#(i should have started 3 days ago but I was so tired I was actually incapable of focusing on anything
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styrofauxm · 4 months ago
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spending 8 hours on assignment worth 17% of my grade and getting 0 answers right so far is an ~experience~
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playingonedchess · 5 months ago
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characters: lets live together
people on tumblr: this of course means theyre canonically having sex, no what are you talking about i dont do headcanons my blog is all stuff based on canon
#yes i could very well just bloody forget about it and move on but i dont feel like it#it was a post i saw ages ago one of those random things that comes back to irritate you#oh look 3:36 and i still havent started that bloody essay#i mean all im doing is vauging which is perfectly find im not bothering the person who posted it or anything#like i was but im not now cause i made a fake apology then felt bad about nit sticking with it when i got a reply#wtf#i mean i do think im better off not doing that now cause it was sort of rubbish#now if i just completely forgot about all of this and went and got an actual life how much better#it wasnt about this specific thing btw just like general boredom and stuff obviously im not sending hate over something this petty#i mean it actually started with a reply to an anon ask i sent where i made an effort to be polite even though i already found those opinion#really annoying and thr reply was slightly rude so i was ruder back and then sent an even ruder one#then a couple of months later i was bored and for some reason i really dont know decided the best entertainment was sending random asks the#anyway another update its 3:43 and i still havent started that essay#not doing it the first time is why ive got to redo it#i applied for am extension cause i had 2 same day and i couldnt make myselflike i lyed and said mental health issues only dont actually kno#if i really was lying and just lazy or if i actually had mental health issues then during thd extension i got really bad toothache and coul#nt do anything not even sleep and it lasted for almost two days and i did one but i was too lazy and tired i couldnt eveb be bothered to#apply for special consideration even though i wouldve got it cause it meant getting a doctors note and its so much effort abd the waiting#lists are fucking ridiculous and i might not have got it and when i called about the toothache they said fuck off and see a dentist which#you have to pay for and also probably has a waiting list so i was just like fuck off ill just redo it even though it fucks some score or#other up i dont remember what it all means i better not bloody lose any money over this fucking hell#and my batterys only 4% now#i should get an award for how off topic can you get on a tumblr post#also how boring#and how much i repreat stuff
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k0mmari · 1 month ago
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SYSTEM! SHEN YUAN PT.3
Too tired to do my obligations, but too stressed out to sleep, so here we find ourselves again.
This, once again, got horribly long- so long, in fact, I think this is the longest post in this 'trilogy'-, so I apologize in advance (╥ᆺ╥;) I also apologize for the lack of doodles, but dont worry! Im preparing a special one for later <33
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After that night where SY offered Binghe an umbrella, things have certainly… changed. Unlike before, where SY spent most of his time mapping away at the ridiculously complex castle hallways and carefully marking away which times it was most likely for SY to be able to get close to Xin Mo, alongside doing his ‘servant’ duties of gathering dirty laundry and cleaning a room here and there, his routine had been suddenly adjusted; now, while he still needed to do everything he was doing before, his servant duties consisted of accompanying the chosen Wife Of The Day.
Or, well, that’s how one of the higher ranking staff had put it, that he was to attend to whatever wife Lord Luo decided to entertain for the day, but honestly, SY was starting to suspect that that had been a convoluted way for Binghe to have SY around whenever he wanted, which…. Was frankly quite worrying! To have the golden protagonist keep his eyes glued on his back almost every second they were in the same room, which - if SY looked back- usually led to Binghe looking away in a (bad) attempt to pretend he wasn’t glaring daggers at SY was more than enough for SY to think the Emperor was probably plotting his demise.
What else could it be? Specially with the way Binghe’s hand seemed to always be lightly tugging at the tassel on his hair every time SY caught him looking, he suspects Binghe had caught onto SY not actually being a servant, and instead that weird guy he saw before he fell into hell that one time. What if Binghe thought SY was somehow involved into the Abyss Incident?? Lord Luo, please have mercy on this servant!
Though, maybe the strangest part of it all, was that sometimes Binghe and SY would just… talk. Usually when the Wife Of The Day was doing something else (e.g. playing music for her husband, or practicing archery, or doing anything that didn’t involve LBH 100% at her side), Binghe would just start musing out loud about the strangest things. It started with questions that were all fair to ask, like ‘How come this servant is a human in the demon realm’, or ‘How come this servant has such short hair’ (SY bullshitted something about being a former slave) but eventually it shifted to questions that were a bit more… random. Or, well, not even questions, musings that Binghe muttered out loud but clearly wanted SY’s input.
It started with minimal things, like Binghe wondering about some type of monster he wanted to fight but he forgot how to do it without damaging the fur too much, which, after a minute of silence and a not-so-subtle look at SY, led to SY nerding out and saying not only the monsters weakness, but what could be done with every important part of the body. Though, the day after that SY realized how strange it was that Binghe was wondering that out loud, since he only fought that monster well into his time as an Emperor, and he swore he remembered one of the wives gushing about her new bracelet that was made from the rare bones of that creature just a few days ago…
Anyways, it continued with questions of similar nature: musings on how to kill a monster Binghe would have no problem killing, to what he should eat for dinner, to what gift should he get for Wife Of The Day. Of course, SY answered all the ‘questions’, and sometimes they even made it to having an actual conversation! Sure, it was a little stilted, SY could not figure out for the life of him why the great Lord Luo was interacting with a random servant, but one day it all finally clicked to him. Binghe had been in the middle of ‘musing’ about hair oils(??), when SY couldn’t help but interrupt him:
��Ah…. Apologies if this lowly servant is overstepping, My Lord, but does My Lord just want someone to talk to?”
A few emotions flashed through Binghe's face quickly enough for SY to not be able to decifer any of them, but eventually landing on a sheepish smile. "This Lord has been found out."
Oh, how cute! And how sad! SY had noticed when SQH was just showing him his shitty story how sad that LBH, even after getting the world to bow at his feet, never really had friendships. Sure, he still had all the love he could want, but sometimes people need friends to talk to, not lovers!
While he knew that he shouldn't interact with characters in world overlooked by the System unless they were transmigrators, SY couldn't help but feel that the situation was dire enough that LBH would turn to a no-name servant in this time of desperation. And it would be a great opportunity to study Xin Mo more closely as well! If SY showed LBH the wonders of friendship, maybe he could pass by his supervisor that he only had to do what was necessary for this world to not implode on itself.
Besides, who could even say no to such a handsome man such as LBH? Is as the old saying goes: what the protagonist wants, he shall have.
*
SY's friendship plan has been going great! After figuring out Binghe's intentions, it seems all of the protagonists reservations flew out the window, and SY was now responsible for being Binghe's personal retainer. Not that that meant too much, since Binghe liked to bend the rules to his liking, and some tasks that should be SY's responsability sometimes were pushed to another servant or Binghe himself made them (which, ???)
Mostly, SY stood at Binghe's side, served tea, was used so Binghe could bounce ideas off of someone, and tended to finer details. All of that very much manageable, if not for the weird mood swings LBH would have sometimes. Yuan, as he has told Binghe was his name after being too scared of the repercutions of using 'Shen', was to accompany him all the time, but sometimes not all the time, or else LBH would get moody; Yuan was to listen to LBH's ideas and plans, and should always comment back or else Binghe would feel neglected, but not too much or else, as LBH had put it, could 'bring back bad memories'; Yuan was to tend to LBH's night routine, even as far as to brush his hair, and if he refused LBH (again) get all moody, but he couldn't brush too much, and he had to do at least one braid but NEVER touch the old, frizzy braid that still had that damn tassle-
Honestly, it was a careful game of balance, which reminded SY more often than not of a child that got mad when their older sibling didn't quite understand the redundant rules they made for a make-believe. Any other person would get fed up, and probably scared of Binghe's constant mood swings, but SY had him all figured out, and his resilience proved to be useful time and time again, since most of the time after his sour mood passed, Binghe would come crawling back with the most pitiful face ever, and what was SY to do? As LBH's friend, it was his duty to hug him and pat his head! (And no one could judge him for that, since if he didn't pat Binghe's head, his mood would plummet all over again.)
Though... SY did feel kind of bad. He wouldn't be able to stay with Binghe forever, and would even need to potentially steal his all-powerful sword for a little bit so everything wouldn't get corrupted. Honestly, the only thing keeping SY from worrying about being labled as a traitor and potentially getting killed was that he would just go back to the System's office and go on with his life.
*
LBH, eventually, caught onto SY's plan on leaving - really, it was only a matter of time. After that fateful encounter with that other SQQ, LBH had found himself in rather pitiful state, questioning everything he knew until that moment and wondering why he couldn't achieve that happiness, and desperately trying to search for a SQQ of his own. He had contemplated going back to that first world, but what would it even matter? Even if he took SQQ by force, his heart would still be with that other LBH, and Binghe couldn't bear the thought that he wouldn't be everything in SQQ's world, as he had become for LBH.
Specially after Meng Mo had one day interupted his carefully crafted dream of an idelic world and pointed out some curious memories he'd almost forgotten about. That day, when back in his childhood, when he'd been beaten up by a buch of older kids and hallucinated a man in strange clothes before passing out and waking up protected from the rain. Or when he thought he'd lost his jade pendant forever, only to magically appear in the cabin later.
Or the strange man in the Immortal Alliance Conference.
After SQQ- SJ , that good-for-nothing scum- pushed him to the Abyss, he tried his best to never think about that day again, too scared by how weak he'd been, pleading to man that would sell his soul for one more night at that brothel of his if he could, but now... Now that he could mold his dreamscape any way he wanted, he could look back with a clear mind, which eventually led to the conclusion: It must have been the same person. The same strangely dressed man that helped him in his childhood somehow appeared at the Immortal Alliance again, and even had left provisions right next to where Binghe had fallen.
He'd convinced himself, after many, many years of wishing for a miracle, that he's simply imagined the man, one last thread to keep himself from going insane, but after meeting the other SQQ...
And then Yuan came in. A new servant that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
It took some observation, and a lot preparing himself to face dissapointment that maybe he was just projecting, putting the image of someone else onto a random man, but that day, when LBH was wondering if he was just wasting time, that that beautiful dream of having his version of SQQ would not happen any time in this world, that maybe he really should just go look at other worlds; after all, if it happened once, it had to happen again, right? Not that it mattered in the end, since while he spireled, much to Xin Mo's pleasure, an umbrella was put over his head, and all his doubts had washed away.
Yuan had to be his version of SQQ, it had to be. And after all his effort of getting close to him, after going so far to keep Yuan at his side, even if he still battled with that his perception of SJ and the other SQQ sometimes overlapping with Yuan's image, even if he still wasn't ready to let go of that one braid, he was becoming more and more sure in his assumption that his SQQ had come to him. Everything was going as planned, and LBH was in track to finally begin to properly court him, and yet-
He was sure Yuan wanted to leave. He wasn't sure why, not how he would do that, maybe just dissapear like he had all those years ago and either only appear again 5, 10, 100 years in the future or go back to wherever he came from in the first place. But LBH knew Yuan wanted to leave, that he needed to complete whatever mission he had (after LBH managed to pry that out of his dreams, which where another source of confusion, with how absurdly difficult they were to even get a grasp of), and that, under any circumstances, he could let Yuan escape his sight.
Not again. Never again.
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Binghe had become even stickier in the last few weeks. Not that SY minded, it was very cute to see such a different side from the cool, badass Lord Luo, but SY was running out of time. Since Binghe became stickier, his mood swings had worsened even more, now not wanting SY to be anywhere that Binghe wasn't, and Xin Mo seemed to be thriving off of whatever was making Binghe extra protective, though it was becoming a genuine problem now, since Binghe suddenly refused to see any of his wive's to deal with the Xin Mo problem, and he seemed to be on the verge of qi deviation at all times.
In fact, the only reason Binghe hadn't already qi deviated was because SY was abusing his Personal System and chipping away at the qi deviation in Binghe's night routine, since it was the only time where he was physically very close to Binghe and could spend long periods of time manually coding away at the System screen without it looking suspicious.
But, as if that wasn't enough of a problem, since Xin Mo was having the time of it's life recently, the virus clinging to the sword was also getting stronger, leaving even more residuals all along the castle and bordering on infecting Binghe himself.
His Scissors where thankfully, repaired, and his sweet, sweet manager was even kind enough to send him some extra energy supplies, but at the rate the virus was spreading, he was worrying that he would have to deal with the source as soon as possible or else it would become to strong to deal with it in a non-destructive way.
He... Didn't want to leave Binghe just yet, specially since he wanted SY's attention more than ever recently, but...
No, he needed to do this; their time together was never supposed to be eternal anyways, and if he let the virus spread, he would only be putting LBH's life in danger, and he couldn't continue living with himself after that. He decided he would fix the virus at night, while Binghe slept, and by the next morning he would be gone - he would have, after all, just enough energy to go back to the office.
He just hoped Binghe would be able to forgive him later.
When night came, and SY got to doing the usual night preparations, it just felt like an extra needle being stabbed in his heart when, while brushing Binghe's hair, Binghe looks back uncharacteristicly anxious, and asks if SY can undo the braid and remake it. SY does, and if Binghe notices SY takes extra long to pamper him that night, he says nothing.
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When SY is sure Binghe is asleep, he sneaks out of his room and heads to back to Binghe's. Yeah, maybe he stalls a bit with snipping off every piece of the residual virus he came across, but one could argue he was just being extra thorough with his job.
The excuse, unfortunately, didn't last long and eventually he found himself in front of Binghe's room, staring at the door as if he was about to be sentenced to death. After a few minutes of reminding himself that he needed to do this, he took a deep breath and slowly opened the doors. Binghe usually slept with the sword perched right beside his bed, so SY would probably have to use the System and put Binghe in an extra deep sleep if he wanted to make sure the other didn't wake-
The moment he places a foot inside, though, he realizes something is wrong; the room is empty, Binghe is not asleep in his bed and Xin Mo is not besides the bed. Oh, oh no, had Binghe-
"A-Yuan." Binghe says, and SY nearly jumps as he turns around. There LBH stands in the middle of the hallway, not even in his sleeping robes, with a hand clutched tightly on Xin Mo's handle. His eyes are watery but no tears spill.
SY tries to speak but finds he doesn't even know what to say, he can't even try to deny that he's up to something, since his gigantic Scissors are just out an about. Still, he tries to make Binghe understand, say that he needs to do this, and after this Binghe won't have to worry about anything anymore. Though it barely seems like Binghe is listening, and eventually just cuts in when SY starts to say anything in his panic.
"This is what A-Yuan wants, right?" He asks, extending one arm and presenting the glitched out Xin Mo. SY doesn't even have the chance to find an excuse, as Binghe immediately continues. "Than take it."
"Wh- Huh?" "Take it."
He's so shocked he almost drops his Scissors. What does he mean 'take it'??? Binghe has to know everything that's at stake here! He doesn't even know what SY wants to do with it! He tries to say that, how Binghe shouldn't just hand the sword to anyone like that, but a sudden burst of energy set his priorities straight. Shit- The virus! It's growing by the second, at this point SY will have to cut Xin Mo-
"...Binghe, I-" "I don't care what A-Yuan wants with Xin Mo! Take it, use it, break it if you want, I don't care! But if A-Yuan takes it, than he will have to stay." "Binghe, that's not..." "Why not?! That's your goal, right? Do whatever it is that you want to do with Xin Mo? Than here you go, A-Yuan can do it, but I won't let you leave me again."
SY can't even mask when his eyes dart towards the tassle on Binghe's new braid. Binghe just clenched his jaw, but it feels like confirmation enough.
He adjusts his grip on the Scissors, and, as he has nothing else to hide, dispels the System's illusion, his simple clothes glitching out to reveal the System's uniform. Binghe's eyes fill even more with tears, but none fall."
"I... I'll have to go back, Binghe." "No." "Binghe, listen to me, I-" "No. No! A-Yuan will get Xin Mo, and then he will stay." "I-" "You will stay! I can't-" Binghe can't even finish his sentence before he has to choke out a sob.
The virus starts warping the air around it, and slowly crawling up Binghe's arm. SY's decision has practically been made for him. He lifts the Scissors. Binghe pushes Xin Mo forward.
"...I'll come back." "A-Yuan-" "I'll come back, Binghe." One single tear falls and his arm jerks, not knowing if he trusts SY's words or not. He still his arm as the Scissor blades encircle Xin Mo.
"A-Yuan..." "I'll come back, I promise." "..." "I promise."
"......Okay."
Shen Yuan cuts Xin Mo.
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capslocked · 1 year ago
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KINKVEMBER DAY: 9
[prompt: problematic relationships]
male reader x nana
10k words
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"Do you have any idea how long I've thought about it?" Nana slips a finger between the buttons of your shirt. "You, me - us?"
And here, you actually, truthfully do not want to know.
So, go ahead, cue up the sound of a mental rolodex spinning out while you start to list the very real, very valid, very adult reasons you should never, ever put your hands on her. (1) She's too young for you, (2) you're kind of a community figure, or at least someone who has to appear to be one, and more pertinently (3) she was your student not long enough ago - in your ethics class, the irony of which is not lost on you - and that makes it the kind of dirty, low thing you'd feel guilty for even masturbating to. Let alone actually attempt to live through, no matter how insistent some parts of you might be to the contrary, a point emphasized by the pressure of her finger against the dip just below your sternum.
"These... oh, how should I call them." Nana hums softly just before easing a bit of distance between the two of you, head tilting like she's in a trailer for this summer's romcom, and not, you know, trying to drag you into hell. "Filthy little fantasies?"
-
You're a high school teacher, interdisciplinary. Sometimes history, other times philosophy, you've also taught math - and once, egregiously, home economics when the faculty member whose usual duties consisted of teaching the class was out on a very sudden and scandalous maternity leave. But it's your love of literature that finds you in a bookstore near enough to the high school to sell more used copies of intro textbooks than actual novels.
You're paging through a book you'd say you're considering buying - if any of the store staff were to push the question onto you - when she appears at the other end of the fiction aisle.
You catch the look first of her dyed hair, this perfect shade of chocolate, to the edges, the fade-to-brown, cascading over where a more formal shirt would ostensibly have shoulders.
She smiles; it's pretty.
Then, you make the mistake of glancing down and seeing the modest rise of her chest beneath a crisp-collared sleeveless top; all your typical college-age tells but for the red flannel, rolled back down around her waist. Her fingers, long and thin, dangle from where a uniform button-down would taper off around her wrist, thumb rubbing lazily at her forearm. The briefest glimpse of her nails, all done up in acrylic - perhaps the most potent way to show contempt for an old dress-code.
You have, admittedly, also noticed the length (appropriately, the lack thereof) of her pleated skirt and those frilly stockings that ride so far up the creamy curves of her thighs that it has your stomach rolling and tightening when she shuts closed the book in her hands and says -
"Isn't it weird how most of the novels in the romance section are written by women?”
- she speaks with a slow deliberateness, like she'd only ever hoped to find one of her old teachers alone and slightly vulnerable in a used bookstore -
“Like, how do you think a man would even go about writing those kinds of stories?" She grins, because maybe this isn't really a question at all - not one meant for you, certainly. And for one wild moment, the rush of relief (she's not actually talking to you), then panic (she's actually talking to you.) surges through you.
But then the girl pushes another couple books along the shelf and continues.
"Because I'll tell you what, Professor - all this stuff," a flip-flip-flip of her fingertips against a leathery dustjacket, "about just feeling it, not being able to control it. It's all women, always women." Another wave of her hand to set another row of spines a-shuddering. "Do you ever think maybe people will get tired of listening to girls talking about feelings when what they really need to see is what guys would do?"
There are so many reasons you should turn and run. 
So many little flags, flickering wildly in your mind. This is one of your students. Was it this fall? Maybe the last; she had sat front-center. Never slept in, was one of your best by several measures - not simply in regards to the simple repetition of classroom work, but by her insistence on getting in the kind of heated discussion where one might dig their fingers through the innards of your lectures. Not just good - fantastic.
"Nayeon," you end up saying, flat as your suddenly paper-dry mouth can make it - with just the tiniest hint of unease. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
And almost as if she knows that you're trying not to let your eyes dip any lower than the collar of her shirt, her shoulders do that lilting little move (hiking up and away just so), the one that your girls tend to learn a long, long time before your boys ever manage to figure out. She laughs out this pleasant sound, adds: "not that long, sir."
"Well," you're clearing your throat, looking around the bookstore like it might contain a way out, and eventually landing somewhere on her skirt, "you know how fast it all goes."
"Nana, by the way."
“I’m sorry?”
“Nana,” She gently corrects you again with this mischievous slant to her smile, and you start remembering: all the gossip and rumors, how she was being courted by these talent-scouts and labels. A prodigy, or as close to it as anyone from this town could ever get.
Your eyes are starting to sting again when she, this perfect-fit model of your worst impulses, runs her hand through her hair, tugging at the roots a little bit, a silver wristwatch falling slightly down the perfect length of her forearm. It almost hurts not to reach out and steady her. And it definitely shouldn't, but it has you breathing a bit faster. The rationalization: you are a man, and there is a perfectly ordinary part of you that might be aroused by any amount of smooth, inviting skin. That's fine. You're fine.
"Just for the record," Nana starts, still looking like she wants to put a hand forward and hook one long fingernail into the buttons of your shirt. "You were, like, absolutely one of my favorite teachers."
"I guess it's nice to hear I'm not a complete lost cause," you say.
She snorts. "Oh, definitely not." And maybe because, after all of the years you have been teaching these soon-to-be lawyers, politicians, and doctors, you've come to not look down on them for saying the wrong things so much. Though you do envy their absolute ability to say the wrongest of things - just so - just on purpose.
"Are you," you nod at the thick stack of paperback novels that she is still holding, and with which, suddenly, she's bashful and flustered - this perfect shade of pink blossoming through her cheeks. "Actually here to buy those?"
The response: a demure little shrug. A drawl. "We all have our vices, professor."
"I'm not your teacher anymore," and remembering at the last moment, "Nana, you can drop the honorifics, please."
She holds a book out, cover turned toward you, and your mind stalls - even your fingers slip a little where they are resting on the spine of your own paperback purchase. The title is an affront to literacy, and the art on the cover seems to have been produced only with stock photos, gaudy.
"Have you heard of it?"
"Can't say that I have."
"Well," she laughs and has the courtesy not to lay it at your expense, "it is so good." Then, without missing a beat, she twists her lips together, and finds the book flush against your chest. "I'm sure it beats reading textbooks and essays about the merits of Locke and Hobbes' life-after-death stuff all day, anyway. An hour if you can spare the time? I'd love to hear your thoughts on it"
And - ah, there it is. The push.
-
There is a zero percent chance that, after any of this, things will end neatly for either of you. 
You still wonder, slightly, how long Nana will keep up the charade before breaking character - because there's no way in hell she doesn't see what she's doing: wrapping you around her pretty fingers, her shiny, manicured nails, twisting every chance you get to reject her into an excuse to linger that little bit longer.
But it's well over an hour spent at the cafe-end of the bookstore, where she orders an iced-coffee and fills you in on the details you don't really need to hear, what she's been up to these last couple semesters - playing twenty questions; questions about other faculty members, the school, if the school newspaper is still anything like it used to be (for the record: no), then coming back to if you've been seeing anyone lately. That last one slips in so naturally you can't stop yourself from taking a slow drag off of the straw in your drink and answering: "not recently."
Because no honest deed goes unpunished, or however the saying goes.
"Hey," her hands splay out over the tabletop, pushing the cold, condensing water of her glass, smudging where a finger drags a line through the pool.
Maybe she knows. How you're already caught, and there's no going back, which is to say you're perfectly free to watch, hungrily, where her throat moves, and then where her lips part.
"I’ve got the perfect thing for that," and for one unhinged, hysterical moment you picture it, Nana: lying back against a counter or maybe in the cushions of a sofa, panties thrown carelessly over her shoulder; heaving out this soft, heady gasp. You: pushing inside of her for the very first time, both of your legs bracing, the heel of her foot pressed into the small of your back - but before you can convince yourself that she can't be talking about that, and just barely before the air gets stuck in the back of your throat and you realize that you might be so thoroughly, tragically fucked -
"Read this." A snap back into the here and now. She is looking at you very pointedly, not naked - but beautiful and perfect as she leans a bit into the table and crosses those lovely, lovely legs of hers, and tilts the copy of that awful, awful filth at you.
"Nana, respectfully, this is drivel," you say, immediately and plainly, listening to Nana laugh out loud as you glean more than you need to know from the info on the inside cover. "They've crossed like five major genre boundaries for a hook-up. Why should anyone bother?"
"Come on." She waves it off with a careless gesture of her hands. "There's plenty of things to like. Maybe you should give it a chance - broaden your horizons, teach. Besides - the sex scenes?" She rolls her shoulders with the same shrug you remember watching so carefully all those times she made her way, out of the hallways and back into that front-and-center-seat she was always occupying whenever the bell rang. "So filthy. I can show you one of my favorites."
"Doesn't really seem like appropriate reading material for -"
"You said it yourself," her voice has a bright, saccharine tone, just on the right side of strained. And between sips of that straw stuck in the purse of her pert, little mouth, she draws that next sentence - the ice cracking, thinning under your feet -
"Not my teacher anymore."
Nana smiles; this brash, cock-sure thing that reminds you, as you try to clear your throat of the nerves making a bed there: you are actually so, so fucking gone on her. So far gone it hurts, when, with a flourish and a bounce and a complete, reckless lack of discretion, she starts paging through the first chapters.
"Who says you can't study these kinds of stories on an academic level? Think about it: sex sells. Whoever ends up writing, it's a whole lot easier and a hell of a lot cheaper than trying to do it all yourself." She looks up, this mischievous twinkle in her eyes, as she angles her fingertips down on the book and opens it - page after page of very obviously poorly-written sex. You look, not even consciously.
But of course, her fingertips drift lower and lower along the pages until it's evident: she doesn't have an exact page in mind, but only a particular passage -
"Here. Let me show you, just one."
"Alright, fine," you start - trying for an effect of exasperation, something to mitigate this god awful throbbing, "whatever - you get one, one sample paragraph and I'll, you know, whatever."
"Yeah, you'll definitely see. Just trust me. Just the one."
She drums her long, gorgeous nails against the table, then eases back with a finger highlighting the text.
You're screening and scanning the words as she tells you about the heroine in the story: a pretty girl who comes down with a bad case of infatuation for her teacher - unrequited, of course. And then, into a passionate affair, of course; all the most raucous, explicit details laid out over the table for everyone else to hear. She says it is about as nonchalantly as though she had been reading you the daily weather forecast and not an elaborate metaphor for - and here, you stop her.
"He cums on her desk?"
"Fucking hot, right?" She nearly snorts and gestures you onward, her eyebrows jumping - go on, go on.
So, you skim along: a heavy rush of nausea (alongside another) pulsing down around your gut at the thought of actually doing such a thing, your ears going hot and your legs crossing on instinct. There's not so much a breath of hesitation as Nana, cool, unfazed, and utterly unaware of the uncomfortable churning of your stomach and the simultaneous thrumming in your cock, takes another deep swig of coffee.
She hums, thoughtful. "Honestly? Kinda wished it happened to me like that. You were a good, good teacher, professor. I wouldn't have minded your hands all over me." You hear her laugh, and the entire universe collapses like the end-days. You are struck down with feverish conviction: this girl is the worst. 
"Anytime you wanted," she adds, so carelessly.
There's a clunking sound, of glass on wood; a half a second where you almost lose control over yourself.
“Nayeon,” you let slip, the old name - a mistake of an invitation she grasps like a weapon. All coming to a glint in her eye that says she knows how you see it, how you can still picture her sitting with her hands folded over the skirt of her uniform, chest rising and falling beneath her cotton shirt. Studious, taking notes, acting every bit the naive sweetheart everyone believed her to be.
You shudder out some pretense of composure and settle back a few inches as she continues to coax a reaction out of you, prodding: "how many girls did you make confess back then, hm? Did it ever do them any good?"
"Dial it back, Nana."
Her expression is all feigned, gentle surprise. "But sir," she looks at you so innocently, "you said I should drop the honorific."
You want to argue that, you also want to tell her off for being such a brat - to demand that, instead, she cut the shit, sit back, and remember who you both are, but when, with a wink and a smirk, she's getting up out of her seat, Nana sets a gentle, reassuring hand on your shoulder as she pushes her chair back beneath the table. You get onto your feet, and when the two of you are stood close together like this - she's really and truly that much smaller than you remember. Waist so tiny you think you could almost, almost wrap two hands all the way around her; skirt rising all too easily when she tosses her weight between her heels.
"I hope you know what you’re doing," you tell her, sternly - the voice of a teacher whose patience is running thin.
But no matter where you look, the consequences are dire and immediate: an abject fascination, a kind of debilitating greed; the absolute fucking loss of ability to look her directly in her eyes. Not like Nana isn't staring right through you. There's no doubt some part of her relishes the feeling.
"Hey, what do I know?" This sweet, demure-like chuckle follows. "It's just porn, right?”
-
Eventually, Nana says to call it a night because the sun's long set into the horizon and the chill starts getting at the both of you.
She tells you while you're packing up your belongings to come by again sometime, her voice teasing as she explains that you should pick out a new novel to read for your benefit.
Which is possibly the ideal outcome, all things considered, if it wasn't for the way she found herself in your hands just a few paces into the parking lot - no one around to catch you, where you're gripping fast onto her wrist and pressing the lines of her body into door of your car, looming and ready to give a piece of your mind.
You know what you ought to say - things like don't bother, you've enjoyed her company, she's fun and sweet, and in a dozen different ways: be a good girl, and go home. You had your fun, didn't you? But she's practically begging, those huge, wide doe eyes that stare straight up into your soul.
"C'mon,” her voice lilts into a deeper, more purposeful register, “you wouldn't turn down a student on her way home, would you?
(This fucking girl.)
She speaks of propriety, like you aren't a man of your own principles - like you aren't reaching down to press a kiss to the swell of her lips like she undoubtedly deserves. To lick into her mouth and pull and kiss and bite until she's trembling, teeth caught in a delicate whimper. Or, that you aren't running your hands down her sides to find the backs of her knees and draw them upward, hooking your hips flush against hers.
She's all too breathless, watching you draw off her lips, fingers fast in your shirt, your hair - holding you close.
Then finally, a true, honest reflection of your heart. Nothing less than sheer and utter capitulation: "let me take you home."
Nana just nods before wrapping her arms around your neck and kissing you again.
-
It's definitely on you for expecting anything different, but Nana fucks like she talks.
Conceited. Brash. A little selfish.
The girl's sitting there on her kitchen counter with one leg hooked over your shoulder. She's stripped herself down to near nothing save for those fuck-off ridiculous panties: slick, shiny with a thick strip of satin between her lips, complete with white lace frills and all; the same ridiculous pattern as the thigh-high stockings clinging tight around the soft-gentle fat of her legs and the lace top of her garter. Her pussy - all tight and pink and soaked - has left this shimmering, shiny mess that's trailing down the insides of her thighs.
Your fingers are in the elastic of her panties, near bruising the curve in her waist where she's rocking, flushed and keening against your grip.
You tell her, "take these off."
"Off?" She repeats it back to you with the same little grin: playing dumb, the smart, charming ass she's been all night.
"I'd tell you what I really want to do to you," you start, pushing your fingers in a little harder, eliciting another pretty moan. "But I'm really, really sure you can fill in the blanks yourself.
"I hope you're not planning on being rough with me," she teases, running her hands all through your hair as she pulls herself against you - and of course, it's her audacity to insist, "no marks." She drops a chaste little kiss along the underside of your jaw. "At least, nothing that might show up on a camera."
Someone with a little less baggage might have done just that. Might have jerked her panties down a couple inches further - ripped the cloth, exposed her even more. You might have followed the waistline further along the perfect round of her ass, found those dips and dimples that, maybe, no one else has ever gotten to explore. You may have grasped at the ends of her hair and gotten your fingers in her pussy without ceremony - driven Nana to the very brink of her climax just before palming two greedy handfuls of that ass - shoving yourself right there between her lips and, lost to shame, put a fucking kid in her.
All the things she must be dying for you to do.
"Something the matter?" She pushes her mouth into yours for a kiss that has all the urgency of a lazy Sunday morning. Your tongue against hers, languid and gentle at first; wet-sloppy, kissing and sucking on her bottom lip. You can feel her smirking when she says, "don't tell me you've forgotten how."
It's a lot, the effort you're putting in not to crumble - to crack at her taunts, snap your restraint, the temptation. You just wanna grab her pretty tits in both hands, shake her, and say: "shut the fuck up." But no - even in your wildest fantasy, you want to hear her first - beg you to make a wreck of her. So you force the words between your lips, dry and cracking:
"Not a fucking chance."
A laugh. "Guess I'm in good hands, then. Have to admit," Nana slides her hands down to hook under your own, bringing them lower. She grinds your fingers in slow circles over that one, aching, perfect little bud - a shock that has her curling tight inward until she's whining, clutching at her waist. "Not the - not the situation I had in mind."
Nana shifts her weight a bit more on one hip, guiding you through rubbing along the entrance to her slit - sloppy with precum, silky and aching - and when you place just the lightest pressure over all that hot skin, she opens her mouth: 
"Ah."
Her eyes, her hair, her fucking mouth - you can’t look away - she’s so gorgeous it hurts.
Even the way she pants; the perfect furrow between her brows. And then, you dip a finger inside her, just to the first knuckle. It’s enough to make her whine, all shaky and high.
"Go on then, with how you’d pictured it," you press, already easing your digit in and out; slow, slick pumps that she is growing hotter, needier around. "I'm sure you've touched yourself to it more than a few times. The details and - stuff - must have been vivid."
"You haven't the slightest clue."
A brief kiss. You coax another shy sound from her, drawing a long sigh against her mouth -
"Try me, Nayeon."
"This is a lot closer to the truth than you’d think, professor." This time, no correction, she just smiles wide and tosses her head back, asking, sweetly, as if to absolve you of the responsibility. "Do you have any idea how long I've thought about it? You, me - us?" 
Nana slips a finger between the buttons of your shirt and starts to pull.
On that detail, you actually, truthfully do not want to know.
"These... oh, how should I even call them." She hums softly just before easing a bit of distance between the two of you, head tilting like she's in a trailer for this summer's romcom, and not, you know, trying to drag you into hell. "Filthy little fantasies?"
"You know," you start. And by this point, her cunt's that much tighter. You've managed two fingers now, but no further, and she's making these desperate, punched-out gasps. Her clit's a swollen pink nub, jutting out from its soft hood. "I really had you pegged all wrong."
"Not - not at all. You can fuck me just fine, trust me - ah. Please, you can fuck me anyway you want."
And here, you grab a little higher on her hips, pinching her on the outside of a thigh, and begin working your fingers fast. You've never cared much for teasing, not really, but something about the way she squirms in your grip, tries to lean up and grasp onto your shoulders with shaking hands, it gets you smiling. It gets you grinning, even, especially the way she makes these pretty noises: a long, desperate little, "ah," at each press and thrust, her breath going high and uneven. 
"Listen, Nana -" She squeals out loud when you push your fingers just a little deeper, a little bit harder. "I'm not going to talk about what a slut you've been today or how badly I want to spread you wide open," you can already tell it's affecting her: the sudden change, the subtle hitch in her breathing, the tremor where her thighs press together. "Tell me about you, about your little ideas. Let me help."
"Wouldn't be fair." Her pussy's getting tighter, urgent with want. And still:
"C'mon now. Humor me a little. There was probably-" you say, sliding down that ridiculous pair of underwear along her ass, tugging them over the curves of her legs - so slow and easy, all while you're not bothering with easing off. Nana moans again; voice pitched. "Lots. Lots and lots of dirty things - and, I'm willing to bet my career that they made you a hot, mess - an awful, soaking fucking wreck. Who could've guessed? You, of all people, with just the right kind of teacher's-pet-appeal, hm?"
And you meant it to be a joke, just some ribbing. But the question has her immediately tensing, looking at you very intently, no trace of shame as she snaps back -
"Your mouth." She rocks forward. "Your fucking mouth."
You shouldn't keep touching her, you shouldn't keep staring, you shouldn't push her flat on her back and shove your face right into her cunt, you should pull away before this goes too far - it shouldn't be your fingers drawing out sopping-wet gasps out of her pussy, nor should you press your tongue to her cunt, your mouth to all that delicate flesh and, at your first taste, shiver.
Nana laughs: shaky, nervous. Then, your fingers sink back into her pussy alongside your tongue, your lips, the way even your hot breath against her aching pussy has her all stunned, breathless - and -
"Please."
- right before she breaks off into a beautiful sound that catches her hard in the chest.
(A sound like you’re all she could ever want in this life, maybe the next; it’s this wordless plea.)
"Hah, I had - ah, had so much - hah - dirt on you, used to masturbate thinking - ah," and there, she arches her spine, forcing a sigh out, "thinking about how you might punish me." She laughs - nearly choking. "How you might break down all your veneer of being a good, moral man and fuck me raw and rough and - ah - fuck. Oh god, fuck."
You twist your fingertips up just so, right against this perfect spot in her, and all the sudden the entire line of her body seizes - stiffens up, the muscles in her thighs twitch as you both moan through the moment, the spasms reverberating in your own ears, loud and unashamed, right against her wet, wet clit. Your fingers are fucking and fucking and fucking away in her cunt, harder and faster and sloppier, every word, every groan, every gasped breath only making it easier to forget. To give in. And with every heavy slap and squelch of your fingertips digging in as deep as her body allows - you're sending her that much closer.
You pull back long enough to bite out: "cum whenever you want, Nana.”
She can’t, she can’t, she can’t, is what she’s trying to say, bracing against how your tongue moves around her clit, and she knows, there’s no use fighting it.
A kiss against her swollen mound and she writhes. “There you go sweetheart, cum for me.”
Nana comes undone. Gradually at first, then vaulting over that edge all at once. She lifts and lowers her hips - pushing your fingers into the smooth, velvety muscles of her cunt; rocking up and up again. It's a torturously slow kind of grinding, and her feet find purchase on either side of you as her toes curl, one heel digging into your shoulder. An assurance; a promise; a lifeline; that she might tremble and shake through it, moaning.
“Fuck,” and, “god,” and, “you’re gonna make me-” slip past her lips alongside all the assured gasped-out cries for relief - the orgasm sweeping through her, tearing her apart.
Back pitching, shoulders narrowing, face twisting, cinching tighter and tighter -
Until she collapses.
Until it’s over.
As she lays there, chest heaving, arm draped carelessly across her forehead and half over a kitchen cutting board - her thighs splayed open, fucked and spent - she's so, so beautiful.
And it’s in that sort of fucked-up-noodly-state where she just slides right into your arms - those long, slender legs wrapping tight around your middle. "Here's the deal," you say, grabbing hold of her hips and steadying her, as best as either of you can.
"Hm." This lazy, sated look, the way her tongue's dragged out - slow and slick - across the top of her teeth and bottom of her lips. "Go ahead, sir. I'm listening."
The lip service - that coy little appeal to authority that maybe you’re actually plenty fond of - it makes you stop for the barest of moments. This girl, she's unreal. How hard could you ever be asked to resist her?
She lifts a brow. "Professor."
So you continue:
"I'm going to get out of these clothes, and we are going to see what happens after that - if you have a preference for the bed or the sofa, now's your chance to pipe up. Or else -"
"Or else-" She repeats, shifting her weight around again. You can feel how she adjusts her heels to hang higher up your ribs, rocking her weight against your abdomen, against your cock - and the instinctual twitch that runs through your spine is turgid and rough. Like a shot. If it had a smell, it'd probably remind you of gasoline.
And then, maybe just to rile you up even more: "the dining room table makes a good impression of a teacher's desk, no?"
You slide your hand along the backs of her thighs until you have a good, tight, high hold on them and pick her up, leaving the panties, the stockings, all of it down where they can gather dust or whatever - she giggles, and tightens her hold around you like she doesn't need to worry about falling.
"I'd rather fuck you into a mattress to be perfectly candid."
Nana throws back her head and laughs - this real, honest-to-goodness peal of laughter, a hint of playfulness where there was usually just a practiced ease. "Oh. So forward."
(In all likelihood, you're both going to hell, and on the off chance you meet down there, you figure you'll fuck her then, too.
You've read the myths, the Greek tragedies, the ones that have these gods descending from the heavens on human women, for pleasure and nothing but, you've read those stories and plenty more - the details don't matter: it's always a bad, bad end for everybody involved.)
She takes you upstairs. And the two of you fall through the doorway to her bedroom, stumbling all the way.
Her apartment is simple and clean in the way all young adults try to emulate, all white countertops, but with pictures hanging in little, neat rows on the walls and the space void of anything with some sort of character or history.
You know because you're fumbling toward a dresser or desk or bookshelf in an attempt to orient yourselves, bumping and tussling, half-blind, on your path forward and all of a sudden there's a goddamn framed photo in your hand - not of her family, thank god. Though just about every other person in the picture is familiar to you, you remember every single one - but all you're capable of focusing on is Nana, Nayeon: not quite the same. The same glint in her eyes, the way her smile has a timeless kind of quality, the faint dimples in her cheeks. 
And some wicked part of you is all too willing to ignore the whole timeline of events that has led up to you, Nana, like this: you want to pull her hair. You want to shove her around like she doesn't matter - is in any way disposable or replaceable; the most selfish parts of you wishing you could keep her pinned down by her slender neck; pressing a palm, bruising, into her collarbone as you start to work at your belt buckle and slacks with your other hand.
It's hard, getting a grip on yourself as Nana, sliding onto her bed and rolling across the sheets, pulls her stockings down the length of her legs - only stopping herself long enough to meet your eyes. Her throat bobbing.
“Of course,” she says, because your cock is hanging out by that point, straining and a little pent-up. "I fucking knew you would have a perfect cock."
"Flattery or sincerity?"
"Um, let's say both." She shifts around the pillow - that sweet little pout on her lips. Her gaze dropping from your mouth and running all along the length of your torso, lower and lower. Like her hands. And when her eyes flick up to meet yours, just when you're stroking at your cock, base and shaft, teasing yourself, well past the point of pretense, a devious smile spreads wide across her pretty, beautiful face. The implication: you aren't leaving here until you're cumming inside her.
And with a glimmer in her eyes, the sheer audacity, her fingertips ghost the underside of your cock as she draws up toward the head, "you're going to ruin me with this thing. You know that right?"
"A bit dramatic."
Nana moves to rest with the tops of her knees at the edge, her chin resting against the insides of her wrists, elbows propped up - poised, playful, everything she should be as the both of you regard each other a moment longer. "Can you blame me? It's not just that it's huge, I mean - I've barely even gotten a hold of it, and yet... god," she snorts. Her eyelids are heavy, mouth curved, almost a snarl as she drags her bottom lip through the grip of her teeth and sinks down onto the mattress.
"Say something filthy again," and this is a test, this is Nana testing you to see what exactly you'll get away with.
(Hint: it's a whole lot.)
She sighs. The image of indigence, innocence, everything pure and good you couldn't hope for. "Should I suck it or not? Or maybe, I don't know. Would you prefer me to beg for it first, ask if you'll put it in? Like, I think if you ordered me to put it in my mouth, right now, I wouldn't be able to say no."
"Really," the most sarcastic answer.
"Really," she continues. "For instance. If you came over here right now and guided me up and onto your dick and told me, specifically, that you were going to face-fuck me? I couldn't say no. No sir."
You could have her any damn way. You could have her, and you both know it.
"So tempting," you tease, mostly in earnest, "maybe another time, when my self-control isn't quite so lacking."
Nana hums a low, flippant sort of noise - like: whenever you're ready - and just how much trouble it gets you in, the mere suggestion, is what she is banking on.
"Hey," is her invitation, "I won't beg yet. You still want me to put my mouth all over it," and to emphasize, she slips her fingers between the plump pillows of her lips, smiling at how that makes you reach over the nightstand, accidentally pulling open a drawer, possibly reaching for the first aid kit, "or would you rather watch me stuff all these fingers in my wet, little hole."
A sharp inhale: it really would be fun, probably, but you can't take it.
"Nana," this voice, gravelly-ragged and harsh, "if you're planning to make me snap, you are, without question, on the right track."
"Then before that happens," she says, pulling you down into the bedsheets beside her. Your body flush against hers, the beat of her heart loud against your own; this gorgeous, pristine girl, so nakedly giving - this is an honor and a curse all rolled up together, no doubt.
And after a hot, wet kiss: "fuck me like I always thought you would."
(She was made to be like this; it's the only explanation.
Made for wanting. Made for fucking. Made to be loved and made to have her cunt fucked full - ruined by your fingers, your tongue, your cock. This absolutely perfect body, and all the delicious parts of her; this thing of desire, bashful and coy and that deserves all the world and, having none of the grace or courtesy to actually beg, orders, like she always knew she could:
"Like, right fucking now."
Or else.)
Then you're there - her hot mouth, her cunt, your fingers digging in bruising-tight all along the curve of her thighs where they meet her ass, hips, thighs, waist. She's pumping her soft palm and delicate fingers, slick with her spit and yours around the length of you and this isn't going to last long; not that there's any doubt you're going to leave her sore. But still, you drag the head of your cock across the swollen lips of her pussy, down through the plump swell of her clit until it rests where the ridge just begins and every slide, every pressure along every inch of your cock, the thought of being enveloped entirely in all that silky warmth is nearly the end of you.
A whimper, "professor."
You wrap your hands tighter around the smooth, firm muscles in her thighs; dragging your fingers back and forth across the supple skin there - just firm enough to elicit a reaction from the tension in her legs, until you have her flipped over on her stomach. Because if you're going to fuck her properly, it's going to be with her face buried deep into a pillowcase and you perched above her, holding her down against the sheets.
You watch her get her elbows underneath her, laying almost flat. Watch her trace the shape of her own jaw, her nose, her neck - the smooth expanse of her chest - as you straddle her thighs. With her ass pointed right up at you and the heel of her ankle gently grinding into the underside of your leg, you groan, placing both hands just above her ass. And once you're gripping the whole shape of her, you push your cock into her, just an inch, listening to the shift in her breathing.
She shudders, "don't tease - oh, please, sir-"
"Is this what you expected, Nana?" You grab onto her hair. Then again, when she tries to get her hands on herself. Her shoulders are high, tight. You just don't give her a chance; pushing yourself another inch, a couple. The pace, so gradual she starts making these soft, little breathless sounds as you stretch her tight pussy open. A few moments when she stops trying to bury her noises, her gasps - stops trying to angle her hips or squeeze or resist the thick shape of your cock where it is so, so hot and full inside of her - and there you stop. "What is it you had in mind, hm?"
"Ngh - oh."
Her cunt's clamping tight around just the first few inches of you. The tightness, the wet heat is staggering; how it pulls and begs with the words she seems reluctant to spill out.
So - you lift a hand, bringing it back down again onto the pale, rounded flesh of her ass with a smack, a gasp, and this wet sound from the sopping heat of her pussy, all aching and sobbing, "don't, fuck, stick it - fuck, put it - just. Just fucking get on top of me and pin me down - make it hard for me to breathe - do it, just. Like I, fuck, like I always wanted, sir, please-"
And you sink all the way in.
"Fuck." She bites into those consonants, a whole-body motion that pulls at the tension in her spine, the muscles in her legs. But her hips angle right up, and she presses her ass into the hollow of your abdomen and says, "thank you. Thank you. God."
"Don't get lazy on me," you say, grinding the tip of your cock in little circles; pulling it out and angling it down until it's prodding at all the right places to make her arch and shiver.
"Please," she says again, louder this time, almost a moan. "That. Fuck. Yes. It's."
"Yes, yes, I know. Nana, you-"
"Just use me. Whatever you like," she pants; then, once you've pulled yourself out to the tip, slowly filling her again, "use me like a fucktoy, alright. Because - fuck," Nana shivers, pushing her hips into yours. Her shoulders lower, as if by degrees, "please. Use me. Make it rough. Please, professor - use me however you want, I don't care - anything's fine with me - use me, as long and as much as you need, I. Please."
The real difference here, beyond anything else, is that this is no longer the game it was; the very instant she was sprawled across the mattress with a line of drool dripping into the sheets, all her bright, polished glory has vanished, leaving this bare edge of her exposed - the girl who lives solely to be fucked and used by your cock, her cunt leaking, begging for more. Reduced to the basics and nothing else.
"Your fucking cunt, Nana, the goddamn clench - you feel - it's-" (So fucking good, is what you can’t quite say, because she’s tight and wet and her tiny pussy is quivering like mad every time you bathe your cock in its scorching heat. Over and over.) It’s hard to think; you’re truly - truly - fucking her, but you can’t ignore the tautness in her spine either, bent below you. There are probably tears beading down her cheeks, but there's no helping the raw instinct screaming through the core of her being, pleading with you to pull yourself free, before sinking hilt-deep into her again, again, again - to a chorus of sloppy, loud, nasty, fucking whimpers and moans.
Like music. 
It's easy after all, how her pussy gives way to you. How she molds around you - sleeves onto you like a glove - like there was only one cunt in the world you should ever be fucking up and fucking apart. 
"It's incredible. Fuck. Just that perfect."
Nana, as best as she can, trying to stay steady, braced against her hands and knees, is raising her hips.
But it's clear with the way she's slipping all over, slicking the sweat off her palms and rocking her ass back into your thrusts, a cry falling out of her, unbidden, when she speaks and not.
"Please," she pants, through tears probably, this breathy-shivering. A renewed enthusiasm for your grip on her - where, in another place, you'd worry about leaving marks behind - for the feeling of your weight slamming down into her, driving the air from her lungs.
The sheets are a crumpled mess, pillows knocked from the mattress, where the two of you are shaking it apart.
You're pulling her apart, slowly, thrust by thrust into her sopping cunt, and in a promise of how you'll put her back together, you get your mouth on her shoulders, her neck, kisses in her hair, behind her ear - Nana just whimpers, curling her toes and ankles along the backs of your knees, her face against the pillow and gasping, "thank you - thank - thank-"
And when your palm smacks against the generous swell of her ass, again, she keens so perfectly for you.
It's a breathtaking sight, so good, so perfect: her flawless ass pitched high, round and flushed pink. The flutter of her eyelashes and the tears and drool. The outlines of her pale white cheeks sent into ripple after ripple, and then the way you can slide one hand forward between her shoulder blades and slip it into her hair, nails raking her scalp, grabbing a handful of hair in your fist and tilting her face - to the side, enough for her cheek against the pillow and the way her hips try to press against yours; try to chase the pleasure; this brash, gorgeous, slim-waisted, well-curved, exquisite young woman - like everything.
"Please," is all she says as you fit your chest up tight to her back and mouth at her neck - lick all along the sweat. "Please."
You can't take it anymore, can't keep watching this masterpiece, can't stand the molten heat wrapped around your cock every time the drag in and out of her pussy pulls sets every nerve on fire. Right in her ear: "I'm cumming, Nana, I'm cumming inside this tight, little pussy."
A short gasp, "yeah."
"Yeah. Inside, Nana. Cum inside, you -" You twist your fingers against her scalp and find purchase, an excuse - a means to yank her head around and lean into her, teeth against skin, that familiar coiling in your gut and the burning sensation that flows right alongside every slap and smack of her hips on your skin.
"Fuck me." You watch her bite down, swallow a sound, try to say: "fuck your load so deep inside me it’ll be all I think about for weeks, let me feel it, all that hot, all that sticky, fucking cum"
And you drag your hips, these final, punishing drags through her drenched cunt. Her fingers are white knuckled and fisting the sheets, until the very second you've pressed every ounce of your own body's worth into her own, when you're collapsing her spine and pushing her face into the bedspread, this wave rushes through your ears like the buzz and hum of insects and waves and things out of sync - the high, the peak -
And then:
Sobering, subjugating silence.
In fact, you're shuddering; You're cumming, spilling pools of thick cum deep inside of her. It's all in that warm, filthy sensation, a heady, hazy, desperate thrill when her own cunt seizes in its climax around you, trembling, throbbing, quivering, clenching; drawing everything out and taking your cock deeper - even while the whole of her is thrashing and bucking, all of this messy with her pleasure and her voice caught up, writhing and breathless.
"God-" is the last thing out of her mouth before you can kiss it quiet, tug on her lower lip and open her up like a present - messy and breathy, crying out, you're making this mess inside, this beautiful fucking mess - as the whisper you feel against your lips:
"Inside me, like that."
As you groan, deep and hot, "filthy fucking cumslut-"
Right on the verge, riding out every twitch of your cock and each flex of your hands at the skin around her ass, her waist, back and shoulder blades; even after you've caught your breath, you keep pumping more and more inside of her, you don't stop, won't, and even when you manage it, pulling out the head of your cock - you can feel every slick detail - just the slit and rim, resting the throbbing head of your cock at her swollen little mound, feeling the length of her fucked-out pussy spasm at the emptiness and trying to grasp around nothing - empty, tight and aching, sopping.
There's her hips, just this, right there; the line, the silhouette. Her thin waist and the curvy swell of her ass, jutting out straight - the cream-colored flesh dusted pink. The lithe, soft line of her stomach and the insides of her thighs a little farther along, sweaty and inviting.
She's so pliant in your grip, even though she's trying her best to curl herself backward - to angle your spent cock back into the ready, welcoming warmth of her slick, wet pussy - and once the afterglow has begun to wear away, that same greed and yearning takes its rightful place. A glimmer in her eyes. The unmistakable need and drive.
"One more," she says, wiggling her hips back into your stomach. "For me."
(The truth: you can't refuse her, not as she bites her lip and twists, all that soft hair splayed across her face, stuck to her tear-damp skin.
One more, because you both still want it. One more, because in the dim glow and evening air of her bedroom, everything that happens now matters just as much as anything that happened before.
One more, because you need her again.)
-
When she wakes in the dark, you figure her bed will be empty.
Nana will realize that you're gone. Of course you’ll be - it was never going to go differently; the sex had to end at some point. After all, if you stayed, eventually she'd start saying something you'd find a fault in or your skin would be so sensitive she couldn't stand not running a finger up your spine and maybe kissing your hip.
The reasons to go always outnumbered the reasons to stay.
The world would catch up and someone would find out and that's the sort of gossip that might leave both of your careers in shambles. Or else, you'd do something you couldn't come back from, the moment the heat of the sex left your body and her cunt, god, her perfect little cunt was spent - slackening - and the moments-after-haze, her legs locked up and her arms a bit sore, would clear up. Then you'd look at her, or else the shame would win out - the guilt and you'd call it quits. She won’t blame you. She can't.
-
But then again,
Her heart won't fall completely to pieces, because:
You've stayed. And it isn't an easy position, even if she is easy.
Here she is, though: sleeping on her side with her wrists crossed in front of her face - peaceful and quiet, probably tired enough to sleep without dreams. The dark has long since settled across her bedroom, save the pinpricks of stars in the sky out her window and a sliver of moonlight. You can see her, or you could reach out and run your hands all along her calves and thighs, but you don't.
Nana's shoulders slump forward in the faintest of sighs, and there it is - the slow, gentle swell and fall of her chest.
-
Here's how you got here:
In this scandal-in-waiting of a relationship. Here's the stupidest possible path, where a bright-eyed student with a crush fucks her older professor just once, and somehow you both find yourselves coming back for more, like maybe your very, very bodies belong together - a maddening compulsion.
Even once you've managed to work through the idea of your cum all inside of her, a seedy, twisted corner of your mind murmurs how it makes the most sense. To stick your cock inside of her again.
Where she can show you the way it can look; the mess and the texture of the slick, white spill - dribbling out of her pussy in the afterglow, onto her palm, and down the crevice in her ass and lower.
It's the phone calls probably - and not just the phone sex - late-night talking, conversation and every once in awhile, the kind of hot, hard fucking that gets you in trouble, but also a reason to be with each other again. Not just the quick fucks but the nice ones - the days, the late nights and mornings and what have you: all the casual intimacy of it. All the sweet nothings exchanged.
The after-sex cuddling, with her straddling your lap;
The sensation of her thighs sliding into place around the tops of your legs, her arms tucked around your neck;
The kisses you don't take and kisses you'd be okay with, all the promises made to love you as many times as necessary, however necessary, wherever.
That's all here too.
Again:
She is young. But, who the fuck are you to say? Who the hell can tell you she doesn't deserve the least rotten, least painful, most promising love she can find in this particularly fucked-up world?
Who else is going to keep the both of you safe and hidden?
And who else, despite everything, seems to like having a secret that they're sure only you know; every glance or accidental touch with her eyes brimming, alive, and the whole of her bent like a bow-string - all held back and wound-up tight.
To the point her spine will shiver and shake; you know how it can be.
-
"Are you actually going to buy those?" Nana asks one day, dangling on her toes, chin rested comfortably in the sweep of your shoulder.
When she crowds the swell of her hip and her breasts and her entire body into your back and snakes her arms around your shoulders, you think there's nothing else in the world you need.
"You called them drivel," she adds, almost pouting - which is a look you're slowly trying to inoculate yourself against because the moment it comes up, you have a knee-jerk reaction to drop anything and everything and carry her off someplace else. To have a place where she could, could, could -
"Hah," you roll your eyes, not taking the bait. There's a shelf-full of campy, smutty romance novels in the dollar bin. "It is. The story was less than complicated, but I couldn't figure out what the hell two or three characters' plotlines had to do with one another, and sometimes you just want a little guilty pleasure, you know?"
"Ooh. So," Nana smiles, the devious sort. "I guess there is some honesty in you after all."
"Come on, this one at least has an original story," and it is a shameless attempt, "plus-"
"I know, I know. Fine. And if it is so terribly bad, well, I suppose I can use your chest as a pillow to take a nap," she says, before throwing this particular glance over her shoulder.
The cashier doesn't need to ask if the two of you want your copies of 'Wild West of the Heart' or whatever-the-fuck this one is titled, scanned separately.
All of that, those paperback-cover love stories and TV drama plots, these are the sorts of things you do just for Nana; as the two of you wait in long lines, get carried along, get bumped and pushed, like every other ordinary-person thing you've done for her ever since.
("Honestly, this isn't my kind of thing either," you tell her in the aisle of a grocery store once. The fluorescent lighting only accentuates the blush high on her cheeks. "don't make me fuss over something like this."
"Have a little sympathy," she insists, nudging the handle of the shopping cart against the inside of your shins. "A girl like me isn't good for much else.")
It's not romance, really, that's such a fucked up way to go about describing any of it, but then there's Nana, bouncing on her heels and prattling on, this girl in the spring of her life who is full to the brim and bursting with the most chaotic and eclectic sorts of thoughts and passions -
So, what.
"Really," she adds - another side, another angle on an issue the two of you had an hour ago while cooking breakfast. "Just, think about it. Would you honestly put all this effort into somebody who doesn't make you laugh at least as much as they irritate you? Because like, you would never tolerate some self-obsessed jerk long enough to eat their burnt, terrible pancakes every day of the week."
"Fine. Maybe." You sit across the table. "You're right."
Nana blinks and this look of wonder crosses her face as she grins. A moment of triumph for her and that was more than the honest truth. It's still strange, admitting defeat in any argument here or there, or that the two of you make an actual decent couple - together. The kinds of things that come naturally to other people.
"Any more caveats to all of this, professor?"
"You’re gonna end up bent over that counter again if you keep pushing it, kid."
The both of you break out laughing and then you finish your coffee, or she stabs the last few pieces of cantaloupe on her plate, or you kiss her neck, and just -
Everything.
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spideysbruh · 1 month ago
Text
happier than ever
a/n- love shawn, but he was a lil bitch for a while LMAOOO
~
y/n just posted a story!
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caption- my love 😍😍
@y/n just tweeted- dave franco is a different type of fine in now you see me 😩
@ynsmuse replied- IT RHYMES WITH GRAPE.. it rhymes with grape 😔😔
@ynssweet replied- no literally he's so cute
@y/n replied to @ynssweet- LIKEEEE he can perform any illusion he wants on me idccc
@y/n just tweeted- sexiest movie of the year might be Dune tbh... literally just bc oscar isaac is naked and in distress... and then his Hot Son has to take over. can't wait for part two!!!
@dunetimmy replied- YESSS YOU GET IT
@laurieslaurence replied- what did you think of timmys performance
@y/n replied to @laurieslaurence- oh he's amazing. everything he's been in ive enjoyed so so much !!
@shawnmendes just tweeted- "There is a distinct, awful pain that comes with loving someone more than they love you" — Steve Maraboli
@yndefensesquad replied- boy bye- he always does this bs
@shawnyn replied- you're doing wayyy too much bro😭😭
@ynsjacket replied- she's always talked a lot on here to us... don't act surprised ? 😭
@ynssabs replied- is he a child 💀
@ynsshoes replied- she's gotta be tired of shawn's insecurity atp 😭😭 god forbid she has a celeb crush 🙄
@ynshawn replied to @ynsshoes- or god forbid someone wants their girlfriend to be loyal
@ynsheadphones replied to @ynshawn- loyal ?!?!!! girl she's not out there sucking their dicks, be so fucking fr 💀💀 just cause they're celebs doesn't mean they still can't think someone is attractive
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y/n 🌦🌦
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shawnmendes do u need a jacket
y/n where's yours at?
busyyn no way he said that 💀
finesseyn hello????
ynscurtains y/n girl STAND UPPPPPP LEAVE HIM
ynslipgloss this picture has changed the trajectory of my life btw
amyxlaurie she has timothée chalamet liking her posts and she's still w mr canadian 😭😭😭 get yourself a french man !!!
loveryn HE CAN LITERALLY TREAT YOU BETTERRRRRRRR 🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶
tchalamet liked
rachelzegler HOT SEXY BEAUTIFUL GORGEOUS
ynbilliestan @shawnmendes is it so hard to do this ???
@y/n just tweeted- I'm actually a big believer in being mean to men. Especially if they give you sooooo many reasons for it.
@billieyn replied- every day he does or says some shit that pisses me off even more. props to you girl.
@exesyn replied- DUMP HIM PLEASE
@lunchyn replied- we got your back girl fuck him 😭
@souryn replied- you deserve better...
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shawnmendes !!! new song out tonight
view all 23,287 comments
lostinshawn yall are too cute
ynscat how has she been w him for three years, she can do sm better!!!!
shawnswoods his promo is always so bad 😭😭💀
y/n heyyy it's me
ynsdefender lowkey feel like he uses her for likes... hate to say it but 💀
ynsbeatbox i agree!! he never posts her otherwise 😭😭
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y/n what really matters
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nonsenseyn did you and shawn FINALLY break up pls say yes omg
shawnmendes love you
ynsmuse he didn't even like the post what da hell
ynsdove she didn't like his comment either 💀
featheryn GAG HIMMMMMMMMM DROP HIMMMMM DATE LITERALLY ANYONE ELSEEEE
rachelzegler i love you ❤️
y/n i love you more 🥺🫶🫶
rachelzegler should we kiss?
@ynupdates just tweeted- RECENTLY ‼️‼️ While Shawn Mendes was meeting fans, he let it slip that he is now single. Him and y/n have seemingly broken up after a 3 year relationship.
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@monayn replied- FINALLY GIRL DAMN
@huffleyn replied-good for her he's a loser
@snlyn replied- three years.... I hope she's okay :(
@ynsdress replied- "let slip" girl yk he said that shit on purpose so ppl start talking ab him and that shitty ass song he released a couple months ago don't pmo
@ynsblanket replied- the way no one gaf ab shawn 💀😭😭
@shawnmendes just tweeted- I didn't want to make it a whole big thing. But yes, me and Y/n broke up a few months ago. I have seen so many horrible accusations about me, basically saying I was a shitty boyfriend. Me and y/n loved each other, it was simply time for our relationship to end. That's it. That's the full story, to say it was because of anything else is just ignorant.
@ynsback replied- y/n is too classy to respond, so we'll never rly know the full story 😭 but we all saw how you acted w her...
@shawnfan replied- we love you!!!
@ynsheadphones replied- omg he sucks.
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y/n give me a day or two to think of something clever...
comments on this post have been limited
tchalamet love that song
liked by y/n
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tchalamet 😝😝
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chalshal bro posted this for y/n for SUREEE 💀💀
afteryn bros trying to be mysterious and nonchalant sooo bad 💀
dunesarrakis he's so cuteeee
~~~
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y/n in new york, you can try things
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tchalamet who took this picture you look so cute
y/n some really weird dude idfk
chappellyn DID YALL SEE THOSE PAPARAZZI PICS
fasttimesyn WE'RE OUT OF THE TRENCHES FINALLYYY
dontsmileyn how a boyfriend SHOULD act.... @ sh*wn
lookingatyn new york.... timothée... HMMMMM
tchalamet just posted a story!
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caption- 🏞
@chalametupdates just tweeted- Timothée and Y/n L/n seen recently walking around New York City by fans.
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@slimyn replied- BOOM SHAKALAKA YES LORDDDDD
@timmysgreeneyes replied- stop they're so cute
@laurieslaurence replied- MY PARENTSSSS
@ynslaurie replied- SUCHHHHHH an upgrade from shawn ugh thank god
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tchalamet like a rolling stone
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y/n wowzers
liked by tchalamet
tchalamet y'know what, hell yeah
y/n my favorite actor, singer, basketball player, ARTISTTT
liked by tchalamet
bilabyn i love seeing y/n in love
timmysgreeneyes so excited for this movieee
y/n just posted a story!
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caption- 💤
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liked by y/n, zendaya and 2,777,388 others
tchalamet 👩🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻
view all 98,277 comments
junoyn the emoji 💀💀💀💀
ynsbeatbox soooo refreshing to see her w someone who isn't afraid or ashamed to post about her
ynscat the way shawn would've neverrrrrr posted that second pic 💀 he seemed so conservative it was weird
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liked by tchalamet, rachelzegler and 3,377,838 others
y/n pretty, four time golden globe nominated boy
view all 101,377 comments
tchalamet i love you
tchalamet how did i get so lucky
ynshoodie iktrrrr
timmyxyn mbn to show off your man who's actually talented and gives the same energy as you
tchalamet just posted a story!
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caption- early mornings 🌄 😍😍
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liked by 781,287 people
shawnmendes changed man. out now.
view all 3,277
lonesomeyn BYEEE
sabxyn bro thinks going out to the forest will make him a better person 💀💀
lauriejo the likes 💀💀💀 the comments 💀💀💀💀💀💀
pauldune can somebody PLEASE lmk if the song is good 😭
ynbillie be fr 💀
yndefender the lyrics are so... she doesn't want you bro 🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣
tchalamet just posted a story!
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caption- 😍😍😍😍😍🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🥰🥰🥰🤭🤭🤭🤭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️👩🏽‍🤝‍👨🏻
@y/n just tweeted- L O L. I'm the happiest ive ever been. let's just leave it at that. happier than ever !!!!!!
@spideyyn replied- it's disgusting to see how he's using yalls relationship for clicks and streams almost two years later, he knows ppl will start talking again
@dreamyn replied- im sorry that he's milking ts. he's so fucking weird
@hummingbirdyn replied- AND I DONT TALK SHIT ABOUT YOU ON THE INTERNET NEVER TOLD ANYONE ANYTHING BADDDDDDD 🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣
y/n just posted a story!
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caption- i think i got an ex but i forgot himmm
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liked by tchalamet, yourfriend and 4,277,837 others
y/n i think you're gonna change my plans
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tchalamet hold on im trying spell gorjos
y/n liked
staryn WITH THOSE EMERALDDDD EYES
finneas im honored
tchalamet we take the best pictures of each other
butteryn i love seeing her in a healthy relationship, where the feelings are reciprocated 🥺😭😭
tchalamet so do i
tearyn HELLO ?!!
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tchalamet yeah, no big deal, just the hottest girl in the world loves me.
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y/n who is she 👿
liked by tchalamet
y/n i know an office quote when I see it
liked by tchalamet
tchalamet yeah cause we just finished watching that ep
y/n i love you more than anything
liked by tchalamet
y/n did you only give me permission to comment 💀💀😭😭😭
tchalamet ....yeah. 😁😁😁
*
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oceantornadoo · 9 months ago
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hii! can you do what it would be like asking price to put pads on the shopping list?? and then when price goes shopping he has to call you to ask for what size ?? 😭😭 btw i love love your work, hope u had a good day💞.
im pretty sure you're referring to this post but i decided to make this price x reader so :) enjoy!
bsf marriage pact!price x reader, he's slightly creepy but he's sweet (this is actually a bit dubcon but its in good spirit)
you had had a shit day. actually, make that a shit week. emotional the whole time, feeling lonely, depressed, and with the weirdest cravings. right when you were about to call your best friend and rant about how terrible you felt, you had went to the bathroom and- oh.
that explains a lot.
and now here you were, sitting on the toilet for the past ten minutes, contemplating. you were completely out of all period products and your flow was so heavy there was no way you were making it to the store free bleeding or with toilet paper as a makeshift pad. of course, that's when john decided to call you (let's be real, who doesn't take their phone to the bathroom. don't judge.)
"evenin', duckie."
"ugh john, i told you not to call me that. its so annoying."
john grunted a chuckle into the phone, swiping a hand over his beard. "you love it." silence. he could practically hear your eye roll. "dinner tonight?" he was pacing his apartment, uncharacteristic for a man like him. calm, cool, collected. never when it came to you.
"can't, sorry. maybe in a few days." he grunted. "could order a takeaway?" you sighed in his ear, the sound a melody he craved to hear over and over again. on lazy saturdays and in-between small fights over laundry. baby steps, though.
"its just not in the cards tonight, john, i'm sorry." you were never like this, withholding information. even when you cancelled on him, it was with a long-winded explanation with the names of about seven people he didn't know and plans you didn't want to go to. "'s wrong, duck? got a hot date or somethin'?" he mentally crossed his fingers, not allowing a physical expression. he wasn't that whipped. not yet.
"no, im just sick. and tired." his muscles relaxed. he started putting on his boots and grabbed a fleece, something gaz insisted was not too tryhard for someone like him. "i'll run to the store and grab ya medicine, hm? what'dya need?" you sighed again, rubbing your fingers to your forehead. he obviously was not giving this up and you did really need pads...
"ill text you a list when you get there. thanks john."
"anythin' for you, duckie."
list: pads, advil, that one chocolate candy you know i like, something for dinner
shit. price had been with a woman or two, but had never had to buy her pads. of course, he'd never let it get to that stage, not when he had you to take care of. but now here he was, staring at playtex and always and what the fuck was a diva cup? he'd better call you.
"all ok, john?"
"ya didn't give me a color on your pads, duck." you giggled. of course he paid attention to the green versus orange pads.
"its pretty heavy so some of the overnight and extra daytime ones would work." silence.
"...there's numbers." your cheeks warmed. you couldn't believe you were talking about this with john of all people.
"god, john. this feels so embarrassing. so weird to talk about with you."
"why? gotta know this for the rest of my life, duckie." shit. he was referring to that night a couple weeks ago, when you confessed to him you thought you'd never find love. when he said he'd marry you in a heartbeat, just say the word. when you compromised by telling him if you were still single in two years, you'd go to the courthouse then and there. when you didn't see him turn and write the date in phone, just as a reminder.
"5, john. there should be a moon symbol or something. and then 3. should be green, i think?" he grunted an affirmation, putting the respective pads in his cart. he turned around, having said goodbye and ended the call, and was subsequently greeted by three women, staring. paused in their product selection, staring openmouthed at how nonchalant he was about buying pads.
30 minutes later he was at your place, groceries and takeaway in hand as he used his spare key to let himself in. "duck?" all quiet. he stalked through your place and noticed the light on in the bathroom. one, two, three quick knocks. "john?" "'s me. can i come in?" "no i- need you to get me something." he waited patiently. "can you go to my dresser and grab a pair of underwear. something ugly, lots of coverage." who was he to say no to a free invite to your underwear drawer?
john dropped the pads outside your bathroom door and headed to your bedroom. finding your dresser, he had to give himself a second. calm down, old man. they're all clean.
that didn't stop him from sniffing a few, reveling at the scent of your laundry detergent. he almost groaned at the scent, imagining you in them. even in the "unsexy" pairs, your curves clothed in cotton and elastic, wrapped up in a lovely package. all his.
john selected a pair with "lots of coverage", whatever that meant, and headed to your bathroom. he opened the door with ease, setting your pads down on the counter. you shrieked.
"john! im half naked, you need to knock." obviously, the sight of your bare thighs and the top of your mound peaking out was most welcome, but he was more concerned about getting you off the toilet and putting food in your belly. "jus' me, duckie. come on, show me how to do it." he gestured at the pads. he couldn't be serious.
you slowly unboxed them, taking care to cover your naked body as much as possible. even while moving slowly, your shirt still shifted and he caught glimpses of your pretty pussy. an image for another day, when you weren't in pain. he focused on your fingers, deftly putting the pad on your underwear with years of practice. he memorized how you placed the pad, ensuring it stuck to your underwear before tearing the paper off the wings and tucking them on the other side. you looked up at him and he nodded, mission complete. "thank you, by the way." he kissed your forehead, so quick you could have missed it in a blink.
"turn around, i have to put it on." he sat back on his haunches, staring. "go'on. 've gotta learn somehow." you were too tired to care, ready to devour your dinner. you missed his hungry gaze as you revealed your cunt to him, wanting even though it was covered in blood. you missed his fingers twitching as you slowly pulled on your underwear, fabric caressing your skin like he yearned to. you got up, flushed, and washed your hands, missing how he tucked his fingers in belt loops and leaned back into the wall, a move he'd done many times in his tac vest.
"thank you, john. truly." he gave you a grin under the muttonchops, all satisfied. task finished, mission accomplished. you had asked him to do this, a husbandly duty. after you dried your hands, you made a move for the door, but he stopped you with a hand to the jaw. he brushed his beard against you, feeling the shiver in your bones. his mouth hovered near your ear, accent coming out low and sultry. "anythin' for my future wife, duckie."
--
ngl this got a bit weird but i like it??? had to struggle to not lean into my simon riley weirdness tendencies as im still learning john as a character.
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jweekgoji · 12 days ago
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can you make a 3 part of d-16 of pleasuring him with a spike instead of fingering
Yandere!D-16/Reader
tw: NSF///W (minors don't read), jealousy, possessive behavior, unhealthy attachment, insecurity (D-16's side), yandere themes. word count: additional tags: gender neutral!reader, reader has a spike, D-16 has spike and valve, cybertronian!reader, idol!reader, power bottom!D-16, top!reader a/n: there's so many different continuations of the original posts so that even I can't keep track of it, haha. the previous chapter for this would be >this.
You're so fond of your little devoted fan, it's hard not to find D-16 at least a little cute.
If any of your coworkers heard your thoughts, oh, you would hear their taunts for cycles.
“That's so weird, what do you even see in him?”
“He's half your size, how do you do...well, you know. 'That stuff'.”
“You're definitely a pervert.”
Of course, none of your friends took your interest seriously. It's just a one-night stand; as they say, you will grow tired of that needy little thing and move on. At least, you should.
You're too good for him, too beautiful for everyone's standards, there's plenty of other mechs and femmes showing their desire for you, the ones that can provide you with everything you need.
Chromia, despite your pretend rivalry during the races, seems like paying too much interest in you, and Hot Rod can't stop asking you out on dates, each time you beat him. So many options...and yet, out of all the Iaconians, a miner? Seriously?
Maybe you actually need a little break from everything. If anyone finds out what you two do behind everyone's back, a cogless bot slacking off instead of working tirelessly in search of energon...that information will definitely screw off his chances at getting a better, higher position in the future. With how little respect most Iaconians have for the cogless part of cybertronians, you can only fear of what else the higher-ups can do to him. Not to mention...what will the others tell about you?
And still... Why, why, why were you like this?
D-16 couldn't comprehend in his head why all of a sudden you started to avoid him.
Are you embarrassed of him? He totally understands that; he learned his place in this society for a long time ago; it's not like he will blame you for it.
Maybe he's been too much for you lately? Yes...yes, definitely, isn't it? He's been so demanding the last time, craving your touch and your praise; everything will be good enough for him if only it comes from you.
Every new reason he comes up with for you as an excuse for you to ignore him, leaves a suffocating feeling of fear inside his processor.
'You've lost interest in him, that's all' is constantly ringing in his head. But that can't be true, can it?
You're perfect; you've said you love him and dedicated some of your time to him specifically, even though you could have run away as soon as you had some pleasure.
He must be the reason.
The look of disappointment was etched on D-16's face. Every single time he cheered for you from the crowd, waving his servo in hopeless need for you to spare him at least a single glance.
You pose next to Chromia, your servo on her waist, as one of the photographers approaches you to take a photo together. First and second prize winners, you can't ignore so many questions from the local sports reporters who are trying to get some answers about your relationship with the blue bot.
Playfully, you deny every rumor, but the slight smirk on Chromia's face only encourages the audience more.
“Yes, we're just coworkers,” she gives you a brief glance, winking at you before looking back at the camera again. “Right, partner?”
The sight alone makes D-16 clench his teeth. The large, flat screen projecting the post-race broadcast seems to mock him.
Here on the screen, you seem much closer to him than you have in the last few days of your stubborn silence. He wonders, when you look at the camera, do you think about him? 
Are you even aware that he is, once again, focused only on you, rewatching the broadcast over and over again, just because you appear on the screen?
Primus, he feels so pathetic. Hiding behind one of the few quiet corners, he sighs, servo resting over his optics.
How long has this been going on now? A week? Two? He's so tired of waiting.
D-16 is patient; he really tries to give you as much personal space as possible and as much time as he can give you, but it's so damn hard.
Before, it was easier to control. Before, at least, he didn't have hopeless dreams that you would ever know he existed. But no, now you know him. You know how much he's in love with you—that he's dedicated an entire chunk of his poems about you.
It's not hard for Orion to notice how much his best friend has changed recently. From being strong and determined, D-16 completely avoids any contact with him. Any mention of you only fuels the silver bot more, and it's not uncommon for him to push everyone around him away.
But unfortunately or luckily, Orion is too determined to get off his back so easily. The famous troublemaker won't so easily leave D alone. And as his only best friend, Orion offers him a solution.
“Just sneak into their room when they won't see you and ask them whatever is bothering you. They can't escape you when you corner them!”
Such a ridiculous idea. It annoys him that he's even considering doing it.
Where Orion even gets such ideas from...?
Standing in your room, all alone and surrounded in everything that reminds him of every single thing he adores in you. That alone makes his spark beat faster.
Can he touch that? Some framed photos were carefully placed all over the room. Some with your friends, some with your colleagues; he can recognize the names if he tries hard enough, but it isn't necessary for him when it's only your face he's focused on. You have so many statues after cycles of your career...
It's not like he hasn't been there before. If anything, he's been here plenty of times, but it was never just him in there. Something in this feels more intimate, for some reason, yet it is so, so wrong.
The thoughts about guilt still linger in the back of his mind. He shouldn't be here. That stupid idea Orion suggested him...! Oh great, now he feels wrong.
Can you blame him for it? You've been denying him for so long. It is only natural for him to get a little ahead of himself. He just needs a little taste, just to calm this nagging feeling down his waist. His servo hesitantly reaches for your berth, gently gripping the soft material of the sheets. He just wants to bury his face in it, wrap it around himself, maybe to imagine your gentle hold of him—
Until he hears noise from the outside and all his thoughts stop as he tries to quickly step back from it.
The door opens, revealing only your figure standing in the way. It takes a mere seconds for you to notice an intruder inside your quarters, and the look of surprise showed on your face as you finally realized who it is.
For a moment, none of you let out a single word. His optics wide, mouth slightly open, as if he tries to think of something, anything, but nothing will possibly explain it.
‘This is your chance,’ he quickly thinks, before he musters his courage to finally start to speak.
“...Why? Why were you avoiding me all this time?” D-16's voice quivers; his servo tightens on his own chassis.
The heavy gasps of his breathing are the only sound in the room. You still have no idea how to answer that.
You should have seen that coming. Leaving him alone without any explanation broke his mind, and now frustrated, almost on the edge of tears, you have no other choice but to face the consequences of your own negligence.
Gently closing the door of your room, you decide to continue.
“I was afraid that if someone catch us...they will do something to you.”
D-16's optics widened at your explanation. He expected anything but that. He stops, just staring as if a deer caught in headlights. Not only that, but he was so happy to finally hear that. That at least it's nothing he had thought about before. You care for him, and realizing that makes all his worries disappear for a moment.
But seriously...that's it?
Slowly, a confused look morphs into annoyance; he steps closer to you, grabbing on your wrists.
“You really think...that I care about what others will do to me?” his digits tightening on your frame, almost possessively. “Do you have any idea what I've been thinking all this time? When you kept ignoring me?”
D-16 huffs in frustration, shaking his helm in disbelief. He doesn't understand if he should be angry at you or himself at this moment. He's been overthinking every little thing he had done for the past months that could have possibly made you angry with him. Furthermore, he even broke into your own damn quarters to confront you about it, only to find out that you are just like him.
Thinking too much about small things when the most important person is right next to you.
Primus, you're making him so mad right now, but he lets himself forget about everything, just now.
You feel his servos gripping your face, pulling you towards him, only to meet into the harsh kiss. He cuts off whatever feeble attempt you tried to mutter in apology; no, for now, it all can wait.
He's been waiting for this moment as if for ages. Having you so close to him, his frame pressed against your own, the familiar, burning tingling makes his spike twitch in need.
He wants you; he wants you so much right now, that he barely recognizes himself.
Any other day he'd be too embarrassed to look up at you, too shy to let out a moan in fear that someone might hear.
When he presses you against berth, straddling your hips, he looks nothing like the shy bot you met many, many times before. It's only by one look in his optics, full of need and hunger, that you realize how badly you screwed up.
His inexperience is still so apparent. In a desperate attempt to get you to open your interface panel, he's practically bucking his hips against you, like an animal in heat.
You are so tempted to just watch him trying. Maybe after a good half an hour he'd eventually reach what he desires.
Not wanting to act cruel for now, you finally open your interface panel without a protest. Your own spike pressing between his silver thighs, small droplets of transfluid smearing over the smooth metal.
The sight alone makes D-16 shiver, almost from embarrassment at how fast his own panel opens after watching you.
Spike standing tall, already rock hard, and the wet mess from his valve makes him grind his thighs from impatience. You can only imagine what he'd try to do in your room if you were an hour later to find him.
You feel his servos holding a little tighter on your shoulders, his breathing a little shallow, as he guides himself on your spike. A little shudder runs down his spine at the sensation of you feeling him up, and he barely pays attention to others, making it possible to hear him.
He's been so patient and kind to you. It takes him a little less than a minute to get even more hungry, desperate for more.
“D—” you gasp, your own servo reaching for his waist to slow him down a little, only for him to grind himself on you harder.
He'd be lying if he said that it didn't hurt him a little. He tried to stretch himself every single day since the moment you started ignoring him, hoping not to forget that delicious feeling of you inside him.
Tears prickling in his optics as he stared down at you—oh, how much he dreamed for this moment to finally come true.
Another, loud, shameless moan escapes his lips as your spike hits deeper into him, his valve clenching around your length, begging for more. He feels so full right now.
If only this feeling never ended.
“Agh...frag, yes—” he cries out, arching his back to meet your thrusts.
He's so content with just having you underneath him, while his mind is clouded with nothing but lust and need for you. Optics rolling into the back of his helm, practically seeing stars.
You pant softly, only guiding his movements from time to time, not letting the poor little thing to accidentally hurt himself during such an intimate moment of connection between the two of you. You're barely even doing anything at this point, letting him set control over his own pace.
D-16 salivates at the thought. His inner walls clenching around your spike every so often, making him more aware of his building-up overload. He wants to last so, so much longer.
His spike throbs as your servo wraps around it, gently moving up and down over the sensitive length. You hear him whine, pushing his hips harder for more, more of the sweet friction.
He'd beg you to stop, to not push him over the edge so soon, and he almost wants to swat away your servo from him until he grits his teeth, stifling a groan. Hips moving more erratically, and with a heavy breath, he stutters your name as he finally reaches his release.
With a soft, satisfied hum, you pull your cogless miner closer, letting him rest against you. For a quick moment, you glance down, noticing your spike still buried deep inside him, your chassis painted in his transfluid.
D-16 clinges onto you, servos wrapped around you, as if seeking comfort. He still tries to catch his breath, panting next to your audio receptors, optics closed shut.
Well, Orion's dumb idea worked out...somehow.
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luv-y0urself · 7 months ago
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boynextdoor when they have crushes
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boynextdoor x fem!reader genre: fluff, slice of life, mayhaps...? | wc: 2026 words | warnings: all sorts of tropes ahead !! all of the boys are the same age as the reader in the fic, although not mentioned :) 𖤐.thank you to the anon who requested this ! i'm so sorry it took this long to get out... i might've gotten a little carried away (psst... i didn't tell you this, but i might be using this as a small teaser for a future series...!)
boy #1: park sungho
to me, sungho genuinely feels like the type to fall for his childhood best friend. it’s the feeling of comfort that he feels with her that suddenly morphs into something more, y’know? he’s having a casual night out, grabbing a quick drink with his friend for successfully ending the semester in one piece when she shows up dressed with her hair done, makeup immaculate, and a dress that fits her curves perfectly and accentuates all the nice things about her. he can’t help but gape at her form once he lays eyes on her, and is dumbfounded for a few seconds before he’s able to murmur a soft compliment in her direction. she merely laughs it off, telling him that he looked rather dashing that night as well. it was common for them to care for each other in that way; they didn’t think of it much when they were complimenting each other… but on that night, at that moment, sungho meant every word. once sungho is able to fully mull over the situation (and fully realizes that he definitely has a crush on her), sungho would go out of his way to care for her. he’s always sending her texts (much more than usual), usually things like “your class starts soon, are you at school yet?” to things like, “don’t skip lunch even if you’re working.” he strikes me as the type to bring lots of sweets to his gal when mother nature decides to pay her a visit, or for him to cook her some of her favorite broth if she’s feeling under the weather. at one point, i feel like she would realize that sungho has changed a little bit; she asks the other friends in her group about it and her friends can’t help but smack their foreheads at how dense sungho’s crush is, then help sungho set something up for him to actually overcome the fear of losing his friend and confess to her.
boy #2: lee riwoo
to be completely honest, i feel like riwoo is the type to fall for a girl that he met at a dance competition. riwoo would be one of the judges, waiting for the last performance to go on stage and dance their hearts out. he’s beyond tired, having gotten at the site more than six hours ago, and having sat in his chair without moving for four of those six. but once she comes onto stage, riwoo would feel the spinning world stop. all he can see is her, dancing her heart out to the choreographed routine that she and her group mates put together for everybody to see. it’s unprofessional, really — riwoo should be watching the performance for all of the rubric points, but all he could focus on was the way that she moved; the way that she waltzed with the song, her arms elongated and her steps light but strong, hitting each beat with undeniable passion that she must’ve practiced with. riwoo isn’t able to do anything the day of, however — that would be even more unprofessional than how distracted he was during the performance. no, the real time he would be able to do something is when he holds a surprise pop up class with a limited number of students able to attend, and she’s one of them. when checking their form, i feel like riwoo’s eyes would subconsciously stay on her form for a little longer compared to the other students, and if she had a question, he answer it to the best of his ability, and then some. riwoo doesn’t strike me as the impulsive type, but with her in the room, i feel like he would change the choreo that he's teaching to a pair dance, choosing her in the room to dance with.
boy #3: myung jaehyun
god, myungjae would be the loudest guy out there once he has a crush. he definitely strikes me as the type of guy to go shouting in the group chat, saying that he just spotted the “goddess” of their school while walking around. he probably also wouldn’t waste any time beating around the bush; the very next time he spots her, he would probably go up to her and say some cheesy pick up line (“so, aside from taking my breath away, what do you do for a living?”) although the girl would definitely be surprised, and maybe even annoyed at his seemingly insincere ways of telling her, myungjae would do everything he can to regain her trust in him (aka. making her fall for him, according to his boasting). whenever he spots her on campus, myungjae makes sure to make himself known. he often waves at her from hundreds of meters away, running to her from wherever he saw her from (and ditching whoever he was with, which, most of the time, is poor woonhak) just to strike a conversation with her. he asks her about all kinds of things, like what she’s doing today, how she’s feeling, if anything happened to her in the past 16 hours which he hasn’t seen her, anything. (once, she replied back that she was going to go meet a long distance guy friend, and myungjae immediately got sooo jealous. he would ask all kinds of things, like what he looks like, how tall he is, whether she’s ever liked him in the past or if she does now, how long she’s known him for, etc. she would definitely tease him for being jealous before leaving in a flash, purposely mentioning that she needs to “get ready” for her hangout with the said guy. myungjae is absolutely distraught, to her delight.) but, if she’s feeling down, he’s there for her always, giving her a shoulder to cry on if needed. he provides lots of advice for her if she opens up to him in that way, glad that he was able to be of help to his one and only.
boy #4: han taesan
boy oh boy, han taesan. definitely the type to fall for the girl working at the lp shop that he’s a regular at. taesan was just walking around the shop, seeing if there were any albums that were recently added that he hadn’t seen the last time he was there. that’s when he spotted her listening to the legendary nirvana album (in his opinion), bleach (1989), and she was humming the melody to “about a girl” when he couldn’t help but be intrigued about her. the lp shop was old; taesan was close with the owner of the shop, since the old man had cared for taesan like his own son. taesan would definitely ask about her the next time he sees the man (which is very soon), surprised when he mentions that she’s working at the shop now; taesan came to the shop almost everyday following that short encounter, often staying at the shop much longer than necessary when she was around (and leaving the shop quickly when he wasn’t able to see her at her usual spot at the counter), trying to get a better look at what she was doing or if she was listening to anything else that he enjoyed listening to, too.  the first time that taesan would actually make a move is when he catches that she’s sick from the rapidly changing weather. he spots her erupting into small coughing fits, which she suppresses quickly with a quick drink from her practically steaming tumbler. the next day taesan walks into the shop, his pockets are a little heavier than usual; he’s carrying with him some cough medicine and tylenol, packaged nicely in a clear bag, perfected with a clean note inside (which he definitely didn’t take 15 minutes to write two lines of). when she’s not at the counter, cleaning something at a different end of the shop, taesan slips over and places the bag of medicine containing the note next to her tumbler so she can’t miss it, smiling a little as he exits the shop.
boy #5: kim leehan
would it be a surprise if leehan falls for the girl working as a docent at the aquarium? she's all he’s been looking for; an expert on fish that shared the same love for marine life that he did. i feel like leehan would meet her coincidentally at his local aquarium; usually he likes to stay home and just look at his own fish tank, but that day, he felt like going out. it had been too long since he left the house, anyway; the last time he’d left was a few days ago, when he went to go find some new fishies for his fish tank (if leehan has his fish tank and his phone, he could probably stay at home for a whole month without leaving it once).  usually, leehan is the type to walk around the aquarium by himself; he already knew a lot about most of the fish there, and if he didn’t know anything, he was the type to stand in front of the description for a while in order to read everything about the new fish. but, something about her voice stroke a chord in him; her voice was different from the other docents that he had walked by, and he saw himself just trailing the crowd that was following her, listening to her words that were flowing out of her like she was telling the story about the fish for the first time. after the entire tour, when she seems to go on break, leehan would call out to her according to her name that she had mentioned at the end of the tour, letting the people know that she was always happy to talk about fish if they ever spotted her around the aquarium another day. he would then proceed to question her about some of the new species that had recently been added to the aquarium tanks, piquing her interest in him as well. i think they would meet a couple more times at the aquarium itself before leehan would ask if she would like to see his own fish tank at his house ;)
boy #6: kim woonhak
woonhak is the epitome of boyish love. there’s no denying it… he just reminds me so much of the type of guys that would endlessly tease and poke fun at you just because he doesn’t know how else to express himself. i think the person that he would do this to would definitely be a somewhat calm person… like a student volunteer at his school’s library!! he would definitely fall for her when he’s checking out his textbooks at the beginning of the year — he’s never stepped into the textbook room prior to this (since this was all a new system that the school implemented) and woonhak just saw her working hard, interacting cordially with the kids she knew and genuinely looking like she was enjoying her job there. her genuineness sparked something deep inside of him, and after that day, i feel like he would visit the library all the time. he’s going to memorize the days and periods that she’s working at the library and get out of class during those days just to go to the library and try to see her. because he visits her so often, i just know that they would start to talk and that would just make woonhak fall even more for her — she’s such a passionate individual, always working hard for what she wants to achieve in the future. whenever she talks about her ambitions, woonhak just can’t help but be mesmerized about everything around her; her pretty, sparkling eyes, the soft breeze from the window that tickles her hair, being able to easily tune out the bustling of the students around them as if they were alone, and her voice, making him truly wonder if she was born under the extensive care of angels. at one point, though, i feel like she would ask him why he always visits her but never actually looks at any of the books or the library in general. woonhak’s ears would burn a bright shade of red before he clears his throat, finally asking her out on a date (“actually, speaking of which… do you want to, uh, go out this weekend?”)
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reblogs + feedback are greatly appreciated ! © luv-y0urself / 2024
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chelseeebe · 1 year ago
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still into you, part 2
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eddie’s back, keeping to his word while trying to make up for his past mistakes. will it all work out when your worlds collide?
sauurrr i feel like i want to do a part 3 bc i have ideas but i’m not sure !!??!! also i just wanna say that it’s felt sooo good seeing people in my notifications again, tumblr finally unshadowed me after emailing them god knows how many times !!
18+, mdni. smut. a lil bit of angst and mean words towards reader and mentions of pregnancy. no use y/n!
read part 1 here.
‎♡‧₊˚
he’s late.
you’d spoken on the phone this morning and eddie had told you he’d be back some time tonight and that you should wait up because it’ll be worth it.
and now he’s fucking late.
late or not even coming.
it had been a long month of phone calls and anxiously reading magazine articles about his whereabouts, learning to trust again hadn’t been easy. there had been a handful of times where he’d called too late and missed you or you’d called while he was out which meant you’d gone days without speaking.
steve had done his best to reassure you that it was just different out there and you shouldn’t worry. he’d made a promise, right?
but there’s a pressure in your chest now, a feeling you hadn’t felt since the first time he left. defeated and dejected once again.
eddie is so late that you fall asleep on the couch. the same couch you first kissed him on just a few weeks ago. your dreams are filled with images of eddie, the wide smile that graced his face when ella forced him into fairy wings or the look on his face when you’d roll over in the middle of the night and kissed the corner of his mouth.
you’re awoken by a soft palm cupping your cheek, eyes peeking open to see the familiar silhouette of curls and denim now illuminated by the flickering television, deep set frown on his lips.
“i’m so sorry,” he starts, the words sound like static in your barely conscious mind, “my plane was delayed and i couldn’t call you.. i’m so fucking sorry,” you realise he’s on his knees in front of the couch, still squinting as you adjust to the light.
“i thought you weren’t coming,” you murmur, placing your hand atop his, the pressure in your chest subsiding the more you realise that he’s actually real and not just a dream.
eddie sighs, it’s his fault for even giving you reason to have those doubts and that kills him. “of course not.. i made a promise,” his thumb strokes gentle patterns into your cheek, “i’m coming back, always.”
“mhm,” you nod, a mix of tiredness and a lingering lack of trust.
“you wanna go to bed?” he asks, desperate to get in your good books again. hell, he’d have to do far more than this to make seven years of shit up to you.
“only if you carry me,” offering your arms out, if ella can do it, you can to.
“obviously,” he chuckles, sliding his arms underneath your knees, hoisting you off of the couch.
you’re anything but quiet walking up stairs, giggling into his neck as he groans his way up the staircase. “fuck, i’m getting old,” he complains, backing his way into your room, gently laying your body on top of the duvet before knocking the door shut.
you nestle into the pillows, watching eddie as he undresses, his jacket hitting the floor with a soft thud. he’d only been gone a month but you’d missed his presence. the way his eyes glided over your body, enamoured by your less-than-impressive mom body.
he collapses onto the bed, shuffling underneath the blanket with you, reaching out to bring you closer. “i know i said..” his nose pokes against your neck, a deep inhale before he continues, “that it’d be worth it.. but i’m tired and you’re tired so.. can i just make it up to you tomorrow?” nuzzling against your soft skin.
your laugh vibrates against his cheek, sliding your arms around his neck, legs tangling together in a mess of limbs, “eddie munson turning down sex? jesus christ, what’s happened to you?”
eddie grunts, deep and husky, flipping the situation on it’s head as he clambers on top, “oh fuck you,” his barely holding himself up, body weight keeping you pressed firmly against the mattress.
“please do,” grinning up at him, marvelling the way that even in the dark, he was still the prettiest man you’d ever laid eyes on.
his lips find your neck, peppering kisses along your jawline, hips rutting against the thin material of your pajama shorts.
when his mouth meets the delicate spot between your collarbone and the crook of your neck, you can’t help but let slip the one thing you’d been waiting to say, “i’m glad you came back,” gasping as his teeth graze the fragile skin.
he pauses, looking up at you, basked in moonlight, “i’ll always come back to you,” mumbling quietly, before continuing his descent down your body.
your eyes flutter shut, allowing your body to relax, blissful desire overcoming every nerve.
holy shit, you were happy.
-
the next few months go by smoothly. he’s back when he says he’s going to be, keeping his nose clean and his head down while he’s out on the west coast.
of course it’s never easy saying goodbye. each and every time you’re filled with this sense of dread, petrified that this might just be the time he doesn’t return.
but he does.
each and every time.
eddie had got back late last night, still half-asleep as he sips his coffee next to ella, haphazardly feeding her the breakfast she was quite capable of feeding herself.
“i’ve been thinking,” he starts, watching as you busy about with dishes. he doesn’t understand how you have the energy to care about that shit this early in the morning. “i think you should come out to california with me.. next time i go back,” shoving a spoonful of mushy pancakes into ella’s mouth.
you pause but don’t turn to face him, staring down at the sink full of bubbles, “what for?”
that part of his life didn’t interest you one bit, maybe he enjoyed it and you were happy if he was but that wasn’t anything you wanted. in fact, you’d been meaning to bring it up for a while now.
you understood that dating eddie meant that strangers were far more interested in your relationship than they should be but they’d started to accost you at work, taking ella to and from school, just about anywhere in public. the attention was starting to get a little tiring, nothing you couldn’t handle but you’d wondered if he somehow had the power to stop them.
“well,” handing the spoon to ella and getting up from the table to join you at the sink, “we’ve got our album rollout soon so i’m gonna have to be out there a little longer this time,” his shoulder knocks into yours, pulling your attention from the dirty dishes, “but.. we have our release party and i want you to be there,” pulling that cheeky grin he knew you couldn’t say no to.
how much longer? he was already out there for weeks at a time, how much longer could they keep him? oh god what if they go on tour? you’d never cope.
“release party?” grabbing the dishcloth, wiping the suds from your hands, “i don’t even know what that is.. you don’t want me there,” turning to face him and his sickening smile.
“of course i do,” lips turning into a frown, taking the cloth from your hands, “it’s a small party.. the boys and their girlfriends.. a few people who helped on the album,” he’s serious now, dipping his head to meet yours. “they wanna meet you, everyone does.”
you sigh, looking into his gleaming eyes. you’re obviously apprehensive to agree, if the stories you’d heard of the other guys were anything to go by, that weren’t the goofy nerds you’d once watch practice all night, now you think you’d actually probably hate them.
“what about ella?” turning to look at your daughter, your one saving grace.
“i’m sure we can figure that out,” eddie blinks, “steve can have her or.. or his mom,” throwing out anything he could think of, “i’ll throw them some money, make sure she has the best week ever,” rubbing his fingers together.
“he won’t take your money eddie,” you sigh. steve would never, because as much as he now liked eddie, he was still your best friend and he knew you’d kill him if he did.
“no,” eddie whines, “it’s not for steve, it’s for ella.. so they can go and do whatever they want.. eat whatever they want.. you know,” he peers over your shoulder at the kitchen table, eyes gleaming with opportunity. “ella, don’t you think mommy should come with me and you can have a vacation at uncle steve’s house?”
you tut as ella chimes in with a loud, enthusiastic “yes!” banging her fists against the table.
your palm meets his chest, “don’t use my own child against me, asshole,” struggling to stop your lips from curling into a smile. it was working and you hated the fact that you were so easily swayed by him.
“ella has spoken!” he exclaims, taking your hand on his chest into his, “so you’ll come?” cocking his head to the side, much like a tiny, manipulative little dog.
you huff, admitting defeat, “fine.. but only if steve says yes and there’s no guarantee he will,” flicking your eyes back over to ella, who is watching with a massive toothy grin.
it’s times like these that you’re grateful she doesn’t take after her dad.
-
of course steve says yes. useless prick.
“why don’t you wanna go?” his brows furrowed, sipping the overpriced coffee he’d suggested you go get.
“can you imagine me in la? me? really?”
he chuckles, “yeah.. yeah i can actually,” shaking his head. knowing steve, he’d probably been thinking about how he would fit right in there. if you ever did end up moving west, there’s no way in hell that you’d leave him here.
“shut up,” brushing him off, “what if nobody likes me?”
it had been a genuine worry of yours since before eddie had even asked. there’d surely be a thousand eyes on you seeing as you were now very publicly with him. you paled in comparison to his exes. models and singers alike. you were just some frumpy mom who no one had ever heard of.
why would they like you?
“stop it,” steve swats at you, “they’ll love you! i love you so they’ve got no reason not to!”
but you weren’t so sure.
-
so after weeks of fretting about clothes and deliberating over whether you should even go with steve, you jet off to lax.
you’d attempted to pay for your own ticket but eddie hadn’t accepted any of it. told you it was all taken care of and all you had to do was go. much to your disapproval.
there are a few fans at the airport, with no interest in you, obviously. they were so used to him at indianapolis airport now that the paps didn’t even bother.
eddie’s excited babbling about the party keeps you relaxed throughout the flight, focussing on his smile and not the fact that you were thirty thousand feet in the air.
everything starts to feel real when you land and are immediately ushered through the airport, bundled into a car and told to stay put until they got your luggage.
holy shit.
“there’s some dickheads out front.. it’s just so we don’t see them,” eddie soothes, taking your hand into his, resting on his thigh.
“is it always like this?” you ask, curious about this side of his life that you never saw. even more grateful that people in indiana mostly left you alone now.
“sometimes.. but they’re only doing this because of the album.”
you nod, sitting in quiet reflection as people come and go constantly. bustling around the car, muttering things to eddie as they do. it all just seemed so overwhelming, like there was never a moment alone.
eventually, your bags get stuffed into the car and you begin the journey to god knows where, all the while clinging onto eddie’s hand with a iron tight grip.
when you turn into a gated driveway, you sit up. peering out of the window at the glorious garden. his drive was bigger than your entire house, you couldn’t imagine having this much room at your disposal.
his house is big. actually, big is an incredible understatement. it’s breathtaking.
nicer than anything you’ve seen before. you couldn’t even begin to materialise how much he must have spent. you’re not sure you even want to know.
the ceilings loom ten feet tall, walls covered in tasteful but overpriced art. the sofa alone probably cost more than your entire house. christ, it’s the size of your living room as it is.
“jesus christ,” you breathe, still taking in the lavish house, gawping at the tacky statues and the glistening glass chandelier hanging above your head.
“nice, isn’t it?” he states, still wheeling your suitcases behind him, “obviously i didn’t decorate it myself.”
“you’re ridiculous,” you smile, marvelling the rather excessive house, “you don’t need all of this,” gesturing around the room.
“hey,” he pouts, ditching the suitcases to make his away over to you, “this house used to be very useful when..” trailing off as he realises just what he was going to say.
“when what? when you were a whore?” you bite, only half-joking.
“woah,” awkwardly laughing, unsure of whether you were joking or not, “when i had parties,” correcting your presumptions, “but i’m a boring man now.. thanks to you,” his arms snake around your waist, pulling you into his body.
your arms return the favour, tilting your chin to match his, “hmm is that right?”
his eyes are no longer on yours, gazing down at your lips with a twinkle of lust, “yup..”
“oh, well maybe i should just go..” but before you can finish, his hands are grabbing your ass, palming at the doughy flesh.
“uh uh,” pressing your heads together, pausing just before he connects your lips, “i’m never letting you leave now,” and with that, he finally kisses you.
skilfully walking you backward through the large foyer, still palming at your ass as he does so. you should’ve known that this was first on the agenda. there weren’t as many opportunities for the two of you to have sex at your house.
his lips hang from yours, leeching onto your bottom lip, palming at your sweater, eager to get it off. “i’ve thought about having you in every single room in this house..” he mumbles into your mouth, making your cheeks burn.
“every.. room?” you speak softly through kisses, bashful at his words.
“mmm,” he grumbles, hand slipping under the soft material of your sweater, brushing over the curve of your waist, “need you.. here,” walking your body back into the marble counter, your lips still barely connected, “in there,” gesturing back towards the grand living room, “everywhere,”
your thighs squeeze together in anticipation of it all. you were flying back home in a week, there was not a chance you’d get through the entirety of this massive house in that short time.
eddie growls into your mouth, hoisting your body onto the countertop in one swift movement, forcing his way between your legs. you can feel his cock already, pressed against your throbbing cunt.
his tongue slides into your mouth, moving against your own with hungry movements. you were too old for this kind of excitement, the ferocity was making your head spin.
his hands are quick, working your sweater off without much interruption, immediately finding your lips again. your hips cant, chasing the needed friction of his cock, eager to strip him from the rough denim.
“someone’s impatient,” a rough laugh echoes from his lips, but he’s obliging. unbuttoning your jeans before patting your thigh to move for him.
you do, letting his cold hands slide your jeans down your thighs, stuck around your ankles as he’s really not concerned with taking them off fully. you’re soaked already, can feel it when the fresh air hits your heat.
eddie’s focused now, his own pants pulled down around his knees, cock jumping in his boxers when your hand reaches out to touch his chest. you liked that. the fact that even now, you could control him with a simple touch.
“jesus baby,” he remarks, two fingers slipping between the crotch of your underwear, “you don’t know how much i’ve thought about this,” mouth hanging open as he works his way between your soaked folds and into your hole, eliciting a sharp gasp from your mouth.
he’s slow with it, curling his fingers at just the right spot, “oh god,” you whisper, one hand clinging to his forearm, the other holding onto the hard counter.
your eyes flutter shut, head rolling back, granting him access to your untouched neck. he immediately attacks the delicate skin, no doubt leaving his mark like some unruly teenager.
“need you now baby..” he grumbles, removing his hand from between your legs and nudging his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring up, already leaking with pre-cum.
“yeah.. yeah,” muttering into the room, heels attaching around his hips, urging him to speed things up.
his hair brushes against your neck as he gazes down between your bodies, staring in awe at the way they connected, almost losing all composure when his cock nestles between your folds and slides perfectly into your quivering cunt.
pretty pink lips parting to groan when he bottoms out, savouring the feeling for just a moment before his hips take over. his pelvis connects with the backs of your thighs, finding his rhythm, seeking whatever pace made you the loudest.
your quiet squeaks aren’t enough for him, after years of being quiet, you’re not used to having the freedom to be loud.
“c’mon sweetheart,” he pants, hand skirting around your hip, squeezing the flesh, “i wanna hear you,” slipping out of your cunt, refusing to give you what you want without something in return.
your eyes open to eddie, staring right back at you, devilish grin on his lips, “don’t be mean,” you pout, squeezing your legs to pull him forward, huffing in frustration when he keeps back.
his forehead presses against yours, glossy eyed as he gazes into your eyes, “this what you want?” he bites before sinking back in, profanities tumble out of his mouth.
a disgusting whine finds itself at your lips, filling the space between you, drawing his gaze to your wetted lips. “that’s it baby,” thrusts starting to gain speed, his tip bullying your walls.
you can’t help but get louder, keeping your eyes trained on his dilated pupils, moaning with each time his pubic bone brushes against your starved clit. knuckles turning white as you grip onto the counter, chanting his name like some sort of mantra.
“there she is,” he pants, slamming into you with such speed that makes you feel as if you’re flying. it’s filthy how much the wet, pornographic noises your bodies are making spurs you on. only wanting to get louder to match them.
eddie’s thumb meets your neglected clit, circling the bud in line with his thrusts. the pleasure is overwhelming, sending your head into the clouds and your stomach hurtling toward your long-awaited orgasm.
“eddie..” drawing out his name, letting it echo through the decadent kitchen, “fuck,” fingernails leaving behind half-moon markings on his forearm, unsupported by the ruthless motion of his thumb against your clit.
you’re struggling to even stay with it, gasping for breath as your walls tighten around him. sighing as he begins to falter, “you gonna cum princess? huh?” beads of sweat beginning to form on his nose, holding his own orgasm off to allow you yours first.
“yeah.. yeah,” you babble nonsensically, “oh fuck.. oh eddie,” thighs trembling around his hips as you topple over the edge, holding onto the counter for dear life as your orgasm takes over.
body going numb as the fuzzy feeling takes over, watching his lips mouth that’s it and baby’s over and over. trying not to topple over as his cock continues to nudge against your spongy walls, slowing as his own orgasm begins.
“cum in me,” you urge, completely besotted by your own desire for him, “please,” resorting to begging when his eyes squeeze shut, unable to hold himself off any longer.
he grunts, you coax him through it, ankles still resting at the small of his back, unrelenting with their grip as his cock spurts thick ropes of cum, painting your walls. “shit- baby.. i- you-,” he puffs, “what the fuck,” throwing his head back, his messy fringe sticking to his damp forehead.
“sorry..” you mumble, ashamed by the way you turn into a ravenous monster around eddie, wanting to give him your all and nothing else.
“jesus christ don’t apologise,” his hands clamp around your cheeks, pulling your face to his for one final kiss, mumbling a quick i love you before helping you from the counter.
eddie’s in his element here, not that he didn’t make himself at home in your home, but this was his domain.
there’s a strange twinge in your heart, a rogue voice that occasionally makes an appearance, something that made you question whether he was really happy with your little life or if it was just something he was accepting for the time being.
you bury it down, refusing to let it grow into anything more and follow him down the hall, listening to him complain about his back.
-
nothing could’ve prepared you for the party. it couldn’t have been further from how eddie had initially sold it to you.
it’s all bright lights and thousands of people. expensive dresses and unfamiliar faces fill the room, prodding and poking at eddie and subsequently you. wanting to know the ins and outs of everything.
fuck. you think. this is suffocating.
there’s no release, people are fucking everywhere.
even after you gulp down a glass of wine, people whizz around you, echoing fake niceties about your dress or your hair or whatever materialistic bullshit they were pretending to care about.
eddie is a natural of course. he’s been doing this for years. he always had the ability to carry a conversation, to make people listen to him. you weren’t so lucky.
he’s prattling on about some sick riff on the new album now, barely giving you chance to let him know you’re going to the bathroom.
hoping to seek some solace from these vultures. you so wished steve was here. he’d make everything feel better, tell you that it was okay and that these people don’t deserve your time.
but he’s not. he’s a thousand miles away, probably tucked up in bed with ella. somewhere you longed to be.
after a long ten minutes in the cubicle, uttering a chorus of positive affirmations to yourself, you push your way out, right into the crowd of very glamorous women all stood in front of the mirrors. reapplying their makeup or touching up their already stiff hair.
one of the older ladies takes notice of you lingering behind, turning to face you with a smug smile, “you’re eddie’s new thing, aren’t you?”
venom laced between her words, rolling effortlessly off of her sharp tongue. the other women all turn in tandem, all narrowed eyes and faux smiles.
“uh.. i’m his girlfriend,” shaking their glances off, focusing on the stream of running water on your hands and not the prickly feeling at the back of your throat.
“oh! girlfriend!” she titters, barging into one of the other, “usually they don’t make it that far.. what d’you have that the others didn’t?” her icy gaze runs the length of your body.
no doubt judging your dress, the way your mom body sat in the lavish fabric. you don’t blame her. you’d hated it from the moment you first looked in the mirror.
“we..” clearing your throat to avoid your voice cracking, “we used to date.. in high school,” you could feel yourself physically shrinking, reverting back into the same quiet girl you were in school.
“aw sweet,” there’s not even a hint of sincerity in her nasally tone, “well you know, we all thought gigi was gonna be the one,” the other women nod in agreement, “he was just different with her.. everyone thought he was going to propose.. never seen him like that since,” nodding like she’d won a contest you weren’t even competing in.
her words sting, and she knows it. in fact, she relishes it. even though you know she’s only doing it for some sort of reaction, you still let them in. your heart prangs in your chest; now stood frozen in front of the basin.
“you have a kid, don’t you?” she continues, clearly unhappy with your lack of reaction. wanting to stick her claws in just a little deeper.
you nod, biting down hard onto the inside of your cheek. trying to swallow the growing lump in the back of your throat.
her eyes wander down once again, “yeah i thought so.. eddie always said he didn’t want kids,” tutting her shiny white teeth, “i wouldn’t expect him to hang around long, he’s at the peak of his career darling.. no time for high school sweethearts and their kids.”
and that’s it. the final blow. slicing through your chest, churning your guts from the inside out. a stranger had affirmed every single fear and doubt you’d had. crumbling the facade you’d curated for this fucking party.
you don’t even give her the satisfaction of a reply, or perhaps you give her exactly what she wanted, storming out of the bathroom with a trembling bottom lip and watering eyes.
instead of going straight back to eddie, you find a quiet corner, facing the wall as you collect yourself the best you can. your throat hurts, the lump struggling to disappear, tears threatening to spill over as you attempt to remember how to breathe.
eddie is higher than you’ve ever seen him before, relishing in the moment. he’s completely different out here. talking to any and every one, turning the charm on the second someone walks his way.
“eds,” mumbling quietly, tugging on his arm to garner his attention.
you hated him a little for even convincing you to come. why couldn’t he have just sent pictures? no fuck that, why couldn’t he have just stayed here and never forced his way back into your life?
you don’t mean it. you love him.
“hmm?” not quite looking at you.
“i wanna go back.. i don’t feel good.”
this is where he turns, focusing his attention on you, brows furrowing immediately, “what? what’s wrong?”
now, you could tell him. let him know that his friends were assholes and you were either going to burst into tears or run out of this place screaming. but decide to leave it until you’re back at his, there was no use in causing drama on his night.
“i just..” you sigh, dipping your head low so no one else could hear, “i don’t feel good.. maybe i’m sick,” it wasn’t a lie as such. your stomach had been turning all night but you’d brushed it off as anxiety, eager to not ruin the party.
“well-,” he begins but stops, “d’you want me to come with you?” though you can tell he really doesn’t want to. you don’t blame him.
eddie’s always been an extrovert, begging for people to pay attention to him, even if it meant tussling with basketball players or anyone else that dared to question his character. he just wanted people to notice him.
“no no.. i just wanted to let you know,” chewing on your bottom lip, his face becoming increasingly more concerned with every word. you hope he hasn’t noticed your watery eyes, not in the mood to have to explain what had happened right here, right now.
“okay.. we can go, it’s okay,” eddie soothes, picking up that something wasn’t right.
this is what you’d tried to avoid, not wanting to selfishly snatch him away from his event, his friends and his album launch.
“no.. stay here, i’ll be fine, just need to.. rest,” brushing him off, as if you wouldn’t kill to just curl up in his big bed, talking away all of the harsh comments you’d heard.
his expression becomes incredibly soft, despite the crowd surrounding the two you trying to pry, “you sure? i don’t mind..” he frowns, “i’ll come back with you, I don’t want you on your own if you feel that shitty,” already looking past you trying to catch someone’s eye to tell them about the change in plans.
“no!” you push, rather quickly, “please don’t let me be the reason you miss this.. i promise i’ll be fine,” pulling away from his grasp, rushing out of the building with absolutely no plan to get back.
eddie strides along behind, grabbing onto your arm, forcing you to stop and face him, “hey.. stop, i’ll get rob to drive you,” guiding you through the see of people and out into the fresh air at long, long last.
it’s like you can finally breathe again. the stifling heat of a hundred bodies wasn’t helping your anxieties, relief washing over your body the second the november breeze hits your flushed face.
he leans into the same car you arrived in, muttering something to who you assume is rob, motioning for you to come over. you oblige, standing at his side as he repeats what’s happening to you though none of the words compute.
“i won’t be long, okay? a couple hours max and then i’ll be back,” pulling you in for an unreciprocated hug.
he bundles you in to the back of the car, nodding to rob to start the journey.
you’re thankful the conversation is non-existent, leaning your forehead against the window, drawing lines into the condensation on the glass.
you want to go home.
and not eddie’s house.. home.
three days had been more than enough for you to decide this life wasn’t for you.
wiping spaghetti off of ella’s smiley face was. gossiping with steve about people you went to high school with was. los angeles certainly wasn’t.
-
eddie stumbles into the bedroom some hours later, obviously tipsy with a vague stench of booze and people clinging onto his clothes. the smell turns your stomach, peering over your shoulder to see him sliding his suit jacket off, trying to be quiet but failing miserably.
"whoops sorry.. did i wake you?" he asks, slightly slurring his words.
"no, i wasn't asleep," you shift, turning to face him, preparing to break the news.
he slides into the gargantuan bed, running a hand over his face as he comfies himself, "you all okay now?" extending his hand to rest on your waist, smoothing his fingers over the thick duvet.
you exhale, peering up at him through the dimly lit room, "i think i'm gonna go home tomorrow," you’d stewed on it all night and decided it was what’s best.
“what?” his hand stops, sitting up to see you better.
“i’m going back to hawkins tomorrow.”
“why?” he exclaims, unable to comprehend why tonight had gone from a great night to you rushing off home.
“because i miss ella,” you’d umm’d and ahh’d about telling him what had gone down in the bathroom, ultimately deciding not to. he’d only reiterate some bullshit about it not being true and you shouldn’t worry, it wasn’t worth the effort.
“it’s three more days babe.. wha- i don’t understand, where’s this come from?” he’s breathing heavily, focussing on sobering up you suppose.
you sigh again, hesitant to tell him that his friends were assholes and had made you feel like shit. “i just.. i guess i don’t fit in here,” shrugging it off, minimising the niggling thoughts of insecurity that had planted themselves into your brain.
“what are you talking about?” eddie frowns, genuinely perplexed. “did something happen? what are you not telling me about?”
you shake your head, struggling to find the right words, “there was just..” trailing off into the void, “someone said something to me and i’m-,” biting down into your bottom lip, decidedly letting it all out, “i don’t want this life eddie, i never asked for this.. for people to try and pick my life apart! that wasn’t part of the deal!” becoming increasingly frustrated with your boyfriend.
how could he not get it?
“woah.. who said something? i can fix that,” his eyebrows knit together, you’re not sure if he’s angry or just confused. “if you don’t tell me, i can’t do anything.”
“what are you gonna do?” nostrils flaring at his inability to just understand, “what’s said was said.. and i want to go home eddie, that’s the end of it,” running a hand through your hair, still stiff with hairspray and whatever other gunk the stylist had shoved into it.
“jesus christ,” he huffs, sick of the conversation, of trying to get you to stay. “fine. i’ll get someone to change your flight in the morning, can you wait that long?” his snarky voice making an appearance. you hadn’t missed that.
“thank you,” you whisper, unable to get any louder for fear of the lump in your throat.
instead you turn over, squeezing your eyes shut, refusing to let the tears brim over. eddie wouldn’t have understood even if you could tell him, ella wasn’t his kid, those words wouldn’t hurt the same. sure, he’d be pissed and he’d more than likely get her fired but what use was that now?
she’d still uttered the words. still forced her poison into your brain, she’d already got what she wanted.
-
eddie barely musters up two sentences to you in the morning, speaking in hushed tones to the muffled voice on the other side of the phone.
everything’s fucked and it’s your fault. he knows it too.
“flight’s in four hours.. rob’ll take you to the airport at twelve,” he huffs, hanging the phone back on the wall with enough force to make the plastic rattle.
“thank you,” you call after him, watching as he disappears down the long hall. he had just trampled on your already throbbing heart, stomping on the organ as if it didn’t matter.
-
when rob arrives, eddie’s in a more optimistic mood, wheeling your suitcase out of his room with a sullen expression, attempting to sway your mind one last time. “i can always cancel this flight..” opening the large door for you, “you can stay if you want to.”
“eddie..”
and with that, he knows it’s not going to work. blinking rapidly, a deep sigh coming from his chest, “right, got it.”
his hand slams the car door shut, still lingering on the metal as you sit inside. you felt like a petulant child, being sent away because you dared to disobey the rules. it’s all so stupid.
and deep down, eddie knows that ultimately, this is all his fault. he’s the one that skipped town eight years ago, left you without so much as a note to explain himself. as he watches the car roll down the drive, he lets himself wonder what life would’ve been like if he didn’t leave, if you’d even still be together or if this had to happen to bring you two back together. the universe was cruel like that.
-
the airport is bustling, families dithering around trying to find their flights and busy men dashing from one place to the other.
there’s only one thing you need and that’s the bathroom. shoving yourself and your things into a cramped cubicle to do what you needed to do.
and maybe you were being silly, perhaps the stress of last night had got to your head and now you were jumping to crazy conclusions.
but you’d been here before. known the signs, the little things that most people would probably just brush off. so you’d made rob pull into a gas station on your way to the airport and bought a two pack of the cheapest tests you could find.
five minutes feel like five hours. refusing to even peek at the shitty piece of plastic until the time was up.
your heart is thudding, blood pumping around your ears so loudly that you’re sure the lady in the stall next to you could hear it.
hands shaking as you turn the test, two thin blue lines reveal themselves on the tiny screen.
the test clatters to the floor, your mouth falling open as your eyes fog. it wasn’t like you didn’t know, you just didn’t know.
and now you do, everything feels fragile. someone’s cough rings in your ears, the sterile bathroom felt a thousand times smaller than it did five minutes ago.
eddie always said he didn’t want kids.
her voice echoes around your head, just as snarky as it were the first time you heard it. you feel sick. the acidic liquid rises quick, forcing you to spin and stick your head into the porcelain bowl.
emptying your stomach until your throat stings, retching and coughing, trying not to start sobbing.
eddie always said he didn’t want kids.
you can’t tell him, not yet anyway.
fuck.
a thousand thoughts flood your mind. were you even still together? he was on this press tour for weeks now. you can’t tell him over the phone. maybe you had broken up and you wouldn’t ever have to let him now. he would just have an illegitimate child in his hometown that he’d never know about.
nothing felt right. the high you’d been riding from the first two days with him had quite violently come crashing back to earth.
the only thing you want to do is tell steve.
he probably wouldn’t know what to do nor would he be very much help, you just needed to know that everything was going to be okay.
-
it’s the first thing you say as you slide into steve’s bmw, blurting out the news like it wasn’t potentially life changing.
as expected, his jaw drops, blabbering about babies at a hundred miles an hour. excited and amazed all at the same time.
“- i haven’t told him yet,” you manage to spit out in the middle of his nonsensical ranting.
“what?”
“i didn’t even know until i got to the airport,” you sniff, staring at the drops of rain on his windscreen rather than his eyes. “he’s on this press tour for weeks now.. i can’t tell him over the phone.”
“well shit,” steve’s shoulder slump, empathising with your less than ideal situation, “you have to,” he blinks, focusing on the road ahead.
“steve.. i don’t think you understand,” swallowing the air, unsure if the car was the best place to tell him about your little argument. “shit happened, it’s not.. it’s not that easy.”
he frowns, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel as he drives, “well,” voice louder than expected, “we’ll think of something, trust me.”
your body relaxes for the first time in hours. if no one else had you, you know steve did.
-
there are paps fucking everywhere, littering the sidewalk as steve pulls into your drive, the bright lights already blinding you.
“what the fuck?” steve screeches, turning to face you in the driver's seat. They aren’t dumb, they know that if they step on your property, you are well within your rights to escort them off. so they hang back, inching towards the car but staying far enough away to not allow you to get them off.
“i don’t know.. i don’t know,” shaking your head, you were baffled how they had even found out you were home. you’d known they were scummy but christ, not this scummy.
“just get inside and I’ll bring your stuff in,” steve nods reassuringly, stepping out of the car ready to punch whoever got in his way.
you exhale, preparing for the onslaught of questions and pictures. the key poised in your hand to get you inside as quickly as humanly possible. word must have got out that your trip had ended abruptly, that or someone had seen you sulking around the airport like the sad sack you were.
your feet stumble along the asphalt, holding your hand to your face as to guard your eyes from the flashes. hundreds of questions echo in your ears, what happened between you and eddie munson? have you broken up? did he cheat again?
it’s god awful. gritty voices screaming across the lawn at you. steve has your suitcase rolling behind him, jaw clenched as he guides you to the door.
“you’re harassing a pregnant woman you fucking scumbags! go fuck yourselves!” he unleashes over his shoulder, flapping his arms about.
your mouth falls open, pulling him through the door and into your hall. the one thing you had not wanted him to let slip and he had just blurted it out to the crowd of hungry vultures.
it’d be the first thing on the front page tomorrow and yet you still hadn’t told eddie. at least now you didn’t have to.
he knows he wasn’t supposed to say it too, hand slapped across his mouth, inundated with shock and regret. “i’m so sorry, i’m so fucking sorry,” he rushes, eyes like saucers as his arms wrap around your shoulders, “i’m an idiot.. fuck! i’m sorry,” you cheek smushed against his chest.
the familiar feeling opens the floodgates, tears stream down your cheeks, wetting his t-shirt as your shoulders shake. wailing hysterically into his beating chest. he wasn’t quite expecting this, more so a few hours of the silent treatment.
“oh no.. i’m sorry, i really didn’t mean to,” steve whispers into the air, his chin coming to rest atop of your head, squeezing your fragile frame in his arms.
“it’s not-,” rudely interrupted by a rogue hiccup, “shit.. it’s not you-,” hiccup, “oh my god,” you exclaim, tears turning into laughter at an unprecedented rate.
steve loosens his grip, confused as all hell at the mess you’d become against him. “jesus christ, are you okay?” holding your shoulders at arms length to examine the snotty, hiccupy mess in front of him.
“no,” you laugh, completely hysterical.
he guides you to the couch, making your movements for you, plonking down on the cushions in a flurry of emotion.
there you tell him everything. the party, the bitch with the sharp jawline in the bathroom and her nasty words, the aftermath and then all about your panic attack in a tiny lax bathroom.
it’s cathartic, knowing he won’t judge or diminish the way you feel. steve just listens, his hand rubbing small strokes on your knee every time you got to a juicy part.
how the hell were you ever going to tell eddie now?
-
there’s a knock at your door, mindlessly going to answer it without thinking much of the mad crowd of people that were out there just a few days ago. steve had gratefully been staying with you, helping with ella while also trying to hatch a plan to tell eddie without ruining everything.
it only occurs to you that it very well could be another nosy reporter as the door is already unlocked and slightly ajar.
you peep around the tiny crack, prepared to be bombarded with a bunch of questions and bright lights.
there’s none of that.
only the pitying image of one eddie munson stood on your doorstep with his shoulders slumped, black ray-ban’s hanging from his shirt and an inconceivable look upon his face.
“what the fuck?” he utters, barely audible. he looks exhausted, dark rings around his eyes with the body language to match. his hair in dark matter tangles hung around his face.
your mouth opens but the words fail to materialise, utterly speechless. there’s nothing you could possibly say now that would lessen the blow. and bless his soul, steve had fucked it.
no.
you had fucked it by running off back home without telling him the seemingly very important news.
“were you ever gonna tell me?” eyebrows screwed together, eyes glossy with what looked like tears.
“i.. i- yes, i was.. i didn’t.. i didn’t know,” pleading with him with your eyes, hoping they could tell him exactly what your words couldn’t. your lip trembles, as much as this had played on your mind since steve had let slip, the two of you still hadn’t come up with an acceptable explanation.
deep down you know really why you still hadn’t called him. you were scared, terrified even, that he’d laugh at you. tell you to fuck off, or get rid of it and to never contact him again. that wouldn’t surprise anyone, he was at the top of his career and definitely wouldn’t want to jack that in for his boring high school ex-girlfriend.
that’s what you’d told yourself anyway.
“when? when it was born?” his words are sharp, reaffirming every single fear you had conjured up in your brain.
you inhale sharply, the lump making it up and out of your throat before you had the chance to swallow it down. tears spill down your warm cheeks, the most ghastly cry coming from your mouth.
you must look utterly pathetic as eddie’s face softens almost immediately, springing from your doorstep and over the threshold to caress your cheek, mopping the tears with his thumb. “sorry.. i’m sorry fuck- i just wish you’d told me,” leaning forward to keep his eyes solidly on yours, any anger had dissipated from his face.
“i was scared, i’m sorry.. I didn’t know what to do,” burying your face into his shoulder, already wetting the shirt with your tears. shoulders shaking as you sob. “i swear.. i didn’t know until i got to the airport, i really- i just needed a few days..” howling into his steady shoulder.
he walks the both of you inside into your hallway, pushing the door shut before his other hand tangled into your hair, soothing out the wild strands. “i know.. it’s okay,” reassuring you even though you really didn’t deserve it.
“and that lady.. i don’t know, she got into my head,” sniffling, appreciating the familiarity of his cologne and the faint smell of cigarettes he always seemed to have.
his body stiffens, pulling your body from the safety of his, “what lady? is this about the party? fuck sake man, no one would tell me anything,” he’s serious now, frustration overcoming his features once more, although this time they weren’t directed towards you.
you sigh, using your palm to wipe your stinging cheeks, “it doesn’t matter.. and it’s fine, you know? i get it.. why someone like you wouldn’t want kids. i’ve come to terms with it,” nodding through your lines, despite the fact that you couldn’t have believed them less.
“what? what the hell are you talking about?” flabbergasted that you’d even suggest that.
your face falls, once stoic and ready to face being a single mom again. “that lady.. she said..” shaking your head, “you didn’t want kids,” bottom lip quivering, tears threatening to spill over again.
“oh my god,” it clicks for him, and you wish it would for you too. “that’s.. fuck- i did say that but it was a long time ago now,” his fingers dig into your arms, ensuring that he really hammers his point home, “of course i do.. shit sweetheart, of course i do,” the flecks of caramel in his eyes shine through ten-fold when he’s staring at you, glossed over with the remnants of his tears.
your mouth opens, moving though nothing comes out, hopeless as the words fail to form.
“you’re an idiot,” eddie laughs lovingly, pulling you back towards him, encasing your face in his rough palms, the cold of his rings soothes your tear laden cheeks. “why didn’t you tell me? or just ask me?”
you giggle a bit, shrugging your shoulders, “i don’t know.. i didn’t think,” nothing made sense and yet, you felt better than you had in weeks.
eddie’s here, in front of you, happy, grinning from ear to ear as he remembers why he’s even stood in your dark corridor, “baby.. we’re having a baby,” squishing your cheeks between his hands.
his joy is palpable, brushing off on you despite your leaking eyes. he still looks at you like that, even though you’d scarped off, even after you had let the world know you were pregnant before him. it was like the stars shon in your eyes, as if the very key to living was buried somewhere within your soul and he just had to be the first to grasp it.
your heart is bursting, a weeks worth of sleepless nights and fretting over destroying your relationship had come to this. to holding each other in the dim light, both terrified for what was to come.
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sweetestcaptainhughes · 6 months ago
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Is it a Dark Day? - Cole Caufield
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Word Count - 1.9k
Summary - For the first time since you started dating Cole, your depression seems to be coming back to kick you in the ass. Scared of how Cole will react, you do the only logical thing and pull away.
Warnings - depression, the effects of depression, executive functioning issues, but ends in fluff.
Authors Note: This the first part of a series I plan on writing where I take one mental health issue or any type of disorder and pick a player to write about how they would react if their significant other had it. If you have any ideas for future ones or future players please send me an ask. As always thank you for reading and sorry for not posting much lately. 💜
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Sometimes your brain likes to remind you that you were in fact not a normal happy person. It was an act that you’ve learned to master over the years, sometimes you're such a good actor you even fool yourself. Until your brain reminds you that you are in fact an actor. Someone who plays a part, and it will happen in a flash. Feeling as if you're having a good day, and then suddenly you hear a song that reminds you of something and you start to feel that exhausted and craving your bed. Or you will be out with friends and they remind you of something they find funny but it only reminds you of how much you were struggling at the time. Although the worst one was when you don’t even know the trigger, you could have been having a great time and then suddenly you will be on your couch for the next three days rotting away. 
The worst part was this time, it’s almost like you felt the signs but ignored it. It started with the fact that it had been a stressful week at work, then you felt tired all the time, you found yourself being late to work simply because you couldn’t get yourself out of bed. Sadly, you were used to this popping up every once in while, knowing it was inevitable to get this all too familiar sadly almost welcoming feeling in your head. It’s like you had a brain fog come over and no matter what you did you couldn’t shake the feeling. But this time was different from all the others, this time you were dating the actual definition of a very hyper individual who always had some joke to say or a smile on his face. Cole was quickly becoming one of your favorite human beings but you didn’t want him to see you like this where you haven’t even taken a shower in 2 days. Cole was one of those people that radiated sunshine and it made you sink further into your couch thinking about how he would react to you right now. Again, your brain makes you think that he would judge you like others have for when your brain made you hate yourself. Thankfully, Cole was on a roadie so what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. 
Knowing that you should probably answer Cole’s messages or answer one of his many facetime calls but you just couldn’t bring yourself to. Somehow during the last couple days, your mind seemed to alter your perception of time. Thinking that Cole would still be on his roadie for at least another day. But suddenly you heard banging on your apartment door. 
“Baby?! Open the door please.” Cole pleaded on the other side of the door. Hearing his voice shocked you to your core, part of you wanted to open the door and tackle him. Allowing yourself to feel his comforting warmth hoping that some of it would make you feel even a tiny bit better. The rest of you were screaming to pull yourself more into the hoodie that you were wearing, pulling the blankets higher up to hide your body from the world. Letting your emotions overtake you when you realized you were wearing Cole’s hoodie because you wanted him more than anything 3 days ago when you started your couch rotting. It’s funny how time can change things, because nothing could get you up now and walk 30 feet to go open your apartment door. 
Cole’s pleas and banging didn’t stop, “baby please! Tell me what I did.” he begged through the door. “y/n?” he said much softer than before, you could barely hear it from where you were hiding in your living room. “Please open up or I’m gonna use my key you gave me for emergencies.” The tears that were lightly streaming down your face now full on ugly crying. Of course that was the moment Cole decided to enter your apartment. 
Hearing the door shut behind him as he entered your apartment. “Love where are you?” he asked, before he noticed what appeared to be the shape of your body on the coach. Once Cole did notice you, it was like he was on his knees in front of the sectional in seconds, even though he was on the other side of the apartment. “Mamas you awake, my love?” he asked gently as you felt him taking his palm and rub comforting circles all down your side. As your body registered his voice and processed words and touched your silent sobs became very much more real and loud. 
“Hey shhh babygirl whats wrong?” he asked as his other hand not rubbing circles now your back went to grab the edge of the blanket. In a quiet voice Cole spoke his next words very carefully.  “Honey, baby I'm gonna remove the blanket okay.” 
His voice was telling you that he wasn’t asking but you didn’t care as you started to protest. “No no don’t” your voice started to crack “no I don’t want you to.” As you grabbed the blanket to keep it from moving. 
“Why not?” you could tell in his voice that he was feeling hurt. 
“I don’t want you to see me like this.” softly you admit not sure if your confession was more of admitting to Cole you didn’t want him to see you or confirming what your body was telling you earlier. 
His voice barely over a whisper “what? Did I hurt you? Baby you haven’t answered a single one of my texts in 2 days, I spent most of today trying to not panic as I called your phone. Please baby let me see if you're okay?” Hearing his voice on the last few words and how he seemed to be fighting his own emotions. Feeling as if your own heart broke at that moment, the last thing you wanted to do was bring Cole down with you. 
“You're gonna judge me.” you mumble, most of you knows that your thoughts are irrational but the part of your brain that’s calling the shots at the moment truly believes. 
“Never.” his voice stern. With that yoo you couldn’t help but let out a little okay. Within seconds you could feel Cole slowly pulling back the safety of your blankets. Only pulling them down enough to see your face. “Hi beautiful.” he grins at you, the relief clear not only in his voice but his face as his eyes are finally able to see you after being radio silent for 2 days. 
He moves your head so that you're looking up at him as he asks you “please tell me what’s wrong.” He moves his hands so that they are able to wipe some of the tears off your face. 
“I don’t know.” your voice squeaking. Finally letting your eyes focus on him, you see his face is full of nothing but worry. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-” 
“You’re okay. I’m not mad, baby… I just- I want to know what’s going on in your head.” he admits, and your stomach drops at his confession. Loving Cole was one of your favorite things in your entire life, but Cole was different, he had this way of always being happy. How could someone who you have never even seen to have a frown on his face understand that your brain sometimes fights itself. Leaving you feeling as if even doing the most basic mundane task is out of reach and you don’t even know why. 
Cole has never seen you struggle with your depression and it’s a lot. On top of his busy schedule due to being in the middle of the season, trying to move up from third line or second. Somehow your brain has convinced you all in a matter of minutes that Cole doesn’t have time to sit back and watch you fight your battles. You didn’t even realize that you were lost in thought until you heard Cole’s voice again. 
“Baby” his voice is soft but loud enough for your brain to register that someone was speaking to you. 
“I- I- sometimes I just - my brain it's like it.” Struggling to say what you want to say, finding the words to describe how much you truly feel like death at the moment. 
“Is it a dark day?” he asks gently. You look at him in shock, “it’s okay to have a bad day every once in a while honey. Just please don’t push me away.” softly bending down and kissing your forehead, your body automatically chasing his lips as they leave your forehead. 
“What if it’s more than a day?” you ask.
“Then I’ll be here please just let me love you.” he asks.
“Okay.” feeling yourself caving, allowing Cole to help you, it's almost like your body felt just a sliver of lightness for the first time in days, knowing that Cole felt the same way with the smile he had on his face. 
He moved his hands so they were under your arms gently lifting you so he could lay comfortably with you on the coach. “Okay we can lay here for a little longer, then I’m gonna help you shower and get some clean sweats on alright?” 
All you can do is nod, feeling overwhelmed with the love that Cole is showing you. Cole stayed true to his words after a few minutes he picked you up and carried you to the bathroom. Balancing on the balls of his feet in front of you on the toilet seat, his hands resting in yours on your thighs.He already turned on the water to warm up “Do you want me to stay or are you gonna shower by yourself.” 
“Don’t leave.” the phrase rushing out of you, feeling scared if you didn’t get it out fast enough Cole would leave you again with nothing left but your thoughts to keep you company.
“I won’t until you tell me. We can shower together it’s okay” Finally making eye contact with him again, a giant pout on your lips looking as if you were gonna cry again. He took one of his hands that was resting with yours and took it to your face. “Hey hey you're alright. I promise. This will pass.” Finally moving his lips to yours for the first time since he came over, it was full of nothing less than the love he felt for you. He poured every single emotion into that kiss, it made you feel loved, safe, adored, cared for. Finally pulling apart you whisper a small ‘thanks.’ “Let’s get you cleaned up baby.” As he helps you undress and then quickly shedding his own clothes before helping you in the shower. He helped you wash your body and your hair, giving you little wet kisses all over your body, whispering reassuring words between the kisses. He wasn’t trying to start anything, he just wanted to show you how much he loved you when you couldn’t find anything to love about yourself. 
Cole stayed with you that night, actually his only entire weekend off. He had to go to morning skate that Monday morning since it wasn’t optional. But from that weekend on you never felt closer to Cole. He was your light even on your darkest days, and he helped you find yourself every time you felt your depression pulling you away. Every time he noticed you randomly ghosted him. Or seemed distant in your eyes like your mind was somewhere else, he would always ask you one simple question “is today a dark day?” so that he always knew how to care for his girl.
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gyeomsweetgyeom · 1 year ago
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[9:12 am]
(cw: f!reader, Jaehyun is an asshole, angst with happy ending)
Yesterday had been a bad day. Scratch that- the last 14 hours had been bad. You had gotten home, tired from your day out with friends to find Jaehyun getting ready to leave.
“Oh, sorry I forgot to mention I had plans tonight. I’ll be back later, ok?” He had said casually, kissing your cheek before heading out the door for the night.
That had been right around seven. Then 11 o’clock rolled around and your texts went unanswered. 3 o’clock and your calls were being ignored. It had caused a huge anxious ball of nerves to form in the pit of your stomach which kept you up until now. Every time somebody in the hall would come home, you’d think it was Jaehyun. Someone in one of the other apartments would make a quiet noise and your head would snap toward the door. The caffeine from all the coffee you were drinking was giving you as much anxiety as it was energy. All your texts to mutual friends sent through the night had only been answered a few minutes ago stating they hadn’t been with Jaehyun all night. If he wasn’t with them then who was he with?
You started another pot of coffee when finally the front door opened. A haggard looking Jaehyun dragged his feet to the living room and threw himself onto the couch. “Oh my god! Jaehyun, are you alright?” You asked, rushing over to his side to not-so-subtly look for wounds.
“I’m fine,” came his voice, muffled by one of the throw pillows.
“Where were you? I called and texted you a dozen times. I was so worried.”
“I told you I had plans,” he sighed.
“Having plans now means you can stay out all night without letting your girlfriend know?” You asked while your annoyance for his nonchalance grew and grew.
“I had too much to drink and I had to stay at my friend’s house, ok?” He replied, standing from the couch to head to the bedroom.
“Why are you being so evasive? I texted all your friends and nobody was with you!”
He threw his hands up, turning to face you, “I hung out with a friend from elementary school, I went to her place, we had a few drinks, my phone died, and now I’m here. I’m at home. I’m hungover and I’m tired is that it?”
“But I talked to your friends from elementary school and they said they hadn’t seen you,” you reply quietly.
He groaned loudly, tilting his head back, “I hadn’t talked to her in a while. She sent me a DM and we started catching up and then she invited me to hang out.”
“So you hung out with a girl who you haven’t seen in years after she randomly messaged you?”
“That’s what I said, yeah,” he nodded.
“And you didn’t tell me where you were going, who you were with, and stayed out all night. How do I even know you’re telling me the truth right now?” You ask incredulously.
His eyes widened in surprise, “What are you trying to suggest right now?”
“I’m not suggesting anything Jaehyun. If your series of events sound fishy, then maybe it’s because they are.”
“I didn’t cheat on you,” he states shakily.
You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, brushing past him to walk to the bedroom. You begin changing out of your pajamas and into an outfit to leave the house, wile he nervously gnaws on his lips. You stay silent and blank faced while you move around the room to get ready.
He finally speaks up while you grab your purse, “Where are you going?”
“Oh, did I forget to mention I had plans? I’ll be back later, ok?” You parrot his words back with a condescendingly sweet smile. His mouth opens but no sound comes out as you walk out the door.
You don’t return until early evening. You feel refreshed and relaxed, a weight off your shoulders, until “I’ve been calling you all day! Why didn’t you answer me?”
“I got busy. Decided I should hang out with one of my elementary friends who keeps swiping up on my stories and just see how he was doing,” you lie, moving to the couch.
“Ha ha, very funny,” Jaehyun deadpans, “You didn’t actually do that did you?”
“Who knows? But whether or not I did, why is it ok for you to act that way but not for me?” You ask, crossing your arms across your chest.
He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, you can see the tips of his ears turning red, and some small, tiny, part of you is beginning to feel a little guilty about your actions. He sighs out deeply, “I’m sorry. I mean that. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that and I promise you nothing happened. Even if you didn’t think anything did, I want to reassure you that nothing happened with her.”
“Thank you,” you nod curtly in response, “I spent the whole day shopping by the way.”
“I promise I won’t ever do anything like that again either. Not just because it was totally out of line, but also because I remembered why I stopped talking to her. She was kind of a bully all those years ago and nothing has changed. She wanted to talk about all the drama and problems she had with people when we were 7- it’s been like 20 years!”
You laugh quietly, “why didn’t you answer my calls?”
“That’s the worst part! She had my phone in phone jail because I started texting you back while she started a movie. That’s why I started drinking so much, and she made me sleep on her floor because her couch was quoted not a resting couch. And! She told me she was gonna have a whole reunion party and I was the only idiot that forgot how rude she was as a kid and didn’t block her. So again, I’m sorry and I promise it will never- ever happen again. I will let you chip me like a dog and put me on a lea-”
You held up a hand, “Jaehyun stop talking please, I already got the full story and I’m not doing that. Let’s move on ok?”
He sighed happily, “I’m blocking her too. Her instagram, her number, her facebook, her MySpace, her twitter, her X, her profile on LinkdIn, her threads, her Pinterest-”
You laughed loudly, covering his mouth with your hand, “Stop! I get it!”
“And I’m telling everyone she’s still awful.”
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estrellami-1 · 1 year ago
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If I Should Stay
Y’all are the best. Seriously. I love y’all. One quick note: if y’all reblog, please include the tag “#if I should stay” (mind the capital i) so people can find the rest of the parts! Thanks so much!!! ❤️
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Eddie does end up following Robin because he does not, in fact, have a death wish.
Even if, apparently, he dies in the future. Go figure.
She instructs him to grab his guitar. “Why in the fuck,” he starts, then reconsiders when Robin whips around to stare at him. “Anyone ever tell you you’re terrifying?”
Robin shrugs a shoulder. “Not as much as they should.”
She stashes her bike in the back of his van and directs him to the Harrington residence, where Steve’s waiting, arms crossed, wondering smile on his face. “Miracle worker,” he calls, and Robin laughs as she grabs her bike from the back.
“Hate to break it to ya, Dingus, but you’re just not scary.”
“I’m plenty scary. I’ve got a nail bat.”
“Right, because that would beat Nance’s sawed-off in a fight.”
“Hey, it could! You never know! They’ve got different ranges!”
Robin rolls her eyes at Eddie, like she’s asking if he can believe it, which. No. No he can’t.
“Sorry,” he says, regretting everything when they both look at him. “What the actual fuck is happening?”
“Come inside,” Steve says, suddenly all business. “We’ve got a lot to discuss.” His eyes find Robin’s. “One of ‘em took Barb last night.”
“Fuck,” Robin whispers.
“Yup. Will’s been missing for two days. Maybe, if we get down there soon enough…”
“Let’s hope so. Which one of the rugrats found El?”
“I think they all did? But Mike’s the one who took her in.” He shakes his head, mouth a grim line. “I saw Dustin today. They’re kids, Robs.”
“So are we,” she reminds him, heaving a tired-sounding sigh. “A buncha kids fighting real-life monsters.”
“Monsters?” Eddie parrots.
Somehow they end up inside while Steve goes to pick up the Party. Who the party is, Eddie doesn’t know. Just like he doesn’t know why he’s in Steve’s Harrington’s house with someone who isn’t Steve Harrington.
“Who’s the Party?” He asks Robin. “And why am I here again? If I die, doesn’t that mean I shouldn’t be here? Should be somewhere far, far away instead?”
“The Party’s a group of kids Steve babysits. They’re the first ones to go through this whole mess. And admittedly, you’re here partially because you can help, and partially for selfish reasons.” She offers him a lopsided grin. “Believe it or not, watching you die was kinda traumatic.”
“Right,” he says slowly. “And you and Steve? How do you know each other? He and Nancy Wheeler are the talk of the town, and if he’s stepping out-”
“He wouldn’t,” she says harshly. “Ever.” She takes a breath. “Two years from now, or a year ago, he and I work together in a mall. Long story short, we get captured and tortured by Russians. High on truth serum, I tell him I’m a lesbian in the bathroom, we help take down the big bad, and boom. Instant platonic soulmates.”
Eddie gapes at her. “What the fuck.”
“Just about,” she nods. “Oh, and the kids love D&D, so you’ll have plenty to talk about. They’re little shits but they’re also kinda great once you get to know them.”
Eddie stares at her. The front door opens, and Steve walks in, followed by a gaggle of preteens and Nancy Wheeler.
“Robs,” Steve says, not slowing his stride as he begins taking the stairs two at a time. “Bathroom. Now.”
Robin grimaces. “Breakdown time,” she murmurs to Eddie, then follows Steve, leaving everyone else staring at each other.
“So,” Eddie says. “I heard you like D&D?”
A dark-haired kid who looks suspiciously like Nancy narrows his eyes. “You play?”
“Play!” Eddie repeats. “I don’t just play, my young friend, I am the greatest Dungeon Master this side of the Mississippi.”
A curly-haired kid begins to grin. “I think we should put that to the test.”
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lesbiankimdahyun · 6 months ago
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CONTRACT LOVER V: MINA
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2.3K words
CW: A/B/O dynamics, G!P
A/N: this is most likely the final installment for this series, ty for reading <3
[A!Mina x F!O!Reader]
When you finally had enough strength to get up and check your phone, you saw a text from Mina already waiting for you. 
Minari [2 hours ago]: Meet me in my room when you’re done? 
You scrambled to get moving. You willed your sore, tired body to go faster, but it took you a bit of time to get dressed. On wobbly legs, you made your way up a few floors and over to Mina’s hotel room. 
As soon as she opened the door, your mouth began watering. She had brought back practically enough takeout to feed you, her and the other two Alphas.
“Hi,” you said shyly, tucking your hair behind your ear. You could hardly look at her, wondering, for the first time, how she perceived you when you both knew exactly what you’d been up to in the hours she was away. But upon seeing your weary state, Mina immediately ushered you in to sit down and reached for the takeout. You tried to help her set up the food, but she wouldn’t let you. 
You didn’t realize just how hungry you had been until she set a plate in front of you. Rice, salmon, vegetables, all of it was delicious. You really tried not to wolf down your food, but you were so focused on eating that it was impossible for you to hold a conversation with Mina while you ate. In lieu of conversing, the Alpha turned on a drama for the two of you to watch instead. When you were finally sated, you felt ready to sleep for days. Savoring your last bite, though, you knew Mina must have invited you over for more than a meal with zero conversation. You turned your attention back to the Alpha and started to take off your shirt, feeling about as ready as you could be for another round of sex. You prayed it would be gentler than what you’d endured earlier. 
But to your surprise, Mina stopped you. The Alpha covered her eyes when you started pulling your shirt over your head. 
“Wait!” she said, batting at your arm to get you to stop. “I just kinda wanna…I don’t know, hang out? If that’s okay..?” You could have cried from how grateful you felt at that moment. You immediately pulled your shirt back down, watching her make space for you on the couch. 
Tiny emotional warning bells went off in your head as she pulled you closer to her to cuddle, but your body turned them off and you let her hold you, resting with your head against her chest. You knew you needed to sort through whatever was happening beneath the surface with Mina, but it just wasn’t the time— it was never the right time. What it was, though, was comfortable. 
As time passed, the two of you became deeply embroiled in a debate over what movie you both wanted to watch. While browsing for backup options, when suddenly you realized how gross you probably looked, and smelled, to Mina after being repeatedly ravaged and scented by Momo and Sana. 
“Oh god,” you said, embarrassed. “I- I should shower.” You sat up quickly, leaving the warmth of her arms. 
“You could shower here,” Mina said, not quite ready for you to leave. “Or, actually,” her voice grew softer, “I might have an idea.” 
She let you rinse off quickly in her shower to get the remnants of sex and sweat off your body, and then Mina ran a bath for you, wanting to give you a bit of aftercare she knew Momo and Sana absolutely weren’t giving you. That’s what she said it was, anyway. To you, it felt like far more than what she probably was expected to do for her end of the contract, but you let it go. The visual of the bath when it was ready was far too tempting to pass up.
She held your hand as she helped you into the tub. The warm water felt incredible on your aching muscles, and you let out a slow hum of approval. You brightened instantly as you sat down to settle in. The bubbles and water running over your skin made your bruises, bites and scratches shiny like fresh tattoos. Mina admired you quietly, secretly committing the image to her memory. 
With more energy to converse now, you asked about the rest of her day as you reached for the bar of soap to start washing yourself. Mina took it instead, insisting you let her do the work for you. You went back and forth a little, but when she finally just said, “Y/N, please?” you caved. 
Your cheeks went bright pink while she washed you gently, even taking care to not get shampoo or conditioner in your eyes when she rinsed out your hair. She told you about the rest of her day– the shops she visited, the meal she ate while she was out, about the people and landscapes she saw. 
She trailed off, distracted by how cute you looked surrounded by all of the bubbles in the bath. The way you looked at her while you listened attentively made her heart twist with want and ache. She wished Momo and Sana could see you like this. Maybe it would make them take more care with you after fucking you for hours. Maybe she wouldn’t be so sour about sharing you with them if they just looked after you a little more. Or maybe she should just put an end to it and finally tell them– tell you– 
“...Alpha?” 
The sound of your voice brought her back to reality. Mina frowned. “You don’t have to call me that,” she said. 
You smiled softly. “I know, I was just trying to get your attention because your name didn’t.” 
She blushed a little. “Oh. Sorry,” she said. 
You shook your head. “No, no. I just wanted to know if…” you hesitated, holding onto the edge of the tub. Maybe this was a bad idea. “...you would join me?” you gestured to the tub. “We could drain this and add more fresh hot water.” 
Mina’s big, brown eyes blinked quietly at you. 
Oh fuck, you thought. You totally had misread her. You opened your mouth to say forget it, but then you saw Mina smile. Like, really smile, the cute gummy smile you got out of her sometimes. “Okay,” she said, getting up from the floor where she’d been kneeling beside the tub. 
She dimmed some of the lighting and, after adding more hot water and more bubbles, Mina finally ditched her clothes and joined you. You tried not to stare, but you couldn’t help but admire her body as she got comfortable in the water with you. You knew this probably violated your contract in some way, something about fairness and equal turns and time, but you didn’t care. Clearly Mina didn’t, either.  
“Do you have enough room?” she asked, and you nodded. 
The two of you relaxed together. At first, you were across from one another, but when Mina wanted to stretch out a bit, you moved over to her side of the tub. You wrapped yourself around Mina naturally, the water gently covering and then retreating from the curves of both of your bodies. Your fingertips found their way through swaths of bubbles and onto her skin, tracing over her collarbone, down her shoulder, along her arm. 
Your eyes wandered over the rest of her body, mesmerized by the rise and fall of her pale chest, the way her breasts were barely hidden beneath what the transparent bubbles did their best to cover. Even though you were bone tired, you found yourself getting a bit wet the more you admired her. Mina hadn’t put her hair up and her long, black locks swirled in the water. She’d never looked more siren-esque. You didn��t realize your scent had gotten stronger until Mina suddenly cleared her throat.
“Y/N…” she said, taking a slow breath. “Are you okay?” 
You blushed, suddenly looking up from staring at the beauty marks near her lips. “Hm? Oh, I’m fine.”
The Alpha chuckled lightly. “Are you sure? Maybe it’s time to get out before you turn into a prune.” 
“No!” you protested with a laugh, readjusting yourself in the water and absentmindedly straddling her waist. You just wanted to keep her close for a little longer. “If anyone’s turning into a prune it’s y–” you stopped suddenly as you felt something. 
Mina realized at the same time you did: she was getting hard. 
“Shit,” the Alpha said under her breath, backing away from you, trying to create a little distance. “I’m sorry, let me get out and–”  
“Mina no, no,” you said softly, reaching for her hand. A light wave of desire rolled through you as your fingers touched hers. “Let me help you.” 
The Alpha shook her head in disbelief. “Y/N no, you already took all of us once today! You should be resting. Please, let me get out and get you a towel.” 
“Mina,” you said, now intentionally planting yourself in her lap so she couldn’t get up, “I can smell your scent too, you know.” 
Mina blushed deeply. “Which is why I should really–” 
“Please?” you said. It wasn’t like you to beg like this, especially in the state you were in. You knew you shouldn’t, but you did it anyway: you released some of your scent quickly in a last ditch effort to change her mind. 
“Hey!” Mina protested a moment later when your scent hit her nose, but then came her own strengthened scent. The Alpha mulled it over for a few seconds. “Are you absolutely sure?” 
You nodded, putting one hand on Mina’s shoulder to steady yourself as you reached down, your hand hovering above her hardened member. “May I?” 
The Alpha nodded. You took her cock in your hand as you straddled her, pumping her length slowly. Mina’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “Y-you really don’t have t-”
You interrupted her, kissing her soft, parted lips. “I want to,” you said firmly. 
The Alpha looked stunned. “A-aren’t you not supposed to…to do that…” 
It was true– your contract didn’t forbid it, but kissing an Alpha on their lips was discouraged, lest it lead to feelings and thoughts of mating. But Mina’s mouth fell open as she watched you guide her cock between your legs, forgetting she’d said anything as you sank down on her length. She let out a soft moan, and you whimpered immediately at the fullness. 
She held onto your hips lightly, trying to thrust into you as gently as she could. But even with the slower pace, the water in the bathtub threatened to spill over. Sliding out of you, you watched inquisitively as Mina maneuvered her way out from beneath you and stood up in the water. 
“We’ll flood the bathroom,” she said with a hint of a smile, climbing out of the tub. Her stiff cock hit her thigh lightly as she stood and toweled off. “I promise the bed’s more comfy anyway.” 
Eyes fixated on her, you nodded wordlessly, letting the Alpha help you out of the tub and into a warm, fluffy towel. As soon as you both were nice and dry, you were in her bed, straddling Mina once again. One hand held onto her shoulder as you picked up where you’d left off: sitting down on her full length, while your other hand held Mina’s own hand in place as she cupped your face lightly. 
Mina took great care with how she handled your sore body as she fucked you. Her touch was gentle, almost loving, as were the words of pure praise she whispered to you while she thrust into you as gently as she could manage. Her eyes were shut tight in concentration to keep her Alpha instincts in check so she wouldn’t hurt you. Something about her tenderness and self restraint made you want to cry, but you told yourself it was just because you were overtired. Mina bit her tongue when she came, burying her head in your neck to avoid admitting something she knew she shouldn’t as she filled you up once more for the evening. She insisted on getting you off afterward, her delicate hands wrapped around your thighs as she lapped slowly and skillfully at your cunt until you came in her mouth. 
Entirely spent, you allowed Mina to dress you in one of her t-shirts. You attempted to sit up to find the rest of your clothes, but the Alpha quickly talked you into sleeping with her in her bed instead of going back to your room. Not that it would have taken much convincing given how badly you needed to rest, but Mina was still secretly delighted you were going to stay. 
As soon as she was done getting ready for bed, she climbed under the covers with you and you snuggled up to her sleepily. You had not a single second to unpack any of your thoughts before you promptly fell asleep feeling warm and protected against Mina’s chest. 
The Alpha held you close for a few minutes, allowing herself to be selfish and scent you heavily before gently moving you to a more comfortable sleeping position beside her. She watched you as you slept, her eyes taking in every detail of your face from your eyelashes down to the relaxed corners of your mouth. 
Mina’s normal before-bed routine included gaming on her Switch, but it was still back in your room. She didn’t mind, though. Having you be the last thing she saw before falling asleep instead of a pixelated world, she decided, was just as good, if not better. Before she turned off the bedside lamp, she texted Momo and Sana to let them know you were with her so they wouldn’t be frustrated in the early morning trying to find you when they needed release again. Then, satisfied, she promptly turned the lamp off and wrapped herself around you for the night. 
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infamousbrad · 6 months ago
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Biden's "Dean Scream"?
A week and a half ago, I was convinced that "Biden had one bad debate performance" was going to be a 3-day story. But now I see why it wasn't. (I mean, aside from the fact that summer is Silly Season in US journalism.) How well do you remember Howard Dean's final run for the Democratic nomination?
Howard Dean was a "progressive" by the standards of his time, that is to say, slightly to the left of, say, Richard Nixon at a time when the post-Bill-Clinton center-right wing of the Democratic Party totally controlled the nomination process, and he was running on an FDR-liberal type platform.
And the press spent the whole time he was in the race asking him the same question over and over again, "Does this mean that you're angry at the 'Third Way' Democrats? I'll bet you're angry at Bill Clinton and the 'Third Way' Democrats? Governor Dean, why don't you say a word about how angry you are?" Because if he was still running against "militant centrism" in a post-liberal party, he must be angry, right?
But he really wasn't. I never saw him actually get angry that whole campaign. He was happy to have inspired so many volunteers, and proud of his plan to rejuvenate the state-party apparatuses in written-off "red states," and never not happy to talk to a reporter, any reporter. Which was all the proof they needed to show that he was not only angry, he was nefarious. Because they couldn't imagine any plausible reason why anybody would go to as much effort as he did unless they were genuinely angry.
After the New Hampshire primary, he stood up in front of a group of his campaign volunteers to cheer them on, and they handed him a defective microphone. So he screamed his cheers into the dead microphone, so the volunteers in the back could hear him over the din. But the press microphones? Worked. And he didn't sound excited, he sounded deranged. And I swear to God, 100% of the political press reported it as "Howard Dean finally reveals his inner anger," even though the video shows him grinning and smiling like a child on Christmas.
Why could nothing disprove the "Howard Dean is the Angry Candidate" theory before, why was evidence to the contrary taken as proof it was true?
Because it fit the pre-existing narrative.
Look, we have never not known that Biden's age was going to be a problem. Even as he was sweeping the primaries in 2020, it came up. That's where the "he knows he's too old, he's just reassuring older voters that the party is normal, he's going to step aside for Kamala Harris" rumor got started, remember that? No matter how many times Biden himself denied it?
And if there was any truth to it, there's no point to it now. She hasn't gotten any better at either of the president's jobs, not at public speaking nor at shepherding legislation, so unsurprisingly she polls even worse than Biden.
Should Biden be replaced because he's getting slower and more mumbly as he ages? Did Reagan? He sailed to easy re-election despite the fact he was visibly declining by the end of his first term, way faster than Biden is now. His White House Chief of Staff, Howard Baker, was, by all accounts, acting president for at least three years, making sure that the last person to talk to Reagan before he had to make a decision was the person Baker thought that Reagan would have agreed with if he could remember anything that was happening around him.
(It's not even the most extreme example in US national politics: look up stories about Strom Thurmond's last term in the Senate, which was full-on "Weekend at Bernie's.")
An entirely senile top official who put a good team into place before he sundowned can do a perfectly good job. And trying to replace him would just hand the election to Trump. So no, even if he were as tired and confused as the press and jealous Democrats are painting him, that wouldn't be a good reason to replace him, not at this late of a date.
(If the entire party apparatus had discussed this behind closed doors and agreed to set up, say, Michigan's governor Whitmer or Pennsylvania's governor Shapiro as an agreed-upon backup candidate in case something like this happened, and gotten it done no later than, say, spring of '23, we'd have a minimally plausible option. But we didn't, so we don't. The choice isn't Biden or someone better, it's Biden vs Trump or Trump unopposed.)
But even given how weak-sauce the argument that a few verbal slips and mutters mean that Biden can't perform the duties of the president is, I suddenly realize now why it wasn't a three-day story. Just like the Dean Scream, he handed them the proof they needed of something they've been saying for four years, long before it was true, and everybody loves being "proved" right. Because, as I always say:
Confirmation bias is a hell of a drug.
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bitchimasnake-sss · 1 year ago
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unwinding after a long day ft. luffy!
in which, after a long day, he comes right back to you <3
ft. luffy x fem!reader
set-up: its been a tiring day for him, good thing you're right here to offer your services (wink wink)
warnings: both sfw/nsfw headcanons for this dumbass; nsfw stuff includes penetration, cockwarming, raw!fucking (kids use protection pls 👍)
luffy:
Tumblr media
sfw!!
- after a long, long day of eating, running around the deck with ussop, defeating like five sea kings, enduring 53628 kicks and punches from the crew (how is this man a captain is beyond me sometimes), luffy is bound to be tired - you're laying on your bed post-dinner, absent-mindedly chipping away the nail polish - you feel the mattress next to you dip lowly as he jumps next to you, face-first - "ynn-" he's whining, wrapping his hands around you and intertwining his legs between yours, "ynnnnnn" "hmm?" you hum, still busy picking apart the colour on your nails "i'm so, so soooo tired" a laugh escapes you, "really? is it due to all the running?" and now he's pouting, "are you saying it's my own fault?" - you peck his cheek, then flash him a grin, "how can i ever say that?" - most of the nights, you silence him by giving him a massage - you don't even think you're good at it but holy shit this boy is obsessed with getting a quick massage from you. - and this has led to quite the number of misunderstandings. "yn," he had asked you when the crew were eating dinner together, "can we do that thing at night? i really need it." "WHAT THE FUCK-" nami is punching luffy in his guts, his food is being thrown out of his mouth and onto zoro, "WE ARE EATING." - he meant massage. - you knew it, he knew it. the rest of the crew? they assumed you were fucking (they aren't wrong, per se. they just didn't want to believe that all the sounds of bed creaking wasn't from you both jumping around, rip them) - yeah ussop threw up and sanji fell to his knees and cried for like 57 mins because how did luffy manage to bag you??? - zoro hasn't spoken in two days from the shock of it (and the traumatic experience of having food spit on him) and nami has retired to her room for a whole business week, she is now only conversing by using chopper as her message carrier - chopper is confused (poor bby 😭😭, he assumed it was massage or something and he is the only one who's correct) - anyways, other than getting massages, sometimes he starts rambling on about something or the other till he falls asleep mid-conversation - rest assured because he will continue whenever he wakes up "where was i?" he's shaking you awake "luffy" you groan, "it's like two am, go to sleep" "oh right, so ussop told chopper than reindeers are called reigndeers because they used to be actual kings back in the ancient times and so rein means reign and not rain like most people as-" he falls asleep again mid conversation - tf are you supposed to do with this man?? - peak, sheer dumbassery even when he's tired
nsfw!!
- this man refuses to entertain one-sided favours - your soft hands were kneading away the tension on his biceps a few minutes ago, so obviously he should return the favour back by massaging your back - you refuse many times because as much as you love luffy, this man does not understand his own strength - so you have a very valid fear that he would break your spine as he gives you a massage - "this isn't fair, let me do it too ughh" "how about no" "okay then let me fuck you, you'd like that right?" - didn't even blink twice plz 😭😭 - this dude is dead serious. - he gotta make up to you for being such a sweetheart to him one way or the other - that explains how he was pulling your top off, sucking sweetly on your tits, fingers gently rubbing over your clothed pussy - that also explained how he pulled you onto his lap, slipping in his dick inside you, stretching you out with a loud moan "you always take it so well, don'tcha?" he grins at you, tipping your head upwards and kissing you - refuses to move tho. - basically baited you into cockwarming him - what a royal asshole. - "what is it?" he coos when he feels your walls clamp down on him, your fingers desperately toying with your clit to get some sort of relief "pl- pleasefuckme-" there's tears clinging onto your lashline, your lips are red from how long you've been biting and chewing on them "hm?" he grins at your state, "what was that you said?" "please-" your breath hitches as he thrusts into you suddenly "fuck you?" "go- god. fuck, yes" his thrusts are merciless, pounding into you at a speed that has your overstimulated cunt spasming in seconds - doesn't let you go till he feels like he's paid you back enough "that was fun" he nuzzles into your neck, breathing slowly "mhm" you feel yourself dozing off he lays you down before snuggling into you and falling asleep - will end up giving you a massage in the morning anyways - although he can be just a little bit of a dick sometimes, there's no one you would rather unwind with
bonus!!
- ussop (while crying) had to relocate from his cabin to sanji's because the walls are really not that thick and he was next door - "i can hear them-" ussop sniffled, standing at sanji's doorstep, "omg i can hear luffy-" "ussop, you have to learn to face the horrors of the world." sanji spoke firmly, although his expression betrayed the confidence in his voice - actually they both just cried and ate the secret stash of ice-cream sanji had saved up - you and luffy need to pay for their therapy now im afraid 😃
zoro's part <3 sanji's part <3
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everlastingdream · 3 months ago
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Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4
"I don't exactly know either. I was just able to do it one day, and your technologies are not exactly suited to study my changes", Kara shrugged. Now that her secret was out there, she lamented her lost dinner.
"Interesting..." ghost lady said, walking to the couch just to stop in the middle of the room. "Do you manipulate gravity to fly?"
"That is... a very good question actually. I don't think I manipulate Earth's gravity. More like I change my own. And what with the interrogation?"
"Ah, sorry. I couldn't talk with anyone for quite a while. It was boring, to say the least."
Kara felt pang of guilt. Being isolated from everyone and everything, without even knowing who you, are sounded more than horrible. It sounded like the worst nightmare...
But woman was cheerful and curious. So Kara made the obvious choice: she decided to help her.
"Do you want me to help you find out who you were?"
Woman froze, slowly turning around to look at Kara once more.
"Do you really mean it?" she whispered, sudenly looking very fragile. Kara smiled.
"Of course! Since you know that I'm Supergirl, it means you are basically part of Superfriends! We'll found out in no time!"
"Superfriends, huh?" Ghost tentatively smiled back. "Sounds good".
/ / / / / / / / /
"Sooo... do you have any clues yet?" Kara asked while they were flying next morning. They found out that the ghost lady didn't have trouble getting out of the apartment and with some manuvering she was able to follow Kara's flying.
Also she vehemently refused using random name for their convenience. Kara was surprised at her stubborness but then thought about her surname and how sometimes she felt like it was dissappearing and understood it a bit more.
"Well, looking at my clothes I don't think I died a long time ago. And it seems like I had some money".
"Well, it's a start, I guess. We have access to many records, so it should be possible to find you".
"Say, Kara, am I transperent to you? Or you see me completely?"
Kara paused, glancing at the woman beside her. She wasn't transperent at all. And it was somehow a problem in its own right.
"I can see you very clearly", Kara coughed, trying to look if they were near DEO yet. "I will describe you to my sister and she'll help, don't worry".
They spent the rest of the trip in comfortable silence.
/ / / / / / / / /
"Let me get this straight: you are seeing a ghost we spent hours trying to find yesterday, you promised to help her, and she knows you are Supergirl. Am I right?" Alex asked, massaging her nose bridge.
"Yep, sounds about right". Alex looked really pained in the face of her sunny smile.
"Sure, why not. It's not the most bizzare thing that happened with us anyway. Let's try to give your new ghost friend some closure. Wait when Winn learns about it".
Alex opened some kind of search bar, waiting. She looked ruffled and tired, but determined.
"We know it happened not long ago, maybe about month or so, we think", Kara looked at woman and they gave each other the nod. Ghost lady said that despite not knowing her name she retained some common knowledge. And 'it's a limited collection jacket, Kara, they were sold couple of months ago'.
"We think, huh?" Alex raised her brow, but diligently entered time frame.
"Also she is pretty well-off, has black hair and emerald eyes". Woman's image flickered couple of times which Kara understood was out of embarrassment. She didn't lie about seeing her clearly and there was definitely a blush on her cheeks. Alex scowled.
"Just green would be enough, thank you", she typed information in on her tablet. "Anything else you wanna share?"
"I have a piercing in the navel", her new ghost friend whispered right into Kara's ear in a low tone.
"Nope!" Kara squeeked to her sister, casting offended glances at the very smug looking ghost. Woman tapped at her cheek, and Kara refused to aknowledge her own red face. "We will take a look first like that".
"It's good I can't see her". Alex sighed and turned to the big screen. "Tell me if something catches your eye".
All three of them looked closely at the incident reports. Dozens of victims was displayed before their eyes - Kara's forever reminder that she can't save everyone.
"Right there!" Woman screamed, rushing closer.
"Alex! She found it!" Kara stopped her sister.
"I'll rewind it but are you sure? It's non-fatal reports. And more then that..."
"Kara, look!" her ghost friend was glued to the screen with the happy smile that wholly reached her eyes. "It's me! That's my name!"
Under her palm words glowed.
Lena Luthor
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