#three rusty nails | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf · 4 months

Text

Aphrodisiac

rival!seonghwa x fem!reader

Trigger warnings: mentions of anxiety

Content warnings: oral (f receiving), names (baby, sweetheart, pretty), choking, spitting, a little bit of hair pulling, seonghwa is actually obsessed with you

Summary: your colleague-turned-enemy pulls a prank on you.

Word count: 6.8k

A/N: so i actually got this request like a year ago buttttt life happened and i'm just now publishing it. anyways i hope you all enjoy it and will continue to support this blog by reblogging my work and commenting your thoughts! much love, angels. <3

Tags: @bahng-chrizz

Smut below the cut

“I’m sorry, what?” You both said at the same time, eyes wide.

“Yes, unfortunately we only have one room left. We can prepare a walk letter for one of you to take to another hotel just a few minutes away and we will pay for your stay, but unfortunately we are fully booked.” The front desk clerk offered an apologetic smile.

“Okay…um…give us just a moment.” Seonghwa pulled you back from the desk as soon as you spoke, his expression dark.

“I’m not leaving, y/n, I’m fucking exhausted.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest you do. I’m more than happy to turn around and go back home.” You sighed, swiping your hand across your forehead. “Listen, if you’re staying here then I need the car. I don’t give a fuck how we do this, I just want to lay down.” Your lack of snark was concerning to him, given your usual form of communication was bickering.

He was silent for a few seconds before letting out a sigh. “Look, why don’t we both stay? You can cancel your reservation and save yourself the hassle of going somewhere else. I’ll get a rollaway bed and you can have the huge bed.”

Your cheeks flamed at the idea and you weren’t sure if it was due to indignance or something else. Even so, you caved quickly. “Are you sure?”

“We used to be friends, we can manage three nights together.” He rolled his eyes. The words ‘used to be’ hurt for some reason.

“Okay. But any funny business and I’ll hurt you.” You gave a warning glare before stepping back up to the desk. “You can cancel my reservation and give him the room.” You said before excusing yourself, making room for him at the desk.

That was how you’d landed yourself in your current predicament. “I’m a fucking idiot for letting you talk me into this.”

“You’re an idiot for less but okay.” He shrugged as he dropped his bag on the bed. “It’s not my fucking fault they ran out of rollaway beds. It’s also not my fault you’d rather eat rusty nails after having your wisdom teeth removed than share a bed with me.”

“Actually that last part is entirely your fault.” You snorted humorlessly as you rifled through your bag for your pajamas. A cold knot of anxiety settled in your stomach once more when you couldn’t find them. “Oh are you fucking kidding me?” You mumbled to yourself as you checked your bag again. Nothing. “Way to fucking go, y/n.” You sighed and held out your hand. “I need the keys.”

“For what?” Seonghwa asked even as he reached into his pocket.

“I can’t find my fucking pajamas.” You sighed again and he watched with concern as you raked a hand through your hair. “I’m pretty sure I left them on my bed when I was packing.”

Instead of the keys, a shirt landed in your hand. “I’ve got some basketball shorts too. They’ve got a drawstring so they’ll fit.”

“You’re being awfully nice.” You said cautiously. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. I’m just not prepared to comfort you if you start crying - by the way, you look like you’re about to.” His usual sass was tinged with something else but you were sure it wasn’t concern.

“I am not.” You huffed before squashing your irritation as he handed you the shorts. “Thank you.” You mumbled begrudgingly as you made your way to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Left alone, he heaved out a sigh. What was he doing? He never really hated you, he was just upset over being passed on for the promotion and was mad that you were offered the position when you didn’t apply for it. He was more mad that you didn’t take the offer. He could’ve gotten over his jealousy had you not turned down the position but it felt like a slap in the face that you wouldn’t take something that was being offered to you when he would’ve pounced on the opportunity.

Now he was faced with the uncomfortable reality that he still had feelings for you and would be in extremely close proximity to you for three nights but you couldn’t stand him. Had things not soured between the two of you, he likely would’ve made a move during a trip like this. Now he was left with his feelings and no hope of having anything more than a series of arguments with you.

His heart stumbled to a halt for a brief moment before kicking into overdrive when you came out of the bathroom, hair wet from a quick shower, his clothes dwarfing your frame. Part of him was dying to get his hands on you, to kiss and claim every inch of you. You looked absolutely delectable wearing his clothes and his possessive streak was about to rear its head.

Instead, he cleared his throat and turned away. “It’s about time. Do you always take forever to get dressed after a shower?”

“Well now I'm tempted to take even longer next time. Don’t play with me.” You gave a fake smile as you circled the bed to where your bag still was. You lifted it off the bed and placed it on the floor by the nightstand then turned the sheets back and grabbed the can of disinfectant spray from a shopping bag. The two of you had already stopped by the store and you’d grabbed a small can.

“Is this really necessary?” He frowned in annoyance even as he humored you and followed suit, moving his things and turning his side of the sheets back.

“Yes it’s necessary. Do you know how many people touch these sheets even after they’ve been washed? Or how dirty those laundry rooms actually are? And don’t even get me started on the duvets.” You cringed as you began to spray the bed down, lifting the pillows on your side before circling the bed and working on his side.

“And we’re about to make it dirty by sleeping here. What is your point?” He rolled his eyes and grabbed his clothes from where he’d placed them on the opposite night stand. “Whatever. Have your fun. I’m going to shower.” And with that, he left you alone.

Once you were satisfied, you placed the can back in the bag and crawled into bed, cutting the light on your side off. You drifted off before he was even out of the shower.

When he returned, still toweling his hair, you were fast asleep. He was quick to turn the other light off to keep from disturbing you, even though he wasn’t ready to bed down just yet. He stood over you and watched for a moment, taking in the planes of your face. You looked so worried, so fatigued. What had changed for you in the time that your friendship had fallen apart? He didn’t think too hard about it and got in bed as well.

————————————————

Your presentation had been a failure and you were currently nursing your wounds at the hotel bar, trying to avoid Seonghwa. You knew he’d mock you and you couldn’t handle that at the moment.

You let out a deep sigh when he found you, turning further away from him when he sat beside you. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t what? Remind you of how badly you fucked that up?” He paused before feigning apology. “Oops. Too late.”

“Seonghwa please just stop.” You felt a lump forming in your throat and reached into your purse for your wallet.

“Why? You’re the one who screwed up, not me. You can’t seriously expect me to feel bad for you.” He did but he couldn’t stop digging the hole deeper.

“Seriously. Stop.” You forced out, rifling through your wallet as pressure built behind your eyes.

“Listen, I'm sorry you’re not good at public speaking or whatever, but that’s not my problem. It’s not my job to be your bestie.”

“Yeah, fucking obviously.” You finally spat as you tossed down a twenty and stood. “Just leave me the fuck alone, Seonghwa.” Your face was red and your vision was starting to blur with tears so you hurried off towards the elevator, not wanting to let him see you cry.

It wasn’t your fault you bombed the presentation. Your anxiety had choked out every word you’d tried to say so you’d fumbled through each slide and he’d stepped up, covering the information in a more coherent manner. If he’d been anyone else, you would’ve found comfort in the support, but he wasn’t someone who did things because he cared.

You stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for your floor before repeatedly smashing the ‘door close’ button but it was too late. He’d managed to get an arm in the door before it shut and stepped inside, an unnerving amount of concern etched on his face. Why was he concerned? He loved seeing you pissed off.

“Y/n…” He reached a hand out but you jerked your arm away as the doors slid shut.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Seonghwa.” Your voice cracked and you turned away so he couldn’t see the tears starting to fall.

“Y/n, stop.” He grabbed your arm more forcefully this time and spun you around. You looked down so he couldn’t see you properly and he just sighed as he pulled you into his chest. “I’m sorry.”

Those two words broke something in you and your shoulders shook with a silent sob. He rubbed circles on your back as you cried into his chest, his familiar scent slowly seeping into your bones and calming you as you finally reached the tenth floor after several minutes. Why the fuck was the elevator so slow anyways?

As soon as the door opened, you untangled yourself from him and headed off towards your room without a word. You weren’t sure what to say.

The second the door was shut, he reached for you again. “Y/n, we need to talk.”

“We’ve needed to talk for two years. Why now?” You were tired of trying to figure out what he wanted. Tired of the fighting that only seemed to encourage his irritating ways.

“Because I'm tired of hurting you.” He sighed, gently squeezing your bare shoulders. His warm hands on your skin offered a measure of comfort you hadn’t realized you needed.

“Why? You hate me.”

“I never hated you. I was angry at you.” He corrected, urging you towards the desk chair and forcing you to sit before he propped on the desk. “I didn’t understand how you could pass up such an amazing opportunity and I was angry that you didn’t want it as much as I did. It pissed me off that you could want to miss out.”

“Seonghwa, I never wanted that position. I’m comfortable where I'm at.” You sighed and crossed your legs. “Have you ever considered why I didn't take it?”

“I just said that.”

You ignored his snarky tone and carried on. “Not only did I not want the job, I knew that you did. It was partially out of self-preservation and partially out of respect for you.”

“If you’d respected me as much as you say, you would’ve taken the job and not seemed so ungrateful.” He deadpanned and you felt more tears, this time from frustration.

“I just told you I didn’t want it!” You exclaimed, uncrossing your legs and leaning forwards. “You saw what happened today. That would’ve been every day if I’d taken the promotion. It’s embarrassing and anxiety-inducing, something I frankly don’t need more of. I’m not mentally strong enough for that humiliation. I didn’t want to take it because I knew I’d fail.” You said bitterly as you stood and kicked off your heels. “And for the record, I told them you were a better fit. So if you want someone to be mad at, be mad at them. Not me. I tried to get you the job.” You spat and then you stormed into the bathroom, leaving him sitting in silence.

It took you fifteen minutes to get ready for bed and when you emerged from the bathroom, he was sitting on the foot of the bed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think to consider the full reasoning behind you turning down the promotion. I was just so angry that you were chosen and still refused.”

“You’ve always been more ambitious than me. You’re more comfortable in your own skin than I am. More confident.” You shrugged and sat on your side of the bed.

“Which is sad, quite honestly.” He smiled humorlessly. “Listen, I know this is my fault. Can we agree to stop the feud?”

“That depends on you. I don’t instigate, I react. So we can only stop this if you stop trying to get under my skin.” You shrugged and laid down, pulling the sheets up to your chin when he stood. “Now go take a shower.” You hummed and flicked off your lamp.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep once he left the room but the next morning, you awoke to a strong arm wrapped around your waist. You realized your head was laying on his other arm so you tried to move away but he pulled you in closer. “Seonghwa.” A sleepy grunt was his only acknowledgement. “Why are you cuddling with me?”

“You’re warm.” He hummed, his voice deep with sleep. Holy hell… “Must’ve moved in my sleep.” He hadn’t. He’d been holding you the whole time.

“Okay but you’re awake now. So why are you still holding me?” Your cheeks were rapidly heating at the realization that he was shirtless this time. He made an unconcerned ‘I dunno’ noise and shrugged but made no move to release you. You tried to wriggle away again and his grip tightened.

“Well now I can’t let you go.” His voice was laced with amusement. “Solely because you want me to.”

“Unhand me!” You cried, a smile already on your face as you struggled to get away again. He laughed and pulled you further against him. “Come on, I thought we were gonna act like adults.”

“I never agreed to that. I just said I’d stop being mean.” He pointed out as his fingers dug into your side, earning a soft squeal as you jolted. “And in the spirit of being nice, I won’t exploit your ticklishness right now.”

“You’re such an asshole sometimes.” You rolled your eyes, still smiling even as he finally released you.

“Go get dressed. I’ll make us some coffee.” He hummed. You did as he said, padding to the bathroom after grabbing your clothes. As soon as you were gone, he shot out of bed with a grin, ignoring how perfect you looked in his clothes. Just because he was being nice didn’t mean he couldn’t still prank you.

He brewed the coffee and mixed in the creamer and sugar like you liked - he’d observed you making your coffee many times and knew how you liked it - then dropped in the chocolate. He knew how much you loved chocolate so you’d be thrilled to have it in your coffee. It was like a milkshake with how much creamer was in it.

When you came out a few minutes later, he handed you the cup. “I added something for you.” He hummed, waiting for you to sip the drink, which you did cautiously. Your face lit up at the sweet flavor and you thanked him, not catching the mischief in his smile as you drank in comfortable silence.

“You know, part of me isn’t sure I should trust you just yet.” You admitted a few minutes after finishing your coffee.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll do my best to change that, okay?” You nodded and bit your lip as you settled against the headboard. “We’ve got the whole morning free. What do you want to do?”

“Honestly, I kind of want to go back to sleep.” You chuckled as he gathered his clothes to get ready for the day.

“I mean, you could.” He shrugged as he padded to the bathroom. “I’ll be right back.”

In the short amount of time it took him to get ready for the day, you noticed something was off. You were warm and your breathing was picking up. You felt flustered at the memory of his shirtless form, sweats slung low on his hips, and your thighs squeezed together involuntarily. Why were you so turned on?

Your mouth went dry for a brief moment when he came back before watering as you took him in. He was in all black, his button down hugging his chest just right and his thighs looking powerful in his tight pants, and you wanted to pounce on him. What the fuck?

“You good?” He drawled, lifting a perfectly-groomed eyebrow.

“Yeah, why?” You responded immediately. That was far too quick for your liking.

“Because you look like a tomato and you’re eyeing me like a piece of meat.” He paused and made a show of moving closer. “Wait a minute…” He leaned down and examined you for a moment before grinning, faking shock. “Are you…turned on?”

“No!” You practically shrieked.

“You must’ve really liked that coffee.” He snorted as he righted himself.

Everything clicked at his words and your jaw dropped slightly. “What did you do?”

“Oh you know.” He shrugged as he went to his bag and reached inside. “Gave you a treat.” He grinned as he held up the pack of aphrodisiac chocolates.

“You motherfucker-” You chucked a pillow at him, indignation filling your words.

“Should I have one as well? Maybe we can fuck away the animosity.” He wiggled his eyebrows as he opened the box and pulled out the foil packet. When you hesitated to turn him down, his grin grew. “You want that? Want to fuck away all the bad feelings that ever existed between us?”

Your breath hitched as he broke off a piece of chocolate and lifted it to his lips. Finally, you nodded sheepishly. He quickly popped the candy in his mouth and let out a theatrical groan, both for your reaction and because it tasted amazing.

Your cheeks grew hotter at the sound and you averted your gaze, earning a laugh from him. “You’re too cute, y/n. You never struck me as the shy type.” He stalked towards the bed, lifting one knee onto the mattress as soon as he reached. “You wanna know what I think?” When you didn’t respond, he continued anyway. “I think that the second I get you naked, you’ll be a completely different person. You seem like a screamer. I bet you like it kinda wild.”

You hated how your body reacted to his drawl and you especially hated how quickly he figured you out but didn’t say anything to correct him. Instead, you simply accepted his advances when he moved closer and tipped your head back against the headboard. “Now’s your chance to back out.” He warned, his lips a hair’s width away.

Instead of verbally responding, you closed the tiny gap between the two of you. You felt a jolt of electricity when your lips touched. Immediately, something in him changed. He quickly lost his cool and began to devour your lips, his tongue delving into your mouth the moment your lips parted. You could taste the chocolate on his tongue and your pulse ratcheted up.

Your pussy throbbed when he let out a soft groan and you couldn’t stop your hands from moving to his chest. You deftly unbuttoned his shirt as his hands untucked your blouse and began to lift it. The instant you pulled back, your top was tossed aside and he urged you to stand. You didn’t want to move just yet, enjoying the feel of his lips on yours, but you complied quickly and a moment later he was knelt in front of you.

He pressed his forehead to your stomach as he took a steadying breath, then reached behind you to unzip your skirt. “This fucking thing has been taunting me for ages.” He growled as the material slid down your legs, revealing your already-soaked panties.

He pressed a kiss above your belly button, followed by one right below it, then another right above your panties. “How long?” Your voice sounded strange to you, never having been so rough in your life.

“Doesn’t matter. What matters right now is that I get a taste of your pretty pussy.” His gaze was heavy as his fingertips skimmed along your thighs, making your thoughts fuzzy. “May I?” He asked, fingers finally tracing along the edges of your panties.

You nodded quickly and he didn’t bother moving the material before pressing his tongue to you. The motion was meant to tease, as he quickly replaced his tongue with his nose and took a deep breath, groaning at the scent of your arousal.

Long fingers pushed your panties to the side a moment later, revealing your glistening folds to him. “Shit…” He hissed, his eyelids growing heavy as he zeroed in on your slick. Then his tongue was back on you, lapping at your mess. He locked eyes with you and his hands went to your ass, kneading the soft flesh there as his tongue worked you.

Seonghwa ate pussy like he’d been in the desert for days and your body was the first drop of water he’d stumbled across. Like a man starved. He was beyond enthusiastic and you were certain he’d wring you dry of orgasms before noon.

He sucked on your clit while pulling you impossibly closer and your jaw dropped, eyes fighting to stay open. “S-Seonghwa-” Your voice was a breathy moan as your hands tangled in his hair and he growled against you in appreciation, making sure you felt the vibrations.

You tugged at his hair in response and he gave a harsh suck, making your knees weak. You let out a soft curse and felt him smirk against you but couldn’t be bothered to be annoyed with his cockiness. He was too damn good at what he was doing for you to think about anything else.

Your head tipped back after a few minutes, soft moans flowing freely from your lips. You were doing well at keeping quiet so as not to disturb other guests but he’d change that. He was determined to make you scream and cry for him.

A soft nip to your clit had your spine straightening and your eyes flying open. “Oh fuck me-” You gasped at the pain that quickly gave way to pleasure as he soothed the sensitive bud with his tongue.

“Later, baby.” He teased before diving back in with renewed vigor, his tongue working faster as he felt you tensing under his touch. You shot him a glare but bit your lip hard when he laughed against you.

“Shit-” You whimpered, your grip on his hair tightening. He groaned at the sensation and you made another small sound. He knew good and damn well what he was doing to you and you didn’t want it to end, even as the knot in your belly began to unravel. “Oh- ‘m gonna cum-” You warned and he sucked on your clit once more, harder this time.

Your toes curled with the intensity of your orgasm. Your chest heaved and your head fell back as you let out a string of subdued moans and soft curses. Even as you came down from your high, he continued to lap at you and you felt a burning sensation under your skin. You could handle several orgasms but you needed a few minutes between each one.

“Hwa wait-” You whimpered. “Hold on.” You gently pushed him back and he reluctantly pulled away.

“The second I get you undressed and on that bed, my head is going back between your legs.” He warned as he stood, pulling you against him. His stiff cock strained against the confines of his pants, pressing against your belly, and you couldn’t help but reach out and palm him as he tipped your head back for a kiss.

You moaned softly at the taste of yourself on his tongue as he plundered your mouth, noticing the way his cock twitched at the sound. He wasted no time in unclasping your bra and tossing it aside, lightly pinching your nipple a moment later. You squeezed him through his pants in return and he nipped at your lip as he pulled you impossibly closer.

Impatient, you broke the kiss and began to sink to your knees but he stopped you. “Another time, baby. Let me take care of you this time, yeah?”

“But…”

He leaned in so his lips were right by your ear before whispering. “After all our meetings are done for the day, you can do whatever you want. We can come back here and you can have me however you’d like. How’s that sound, baby?”

You clenched around nothing, both at his words and the sound of his voice, rough with desire. “Anything I want?” He nodded. “You don’t know what you’ve just signed up for.” You grinned mischievously as he righted himself and pulled you against him.

“I’m more than happy to be your toy, sweetheart.” He hummed as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties. “Now let’s get these off so I can keep playing with you.”

He slid the material down your legs and you stepped out of the flimsy cotton only to be pushed backwards onto the bed. He crawled over you with a wolfish grin, one hand caressing your side. “You gonna let me go down on you again, pretty?”

“Please-” You nodded, your voice coming out as a breathy moan.

“Good girl.” He cooed, already moving down the mattress. He knelt beside the bed and hooked your legs over his shoulders, eyes locked on your dripping pussy. “God- you’re so fucking pretty, baby.”

You don’t bother trying to stop his praises, too focused on the way his lips seal around your clit once more. You never would’ve had a chance to respond even if you wanted to.

Instantly, the burn under your skin returned but in a more delicious way. Your hands tangled in his hair, guiding him this way and that. You knew you wouldn’t last long since you’d already had one orgasm so you decided to fully enjoy it and tell him exactly what to do.

Of course, he had other plans. He wanted to appreciate you in ways he’d only been able to dream of before. He wanted to take his time and drown in you. You tasted like Heaven, like he’d always imagined, and he couldn’t get enough.

After several moments of sucking and licking, he decided to try something else. Something he hadn’t been able to do while you were standing. His tongue pressed inside you and you immediately pressed against his touch, his nose bumping your clit at the same time. “Oh- Seonghwa, please-” You gasped out, pulling his hair hard.

He groaned against you at the sting and retracted his tongue only to plunge into you once more. In and out, in and out. He carried on like that for close to a minute before he retreated, tongue flicking over your clit once more. At your whine of dismay, he slid two fingers into you and curled them instantly, finding your g-spot in record time. It was as if he had studied your body for years and knew every inch of you. He’d wanted you for so long that he’d dreamt of doing so.

His impossibly-tight pants were constricting. They were getting on his damn nerves. But he wanted you to be the one to undress him so he didn’t dare try to shimmy them off. Not when he was finally able to bury his face between your legs.

You let out a loud whimper as he scissored his fingers and lapped at your cunt, your back arching off the bed. “Fuck- ‘m close, Hwa-” You warned, thighs beginning to tremble. He was too fucking good and you were too high strung to hold back.

As you clenched around his fingers, coming undone as soon as the words left your mouth, he let out a long groan against you. You felt him shift under your legs but didn’t bother trying to figure out why as you allowed wave after wave of white hot pleasure to cascade over your body, back still bowed off the bed.

He helped you through it, sucking and nipping at your clit until you were certain you’d gone up in flames. You gently pushed him away, chest heaving, and he stood between your legs. “I’m so giving you the sloppiest blowjob later.” You panted, smiling up at him as he moved over you.

“I’ll look forward to it.” He grinned as he leaned down to catch your lips in a messy kiss. You reached for his pants as you kissed and made a small sound when you found a wet patch across the front.

“Did you-”

“Yeah. You tasted too good and looked too perfect for me to hold back.” He admitted shamelessly as his lips trailed to your neck. He was careful not to leave any marks since you had another round of presentations you needed to look presentable for later in the afternoon.

“There’s no reason that should be so hot.” You murmured, slipping your hand inside his soiled boxers. You didn’t care if it was dirty, you needed to touch him. Lewd sounds quickly filled the room as you stroked his cock, pride swelling in your chest when he bucked into your touch.

“Wait.” He stopped you even as he rocked his hips once more. “I need to be inside you. Are you still on the pill?”

“IUD.” You said as you lifted your messy hand to your mouth and began to lap up his cum.

His jaw dropped as he watched you lick your fingers clean, eyes glazing over with lust. “Fucking hell…” He groaned, pulling back abruptly. He wasted no time in kicking off his pants and underwear, trying to clean himself at least a little before he rejoined you on the bed. “You’re going to be the death of me, y/n.”

“There’s worse ways to go.” You teased, pulling him down for another sloppy kiss. Your legs wrapped around his waist, tugging him closer in invitation. A string of saliva connected your lips when he pulled back, which you quickly leaned up and licked away, earning a soft curse. You leaned up once more to whisper in his ear as he lined up. “Fuck away all the bad feelings, Seonghwa. You promised.” Then you gently clamped your teeth on his earlobe, reveling in the choked noise he made.

“You’re a demon.” He hissed as he pressed in, gasping at how tight you felt. You whimpered at the stretch and tugged him closer, lip catching between your teeth. “So fucking tight for me, baby. So perfect.”

You moaned at his words, clenching involuntarily around him. You loved the praise and he knew as much now. He finally rocked his hips and you let out a soft whine at the friction. “You’re so big…” You moaned as you allowed yourself to fall back against the sheets, hair fanning out around your head in a halo.

Stars danced in his eyes as the sight of you beneath him. This was a religious experience and he was already in the clouds. And you were praising him? He felt like he might die if you continued to comment. Your approval was all he ever needed and to get the validation in bed too was enough to have him on edge. He was fighting hard to stay composed so was trying to distract himself with random thoughts but you were clouding his senses and he couldn’t focus on anything else.

He gave a deep thrust and you let out a reedy moan, guiding his hand to your chest so he’d thumb over your nipples. Instead of simply teasing, he pinched you and your eyes rolled back. “Harder.” You demanded, unsure of what you were referring to. Did you want him to pinch your nipples harder or did you want him to fuck you harder?

He couldn’t tell either but gladly did both, relishing the sound you made. “You like that?”

“So much.” You nodded enthusiastically. “Need more. Please?” You pleaded, gasping when he pinched your nipple again.

“So impatient.” He tutted. “I love it. You’re so desperate for me that you can’t wait. How cute.” He continued, his hand sliding up to your throat. “Don’t worry, I’ll train you to be patient.” His smile darkened as he began to apply pressure to the sides of your throat, cutting off blood flow. His hips slowed and you whimpered but he briefly tightened his grip in warning. “Be a good girl and take what I give you, yeah?” You nodded furiously and he snapped his hips forward, knocking the air from your lungs. “Good girl.”

You weren’t on this planet anymore. You weren’t even in this universe. The whole ordeal was so hot that you were in your own world, focused only on the pleasure and the oddly-comforting weight of his body on top of yours.

“Open.” He demanded suddenly and your jaw instantly fell slack. “So obedient.” He cooed as he leaned closer before pursing his lips. Oh god is he about to do what I think? Fuck. You gripped his wrist as he spit into your mouth, a pathetic noise slipping out. “Swallow.” You did so eagerly, your entire body spasming at how hot it was. His jaw dropped at the way you suddenly clenched around him and he quickly pulled out, cumming across your thighs. “Fucking hell, baby. You like it that much? Fuck.” He panted as he stroked himself through his high, groaning when you nodded and reached to rub tight circles over your clit to guide yourself through your own orgasm.

He looked stunning like that. His jaw hung slack, his eyes half-lidded from the intense pleasure. He looked fucked out. He looked so fucking beautiful. He was art.

“Please.” You whispered breathlessly. “One more. Need to cum one more time. Need you to cum one more time. Please?” You begged, vision whiting when he squeezed your throat again.

“So needy, baby. Want me to fuck you so dumb you drool? Is that it?” His tone was nothing but adoring even though his words were meant to sting a bit and your heart throbbed in your chest. Was this more than fucking away tension and animosity? “Flip over. Lemme see that perfect ass.” He pulled away and you quickly complied, wiggling your ass as soon as you were in position. “God- you’re so fucking perfect, y/n. So perfect.” He praised as he squeezed your soft flesh.

“Seonghwa…” You whimpered his name as you tried to push yourself back onto his cock. “I need you so bad. Please?”

“I can’t say no when you ask so nicely, baby.” He said as he lined up and pressed into you. “Fuck- this pussy was made for me, pretty. Feels so fucking good.” He breathed, setting a rough pace from the start. His hips slapped against your ass as he plowed into you, driving you into the mattress.

You couldn’t help but cry out when he slammed into you so hard he knocked you forward. Your knees would be so irritated from the position and the way the sheets rubbed against your skin but you couldn’t care less. You simply wanted to feel him. He was all you needed at the moment.

He suddenly pulled you up from where your face was buried in the sheets and wrapped his hands around your throat for leverage. “You take my cock so well, sweetheart. Like you were made for it. Were you made for me?”

“Yes!” You gasped, jolting when he brushed your cervix. “Yes, I was made to take your cock and anything you give me.”

Lewd sounds filled the air as he repeatedly slammed into you, your mess running down your thighs to mingle with his. You’d need new sheets brought in by the time you were done. You almost felt bad for the housekeepers who would service your room later this afternoon. Almost. You couldn’t feel too bad with Seonghwa balls-deep inside you.

“You’re gonna make me cum.” He warned suddenly as he released your throat and you bit your lip hard. “Where do you want it, baby? I’m already so close.”

“Everywhere.” Your request was simple and it drove him over the edge. He pulled out as he came, covering your ass and thighs with his release. His breathing grew ragged as he allowed the pleasure to overwhelm him and he let out what was easily the sexiest sound you’d ever heard a man make, his voice pitching low in a way that made you clench around nothing.

Before you could reach between your legs to finish yourself off, he was back inside you and working faster than before, even as he began to get overwhelmed from the pleasure. He could feel you tensing with your impending orgasm and he wanted to be the one to send you over the edge one last time before you had to go shower again. “Don’t you dare touch yourself, baby. I’m gonna make you cum. Understood?”

You nodded quickly, thighs beginning to tremble from the sensation overtaking your body. “Yes! ‘M so close, Hwa. Please make me cum. Please!” You begged and he immediately reached around to toy with your clit. Tears sprung into your eyes at the pleasure flooding your body and fire spread beneath your skin.

“I can feel you trembling, pretty. Why don’t you just let go? Cum all over my cock, baby.” He coached and you couldn’t fight it anymore. A cry ripped from your throat and tears began to roll down your cheeks as your final orgasm crashed into you. “That’s right. Just like that.” His deep voice spurred you on as he tangled a hand in your hair, pulling just hard enough for the most delicious sting to spread out over your scalp. “Good girl.” You let out a choked sob at the name, delirious from the pleasure and gratification.

As you slowly came down from your high, he gently released your hair and smoothed his hands down your back. “You did so well for me, sweetheart. So perfect.” You whimpered softly at the praise as you collapsed against the mattress. He slipped out of you and immediately laid beside you, still rubbing your back with one hand. “You okay?” He asked as soon as he saw your tears. You nodded weakly, utterly spent. “Words, baby.”

“I’m okay. That was just…intense.” You murmured, suddenly exhausted.

“It was.” He agreed quietly, reaching to brush your hair back from your face. After several beats of silence, during which he took his time admiring you and playing with your hair, he spoke again. “You’re beautiful, you know.”

Your cheeks heated up and you fought the urge to hide your face. “Can I ask you something?” He nodded so you continued. “Earlier you said my skirt was driving you crazy. How long? You didn’t answer me before.”

“Too long.” When you didn’t respond, he let out a soft sigh and began to explain. “I always felt like shit for it but I've wanted you since day one. The moment we met, I knew I needed you. And seeing you in that damned skirt week after week drove me absolutely insane.”

“Why would you feel like shit for that?”

“Because we were friends. I shouldn’t have wanted you the way that I did. They always say women can’t have male friends because they all wanna sleep with you and I felt like I was only proving that right and risking our friendship.”

“Well if it’s any consolation, I’ve always found you insanely attractive too and have had my fair share of untoward thoughts.” You grinned and he let out a soft laugh. After a few beats of silence you spoke again. “I have another question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why the fuck did you have those chocolates on this trip in the first place?”

“We should get cleaned up.” He hummed as he sat up, clearly not wanting to answer. He had a secretive smile on his face and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re such a pain.” You sighed in exasperation. “Just tell me.”

“Well I hadn’t anticipated being the one helping you with it but I did plan to inconvenience you a bit.” He laughed and you sat up to chuck another pillow at him.

“You’re such an ass.”

“I’m your ass though.” Your cheeks pinked at the thought and you nodded slowly, liking the idea more than you’d anticipated.

“Yeah. I guess you are.”

#kpop smut #ateez #ateez smut #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #requested

1K notes · View notes

lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 5 months

Text

DOWN BAD- P.B PARKER

Pairing- Jock! Peter x Nerd! Reader (enemies to… lovers?)

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: Peter Parker constantly nags you, and you hate his guts (naturally). So what better way to mellow the hate by being paired together for a class project? And why, if you hate his guts, do you want to touch him so bad?

Warnings: Making out, suggestive sexual content, dry humping, teasing, swearing etc…

Notes: It’s been a while, I apologize if my writing is a bit rusty! I hope you enjoy nonetheless, I had a fun time writing, and I really did miss it (Taylor Swifts new album really inspired me too!) I am using my phone to post for the first time, I hope to go back and format/ edit if need be when I can use my laptop again. Thank you for all the support :)

“Don’t look at me like that.” You huffed, eyes sharp as daggers as your cool gaze slid over to your target and struck its mark.

Peter Parker. Bullseye.

You could feel his lingering attention solely focused on you, a coy smirk upon his lips as he tapped his pencil against the wooden desk, its dull echo like nails on a chalkboard. A taunting metronome in the back of your mark as he leaned over to tower over you in his seat.

It was too close to yours for your liking.

“Like what pipsqueak?” he murmured, drowning out the professor's droning voice as he dragged on. You wished you could hit him with the textbook in your bag. Both of them, honestly.

“Like you’re thrilled for this. Don’t act like you like me.”

“Well I do like you.” He smiled, beaming ear to ear.

For him, it was the best day of his life. Getting randomly paired with “whoever you’re sitting next to, I don’t care.” (the professor's words, not yours), was a thrill for him, he got to pick on the quiet, shy girl more than usual.

Which would be a shock, considering the sheer amount he did already, always finding his way next to you to tease you, especially with and to his stupid jockey friends. This project was worth thirty percent of your grade. You couldn’t afford this.

“Well I don’t like you. So fuck off.” You heard a low whistle from behind you, a chuck alongside it from his friends. “Kitty has claws?” Peter whistled, eyebrow raising in mock surprise as you shifted your legs to the other side of the chair, angling away from him.

“Oh you’re in for it now Parker” Bucky laughed as you covered your ears in an attempt to drown them out. You felt like you were in middle school again, the way they mocked you. And what made it worse was that it got to you. Not that the jokes and remarks meant anything much, but it was just the sheer annoyance of it all.

You had thrived to be a straight A student your entire life, and in this class… you could feel them slipping. Taking a deep breath, you clenched your pen harder in your hand, pressing so hard the page snagged as you wrote.

You could still feel his eyes on you, flickering over from under his glasses ,his muscles flexing subtly under his blue t-shirt. You pretended not to look, and to not focus on the fact he was extremely attractive. You spent the rest of the hour doing just that, scolding yourself for any indecent thought you had ever had about him, ever. By the time the professor had snapped his laptop shut, the projector turning dark as students started to talk amongst themselves as they packed up, you had half a page of notes, max.

“I’ll be in touch.” he leaned down and whispered, hand lingering by your chair as he slipped by. “Fuck you.”

He just threw his head back and laughed, his friend group joining him as he looked back. And winked. You groaned. This was going to be three weeks of hell.

—————————————————————————

It was a Thursday when you got a text from him. An unknown number flashed on your screen as you lay face down on your bed, contemplating life and if this class was seriously worth it or not.

The buzz of the phone had your head snapping up, confused until it suddenly dawned on you.

Unknown: Think we should start brainstorming for this thing pipsqueak?

Well fuck, you thought, wanting to throw your phone across the room. This class wasn’t that important, right? (It was).

Taking a deep breath, you sat up as your thumbs started to fly across the screen.

You: Who is this?

Unknown: I’m hurt, pips. Truly.

You: I think you have the wrong number.

You smirked. Okay, who were you kidding… this was kind of fun. Kind of.

Peter: It’s Peter, you jerk. Are you really going to make me spell it out for you?

You: Peter who? Doesn’t ring a bell.

Good. Knock him down a few pegs. You giggled to yourself, quickly stopping once you realised why exactly you were kicking your feet like a school girl, for who exactly. You layed back down, head muddled with meaningless thoughts that jumbled as you waited for his response. Grabbing a stuffie, you hugged it close to your chest, feeling it rise and fall as you caught your breath, grounding yourself. Why on earth did this mean so much to you? Why did his texts, something so easily ignorable- suddenly a waiting game?

Peter: Ha ha, very funny pips.

You: How did you even get my number anyways?

Peter: Long story, I had to go on a bit of a hunt. A friend, of a friend of a friend, you get the point. I can be very persuasive ;)

Nope. You thought. Don’t give into this.

You: I’m sure.

Peter: You wanna come over on the weekend or meet at Braxston’s to start… brainstorming?

You: I don’t want to do anything of the sort, but if that gets this over with as soon as possible- then sure. Only one of us has a brain to storm anyways.

Peter: You’ll regret that pips.

You clicked off your phone, a ghost of a smirk on your face. His threat surprisingly didn’t seem like a real threat, but actual light hearted teasing, not the kind he often did.

Fuck. You were supposed to be hating him. You did hate him. It was only three weeks with him. You weren’t sure if you meant that with relief or disappointment.

————————————————————————————

It was disappointment.

You sighed, closing your eyes as you rubbed your creased temple. It was nearly midnight , and your books were still scattered across the desk you occupied, the library a ghost town considering it was a Friday night. Braxston library tended to be on the empiter side, which is why you preferred it. It was the oldest library on campus, smelling of old pages and cedarwood.

Sometimes, when you needed a break you would get up and run your fingers across the leather spines, or climb the ladder for a change of view of the stained glass windows. But tonight, you lacked the motivation to even bother standing. It had been a long night, filled with cramming and stress. Pen and highlighter stained your hands as you shook them out, cramped and aching. For the last hour you had solely focused on the final you and Peter had to pull out your ass, coming up with backup plans with the worry he would abandon you completely.

Topics, ideas, theories- god you didn’t even know anymore. Your body lacked caffeine, your iced coffee long gone. You grew tired of this mindless work, sliding off your headphones to admire the near empty room around you.

Suddenly, you wished it was completely empty.

Peter looked just as shocked to see you, eyes widening in surprise, backpack slung over his shoulder, hair ruffled and eyebags prominent as if he had fallen asleep and been startled awake.

“Pips? I thought we weren’t supposed to meet until tomorrow?” He made his way over to you, inviting himself to lean over you, on your desk. You stared up at him with a look of amusement.

“We don’t have to meet at all. It’s very bold you assume I’m here to see you, of all people.” you snorted. His eyebrow raised. “So who are you here to meet?”

“Two papers and exam prep. You?”

“More or less the same” he smirked, and you felt butterflies start to churn in your stomach. “Sounds like great fun. I’m sure they’re lovely.” you said, snarky comment slipping out before you could stop it, turning in your seat as you often did around him so he wouldn’t see the fluster and nerves in your demeanour whenever you were near him.

He leaned down, breath warm against the column of your neck. You couldn't breathe. You could not fucking breathe with him this close to you. The rich scent of his cologne made you dizzy, it intoxicated you as you stared at your laptop screen, as if it possessed the knowledge of the entire universe.

“You know, you can’t avoid me forever. You’re gonna have to confront me at some point, pip.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about” you snarled softly, staring at the coy, cockly little smirk you wanted to wipe off his face as he stood. “Sure you don’t.” He nodded his head towards your screen, with a wink.

“Good song.” he smiled, before he was off. You continued to stare at him as he walked out the door, not looking back once. Not a care in the world as he slipped on his own headphones, and around the corner.

Eyes moved down to stare at the pause button of your song, lyrics burning into your ears at the thought of him listening to it- and enjoying it.

Down bad, waking up in blood, staring at the sky, come back over and pick me up- fuck it if I can’t have us, I might just not get up, I might stay down bad.

You were so incredibly fucked.

———————————————————

You took a deep breath. Then another.

You let the crisp, cool night air wash over your burning skin, the faint smell of weed tickling your senses, probably from a house down the street. It was a pretty busy neighbourhood, full of students you recognized from afar on campus. You didn’t associate with the more ‘popular’ kids, if that could even be considered a thing past high school.

You tried to shake off the uneasiness that stuck with you, cracking your knuckles as you tried to prepare yourself to not only see Peter, but to interact with him- in his house. Most likely for hours. You knew you probably looked like a complete idiot out on the sidewalk, just near his house but you had to muster some form of courage.

All you could see was a faint light from what looked like the living room, and a light upstairs- you presumed his room. No sign of life other than that.

You thought of his words, how twisted they sounded. You can’t avoid me forever. You’re gonna have to confront me at some point, pip.

Fuck it.

You slipped from your hiding spot (from Peter, you were placed behind a large tree in his front yard, but god knows what people driving by thought), and mentally prepared yourself for his roommates to answer the door, making fun of you before he put the cherry on top. Practically leaping up the porch stairs, you raced to the door, knocking quickly.

You wanted this over and done with. Your palms were clammy and your stomach churned viciously as you heard footsteps near the door. It took everything in you to stay rooted to the ground and to not flee, and when Peter appeared, you feared the opposite.

How the hell you were supposed to move with him in that slutty little fit, a pair of grey sweatpants slung low on his waist, his v-line and happy trail on full display… his toned abs and arms in a little white muscle shirt… gods you didn’t know. You were sure your tongue fully hung out of your mouth like some cartoon character as you took him in.

“Took you long enough” he said with a snort, adjusting his glasses, sliding them further up his nose. You didn’t even know he had glasses. Did he wear contacts? Had he worn them and you just didn’t notice? No, surely that wasn’t the case, you noticed everything he did. It was like he sucked all of the air out of the atmosphere whenever he walked in a room. It was suffocating, in a way. Of course you had to look at him, and you were sure you weren't the only one.

“I was admiring the greenery.”

“I saw that. I wasn’t sure the maple needed to be examined that long.” he smirked, and your felt your fists instinctively clench.

He had saw you- so you were fucked and now the only logical thing to do was to run into a brick wall. Perfect, got it.

“I enjoy living in the moment, and I don’t take nature for granted.’ you huffed, attempting to compose yourself as he stepped aside, motioning for you to enter. “I’m sure. Don’t worry it was cute.” he smiled, running a hand through his tosseled hair.

You slid off your shoes, setting them next to his worn in converse you always saw him wear. You noticed the other pairs were missing, not even a missing lace to be found.

“Where are your roommates?” you asked as entered, surveying the open space. It was surprisingly tidy for a boys place, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of Peter rushing around attempting to clean up before you came (though you doubted he would ever do that). Still, it was nice to think about.

Little traces of “boy” still lingered, silly little signs scattered across the walls, flags and such, empty, crushed beer and poking out from the recycling bins. “I kicked them out, because I figured you would want to contentrate.” he said.

Yeah like I’m going to be able to conetrate with you looking that fucking fine. Ha.

“That’s considerate. I’m surprised you even know what that is, Parker. I’m impressed.”

He snorted, throwing a little look back your way as he lead you up the stairs, presumably to his room. “I’m surprised you know how to walk up stairs. You have Bambi legs.” he teased, mocking your clumsiness. You cursed him internally. Maybe out loud too, judging by his laugh.

You tried to stifle down the butterflies. You were not about to flirt with him. You were not about to let your developing feelings expand. You hated him. He was mean and he was an asshole.

You were simply here to get this project done. That’s it.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I know.” was all he said, turning down a hall to an open door, light glowing faintly- beckoning to you. You appreciated his refusal to use the overhead light- not that you’d tell him that. He’d probably look at you like you were insane.

“I see you clean for girls you bring over.” you noted, observing his (surprisingly) decently clean room.

“Bold of you to assume I cleaned. Maybe I’m always this tidy.” he smirked, arms flexing over and behind his head as he sat down in his office chair, man-spreading as he stretched.

You tried so hard not to stare. And failed miserably.

“I would’ve thought you cleaned up for ladies you bring to bed.”

His eyebrows arched. “Should I have prepared then?”

Something like churning fire burned in your belly, slithering lower and lower.

“Don’t start with me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it pip.” he smiled coyly, knowing he had gotten you flustered. “May I?” you nodded to his bed, trying to ignore your feelings as you sat down. Fanning your skirt out, you tucked your legs in before opening your bag, attempting to cover your thighs with your bag as much as you could- his cool gaze staring lasers into your bare skin.

“So… if we have to base this on a creature in the wild…”

“Jumping straight to the point aren’t we?” he asked and you frowned in confusion.

“What did you want me to do foreplay or something beforehand?” you asked, your word choice more than intentional. You swore a little pink tinted his cheeks as he swiveled around.

“Right to it then. Okay, I was thinking spiders. Specifically their venom and social behaviours.”

You blinked. Jesus okay he had thought about this. This was not what you were expected.

“Elaborate Parker.”

He smiled. “ From what I’ve seen, not a lot is known about the venom entirely. From a predator-prey aspect.. I’ve mainly seen stuff on specific components evolving to target specific sites on cell membrains of prey tissue, we could work with that to start. Maybe expand on the social aspect and evolution.”

You were stunned. This was… more than you could’ve hoped for. Suddenly you felt bad for all the doubt aimed towards him over the few days leading up to this meeting.

“Hmm. I like it.”

“Did you have any ideas you had brewing in that genius brain of yours?” he asked, making you blush internally.

“I had some stuff just in case, but it was just random jots I’m not too proud of.”

He scoffed. “You came prepared with backup stuff?!”

You just shrugged. “Do you blame me?”

“Kinda.” he laughed. “Start thinking of me more highly pips. I even have access to a brown widow, we could do some experiments.”

You winced at the thought of actually studying a spider up close, but it was part of the job. Whatever could get this done the fastest, and you had to applaud him for providing some of your own evidence you could actually showcase.

He caught your wince, and you could feel the teasing start to start. It was like bait for him, he loved it. “The spider may bite, but I won’t. That is, unless you want me too.” he winked, and you fought the urge not to chuck your laptop at his handsome face.

“You’re gross Parker.”

“Oh I’m sure you think I am. Doesn’t make a difference to me.”

You were going to strangle him. “Let’s just focus and get this project done as soon as we can, yeah? Please.”

You riffled through your bag, grabbing different coloured pens and your notebook, skimming through your random thoughts and jots.

“Whatever you say pip.”

“Start researching Parker.” And that was that.

—————————————————————

A few hours had passed, and so far you were quite impressed with how much the two of you had gotten done. For the most part, the two of you had stayed on opposite sides of the room. If he wanted to make a move, he wasn’t physically doing it, and his roommates still hadn’t come home yet.

Though as the hours passed, he had made his way closer to you- ever so slightly. From his desk he nudged over closer and closer, his laptop landing in his lap as he worked.

“What source are you working from right now?” you asked, not bothering to cast your gaze up as you continued to type, fingers flying over the keyboard as you bit your lip in concentration. You failed to notice his eyes darting between your lips and your breasts that poked out slightly as you slouched over, licking his lips hungrily.

“Some research paper. Here.”

You let out a little oomph in surprise as he plopped down beside you, sprawled across his bed as he enveloped you in his makeshift fortress. He stared at you with such longing you felt faint, having to stop your work to pull yourself together.

Fuck.

He nodded towards it, and you realized you had been staring at him longer than you intended, forgetting about the paper completely. “Oh, yeah okay let me look.” you murmured, taking the laptop from his hand to slide it across your lap, the fan whirling softly, the warmth of it adding more coals to the fire you felt already.

He was still staring.

Please look away before I want to kiss you. Or do more then kiss you. I’m supposed to be hating you, stop please.

You tried your best to read and concentrate, but it was next to no use. All you could focus on was him, his fingers drumming on the comforter near your thigh (what man has a comforter anyways?!), and his gaze on you, that was heavy with something. Want, perhaps? Lust? Or you were delusional. Very possible.

“It’s um, it’s good. I like it, I think there’s lots of good… stuff here.”

“Good stuff huh?” he asked sarcastically, a smirk plastered across his face.

He knew. The fucker knew you were down bad.

“Yeah. You know what I mean.” you grumbled, staring back down at your screen.

“I do know what you mean. Do you know what I mean?” he asked, hand inching closer and closer to your thigh- teasing you. You took a deep breath, grounding yourself.

You could push your hatred aside for just a few minutes. It was okay, just this once. Right?

You bit your lip, and fuck if that didn’t turn him on even more. Nodding to him, as if he could speak to you telepathically.

Yes, this is okay. Please touch me. Just a little, even is fine.

“Maybe you should explain a little more, Parker.”

His fingers skimmed the edge of your skirt, warm to the touch as they stroked your skin softly, just a whisper of him lingering. Goosebumps lingered in their wake, and you pushed your laptop off to the side, not caring where it landed on the bed. Just not next to him.

“How much more?”

His voice was low. Deep. Needing. You wanted more.

Another stroke of his fingers on your thigh, closer to where you wanted him the most made you shiver, toes curling. His gaze never left yours, never faultered. Instead of its usual lightness, his teasing and bullying- his eyes were dark with lust. Nothing but his full attention was on you, and you couldn’t help but shudder as he leaned in closer.

Another hand landed on your thigh. “Yeah?” he asked, voice rough as you nodded quickly. “Mhmmm..- oh!” you let out a little gasp as he swiftly grabbed you, swinging you over to straddle his lap, tossing you as if you weighed nothing.

You hated that you found it hot.

He smirked, leaning forward- so close you could feel his thudding heart with a small hand gesture sliding across his chest, could feel his breath catching. Just a small little gap between his lips and yours.

“You’re going to regret this.” you murdered, fingers curling into his shirt, twisting the soft fabric.

“I won’t. Will you?”

“I might.”

His smile grew.

“ I still hate you, you know.”

“I know. And you look so damn hot when you do.” He pulled you closer, fingers digging into your skin, needing you closer and closer despite the two of you practically forming one being.

A clash of teeth and tongue happened, rough and harsh- full of hate and need. A hatred for your need for him. Why did you need him? Of all people?

Because he was so fucking fine.

A hand slipped under your skirt to cup your ass, squeezing it slightly. You ran a hand through his hair, tugging on it as your hips moved on their own account- causing a groan to slip from his lips.

You’d do anything to hear it again.

“This is so wrong.” was all you could moan as his lips worked their way down your neck, tracing your jaw before nipping at your earlobe.

“I don’t do right, pips. You know this.”

“Mhm. But you hate me.”

He laughed against your skin, and you rocked your hips again, a little slap to your asscheek making you jolt.

“Whatever makes you sleep better at night, pips. Whatever you want to think.” he sighed, massaging the skin as you toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

You needed his lips on yours. You didn’t want to even try to decipher what his words meant, your head was foggy with want. You were slipping into a puddle of bliss, finally letting the restraint you held on a tight leash go- freeing the want and pure desire.

Yes, you wanted him. Yes, you hated him. And yes, he teased you. It hurt- but this didn’t. This was a soothe to his constant jabs, a salve to the wounds he caused.

“You feel so good. I want you so bad.” you confessed, causing him to moan again.

Yes. Yes, please.

“You’re killing me.”

“Good. It’s payback for the way you treat me.” you smirked, kissing him again. Hard, fast, rough. Mean.

Until he just… stopped.

Pulled away slightly, making you raise an eyebrow with confusion. His cheeks tinted slightly pink, hair messy and eyes wide with excitement, eager to keep going. To go further. So why did he just- stop?

“Parker?”

He smiled coyly.

“Don’t we have work we need to be doing?” he asked sarcastically- and you felt your stomach drop. He was teasing you. He was doing this just to get under your skin, to leave you high and dry and needing. Knowing damn well nothing could possibly get done now but him.

“You- you just want to get back to work? After that?”

“I want to do the dirtiest things imaginable to you, pips. I want to do so many things. But if we keep going and get nothing done, you’ll regret it and hate me. If we get work done, you’ll hate me too. I rather you hate me but feel secure with this, at least.” he murmured, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

It was tender, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “So you just, want to work? Did I do something wrong?” you asked.

“Gods no. But it’s too easy if I just give it to you like that. You know me, pips- I tease. Maybe if you’re good and get more work done we can have some harmless, regretless fun.” he winked, sliding his hands down to your hips, picking you up again to toss you gently on his pillows, kissing your hand with a wink as he stood to go back to his desk.

Oh you were fucked. So, so fucked.

“I heard that.” he laughed, and you buried your head in your hands. This was going to be a long three weeks indeed.

2K notes · View notes

antarcticajoy · 2 years

Text

I've been getting paid to walk around 150 year old buildings we BALLIN

featuring this pretty hinge off a door I've been working on

#i habe so many stories from work #and fun facts about the buildings #i dont want it to be a long post so ill leave it at that #also i included a hinge off one of the doors im working on #its the first one to have a stamp of any kind #i included it because the other side is all rust but this side is probably pretty close to what it looked like when it was made #i mean it survived decades of abuse and at least one fire #and its still so pretty #also while touring to buildings the way the wind was interacting with some stuff in the building #legit sounded like footsteps #i haven't been that scared in a long time i mean genuinely frozen i thought it was a ghost #cause it was accompanied by distant whisper voices #anyways these buildings were built in 1865 #pretty dangerous to walk around didn't realize til i was leaving one that the entire three stories #were being held up by a few jacks #but i mean the floor is gone from a lot of these so you have to step careful #and theres broken glass and rusty nails everywhere #one of the windows did have the original nails im talking made by a blacksmith original #cause 1865 for reference is the year the civil war ended #these buildings tho in bad shape are still standing and saveable #and at one point these were probably the nicest places to live #a lot of the carpentry and framing practices are the exact same #studs roughly 16 inches apart #cross braces and all that #buildings today still use those same practices #idk i just find it all really fascinating

1 note · View note

222col · 2 months

Text

she’s ours

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig summary: you meet art through friends at one of his matches, and he immediately becomes infatuated, until patrick comes along and insists art share you with him. word count: 3.8k warnings: 18+!!!! smut, choking, threesome, m + f oral note: first time writing in a while so might be a bit rusty, go easy on me pls xx

Art is livid. His cheeks are flushed, not due to you making him blush, but because you're standing ten feet away, stroking the cheek of his best friend. He grits his teeth, fists balled up by his side. You're his. He saw you first, you're his. He wants to jump forward, push Patrick aside, and push his lips to yours, but he can't. His feet won't move, glued in place as he watches the smirk form on Patrick's face. Art knows exactly what that smirk means, he's seen it so many times before. Patrick leans forward, his lips mere inches from yours now, his hands finding themselves on your hips. Art's feet still won't move, his nails now digging into his palms, his chest getting tighter with every second that Patrick's lips move closer to yours.

Patrick's lips meet yours, his hands caressing your back as his tongue slides into your mouth. The music is loud, and distracts from the moan that escapes you. He pulls you closer, your bodies grinding together with the beat. Art still can't believe his eyes, his best friend making out with his girl. Patrick moves his lips from yours and attaches them to your neck, feathering you with sloppy kisses and the occasional bite of your skin. His eyes open, seeing Art across the room, a smirk reappears on Patrick's lips, he knows exactly what's going on in Art's head. He can read him like a book. Patrick whispers something in your ear, Art can't tell by your expression what he's saying to you. You nod your head to Patrick, he pecks your earlobe and spins you around, towards Art. Patrick's hands stay firmly on your hips, as he nods his head towards Art, motioning him over.

The red on Art's cheeks couldn't be any darker, but his fists relax when you smile sweetly and nod towards him. Art's feet finally listen to his brain, moving him slowly towards the two of you as Patrick's lips attack your neck once again. Your head falls back onto his shoulder, hips swaying against him, as Art arrives in front of you both. He's perfectly still now, the blush forming on his cheeks again as he watches your bodies move together. Patrick's hands leave your body for the first time in what feels like hours, pulling Art towards you, placing his hands on your waist as Patrick's return to your hips. You giggle up to Art, he can barely look you in the eyes as he eventually finds the rhythm, all three bodies pressed against each other, one hand of yours on Patrick's head as he continues leaving marks on your exposed neck, the other pulling Art's head towards yours.

His lips are softer than Patrick's, he feels more innocent against your mouth. One of his hands moves to cup your cheek, the other planted exactly where Patrick left it. He tongues your bottom lip, asking for permission to enter, which you of course oblige. You feel him groan into your mouth, as Patrick whispers "Good girl," into your ear.

Earlier That Day

Despite not playing tennis yourself, all of your friends did, your roommate introduced you to her teammates a few weeks into your first semester at Stanford. Meaning you spent most of your free time watching their matches and hanging out with the tennis team. One Saturday, you're dragged along to watch a men's singles tournament by your roommate. Sitting in the stands with most of the girls on the team, you hear a name announced you haven't heard before. "Representing Stanford, Art Donaldson!" The stands erupt as a blonde boy walks onto the court, leaning forward as he takes position. "Why haven't I been introduced to him?" You ask your roommate, your eyes not leaving the blonde boy as he lines up his ball with the racket and serves. She laughs at your obvious attraction to Art. "He usually spends all of his time playing tennis, which is why he's so good. But he just hasn't been at any of the hangouts you've been at."

You'd learnt a lot about tennis in the last few months, and god, he was good. His blonde locks become slick with sweat to his forehead underneath his backwards cap, you watch him pour everything into the game. He scores the winner as a brunette jumps up from a few seats ahead, "Yes, Donaldson!" He screams, running down the bleachers to celebrate with Art. He's the only one celebrating on the court not in Stanford tennis gear. "Who's he?" You ask your roommate, she smirks and rolls her eyes at you. "I think his name's Patrick, he's Art's best friend, he doesn't go here though, I don't think."

You all eventually pour out of the bleachers, heading to the one bar near campus. Sharing drinks and laughs with your friends, your eyes fixate on the door as the tennis boys flood in. Art follows behind, locking eyes with you as his friends occupy the empty seats on your table. His cheeks flush as you smile at him, he sits down at the other end of the table, his eyes only removing themselves from you when he's handed a beer. "Congrats, Donaldson." One of the boys says, patting him on the back. "Nice to finally see you off the court, Art." One of the girls laughs. He shakes his head and sips his beer. Your eyes don't leave him, taking in every detail of his face. Your roommate hits your arm, "Stop being a creep." She laughs and drags you up to the bar. You both order another drink. "He's just so hot," You admit to your roommate. She laughs again as you both return to your table, sitting down you notice Art has moved, to sit on the chair next to yours.

"I don't think we've met," He starts, smirk growing on his face. "I think you're right." You return, as your roommate joins the group conversation, leaving you and Art to talk privately. "I must be, because there's no way I could forget your pretty face." He's confident, yet shy, taking a sip of his beer. You feel yourself start to blush. You share names as he asks, leaning forward, "Do you play tennis?" You almost feel embarrassed saying no, like you were somehow failing a test you didn't know you were taking. "I just hang out with everyone who does." He hums, shuffling his chair closer to yours. "It feels like everything in my life is about tennis, it's nice to meet someone who doesn't live in that world too." You smile at him, noticing yourself moving closer towards Art as well.

The moment is interrupted by an unfamiliar voice. "Aren't you going to introduce me to this beautiful girl you're talking to, Artie?" You didn't quite realise how close your faces were to each other into you move in unison to where the voice came from. Art rolls his eyes and leans back as the brunette from the match stands in front of you. He has a shit eating grin across his face as he places his beer on the table, grabbing a chair and sitting on it backwards. Leaning his arms on the chair's back, he says, "Well?" Art shakes his head and introduces the two of you. Extending your hand for him to shake, his calloused hand takes yours, bringing it to his mouth as he places a kiss on the back of your hand. You feel the blush grow up to your cheeks again. The three of you engage in conversation for some time, getting to know each other. Both boys on either side of you leaning in, drinking in every word you say as the night progresses.

You're pulled out of conversation by your roommate calling your name. "C'mon, we're going home, are you coming?" You look between both boys, smirks plastered across their faces. Your roommate only laughs and rolls her eyes at you. "Get her home safe." Both boys nod their heads, promising to look after you as the rest of your friends leave. "And then there were three," Patrick says, you laugh and suggest another drink. The boys nod their head, following you to the bar. Art's hand touches yours, not purposefully, as you wait for your drinks. You both look at each other, blushing. Patrick smirking beside you, as his arm reaches around your waist. The tension is growing between the three of you. Art eyes Patrick, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. You laugh and return to your table, putting down your drink and excusing yourself to the bathroom.

"She's mine." Art leans over to tell Patrick. He smirks in response. "You met her today too, right?" Art nods slowly. "Then, I'd say it's fair game." Art rolls his eyes and leans backwards on his chair. "C'mon, Art, I don't mind sharing with you." Patrick says through signature smirk. "Don't make this difficult, Patrick. I think I could see myself really liking her." Art's almost begging his friend. Patrick laughs, "You know this only makes it hotter for me, Artie." You return to the table, your smile cutting through the boys tension as you sip your drink. "Miss me?" You joke, the boys eyes deepen as they look at you. "So what if I did?" Art half smiles, leaning towards you once more. Patrick looks smug, "I have an idea."

The club Patrick suggests is only a short walk, his arm slipping around your waist to guide you as Art sulks next to you both, his eyes only lighting up whenever his hand brushes against yours. The three of you grab a drink and head straight to the dance floor once arriving. Your hips sway to the music as the boys stand close by, both sets of eyes not leaving your body for even a second. Your eyes close as you feel the bass run through your body. Art heads to the bathroom before an arm slips around your body. "Fuck off, pretty boy. She's ours." Your eyes open and see Patrick, realising the arm around you was neither Art or Patrick. The man lifts up his arms in defence and backs away. You can feel how wet your underwear became from Patrick's words. "You're willing to share me, huh?" You ask the brunette. He looks down to you, "I am. Art's not too keen on sharing with me." Your hand moves up to Patrick's cheek, caressing it lightly. "Well, I guess we'll just have to convince him."

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

You moan into Art's mouth at Patrick's words. "Such a good girl." He repeats. Your body grinding up against both of the boys, Art's leg dipping in between yours. Instinctively you begin rocking back and forth on his thigh, more moans falling into Art's mouth. You detach your lips, leaning up and placing his earlobe between your teeth, tugging lightly. "Take me somewhere," You whisper in his ear, his eyes widening. Art leans over to his friend and repeats your words. "Well, let's go then." Patrick grabs your hand as you grab Art's, following each other out of the club doors. You can barely keep up with the speed in which Patrick is marching to Art's dorm room, Patrick silently thanking him for having a single room. Patrick's lips attach themselves to yours as Art rushes to find his key to the building, he eventually does, pulling Patrick away from your kiss as you follow the boys up the stairs to Art's room.

Once again, Art fumbles with his keys in the door. Allowing Patrick to pull your lips onto his again, the door opens as Patrick pushes your body into the room, lips never leaving yours. He sits you down on the side of the bed, Art locks the door and sits beside you. You pull him in to join the kiss. Tongues and lips slide over each other as the three of you make out, hands exploring each other's bodies. You lay back, removing your jacket as the boys continue kissing over your legs. You remove your shirt next, your red lacy bra now exposed. "Well, now this isn't fair." The boys stop kissing to look at you, if the tents in both their pants weren't already nearly popping out of their boxers, they were now, at the sight of your lack of clothing. Both of their shirts are immediately discarded as they race to your chest. Art undoing your bra as Patrick's mouth slips around your nipple, the bra is tossed across the room as Art follows Patrick's lead. Your head flings back and for the first time tonight your moan isn't hidden in someone's mouth. The boys both smirk at each other as they cover your chest in kisses, licks and bites. Their lips meet again on your chest, sloppier this time, sitting up as Patrick pulls you into their lips.

The boys shimmy out of their pants, leaving them both in just their boxers. Patrick removes himself from the kiss, to grab your skirt and pull it down your legs. Once removed, you move to straddle Art's lap. His hands moving to the recently exposed skin of your ass. He can feel your wetness through both of your underwear as you grind against him. "God, you're so wet for us already." He whispers in your ear, Patrick slips his hand between you and Art to feel your underwear. Sitting down next to you as he licks his fingers. "You're right, Art. She's soaked and we haven't even touched her." You blush at the boys words and hide your face in Art's shoulder. Patrick lifts your face up by your chin, putting his wet fingers inside your mouth. You begin to suck. "Don't get shy on us now, babygirl." Art says between kisses to your jaw and neck, his hands guiding your body to continue grinding against him.

You push Art's body further up the bed, pulling his underwear down his legs as he shuffles. His head lays on the pillow, gasping at the cold air that hits his shaft. You position yourself on your knees above his cock as Patrick moves behind you, removing your underwear, lifting up each ankle to discard the lacy panties. Your hands move to Art's cock, slowly stroking his length as his arms move behind his head. Patrick starts circling your clit from behind you, profanities leaving your mouth before he pushes your head down on to his best friend's member. You smile as you open your mouth, taking every inch down your throat. Spit and pre-cum spill over the edges of your mouth down to Art's thighs, moans leave his lips as places his hand around your hair and guides your head. Patrick positions his head underneath you, pulling you down onto his mouth. His tongue explores your folds, licking up and down your slit as his hands wrap around your body.

Art could have came there and then, the sight of you choking on his cock as his best friend ate you out. He was so angry about the idea of having to share you, but he and Patrick had shared everything his entire life. And god, you looked so hot in between the two boys. He pulls your head away from his member, breathing heavily as he leans over to kiss your sloppy mouth. You grind back and forth on Patrick's face, filling Art's mouth with moans. "Does Patrick's mouth make you feel so good, baby?" Art asks, pulling your head back by your hair. You can feel Patrick smirk into your cunt. You can't even speak, only replying with a moan. "I asked you a question." Art's voice is sterner now, pulling your hair even harder. "Y-yes, my God, yes. His tongue feels fucking amazing." You almost scream, the mixture of physical sensation with how hot Art looks while talking to you like this. "That's a good girl."

He lets go of your hair and pulls you off of Patrick, keeping you on your hands and knees. "Don't you think Patrick deserves some attention too, babygirl?" Art sits cross legged in front of you, stroking your face. Patrick stands up, wiping his chin and smiling at his friend. Art leans over to him and pulls his underwear down his legs, before moving to kneel in front of Patrick, motioning you over with his finger. Art leans his head forward to Patrick's cock, looking up for reassurance, Patrick nods. You kneel next to Art, as you watch him take the brunette's cock in his mouth. You lean over towards Art's mouth, the two of you sharing Patrick's dick as his head flies back and his hands fly to both of your heads. You take all of Patrick in your mouth, just as you did Art, as he stands up next to his friend. Your hand immediately grasping hold of him too. The boys kiss passionately as you go back and forth on their shafts. Your eyes well up as you keep sucking them both. "She looks so pretty on her knees for us both, doesn't she, Art?" Patrick strokes your cheek. "So pretty that she deserves fucking, don't you think, Patrick?" Art wipes your tears.

You pull them both out of your mouth, Patrick lifting you to your feet and throwing you on the bed. "On your knees, princess, you look so pretty like that." Patrick orders, doing as you're told, you flip over onto your hands and knees. Before Patrick can argue, Art is positioned behind you. His dick in hand, hitting your clit repeatedly. Patrick raises his eyebrow at Art. "She's mine. I'm fucking her first." Art responds through gritted teeth, grabbing your hips and pulling you back into him. You moan at his words, grinding your ass against him. Patrick laughs, and sits on his knees in front of you. His cock rubbing against your lips, you open your mouth to allow him to enter.

"Wait. I want to hear her as I fill her up." Art demands. Patrick retracts from you, never having seen this side of Art. "Go on then, pretty boy. Show our girl what you've got." Art spits on his hand, covering his cock in his spit as he places the tip at your entry. You're already moaning, begging him to fuck you. He slides in slowly to start, allowing you to adjust to his size. Gasping, your nails dig into Patrick's thighs, he kisses your head in return. "C'mon, Donaldson, fuck the poor girl, she's begging you." Art's grip on your hips tighten as he begins to pound into you, thrusting his hips as he pulls you back into him. The noises that leave your mouth are ungodly, only making Art smirk and fuck you even harder. Patrick takes this as his cue and inserts himself into your mouth, the speed in which Art is fucking you pushes you back and forth on Patrick's cock, as he too begins to thrust himself into your mouth. Art's hand moves from your hip to reach underneath you, circling your clit as he continues to fuck you.

Patrick moans from the vibrations of yours on his cock, stroking your hair as he fucks your mouth. Your legs are shaking, thinking you'd fall onto your stomach if the boys weren't keeping you steady. "Are you gonna come all over Art's pretty dick, princess?" Patrick asks, slipping out of your mouth as he grabs you by the throat. "Fuck, I-I, yes! I'm so close," The words slip from your mouth almost as loud as the moans that follow, Art quickens the pace of his fingers circling you. Inching you closer and closer, he leans down and attacks your neck and back in kisses. Patrick leans down and kisses all over your face as they both whisper words of encouragement. "Come all over me baby, I wanna feel you come all over my cock." Art whispers in your ear, sending you over the edge. You ride out your high as Art keeps fucking you, pulling out only when your breathing calms. You collapse onto your stomach. "Don't get too comfy, sweetheart, it's my turn now."

He flips your body over, lifting your legs up to his shoulders, immediately filling you up. You scream out as Patrick wastes no time, fucking you deep and fast from the get go. Art sits to the side of your head, turning you toward him to take him in your mouth. His hand leans over your body, circling your clit once more. Patrick can't wipe the smile off his face. Keeping hold of your ankles, peppering them in kisses as he fucks you, hard. Art leans over, kissing his friend, moans being deafened into kisses. Pulling away from Patrick, grasping the sheets in panic. He pulls out of your mouth, stroking his cock as he carries on rubbing your clit. "Fuck, I'm gonna come," All you can do is smile up at Art, your face wet, covered in spit. He groans at the sight of you smiling up at him, that you're enjoying being used by both boys. It sends him over the edge, finishing all over your face, adding even more shine to it. You smile and lick any that landed on your lips. "Holy fuck-" Patrick can't even speak, pulling out of you and finishing all over your stomach. Standing up to clean himself off, Art moves to replace his hand with his mouth.

"Fuck, I- I can't take any more," You plead, squirming. Patrick reassures you, "Yes you can. Once more," He wipes your face with the towel he used to clean himself, kissing you after. Art inserts two fingers and his tongue moves swiftly over your clit. "Don't you want to come on Art's pretty face, baby? He's begging you for it." Patrick kisses down your jaw to your neck, moving down to your nipples. Propping yourself up on your elbows, looking down to Art. He's already looking up at you through his lashes, moaning out his name as he sends you over the edge again. He kisses up your body, laying next to you with Patrick. The three of you lay there on the twin bed, steadying your breath and kissing each others bodies.

You all help each other change and clean up, laying back down on the bed together. The boys in just their boxers, your underwear and a Stanford tennis shirt cover your body. You lay between them, both their heads nuzzled into your shoulders. "See, it wasn't so bad sharing with me, was it Art?" Patrick jokes, sitting up onto his elbow. Art covers your shoulder in kisses. "I still would have been preferred to have you all to myself." He whispers in your ear, making you giggle. "You're selfish, and a liar!" Patrick returns, "You cannot lie to me and say that wasn't the best sex of your life." Art hasn't stopped kissing your shoulder. "Well, I never said it wasn't. But, she's mine." Patrick laughs and lays back down. "Ours."

#art donaldson #art donalson x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #artrick #artrick x reader #challengers #art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig #challengers fic #smut #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig smut #challengers smut #art donaldson x you #patrick zweig x you

475 notes · View notes

aireia · 6 months

Text

holy shit. they're both hopeless. — satoru and shoko suspect that you and suguru have feelings for each other.

tw/cw: gn! reader, a tiny bit angst at the end but overall fluff + crack. angel used as a petname. not proofread + rushed.

note: school sucks, i'm half awake as of typing this, have mercy on my rusty ass writing skills —masterlist

“so. you like them, don’t you?”

it’s too early in the morning for this. suguru had just stepped foot into the classroom, and he was already being interrogated by his friends. they were eyeing him up and down with suspicion in their eyes, as if it would provide them with an answer.

“who?” the raven haired male feigned innocence. he knew damn well who the duo were talking about, from their not very secret gossiping to spying on him when he spoke to you. suguru was still kind of offended that they thought he didn’t notice them there. just because he didn’t have six eyes didn’t mean he didn’t have good eyesight! he could clearly see satoru’s head peeking out from behind a tree and shoko in the bushes.

“you’re not serious, are you?” satoru asked in disbelief, exchanging a few glances with shoko as if to say, “this guy is actually hopeless.”

they couldn’t have mistaken the soft glances he shot your way whenever you walked by them, or him lightly brushing his fingers against yours, or the very obvious tint of red on his face whenever he spoke to you for something else right? satoru swore on his six eyes that he wasn’t mistaken.

they decided to drop the topic after a while. if he wasn’t going to give them an answer, they’d just have to ask you instead.

they found you talking to suguru after class, laughing with him over small talk before you waved him goodbye. there it was again, that genuine smile he rarely showed. they approached you to tell you about needing to speak to you, then dragged you somewhere more private to speak.

“you like suguru right?” wow. direct. that wasn’t a question you expected today.

“we’re just friends,” you replied them. you could feel the heat rising on your cheeks. you had to change the topic, fast. “don’t you have a mission to get to, gojo? geto left earlier because he thought you were already waiting on him.”

“...”

he whispered something in shoko’s ear before darting off somewhere. well, whisper isn’t really the word. you clearly heard him telling shoko to “carry on with their mission and get you to admit you liked him,” and telling him all about it later. now you’re wondering if they secretly have nights where they just spill everyone’s secrets to each other late at night when everyone else is asleep.

shoko eventually turned back to face you after watching gojo run away. she placed both her hands on your shoulders and looked at you dead in your eyes. “are you sure you don’t like him? not even a little bit?” you shook your head, and she sighed. both of you are hopeless.

“so, what should we do?” shoko asked satoru as she painted his nails. “they’re beyond saving,” she continued.

the snowy haired male thought for a while before responding. “we set them up on a date.” shoko perked up at this. “you think?” “definitely.”

they lowered their voices after that, discussing how they would somehow drag the both of you to a location and ensure that you’d have a nice date and be together by the end of the day. with occasional breaks to gossip about random things and pairing teachers with shitty attitudes together, they finally came up with a plan.

now, you should have noticed the signs earlier. satoru and shoko were acting weird earlier. not only had they been whispering the entire day, acting like ninjas, but they also completely dropped the topic of you and suguru liking each other, and invited the both of you to a restaurant. satoru’s treat.

and now, you were standing in front of a restaurant waiting for all three of them. sure, you were a little early, but you didn’t expect no one else to be here. you stared at the group chat, waiting for possibly any type of text to indicate they had arrived, but nothing.

“y/n? you’re here early.” you could have recognised that smooth voice anywhere. suguru was the second to arrive after you, and the both of you exchanged some small talk before a notification popped up on your phone.

“we’re running a little late! you two go ahead inside!” we? were they together? and they knew the both of you had arrived? suguru sighed at the message. “let’s head inside. it’s hot out here anyway.” suguru ended by extending his hand out for you to take it, and you smiled before slotting your fingers in between his.

after the both of you were seated, you noticed something. satoru reserved a table for two people. of course he did. somehow, you’re convinced they’re both somewhere in the restaurant, disguised with newspapers and wigs (possibly contact lenses), spying on you and suguru.

another message was sent, this time to suguru. he sweatdropped as he read the message. there was an image attachment of a money transaction to his online banking account, captioned with “go get them!!”

he was going to slap satoru when he got back.

suguru deeply sighed before putting his phone back into his pocket. “they aren’t coming. i’m guessing they’re trying to set us up.” “obviously. well, since we’re already here, might as well make the best of it?” you suggested, and he agreed.

maybe dates set up by your friends were better. you ended up laughing with suguru, having a nice dinner… it was quite late when you left the restaurant, but you still ended up walking around with him and exchanging even more words. the walk back to your dorm rooms was mostly silent, though. walking hand in hand while the moon shone upon you, and his thumb lightly brushing over your hand, almost as if he were trying to remember the feeling of your skin because one of you would have to let go eventually. you tightened your grip on him at the thought.

“y/n, angel, you aren’t usually this clingy,” suguru chuckled when you nuzzled your face into his chest. he wrapped his arms around your body, bringing you closer to him and running his hand through your hair. “everything alright?” you nodded, but your lover knew you better than that. he’d have to ask you about it again later.

“do you wanna tell them we’ve already been dating for a few months?” you asked. the both of you had decided to keep your relationship secret early on, and your friends were starting to catch up on it. you think.

a brief moment of silence followed your question before he answered.

“nah. they’ll figure it out eventually.”

by user @ aireia, do not plagiarize and/or translate.

#signed by aireia!#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru #jjk geto #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto #suguru x reader #jjk fluff

634 notes · View notes

kittyball23 · 10 months

Note

Hi kittyball, did you read the trolls band together junior novelization? Does it include deleted scenes from the movie? I heard there was a scene cut with velvet and veneer buying yachts 😆 and another scene with velvet spraying veneer with troll without warning him.

Hi, I sure did! I do remember that there were scenes and/or little details that differentiated from what was seen in the actual movie, and I’d be happy to share them:

John Dory in the beginning was being a little more critical of Clay’s dance moves

“C’mon, Clay,” John Dory said. “They’re Funderdrawers! Underwear, but seventy-six percent more fun! Now let’s see those dance moves!”

“Fine,” Clay said with a sigh. He did a quick series of dance steps, naming them while executing them perfectly. “Rusty robot into a wiggle worm, and end on caliente puppet.”

“Not bad,” John Dory said, stroking his chin. “But your robot could be rustier. And your worm wigglier.”

Clay looked annoyed. “Don’t you want my puppet caliente-er?”

“I wasn’t going to say it,” John Dory said, “but yeah. Definitely.”

‘Bro-Time’ happened in both the beginning and the end, each brother doing a hands-in-the-middle thing

Beginning:

“If we can’t hit the Perfect Family Harmony, we aren’t perfect,” John Dory insisted. “And if we aren’t perfect, we’re NOTHING! Being nothing is definitely not an option. So just follow my lead.” He stuck his hand out, palm down. “Let’s do this!”

Each of his brothers piled their hands on top of his. Together, John Dory, Spruce, Clay, Floyd, and Baby Branch shouted, “IT’S BRO TIME!”

End:

Smiling wistfully, Floyd said, “I can’t believe we almost missed out on all this.” It had been a long time.

“We shouldn’t have let our differences break up our family,” Clay put in, joining them.

John Dory walked up. “That’s right. Because we don’t have to be perfect to be in harmony. We just have to be together.”

Branch started to point out that he had told them exactly that, but he changed his mind. “You’re right,” he said. “Good point, bro.”

Standing in a circle, the brothers each put a hand in. “On three,” Branch said. “One… two… three!”

“IT’S BRO TIME!” they all said in unison, lifting their hands.

Baby Branch was supposed to make his entrance suspended on a wire

“And making his first live appearance, the Baby!” Glitter burst over the stage, revealing Branch suspended on a wire.

“Awwww!” the whole audience said, charmed by the adorable sight.

BroZone rolled right into their first song. Cool, calm, and collected, John Dory danced up a storm. Spruce blew another kiss, and the fans went wild. Clay added a little goofy touches to the dance steps, getting lots of laughs. Floyd shed a single tear as he sang. And Branch flipped down off his wire, sticking the landing perfectly, nailing every move and every note as the five brothers came together.

As the Family Harmony started to happen, glass broke and a lightbulb shattered

The five brothers hit a chord and held it. Offstage, a water glass broke. KSHHH! Overhead, a light bulb shattered. SHHINK! The brothers looked at each other. It was happening! They were achieving the PERFECT FAMILY HARMONY!

Smead, Gristle’s Aunt, was supposed to be the officiate instead of Miss Maxine for Bridget and Gristle’s wedding

Gristle’s Aunt Smead, a tall Bergen with goggles and hair that stood straight up, was in charge of leading the happy couple through their wedding vows. She leaned over and joked, “Hey, Bridget, you still have time to run for it!”

Poppy and JD went through with the whole hug, fist-bump, and wave thing she suggested when meeting him

Poppy rushed over and introduced herself to John Dory. “Oh my gosh, I was being so rude! I’ve never met anyone from Branch’s family before. I’m Poppy. Branch’s girlfriend. Should we hug? Fist-bump? Smile and wave for now and see where the night takes us?”

“All of the above!” John Dory said, hugging her, bumping her fist with his and waving and smiling.

Crimp was supposed to be shown cleaning up the chair before Velvet and Veneer made their entrance on the Mount Rageous show ‘The Bop on Top’

In a TV studio, the pop duo’s put-upon assistant Crimp swept off a chair, making sure it was immaculate before one of her bosses sat on it. Crimp resembled the head of a straw broom, with green eyes, white glasses, and a purple hair bow scrunching a bun of papery hair on top of her head. She was much shorter than Velvet and Veneer, but was still at least three times the size of the average Troll.

Ignoring their assistant, Velvet launched herself onto the chair, squashing Crimp. FWUNK! “So,” Velvet said to Kid Ritz, “what do you wanna know? I’m an open book.”

You are correct, Velvet did spray Floyd’s essence at Veneer without him expecting it lol

Grabbing the perfume bottle, she squeezed the bulb, giving herself a big spray of Troll talent. SHHFFT! Floyd groaned as the energy was sucked out of him. Velvet tested the results, opening her mouth to sing. She let loose an impressive cascade of notes. Satisfied, she smiled and aimed the bottle’s nozzle at her brother’s mouth. SSSHHFFT! “Your turn, Veneer.”

Veneer coughed. “Ack! You’re supposed to say it before you spray it, remember?”

There’s a quick moment where Floyd sympathizes with Crimp

Rolling her eyes, Velvet said, “Ugh. I’m exhausted by this drama. Do you wanna go buy a yacht?”

“Oh, good idea!” Veneer said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s buy matching yachts!” They left the dressing room without another word.

"Can I come out of the corner yet?” Crimp asked.

Floyd looked at her with pity in his big violet eyes. “Girl, you need a new job. I should be the saddest one in this room.”

A small moment where Bruce and JD hug

Seeing an opportunity, Poppy decided to give Bruce a little encouragement. “Prove it. Prove it,” she started chanting. Bruce’s kids all joined in, balling their fists and pumping their arms in time with the chant. “PROVE IT! PROVE IT!”

Bruce took up the challenge. “Oh, I’ll prove it,” he said confidently. “I’ll prove it right now.” He took a deep breath and let it out. Then he hopped up onto the stage and stood next to John Dory.

“Yes!” John Dory cheered. “Bring it in, brother!” They hugged.

More of Velvet being a jerk

A stage manager popped her head through the dressing room door. “Knock, knock, knock – it’s ‘we’re ready for you’ o’clock!”

Velvet faked a super-sweet manner. “Look at you, making your job fun. Good for you! Just give us five minutes. We’re still working on our routine. Okay, doll?” She closed the door and muttered, “Loser.” Then she picked up Floyd’s bottle, planning to take in another spray of his Troll talent before the day’s singing began.

Veneer making a reference to a meme

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Floyd cried, holding his hands up against the inside of the diamond bottle. “Come on, it’s just dress rehearsal. You don’t need me for a dress rehearsal!”

Ignoring his protests, Velvet grabbed the golden spray bulb between her fingers and pointed the nozzle at her mouth, ready to spritz her vocal cords. Her brother spoke up. “Wait. Maybe he’s got a point. Do we even need a dress rehearsal?”

“Obviously,” Velvet said, making a face. “That’s why we’re getting dressed.”

“I’m just saying he doesn’t look so great,” Veneer pointed out. “He has, like, sad Troll face.”

Velvet shrugged it off. “He’s fine.”

Velvet’s suggestions for how to make Floyd better

But Velvet wasn’t overly concerned about Floyd’s see-through hand and overall paleness. “Oh, he just needs some blush,” she suggested. “Or is there a mini tanning bed we can jam into the bottle with him?”

More back and forth with Velvet and Veneer

Veneer paced the dressing room floor, clutching his head. “What are we going to do? We obviously can’t even rely on the Troll to get us through this dress rehearsal, let alone the Rage Dome show!”

Looking annoyed, Velvet said, “How come I always have to come up with something?”

“Because you’re the mean one!” Veneer told her.

“I’m not mean – I’m ambitious!”

Floyd having been conscious while Velvet was shaking the bottle

Picking up Floyd’s diamond prison, she said, “Maybe we should just try shaking the bottle.” She shook it. Floyd ricocheted around inside, banging against the hard surface.

“Ow! Ouch! Ooh, my knee! My other knee!” he cried.

Lonely People having been sung later on in the movie, after Floyd makes a ‘philosophical’ statement

Floyd looked at his body, becoming more see-through by the minute. “Well,” he said philosophically. “I lived, I loved, I lost.”

To the accompaniment of gentle ukulele music, he sang quietly to himself. He looked and saw that it was Crimp who was playing the ukulele.

Bruce’s response to learning about Velvet and Veneer’s song

On an empty road that night, Bruce steered Rhonda, listening to Velvet and Veneer sing one of their pop hits on the radio. “My kids love these guys!” he said. “We’re a total Veneer household.”

“They’re the ones who are holding Floyd prisoner,” John Dory called from the back of the van.

Bruce looked shocked. “Wow, everyone’s getting canceled these days.”

A little more Clay and Viva friendship displayed

Viva put an arm around Clay’s shoulder. “Yeah, I’m the face of the operation, and Mr. Clay takes care of the boring stuff!”

“Guilty!” Clay admitted. He and Viva tapped elbows and laughed.

Branch and Poppy having a short exchange after leaving Putt Putt Village

Heartbroken, Poppy watched as the gate closed. She leaned her scrapbook against it for Viva. Branch ran up behind her. “You were right, Branch,” Poppy said. “Family is… complicated.”

Velvet and Veneer having labeled bottles for the rest of the brothers

In Velvet and Veneer’s Rage Dome dressing room, Floyd’s diamond bottle sat on a shelf next to four empty bottles labeled Heartthrob, Fun Boy, Old One, and Baby. Floyd’s bottle was now labeled Almost Dead One.

Branch’s line about the diaper slightly differing

They tried singing one of their old songs, but John Dory soon cut them off. “Stop! Stop! Time-out. Let’s take it from the top. Spruce, I want some smolder in those eyes. Clay, you’re being too stiff. We need some sillier robot moves. Branch, maybe a smaller diaper.”

“Or some clothes not from the toddler section,” Branch grumbled.

Clay’s line about his CPA position replaced with this:

Bruce got right in his brother’s face. “This isn’t going to work if you keep being the same old John Dory.”

“Yeah,” Clay agreed. “We’ve all changed. Bruce settled down. Branch is slightly taller with zero glasses. And I’m not the guy who shoots milk out his nose and smiles through the burn!”

“Yup,” Poppy said to herself, remembering past milk blasts through her nose. “Been there.”

Crimp also confronting Velvet and Veneer when Poppy and Branch do on the red carpet

“You’re stealing BroZone’s talent because you have none of your own, you big PHONIES!” Poppy said, pointing her own accusing finger at them.

Crimp popped up out of the van. “They’re MEAN!” she shouted. “And I was their assistant, so I KNOW!”

The fans, listening to this exchange, started whispering to each other. Could what the little Trolls and the papery mop with glasses were saying possibly be true?

An extra line JD said when the talent was being sucked out of the four brothers

Velvet lowered herself back down through the sunroof and punched a button on the car’s dashboard. The roof folded back, clearing the way for a metal arm to rise out of the car, holding an entire round stage. Velvet and Veneer both hit the buttons on their shoulder pads and inhaled big whiffs of Troll talent. The four brothers winced in pain.

“Floyd, why didn’t you warn us about how uncomfortable that is?” John Dory asked.

Slightly different lines when Poppy, Branch, and Viva arrived at the yacht

When she saw Branch, Poppy, and Viva on the deck of the boat, Velvet wasn’t dismayed. On the contrary, she was delighted! “More Trolls!” she exclaimed happily. “This will last us a lifetime!”

Velvet trying to sing after she and Veneer came out of the river that they had fallen into, and Crimp calling the two out again

The yacht came to a stop, wedged diagonally across a narrow passage in the river. Velvet climbed out of the water, turned the camera on herself, and tried to sing.

She sounded awful.

The crowd gasped. “Hey, what happened to your voice?” a fan shouted.

Veneer decided it was time to come clean. “Okay, fine,” he said. “Listen up, Mount Rageous. We are FRAUDS! And we’ve been literally torturing little Trolls!”

The fans were horrified. One yelled, “My illusion of celebrity has been shattered!”

Crimp stepped in front of the pop duo. “It’s true,” she confirmed. And they’re mean. Not ambitious, but just plain MEAN!”

Veneer having put the handcuffs on Velvet instead of Crimp

“Oh, give it up, sis,” Veneer told her. He faced the cameras. “We just wanted to be famous. Honestly, my sister wanted to be famous, and truly, I was too afraid to stand up to her.”

Disgusted by her brother’s admission, Velvet said, “It’s like I don’t even know who you are.”

“Yeah, you do,” Veneer said firmly. “And you asked me to change anyway. Which isn’t okay, family or not.” He snapped a pair of handcuffs onto her slender wrists. She held them up, asking, “Veneer, what have you done?” Then she admired the shiny cuffs, saying, “Oooh, are these real silver?”

And the ending scene, in which Kismet is not mentioned, and Branch and Poppy have one last exchange

Over the loudspeaker, Crimp announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, you know ‘em, you love ‘em – give it up for the Trolls Kingdom’s very own… BROZONE!” She opened the curtains revealing the five brothers in sparkling new costumes. The crowd went wild!

In the front row, Poppy cheered along with them. Branch offered her his hand. “Poppy,” he said. “I have a small proposal. Will you – “

“Join the band?” she interrupted, bursting with excitement. “Of COURSE, I will! I thought you’d never ask!”

“You know me too well,” Branch said, grinning. “Now get up here and sing with us!”

“AAAAHH!” she squealed, leaping onto the stage. She extended a hand to her sister in the front row. “Viva! Viva, get up here! We’re in the band!”

“This is my dream life!” Viva cried, joining her and whipping out a pair of castanets.

The seven Trolls joyfully sang and danced together, and the audience absolutely loved it. The concert turned into an epic dance party. Fireworks exploded, lighting up the night sky.

Poppy turned to Branch. “I love you, Branch!”

“And I love you, Poppy!” Branch told her.

“Would it be weird if I fainted?” Poppy said. “Oh, I’m gonna faint right now.”

And she did. But Branch caught her. He would always be there to catch her when she fell, and she would do the same for him, no matter what.

Those were a majority of the main differences I could find in the junior novel. I think most of it stayed true to the movie, but some little details I would’ve liked to have made the final cut (the Cliva friendship stuff, the extra Broppy exchange and, while I understand the purpose of NSYNC’s cameo, I think the movie would’ve worked just fine without it)

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #branch trolls #poppy trolls #velvet and veneer #velvet trolls #veneer trolls #floyd trolls #crimp trolls #john dory #spruce trolls #clay trolls #dreamworks #thanks for the ask!#kittyball answers #100+

574 notes · View notes

anniebeemine · 2 months

Text

Hey! Welcome to my humble corner of the internet. Quick facts about me: I am 23, a college student in the American Midwest region. I haven't been super active in the fanfic world in a few years so my skills are a little rusty.

My blog is a place for anyone. I'm always willing to talk and have a good time. My anons are open for anything!

Requests are Open!! (updated 9/23/24)

Spencer Reid One-Shots (* denotes smut/sexual content)

An Old Friend

Cocktail Hour*

Three's Company

Taking Matters Into Our Own Hands

All Apologies*

Sacrifices (xstudent!reader, non-romantic relationship)

Blue Velvet

Birthday Blues

Genius 2.0, part two

Baby Fever*, part two, part three

Mom’s Night Out

Shut Up and Drive*

You Didn’t Come

Pavlov Would Have A Field Day With You*

Bad Idea, Right?* (my personal favorite)

Ride

Nesting Mode

Isn't That Sweet?*, part two

Nailed It*

Stress Relief*

Too Drunk To Drive

Laid*

Blame It

Back Home Again

Kiss Me, Kiss Me

Challenges (x deaf!reader)

Lucky Ones

Thursday Night Date Night

Some Days Are Diamonds, Some Days Are Stone

I <3 My Boyfriend*

Pink Roses

Vanilla*, Part Two*, Part Three*

The Gift

Syllabus Day

Vacation

Sawyer and Spencer

Rocky Mountain High

Kissing Someone Else

Mine

Hung Up

Count Your Luck

Mild

Spoiled

Satisfied*

Who I'd Be

I Can Dream About You*

You're The One

Champagne Coast

What Do We Do Now?

The Lunch Press

Subtle

Relax

Line My Eyes and Call Me Pretty*

It's Better To Ask For Forgiveness

The Most Dangerous Game*

More Than A Woman

Spencer In The Bathroom

Amusing For Who?

Comfort, pt.2

Untitled- Blinded Reader

All In

Blurbs

Spencer trying to get his son to wear shoes

First day nerves

Munch!Spencer*

Tell It To My Heart

How Stupid

Spencer Doesn't Stop You From Walking Out

Manhandling*

can you feel my love?/ rising with the heat above

Secrets

Depressed Spencer finds his light

Spencer's daughter says she wants mommy

Spencer cleans your glasses

Morning domestic bliss + peek a boo w/ a baby

Requests

Spencer assures you that you're not just a listener

Reader shows Spencer their new tattoo

Singer!Reader pt. 2

Spencer's gf goes undercover

Interrupting Spencer with kisses

Chef Reader

Reader and Spencer become Henry's godparents

Reader is a klutz and everyone thinks she's in trouble

Spencer comforts an overwhelmed reader

Spencer's teen daughter has a boyfriend, part two

Reader owns a coffee shop named after Spencer

Reader is feeling burnt out

Pushing the Reader away because of his addiction

Reader gets a breast reduction

Energy Drinks

Reader has a hysterectomy (breeding kink)*

Series

It Takes A Village: When Naomi comes into his life, Spencer has no clue about fatherhood

Untitled Crossover

#masterlist

176 notes · View notes

gyllenhaalstories · 2 months

Text

FETISH — RUSTY SABICH

summary: something something you needed a job and raymond offered you to work at the office. something something there is a misunderstanding and you pique rusty's curiosity.

warnings: this story happens before the events of presumed innocent so rusty is still a prosecutor, includes tommy molto (with mentions of barbara, carolyn, nico & raymond), sexual harassment, cheating, smut (masturbation, underwear smelling). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 3360

gif credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: raymond is the star of this fic and so is @sizzlingcloudmentality's idea that saved this story 📂 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

You were thankful for Raymond Horgan. He considered you as his niece, he had helped you more times than you could remember. He bought you the biggest dollhouse you could dream of when you were a child, he set an absurd amount of money aside for your education and now he had offered you a job most law students of Chicago could never even dream of. Most of the time, you were thankful for Raymond.

"So, let met get this right... You found the file in a recycling bin?" Tommy's voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard. The twisted grin glued to his face sent a shiver down your spine.

You were not thankful for Raymond at this precise moment. He left you all alone to answer his phone calls while everyone in the office had left to enjoy their weekend. You assumed that no one would care to call the district attorneys on a Friday afternoon. No. Evening. The sun had started setting, you did not even see the day go by. You assumed that no one would bother, but Raymond had never been more popular. "For the third time, yes, I found the documents in the bin and I thought it was important material so I grabbed it before the janitors did. If I had known, I would not have touched it. I can assure you of that, Tommy."

"Mister Molto," he rectified, he pursed his lips. "It's Mister Molto for you."

"Since when are you so passionate about recycling, Mister Molto?" You spat out his name with disgust. There was just something about Tommy. Everyone in the office had been pleasant, you had no trouble believing that Raymond knocked on each door and instructed them to treat you with the upmost respect. Everyone listened, except Tommy.

Tommy's gaze fell on your hand, he watched you tap your fountain pen on the notepad nervously. You were always so nervous in his presence, surely this must mean you liked him. You liked him but you were too shy to admit it. "What did you do with the documents?"

You grabbed your notepad, imitating your every action. Maybe, you thought, the man would understand better if you gave him the visuals. You explained how you pulled the file out of the bin and set it down exactly where Tommy had found it: on Nico Della Guardia's desk. You assumed he would know better than you what to do with it, but Tommy had the reflexes of a cat and snitched the papers before anyone else could see them. "Is it more clear now? Do you want me to tell you the whole story again for the fourth time?"

You were making an excuse to talk to him longer. He found it endearing. His thin lips curled into a smile, he shook his head. He looked down at the file he gripped on tightly, so tightly that the sweat of his palm began to warp the material. "In this office, we value being thorough..." The phone rang, cutting his lecture off. Tommy looked down again. He recognized the code written on the file, he even recognized the handwriting. It was from a case Carolyn Polhemus had worked on with Rusty Sabich.

You exhaled dramatically and let the phone ring three times before picking it up. You repeated your greeting like a robot, expecting the caller to insist you made Raymond magically appear so they could talk to him.

"It's you." A familiar voice resonated through the phone. Rusty was calling. "Hi." You could practically hear him smile. "I was just wondering if you saw my stapler anywhere. Ray always steals it, and..."

"We also value respect around here." Tommy pulled your attention back to you, annoyed that you picked up the phone without excusing yourself. "Anyway." Another grin, another wave of shivers. He rambled about how you should stick to your tasks, how you would be a better secretary if you did not go snooping around people's trash. Apparently, he could not even begin to comprehend the concept of a simple mistake.

You narrowed your eyes while he continued his monologue. You could not believe what your left ear heard, as your right ear burned against the phone while it perceived words about Raymond's kleptomaniac's tendencies regarding office supplies. You tried to breathe through your nose to calm down. Overwhelmed. Overstimulated. You wanted this day to be over.

"Am I disturbing something? I'm sorry, I didn't want to bother..." Rusty frowned, trying to recognize the other voice he heard. He could not see the scene, but he started to imagine the agitation. "Who's with you?"

Tommy's expression faded into a dark one. Annoyance, perhaps. You could not read him well and you certainly did not want to. He gave you... Ick. There was something else, a spark in his eyes that made you swallow a knot of nerves stuck in your throat. "Evidence from a trial is not to be messed with. I hope you learned your lesson. Or maybe... You wanted to see me. So we could have a little talk just the two of us. And the problem is that you can't keep your hands to yourself, can you?"

You scoffed. "That's inappropriate." Tommy was not annoyed. He was aroused. There was a double meaning to his words that made you sick to your stomach. He lost no time defending himself, hiding behind his inflated ego to justify how his comment was perfectly normal.

Rusty had trouble discerning a single thing from the word vomit that fell out of his colleague's mouth. He tried to inquire about what was happening in vain. He had to pull the handset away from his ear, Tommy and you argued in full volume. However, Rusty heard one thing before you violently hung up the phone, forcing it back into the receptacle. He remained unsure of who you directed your rage-filled words to.

"Go fuck yourself!"

*~*~*

"Go fuck yourself! Go fuck yourself! Go fuck yourself!"

The sound of your voice echoed in Rusty's mind. It had been all he could think about. He was fixated. Obsessed.

He replayed the scene over and over again. By now, he understood you spat these words out at Tommy.

Rusty spat on his hand, squeezing it around his cock that he pumped to full hardness.

You sounded like a broken record in his head. By now, he still did not understand why these words had such an effect on him.

His left hand dived into the teal laundry basket, feeling around. He pulled out the towel he used after his session on the treadmill earlier. He also pulled out a bunched up piece of black fabric. The plastic basket was roughly pushed to the side before Rusty flattened the towel on the counter. His right hand moved up and down on his cock, he was desperate for some relief.

You spent so much time with Tommy. Too much time. Why? Why did you spend time with Tommy? All the small talk by the coffee machine or the elevator. Why was Tommy going down in the elevator with you? Why was it always him?

Rusty pulled his hand away from his cock that twitched. He looked down at the counter, grabbing a clothespin to fidget with. He was thankful there was a window before him and not a mirror.

A pathetic sight.

He pulled his sweatpants down below his ass, a drop of precum even left a wet stain on the front. His cock throbbed with the desire to be touched again. His thoughts fought an unfair race.

He wanted to think of you.

But he was thinking of Tommy. Of his jealousy towards Tommy. He could not see straight. Rusty was too blinded by his insatiable lust to remember all of the times he caught you grimacing after Tommy walked away, flinching when Tommy initiated physical contact with a squeeze of your shoulder or a pat on your lower back. You hated Tommy. Rusty hated Tommy.

"Go fuck yourself!"

You resisted Tommy. Why were you not resisting him? Why were you always so pleasant and nice with him? Rusty remained charming and resourceful. When it came to working his way through a case or helping you with a task Raymond gave you that seemed way above your skill set, he was the smartest guy in the room.

Rusty was stupid for wanting to think of you.

He dropped the wooden clothespin on the counter and proceeded to continue. His dominant hand wrapped around the base of his cock, his long fingers grazed over his balls. His left hand brushed over the bunched up fabric. Clumsily, he unfolded it and it revealed to be a pair of panties.

He should think of Barbara.

He brought the panties up to his nose. He brought his hand up to his tip. That would work. That usually worked. It had not worked for a long time, but... But it had to work right now.

He inhaled her scent and he moaned. "Good. Keep going." He traced his fingertip over his slit, smearing the precum over it while he relaxed. He closed his eyes, images of Barbara flashed. His face buried in the crook of her neck, his eyes blinded by the black curls of her hair, his hands squeezing on the soft flesh of her ass. He kept going. He kept thinking of Barbara.

Barbara's features started to morph with yours. He imagined your smile. He imagined your curves. He imagined the sound of your voice moaning his name.

"Fuck!" Rusty shouted. His thin upper lip curled in frustration. His face twisted with anger towards himself while his mind became a mosaic crafted with the memories he had of you.

He barely had anything. It was all office related. It was all Raymond related. It was all Tommy related. He barely had any memory alone with you. You should tell him to go fuck himself. You should push him away. You should resist him. Resist. Resist. Resist.

He needed to resist you.

He wrapped Barbara's panties around his cock and he used them to jerk off. His shoulders loosened up. The fabric dragged over his cock, a familiar sensation that used to make him climax effortlessly. Just the thought of it would make him hard.

Like a fetish. His wife's panties used to work like magic. It could work again. He needed it to work again.

He threw his head back, his eyes fluttered close. "That's it, that's it. Feels so fucking good..." He mumbled. His hand and the panties blurred together while he stroked himself hard and fast. He fought the frustration with pathetic desperation. You appeared in his mind again.

Like a fetish. He could not get rid of his thoughts of you. A fixation. An obsession.

Rusty tightened the grip on his cock. The panties got bunched up at the base, caressing his sack deliciously while he focused on his leaking tip. His breath came in short gasps. He felt so close.

His balls tightened, his orgasm imminent. He propped himself up a bit on the tip of his toes. Just high enough. Quick strokes. Tight quick strokes.

Would you jerk him off this way if he begged you to? Did you even think about jerking him off? Or would you tell him to go fuck himself?

He groaned, he fought the urge to close his eyes so he could aim at the towel.

Did you ever think about the two of you fucking? On his desk. Against the wall. On the floor. He did. He thought about it many times. A fixation. An obsession.

"Fuck yes!" He cried out when he spilled all over the towel. His entire body tensed up. Ropes of white cum painted the navy blue towel. It felt so good to cum for you. It would feel even better to cum inside of you.

He slowed the movements of his hand and squeezed the remaining of his release on the cumrag. He set his feet flat again, his chest heaved while he panted.

For a moment, a moment that did not last long enough, his mind seemed blank. No imagery, no thought. A void. It was peaceful, but volatile.

He opened the door of the washing machine and threw in his cumrag and Barbara's underwear after he wiped his cock clean with them. He added the rest of the dirty laundry and poured a generous amount of detergent with the hope it would wash away what happened.

Rusty noticed a spurt of his cum squirted on the counter top. He grabbed the small tissue box and wiped it clean. He shook his head, unsatisfied. He rummaged through the cabinet and found cleaning wipes. He dragged the wipe over the counter with force until it started to tear up.

He looked out at the window. Rained poured outside, the clouds looked menacing. A bad omen.

Later, he would tell himself this was inoffensive. He could be very convincing, very persuasive. He would make himself believe this was not harmful. He used Barbara's panties. He finished on a cumrag. How could it be harmful if he did not even touch you?

He never touched you. He needed to touch you.

He would fixate on you. He would obsess over you until you granted him the privilege to touch you.

*~*~*

Exactly a week after the incident, you returned to the office with Raymond. He handed you a box, the type of boxes they used to store files. He had already found you another place to work in a less anxiety inducing setting. He reassured you that your departure would not inconvenient you in the future. He also mumbled something about how he would like to have a word with Fuck-Thing One and Fuck-Thing Two. You figured who carried these endearing pet names.

Rusty came into work every morning this week with the hope of bumping into you. Nobody had warned him about how you had been strongly advised to quit. He could tell Raymond was grumpy and Tommy was annoyed. Nothing out of the ordinary.

You leaned the box on your hip and put in the few belongings you had brought to Raymond's office. A set of highlighters with two missing colours, a box of cookies that only had a sleeve left in it, a pad of sticky notes with a smiley face scribbled on it. It felt as though you had never even walked up those infamous stairs in front of the building. You assumed everyone would forget about your short employment, like you had never worked here at all. You gave the stuffy room one last look before you closed the door behind you.

There was nothing out of the ordinary except for the knock on his door during lunch break despite it being wide open. "Come in." He invited you after you waited patiently outside. A patience he could not reciprocate. Not around you.

"Hi, Sir." You took a couple of steps in his office while the man leaned back on his chair, spinning slowly from left to right.

"Screw that." He brushed the formalities away with his hand. "No Sir or Mister with me. Didn't I tell you this on your first day?"

And on your last day too.

His eyes glanced from your beautiful face to what you carried in your arms. "Box full of stuff. That's bad news." Rusty's enthusiastic smile faded. He had waited so long to see you and now you were going away. Bad news indeed.

"Bad? Depends for who." You chuckled dryly. "I'm happy to get away from him."

Rusty nodded, acknowledging what you referred to. "Office gossip. It goes around." You arched a curious brow. "Rumour has it he's not happy."

You laughed, this time more genuinely. You looked at the content of the box, remembering what you came here for. You set the box down on a chair across Rusty's desk and you pulled out the stapler he asked for the other day. "Better late than never."

He stretched an arm across his desk to grab it, his fingers brushed against yours. He wondered if you felt the shock that went through his hand when your skin touched his. Sparks? Probably just static electricity. Rusty tilted his head back to look at you.

"I didn't come here for the stapler... Ray definitely stole it. He always steals things. He says it's endearing, it means he loves you. In my opinion, he probably thinks everything is free real estate." You reacted to your own amusing comment.

Oh how Rusty loved the sound of your laughter. Tommy would be jealous of him if he knew how many times he heard it, how many times he made you laugh.

"You've been working with Ray for how long?" Rusty opened his mouth to tell you the number of years, but you cut him off. "A hundred years or something? And you didn't know that! Wow." You clicked your tongue, mocking him like you truly disapproved of his ignorance.

His smirk turned into a frown of confusion when you quickly switched the topic.

"I came here to apologize for lashing out at you the other day. I was yelling at Tommy, not you. But yeah, I just wanted to say sorry. And goodbye."

"Don't even worry about it." He held his hands on his thighs. "I figured you weren't talk to me. One way or another... You would have ended up telling me to fuck off anyway."

You reacted to his words, squinting your eyes while trying to figure out what he meant. While Tommy had been nothing but a pain in the ass, Rusty revealed himself as one of the nicest people you met in the office. He brought you a cup of coffee, remembered how you preferred it. He paid for yours and Raymond's lunches so he could tag along. You smiled to yourself, remembering your stressful first day and the way it took the two of you to fix the printer by getting a scrunched sheet of paper unstuck.

Rusty caught that small smile of yours and he mirrored your expression. Silence lingered in the office one moment too long. His gaze lingered on you one moment too long as well. He swallowed thickly and fixed his tie back in his vest.

"Well..." You put the lid on the almost empty box and picked it up. You turned on your heels and headed in direction of the glass door.

Rusty was not ready to watch you leave just yet. "Got anything lined up? I can write you good references if you need. Whatever you need." His voice dropped to a whisper with the last three words.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine, but I appreciate the offer." You explained what Raymond did, The old man called up a few connections, offering a round of beers at the bar as a thank you for the special treatment. "Although I'll have to work on my language, or so I've been told." You rolled your eyes playfully.

Rusty did not understand why it had been such an issue. He would have lost his job a long time ago on the basis of telling people to fuck off one too many times.

"Whatever that new place is, I'm just happy that it's Tommy Molto-free."

"I'll... We. I mean we'll miss having you around!" Rusty slipped up, his nostrils flaring while he inhaled deeply to try and dissipate the potential awkwardness.

You answered that you had a good time, that you appreciated his help. It felt so good to hear these words of praise from you.

"You know, after a while... I'm sure you'll end up missing Tommy too."

You basically cackled at his words, now stepping out of the glass door. "Oh, fuck you, Rusty."

"Fuck me?" He raised his voice so you could hear him loud and clear.

You remained immobile to let him finish.

"Is that a threat?" He pulled his glasses off in one swift motion and let them fall on his desk covered in scattered papers. "Or a promise?"

#jake gyllenhaal #rusty sabich #rusty sabich smut #jake gyllenhaal smut #presumed innocent #jake gyllenhaal imagine #rusty sabich imagine #rusty sabich x reader #jake gyllenhaal x reader

166 notes · View notes

milkteabinniechan · 5 months

Text

Pink Carnations - A Bridgerton Story

ko-fi // m.list

pairing: Bridgerton Au! Chan x female reader

a/n: This was a labor of love honestly and I wanted to break out of my normal writing comfort zone so thank you all for giving me the platform to do that <3 I hope you all enjoy the first chapter. Please leave feedback!! It helps me out sm

Chapter One

Pink carnations lined the pathway to your house. That's how you knew spring was arriving. Long lines of pink. You'd push open your bedroom windows and breathe in the freshly cut grass, you'd let the warm breeze press past your hair, tickling your neck and shoulders.

It was your wedding day.

"Everyone is waiting downstairs, ma'am." A chambermaid squeaked from the doorway.

She was a new hire. A small, meek little thing that didn't talk much and avoided all eye contact. You had attempted many times to spark up a conversation with her, but all your efforts had fall flat thus far. You turned towards the door and gave her a firm nod. You took a deep breath in and made your way towards the stairs. Your dress swirled and swept across your legs as you moved.

You absolutely adored your dress. Long, flowing chiffon cascaded down your hips, falling to your feet at perfect length. A beaded corset swam up your waist and chest, while delicate lace fabric draped your shoulders, trickling down like a spring rain.

You counted your footsteps as you ascended down the staircase; one, two, three, four. Before you knew it, you were in the main hall of your family home. The kitchen staff had decorated every corner of the enormous mansion you called home. As you glanced around the room, there was only one person you were really looking for.

Chan was a potential suitor but he never pursued you. Gentlemen brought flowers to your door nearly every day. Bouquets of roses and purple tulips filled your room like something out of a fairytale. But he never sent so much as a flower petal.

"No carnations? Do these men not know you at all?" Your sister had notes the lack of your favorite flora.

Now it was your wedding day, a perfectly respectable man by the name of Felix Lee had asked for your hand in marriage. He came from a wealthy family

And had always treated you with the utmost respect. He was very well-liked in the town. Quite the charmer to the gaggle of ladies that had found themselves swarming him every chance they could. He had a beautiful smile and effortlesslessy gorgeous hair. You found yourself shrinking around him whenever he would speak, fearing that the light he exuded would burn you away.

But however magical Felix seemed, you still found yourself searching for Chan around every corridor. The whole town had been invited to this momentous occasion as Lady Whistledown had so affectionately called it.

She had gushed ansd gooned over the entire guest list, right down to the third cousin of the second aunt of the twice removed great uncle of… whatever. This was a spectacle. This was not for you. You were the eldest of your family. As your mother had never bore a son, the responsibility came down to you to marry someone in good standing to provide for your family. Although you would not live in this place anymore, your siblings and your parents would be well taken care of.

“The newest Whistledown has just arrived!” a valet ran into the dining hall with a small white paper in hand.

“She’s writing on the day of your wedding? That has to be a good sign.” Your sister nudged your shoulder with hers.

The two of you shared a smile that quickly faded when you saw the shocked faces slowly peppering across the room. Judgemental eyes shot through you like rusty nails, leaving an infectious monster spreading through your entire body. Your mother crossed the marble floor to hand you the latest gossip. Your hands began to shake as you lifted the small sheet to your face.

Dearest, Gentle Reader,

They say what is good for the goose is good for the gander, but what if the goose has taken a GANDER at another? This writer has heard a rumor most scandalous, about a certain Lady that has spent a significant amount of her time and attention on someone who is NOT her groom to be. A man in good standing is only considered as such if the company he keeps holds themselves to the same standards. Perhaps this bride may be having second thoughts?

taglist: @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @doohnut @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson

341 notes · View notes

leviathanleva · 5 months

Text

Daisy

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader [DARK FIC]

Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

........................

[5.5k words]

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 6 "The Book"

Green.

Green spanning as far as the eye could see. A thick, overflowing forest accompanied by such humid air it made you nauseous and slightly out of breath. It did well to shield you from the sun and you no longer had to use your blazer as a substitute for a poncho and avoid a sunburn.

It took you nearly two days to stop gawking at the luscious flora once you’d set foot in it and the ghoul had found it necessary to bark a threat at you a couple of times when your feet had stilled to take in the scenery. You didn’t let his grumpy nature affect you though. You’d never seen such a view and you let your eyes feast with mouth ajar and hands fisted. Sticky mud, twigs, and leaves clung to the soles of your boots and the vapor you were sure was radioactive frizzed up your hair.

You’d expected the forest to be brimming with life, from animals to insects, birds, and critters, but there was nothing. When you took the time to recollect the past three weeks while silently following behind your bounty-hunter-turned-tour-guide, you hadn’t seen any birds. The bombs wiping them out was the obvious explanation, they were gentle creatures, they didn’t stand a chance and it was a melancholic realization. Bird songs were the symphony of nature and it was painful to know you’d never be able to hear it.

You adjusted the backpack strap away from your throat and rubbed at the sore spot before taking a few springy steps to catch up with the ghoul. His pace had quickened for reasons unknown and you had to jog to be able to keep up with him. It was tedious considering the slippery ground actively worked on slowing you down, but you’d take this over going a faceoff with the sun any day.

Humanity’s traces could be spotted scattered amidst the greenery, bits of metal sprouting from the dirt, tattered cloth at the bases of the trees, or hanging off low branches, a plane wreckage in the distance. It was comforting that other people had passed by your route and left a piece behind, an echo of their presence. You wanted to believe they were good because so far there hadn’t been a soul you had encountered that hadn’t tried to attack you.

WELCOME FOR TO TILLBURRY

A bright red billboard was risen high above the treeline, fastened to a multitude of wooden planks nailed together. The once pearl white paint was now a deep yellow with spangles of rusty brown, the words were peeling off, weathered down by time, you could tell even from where you stood.

You stand shoulder to shoulder, except the ghoul’s is more at level with your cheek. He kicks some buildup off his shoes and opens his canteen.

The settlement is right down the hill. Tillburry. You made it to Tillburry.

“We made it?” you release your lips from their toothy prison and your face lights up with an untamable grin. You beam up at him and shake his arm excitedly. “We made it, Mister.” your eyes dart back to the sign, you’re practically vibrating next to him. “I can’t believe it!”

He pauses between swigs and glances down to where you’ve taken hold of his wrist. His lack of reply stirs your attention and you follow his gaze, then let go and step away with a wary expression.

“Uh…Sorry. I just got a little – ” you’re tugging at the frilly edges of your dress anxiously, one foot readies on its toes if you spotted even a glimpse of a rope peaking from behind his back. “ – I didn’t – No tying up, please? My ankles are still sore from last time, Mister.”

You’re an eye-bat away from bolting, again, and it never works because he’s scarily good with a lasso, but you’re stupidly optimistic. Last time you’d gotten on his nerve he’d tied you up and hung you from the ceiling lamp of an old farmhouse, gagged as well, mind you, because you wouldn’t stop talking. At least, he’d been kind enough to take your shoes off so you could stretch your feet and keep the blood circulation going. The fact that he’d used you as a sentient coat hanger was less nice.

Then again, you’d gotten another dose of his scent while he’d had dinner by himself and ignored your existence for a good hour or two. It wasn’t all bad, or maybe it was but you were too dependent on him to protest against his unorthodox punishments.

“Ain’t no point.” he clicks his tongue and glosses over his canteen before tucking it away. “You don’ learn nothin’ cept how to complain harder.” he taps a gloved finger against the center of your forehead, forceful enough to have your neck tipping back and you scrambling for balance. “Thought you were supposed to be smart. How come nothin’ sticks in that lil skull o’ yours?”

“Mm, have you thought about maybe…” your eyes squint at his rough gesture and you pull away with a wince. “Maybe a nicer approach to your lessons, Mister?”

“Nice don’t keep you alive, Darlin’.” he doesn’t spare a breath before answering and after a moment you reluctantly nod.

His malignity and somber methods were a necessity both for your development and safety yet you wished it weren’t so. You wanted for a kinder world and less spilled blood and were likely one of many, but no one had the privilege of choosing what they were born into. Despite all ill circumstances, you were still lucky to be taken under the wing of an expert, taught how to survive by someone who’d lived so long and accumulated enough knowledge to fill a library.

It wasn’t peaches and marmalade up here, although you had a can of both stuffed somewhere in the depths of your backpack.

The hand which had been resting on his hip reaches for the hefty tato sack slumped next to his boot and he secures it over his shoulder before nudging his head towards the welcome sign.

“Les go.”

You’re hot on his heel, stomping down the mucky hill with acute prudence, your dress was already dirty, you didn’t need to add mud stains to the extensive collection.

The peaks and roofs of ramshackle buildings loom above the shabby fence surrounding the settlement, dyed in varieties of reds and yellows, some fully, others unfinished because there was no more paint to spare. The vegetation became sparse and the soil soon gave way to dusty gravel that crumbled delightfully under your boots. Once close enough for a better inspection, you notice the defensive walls are nothing more than plates and pieces of different scrap metal bolted together. A swirl of barbed wire is draped on the top and rotting pikes are sticking out from the base.

It wasn’t exactly the warm welcome you were expecting.

Anxiety and excitement kept you glued to the ghoul, mostly hidden behind his unfriendly frame. A meager excuse came up as a means to start up a conversation that might ease your quickening pulse and sweaty palms. You decided to keep the silence, though, opting to restrain your questions for a later time, when there was less tension built up on his shoulders and his fingers weren’t instinctively gliding over the handle of his pistol.

You heard the marketplace before you saw it. Your stomach flipped once you stepped beyond the open town gates, now being able to put faces to the buzzing chatter lingering in the air.

“Holy moly…” you gasp with brows raised high and your step falters.

It was busy.

After years of solitude and countless dreams of a normal pre-nuclear war life, after nearly a month in the company of a single man who preferred action over word, the reality of civilization crashed into you like a boiling wave. Hot prickles pinched at random places around your body, beads of sweat are already trickling from your armpits and your skin becomes clammy. With a heart lodged in your throat, you stumble forward, giving in to the ghoul’s rough tug on your wrist.

“Keep movin’.” his rasp fails this time, impossibly outmatched by the turbulence simmering inside you.

“Mm…sorry.” it’s an empty apology, insincere because he sees your eyes flitting and knees wobbling.

You never expected the settlement to be this…overwhelming.

Strangers are passing by and blending together in a jumbled blur of worn-out clothes and limbs. Carts are being rolled between the isles, restocking items as soon as they’re bought, and smoke lingers high above your head, amassed from chimneys, food booths, and cigarettes.

You find it difficult to breathe the more information your short-circuiting brain is forced to process.

“Get your RadAway right here good people! Three for the price of one – ”

“ – Cactus fruit for sale! Fresh out the – ”

“ – Bullets, guns and more bullets – ”

Stalls were huddled together, adorned with junk and trinkets, things you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. And even if the owners already had at least one customer looking over their products, they still hollered at the crowd bustling around them. There’s a heavy stench in the air, of car oil and lack of hygiene, sweat and musk blending in with roasting meats that smell like no animal you’ve eaten before.

Shopkeepers had the doors to their establishments open, waving over weary wanderers with promises of a good time and helpful products.

“Stimpaaaks! Rad-X and more! Whatever your heart desires! Save a life! Buy a stimpaaak!”

You avoided eye contact, keeping your sights low and only skimming over the intricacies of the stands. The flood of strangers was cordial enough not to bump into you, but when a roasted cricket was shoved in your face and behind it a pair of foggy blue orbs stared right into your soul you recoiled.

“Ah, no thank you, Sir!” you give the merchant a wide apologetic smile and lift a hand to your mouth.

You latch onto the ghoul’s forearm when the merchant’s face falters for a split second before he’s already trying the unfortunate person behind you. For a moment there you’d thought he’d pounce on you, there was no telling considering the man looked half-dead.

“Aww, was wrong, Sweetheart?” your bodyguard barks out a laugh, sneering down at you. “Don’ want a cricket on a stick?”

You don a thin-lipped, unimpressed expression and detach yourself from him.

“I’ll stick to crackers and canned beans, thanks.”

His teasing tone unwittingly shook off a part of your anxiety. The overstimulation eases to a broiling irritation and most of the smells and sounds fade behind a wall of ignorance. You still sweat more than you’d like, but your pulse nestles back into a steady rhythm. You take a breath and squeeze your palms a few times, working through an alien mental exertion as your face settles with neutrality.

“Suit yourself.” he snorts, guiding you towards a particular stand. “Dunno what you’re missin’ though.”

“Think I’d rather keep it that way.” you murmur under your breath and turn back for a more in-depth examination of the unappealing delicacy. “…Yeah.”

Bugs…Who eats fucking bugs?

There’s a steaming caldron propped up over a steady fire, but you can’t discern the scent and your upper lip is already twitching into a disgusted scowl. The owner has his elbows resting on the display counter, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled to just below his meaty biceps. His thick mustache spreads into a delighted smile and he abandons his hunched-over posture when he notices your uncanny duo approaching.

“Welcome! Browse at your leisure.”

“One o’ those.” the ghoul motions towards the cauldron and you’re ready to fight back nausea, anticipating a monstrous fiend turned snack to emerge.

You were wrong.

The man sinks a ladle inside the lively water and fishes out a potato.

“Oh.” you blurt without a second thought.

“What d’you think it was?” he tosses a few caps on the counter and plucks the boiled potato from the merchant’s ladle and you can’t help but grimace.

“At this point, nothing would surprise me.” you answer honestly, then cock your head with a face scrunched at the unnerving sight. “Doesn’t that sting? He just…y’know…took it out of the water?”

Does this man honestly have no pain receptors or is he just high again? Either way, you were left stunted every time he took a blow without a flinch. From bullets to hot potatoes, nothing could scathe him.

“ ‘S fine.” he blows away the steam and unfastens his hunting knife to cut a sizable piece from the top, then tosses it at you.

You catch it with a precious glint in your eye, graced with a bittersweet smile. Him willingly splitting food was a new addition, but an act you cherished fervently. A display of custody so fleeting and illusive it was unclear how intentional it was.

Then the heat finally registers and you’re forced to juggle the mushy piece between your hands.

The ghoul dips his half in the disturbed salt pile next to the fresh vegetable crate, and you mimic him once the potato has cooled enough to hold. He’s already moving and you follow closely behind while giving your treat a few more needed puffs and tapping off the excess salt.

“So what are we looking for now, Mister?” you ask and dodge bumping shoulders with a dazed old woman while adopting a steady tempo by his side. You’re looking up at him with wonder while sinking your teeth into the potato and he’s very tempted to lick his thumb and try to wipe off that incessant glee from your face.

“Trader’s shop.”

“Oh, right! For the Pip – ” a hand is harshly smacked over your mouth. He shakes his head curtly and his mouth dips into a short-lived frown; you clear your throat and nod in understanding.

Right…Everything from the vaults was considered a rare treasure on the surface. People were ready to kill for a single one of the items each of you was carrying. Caps flowed whenever a mint-condition lint roller was involved, let alone more practical things. And Pip-boys were at the top of the pyramid. They were priceless. Some would sacrifice a limb to get their hands on one because it meant they were settled for life.

You scan over the current of wanderers for any prying eyes but find none. It was too noisy; your words had been drowned out the moment they’d escaped.

Maybe you should try not to forget you aren’t living in a vault anymore…

You hold onto a wrinkle at the back of his coat as he cuts through the busy market, then wipe away the remnants of potato bits with the back of your hand.

Everything seems to have the same coat of decomposition to it, from the persons to the buildings, but it has a charm to it, it’s lively and somewhat welcoming.

Familiarizing your surroundings presents you with a feeling of peace and the anxiety is finally washed away for good. Well, as long as you keep reminding your self-centered doubt that nobody’s gawking at you or paying you any mind. You’re just a nobody lost in a sea of nobodies and you like it that way, just you and the ghoul minding your business, not being threatened or attacked or anything that would coerce you into taking action.

A safe haven. Finally.

A gargled moo pierces through the din of chitchat and your head snaps. And there, amidst the stalls a cow is lazily sloshing at a bucket of water while simultaneously rearing its snout around and sniffing the air because it has two freaking heads. It looks skinned, reminds you of your grumpy gunslinger and you can’t help but titter. You make a turn towards it, handholding with your nosiness. Then you reassure the concerned squeal at the back of your head that you’ll find your way back by the distinguishable cowboy hat sticking out like a sore thumb in the crowd.

Just a closer look and then you’ll be right back by his side.

A two-headed cow. How fascinating!

Your escapade is short-lived. An iron grip takes hold of your backpack no more than five steps in and jerks you back. The strap digs into your throat and you gag with a backward blunder.

“Ehugh – ”

“ – The hell you think you’re goin’?”

The back of your head collides with a solid chest and you gaze up to meet an acquainted scolding face.

“The cow. It has two heads.” you answer candidly, blinking up at him, dumbfounded. “I – ” your lips purse as you briefly mull over your next sentence. “ – I wanted to see it up close?”

“ ‘S called a brahmin, Darlin’.” he’s unimpressed with your revelation, lets you go, and spares a brisk, disinterested glance at the mutated cow.

You dust off his crude gesture and smooth out your dress and backpack. His barbarian tactics are slowly losing their charm; he makes a mental note to up the ante in the future.

“How does it work though. With two heads?”

“Take one good look a’ me ‘n tell me if I’m a fuckin’ vet.” his arms are crossed over his chest, weight rested on one hip. You disregard his snappiness as your eyes roll from him back to the brahmin.

“Do they bite?” you know it’s probably a herbivore, but considering its disfigured state and the scarce vegetation along your journey, you have reason to consider other possibilities. With a palm placed on your waist, you tap a forefinger against your hipbone in thought. “Can I pet it?”

“No. Now move.” he grips your upper arm like a disgruntled father and drags you forward as you keep your neck craned to the side to stare at the cow over your shoulder. “Ain’t got all day.”

“But – ”

“ – You stray more than two feet away ‘n I’m puttin’ a leash on ya.” he hisses you into silence and presses onward, towards the last few remaining stands.

The thickness of the crowd lightens as you approach the end of the market. Once you manage to escape all the fuss and buzz you give a gentle pat to his wrist and he releases you with a warning grunt to keep close.

Given more room to note the architecture and structure of Tillburry, it reminds you of an old cowboy settlement rather than a pre-apocalypse town. The buildings are raised in such a peculiar array, all random and each one different. There are no traditional houses, per se, everything is turned into a business, from a shady hospital to a loud bar made guest house because even travelers need a bed sometimes. You see a few tire-ridden trailers, but even they have a makeshift sign plastered on the door offering services for caps.

A label scribbled with coal rests above the entrance to a two-story shack.

Trade & Barter – If it exists, we have them!

Mm…Maybe you could become the local English teacher, give the folk a few grammar lessons, put that multi-subject dossier in your head to the test. Make theory into reality and try your hand at machinery, build a lamp or do some testing and create a water purifier. From what you’ve read, it’s not that difficult, but the materials needed can range from tricky to impossible to scavenge.

You step onto the wooden porch of the trader’s shack, the bell above the door springs to life when the ghoul enters and you follow suit.

First things first, you had to figure out if you were going to continue travelling with him or if he was going to keep his word and let you settle here. There was a small chance he’d forgotten and if you didn’t mention it, he’d let you trudge along. Tillburry was a nice place, but you’d choose him over anything else if you had to pick.

“Evening good people!” a scrawny old man peaks from behind the counter accompanied by a symphony of metal clanks and a few curses. He dusts off his hands and plants them over the register with a crooked smile. “Mah name’s Hank. Now how can I help you lot?”

He eyes the ghoul in an odd manner, then you.

“Oh, it’s you…”

“Got another deposit t’ make, old man.” said ghoul slaps all five Pip-boys on the counter and rests on one of his elbows as he leans down. “Thousand caps up front, the rest every few months till you pay em in full.”

You have to squint when Hank’s eyes bulge out of his skull and he hastily stuffs the merchandise under his desk.

“You tryin’na get me robbed?!” he straightens to look over the windows then hunches down and continues with a hand cupped over the side of his mouth. “Where did you find so many?” he pauses then, a certain grimness to his face. “Never mind, don’t wanna know.”

Your vision is overflowing with all the junk strewn about, hanging off walls, stuffed in dusty display cases, over tables and windowsills, there’s items even on the floor. Most of it is weaponry and repair parts, a trinket here and there, a greasy comb, gold teeth, and a half-built robot of some sort. You lightly kick at a stray margarine cap abandoned on the floor, then stop when an elbow is roughly dug into your side.

You spare your assailant a bitter glare while tenderly massaging away the pain, then click your tongue but relent at the curt “behave” you’re tossed back.

The trader has the light strapped to his forehead shining down on the Pip-boys. He fiddles with each one briefly, turning the cog and testing the menus, then tries them all on his wrist to check the security of the straps. He’s humming, muttering something incoherent while evaluating the treasures from your vault.

“We doin’ business or not, Grandpa? They ain’t fucken’ fake.”

“I might be old, but I’m still a babe compared to you.” Hank spits back with surprising vigor and disappears under the counter. “Now have an ounce of patience you grumpy bastard. Gotta check em or else Imma be the one dealing with the consequences.”

“Sorry?” your attention darts back to the ghoul who’s suddenly avoiding eye contact. “How old did you say you were, Mister?”

“Ain’t you got junk t’ stare at?”

The remainder of his reply is cut short by a snort of a laugh erupting from behind the register.

“Oh, he’s ancient that one.” the trader resurfaces with an old plastic bag stuffed to the brim with caps, he ties it neatly and pushes it forward. “Been around since – ” he sputters, frozen solid as the edge of a hunting knife is pressed flush against the collar of his shirt. “Right…” he swallows once, then gently steers the blade away with the tips of his fingers. “Ain’t my story to tell, sorry Lil miss.”

“Sure ain’t.” the ghoul nods, lower lip slanted.

“Uhm…can I – ” you pipe in and set your backpack between the two before blood is spilled. “ – Can I trade too?”

“Sure you can.” Hank nudges towards you, hands clasped together and stubby fingers intertwined in silent anticipation for your upcoming offer. “Watchu trading?”

You’re rummaging through supplies, pushing away food cans and bottles of water until you reach the very bottom of the bag. You grip a thin, plastic wrapper and force it past the sea of provisions before showing your open palm to the trader.

“Is this worth anything?”

“Well, well.” he snatches the item and settles the glasses dangling from his neck on the bridge of his nose as he concentrates on the label. “Pristine condition too. You don’t see these around much anymore.”

“A toothbrush.” the gunslinger is scowling when you turn to look at him. “You brought a fuckin’ toothbrush?”

“Three actually. One for each of us and a spare in case I lost mine. Which reminds me!” you’re digging through the bag again briefly before plunging another packaged toothbrush into his face. “Here’s yours.”

He plucks the damn thing from your grasp while you keep up a sickly sweet smile, twirls it in his fingers and he would have been annoyed if he wasn’t already so thunderstruck.

“Why do you have to be like this…”

“Twenty-five caps.” the trader declares and stuffs the merchandise in his back pocket.

“Deal!” you exclaim and gather up the caps as soon as they’re set on the counter.

“Workin’ through your debt already, Sweetheart?”

You squint at the question and shuffle away from your interrogative companion. Your foot is already tapping incessantly against the floorboards, a dead giveaway.

“Yes?” you clear the lump in your throat and lift your nose towards a book hanging just above a display cabinet. “But also I wanted to buy – ”

“ – No.” short and stern, no wiggle room. “You ain’t wastin’ no caps on a damn book.”

“Why not? They’re my caps.” you ask, but are promptly ignored when he gives you a cold shoulder and turns back to Hank. You aren’t even graced with the courtesy of debate.

With a regretful look, you secure your backpack over your shoulder and give the tome a last, pained glance as you rub at your upper arm.

“Gimme five packs o’ Grey Tortoise too.”

Hank stacks the cigarette packs in the ghoul’s outstretched hand before leaning back with a nod, instigating the end of their trade.

“Good doing business, Cooper, now get the hell out before I go bankrupt.”

You snort before you realize it.

“Shit. Shit. Shit!”

Your body freezes and you’re looking straight ahead as your teeth clamp down on your lips. The laughter bubbles, pushing against your chest and throat and you barely manage to inhale a shaky breath.

“There somethin’ funny, Smooth-skin?” the ghoul, Cooper, tantalizingly engulfs you under his frame. Each hand is gripping the counter, on either side of you, as he forces his chest into your shoulder blades and leans down until his voice is right in your ears. “Hm?”

“No.” you rasp, and your jaw clenches immediately after as your vision blurs with tears and you’re fighting so hard not to fucking cackle. You’re suppressing yourself so violently that you’re shaking. “No, Sir.”

His name is fucking Cooper. The deadly gunslinger, the boogeyman, the ruthless killer, the zombie cowboy. Cooper…

You can’t breathe.

“I’m gonna…Gonna wait outside, Sir.” you proclaim with a strained voice and slip out of his dangerous embrace, ducking under his armpit and heading towards the exit with stiff footing.

After securing the caps and cigarettes in his bandolier, he’s ready to follow, but a curt whistle from Hank stops him and he turns back to see the man waving him over. Already lacking patience for the upcoming exchange, he sighs and spares you a once-over to make sure you’re out of ear reach, and then he’s back at the counter, glaring.

“Go on.”

You shift to the left of the door, leaning back against the windowsill and leaving your backpack to rest between your feet. The world is slowly dimming, crickets deftly chip in the distance and it would have been pleasant if you hadn’t known they can grow as big as your arm. A few people pass by, scuttling towards either their homes or the bar opposite of where you stand. Besides a muffled murmur, there’s nothing you can catch from the conversation and curiosity gnaws at your gut, but you don’t have the courage to peek inside the shop and risk getting caught. A steady whizz as the minutes pass by, you don’t care for being left out, there’s already too much you’ve witnessed and endured that you wished you never had.

An abrupt rise in octaves catches your attention and your eyes flick to the side. Something in their exchange wasn’t going right, a topic was unraveled that was acrid for both parties and you curse at your limited hearing for being unable to catch any particular words.

A storm comes out the door that nearly knocks the bell off and startles you. You step back to avoid him in his blind fury, a distinct “oof” escaping you when the book is blindly thrust into your stomach. The sun has sunken, and an array of moths flutter around the swaying light bulb above the trader’s entrance and despite Cooper’s soured mood, you’re happy to have him back. Plus, he’d relented and gotten you the book, either he or the shopkeeper had pitied you enough to hand it over.

You’re dancing around him like a butterfly, the title “The Count of Monte Cristo” bouncing in and out of sight as you twirl the tome around.

The bar is well-lit, Christmas lights hang from the windows and roof, and he’s headed straight toward it. The atmosphere is unpleasant, whatever discussion he’d had with Hank had left a sour taste on his tongue, pinched some nerve that you could only guess.

“Thanks, Mister.” you try with a soft note and secure your present under your armpit for safekeeping, hoping a little sugarcoating might help ease his frustration. “I’ll cherish it forever.”

He pays you no mind, not even when you pinch the sleeve of his coat to keep in toon with his hasty stride.

“I like your name.” you peep through the mingling silence and glance up to find a strained expression and a sharp glare directed away from you. Your smile does nothing and falters quickly.

There’s a gap there, one that didn’t exist until you left him to converse in private with the old trader. The lingering question of whether you’re staying here or going with him is dismissed for the moment despite the time you have together ticking away. There’s malice building on his features the longer he stays locked away in his head and your words drift past him without effect.

“Mister?”

No response.

It’s when you wrap a hand around his wrist just as he’s about to burst into the bar that he stops.

You release a breath and ignore your skittish nature yanking at you to run, or apologize and hope for the best. There’s a clog in your throat and you feel the air becoming harder to intake, but that doesn’t stop you.

“Whatever he said isn’t true.” your eyes search the display of shells fitted over his chest, then flick up to find his. “You’re not a bad man, Cooper.”

It’s a shot in the dark because you don’t know what was said or done. But this is better than leaving him to sulk. He gets to know that you’ll stick by him no matter what happens. You’ll be there, even if the whole world turns against him, he’ll have someone who will stand by him.

“I’m a rotten man, Sweet pea.” his gaze is steady as he replies. He doesn’t believe you and not because you’re naively spewing words of comfort, but because he’s seen a lot more than you. He remembers the things he’s done and will keep doing and he knows himself well and you’re just plain wrong. “You jus’ don’ know it yet.”

“You’re a survivor.” you repost, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “And we’re all a little rotten inside.”

He rests a hand on your head, then moves to slump an arm around your shoulders and puffs out a breath. He’s not up for such a conversation, not now, not with you.

You don’t know him, not really. You don’t know that his vials are running dangerously low while your presence is turning into a solid option to get more. There’s a good reason he’s kept you safe and barely scathed and it’s not a measly three hundred caps.

And you hadn’t done anything to deserve such a fate, but his life came before yours, a rule of survival that you’d never learn.

Hank had had his suspicions the moment he’d laid eyes on you, but it wasn’t his business and despite having grown soft from decades living in a settlement, he had no right to dictate how others survived in the wasteland.

It might be cruel to keep you in the dark while your life is being weighed by a constantly shifting scale, but the ghoul would rather you enjoy the time you have left. Maybe they’d be kind and sedate you before harvesting your organs and you’d remember him as the hero he wasn’t, or maybe you’d grow a brain and stay in Tillburry. At least now he has the caps to buy off two large whiskey bottles and wash away the image of your face when struck with betrayal.

He was a survivor, you’d said so yourself, he did what he had to do, but that stupid conversation and Hank’s stupid expression wouldn’t budge from the back of his eyelids.

“What’re you gonna do if she doesn’t stay here though?”

“There’s always Super Duper Mart.”

“Oh, by the way.” your voice is a spark in the void of hopelessness, ripping him out of the maze of thoughts he’d unwittingly fallen into. He leads you through a haze of clinking tankards and lively, drunken chatter, a heavy smog of cigarette smoke that makes your nose wrinkle, and dim lighting to hide people’s identities. But you’re just happy to be with him and it’s visible by the perky smile on your lips. It’s painful to look at. “My name is – ”

“ – Don’t.”

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 7 >>>

🌼 Daisy Masterlist 🌼

Masterlist

Tag list: @bountydroid @windierhades @ultimatereality @gruffle1

@v3lv3tf0x

@fallout-girl219 @one-of-thewalkingdead @robin-the-enby @savanahc @whatthefuckrichard

@rockst4rkitty @lisnamavka @Iomlbillieeilish @itsyellow @cloudroomblog

@skykaykay @i-just-like-to-read @landlockedmermaid77 @enaelyork @maeplaysbass

#cooper howard #fallout tv series #the ghoul fallout #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #x reader #fallout x reader #fallout x you

237 notes · View notes