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s3thwrit3sstuff · 8 months

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❝ I WANT THE YOU WHO WANTS ME AGAIN ❞

Gojo Satoru x male!reader | angst, unrequited love, arranged marriage, some comfort, in the end, | wc: 4.5 K | not proofread

warnings: death of a parent through sickness (unspecified), cheating (gojo with geto), r! goes through it (lmao), megumi is rooting for r!

masterlist; part 1; part 2; part 3; alternate ending; playlist; au's and what if's

Perhaps at one point in your arranged marriage, you had loved Satoru but that’s all but vanished away when you see how he looked at Geto. Still, you provide comfort to your husband when he seeks you even if his six eyes (and soul) all bear to you that he does not see you. Satoru realizes too late that he cares for you - that he loves you. He despises your empty stare, he wants you back. He desperately wants you back.

authors note: i know i said i was taking a break but writing this made me feel a little bit better — cathartic almost. it's been in the drafts since last year anyways so might as well. (autumn leaves by bts inspired fic)

It seemed as though even the clouds were pitying the sight before it. Grey and darkened, they gathered to block the sun as whispers of doubt combed through the trees surrounding the temple — they reach your ears despite the attempts of your mother. "Now, don't you look handsome". She tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear, pursing her lips at the look in your eyes. "(Y/N)". Her hands grasp at your face. The warmth of someone's hands on your cheek jitters your brain awake, and your pupils contract back into focus. "Have you been eating well, darling?" For a moment, your heart squeezes at her kind words. It's been so long since another had asked you that question so sincerely. The tears well but your hair sways as you shake your head, urging your cheeks to form a smile. "I'm alright, mom. Just getting over a cold". She brushes her thumb over your cheek then presses a kiss to your forehead. "My son". You're pulled into an embrace and suddenly you're little again — clinging to her after she had bandaged you up from your training session. Your eyelashes darkened as tears slip past them, hands trembling as you grip her tightly. "My beautiful son". Eventually, the sun sets but the rain continues to pour. The sounds of the raindrops are violent, accompanied by flashes of lightning and thunder it seemed as though the Gods were angry. Angry Gods do little to scare your father. He gazes at you coldly from where your head is laid upon your mother's lap. Defiantly, you avoid meeting his eyes as you relish in the fingers smoothing out your hair. "Your husband will not be pleased with this," your mother's glare is reproachful. "Our son has come to pay us a visit, his husband needn't worry about him," his nostrils flare and he looks as though he's about to go on another rant about image, expectations, manners, servitude. But before he could, the shoji door slides open. It's one of the servant girls, her bow immaculate you could see the swirl pattern of her hair growth. "Gojo Satoru has arrived, Master (L/N)" She's addressing your father, you know because you are now Master Gojo. The air is filled with expectations. The rain does little to muffle it. Pitying her back, you rise from your mother's lap. "Inform my husband I'll be out in a moment" She bows deeper and straightens her composure to slide the door close but freezes as you address her. "Is my husband alone?" When her mouth opens to form the syllables of Geto Suguru your eyes turn to the floor. You're unsure if she's finished her sentence but find very little fucks to give as you silence her with raise of your hand. Wordlessly, she bows and closes the door.

"Ah, husband!" he slings his arm around your shoulder. His weight, his warmth, his presence — too casual it's an insult. You cared little for tradition, scoffing at it sometimes, but the way Satoru displays himself in front of your parents causes you to grit your teeth. Suguru shoes are in the peripheral of your vision, you will your gaze to the side.

Once upon a time, the four of you were friends. Satoru, Suguru, Shoko and you.

Those blue summers and warm winters as first-year sorcerers. Memories so bright and heartfelt others probably only see on movie screens. Then you were betrothed to Gojo Satoru, family stuff, expectations and duty, and everything the both of you roll your eyes at. A part of you had been elated. Blinded by the idea of marrying the boy your heart beats for. Sure, falling in love would have been preferred but despite the arranged marriage, you were thick as thieves. So, in your foolish daydreams, you'd sigh at the idea of you two falling in love. Shoko could only watch as your dreams crumble before you. She tried her best to be some sort of support — shocked when she spotted you smoking her cigarettes after a year into the marriage. "I never noticed the way they look at each other". Your words follow the stream of smoke and Shoko settles next to you with her elbows placed on the railings. "I mean, I knew but I just thought...I just thought he'd look at me the same one day". She is silent as you curl over the railing, shoulders jerking with silent sobs. "How foolish, huh?" She places a hand on your back, saying nothing as you wept.

Suguru greets your parents with more tact than your husband who is smiling ear-to-ear. "How was your mission, Gojo, Geto?" the way their surnames sounded made your jaw ache as you continued locking your jaw. Your husband is squeezing you to his side, like a friend. Satoru feels your shoulders stiffening and he loosens his grip to look down at you but you slip out from under him and hastily walk towards the car. "Young Master —" a servant gasps as he attempts to match your pace, the umbrella he holds barely shielding you as you feel your tears mix with the rain. "(Y/N)!" Suguru calls, catching up to you with his own umbrella and you feel searing guilt stab at your chest. Suguru had never been mean to you — he's been there for you through the years and despite your sudden avoidance of him here he was trying to ensure you remained dry. A clap of thunder muffles your sob, the only mercy the Gods are giving you, and you will yourself to pass Suguru. The car door is slammed shut in Suguru's face and before he can wonder the driver is driving off. He stands in shock, the servant that had been chasing you sharing his expression. Satoru tilts his head, hands in his pockets as he Suguru gives him a look of apprehension once he reaches him. Your parents — his in-laws — are apologizing. More so your mother. Your father's anger is palpable despite his puckering lips. "We'll get you another car, Gojo, Geto" your father calls for his personal driver

Satoru’s eyes — with that bright, heavenly, blue that put the sky to shame — linger on the fading signature of your aura. Suguru’s bangs stick to his forehead due to the rain and the sight of him alone has Satoru tear his gaze away. They land on Suguru who offers a furrow of his brows and so Satoru reaches to wipe the wetness away.

“Hey!” the action is rough, anything but romantic. Suguru feels like a cat being pet too roughly — with their skin stretching back and eyes growing wide — and so he smacks Satoru's hands away.

Friendly. Playful. Banter. Boys being boys.

Your mother squints her eyes nonetheless. She had heard that Satoru had been less than willing to marry. Her husband had thought it was his hubris but bowed until his forehead met the floor of the Gojo clan’s home. Their name was no laughing matter — a strong line of curse users much like the Zenin’s.

But Gojo Satoru was sought after by many the second he turned 16 — the marriage proposals flooded in like a tsunami.

He refused them all. Except the (L/N)'s.

She had thought it was the dowery. Perhaps, even the fact that an alliance would soothe whatever ill tides their clans had once had. Or maybe it really was just a stroke of luck her son got along so well with Satoru while attending Jujutsu High (her husband had enrolled (Y/N) only when he heard whispers of Satoru attending).

But fear gripped her heart as Suguru tugged on Satoru’s ear.

Had he accepted...just so he could remain close to his true love?

“I’m sorry”. You pause the wiping motion, delicately lifting your head as your mother’s cloudy gaze floats aimlessly in the room. You were used to her nonsensical speeches, her random bursts of conversations and weepy apologies. It's been a year since the sickness unexpectedly came over her and you suppose that is what most people do when they’re close to death's door. Confessions of this and that just shooting out in a weak attempt to right old wrongs.

“Nothing to be sorry for, mother”. She places a hand over yours and squeezes. How frail. When has your mother looked so frail?

“Come home, be a (L/N) again”, confusion contorts your face. “Mother, whatever you’ve heard is all unfounded. Rumours. Father has dealt with them”, despite her fragility her fingers squeeze your wrists so tightly it forces your own to release the damp cloth.

“Then say that to me. Look into my eyes and tell me that bastard husband of yours is better than mine, that he’s not off loving another while you rot here”.

Colour bleeds into those lifeless eyes. She feels that same squeeze she felt when she saw Satoru wipe away the rain from Suguru’s skin rather than your tears just a year ago.

Just as quickly as they appear, that dullness returns in your eyes and she reaches to hold your face but you stand.

“Father is cheating on you?”

She’s lost you.

You walk to dip the cloth into the bowl, and your shoulders are too heavy for a 17-year-old boy. Her precious son, so forlorn and withdrawn; humiliated by the society he was in for being inadequate and unworthy.

Perhaps she deserved those titles, sick and bedridden and dying, it was no surprise that her husband is seen courting younger ladies. But not you, not her son.

“He’s no shame, you know your father. His pride comes before all”. It elicits a dry chuckle from you.

Then you suppose Satoru had more in common with your father than you knew.

The Star Plasma vessel incident, you can't believe it's been a year.

A year after that man that killed that Amanai and Kuroi and Satoru.

You remembered dropping to your knees as he admitted it out loud with such an ugly smile, shaking your head in disbelief as anger swelled within you.

Before you could even think, even grieve and rage, Geto had beaten you to it. As you looked at him with his anger so visceral it came off of him in waves you felt your torn heart crumble into pieces. It felt good to dish out that anguish on Fushiguro Toji even if you ended up eating dirt.

“Wasn’t he your husband?” Toji placed his foot on your neck. “Damn, he treats you that badly or something? This freak put up a better fight”, that day you had surprised Toji by smiling with your teeth all bloody.

“He did, didn’t he?” Your laughter bubbles and you choke on your own blood.

Toji knocked you out after a scoff.

That still wouldn’t have killed you as much. The torn pieces of your heart were still salvageable.

But then.

Then.

As Satoru came back. Warm and alive. Bloody but grinning. He did not race to you, he did not even look at you. To his credit, he simply stood there with his arms wide open.

But then.

Then.

Geto’s the one to race into them.

Ah.

Right.

Shoko was shocked to see you in her smoking spot. She hadn’t even seen you as Satoru was whisked away by the Gojo clan, only spotting Suguru following along. None had wondered where Satoru's husband was; Suguru was always next to him, so there was no void that one could spot.

“Are you alright?”

The darkness in your eyes makes her flinch.

You were dead.

She’s been around enough of death and you were dead.

Your once warm, cheerful, eyes now devoid of anything.

She held you as you cried, not knowing what more she could say to help you.

“Leave me alone”, Satoru is under the covers. He has been for days now.

Grieving.

Grieving Geto.

“Husband”, you coax. It was once a funny joke. The laughter you shared as the both of you exchanged formal titles of your marriage. It hurt to know that it truly was a joke for Satoru - not for you.

Satoru grits his teeth. His eyes were rimmed red, he himself was surprised they weren’t swelled up. His throat was scratchy, his skin uncomfortable and untended from his refusal to get up. His hair was tousled, unkept and disarrayed. It's been a week since Geto's betrayal and Satoru had been laid in your bed, burying himself under the blankets and deeper into the mattress; as if determined to be buried with his sadness and anger.

“Husband," he feels your hands on his shoulder. You know him by his shape alone. If you closed your eyes you could trace the curves that made up Satoru; even if it killed you slowly, your love was a loyal curse.

“Don’t call me that!” he raises in a grand move. The covers flew and his voice was in a yell. His glare was spine-chilling but they faltered as he saw the outfit you were.

“What should I call you then, Satoru?”

He takes you in, frowns deepening at the awful way his name sounds as you call for him. Not like his Suguru; his one and only.

“What the hell are you wearing, (Y/N)?”

He feels awful as you answer: “Funeral garbs. My mother has passed”.

There’s some satisfaction that paints your features as he is rendered speechless.

“What? How?”

“She was sick”. As he sits there with nothing to say you move to kneel in front of him. Your touch shocks him to reality. He pulls his shirt down, hoping you haven’t seen the hickeys Suguru had left on him before he decided to massacre that village.

You had. You’ve seen all of it. The lingering scent of Geto on his clothes, the hair ties on his wrist, the love bites that mottle his pale skin. Satoru may have those six heavenly eyes but he seemed so blind when it came to you.

The way he grimaces each time you’ve said his name now.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll help you wash up, Gojo”. He’d be an idiot to have not noticed that switch. Guilt is seeded into him. He stops your hands but you move them with a robotic stubbornness.

“Stop — Wait —”

“I know, Gojo.”

Silence drapes the room.

Your hands carefully thumb into his heart and cover the seed of guilt with such care Satoru’s pulse doubles its speed.

“I know you love him. So very much. I know, because when I go to clan meetings, my cousins whisper behind my back of the two of you holding hands and going on dates. When you come back late after a mission to go to Geto’s room. Or when you suddenly have Geto’s marks on you and yours on him”.

“(Y/N) — ”

“But this is my mother, Gojo”.

Your voice wavers just as he clutches your wrists in his hands. Your head hangs as your shoulders jerk up and down, twisting and squirming so you can help Satoru clean and dressed.

You know he was in pain and your heart feels for him. He needs your help. You were willing to strip down so you could wash him, and get back into this disgustingly heavy robe all over again despite how nauseating it was to do it the first time.

Funny. You can’t recall ever being one with Satoru. Your marriage was never consummated — he told you that there was no rush, you were still kids. What did he tell Geto then? Did he tell him that he had never taken you in bed? Was he fervent in his worship of him? Was their love akin to a religion? Did they worship each others temples like devout monks? How funny. The first time you’d get to see him naked and him you would be the day of your mothers funeral.

“She was my mother, Satoru!”

He has never heard you yell before. Satoru is struck by the that revelation.

It’s been a year since he was officially titled your husband and he knew you longer than that. But this was the first time he’s seen you in despair. Heard your yell.

Seen you cry.

“Please, I know he was your one and only but she was my mother. Please, please, don’t let me face this alone, Gojo”

“(Y/N)...”

“Please, Gojo...”

Your wrists slip away from his loosened grip. Crumpling onto the floor, your forehead meets the floor and his feet as your beg.

"(Y/N)". How long had your mother been sick? Why didn't you tell him — or did you? Why couldn't he remember? As his mind races to collect any memory of this past year, your tears that wet his feet water that guilt.

Satoru says nothing as the both of you appear at the funeral. The haughty eyebrows and curled lips sting more when he's there — was it shame? This burning feeling in your chest? Had you said too much to Satoru? Now he was acutely aware of how others looked at you, at your marriage. How awful.

Satoru is not used to this feeling. As a child, the eyes that lingered on him were hungry for the prize of beheading him. That had been more comfortable than this.

This was scrutinizing. They gazed on you with pity, even with his body attempting to shield you, the whispers reach your ears anyways. Have you been doing this all alone? All those clan meetings that you went to alone, the ones he'd excuse himself from saying he had a mission while he spent the day with Suguru to make him eat more and attempt to nurse him back to his side from the Star Plasma vessel incident.

Suguru had wept to him, telling him how terrified he'd been at the thought of Satoru leaving him. Why didn't you come to him? No. Why hadn't he noticed you?

The ride back home was silent. Satoru couldn't believe your father had brought his bride-to-be to the ceremony, you quelled his anger by muttering that your mother had given her blessing for their marriage.

You're staring out the window. Had those bags always been under your eyes? When did your cheeks get so sunken in? Had you...had you lost weight? He ignores the way your fingers twitch as he places his hand over yours. Your skin feels foreign — so does his. He offers a purse of his lips, sliding his hand up your arm and leaning in to embrace you.

But freezes as you pull your hand away.

"Don't force it upon yourself, Gojo". "Husband —" his smile falls as your shoulders tighten, lower lip quivering. "Please don't make me beg again, Gojo."

"What do you think, beloved?" Gojo grins brightly, bouncing his brow up and down. You were seated across from him in some cafe — he had been telling you all about how good the crepes here was a week before. "About...?" He pouts and places his elbows on the table. "My theory?" He watches as you blink, once, twice, then a faux smile climbs on your face. You turn your attention back to the melting ice cream. "Your theory about Okkotsu cursing Rika because of his love for her?" He nods vigorously. "It makes sense, right? His curse technique activating after seeing that brutal sight, it binding Rika to him". "Afterall, love is the most powerful curse", you said. Gojo's animated hand motions pause. He places his hand back onto the table. He reaches for your hand and you squeeze your eyes shut but allow it. He hates this.

Not you — He doesn't hate you. But he hates this.

After your mothers funeral, he looked through pictures. As first year students, all sunny smiles and bright eyed. The smiles got more tame as the four of you aged. His hands slung around Suguru's more tightly — even after they bared matching rings.

Satoru's never seen you smile like that anymore.

He brushes his thumb over your knuckles. Your jaw clenches.

"I love you, my beloved".

"...Thank you, Gojo".

"It's been awhile, Satoru".

No. No, no, no.

Nononononononnonononononononononononono —

Gojo can't take his eyes away from Suguru.

He tries and tries and tries but he can't. Pinned by his onyx gaze alone.

Satoru's ring burns viciously and he curls his fingers into fists.

Meanwhile, your dead-eyed gaze seemed to intensify. Everything is muffled, it felt like you were underwater. It felt like you were 17 years old again.

Abandoned. Unworthy. Unloveable. In love. Always have been. Always will be. In love with a man that was never yours.

"(Y/N), you look pale", Suguru condenscends. At least, that's what it sounds like.

Hah. Was he envious? Did he think that in the years he's been gone, you've filled the void he left? Or did he know that you never did but he was jealous anyways?

Fuck, Satoru thinks. His temples feel taut as his teeth grit together.

Kento steps infront of you and your eyes widen by an inch.

How pathetic, Gojo (Y/N). An underclassmen protecting you from your husbands ex-lover's gaze.

Why couldn't Geto Suguru just die already.

"What are you doing?" Gojo is grieving again. You should be elated but you're not. It feels too cruel. It wasn't your doing, you hadn't had any hand in killing Geto Suguru but a part of you wondered if your inner thoughts had been a wish you put out to the world. Now, Gojo was without Geto and Geto's daughters were without their father.

So you felt guilt anyways.

It was more feasible competing for Satoru's affections when his lover was simply exiled. How could you compete with a ghost?

"I'm praying for him", you replied. Gojo watches as you prepare to do so, kneeled on the floor. His eyes are rimmed with red again and he knows you've heard his cries; so here you are, sacrificing your happiness again for him.

"You don't have to do that, beloved". You say nothing as your eyes are closed in prayer. Satoru kneels behind you, his guilt had 10 years to grow and now it was a willow tree, with its leaves sweeping the lake of tears it grew from. Your eyes flutter open as you feel his head in the junction of your neck and shoulder; he fit so perfectly there, just like you knew he would. He's crying into your shoulder and your hand reaches back to card through the shaved sides of his hair. Your fingers lightly brushing the shell of his ear makes him shudder and he circles your waist to pull you against him. "Don't pity me, Gojo". He says nothing and neither do you.

"Say my name". His voice so close to your ear has you shivering.

"Gojo".

He shakes his head.

"My name, please, please, just say it".

Your heart clenches and as you close your eyes a tear slips past.

"I can't replace him, Gojo". He squeezes you tighter.

"I'm not asking you to replace him. No one can replace Suguru. I don't want them too, I don't want you too; I want you".

"I don't believe you".

He laughs, the slightest brush of his teeth on your skin has your stomach twisting into knots. Your breath trembles and you squirm in his hold, twisting away and getting onto your feet to get away from him. He doesn't allow you to. He blocks your way, shaking his head as he holds your shoulders next.

"I want you, (Y/N). I love you —"

How long have you wanted to hear those words. Your heart wants nothing more than to soar. But your brain knows better. "No, no, no, let me go". He doesn't let you. Satoru wraps his arms around you and your mouth opens to let out yells, fists pounding onto his chest as you try to get away from him.

"I hate you! You fucking bastard! I hate you, I loathe you!"

Satoru holds you firmly agaisnt him. Holding the back of your head preciously as he finally hears your voice raised above that whispering tone. "I hate you! I hate you so much! Why do you keep doing this to me!? I — I just wanted you, Satoru!" Your voice breaks and your sobbing turns into wailing. His heart squeezes, chest physically hurting as you sob and yell.

"I wanted you, Satoru! I just wanted you!" "Why didn't you love me, Satoru!?" Thunder rumbles and as your yells quiet down into hiccups, rain muffles it.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)". He feels your knees give out and he holds you, making you lean against him for support. "I'm so sorry, my beloved. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, (Y/N)".

When he tucks you in to rest, he isn't surprised Megumi is standing in the doorway with his eyes set into a glare. Satoru wipes your tears away, sweeping some of your hair away before placing a kiss on your forehead. He raises to answer Megumi's burning questions.

"You heard?"

"I'm not deaf".

Megumi has his arms crossed. He was an observant boy. Being raised by both Satoru and you — he notices the overexuberant Satoru's confidence wavering every time you give him smiles that never reach your eyes. Tsumiki even told him once that she finds it sad, how you both seem to be so familiar but foreign to each other.

"But one time I did see (Y/N) get flustered because of Satoru", she told Megumi whilst on their way back from school. He looked ahead, sipping on his drink as a prompt for Tsumiki to continue. "It was during breakfast. (Y/N) woke up a little late because he was traveling around for clan meetings and missions. So he was panicking so much, he burnt our rice and stuff! But then, Satoru walks in and tells him he prepared our bento. He kept it in the fridge. All that was needed to do was heat it up, he helped (Y/N) the entire time and then he just — "

Tsumiki kisses the air with a loud 'mwah!'

"He plants a kiss right on (Y/N)'s forehead. (Y/N) was so flustered he just stared down at the sink. It was cute, he's definitely still in love, they both are!"

Megumi peeks into the room. The sliver of light on your peaceful expression highlights the content curl of your lips despite the swollen eyes you bore.

"...Don't mess up this second chance", Megumi warns. He turns and marches away while Satoru huffs, scratching the back of his head as he sighs. "I wasn't planning to". He really does love you. He does. He loves you, from the ends of your hair to the tip of your fucking toes; he loves —loved, Suguru too. But this is different, you're different. But his love isn't any less or more.

He loves you.

Whatever it takes, he'll make sure you know it until his last breath.

#s3thwrit3sstuff #reader insert #gay reader #male reader #male reader insert #male!reader #satoru gojo angst #satoru gojo x yn #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x male reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x yn #jjk x male reader

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necstasy · 3 months

Text

biting; blood licking; unprotected p n v; fem!r; & LEE MDNI 18+

lee sinks his teeth into your shoulder and the sting is briefly shrouded by the pleasure. you expect the pain to lessen with each rock of his hips into yours. you expect him to only leave a mark and then let your skin be. but the feeling of his teeth only becomes more prominent against your skin, until you’re moaning out uncomfortably.

“lee.” you try to pull your arm away but he holds it down with one hand. his hips are weighted as they press into yours, keeping your stomach flat against the mattress. “lee, what’re you doing?”

you don’t mean to sound as scared as you do, but your voice begins to tremble as hot tears sting behind your eyes. while you seriously aren’t sure about his intentions, they don’t feel lighthearted. he has his teeth dug into you with purpose and it hurts.

he’s scaring you.

lee may be skinny, but right now he’s strong. he keeps you at his mercy until he draws blood, and it’s only then that his grip lessens. he pulls away from the skin on your shoulder with a smack.

“relax, pretty girl,” he tells you, his voice smooth and sweet, yet as heavy as his hips. the image of molasses enters your brain upon hearing it.

“‘m not gonna hurt you.” he kisses the center of your tender skin and then moves the form of affection around to each teeth mark, as if he’s attempting to kiss it better.

he pulls off of you completely and uses his hands on your hips to encourage you to turn around. when you stare up at him with teary eyes, he runs his thumb over your cheekbone and cups your cheek.

“why’re you crying?”

your legs fall back open and lee lines himself up again. you begin to speak around a sigh whenever lee sinks into you.

“it hurts, lee.”

he leans down and presses his lips to your forehead as his thrusts, strong and firm, begin to push you up the bed.

“‘m sorry, pretty girl, i’m sorry. it’ll just leave a little mark, that’s all. let everyone know you’re mine.” his faded pink hair tickles your nose as he turns his head to kiss the mark. there must be blood still trickling out because you feel the warmth of his tongue on the spot soon after.

“that’s what you want, isn’t it? for everyone to know you’re mine?”

you nod without hesitance.

lee grins and you can’t help but mirror it.

“‘atta girl.”

there’s a beat.

“now you gotta give me one. right here,” he lifts a hand to point to his left shoulder. “a matching one.”

sensing your hesitance, he smiles. “c’mon, don’t be shy. here, i’ll make it easy for you.” he presses his palm into the pillow under your head and begins to fuck you with determination.

his hips knock into yours, allowing you to feel the bone of his pelvis as it protrudes. with each thrust, his cock massages against a spot that makes your mouth fall open.

“there we go,” lee distantly praises. he starts to go a little harder, if even possible. a little faster, too, until you’re making an embarrassing amount of noise and, like he wanted, you clamp your teeth down onto his shoulder.

“there we go,” he repeats. “just bite down, baby. you won’t be hurting me. promise.”

when his free hand begins to circle your clit with fast movements, you have no choice but to sink your teeth into lee’s shoulder.

you don’t even know if he was close before, but by the time you’ve drew blood and you’re clamping down onto his dick with the beginning shocks of an orgasm, lee shudders and groans as he cums up into you.

he’s murmuring phrases that you know are intended to bring you both down. he’s collapsed onto you by now, removing the hand from your clit and using it to stroke your hair.

he rolls over, pulling you with him, and circling his arms around your back. he strokes the skin there with short and comforting lines. your teeth are off of his shoulder by now, but you can’t stop looking at the mark.

it lines up on your shoulders, mirrored in nature, and you have the strongest urge to see it in a reflection. you want to see how your marks differ. you want to see the evidence of your identification on each other. you want to fast forward time and see how they’ll heal, as you hope that the marks will stay.

but right now, exhaustion pulls at your eyes. you want to take a shower, but you’re finding it easier to be filthy the longer you’re with lee.

just before you fall asleep, you feel the firm press of lee’s lips against your bite mark, recognize the exaggerated smack of the action, and hear his final praise.

“you did so good for me. getting better and better each time.”

you can’t question his words as your eyes fall closed.

#&. WRITING #&. lee #lee bones and all x reader #lee x reader #lee bones and all #timothee chalamet x reader

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urhoneycombwitch · 2 months

Note

reader hanging out at Eddie's house with him and it's all fine and dandy but their clothes are just driving them nuts. Like either their jeans are digging uncomfortably into their waist or their bra is just killing them and it's just nagging at the back of their mind until they snap like, "Eddie, I can't do this anymore."

which is a terrible choice of words to suddenly blurt out because now he's panicking like did he do something wrong? You just want to break up all of the sudden?!

and reader's like "No! please can I take my pants/bra off." because they don't want it to be weird that they're just getting undressed at his place (I figure this is probably early days tbh because after a while, r just walks into his room already taking off whatever's uncomfortable)

and Eddie's brain is spinning from the whiplash of thinking he was getting dumped to Oh! Boobs/Legs!

this feels very autistic!Reader coded👆😍

like totally breezing past the fact that you just accidentally delivered the worst news of your boyfriend’s liiiiife because you can’t THINK with how tight the band of your bra is

and while Eddie sputters and chokes on his words like “w-what?! what did I do? 😨” you’re reaching into your shirt to get the clasps of your bra off, sighing with relief as soon as it loosens

“sorry, not you- I couldn’t deal with this.” your bra comes out of your t-shirt sleeve with one smooth pull, like a neat party trick, and you dangle it by its strap on a pointed finger. “sorry, handsome. didn’t mean to scare you.”

Eddie’s adrenaline is spiked again but this time blood travels south, ‘cuz he’s taking the bra from you and laying it neatly over the back of the couch with a gulp. “uh- yeah. yep. sure. all good 😳”

just full staring at your breasts which are now way easier to see through just your flimsy shirt material.

and you’re like “well 🙂 at least you’re being subtle about it like a gentleman.”

#lmaoooooo #he’s trying okay #eddie munson x reader #lu’s anons #eddie munson #e.m. thots from lu #Eddie Munson x autistic!reader #autistic!reader

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dadsbongos · 6 months

Text

jennifer's body - z.maki

part of the jjk movie marathon event / movie selection

...

warnings - vaginal fingering *nerd emoji*, thigh riding, maki's the top as per usual, car sex, you're a whiny bitch but maki's into it, potential cum eating

word count - 2.2 K / rating - R

Maki detests a lot of things, but above every single one of those things - she detests being put on missions with you most of all.

“Eek!” Maki’s balance is hardly thrown off despite the way you rip her arm to your chest. You hug her close and push your cheek to her shoulder, “Please protect me, Maki!”

She snorts, looking down at you curled around her form, “You’re a grade two, you know? You don’t have to hide behind me.”

Feeling the impression of your lips molding into a pout against her, you ‘hmph’, continuing down the creaky, dank hall, “A grade two can still be scared!”

Naturally, yes. However, the degree of fear you commonly express makes teaming with you such a hassle. Though not necessarily because she finds it annoying.

Maki feels your skittish fingers dance down to hers, and she clasps your hand tightly. Her heart throbs uncomfortably at the idea of your poor brain all stressed and overheating, skin chilled, and throat too tight to speak. A terrible thing that is. Yes, she hates it more than anything else in the world.

So Maki walks just a pace quicker than you, ensuring she’s upfront. But no matter that, she is not the one to suffer this mission’s great blowback.

As if freshly blistering up from between the floorboards, a puffy, mushroom-shaped spore oozes from beneath your boot. Mustard yellow curd gushes onto the ground from each pore with a soft puff of orange gas into the air.

“Damn!” Maki curls an arm around your waist and tucks you behind her.

The particles cling to your nose, itching and irritating; they claw down your throat and paint over the front of your uniform.

By the time Maki has splattered the curse, you’re feverish. Still coughing up dust and reaching out for her.

“Are you okay?” she cradles your sweltering frame in her broad hands.

“Car,” you wheeze out, falling into her stronger frame, “We need to get outta here.”

Your thighs squeeze together, hips mindlessly squirming into the sticky leather of the backseat. Leaning into Maki, you take her arm again, breasts squishing against her firm muscles and pressing her hand between the clench of your thighs. Her palm digs into the meat of your inner thighs and it takes about 60% of your brain power to keep from humping her hand.

Pressing your face to her neck, you know she can feel the softness of your lips on her smooth skin. You know she can feel the hot puffs of your words, “Maki… Maki I think we should pull over…”

“What?” her cheeks go pink, eyes falling to you from beneath her lenses. Her other hand comes up to cup your cheek, it burns beneath her skin, “Talk to me, huh? What’re you feeling?”

“Hmm,” you turn into the feeling of her cupping your cheek, and your gaze finds Maki’s crinkled face. Eyes wide beneath furrowed brows, lips down in a frown, “I feel so hot, Maki, please- “ you jerk up, rutting against her hand, “Please pull over!”

The car doesn’t stop. Maki moves her hand from your cheek to press against your feverish forehead. She barks over at Ijichi, “Hey, pull over!”

You all jerk at the sudden stop before Ijichi shamefully restarts the car to more carefully move off the side of the road. He turns in the driver’s seat to look at the pair of you, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You think it’s cuter when Maki does it.

Oh, Maki.

You blink up at her lazily. Lashes fluttering. She reddens more at the movement, you like that.

“Maki,” you whisper, low enough so even Ijichi can’t hear, “I think it was an aphrodisiac.”

She looks away, pointlessly, to the back support cushions behind you. Her chin tucks close to her chest and you can hear the strain in her throat to whisper back just as low, “Can you hold out until we see Ieiri?”

“Mh-hmm,” you shake your head, thighs tightening around Maki’s hand and now using 80% of your brain power to not shamelessly grind on her, “No way…”

You need her. ‘Starved in a dungeon for weeks, and you finally see a fresh loaf of bread’ kind of need.

Maki feels something ugly burrow into her chest at the idea of Ijichi seeing you so weak and bothered. And something uglier arrives when she realizes it isn’t just because you’re an impaired friend - she doesn’t even want Shoko seeing you like this if she can help it. Looking over at Ijichi, Maki jerks her head towards the door.

“Wh-what?” Ijichi stutters out, head lowering.

“Get out!” she snaps.

“Yes, ma’am!” Ijichi jumps out of the car, slamming the door shut in the process.

Maki watches him shuffle towards the trunk and stand with his back facing the vehicle. He twiddles his thumbs and stares down the empty road. She thinks he might be pouting after getting yelled at. She doesn’t spend much time on the thought before you’re sitting up on your knees.

Her hand is (sadly) free from between your legs and you drop her arm to shakily place both your hands on her shoulders. You settle onto one of her thighs, arms curling around her neck. Your nose nudges hers and you press a kiss on Maki’s cheek.

She can feel how warm you are through your thin tights. Unsurely, Maki’s hands find your hips, “What should I…?”

You hum, moving to her other cheek and kissing there, too, “I need you, Maki.”

Her hands squeeze your hips. To stop you or ground herself, she isn’t sure. Both works, probably. Right?

“You’ll regret it later,” now, Maki’s hands try lifting you off of her thigh, “It’s not a good idea.”

“No!” you wail, nails digging into Maki’s shoulders, hips stubbornly remaining in place. You rear back to bat your lashes at her again, chest rising and falling with your gasping breaths, “Won’t regret it, I promise…” your hips lower on her thick thigh, she tenses below you, “I love you, Maki,” you kiss her cheek again, hoping to tempt her, “Love you so much. Need you so bad.

90% of your brain power goes towards not humping her leg like a dog.

She’s frozen solid, your feverish cheek presses to hers and you pray it melts through her icy exterior.

“So jealous of Yuuta,” you murmur, moving to ghost your lips over hers. They’re so much softer than you thought they’d be, and they taste like cherry chapstick. The kind that reminds you of cough syrup, “Talking about him ‘n’ how strong he is… I hate it. ‘m not stronger than you, Maki, but ‘m better than Yuuta,” you feel her grin, her body jolting to life as two hands find the sides of your face, “Just wanna show you that I’m better than Yuuta.”

“You’re jealous,” she ‘tsk’s, “but you’re the one calling Okkotsu by his given name.”

“Don’t be mad…” you fight against her hold on your head and purse your lips against hers, a chaste kiss from you to her, “I love Maki, not Yuuta.”

100% of your brain power is put into your self-control. It overheats your brain and Maki can almost hear the gears churning, smell the smoke pouring from your ears when you finally give up and rut down into her thigh with a shaky gasp. You roll your hips against her thigh once again to test her reaction - she flexes her leg and her hands fly down to your hips to guide your movement.

“Are you sure?”

You sigh against her lips when your clit catches sweetly on her thigh, nodding frantically and rubbing against her thigh faster, “Please, Maki? I’ll go totally crazy if you keep making me beg…”

She snickers against your lips, pausing to kiss you again while dragging your cunt over her flexed thigh, “Sorry.”

A pitchy whine is strangled in the back of your throat, the fire in your gut only burning hotter. Quickly unsatisfied with the dulling sensation between your legs, “Need more, Maki. ‘s not enough.”

Pulling back, Maki pushes up the leg you sit on, hoping to dig out the burning spores under your skin. She tilts her head, “What should I- what do you want?”

But you simply whine in response. Throwing your head back and grinding fruitlessly against her muscled thigh.

“Sorry, sorry,” she muttered, fingers abandoning your sides to dance up under your skirt, “So needy, you know that?”

“Hmph!” you lift your bobbing head to glare at the woman beneath you.

“What?” her nails bite into the snug, thin material of your tights. You gasp when the sharp pop of her fingers bursting the cloth rings out, she snickers at your doe-eyed stare, “They COMME des GARÇONS or something?”

Before you can begin jutting out your bottom lip and squirming off your tights by yourself, Maki worms her fingers through the gape and rips sideways. The warmth of her hand cups against your hot sex, the wet patch on your panties clinging to her skin. The sensation sends tingles down her spine. Down her spine and swirling around to her gut, swelling as you grind down into the heel of her palm.

“Please,” you lean down, pressing your forehead to hers. Heat fanning from your cheeks, and Maki can feel it. You know she can. You know she likes it, “Need you inside me, Maki.”

Her lithe fingers pull your panties to the side before running the pads of her middlemost fingers along your slit. Wetness glides down her skin, her head pitches up and her lips pucker. You meet her in the middle - soft and cherry-flavored - as her fingers slide inside you.

“So wet,” she muses against your lips, “I just slipped in, honey.”

“Need you,” you cant your hips down onto her fingers, “Need you so bad…”

“You really love me?” it could be teasing, but if you pry back the thickened, scarred skin beneath her uniform - you could feel that mushiness in her question. That softness of needing to know how you feel. Needing to know this isn’t a lie that some infection has conjured inside you.

“I love you!” her thumb nudges into your puffy clit, loosely swiping the characters of her name across the bundle. Fingers crooking up in an almost frenzied search for the little spot to put hearts in your eyes. You squeeze your arms tight around her neck, back arching and chest pressing close to Maki’s face, “Love you s’much, Maki! Wanna be your girl…”

She barely catches the admission over your whining moans.

“I’ll make you mine,” she juts her chin at you, “I’ll make all you mine.”

You squeal as she stirs the bubbling, electrified pot inside you, hips rocking down so you’re practically riding her fingers. Arms pulling back, you cup Maki’s soft cheeks and trap her head in place. Once again, your lips find hers.

Her wrist flexes with the force of her thrusting fingers, eagerly chasing the sensation of your velvety cunt sucking her deep inside you. The sloppy, crude sound of your wetness squelching out with every stroke inside your cunt makes her lightheaded. Her thumb quickens against your clit, and your thighs quiver on either side of her own.

“So pretty when you’re falling apart for me,” Maki rests her head against the seat, eyes lazily crawling along your form. She grins, wolfish in nature - like she could scarf you down whole if she pleased, “Really wanna be my girl, baby?”

She could.

“God, yes!” you firmly plant yourself against the heel of Maki’s palm, knocking her thumb off balance and grinding into the meat of her hand. Your juices drip down her hand as she continues to finger you in the backseat, watching the muscles in your thighs tense.

You’d let her.

“Then cum for me, yeah?”

A final press into your g-spot. One last nudge of your clit against her palm. Only one more peck of your lips to hers.

And you’re going limp, save for the unsteady twitching of your hips as the last of your release drools into Maki’s hand. Your head crashes down onto Maki’s shoulder, eyes drooping.

You yawn and Maki slowly pulls out of you, bracing her other hand against your hip to keep you from collapsing entirely. She settles you to slump fully on her lap. Her eyes stray to your cum, webbing between her fingers.

She wants it in her mouth. To slurp up the very essence of you and taste you on her tongue. But she pauses before committing.

That gas - powder? particles? poison? - could be contagious.

Though, if it were, she would’ve gotten it when kissing you, right?

But it could also be the sexual nature - the fact she’s ingesting your cum - that would spread it.

Looking down at you, your closed eyes and parted lips - if you aren’t sleeping, you’re definitely on your way. The heat is subsiding and your breathing has evened out.

There’ll be more opportunities later, she supposes. Mournfully, Maki wipes her sodden hand against her skirt before calling a shaky, flustered Ijichi back to the car.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #maki x reader #maki zenin x reader #maki smut #maki zenin smut #maki zenin fluff #maki zenin #jjk movie marathon event

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decaf-lesbian · 21 days

Text

RS isn't the only place in Brazil in a climate crisis and we need to talk about it.

the main thing i've talked about on this blog since last friday (may 3rd) is the catastrophic floods devastating my home state, Rio Grande do Sul, located in southern Brazil. it's an unprecedent tragedy that we won't be able to recover from anytime soon. but we also can't ignore what's happening in the rest of the country, so i decided to extensively rant about it.

over the course of a week, these historic floods have taken over a state the size of Ecuador, raising the levels of rivers and wiping out entire cities. i've said it before and i'll say it again: this is not natural, although some smooth-brained people might say it is. the last flood of this magnitude in my state was the flood of 1941, which was a result of 24 days of continuous rain, raising the level of the Guaíba lake to 4.75 meters.

the floods we're facing now raised the level of the lake up to 5.30 meters. and it only rained for seven days.

we all hear climate change deniers saying it's just the weather patterns, but it's impossible to deny the fact that human actions are changing them. we didn't have nearly as many torrential rainstorms here a couple years ago, not even in autumn (which is the usual season for it). yet, from 2022 to now, the frequency with which these occur have been cranked up to the max. i used to joke about how it rained every single week, but now it sounds less like a joke and more of a grim commentary on the sad reality we're living.

that's why, in addition to what's happening here, we really need to talk about the climate crisis in the other regions in Brazil.

the center-west and southeastern regions have been suffering from dry weather and a heatwave that has been going on for days (and will still go at LEAST up to may 10th). they are registering temperatures above 30° C/86°F, which means they are having perfect summer weather IN MID AUTUMN. i am not joking; São Paulo has registered an alarming temperature of 32° C/89,6°F, breaking the record for the highest temperature ever registered in a day of may for the last 81 years.

in the northeastern region, the end of last year was marked by an extreme drought intensified by the deforestation of the cerrado biome, which is crucial for maintaining water distribution. and this was basically in the countryside; the coast was the target of heavy torrential rains (and is currently under the threat of more rain). some cities registered an extreme and alarming 240mm of precipitation in just 24 HOURS.

and in the northern region and some parts of the center-west and northeastern regions, the number of wildfires from january to may is already the highest in recorded history (which began to be recorded in 1998 by Inpe): 17.421 spots. and the dry season in the biomes of the Amazon rainforest, cerrado, and pantanal HAS BARELY BEGUN. this is already a horrifying tragedy and it can become one of the worst catastrophes in the history of Brazil if we don't act on it fast.

ever single time something like this happens, scientists from all over the country (and all over the world) warn us of what can happen next. every single time, scientists extensively talk about the human actions that are directly and indirectly interfering with the environment. every single time, nobody listens. every. single. time.

and we still have time. we have the technology and the means to prevent this. and yet the government does absolutely NOTHING to help (hell, in my state only 0,2% of the budget was allocated to preventing climate disasters; an ABYSMALLY low R$50k, which is about US$9.850,00). everyone, and i mean EVERYONE, knows about the ever increasing frequency of extreme climate events. even the DENIERS WON'T DENY IT. this should be enough proof that we need to do something fast or we will irreversibly ruin the only place we can call home. but governments will always prioritize money over lives. always.

these disasters have always happened in Brazil, but they were far apart. this country should be blessed by god and beautiful by nature, like a popular song says. yet we are currently experiencing the worst climatic crisis we have ever seen here. and it will only get worse if we don't stop it now.

#sorry for the rant but also no bc we need to talk about it #i am so tired of this shit #climate change is real #and it's terrifying #brazil #brasil #rio grande do sul #climate change #climate catastrophe #climate crisis #climate action #environmentalism #environmental consciousness #awareness #edited the rant so i didnt put a keep reading tab after all #hopefully it isnt too long still #anyways #late night rants

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rileyslibrary · 1 year

Note

if reqs r closed pls ignore this sorry im genuinely so blind so idk if u were taking them rn, but can i request “the captain will have to get involved pretty soon” situation from that fic where a new lieutenant joins, overall just like a part 2 where price does have to get involved 😭😭 like ghost is just so annoyed with this man

Hey reader! 🍫 No need to worry; I don’t have a “policy” on requests apart from the nsfw thingy (i don’t know how to write smut). Whatever comes, I accept it wholeheartedly! :)

Synopsis: Ghost and the new Lt. get in a fight. Price handles the situation accordingly and nobody is happy.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader, Captain John Price

Word Count: 1,112

Notes:

For those who haven’t read Part 1, here it is.

Lots of swearing and mentions of physical injuries. Other than that, it’s fluff.

Want more?

———————————————————————

Yup. Unfortunately, the Captain had to get involved in the end.

Not just him, though; an entire room full of trained soldiers had to jump in and separate Ghost from almost strangling Lt. Wilson, or “Mr Toothless,” as he often referred to him.

Why “Mr Toothless”, you may ask? Well, Ghost decided to baptize the new lieutenant with that nickname for a couple of reasons.

First, he took your comment about Wilson’s fake teeth to heart. “If they’re fake,” he reasoned, “that means the fucker is already toothless and wears veneers to cover ’em up.”

And when you told him that’s not true since some people undergo cosmetic surgery to improve something they might have suffered an injury from, Ghost came up with his second reason as to why the new lieutenant is—or rather will be—toothless.

“Might have suffered an injury?” He contemplated. “Well, he’s about to suffer another one when I knock them out again.”

So, it was either “Mr. Toothless over there” or “Mr. Future Toothless one again.” Whatever the case, Ghost never called him by his real name, which started to piss off Lt. Wilson a whole lot. And that’s how it all escalated.

The breaking point came while at the briefing room, with Price at the head of the table and the two lieutenants seated across from each other. The rest of the team was strategically scattered around, avoiding being too close to Riley or Wilson. They were like furnaces, ready to burst at any time and burn you along with them, so you all figured it was best to stay as far away from them as possible.

Price was dividing the teams for the new mission: Team Alpha (Ghost’s Team) had to reach the target’s point by air, while Team Bravo (Wilson’s Team) would travel by land. The tipping point was when Price absentmindedly assigned you to Wilson’s team. Being Ghost’s Achilles’ heel, you were enough to light up a spark in the furnace. Wilson, on the other hand, was, in fact, a motherfucker. He knew that you, being assigned to his team, would piss Ghost off, so he turned towards you and winked upon hearing your name.

“Awesome,” he said, “doll’s with me.”

“Call them a doll again,” Ghost replied, “and I’ll make you as shiny and smooth as a Ken.” A threat that seemed nonsensical then but became clearer over time. And it wasn’t funny at all. See, Ken dolls lack organs, including a brain, heart, and, as Ghost hinted, a certain... anatomical feature.

And, as you stand in front of Ghost at Price’s office, tending to his cut lip and bruised eye, questions swirl in your mind. First and foremost, why is Ghost so obsessed with Lt. Wilson’s bones and limps? How was he planning to execute such a horrendous action? And how did he manage to leap onto the table and kick Wilson in the face like Leonidas did in the movie “300”?

“You fucked up big time, Simon,” Price warns Ghost as he paces around the room with his hands on his waist.

“He started it,” Ghost retorts.

“No,” Price shouts, running towards Ghost and inching away from his bruised-up face, “you landed the first kick, and then things escalated faster than a wildfire in a dry forest.”

Ghost sighs. “How is he?” He asks.

You look at him, shocked. This guy amazes you. All he wanted was to kick Wilson right in the face, and now he’s worried about his health.

“He is fucked; that’s how he is,” Price replies, “and you’re fucked too.”

“What’ll happen now?” Ghost asks

Price lets out a sharp chuckle. Not one of entertainment, for sure. Something that hints you’re both about to find out.

“I’m relieving Lt. Wilson of his duties in the field and relocating him to another position,” the Captain announces.

“Good,” Ghost replies. “At least he’ll be out of my business for a while.”

“Oh, on the contrary brother,” Price smirks, “he’ll be all up in your business now.”

You stop treating Ghost’s wound and turn to Price. “W-where exactly are you relocating, Lt. Wilson, Captain?” You ask, confused.

Price approaches you and wraps an arm around your shoulder, now both facing Ghost.

“I’m putting Wilson in the same office as you two,” Price says, smiling. “That is until you and him sort out your… issues.”

Ghost doesn’t react. He stretches his neck while looking at Price.

“You think I wouldn’t find out what the apple of discord was?” Price whispers at Ghost, “You and him either become best friends, or you’re both out.” He says. He removes his hand from your shoulder, adjusts his hat, nods at you, and walks out of the room.

You turn towards Ghost, who’s now leaning on his legs, looking at the floor.

“Look at me,” you command, “I still need to patch that lip of yours.”

He obeys and looks up. You sigh. As much as you trust Price and his strategic decision to put the three of you in the same room, you fear that the ball is now in your field. Juggling Ghost’s outbursts was something you learned to handle with skill and prowess. But including Lt. Harris in the equation is like putting two starving lions in a cage with an antelope.

“Why?” You ask, as you treat his bottom lip, “Why act so stupidly when you know it is you that I fancy?”

He looks away and shrugs. “He called you a doll.”

“And look where we are now, Simon,” you say. “Price gave you your last chance, and we get to have Mr Toothless with us at the office.”

“Won’t be an office anymore, love,” he mutters, “it’ll be a dollhouse full of Barbie and Ken dolls.”

You smile and lift his chin up with your fingers. “So, if I’m Barbie and he’s Ken,” you say, bringing your face closer to his, “who are you?”

“Oh, I’m Action Man, love.” He says and tries to wink with a swollen, already shut, black eye.

———————————————————————

Part 3 ->

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost cod #cod ghost #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #ghost call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mw ghost

2K notes · View notes

hrryshoney · 2 months

Note

girlie getting stressed or overstimulated and matty gives her foot, head, back, boob massage then starts fingering her<3

anon i think this is the greatest idea i’ve ever heard. yes, you are so genius.

You came in the door and immediately dropped your bag on the floor. A sigh falling from your lips as you kicked off your shoes and shrugged off your sweater. To say you had a bad day would be a gross understatement. Everyone at your job was aggravating you, and you couldn’t take another day of it.

You had to hide away in the bathroom earlier so you didn’t cry from anger, and now you just wanted to decompress. As you stepped into the living room, you saw Matty scrolling on his phone laid out on the couch. When he heard your footsteps approach, he immediately sat up. Putting his phone down, opening his arms for a hug.

You all but ran to him, immediately collapsing into his arms and wrapping your own around him. “Hi, love.” He squeezed you into the embrace, feeling you melt into him. He took his hand and rubbed the back of your head. “Everything alright?” Matty’s lips were close to your ear, and you could feel his breath fan across your face. You shook your head, and he poured before pressing a kiss to your temple. “What’s wrong, angel?”

“Oh, don’t get me started. Everything is wrong.” You let your forehead rest on Matty’s shoulder and closed your eyes. You didn’t care if you were being dramatic. You had a horrible day, and a horrible week at this point. All you wanted to do was turn your brain off and relax. “And my boss is a dick. I’m so over it. I need a spa day or some shit.” You chuckled through your sigh, at least trying to find some humor in the situation.

Matty pulls away from you, pressing kisses all over your face. “You know,” He starts, positioning you between his legs. His hands found their place on your shoulders, pressing into your pressure points with his thumbs. “I’ve been told I’m very good with my hands. Could be your personal masseuse.” You find yourself nodding your head already, succumbing to how good his hands feel on you. Practically melting your stress away.

Matty’s strong hands rub across the expanse of your shoulders and neck, fingers even coming up to massage your temples. You have your eyes closed, simply enjoying what he’s giving you. He flipped you over on the couch, straddling your waist so he could spot even more pressure on your back. Eventually, you ended up with your shirt lifted. Matty’s hands working on your bare skin.

“Feels good. Can you work the middle of my back?” Your words were muddled from your face pressed against the couch cushion. Matty could still make out your request, though. He bunched your shirt up even more so that most of your back was out. He got his hands back on you, pressing down with the palms of his hands.

After a while you felt his movements halt, and Matty stirring behind you. He spoke up, “Can I unclip your bra? Just so it’s more comfy, you know.” His fingers toyed with the clasp of your bra, other hand still rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. You let out an appreciative noise.

You nodded your confirmation almost instantly. “Yeah, whatever works. Don’t mind.” Your body practically deflated when Matty’s hands deftly unclipped your bra with little struggle. He pulled it out from under you, discarding it to somewhere on the floor. You felt like you could breathe again, and your shoulders were able to relax. His thumbs smoothed the indents that your bra had left on your skin.

As you lay on the couch, Matty’s hands started to sneak around the sides of your body. You felt his fingers crawl up the mounds of your breasts. He pressed lightly into the sides, the soft skin molding under his touch. His palms were basically cupping your breasts now, and you gasped at the stimulation on your nipples. His fingers skillfully stroked the skin around your areolas. “Pretty girls should never have to be stressed. Only worry you should have is my hands on your body.” Matty rolled your nipples between either of his thumb and index finger.

He squeezed your boobs again, and you moaned out beneath him. You could feel Matty’s strong thighs squeeze your sides at the noise you made. He continued to rub your breasts, hands occasionally slipping upward or downward. Allowing himself to rub your upper chest and neck, and the area right under your boobs. “So, so perfect.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your mid back.

“More, please.” You arched your back into his touch, the stimulation on your nipples igniting arousal between your thighs. You felt Matty’s weight disappear from your back. The next thing you knew, he was on his knees in front of you.

“C’mon, then. Sit up for me.” You obeyed, getting in sitting position on the couch. You felt vulnerable, top and bra already off as Matty was infront of you fully clothed. The feeling doubled when he began to slide your sweats off your body. You were left in your simple panties now, Matty not even paying them any mind. He started massaging your calves and thighs, then working his way down to your feet.

As he rubbed your legs, you tried (and failed) to hide the fact that you were squeezing your thighs together. Your nipples were still hard from his earlier attention, and he kept rubbing dangerously close to your inner thighs. Though, of course Matty knew. He was holding your legs in his hands, and he could feel the way your muscles flexed under his touch. “Matty, please.”

“What, baby?” He smirked, leaving in to kiss your upper thigh. You could feel the teasing smile against your skin, and you could hear it in his tone. “Need me to make everything better? Make you so dumb, only thing you can think about is me?” His fingers gripped your thighs harder, dancing closer to the waistband of your panties. You held back from bucking your hips, instead squirming on the couch. You nodded your head profusely.

“Yes, please.” You let your head hit the back of the couch, closing your eyes tightly. “I need it so bad, need you so bad.” You bit your lip so hard you thought it’d bleed. Matty’s fingers were now circling the crotch of your underwear. You couldn’t stop the mind from slipping out of your mouth. You were sure there was a wet spot forming. You whined through gritted teeth. “Please, Matty. Need to feel good, you’re the only one who gets me there.” At that, his thumb comes to press down on top of your bundle of nerves above your panties. Your hips grind up into his fingers, trying to relieve the pulsing in your clit.

Matty moves his palm up your stomach, fiddling with the elastic of your waistband so he can push his hand beneath your panties. You let your knees fall open, giving him access to the bare sensitive mound between your thighs. He feels the warm heat radiating off your cunt as he cups his hand on your sex. You jolt against the couch, and Matty lets out a breath of his own as he slides his middle fingers through your tight slit.

You squirm as he runs his fingers through your folds, his thick fingers rubbing through your slit to find your bundle of nerves. Searching to strike your clit so he has your dripping down his hand.

Matty can feel how slick you are, and he draws tight circles on your clit. His fingers feel like heaven, and you let your mouth fall open to let out the loud moans you’ve been holding back. Your body writhes as you suddenly feel another one of his fingers join the other, gravitating towards your hole. His fingers meet at your entrance, sliding inside of you to stretch you out.

Your hips meet the rhythm of his hand, meeting the thrusts he’s making with his fingers. The calluses on his fingers creating an even more delicious friction. “That’s it. Lemme fuck you dumb, let that brain leak out through your cunt. Shouldn’t even have to work, right baby?” He groans, letting his cheek rest on your thigh. The cool skin making you gasp as it comes in contact with your warm body. “Yeah, should just stay home and get your pussy stuffed all day.”

The warmth forming in your abdomen was starting to go throughout your entire body. You could feel the white hot pleasure permeating your senses. “Matty, please. Need it so fucking bad.” You stuttered out through ragged breaths, his fingers never stopping their assault. Your voice coming out as a raw whine. Matty’s hand pressed down roughly on your clit. His two fingers continued to stretch your hole. “Don’t stop, I’m so close.”

Matty’s pupils were completely dilated. His face was so close to your pussy, and he watched as his own fingers worked you to an orgasm. Matty blew out a puff of air from his lips, making you shiver as you felt it fan across your cunt. Your walls clenched around his fingers. “I’ve got you, baby. Breathe. Cum for me, let go.”

His words pushed you over, the gravel in his voice making your toes curl. Your orgasm racked through your body with a shudder, and you squirmed as he fucked you through it with his fingers. Your orgasm was pulsing relentlessly, and Matty’s fingers wouldn’t stop moving. When you finally stop shivering, Matty pulls his fingers out of you and instantly brings them to his mouth. Licking your juices off his digits.

You looked at him, surely looking like you got struck by lightning. He took a lot out of you, and it really was unwinding. Matty got off his knees, bending to kiss your forehead. You looked down at the very obvious tent in his pants, but he rubbed your shoulder. “Gonna go run us a bath, angel. Join me when you’re ready.” His hand came to your chin, pulling you in for a kiss that you happily reciprocated.

#matty healy x reader #matty healy blurb #matty healy smut #i just wanted to get this out tonight :)#bc i’m working on another blurb #and my wip (both gyno :))#so hopefully this doesn’t suck #but i lowk like it

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no-nameno-face · 1 year

Text

Auburn Thoughts (Pt.5) WITH AUDIO

[READ STORY FIRST]

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Pairing: Reader x Ellie Williams

Summary: With a hot shower, Ellie makes sure you feel better. Much, much better.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, minors do not interact. You will be blocked. Smut heavy, sub!reader, dom!ellie, Fingering (R!receiving), Choking (R!receiving), Praise, Commanding, Shower Sex

Author's Notes: basically just smut lmfao, sorry it took me so long to get part 5 out. I've been going through a lot of shit in my personal life so i wasn't able to write at all. Def in a depression but its okay lmfao. I kinda hate my writing in this but i wanted to push myself to start again, so this is me trying to get back into it. i think im gonna write a one-off next cause i really want to make an audio with ellie having a degradation kink... what do we think? anywhoooo... Thanks for being understanding. Love you guys <3

PART 4

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“Do you wanna hop in the shower?” she smiles before standing and walking towards my bathroom… turning to me when she reaches the door and tilting her head at me, playfully.

“Are you coming?”

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My body is on autopilot, hopping up and walking towards Ellie waiting in the doorway. My brain, on the other hand, is stuck on the idea of seeing her, exposed and drenched. Watching her body move through the water, seeing every part of her. My heart thuds in my chest.

Steam hits my face as I reach the bathroom door, slightly ajar. I take a deep breath and with shaky hands make my way into the bathroom.

My shower is blurred with steam, I see her silhouette through the foggy glass. My eyes trace her contours. They follow the lines of her skin, the subtle curve of her hips to the toned muscles of her arms visible even through the vapor. I want to engrave this image in my sketchbook forever, in my mind forever.

I turn and begin peeling off my shirt, then my pants. The pulsing in my ears is deafening, the tightness in my belly growing. As my clothes fall to the floor I look back to the shower, I see Ellies head snap away when I do. I flush at this.

Steadying myself, I walk to the sliding door and let myself in. Ellies under the hot water facing away from me, It's hard to peel my eyes from her. I hungrily observe her shoulders, strong and muscular, leading to her petite waist then the swell of her hips and, oh jesus. Her ass. I choke on my own spit and start coughing, real fucking smooth.

“You okay?” She turns to me smirking, my arms shoot to cover my chest. How is she so brazen, confident? I mean shit with a body like that I would be too. My eyes dart to her newly exposed skin, her small perky tits that sit perfectly on her frame. Then they quickly shift down her stomach to her… “Take a picture, it will last longer” she says with a sideways smile. My eyes shoot up to meet hers. Then it's her turn to explore me, I feel her gaze burn my skin and my cheeks burn in response. Her eyes leave me, turning back to put her face under the water. The heat in me is searing now.

“Your turn,” she says with a smile shifting so I could take her place under the hot water. I shift past her, feeling her nipples graze my back and my ass slide across her exposed skin. It takes every ounce of self control to not gasp at this small contact. The water hits me and it's warm, embracing. I relish in the feeling of it, pulling my hair over my shoulder letting it swell with water. Then I feel hands on my back, I startle at this.

“Woah woah, so jumpy.” she says with a smile in her voice. I turn slightly and see her with soap bubbles on her hands, “is this okay?” she asks.

“Shit sorry, yeah it's fine. Thanks El’s,” I turn back to the water, staring past the wall as her strong hands span my back. They shift down so slowly, she's paying attention to every part of my skin. As they approach my lower back she begins to circle over and around my hip bones, hands resting on my stomach. I wonder if she could feel the inferno I was radiating. Her hands went up my abbs circling the bubbles over my skin, now tracing under my boobs. I feel her body gently press against mine, I sharply inhale at the feeling of her skin flush with my own.

“Can I?” she whispers into my neck, her breath and gentle touch sending chills down my spine.

“Yes,” I sigh, barely audible. Then her hands, and the suds, are massaging my tits. My head tilts back onto her shoulder and I close my eyes as a small sound escapes my lips. She chuckles lightly at this.

“You're so easy to please,” her finger flips over my nipple and I jolt slightly at this. A curse spills from under my now heavy breathing. After a moment of her playing with me she firmly turns me so I am pressed against the wall of the shower. It's cold against my back, the sudden sensation is shocking. Thrilling. I look up at her through my lashes, lust radiating in my eyes. They are met with devious amusement.

Pinning me with one arm she traces the other hand across my collar, then down my sternum. She watches her hand make art on my skin. I close my eyes, relishing in the feeling of her fingers on me, gentle as a butterfly wing. Her fingers trace down and circle my navel, then lower. My eyes open, nervous and they are met with green. Begging for permission. I smile at her shyly and shift slightly making myself a bit more open for her taking. A silent yes.

She bites at her lip, her gaze darkens slightly and suddenly she's there, her fingers sliding through my slick, feeling me. My eyes shoot close at this unfamiliar contact. They run through my folds slowly then back to the top hitting my clit softly, I gasp at this. My hands grab at her, any part of her I can grab.

[START OF AUDIO]

“No one’s ever touched you like this?” she questions, I can hear the smirk on her tongue. She circles my clit with her fingers and my responding sounds are her answer.

“You’re so Innocent…” she sighs. Then slowly begins tracing back down my folds, my eyes open at the change in sensation searching for her, I'm met with darkness.

“Makes me want to wreck you.” suddenly her finger is pushing into me, i feel my walls tight around her. She pulls it out slightly and thrusts it back into me, firmly.

“F.. fuck! Oh my… Oh…” she's going in and out now, curving her finger into me, it's a feeling I've never known but one I never want to stop. The sounds are graphic, I feel myself soaking her knuckles as she lays into me.

“Does that feel good?” She asks knowing full well it does. She just wants to hear me say it. I can't get the words out. Her finger withdraws from me and she crooks her head, demanding a response.

“Yes! Yes it feels.. Feels so.. So good..” I say begging her to continue. I look at her with big eyes. “Please, please keep going.” she smiles at me, so ready for her taking. So eager for more. This time there's a soft stretch as she pushes two fingers into me, hitting my spongy spot sending moans from my mouth into the acoustics of the shower, they echo off the walls. She moves them at a slow firm pace. Harder. Deeper. My hips subconsciously rock into her hand, helping her reach further into me.

“You're doing amazing,” she smirks before her lips dip into my neck, kissing and licking the sensitive skin. My hands tangle in her hair, pulling lightly as they fumble through her locks. “Taking my fingers so well.” she whispers against my skin, her hot breath branding my skin. Her lips return with a gentle kiss, then a soft bite.

“Mmm… El’s” I say pulling her closer into me.

“Do you want me to go faster?” she pulls back and looks at me, one eyebrow raised. My eyes are wide watching hers,

“Yes,” I plea. Her eyes don't leave mine as her fingers pick up in tempo, my slick sounds now louder than the shower water hitting the floor. Her gaze is drunk with lust, pleased with the power she has over my body. I feel myself quake against her fingers, she feels it too.

“You like that?” she says, her free hand skimming up my torso, running over my erect nipples until her hand rests on the throat. She squeezes lightly, pushing my head back into the shower wall. Hot water trickles down my face, the pressure making me a bit lightheaded, I feel my eyes roll back.

“Yeah you do,” she sighs, tilting her head in amusement. Her assault on my cunt is ruthless, the rhythm, unbearable. My vision is turning blurry, with the stunted airflow. It's pure euphoria, but suddenly her grip on the throat loosens.

My hands shoot to her arm and pull her hand back to its place. Firmer than before, long fingers wrapped around the span of my throat. She huffs at this.

“You want more?” her fingers tighten, cutting off all air flow.

“Greedy girl.” her fingers swirl inside of me, my eyes open and everything is blurry and tinged white. My body is trying to gasp for air to no avail, and it feels so.. so.. good. My head is getting lighter, lighter, all I feel is her fingers, my ears ringing. Her hand releases and I take in a gulp of air. She grabs my jaw firmly.

“Say my name.” she commands. I am still gasping as her face slowly comes back into focus. Her fingers slam into me, hard. “Say it.” This time her voice is soft, this time it's her begging.

“Ellie!” I yell, “ellie.. ellie..” my voice gets softer as the pressure builds in my core. I feel like I'm going to implode.

“That's right,” she pushes her palm into my clit applying rhythmic pressure that creates a symphony with the beat of her fingers. I can't hold it anymore.

“Ellie… P.. Please.. I'm gonna. I'm gonna..”

“Yeah? You're gonna cum?” devious eyes. My body is clinging to the edge. “Go ahead baby,” she grabs my throat again and pounds into me.

“Cum for me” I explode around her, cursing through the high that overtakes me. Her fingers somehow hit my spot harder, faster, intensifying the sensation. Pleasure surges through me and leaves me shuddering in its wake, my knees shaking. She slows when I relax around her and slowly, so slowly, pulls her fingers out of me. I shiver at the sensitivity.

[END OF AUDIO]

She softly pecks up my neck, to my lips. Pulling back to look at me she brushes a damp piece of hair from my face behind my ear. “You're so pretty when you cum,” she smiles at me, holding back a laugh.

“Fuck off,” I playfully push her shoulder, embarrassed by my show of desperation. Her laugh escapes and its music to my ears.

“I'm just saying,” she says smirking, “It's hot.” she shrugs, turning to splash some water on her face. I cross my arms to cover my chest, oh my god. Thinking about her fingers, the feeling of them stretching me out. Her breath on my skin, her hand around my throat. “I'm gonna dry off, meet you out there” she says winking at me before climbing out of the shower and grabbing a towel off of the hook. I watch the silhouette of her leave and I melt to the floor.

The water cascades down my shoulders and back, my skin is so sensitive. What the fuck. What is she doing to me? My heart is pounding in my chest, and somewhere else. I like her. I like her too much. What does she think this is? Am I just a easy fuck? Is she just an easy fuck? That thought is gone as quickly as it arrives. She's more than that to me. I feel it. And it scares me. What am I to her? I raise my head letting the water coat my face. It's not that deep, I reassure myself. It's fine. I'm fine. She's fine. We are fine.

We?

Fuck.

#ellie smut #ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou2 fic #tlou fanfiction #ellie williams smut #ellie x you #tlou2 #ellie williams audio #ellie williams fic #tlou2 smut #tlou ellie

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bisexualhomelander · 4 months

Text

F O R C E D F E M I N I S A T I O N | B U T C H L A N D E R

Billy runs his mouth.

Part of Billy should have known the joke would come back to bite him in the arse sooner than later. He shouldn't have invited the supe in at all, but definitely not with the offer of watching him have a wank. Homelander felt he had a foot in the door now, and if Billy had put that kind of depravity past him, he's probably dumber than he thought he was.

The sonic boom woke him up, and as much as he simply wanted to close the blinds on Homelander, curiosity did get the better of him eventually, and he opened the balcony door.

Before he had even asked to what he owed the pleasure of the late-night company, the supe had already pressed a few banknotes into his hand, and Billy instinctively tightened his fingers around them despite his bewilderment. "You said ten dollars to watch you jack off. What do I get for a hundred?"

Billy huffed in amusement, even if there was a bit of sound behind the huff. Shock that he couldn't quite conceal. Was he being propositioned?

Homelander had a smirk on his lips. "I'm serious. William. I can feel your blood pressure, you know? That includes knowing where your blood is, right now. Had I stayed last time, who knows how we'd have ended up."

Billy swallowed all the other choice words he had for the man and stared down at the money in his grip. "If you think you can buy me, cunt, think again."

"If it hurts your pride, fine." The supe plucked the dollars back out of Billy's fingers and threw them into the air. Billy watched them sail over the balcony and out of sight. That would make some lucky bastard's night. Not his problem. He didn't have to pay that out of his pocket.

Alright, supe wanted to play. He could have that, surely. Billy could almost feel the moment his brain turned itself off. He'd feel the consequences of his actions some later date; for now, he didn't want Homelander to think he won by flustering him. Sure, he was half-hard. Why not go all the way and hate himself for it once he was alone again? So he put on his most charming, shit-eating smile and replied: "Shitty pickup line there, luv."

Homelander's face was wiped blank for a moment before he could reign in his emotions at the sudden pet name. Point for Billy.

"See? That's how it's done. Now come in. Freezin' my bollocks off here, and I'm of no use to you if that happens, hm?"

Homelander had his bearings again and gave him an amiable smile, hiding his teeth. Why did the cunt always seem like he had something with an unpleasant taste in his mouth? Was that jaw ever slack?

"Not really that into cocks, if I'm honest."

Homelander chuckled. "And? Neither am I. Will that stop you?"

"Nah, it won't. But we're gonna do it my way."

"Fine by me." Homelander came inside and closed the door with his gloved hand. He even cleaned his boots on the door mat. "Bedroom's this way, I assume," he said and began to saunter off in the correct direction. Fucker had clearly x-rayed the apartment before, and Billy prayed it had been when he'd been here last and not right before he'd swept in to watch Billy sleep.

"We ain't goin' to the bedroom here, luv." It was likely impossible to actually surprise the supe. Last time, Billy had not even seen him fly off. Homelander moved at the speed of light, and so he must have seen the assault coming from a mile away, but it spoke to how much he wanted this that he let it happen anyway. Billy had him up against the wall in one smooth movement, and Homelander's legs were riding high on his waist like it was natural. "My way, remember?" Billy smeared the words against the supe's lips like spit and greedily drank down the answering whimper. "And if I say cock isn't what I'm looking for tonight, that's what goes, a'right?"

"You can fuck me if you want to," Homelander panted. He was lighter than Billy had imagined. Holding him up cost little energy, and Billy wasn't even properly awake. For a split-second, he wondered if he was still dreaming.

"Not into cocks, my arse. You're downright begging."

"I'm not begging for anything." The hand around Billy's throat had crept up so suddenly that it did shock him into silence for a second. "I won't beg on my knees for the right to see my son, and I will certainly not beg you to fuck me. I chose you for tonight because you are a disgustingly filthy excuse for a man who has no dignity left for his sorry life, and I knew I could get you if I wanted you. And here you are. So if you want me to leave your body intact, you better get your ass in gear and get me off."

With every ounce of willpower, Billy forced a swallow against the fingers pressing down. The grip loosened. They still held eye contact, and neither of them blinked first. Homelander was giving him a way to get his piece in. Well. Why not.

"You babble on like a woman, you know?"

"Hm?"

"Goin' on and on about things I don't wanna know. Gnawing my ear off here, mate." He leaned forward a bit, happy to see the supe's eyes dart to the left and right in an attempt to focus on both of his eyes. It made Homelander break the unblinking eye contact, lids fluttering rapidly. "Like a girl."

They were pressed together from the tips of their noses, to their chests, to their bellies, so it was easy to actually feel the way the cunt's cock throbbed at Billy's verbal abuse. "Yeah, that's right, hm? You wanna be my girl for the night? Daddy's girl?"

Up close like this, he saw the laser lights spring forth from Homelander's pupils first, slowly filling out the rest of his eyes. It looked fascinating from this perspective, even as the intense light immediately burned bright white spots into Billy's retina that he had to blink away. To anyone, it might have been threatening, but Billy was too worked up now, and he called the supe's bluff easily. "Bitching like you're PMSing, luv." He leaned his face into the heat emanating from Homelander's eyes to force his mouth open in a kiss. "Just from a bit of talking."

"Shut up-" The hand that landed over his mouth could have broken his jaw or taken it clean off, but Homelander knew how much pressure to use. Billy didn't think about how the supe had learned this. Or tried hard not to.

It wasn't difficult to pry the hand away and let the supe see his sly grin. "Gettin' shy already? Why you wanna shut me up so hard?"

"Nothing of value comes out of that mouth of yours," Homelander said.

"Oh, come now." Billy made certain to school his face into a disappointed frown. "You gonna lie to me? I can see you getting wet in that suit of yours."

It wasn’t wrong, exactly. There was a distinct dark spot where the head of Homelander's cock pressed into the fabric. Billy decided, however, that he liked the ambiguity of this game of his and wanted to see how much he could push the supe.

"Must be like a slip 'n slide between those legs."

"Don't-" Homelander began, but his body took over halfway into speaking, had him rub up against Billy like the mere mention of his arousal had reminded him of it. "Don't you ever shut up?"

Billy leaned forward to bite Homelander's ear. "You love it."

"I don't." Those baby-blue eyes tried to find Billy, and find him they did. Up close like this, he looked pretty. Innocent, somehow. The line of his mouth was still angry, but somewhere in the depths of those eyes lay something that wanted to give up and surrender to Billy. It was hypnotic.

Billy leaned forward and breathed his next word onto Homelander's mouth. "Liar."

Homelander whimpered when their mouths met, but he parted his lips readily and began to suck on Billy's tongue as soon as he had access, ashamed at his body's reaction and ready to shut Billy up. The supe tasted like absolutely nothing, not even toothpaste. It was almost unsettling, were it not for the wet warmth of his mouth that was like any other. What a weird thing to discover this fucker's humanity through.

Billy decided he'd had enough of the stalling and went to his knees. The supe's legs slipped from his waist in the movement; they were unsteady when holding up his weight.

Homelander willingly pushed his hips into Billy's hands as he began to open the belt holding the outfit together. He'd never seen the ins 'n outs of that. The suit wasn't one piece. It was a top and trousers that could be pulled down like leggins. Skin-tight and stuffed full of foam to give the impression of defined abs and pecs. Uncovering a bit of skin between the top half and the bottom half of the outfit felt like a forbidden pleasure, and Billy's mouth descended on an exposed hip bone before he even had time to plan out his move.

"Thought cock wasn't what you were looking to get," Homelander mumbled.

Billy huffed a laugh against the skin under his teeth and felt an almost nauseating flutter in his abdomen as shaky fingers held on to his shoulders. "Nah. I'm here for that pretty cunt you got hidden away." The fingers flexed and spasmed; Homelander's hips ground forward of their own accord.

Billy was so hard he felt dizzy with it, and he blinked to get his wits about him. He couldn't forget his mind completely. This was still none other than the monster who'd destroyed him - or the parts that were worth destroying anyway.

He pulled the ridiculous trousers of the outfit down to Homelander's knees and was met with...

"Red panties? You on the rag?"

"You're disgusting," Homelander commented, but he sounded so out of breath Billy considered the comment flattery.

"Gets you wet enough." The front of the supe's briefs was almost black with precum in the low light of Billy's living room. "Why give you pretty words when this gets the job done just fine, eh, bird?"

"Please." And oh, if that word didn't go straight to Billy's dick.

"Please what?"

Homelander squirmed, and Billy didn't help by blowing air on the wet spot where the cunt's cockhead was seen straining through the cotton. "Eat me-?" Shame clogged his throat, and now Billy did help out by leaning forward and rubbing his beard against an exposed thigh, earning something that came close to a mewl and finally got the answer he desired. "Eat me out. Daddy."

"Good girl." He pulled the briefs down to the rest of the way and went on to unzip the ridiculous red boots. The supe toed out of them so quickly he nearly tripped, and Billy made quick work of the rest of the clothes by pulling on them to let the cunt step out.

Half-naked, the masculinizing effects of the costume were visible. The clothed half of Homelander still looked imposing, but his naked legs were literal sticks. His ass round, but not nearly as firm as the outfit made it seem. Billy slid his hands up the back to cup the cheeks. "Leg on Daddy's shoulder, girl. Come on. Giddy up."

Homelander obeyed without complaint, like he was beyond words. Maybe Butcher had him where he wanted. And where was that even? In what universe did he want him? And was there still a remote chance he'd wake up hard and full of self-loathing?

Not much time to think about it when the current position spread the cunt's ass so deliciously and allowed Billy a good look at his hole. Fucker was shaved everywhere, it seemed, not a single hair more than necessary on him.

"Brazilian? Fine choice, princess."

"God, fuuuck." Homelander shivered, a foot pressing into Billy's shoulder blade with an amount of pressure that bordered on abusive. He'd get a bruise there. It drove him forward, though.

"Got the prettiest cunt I've seen." As if to prove a point, Billy lapped at the hole, huffing a laugh when he saw the muscle contract. "Look at that. Pinker than a virgin. Or is that it, huh? Anyone ever been where I am now?"

The silence was damning.

"Never had a man before." He held onto Homelander's thighs for leverage and pulled himself up again, shoving his face in for real this time.

Homelander's hand found his hair and pulled with surprising gentleness. It was an interesting contrast. Billy'd have sooner expected him to push him forward and not try to pull him backwards, but the cunt probably was lost to the pleasure and didn't remember how to move in any coordinated fashion. And they'd barely started.

He lapped at the furled muscle, relishing in the way it spasmed against his lips. As much as Homelander kept complaining, this he could hardly deny. This was his body talking.

No denying it; Billy'd always been an ass man. Something about getting his tongue in there had been appealing since a young age. The filth of it, sweat and musk. The embarrassment of his partners when they realized how much he loved inhaling all of it. Like a bloodhound.

Not with him. He was clean, no sweat, no smell. But aroused all the same and opening up to Billy's ministrations. The thighs around his face quivered. The hand in his hair went from insistent to demanding. Homelander's body was putting out heat like a furnace, and it drove sweat to Billy's brow.

"Fuck," he could hear a muffled voice from above. Was the cunt covering his mouth to keep in his noises? Afraid there were fans in the apartments around?

There was definitely movement happening, and Billy just knew without looking that Homelander meant to touch himself. He pulled back immediately, licked his lips where Homelander could see and looked up at him with disappointment.

Homelander's hand around his own cock went still, and his eyes were wide. He's scared he's been bad, Billy realized, and the thought made his neglected cock throb. Fuck, he'd have to get out of those trousers. The strain against the zipper was gonna kill him.

Billy gently pried the supe's hand away from his erection. "Pretty birds like you only come from getting their snatch eaten."

Homelander let out a wet sound that might have been a gasp or a sob. His eyes were teary, and- was that a red gleam or was Billy just suffering the first effects of hypoxia from spending minutes between those cheeks?

"You're close anyway. No reason to abuse that pretty lil' bean of yours."

"My-"

"Your clit, luv." Billy dove back in.

He tried not to get too smug at the gasp that Homelander let out when he managed to work his tongue in again. He knew it wouldn't do much for this one, but he rubbed his face sideways against an inner thigh anyway. At least give the notion of a notion of beard burn to a cunt with impenetrable skin. Felt soft to the touch, though. Real lifelike.

His own drool dripped down his chin and onto his sleep shirt, but he didn't plan on wiping it off. Half the fun was getting dirty and besides- "Fuckin' dripping, babygirl. Gonna squirt all over Daddy? Is that it? You gettin' close."

Homelander's head fell back against the wall; Billy could hear the small thud. How he still had enough of his wits to not slam it back so hard he went through the wall was beyond him. Cunt's self control was so ingrained it was a downright sad business. Though Billy really preferred to live, most days.

He gave it his all, tongue-punching the cunt's hole until his jaw ached because he needed to feel him break, he needed it more than he needed to come. He grinned when he could feel the first small contractions in the muscle, the way Homelander's body began to seize. His muscles started trembling where Billy was holding on.

"Come for Daddy."

"Fffuck!" The supe broke above him. Billy was wise to pull his tongue out before that happened, but did push his thumb into Homelander's perineum for some extra stimulation.

There was a hand in his hair again, but it felt downright weak, barely grasping.

Homelander's leg slipped off him tiredly, and the supe blinked at him with mild confusion, glassy-eyed and dopey, but apprehensive. Billy was almost sure he mirrored the expression.

He hadn't even orgasmed himself, but there was a sort of mental clarity barreling towards him like a train, and he really, really wanted to close his eyes before the headlights of that thing hit him.

Homelander took the decision from him because when Billy did blink, the pile of clothes on the floor and the entire supe had vanished into thin air.

He sat on the floor for a good half an hour before his aching knees forced him to get up and he managed to wipe his mouth with fingers that were just a bit too unsteady.

#billy butcher #homelander #butchlander #my writing

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roses-for-rosalyn · 5 months

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“I Came to See You”

Ellie x reader (version 2 of are you sure Miss prt 2)

Cws: farm hand Ellie x fem reader, pet names!! Instead of y/n (Darling, baby), established situationship ?, thigh riding, nipple play, so much dirty talk lmao, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r! & e! Receiving), switch! Reader, switch! Ellie, no mentions of reader skin color, body type or hair color 💕

Wc: 2.5 k

Abby version

“Couldn’t hurt though.” You say as you unbutton and unzip her jeans. “Just somethin’ quick,”

*************************************************

The sound of something solid hitting the glass pane of your window caused you to wake up with a jolt. You open your eyes and sit up just in time to see a tiny rock hit the glass; as if someone had thrown it. It's odd and mildly alarming, but you hadn’t quite shaken the sleepy fog from your brain, so you walk slowly towards the window. You yawn and stretch your arms as you pad over towards the disturbance. Looking down you can make out a figure in the dim moonlight. If she wasn’t so recognizable with her distinct strong build you might have panicked. Ellie is getting ready to toss another pebble just as you unlock the window and pull it up. A smile grows on her face as you peer out at her in your thin white frilly nightgown with sleepy eyes.

“Hello Darlin’, did I wake you?” She whisper yells up to you .

“Yes, but I’m up now. What are you doing here?” You ask with a groggy smile, just happy to see her pretty face again.

It had been a few days since you hooked up and they went by so painfully for both of you. You would only get to see her on your brief walks and she usually wasn’t alone. You had started taking multiple walks a day just to see if you could catch her on her own. You never did. And Ellie grew more and more desperate for you by the day.

All of this led up to tonight when Ellie got sick of coming on her own fingers to the thought of fucking you and decided she needed the real thing or she’d drop dead.

Coincidentally you had been having similar thoughts about her just before you fell asleep. You felt like you might be in a dream.

“I came to see you.” She says sheepishly.

“Oh yeah?” You can’t help but tilt your head in adoration.

“Yeah, and I was hopin’ maybe you could come down here and we could uh…” she trails off, realizing she couldn’t figure out how to politely ask you to pretty please come down to her so she could fuck you.

Luckily she didn’t have to finish her thought. “I’ll be right down.” you said before quietly shutting the window.

You ripped off your nightgown and removed your undergarments and then put it back on. Smirking at the thought of her discovering your bare body. You put on a thin silk robe and slippers and tiptoed out of the house. Every creak and groan from the old wooden floors seemed as loud as gunshots. Eventually you made it to the front, carefully unlatching the lock and slowly opening the whiny screen door. You see Ellie waiting patiently at the bottom of the porch steps, kicking up grass with her boots.

“Hi.” You whisper and her head whips up at the sound of your silky smooth voice.

“Hi.” She replies as you rush towards her, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Something in you desperately needed to feel her warm skin on yours, needed to be touched by her so badly. You rub your hands softly up and down her biceps and look up to see her smiling softly at you with a little twinkle of admiration in her eye.

“I missed ya,” she says in a sickenly sweet whisper.

“I missed you too,” and suddenly your eyes dart to her lips. You lick your own subconsciously, already hungry for her. She leans down and presses her soft lips to yours and rests her hands on your waist. You melt into her completely, wanting the warm tingly feeling of her skin touching yours to consume you. She deepens the kiss, teasing her tongue on your lips. But then she pulls away, breathing slightly heavier than before.

“We should um..” she looks down and licks her lips, trying to get her bearings, “go to the barn or somethin’..” you’re already nodding vigorously before she completely finishes the sentence. “Yeah?” She asks with an amused huff. And for some reason the way she said that simple word caused arousal to begin to pool between your legs.

She nods, “Ok let’s go.” Her calloused hand grabs yours and she begins to lead you towards the fields to the barn.

Normally you’d be a bit nervous about the critters that could be out this time of night, but not with Ellie by your side. Not much scared you when you knew she was around.

“Been thinkin’ about you… a lot.” She confesses as she rubs her thumb along the side of your hand.

“You have?” You ask in a sarcastic surprised tone, giggling a little.

“I have,” she says with a grin.

“I might’ve thought about you once or twice too.” You say as you near the small side door of the barn.

Ellie is quick to hold it open for you to step inside. Before you can even process what was happening you were against the worn wooden walls. Her hand moved up your leg, catching the hem of your nightgown and pulled it along as she made her way up your thigh. The thin fabric tickles your skin as it grazes against you and you shiver at the gentle, pleasurable feeling. Eventually after what felt like an eternity her hand reaches your bare center and she couldn’t hide her groan if she tried.

“I’d say you’ve maybe thought about me a couple more times than that Darlin’” she says with a smirk as she moves her fingers through your soaked folds. A tiny whimper escapes your lips and she takes that as an invitation.

She grabs the back of your thighs and lifts you up, forcing you to straddle her hips as she walks you over to a large pile of hay in the corner.

“Ellie you know damn well that hay is going to poke and prod at me, I can’t lay down in that.” She nods, but doesn’t stop.

As she lays you down on the prickly grass she says “Don’t worry miss, you won’t notice it in a second.” You weren’t sure what she meant until she made space between your legs for her to kneel. She leans down getting closer and closer to your achy cunt and you realize she was right. All you can feel is your pussy clench around nothing as you watch her bite the hem of your nightgown. She begins pulling it up, her lips trailing against you, exposing your soft stomach and sensitive nipples. Goosebumps rise on your skin from the cool night air and you sigh in delight. Ellie abandons the hem nightgown and places her mouth onto your nipple causing you to instinctively thread your hands into her auburn hair. She began teasing her tongue around it in circles, waiting for it to harden. When she began sucking on the sensitive bud you couldn’t help but gasp at the intense feeling, your hips slightly bucking up hitting hers. Ellie could sense your desperation and decided to take a little mercy on you. She moves her knee up to your bare cunt and applies light pressure. You sigh in relief and begin grinding against the rough fabric of her jeans.

“I can feel you through my jeans baby, you’re soaked.” She says hoarsely.

“Told you I’d been thinking about you.” You say softly. Ellie groans at your words and begins matching your pace, grinding against your thigh as she teases your nipples with her warm tongue. She makes a trail of kisses up to your neck before picking a particularly sensitive spot behind your ear to suck into her mouth. She knows she can’t make a mark anywhere where people can see so, you’ll just have to wear your hair down for a bit.

“Alright I’m gettin’ impatient Miss, my apologies.” You were about to ask what the apology was for, but she’s too quick, you feel her lick a strip up your dripping folds and gasp out her name in surprise. You’re still not sure why she would apologize for this but the thought melted from your mind as she began to tease your clit with her tongue. You buck your hips up into her mouth and Ellie grunts as she hooks her arms around the back of your legs so her hands rested on your pelvis, holding you still. It’s almost like she knew how you were gonna react because when she began to gently suck on your pulsing clit you began to push against her strong grip.

You could no longer control the small jmoans falling from your lips. She forces you to endure her relentless tongue, the only thing you can think to do is thread your fingers through her hair. You can’t feel anything but her, and her warmth. She groans with delight as she laps up your sweet arousal, the sound vibrates through you, increasing the already overwhelming pleasure.

You had thought that there was no way this feeling could get any more intense. You were so caught up with the feeling of her tongue that you almost didn’t notice one of her fingers beginning to circle your entrance. She slowly inserts her thick digit, you felt a light pressure as her finger easily slid deeper inside you. You open your mouth in a silent moan as she curls her finger upward, putting just enough pressure to drive you insane. She holds there for an agonizing moment, mirroring the teasing movement with her tongue as she gently flicks your clit. Then she begins to slowly move her finger, massaging that perfect spot as she expertly moves her tongue against your folds. She adds another finger with ease. “Fuck that’s it.” You say almost a little too loud, but Ellie couldn’t bring herself to care since she was currently in her own personal heaven.

“Gettin’ close there Miss?” She asks, already knowing the answer.

“Yea-yes, please don’t stop, baby.” You whine as she mildly increases the speed of her fingers, forcing a moan out of you with every other thrust. You clench around her fingers uncontrollably as you reach the edge.

“That’s it, give it to me baby.” She whispers. And that’s apparently all the encouragement your body needs because you feel your inner thighs tingle before the pleasure in your stomach snaps like a rubber band, unleashing waves and waves of euphoria through your body. You moan out variations of the words “fuck” and “Ellie” as you ride out probably one of the most intense orgasms of your life. Your thighs grip Ellie’s head as she continues gently licking at your clit even as it becomes sensitive.

Eventually she lets up and you feel your body start to shut down. But you weren’t going to let it this time. Ellie gently kisses the insides of your thighs as she sits up. Once she’s upright you meet her there, kissing her so you can taste yourself on her lips. It’s sloppy, but oh so delicious and sweet.

“Your turn baby.” You say with a smirk. Ellie’s eyes widened, that’s probably the last thing she expected you to say. She would have been perfectly happy walking you back home at that moment, she didn’t even think about the wet patch that was growing on her jeans.

“You don’t need to do that, Miss.” you just lean closer to her, your lips beginning to brush her neck. Her breath falters for a moment. “Really I’m fine-“ she cuts herself off with a sigh as you cup her clothed center.

“Couldn’t hurt though.” You say as you unbutton and unzip her jeans. “Just somethin’ quick,” you whisper into the shell of her ear as your hand moves into her jeans, under her cotton boxers. “Until I can properly return the favor.” You gently bite the lobe of her ear and you can tell you have her right in the palm of your hand. Literally and metaphorically.

You run your finger through her surprisingly damp center, gathering arousal. “It sure feels like you need me to do this.” You say with a smirk, “you’re absolutely drenched baby.” She whimpers and tucks her head into your neck as your finger brushes against her clit. “And so sensitive.” You say with mock sympathy as you begin circling her clit with your fingertip. Her hips follow your movements, “eager little thing aren’t you?” You whisper so close to her ear that she can feel the way your lips move as you speak.

She just whimpers and it’s the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen. This strong woman is reduced to whimpers and whines at your hands and the feeling was addicting. She seemed like the type to keep teasing you even as she was overcome with pleasure, but as soon as your fingers touched her where she needed it she was putty in your hand.

You removed your hand from her jeans. Your fingers were dripping with her arousal and you swear your mouth watered at the thought of tasting her. So you gently grab Ellie by the chin, forcing her to watch as you lap her arousal off of your own fingers. She watches with a slightly dazed expression, green eyes barely staying open. Then you bring your fingers to her mouth. She takes them in her mouth and licks and sucks at your fingers until you begin to pull them away. You bring your hand back down to her cunt, continuing to tease her.

Her hands wander up and down the sides of your body, occasionally gripping on to your soft flesh when the feeling of you stroking her clit became almost too much. Eventually you moved your finger downward towards her dripping entrance. And that’s when you finally get a little moan out of her. You sink your finger deeper inside her and she breathes out a loud moan into your neck, she begins sucking and nipping at your soft skin in an attempt to muffle her noises. But it just got worse as you added a second finger and began curling your fingers into her spongy walls.

Ellie could barely contain herself. You had barely done anything and she was already close. You could tell. She was clenching around your fingers. Hard. “You close baby?” You ask sweetly. Ellie just moans into your neck unable to reply.

But that just won’t do.

“You have to tell me if you're close baby, I’ll let you know when you can come.” Ellie meets your eyes, slightly surprised by how much she was enjoying this surrender of control. Her cheeks are flushed and her mouth is slightly agape, her hair slightly ruffled from earlier. You commit her fucked out expression to memory, if you ever forgot that you would never forgive yourself.

“‘M cl-close,” she mumbles into your skin.

“Good girl,” you feel her clench around your fingers at the nickname. Interesting. You begin to circle her clit with your thumb and Ellie is clearly reaching her limit. “Alright,” you sigh as you hear Ellie’s sweet moans, “come for me baby.” She spasms around your fingers and you feel her gush all around them. She writhes against your hand as her orgasm moves through her. You’re sure her moans are the most attractive thing you’ve ever heard. She was so perfect.

You remove your fingers and suck them clean as Ellie practically collapses into you.

“I think we might have left a few marks on eachother.” You say with a giggle

———————————————————————-

Idk

Lmk what yall think 💕. Tumblr is being weird and no one is seeing my posts which is mildly annoying, I checked all my settings and stuff so idk man 🤷‍♀️

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #the last of us 2 #ellie williams smut #ellie x reader #tlou 2 ellie #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader

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queen-haq · 4 months

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Fic: Grudgingly Yours, Part 12

Grudgingly Yours, Part 12

Summary: You are a general surgeon, working in a hospital that’s slowly sucking the life out of you when one day you’re given the offer of a lifetime.

A.K.A - An arranged marriage fic :)

Pairing: Billy Russo x You

Rating: R

Masterlist (contains links to my other stories and this one)

Chapter 12

You were seething with anger. So frustrated, you wanted to scream with rage. How dare Billy do this? How dare he fucking threaten you? And on top of that, he hurt Calvin – did he really think that would score him points? Was he really that stupid?

“Stop dragging your feet.” Billy ordered from the other side of the room, packing your clothes into your suitcase. The entitlement in his voice was so infuriating, you picked up the closest pillow to you and threw it at him. As soon as it struck his back, he turned around. For a second he simply stared at you, and fear trickled down your spine. This was a man who kidnapped your friend and tortured him. He had you cuffed and bound a few minutes earlier. As much as you prided yourself in being strong and resourceful, he was an actual soldier, a psychopath and rich. He could kill you in a fit of rage and suffer no consequences.

Then he smirked, his handsome face breaking into a magnetic smile while he retrieved the pillow from the ground. “If it’s a fight you’re looking for, I’ll give you one when we get home.”

His friendly demeanor did nothing to alleviate your anxiety.

Throwing the pillow back onto the bed, he turned around and continued to pack your things.

Half an hour later all of your stuff was packed into a suitcase which Billy was carrying to the elevator. “Rest of your things?” he prodded.

“Storage.”

“We can get it tomorrow.”

You didn’t respond.

The elevator ride felt distinctly uncomfortable, with Billy’s eyes on you the entire time. His gaze felt intrusive, like he was trying to crack through your brain and see every running thought inside your head. You tried ignoring him but it seemed to make no difference.

When you both reached the underground parking lot, you headed towards your car. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Nice try.” He gripped your elbow, maneuvering your body towards the guest parking spots. Once he reached the Wraith, he opened the trunk and stuffed your things inside before pulling open the passenger side door open. “Get in.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “I need my car.”

“We can pick it up tomorrow.”

The bastard had an answer for everything. Fuck him. Angrily you slid inside, wishing you could at least have the satisfaction of slamming his door shut. He closed the door and circled the car to get in. Defiantly you opened the door on your side and slammed it hard.

“Feel better?” he asked, sliding in next to you.

“Fuck off.”

There was his smirk again, goading you, but you chose to ignore it.

This was the first time you were in his car, sitting beside him while he drove. He was a smooth driver, expertly gliding his way through traffic like he did everything else. Prick.

“Where’s Calvin?” you asked.

“He’s fine.”

“You need to let him go.”

“I will,” he replied, nonchalant. “As soon as you keep your end of the deal.”

“I’m already moving back in. What else do you want?”

“A guarantee that you won’t bolt.”

“You’re the one who runs, not me,” you retaliated.

“I’m here now.”

You scoffed, shaking your head at his audacity.

“So are you gonna co-operate?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“There’s always a choice. You’re smart enough to make the right one.”

“I wish I killed you before.” You expected him to snark back or maybe ignore your hostile words. Instead he smiled, a tender, affectionate smile that made your heart skip a beat because it caught you completely unaware.

“You’ll get lots more chances now. Promise.”

Your eyes locked with his, and for a second the world stopped. You forgot how exhilarating his attention could be, making you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered to him. You were special, you were important, and just as quickly, he would turn on you and throw you aside. Irritated with yourself, you glanced out the window.

Minutes passed before he spoke again. “He’s a decent scammer. Not great, but good enough to fool a lot of people.”

You scowled. “What are you talking about?”

“Your buddy, Calvin. He’s ripped off a lot of people with some kind of Ponzi scheme.”

You recalled the portfolio Calvin shared with you, how the returns on investments seemed too good to be true. Fuck. Even though there was nothing to arouse your suspicions at the time, a part of you had known something was wrong. But there was no way you were going to admit that to Billy. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

“I had someone look into him.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you?”

“Want to see what the investigator dug up?”

“Not interested.”

He cocked his eyebrow at you. “Scared to find out the truth about fuckboy?”

“Don’t act like you were punishing him for being a swindler.”

The car came to a stop at a red light, he turned towards you. “I don’t give a fuck about that. He is where he is because he touched you. He. Touched. You. After I warned him not to. And he will pay for that. How much depends on you.”

“Don’t you dare! I’m not responsible for this, you are! You’re the fucking psychopath. You don’t get to put this on me.”

Swallowing the angry lump in your throat, you stared straight ahead. But he didn’t. You felt his eyes digging into you until a car honked from behind. That seemed to snap Billy out of his daze and he started driving again.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, with you contemplating Billy’s murder.

***

It was strange to be back in the penthouse that had been your home for a short time. Everything looked the same yet it all felt different. Tainted. You knew you’d have to return eventually because Alistair was an asshole and would make you, but you purposely avoided thinking about living with Billy again. A part of you had hoped he’d avoid you after humiliating the way he had, but you should’ve known that wouldn’t be his way. He liked playing with your emotions, softening you up before going in for the kill, and tonight was the beginning of the same cycle. All the bullshit he spewed was intended to make you feel something for him again but he’d made a big mistake in underestimating you. Because you felt nothing for him anymore. Nothing. And that wasn’t going to change, no matter how much he tried to manipulate you or threaten you with Calvin.

The lights turned on automatically as you entered your bedroom. Anita must have cleaned it after you left, because it was perfectly pristine. As Billy brushed past you carrying your luggage, your body stiffened. Everything about him felt obtrusive and too close. He was back in your life, in your head, in your room, and now in your things as he started to unpack your luggage.

“Stop touching my stuff,” you snapped, grabbing the skirts he was holding in his hand.

“I’m trying to help.”

“I don’t need your fucking help.” You stormed over to the walk-in closet and started hanging the clothes up.

“Fine. Then I’ll go make dinner.”

“Hope you choke on it and die.”

That elicited a full-fledged chuckle from him, which agitated you more. At least you’d get some satisfaction from pissing him off but he seemed determined not to be provoked. Jackass. Over the next hour while you put away your things, your brain spun with anxiety. You didn’t do well with uncertainty. You were a problem solver and that’s how you got through life. Anticipate. Plan. Execute. Except there was no way for you to anticipate the curveball Billy threw at you. You were prepared for Alistair, but not Billy. And now you had to find a way out of this situation. Not to mention rescue Calvin too. Fuck. You needed to know details, exactly what Billy had planned and then find a way to get through it.

“Dinner’s ready.”

Hearing his voice calling from the kitchen, you made your way to the ensuite bathroom. You took your time in freshening up, washing all the make-up from your face. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, once again pondering Billy’s sick mind. Did he really expect you to play along? Was he so used to women being doormats that he honestly thought you would just roll over and give into him? It was obvious he had no idea who you were. And all signs pointed to him being exactly like his grandfather, a rich, entitled bigot who got off on controlling you. Well, fuck that.

After changing into an extra baggy lounge set that did a remarkable job of making you look dowdy, you sauntered over to the kitchen. What you found there was a complete surprise. The small table was adorned with fresh flowers, your favourite bottle of wine, and candle lights. He had also plated the pasta, which looked unbelievably good, and was already seated and waiting for you. What the fuck? Did he think the two of you were going to have a romantic meal together?

“Seriously?” Your eyes narrowed onto him, shaking your head. “This isn’t a fucking date.”

He looked unmoved by your lack of enthusiasm. “Doesn’t mean we can’t eat.” He stood up to pull your chair back. “Sit.”

“Are you asking me or ordering me?”

He cocked his eyebrow. “Does it matter?”

“You’re unfucking believable.” Refusing to give into him, you walked to the table but ignored the seat he held out for you. Instead, you took another empty seat.

He smiled, and started pouring you a glass of wine. When he tried to hand it to you, you stared back at him defiantly. “Not in the mood.”

“It’s your favourite.”

“Not anymore. You’ve ruined it.”

He smirked. “Fine. More for me then.” Deliberately making a show of enjoying the wine, he held your gaze.

“Tell me what I have to do to get Calvin away from you.”

There was that dark glint in his eyes again, the one reminding you of who Billy truly was. “Let’s have dinner first.”

“I’m not eating with you.”

“If you want to save Calvin, you will.”

You shook your head. “That’s how it’s gonna be from now on, isn’t it? You think this is how you’ll control me. You’re exactly like Alistair.”

“I’m nothing like him.” Jaw clenched, eyes darkened with anger, he moved towards you. A part of you was glad for striking him where it hurt but you didn’t like the closing distance between you two. Especially when he sat next to you.

You didn’t like his proximity, the way his body was turned to you. You were the sole focus of his attention and it made you uncomfortable, reminding you of how easily he played you in the past.

“I don’t want to control you.”

The softness in his voice was a ruse, you reminded yourself.

“That’s not what this is about,” Billy continued.

“What is it gonna take for you to let him go?”

He paused a few seconds before answering. “This. I want this. Dinner. The two of us. Every night.”

“Why? What are you hoping to get out of it?”

“I just want to have dinner with you. That’s all.”

“But it won’t stop at dinner, will it?” You sent him a bitter smile. “How long before I have to fuck you?”

“You’re the one who keeps bringing up sex.” He smirked. “Do you want to fuck me?”

“Go to hell!” His eyes wandered over your face, like he was memorizing every inch of you – and it made your heart beat faster. Immediately you chastised yourself. “How long do I have to suffer these dinners with you?”

“Three months.”

You scoffed. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shrugged his shoulders. Throwing one arm around the back of your chair, he leaned in. “This is what I want. Three months. After that, I’ll let him go.”

“You’re gonna hold him hostage until then?”

“Don’t worry about him. He’s being looked after.”

“I’m supposed to take your word for that? How do I know you haven’t killed him already?”

“I haven’t. But if you want proof, I can show you.”

Your face twisted with disgust. “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”

He didn’t respond, still peering at you closely. When his fingers slowly smoothed over the loose strand of your hair, you steeled yourself to his touch. “That’s not why I’m doing this.” There was longing in his gaze, his voice hoarse with emotion.

It was incredible how convincing he could be but you saw him for what he was – a manipulator.

You touched his hand to brush him away but the instant you made physical contact; sparks flowed through your veins. You withdrew immediately. “Then tell me why.”

A heavy sigh escaped him, he finally leaned back against his chair and you breathed a sigh of relief. “I love you. And I want you to love me back.”

The sheer audacity of his response, how he casually stated his intention – it was so flabbergasting that you couldn’t help but laugh. You laughed and laughed, while he simply studied you with a serious expression on his face. And when you struggled to catch your breath from laughing so hard, he handed you the glass of wine from earlier. This time you took it, your throat parched, and swallowed most of it in a big gulp.

“Easy there.”

You put down the glass. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You wanted the truth.”

“Oh, I know.” You gave him a condescending smile. “So I fall in love with you in this pipe dream of yours, and then what? You dump me? Humiliate me again? This time in front of dear old Gramps and the whole family?” Your smile stiffened. “Is that the plan, Billy?”

His voice was sincere, regret looming over his face. “I’m sorry about what I said to you at the wedding.”

“Nothing you said or did was a surprise. It’s what I expected from you.” It wasn’t true, he shattered you that night and made you doubt yourself – but you would never admit that to him. You stood up, casting him a snide glance. “You want me to be your puppet? Fine. I will. Because you’re holding someone I care about hostage. But don’t think for a second I’ll buy your bullshit act. I know you. I see you.” You bent forward so that you were at his height, staring into his eyes directly. “And I’ll never love you.”

Grabbing the bottle of wine, you turned your back on him and sashayed back to your room.

A/N - Sorry about the long wait, lovely readers. With the holidays and me getting into another fandom, I was a little negligent towards GY. But I'm back now :) Hope you enjoyed the chapter. And, as always, comments are loved and cherished :)

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #grudgingly yours

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hypnoneghoul · 21 days

Note

okay please hear me out: Mount-Dew-Rainy threesome, Rain is riding Mountain while Dew sits on Mount’s face and they are making out and whimpering into eachothers mouths

what if I said it/its mountain for sexy time

Mountain can’t breathe.

Not only because Rain’s ass around his cock is driving him truly crazy, but he also literally can’t breathe, due to a certain fire ghoul sitting on his face. Or rather riding it; rather vigorously.

Moaning into Dewdrop’s cunt with every single bounce of Rain over his cock is all he can do, and so it is all he does. His hands are locked on the fire ghoul’s skinny—yet so muscular—calves, and he already feels guilty for littering them with fingertip shaped bruises, even though they are yet to appear.

The water ghoul is riding Mountain like a pony and he’s never been so turned on—with his brain turned off. Above him he can hear little breathy moans falling from Rain’s lips and cute whines and whimpers coming from Dewdrop when the earth ghoul licks into him sloppily.

“R–Rainy,” he cries out after a particularly sharp suck to his little cock. Mountain tries not to notice how his cock kicks inside Rain at how it’s not even him that Dewdrop addresses. It’s like he’s not even there.

“Is Mounty making you feel good, baby?” the water ghoul asks and his voice is low and smooth, even though his chest is heaving from exertion. Mountain feels Rain leaning forward as he sets his hands on his stomach for support. It definitely doesn’t make him feel even more like an object and it definitely doesn’t make his cock dribble out more precum where it’s buried in Rain.

“Uh-huh,” Dewdrop whimpers and Mountain can’t be sure without seeing, but it sounds like his noises are swallowed right up by the water ghoul. He reduces his bounces to a slow grind and one of his hands keeps digging into Mountain’s stomach as he’s leaning forwards.

“Ride its face, baby.”

The noise that escapes the earth ghoul’s mouth at that is loud and wrecked enough to be easily heard over all the other sounds. It’s a miracle he hasn’t cum from that alone.

Dewdrop freezes, but Rain only chuckles right into his mouth, “It’s okay, dropley. It’s enjoying itself, I can feel it. Its cock is so hard inside me.”

The fire ghoul whines and grinds down onto Mountain’s face again. It snaps him out of it a little; enough to lick inside Dewdrop’s cunt again and actually make him feel good. Another pretty moan of his is once again swallowed by Rain, and the water ghoul gives him a groan in return as he rises and then drops back down onto Mountain’s cock.

He all but blacks out as the two of them use him and is only brought back down when Rain reaches behind himself to grab his balls and squeeze. What for, he doesn’t know; probably just to get his attention when he pulls away from Dewdrop’s mouth and speaks again.

“It's so good for you, isn’t it, baby? Like it was made to be nothing but a toy for us.”

Mountain cums with a muffled shout.

#hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #mountain ghoul

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stxrshxpxd · 3 months

Text

“i can hardly breathe around you”

paring: 90s damon albarn x reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: smut

prompt: reader finds herself in an inappropriate dream about her oldest and best friend, and when she moans his name he responds.

I was somewhere between sleeping and waking and Damon’s hands were keeping me in my dream, wrapping tightly around my waist as his lips attached to my neck. I squirmed under him, panting and moaning in desperation for more, and when his fingers squeezed my flesh harder I let out a whimper of his name. For a few seconds it all felt right. He continued kissing down my neck, until he suddenly replied and everything ripped from me in an instant. His hands, his lips, his breath on my skin, all gone.

“Y/N?” my best friend of fifteen years asked in a soft voice and stared me down from next to me on my bed. He grimaced with confusion and concern. Reality flooded back to me in a heartbeat and I remembered we had been watching TV on my bed, we had both gradually lost interest, he had muted it and picked up his book, and I had slipped into a nap. Then I had moaned his name and clearly not just in my dreams.

“Yes?” I breathed, deciding to play dumb.

“Care to share your dream?” Damon asked, eyes fixed on me and book splayed open against his chest. Some amusement had joined the confusion in his face. My pulse quickened.

I quite literally couldn’t find in my brain what to say to him and all I could do was watch the emotions evolve in his expressions.

I had been beating myself up for a while because something had happened about a month ago and I had completely lost my mind, I thought. Seeing my best friend in a non-platonic light was simply unthinkable. But, gosh, that soft stare of his and that bottom lip gently caught between his teeth!

“Will you close your eyes?” he asked after too long a silence on my end.

I stared at him instead, for a long time, barely breathing. He asked again and I recognised something stirring wildly in his gaze. I couldn’t remember anything ever having been this serious between us before. It frightened me and I resorted to doing what he asked of me.

With my breath shallow and shaky and eyes softly closed, at last I felt Damon’s lips gently press against mine. My brain stopped working for a minute but then the only thing I could think to do was to reach my hand out, finding his chest was rid of the book and it was turning towards me. Closer, closer, closer. Until my hand was locked between our beating chests and he was determinedly kissing down my jaw and neck.

I wanted his lips everywhere on me and I blushed wildly at the thought. I had been doing a fine job at suppressing all these emotions for the last month, but he was making it really hard for me now.

“Damon,” I started when his lips jumped to my lower stomach and his fingers began to hook into my waistband. He glanced up from under his golden fringe and my stomach fluttered at the eye contact. My toes were twitching wildly with nerves and excitement. Really I didn’t want him to stop for even a second, but it was all so weird.

He simply smiled calmly at me and kissed my skin again while my sweatpants were pulled down my legs. That smile of his had calmed me so many times before and for the next moment I felt at ease. I even closed my eyes and let a half shaky but deep breath out, and I allowed his warm palms to spread my thighs apart.

“My god, you’re wet,” he whispered, astounded. “Dream-me is that good, huh?”

I laughed but my cheeks burned with embarrassment, impulsively trying to close my legs again and reaching to push his shoulders away. But he stayed and firmly held my legs apart.

“Hey, it’s me,” Damon reminded me in a smooth voice.

“Exactly!” I laughed nervously, finding it nearly impossible to get past the absurdity of having my best friend’s breath fan over my damp underwear while his hands clasped around the inside of my thighs. God, his hands though!

“Exactly,” he echoed in a quiet voice and raised his brows. I knew he was referring to my moaning his very name in my sleep just minutes ago, and I sighed.

Within seconds his lips were back on me again but this time they kissed me through my pants and I thought my heart jumped out of my chest for a moment. He did it again. And again. And he added more pressure and then his tongue. I screwed my eyes shut and at last couldn’t feel anything past the pleasure. For the next few minutes I could hardly recall the embarrassment, as he peeled my underwear to the side and once again buried his face in me.

“Do you wanna say my name again?” Damon tried his luck as I had begun breathing heavily and letting little moans out. His voice vibrated through my abdomen and I felt a hint of my high teasing me momentarily.

“Damon,” I whispered cautiously and felt his teeth against my hot skin as he grinned.

“Mhm,” he murmured into me again and continued lapping up my wetness with his skilled tongue, pushing me towards my edge.

“I’m gonna…” I whined but felt the embarrassment come over me again. “Fuck.. Dames!”

Calling him by his sweet nickname made me cringe for a second, but he continued smirking through his kissing and licking and sucking and I couldn’t stop my thighs from clasping around his head. The orgasm pierced through my body, making my legs tremble and my voice settle in a defeated whimper.

Quickly reality caught up with me again once I made it out of the haze and I was partly mortified as my oldest and best friend kissed up my body again and his lips reconnected with mine.

We spent an eternity kissing between shaky breaths and in my head I yelled at my cheeks until they eventually cooled a tad.

“Can we really do this?” I asked in a barely audible whisper.

“I don’t know if you were here just now but we just did,” he teased and we both laughed, my eyes still closed and our mouths constantly balancing between kissing and breathing.

“Yeah, I guess we did.”

A minute passed of slightly more kissing than breathing and then it evened out again.

“Did you know lately I can hardly breathe around you?” I whispered and barely felt his lips curl into a smirk. I peaked at it slightly but made sure not to look him in the eye.

“Yeah, I noticed,” he mumbled with his smirk widening and a chuckle pouring out of him and into me. I smiled and laughed gently too.

Damon slid off of me but just about everything of his stayed touching me and his head laid just next to mine, noses grazing. There was only breathing for the better half of a minute. At last I felt our familiar comfortable silence coming back to us. I stared at his face and studied his eyes, brows, cheeks and nose and lips. Then my gaze drifted to the ledge where the wall met the ceiling and I let my mind wander to more trivial territory for a breather.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I’m worried what my hair will look like tomorrow if I wear it in a bun to bed,” I answered honestly and instantly I felt the hot breath of his laughter hit my face. We chuckled together and he smiled back at me with twinkling eyes.

“See, this is us!” he insisted. “We still talk about silly things and laugh. Only we have sex too.”

My cheeks flushed red again but I couldn’t stop smiling. I reached my hand out to poke my fingertips around in the side of his hair and let another few moments pass as I pondered.

“Could we also… hold hands?” I suggested, stomach fluttering anxiously again. “And kiss?”

Damon gave me a slight nod.

“And not kiss other people?”

At that his smile grew and he was quick to respond.

“I can’t remember what it’s like kissing anyone else.”

A laugh bubbled inside me and my hand caught his cheek and pressed our lips together again.

“Good job. That was the right answer,” I mumbled into our kiss.

#so i found a rough draft and finished it up :)) don’t know if this means IM BACK WRITING but enjoy this #rewriting the damon-cant-give-head narrative one smut at a time ✊🏼#lol he’s so weird we hate him huh #blur #britpop #90s #damon albarn #fic #imagine #y/n #damon albarn x reader

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13uswntimagines · 9 months

Text

Luh Ooo (Baby!r x Kellex)

Request: First time baby!r says I love you. Basically r is nonverbal and like 3, and preath or Kellex tell her they love her, and it’s the first time r speaks, she says it back

Alex and Kelley considered themselves incredibly lucky every time they saw your smiling face. Every time they saw your lips tilt into a grin, or heard a giggle slip past your lips, they counted their lucky stars that they got to whiteness it.

Their teammates liked to tease them that they were a bit over the top when it came to you, but everyone understood why. Everyone agreed that they would probably be the same way if they had been through what you and your moms had been through.

Alex’s pregnancy with you had been suspiciously easy.

Her and Kelley had both been prepared for the worst after both of their sister’s horror stories about morning sickness and pregnancy cravings that had their husbands running out in the middle of the night. But Alex hadn’t experienced them herself.

The morning sickness had been minimal. It hadn’t lasted at all past the first trimester and hadn’t ruined any of her favorite foods, so she considered it a win. Then the few times she did have midnight cravings, they hadn’t been for food-related items, and Kelley had definitely enjoyed waking up for it (the pregnancy sexcapades were absolutely worth the sleep deprivation).

In hindsight, the 9 months of smooth sailing should have tipped them off that something was going to go wrong, but they had been too wrapped up in the excitement of welcoming you into the world to prepare themselves for the other shoe to drop.

It made it so much worse when it finally did.

Kelley would never forget the moment the nurses laid your little form on Alex’s chest. She would never forget how you blinked up at the both of them and for a second, everything felt right in the world.

For a split second, your tiny eyes met hers and she felt her heart grow to accommodate the overwhelming love coursing through her.

And then…

Their world tilted on its head.

Your eyelids fluttered rapidly, and the whole right side of your face drooped, before either of them knew what was happening the nurses had grabbed you and whisked you away, talking very fast.

Kelley had made a move to follow them, to chase after you and figure out what was going on, but before she could the doctor was back, using big words and describing tests and procedures that he thought were necessary.

The only thing she really picked up on was the word stroke and MRI, and then he was gone again, taking the happiness in the room with him.

Alex pulled her into the bed with her, and both of them held each other as they both fell apart.

Arteriovenous Malformation

A word Kelley and Alex hadn’t understood when the doctor returned hours later.

A word that they googled and re-googled, hoping it would change what it meant.

A word that would haunt them for the rest of their lives.

The doctor said they were lucky because it was near the surface on the left side of your brain. They were lucky because they could operate and remove the tangle of blood vessels that had caused a clot.

They were lucky because it had been caught early before it could cause too much damage.

They didn’t feel lucky.

Not until they were staring at your tiny form through a little plastic incubator box, a large bandage under the yellow knit cap on your head. Not until they could very carefully run their fingers over your puffy cheeks, or have let your little hand latch onto theirs.

The surgery had saved your life, but it had also damaged the part of your brain involved in speech production.

They wouldn’t learn until later how it would affect your development, and they would thank whatever higher power that existed that the only thing that had been impacted was your ability to create words. They thanked the universe that you were such a happy kid despite that.

You loved running around with your many soccer aunts, kicking balls and clapping for your mamas. Just because you couldn’t talk didn’t mean that you couldn’t communicate.

It wasn’t traditional but sign language and the little noises you could make never failed to show the people around you what you wanted.

And while they thanked their lucky stars(and the universe) for the progress that you had made, they both still longed to hear three little words leave your lips.

So yes, the team understood why they were so overprotective and doting. The team understood why they spent so much time working on the assignments your speech therapist gave them, and why they took every opportunity to try and get you to vocalize.

It was why the team tried to help them as much as they could.

*****

You smiled widely as Kelley very gently kicked a ball toward where you were on the sidelines, pushing off of the little blanket you were sitting on next to Bailey (your trusted babysitter).

You clumsily stopped the ball with your feet, steadying yourself with a hand on Bailey’s shoulder and pointing to your Mommy.

You often spent your time on the sidelines, watching your mama’s practice with rapt attention, chasing after stray balls for your aunts and clapping excitedly when anyone ran past you. You knew you weren’t supposed to go onto the field until practice was over, and that any balls that came to you before it had to be returned to a coach.

Kelley’s lips tilted into an indulgent smile and she nodded in encouragement. “Practice is over kiddo, send it back and we can play for a little while,”

Your eyes lit up in excitement, and you didn’t hesitate to kick the ball back toward her.

It rolled towards Kelley and she easily caught it, for a 4-year-old, you had very good aim, and tapped it gently back to you.

You stumbled as you stuck your foot out to stop it, taking an extra second to regain your balance.

“Great job!” Kelley cheered, clapping.

Stopping the ball was something the team had been working on with you (your motor coordination, something Alex and Kelley were more focused on), and you were very slowly getting better at both.

Lindsey joined in, appearing behind Kelley’s shoulder and gesturing to her foot.

Your head tilted to the side and she gestured to her foot again, wiggling it to Kelley’s left.

“Come on kiddo,” Kelley said, and all of your attention returned to her.

You nodded, and hit the ball as hard as you could, toward Lindsey’s outstretched foot.

Kelley kicked out trying to stop it, but Lindsey was faster, collecting the ball and turning to send it toward Emily with a laugh.

“You little monster,” Kelley huffed indignantly, earning a delighted giggle from you and chuckles from the team fondly watching the interaction. “You’re supposed to be on my team,”

You shrugged, pointing to your foot so Emily would pass it to you.

She did, kicking the ball gently (dangerously close to Kelley) and your mommy “missed” her chance to intercept it, so you could catch it instead.

The team clapped when you did, again taking a second to catch your footing before pausing with your foot on top of the ball as Kelley took up a defensive position in front of you.

Your eyes immediately fell to her feet.

You knocked the ball right and then left before sending it through her legs, copying your Mama’s famous move, brushing past Kelley as you raced after the ball.

Several hands extended in case you tripped, even as the team fell into formation behind you.

“I’m gonna get you,” Kelley called as you passed, collecting the ball with your little feet and charging towards the net.

You squealed as Kelley chased after you, doing your best to keep the ball on track as you got closer to midfield.

“Y/n,” Mal called, joining your run, and gesturing towards the wide open space in front of her as Kelley easily gained on you.

You clumsily passed the ball sideways, just as you heard your mommy’s footsteps behind you.

“Come on, it can’t be 6 vs. 1,” She groaned, sprinting towards Mal instead.

“It’s only 5 and a half versus one,” Emily shrugged, taking up your other side as Mal crossed the ball towards Lindsey. “And Mini Morgan is too cute to play against,”

Kelley threw her head back, arching her run to try and get to Lindsey, but it was already too late. Lindsey pushed the ball, sending it in front of Emily so it landed right in your path.

You wobbled as you collected it, slowing down as you nearly tumbled over the ball.

It gave Kelley the perfect opportunity to gain on you.

“Y/n pass it to your Mama,” Lindsey directed, pointing towards Alex making a run to the box as Kelley got closer.

You hadn’t realized your mama was playing too.

She smiled widely, gesturing towards the giant space in front of her, and you slowed your run just enough to kick the ball mid-stride into Alex’s path.

It went slightly off-target, but Alex had no trouble collecting it and sending it into the back of the net.

“Goalllll,” Lindsey, Emily, and Mal cheered as Kelley finally caught up to you, scooping you up and gently tossing you in the air.

“You’re a little gremlin,” She said, ticking you relentlessly even as she tossed you up and down.

You giggled loudly, reaching for Alex as soon as she was close enough.

Kelley passed you to her with little hesitation, and you patted Alex’s cheek. She was always the calmer of the two women, dancing you around but not nearly as much as Kelley did.

You signed goal several times with your little hands and animatedly rehashed the entire play for them as though they hadn’t been watching it.

They both shared a look and smiled gently at you.

“I love you,” Alex said, leaning in and placing a kiss on your cheek after you finished, your aunts circling up around you.

“Luh ooo,” You repeated, tapping her cheek again.

The team froze.

Yes, they had heard you giggle, and cry and make noises, but nothing had ever come close to sounding like a real word.

“Wait,” Kelley said, stepping closer to you, her hand landing on your back and rubbing circles. “Y/n say love you?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Luh ooo,”

“Oh my god,” Alex breathed out and Kelley sniffled next to you, trying to hide her tears.

“We love you too baby,” Kelley said, through trembling lips, kissing the side of your head.

“Luh ooo,” You repeated for a third time, frowning because both of your mommies looked sad, leaning up and placing a kiss on Alex’s nose just like she did any time you looked sad.

“We love you more than anything,” Alex added, doing her best to hold the tears at bay.

She had never been more happy to hear 3 little words in her entire life.

It was everything Kelley and Alex had ever wanted.

“And we love you too, short stack,” Emily said, throwing an arm over Kelley’s shoulder and using her other to tickle your tummy, interrupting the tender moment.

You squealed with delight and wiggled widely in Alex’s arm, signaling that you would very much like to be put down, so you could run around with your aunts again.

Alex squeezed you tightly for another long second before she let you down, kissing your forehead one more time before you ran off.

“She said I love you,” Kelley sniffled, tucking her nose against Alex’s neck once she was upright, both women staring at you.

“I know,” Alex said tearfully.

The doctors always said it was a matter of time. Now, they could finally believe them.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #kellex x reader #kellex imagine

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choerrypuffs · 2 years

Text

fast times.

pairing: co-worker!donghyuck x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.6k

synopsis: throughout the snapshots of your life, lee donghyuck is always there. (or, you realize that you’re in love with the bane of your existence.)

author’s note: i started grad school and it’s literally eating me alive so i wanted to write something short and sweet to de-stress and then it ended up being almost 8k words 😭

warning(s): excessive drinking, family tension

playlist: fast times by sabrina carpenter ― the bottom by gracie abrams ― stress by taeyeon ― ruin my life by zara larsson ― cruel summer by taylor swift

ST. PATRICK’S DAY 2022 sun’s up too soon like daylight savings, mixed emotions are congregating

Liquid courage, as the poets say.

Well, don’t fact check that, but surely Wordsworth or Coleridge or whichever poet that Taylor Swift talks about in the lakes mentioned something about getting shitfaced during a St. Patrick’s Day office party.

Regardless, you’re going to pretend like they did because it’s a lot less romantic (lowercase r, not capital like the movement) if you’re just drunk off your ass at an office party without an artsy-fartsy literary reference to back you up.

You’re one too many shots of tequila deep, swaying to the shitty techno music that someone is blasting from their pretentious Spotify playlist while stumbling past the office cubicles, including yours and He Who Shall Not Be Named’s, on your wobbly trip to the bathroom.

Despite the copious amounts of alcohol in your system, the remaining coherent part of your brain is sounding the alarms that you’re probably going to throw up soon. You wish that part of your brain would just shut the hell up because you don’t want to think rationally right now.

You don’t want to think about He Who Shall Not Be Named and how he’s in love with your best friend. You don’t want to think about how his eyes found her the moment she walked into the office, how his gaze melted into a pool of honey, his head swiveling towards every direction she went like a stupid bobblehead. Not that you blame him; everyone is in love with Karina. It’s not his fault, but you’re mad at him anyways.

Ugh, see? You’re thinking about him again.

Anyways, you’re also grateful for that part of your brain because the poets definitely do not write about spewing chunks in front of your co-workers. You just want to hurl in peace and wallow in your misery with the porcelain toilet bowl by your side.

The poets probably wrote about that.

You finally make it to the hall where the bathrooms are, having steady yourself against the wall as you make your way down because walking in a straight line has become a luxury. However, you only get about five steps (at least you think it’s five, numbers are hard) when someone grabs your arm. You don’t even realize your legs are in the process of buckling until there’s a pair of hands supporting your waist to keep you upright.

“Jesus, Y/N,” someone breathes in relief, exhaling loudly.

You’d recognize that condescending tone anywhere.

He Who Shall Not Be Named carefully leans you against the wall, one hand still on your waist while the other removes the bottle of Jack Daniels that you didn’t even know you were clinging onto from the nook of your arm. With one smooth motion, he tosses the bottle into the trashcan and doesn’t even flinch when the bottle very audibly shatters inside.

“I know you’re a loyal worshiper of mine, but just Y/N is fine,” you slur, not sounding nearly as cool as you’d hope, “though it’d be pretty fucking funny if you washed my feet.”

He huffs and pauses, like he’s debating on whether or not he should say what he wants to say next. And because he’s a piece of shit, he says it:

“For the record, Jesus washed his disciples’ feet. Not the other way around.”

You groan, shoving him hard. He barely budges, so most of the force in your shove kicks back to you. Feeling yourself tip forward, you grab his shoulders out of instinct to avoid busting your head open against the hard tile. In the process, your forehead slams into his chest, and he lets out a soft grunt. His hands grip your elbows, fingertips warm against your even warmer skin.

“I hate you,” you sniffle, burying your face in his shirt. He smells exactly like a fluffy towel that just came out of the dryer. “You’re tactless and you never let me win and you have shitty taste in movies.”

“And you’re drunk,” he replies nonchalantly, “Why do you drink so much when you’re such a lightweight?”

“You don’t deserve Karina,” you continue angrily.

He actually laughs at that. “Okay, young lady. I’m going to drive you home now. Come on.”

You lift your head so fast that you nearly slam it into his jaw; luckily, he sees it coming and steps back before you can knock his teeth out.

“Don’t,” you hiss, poking his chest. “I don’t want you to drive me home. Don’t drive me home unless…”

He raises an eyebrow. “Unless what?”

“Pretty boys can never be trusted,” you hiccup.

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about, but let’s continue this discussion when you’ve sobered up,” he sighs, crossing his arms. “And when you are sober and realize that you don’t want to talk about this anymore, like I suspect you’ll do, I’ll even pretend like this conversation never happened because I am a gentleman.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” you whisper blearily.

You’re wearing a green t-shirt that has “Kiss me, I’m Irish” plastered across the chest in big, bold white letters. You borrowed it from Karina when you realized you didn’t have any green in your closet. Of course, only Karina would look good in something like this, but you really didn’t want to be pinched the entire night. Someone had plastered four-leaf clover stickers all over your face, though you’re not sure how many of them are still on at this point. Your makeup should be intact since you haven’t been sweating, even if you probably have mascara residue under your eyes. You’ve certainly looked better, but this definitely isn’t the worst state you’ve been in.

It’s a stupid question though, really. No matter how pretty you are, he’s already chosen Karina.

When you glance back up at him, he looks like one of those cartoon characters that have two perfect red circles on their cheeks when they blush.

You haven’t seen him this flustered in a long time. He’s always had this smug, impenetrable mask of an expression that you want to punch off his face―like he’s constantly one step ahead of you in something.

You want to take out your phone and take a picture of his expression so badly.

Instead, you hunch over and throw up on his expensive shoes.

VALENTINE’S DAY 2018 my feelings used to be serrated, but you speak in such a perfect cadence

Pretty boys should never be trusted.

That is your ultimate mantra in life.

Especially pretty boys that claim to be “nerdy.” The ones that smell nice and aren’t misogynistic but also like games and anime and know how to code. The ones that wear indie band t-shirts and actually enjoy the band but don't care if you wear the same t-shirt just because you like the aesthetic. The ones that wear rings on their fingers and metal-rimmed glasses on the tip of their noses.

The ones that other girls would claim were “written by women.”

It’s all a trap.

If anything, they’re worse than the obnoxious frat boy chads. At least those are straightforward about what they want. Nerdy pretty boys are professional manipulators, meticulously slicing your heart into thin little pieces to use as a garnish for their own ego.

So when the new intern swaggers into the office, hands tucked into the pockets of his designer slacks, your Pretty Boy senses start to tingle.

He’s wearing a crisp white button-up (not a band tee since he’s at work), and he’s got rings on his fingers and metal-rimmed glasses right on the tip of his nose. His hair is a little curly and falls into his eyes in that messy but charming look. He’s got a round face and pouty lips, looking just sweet enough to disarm someone.

After he walks in, the CEO of the company follows, and now everything makes sense.

“Everyone, this is my grandson, Donghyuck,” Mr. Lee explains, smiling warmly.

Nepo baby, you realize, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“I want you all to know he won’t be getting any special treatment,” Mr. Lee says firmly, “He will have to work his way from the bottom, just like everyone else.”

Right, that’s why you’re personally introducing him to us, you think wryly.

After receiving a load of ass kissing from the employees, Mr. Lee finally leaves, and your team leader points Donghyuck to the empty cubicle right next to yours. He strolls over with an ease as if he owns the building (he technically does) and takes a seat. He smiles at you, though it reads as more of a smirk than a good-natured smile.

“Hi, I’m Donghyuck.”

When he looks at you, he does so with his whole body. His lanky frame is completely angled towards you as he unabashedly drinks in your side profile with his mischievous, twinkly eyes. The way he stares at you with such intrigue makes you jittery, and you keep your line of sight glued to your computer screen, refusing to indulge him even through your peripheral.

He’s deploying his Pretty Boy tactics, you warn.

“I know,” you snap back. You don’t mean to come off that aggressively, but you just know he’s trouble. In an attempt to remedy your curt response, you softly tack on, “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” Donghyuck asks, the quirked grin on his face growing.

You blink in surprise. You were not expecting him to say it so straightforwardly. “I…just met you.”

“You’re not answering the question.” He tilts his head, though he doesn’t seem particularly bothered by it. Rather, he probably already knows the answer.

You’re not sure what to say to that, and Donghyuck doesn’t try to continue the conversation either. Instead, he begins to unpack his stuff and set up his work space. When he turns on his personal laptop, you see League of Legends downloaded onto it.

Yikes.

Like the standard pretty boy, he starts hanging up an indie band poster, along with some anime ones you don’t recognize and―a Twilight poster.

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head when you see it. Men, even the pretty boys who are trying to make themselves as appealing to girls as possible, rarely ever admit to watching, much less enjoying, Twilight.

Okay, so maybe your Pretty Boy tingle got one thing wrong, but it doesn’t change the fact that he checks most of the Pretty Boy boxes―

“Are you Team Edward or Jacob?” Donghyuck asks, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

You have no one else to blame but yourself for snooping, but you still grow hot from your face to the tips of your ears and all the way down your neck.

“I’m Team Charlie,” you reply breezily, sounding pretty calm for someone who’s screaming on the inside.

His eyebrows slightly raise, and he just laughs quietly to himself.

You relish in that tiny victory.

As it turns out, Donghyuck is an extremely fast learner.

And despite being a nepo baby, he puts his money where his mouth is. He picks things up extremely quickly and utilizes everything he has learned efficiently. In fact, he’s doing so well that he’s starting to threaten your position as the office’s favorite intern.

And of course, on today of all days, you fuck up.

Another intern messed up the report, and you somehow overlooked it while you were checking. However, the responsibility falls on your shoulders because it was your job to make sure the report was correct. You get viciously chewed out by your team leader, and you’re guaranteed to have to work overtime to fix everything.

Ultimately, it is your mistake, and you’re not disputing that; you just know that you’re being made an example of so the office can look good in front of the CEO’s grandson.

So, while everyone is gathering their stuff to leave, you’re the only one still at your cubicle, fingers clicking away on the keyboard. Your eyelids are already starting to droop, despite the fact that you have at least a couple hours left of work. Giving yourself a couple of smacks on the cheeks, you try to shake away the brain fog and keep going.

You’re so immersed that you almost don’t notice Donghyuck set down a cup of coffee on your desk.

“I bought two for myself, but I think you need it more than me,” he admits, actually seeming a little sympathetic.

“Thanks,” you say, a little wary but still appreciative. You’re too tired to even question his motives.

He gives you a wave before leaving. Once he’s gone, you turn back to your computer and start to work again. You nearly forget about the coffee until you pause to take a big stretch, noticing it in your peripheral. Picking it up, you notice there’s a message scrawled on it.

happy valentine’s day! maybe i’ll grow on you :)

You smile, but only a little bit. Only because he’s a little cute.

When you finally take a sip, you nearly spit it all over your computer screen.

It’s so bitter that it sends a shudder throughout your whole body. You start to cough, feeling like even a single drop of that coffee getting in your system is going to make your short circuit. You’re not even sure if this poison could be considered black coffee. It might be actual black tar. Frantically digging through your drawers to find some candy or gum to offset the bitterness, you begin to curse Donghyuck in your head.

When you finally find a half-melted caramel cube and pop it into your mouth, it occurs to you that Donghyuck didn’t even have a cup of coffee in his hands even though he said he bought two.

“That asshole,” you whisper.

Cracking your knuckles and rolling your neck, you start to type again with a renewed vigor, thinking of all the ways you were going to make Donghyuck pay to power you through the rest of the night.

ST. PATRICK’S DAY 2022 sun’s up too soon like daylight savings, mixed emotions are congregating

You’re not sure how He Who Shall Not Be Named manages to clean himself up and wrangle you into his car in such a short timespan, but he does it. Most of it is a blur to you, though you do recall him throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carrying you through the parking garage after you started trying to fistfight him.

Now, you’re leaning your head against the cool window, watching all the buildings whizz by, as he drives in silence. Well, not complete silence. Music is being softly played on the radio. It’s that stupid indie band he likes, and you hate that you know exactly what song it is. You remember it from last time.

I’ve only been in his car twice, including now, you think groggily to yourself.

He must really like this song.

APRIL FOOLS 2019 three stories up here contemplating, but what the fuck is patience?

“Is this some sort of sick April Fools’ joke?” you demand.

“Come on, Y/N. Surely, you don’t think a prank of mine would be this lame,” Donghyuck retorts, offended.

The two of you are fighting again. At this point, it’s a daily occurrence in the office. In fact, Karina likes to say that the official work day doesn’t really start until you and Donghyuck start going at each other’s throats. You feel bad that everyone has to constantly deal with your bickering, but Donghyuck asks for it every time.

“You can’t just take someone else’s client,” you say through gritted teeth, wanting to smack that insufferable look right off his face.

“I didn’t take anything,” he corrects haughtily, “I was assigned your client, who is now my client. Take it up with the team leader.”

“The team leader would suck a fart out of your ass if you asked him to,” you hiss back.

He shrugs like you have a point.

“Fine,” you snap, grabbing your bag. “I’ll go talk to my client myself. I’ll get them to request to be transferred back to me.”

Before marching out, you grab the coffee on your desk and down it all in one go. It’s been sitting there for a couple hours, so it’s ice cold. The cold temperature in combination with the extreme bitterness is just the right mixture to light a fire in you.

Unfortunately, that fire is dimmed when you step foot outside and realize it’s thunderstorming heavily. The wind howls so piercingly that it almost hurts your ears, and the onslaught of rain is so strong that you can barely see the cars on the streets. You weigh your options: you have no car, there’s no way you can wait for a bus, and there sure as hell aren’t going to be any available taxis.

Just as you begrudgingly decide to do the walk of shame back into the office and wait out the storm, you hear a loud honk and see an obnoxiously red Ferrari pull up. The tinted window rolls down, and you find yourself staring at nepo baby Lee Donghyuck.

“Need a ride?” he shouts over the pouring rain.

“Not with you!” you holler back, turning to go back inside.

“Are you really going to wait it out?” he teases. “Their office closes in twenty minutes.”

You want to keep walking and ignore him, but your traitorous feet plant themselves on the concrete and refuse to let you take another step.

“Thanks for the new client, I guess!” he continues in a sing-song voice. A car behind him beeps, and you hear his window roll back up as he slowly starts to drive away.

“Damn it,” you mutter. Not giving yourself to think, you whirl around and dash out into the rain. Luckily, he decided to leave at a snail’s pace, so you have time to fling his car door open and slip inside.

Even though you were only in the rain for a few seconds, you’re soaked to the bone. Your pants make a squish noise when you settle yourself into his expensive leather seat. You want to make a joke about ruining his seats, but your teeth are chattering too hard for you to even speak.

Donghyuck reaches over and turns your seat warmer on before also blasting the heater. Your thin blouse has become see-through, and you awkwardly cross your arms over your chest, hoping he hasn’t noticed. Unfortunately, he has noticed, judging by the way he loudly clears his throat and reaches into the backseat to give you his hoodie.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, pulling it over your head before slipping your arms through. The sleeves are too long, so you roll them up to your wrists. His hoodie smells like fabric softener.

“No problem.” His voice cracks.

Neither of you say anything after that, only the sound of the rain pitter-pattering against his car filling in the silence. Eventually, he turns on the radio.

It’s a song you don’t recognize, but you deduce it’s from one of his indie bands when he starts humming along. You’re not even sure he’s aware that he’s doing it, though you don’t really mind. He’s not a bad singer, and you actually enjoy the song.

The two of you spend the remainder of the drive just listening to music, neither of you really feeling the need to speak. It’s a calm, comfortable silence―something that you never thought would be achievable between you and him. Rather, you wish you had more moments like this.

By the time you arrive at your client’s office, the rain has stopped. You assume he’s going to leave after dropping you off because it’s not raining anymore, and especially since the meeting ends up lasting way past the office’s closing, but you see his Ferrari still there when you come back out.

Walking over to him, you knock on the window.

“You didn’t have to wait up,” you say when he rolls it down, slightly touched.

“You have my hoodie,” Donghyuck states plainly.

Well, there goes the moment. You can always count on him to say something to piss you off.

“Right.” Rolling your eyes, you start to take off the hoodie in the street.

“I’m just kidding, Y/N,” he grins, “Come on.”

You let out a small huff, even though you’re smiling too, and you climb in. He turns the radio on again, and the two of you fall back into the ambiance. It occurs to you that Donghyuck’s car smells overwhelmingly like rain and leather and him. When you cross your arms, the scent of the fresh fabric softener from his hoodie wafts back up to you. You feel warm―the kind of warmth that blooms in the pit of your stomach and then melts throughout your body, like when you take a sip of hot chocolate on a cold day.

“How was it?” he finally asks after the song ends.

“Who do you think I am?” you scoff. “Of course I got them back.”

He smiles, and it makes you feel proud.

“You can tell the team leader to suck the fart out of my ass,” you retort.

This gets a laugh from him before he hesitantly adds, “I really didn’t want to take your client.”

You’ve never heard him sound so serious and so…vulnerable before. He says it with a slight desperation, like he doesn’t think you’ll believe him.

“I know.”

And much to your own surprise, you do know.

Now that’s a sick April Fools’ joke.

ST. PATRICK’S DAY 2022 sun’s up too soon like daylight savings, mixed emotions are congregating

“You don’t deserve Karina,” you mumble, coming in and out of sleep.

He Who Shall Not Be Named laughs again at that, though he sounds a lot more exhausted. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Don’t think I didn’t see it,” you slur. “You were making those stupid moon eyes at her all night long. Looking like some lovesick puppy. Gross.”

He laughs for a second time, but there’s not a hint of humor in it.

What if it had been me, you want to ask him.

NEW YEARS EVE 2019 tiptoeing past so many stages, but what the fuck is patience?

You’re not sure what possessed Mr. Lee, probably the fact that his grandson works for the company, but he randomly announced one day that the entire office was getting an all expenses paid trip to a fancy ski resort as a New Years present. Needless to say, everyone was absolutely ecstatic.

But you should’ve known something was going to go wrong when Karina suggested that the two of you leave the bunny slope and move straight into the advanced slope, despite the fact that neither of you have ever skied in your lives until now.

You’d like to think that Karina’s sudden bravery was due to the adrenaline of being on such a luxurious trip. You’re going to blame your lack of judgment on the adrenaline rush as well because you actually agreed to it.

Of course, things derailed almost immediately and literally because the two of you ended up veering off the course due to your lack of steering abilities and somehow found yourselves in a random, remote wooded area off the edge of the slope. Karina also twisted her ankle after landing incorrectly, so there’s that too.

Oh, and there’s a snowstorm.

Well, it’s not really a snowstorm. It’s more of a flurry, but it’s terrifying nonetheless because of your current situation. Karina can barely move, and neither of you have any clue where you are nor do you have any sort of communication device since you left it all at the resort. It’s not like you can leave Karina by herself to get help either. You can really only hope that someone finds you before the frostbite starts settling.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Karina sniffles, her nose redder than Rudolph’s.

You hug her tightly, both to comfort her and to keep the two of you as warm as possible. “Stop crying, you’re going to dehydrate yourself. You can apologize when we get out of here.”

She chokes back a sob.

You want to cry too, but you bite down on your lower lip and just cling onto Karina harder.

“Damn, and I was finally going to follow through with my New Year's resolution of fixing my sleep schedule,” you joke, voice trembling.

Karina laughs weakly at that too. “You say that every year.”

“I know,” you admit sheepishly, “but I really am going to this time. I need to make sure I’m in tip-top condition because there’s no way in hell I’m letting Lee Donghyuck get that promotion over me.”

That’s right, you tell yourself. I can’t die here. Not before that dumbass.

You’re not sure why you’re suddenly thinking about him again, but it makes you feel a lot less scared when you picture his dumb smirk and that sly glint in his eyes when he’s gearing up to say something to piss you off. He always knows which buttons to press on the exact wrong day to press them.

You kind of wish he was here now. He would probably be cracking stupid jokes and distracting you―

“Y/N!”

Blinking the snowflakes out of your eyes, you squint past the sheet of snow and tall trees, trying to make sure you aren’t hallucinating. You see a blurry figure running towards you and Karina, the beam of their flashlight peeking through the darkness. When did the sun start setting?

Speak of the pretty boy, and he shall come, you suppose, because Lee Donghyuck is suddenly kneeling in front of you.

The smug look he always dons is wiped clean from his face, instead, his eyes are wide like two saucers and his hands are trembling. You can feel how tightly he’s clutching your arms even through the thick material of your parka. His hair is damp against his forehead; whether it’s from snow or sweat or both, you’re not sure. His face is flushed, and his nose is red like Karina’s, but you want to reach out and boop it for some reason. You can see his labored breath come out in white puffs due to the temperature.

“I found them!” Donghyuck calls out, turning behind him. A couple of your other colleagues emerge from the trees, all holding flashlights. Then, he reverts his attention back to you. His face is all furrowed up, like he isn’t sure whether to be mad at you for being reckless or collapse with relief.

“Are you hurt?” he eventually asks, voice strained as he helps you to your feet. He brushes the snow out of your hair and lifts your ski goggles from your eyes, scanning your face.

“Karina twisted her ankle,” you reply numbly, unable to feel your lips.

He glances over at Karina, who’s being helped by your other co-workers, before looking at you again. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head.

Donghyuck exhales loudly, and you watch his shoulders relax. Then he says, “What the hell were you thinking?”

You flinch at his sharp tone. He’s never raised his voice at you before. You’ve always been the one yelling at him.

“You can’t even drive a car, so what on Earth possessed you to try and ski on the advanced slope?” he continues to reprimand you. “What’s the point in being this smart if you’re not going to use common sense―”

You burst into tears.

You cry for many reasons: the sheer terror you’d been trying to keep at bay finally catches up to you, you’re grateful to be alive, you’re upset that Donghyuck is scolding you, you’re happy that Donghyuck is scolding you, and most of all, you know he’s right. He’s right, and you’re glad he’s right. You’re glad that he’s standing in front of you.

“You’re such a dick,” you wail, “I can’t believe you’re yelling at me when I almost died. Why can’t you just comfort me like a normal human with empathy?”

Donghyuck grows quiet, and you see his expression soften. Sighing, he reaches over and swipes the tears from your face. When you sniffle, he takes his expensive cashmere scarf and wipes your nose with it. He doesn’t even blink at the snot on it as he cups your frozen cheeks with his gloved hands. Grinning evilly, he squishes your face together, a mush of tears, snot, and puffiness.

“I’ve never wanted you more,” he teases.

“I’m going to kill you,” you grumble, shoving his hands away. Though you do find solace in the fact that he’s making fun of you again.

Your colleagues call the two of you over for help, and you make your way to Karina, who’s still unable to get up.

“Hyuck, do you mind carrying her back to the resort?” One of them asks, their hands too full with Karina’s skis and their own emergency supplies that they brought.

Donghyuck hesitates for a moment, his eyes inadvertently flashing towards you, before he kneels down and turns his back to Karina as he prepares to give her a piggy-back ride.

“I’m heavy,” Karina warns as she carefully climbs on.

“Don’t worry, I do five pushups a week,” he replies breezily, and despite his joking, he stands to his feet without a problem.

She laughs at that, sounding like an angel descending from the heavens.

He adjusts her thighs in his arms slightly, pausing to ask, “That didn’t hurt your ankle, did it?”

She shakes her head, and he says something else that makes her laugh again.

It’s not that you’re jealous that he’s carrying Karina. After all, she’s injured, so it would be a bit obnoxious to be upset over something that isn’t anyone’s fault. And it’s not like you’re any more special to him than Karina.

No, this feeling isn’t jealousy. It’s…uncertainty.

You’re uncertain that he would do the same for you if you were in Karina’s position. Has he ever reassured you with such ease like he did with her? Has he ever treated you like you were made of glass? Has he ever spoken to you so tenderly like that?

You suddenly feel so cold.

Three.

When you get back to the resort, there’s an ambulance waiting to take you and Karina to the hospital for a checkup. You try to tell everyone that you don’t need to go to the hospital, but your colleagues, Karina, and the paramedics insist on you doing so.

“Your glove is torn.”

Before you can even register his words, Donghyuck is holding your hand and flipping your palm over. The fabric of your right glove is ripped, exposing the tip of your pointer finger. You must’ve scraped it against something in the middle of all the chaos because there’s some dried blood caked around your nail.

“You should go,” he says softly, giving your hand an encouraging squeeze before letting go.

Once Karina is properly settled on the gurney, you’re ushered into the ambulance after her. As the doors close behind you, you catch Donghyuck’s eyes one last time. You don’t get to see what his expression is because you look away almost immediately, focusing your gaze on your finger.

Now that the adrenaline has worn off, it does sting a little.

Two.

Once the hospital finally discharges you and Karina in the middle of the night, the two of you call an Uber back to the resort and clumsily stumble up to your room like two people that just came home after a long night of partying, completely exhausted.

You’re so busy fumbling with your room key and nearly miss the gift that someone has set in front of your door. Picking it up, you realize it’s one of those hot chocolate sets that come with a cute little mug and are wrapped in holographic plastic. There’s also a separate bag of marshmallows beside it.

You don’t really examine it that much, simply handing it off to Karina.

“Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer.”

One.

Karina doesn’t notice the note tucked into the holographic plastic until she’s hobbling to the trashcan to throw it away.

happy new year! maybe i’ll grow on you :)

She turns to you to ask you about it, but you’re already tucked in bed fast asleep. Shrugging, she crumples the note up and tosses it away without another thought.

“Happy New Year,” she whispers to you before crawling in bed herself.

It’s a shame you didn’t get to see the fireworks.

ST. PATRICK’S DAY 2022 sun’s up too soon like daylight savings, mixed emotions are congregating

“I’m hungry,” you whine, jolting awake and hitting your head against the hard leather headrest on your seat.

“Probably because you emptied out the contents of your stomach onto my Air Jordans,” He Who Shall Not Be Named says wryly.

You ignore him, getting distracted by the hot dog vendor that you drive by.

“I like hot dogs,” you say absentmindedly.

HALLOWEEN 2021 picturing us in all these places, ahead of myself’s an understatement

You just wanted to get away from the crowd, really.

The party was getting a little stuffy, and it’s pretty easy to get overheated when you’re in a thick Teletubby onesie. You and Karina had the bright idea of dressing as the purple and red Teletubby, but neither of you considered just how hot it would get.

So, that’s why you’re wandering around the dim hallways of the office, munching on a handful of candy―only to end up hearing a conversation you shouldn’t have.

“You are my biggest failure.” That’s Mr. Lee’s voice, hushed but angry.

“More than my mom? I’m honored.” It’s Donghyuck this time. He laughs, a bitter and choked sound.

You nearly yelp when the sound of a loud slap echoes down the hallway. No one else talks after that, and you only hear the sound of footsteps walking away.

Actually, walking away sounds like an absolutely amazing idea, so you turn on your heel to make a quick escape―

And of course, on today of all days, you fuck up.

All of the candy that you had been clutching to your chest slips from your sweaty palms, clattering to the floor. Every single clatter makes you shrink further and further into yourself, and you have no choice but to step out from the corner you were hiding in.

In probably one of the most poorly-timed situations of all time, you have to face Donghyuck while dressed as the purple Teletubby, and he has to face you while dressed as a hot dog―right after you just involuntarily witnessed a glimpse of his strained familial relationships.

“Hi,” you greet awkwardly, gesturing to all the candy that just fell on the floor. “You, uh, want some candy?”

When he looks at you, all the words die in your throat. There’s a red mark on his cheek, and he looks like a little boy again. He stares at you like a deer in headlights, a mixture of horror, embarrassment, and frustration all over his face. He seems so lost and alone, and you don’t know what to do to help him.

“No thanks, Tinky Winky,” he finally replies. He gives you a half-smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“What?” You blink.

“You’re dressed as the purple Teletubby, and you don’t even know his name?” He raises an eyebrow as he sits down on the floor, leaning against the wall.

“I think it’s weirder that you do know his name,” you try to tease.

He doesn’t react to that, and you just stand there. Not wanting to leave him alone, you squat down and start to pick up the candy on the floor to keep yourself busy.

“You should go back to the party,” Donghyuck says quietly.

“It’s too hot,” you complain.

“Y/N.”

“Wanna watch Twilight?” you suddenly ask.

He stares at you for what seems like forever, his expression unreadable as he searches your face. After a bit longer, he just says, “Okay.”

You gather up the rest of the candy before taking a seat on the floor right next to him, brushing your shoulder against his. Pulling out your phone, you open the Netflix app and start to play Twilight.

You pretend you don’t feel him trembling, and you tell yourself he’s crying because he knows Bella will eventually choose Edward over Jacob. The two of you watch in complete silence; he doesn’t explain, and you don’t ask.

Instead, you push your hood off so you don’t poke him in the face with your triangle antenna and lean your head against his shoulder. Then, you lace your fingers through his and hold his hand without a word.

A hot dog and Tinky Winky the purple Teletubby watching Twilight, who would’ve thought?

ST. PATRICK’S DAY 2022 sun’s up too soon like daylight savings, mixed emotions are congregating

“I hate you, Lee Donghyuck.”

He doesn’t say anything to that.

CHRISTMAS 2021 outlines on bedsides, give me a second to forget i ever really meant it

It happened on the last day of work before Christmas break.

You gawk at the opened box in your hands, a pair of fluffy white angora gloves wrapped in fancy wrapping paper staring back up at you. Even though there’s no receipt included, you already know that these gloves cost more than three month’s worth of rent for your apartment.

“Did you steal these? Is that why you’re giving them to me? So you can frame me for your crime?” you ask suspiciously.

“Please,” he rolls his eyes, “as if I’d let you take the credit for any one of my crimes.”

You carefully take the gloves out before tossing the box at him. Catching it deftly and handing it back to you, he pretends to wipe away a tear dramatically.

“I went through the trouble of remembering how your gloves were ripped during the ski trip, so I meticulously picked these out for you,” he whines. “And I can’t believe you’re now questioning my goodwill.”

That makes you pause.

Is he talking about those cheap gloves that you used only once for that disastrous ski trip and then threw out immediately afterwards? The gloves that you haven’t thought about once since then? The gloves that you had to rack your brain to recall when he started talking about them just moments before? You can’t believe he remembered something so random.

Why did he remember?

It’s a question that haunts you on the entire plane ride back to your hometown and follows you throughout all of your family dinners and even when you’re lying awake on your cramped childhood bed.

It’s a question that both baffles and angers you at the same time. You wish he didn’t remember, and you wish he never gave you those gloves in the first place. The company is always generous to their employees around the holidays, and you know that this isn’t anything special, but it makes you feel special. It makes you want to be special. To him.

He is just a pretty boy. A pretty boy that likes indie bands and wears rings on his fingers and metal-rimmed glasses on the tip of his nose. A pretty boy that likes League of Legends and Studio Ghibli and Twilight and that one Hallmark movie you once caught him watching in the break room. A pretty boy that drinks black coffee. A pretty boy that drives a red Ferrari. A pretty boy that gave you a ride in that red Ferrari when it was raining. A pretty boy that looked for you for an hour during a snowstorm. A pretty boy that dressed as a hot dog for Halloween. A pretty boy that gave you expensive gloves because he remembered.

When did he go from Pretty Boy to Donghyuck?

But he can’t be Donghyuck. He can’t just be Donghyuck to you. Because that would be too real, too unrestrained. Because Donghyuck makes Karina laugh, so he can’t make you laugh. There needs to be decorum, after all. If he’s just Donghyuck, then what happens after?

That’s right. He can’t be Donghyuck. From now on, you won’t say his name. You’ll only know him as He Who Shall Not Be Named.

It happens when your mom tells you to take the casserole out of the fridge.

You see it, that traitorous pack of hot dog sausages.

You think back to Halloween, and then―

Oh my God, I like him.

“What the fuck,” you groan loudly.

That gets you a couple of gasps from your elderly relatives and an asswhooping from your mom.

ONE DAY AFTER ST. PATRICK’S DAY 2022 ― PRESENT fast times and fast nights, no time for rewrites

For the record, Donghyuck was not looking at Karina.

And if you’d stop avoiding him like the plague, he would be able to explain that to you.

He honestly applauds your ability to ignore the elephant in the room, considering that his cubicle is right next to yours. You’ve continuously managed to give yourself more work or conveniently slip away to the bathroom during any moment of down time. His patience is honestly starting to grow thin, but you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t wear it down to the wire.

Donghyuck finally manages to hunt you down in the same hallway where you threw up on his shoes. It’s hilariously ironic, and he would normally make a joke about it, but he’s in a bit of a time crunch. You look like a spooked cat, preparing to dart away the moment there’s an opening.

“Surely, someone as smart as you is aware that you can’t just avoid me forever.” He tilts his head.

“Well, if you move, we can find out if I can or not,” you reply, refusing to look at him and trying to walk past him.

“How’s your hangover?” he asks cheerfully, stepping to the side and blocking your way.

“Awful.”

“Do you remember what happened last night?”

“No,” you say instantly. You’re such a terrible liar.

“You said you hated me,” he starts softly. He isn’t sure why he’s saying this. This isn’t what he wanted to talk about first. The order is getting jumbled in his head. “Do you?”

You suck in a wobbly breath. “No.”

It doesn’t hit him until after your answer how deathly afraid he was of you hating him. He has grown so desensitized to the word “hate,” yet it’s only when it comes to the person he cares about the most that the gravity of that word becomes so apparent.

“I like you, Y/N.”

This isn’t exactly the grand declaration of love that he was imagining; he was thinking more along the lines of The Notebook or any romcom from the early to mid-2000s, but it felt like the right time to just say it now.

Your reaction isn’t exactly what he had in mind either.

You’re gawking at him like he just grew another head. He isn’t sure why you’re so surprised; he hasn’t exactly been subtle about his crush on you.

“No, you don’t,” you say in an accusatory tone. Leave it up to you to even argue with him on his own feelings.

Now it’s his turn to gawk. “What?”

“You don’t like me,” you state firmly, but it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself. “How could you like me?”

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow, and he starts listing off reasons with his fingers. “I start a fight with you every morning because I want to have an excuse to talk to you, I bring you coffee everyday, I drove you to my client’s office in the middle of a storm so you could take back said client, I nearly shat my pants when they said you were missing at the ski resort and also bought you hot chocolate and a huge bag of marshmallows for New Years, and you were the only one I gave a Christmas present to last year.”

“You bought the hot chocolate and marshmallows?” You blink in surprise.

“Is that all you got from what I just said?”

“But Karina―”

Oh, right. He wanted to say this first.

“I wasn’t looking at Karina,” Donghyuck finally confesses, “I was looking at you. It’s always been you.”

That’s right, it’s only ever been you.

The stupid green “Kiss me, I’m Irish” shirt. Your smeared lip gloss that he wanted to kiss right off. The sparkly stickers all over your cheeks that made you look absolutely adorable. The way you buried your face into his shirt. How you fit right into his arms. Even when you threw up all over his favorite pair of shoes, there was no place Donghyuck would rather be.

Do you think I’m pretty? you had asked him.

Yes, you’re pretty. You’re so pretty that he feels like his heart will stop every time he lays his eyes on you. You’re so pretty that he can’t even think about the seasons without thinking about you and how you’re so much more beautiful than autumn, winter, spring and summer and anything in between. There’s never been a moment when you weren’t stunningly, breathtakingly, and heart-stoppingly pretty in his eyes.

“But―But that doesn’t make any sense,” you sputter, “You can’t like me!”

“Why not?”

“Because you just can’t.”

“Do you like me?”

“Yes―no! Regardless, you can’t just suddenly decide you like me―” you begin to explain.

“I’ve always liked you,” he points out.

“We’ve spent four years hating each other, and now all of sudden, we like each other? It’s too abrupt―”

“Y/N.” Donghyuck reaches over and grasps your wrist, his warm fingers against your even warmer skin as his thumb traces circles against the back of your hand. “Will you go out with me?”

When he looks at you, you have the same expression on your face as when he first met you and caught you staring at his Twilight poster. Your eyes dart around nervously, your pulse pounding against his fingertips, and he knows he has his answer.

“Okay,” you breathe.

He sighs, coiling an arm around your waist and pulling your body flush against his. Leaning his forehead against yours, he whispers, “Now was that so fucking hard?”

He kisses you, and you taste like everything he’s ever dreamed of and more.

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