegon x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

More plot than porn this time.

Part 1 | Part 2

It has been some months since the Driftmark debacle. Y/N is growing by the day, about halfway through her term. Aegon delights in holding her close, with her back to his chest. Stroking a gentle hand over her baby bump.

He hesitates for a moment before he speaks. “There is something I’ve been meaning to run past you.”

“Mmm.” Y/N is nearly asleep. Comfortable, happy and he is about to ruin it all.

Aegon breathes a sigh of relief, “it will keep till the morrow.”

“But now I am curious, you must tell me.” Y/N insists.

“My mother wants to organize a hunting party for Laenor’s seconds name day.” Aegon tells his wife. They had a similar celebration for their daughter’s second name day. Where their son, Laenor, had subsequently been born, in a tent with only Aegon’s help.

“This does not please you?” Y/N smirks, “I promise not to give birth this time.”

“She wishes us to name him our heir, during the procession.”

“Laenor is our thirdborn child.”

“He is our firstborn son.”

Y/N purses her lips, “the Iron Throne is Dahlia’s birthright.” She had come into the world first, followed quickly by Visera a few moments after.

“I am advised by the small council-”

“Alicent brought this matter before the small council?” Y/N’s cheeks begin to burn.

“In the interest of the realms, my dearest love. This would help strengthen the reign of house Targaryen.”

“My mother named me.” Y/N reminds him. “Not Jacaerys, Lucerys or Joffrey. Even at the births of the children she shares with Daemon, never did she spurn me.”

“And you will make a fine Queen.” Aegon tells her.

“Then why not our daughter? What makes you think she will be unfit to lead?”

“We are toying with centuries old tradition, a dangerous game, under which we all will be crushed if it falls. I have no taste for duty. I could not care less about a stupid chair made of swords or who sits it. What I give a damn about is you. Our children. Leaving behind a safe place for all of them to live, truly live. If Laenor wearing the crown is all it costs, how could I be opposed?”

“This is much bigger than that and you know it.” Y/N pushes away from him, gathering her dress.

“In what way?” Aegon demands, settling at the edge of the bed.

“Look at the scene in its entirety before deciding on which side you fall.” Y/N brushes past him.

“Tell me then, what do you see that I do not?” Aegon catches her hand.

“I see,” Y/N trails off, staring down at their joined fingers. The metal of her wedding band stares back, taunting her. “I see a better future. One we cannot hope to achieve while the present stands. I had hoped you might sculpt it with me, or at the very least, hold my fucking hand.” She pulls away.

Aegon sighs, “where are you going?”

Y/N laces up the bodice of her dress with little care. “I need a moment to think.”

“I do not wish you to leave angry.”

“I am not angry, Aegon.” Y/N murmurs. “I am hurt. There is a difference.”

————————————————————————

Y/N moves about the Red Keep restlessly. Only servants and guards walk the grounds so late.

“What has you wondering the castle at this hour, little bird?” Daemon. He is the only one ever to call her that.

“I am,” Y/N is lost for words. Or perhaps she is just, “lost.”

Daemon shifts against the pillar upon which he sits. “That is unlike you. Of all my children, I worry for you the least.”

“Aegon and I are at an impasse.”

“That is marriage for you.”

“We do not agree on a line of succession.”

“Mmm.” Daemon hums, “that is a tricky one. Good thing you are not required to name an heir just yet. Not until you inherit the throne and that will be a number of years. Long after I’m gone…and your mother.” The words are slow to pass his lips, as if they pain him.

“Alicent is pushing-”

“Push back.” Daemon replies, flippantly. “You are the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Heir to the Iron Throne.”

“So instead of resolving this issue I should ignore it in favor of starting a separate issue with the Queen?” Y/N begins pacing in the corridor.

“Aegon may not rank high on the list of people I’d save first from a burning building; but he does adore you. Be firm, put your foot down and do not lift it. He will bend to your will in time, he has done so before.”

“I do not wish to manipulate him into doing my bidding.”

“You believe that Aegon has never manipulated you?”

Y/N wraps both arms around herself. Perhaps he has, would that change the way she feels about him? “I don’t believe he has.”

“Marrying you benefited him tremendously, it boosted his favor amongst the King and the value of his words in court. Perhaps he does love you, that is fine. But if he cannot stand against the snakes which whisper in his ear, then he is not the best match for you.”

“We could hardly annul the marriage now, we’ve children.”

“There are other ways.” Daemon smirks, “say the word and we could have you ready to remarry before the moon turns.”

Y/N isn’t sure what he’s implying but she knows no good will come of it. “That will not be necessary. Thank you for your wisdom, Daemon.”

“I will see you on the morrow, Princess. Chin up.”

Y/N loves her husband, different as he is. Aegon has his honor and she has hers. His heart is good, his intentions to grant their children peace are true. She can be patient as he learns that there is more than one way to provide that peace. She wonders for a moment if Aegon would find his way back to a pleasure house that night.

The Princess returns to her chambers, to the bed she has often forsaken in favor of his. Tossing and turning through the night until the sun peaks through her curtains. She dresses in a simple red gown, setting off to bid the children good morrow. Finding Aegon on the floor of their eldest daughter’s room.

Dahlia is still dreaming, back to her father. Y/N makes her way down to the floor, jostling Aegon’s outstretched arm. “Aegon,” she whispers, “Aegon.”

“Shh,” he quiets her, “lie with me.”

“What are you doing in here?” Y/N whispers, making herself comfortable on the rug.

“I could not find sleep, same as you.”

“Who said I could not find sleep?” Y/N says, indignantly. Allowing her husband to wrap her up in his embrace.

“You were here before the children woke and look every bit exhausted.” Aegon buries his nose in her hair.

Y/N traces patterns on the back of his hand.

“I do not wish to be at odds with you, I cannot bear it.”

Her heart seizes, “I need you, Aegon. I need you to stick up for me when others pour their honey in your ear. I need you to make decisions with me, not for me. I need you to stand at my side. Show the masses and our families that we are a united front, that we love each other.”

“I will do this for you.” Aegon vows.

“Thank you.” Y/N breathes a sigh of relief.

“Can you forgive me for being so short sighted?”

“Only if you can forgive me.”

“I could forgive you for anything. You are the love of my life.”

————————————————————————

“Prince Aegon is not in his chambers.” Talia informs the Queen.

“And we’ve checked the Princess Y/N’s apartments?” Alicent asks, fingers ticking nervously at her sides.

“Her rooms are also empty.” Ser Criston confirms.

“The children?” Surely they wouldn’t have taken off in the night. Y/N would’ve at least informed Rhaenyra. They wouldn’t dare be caught in the silk streets either.

“Princess Visera and Prince Laenor have been taken by their maids to break their fast with Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra.”

“Where is Dahlia?” Alicent demands.

“The Princess did not open her doors, the maid is not to enter until she does, by Princess Y/N’s authority. Yvette believes she still sleeps.”

“No.” The Queen shakes her head. “That is not like Dahlia.” She sets off immediately to her granddaughter’s rooms.

“Your Grace,” Talia trails after her.

“I will send for you if I require further assistance,” Alicent dismisses her, “thank you, Talia.” She moves through the corridor faster than what is appropriate, flinging open the doors of Dahlia’s quarters and rushing inside.

The little girl is awake, she waves to her grandmother. Sandwiched between her mother and father in the four post bed, both their eyes closed.

Alicent waves back, perturbed and confused at the state of things, but that is not her granddaughter’s fault. “What has happened here, my dearest love?”

“Mama and Papa were sleeping on the floor.” The girl explains. “I asked if they wanted to sleep in my bed too. Maybe they had a night terror.”

“Perhaps.” Alicent reaches over Aegon’s shoulder to card her hair. “Do you want to get out of there?” The tangle of limbs.

“No,” the little girl admits. “I quite like it here. Just don’t tell Visera and Laenor, they will be jealous.”

“This will be our secret then.”

Dahlia blinks at her. “Can I tell you one more secret?”

“Of course.” Alicent smiles.

“My Papa said I’m going to be hair.”

“That’s silly, isn’t it.” Alicent replies, quietly.

“Like Mama is her Mama’s hair.”

Alicent hopes her face does not display an ounce of her dismay. This is not a jest, or words exchanged during a childhood game. Aegon told Dahlia she is to be heir. Heir to the Iron Throne.

Part 4

Series Taglist: @sophiexoxsblog @alicentswife

#aegon targaryen x you #house of the dragon #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon ii #aegon targaryen smut #aegon the elder #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen fanfic

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piratefishmama · 1 year

Text

Fake It 'till You Make It | Part 1

The phone was ringing. It was eight in the morning, on a Sunday, and the phone was ringing. Eddie rolled over, pushing his face into his pillow in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, he’d suffocate in the sweet embrace of his misshapen, well-loved pillow before whoever dared to call at such an ungodly hour, decided to give up.

No dice. However his uncle did seem to be answering it for him, bless that man, bless each and every one of his gray hairs.

“Eddie, up an at em, son! S’fer you!” Damn him. Damn him and all his gray hairs.

“Nggghhhh!!!!” Was his very coherent response

“It’s one of those kids’a yours!” Kids? He had kids? Oh shit he had kids, right. kids who should know better than to call at EIGHT. AM. AM. THE MORNING.

ON A SUNDAY.

Just inconsiderate really. He’d spent the majority of the previous night convincing the Gillespie’s that maybe their daughter didn’t actually need to get onto the endless carousel that was the dating scene.

Convincing them that maybe the dating pool was so batshit insane that it was for the best that she remain perfectly single for a little while longer. That maybe being single wasn’t nearly as bad as being with whatever the fuck Eddie Munson was.

Eddie had spent the entire evening referring to her father by his first name as it visibly pissed him off, called his daughter ‘sweet cheeks’ and slapped her ass as she left the room one too many times (any time more than zero times was too many times), offered her mother a joint to chill the fuck out, talked about his band incessantly, he’d gone all out on the ‘disrespectful sack of shit’ angle until he’d been forbidden to date their daughter.

Then listened with glee outside the door while they declared she was forbidden from dating for as long as it took to shake her from her ‘bad boy’ phase. A job well done, she’d slipped him the fifty bucks she owed for the night through the back window, and he was on his way. Fifty bucks better off!

Megan wasn’t having a bad boy phase. Megan was a lesbian waiting for the perfect opportunity to get the fuck out of Hawkins. She just… couldn’t handle her parents constantly asking about her dating life. Or her lack of a dating life.

She was beautiful, the picture of stereotypical femininity, they had no idea why their daughter wasn’t snagging one of the rich Loch Nora guys like a Harrington, or a Johnson, or even one of the B grade rich guys like Hagan, or Peters.

She was too busy with a Holloway.

Then the following hours before he’d eventually passed out, he’d been slowly working through memorizing the chorus tabs of an Iron Maiden song he’d been meaning to learn for one of the covers used to bulk up Corroded Coffin’s sets. Jeff already had his parts down, Eddie had been lagging.

“M’not here!”

“Says it’s important!”

“Tell em I’m dead!”

There was a pause, and then his bedroom door was opening, and a cushion was thrown at his head, forcing him upright to shout his indignation to the world while his uncle stood there stern and unimpressed “Boy get your backside up an talk to y’damn friends.”

“Nghhh, fine.” He was up anyway. The phone ringing had woken him up. It’d take a miracle to fall back into a full snooze now. He shoved his blankets aside, trudged past his uncle, and snagged the phone from where Wayne had left it on the little table by the window. “Whomever this may be, I’m nuking your stats next session for the unholy crime of waking me up before noon.”

“But I’m calling about a job”

“Ahh, Henderson. Might as well just tear up the sheet for that little gnome now, kid.”

“He’s a dwarf and— ngh whatever, I needed to roll a new character anyway. Listen! I have a job for you, if you want it, one of your weird little rent a guy gigs” not something he was proud to have let slip around the kids. It could get weird if they made assumptions!

But if it got him an extra buck or two without having to do much other than be an over the top version of himself, then what was the harm? It wasn’t like he was selling his body or anything, just his funhouse personality.

“…Go on.”

“Okay so… don’t freak out, but… it’s a guy. He’s cool though!! Like, really cool, super chill, no danger to you what so ever.” That was fine, his ‘dates’ were usually fake but that didn’t erase the very real danger of being perceived by two of an older less cool generation that talked. “He knows it’s all fake so it’s just acting—"

“And this guy’s parents? How cool are they?” It wasn’t just faking a date, it was faking it in front of parents. Parents who usually weren’t about to approve of him when it was a heterosexual relationship. A Homosexual one? He really didn’t want to have to go through the real risks of hate crimes with a teenager, but Dustin clearly wasn’t getting the danger aspect there.

“I don’t know, I don’t really know them, but he says he can explain everything if you give him a chance, he’s free today, he even said he’d buy you breakfast if you meet him early!”

“…And he knows I’m a him, not a her, right?”

“Yeah, I said he was cool! The gay thing isn’t a big deal to him.”

“I’m not—” it was instinctual, Dustin didn’t know what he was, maybe he’d heard rumours, but he didn’t outright know that his dungeon master was a queer. Probably for the best, as lovely as Claudia Henderson was, she was very susceptible to accepting the crowdsourced opinion on things. She didn’t have her sons need to question everything.

She’d probably pull him from every Hellfire meet ever if Dustin let it slip that the guy in charge was queer.

“I know you’re not, but it’s fake right? it’s not like you guys have to do anything other than claim to be dating, right?” True… he never actually did anything with his ‘dates’. Usually just telling the parents they were dating was enough of a shock to the system to hide the lack of proof. The most he’d ever done was slap an ass here and there, maybe wrap an arm around a waist or two.

That was enough for the ‘traditional’ close minded Parents of Hawkins.

“…Fine, I’ll hear the guy out, but I’m only hearing him out alright! I’ll decide on whether or not I wanna take this job only after he explains, got it?”

“Got it!!”

“Alright, tell him to meet me at Benny’s in twenty.” Another quick confirmation and Eddie was hanging up the phone. so much for going back to sleep but at least he’d get a lovely breakfast out of it.

Part 3

#PirateWrites #Steddie #No Upside Down AU #FakeItTillYouMakeItFiclet

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xythlia · 10 months

Text

↳ THE FEVER

› HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR SICKO HUSBAND ALSO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER <3

› satoru x stepdaughter!reader [reader is like early twenties bc it was easier to write with my own age in mind idk]

› word count : 2k+

warnings : dark content stepcest, voyeurism, male masturbation, possessiveness, inherent power imbalance, peeping, showerhead masturbation, yandere ish, he's just a mega perv if I missed anything lmk!

Truth be told Satoru never thought he'd be the marrying type, if it were solely his decision he probably wouldn't have but with the external pressure to marry and produce a child he ultimately chose the path of least resistance.

A readymade family so to speak, a cheeky loophole to those unrelenting demands he'd heard since he was in his late teens. Not that he didn't care for his newfound family, he did of course. The solid golden band around his ring finger, tangible proof of his commitment. A smart, lovely, accomplished spouse with a daughter already on her way to becoming equally accomplished, if not more so.

He'd only been introduced to you a few months before the wedding date, he didn't push you for any earlier interaction because your mother had already warned him you were surly about the whole thing, distrustful of him as a would be father figure. And yes, it was a slow road to minimal acceptance but you'd made progress in the time after the wedding. For instance you no longer glare and pointedly ignore his presence in the house.

A win is a win, after all.

But as time has gone by Satoru found himself plagued by thoughts, not of his wife, but of his adorably aloof step daughter. He couldn't stop thinking about how beautiful you were, strikingly similar to your mother but with the dewiness of youth making you all the more enticing.

Maybe getting married wasn't such a bad thing.

At the same time it's become tortuous living in the same home together. Its a test of resolve, the way he can't help but stare at the way your sleep shorts have ridden up your ass when you blearily pad around the kitchen in the morning, grumbling about coffee. The way you routinely wear no bra in the comfort of the home without a second thought, although his every thought focuses around how it would feel to palm at your breasts, squeeze them and hear you whine in his hold.

All this early morning rumination comes to halt when he hears the gentle splashing sound of the shower from across the hall, pausing his endless train of thought as his cock throbs.

You're in the shower.

He can picture it: the way the water beads on your skin like rhinestones, the smell of shampoo and conditioner filling the room with the distinct scent of you, and the way soap would foam almost obscenely against the planes of your body.

If someone had the ability to print perfect snapshots of his thoughts they'd rival even the raunchiest porn publications in existence and his hand flexes against the satin sheets, fisting them in an iron grip as his cock throbs. His imagination isn't enough, the train of thought is veering into insatiable territory but it makes his pulse pound through his entire body. Lust and adrenaline mingling into a dangerous shot that he's already swallowed whole.

He has to see you for himself.

As he flings back the sheets and pads towards the bedroom door the tiniest sliver of guilt pierces the haze of desire wrapped around his brain like saran wrap. Of course he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't even be considering it. He's your stepfather and you're his stepdaughter, struggling to adjust to the upheaval of your life and finding your place in the brutal world you inhabit parallel to the normal one. Fuck, h should be helping, not daydreaming about-

His eyes catch you in the mirror first, back turned to him as you fiddle with a bottle of body wash. Satoru has to stop himself from gasping not just at the sight of you but at the flood of rapid fire thoughts that speed through his head.

Do you touch yourself? Surely you must, a woman in her early twenties is hardly unaware of self pleasure but do you finger yourself or are you partial to toys? Have you fucked someone? It wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility, and he's seen you get dressed up for dates here and there before but it makes his blood rush thinking about some faceless nameless man getting to look at you naked, kiss that pretty pussy he's dreamt of, or god forbid be inside you.

The perfumed steam wafting from the cracked bathroom door makes his eyes flutter shut, hands flipping the waistband of his boxers down just enough to slip his aching cock out. He hisses as it springs free, lightly smacking against his abdomen. The pressure of his hand is only a bare, fleeting sense of relief considering he'd much rather see you soaking wet and on your knees in front of him, have your hands wrapped around him.

Spitting into the palm of his hand he wishes it was your mouth mapping the veins of his cock instead as he strokes himself, spreading saliva along the thick length of his shaft and his thumb swipes against his overly sensitive head feeling the warm precum leaking from his slit and it feels like he's made of hardened sugar that's now dissolving in the warm steam of the shower.

The pleasure is heightened both by the fact that this is beyond perverse and by the sick way his eyes can't move away from your reflection. The water rinsing down your body should be his fingers trailing burning paths over you, teasing adorable little noises from your lips and making you beg for him. The way your breasts look soaking wet is enough to make him nearly forget himself as his strokes become more frantic, panting in harsh, heaving breaths as his muscles scream to shove open the door and push you against the slick tile wall.

He can practically hear it, the yelp of surprise that he'd shush from you and the way you'd moan helplessly as his fingers swiped through your folds, tactile admiration of your pussy before stuffing you full of himself. It wouldn't be kind or romantic, not with the way you make him feel like a rotten dog, all starving neediness and if he sunk his teeth into you it's doubtful he'd ever be able to let go.

His breathing becomes so labored it's like a stone is pressing against his chest as he lets himself run wild, cerulean eyes blown wide but unseeing as the mental images over take him like a small vessel helpless against raging waves.

How would your hand look wrapped around his throbbing cock? Would you struggle at all, would it be new for you? Those impossibly wide, ravenous eyes are all devouring as he watches you run hands down your body. It's the sheer thrill of this entirely forbidden sight that has him nearly doubled over now, jaw clenched so hard surely his teeth would shatter if he were an ordinary man. His hand pumps his cock faster now, grip tightening as he swipes over his sensitive, weeping head and god would heaven be more than just a word if he could feel you around him. Would your eyes get that glassy, cockdrunk look and would drool slip shamelessly from the corners of your mouth as he fucks you senseless? What he wouldn't give to slap your cheek with his flushed cock, turn you into nothing but a taboo slut.

As you grab for the showerhead it nearly stops him dead.

As if you knew what kind of questions your unwelcome observer was asking.

So you do enjoy self pleasure. Seeing you adjust the jet of water and angle it just right makes his nerves feel like someone spiked fishhooks through them and yanked them impossibly taut. If only that jet of water was his tongue, lapping at your wetness and nudging your clit with his nose while your fingers tug on his alabaster hair. He'd have you on your back before you could blink, thighs squeezing his head and toes curling mid air from how thoroughly he'd work your pussy over. Fuck if only he could taste you-

The coil in his stomach snaps and he can't help the bone deep moans that escape his lips, thigh muscles trembling from the effort of keeping him upright as his balls throb and thick cum spurts in his hand. As he pants his ears ring, every sound as if it's coming through a cardboard tube pressed to his ears.

You'd look so beautiful with his cum splashed across your chest, your face.

Its not until Satoru feels goosebumps rise across the back of his neck that he remembers himself, remembers exactly what he's doing. Glancing up his eyes catch yours in the reflection.

Its damning, but he can't help being defiant against it. Grinning back at you, seeing your eyes wide with shock and your hand frozen poised above you as you were slotting the showerhead back in its holder. His heart hammers so hard against his ribcage it feels like surely it would break loose, splatter across the floor. Its a defining moment, will you scream threats at him or will you cower away?

You say nothing, do nothing but simply turn back around. Your slightly hunched shoulders glistening with moisture tell him enough, you feel exposed and vulnerable but lack the conviction to stand against the feeling. It shouldn't make him feel so elated but now he's got confirmation: you're weak in positions like this.

Would you be just as weak flat on your back?

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader smut

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luv-elixir · 1 year

Text

❧ Body Electric ☙

Stepfather Leon S. Kennedy x reader

Word count : 7.4K

18+ Content warnings : Stepcest, manipulation, power imbalance, naïve/insecure reader, age gap, corruption, c*m-fetish, slight size kink, slapping, spitting, degradation, stepdad!Leon, stepdaughter!reader, reader has a tiny electra complex. (Slight mentions of reader being verbally abused by mother along with mommy/daddy issues.) Porn with plot.

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION! I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE ACTIONS WRITTEN BELOW; ALL THAT IS WRITTEN IS PURE FICTION AND FANTASY!

Summertime was always a weird time for you.

When you were a child, your parents would just send you off to a camp to avoid dealing with you for a while, and when you were sent back home, you’d hide in your room while they fought for hours on end.

Even after they got divorced, the arguments seemed to never end. A constant battle over who would have the responsibility of caring for you all summer finally being settled when your grandmother offered to take you in until the season was over.

Now, as a university student, you would be spending your summer at your mother and her new husband, Mr. Kennedy's, home.

Interactions with both your parents had been scarce when you started university. You simply just didn't have the time or energy for them to berate you with your hectic schedule. It was no surprise to hear your mother had been dating; with your father getting married a few years prior and her having a few boyfriends here and there, you couldn’t bring yourself to care about her love life. You did start caring when she told you she was engaged.

It came as a huge shock when you finally met the mystery man.

He was handsome.

Everything about him was striking; he was an Adonis, simply too beautiful to be human. So beautiful that you nearly forgot your mother was right there and that the only reason you met was because he was to marry her.

How could your mother draw a man like him into her iron-clad grip? He was charming, caring, attentive, conscientious, and frankly too good for a woman like her, or anyone for that matter. Leon Scott Kennedy was simply too good to be true.

You truly had no idea how they had gotten into a relationship. Hell, you didn't even know your mother wanted to get married again. It was all a huge question mark for you. The only thing you were sure of was his name, age, and your affinity for him.

The wedding happened exactly three months after you met. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help the sinful thoughts you had as they married. He just looked so handsome in his suit that you couldn’t help but fantasize about his big hands touching you, ignoring the wedding band tying him to your mother.

Laying in bed that night, furiously rubbing your aching clit, you moaned his name and thought of how you wished he was yours instead of your mother's. But more importantly, you tried to pull your head out of the clouds and make yourself remember that it would never happen.

Little did you know that all those countless nights you spent fantasizing about him, he was thinking of you too. It was his fucking honeymoon and he couldn’t stop thinking of you. Jerking himself off, thinking of your alluring face and delicate body. He couldn’t resist using the image of a little beauty like yourself to get him off, even while the beauty’s mother slept right beside him…

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You are so fucking naive and clueless to not realize how obvious you were being with your crush on your stepfather. It was clear as day to any man who had ever been lusted over that you liked Leon more than a stepdaughter should.

Of course Leon knew; he knew from the moment he saw that shyness show up in your beautiful eyes when he first introduced himself that you had a crush, and damn, he is more than happy about it.

Every time his precious stepdaughter and his wife left home he would snoop through his sweet angel's room. It started out small—just quick peeks, leaving everything alone—but overtime it began to escalate.

Leon only does it because he cares; he wants to make sure his precious baby is happy and isn’t getting into any trouble. At least that was his justification. He knew you were quite a covert girl; being raised Catholic and raised by sanctimonious (hypocritical) parents, you were never one to step out of line, fearing the wrath of your parents. Being sent to an all-girls Catholic school, your interactions with boys and men had been few and limited; he was sure the only friends you had who were boys were your family members. You were hardly ever allowed to go out without the supervision of your mother, but it still didn’t hurt to check. After all, you are now one of his responsibilities.

When Leon would go through your drawers to see the clothes you hid from your mother that you bought at cheap second-hand stores, knowing that she would scream and berate you for owning a skirt that goes above the knee, he would imagine how beautiful you must look in them and how happy you must be wearing something you truly liked, even if you could only wear it in the safety of your room; it made his heart flutter.

His favorite thing to do in your room was to read your diaries. He thought it was so adorable how you kept every single one that you’ve ever had. It was a big invasion of privacy, but you didn’t even bother to hide your most recent one, and he just couldn’t resist. Reading them was exhilarating; learning more about you and what goes on in your little head made him feel closer to you. Leon just wants to know so he can protect you better, understand you better, and learn to love you better.

He thought it was adorable how you’d write about almost every interaction he’s ever had with you, like the time he bought you your favorite singer's vinyl records and a Polaroid camera after you asked your mother if you could buy them yourself a few days prior and she refused to let you. You jumped into his arms, hugging him with all your heart and giving him infinite ‘thank you so much, Mr. Kennedy’s." It was the touchiest you’ve ever been with him, and your perfume lingers on the shirt he has tucked away, refusing to wash your scent from it.

One of Leon’s favorite diary entries of yours was the one where you first met. He loved it so much that he snapped a photo of it just so he could read it whenever he wanted.

February 1st

I just got back from dinner with mom and her fiancé, Leon Kennedy <3 I called him Mr. Kennedy all night even though he insisted I call him Leon cause I got so nervous and just couldn’t look him in the eye. He was so freaking handsome, he has the prettiest eyes. I never thought a man could be so handsome. It’s not fair how mom has him, she doesn’t deserve him. Gosh he’s just so handsome, I wanted him to just take me in his arms and kiss me like in the movies !!! I hate that his heart belongs to mom, how come she gets to have a man like Leon instead of some ugly fat bald dude ?? I know it’s so wrong but I can’t help but like him, he was so nice to me tonight my heart is still pounding. He even gave me a nickname ! He said I look like a doll and called me doll face more than my name, gosh my heart is fluttering just thinking about it !!! If anyone finds out I’ll just die, this is so so so wrong but I can’t help it. I know he’s going to be my stepfather but I want him to look at me with his pretty eyes, I want him to hold my hand, I want him to be the one to hold me, I want him to say I love you to me, I want to be the one marrying him instead of my contemptible mother !!! I know it’s perverse and dirty but I wish he wanted me instead of her.

Leon loved it. He loved seeing the vicious, possessive, dirty side of you.

What he loved even more was reading your entries about how much you wanted him to love on you, even if it was rather on the innocent side. Just something about you writing down your fantasies made his cock stir, reading things like-

May 26th

I’ve been with mom and Leon for 2 days, my stuff is all moved into the house and it basically looks the same.

I saw Leon <3 and mom through the kitchen window while I was reading in the backyard kissing and he had his hand on her neck but then she yanked it away and rolled her eyes before leaving. If I were her I’d let him do what he wanted to me. If I knew how to french kiss I’d do it with him all the time, let him wrap his hand around my neck while I sit in his lap and just french kiss for hours. All my friends have done it before but I’ve only gotten the tiniest of pecks. I know it’s sinful to like my stepdad but fantasy never hurt anyone ??

-Leon would teach you how to french kiss and so much more.

Digging through your panty drawer, his eyes widened. Instead of seeing your usual cotton underwear with cute patterns, he instead saw a pair of lace white panties with a pink bow at the bottom of the drawer as an attempt to hide it away. This was clearly meant to be a set of sorts. He felt his heart nearly burst as he sifted through your bras to get to the bottom, only to find the matching white lace bra with a pink bow in the middle.

Why the fuck did you have these?

Was there someone you were going to wear them for?

He needed answers and he needed them now. He hadn’t read your diary yet so he hoped that the answer could be in there. Snatching it from your desk, his eyes frantically scanned through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

June 3rd

Mom let grandmother take me out shopping with her and I had a really good time !! I do miss spending summers there but getting to see Leon makes up for it hehe :) I really do wish mom would let me see grandmother more often though. She took me to the mall and she got me a bikini and a pair of actual proper lingerie !!! I know it might be weird for her to buy me that but she told me every girl needs a proper pair and mom would kill me if I asked her and I just wanted to have something to make me feel pretty even if no one knows I have it. It feels good to be a little more normal, it sucks that all the other girls get to show off their pretty swimsuits and wear pretty lingerie while i look like a chump in my stupid one piece bathing suit and stupid cotton underwear and ugly bras. Mom says it’s gross to have these things even though I saw the receipt from a lingerie store on the table right before her honeymoon, what a hypocrite. I had to sneak it in wearing both the bikini and bra under my normal clothes haha, I’m even wearing my new garments as I’m writing this. I think I’ll even change into my bikini in a little bit just for fun. It was a good day :).

Jesus you are so fucking cute

Relief washed over him instantly, but his heart cracked. You're such a beautiful girl, and you didn’t even know it. He saw the way boys and men would look at you; he even saw the jealousy in your own mother's eyes. How did you not know that you were drop-dead gorgeous? With beauty like yours, you could wear rags and still be the most beautiful thing to walk the earth. You looked exactly like a doll, you didn't need lingerie or bikinis to be pretty.

Leon knew from reading all your journals that the reason you felt this way was because of your upbringing; your parents weren’t exactly ones to instill confidence but preferred to tear you down and keep you in a constant state of vacillation so you’d have to constantly rely on them.

A notification dragged him from his thoughts—a text from your mother saying that you’d both be home in 5 minutes—as he began to clean he kept thinking of how beautiful you looked in your pretty lingerie and how he would be getting to actually see you in it soon.

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This was absolutely perfect.

The moment the words left your mother's mouth, Leon felt the blood rush to his pants. When he glanced at you sitting on the sofa and saw you squish your thighs together, he knew you felt the same heat too.

It was like the stars aligned; your mother would leave for her close friends bachelorette party week abroad in Mexico and leave you and Leon all alone. Fate was truly on both your sides.

Until he heard your mothers voice say-

"You could always spend the week at your father's if you don’t want to stay here with Leon, honey. We can drop you off the night before I leave. Would you rather do that?"

Fuck, maybe you would say you wanted to be with your father.

"No, no, it’s alright. I want to be here with all my stuff and adjust to the new house better; I'm still getting used to it."

Another wave of relief washed over him.

“Okay honey, are you okay with that Leon?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I’ll be working most of it anyway.”

A lie, he would immediately call the DSO to tell them he’d be taking the entire week off.

Leon glanced at you once again to see you looking at your lap trying to hide the smile forming on your pretty lips.

This week he’s finally going to make you his.

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Your poor heart was about to pound out of your chest. Leon had taken your mother to the airport three and a half hours ago for her flight, and all you could do was pace around Leon’s home. What was taking him so long to come back? Chalking it up to airports being a pain you continued pacing. Knowing you and Leon would be alone for the week made the feeling of anxiety coursing through your veins increase.

You tried your best to look nice, taking the time to make your hair look pretty and putting on more makeup than usual now that your mother couldn’t tell you to wipe it off. Rebelling even more, you put on a cute sundress that would send your parents into cardiac arrest if they were here to see you wearing it.

It really did feel nice to doll yourself up.

Finally, when you finished and looked at the large mirror in the hallway to admire your work, it hit you. You were doing all this for your own mother's husband. You did this to impress your stepfather. What the hell is the matter with you? This is wrong, and dirty, and nasty. Even if he wasn’t tied to your mother why would ever want a puny girl like you?

Damn it, you should’ve just spent the week with your father and stepmother, even if you’d be miserable. You’d probably just be a nuisance to Leon anyway; he’ll probably just spend the week avoiding you. God, why didn’t you just bite the bullet and go to your father's? You should’ve never agreed to stay the week, it was doomed from the start.

Being so drowned in your thoughts you only heard the door being unlocked when it was too late…

CRAP

“Hey doll, I’m back from the airport!”

The door is about 1/4 open.

CRAP CRAP CRAP

What can you do? Running to your room won’t work; the staircase is directly in front of the door. Hiding isn’t worth the risk of getting caught and looking more stupid than you already do. You don’t know the house well enough, so if there is a blind spot where you can sneak off to so you can quickly get changed, you definitely don’t know it.

Too late.

Leon is now standing two and a half feet in front of you.

Nervously smoothing the bottom of your dress, all you could do was look down at his shoes as his eyes practically burned holes into you.

“Wow. You look very nice today.”

You felt your face get hot as embarrassment washed over you. Is he mocking you? His voice didn’t sound mocking but you never know. Even if he is you can’t just stand there like an idiot!!! Say something, anything!!!

“Thanks, Mr. Kennedy.”

You mentally slap yourself.

Was THAT really the best you could do??? At least you didn’t stutter. Raising your head, you finally meet his eyes and see how sincere they are.

“I’ve told you hundreds of times to call me Leon sweetheart.”

He won’t admit it out loud to you yet, but he secretly loves your formality. He gets a little rush every time you call him “Mr. Kennedy” and “sir”. His wife raised such a polite young woman, he can’t wait to see what else he can get you to call him.

“Are you hungry doll? I’ll order or make you whatever you want.” He has his very big hand on your shoulder rubbing soothing circles on your skin and you feel electricity all throughout your body.

“I’m okay right now Mr. Kenn- Leon. But thank you for offering.” He moves his hand to rub your shoulder and you want the moment to linger as long as possible.

“Okay doll, I’m gonna go take a quick shower.” His very big hand leaves all too soon, “After I’m done I’ll meet you in the game room so we can do something fun tonight, you okay spending some time with me sweetheart?”

You felt a jolt of excitement at his offer, “Okay, I’ll be waiting there for you!”

With one last smile to one another you both head your separate ways.

You felt so happy that Leon wanted to spend his time with you instead of just going out or staying in his room to avoid you, you knew it was wrong to want his attention but you just couldn’t help it. He was the one who offered, and you were raised to always be polite and accept invitations, your parents only had themselves to blame. Why should you care about her feelings when she’s never cared about yours? After all it was your mother’s choice to leave her husband all alone so she could have her fun, so why shouldn’t you indulge yourself and have your own fun too?

During your epiphany, Leon was in the shower stroking his cock, thinking of you standing there in your pretty little dress, looking more vulnerable than a deer in headlights. It took everything in him not to push you to the floor and stuff your tiny pussy full of his big cock. He wondered if you had your regular Sanrio cotton panties or your lingerie on underneath?

He imagined your little whines and whimpers, saying how he’s too big and won’t fit so he only fucks you with half his length until he can stretch you out more, how sexy you would look riding him. Thinking of how you’d shyly guide his hand to wrap around your neck as he fucks you into oblivion.

Did you even know the effect you had on him? he thought of you every second of the day. he saw your angelic face everytime he closed his eyes, had constant dreams of you. He thought of how much happier he’d be if you had been his bride instead of your mother. Hell you’d probably faint from embarrassment if you knew even a sliver of his fantasies about you.

Wrapping a towel around his waist Leon couldn’t help but smirk as he thinks of all the things he would be doing to his precious stepdaughter tonight.

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Sitting cross-legged on the floor, trying to shuffle a deck of cards, the TV played an Impractical Jokers re-run softly in the background as Leon finally came downstairs.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, secretly admire how good he looked. He wore gray sweatpants and a long-sleeve shirt that clung to him deliciously tight, showing off his muscles beautifully. Having felt self-conscious in your dress and the sun having set, you changed into your sleep shirt and shorts while Leon was gone, and he loved it. Your thin pajamas hugged your figure so well that he had to look away before his cock hardened.

Now all he had to do was execute his plan. First he’d put in a scary movie (a classic way to get a girl to cling onto her beau), gain your trust, and finally he’d fuck the shit out of you.

“Hey doll, thanks for holding up,” Reaching over to turn off the lamp, he cheekily smiles at you “What do you say we watch a movie? I know a good scary one I think you’d like.”

Nervousness crept into you as you toyed with your shorts, “Oh I’ve never really seen a horror movie before, my parents have never let me… but I want to watch it though!”

‘A night of firsts’ Leon thought. “I’ll put it on, it’s an older movie but it’s a classic. Why don’t you come up here and sit next to me sweetheart?” He patted the spot next to him on the sofa, “Don’t want you to be all by yourself down there.”

Shyly, you got up, Leon gently grabbed your hand and sat you next to him. You hadn’t been this close to him since he bought you those gifts a couple weeks ago; you nearly forgot how he was even more handsome up close and personal. Picking at your fingernails, you waited anxiously as the movie began. Putting his arm around your shoulder, he somehow made you get even closer to him, his cologne and shampoo invading your senses. Rubbing his hand up and down your arm, he could feel the goosebumps forming on your soft skin.

25 minutes had passed, and you had practically molded yourself into his side. The movie was scary, of course, but you couldn’t blame snuggling into Leon on just being scared. You knew exactly what you were doing, and as long as Leon was okay with it, you’d keep doing it. This was your only opportunity to get a taste of what it was like to be with him, and goddamn, you were going to take it.

When a jump scare happened you let out a small scream and hid your face in his neck, clinging to him tightly. The cogs turned in Leon’s brain; everything was going according to plan.

Sliding his arm down to your waist he held your head with his other hand, “You scared baby?”

Your heart beat faster at the pet name, “A little bit…”

“You shouldn’t be sweetheart,” He caresses your face. “I’m right here to protect you.”

His breath was fanning your face; you were so close to him that you could see every beautiful, unique detail that marked his skin.

The lump suddenly comes back to your throat.

“You’re so angelic,” he tugs you even closer than you were before, “look just like a doll.”

Blush spreads across your face, kissing the palm of Leon’s big hand you sheepishly put one hand on his chest and the other on one of his big arms, tracing gentle circles with your small fingers. “Do you really mean that Leon?”

“Course I mean it baby,” placing you on his lap, he made sure to position you so you’d feel his hard cock under your cunt, “most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

A tiny smirk appeared on your lips, “More beautiful than my mother?”

His cock was pulsing hearing that come from your pouty lips.

“Especially more beautiful than her,” you began pressing tiny kisses to his jaw, “can see the envy in her eyes every time she looks at you.”

And with that he dove in and kissed you. It felt electrifying as he slipped his tongue into your hot mouth, pressing it as deep as he can go. You whined when he pulled away, quickly giving him a small peck.

"Fuck, doll face" he sighs, scattering gentle pecks on your neck, “You like how I kiss you, hm?" his big hands wander down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze and making you moan.

"A-ah, Leon," you whimper, his hands not leaving your ass. Leon just smirks and pulls your body closer to him. He leans down to kiss your lips once more, but it was rougher. He wraps his arm around your body, tugging you firmer, while his other hand cups your cheek. Leon’s in control of the kiss, you just try your best to keep up with him. You whined once again when he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting you both together.

“You finally got a real kiss, and now you can’t get enough, can you, dirty girl?” He wiped the spit from your lips with his finger, placing it in his mouth to taste both your mixtures. Your cheeks were flushed red from how turned on you are for him.

“Let’s continue this in the bedroom nasty girl,” picking you up bridal style he carried you up the stairs,“gonna need more room to do what I want to you.”

Making a beeline for your bedroom, upon entry giving you a chaste kiss before guiding you to stand between his legs.

“Be a good girl and take my cock out.”

You just nodded your head, obeying him immediately. You'd done some research, so you weren't as naïve as you had been before, and you were hoping he'd give you the chance to show him what you learned. Leon began removing his shirt as you began to scoot down, by the look of an evident bulge, you could tell his cock was gonna be big. Leon watches you with hazy eyes, petting your hair softly.

You felt your heart rate go faster from the thought of seeing his cock right in front of your face. Quickly tugging his sweatpants and boxers down his hard cock slaps against his stomach and bobs forward, the thick tip smearing your cheek with his precum.

Leon reaches for your face to wipe it off but you grab his wrist and lower it. Your mouth is watering. He’s so thick and long, how was he supposed to fit in your mouth let alone your pussy?

With no plan at all, you leaned forward and enveloped the head of his cock between your pretty lips. He hissed at the sudden contact, your tongue tasting his precum beading at the tip. It was a little salty, but hearing Leon’s deep groan of pleasure, you’d learn to love the taste.

You released his length for a moment with a pop and spat on him, watching your saliva trickle down his heavy cock. Taking your small hand you pumped it up and down, spreading your spit all around his fat cock.

“Holy shit! Where the hell did you learn to do that, doll?”

You blushed, letting out a small giggle, and licked his tip, “Watched a porno, wanted to learn how before I did it to you.”

Opening your mouth to slip his cock back in before he could respond, you tried to take as much of him as you could. He moaned, eyes fluttering closed as you eagerly began to suck his cock. His grip in your hair tightened and the tinge of pain had you gushing into your panties. You whimpered around him, clenching your thighs together to help ease the pressure between your legs.

He let you suck on him, lathering his member in your spit until you reached the point where you couldn't handle anymore of his cock in your mouth.

"C'mon angel, try to take more of daddy in that slutty throat," He growled, you choked but did your best to relax your throat to allow him to fuck your mouth. Your panties were soaked and sticking to you, having your handsome stepfather use your throat as he pleased was a turn on.

"Look at that. Bad little girl aren't you? You're my bad, naughty girl." Leon mocks, watching tears drip down your cheeks.

You sucked him off like your life depended on it, slurping and moaning around his big cock. Using your hand on what your mouth couldn’t reach to try and make him cum.

"Fuck my love, you're doing so damn good. Sucking your Daddy's cock so good." he moans, hand still gripping your hair, encouraging you to take him deeper once again. The gagging sent shivers down his spine.

Saliva continuously dripped down your chin, "So messy for your daddy, my baby" he suddenly pulled out, leaving you a panting mess before him.

Lifting you in his arms he tenderly kissed your forehead, "Did such a good job sucking me off angel, always knew you were secretly a whore. Love how sloppy you are, can’t wait to teach you how to deep-throat me."

Your body shivers from how deep and alluring his voice sounded, “Anything for you.” you practically moan, quickly you pressed a kiss to Leon’s nose and tried to wriggle out of his arms.

Confused Leon gently put you down, sat back on your bed, and waited to see what you were going to do. “Keep pumping your cock!” You quickly went over to your dresser and grabbed the Polaroid camera he got you. He almost had a heart attack hearing what came out of your mouth.

“I want you to cum on my face and take a photo of it. Is that okay with you?”

Leon practically snatched the camera from you, “Shit doll, didn’t know you were this nasty. Hurry up and suck me off so I can fuck you after this.” he quickly pushed you to your knees.

He shoved your head on his cock, becoming impatient. He just wanted to feel your tight mouth on him again. His free hand tangled in your hair once more as he started to push himself further in your mouth. Your eyes instantly teary as he reached your gag-reflex, making your throat burn. Looking down at your pretty face made his self-control snap and he lifted his hips up, forcing his whole cock down your throat. Two more thrusts and he pulled out, his hot cum spurting all over your face.

Snapping two photos on the camera he placed the three items on the floor and lifted you up on the bed, "Open that pretty mouth again for me, my love." You instantly do what he tells you, allowing him to spit in your mouth and without being told to, you swallow happily.

Gathering his cum on your fingers you happily lick them clean, “I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna go wash my face real quick!” and Leon waits patiently, stewing in anticipation.

Re-entering your room Leon saw that you ditched your pajamas and now only wore the lingerie he found in your room just days ago.

You truly are the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

"C’mere baby girl, come here." Leon coos and pulls your body close to him. You straddle his lap, feeling his cock beneath your folds. He wraps his strong arms around you, his face inches from yours. He clutches your throat with one hand, squeezing it.

He presses a sloppy kiss to your swollen lips, "Ready for me to finally fuck you, my baby?”

You nod your head the best you can. "Please, want it so bad daddy"

"You think you can take my cock?"

You hate how flustered he can make you. You only nod and lean in for another kiss, letting Leon take control of it once again.

“I can take it. Promise I can.”

“Okay doll,” he nips at your jaw, “just gotta prep you first.”

Prep?

Every coherent thought leaves your mind as you watch him unclip your bra, exposing you to him. Before you can cover yourself, Leon snatches your wrist with his hand and shoots you a warning look before kissing and sucking at your sensitive breasts. Holding onto him as he laid you on your back, you waited to see his next move.

His hand cups your panty-clad cunt and you jolt, panicking at the sensation your legs closed on instinct, Leon growled, "Open your fucking legs or I’ll leave right now..."

You whimpered, startled by Leon’s tone as he pushed them back open. Leon smiled, pecking your lips quickly, "Be a good girl, doll..."

Feeling you up, he stroked your clothed pussy with his fingers softly. Your little hand reached for his free one, putting his pointer and middle finger to your lips you began to suck on them. He pressed his fingers harder on your cunt, specifically on your cute little clit making you moan around his digits.

"You feel good, angel?" Leon asked softly as you nodded, feeling relaxed you kept your legs open no longer needing Leon to help keep them spread. But Leon was going too slow and you were starting to get frustrated.

"M-more..." You quietly begged him, making him chuckle darkly. Leon could see your hips thrusting up harder into his hand, wanting more friction as you became more desperate.

"Such a cute doll, aren't you?" Dazed, eyes barely open, mouth slightly gaped, a little drool from when you sucked his fingers in the corners of your sweet mouth. ‘She looks so fuckable.’

He was tempted to just shove his fat cock inside your tight virgin cunt and make you take it, no matter how much it hurt, and he would have if it was anyone else. But you aren’t just anyone; you're his stepdaughter, his precious baby who deserves to have her pussy fingered and eaten out, so he pushes the thought out of his mind.

Leon just wants to fuck you stupid, "Let's get these off you..." Taking a look at your cunt, he noticed your panties had a wet spot on them that seemed to be getting bigger.

"Look at that, baby... So wet..." His fingers touched the wet patch, feeling the stickiness on his fingertips, he bent down, "Fuck, you smell so good my love..."

Leon took off your ruined panties and he could feel the hunger devour him right then and there. Saliva gathered in his mouth, a voice in his head telling him to just dive in and eat your little cunt like it was the last thing he'll ever have.

So he listened.

Leon dove in without a warning, his tongue collecting the juices that seep out of your cunt as you screamed, "L-Leon!!!"

"So sweet. Taste so fucking sweet..." He growled as he sucked the puffy little nub in between his lips, softly biting it and making you thrash underneath him, arching your back as you called out his name, "You're just a little skank, aren't you?"

"N-not a skank, Leon! Feels... Feels w-weird..." you whimper and grab onto his hair, Leon didn't stop sucking, licking, he gave his all as you felt tears starting to form in the corner of your eyes.

"Just a dumb fucking bitch. Nasty little slut that loves how her stepfather plays with her pussy." He collected his saliva inside his mouth and spits on your cunt, making you more of a mess as his fingers roam your entrance.

Without a warning his fingers start ramming inside you—moving them rapidly up and down, hitting the spots you didn't even know existed. You couldn’t think straight, not when he spat on your cunt and made you know how good it felt to have your pussy doted on. You were crying, wanting him to slow down but despite it hurting, you still wanted more.

He moved his tongue and fingers in sync, rubbing your swollen clit at a fast pace trying to get his good girl to cum as fast as he can and repeat the process over and over again. Leon wanted to make the bed drenched with your cum.

Leon could feel your walls clenching on his fingers, restraining his movements he knew you were close. Then he went harder and harder, pressing down on the puffy nub as you screamed, the tears on your face evident.

"You gonna cum, aren't you, babydoll? Are you gonna be a good girl for me? You deserve this so much, baby. Watched you for so long, been dreaming of this day since I met you" He slaps you across your face, savoring the moment, "That's right, doll... Let the whole neighborhood know how good I'm making you feel. Show daddy know how much of a whore you are."

Leon’s right, you really are a slut.

Stars clouded your vision. The knot in your stomach made you feel like you were going to pee, feeling it coiling in your belly, it grows bigger and bigger.

Suddenly something so unexpected happens that shocked you both. Leon can feel the gush of stream hitting him as you twitch in his grasp, moaning so loud he knows the neighbors will hear it. The clear stream of liquid told its tale and Leon knows exactly what it is.

"L-Leon!" your thighs shook frantically as you cried, he could only smirk seeing you squirt all over his hands and mouth.

"Good fucking girl," he gives a few gentle slaps to your aching pussy "Gonna make you my own personal porn star, doll face. Bet you’d fuckin’ love that."

You just stare at him with heart eyes. Grabbing the back of his head to make him lean down, you licked from his chin back up to his lips so you could taste yourself.

Leaning back he kisses your forehead, “It’s going to hurt a little more cause you have such a tight cunt, but I’ll go slow. I promise,” he says with furrowed brows.

You loop your arms around his neck, and nod, hoping that the he can see the adoration you feel for him in your eyes. Leon nods back stiffly as his eyes flit to your lips before kissing you hard, once again. Though this time, while his lips are on yours, one of his hands reaches between you both, gripping the base of his cock. He rubs it between your folds, the tip brushing against your clit making you moan, high pitched and sweet into his mouth.

You brace yourself for the stretch of his big cock. When he finally bottoms out, you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders where your hands were rested. He hisses, and your brows furrow with worry when you feel the tiny pricks of blood oozing out.

“I’m sorry,” you panic, tears prickling your eyes from both the pain of your hymen breaking and the fear of hurting him. “Are you mad? Are you okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m so sorry,” you softly cry.

Here Leon is, balls deep in the wettest, tightest pussy he’s ever had, and you’re asking him if he’s mad at you. As if a few little fingernail scratches could actually hurt him. He laughs a little, trying not to move before you’ve adjusted to him being inside of you. “You could punch me in the face and I’d still adore you. I’m fine,” he says as he pecks your nose.

To make you forget about it he leans forward and groans, wrapping a hand around your throat as he starts slowly fucking you. "That’s my good girl," he chuckles, hearing his balls slap against you, "taking this huge dick like a whore."

"Yes, yes, r-right there daddy! Hurts so good!" his words were made you blush red, turned on from the way he was spoke to you. You love it — you love surrendering yourself to him, letting him do whatever he wants with your body, loved to let him use you like a sex toy.

"Yeah? My little bitch loves how I fuck her hard with my cock?" You don't even need to answer because he can feel it. He sees his cock protruding against your stomach, your pussy too little to accommodate his big dick.

The hand that was once wrapped around your neck moves up to your face as he forces two fingers inside your wet mouth.

Your eyes roll back, choking as he went past your gag reflex.

"It’s s-so big," you mumble around his digits, your saliva coating his fingers as you swirled your tongue around them. “Love it so much,”

"Dick too big to fit inside this little cunt. such a little baby I’ve got here." He gives a light slap to your puffy clit, “Can see it moving in your stomach, babydoll. My cock is the only one you need. Know it hurts but you’re gonna take it like a big girl, yeah?”

You quickly reply, pussy clenching, "Yes, just p-please don’t stop," you say through his fingers, batting your eyelashes.

His lips curve up in a smile, loving how cute you said that, "Mhm, 'course you love it. My little cum-slut can't get enough of her stepdads big cock."

You two were a hot, moaning messes. Looking up at him pathetically Leon’s cock throbs at the sight of you all used, your face flushed. "Want to cum, sweet girl?"

Wanton moans filled the room as you nodded your head.

“Only way I’ll let you is if you tell me what I want to hear," he squishes your cheeks together, “Wanna hear you say that this is your daddy’s pussy and that you belong to him and him only. Say it and I’ll make you cum, babydoll.”

Your cunt squeezes him tightly, you love how he only wants you for himself.

“M-my pussy is daddy’s, and I o-only belong to him!”

He slaps your cheek harder than he did before and soothes you with a sloppy kiss.

His thrusts gets rougher, pounding right into your sweet spot before he sends you to a hard, body-shaking climax. Your vision blurs, seeing stars as your pussy squirts your cum onto his dick. "There we go, baby. Cum on daddy’s cock – fucking little minx!."

You only have the energy to moan, brain dead at the staggering orgasm.

He comes undone right after, hot strings of cum coating your tight walls. Pulling out, he groans when he sees both of your mixed cum oozing out of your cunt and onto your comforter.

Leaning down he places his long fingers in your messy pussy, shoving his cum back inside.

"C’mere, my love," he plants his hands on your stomach and lays you on his chest, kissing your hairline.

You both lay still for a couple minutes, catching your breath. You listen to his heartbeat come back to a steady pace as he rubs your back and shoulders up and down, kissing your head every once in a while.

“Did I hurt you, sweetheart?” Leon says breaking the comfortable silence.

Nuzzling further in his chest you hold him tighter, “M’fine Leon, just sore.”

You hear his heartbeat quicken again.

“Did such a good job baby, thank you for letting me do this to you.” He tugs your head back, pressing a long kiss to your swollen lips.

You feel your heart stop as he moves you and gets up from your bed. You grab his hand and he lets out a small laugh, giving it a kiss, “M’not going anywhere doll, just gonna put my pants back on and get you some clean panties.”

A small smile spreads across your face, relieved he wasn’t leaving you all alone. When he comes back he holds you as tight as he can without suffocating you.

Holding his jaw, he can barely hear you whisper a scared “Thought you were gonna abandon me.”

You’d never have to worry about him leaving you.

“Wouldn’t dream of it doll face” he squeezes your throat, “I’m never letting you go, whether you like it or not...”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy

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crumblinggothicarchitecture · 4 months

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Hey. This might be very stupid, but i hope you answer this.

Today I accidently got sucked into your blog, which is ironic since I'm a huge swiftie. (but I'm not here to hate on you, I swear)

The thing is for months I've been doubting where I stand on that. Like if i should call myself a swifte or not. when I was young, I used to worship the ground she walked on. but in the past year, I've slowly realised I've been very sheltered. like the problems people point out about her sometimes are actual real problems, but my brain just doesn't know how to respond to that as it has been taught taylor swift is a goddess and can do no wrong. Since your posts are tagged with #exswiftie, i figure you'd understand.

I am not from america, so I can understand then politics part of it all only to a certian extend. the other things, I just dont know what to say to that. The most i can reply is..."yes that is a bit of a problem". I feel don't feel like a swiftie at that moment.

I had fed my mind this narrative that people who hate taylor swift passionately are like untrustworthy or just a walking red flag, or just "don't get it". Now after reading your actual breakdowns I understand you have a rather educated opinion and perception of things. Which clearly rules out my narrative.

I don't know what I feel like I have to define where I stand on this, I just do. I know I genuinely enjoy her music a lot, even there are songs I don't want to hear more than once. I love the whole swiftie lore, digging deep on each lyrics finding out what they mean, finding clues easter eggs just losing my mind over surprise songs. Then i see this other side, which can't be defined with anything less than deeply toxic, which makes me question whether or not this thing i love so much is genuinely good or not.

Hello dear, apologies for the delay in reply :) I am happy to chat with you. I hope that you did not think I would ignore you.

I was also a Swiftie for nearly 15 years. I got her debut record as a Christmas present in 2006 or 2007. Though I cannot remember which year it was, I loved her from the start. At 10 years old, I was immediately interested. My mother approved of me owning her music simply because she was inoffensive. She didn’t curse or talk about sex, in the beginning, so she was deemed appropriated for my childhood self. She and I have since grown up. She is now a terribly pretentious bully- and, well, I grew up much too poor and much too hungry to turn into a bully like her.

The problem- and something I think you’re very much aware of- is that Swift has built herself up in her fandom as perfect. She encourages fans to defend her every action- and rewards them for their efforts through “Swiftmas” or “Secret Sessions” or “hidden easter eggs that only the smartest- most dedicated fans will figure out.” It’s all methodically calculated to keep up an air of reciprocity between Swift, as the fearless leader, and her band of merry misfits- the fans.

You are not dumb for falling into her rhetorical situation - she's set the marketing strategy up on purpose. It’s specifically created to attract attention- and, to make people feel good, or productive, by participating in her marketing strategy. She gives people an image of herself as a poor innocent victim of the media, or of any critique, and then rewards people for defending her. In Literary study, we call this “Pathos” as the rhetorical appeal to emotion through messaging- textual work of some kind. Rhetoric like this can be found in all sorts of media- commercials about starving children or beaten dogs, charity event banners aiming to persuade someone to donate. It’s all predicated on the appeal to our common emotion, or human capacity to empathize with each other. For, every time fans are rewarded by her attention- after defending her from a perceived enemy, or figuring out some hidden clue- they feel closer to the idol, they feel happy to have her attention. They get that emotional impact of believing they are helping Taylor Swift, or understanding her better on some more human, connected, level. It’s a game of risk and reward for her. Never mind that none of this altruistic- she gets paid through our attention on her- and if you are not directly lining her pockets with your cash money, she does not actually care about you. It’s the image of caring she projects that matters much more than the fact that she doesn’t actually care.

I’m sure you can think of many more examples wherein Swift has played this game of attention and reward with fans. It’s everywhere- her easter eggs are a great example. Sometimes her use of Pathos is benign- non malicious, therefore a non-issue. However, she often weaponizes this rhetoric in a way that is harmful.

This interplay she sets up, between herself and her fans, is made more intensive through her pathos- heavy approach to Rhetoric. To further illustrate, one of the ways people often explain Pathos is by saying that it represents our, as human beings, judgement affect. We see, or hear, the narrative Swift espouses and make judgements about it. If she says: The music critics are sexist towards me. We say: 1.) Sexism is morally wrong, 2.) Taylor Swift is facing sexism from Music critics, Therefore.) The music critics are sexist and morally wrong, because they are criticizing Taylor Swift.

So, all the critics are bad- and we don't need to listen to them. It's also a way Swift creates permissive attitudes towards attacking anyone who critique's her- because she can so easily label them all as sexist.

She uses this basic syllogism to justify leveraging her fans against all kinds of people- it's not just the critics. I just wanted to give a concrete example, and I will go more in depth on this subject in another post.

She is playing with people’s emotions, while she is also self-victimizing,and leveraging her audience’s innate human rejection of, for instance, sexism as it offends our personal values. No one is saying that sexism isn't morally corrupt; however, Taylor Swift points to valid criticism and calls it sexism so that her audience will attack. People often have valid critique of Swift- She just doesn't want to face critique at all- ever. If people say her music is too self-centered- Swift says that is Sexism. If people say her music is boring- she calls it sexism. If people say her music is shallow and only centered are relationships- She calls it sexism. When, in reality, it's valid criticism that has nothing to do with her being a woman. Only ever writing songs about your own myopic, self-centered perception of interpersonal relationships is shallow. Her music is objectively boring, because it's derivative. Her music is completely self-centered- and she only admits to that when it benefits her, but when critics say it, she calls it sexism.

Please don’t think badly of yourself. I am not here to hate on you either- I was you. I am not here to hate on anyone at all- I just want to share how my own knowledge, and expertise, of rhetorical appeals and literary analysis can expose Taylor Swift. Swift relies on this rhetorical technique to thrive, she obfuscates the truth, schemes, and manipulates people into thinking her music is the best thing on Earth- or thinking that she is literally a Saint. Clearly- nothing on Earth is that perfect- So why does she need her fan base to consider her a genius, and a saint, so badly?

Personally, I have no problem admitting I have flaws. I think most sane people can admit to their flaws. It’s not a bad thing to have flaws. So why does Taylor Swift react to all criticism like it’s the worst thing on Earth. Why does she have a whole song about calling critics “mean/ and a liar/ and pathetic/ and alone in life” (“Mean” 2010). She has the nerve to call that song an “anti-bullying” song; yet, is it so clearly bullying that random critic who wrote a bad review about her concert one time in 2009? She really hated that guy- and all he was doing was his job. She called him a drunken loser for just doing his job.

She's written so many songs about how all her critics are just stupid, morally corrupt, or sexist: "The Man" (2019), "Mean" (2010), "But Daddy I love Him" (2024), "New Romantics" (2014), "Shake it Off" (2014), "I know Places" (2014), "Anti-Hero" (2023), "Paris" (2023), "Blank Space" (2014), "I did something Bad" (2018), "Dancing with our hands tied" (2018). There are more songs wherein she carries this theme of "everyone is out to get me, and they all hate me for no good reason" but I think I've listed enough.

The general message is all over "Evermore" and "Folklore" too every time she calls the general public "Clowns" or "masqueraders"

It's just everywhere- her subtle devaluation of legitimate criticism. Trying to chalk it all up to the critics being simply dumb, sexist, or malicious in some way. Perhaps some people are mean- true- but to generalize every criticism as evil? That's just her actually playing a victim card. There's no way every single critic, or person who doesn't like her, is evil, bad, or malicious in some way. Okay?

I’m tired of her claiming to be an amazing person and an amazing poet- when she is just not either of those things. She’s not a kind person- it's all over her music in the ways she maliciously hurts people for fun. She’s not an amazing poet either. I have a few college degrees- and one pass through her work, with a serious intention of literary analysis, I discover that her writing is plain, banal, and derivative.

She wants everyone to compare her to Emily Dickinson, Dylan Thomas, and Shakespeare. So, I’m doing what she wants and taking her work seriously enough to critique it. Except that, in critique, I find out why it’s all poorly written- and why it’s just a bunch of thinly veiled conservative iterations of the same boring message over and over. All she ever says in her music is “poor me” and “I hate” (insert person- Kim K., Kanye, Matty, Joe, Jake, John, Scooter, Scott, Harry, Calvin, the media at large, anyone who critiques her, and men in the music industry as a whole). She has the longest list of enemies I think I’ve ever seen- and the funny thing is that all these people avoid her at all costs. None of these people talk about her- yet she is still singing, writing songs, and getting her fans to post memes about how awful they are years, even decades, later.

It all gets a bit tiresome? No? Personally, I don’t wish to live a life full of such self-pity and hatred- so why should I listen to it in music form? Ya know?

In my posts, I am attempting to find the truth. I don’t want to “hate” on anyone or anything- but I am going to seek truth in her work.

I will be posting more about how she devoids Shakespeare of his social reformist efforts. I’m going to post more about how she twists the meaning of every literary reference she’s ever made. I am not kidding, she has misrepresented, and misinterpreted every single literary reference in her entire discography. It’s astounding how hard Swift tries to sound thoughtful- without actually being thoughtful. I will be posting about how she only ever name-drops to either tear other people down or self-depreciate herself in effort to seek pity. I will be talking more about her use of rhetorical appeals to both attract an audience, keep their attention through risk-reward trade-off, and manipulate them into fighting her battles for her. I will be talking about how she upholds a bunch of harmful stereotypes in her music. She often alludes, or blatantly includes allusion to colonialist attitudes. She’s used the LGBT community for profit without making any real activist efforts. She’s leveraged feminism like a weapon against other women- yet never actually has feminist themes in her music. She’s just so painfully hollow- upon closer inspection.

I don’t hate her as a person. I think she’s unethical, sure, but that doesn’t mean I hate her, want her to die, or anything extreme at all. I would never wish harm to another human being. In fact, after seeing a lot of the harmful stuff in her music, especially about her kind of fucked up views on relationships, I sincerely hope she gets some professional help and finds some peace in this world. When I critique Taylor Swift it’s about her work and her brand- It's not about her personhood.

I just think that no one Earth is above reproach, or critique, and we must all be held accountable for our own actions. She’s the one that puts her work out there for people- It's therefore completely appropriate for me to discuss her work.

Edit: Oh and I want to add- I wish you luck in figuring out what you really think about Taylor Swift. If you ever need to talk or vent more- my inbox is always open. :) With peace and love- bye bye

#anti taylor swift #taylor swift criticism #anti swifties #ex swiftie #taylor swift #taylor swift critical #literary theory #literary criticism #pathos #rhetorical appeal #rhetoric #rhetorical situation

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bamsara · 2 years

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Halloween's Night (Solar Lunacy! DCA x Reader Drabble)

This was orignally a prompt drabble, but I got carried away so now it's a simple Halloween drabble of it's own without the prompt.

Set in future ARC 2 (lateish) of Solar Lunacy: The DCA's reputation has improved, Moon has been reinstated as the Daycare Attendant and is doing well so far combatting the virus. Fire has not happened yet.

With no prior plans made, you are working the evening to night shift at the Pizzaplex's Daycare on Halloween night, so you practice Trick or Treating Safty with Sun and the kids, and witness a sweeter, softer moment with Moon. Also, everyone is forced to wear costumes. Including you, to which you get teased for.

The reader has a 'themed' costume, but the actaul apperence of the costume is not described, and up to visual interprietation

WordCount: 4,000+ | AO3 Link (preffered for comments!)

Halloween was a favorite holiday, if you couldn't notice from the absolute takeover scary and pumpkin themed decor had over your neighbors lawns and in the front window of every store you pass by on the drive to work. One of the best holidays, something to look forward to all year, and stores know this, jacking up heavy prices of candy for trick or treaters for the special night.

Fazbear Entertaient is no different. The moment the calender struck October 1st, Halloween decor started appearing in every neon hall and nearly everything was spook themed. Even the band members received 'make-overs' or costume changes to help with the Halloween Spirit.

Chica was a vampire, her hunger for pizza now a thirst for blood! (Or so she likes to loudly proclaim) while Roxy was a werewolf hunter, which, you find terribly ironic but she looks great in the typical lumber-jack style with a trench coat, it almost reminds you of pirate themed aesthetic, but you don't bring that part up.

Freddy is a wizard. Really. He's a wizard, complete with wizard hat on top of his original top hat and sparkly cape behind him. He looks goofy, but that was the goal, and the kids really love when he waves his 'magical hands', pulls out candy from his cape (which thankfully hid his chest compartment) and handed them out.

Monty is a zombie, complete with fake painted 'stitches' across his body with new paint that makes some parts slightly discolored from the rest of him. You wouldn't think that he would have liked playing the part, but turns out the Gator actaully likes to jump out and scare people, hands out and threatening to eat little ones as they run, giggling.

All their costumes were cute!

You, on the other hand, were quite surprised when you clocked in for your shift, and a staffbot rolls up to you with a brown paper bag, shoving it into your hands before giving you a quick thumbs up and rolling away.

Inside, to your exact measurements, is a costume that looks like a space themed fairy-type of thing that looks more like it would be suited for a child who couldn't decide what to dress up as rather than for an employee with unreasonable mangment. It even came with shoes.

....actaully, you shouldn't be surprised. Ever since your 'promotions, you should have seen things like this coming. You were hoping you could get away with just the bear-ears.

You change in the employee break room before heading out, and the Daycare, as always, is very busy when you arrive.

You hear them before you see them, children laughing as the Daycare Attendant chases them throughout the jungle gym, dark shapes through the plastic parts until they come rolling out of the tube slides. Even the tykes were in costumes, most of them onsies their parents picked out. Adorable.

Sun's costume change was interesting: a long black cape over his usual clown attire, and two painted devil horns on the appropriate spots on his sunrays. The clown ruffles were missing, and his colorful pants were replaced by puffy black pants, a tight shirt that made his chasis look like a skeleton's ribcage and with long sleeves with bones on the fabric as well.

The ribbons on his wrist remain, and so do the shoes with the bells. There's a hood on the back too and something attatched to his hip, but the hood is down because it would never fit around his rays, and the object is obscured behind the cape.

No where near as colorful as the animatronic usually liked, but he didn't seemed bothered; the kids were having a hell of a time with his new 'scary' apperence.

You take your place at the security desk right as the first parent arrives to come check out their kid, and Sun bounds up right with the toddler in his arms before you even call for him. After formalities, the paperwork (not really nesssasary, since robots can handle all the stuff in their brains anyway, but it makes you feel useful) and waving the two off, he turns to greet you.

Actaully, he gives you a full look-over, hand on cheek and humming. The displeasure on your face is plain, so you know his voice is teasing when he speaks. "Well, don't you look like a doll-!-"

"Shut it." You huff, and amusement flashes across the animatronic's face, and you subconsioudly adjust the straps of the fairy wings you've been tasked to wear with a sour frown. "I didn't choose the costume."

"Really! Because I think it suits you very well-"

You wack him with the clipboard, and Sun fakes hurt. "Boo. What are you supposed to be?"

He grings. "I have no idea! A demon, I think." Sun hunches over, fingers curled to mimick claws and turns from you to yell out towards the gaggle of children who were peering over at you two curiously. "Maybe the kind that eats little boys and girls that don't brush their teeth!"

A small collective gasp, a few giggles, hiding their faces away back into their coloring books as Sun gives them a final lookover and return back to you. "Whatdya think? Scary enough for ya?"

"Terrifying." You smile. "What am I supposed to be doing today? Aside from checkouts." You look towards the children, not many left.Looks like most of them have already been picked up.....That's...earlier, than usual."

Sun claps his hands together. "It's Halloween! Families come to pick up little ones early to start trick or treating! The Daycare will be closing a few hours early tonight!"

Oh, good. Less human interaction for you then. You sit yourself at the Security desk, eyeing the suspisouly full bowl of Fazbear themed candy that's been placed there. "Nice. Are these free for the taking?"

"Not quite yet." A metal hand clasps onto your shoulder, fingers tapping on your clothes. "And you know what? I could really use a little fairy helper right now-"

"Sunny-"

"Trick or Treating saftey! Super important! Some of these kiddos are trick or treating for the first time ever tonight, lets do a test run!" He leans back away from you, giddy and chipper as usual. Pretty sunny guy for being a demon.

You raise a brow, hand inching towards the treat bowl. "So...you want me to play the person at the door?"

"Correct!" Without missing a beat or moving his gaze, he gently slaps your hand away, and you pout as he continues. "I'll help encourage them, you just pretend to be 'answering the door' and give one piece of candy when they're ready-don't give anything with peanuts to Lewis, you see that one? Little one, blue dinorsouar onsie, yes. Good, good-and you can have any remaining candy left over!"

That bit caught your attention. "Can I have some now?"

"It would make the kids sad to see you eating candy when they're only allowed one." Sun's lowers, smile softening. "So no. You cannot."

Your response is a wrinkled nose and a frown. He pats your head in a mock show of empathy and tuts at your impatience.

The kids are giddy when Sun gathers them and tells them the rules as you prepare yourself to be the 'door greeter' in this little scenerio. For this, you crouch underneath the security desk where you can't be seen, await for a child to knock on the 'door' (aka, the wood of the desk) before popping up and going about the scenerio. It's silly, and a few onlookers that are leaving peer through the glass at your shenanigans, but you're smiling anyway.

The first knock comes, two hits on the wood and you pop out from the behind the desk. "Hello! And what are you supposed to be!"

The child, a boy with glasses too big for his face and wearing a skeleton onsie, timidly holds out his hands, eyes big and expectant. He has a slight lisp when he talks, excited. "Trick or Treat!"

You shift your eyes to Sun, and siliently the animatronic returns your knowing gaze. Well, he didn't really answer your question, but it's the enthusiasim that counts. "Oh my, here you go."

You place a piece of candy in his palm, and the boy immediatly turns to run off.

"Now what do we say?" Sun calls out to the boy's retreating form, half sticking out of a sliding tube.

The other children watch intently as the boy freezes, scuttles back out of the tube and running up to you. "T-thank you."

"Veeeery good job!" Sun praises, and you smile at the child to emphsize his praise. "Now what do we do?"

The boy answers, his voice joined by the choir of other children answering with him all out of synch. "Go back to our parents."

"That's right! You're a very smart bunch of fellas, aren't you?" Sun, who stands across the length of the room that would consitute a mock distance of the sidewalk to a front door, nods in approval as the candy holding tyke runs up to him, pinching the little one's cheek and cooing. He played the 'parent' while you were the door greeter, and you watched as he clapped and praised the children for following such a good example before ducking back underneath the desk.

The animatronic gently presses another child in your direction, and the process repeats.

It's cute and silly. They're all very young, more than likely this will be their first Halloween going door to door, and nervous at first when they approuch you, knocking on the desk and looking askew when you come out from hiding. That is, until their good manners and saftey behavior is rewarded with a piece of chocolate or jolly rancher, and their face lights up.

You occasionally have to break character as parents arrive to check out their children, the group dwindling little as the candy in your bowl starts to deplete. Some of them are restraining a laugh or smile at your costume, and possibly Sun's, but appreciate the 'practice' before the actaul trick or treating.

The next child is the quiet one. A little pigtailed girl that never talks, in an alien themed costume with a Moon plushie that's clutched tightly to her chest.

This girl never liked Sun, scared of him, so he doesn't push her too much as he gestures for her to approuch you. "It's okay, it's just practice! You get a piece of candy for trying!"

She doesn't budge from her spot, notably a distance away from the animatronic. Sun's smile doesn't faulter, but you know it probably sucks for him when this happens. "The meeting spot can be where the coloring books are, you don't have to come near me, okay?" His voice is soft, lowered, unlike him like he was borrowing the tone from somewhere else. "Would you like to try?"

She hesitates, looking back and forth between you and the jester, before approuching in small, timid steps. You try to appear as nonthreatening as possible . You don't even hide this time, just smiling as she approuches the desk. "Hello, there."

You see her tense up, and know it's already a failed attempt before her eyes get wet. A knock on the desk isn't even attempted, and the girl takes off, Moon plushie and alien antienna and all, towards the coloring books.

You have half a mind to go after to, comfort her somehow, but Sun is by your side quickly, calling out to the toddler instead. "That's alrighty, starlight! You tried and you were very brave, good job!" His praise feels esasperated, and the animatronic turns to you, head lowered to whisper so the other children. "That one's a touch sensitive. Best not to push it."

He's right, but you still feel a bit guilty. No time to feel it for long, because a gaggle of parents appear at the doorway and your attention is torn away to check out the remaining children to their appopriate gaurdians.

Sun amuses the remainder of the children with cartwheels and handstands that make his cape fly wildly until the children, one by one, are checked out and the Daycare is growing empty.

The hours are shorter because of the holiday, so the automated lighting system is supposed to go off earlier than usual. Parents and families are clearing out from the Pizzaplex, save for a few lingering souls, one of which still sits by the coloring area, scribbling on a page underneath one of the toddler tables in quiet contentment.

You frown, and pull out your phone. "The Daycare closes in five minutes."

"Her father must have forgotten the holiday hour change." Sun interjects, quickly gathering up all the little plastic candy wrappers the children threw onto the floor and tossing them into the garbage bin, muttering about keeping the place clean. "Good fello! Busy quite a lot, I think. He'll show up, no worries."

"The lights will go out." You say, and this time, there's no worry in your voice.

Sun salutes you, saying nothing. But he does tug at your wings as he passes by, and you try to step on his cape to make him trip and fail, causing him to snicker as you stumble.

As time would have it, the lights go out at the exact time Naptime is scheduled, but the Daycare is no longer taking check-ins for the holiday and is officially closed. Funny how the shortened hours would eradicate the Naptime schedule from the end of the work day, but there was no time for sleep on Halloween's Eve.

You don't flinch anymore when the lights go out, but you still look up from your phone and desk towards the girl that has yet to be picked up. She's not coloring anymore, instead curled up against a giant plushie and picking at the threads from her own plush.

Poor thing. You consider getting up and going to try and talk to her-

-but a blur in the corner of your vision comes around to your front, something silver colored and shiny pressing up against your neck. You freeze, instictivly, at the sycth's blade up against your skin.

A low, familier voice whispers next to your ear. "Slow down. You'll get sick."

Immediatly your face deadpans, and your hands drop the series of candy that you oh-so-weren't-totally-stealing from the candy bowl. "I'm an adult, Moon. I can have as much candy as I want."

Moon says nothing, but you can practically hear the grin as the plastic, wobbly blade drags across your neck harmlessly as the animatronic makes a 'scccchhhh' sound to mimick slitting your throat.

"Dying. Dying super hard. Blood gushing everywhere right now.." You jest, and the 'weapon' disappears, allowing you to spin on your heel and take the animatronic in fully. "....The Grim Reaper?"

Moon stands there in costume, the same as what Sun wore, but the hood was up over his hat, and a toy scycnh that's more suited for a child in his grip. That must be what was attatched to their hip you didn't see earlier.

He looks...unbothered, and his behavior was playful. But then again, you've known the Daycare Attendant long enough that it was easy to hide a face when your face's default setting is 'smile.' "Managment really didn't think the whole costume thing through, huh?"

His eyes are white, the one on the darker half of his face darkening to a red hue, only briefly. He holds the scyth up, pulling down one end and releasing it so it wobbled like rubber. "Try not to look too much into it."

"As long as you're having fun." You offer a smile in comfort, and Moon's response is 'stabbing' you through the gut with the fake sycnh, to which you snatch from him and bonk him with it as he snickers. "You dolt! There's a kid still here!"

"I know." Moon is unaffected by the plastic bonking, unmoving and plain faced as it hits him right between the eyes.

"Well?" You pull your 'weapon' back and glare at him.

Moon has no pupils at the moment, but you feel his gaze drift up and down your body before meeting your own again.

"Moon." You stress.

"Nice costume." He chuckles, fingers coming up to pinch at your wings. The straps press against your skin as he pulls them, humming like one was inspecting a caught butterfly. "Can't have you flying away though-"

You bonk him again. "Stop that."

"Hurtful" He's snickering. He's mocking you, damn him. "I let you get away with too much."

"Okay, now you're just being mean-"

He catches your next hit, your hand in his palm, curled fingers enclosing your own. A frown on your face, you open your mouth to question it before you pause. He's not looking at you, rather, peering off towards the other end of the Daycare, and you follow his vision.

Right as you look over, you spy pigtails dart back behind one of the cylinder towels. Moon drops your hand, and you keep your voice low when you talk to him so she can't hear. "You're supposed to be her favorite. I don't know why she hasn't come over to say hi to you, yet."

Moon hums. "Because the adults are flirting."

You whip your head back around to him, face hot. "We are not 'flirting'!"

Casually, he adjusts the wings back into proper position. "Sure."

"We're not!"

"Okay." He taps the corner of his faceplate, near his smile that's been teasing the entire time.

You pause, hand coming up to wipe your mouth. He leaves you there while you scrub at the space around your lips furiosuly until you're convinced he only tricked you into thinking you have chocolate around your mouth just so he'd get the last laugh, but he's approuching the girl before you can retort.

You huff at him, but settle back into your spot against the security desk, where the light switch remains nearby and you have a full view of the scenerio. You won't need to use it. You only remember it's there for your own memory.

Pulling out your phone, you check the time again and a few messages and emails wishing you a safe and happy halloween from a few stores that want to capatilize on the holiday. More than likley, the father of the child will arrive at his usual time to pick up the girl, which is typically an hour before closing, but due to the shortened hours of the holiday, would be another thirty minutes from now.

So you eat candy and pass the time. You don't mind it, helps you organize your notes. Occasioanlly you'll look up from the desk out of habit and see the animatronic sitting criss cross on the floor, hands in his lap with the little girl who's too afraid to interact with anyone else.

It's funny, you think, as you pop a smartie in your mouth, that the little girl afraid of everything else's favorite is a robot with a old reputation for blantant murder.

She's showing him a drawing you can't see from this distance, and Moon takes it in his hands and says something softley that you can't hear. You smile, and return to your phone and candy. He's come a long way.

It's a few minutes later as you close out of all of your tabs do you feel a presence around you. You look up, Moon standing a few feet away, cloak fully closed and hood pulled over so only the bottom half of his face is visible, with the glow of two white eyes staring at you from the dark.

The moment you notice him, he shuffles forward, except it's weird. Like penguin walking, in fashion that reminds you that underneath the 'grim reaper' costume, he's still a freaking clown.

You raise a brow. "Wha-"

He cuts you off. "Trick or Treat." You furrow your brows, squinting in confusion, and so he repeats himself again. "Trick. Or. Treat."

You're about to jest that robots don't eat candy so you'll have to take trick instead, but a small shape catches your sight. Hands, small and shaky, push out from the bottom of the cloak. The body attactched to them are still hidden by the fabric, but they are cupped and outstretched towards you.

You understand instantly. There's not a lot of candy left in the bowl since you've been eating them all, but there's three or four pieces left, which you scoop up and gently plop into the child's palms. "Bravery gets a reward, doesn't it?"

The child only makes a positive sniffle, but the hands pull back into the cloak and you immediatly hear the sound of a wrapper being torn open.

"Thank you." Moon grins.

Then, much to your amusement, you watch as the animatronic quite literally turns on his heel, and waddles all the way back to the designated 'safe zone'. It is, by all accounts, the funniest thing you've seen all night and takes a considerable amount of effort not to laugh at the retreating figure penguining away.

The father arrives a few minutes after that, and the girl is very easily presuaded from that point to come out from her hiding. Your suspisions were correct; the father simply didn't realize the Daycare's hours were working on a holiday schedule, and apologized greatly for the trouble. You're the one to reassure him that it's fine, you're going in the daycare all night anyways, and that his daughter caused no trouble.

Moon does not stand with you at the door. He still has....trouble with older adults sometimes. So he stands as a cloaked silohellte at the far top end of the jungle gym, cloaked in shadow save for his eyes, and his hand when he pulls it out to wave back as the girl waves at him once, and they're gone.

There. The Daycare is offically closed and empty. The Pizzaplex in full will be following suit soon, and you can relax.

The sound of bells jingle behind you as your lock the exit. "You're going to stay."

It's less of a question, more like a statement, but you give him a response as you turn anyways. "Yeah. I didn't have any Halloween plans, so I agreed to a full evening and night shift. I get bonus pay for it being a holiday."

"We could do scary things." He starts, mischief in his grin. He walks around you in a circle, oddly and dramatic in the fashion that a jester knows best, whipping the other side of your head as you turn to and fro. "I can show you scary things. Tell stories."

"I can show you scary things and stories." You refute. Pulling out your phone, Youtube and a few streaming services are pinned to your homescreen. "Never had a horror movie marathon, have you, Starboy?"

Moon pauses, and thinks for a long time.

You narrow your eyes at the silence. "If you joke that your life is a horror movie, I'll be disappointed."

"Not anymore." The animatronic spins his head, once, twice, as the wire comes down to attatch. It hooks onto his back, which is hilarious to see because you realize the cloak must have a small hole cut out the back for that to even work.

"Our room. Comfortable there." His hand extends towards you. "Feel like flying, fairy?"

Your nose wrinkles, taking his hand and scoffing at his amusement. "Okay, that's it, I'm taking the costume off as soon as we're up there."

#Solar Lunacy #Bytes of Lunacy #fnaf sb #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #drabbles #moon x reader #sun x reader #self insert #moondrop #sundrop

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krav3nn · 1 year

Text

─── ⋆⋅☆ALL MINE ☆⋅⋆ ────

FINALLY DOING A BILL KAULITZ SMUT!! This one’s going to be written with she/her pronouns but if any he/him or they/them want me to write something for them then just reach out!!!

WARNINGS: Slight harassment (Not from bill), cursing, sex obv, hair pulling, rough, slight slapping(he slaps your ass a few times), jealous and possessive Bill 😻, aftercare

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Orange: bill speaking

Pink: you speaking

Red: creep speaking 🖕

Tokio Hotel had just finished a concert, you, Bills girlfriend was in the croud of fans and watched your singing boyfriend. You obviously got a front standing row, as Bill insisted. You watched Bill turn his head to silently communicate for you to head back stage. Bill was always clingy after concerts, you loved that about him. Doing as requested, you pushed pasted the mob of fan girls and boys and finally made it backstage, as soon as you opened the door to bills dressing room he was all over you. In the split second it took you to open the door, you were already in his arms as he gave the special “after concert hug”. “Fuck baby I missed you” uttered bill, his chin resting on top of your head as your head nuzzled into his chest. Sighing in content and chuckling, you answered, “it was only for an hour and a half billy, how could you have missed me that much.” He chuckled with you, “meine liebe, I’ll always miss you when your not around me. AH! That reminds me, me and the boys were planing on heading to the bar in a few” Bill continued, “would you like to come?” Bill said, finally letting go of you and giving you puppy dog eyes. You giggled and grabbed his face to give him a sweat kiss. “Of course baby, wouldn’t wanna deprive you of any more of my affection.” He jumped up and down and clapped in excitement. “Okay! Let’s meet up with the band and we’ll head over!

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YOUR POV

You and the band arived at the bar and bill orders your drink as you go to talk to the other members. On your way there you bump into a guy, he looked intoxicated. “Hey there baby doll” the relatively older man slurred at you. “Er…hello..” you said quite nervously and looked back to see if you could get any help from your boyfriend but he was busy talking with Tom. “Shit what do I do..” you thought. “You..” the stranger paused and looked you up and down suductivly. “..you look fuckin hot” he smiled and started undressing you with his eyes “ah thanks..I. I have to get back to my boyfrie-“ you were cut off by the man grabbing your arm, making you gasp and wince at the sudden contact. “Boyfriend eh.. I could take better care of you doll” he said pulling you towards him but before he would get the chance to touch you further someone came up behind you and pulled you away. “What. The. Actual. FUCK. is your problem. Don’t ever touch my girlfriend again.” Bill said as he jabbed his finger into the man’s chest. The man stayed silent and backed away, looking nervous. Bill quickly turned to face you and grabbed your face with his hands. They were shaking with rage. “Baby…y/n..fuck I’m so sorry I should have stayed with you.” He went from raging to soft in a split second. “Billy, it’s not your fault, I’m okay, don’t worry. You smiled at him reassuringly “okay but we’re leaving now.” Bill softly grabbed your hand and led you out the bar and into his car to drive home

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BILLS POV (idk why the text got bigger for this part lol sorry)

I lead y/n into the bar with our arms interlocked but that quickly broke apart as I went to order her drink and she went to look for the rest of the crew. A few moments later Tom came up to me and we started talking about the concert and telling each other how great the other did. Suddenly I miss y/n again. I look over and see a man talking to her but it doesn’t look like a friendly conversation. She looks uncomfortable and he looks like a drunk sicko. I start walking over to her when he grabs her arm and try’s to pull her to him. She suddenly looks panicked and winces. DID THIS BASTARD HURT HER??! Suddenly my mind goes blank and I speed up, pushing my way through the people and I finally make it to her and.. that creep. I push him back harshly and push her behind me. I tried my best to keep myself composed as I pushed my finger into his chest harshly and said “what.the.actual.FUCK. Is your problem. Don’t ever touch my girlfriend again” he backed off and looked like a kicked puppy. Ironic. I turn to her, MOST of the rage leaving my body at the sight of her “Baby…y/n..fuck I’m so sorry I should have stayed with you” I said. I feel so guilty. I shouldn’t have let her out of my sight. I don’t know what I would do if she got hurt or that sick freak tried to do something to her. She comforted me to a degree and said she was okay. Thank god. But since I guess people don’t get the god damn memo that she’s MINE…I guess I’ll have to show them.

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Once me and bill got home, he grabbed my face with his hands and looked down at me with lust filled eyes. I looked up at him softly and smiled softly. He groaned and kissed me harshly. I moaned in surprise but kissed back. After a minute of making out he taped my thigh silently telling me to jump. I did as I was told and wrapped my legs around his waist. We continued kissing as he walked us to the bedroom and layed me down on the bed. His lips not once leaving mine. I gasped for air and moaned, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him twards me so his clothed dick came in contact with my clothed pussy. He groaned and grabbed my face, “tell me what you want Prinzessin (princess)” he looked down at me teasingly. “Hhm I want…I want you” you squeaked “uh uh baby, you want my what?” He said smirking. Bastard. “I want….I want your cock billy” bill groaned loudly and kissed me. “Good girl..such a good girl..MY good girl. Only MINE” he growled as he started taking my shirt and bra off. He unsnapped my bra and took it off. “Hmmm your so pretty baby. Only I get to see you like this. Fuckkk” he said groaning and sucking air through his teeth. As he leaned down and kissed down my body, reaching the waistband of my bottoms. “Bill…baby..please” I wined pathetically “please what baby” he said kissing my stomach. “Please bill..please fuck me..please I need you so bad.” I moaned out, grinding my hips up, trying to get any sort of friction. “As you wish schönes Mädchen (babygirl)” bill said, as he pulled down your bottoms and panties. When he slipped off your panties, he put them in the pocket of his jeans and winked. You swear you could’ve died on the spot but all the thoughts in your head were gone and replaced with just BILL as his tounge made contact with your pussy. “Hmm so wet for me, and only me baby. Isn’t that right.” Bill said as he spead up his movements. You hovever couldn’t answer, the only things that left your mouth were moans and bills name. “Ugn bill…please please bill ugnn billl” you said as you twitched and your legs started shaking with your upcoming orgasm. “Go on baby..cum for me..only me” his words were enough as you jolted and grabbed his hair and pulled it. Bill let out a quiet, “ah fuckkk” with a moan as he couldn’t hold back any more. He flipped you on your stomach so you were on your hands and knees on the bed with him behind you. As you heard his belt come undone, he taped your thigh and said, “you okay baby, you ready” to which you shaked your head in agreement. “Words, sweet baby” bill said. “Yes billy I’m ready, please fuck me” you said with a moan as he pushed into you slowly. “Fuck! Baby your so fuckin tight. Only I get to feel this pretty pussy huh? Yeah. Yeah I fucking do.” Bill said, throwing his head back and groaning as you moaned loudly and shook your head. he continued to thrust into you at a fast pace. He slapped your ass softly and fondled it. “This is my perfect ass, huh baby” bill said, totally anamored with the ripples your ass made everytime he slapped it or thrusted into you. Because of that, his thrust speed up and he slapped your ass harder then the last. “Fuck your so perfect, you belong to me and only me” he said pulling your hair back so he could mark your neck. “Bill, ugn your so good, so big please…mmh I’m so close.” You said reaching back to grab his hair behind you. “Fuck y/n me too” he replied as his thrusts became sloppily and he moaned loudly and reached his hand down to rub your puffy clit. You moaned a pornagraphic moan at his movements as you both came together.

After calming down, he picked you up and carried you to the bathroom. Setting you down on the counter, he started the shower. He walked back over to you and hugged you tightly and kissed wherever he could reach on your body. “I love you so much y/n. I don’t know what I’d do without you” he smiled up at you and rubbed your face softly. You leaned into his hand, “I love you to baby, you make me so happy” he smiled brightly at this and took your hand and you guys showered together and he washed your hair. :3 then he put you in his boxers and his shirt and you guys cuddled. Then went to bed.

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Okay!!! Thats it! Please send requests and I’d be happy to do them but now I’m going to go and die now bc it’s 2 in the morning and my arms are literally dead 🔥

#bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x reader smut #tokio hotel

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kscheibles · 1 year

Text

e la vita ch. 1

content warnings: f! reader, drug mentions, drinking, emetophobia, bisexuality (homophobes and biphobes begone I will block u so fast)

word count: 3.8k

I didn’t want to be in Italy this summer.

That makes me sound ungrateful or something, but it’s the truth. Three months ago, I had planned to stay in Brooklyn with Claire all summer long. Hosting dinner parties, eating greasy breakfast sandwiches, dancing to old $1 records in our cramped apartment, picnicking in Prospect Park, and being totally, delusionally in love.

That was before things went south, she stopped trying and left me with more rent than I could possibly pay in the city. When Christina had first mentioned that a group of her friends was headed to Italy for the summer, I’d dismissed the possibility of going with them. Not only did I dread cohabitating with her wealthy, influencer friends who seemed to deal only in clout, I thought I’d be otherwise engaged. Weeks later, I’d gone back to her groveling, asking if I could sleep on the pull-out couch in Nina’s family villa for the summer. Luckily, the sofa was still available.

Now I sit at a wrought iron table – lease broken and all of my belongings sold to wealthy Manhattanites – in the warm yellow light of the Lombard sunset. Around me are chatty, outgoing girls, each more beautiful than the last. They gab about clubs and brands and boys. In the sea of Botox and iPhones, I cling to Christina like a life buoy. I push my tortellini around my plate to make it look like I have an interest in food, but I really don’t. I’m jet-lagged and uncomfortable. And even if that wasn’t the case, I’ve barely eaten since the breakup, relying on oat lattes and dirty water dogs to keep me alive.

“Try the pasta,” Christina jabs, “trust me, you’ll have a lot more fun this summer if you lean in.” I break the shell open with my fork revealing succulent ricotta curds and bright green spinach. The filing swims in a sauce of brown butter and fragrant tarragon but doesn’t affect me as it should. Nothing does anymore. The group’s conversation interrupts my train of thought.

“They’ve come every summer since the nineties, same as us,” says Nina, smirking at the girl to her left. “Hottest little accents you’ve ever heard, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Who is she talking about?” I whisper to Christina.

“The boys in the other house,” she says, “the one you see on your way up here.” Nina’s family’s home is at a higher altitude than the rest of the city, necessitating a laborious hike to the bottom to actually do anything while in town. I’m sure that they’d been sold on the privacy of the location, but its impracticality left me wanting. The only other villa nearby sat at the base of the lush green hills before the road disappeared into winding dirt.

Another girl chimes in, “I saw them last year at a dinner in the city. They’re cute, too,” she coos.

“I kissed George the summer I turned fifteen,” brags Nina and the whole table breaks into oohs and aahs. I usually have a shut-up-unless-spoken-to policy at group dinners, but I know Christitna is right. If I don’t lean in then the credit card debt I’d amassed to buy my plane ticket and the back problems I'm sure to contract from sleeping on a pull-out couch for a whole summer will have been for naught. Think of it as an acting exercise, I tell myself, a performance of the girl who is totally not hung up on her ex and excited for a fun summer with her friends.

“I’m sorry,” I interrupt, “who are these guys?”

“They’re in a band,” says Nina.

“Like a real one?” I ask. Years of living in New York have taught me that all bands are not, in fact, real ones. Nina laughs.

“You’re funny,” she muses, “yes, a real one. They’re like famous. We’ll go over eventually, they throw the best parties you can find around here. Get real drugs, too. Not just liters upon liters of Aperol, not that I mind that either.”

With my question sufficiently answered, I return quietly to my pasta, cutting each shell into impossibly smaller pieces until it’s rabbit food that will glide down my throat and do the hard job of nourishing me without any work on my part.

–

After dinner, I tuck into the pull-out couch in the villa’s spacious living room. The lack of A/C and the balmy summer air make it impossible to enjoy the luxurious wool blankets Nina’s family no doubt splurged on. I allow myself to eavesdrop on the elated sounds coming from upstairs: women confiding in each other, commiserating about their troubles, and shrieking excitedly at each other's successes.

I first try to doze off at 10:15, hoping that an early night will be exactly what I need and I’ll wake up refreshed and on Italian time. After an hour of staring at the popcorn ceilings and trying to suppress my crippling fear of missing out, I’ve tired my mind out enough to begin slipping toward sleep. I have fewer and fewer thoughts until I’m jolted by a hip-hop bassline. It resonates through the trundle bed and rebounds off my ribs, cozying itself into my heart. As I begin to come to, I recognize the chords of a house track that used to play at the girl bar Claire and I frequented in Green Point. The melody is warm and familiar and undeniably annoying. How loud must the music be for it to affect me so acutely even as I’m a few kilometers away from them?

I decide I’m pissed – and yes I decided. I’m freshly single, broke, jet-lagged, and fucking pissed at those entitled rich assholes. I slide my sandals on and head out down the hill in my sleep clothes.

I step outside onto the winding dirt road that leads the way to the boys’ home. The night is dark, lit by stars much brighter than I’m used to seeing in Brooklyn. I tilt my head back to look at them, trying to identify the big dipper. After a few seconds, I’m dizzy. I shake myself and trudge ahead, almost lulled into submission by the constant chirping of cicadas and the sweet fragrance of orange blossom that wafts off the bushes.

With each step I take towards the boys’ villa (what were their names again? Nina said one was called George), the music, electronic and fast-paced, becomes louder.

When I first knock on the faded wood door, I’m quite sure no one has heard me. I stand outside for a few minutes, contemplating whether I should knock again or cut my losses and return up the hill. I decide I may as well disrupt their party as some kind of karmic retribution for keeping me awake even as I’m exhausted from a transatlantic flight. I raise my fist and rap harshly at the door. A moment later, it flies open, revealing a curly-haired boy. Well, not boy, I decide as I inspect his features – lines decorate his forehead, and gray peeks out at me from within a ringlet that hangs over his eyes. He gives me a once over and can immediately tell I’m not here for the party.

“Can I help you?” he asks, annoyed. His accent lilts and falls over the words. All of a sudden, I feel insecure in my braless and plaid pajama-clad state. He’s beautiful – and exasperated by me. I double down on my own annoyance.

“Would you mind turning the music down?” I ask, still cordial, “I’m staying at the house up the way and I can’t get to sleep.”

The guy in front of me purses his lips and considers me for a moment. I feel itchy and uncomfortable. He’s looking at me like he can see through my clothes, to my soft hips and painted toes and peaked nipples.

“Let me show you around, gorgeous,” he smiles, “then maybe you won’t mind so much.” He grabs my wrist and yanks me into the party. A warmth covers me as I cross the threshold into the villa. The inside of the home smells like college: cheap weed, sweet sticky mixers, and sweat. My sandals stick slightly to the floor, reminding me that I really shouldn’t be here right now. Like the alcohol that’s been spilled on the ground is some great cosmic interference to convince me to go home and get the rest I ought to.

Suddenly, a big hand falls on the shoulder of the boy who’s pulling me by my limbs.

“Matty!” says the man. I can make out enough to see that he’s tall and devastatingly handsome.

“George!” the boy – Matty, I remind myself – drops my hand and fully embraces the bigger guy. “Was just showing…” he nods at me to introduce myself.

“Y/n.”

“Around,” Matty finishes. George gives me a once over.

“Did she just roll out of bed? Or get released from prison?”

“Y/n came to ask us to keep the noise down,” Matty declares with fake sincerity, “Not a partier, are ya love?”

“Under the right circumstances, I can be,” I retort. Matty and George’s eyebrows raise in amusement, faces breaking out in smiles. That sounded much more cunning in my head. Now I feel like a toy they’re playing with, winding me up to see what noises I make. It feels infantilizing. I’m uncomfortable, crawling in my skin; pride battered and desperate to go home as soon as it doesn’t look like I’m running away from a fight of my own picking. “I’d better be going actually,” I assert.

Matty puckers his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “I’ll show you out, princess.” It’s a sweet nickname but it tastes bitter out of his mouth. He seems to twist everything good and make it unbearable. I resent him for it. I trudge in front of Matty towards the door with steadfast focus. As I cross the threshold, I turn to meet his gaze.

“Thanks for nothing,” I say calmly. Matty breaks into a devilishly smug grin. His eyebrows tilt a little and his lips reveal a few crooked teeth at the bottom of his mouth.

“My pleasure, darlin’,” he says. I scoff and turn on my heels, leaving Matty in the dust.

–

The scent of freshly chopped garlic fills the kitchen as I stand in an assembly line of young women with cutting boards and chefs knives, each diligently chopping an ingredient for the bruschetta.

In front of me is a bunch of basil, perfectly fresh and green. I gently remove the leaves from the stem and create a pile in the middle of my board. It reminds me of when I would be tasked with raking the leaves as a kid. Too distracted by my childish whims, I would create more work for myself by piling the leaves on top of each other and taking a grandiose dive into them before scooping them up into a trash bag and discarding them. Each leaf was like a piece of confetti, a celebration of the season and of youth. Now I do these things to prove to myself that I’m young and that I can still conjure up that imaginative, playful nature if I try hard enough.

As I rock my knife back and forth over the soft leaves, Christina asks me where I was the night before.

“I came out around eleven to invite you upstairs, but I couldn’t find you,” she says.

Embarrassed, I train my eyes to the task at hand. This is not the group to look like a tattle-tale in front of. Actually, there’s very few groups in which that would fly. My penchant for playing God and divvying out karmic consequences to everyone whose path I cross is a part of my nature I’m not particularly fond of. I’m not keen to share it, especially around people who are still making up their minds about me. Despite my steadfast beliefs and borderline-outlandish behaviors, I maintain a fervent desire to be liked. It’s pathetic.

“I stepped out for some air,” I murmur.

“Really?” she nudges, “Because I didn’t see you on the porch.”

I turn my basil bunch 90 degrees in a flourish, beginning to chop it lengthwise.

“Fine, I couldn’t sleep because of the music,” I spit.

“And…” Christina has always been too good at getting me to reveal my true feelings. She goads me torturously until it’s easier to say what I’m thinking than to conceal it.

“And I went to ask them to turn the music down,” I finish, “There, are you happy?”

“Very,” she smiles.

I pick up the chopped basil, letting the pieces float through my fingers and deciding I need to chop them smaller, still. I whack at the pile haphazardly, ruining the lovely squares I meticulously crafted earlier.

“They didn’t turn it down, if you were wondering,” I pant, “Pricks.” Christina chuckles to herself.

“No one ever does.”

–

The music of the club is omnipresent as I enter hand in hand with Christina. On my feet are heels too high to be comfortable, but the perfect lift to accentuate my calves. As soon as I cross the threshold, I drag Christina to the bartender, ordering two negronis. We idle by the bar for a moment and I take in my surroundings, savoring the bitter aftertaste of my drink and the waltz of the lights that flicker and cover the dancefloor with reverie. I listen to the synths and flourishes of the melody that envelop my senses. I hadn’t expected to like the music, but the DJ is spinning disco and it just feels right: the cold Italian aperitif, the funky basslines, and the tranquil nighttime air. I almost wish I’d left my phone at home. Nights like these aren’t compatible with phones anyway. The atmosphere feels like a relic of a bygone era, full of free love and intoxication.

Nina and a friend of hers find Christina and me at the bar and run up to us with inebriated bravado. “You guys made it!” she squeals. Little does she know we were pre-gaming at the villa in anticipation of this exact moment. I couldn’t handle Nina while sober tonight, that much I was absolutely sure of. It also didn’t help that I was alone – for the first time in several years – in a romantic foreign country without the girl whom I still loved. As unhealthy as it was, alcohol made that reality hurt a bit less. Nina grabs my hands and leads Christina and me away from the bar.

“I need to introduce you to the DJs!” Nina exclaims. I glance at Christina to communicate that no, I’m not particularly enthused at the prospect of meeting some Eurotrash guy whose head is shaved and whose torso is covered in Gucci logos. She returns the glance, silently begging me to behave. I relent.

Nina leads us around the side of the floor to some kind of dark stairwell. Rationally, I should be scared of being kidnapped but my drunken stupor inspires more carelessness than I would usually indulge in. I watch the sway of Christina’s hips and follow her like a lost puppy. Finally, we reach the top and the DJ deck is revealed. It’s shadowy and hazy. To the left is a corner booth with a straight couple making out in a way that really ought to be illegal in public. Past the lookout, laser lights flicker and sweep across the dancefloor, catching on the artificial fog and filling the air with psychedelic color. My eyes fall on the backs of two figures at the DJ booth, smoke rising above their heads. I can make out that one has headphones on and is faffing with the turntable while the other has their hands in the air and the small, flickering glow of a lit cigarette dancing around their figure. I’m dragged towards them by Nina who throws an arm around each of their necks in greeting. As soon as the one with the cig turns around, I catch his eyes.

It’s Matty. Selfish, arrogant Matty. I nod my head and flatten my mouth in a kind of recognition. The room is spinning from the alcohol and my skin is buzzing with discomfort. The bass of the music resonates in my ribs, teaching my heart how to beat. My mouth tastes salty and my knees feel weak.

I’m running to the corner where I can see a bin. Tears prick at my eyes and my hair sticks to my sweaty forehead as I swiftly empty the contents of my stomach into the small trash can. I kneel on the rough carpet and brace myself on either side of the bin with my hands. Between heaves, I lift my head to shake my hair off the back of my neck. The cool air feels grounding, but I’m soon back with my head in the can. I feel a hand on the back of my head, wrangling my frizzy hair off of my shoulders. I gasp, looking back for the sisterly comfort of Christina’s bottomless, cerulean eyes. Instead, I find a pair of brown, honey-flecked irises: Matty’s. I’m reeling too severely to be upset or confused; I’m just grateful when he uses his free hand to sweep my damp bangs out of my face and nods at me.

“Go on,” he encourages, “better out than in.”

I bury my head in the bucket again.

“Atta girl,” Matty coos in my ear. I can almost notice his hand rubbing circles on my back. Even when I’m quite sure I’m finished, I keep my head down for a moment savoring the last few seconds that I don’t have to look Matty in the eyes. Curse him for helping me. I wouldn’t know how to interact with him under normal circumstances, much less when he’s been nice to me – and watched me unceremoniously blow chunks into a bin.

“You feel better?” he asks. I lift my head tentatively, still scared another wave of nausea will hit me.

“I think so, yeah,” I mumble. Matty searches my eyes for any warning sign that I’m still sick.

“Have you got a hair tie?” I instinctually fish in my jeans pocket for one, handing it to him. Slowly, he corrals my locks into a ponytail and secures it, fingers grazing the tops of my ears and making me shiver. I sit back against the wall with my legs splayed out in front of me, knees visibly carpet burnt from my previous position. Matty flops down beside me. He reaches out to touch the red, irritated skin.

“You don’t need a doctor or something, do you?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” I hiss when he applies a little pressure to my knee and shake his hands off me, “Why are you being nice to me?”

“When have I not been nice?”

“You wouldn’t turn the music down the other night,” I state. He smiles at me, eyes scrunching up until his pupils are totally obscured.

“No one ever turns the music down,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Plus,” he adds, “I thought you were a buzzkill. Now I can see that’s not the case, sweetheart.”

“I can usually handle my drink better than this,” I protest, “And I’m also usually not a buzzkill.”

“I guess I don’t know anything about you, then,” he acquiesces, thinking for a moment, “Do you want to start over?”

“Sure, I’d like that,” I nod, smiling tipsily.

“So what’s caused you to be sick tonight?” Matty asks, leaning his head back against the wall. His hair is curled up in perfect ringlets and his skin glows golden even in the dim club light. He looks at me carefully, like his stare could hurt me. It could, I suppose.

“Alcohol?” I say it like that should be obvious. His face wrinkles up again in a laugh I can vaguely identify as something that’s my fault. He looks pretty. I realize I want to make him do it again and again forever. I want to see the crinkles that grow at the sides of his eyes and the curl of his upper lip that reveals his boyishly crooked teeth.

“I figured as much. Anything in particular that drove you to drink?” I frown for a second, trying to remember.

“My ex,” I say quietly.

“What’d he do?”

“Nothing,” I shake my head, “that’s the problem. She didn’t do anything.”

“When was that?”

“Two months ago?” My god, it’s already been two months.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “that’s still fresh.” I shrug.

“It’s alright I guess. You just feel a little betrayed when someone stops trying. I thought that was the whole point of…” I trail off, gesticulating aimlessly with my hands, “love or whatever. To keep trying.”

“I get it,” he utters.

“People stop trying with rockstars, too?” I tease. He smiles.

“How did you know that I’m a musician?”

“Well, first of all, I said rockstar–”

“Which I chose to ignore because it was sarcastic.” I roll my eyes.

“And second of all, the girls I’m staying with told me,” I finish. He nods in understanding.

“Well yeah,” he sighs pensively, “people stop trying with everybody. Even rockstars. If I’ve learnt anything in my life, it’s that giving up usually has more to do with them than it does with you.”

“You’re probably right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less,” I argue.

“Nothing does. You just have to let it hurt for a while.”

We’re both quiet for a second. I catch a couple of bars of an Earth, Wind, and Fire song and hum along, content with the silence. I let my head fall onto Matty’s shoulder and he immediately turns his head to look at me.

“Oh fuck, sorry. Is this okay?” I ask, hand flying to my mouth “I know I just puked.”

“It’s okay,” he says, “I just didn’t think you would want to.”

“I want to,” I kiss his shoulder through the cotton of his white button-up shirt. He watches me the whole time as though he can’t quite compute what’s happening. Then he snaps back to his regular confident state.

“Let me know if you ever want to deal with your girlf– ex without drinking your feelings away…” he trails off, mouth meeting the crown of my head, “I’d love to show you around here sometime.”

“Okay,” I mumble, the alcohol, tiredness, and emotions beginning to get the better of me and coax me toward sleep.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Matty grabs my hand from my lap and wraps it in his two larger ones, caressing my thumb and humming into my ear.

–

a/n: the next bit is written, but I am still writing the end. smut soon! x

#matty healy fanfic #matty healy x reader #matty healy x y/n #matty healy fluff #matty healy fanfiction #matty Healy

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