#like am i that bad to hang out with? am i too loud? too much?it makes me tired

[widevibratobitch]

im so fucking mad at myself at my mother at her dead husband at god fucking knows what. "concentrate on yourself" well i cant can i. now more than anything i should and i cant. losing my fucking mind istg

[enchanted-calamity]

[enhaheeseung]

Innocence - L. Heeseung

Pairing: heeseung x fem reader!

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, plus size reader, alcohol consumption, cursing, dirty truth or dare, unprotected sex, oral female receiving, flirting.

Note: hello, this work was requested by @idollemon @fumasthicc sorry for the long wait I hope you enjoy it! 💋

WC: 6,360k sorry for it being so long but I had to build up to it yk😅

Masterlist

It was 9:23, and you were putting on the finishing touches to your makeup. You had decided to go with a casual look, considering you were just going to hang out with a mutual friend to have drinks and watch movies at his house.

Your best friend had been invited to a house party by her friend named heeseung, and she asked if you wanted to tag along, so you agreed you didn’t have shit else to do anyways.

You knew she was only going cause Jake was going to be there, but you figured a night out wouldn’t be so bad, so you decided to accompany her, even though she’d most likely ditch you for him.

But, it was a good excuse for you to see her very hot best friend, heeseung. You hadn’t seen him around much cause you weren’t friends with him. You only knew him cause of your best friend, but those few encounters were enough for you to catch some type of feelings.

You’d never say it out loud or let anyone know, but you had a tiny little crush on him. He was tall and cute with a charming smile.

And not to mention, every time you saw him, he looked absolutely fuckable.

That’s another thing you’d never say out loud.

If your friend ever knew you thought about him like that, she’d be absolutely stunned because….

You were innocent.

At least to her and your friends, you were.

You were what most people would call the innocent type. You didn’t attend many parties. You always dressed modestly, and any time a dirty joke would get made, you’d just blush and stay quiet, not entertaining those types of things.

So if she or any of your friends knew that you wanted to fuck their best friend, it’d come as a complete shock.

You took one last look in the mirror until you were satisfied. You got a text from your friend that was notifying you that, apparently, it was going to be a sleepover since everyone would be drinking.

You responded with a thumbs-up and packed an overnight bag for the now sleepover.

Good thing heeseung lived in a mansion cause you could get your own room and not have to sleep on the couch or in the living room sprawled out all over your drunk friends.

Oh, the memories.

You arrived at his place a few minutes later than you had planned. Everybody had already settled in, and they were drinking from red plastic cups.

“There she is!” Your friend ran over to you and gave you a side hug.

“Here I am!” You smiled and hugged her back.

Jake, Jay, and yeonjun greeted you with smiles. You were close to them, so you didn’t need any introduction.

“Hey,” you greeted them back while someone watched you from across the island on the opposite side of the kitchen.

Said person took a few more steps until he was face to face with you and your best friend with his hand in his pocket and a drink in the other. “So tell me, who's your friend?” You looked over when you heard the voice and met eyes with heeseung briefly.

“Oh my gosh! You’re totally right. You two have never even met before,” your friend gasps at the realization, “Okay, heeseung, This is y/n, and y/n, this is heeseung,” she pointed back and forth between the both of you.

“Nice to finally meet you, y/n.” He reached his hand out from his pocket, and you shook it gently.

“You too,” you managed to say without stuttering at the pretty smile he gave you.

He brought your hand closer to his face and pressed a soft kiss there, gazing up at you while he did so.

You did your best not to get flustered, and thankfully, Jake saved you from the awkward moment that would have come.

“You didn’t kiss my hand when we first met,” Jake pouted playfully. You could tell he already had one too many drinks.

“Me neither,” Jay sassily stuck his hand out to Heeseung, waiting for a kiss.

Heeseung let go of your hand and rolled his eyes at the two, slapping both of their hands away from him.

You giggled slightly at the interaction. While you were getting to know heeseung, your friend had already left you to get herself another drink.

“Ignore those two,” heeseung spoke up to you again. “You want a drink?” He offers.

“No thanks, I’m good.” You politely declined.

“Oh, come on,” The offer did sound kinda good, but you shook your head softly. “Pleaseeeee, I make the best drinks ever” he whined cutely and when he said it like that, how could you say no?

“Okay, but just one,” you agreed, and he led you to his personal drink station on the kitchen counter.

“You won’t be saying that after I’m done with you,” he winked playfully, and you’re not sure if that comment was referring to the drinks or something sexual, but you just went along with it.

“We’ll see,” you smiled.

He was right cause just fifteen minutes later. He had already made you three more. “See, I told you,” heeseung said while smiling at you.

“I can’t lie. This is actually the best drink I’ve had in a while” He smiles at that and takes a seat next to you.

“How come we’re only just now meeting?” He says, resting his elbows on the counter and looking at his other friends drinking and talking.

“That’s a good question. I really don’t know either.”

“I think I know,” he chuckled, and you looked at him quizzically. “You’re always so shy and quiet.”

He was kinda right. Usually, when you’d hang out, you were always the quiet one in your friend group. In your defense, they were just a bit more on the wild side. “Am I?”

“Yeah, I wanted to say hi to you a few times a while back but decided against it cause I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything like that,” he explained, taking a small sip from his own cup.

“Really? I wouldn’t have minded talking to you though” You’re blaming the alcohol for that statement, damn you, heeseung, and your ability to make the best aqua velva on earth.

“Yeah?” He smirked and turned to look at your flushed face. And you liked to say it was the alcoholic beverage in your system making you heat up, but it wasn’t

Before anything could escalate any further, Jake was practically screaming in both of your guy's ears.

“Who’s ready to spin the bottle?” He shook yours and Heeseung’s shoulders a little too hard.

You looked over, and you could see heeseung rolling his eyes and sighing. “We’re not teenagers anymore.” He pushed Jake's hand off his shoulder and did the same for you.

“Come on, hee d-don’t be a party pooper at your own party,” Jake slurred his words.

Out of all times, Jake could talk to him. He picked the absolute worst he was just starting to make some type of progress with you, and this drunk idiot had to go and fuck it all up. “Fine, but stop screaming in my fucking ear, will you?”

“To the living room!” Jake shouted, and everyone else cheered and clambered to the living room to play spin the bottle with an empty Hennessy bottle.

Once you all gathered in a circle, Jake, of course, was the first one to spin the bottle. You were kinda nervous about playing, not knowing exactly what questions or dares would be asked, but it seemed fun, so you relaxed a little and watched as the first spin landed on Jay. Jake smiled wickedly at Jay, and you could tell what direction this game was headed in right away.

“Why me?” Jay whined.

“Truth or dare?” Jay answers with truth, too dizzy to get up and do a dare.

“If you could have sex with any of us, who would it be?” Jake says.

Jay groaned but answered nevertheless. “Myself,” he buried his face in his hands, attempting to wipe off the drunkness.

“Lame,” Jake mumbled.

“How? Do you not see all of this?” Jay pointed to himself, and Jake fake gagged, or maybe it was real, given the drinks he had.

It was now Jay's turn to spin the bottle, and it landed on heeseung, making you breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay, I got a good one,” Jay says and makes a silly face. “Truth or dare.”

“Dare,” heeseung muttered, obviously unamused by the game, and the last thing he was going do was say truth.

“I was hoping you’d say that” Jay looked at you whilst smiling evilly, and you panicked. Why the hell was he looking at you, and it wasn’t even your turn yet? “Heeseung, I dare you to moan in y/n’s ear for ten seconds.”

Heeseung’s eyes went wide as saucers as they met yours. That were just as wide. No wonder Jay was looking at you like that. What a little shit you thought. “What kind of dare is that?” Heeseung asks what the hell did Jay gain from embarrassing him in front of you.

“It’s one you’re about to do now, chop chop,” Jay clapped his hands.

You blushed at just the thought, and you felt tingles in the pit of your stomach. You hated to think like this, but you actually weren’t opposed to the idea. You didn’t want to make Heeseung uncomfortable, so you interjected.

“Well, we just met, so I thi-” Jake immediately interrupted.

“Y/n shut up, heeseung moan,” Jake cut you off while you and heeseung both glared at him.

Heeseung looked at you for approval, and you nodded softly as he scooted closer to you. You could feel his breath fanning across your ear, and you got goosebumps all over your body.

The whole group cringed but laughed at the same time as they watched you becoming more and more flustered by the second.

Heeseung was nervous, to say the least. What if you thought he sounded disgusting? What if you were grossed out? What if you thought he was mimicking a dying whale, and you wouldn’t want to talk to him after tonight?

Ultimately he said fuck it, it was a dare, not the end of the world, even if it felt like it.

The first moan was more like a shaky breath followed by a tiny whimper, and your head was already spinning just imagining how much hotter he’d sound behind closed doors.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip cause if you didn’t, you would have moaned yourself. You looked around and saw the whole friend group laughing at the scene, but you didn’t care. You were too focused on the way he sounded as he was now full-on moaning and almost grunting in your ear.

You discreetly rubbed your legs together as he finally pulled away from you after what was probably a little longer than ten seconds.

He leaned back and saw your flustered face, and that let him know that you, in fact, did not think he sounded like a dying whale, and he was thanking the stars.

Heeseung cleared his throat, quickly moving on with the game and spinning the bottle. He smiled at Jay just as evilly. Now, it was time for his revenge. “Truth or dare?”

Jay gulped, knowing he was fucked either way. “Truth and dare,” he said, making you giggle as he downed the rest of his shot.

Heeseung just shook his head at his very stupid friend. “Look at yeonjun and make your orgasm face.”

You turned to heeseung for the first time since he completed his dare. “That’s evil,” you giggled.

“Not evil, just payback.” He smiled and winked at you.

You would have lived happily ever after if it wasn’t for the sight in front of you. Jay had his mouth parted, and his eyebrows creased together while looking at yeonjun, who looked at him horrified like the rest of you.

Luckily, it only lasted a few seconds cause if it had gone on any longer, you would have all been blind.

It was yeonjuns turn to spin the bottle, and it finally happened it landed on you. “Truth or dare, my precious little y/n?” He said sweetly, but you knew his intentions were not as sweet.

Heeseung discreetly rolled his eyes after hearing the nickname yeonjun gave you.

“Dare?” You said more of a question as you squinted your eye.

“Perfect, I dare you to look at the person to your left” fuck, heeseung was to your left. “And eat a banana as sexily as possible.” He clapped his hands. He noticed heeseung had been shamelessly checking you out all night, so he decided he’d do him a little favor cause he wasn’t an asshole like Jay.

Your jaw dropped to the floor. How the hell were you gonna do that?

Jake did the honors and came running back to the living room with a banana. “Y/n, you don’t have to-, “Heeseung tried to speak.

“Heeseung, you’re not her dad. She can speak for herself,” Jay butted in.

“It’s fine. It's just a dare, right?” You said to heeseung as you peeled the banana.

“Right,” he breathed out. He couldn’t lie. He was probably more excited about this than Jake was about playing Spin the Bottle.

You turned your body to face him fully. You swirled your tongue around the tip teasingly, and you saw heeseung visibly gulp. You laughed shyly and began licking the banana, pretending it was his shaft instead. Once you defiled the poor banana, you took half of it in your mouth with your lips wrapped tightly around it. You blinked your eyelashes while doing so, loving the expression on heeseung’s face as he watched you.

“Fuck” he cursed under his breath. His eyes had already darkened, and he had his lip caught between his teeth.

Finally, you ended your little show as you pulled off the banana with a quiet pop sound.

The room had gone completely silent, and you looked around to see all the boys gawking at you with their mouths hanging open. “Hope you enjoyed the show” You winked at Yeonjun.

Heeseung couldn’t help but to think maybe you weren’t as innocent as you were letting on, and boy, would he do anything to find that out after seeing you suck on that banana.

“Okay, now I’m hard,” Jay jokingly said, and heeseung glared at him while Jay lifted his hands up in defense.

You spun the bottle next, and it landed on your best friend. “Truth or dare?” You already knew what you had planned for her if it was dare.

“Dare,” she chimed.

Perfect. You thought.

“I dare you and Jake to play seven minutes in heaven.” She blushed instantly and looked at Jake, who was already blushing and smiling.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Jake stumbled as he sat up and dragged her to the nearest closet.

“Why couldn’t I get that dare?” Jay groaned.

“Cause you don’t deserve it.” You stuck your tongue out at him.

“You better hope this bottle does not land on you,” Jay murmured as it was his turn to spin the bottle once again.

Unfortunately, it did, and you sighed, picking truth this time. “So, y/n, when’s the last time you’ve touched yourself.” He smirked.

Why was he doing this to you?

You grew flustered. Did you really have to answer truthfully? There’s no way he’d know the real truth. “A month, maybe longer,” you lied.

“Aww, I should have known our little angel is too innocent for that,” you giggled nervously, thankful that none of them seemed to have detected your lie.

Heeseung again rolled his eyes. Why was everyone all over you tonight?

Your friend and Jake had just come back from the closest, and they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other ever since the dare you gave them.

After a few more spins and unmentionable dares, you all decided to call it quits for the night and watch a movie instead, seeing how everyone but you and heeseung were drunk out of their minds. You were both still a little tipsy, though.

You all decided to change into comfortable clothes before starting the movie.

Jake was sitting with your friend, Jay was on the rocking chair while you and heeseung sat at the back on the couch, and Yeonjun decided to lie on the floor for some odd reason.

About an hour into the movie, you had covered yourself with a sheet that heeseung had lying around. You felt something land on your thighs, and you looked down to see that heeseung had rested his head on your lap.

Within an hour of the movie, heeseung started to get a bit sleepy and rested his head on what he thought was the couch until he felt your thick thighs tensing under his head slightly at the contact.

All the lights had been turned off. Therefore, he couldn’t see where he was laying his head.

He was just about to move, but he stayed there for a few seconds longer to see what your next move would be when he felt your body relax under his head. He took that as a sign that you didn’t mind him being there.

About five minutes later, you felt his head shifting a little as he peeled the sheet down, and you could feel his teeth grazing against your thigh before he nibbled on the plump flesh gently.

Your body twitched a little, and you nearly moaned at the slightest contact.

Again, he took this as a sign and continued to sink his teeth into the soft flesh, and this time, you did accidentally moan out loud.

You quickly covered your mouth and panicked as you looked around, praying that no one heard you, and once you saw all of them focused on the movie, you breathed a sigh of relief.

Heeseung’s ears perked up at the sound of your sweet little moan.

As you instinctively ran a hand through his hair he turned around in your lap so he could face you, looking up at you and completely forgetting about the movie that was playing.

He lifted up the thin sheet and put it over his head, burying his face in your clothed cunt, inhaling the scent of your sweet arousal.

You bit your lip to conceal every noise that threatened to come out. You could feel him nosing at your clit, stimulating you through the fabric of your silk sleep shorts. You patted yourself on the back for deciding not to wear any underwear tonight.

He gripped your hip, squeezing it softly as he hummed lowly from your scent, invading his senses and the feeling of your plump waistline in his palm.

You pushed the back of his head closer to your core and spread your legs open wider, giving him a silent hint. He immediately flattened his tongue and licked over your silk shorts, and he could already feel your legs trembling beside his head.

He continued licking and sucking through the fabric, teasing your clit until the front of your shorts were damp with his saliva.

You quickly grew needy from that alone, and you needed to feel more of him. He seemed to read your mind as he slipped your shorts to the side and resumed his activities, swirling his tongue over your nub.

He wanted to tell you how good you tasted and how sweet your juices were on his tongue, but he couldn’t pull away for even a second.

You could feel his warm breath blowing against your bare pussy, sending shockwaves throughout your core as he sucked on your clit, pulling the sensitive flesh between his soft pink lips.

You spread your legs open instinctively, giving him more room to work with.

He moves his head closer to your body to get a better angle so he can use his fingers and his mouth to please you.

You had to cup your mouth when he stuck one of his thick fingers in your tight, wet hole. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head from the feeling of his digit pumping in you slowly.

He placed gentle kisses on your pubic bone, occasionally flicking his tongue over your clit as he added a second finger.

He curled his fingers upwards, brushing against the spot that made your stomach tense with pleasure as your toes started to curl. He focused on your clit, giving it a few teasing licks before latching his mouth on the bud and sucking on it, then swirling his tongue. He transitioned between each movement while digging his fingers deeper and deeper inside you.

It had been possibly five minutes before you could feel yourself getting close. Your legs were shaking, and he could feel your walls squeezing around his fingers.

He dug his nails into your side and sped up the pace of his digits. Seconds later, your hole was clenching tightly around his fingers as you came without any warning.

You ran your fingers through his hair as he slowed down and caressed your walls gently until you finished.

He applied a few more gentle kisses, and even though you had just came, you still wanted more as you bucked your hips into his face.

He smirked to himself.

So much for you being innocent, he thought.

With the unbearable throbbing between his legs, the only thing he had on his mind was fucking you into oblivion all night. He’s just been waiting for an opportunity to get you alone so he could feel your pussy. He just knew you’d feel so good, so creamy and wet, and that thought just made him even harder.

He pushed you back lightly by your hip and sat up. You were already about to protest, but he put a finger on your lips, shushing you.

He made an excuse to get you both alone, rushing out the fact that you were tired and he was going to show you your room. Everyone just murmured back in response. Apparently, they were still drunk.

Heeseung practically dragged you upstairs by your wrist and led you to one of his guest rooms on the far end of the hall, furthest away from the living room.

Without saying anything, he locks the door behind him and turns back to you, gripping your waist tightly while he moves in for a kiss somewhat between rough and gentle.

He groans against your mouth and presses your body as close to his as possible, moaning quietly when his cock brushes against you.

You wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him in close. The action makes him stumble slightly from the force, and with that, he breaks the kiss and pushes you back on the bed gently, taking in your disheveled state, your hair now messy and your shorts riding up your thick thighs, leaving little to his imagination of what you looked like under them.

You whimpered from the way he looked while standing above you. You began feeling impatient with him not doing anything, resulting in you seeking any type of friction as you rubbed your thighs together.

He could only smirk at how needy and desperate you were, and he couldn’t help but wonder how all your friends thought you were so innocent, yet here you were, spreading your legs for him and silently asking for him to fuck you.

“You look so good like this.” He leaned down on the bed and trailed his fingertips along your legs softly. “All needy for me.” His fingers inched dangerously high as he kneaded the flesh of your thighs.

“Please,” you whimper, and you almost feel embarrassed by how easily you begged for him on just the first night of officially meeting him.

He didn’t respond, only cupping his hand over your mound, lightly stroking your throbbing cunt through your shorts.

You gripped his wrist and immediately guided his hand back and forth on your clit.

He chuckled softly, watching your face twist in pleasure. “So naughty,” he cooed while maintaining eye contact with you.

His words were drowned out by the pleasure just his hand was bringing to you, and you lifted your hips off the bed, practically fucking yourself against his palm.

It wasn’t long before he felt himself caving in at just the sight of you. His pants felt extremely tight after seeing you use his hand to get yourself off. “Fuck” he muttered to himself, adding more pressure to press against your clit rougher.

“Fuck heeseung,” you moaned loudly as his palm ran along your clit just right, and the way you moaned his name was nothing but pure music to his ears.

“That feels good, yeah, baby?” You bit your lip as your eyes rolled back into your head at his slightly teasing tone. “Gonna fuck my hand until you cum?” You were too close to respond. Instead, you did exactly that and rutted yourself on his palm as you came and cried his name out hoarsely. “You know, y/n, you’re really not as innocent as I thought,” he spoke while he kept his hand in place so you could ride out your high.

You whined in embarrassment, but you still didn’t stop rolling your hips on his palm.

“Here I am thinking you’re the sweetest little thing on earth, just so shy and quiet, but here you are getting off just from my hand like a needy little slut” He finally pulled his hand away, and you squeezed your legs together only for him to forcefully spread them back open. “Don’t bother. You’ll be spreading them again anyways.” He quickly stripped himself of his shirt and pants.

You watched him through your spread legs, clenching down around nothing as you saw his tent beneath his grey boxers. Your brows furrowed at the sight, and you blushed when you saw him smirking at you teasingly.

He slowly lifted his hand to the front of his underwear, ghosting his hand over the crotch part. His expression mirrored yours, and he bit his lip at the feeling.

Your hands gripped at the bedsheets, toes curling as he continued to touch himself before your eyes. You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed him so badly.

He slowly pulled the waistband down, eyes never leaving yours as he gave you the tiniest peak of the base of his dick.

Your mouth was watering by now, and his teasing was driving you insane. He smiled at your expression, letting the fabric of his waistband snap against his hips as he let out a low whine from the slight sting.

“Please,” you let out with a shaky breath, not sure what you were even begging for. All you knew was you needed him to touch you.

“On one condition,” he says in a low voice as he hovers over you on the bed while you nod frantically. “Beg,” he whispered, and you clenched around, nothing again, feeling a trail of arousal dripping from your hole.

“Please, heeseung,” you said, too turned on to even care how desperate you sounded.

“More.” He bit his lip and spanked your inner thigh, causing you to let out a whine.

“Fuck me. Please need to feel your cock inside me so bad” You were squirming on the bed as you grew more desperate with every second that went by.

“More.” He spanked your thigh again, watching the flesh jiggle with each slap.

You were so close to tears, but you managed to do your best to get him to fuck you. “I need you so bad,” you breathed shakily. “Need you to fill my pussy up with your huge cock, and cum deep inside me, please, please, please.”

He groaned at the sound of your desperate, pleading voice. You were the furthest thing from innocent, and he was going to make you say it out loud. “Clothes off,” he said impatiently, finally pulling down his underwear.

You scrambled to take off your clothes, leaving yourself completely naked in front of him on the bed.

“So pretty,” he said as he positioned himself between your legs, finally letting you get a feel his hard throbbing cock rubbing against your wet core, causing you to moan loudly. “If I had known you were this much of a slut, I would have fucked you so much sooner” You spread your legs open further as he rolled his hips into you collecting your juices with his cock.

Your head already felt dizzy, and just the slow drag of his dick on your pussy was about to make you cum for the third time tonight.

He laid on top of you before grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his waist securely. “I know you would have let me too,” he teased you as he pushed his tip at your entrance but never fully inserted himself.

“You have no shame, you know?” He whispered in your ear. “Letting me fuck you, and we only just met hours ago” He moved his hand from your leg and stroked your cheek. “How do you think your friends would feel if they knew their precious y/n was begging to get fucked?”

You shied away from his touch, feeling slightly embarrassed by his words yet turned on at the same time.

“Hmm, baby? How would they feel knowing you’re so desperate for my cock that you couldn’t even finish the movie first” His voice was far sweeter than the words he spoke into your ear.

“Heeseung,” you choked out, eyes rolling in your head from all his teasing, and you couldn’t take anymore.

“What was it Jay called you?” He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear you say it.

“A-angel,” you muttered while trying to move your hips with his.

“Ah, that’s right,” he chuckles, almost like he’s mocking you. “Well, baby, if you’re an angel, what does that make me?” He didn’t give you time to answer before sinking his cock into you slowly.

You gripped his biceps tighter, feeling his muscles flexing as he held onto your thigh tightly. “Oh, heeseung,” you cried out, digging your nails into his flesh while he nestled his cock head inside you.

Your mouth was parting slightly while you panted heavily, trying to adjust to him stretching you out so far. “Goddamn baby, you’re so tight,” he grunts loudly as he feels your walls already throbbing around his length, making it nearly impossible for him to think straight.

“You’re so fucking big,” you slurred your words, already feeling dumb with the way his dick was sliding in and out of you so deliciously.

He smirked at your compliment and buried himself to the absolute hilt. “Such a dirty little mouth” He sat up on his knees and gripped your thighs so he could dig his cock deeper inside you.

You clawed at his chest. He was so deep that you could barely take it as your walls clamped down around him. “So damn tight, baby” He held back a moan and picked up the pace, thighs slapping against yours with every strong, perfectly angled thrust.

You held his waist as he plowed into you, and you couldn’t help but scream out his name. “Shh baby, unless you want them to know just how much of a whore you are for me,” he grunted out, never letting up on his frantic pace.

You didn’t even bother to hold in any moans. It was impossible with the way his thick cock felt, massaging your walls.

He moved his hands from your legs to cup your breasts, kneading them softly. “God, you take it so well,” he mutters, watching how your wet cunt swallows his big cock with ease. “You’re soaking, baby. Am I making you this wet?” He had that same teasing smirk on his face.

“Yes, all for you,” you cried out.

“So much for being innocent,” he chuckled, now hitting your spot with his thick, leaky tip.

You moaned, your body shaking with nothing but pleasure as he rubbed your nipples in small circles, overstimulating you. “I am,” you stutter out, even though you felt nothing of the sort.

“Oh baby, the look on your face and the way your slutty pussy is clenching on me tells me otherwise” He brought his hand to your mouth and rested his thumb on your bottom lip. “Open.” You pleased him greatly when you opened up immediately after and allowed two of his fingers to rest on the back of your tongue. “Suck on them,” he instructed, and you began to swirl your tongue obediently. You sucked on his fingers just like you did with the banana earlier. “Such a good little whore listening to whatever I say” He watched your drool leaking down your face as you nearly choked when he pressed down on the back of your tongue. “Letting me do what I want with you.

He busied his other hand on your clit while you sucked on his fingers with your eyes locked on his.

You moaned around his digits when he pressed down on your sensitive clit with his fingers and rubbed your nub in tight, fast circles. “Keep sucking” You continued to moan around his fingers as you squeezed his dick harshly with your aching cunt. “Gonna cum?” You nod your head as best as you can while your orgasm hits you out of nowhere. “That’s it, pretty, cream, my cock” His eyes flicked down at your pulsating pussy, and he lost it as he saw your creamy essence coating his dick. “Fuck, I’m close,” he moaned, and just the image in front of him drove him insane, your mouth stuffed with his fingers and your pretty pussy filled with his cock. “I’m so close.” his voice sounded just the same as earlier when he moaned into your ear, but in this setting, it was even hotter somehow.

The feeling of your warm mouth around his fingers and the repeated clenching of your tight cunt was the last straw. He finally let go releasing his cum into you with loud moans of your name. “Shit, this feels so good,” he whimpers as his hips start to lose rhythm, and he stills inside you, filling you to the brim until your little used cunt is dripping all his seed.

He removed his fingers from your mouth and lowered his weight on top of you, messily kissing you while his heavy breath mixed with yours into the sloppy kiss.

You wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling his face closer to you. He raised his eyebrows at your sudden boldness and chuckled against your lips as you nibbled on his bottom lip. He parted for a breath of air and quickly glued his lips back onto yours.

When he finally pulled away from you, he was panting as he pecked your forehead and pulled out of you carefully.

He rolled over on his back and sighed as the cold sheets met his hot skin.

After a few moments of silence, he got up from the bed and went to the bathroom, grabbing a warm towel to clean you off with. “Was I okay? I didn’t go too rough, did I?” He asks with concern hoping it was enjoyable for you too.

You only smiled, wondering how his mood could change within the blink of an eye. “No, it was perfect.” You watched a look of relief overtake his features.

“I’m glad,” he muttered, and he somehow looked shy as he gently cleaned between your legs. He kissed your thigh gently once he was finished and then pecked your lips one last time. You smiled to yourself as he returned back to the bathroom.

He came back out a few seconds later and started getting dressed; once he was done, he sat back down next to you on the bed. “I should go before they notice that I’ve been gone,” he whispers to you while stroking your cheek with his thumb as you settle into bed.

“Okay,” you say a bit reluctantly. You really wished you could cuddle him all night, but he was right. Your friends would become suspicious, and the last thing you needed was to explain to them what happened, especially since you and heeseung had just met.

“I’ll come back later when everybody has gone to sleep.” You couldn’t believe your ears. You thought it was just a simple exchange and nothing more, but he actually wanted to come back? While you were caught up in your thoughts, he took your silence as you not wanting him to come back. “O-or not, I just thought maybe after you know, you might want me to sta- I don’t know,” he breathed out as he picked at his nails, refusing to make eye contact with you.

You softly gripped his chin, tilting his head and making him look up at you. “I’d love it if you came back later.” You smiled and closed your eyes slowly to kiss him one last time.

“Really?” He asked once he leaned back from the kiss and fluttered his gleeful eyes open.

You nodded softly, and he smiled. “Okay,” he hopped out of bed and grabbed a shirt from his drawer, and handed it to you. “I’ll sneak you some water in a few” He tucked the covers up over you as you yawned, feeling sleep settling its way into your system.

He slowly backed away from the bed and blew you one last kiss before shutting the door and muttering a small goodnight to you.

“Goodnight, heeseung.” You laid your head flat on the bed, a small smile etched on your features.

Tomorrow could only tell what’s in store for you and heeseung, but right now, you were just happy your friend invited you to a hang out with her hot best friend.

Thanks for reading likes comments and reblogs are always appreciated sorry for any typos or errors I hope you all have a good day/night♥️

[fev3rish]

GOOD LUCK KISSES. kenji tots w/ v

kenji’s body accepts you.

notes. i got a little bit carried away so we have this now. i want kenji so bad man it’s not even funny, no warnings just pure love also i am CRAZY for this man i want him SO BAD. this is also kind of shitty.

thinking about giving kenji sato the lovin’ he deserves.

“babe…” kenji muttered, trying to fight back against your touch. he had so much work to do. he had to train for his next game; it was his biggest one yet! he couldn’t afford—“rest.”

your voice pierced through his own thoughts. soft, sweet, an arrow right through his heart. against his better judgement, kenji let himself scooch into the bed with you. he laid between your legs, the back of his head against your chest as you ran your hands down his hair, all the way to his shoulders. you pressed into the skin and kneaded through the kinks in his shoulder; essentially, giving him a massage.

the sounds he let out in response are almost embarrassingly lewd.

“kenji,” your voice called to him again, and he looked up at you—those big, sparkly eyes of his pleading for you to continue, to loosen him up— “unclench your jaw.” he did.

he didn’t even notice that he did, he just did—his body reacted to you asking him like it was nothing. “it’s okay ken, you’re okay. i’ll take care of you tonight.” you spoke, leaning in and he instinctively tilted his head, only for you to kiss his forehead, which left him a bit needy. “you work too hard.” you state, “i barely work enough.” he replies, and you frown. you flick near the bridge of his nose, and he laughs lightly. “you need to rest.” you say, leaving no room for argument. he doesn’t want to argue in the first place, he’s perfectly content laying on you right now.

—then you place your hands on his chest, down his stomach and to his thighs. he sucks in a breath as you whisper, “you’re so pretty, ken.” and you play with his fingers, and kiss every callous, and he wants to stop you—but he doesn’t even want you to. he wants to tell you he’s not one for sappy shit like this but he is. and you look so pretty telling him how pretty he is, so he lets you.

he lets you comb through his hair until it’s silky smooth, lets you caress his face, he lets you tell him that he’s “beautiful.” and the worst part is that he smiles when you do. he lets you love him.

— “kenjiii…”

your voice drags his name out, and he perks up, waiting for what you have to say. Instead, you take his hands—they’re calloused, and rough, but they’re pretty. he’s confused, but then you press your lips to his knuckles and you place kisses on each one.

his eyes bulge out of his own head, butterflies swarming in his belly wildly—his mouth hangs open as you move on to his other hand. you hold his other one, still, and you press it to your cheek. when you finish giving him kisses, you place a kiss to his temple… and then one final kiss to his lips. his mouth goes dry as he looks at you. you only shrug. “for next week. one of your bigger games, right? it’s to give you good luck.”

good luck? kenji thinks, staring at his hands.

good luck?

“your kisses? goodluck?” kenji thinks out loud, “baby, you just fucking baptized me.” he feels like a new man with every kiss you plant on him, and it’s hard not to want more when you just look like that. but these kisses? these kisses on his knuckles? he feels cleansed.

the next week, when he wins the game, he points at you.

[textmel8r]

[ DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( ninth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami

୨୧˚ cw; profanity , alcohol consumption , inebriation , sexual harassment , violence , vomit

୨୧˚ an; i love nami kempo (dis shit like 4k werdssss) ALSO i’ve been getting comments that my tag list isn’t working for me dumb someone help me pls tell me what im doing wrong

୨୧˚ join my discord server ! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

“Why am I here?” Nanami thinks out loud, glaring pointedly around the unlit dive bar. It’s unglamorous, walls garbed in eclectic music paraphernalia, references that go right past him. Flurries of reds and yellows and oranges in the decor cut brightly, shining through the dim atmosphere. Seriously, would it kill them to switch a light on? It bustles with life; university kids, Nanami is subjected to think based on the… unique fashion sense present in the room. Street wear, torn jeans, crop tops way too short to be considered shirts anymore. He cringes, feeling entirely too dated to be hanging amongst this kind of crowd. His leg bounces restlessly under the ledge of the bar, and he turns to look at you. “Why are we here?”

You’re smiling—actually smiling—flagging down the bartender. “You knew we were coming to a bar,” you cut yourself short, holding up a single finger to him whilst you relayed your order to the older gentleman behind the bar. A rum and coke, you asked politely before glancing toward Nanami. It took a moment for him to realize what that look meant. 

“I’ll have scotch, neat. Thanks.”

“As I was saying,” you steal back his attention, “I made it clear we were coming to a bar. What’s the problem?”

There was a hint of an attitude catching at your words, and Nanami felt his brow twitch in frustration. “You failed to tell me that we’d be in…” He grimaces, peeking back over his shoulder to the sea of youthful patrons slinging over nearly every stool and booth. “ . . . Mixed company.” God awful pop music fizzles through the speakers, twisting and crackling with pops of static; fuel to the billowing flames of Nanami’s overstimulation. “I was expecting something a bit more sophisticated.”

“I can tell,” you’re laughing as you give him a once over, and he gets a shiver of Deja Vu from the coffee shop where you pulled the same exact move. You tweeze at the expensive cotton button down, plucking the bunched fabric of a sleeve at the crease of his elbow. “Thought we said no more fancy clothes?”

Tonight he threw together a plain white shirt and a pair of slim fit khaki pants; the quintessential dad outfit, sure, but fancy? Nanami didn’t think so. “I’m dressed down.”

“Nixing the suit jacket and tie didn’t do much. You still look stiff, man.” Two glasses are brought over, one placed before either of you respectively. Nanami stares down into the glass, a foggy, brown abyss. His alcohol looks watered down and piss cheap. “You stick out, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Oh please, you’re too kind.” Nanami rolls his eyes, hunching over the bar and downing a swig from the scotch. Yeah, It was definitely watered down. Fuck this place. 

Your hand slaps his back. “So dramatic. I was kidding Nanami, you look fine.” A cheeky laugh reaches his ears before you tack on, “very handsome.” 

Now he knows you’re messing with him. 

You grin into your cup. “Stop sulking. It’s not so bad here.” Nanami would beg to differ. A debate that isn’t worth having because frankly, it’s a Saturday night and he doesn’t have nearly enough energy to draft a list of all the cons that this joint has to offer. “We got booze,” you raise your glass. “Booze makes everything better.”

His forehead wrinkles. “That’s a horrible mindset to have, Y/n.”

Your boisterous laugh outweighs the ambient chatter, and you take a hearty gulp. Nanami follows suit, albeit a bit awkwardly, tipping more spirits down his throat. You look surprisingly comfortable, slinking against the bar counter with a hazy smile that welcomes strangers in. This time, you weren’t wearing a flowery dress; instead, a low cut shirt and jeans, both equal parts dark and tight. The neckline plummeted deep, exposing slivers of your bra cups and entirely too much cleavage. By God, was his self restraint something to write home about. 

It was easy to fall into comfortable conversation. All in all, Nanami enjoys talking to you now, even if once upon a time the thought of engaging with you evoked such dread that he’d outwardly avoid your presence around the office. Passing along orders specifically meant for you to other colleagues and entrusting them to deliver the message, lengthening the conveyor belt of relation simply because you got him in a tizzy. Back then, all Nanami could see when he looked at you was that cowardly girl in the bathroom with smeared lipstick and a trembling pout. How shameful, he thinks, that it took him this long to see past that terrible first impression. 

“So there I was, balancing ten cups of coffee, shaking like a little bitch,” you laughed as you shared an anecdote from an internship in your university years. Nanami listened intently, head propped up on his fist as he watched your theatrics. Your cheeks flushed with the evidence of alcohol, eyes lidded, smile wobbly. Nanami was feeling the edge of his buzz coming on too, an amazing revelation considering the diluted alcohol this place served. “And I’m walking up ten flights of stairs–”

“Ten flights?” He gawks, feeling looser and matching you with melodrama. “What, did your office not have an elevator?”

You laughed. “It was out of order.”

“Your luck astounds me.”

You flip him off playfully. “I finally get to the last stair and my heel catches on the floor and I eat total shit in front of the entire room!” Nanami can’t stop his own tittering, cupping a palm over his grin. “Spilled the coffee everywhere, twisted my ankle, too. I probably laid in that puddle for ten minutes.”

“That’s why you don’t wear high heels anymore?”

There’s a grimace on your face when you nod, topping off the rest of your glass. “Mm.”

Nanami swaps his own story, of a time when he was in his third year of college and his work laptop got stolen. “I think I cried,” and you guffawed at his misery. “I’m serious, I really think I cried. Alone, on the floor of my dormitory. It was finals week, and I had written my dissertation on that laptop.”

“So what did you do?”

“I pulled an all-nighter in the library on campus and rewrote my entire thesis.” Merely remembering that chaotically stressful night had Nanami huffing a sigh of anguish and dragging an exasperated hand down his face. 

The bartender slides you another drink. Gosh, he was lagging behind. “I would’ve dropped out.” You spoke over the rim of the glass.

“Trust me, I was really close.” Nanami’s eyes narrow, gaging the swell of your throat as you knock back a few swigs. “How many have you had?” 

“A few.” Your answer was blunt, and from that Nanami could gather that his question had rendered you the slightest bit irritated. He understood why; you were a grown woman, who was he to regulate how many rounds you decide to have? But even with this understanding, the man couldn’t shake his concern. “More than you, old timer. Keep up.”

He shakes his head, scratching at his cheek. “This is my last for the night.” Any more, and Nanami would wake up the next morning nauseous with a pounding headache. He took precautions to avoid breaching his limits, he really disliked that hungover feeling. 

You gawk at the declaration. “How lame.” Then you hiccup.

“You can call me lame now, but which one of us will wake up tomorrow not in pain?”

You wave a hand through the air, brushing off his very astute observation. “Hush, that’s for future me to deal with. Present me doesn’t have a care in the world.”

You’re immature, but it’s amusing, so he doesn’t offer any rebuttals. The way you are so insistent on living in the moment is fascinating, almost inspiring even. Nanami feels as though he’s ever crushed by the impending future, always so concerned with what the next day, next week, next month, next year brings. He thinks ahead to a fault, and because of that, forgets to enjoy the little things. But you always stop and smell the roses. It’s admirable. 

“Bartender!” You wag a finger in the air, slamming down your empty glass. Fiending for yet another drink. 

Okay, maybe your ability to live in the now is to a fault as well. Nanami holds a hand up, signaling the barkeep to halt. “Sorry,” he apologizes politely, “she’s all good for now, thanks.” Ain’t that the truth. Your face looked tacky with sweat, pupils scarily dilated. Your words come out dimly slurred, and your gestures uncoordinated. As your business associate, he feels obligated to intervene at this point.

A hand slaps his down. Your hand. “Hey what gives?” You’re upset with him. “Just because you’re done doesn’t mean I am.”

“You’re three sips away from throwing up on yourself,” Nanami deadpans, unphased by your drunken outburst. Unbeknownst to the two of you, another patron had taken up the stool opposite of you. To be expected; the bar was decently crowded, that being said neither of you paid much mind to the man. He was younger than Nanami for sure, his hair unkempt and shaggy, swept back by sweat and something that looked like grease. He was smiling, probably on some brand of dope that Nanami was unfamiliar with. The stranger interrupts, leaning over with his elbow planted on the countertop. 

“You her father or some shit?” He speaks without any warning, catching both you and Nanami’s attention. 

Father? Nanami internally grimaces, jaw tightening. Just how old does he think I am? Trying not to be offended by the inquiry, he corrects the man. “Just a concerned friend, that’s all.” You have yet to speak, still a tad caught off guard by the unexpected company. 

The stranger’s grin widens, reaching shit-eating status. “Then hop the fuck off her case, man.” He shoots a pair of lidded, droopy eyes toward you, eyebrows jumping in a manner that is entirely too suggestive for Nanami’s liking. “If the lady wants another drink, then let her have another drink.”

Nanami feels the awkward tension thicken the air between this interaction. For all the shit you talked about getting hit on in bars, he would have never expected you to act so timid when put in a position like this. Nanami fully expected you to side with the latter party, to order another round of vodka-whatever and then leave with your newfound knight in shining armor. What actually happened: “No, er, my friend might be right actually,” followed by an incredibly strained chuckle. Your shoulders stiffen, Nanami can practically feel the way you harden up beside him. “I should probably take it easy.”

The man feigns grief. “Aw, c’mon. You seemed so eager before. Let me buy you another?”

“She just said—”

“I was talking to her, not you.”

Nanami was utterly shocked by the sheer gall this young man possessed. Was he trying to intimidate him? It was painfully ineffective. “I don’t want one,” you said with a little more oomph this time, fiercely hanging on the urge to defend Nanami. It made him feel strangely prideful. 

The stranger’s smile never retreated, but something sinister glinted in the ocean of his dark eyes. He gave a sniff, brushing the point of his nose with the pad of his thumb before hurling yet another unwanted flirtation your way. “Baby, hey, what’s one more drink? I saw you from across the room, I’ve been dyin’ to chat you up.” Under the table, his hand slips into your personal space. Nanami sees it unfold in his peripherals; the pallor hand slithering over your lap, grabbing a handful of your denim-clad thigh. You yelped in surprise, wincing. Nanami saw it all.  

He was not a violent man. In fact, he could count the number of times he’s thrown a punch in his life on one hand. Physical fights were pointless, a waste of time and energy because Nanami wholeheartedly believed that altercations were best settled with words. But the moment your nervous squeak found his ears, Nanami couldn’t control the urge to beat this guy’s face in. So that’s what he did; sliding out of his seat to round you and pull the stranger off his stool by the collar of his faux leather jacket. The material felt cheap and mingy, not something Nanami would ever be caught dead wearing. Without so much as a second thought, Nanami sends a heavy fist barreling into the meat of his cheek. One good, solid punch, and the sinewy gentleman was tumbling to the ground, walking the thin line between consciousness. “Shit…” Nanami breathes, chest heaving with barely concealed rage, knuckles throbbing to the beat of his racing heart. The bar went dead, too many pairs of eyes locked onto him to count, but the only ones he could care about were yours. 

You looked at Nanami with such astonishment, with your eyes pried wide as dinner plates and your mouth ajar. He was ready for you to yell at him, to curse him for embarrassing you in a pub you frequented, but nothing came. Well, almost nothing. 

“Security!” The bartender hollered thick and deep, slapping a damp rag onto the counter with a wet plap. 

“Shit!” Nanami repeated, cuffing a hand around the thinnest part of your wrist, tugging you into his side as you both raced toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

You’re gurgling and grumbling, latching onto the material of his shirt as little bouts of complaining bubbled past your lips. “Not so fast!” and “Oh God, my stomach” and “I don’t feel good.” Nanami had been reduced to your crutch at this point; he bore the entirety of your weight without batting an eye because your own legs were too wobbly to do it yourself. 

“I know,” he murmured, maneuvering through the crowd. “Hold it together, we’re almost there.”

The first step outside felt like entering Heaven. Nanami basked in the cleanliness of the chilly night air, gulping down a big breath of fresh oxygen that hadn’t been tainted by marijuana smoke. But suddenly, you’re detaching yourself from his hip and he’s bewildered by your sudden need for proximity. “Y/n—”

He turns to face you, only to be met with the crown of your head. Doubled over at the waist, hands on the lower fraction of your thighs, you vomit onto the dewy pavement… and his shoes. Nanami’s cursing once more, drawing closer despite how much you obviously don’t want him to. “Alright,” he coos in exasperation, gathering your hair into a bundle and holding it away from the splash zone. “It’s alright, get it out.”

“You’re… Did I just puke on y-your feet?” Your voice is croaky, something of a mixture of embarrassment and illness. You can’t even look at him. 

“Stand up,” Nanami tells you. He’s unbending you, straightening your body upright with a hand pressing your back in from his bowed shape. “Can you look at me?”

You pout, childlike. “No.” You’re looking at his shoes, the toes slick with remnants of your stomach acid. 

“They’re just shoes, I have a million pairs.” His head cocks to a tilt. “Would you look at me, please?”

You’re sighing, but looking up to him nonetheless. Gazing up with big, glossy eyes and wet lashes that clumped together through tears. Eyeliner diluted and cradling your undereyes in a dark embrace. You wipe your mouth with the back of a palm, smearing shimmery gloss out of the confines of your lip line. It’s all so nauseatingly familiar, this pitiful display. Nanami decides he hates seeing you like this. 

“I’m sorry,” you chirp. 

“Don’t apologize.” 

“I’ll pay for them.”

Nanami puts a hand on your shoulder when he notices the slant in your posture. “Cut it out, that’s entirely unnecessary.” He looks around the parking lot, full of vehicles. They catch the glint from the yellowish street lamps. “Did you drive here?” He thinks it’s unlikely, seeing as you let yourself fall under such intoxication. You weren’t so irresponsible; if you drove here, you would’ve made sure you’d be able to drive home too, like he did. 

You’re shaking your head. “Caught a train.”

Nanami nods, pleased. “Good. That’s good.” With all the grace and gentleness in the world, the man loops your limp arm back around his nape, securing you against his oblique with a sturdy arm snaked around your waist. Everything is ginger, lest he upset your stomach again. “Are you good to walk?”

“Yeah, I think I’m alright.”

“Then let me take you to my car.”

That pulls a frown from you. “You don’t need—need to drive me there, Nana’. The station—” Hiccup “It’s just down the road.”

The blonde glowers. “You can barely stand on your own, public transportation is out of the question.” Like Hell he’s going to let an obviously inebriated, attractive young woman such as yourself ride the subway alone. Please, don’t make him laugh. “I’m driving you home.”

“It’s out of your way.”

“I don’t care.”

It’s a slow race, but Nanami eventually hauls you to his car parked at the entrance of the lot. A midnight shade Maserati; he doesn’t miss the way you gawk at his luxurious ride. “If I had a car like this, I’d never leave it.” He laughs. You smack his bicep. “I’m not kidding, I’d sleep in this thing. She’s gorgeous.”

“She says thank you,” he huffs his response. Nanami leans you up against the side of his car, pinning you between its door and his thigh while he opens the passenger door. “Watch your head.” His hand curls around the roof’s ledge, a makeshift cushion to protect your skull as you duck into the car seat. Immediately, you’re slumping back into the comfortable leather interior, moaning out quiet mewls of exhaustion. 

“Yeah, I’d definitely sleep in here.”

“Keep those eyes open.” The door swings shut, and Nanami makes haste when rounding the rear of his car to the driver’s side. He had barely toed the line of sobriety anyways, but knocking a stranger on his ass was definitely more than enough to woosh any semblance of haziness from his veins. Nanami wouldn’t think about driving—wouldn’t think about putting you or anyone else on the road in danger—if he felt even the slightest bit impaired by the scotch. Behind the wheel, the man leans across the center console to grab your seat’s safety belt, carefully dragging it over your chest and clipping it into the buckle. “I need your address first, then you can knock out.”

“My address…” You ponder, lips pursed and eyes blinking at a snail’s pace. Sleepiness prevails, and you fall in and out of slumber, head lolling and cheek mashed up against your shoulder. 

Nanami carps, unappreciative of your inability to stay awake long enough for this much needed conversation. “Hey,” he bleats, patting the top of your thigh. “Come on, Y/n. I need to know where you live.”

You whine, rolling your eyes at his persistence. “The city.”

“You live in the city.” Nanami deadpans at the useless information you’ve just spared. 

“Mm.” And then you’re drifting back to sleep. 

Nanami pinches high on the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger, over the permanent divets where his glasses have drilled into his skin. The contortment of his fingers sends another spike of pain over his bruising knuckles. “Wake up and give me a proper address.” He supposes his heated seats aren’t doing much to stave off your tiredness, so he presses his knuckle into the off button. You whine. 

“I don’t remember, okay?”

That’s how you ended up at Nanami’s home, tucked under his lavish sheets in his bed that’s entirely too big for one person. Your outfit had been neatly folded and piled upon his dresser, exchanged for one of his tee shirts and a pair of sweatpants that were cinched at the waist. He helped you into his clothes—with your undivided consent, of course. A completely clinical and respectful process; Nanami looked elsewhere, acting as a handle for you to hold onto as you stepped into the oversized pants he held open for you. They were far too wide, falling off your hips, so he took the time to tie a precious, little bow with the drawstrings. 

“Comfy?” He asks upon his return to the bedroom, holding a glass of tap water in one hand, a bottle of pills rattling in the other. You’re exactly where he left you; swimming in his bedsheets, the comforter hoisted up to your chest. Nanami sets the water down on the bedside table, then takes a seat on the edge of his mattress, working the bottle open. 

“I’ve never been more comfortable,” you sigh blissfully, taking a deep inhale. “Your blankets smell good.”

The blonde can’t help his chuckle. “I’ll give you the name of the laundry detergent I use tomorrow.” With deft fingers, he plucks two small tablets, light pain medication, and sets the pair on the table next to your water glass. 

“Promise?” Your tongue pokes out from between your teeth, playful. He chides an airy yes, snapping the tylenol bottle shut. Then, your smile fades; you’re averting your eyes, fixing them somewhere over to the blank canvas of Nanami’s gray, bedroom wall. “Hey, um…” He watched the side of your face, watches the flex of your jawline and the tension in your neck. “Did I—I didn’t really throw up on you, right?”

You rub at your temple, like you’re trying to find the memory but it’s just out of reach. “No,” he replies instantly, steadily, like it’s not a complete lie. Like his bile-ridden shoes aren’t sitting outside on his front door step, waiting to be cleaned. “You don’t remember?”

“It’s fuzzy,” you grumble, frustrated with yourself. “I had too much.”

Normal circumstances permitted, Nanami would’ve totally took this opportunity to have his I told you so moment. But you already looked  upset, maybe a little bit sick still, so he bit his tongue for you. “Some drunk imbecile interrupted us. We shared words, and then he got sick on us.” He was pleased with himself, his story must’ve been believable with the way you nodded along. 

“And then you punched him, right?”

His face drops. “That’s what you remember?”

Your shrug. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget it, Nanami. Not for my entire life.”

“Kento.” You hum, confused, so he reiterates, “I mean, call me Kento. I just clothed you, I’d say we’re close enough.” It’s true, you guys were getting more and more comfortable together by the day. Even outside of work and the management project, Nanami and you share text conversations more frequently than he would’ve ever imagined. And these little hangouts—granted, only two have been executed thus far—have been the most fun he’s had in ages. More fun than he’d ever hope to have with his ‘friendly’ business colleagues. You’re his friend. 

You, Y/n L/n, are his friend. What a strange fucking twist of events, it nearly gives Nanami whiplash. 

“Ken… To…” You speak each syllable slowly, peeking up at him through your eyelashes. He nods, grinning easily. Happy. “Kento, Kento, Ken—”

“Okay, okay enough.” He rises, arms raised as he gives a hearty stretch to his back. “It’s bedtime. Over there,” Nanami points at a door, “is the bathroom if you need it. You’ve got water here, and make sure you take the medicine in the mornings. You’re going to have a terrible migraine.”

“Wait, where are you gonna go?”

“I’ll take the couch for tonight.”

“Kento…” You whine, and he really wished you wouldn’t do that. “C’mere. There’s room.”

You’re patting the expansive open space beside you, peeling back the heavy blankets. It’s an enticing offer, to slip in beside you and feed off your body heat. To hold you to him and— Stop, what are you thinking? Stupid. “I think it’s best we don’t. Sorry.” And then he’s fleeing to the door because the way in which he worded that made the depths of his soul curl with cringe. Nanami bids you a polite sleep well before leaving you to the darkness, though he has enough sense left to keep the door cracked just in case you should yell for him in the night. 

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[hysteria-things]

Can you make a song image with the song older by Isabel LaRosa or even kiss me more with doja and sza?

NEEDY, ARE WE? (part two)

read part one here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the night started with only kisses, but you’ve never craved something so bad in your life. that something is your best friend chris sturniolo.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY ASF, swearing, begging kink, teasing, making out, oral (male & female receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (SON’T EVEN TRY IT), marking, finger sucking, choking, slight spanking, praising, degradation, stomach bulge, overstimulation, dumbification, cream pie, cockwarming

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,713

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: sorry for the 3 AM post… but hello🥰

y/n is a whiny bitch in this LMAO

“what did i say?” chris whispers sternly, smacking your hand away when it reaches down to his pajama pants string for the third time.

another fifteen minutes went by, and your panties are soaked from the orgasm that washed over you not long ago. chris’ dick fucking hurts, but he enjoys seeing this side of you: needy and desperate. “i’m begging you.” you pout. “i need you inside me. please.”

you seriously don’t know what’s gotten into you. you’d never thought of your best friend this way, but tonight feels different. you’re so dick-deprived that you’ve turned into a whiny mess.

he sighs in defeat, untying his pants and pulling them down. your eyes lock in on the boner in his boxers, beaming once his aching cock slaps against his stomach.

licking your lips, you go to hover over his tip, but he beats you to it and instead pushes your head down. you look up at him with sad eyes.

“what?” he questions, even though he knows the problem. he knows you meant inside you the other way, but what’s the fun in not teasing first? “you said you needed me inside you.”

“that’s not what i—” he cuts you off by pushing your head down, gagging when he forces himself down your throat. you hum, bobbing your head while his grip stays in your hair.

he chuckles, using his free hand to move the pieces of hair out of your face so he can see you looking up at him through hooded eyes. “you’re talking too much. if one of them wakes up you’re going to be in big trouble.” he points to his brothers who are still peacefully sleeping on the couch in front of you.

it doesn’t take long for your throat to morph into the shape of his dick. he licks his lips and smiles menacingly, seeing how you suck his cock so casually. your cheeks hollow, causing chris to exhale to not make a loud noise.

your tongue kitty licks his red tip, pre-cum threatening to spill out. starting to suck, your hand pumps up and down his shaft. his eyebrows furrow, mouth hanging open as he watches your every move. the grasp on your head loosens, and before you know it, chris is pulling you up to where you’re hovering over his lap.

taking his thumbs, he spreads your folds to see the glistening silk in the dim light. your arousal coats the inside of your thighs, some of it dripping down your leg. he takes his pointer finger and slowly moves it up your slit. you flinch at the feeling. “what a needy pussy.” he mumbles, his finger easily sliding into your cunt from the wetness.

you barely give him time to add another when you rut your hips repeatedly, fucking yourself on his fingers. you’ve never felt so pathetic in your life, but you also never felt so turned on. it’s like he read your mind. “pathetic slut; becoming stupid on just my fingers.”

the degrading nickname has you whining, only to start humping his hand faster. he looks as you sink perfectly on his digits… in and out, in and out, your pussy stretching the more you move until—

he removes the two fingers, now soaked with your juices. chris grabs your thighs, sliding his body down so now that his mouth is directly under your cunt. his dick twitches as he groans, seeing it at this angle.

immediately, he sits you down on his face and starts to eat you out like he’s on a time limit, which he technically is. the way his tongue moves so deliciously has you seeing stars, gasping and tugging at the brown strands that lay on his head.

“no, please.” you cry quietly. yes, you love the pleasure your body is going through, but this isn’t what you want. he’s teasing you to tears, and it’s making you sexually frustrated. nonetheless, it only makes you want him more. “th-this isn’t what i want.”

chris hums, making a tiny moan slip from the vibration. his hand gently smacks the outside of your thigh to remind you to keep quiet. “i’m sorry.” you mumble, shutting your eyes tight and biting down hard on your bottom lip that you won’t be surprised if it draws blood.

again a moan falls from your mouth, but this time it’s louder than before. his palm hits you harder this time, and you take your hand to cover your mouth instead. each time you twitch or try to move away from being so overstimulated, his nose still manages to nudge at just the right spot on your clit.

not only are your shoulders shaking from your sobs, but your legs quiver when you feel the heat in your lower belly. mumbling out a few words, chris lets out a questionable hum while speeding up his movements. he wants you to be loud and clear.

“i’m gonna cum, chris.” you cry, thanking every god out there that his brothers are the heaviest sleepers on earth.

he flattens his tongue, smiling in the process while your legs squeeze around his head, cum dripping down onto his tastebuds. a grunt leaves his throat, your pussy tasting exactly the way it’s supposed to. it’s by far the best meal he’s ever eaten.

sitting up again, you guys are back at the position you were at when this all started. chris enjoys the teasing, but he doesn’t know how much longer he can take. dick hard to the point where it hurts; pre-cum starting to leak from the tip. it’s unbearable.

eyes scanning his face, you bite your lip seductively. some strands stick to his forehead from the sweat, mouth is puffy and wet from your cum. how can you possibly be more horny? you have no idea.

leaning in, he pulls away when you’re centimeters apart. you pout, repeating the action when this time he turns his head with a chuckle. “stop teasing me.” you punch his chest lightly out of brattiness. “i need to get fucked by your cock. please, chris.”

raising his eyebrows, he smirks before grabbing your thighs that are still shaking from your high. “see? that wasn’t hard, now, was it?”

he helps you lift yourself to hover over his tip, his grip releasing from your flesh but still grazing it while you slowly start to sink onto his dick. your back arches, eyelids fluttering as you feel every crevice stretch from his size. it’s like your entire body was made for chris and chris only.

“—fucking birds stealing my shit.” the end of the sentence is a grumble, rustling coming from across the room. chris jumps into action and covers where you two are conjoined with your nightgown, being that you still have it on.

still, you decide to roll your hips, feeling his cock rubbing at your walls and insides just right. to keep a moan from coming, you nuzzle your head into his neck and bite at it.

nick sits up, eyes still closed but looking over nonetheless. “fucking birds.” he repeats.

“tell those birds, nick.” chris says, the hickey forming on his neck while you nibble down on another empty spot.

nick nods. “i’ll tell them. yeah, i’ll tell them. i’ll tell them…” then, he lays back down, the soft snores continuing as if he didn’t wake up at all.

you lift your head, chris now face to face with your tear-stained one. “wanna kiss you.” you whisper, starting to plop up and down on him. he doesn’t say anything, only grabs your throat gently to pull you in. from the way your tongues intertwine, you can taste yourself.

at this point, your bouncing so fast that whenever the couch starts to creak he has to grip on your ass for you to slow down. you whimper softly. “feels so good!”

“shit.” he exhales, mouth agape as he watches the bulge in your lower abdomen peek out whenever you sit, your pussy swallowing his fat cock whole. you were, without a doubt, fucking made for him.

accidentally letting out a scream when your g-spot gets hit, it’s cut off by the hand squeezing tighter around your throat. he glances at his brothers to make sure there are no signs of movement before speaking. “don’t have them wake up or we’re going to be in deep shit, and i won’t be able to fuck you again. is that what you want?”

“no!” you choke out, his thumb grazing your bottom lip while he looks at it.

“then you have to be quiet.”

without thinking, you nod and open your mouth, inviting his thumb inside for you to suck on. he smirks with a whisper. “that’s my good girl.”

he removes his thumb from your mouth, now holding your jaw in place. hickeys decorate one side of his neck.

you don’t know how long you’ve been going at it, but you can’t take it anymore. your breathing is becoming heavier the more his dick hits that angle inside you, eyes rolling back having your vision almost fade to black.

clenching so tight to the point where you could barely move up on him, your nth orgasm of the night washes over you, dripping down his thighs and onto the sofa. alas, you don’t make a peep, because you're chris’s good girl. you will always listen to him.

to ride out your high, you still move when you talk into his ear. “cum in me, please.” you gasp, your brain officially shutting off. your face portrays different waves of pleasure all at once, drool dribbling from your chin. you didn’t even notice releasing a-fucking-gain.

ropes of cum shoot up into you with a thrust of his hips, grunting each time he does so. he throws his head back with his eyes slammed shut, waiting ten seconds until he’s done planting his seed into your womb.

“thank you… thank you…” you repeat. he grabs your hips to lift you, but you whimper and nuzzle yourself closer.

exhausted is an understatement, hence why you fell asleep in mere seconds with his cock deep within your cunt. all chris can doze off to is think about how he has to clean this up before morning.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @tylerthecreatorsbf @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @hearrtsturns @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2 @sturnsjtop @luverboychris @yapperchris @imaslutforoldermen @madisonlovesyouu @poetatorturadaa @chr1sgirl4life @hiimolivia @jo-777 @sturnskiss @st4rgrlll @mattyblover07 @sm-ec @mattluvsmarni @knowingnothingnoel @mattsgirlfrieeend @bambi-slxt @selenascorner @sturnstvr @sturnclouds

[gor3-hound]

over again

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dark content, heavy dub-con, forced ddlg, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, fingering, p in v, creampie, mentions of past drugging, daddy kink, lots of pet names

a/n: took me forever n ever to write this ahhh sorry :/ hope you all enjoy it !! feedback always appreciated !! hopefully the writers block will finally perish.

word count: 1.6k words

14 weeks. 98 days. 2352 hours.

Leon leaves the house at 7.30 am every morning, except for Sundays. From Monday to Thursday, he's home around 6 pm. On Fridays, he isn't home until around 9 pm. Saturdays are the worst because he's home just after lunch.

Usually, when he comes home, he goes to the bedroom and unlocks the door to let you out. He threads his hand in your leash to take you upstairs, giving you a kiss on your forehead as he takes you to the kitchen to eat a meal. He gives you your food on a pink, plastic princess plate with plastic cutlery, and cuts the food into bite size pieces. More often than not, he hand feeds you.

You don't fight it. You'd learned your lesson. You refused food from him once. For 2 out of your 14 weeks locked up in his home, he'd underfed you to the point of starvation until you were begging him to feed you. He sat you in his lap, cooing all sweet as you chewed and swallowed every mouthful he'd given you. That day was the first day he slept with you.

It wasn't all bad. He was sweet. Gentle. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend he was a loving boyfriend. Someone who cared for you, not the creep who'd snatched you from the street after you had a few too many drinks at your friend's party, promising you a better life, safe from the world.

But he isn't sweet, or nice, or kind. He didn't do this for you, despite what his twisted brain tells him. You can pretend all you want that he's something other than what he is, but it doesn't change what he is. A monster.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Where's my little princess?” Leon's asking as soon as he walks into the house, kicking his shoes off and hanging his jacket up at the door. You recently got free reign of the home for being on your best behaviour. Didn't even have to keep the leash attached to your collar anymore. Lucky you.

“Here, daddy.” You say meekly, poking your head out of the living room to approach him, fiddling awkwardly with the edge of your shirt. Head down, so he doesn't have to see the defeated expression on your face as you force out the words, swallowing thickly to hold back your tears.

“You have a good day, sweetheart? You do any coloring in those cute little books I got you?” Leon's hands come up to your cheeks, gently stroking his thumbs back and forth across your cheekbones. You shake your head, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from saying something.

“No? Why not, baby? You don't like them? I got the one with lots of kitties. Pretty girls like you like cute things, don't they?” He coos, squishing your cheeks in his hands to make your lips all pouty so he can lean down and give them a little kiss, letting out a loud ‘mwah’ as soon as his lips make contact.

“You eat at least? I left some food in a lunchbox for you.” You shake your head again, and this time it seems to elicit a worse reaction. His brows furrow, and his hand grips your face even tighter. “No? Silly baby… can't do anything without daddy, can you? Come on. Daddy'll feed you, cutie.”

He heats up some food for you and puts it on a plate. The pink, plastic princess plate. He sits you on his lap and feeds it to you from a fork. Pink, plastic fork. The routine is the same, no matter how much you wish for it to change. When you finish eating, he presses a tender kiss to your head and rocks you in his arms.

“Such a good girl. Good girls get rewarded, princess.” He murmurs, pressing soft kisses against the skin of your neck, trailing them up until he's nosing at the hair behind your ear. His hand slides up your thigh and under your skirt, his thumb swiping your swollen bud through the already damp fabric. It didn't matter if you didn't want it. Your body didn't seem to understand what was happening - all it knew was Leon made you feel good. You hated how compliant you got when he touched you, how any thoughts of defiance melted away.

You go limp when he touches you. Docile. You let him do what he wants to you, just like a good girl should. Back-talking daddy is a big no-no. He wrote that in big writing on the rule list that's pinned to the fridge. Escape didn't use to seem impossible, yet now the thought never even crossed your mind. You'd tried, but he kept a tight lock on you. You wouldn't be surprised to find out one of the many injections he gave you when you were unruly had a tracker in. He always seemed to know exactly where you were.

You whimper as he dips his hand under the waistband of your panties. He parts your puffy lips with practiced ease as he continues on with the next part of his routine. 98 days later and he's mapped every inch of your body perfectly - found out everything that has you keening under his touch. Your hips buck as he runs his fingertip between your folds, gathering slick before rubbing small circles into your clit.

“Poor, dumb baby. She's soaking me already. You couldn't make yourself feel good when daddy was gone, huh, sweetheart?” His words are followed up by a finger burying itself in your tight heat, curling to find that gummy spot that has you clenching around him and bucking your hips. “Pretty princess cunt's been drooling for me all day.”

A choked sob leaves you when he pulls his cock out and sits you on top of it. He pulls you down until he's buried to the hilt, groaning as you tighten around his length. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, peppering it with tiny little kisses. You can't help but cry whenever Leon fucks you. 98 days later and you still sob whenever he bullies your cervix with his dick. No matter how many times he makes you cum or makes you go dumb on his cock, it doesn't change anything. He took everything from you - your family, your friends, your job.

You hated yourself more than Leon. For letting him break your walls down. For clinging to him as he tightens his grip on your waist, manhandling you on his cock, lifting you up and down. For finding yourself missing him when he's at work.

“Love…love you, daddy…” Your words come out more like a cry, nose all runny and cheeks wet with tears as he fucks up into you, his head shifting to hang back in pleasure. His fingers dig into your waist as he hears the words, a breathy laugh leaving him as he smiles - all toothy and bright like it always is when you say that.

“Love you even more, princess.” He grunts out, leaning back on the seat to force himself deeper into your pussy, guiding your hips back and forth so you're grinding his cock inside of you, rubbing your pretty clit against his happy trail. You gasp at the sensation, your hands gripping into his shoulders as your brows furrow in pleasure.

“Daddy… daddy…” You gasp out as your orgasm hits, your lips parting as you gush all over him. The look on your face as you cum is enough to have his balls tighten, his teeth gritting as he starts to shallowly thrust into you once more, chasing his own release. You always cry when you cum, and Leon always kisses the tears away when you do, his lips pressing against the wetness on your cheeks repeatedly. Another part of the ritual, another moment repeating day after day.

“Want daddy to fill you up, sweet girl?” He grunts, nipping at your neck as he wraps his arms tight around your waist in a bear hug, holding you steady as he fucks up into your drippy cunt. “Gonna warm you up right in that cute lil’ tummy.”

His hips stutter as his orgasm hits him, his jaw going slack as he presses the tip of his cock right up against your cervix, filling you to the brim with his sticky cum. He slides a hand under your shirt, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into the skin of your tummy.

“That's it. Keep it all in, okay? Daddy doesn't want to see his little angel spill a single drop.” He says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. He holds you there for a couple of minutes, cradling you against his chest until it's time to go to sleep.

Before bed that night, Leon ushers you into the bathroom. Like every night before this one, he gently grips your jaw with one hand as he stands behind you, his other hand gripping your pink princess toothbrush as he brushes your teeth, his eyes locked onto you through the mirror. At bedtime, he tucks you in and curls up behind you, spooning you with one hand on one of your tits, and the other wrapped tightly around your waist.

Tomorrow is a Friday. He wakes you up at 6.30 am with a kiss to your head as always, a warm cup of milk in one hand and your breakfast in the other. He feeds you off of a pink, plastic princess plate and presses a kiss to your lips before leaving at 7.30 am on the dot.

[think-like-a-poet]

Can you do yapper Max where he comes back from night out and is drunk. Reader tries to help him get ready for bed and he just tells her the most random things

Drunk yapping

Max verstappen x reader

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰

You were seated on the couch, blanket firm in your hands as the tenth plot twist happened in your horror movie. A soft yell left your mouth by the look of a couple cut of limbs as the scene became black. The music added a high suspense to the whole movement as you wanted to look away. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to watch it alone and without Max home, you thought.

The camera moved to an abandoned staircase as the music became louder and louder. Just when a door moved open and a face came out, a knock on the moved your attention away. You paused it and got up from the couch to walk towards the door. Looking trough the eye whole you saw Daniel holding Max in his hands.

You smile as you open up the door. Max was losely hanging into Daniels side as he kept on rambling his mouth. Daniel looked a bit irritated, but his smile was as big as ever. "Hi, y/n. I am sorry if I woke you, but Max is being a pain in my ass." you laughed as you made room for Daniel to walk inside. The Australian throws Max on the couch and a loud giggle is heard from your boyfriend.

"Don't worry. I know how Max is when he has a bit too much to drink. I hope he wasn't too annoying." you walked towards the kitchen to grab two glasses of water, Daniel may be less drunk but it was clear he had something to drink too. He thanked you as you gave him a glass of water before moving to sit next to Max.

You held out the glass of water for Max to grab. Max grabs the glass of water and shoots it down his throat like a shot. He sets the glass on the table with trouble and he groans before laying his head in your lap.

Daniel laughs at his friend's antics before walking to the door, "I leave you alone. Carlos is waiting for me in the car. And no, he did not drink." you wave him goodbye and you are left alone with your drunken boyfriend.

"Did you have fun?" you move your fingers through his hair and he nods. Max looks so pretty like this. His hair is ruined and standing in every way, his cheeks are flushing red and the top buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned. He always get it hot when he drowns his third G&T of the night.

"Very, but I did miss you. No one wanted to talk to me." Max pouts and you let out a little laugh at the adoring side. "Every time I said something, they moved away."

You stood up from the couch, "You can tell them to me while we get you ready for bed." Max face lits up and he stands up next to you. He stumbles a bit over his feet and you are quick to grab him by his arms. Together you walk to the bedroom as Max begins to speak.

"There was a cat tonight. I don't know how he made it inside, but he walked up to me, so of course I had to cuddle with him. Did you know cats have 30 teeth. I accidentally moved too close to a place he didn't like and I felt his teeth and you saw like a lot. I didn't hurt, he couldn't help it. " Max rambled and you listened closely to what he said. Of course the first thing was about cats, when didn't he talk about cats?

You helped him sit down on a chair in the corner of the bedroom and walked to the dresser to grab some pajamas. " I did not know they had 30 teeth. It is a surprise you didn't take him home."

"I wanted to, but a security person grabbed it from my hands to bring it outside. I couldn't find him after." Max answered with a sad tone. You saw how he had tried to untie his shoes, but the ties were now pulled fast instead of lose. You shook your head and knelt down you untied them. Max had to keep himself from falling backwards as his eyes close from the busy night.

"People always think cats like milk, but they are actually lactose intolerant. They aren't able to digest the lactose and if they have too much they will be vomiting. Of course a little bit wouldn't hurt too much, but too much is bad for them." Max slurred over his words as you finally pulled off his shoes. "Thank you,"

"Also i read somewhere that animals can have a different time feeling then humans. Smaller animals need more time to progress the movements and time will be slower for them. Like a lizard has slower time then a cat, but a tiger would be further in time than a cat. So technical animals and humans live in different time zones."

"That's strange. That they all live in different moment of time. " you answer while pulling his shirt over his head. "Hands up," you say and Max arms shoot in the air, almost hitting your face by accident, but he is too tired to see. You laugh as you try to pull on his pajama shirt, wich you know if going to be thrown of in the middle of the night when he has it to warm.

After some time Max had finished his teeth and was now sitting on the edge of the bed while you put on your pajama. "Thank you for helping me."

"No worries." you kiss his head and he pulls you in for a hug. "Lets get some rest tonight."

[nadvs]

home before dark (part three)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

Rafe is sitting in a chair in the front room of your home, his chin resting on his hand, hardly paying any attention to the sitcom playing on the tv screen.

He’s pissed off. Why did it have to storm tonight of all nights, when he doesn’t have anything to numb the pain, nothing to drown out the sound of the rain drumming on the windows?

In his haste, he didn’t pack any coke before coming here. He didn’t think he’d need it this bad.

And that photo he saw upstairs. It’s making everything so much fucking worse.

This is how the world repays him for helping someone. Figures. He’s used to having shit luck. Trying to make his own father love him has been a losing game, and he’s been at that for years, so why would anything else go his way?

“Hey.” Rafe straightens when he hears you. You look into the room. “Did the thunder wake you up, too?”

He hasn’t slept at all. But he nods.

There’s a blankness in his stare, the tv casting dull colors over his face. He didn’t bother to turn the light on.

You cross the room, hazy from your interrupted sleep, and settle on the couch. You’re far away from him, acting like you’ve never touched, even though you were just pressed against each other on his motorcycle.

You wonder if it felt nice to him, too. Or if you were just extra weight on his bike, an irritating responsibility he was cornered into taking on.

“Do you have any booze around here?” Rafe mutters. You catch the desolation in his tone.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

You instantly feel ridiculous for expecting you won’t be met with the cold shoulder. You doubt he’ll answer. But then, because the world must be off its axis, he does.

“Fucking hate this weather,” he says.

His words make a chill sink into your bones. You remember your father telling you the news years ago after he got the phone call. A torrential downpour. The freeway. Zero visibility.

Anne lost control of her car.

By the look on your dad’s face, you knew what that meant. Rafe’s mother didn’t survive the wreck.

He doesn’t have to say it. You know that’s why he hates storms.

“I can distract you,” you offer, “if you want?”

It was something you did as kids. Rafe would be angry or sad or hurt or anything and you’d talk his ear off about whatever you could think of until the dark cloud hanging over him drifted away.

His feelings always felt too big for him. You were the best at making them small enough to manage.

Rafe is used to wanting to be left alone. But not right now. Not if he can be with you. Admitting it feels impossible. The wall he spent years building around himself is solid from both sides.

“It’s your house,” he finally says. “Do what you want.”

You take it an invitation to stay. You turn your attention to the tv, as if holding eye contact with him will make him take it back.

It gives him a chance to look at you. How the fuck have you not lost patience with him yet? Why do you still care?

“I keep wanting to ask why you’re helping me,” you say, just loud enough to be heard over the tv.

Rafe exhales sharply, rubbing his forehead.

“This is you distracting me,” he scoffs. “Aren’t you supposed to do the talking?”

The fact that he’s expecting you to replicate the days of your youth gives you a sliver of hope that maybe he misses them, too.

“There has to be a reason you’re doing it,” you murmur.

“Can’t you just be happy that I am?” he responds. A white flash of lighting pools into the room for a split second.

“No,” you say. Finally, he gives in.

“Because I…” he begins.

The noise from the show is adding to the frustrating confusion engulfing him. He angrily picks up the remote and turns the tv off, plunging both of you in darkness.

You turn your head towards him again, only able to make out the hard outline of his jaw.

“I always had to look out for you,” he says. “I guess I still do.”

You look down at your lap, taken aback that Rafe holds any sense of loyalty for you.

You almost want to remind him of what he said earlier, that you’re not kids anymore, but you don’t want to challenge him.

“And I don’t know why,” he adds, voice thin, “but you’re not a dick to me like everyone else is, so I kind of owe you.”

All you can hear is your own breathing and the ticking of the clock in the foyer and the tap of faltering raindrops. The storm is passing.

“It’s because you didn’t do anything wrong,” you say into the silence. “It’s not like you did something to make me hate you. You shut me out, but I get why.”

Your words reverberate through him. He wonders if you think that he hates you.

Still, you could have gone to any other guy and asked him to pretend to be your boyfriend.

“Why’d you come to me?” he asks.

“Because he’s scared of you.” You don’t have to nor do you want to say your ex’s name.

“And you’re not?”

“No.” You tilt your head. “We used to be best friends.”

You say it like he wouldn’t remember. He couldn’t erase it from his brain if he tried. And he has.

The heaviness of all this is suffocating to him. The past is done. There’s no point in digging up things that’ll just hurt him all over again.

He stands up, chasing out the familiarity that was slowly growing between you. But before he leaves the room, he pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose with trembling fingers.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, either, alright?” Rafe says into the dark, irritated, answering the question you asked him on the shoreline hours ago. “Not on purpose.”

As his shadow retreats, the words he left you with ring in your head. He doesn’t blame you. But you did do something wrong.

Rafe had his head buried into his pillow, throat burning from crying through his grief, every night for months.

As he lies in an unfamiliar bed all for a girl whose very existence makes him feel a multitude of good and bad all at once, he’s thrown back into those days, as if he’s a boy again.

His mother used to tell him it was a strength to be so sensitive, but her voice faded and his father’s voice got so much louder. What he tells him every time Rafe can’t swallow down the tears echoes in his mind. Toughen up. You’re fine.

But he’s not fine. He can’t stop crying and he knows he has to tell you he can’t do this anymore. Being with you brings back too much.

But the next morning, when Rafe finds you sitting at the kitchen island, wearing your pajamas and a smile, the prospect of ending this is tossed away.

You have access to him that nobody else does. You and that damn smile are a weakness that he didn’t know he had. And while he can act happy and careless around everyone else, he can’t put on an act for you. Ever.

“How’d you sleep?” you ask. Your hands are cupping a mug, your phone sitting beside it.

“Like shit,” Rafe replies, pacing to the fridge. “Took hours to fall asleep.”

You feel guilty that he didn’t have a good rest, considering he’s only here because you were too frightened to be alone.

“You?” he says after a beat. The ice must be melting if he’s actually asking about you for once.

“My sleep was good,” you reply. “It helped having you here.”

Rafe’s cheeks get warm. Someone actually wanting him around is a foreign feeling.

By the time your conversation was over last night, the rain and thunder had dwindled. It couldn’t have been the storm keeping him awake. Curiosity pushes you to figure it out.

“Was the bed uncomfortable?” you ask.

“No,” he answers. He finds a glass and fills it with water. His throat still hurts from crying last night.

You watch him, his presence commanding as he leans back against the counter opposite you. The dark, shallow bags beneath his eyes are illuminated in the bright lights above you. He looks exhausted.

“Was the room too warm? Or too cold?” you say.

“Can you relax?” Rafe huffs, his tone almost playful.

He isn’t about to admit that he can’t remember the last time he fell asleep sober. And he’s definitely not going to tell you that the last thing he thought about before finally passing out was that his cheeks burned from how hard he was wiping his tears away.

“The least I can do is make sure you’re comfortable since I made you stay the night,” you say.

His brows furrow as he takes a long gulp, tipping his head back.

“Nobody can make me do anything,” he replies once he downs the water. You know it’s the truth. It makes the fact that he’s doing this for you all the more meaningful.

Before you can respond, your phone buzzes loudly on the countertop. Rafe sees your face fall when your eyes drop to the screen. You read the notification for a moment, then sigh and shake your head.

“He emailed me,” you say incredulously. “I blocked him on everything and he emailed me.”

Rafe leans over to see if you’ll let him look for himself. You slide your phone towards him and he picks it up to read Ty’s message.

What you have with him isn’t real. We both know it. Let me prove that I can treat you how you deserve. Please. I’m sorry for everything. I love you.

A part of Rafe is concerned you’ll fall for it.

“What’re you gonna do?” he asks.

“Block him there, too,” you mutter. “He does this. He’s mean, then he pretends like he changed, then he’s mean again… It’s the same bullshit over and over.”

Rafe blocks him for you and places your phone on the counter. You bite the inside of your cheek as the dread you always feel when Ty contacts you floods your every sense.

The despair on your face makes Rafe’s stomach sink. The next time he sees Ty, he’s beating the shit out of him.

“He’ll stop, okay? I’ll make him,” he says.

You’re still skeptical. Rafe definitely scares him, but Ty called him a bullshit rebound last night. He wrote that what you have with Rafe isn’t real. You’re not fooling him. And you’re afraid he won’t leave you alone until he believes you’re actually in a new relationship now.

“Yeah.” You exhale slowly. “Doesn’t sound like he’s falling for this, though.” You motion between you and him.

Rafe has to take a moment to catch your meaning. Falling for this. Your pretend relationship. Right.

“I didn’t tell anyone it’s fake,” you say, afraid it somehow got out. “Did you?”

Rafe shakes his head no and puts his empty glass in the sink. He scratches the back of his neck and looks at you again.

“Do you want me to keep crashing here until your mom and dad get back?” he asks.

You hate that your mind goes there, but you wonder when the last time he said mom out loud was. You shake away the thought.

“Not if you can’t get any actual sleep,” you respond.

Rafe typically gets irritated when someone can’t make up their mind. He wants everything done quickly, so he doesn’t have to stop and think.

But this is you and even though you’re scared of sleeping on your own, you’re considering how staying here affects Rafe and it gives him a heavy feeling of shame. He spent years avoiding the only person who never abandoned him. The only person who still gives a shit.

“I’ll just leave my stuff here,” he says, making the decision for you.

“Thank you.” You mean it. The thought of someone being here with you is comforting.

As usual, Rafe ends the conversation quickly and abruptly, leaving the room. You soon hear the engine of his motorcycle rattling loudly from outside, the roar fading as he drives away.

You hoped that he���d at least want to hang out with you now. You don’t understand why you keep expecting more from him. It just hurts you every time.

You don’t hear from Ty for the rest of the day. You manage to run some errands without worrying you’ll see him because even when Rafe isn’t with you, you don’t feel as scared knowing he’s in your corner.

The days of the week mean practically nothing on the north side of the island over the summer. There’s a party almost every night, this time at a house just down the street from you.

You invite your friends to your place, drinking as you get ready, deciding to walk over to the party. You turn up already tipsy, finding yourself looking for Rafe even though you know you should only really be doing that if Ty is bothering you.

When you walk into the loud, crowded house, seeing you reminds Rafe of why he isn’t smoking or drinking or snorting anything tonight.

He’s had countless fights while wasted, but he wants to have a clear mind when he sees Ty. He needs to make the fucker pay and not give him a chance to get even one punch in.

You meet Rafe’s blue eyes every so often throughout the night, glad you’re finally able to have fun again because you know he’s keeping you safe.

The second Ty walks in, even though he hasn’t come close to approaching you, you make your way to Rafe.

You stand close to him, placing your hand in his, acting like a girlfriend to someone who is only doing this because he feels an overdue sense of loyalty to you.

Rafe stills for a moment before he laces his fingers with yours. His skin is hot, making your heart flutter in a way you know it shouldn’t.

“Hey,” you say over the music. His ring presses against your thumb.

“Hey,” he says tensely. He’s not used to affection, especially in front of people.

But this is what he signed up for. He needs to act like a boyfriend and he’s not going to fuck this up. It’s the first real responsibility he’s had that he actually gives a shit about.

His eyes land on Ty and his plan to confront him takes a backseat when he realizes he doesn’t want to let go of you. Right now, he’d rather have his hand in yours instead of using it to throw a punch. It’s like every touch you give him leaves a heavier impact than the last.

You immediately notice how tense Rafe is.

“Can you relax?” you joke, imitating the way he said it this morning. Your heart warms when his dimples appear, framing a smile he can’t stifle.

“I don’t sound like that,” he says.

“You sound exactly like that,” you reply with a laugh, picturing how tired he looked in your kitchen. “Please tell me you got some sleep today.”

Again, the concern you seem to have never lost for him appears.

“I did,” he says. He crashed in his bed the second he got home.

“How come it took you so long to fall asleep last night?”

Rafe’s knee-jerk reaction is to avoid the question. Especially if it’s you asking. But he can’t forget how shitty it felt when you brushed him off last night at the beach, so he pushes himself to answer.

“Just, uh…” He looks away. “Couldn’t turn off my brain.”

You gaze up at him. It almost aches, how badly you’d love to know what goes through his mind.

“When did this start?” one of his friends amusedly asks, pointing between you two. You notice Ty close by, his gaze sharp as he eavesdrops. Rafe notices him, too.

You squeeze Rafe’s hand tighter, clinging to him. He notices that his entire body buzzes when you do that.

“What, was I supposed to call you?” Rafe responds.

“I’m just saying,” his friend replies with a laugh, “it’s like all of a sudden, you got a girl out of nowhere.”

Alarm stings every inch of your skin when you notice Ty’s posture straighten in your peripheral.

“Don’t sound so surprised, asshole,” Rafe replies lightheartedly, gently pulling his hand out of your grasp to drape his heavy arm around your shoulders, pulling you flush against him.

You follow his lead, wrapping your arms around his torso. The relief from how well he played it off and the comfort you get from how he’s holding you is overwhelming.

Rafe dips his head to speak into your ear, his cheek brushing against yours, his cologne fresh.

“Think he’s falling for it now?” he mumbles, voice lowering an octave. With the way he’s holding you, you might fall for it yourself.

“Yeah,” you breathe. You squeeze him tighter, not for show, but because you want to. You’ve wanted to hug him since the funeral, when he was a boy with bloodshot eyes in a crumpled black suit, but he never let you get this close.

He brings his other hand up to your face, cradling your jaw, his thumb rubbing over your cheek. His touch is so tender that you have to remind yourself it’s Rafe doing this.

You’re suspended, bodies curved together, cheeks brushing, like you’re playing a game to see who’ll let go first.

“And he’s staying away from you, right?” His breath is warm against the shell of your ear.

You nod, at a loss for words.

“Is he watching?” he asks. You can see from the corner of your eye that your ex is staring right at you.

“Mhm,” you hum with a nod.

At this point, Rafe is being selfish. This is close enough. You wanted him to act like you’re a couple and he’s done it. He can pull away now. Maybe he should keep his arm around you for a little longer, but he doesn’t need to be this close.

Instead, he lowers to press his lips against your cheek and you hug him tighter, and fuck, it feels so good that he misses it before it’s even over.

He can’t believe that his body yearns to be this close to you. You opened up the floodgates the second you put your hand on him the first time a couple of nights ago. How good would it feel if you were doing it for real?

You lean into his kiss. His lips are so soft. You wish you could feel them against yours. It’s all to make everyone think you’re actually together. You keep telling yourself that.

When your arms around him weaken just a little, you feel something at his back, protruding against your forearm.

Your eyebrows draw together as you pull back only a few inches to meet Rafe’s eyes, your mind going to the worst possible scenario. Your breath catches. It’s a weapon.

“What is that?” you ask quietly, nudging against the hard item tucked into the band of his jeans.

“What do you think?”

“Rafe,” you say. His jaw tightens. The moment is gone. The wall is back up. Your tone teeters on a thin edge, like you’re judging him.

“You’re surprised the psycho owns a gun?” he scoffs.

He didn’t brush off what Ty said like you thought he did. It makes your stomach turn that your ex’s lie actually stuck with Rafe.

You glance over to see Ty’s back as he storms out of the room. Part of you is relieved, but right now, you mostly feel anxious that Rafe believes a lie.

“I never called you that,” you reiterate to him quietly. “I’ve never said anything bad about you. You think you can trust what he says?”

“I’m not planning on using it on him, okay?” Rafe snaps. “Unless he asks for it.”

He wishes you didn’t notice it. If you didn’t think he was fucked up before, you do now. He’s pissed off and embarrassed and disappointed all at once.

You’ve been trying to reconnect with him for so long. If he gives in, you’ll see that he’s not even close to who he was when you knew him. He’ll just let you down.

He realizes he hasn’t kept his distance only because you’re a painful reminder of a time he wants to forget. It’s also because he’s sure you wouldn’t like who he’s become. And he can’t take the rejection.

You’re still, unable to believe that he actually has a gun. That he would use it. That these are the lengths he’s going to to keep you safe.

You haven’t lost contact with him, but Rafe checks out of the moment and pulls his arm away.

“He’s gone now,” he mutters. You get the message. He’s done pretending. You drop your arms and find your friends again.

Hours later, the party is dwindling, but far from over. Rafe has been sober the entire time, making him all the more antsy and irritable.

He thought he’d beat the shit out of Ty tonight, but he’s exhausted and he can’t stop shaking. Why the hell is he shaking?

Rafe loses his patience and approaches you while you’re dancing with your friends.

“Let’s go,” he says, holding your hand. The contact makes your head spin all over again. Even though you’d like to stay, you comply.

You notice Ty’s eyes on you when you leave. He’s pretending to be a good guy again, keeping his distance, but you know it’s only a matter of time before he cracks.

Once you reach Rafe’s motorcycle in the cool night air, he hands you his helmet and you take it without hesitation.

After the short drive, you walk up the steps to your front door together. But you soon stop in your tracks, eyes wide as you stare at the ground.

Rafe follows your eye line. Mud’s been tracked onto the porch in fragmented footprints.

“I can’t… I can’t remember if that was there before,” you stammer. “Did you see it this morning?”

“I don’t know,” he responds. He rushed out of here too quickly to have noticed something like that.

You look around, as if you can find an answer in the darkness surrounding your home. You would have noticed it after you ran your errands earlier today. Probably. Maybe.

It could have been you. Or Rafe. Or one of your friends.

Or Ty. He didn’t arrive at the party until late into the night. Could he have been creeping around your house? Why would he?

Rafe glances up to confirm that there aren’t any cameras aiming at the door. It pisses him off when he notices there aren’t any cameras at all. He quickly catches on that your breathing has grown faster.

“Come on,” he says, gently pulling you by the crook of your elbow. “Let’s go inside. It’s nothing.”

He doesn’t believe his own words, but there’s no reason to scare you any further.

“What if he was here?” you say, letting Rafe pull you to the door. He takes the key out of your hand and pushes it into the lock.

“Then I’ll shoot him,” he mutters.

“That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

The door swings open, prompting the security system to start beeping.

You flip on the light and enter the code as he shuts the door behind you. You’re so frightened and unnerved that you jam one of the buttons with the wrong finger, prompting a harsh error noise from the system.

“Can you do this?” you huff. You tell Rafe the five-digit code and he quickly enters it, arming the system again. You notice his hand is trembling.

“Are you okay?” you ask. You know it’s not from fear. Rafe isn’t afraid of anything. He must be high on something. “What’d you take?”

“Nothing,” he says with a humorless laugh. It dawns on him that his body is reacting to the lack of coke in his system. “That’s the problem.”

“What?” you ask.

Rafe sighs, double-checking that the front door is locked for your peace of mind.

“I can’t be wasted if that asshole tries me. I haven’t taken anything since last night,” he says. “But it just made shit worse.”

He realizes how messed up it sounds. How messed up it is that being sober for one night makes him shake like this. He has a problem. But he never really had a reason to get clean before now.

You watch Rafe checking the lock and like a riptide, everything crashes down on you at once.

The torment from Ty harassing you. The guilt from asking Rafe to take on this responsibility. The sadness from knowing that he’s only doing it because he feels a sense of obligation for you and wants nothing more.

“Bet you’re glad I have a gun now,” Rafe mutters. He turns to look at you, your expression grim. “What?”

“I don’t want to keep bothering you with this,” you admit, your heart racing with panic. “I don’t want you to have to sleep here and I don’t want you to have to drive me home all the time and… I hate that this is happening and that I had to drag you into it.”

His eyes travel over the anguish etched on your face.

“What, like it’s your fault he’s a piece of shit?” he says.

You chew on the inside of your cheek and look up to the ceiling, trying to keep your tears at bay. It’s still odd being alone with him, having him in your home.

Rafe hasn’t tried to make someone feel better in a long time. He hasn’t cared enough to. He takes a deep breath.

“I don’t mind doing this, alright?” he says.

“You don’t?” You take in the softness in his eyes that you don’t often see.

“Think I’d be here if I did?”

“I don’t know,” you say. “You used to do things you didn’t want to all the time for me.”

The Rafe that was your best friend always went along with whatever you wanted to play, wherever you wanted to go.

He grits his teeth, tearing his eyes off of you, trying not to think about how when he was a kid, if someone asked him who his favorite person was, he’d tell them that it was a tie between you and his mom.

“Don’t talk about how shit used to be,” he says quietly. And because he doesn’t want to see that hurt look on your face again, he adds, “Please.”

The mere prospect of talking about the past seems to actually give him pain. It dawns on you that you’re looking at a man who may have never processed what happened to him.

“Do you want something to eat?” you offer, changing the subject swiftly.

Rafe realizes he’s starving.

“Yeah,” he says.

A memory washes over you as Rafe sits at your kitchen counter, eating leftovers you heated up for him.

It was a humid summer day and you two were scarfing down the lunch his mother made for you after a morning of swimming behind his house.

Rafe always liked picking the wildflowers that grew in the grass that lined the beach for his mom. The ones he found that day were purple, sitting in a small vase she put in the center of the dining room table.

Every time he gave her a small bundle of uneven flowers, she had the same joyful reaction. Rafe always looked so proud of himself when she enthusiastically thanked her son.

It was just another happy day.

Until Ward came into the kitchen and like always, Rafe’s smile disappeared. Your best friend tended to shrink when his dad was around. Ward almost always found something to chide his son about. He never spoke like that to his daughters.

“Could you eat any faster?” Ward muttered. “Where are your manners?”

“Leave him alone, Ward,” Anne said with a sigh. His mother’s tone was only ever sharp when she was defending her little boy.

You remember watching her lean to kiss Rafe’s head, earning a small smile from him. Then she winked at you, trying to dismiss the tension from the room.

You wonder what Ward has said to Rafe ever since he lost the only person who stuck up for him.

You face the sink as you wash your hands, your back to Rafe, trying to stifle the tears that build as you imagine what the world would be like if the wreck never happened. Who would Rafe be if he never lost her? If a part of him didn’t die with her?

Is it crazy to think that you’d still be best friends, instead of two strangers pushed together in such an arduous situation? You miss her so much that it hurts and all this is yet another thing adding to the weight sitting on your shoulders.

Rafe hears you sniffle and when you finally turn around, you stare at the floor as you try to rush away.

“What is it?” he asks. Is he already failing at making you feel safe?

You freeze. You can’t tell him what’s really bothering you. Especially since he asked you not to talk about your memories.

“I’m just freaked out.” It’s not exactly what you’re thinking of now, but it’s true. This mess with Ty is a nightmare. “If he was really creeping around here… Ugh, I don’t know what he’s going to do next.”

Rafe chews slower as he observes you through narrow eyes. He’s no stranger to the pain of crying to sleep. He doesn’t want that for you.

You notice his hands are still trembling. You have no idea how often he does coke, but it must be an addiction if one night without it makes his body react like this.

“What else do you need?” he asks. It comes out sharper than he intended, like he’s asking what else you could possibly want from him after he’s given you so much.

Your lips thin as you stare at him from across the counter. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone look so miserable.

“Nothing,” you mutter. “Good night.”

You start to walk away but Rafe says your name to stop you and it sounds so good coming out of his mouth that your stomach numbs. When was the last time he said it?

You turn to look at him. His eyes dart down to his food.

“What if…” he begins, his fork loudly clattering against the dish. “Would it help if I slept in your room?”

You’re surprised. And soothed by the thought of him sleeping close by in case your ex does something as unhinged as break in.

Everyone else paints Rafe as rude and aggressive, but you knew it. You knew he still had some kindness in him.

“Yeah,” you say. “It would help.”

(part four)

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[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

New Homes | Platonic Yandere Tweels x Child Reader

“From today on (Y/n), you’ll be hanging out with the Leech family so please…be on your best behavior.” 

Your father was always a little timid. Always speaking with a little quake in his voice. His eyes were always wide darting around. His softer hands like to shake as well. Always wavering even when he held you tight. 

Your father is timid. which is why he warns you when he leaves you with the Leech family. Babysitters always make him nervous. It must be because there are two this time—two babysitters with lopsided haircuts and smiles filled with sharp daggers for teeth. 

“Hello little (Y/n), we’ll be sure to take good care of you.”

“Oi (Y/n), you a swimmer?”

The twins were nice…for teenagers. Other teenagers you knew would sooner shove your head underwater than help you tread it. Other teenagers also didn’t jump at the chance to fight people but that was other teenagers. Not the Leech twins. 

“(Y/n), I told you not to look at Floyd when he’s doing that.”

“But that guy is still holding onto our ice cream.”

“We’ll have some at home. Don’t point at him it’s rude.”

Jade is the twin with his bang on the left side of his face. He’s proper and polite, always doing his best to keep you on schedule. Helping you with your homework when he notices you’re struggling or reading to you when it's time to sleep. 

“Let me blow your nose.”

“Mmm okay.” 

“Good job. Are you ready to go over the edible mushrooms again?”

“Mm okay.”

Floyd is the twin with a yellow left eye and a pitchy voice. He’s loud and silly, always doing fun things that make the day exciting like running in the halls of the manor or playing tickle-monsters when you’ve been working too long.

“I just have to finish these sheets and then I can play!”

“Boooriing!  Let’s just play now!”

“B-but Jade said–”

“Jade can make you catch up later! Let’s get our water guns!”

“Yay!”

They were always so much fun to be around, even work wasn’t so bad with them around. They made a place for you in their giant home. Giving you a room as big as your living room back home, which you slowly filled with the larger souvenirs from your days together.

Speaking of home, it was becoming harder to recall. Trying to remember when you thought of your home if the bathroom was to the left of your room or your father’s. It was an odd feeling that sat at the back of your mind when you looked at the glow-in-the-dark ceiling art. Consciousness fading in and out it didn’t stop your brain from planting the seed of curiosity.

“Why…am I at their house so much?”

Usually, the answer would have been simple. Your father worked late so you had babysitters. But you didn’t go to their house usually. They also didn’t feed or play with you as long as they did but that was beside the point. 

“(Y/n), you’re playing with your food.”

“Oh sorry Missus Leech.”

You made quick work of the beans on your plate, enthusiastically scarfing down what you could. It didn’t feel right to disappoint Missus Leech, while she never once yelled; there was just this feeling about her. One that called for respect. 

“Take your time, (Y/n). I was only worried you’d drift off to sea.”

Looking up at her, tilted your head in confusion.

She let out a giggle. The adult kind that made you feel embarrassed. Looking at Jade, he had an amused smile too, “She means your mind, (Y/n).”

“Oh, I guess a little.”

“What’ya thinkin’ about elver?”

Floyd spoke between bites of food, reminding you to do the same. 

“I just think I miss my home a little bit.”

Taking another hefty bite you missed the disdain on someone’s face. A purposeful cough brought your attention up to the patriarch at the head of the table.

“How are those new shoes we bought together?”

Lighting up at the memory of your new shoes, you barely finished chewing. 

“So cool! Everyone at school thought they were nice too! And I got so many compliments.”

The older man laughed, nodding his head. “Good. Good. Maybe we should go shopping again soon.”

“Okay!”

Dinner went on like usual with dessert ending your time at the dinner table. Letting Jade and Floyd lead you to your bathroom to begin your nightly routine. You fought off the urge to yawn while Jade helped you brush your teeth, failing when he told you to spit. 

“It’s always nice when Mama and Papa come back from trips.” 

Floyd spoke with his back lying on the giant bed, filled with stuffed animals and pillows. He was tossing your clowned fish stuffy in the air catching it with ease. 

Jade still smiling continued buttoning up your pajamas, “Yes, it seems like the trip went well.” 

He looked at you, reminding you to follow him to your bed. “What about you (Y/n)? Did you miss them?”

Your eyelids were feeling heavy. You rubbed them to try to wipe the feeling away.

“Uh yeah.”

Helping Jade shuffle your stuffies around to make a place for you a knock at the door was heard. Floyd must have opened it because by the time you turned Missus Leech was there.

“Mama!” 

Rubbing at Floyd’s head she waved to you and Jade.

“Hi there! I was wondering if I could join you for bedtime?”

You couldn’t tell if The question was for you but if it was Jade answered anyway.

“Of course, Mother. We were just about to read their bedtime story.”

Tucked in next to Missus Leech you let yourself lean against her as she flipped through the pages of the book. Letting her words soothe your mind with the familiar words. Jade and Floyd were close by too making you comfy enough to go to sleep.

When the story was done, everyone gave you goodnight kisses before heading for the door. With the last of your energy, you remembered something important.

“Floyd, are you picking me up tomorrow or Daddy?”

________________________________________________________

The teenager was squeezing the fleshy cylinder shape with an intensity strong enough to bend metal. The crunching and squelching of a man’s neck barely brought comfort to Jade as he continued to squeeze his hands.

“There there Jade, these things take time. It was optimistic that they’d forget by now.”

Unfortunately, the words of his father didn’t calm him down. He headed over to his next target, this time allowing them to throw a punch. Dodging the punch he cradled their hand, maneuvering his arm around until it snapped in the opposite direction. The screaming that followed would have curdled blood for most but it was a lesser result to Jade. Who ended it quickly with a firm kick sent backward and into the skull. The crunch that followed and the abrupt cut to the scream allowed the Leech twin to breathe. 

“I knew they wouldn’t forget. Despite all the work we’ve done. But they still expect him to come.”

His father stepped forward, avoiding the bodies to place a comforting hand on Jade’s shoulder.

“Perhaps he still does…to them.”

Jade’s eyes widened, the implication bringing a stark realization. He turned to his father, his yellow gaze answering the unspoken question. 

To think that with all the work he was saddled with, the sniper still hadn’t abandoned his child. The likelihood was slim but possible. There were quite a few blind spots when it came to the school. Jade had previously ignored them because of the promised security of their contract with the one who wanted him dead. But it seems that wasn’t all they needed to worry about.

“Do you think he plans to take them again?”

“I’d hope not,” entering the warehouse was Fiona Leech having traded out her evening dress for a jumpsuit and shoving a receiver of a baby monitor in her pocket, “our little elver is just about to be settled. It’d be cruel to try moving them again..”

“I don’t think he cares at this point,” Jasper Leech suggested. Pulling out a revolver, he casually aimed and shot the two people tied in the back of the warehouse. He continued, “I hear he’s been getting sloppy with the jobs that one has so graciously allowed him to fix.” 

Jade balanced himself wiping his shoe clean with a rag, chiming in himself. 

“Now he’s trying to go back on his word. Absolute scum.”

“I’d hate for us to pull them out of school, more change is not what that kid needs.”

“I wouldn’t mind limiting my club activities to partake in homeschooling.”

His mother held his face patting his head fondly as she cooed,” You’re a good boy Jade but you have your new job and all those plans I wouldn’t want you to give that up.”

Jasper sighed, scratching the well-groomed stache on his face. “Guess that means we’re ending our contracts early.”

“Seems so…..Now Jade go on get to bed you have school in the morning.”

“Yes, Mama.”

______________________________________________________________

The shade was nice on sunny days. The coolness that came with the blackened space near the fence was like heaven. The spot was farther away from the plastic playground and the other children running all throughout. Minutes ago, you were just like them running wildly at a more loose game of sharks and minnows. 

Past the wood-chipped ground was the back of the school building where the teachers were chatting. Disappearing between the rectangular windows, their attention was on something inside. Distracted enough not to scold you for stepping away from the others. The triumph of your expert timing was the true prize. Relishing in the leaves of the trapezoid-shaped bushes pushing through the fence. Crunchy, tickling, and overgrown the feeling against your back was a minor trait of this sacred place. 

There was also the oddly pressing poke of something warm coming through the hole of the fences. Turning to confirm your suspicions, you smiled.

“Hi, Papa.”

“Hello, my Starlight!”

Turning around to mirror his position you laid on your tummy to look him in the eye. His tactical glasses were off and his hair had changed. His longer hair was gone, traded out for a faded cut. Different but still your father. You let his larger gruffer fingers hold your own through the fence, his hands for once not shaking. 

“Can I tell you all about my adventures?”

“Of course.”

He let you rant, smiling and nodding all along to all your different adventures. You even took off your shoes and showed him the flickering lights in its soles. He waited until you were out of breath before asking the question again.

“Would you like to come with Papa, this time?”

You hesitated kicking your feet against the wooden chips of the playground. 

“Are we going back to our home?”

“...No.”

Tilting your head,” Then are we going to the Jade and Floyd’s?”

The names made him shudder as he hurriedly shook his head. 

“W-we’re going someplace new….”

“Where are we going?”

He rubbed at his eyebrows. He was getting annoyed. But you knew you had to ask otherwise you’d be brought somewhere you hated. Like that one time.

“(Y/n) you’re curiosity is great but—”

“Does where we’re going have a bed? Does it have a kitchen? Are we going to be only eating the gas place’s sandwiches?”

He scrunched his hands into his hair, grasping for his non-existent flowing hair. His lips were quivering and his eyes were watering. It made you nervous, sitting up from your tummy and on your knees. You sent a look over your shoulder at the window–the teachers were still occupied. Looking down at your father, you silently sighed as you got into character.

“Hirano wherever you're taking that little Starlight, it better be the best place for a kid. Those Leech’s are makin’ sure they're on time at school, they're well-fed, and I haven’t gotten a call from protective services for a good while.”

“I know! I know Mama but they won’t let me leave. I screwed up! I screwed up really bad! If I don’t do another job for that guy, he’s going to have my head! B-but I want to go back to normal! I want to spend my days helping (Y/n) with homework and coming home and watching those silly cartoons with my Starlight–”

Your heart was aching and your eyes were getting watery. You waved a hand at your eyes and cleared your throat sticking your hand through the hole to hold his. 

“Y-you’ve got to get your ducks in order before you take your Starlight back–”

“But Mom!”

“Don’t but me…Starlight is safe. You’ve got to make sure you are too before you take them back.”

“But the debt I owe…it’s so big and their patience is thin. I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back….”

Taking a deep breath, you went back to your original position on your tummy. 

“Papa, I’m always going to be here. Safe and waiting for you. So you can go on your work trip I don’t mind.”

He smiled at that reaching through the gate to affectionately bop you on your nose. 

“That’s right…I’m just on a work trip. I’ll be back before you even notice. I’m gone!”

He began to scooch away but you stopped him calling for him to come back to the fence. You kissed his forehead and he kissed yours.

“I’ll….see you when you got back Papa….”

“Yup! You know it! If you need anything just ask your grandma, okay?”

“...Okay…”

Like that, he disappeared. 

You were left to stare at the disfigured leaves and dying branches. Burning the memory of his face into your mind.

“(Y/n)! Your brother’s here to pick you up.”

It took you a minute before you stood up again. Frantically wiping at the water streaming from your eyes, you waited until your throat was no longer croaky to finally respond.

“Coming!”

It was all a blur, saying goodbye to your friends and packing your backpack. The memories of the sweet older lady you used to spend so much time with. She taught you how to help your father, explaining the work he was in. It made your head hurt. Thinking about it now, you can say that’s why you stay at the Leech’s house so much.

“Ready to go little elver?”

“Yeah,” you stuck your hands up while he brought you up higher supporting you with his arms. You didn’t want to but you let your gaze fall on the disfigured spot in the bushes behind the playground fence. 

Floyd glared at the spot.

“What’s over there, (Y/n)?”

Visualizing him one last time. You’re glad you could say goodbye. Curling your head into his uniform’s collar, you blinked your extra tears away. 

“Nothing anymore…let’s go home, please.”

You missed the smile on Floyd’s face, laughing to himself as he made his way to the family car. 

“As always, little elvie!”

[struwberrii]

suna headcanons 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

here are my silly sunarin headcanons!! hope you guys likey

ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ (also is mostly relationship stuff but not all)

has the craziest sleep schedule like he stays up all night, falls asleep at 5am, wakes up at 8 am and just goes to school fine

buys you snacks from the vending machines daily

teases you a lot but is really flirty about it

probably most active at night and invites you out when it’s dark, he just likes how much emptier everywhere is

has the best music taste and always puts you onto his music

nonchalant dread head of japan

would probably sneak into your house through your window just to see you

says the funniest things with the most deadpan expression which makes it 10x

if you dont reply to his messages fast enough he hits you with the "why do you hate me"

he’s too honest sometimes and has a bad habit of saying things that are rude when he really didn’t have to

randomly tackles you and play fights

bros the type to pick you up and jump into the pool with you

does the bare minimum with all his school work

starts talking like you and using your slang when you guys hang out long enough

he’s the guy people talk shit around bc they think he’s quiet and a loner but he’s lowkey a shit starter and shares what he hears

slacks/lazy in most things but he carries you guys in fortnite

his bed is covered in stuffed animals from you, even all the cute sanrio ones

ur his profile pic online

i feel like he’d use discord and get paid as a mod on some server 😭😭

calls you stupid as a term of endearment

he can always tell when something’s wrong, like he can sense if something’s off with you

probably wears a lot of sweat pants

always smells really woody and fresh (yk like generic men’s cologne idk 😭)

very touchy, loves having an arm around you waist :3

allergic to drinking water, ik his piss is acid (honestly same here….)

his sister loves you so much

lowkey the worst at soothing you/cheering you up so he just hugs you

let’s you do skincare on him, he thinks it’s relaxing

i feel like he’d own at least one of those stupid tiktok fidget toys that he swears works but everytime he uses it he can’t stop laughing thinking about how stupid he looks

has a bad diet only because he’s too lazy to actually cook

burps SO LOUD and SO OFTEN like hold it man

has a tiktok account that he rage baits people on and reads the comments to you pretending it wasn’t him who wrote them (smh)

tries to teach you volleyball so you guys can kinda play together

i feel like he’d know a lot about the stars and like the constellations

i also feel like he’d really like coke floats (ice cream + coke in a glass) a lot for some reason

acts like he doesn’t really care but he cares so much

he’s only vulnerable and emotional with you

randomly attacks you with kisses

i feel like he'd know some really good unknown dessert spots all around town

i feel like hes an adidas guy

says out of pocket stuff on purpose with no reaction just to see you panic (he thinks its funny)

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Kidnapped Astarion

I have a very specific thing I can't stop thinking about. That involves Astarion getting kidnapped by Cazador for the ritual and him taunting him over the lie that Tav gave him away. Sold him even.

Tw: Lies, manipulation, mentions of torture, bad times had all around, it's long as fuck, betrayal (or at least the lie of it). Like Cazador is involved so all bad. Very bad. This also has VIOLENCE. Like canon game violence but it is BLOODY. You've been warned. Also happy ending :)

So now let's get to that angst:

It had all happened so fast.

One moment Astarion was laid back in the tent you share, reading a mediocre book as he impatiently waited for your return. He loathed when you went out without him, even if it was for good reason. He wasn't exactly welcome company when it came to solving Gale's problems, especially when it came to the bomb nestled in chest. You both knew his inability to keep his sarcastic quips to himself would not be an asset while exploring a sacred library. Besides, he didn't have much room to complain, not when he accompanied you on ninety-nine percent of your outings.

But that didn't mean he had to like it. Even if it was shaping up to be a nice, uneventful evening. He had set your tent a little farther away from the others, considering the complaints that some....well most had made about the volume of your nightly activities. It was quiet, peaceful even. The atmosphere tranquil enough for him to fully relax.

What a mistake that had been.

When the flap of the tent opened he didn't even look up, fully expecting it to be Shadowheart or Lae'zel coming round to dig about in his darling's things. It made sense, considering how it was one of the few times they wouldn't be risking walking in on something. You had such a bad habit with that "open door" policy of yours. One that had exposed nearly every party member to quite the show. Though in Astarion's view, they were just unreasonable. When you were both loud they complained. When you were quiet and they walked in on it they would whine even more. How could you win with people like that?

Perhaps a sign on the door would have done the trick, but Astarion would be lying if he didn't enjoy the others being fully aware of who could make you cry and moan. The risk was just more thrilling, if not the slightest bit annoying.

But the intruder was staying still at the opening, quiet as could be. It was odd enough to have Astarion glancing upward, his heart stopping in his chest at what he saw.

It was a man, frantically muttering something under his breath. A man that he recognized. The idiotic Petras, trying to cast some kind of incantation. It had Astarion scrambling upward, reaching for his dagger. But it was already too late. The spell was finished and Astarion could feel his senses start to fade away, one by one.

He had gotten sloppy, relying on the safety of camp that had never existed. And now he was paying the price, and what a price to pay. Even as he fell to the magic, one feeling managed to stay in place until the bitter end.

Terror.

And then, he felt nothing at all.

The next thing Astarion knew he was being awakened by a slap of cold water to his face, blinking up into horrifyingly familiar light. He immediately recognized where he was. The torture room, his arms hanging from the ceiling, his toes barely scraping the floor. It hurt to be suspended like this, a pain he was still so familiar with despite going months without. And in front of him was the cause of it all, sneering at him like the maniac he was.

Cazador.

"You're finally awake," He grinned, dropping the bucket that was in his hands, "You've been a very bad boy Astarion. Just what am I to do with you?"

Astarion wanted to answer, to curse at him, maybe even beg to just be left alone, but nothing came out. He was too stunned, too stupefied that he ended up here after everything he'd gone through. Everything you'd gone through. How could it end like this?

"I don't fully know what you were up to with all that time away from your family," Cazador continued, stepping close enough for Astarion to feel his disgusting breath on his skin, "But I think I may have the gist. Galivanting around with your merry-band of degenerates. Seems fitting."

Astarion gave a full-bodied flinch when Cazador started to graze along his collarbones with a gentle finger, his touch freezing and revolting. The gentleness wouldn't last, Astarion was surprised it was even there to begin with.

He should have realized there was a reason for it.

He trailed up his neck, stopping to trace a bruise you had left the night before. If only he had known that it was almost certainly the last time he would get to touch you. The realization was nearly enough to bring tears to Astarion's eyes, but he refused to cry in front of this creature, not if he could help it.

"Seems like you may have even found yourself a favorite amongst them. Tell me pet, who was it?"

"Fuck you." Astarion spat out, his fury managing to shine through his despair.

Astarion expected a hard slap for the insolence, but instead Cazador just laughed, loud and full-bellied, "You've gotten quite the temper since you've been away, haven't you? I wonder where that came about?"

It was a false question, Astarion could tell from the way his eyes were crinkled. Like a child excited to reveal a surprise. Cazador answered it for himself, "Is it that lovely little thing that you've been following around. Gods, what's their name again...Tav, is it?"

"Don't you dare say her name," Astarion growled, his righteous fury overcoming the ever-growing terror and dread, "They have nothing to do with this!"

"Oh but they do," Cazador grinned, stepping back to do one of his famous gloating sessions, "Just how do you think I found you? Luck? No my dear, you were given."

Astarion's answer was as immediate as it was hateful, "You're lying! You know nothing of them. Nothing of us."

He won't believe it, he has no reason to. You...you loved him. And you were probably looking for him as they spoke. You would never betray anyone like this, least of all him.

But Cazador remained unphased. If anything he was looking at him with pity, "Oh you poor thing. You think she cares? You think she loves you? I'm disappointed Astarion, it seems you've learned nothing from our time together. What is there to love, hm? Nothing that I can see. Though...they sure did seem to love the gold. You fetch quite the high price my dear. But it will be worth it."

Lies. It was all lies. It had to be. Astarion shoved his uncertainty back down, bellowing out, "Liar!"

It was forceful enough to even make Cazador falter for the briefest of moments, a split second that anyone else would have missed. But he pressed on, shaking his head, "Darling, don't you find it strange that you were all alone that day? That no one came to your aid? Where do you think you're love was, hm? Wait, don't tell me. I can remember...ah yes! With Gale, correct?"

Astarion swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. How...how did he know that?

"It was a fabulous excuse, was it not?" Cazador continued with a laugh, "We came up with that one together. After a little fun that is. I can see why you fell for their treachery Astarion, they are quite lovely, aren't they?"

No. No, no, no.

"Stop it," Astarion hissed, "Shut your mouth. I-It's not true."

"Oh but it is. I'm not sure if you're aware but you're quite the headache darling, not many can handle it. Not including myself. She even told me of that hilarious speech you gave. About wanting something real. It was just as funny to her as it was to me."

Astarion stared at him, at a complete loss for words. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. But...how else would he know that? In a camp full of people why did no one come to his aid? But the cruelty of it all...it was exactly the type of thing Cazador was versed in.

Setting up the same type of trap that he'd trained Astarion for, that he had used on others countless times. And he fell for it, he lost the game he thought he'd mastered.

His faith was slipping, hard and fast when he asked the horrible question, "How do you know that?"

"Because I sent them to you," He said with that disgusting grin, "It was no coincidence that you met. You were kidnapped, I needed you back, so I hired some help. It's a pity that they were captured as well. The pause to our plans was quite inconvenient. Our Tav just can't help but get distracted, can she?"

"No..." The word slipped out of Astarion without his consent, his mind racing. That couldn't be true. It didn't make sense. T-There had to be another explanation. If he could just think he'd find it. But...what point was there? He was already captured, taken. If anything, all of this being a grand scheme from Cazador was more logical than someone loving him.

He had gone through many, many tortures during his time here. Unspeakable, horrible things that he would never wish on anyone, excluding the man in front of him. But this...this was the worst thing he'd ever done to him. He had tricked him, you had tricked him, and he whole-heartedly fell for it, like the fool he was. The fool he would die as.

He didn't know it was possible, but this would be the greatest pain he ever knew. He was sure of that. Cazador had managed to do it. He had broken him, finally.

His tears were falling on their own accord, plentiful and pathetic. Cazador cooed at him, tracing his cheek with his horrid hand, "It hurts, doesn't it? I missed that expression on you my boy. You were always at you're prettiest when you had given up."

He wiped Astarion's tears away, gently holding his face as he spoke, "If only this was enough. The things I want to do to you for running away... I want to make you scream, make you beg for death. Just like how things used to be. If only we had the time."

Cazador let go, stepping back with a sigh, "How I wish that they had gotten you to me earlier. Though it's too late to pout about it now, the preparations are almost complete. But don't fret my boy, your end will have the meaning that your life failed to posses. Come along now."

Astarion hung there, limp as Cazador unhooked him from above. This was it. He was going to die here, as nothing but a pawn. He didn't even try to fight it when he was led down, deep into the palace to a place he'd never known existed. He kept his eyes closed for most of the journey, simply for the fact that he didn't have the strength to keep them open.

It was...a horrendous feeling to be incased in that red energy, floating in the air with all of his brothers and sisters as Cazador finished his preparations. It forced his eyes open against his will, making him see the hell that had been hiding beneath his feet all these years. He had been wrong about the sacrifice it seemed, it wasn't just them. There were thousands of bodies, barely alive in hanging cages, strewn throughout the place.

It was horrible, but fitting. Where else would something like him die? All he wished was that Cazador would hurry, so he could be done with it all. He has to much time to think in these last moments, too much time to examine your betrayal.

He...hates you. For it all. He hates you more than anything, enough for that same fury to come bubbling back to the surface. How dare you do this to him, after everything you'd been through. He should have killed you while you slept, while you let him drink from your throat. He should have killed them all, the vile sacks of shit.

If his soul ever found it's way back from the hell it was about to be damned too, he'd find you. His revenge was no longer reserved for Cazador, but for the wretched bitch hat tortured him in ways he didn't even think were possible. He'd do worse to you than anyone could imagine.

You were the cruelest thing to ever exist, as heartless and horrid as the monster before him.

So why was he still crying over it?

It didn't matter anyway. Not now. Now, all he could do was wait for the bitter end.

But then...he felt something. A familiar presence tickling the back of his mind. A barely there whisper, no words that he could make out. But it was getting stronger. Clearer.

It...it was you. Calling out to him with your illithid connection, begging for an answer.

My love, where are you? Astarion please, please tell me your there. Help me find you.

He can scarcely believe it. But he wasn't going to wait for his emotions to catch up to what could be an escape. He was screaming in his brain, trying to send out any signal that he could.

I'm here. I'm here. Don't let him take me. Please.

He could hear you in his head, the sheer relief from your mind nearly overwhelming, I'm coming. Hold on, I'm coming.

Astarion didn't even have the time to doubt. Because the next moment you were bursting through the ornate doors, nearly your entire team in tow.

Astarion had never seen you look the way you did then. He was so used to your kindness, the warmth and light that you tried to spread everywhere you went. You were always smiling, always laughing, always trying to share the same with others.

But now you were breathing hard, near feral in your posture as your eyes darted around, landing straight to the shocked Cazador. You looked murderous, vicious enough to send a shiver down Astarion's spine. Your teeth were bared, your whole body trembling with rage as you started to advance, weapons already drawn.

And in that moment Astarion was sure that you were the most gorgeous, perfect thing he had ever seen. Or ever would.

It was brutal, bloody battle. One that ended with you slitting Cazador's throat as Astarion watched in awe. You let the body fall to the ground, blasé before you finally ran to him, releasing him from his prison.

Then he was being pulled into the most crushing hug of his entire life. One that he was helpless to return. He clung to you, uncaring for their rather large audience.

He was too busy burying his face into your hair, breathing you in as you whispered into his shoulder, "Thank the Gods that you're still here."

The pain in your voice was so raw, so real. Astarion needed no other evidence to be sure that every word from the dead man's lips had been a lie. He was also positive that he had never cried this much in his life, but now it was a different kind of sob he was trying to choke back. The flood of relief was crushing, the truth that your love was real was nearly enough to destroy him all over again. Not for cruelties sake, but to make something new. To kill every last doubt he had that he was nothing, worthless. How could he be when you were here? When you came for him?

He pulled back reluctantly, smiling down at you with tear tracks on his face. He kissed your forehead, covered in sweat and blood, and gods knows what else.

It was all finally over. You both turned to the rest of the group, your hands clasped together as you made your way to where Cazador lay dead. It was satisfying to see, but such a shame that Astation wasn't the one to do the deed. A regret he'd have for the rest of his days.

Or so he thought.

But then you were turning to Shadowheart, your sweet face curling back into the disgust from earlier when you ordered, "Revive him."

Astarion watched, wide-eyed as she did what she was told. Cazador came back into consciousness, in what looked to be an extremely unpleasant experience. He was coughing blood, the spell doing just enough to mend his mortal wounds, but not nearly powerful enough to give him a fraction of his strength back. He stared upwards, his eyes wide at the sight of you lording over him.

And for the first time in two hundred years, Astarion saw fear in the other man's eyes. Wonderfully delicious fear.

He felt you squeeze his hand as he stared at him, speaking quietly, "He's yours. To do with what you please. Do...do you want us here for this?"

He could hear the hidden meaning in your words. This wasn't just a choice of what to do with him. It was a choice of what to do with them all. He had taken notice that he was the only one that you had freed, his brethren still suspended in air.

He turned to you, his voice strong for the first time since he'd come back to this pit, "I want you here for this."

You nodded before looking back to the others to tell them to wait outside. They did so reluctantly, obviously without confidence in his decision making abilities. He ignored the especially worried look Karlach sent his way, too focused on the piece of vampiric trash in front of him.

Cazador was still coughing, his mouth forming more vile words, "Y-You don't have to do this. I can-"

"Silence," Astation seethed, partly surprised when it worked to shut him up. But then again, he had never been placed in a position to see his master be the one without an escape, "Your life is in my hands now. Tell me the truth. How did you find me?"

Astarion could see the fury behind his eyes, the humiliation of being ordered around by his own spawn. But his desire for life won out in the end.

"Luck," he spat out, "Sheer luck. Yomen saw you in the city, at Shar's Caress with this one. He followed you, found your camp and reported back. I sent Dalyria and Petras to fetch you, gave them a powerful sleeping scroll to knock out your allies. And then you were mine again."

Astarion shouldn't have been surprised that he had the audacity to glare at Tav, seething, "Or at least you would have been."

"And my memories?" Astarion pressed, "How did you know of us?"

"The tadpole squirming behind your eyes doesn't change the fact that I am your master," Cazador said, "Your mind is mine to shape, to understand. It was more difficult than before, yes. But I had enough to know what to say."

Of course. He should have known, "So that was your last torture then?"

"Yes," Cazador said simply, a sneer managing to appear on his bloodied face, "And you have to admit, it worked wonderfully."

"You can kill him now if you'd like," You piped up from his side, staring down at the vampire like the trash he was, "Or...you can take his place."

You hesitated for a brief moment before steeling yourself, looking Astarion in the eye, "Whatever you choose, I'll be here for you. I promise."

Astarion nodded, weighing his options. It was so very difficult to not just kill him where he laid, like the pathetic dog he was. But then again...the ritual would mean endless power. Power that he could use to protect himself, to protect you. So nothing like this could ever happen again.

Astarion looked up, his eyes searching every last one of his brothers and sisters faces. They looked scared, perhaps even resigned to their fate. Just at the hands of another. Astarion hadn't expected the image to make him feel ill, yet it did.

Could he do it? Sacrifice them all, along with everyone else trapped in the bowels of their personal hell? He could. He knows he could. Yet...

He looked back at you, the only thing he had ever loved. The one person to show him a different way to live, who was giving him the freedom to be his own person. But... he wanted that person to be someone worthy of you. Someone who would make you proud.

And there was only one way to do that. Astarion let go of your hand, reaching for the dagger you kept at your belt before striding over to Cazador. He stabbed him with little fanfare, no warning, no chances to beg. And then he did it again, and again, and again. Until he lost count, until the body of his former master was mutilated, his chest nothing but unrecognizable gore.

He wasn't quite sure when he started crying again. He only realized it when he could barely breath through his own screams, every bit of rage, hurt, and humiliation that had been beaten into him coming straight to the surface. He sunk to his knees as he sobbed, tossing the knife to the side.

The whirlwind inside of him was too much, so overwhelming that he was afraid he'd be lost to it. But then he could feel it, you wrapping your arms around him, kneeling next to him as he broke down.

He clung to you, burying his face into your neck as he cried, desperate for your comfort, your touch. You were crying too he realized, your voice breaking as you gently spoke to him, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should have been there to protect you. I love you, you did the right thing. I'm sorry."

You had nothing to apologize for, but that didn't stop your words from acting like a soothing balm to all of his internal wounds. But he would get through this. Because for the first time Astarion knew, without a shadow of a doubt he wouldn't have to get through it alone. With you by his side, he would never be alone again.

He wasn't sure how long you both spent there, kneeling in a pool of his tormentors blood. But he knew he felt different when he pulled away, changed.

Free.

He cupped your face, wiping away your tears while only managing to smear the mess about. But it didn't matter that you were both covered in blood and viscera, not when he had you.

"I love you too," Astarion whispered, finally allowing himself to unload the burden of hiding away from you. No more of that. He was yours, fully and completely, "I love you so much. I-I thought that this was it. That I'd never see you again. That you betrayed me-"

"Never," You interrupted, your voice fierce despite how it was breaking, "I never will. You're all I want, all I need. I should have been there, I'm so sorry-"

"No more apologies," Astarion murmered, pressing a quick kiss to your bloody mouth, "No more. We're here. That's all that matters."

You nodded, kissing him again, so sweet despite everything that should have made it sour. Despite his own words, Astarion couldn't help the white hot shame that passed through him. How could he have doubted you, even for a moment? Doubted this, the most beautiful that ever happened to him. Never again would he question what you had together, to let his mind be poisoned by others.

But there would be more time for the two of you later. The rest of your lives if he had anything to say about it. But for now...you freed him. And it was his turn to do the same.

Astarion pulled back, sighing as he looked around the room at his brethren. They were still hanging in the air, all privy to quite the show. He freed them, forgave them even, despite every horrid thing they'd done to eachother over the years.

But that didn't stop him from clocking Petras squarely in the face the second his feet touched the floor. The other man took it well enough, fully knowing that Astarion was capable of much, much worse. Though he was well aware that Petras had been compelled to kidnap him, it didn't change the fact that the punch was very satisfying.

As for the rest of the spawn, the thousands trapped here, he let them go as well. Down to the Underdark, where they could at least have a chance of controlling their feral nature before associating with mortals again.

Then it was time to leave this wretched place, forever. He would never be hurt here again, never controlled. He was free, finally. And with you by his side, what else could he ever ask for?

[timewillpasssoon]

hiii can you write a joost x female reader angst? they argue, he yells/says some mean stuff but it ends in fluff? 🫶

HOW COULD YOU?

pairing . Joost Klein x fem!reader

content . angst, the dutch in this is from google translate so if its bad lmk, mentions of yelling, insults, stress, alcohol, eurovision disqualification, fluff at the end

summary . when joost urges you to leave the house on a cold night, he starts to regret not opening up to you in the first place.

word count . 1.2k words , 6.5k characters

author's note . quick question, are y'all interested in nsfw? just wondering, if so send some ask.

You and Joost stood in the middle of the living room, tension crackling in the air, geting thicker and thicker as time passes by. His words cut through you like a knife, each one sharper than the last. For the past hour you've been trying to get Joost to eat and open up.. He would turn away and say he's not hungry. He'll say he's not hurting. He lies through his teeth, he was hungry and in pain, desperate need of help. So why doesn't he want it You? You tried to get him to open up to you, but you just couldn't. Everytime an attempt was made, he would slightly raise his voice.

Then finally, he yelled, his voice rising in frustration. Your eyes welled up with tears as you tried to hold back your own anger. "I'm your girlfriend, liefde! I'm here when you need someone to lean on!" You wanted to scream it out, yet it came out as a whisper, your voice cracking with emotion. He scoffed, his anger still beneath the surface.

"Well I don't need you! I am perfectly fine, there is nothing we need to talk about!"

"Can you atleast eat!?"

"For crying out loud I'm not hungry! Just stop being such a bitch."

The argument escalated, each word a dagger aimed at your heart. Joost's voice echoed off the walls, the last word hanging on your brain.

"You just don't get it, do you?" You looked at him in the eyes, rage and empathy were the only two things you could feel. "You clearly are in pain because of the disqualification! Just talk to me- we've been dating for 2 years, for crying out loud! Yet you still can't tell me your problems? Wat een man ben jij." (What a man you are.)

"You can't keep pretending like everything's okay when it's not!" Tears stung your eyes as you struggled to find what words to say.

"I thought we could work through this together." You uttered out, your voice trembling. Joost shook his head. "I don't know if we can," he admitted. He looked down, slowly then turning to the front door. "You should go."

You shake your head, words can't come out your mouth. Your tongue is tied together and you don't know if you can untie it. "Joost- please."

"I said get out. Ik wil je niet zien." (I don't want to see you.)

Your heart was throbbing so fast it felt louder than him,.Joost is staring at the front door then turns to you, red puffy eyes with baby tears coming out from both eyes. His blonde hair was a mess. It was covering most of his eyes but you can still see the pain in them.

"Prima." (Fine.) You take big steps yet they feel like your still miles away from your destination. You go to open the front door, "I hope you come to your senses."

Those were the last words he heard from you. Before you walked out. It's been two hours since you left his house...

and frankly, he's scared. He kicked you out in the middle of the night. It was eight pm when he demanded you to leave and with each second goes by, its past ten.

He calls you, he leaves voicemails, texts messages.

Still nothing. Checked social media and there was still nada.

God he felt awful, the worst boyfriend in the world. All of this happened because he didn't want to cry in your arms. He really did want to let loose, reveal that everything is not okay.

Yet he couldn't.

He didn't want to burden you with his problems anymore. Joost felt like he had too much baggage no one wanted to hear. He thought that everyone wants his happy-go-lucky side. You jusy wanted his true self. The Joost that is willing to tell you his feelings.

He decided to call one of your friends that happened to live by the neighborhood.

"Hello?"

"Is reader with you?"

The other line was quite crispy, Joost can hear a tv in the background, sounded like laughter in the back, maybe a comedy.

"No, why? Is everything alright?"

Joost sighed, fidgeting with a stand of hair. "No, me and her got into a fight and I made her leave- I haven't heard from her!" He exclaimed.

"Woah, woah, deep breaths." The friend on the line said, "Don't you have her location? Check if she's near the area, I'll stay on the line while you do that."

Joost quickly checked his phone to see if you turned off your location. You didn't, you forgot to. "She's in the nearest bar!" The friend hummed. "Go to her, she only drinks when she's stressed the hell out."

"Thank you so much," Joost happened to be crying again, quickly grabbing his keys and jacket. "No problem, get get her." The friend hung up on him as he raced to your location, being around eight minutes away if he ran the whole way.

He bolted as fast as he could, petrified about your safety. Where if you're black out drunk or not.

Pacing to the bar, precious seconds going by, he finally made it. it was one of the least popular bars near so there wasn't any hassle to get in. As he walked inside, he saw a women with the same color hair as you. Your head down on the table with around two shot glasses, there was three more earlier, the bartender just took them.

He sped-walked towards you, careful and still just incase you were still mad at him. He tapped you on your shoulder, but you didn't raise your head up.

"Ik heb een vriendje." (I have a boyfriend.) Was all you said. "I know." Joost calmly answered, his accent triggered you to lift your head up.

"Joost?" He nodded as he sat down next to you, his hand reaching for yours. You didn't push away his hand, as much as you wanted to, you knew he was in pain.

"Why are you here?" You softly say. You'll like to say you ignored him but you couldn't. You were certainly mad at him, but he had his reasons of sheltering himself away. So you listened instead of scolding.

"Reader, I'm so sorry- I didn't want to bother you with my problems. I feel like I just have too much going on for you to care." You felt destroyed at the thought of Joost think you don't care for him. Joost was rubbing circles on your palms.

He continued, "Can we go home, I would rather we talk there."

You smile at the chance of him opening up. You immediately say yes, standing up to leave. All your drinks were already paid for.

As the quiet, yet comfortable, walk back home he held you tight. Clinging onto your left arm for dear life. He still felt guilty for leaving you.

All alone in the streets. You told him it wasn't a big deal, that you could protect yourself. Yet the feeling guilt was still there, on his tongue. The taste was horrid.

Joost unlocked the door, letting you step inside first before closing the door behind him. That's where you engulfed him in a huge hug. Tears coming back for the fourth time.

That night ended with a deep conversation, with cuddles on the couch along with some ice cream half way eaten.

"I appreciate you having the courage to tell me all this."

You muttered your sentence out, about to knock out cold, your body longed for sleep but you kept awake for a bit while.

"I should thank you."

He smiled, tugging you closer to him. You can feel his hot breath breezing though the right side of your neck.

The warmth of each other's bodies made you two warm. You still weren't ready to give up on him.

You'll never give up on him.

LETSGOO FINISHED THIS IN 3 HOURS!! part 2 of let me think... is in the works don't worry, i have two other requests on the way as well.

im okay with nsfw requests, even if its a bit spicy or all the way. check out my other account!!

[mygnolia]

A HUNDRED HIDDEN KISSES | s. jaeyun

୨୧ -› so, the story goes that you’re supposed to feud with Sim Jaeyun, with his perfectly handsome face, his foreign exchange student accent, or his flirty remarks. but the story has a plot twist; somewhere along the way, you fell for his winks and charm.

pair -› (BLONDE.) soccer player!jake x top student!fmr | trope -› one sided enemies to lovers | wc -› 1.7k | cw -› kissing but idk how to write two ppl kissing oops anyways downbad HORRENDOUSLY down bad jake here | library

the weird thing about a crush is, it happens unexpectedly. 

maybe not so unexpected- because your heart has an attraction to the lamest soccer player on the team before your head even tolerated him. you hated sim jaeyun and you swore you did- but maybe you didn’t swear hard enough, because at some point, you could see your sense of rational floating above your head before it pops like a bubble and disappears into thin air. 

see- you’re supposed to hate sim jake. he’s obnoxious and loud and always says ‘no’ in the accent that makes it incredibly clear that it’s him (and only him) who’s said it. and not just that- he’s become best friends with sunghoon in an instant. park sunghoon, aka, your study buddy since beginning of high school. so yeah- maybe you hate that sunghoon has started hanging out with jake more and you swear you always catch the new exchange student looking in your direction whenever he’s with sunghoon. he definitely talks about you, but sunghoon is as quiet as a mouse when you two study for exams- which is infuriating, and so unlike him. but there’s another huge huge problem. 

jake is probably the prettiest boy you’ve met in your life. 

he came to the school with shorter hair, but sunghoon’s ability to change someone’s entire look is blessed by the gods- and sunghoon himself was kissed by eternal beauty, so of course, when they started hanging out, you noticed the change in clothes to be more baggy, his walk to be much more confident, his grin to be sly, and his hair to be so much cuter when styled. you were royally fucked from the day you saw jake wave in your direction when he entered class, with a confident smile that you weren’t sure he only showed to you. 

and that made you all the more irritated with him. “I am not going to teach him anything, hoon.” you state firmly. “he’s like- the most annoying younger brother you could ever ask for.” and there’s a worrying look that flashes in the boy’s eye, leaving you confused and pondering on the way home. “why don’t you teach him art history?” 

“we goof around too much.” and you roll your eyes at his lame excuse. 

and yet another problem arises. see, park sunghoon knew much more than you did when it came to jake. he knew that he played soccer in his backyard before heading to school, that his dog was a border collie, and that sim jake had a crush on you- aka- the most unavailable girl ever, who’s never dated anyone, thinks boys (especially boys who play sports) are stupid, and has a hatred for jake and only him. so sunghoon thinks his friend is utterly hopeless, and wants to tell him to give up, but when sunghoon hears how the boy raves about you and how pretty you looked in class today, he smacks jake on the arm and whines to him about shutting up and to stop being a loser. 

“do you think she’ll like it if i dyed my hair blonde?” 

sunghoon sighs, “you could dye your hair any color and she’d still want to cut it off.”

jake blinks. “but blondes are hot, right?”

and that’s how he shows up the next day, making you shrink in your seat from just how much better he looks and how much more annoying that makes him. 

jake has heard about the guys you’ve rejected for liking you because they’re shallow. and jake sees how you scowl at him- but he’s determined to make you his girlfriend, so once again, he tells you good morning with that accent of his and that grin on him, and you mumble a good morning back, wondering why the hell he’s always trying to talk to you. maybe he still wants you to tutor him for art history. maybe that’s why he intercepts you on the way out of the school gates with heavy breathing after running across campus.

“please- stay after practice.” he begs you, and you recognize a fresh ocean scent that compliments his bubbly personality with how he’s run up to you and leans down to make eye contact. and there’s only one thought in your head, one that manifests into stupid words that stupid and now blonde sim jaeyun hears. 

“you’re so pretty.” and you think if an alien ufo were to suck you up into space and carry you away from the pit of shame and embarrassment you’ve carved out for yourself, you would embrace extraterrestrial life without hesitation if it meant getting away from him. “fuck, sorry, i didn’t mean to say that.” 

and fuck, his laugh his so cute when you hear it, so much so that it momentarily distracts you from the blaring truth that his efforts to look good for you have paid off. “you think i’m pretty?” 

“pretty stupid.” and you try to say it with malice, but it comes out small and he knows you mean none of it. “i’ll be waiting with sunghoon on the bleachers.” 

yeah- it’s safe to say that jake has never scored that many times against his goalie in his entire life. but his excitement is infectious, and when sunghoon sneaks out of the sitting area to meet his friend during a break, the latter knows something is up. “she called me pretty, hoon. like, she actually meant it.”

“are you sure?” 

“and then she said i was pretty stupid, but liste-ow! what the hell?” he stops himself when he gets yet another smack from sunghoon- except this time, his friend’s eyes are shining. 

“no way. she meant it?” and jake nods in earnest. 

“that’s why she’s been waiting at the bleachers.” and sunghoon fake gags. 

“you’re disgustingly in love with her or something.” jake offers him a lopsided smile and bounces off in your direction, afraid you’ve left now that there’s no one on the field and the sun might start to set soon. but to his relief, you’re there, with your pretty hair and your pretty face and your pretty everything. 

“____!” he says running over with his bag. “sorry for keeping you waiting.” 

you close your notebook, where you’ve done half of your math homework between watching jake pass the ball and scoring. and you’re a little irritated at how long it takes for boys to run across the field to practice soccer, but you’re just more worried about getting home safely. “tell me what you need. it’s cold, and it’s getting dark, sim.” 

“you walk home?” and he doesn’t know why he hasn’t noticed something like that sooner. and you nod, packing your things slowly. “i’ll go with you.” 

“why?”

“because i don’t want a pretty girl like you to walk home alone.” he says, changing his shoes. 

“i’m not worried because it’s dark, i’m worried because it’s cold.” you argue, not ignoring how he calls you pretty. 

“then wear my hoodie.” 

“but my face will be cold.” 

“then kiss me.” he blurts. 

huh? kiss? jake? 

“kiss?” you reiterate, staring at him like he has three heads. 

jake’s eyes widen in panic. “well you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

“it’s not like i don’t want to.”

“so if you want to, and your face is cold, why can’t we..”

“well i don’t know what it’s like to be kissed!” you admit awkwardly, suddenly finding the dirt on the bleachers much more interesting than the way jake is probably looking at you like you’re a loser. 

“it’s okay, i haven’t either.” and his confession makes you whip your head around, face to face with a boy who very much looks like he’s had a girlfriend- or a few. 

“but-“ and you’re definitely taken aback. “but you’re so..” 

all of the playfulness floods back into his grin as he unabashedly observes your every reaction. “so…what, ____?” and despite a frown overcoming your features, your heart thuds rapidly with the proximity between you two, and you can’t help but lose your train of thought when he’s so close. “pretty?” and it refers to your slip of tongue, making you scrunch your nose in embarrassment. 

“i don’t know.” your murmur. 

“you don’t? come on angel, you aren’t the smartest in our class for nothing.” and you hear the way his accent permeates every few words, and unfortunately, it’s just painfully unfair how attractive he looks when he chuckles and reaches up. “may i?” he says, and you nod, letting him scoot closer and grasp your chin. and you give him permission because you don’t have a reason to say no, and even if you did, all protest dies on your tongue when he leans in just a little bit more, and your eyes flutter shut, tilted slightly for your lips to slot perfectly against his. and your face burns with how much you enjoyed your kiss with jake, so much so that when you part, it’s not for long, since you place your hands on his shoulders and whisper to no one but him, “kiss me again.” 

and you kiss sim jaeyun on the bleachers for the second time, your hands pulling him close as you both enjoy the spark of the moment. and jake can’t get enough of you- it's evident with now the time you spend apart from each other far less in comparison to the time he spends with his eyes closed and with your lips against his. 

you pull apart with a giggle and a boulder of bashfulness on your shoulders, unsure of how you even got here with your lip balm smeared across his lips. and you’re one of the smartest students there, but your train of thought probably crashed somewhere the moment you could smell the fresh scent of his cologne. 

yeah- maybe you were doomed from the start. 

“let’s get you home, yeah?” 

and even though your face is still cold, you wear his hoodie and hold his hand to make sure you’re not cold anywhere else. “what did you want me to stay behind for?”

“right- art history!”

“i said it a whole bunch of times! i’m not going to tutor you, jake!”

he pouts. "still?"

reblogs + interactions r appreciated!

[qqueenofhades]

How do we not give into dooming because I mean, the media circus is not letting up on this. It feels like it's going to be the new 'emails' and the prospect of fascist america seems more and more inevitable by the day. Is every election going to be like this?

Look, I don't want to get drawn back into the Politics Discourse because I really only can take a tiny bit of it at a time right now, but once again: IT IS NOT INEVITABLE THAT WE ARE DOOMED.

Fascist ideas are not popular. Polls are bullshit garbage and were off by an average of 6 points in 2022 (remember the endless, ENDLESS weeks of RED WAVE COMING media coverage and then.... literally squat? The media cannot will something into existence just by talking about it over and over, no matter how much they try). Please do not allow polls alone to shape your understanding of the election, especially when Democrats have wildly overperformed and Trump has wildly underperformed in every competitive election since 2016.

We just had it all but inevitable that France was going to turn fascist/elect the National Rally fascist party to a majority in parliament, and instead the leftists banded together and kept them the fuck out (because fulminating about Revolution!!! online never works, but voting sure as fuck does). That did not happen. It is not inevitable here either. I am shit fucking terrified too and today was a real bad mental health day, BUT IT IS NOT INEVITABLE. Do not give up ahead of time. Do not think the media and/or polls can create the reality they want just by being extremely loud and repetitive about it. Do something. Give money. Sign up to volunteer. Check out my resources post for helping the Democrats. And repeat after me:

IT IS NOT INEVITABLE THAT WE ARE DOOMED. Even if Trump did win the election, god fucking forbid, America would not be fascist instantly overnight. People would and will fight back. He would have a really hard time actually cancelling or openly rigging elections and/or using dictatorial powers, no matter how much he would want to try. Take a deep breath. Log off social media. Repeat after me:

IT IS NOT INEVITABLE THAT WE ARE DOOMED. And there is never, ever, a moment where we can never do anything at all or where everything will just Happen to us without us having the opportunity to resist (and win). We just have to make the choice to do so.

That's all I got for now. Hang in there.

[steddiejudas]

STWG Daily Drabble 11/29/23

prompt: modern au

Eddie is harshly woken by his phone ringing at— JESUS christ, 4:30 AM.

The number isn’t saved in his contacts, and normally he would just let it ring or hang up the call so he could go back to sleep, but his brain is a little fried so early in the morning so he answers it like a reflex.

“Hello?” he asks. He can hear the sleep in his own voice and hopes to god this call isn’t something important that his slow, rough voice will make him look bad for.

“Robin!!”

A very loud, very drunk voice screams the name Eddie doesn’t recognize into the line. He lacks the wherewithal to really sus out what’s happening, so he summons every ounce of intelligence to the best of his ability to mutter: “huh?”

“Robbie I’m so drunk and my phone died. The bartender let me use his to call you. come pick me up.”

The guy is whining directly into Eddie’s ear. it should be annoying, should be grating to his sleep-addled brain, but he can’t help but think he sounds cute.

“Uh, hey man, this isn’t Robin. I think you got the wrong number,” Eddie says.

The guy on the other end of the line goes silent, and Eddie imagines he’s pouting over there, probably too drunk to remember he needs to speak into the phone.

“Hey,” he says. “You okay? Are you going to be able to call this Robin person?”

“I did,” the guy whines again. “You’re not Robin.”

“No, I definitely am not. I’m Eddie. And who are you?”

“I’m Steve. Will you please come pick me up?”

He considers this, chuckling lightly to himself. This Steve sure is trusting. Eddie could be a murderer just waiting for a cute boy like Steve to call him up, and he says as much, but apparently all Steve hears is:

“You think I'm cute? Wait, how can you tell? Are you in the walls or something?”

Is he in the walls? Jesus this guy really is ass blasted, huh. And Eddie can’t leave a fellow bad late night decision maker to fend for himself, can he?

“You sound cute enough sweetheart. sit tight, I'll be there in 15 minutes.”

“mmkay!” Steve sounds purely elated to have Eddie on the way, and hangs up before he has the chance to confirm where he is. It’s no matter really, there’s only one bar in the area that’s open this late, and it seems the bartender picked up on that lacking piece of information as his phone pings with a location pin a minute later.

It’s one of Eddie’s usual haunts so he gets there in 10, familiar with the route and aided by the complete lack of traffic at this hour.

He wonders if in the last 10 minutes Steve has forgotten all about him. He is just a stranger he drunk dialed after all, and Steve’s so far gone his short term memory must be nothing at this point.

But when he pulls up and enters the building, he sees the most beautiful face he’s ever seen alone at the bar. He hopes to any god that will listen that Steve at least remembers his enthusiasm about getting home so he can see the way that elation shows on his handsome features. The bartender who’s been babysitting, and appears to be forcing him to drink water, points to the door and Steve turns around, his face alighting with all the brilliance of precious gemstones.

“Eddie!” He shouts, throwing himself off the stool to stumble over to him. He nearly falls to the ground, but Eddie is there to hold him up.

Their faces are inches apart, and Eddie can’t help but notice the way his drunkenness flushes his cheeks, giving the scattering of moles across his cheeks a beautiful backdrop.

“Hey pretty boy. Let’s get you home, okay? Where do you live?”

“With Robin,” Steve says, his face betraying the fact that he really thinks that’s the answer Eddie needs.

“Mhm,” Eddie patiently hums. “And where does Robin live?”

“With me, silly.”

“Oh boy, you’re really out of it. Why don’t I take you back to my place, get some food in you, charge up your phone, and we’ll go from there.”

“Is food the only thing I'll get in me?” Steve asks, pressing in closer to Eddie’s grasp.

It startles a laugh out of him. One that starts deep in his chest and rolls through his body, throwing his head back and shaking his shoulders.

“Steve, you barely know me. You’re just lucky I happen to be a very nice, very respectful guy, who is going to

feed you and nothing. else.”

Steve pouts a little as Eddie puts an arm around his waist and pulls him out to the car, loading him in the passenger seat and buckling him in.

It seems Steve has zoned out on the ride, either lulled by the movements or, god forbid, incredibly carsick. Either way he sits in silence with his face pressed against the cool glass while Eddie lets him be alone with his thoughts for the short drive home.

Getting up the stairs to Eddie’s apartment is a challenge. It’s like Steve is doing his absolute best to go ass over tea kettle down them. Eddie braces himself behind him, hands on his waist to keep him steady, trying his absolute darndest to ignore the lines of hard muscle under his sweater.

Now is NOT the time.

They make it inside with little incident, Eddie plopping Steve down on the couch to disappear into the kitchen after fishing Steve’s phone out of his pocket and plugging it in next to him.

“So, I’m not much of a cook,” Eddie hollers. “But how do you feel about grilled cheese?”

No answer comes.

“Steve?”

Nothing.

Eddie peeks out of the kitchen to find a snoring Steve, sprawled out on the couch like a starfish. Somehow he’s even cuter like this. It brings a fond smile to Eddie’s face as he covers him in a blanket, tucks a pillow under his head and leaves a trash can by his side just in case.

It’s almost 5:30 now, and the exhaustion hits him all at once. Eddie gives the man sawing logs on his couch one last once over before going back to his own bed and crashing, hoping for at least another hour or two of sleep.

When he wakes, it’s with an unexpected sense of excitement, expecting Steve to be on his couch ready to have a coherent conversation and a real introduction, but when he makes his way out to the living room, Steve is gone, his pillow stacked on top of the neatly folded blanket.

He shouldn’t be sad about this. Steve is, after all, just a stranger who was drunk and couldn’t even remember his own address. He was probably embarrassed, confused, hell maybe even scared to be waking up in a stranger’s house with vague memories of how he got there. He tries to focus on that aspect of the situation, rather than his own disappointment. He does not succeed.

Eddie sits down on the couch, in the very same spot Steve laid his head the night before and wraps himself up in the blanket. He buries his face in it, inhaling the faint scent Steve left on it and wonders why he even cares. It wasn’t as if they had some big whirlwind romance in the span of the hour they were together; but Steve was so sweet, so cute, so excited to see him after speaking on the phone for just a couple minutes. It wasn’t anything more than a random act of kindness, but maybe Eddie wanted it to be.

It’s as Eddie is thinking it over that his phone pings with a message. Eddie groans, it’s probably just Gareth, or maybe the bartender from last night checking that everyone is safe. Though even that is wishful thinking. He checks anyway, trying his best to tamp down any wishful thinking until he sees the unknown number on his screen with one simple word.

[463-291-8275]: Thanks.

Eddie feels a lump in his throat, his chest filling up like a balloon. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say, doesn’t even know if it is Steve, but shit he fucking hopes so.

[Eddie]: Steve? How did you get my number again?

[463-291-8275]: Uhhh… i definitely didn’t try like 10 variations of Robin’s phone number to find the one number i mistyped when i accidentally called you last night

Eddie frantically adds the number to his contacts before texting back, thanking whatever powers that be for giving him another shot.

[Eddie]: Wow I must have left quite the impression on you Stevie 😏

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: you could say that

Eddie smirks to himself, trying to ignore the blush that warms his face at Steve’s words. He tries to come up with what to say next, how to segue into asking him out on a date, but before he can, his phone buzzes with more messages from Steve.

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: so i know this might seem a little strange since we barely talked before i passed out in a drunk heap on your couch

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: thanks for not killing me btw

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: but um would you maybe want to hang out sometime?

Eddie jumps up from the couch, pumping his fist in the air like he just won the lottery. then, like he’s just remembering he lives alone, he yells at no one in particular: “FUCK! YES!” There’s an angry knock on the wall from his neighbor, but he doesn’t care in the slightest.

[Eddie]: idk about that Stevie

He goes to reply in his typical teasing fashion, but Steve’s reply comes in immediately before he can finish the thought.

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: oh

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: i totally get it

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: last night was probably weird for you

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: feel free to block my number i’m so sorry

[Eddie]: Woah, slow your roll there big boy!

[Eddie]: I said I'm not so sure about hanging out with you.

[Eddie]: But only because I’d rather take you out on a date

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: oh

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: Oh!

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: date! yes! date is good

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: i’d love to go on a date!

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: better even

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: i was fighting demons trying not to kiss you in the car last night

Eddie has to set his phone down so he doesn’t throw it to the ground and shatter it, opting instead to fist his hands in the pillow Steve used last night and shove it in his face to scream. He has to regain his composure before he texts back, doing his best to keep cool.

[Eddie]: A date it is then. Can’t wait sweetheart ❤️