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#Fang for thought (ic)
deathfavor · 21 days
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@ofcrossroads said: ‘ i don’t need you doing something heroic. ’ (Chifuyu to Kazutora)
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   “ That’s not a very nice way of saying thank you Kazutora! ” Kazutora replies, fingers still clutching the back of the jacket of the person that tried to attack Chifuyu. The guy’s out cold and the tiger doesn’t seem phased by the dead weight of another person. His smile glints in the moonlight as he looks down at where Chifuyu’s sprawled on the ground. “ ‘Cause he had a gun aimed for you so I think you did need me to.”
    Kazutora’s twenty and he should be in jail, but he’s not because he got set free. Somewhat. He’s at least traded a cell for a sanctuary under the leash of Toman. If you call it that; more like a shadow of Toman. “ Hanma sent me. Well, I suppose technically it was Kisaki. “ His nose scrunches up, disdain still evident. Kisaki might have set him free; that doesn’t mean he has to like the guy. Except Kisaki was better now than the one memory he had of him before so the tiger is tentatively willing to give another chance.
  Kazutora slowly blinks at Chifuyu, cocking his head to the side like he’s studying something he’s caught. “ I didn’t break out of jail before you freak out. They let me go for…corrupt trial or something like that? I dunno what Kisaki did. Anyways, that was two months ago. “  He shrugs and extends a hand towards Chifuyu to help him up. “ I was supposed to make my first appearance at next week’s meeting but guess they got word one of the other gangs was going on a hunt for higher ups like you tonight. So Hanma sent me out. “ It’s been successful ; Chifuyu wasn’t hurt other than maybe a scrape or two, he got the guy for them to torture interrogate, and that meant Hanma and Kisaki would be happy.
   He glances around and then back to Chifuyu. “ Do you have a car nearby or you need a ride? Probably best to not be out walking just in case. “
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vocesincaput · 8 months
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@indestructiblelittlefckr (izzy) continued from [x]
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"I think you do, Iz," Frenchie replied tentatively.
He'd been wanting to talk to the older man for a while now. Noticing little bits here and there that things weren't as alright as the other man wanted everyone to believe. Frenchie was more observant than he thought people believed. Or he liked to think so at least.
"Doin' your job shouldn't have been puttin' up with what you did. No should have had to. What he did...I know you've known 'im years and all that, but he shouldn't get to be on the same boat as you."
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fruifruit · 3 months
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bomberdier boss fight should have been in the sky pokemon x and y bird keeper style
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kissitbttr · 11 months
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holup— ima need a moment with my thoughts 🥵🥵 miguel sending reader’s ex a photo mid-sex is so petty and so him!! he would follow up with a video of himself giving you back shots (he’ll hide your face because he’s a gentlemen (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)), flip the camera around to show his face with a smirk and say “lose her number” because he’s a cocky ass mf
MAAAN you’re onto something anon, cuz a waterfall just breaks down in between my legs🤤🤤
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“hmm, you like that huh, baby?”
his lips pulls into a lazy smirk, heavy panting as he pounds you from behind. both of his hands gripping onto your hips, talons digging slightly into the skin giving you the perfect pain of pleasure,
“yes papi—fuck yes” you mewl, mouth slightly wide open as you release another moan that makes his cock twitch. “i love how deep you get inside me”
he exhales a dark chuckle as he pounds faster, “sé que te gusta. dirty, dirty fucking girl.” then he leans slightly to whisper on your ear. “only for me, hm?”
you nod, biting down onto your lower lip as you’re running out of things to say. your brain tends to fogged when you have his cock deep inside your cunt, but you wouldn’t have it any other way,
as he about to fist your hair up, he hears a ‘ding’ coming from your phone. his brows furrowed curiously, because who the fuck is hitting up your phone at this hour? couldn’t be someone from work,
“who’s that?” he asks breathlessly as he watches you pull your head back before grabbing your phone and check,
“aw fuck”
“what?” he asks again, hearing you groan. “who is it?”
“remember Jonathan?” you ask as you look over your shoulder at him
oh man, he does not need to be told twice.
his expression then slowly formed into anger and annoyance, grunting in disgust as he snatches your phone,
“i’ll teach him a fucking lesson” he says through gritted teeth, hips snapping back into yours as he continues to thrust even faster,
miguel unlocks your phone, pressing the camera before he starts to take a video of your backside. the sound of your dirty moans are filling the room as he plunges deeper, his other hand coming to give your ass a smack.
the word ‘papi’ and ‘miguel’ keeps falling off your lips like a prayer, and it just feeds his ego even more. because he knows that Jonathan will watch this video and learns that you don’t belong to that sorry excuse of a man anymore.
no. you belong to him.
“tell me, baby” he adjusts the camera to the back of your head, making sure that your face isn’t in it. “who’s pussy is this?”
“yours” you say without any hesitation, knuckles turning white from gripping the sheets far too hard. “and no one else’s”
“good girl” he then flips the camera to show his face. his expression is dead serious, eyes locked into the screen as if he’s staring Jonathan in person. and for the icing on a cake, his fangs make a tiny bit appearance just to creep him off.
“lose her number, tú hijo de puta. or i’ll kill you” with that he sends it to your ex, throwing your phone to the side. “now he fucking knows to not text you anymore ”
hearing that makes you flush as you giggle. miguel’s hand slowly glide down against you back and pressing you onto the mattress so he can lay his body down completely on top. “my woman” he whispers lowly into your ear,
“hm, maybe next time if he does it again, you should take a picture of me sucking your cock, right papi?” you suggest with a sly smirk,
he groans at that, his hand coming up to choke you as the other supporting his weight beside your torso.
“ay, that’s why you’re my everything, mami”
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yeonzzzn · 5 months
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🤍give up heaven: sunghoon
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pairing: sunghoon x afab!reader word count: 10.6k
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synopsis: when you run into your best friend's ex-boyfriend at your favorite coffee shop thinking it was just a coincidence until seeing him became a daily thing. You can't get him out of your head and start to feel guilty at the very thought of him and things take a turn when he starts making advances towards you.
genre: hockey player!hoon with small mentions of figure skater!hoon, ex-bestfriend bf!hoon, hoon's ex-girlfriend best friend, friends to lovers, slight smut.
warnings: swearing, implied sex, make-out session, fingering, jerking off, verbal fight between reader, the ex, and sunghoon, MINORS DNI. lmk if i've missed anything!
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You tried to avert your eyes when you saw him walk into the coffee shop. Pulling the scarf around your neck up higher and turning your face in the opposite direction. 
His voice echoed throughout the small shop, ordering his regular drink. Why do you still remember how he liked his coffee?
You slowly glanced up, his back was facing towards you, his hand reaching for his wallet from the back pocket of his blue jeans. 
After paying, he stepped back from the counter. You quickly turned your head away again, praying he didn’t see you or would even notice you. 
“Y/N?” 
Well, shit.
There's no point in hiding now. You slowly lifted your head, seeing the soft smile on his face as he slightly leaned to the side to get a look at your face, “It really is you.” 
You awkwardly smile, “Yes, it’s me.” 
Get your shit together, Y/N, come on.
He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped short when his name was called, “Sunghoon! Your iced coffee is ready!” 
“Be right back,” his knuckles tapped on the table, his smile growing. 
You carefully watched as he got his coffee and made his way back to your table, pulling the chair across from you out and seating himself. 
“How have you been?” he asked excitedly, his long fingers wrapping around his coffee, taking a small sip, “It’s been what? A year?” 
You nodded, wrapping your fingers around your warm coffee, “I see you still drink iced coffee even during the winter, some things never change huh?” 
Sunghoon softly chuckled, his smile just growing brighter and wider, his natural fangs peeking from his lips, “Everyone knows iced coffee is superior,” he leaned his elbows onto the table, “Your hair is longer, it looks good. You look good.” 
You smiled, “Thank you, you look really good as well, Sunghoon.” 
Sunghoon gave you a soft smirk and flexed his arms, “Why thank you! Been working out a lot lately.” 
You rolled your eyes and took another sip of your coffee, “You really haven’t changed.” 
His laugh was enough to make you laugh as well, the corners of your lips curving upwards no matter how hard you tried to push it down. 
It felt like old times. 
Speaking about old times…
His smile finally faded, the happy expression he once had was also gone, his face relaxing into a kinda of sad softness. 
His voice trembled, “How is uhh…how is she?” his eyes darted to the corner of the table. 
Oh…he’s still in love with her.
Your lips thinned into a line, trying to figure out what information was appropriate to give out. 
“She’s really good.” it wasn’t a total lie. 
Sunghoon nodded, the corner of his lips barely curling, “That’s… um…that’s good then. I’m glad she’s doing well.” 
It broke your heart that he couldn’t even say your best friend's name. It must still hurt even after a year. 
Sunghoon dated your best friend for almost three years. You remember when the two of you first met him at your college's hockey game. 
He bumped into the two of you, spilling his soda all down your best friend's outfit. Oh, man was she pissed. It didn’t take Sunghoon long to convince her to let him make it up to her. 
After that, they were inseparable. 
Sunghoon was a part of the hockey team, but due to a leg injury, he had to sit out until he was completely healed. But that didn’t stop him from attending every hockey game to support his teammates. He even dragged your best friend along with him. Which eventually led you to tag along as well. 
The three of you became that trio that was inseparable. A package deal. If you saw one of us, the other two were sure to be right behind. 
Everything was perfect until it wasn’t. Their relationship got toxic. They fought more than normally and on hangout days, either your best friend was missing, or Sunghoon was missing. Nothing felt right and the air between your friend group grew thick. Hard to breathe. 
Sunghoon eventually stopped talking to you, and then they broke up. Your best friend stopped hanging around you and slowly stopped speaking to you as well. You figured it was due to the heartbreak, that she just needed her space. You didn’t think it would lead to your friendship slowly becoming nonexistent. 
You two weren’t exactly best friends anymore, but after she healed from the breakup, she came back around. It just wasn’t the same as before Sunghoon came into the picture. 
You two still barely talk, and barely see each other, but still kept that contact and hung out when you could. 
You never understood why she pushed you away, but the heart does crazy things when it’s hurting. 
And you haven’t seen Sunghoon since a couple of months before the breakup, until today. A little over a year later. 
“Well,” Sunghoon’s voice brought you out of your deep thoughts, “I have to get going, need to catch practice.” 
Your eyebrows raised, “You’re playing still?” 
Sunghoon’s doctor finally cleared him to get back on the ice after almost a year of being off it, but due to the team setup they had at that time, he wasn’t able to fully rejoin the team again until around the time of the breakup. He was able to practice and attend the games as a sub if needed, but it was enough for him to keep his mind busy for a little bit. 
You’ve secretly kept up with the scores of the hockey team, knowing Sunghoon was back on the team officially. But after a while you quit. Clearing Sunghoon from your life completely. 
Sunghoon nodded, “Hell yeah I’m still playing, who do you think I am?” he teased, standing up from the table, “But, I am actually not going to hockey practice.” 
The surprise must have shown on your face because Sunghoon was giggling like a child at your confusion, “I joined an ice skating team as a figure skater.” 
You sat up straighter in your chair, “Since when?!”
“Since…well.” He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, it was all you needed to know. 
Being a sub on the hockey team eventually wasn’t enough for Sunghoon to keep his brain busy after the breakup. Until he was officially able to play again, he needed another distraction. Come to find out he loved figure skating as much as hockey, deciding even after being fully back on the hockey team, he kept up with figure skating as well. 
You slowly nodded, “I am really glad you’re doing well for yourself, Sunghoon.” 
He softly nodded back, “Thank you, Y/N. I have to get going, the ice is calling my name.”
You waved at him as he walked to the entrance, him turning back around as his back touched the doors, “It was nice seeing you!” 
You agreed. 
Your best friend sighed as another customer walked into the smoothie shop, holding up her index finger towards you as she walked away and up to the register, taking the customer's order. 
You leaned against the counter, moving the seat back and forth with your hips like a child. 
“Okay,” she said, returning to you after the customer's smoothie was made, “What were you telling me?” 
“Just that the materials you missed in bio today weren't too hard. I took extra notes for you,” you pulled into your backpack taking out the pretty iced blue folder, “Here they are!” you pulled out the stack of notes you made for her, her taking them and holding them to her chest.
“Thank you SO MUCH YN!!!” she placed the papers in a drawer under the counter, “I could kiss you right now. What would I do without you?” 
Probably survive perfectly fine since you had no problem cutting me off after you and Sunghoon broke up. 
You shrugged with a smile, “Fail bio.” 
She laughed and nodded, “Yeah, probably. But I have you to help keep me in the loop!” 
You honestly hated how the two of you could go DAYS sometimes even WEEKS without talking or seeing each other yet she has no problem acting as if nothing ever happened. 
But she was all you had, so you played along with her. 
You dropped your backpack onto the floor, wondering if telling her the other thing was right or wrong. 
You decided to anyway. 
“I also saw Sunghoon the other day.” 
Her movements slowed and her smile faded, “Is that so?” 
You nodded, “We talked for a couple of minutes, but he had to go practice, so it was a short moment.” 
You could see the gears were turning in her brain, “Practice? Guess he was able to get back on the team after all. That’s good at least.” 
“He actually is figure skating now too, that’s where he was headed.” 
Your best friend’s eyes widened, “Wow, I did not see that one coming.” 
You agreed, “It was definitely not something I’d expected Park Sunghoon to do, but I guess it kinda suits him.” 
Your friend nodded, seeing how deep in thought she was. 
You wanted to ask her to speak her mind, but unfortunately, the two of you weren’t that close anymore. 
A couple more customers walked in, sending her back away from you. 
You stood from the seat, grabbing your things, giving her a smile and wave as you walked out. You only came to give her the notes she missed anyway. 
Usually, when she skips out of class she gets the notes from one of the boys she’s secretly messing around with. But every blue moon she asks you. 
You guessed it was the only way to keep in contact with you in some way. 
You quickly stepped into the coffee shop, brushing off the slight snow from your hair, ready to get a sip of your favorite coffee. 
The barista noticed you, giving you his famous thumbs-up, “Already on it YN!” 
You gave him a thumbs-up back. You were so happy you discovered this place, it became one of your comfort places to be. It’s quiet enough to do homework or read, the coffee is amazing and all the baristas know you and your order. What isn’t there to love?
“Fancy seeing you here again,” you whipped around, seeing Sunghoon sitting in your usual spot, a book in his hands and his iced coffee half empty on the table. 
Your brain spasmed, what was he doing here again?
You just nodded, “You’re in my spot.” 
Sunghoon shrugged, “I can move?” 
Well shit, now you feel bad. 
You shook your head, “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind sharing.” 
Sunghoon smiled, eyes flickering back down to his book. 
The barista called your name, turning your attention back to him, “Thank you, Taehyun.” 
His sharky smile warms your heart, “Always,” his eyes darted over to Sunghoon then back to you, “Do you know him?” 
You sighed, “Yes, he’s an old friend.” 
Taehyun nodded, his tongue sliding into his cheek, “He’s been here every day since the last time you were here.” 
You froze, narrowing your eyes, “Honestly?” 
Taehyun nodded again, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay and that he wasn’t some creep.” 
You smiled softly at him, “No need to worry. He’s harmless.” 
Taehyun gave you a half smile, then walked off to finish working. 
You sat down in front of Sunghoon, his eyes not leaving the page of his book. 
You cleared your throat, taking a sip of your coffee. 
Sunghoon glanced up for a second at your throat clearing, “Yes?” 
You cupped your hands around your coffee, “What?” 
Sunghoon sighed and closed his book, setting it on the table, “You only clear your throat like that when you have something to say.” 
Damn, does he remember the small details of you?
“You remember that?” 
Sunghoon chuckled, picking up his iced coffee, “YN, I’ve known you for almost, what? five years? You think I’d just forget everything?” 
Well, no…just didn’t think you’d care enough to remember. you didn’t date me after all. 
All you could do was shrug, “My barista told me you’ve been here every day,”
Sunghoon raised a brow as he sipped on his coffee, finishing it off, “Your barista?” 
“Not like that!” you snapped quietly, wishing you could jump over the table and tackle him, “I’m a regular here, Taehyun just happens to be the barista who always takes care of me.” 
Sunghoon mouthed out a “wow” and leaned back into the seat, “First name bases too?” 
“Sunghoon,” his name falling off your lips felt foreign, mostly since you were speaking to him, “Why are you here every day?” 
He thinned out his lips into a line, eyes looking down at his Converse, “Been looking for a good coffee shop to regular, and this one surprised me when I first came in here. You just so happened to be here the day I decided to try it.”
That sounds…completely true. This coffee shop is incredible. You don’t blame him for wanting to become a regular. It was all a coincidence. 
You sipped down your coffee, feeling the stare of his eyes, “Yes?” 
“So back to Taehyun being your barista,” 
You laughed, kicking your leg into his shin, “Stop!” 
Sunghoon’s fangs slipped out as he smiled. 
Sunghoon’s appearance in the coffee shop became more regular, just like he said. 
Taehyun knew his order by heart, just like yours, and would always have it ready the moment he saw Sunghoon walk in. 
You had to admit, it felt good having him back in your life. It felt like old times when you’d hang out when your best friend was too busy working. You three all used to be so close. 
Yet you didn’t have the heart to tell her you were even hanging out with Sunghoon again. It technically wasn’t even hanging out, you two just happened to sit, talk, and drink coffee together at your favorite coffee shop. 
Another week has flown by with Sunghoon making his appearance at the shop.
You laughed together over a book you both read, Sunghoon feeling Taehyun’s eyes on you. 
You stood up, “I’m heading to the bathroom,” 
Sunghoon nodded, his eyes darting to Taehyun, watching him as he watched you walk to the bathroom. A small sigh escaped Taehyun’s lips. 
Taehyun then made eye contact with him, and the look he was giving Sunghoon made him clench his fists. 
Your return to the table had Sunghoon relaxing, and Taehyun returning to work. 
Sunghoon couldn’t take his eyes off you. He felt so at home in your presence. His mind telling him to tell you the truth, that you deserved to know. But the moment you locked eyes with him and the corners of your lips curled into that precious smile, he couldn’t do it. 
“What’s up?” you asked, “You’re deep in thought?” 
“Ahh…” Sunghoon tried to collect his thoughts, then quickly smiled, settling on the topic change, “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” you thought about it, “I just have class, why?” 
“Come to my hockey practice tomorrow night.” 
That invite took you by surprise, “Huh?” 
Sunghoon smiled even more, leaning forward on the table, “Come watch my practice tomorrow. Please?”
You tried to find an excuse to get out of it, but nothing came to mind. How could you just show up to your best friend’s ex-boyfriend’s hockey practice?
“The guys would love to see you, I bet.” Sunghoon mentioning his friends only hit you in the heart harder, “Come on, YN, just like old times.” 
Without a second thought, you agreed. Not knowing exactly why, but feeling as if it would be okay. It was just hockey practice. 
He jumped up from the table, “I have to get to figure skating practice, is your phone number still the same?”
You nodded, heart beating faster at hearing he still had your phone number. 
With a jump away from the table and a small skip, he said, “I’ll text you the details!” 
Sunghoon twirled his hockey stick in hand, eyes darting to each entrance of the stadium.
Heeseung skated past, quickly stopping in front of him, eyes also following each entrance, “Brother, what are you looking at?”
Sunghoon snaps his attention at Heeseung, his mouth open to speak, but no words coming out. 
“He’s waiting for YN,” Jay says as he also skates past, skating a circle around them. 
Sunghoon rolled his eyes, “Dude.” 
Jay smirked, “Should’ve kept your mouth shut.” 
“Clearly, that’s the last time I tell you anything,” Sunghoon said, sliding his helmet over his head. 
Heeseung raised a brow, “Wait you’re speaking to YN again?” 
Sunghoon just nodded, “Yeah. We umm, ran into each other at a coffee shop.” 
“Yeah, “ran into each other”, we’ll call it that.” Jay teased, leaning forward on his hockey stick. 
“Shut the fuck up or I’ll kick your stick from you and laugh when you hit the ice,” Sunghoon said with a snarky smile. 
“Woah now!” Jay said, holding his hand up, “You’re a figure skater now, can’t be talking like that anymore.” 
Sunghoon skated forward, Jay also scooted backward sticking his tongue out. 
Heeseung seemed to be the only one who was concerned, “How did the three of you make up?” 
Sunghoon awkwardly chuckled, “You mean the two of us…”
Heeseung looked at his friend confused, “You and—“
“No,” Sunghoon quickly shook his head, “We aren’t talking.” 
Heeseung just nodded, finally putting the pieces together, “Sorry for assuming that you rekindled with both of them.” 
Sunghoon swung his hockey stick around again, “Just YN. And from what I’ve noticed, the two of them aren’t really friends anymore.”
It didn’t take long for Sunghoon to figure it out. The way it used to be, his ex would always talk about you, and you would always talk about his ex. The two of you were inseparable. A package deal. With one you got the other. And the fact that you haven’t once brought her up over the last week that he’s started talking to you again, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that she also pushed you away after the breakup. 
Heeseung just nodded, “Do you blame them?” Sunghoon just looked at him, not knowing what to say, “YN doesn’t know, does she?” 
Sunghoon shook his head, “No, and she won’t.” 
“Hoon-“
“I am not ready to tell her,” Sunghoon snapped, “I finally got one of my closest friends back, I don’t want to cross that bridge.” 
Heeseung sighed and nodded, “Okay man, just don’t get butt hurt when it backfires at you.” 
Sunghoon knew this secret could backfire on him, he wasn’t stupid. But it was worth the risk. 
“I’m going to see if she texted me,” he said, “Just in case she said he couldn’t make it.” 
Heeseung watched as Sunghoon skated off towards his gym bag. 
Dropping his gloves to the ice and carefully stepping off the ice, he sat down on the bench, opened his gym bag, and pulled out his phone, quickly finding your messages and seeing you’ve read his last text. 
Sunghoon felt stupid getting his hopes up. What did he think inviting you would do? 
I just wanted her back in my life again. 
He tossed his phone back in the bag and stepped back onto the ice, pulling his gloves back onto his hands. 
I’m so fucking pathetic. 
Sunghoon adjusted his gloves, now waiting for practice to start. 
Jay whistled at him, causing a glare to shoot from his eyes.
Jay tilted his head up, “Look.” 
Sunghoon turned back around, seeing you walking in, your arms wrapped tightly around you. 
He couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his face, immediately skating in your direction. 
“You made it!” he said, sliding his helmet from his head. 
You smiled back, nodding, “Sorry that I am a bit late, my class got out later.” 
You walked up to the wall Sunghoon was now leaning against, his helmet resting on top of it. 
“You showed up, and that’s all that matters,” Sunghoon couldn’t hide how happy it made him that you were here right now. 
You nodded again, smiling wide back at him, “It’s cold as balls in here though!” 
Sunghoon pointed over to his gym bag, “I have my hockey varsity jacket in my bag, wear it if you get too cold.” 
“I am definitely going to wear it,” you shivered, “I forgot how cold it gets in here.” 
The memory of the last time he saw you replayed in his mind, it was during a hockey game. His team was a couple of points away from winning. Sunghoon and his ex were too busy fighting off on the side of the bleachers, her stomping away not wanting to finish the conversation. His eyes wandered over to you, the sad look you gave him broke his heart even more. Your heart was also breaking due to watching your closest friends tear each other apart. All Sunghoon could do was shove his hands into his hoodie pocket and walk out of the stadium. 
He watched as you walked over to his things, your hands immediately reaching for the jacket and sliding it onto your body. 
Oh fuck I am a goner. 
Sunghoon loved the way you looked in his jacket. The way it loosely hangs against your body. How cute it made you look. His heart dropped onto the ice. 
Your body started warming up a bit more, sliding your hands into his jacket pockets. Your eyes traced the other players on the ice. Jay and Heeseung waving at you. You waved back. Gosh, you couldn’t remember the last time you saw either of them. 
You’ve seen them out and about around the college, but not so personally like this. It’s been way too long. 
Sunghoon skated back over to his friends and teammates. 
“It’s weird seeing her again,” Jay said, watching you sit down, eyes wandering around the stadium, “Mostly seeing her without her twin at her hip. She looks really good though,” 
Jay was lucky Sunghoon was in a better mood than earlier, or else he’d be wiping the ice with Jay’s face, “Can we not talk about my ex, please, and she does look good. Eyes off.” 
Jay wanted to make a smart remark, but with a quick look at Sunghoon and then you, he decided to leave the teasing off the ice, giving him a nod, “Yeah, sorry man.” 
Their coach finally started practice. 
It went by in a flash. You waited outside the stadium for Sunghoon, his jacket still wrapped around your body. 
“Well, what did you think of our practice?” Sunghoon said, sneaking up on you, and giving you a little jolt. 
“It was very interesting, you played well.” 
Sunghoon walked closer to you, his hands reaching up to fix the collar of his jacket, his cold fingers brushing against your skin, “My jacket looks really good on you.” 
Your heart sank. 
Is he…flirting???
“Oh, shoot!” you tried to play it off as if you forgot, wanting to find an excuse for the blush on your face to go away after his comment, reaching to take the jacket off, “Here, I forgot I was still wearing it.” 
Sunghoon grabbed your hands and shoved them back at your side, “YN, keep it.” 
“But—“ 
Sunghoon interrupted, “It’s okay! I promise! Just keep it for now, okay? I have another jacket I can wear.” 
You nodded, feeling your body getting hot from his hands still touching yours. 
Why are you getting so bothered??? You’ve known him for years. Why is every little thing he’s doing affecting you???
“Anyways,” he said, finally letting go of your hands, “We have a game this weekend, you’ll come right?” 
You wouldn’t mind going, it could be an excuse to get you out of your apartment for once and not just sit at the coffee shop either. 
“Yeah, I’ll come.”
Sunghoon smiled, his eyes darting to the ground to try and hide just how big he was smiling, “I’ll save you a ticket.” 
You walked into the shop, giving Taehyun a smile and wave. Giving you the normal thumbs up. 
You dropped your backpack to the floor at your normal table and slumped down into the seat with a sigh. 
“Rough day?” Sunghoon asked, his yellow highlighter moving across his textbook. 
You nodded, “I forgot to set my alarms last night, so I woke up late and got to class late. On top of that I had to take double the notes because…” you stopped yourself, not wanting to bring your best friend's name into the mix. 
Sunghoon stopped highlighting, he didn’t even have to hear her name to know what you were going to say, his eyes slowly rising to meet yours, “You’re still taking notes for her?” 
You just shrugged, “Maybe…” 
“YN,” he dropped his highlighter into the textbook, “You need to stop doing that.”
You didn’t know how to respond. Mostly because you knew he was right. She was just using you at this point. 
Taehyun interrupted your thoughts by setting your coffee down in front of you, “Tae! I could have gotten it from you.” 
His cute sharky smile came out, “Don’t worry about it, I don’t ever get to bring the coffee to you. Plus I needed to get away from behind the counter.” 
You smiled up at him, “Thank you.” 
Taehyun rested his hand on your shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze, “It’s no problem at all, YN.” 
Sunghoon clenched his fists under the table, eyes burning holes into his hand that was touching you. 
As Taehyun walked away, he locked eyes with Sunghoon as if to say “Your move now, buddy.” 
Oh, I’ll play your game, Taehyun. 
“He totally has a crush on you.” Sunghoon spat out. 
You softly giggled, “Who? Tae? No,” you giggled again, taking a sip of your coffee, “He’s just a good friend.” 
Sunghoon rubbed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, eyes darting back to Taehyun who was now back behind the counter, “I can see it in the way he looks at you.” 
You rolled your eyes. He sounds jealous. 
You glanced up at him, seeing how he kept his eyes on Taehyun. 
Oh, he’s…actually jealous??? No. It couldn’t be. He’s still in love with his ex.
You shook the thoughts from your head, deciding to change the subject, “Are you ready for the game tomorrow?” 
Sunghoon’s eyes made their way back to you, his face relaxing and a small smile formed, “Yes, you’re still coming…right?” 
You nodded, “I wouldn’t miss it,” you took another sip of your coffee, “Wasn’t able to see you play back then, so I’m excited to see you play now.” 
Hearing you say that warmed his heart. Knowing you’ll be in the crowd cheering for him and only him. He had to make sure he was on his ‘a game’ tomorrow. 
“Make sure to wear my jacket tomorrow,” Sunghoon gave you a wink, picking his highlighter back up and continuing where he left off. 
You giggled, “Why? What will your jacket do? Bring good luck?” 
Sunghoon chuckled, stretching the highlighter across the words on the textbook, “It has an S.H. and my last name on the back,” he glanced back up at you, “And you know, yeah, you wearing my jacket will bring good luck. You’ll be my good luck charm.” 
Sunghoon took notice of the slight blush on your cheeks, his smile growing more as he looked back to his textbook. 
God, she’s so cute. 
You tried to slow your heart rate. Why is he making you feel like this? 
“It’s getting kinda late,” Sunghoon’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, “Are you hungry? Want to grab a bite to eat? Then I can walk you to your apartment?”
You nodded. 
You weren’t sure what these butterflies in your stomach meant, but it made you feel guilty for even having them. 
It was game day and your nerves were all tied together in a knot. 
You took one last look at your outfit in your mirror, fingers twisting in the belt loops of your ripped skinny jeans, pulling them up further above your hips. 
Your college’s hockey team t-shirt had a small hole at the bottom of the shirt, which was to be expected. This was an old shirt and you haven’t worn it since the last game you attended…the night Sunghoon pushed you out of his life. 
Your black high-top vans looked like they’ve seen better days, but looked good with the outfit. 
Grabbing a hair tie from your vanity, you pulled your long hair back, wrapping the tie around it, just to pull it out right after.  
You tried different hairstyles, not liking a single one. 
Why do I even care how my hair looks? 
You settled for a ponytail, deciding it’s what matched the outfit better. 
The last final piece was Sunghoon’s jacket, pulling it over your shoulders. You turned around in the mirror, glancing back to see his initials on the back. 
“You’ll be my good luck charm.” 
You caught yourself smiling at the memory, bringing the hems of the jacket up to your nose, breathing in the smell. 
It still smelt like him, even after you’ve had it for the last couple of days. The familiar smell of blackberry and floral filled your senses. 
His scent brought you comfort, the knot of nerves unraveling and disappearing. 
While the nerves found their way out, other feelings crept their way in. 
Your heart raced faster, thinking about the smile on Sunghoon’s face he’d have when he saw you. 
The more thoughts of him that flooded your brain, the more guilty you felt. 
He’s your best friend’s ex…you can’t be thinking about and getting so giddy over him. 
You slapped your hands to your face, hoping it would be enough to kick those feelings out. 
Unfortunately, they didn’t. 
You sat down at your vanity, pulling open one of the drawers, revealing a photo booth picture strip of yourself, Sunghoon, and your best friend. 
You held the fragile paper in your hands, staring at each set of photos one by one. Eyes locking onto Sunghoon. 
You didn’t feel this way about him back then, so why now all of a sudden does he have your stomach tied in knots? 
His smile in the photos sent your heart racing. The way he was looking at your best friend, you couldn’t help but wish he looked at you like that. 
You quickly shoved the photo strip back into the drawer, slamming it shut. 
You stood from the chair, grabbed your phone and keys, and walked out of your room. 
By the time you showed up at the stadium, the opposing team and Sunghoon’s team lined up on each side of the rink doing their warmups. 
Your eyes searched for him, seeing the number 23 skating by quickly, him swinging the hockey stick, sending the puck flying into the goal. 
Even though it was just a practice shot, you clapped anyway. 
Sunghoon skated back into line, eyes wandering the crowd until he found you. Your smile sends butterflies in his stomach fluttering about. 
God, you look so good right now. The way your hair was pulled back, the way your thighs peeked out from the rips of your jeans, and how perfect his jacket looked on you. 
Sunghoon never let his ex wear that jacket, it was so special to him, so much that only he wanted to wear it. But it was so different with you. 
He gave you a wave, letting you know that he does indeed, know you’re here. 
The game finally started, and the butterflies did not calm down one bit. He had to do well in this game. He couldn’t disappoint you. 
Heeseung patted his back, “Calm down buddy, you’re our best player. Can’t have you tapping out on us.” 
Jay agreed, “This isn’t even the first game of the season, what’s got you so worked up all of a sudden?” 
“YN is here,” Niki, one of the only freshmen on the team, teased. 
Sunghoon shot the younger one a glare, “Brother, you don’t want to tease me right now.” 
Niki smirked, “Man, I know enough about your life and I barely have been on the team.” 
Jay slapped Sunghoon’s shoulder, “Just ignore the kid, he’s just a little silly.” 
Niki agreed, “Just a little bit.” 
Sunghoon waved his teammates off, “I am fine, my nerves have nothing to do with YN being here.” 
His friends looked at him with telling faces, they knew he was lying. Knew he was full of shit. But deciding to let it go. 
The game went on, each of the teams scoring left and right. 
You sat on the edge of your seat, hands clasped together at your chest. There were five minutes left on the clock, your team was only a point ahead. 
Your eyes followed Sunghoon on the ice, you could tell by his body language he was stressed. The way he stretched his arms out over his hockey stick behind his neck was enough to tell how absent-minded he was in this moment, the only thing he could focus on was getting one last point. Swinging his stick back down onto the ice, slightly bending over, ready for anything. 
Jay passed the puck to Niki, pushing the puck across the rink, Sunghoon positioned himself, screaming for Niki to pass the puck towards him.  
Niki passed it quickly to him. Sunghoon grabbed the puck, pushing his feet and legs as quickly as he could against the ice, the only thing on his mind was to keep the puck against the stick.
As he neared the goal, the goalie prepared himself for Sunghoon to make a shot. 
Sweat dripped down the side of his face, hands gripping tighter on the stick as he lifted it from the ice and puck. 
You stood to your feet, hands hovering over your chest, gripping at the fabric of your shirt. 
Sunghoon swung the stick using all the force possible and hit the puck, watching as the black disc flew across the ice. 
The world seemed to go in slow motion for Sunghoon, his eyes wide as the anticipation of waiting for the puck to reach the goalie, it sliding gracefully between the goalie's legs, the guy barely missing to stop it. 
Sunghoon pivoted, stopping his motion on the ice. His eyes locked onto the puck, confirming it hit the net. 
He turned his body towards his teammates, the world around him going back to normal speed. The crowd cheered, and his teammates surrounded him, slapping their hands against his chest, shoulders, and back. The clock hit its final second, the buzzer sounding. The game was over. We won. 
We won..!!
Sunghoon started screaming and cheering with his teammates, hands slapping them as they continued to slap him. 
You rushed down to the wall, the upper half of your body leaning over it, cupping your hands to your mouth, “Sunghoon!!!” 
He didn’t hear you over the screams of his mates and fans. But it felt as if he knew you were waiting for him. 
His eyes found you and started pushing past his teammates, sliding his helmet off and handing it and his stick off to Heeseung. 
Using what was left of his leg strength, he pushed himself towards you quickly. 
He stretched his arms up in the air, shouting, “WE DID IT!!” 
You couldn’t stop your smile from falling, not when Sunghoon looked as happy as he did at that moment. His fangs were on full display from how wide he was smiling. 
His body crashed against the wall, his gloved hands wrapping around your waist, connecting his torso to yours. 
His wet sweaty hair tickled your cheek as he pulled you into a hug. The first hug you’ve received from him since…well the breakup. 
You patted his back, leaning your head against his, “You played so well! I am so proud of you!” 
You’ve never gotten to tell him how exactly proud of him you were. For all the years you’ve known him, he’s always given his one hundred percent, but because of the past circumstances, you weren’t able to voice how proud you were of him, your best friend wouldn’t have allowed it. 
Hearing you tell him how well he did was enough to risk everything. It did something so deep to his heart that he couldn’t hide it anymore. 
It’s now or never Park Sunghoon, just do it. 
“I told you. I told you that you were my good luck charm,” he whispered in your ear, brushing his cheek against yours as he moved his head up. Brushing his nose against yours softly before moving in, pressing his lips against yours quickly. 
So fast that you didn’t have time to process it as his hands left your waist and he was skating backward away from you. He bit his bottom lip as his eyes stayed locked with yours. 
Your fingertips touched your lips, your ears blocking out all sound as the rest of your senses focused on the man in front of you. 
He kissed you…Oh my god, he kissed you!!! 
Sunghoon gave you a wink and said “Meet me by my car!” then turned back around, skating to his teammates, all of them huddling together. 
He pressed you up against his front door, using your body to completely shut it, his fingers flipping the lock as his tongue invaded your mouth, your brain going fuzzy. 
You met him at his car after the game and convinced you to have dinner with him and the team. 
You sat beside him in the booth at this fancy diner, his arm was wrapped around your shoulder, his fingers softly rubbing against your arm. Once the food arrived at the table, his arm went from being behind you to his hand resting on your thigh, his fingers sliding between the rips of your jeans, squeezing the plush skin. 
His touch was driving you crazy, and with your new emotions towards him, it made his contact with your skin make you hot and bothered. 
Sunghoon couldn’t keep his hands off you, and you liked it. Liked the attention he was giving you. 
Liked it so much that you didn’t even think twice when he drove right past the street of your apartment building and pulled into his apartment building. 
He held both your hands tightly, his smile so bright as he guided you up the stairs to his apartment. Soft laughs leaving his lips at just the thought of being with you. 
He was dying to kiss you again. Like properly kiss you. 
He wanted to kiss you so bad that the moment you were inside his apartment, his hands and body were pressed against yours, using his weight to push you against his door. Lips connecting to yours as if he were running out of oxygen and your lips were the sole source of air. 
His hands moved from your hips, sliding up your torso, fingers grazing against your breasts and up to your neck, hands cupping your jaw. 
You kissed him back forcefully, pushing your tongue between his lips, rubbing the muscle against his own, mixing your saliva. 
You tasted so sweet to him. He couldn’t get enough. 
Sunghoon went to pull away, wanting to attach his lips to your neck, but you weren’t ready for his lips to leave yours. 
You caught his bottom lip between your teeth, biting a bit harder than you expected. 
Sunghoon hissed out in pleasure, rolling his hips against yours, his clothed hard length pressing at your heat. 
You released his lip, his hands taking yours and lifting them above your head, pinning you against the door, his lips attaching themself to your neck, “Keep acting up baby and I just might have to punish you.” 
His words sent chills down your spine as he left open mouth kisses on your neck. Your imagination running wild at what these punishments would be, but being too afraid to test his limits. 
Sunghoon loved hearing the soft moans escaping your pretty little mouth. It was music to his ears. 
He placed his leg right between yours, using it to spread them further apart, giving him more access to press his cock against you. 
You were shaking, wanting to completely feel him against you, skin to skin. 
“Hoonie,” you whispered in his ear, “Please,” 
Sunghoon reached down, cupping the back of your thighs and lifting you up, wrapping your legs around him. His hands sliding to cup your ass, lips finding yours again. 
“Say less princess,” he mumbled against your lips as he carried you to his bedroom. 
He laid you down gently on his bed, his right hand stayed on your thigh, squeezing it tightly to keep it wrapped around him as his left hand flew to his shirt, fingers working their magic at the buttons. 
You became impatient, sending your hands to help undress him. 
You slid the fabric off his shoulders and down his arms, your fingers feeling every muscle as they traced down his skin and off his body. 
Your eyes took a moment to appreciate his body. You already knew he worked out, but good lord was his toned, buff body beautiful. 
Sunghoon kissed you again, his hands sliding his jacket off your body then finding their way under your shirt and up and over your head. 
He worked with the button of your jeans as you worked with his. 
He slid his jeans and underwear down together, leaving him completely bare to you.
His fingers looped between your jeans and panties, lifting your hips up as he pulled them off your body. 
“Fuck, YN,” he moaned out, hands snaking underneath you to unclasp your bra, your breasts falling to their natural place once the material was on the floor. His eyes looked your bare body up and down, before laying his body on top of yours, “You’re so beautiful.” 
Your fingers tangled in his hair when he kissed you again, your tongues dancing together in perfect rhythm, his hand sliding down your body and stopping at your thigh to pull it back over his waist. 
Sunghoon was completely turned on just by the skin-to-skin contact, by just feeling your pretty legs wrapped around him. 
He rolled his hips, rubbing his dick against your clit, his hand fumbling at his nightstand drawer for his box of condoms. 
You woke up that next morning with the sun shining through his bedroom window. 
Sunghoon had his head on your chest still fast asleep. 
His arm was wrapped around your waist, the bedsheets were tangled up between yours and his legs. His leg hung out from the sheets and they hung at his hips, his bare back exposed. 
Your heart raced at the site in front of you. 
Did this actually happen?? I am not dreaming?
Your hand touched his bicep, fingers softly moving up and down his arm. 
Sunghoon moved his head up, tucking it in your neck, arm tightening around you. He was still fast asleep. 
Guilt washed over you once again. You just had sex with your best friend's ex-boyfriend. She would kill you both if she knew what happened last night. 
Did you regret it? Absolutely not. The sex was perfect. Sunghoon is perfect. But that still didn’t stop the thoughts that it shouldn’t have happened. 
Would you do it again? Regardless of these thoughts? Also yes. 
Your relationship with Sunghoon was different now. You had deep feelings for him. And the fact that he kept inviting you over, inviting you to his practices and games, asking to see you after classes, and randomly showing up at your front door, proved enough to you that it wasn’t about the sex that night, that his feelings also ran deep for you too. 
Your coffee shop days were more intimate, instead of sitting across from each other, you’d sit beside each other. Hands locking together as you’d drink your coffees. 
He would be waiting outside your apartment door every single morning to drive you to class. 
You would cheer him on from the bleachers at every practice, and have dinner with him afterwards. 
The sex got more intense the more comfortable you both got. You saw a whole new side of Sunghoon in the bedroom. A side you never thought you’d ever see or even thought about seeing until recently. 
He explored every inch of your body, his fingers pumping in and out of your pussy. Shoving his fingers in your mouth as he pounded into you from behind. Bruises were left on your hips from how his fingers would grip your skin. 
You got more bold too. From being his little submissive princess to a dominant queen. The way you’d jerk your hand up and down his cock sending his head flying back, body shaking from your touch as you straddled him. 
Sunghoon became a part of your daily life, just like he was all that time ago. 
You showed up to every game wearing his jacket, being that good luck charm you knew you were to him. Everything felt right.
Sunghoon wrapped his arms around you, pulling you down onto your couch with him, “Babe, cuddle me! I am touch starved!” 
You rolled your eyes at him, trying to wiggle your way out of his grip, “We just had sex, yet you’re still touch-starved?” 
“Obviously!” he nuzzled his face at the nape of your neck, hands gripping the hem of your shirt, “Let’s have sex again.” 
“Hoonie,” you giggled at the feeling of his lips kissing your neck, “You have practice in thirty minutes, you need to get ready soon.” 
Sunghoon groaned against your neck, but he knew you were right. 
Sunghoon went to propose skipping practice tonight but got distracted by your phone ringing, eyes darting over to it, being the nosey guy that he is, and seeing…his ex’s name on the caller ID. 
His smile faded, why would she be calling you?
You sighed at seeing your best friend's name on your phone, finger-hitting the decline. 
Calling her your best friend seemed pointless now. Right before things kicked off between you and Sunghoon, she found another boy toy to mess around with, completely ignoring you. You’ve also tried many times to hang out with her, to go by and see her at her job, to invite her over to do homework, to try and just hang with her when Sunghoon was busy, yet all she did was ignore you. So the fact she’s hitting you up now only means she needs something from you. And to say you were exhausted from it would be an understatement. 
Maybe it was karma for keeping your relationship with Sunghoon a secret from her. But you also knew you couldn’t tell her. At least not right now. 
You felt bad declining the call, deciding to shoot her a quick text saying you were busy in the shower and couldn’t answer the call just for her to reply saying it was fine, but was wanting the notes from class today and then sent a smiley face :) 
Sunghoon shook his head, “Please don’t.” 
You set your phone down, not responding to her, “Don’t what?” you knew the answer, but tried to play dumb anyways. 
“YN, stop playing this game with her, she’s using you.” 
You knew it was true, but hearing it come from his mouth didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less. 
Sunghoon bit his lips in a way to keep himself calm. He hated that she was doing this to you. He saw firsthand how badly the breakup affected you too. You lost both of your best friends because of it. But the shitty part was you weren’t supposed to lose her, but you did anyway. She was supposed to stay by your side but didn’t. 
She abandoned you. Even after she promised him she wouldn’t. 
The secrets he wishes he could tell you in hopes of you cutting her off for good, but he couldn’t break that trust with her, even if she deserved it. 
The only thing he could do was try and convince you in other ways. 
“Baby,” he whispered, “Look at me.” 
You did, shifting yourself in his lap to face him. 
He tucked your hair behind your ears, “You deserve better than that. I know you love and care for her, and that she’s your best friend, but this friendship is toxic. All it is doing is hurting you.” 
You looked away from his chocolate eyes and to the floor, “I know.” 
Sunghoon pulled your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look back at him, “I don’t want you to hurt anymore, not just because of her, but because of me too. We both did some damage to you and I have to live with that. I am so fucking lucky you let me come back in your life. And well, I am not saying to completely cut her out of your life,” even though that is what he’s wanting, “but don’t do things like this for her anymore.” 
You nodded. He was right. The only reason you kept doing things for her no matter what they were was to keep her in your life. You kept holding onto a rope that was torn a long time ago. 
“Promise me,” he asked, holding up his pinky finger, “Please.” 
You wrapped your pinky tightly with his, sealing the promise. 
It was the final game of the season, if the boys win this game they move on to the championship. 
Sunghoon stood with you by the wall, his hands trembling in his gloves. 
He was nervous, scared even, it was written all over his face. 
“Sunghoon,” you saying his name always sounded so beautiful to his ears. He looks over to you, giving a nervous smile, “It’ll be okay. You’re one of the best damn players on this team. The championship is calling your team's name!” 
You could only hope your words were reaching him, helping make him feel better. 
Which it did. His hand stopped trembling just from your smile. You were his good luck charm after all. 
He slid his hand from his glove, cupping the side of your face, “I am the luckiest man alive to have you.” 
You leaned into his hand, his thumb rubbing against your skin. 
His couch blew the whistle for warm-ups to start. 
“Gimme a good luck kiss princess,” he said pulling you closer to him, “It’ll give me strength.” 
You giggled against his lips and pouted as he skated away, giving him a thumbs up. 
Little did you know, your “best friend” was sitting in the bleachers, watching the entire thing. 
The game went in a flash, Sunghoon once again scoring the winning goal. 
You jumped from your seat and pressed against the wall, arms stretched out and waiting for Sunghoon to embrace himself into you, his lips crashing against yours in celebration of his win. 
You stood at the end of the bleachers, eyes staring off down the hallway that led to the locker rooms, heart racing at wanting to see Sunghoon again, to be able to give him a proper hug for his win. 
“OMG! You came to the game too?!” 
Your heart sank at her voice, your friend connecting her shoulder to yours as she stood beside you. 
Your body tensed, “Y-Yeah, it was their last game so I came to support them.” 
“Hmmm,” she hummed, her hands flying to Sunghoon’s jacket, “Isn’t this Hoon’s?” She forced you around, seeing his name printed on the back. 
She knows she’s got to know.
She hummed again, “Why do you have his jacket, YN?” 
You shrugged, leaning back against the bleacher, “I was cold and he offered it to me I guess.” 
She crossed her arms, “He never let me borrow it, weird.” 
“I was freezing,” you tried to play it off, “You know how cold I can get sometimes.” 
She nodded, “That’s true,” her eyes darted down the hallway, “Since when did you and Hoon start hanging out again?” 
She definitely knows. 
You knew it was a matter of time before she found out, but you didn’t think it would be like this. 
You opened your mouth to speak, only for her face to light up with excitement and her hands clapping. 
The boys finally were leaving the locker room, “Here come our winners!” she said. 
Sunghoon was with Jay, the two of them doing their handshake and walking in separate directions, Sunghoon’s smile fading after looking in your direction. 
“OH EM GEE!!!” she squealed, grabbing your hand and rushing you both to meet Sunghoon halfway, “You are such a star Hoonie!” 
She wrapped her arms around Sunghoon’s neck, but he was quick to pull her off of him, “What are you doing here?” 
You were surprised how calm he was. 
“Am I not allowed to come and support you?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. 
“You lost that right when we broke up.” he scoffed, “Why are you actually here?” 
She pouted, pulling you to her side, “I missed you guys, wanted us to rekindle and be a trio again.” 
Sunghoon could smell the bullshit radiating out of her mouth. 
Does this bitch think I am stupid?
“Rekindle?” he chuckled, “Rekindle what? Exactly?” oh he was pissed now, “Explain yourself. Now.” 
She let go of your arm, taking a step closer to him, “I miss you, Hoon.” She reached to touch his face, but he caught her arm with his hand, shoving it away from him. 
“Don’t touch me.” 
You didn’t know what to do or what to say, this fight didn’t involve you, it was something they had to settle. 
“Hoon,” she begged, “I want you back, please.” 
Sunghoon took a step back away from her, “Cut the bullshit.” 
She rolled her eyes, “What bullshit?!”
“I am in a relationship,” he spat out, “I am happy.” 
A laugh escaped her mouth, a laugh you’ve never heard her do before, “I know, I am not stupid,” she took a step back, wrapping her arms around you, “You’re fucking our sweet YN.” 
Sunghoon’s grip on his duffle bag tightened and his jaw locked. What the fuck was she trying to pull here?
She smiled, knowing she got you both where she wanted you to be, “The fact that you’re both quiet speaks volumes, lemme tell ya.” 
“What the fuck do you want?” he said through his locked jaw. 
“I want to know why,” she pulled a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I want to know why you both betrayed me like this. Why my ex-boyfriend decided it was okay to fuck my best friend, and why my best friend decided it was okay to fuck my ex.” 
Oh, she’s going there? Game on.
Sunghoon chuckled, “Best friend? Best friends don't abandon each other!”
“That’s rich coming from you,” she retorted.
“You abandoned her!!” he snapped. 
“So did you!!” she snapped back, “You walked away just as much as I did!” 
“I walked away because I cared about you! I cared about your feelings! You promised you’d stay by her side, not leave her to fight alone and use her for your own personal gain, that’s not a friendship!” 
“Oh, here we go,” she laughed, “It’s always about YN.” 
You wanted to speak up, to ask them what that meant, but before you could, Sunghoon was reaching for you. 
He’s heard enough. He’s HAD enough. He couldn’t let this conversation continue, not when she might spill everything. 
He pulled you to his side, pushing you in the direction towards the exit door, “YN, baby, let’s go.” 
“How long did you think you could hide? Hmm?” 
Both you and Sunghoon stopped walking. 
“I’ve known for a while now,” you turned and faced her, waiting for her to finish, “You think I wouldn’t notice? Wouldn't notice either of your cars at each other's apartments?” 
Sunghoon laughed, “So you’re stalking us now? That’s so fucking low.” 
“How could I not? Not after I saw the two of you leaving that diner downtown a while ago,” 
She’s known since the beginning.
“I thought maybe, at first, you two were just hanging out again. I minded my business. But then I thought, hmm, I should surprise visit YN. And I bet you could imagine my surprise when I pulled up to her apartment and saw your car parked there and her riding your dick on her couch.” your face flushed, embarrassed, “Maybe next time make sure your blinds are closed before fucking in the living room.” 
Sunghoon sighed, pulling you closer to him. He felt like shit because of all this happening to you. 
“This doesn’t excuse your shitty stalking behavior,” Sunghoon said. 
She shrugged, “I only caught you by coincidence at first, the second time surprised me too. The rest I had to ask around campus to find out.” 
Sunghoon was getting more pissed by the second, “YN doesn’t deserve this!!” 
“You’re so right!” she clapped her hands, “She does deserve better friends, I know. We were so shitty to her. But you know what she also deserves? The truth.” 
The…truth?
Sunghoon shook his head, “No, let’s go,” he tried pushing you toward the exit again, he wasn’t ready for you to hear what she was about to say. 
You forced Sunghoon off you, taking a few steps back towards her, “What truth do I deserve to know?” 
Mostly since Sunghoon seemed so set on me leaving just now. 
Your friend smirked, “The truth about the reason why we broke up in the first place.” 
Sunghoon snapped her name, “Keep your fucking mouth shut!” 
You look back at him, “What is so goddamn secretive?” 
Sunghoon sighed, his eyes dropping to the floor. 
You looked back at her, “Well??” 
“The reason we broke up was because of you.” she crossed her arms over her chest, eyes darting at Sunghoon. 
“Because of me?” You couldn’t wrap your head around why, “W-what did I do?” 
“You didn’t do anything, YN,” Sunghoon finally said. 
“Then…why…” 
“Because he’s in love with you,” you stood there frozen, “He confessed to me a few months before we broke up on how deeply in love with you he was.” she said snarky, “That he caught feelings for you early on into our relationship, but kept it hidden all those years until he couldn’t. The guilt ate him up. Plus I caught him practically eye fucking you at one of the last parties we all attended together.” 
You looked back at Sunghoon, his eyes glossed over. He’s been in love with you the entire time you’ve known him? 
“It’s truly sad, isn’t it?” your friend continued, “The night we fought, was me making him promise to never come near you again. Guess it worked for a while.” 
“Why would you promise that!” You yelled at him, “Why would you even agree to that?!” 
“Because I still cared about her!” Sunghoon shook his head, “I wanted to respect her wishes, I wanted to respect you! You had no feelings towards me whatsoever, and after the last couple shitty months of my relationship with her, I wanted you to heal and find peace with losing me, had I known she would also walk away from you, I would have never let you go.” 
“Why did you stay with her as long as you did if you wanted me?” It was a shitty question to ask, but you had to know. 
“Because I was already a shitty person for falling in love with my girlfriend’s best friend. I didn’t want to hurt either of you. So I kept my feelings hidden until they eventually overflowed to the point I couldn’t contain it.” 
With tears in your eyes, you stomped over to him, fists hitting his chest, “Why would you leave me then?! I needed you!” you cried it all out, releasing the frustration, and he just took it, “Do you know how lonely I was when you left? How terrible I felt watching you walk away that night? I lost part of my soul.” 
Sunghoon pulled you to him, “Baby I know and I am so fucking sorry I did that to you.” 
You cried into his chest, fingers gripping his shirt. Too many emotions were fighting you at all once. You were the sole reason your best friends broke up, how could you not feel like shit?
You pushed yourself off him, turning back towards your friend, “What is your excuse for leaving me?” 
Her facial expression tightened, “How could I have stayed? Every time I looked at you all I could remember was the fact that my boyfriend wanted you, not me.” 
Fair enough. But that was also such a shotty excuse. 
“Guess our friendship didn’t mean shit to you,” you scoffed, “A boy meant more to you than I did. Meant more than our lifetime of friendship.” 
She had nothing to say to that, just thinned her lips in a line, looking away. 
“I’ve heard enough,” you softly said, “Take me home, please Sunghoon.” 
He nodded, extending out his hand for you to take it, and you did. The two of you walking away.
“Enjoy my seconds, YN.” 
Oh, she did not.
Sunghoon beat you to running his mouth, “At least YN pleases me. You should see the mess she makes of me since you want to stalk us so bad.” 
You bit the insides of your cheeks to keep from laughing, was their sex life that bad?
Her face turned red you could practically see the smoke coming out of her ears, “Go to hell Sunghoon! It’s where you belong!” 
He chuckled, “Gladly, I’d give up every piece of heaven for YN.” 
She rolled her eyes, it was always about you. It’s always been you for him. 
“Oh and by the way,” Sunghoon added, “I know you cheated on me multiple times with Mark from calculus, way before I confessed my feelings for YN. So us breaking up wasn’t just because of her. Suck a dick.” 
Sunghoon wrapped an arm around you, a smirk on his face as you both listened to her yelling more nonsense. 
He drove you home and walked you into your apartment. 
“I really am sorry, YN.” Sunghoon wrapped you into his arms, “I never wanted to hurt you.” 
You cupped his face, thumbs wiping the tears that fell, “Don’t ever apologize, okay? You were caught in a situation.” 
“It’s no excuse,” he took your hands in his, “I love you, I always have. I shouldn’t have walked away.” 
You just nodded, standing on your tippy toes to place a kiss on his nose, “I love you, Park Sunghoon. You’re with me now, and that’s all that matters.”
It was true. He was so lucky to have you. To finally have you after waiting for you for so long. 
Thank god he decided to try that coffee shop out. 
“Was sex with her really that bad?” you asked, a giggle escaping. 
He laughed too, “Yeah, never came once.” 
“I guess that means I win in that department too since I make such a mess outta you,” 
Sunghoon bit his lip, sliding his hands to squeeze your waist, “Keep talking like that and I’ll ruin you.” 
You pressed a quick kiss to his lips then escaped his arms, running towards your bedroom, “Can’t ruin me if I make a mess of you first.” 
Sunghoon chased after you, his heart pounding at the happiness on your face. 
God, he really was the luckiest man alive.
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deadsetobsessions · 7 months
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Summonings
Ever since Danny Phantom became the Ghost King, he’s had to deal with an endless amount of crap. An eternity of it, actually, and it was constantly causing him unending amount of existential crises and stress.
First, there was the paperwork. Pariah Dark, the incompetent asshole, had left him decades worth of bureaucracy to painfully sift through. He ended up hiring some ghosts with paperwork obsessions to sort some of that out. Who knew ruling the infinite realms would require this much paperwork? He’s lucky each section of the underworld had their own systems to report to their own rulers who, in turn, report to him.
Secondly, there were the Observers. And other ghosts, like his own rogues, but they were the main issues. Eyeball menaces. They protested his appointment, something he actually agreed with. Putting a fifteen year old on the throne is rarely a smart decision. But the Infinite Realm values strength, the only type of currency that matters in the land of the gods and the dead. Danny? Phantom? He’s got strength in spades. With only a few months of being a ghost, Danny had managed to defeat Pariah Dark, who had cowered gods and struck fear into the hearts of ghost heroes.
But Danny hasn’t quite realized the significance of that yet, too focused on the realization that he was about to be in charge of the infinite realms. The Observants, since his reluctant and extremely limited coronation, has been up his ass about doing things the “proper way.”
Danny’s main problem lies with the ridiculous amount of paperwork though. It’s fine. Tedious. But fine.
But if he gets one more fifteen page essay style complaint form about some guy named Constantine, Danny might seriously reconsider donning Dan’s ruthlessness and offing the guy himself. Perhaps grab the man by his shoulders and shake him like a rag doll and ask who the fuck told him it was a good idea to sell his soul out like that? Danny eventually just sent out Skulker to hunt down the contracts and trade minor services for them. He owns most of the soul now, and perhaps he’ll hunt this guy down and force him to do paperwork.
Regardless, paperwork was just often tedious. He’s worked out a system for himself. The halfa, true to his teenage form, had better things to be doing. His homework, for one. Hanging out with his friends and logging in hours for Doomed 2 would be another. But no, he’s here, twirling a pen as he glared down at a stack of forms for a zone expansion. What the fuck does Zeus want to expand his zone for? The current share space of the sky domain is literally a perfect balance with respect towards the other gods. For the love of- Danny slams down a red ‘REJECTED’ stamp on top of the stack. His hair flickers wildly in annoyance, the iced over Crown floating above his head emitting concerning levels of frost. To anyone else but himself, of course.
He then feels a soft tug on his core.
Right. The third most annoying thing about becoming King: the fucking summoning. Danny taps his pen against his lips, clicking it against his fangs, as he considers the summoning circle that calls him. Huh. Desperation. Mildly bloody. Fear. Resignation- ah, fuck it, it’s not like he’s too enthusiastic about staying to do work with the Observers poking around. He takes the summoning, allowing his regalia to overtake his normal hazmat-clad form, and approves the summoning.
Oh hey, Danny thinks he recognizes that ugly ass trenchcoat.
—-
John Constantine has had more than enough practice summoning things that would give people nightmares. But there are things he normally refuses to touch, refuses to even entertain the idea of trying. As usual, desperation made John its bitch and the Justice League’s battered and bruised faces tugged on his shriveled heart.
He’s going to summon something from the Infinite Realms. Oh, but he wasn’t just summoning any old ghost. No, he thought, I’m just going to summon the one being that’s guaranteed to be able to crush our universe without breaking a sweat. Bollocks.
“Is it ready?”
“Untwist your pants, spooky,” John snaps, wishing he had a crate of whiskey he could down. “We’re trying to summon the Ghost King, not your average demon.”
“What do we know about him?” Batman’s gravelly voice demanded.
“Powerful enough to take us all out without even breaking a sweat. Defeated the bloody tyrant who ruled over the Realms last I heard.”
“That’s it?”
“You could ask Deadman, but I heard he’s on the outs with the Infinite Realms on the fact that he’s made of pure magic, not ectoplasm.”
“There’s no guarantee the king will work with us.” Zatanna says, pressing her fingertips together tiredly. She had been at the forefront of the battle and had paid the price for it. “But he’s supposedly more benevolent than his predecessor… and we’re out of options.”
“Hm.”
“Just make sure to shut up and let me do the talking.”
“Hn.”
John rolls his eyes and takes a fortifying breath, something that does not go unnoticed by the League. They all tense up, preparing themselves for a battle. Another one, seeing as they all got their ass kicked by a ghost only ten hours ago. The League is spread thin, running interference to distract the ghost in question and evacuating civilians.
John Constantine started chanting, the glow of his magic lighting up the circle as he spills his blood into the circle.
He waits, heart in his throat, for the summoning to work.
“Is it supposed to take-” Red Robin asks, only to cut himself off as the circle flares once more. Power pulsates outwards from the circle. Frost crackles on the frost resistant floors, spreading outwards as a green portal rips open the fabric of time and space. Long, spindly imitations of a hand grabs the edges of space and pulls, heaving the rest of his celestial body out of the tear in reality. John does not look away. He can not look away, not from the eerie green pallor of the King, not from his torrential white wisps of hair, not from the black-hole like material of his outfit, not from the nebulas and beginnings and endings tailored onto the King’s cape. John could not look away from the ice crown that floated like a bastion of power above the king’s head.
His mouth is dry. What price will he have to pay to save the world? What price will this being demand of him, of the Justice League, to save the world?
John desperately needs that drink.
—-
Oh! He’s in his home dimension! His core purrs at coming home, at the close proximity to his first haunt.
He was expecting cultists, or even the Winchesters again, but this is nice.
The Justice League- summoning him. Sam and Tucker are going to flip when they hear about this.
They’ve been staring at him in silence for a bit now. It was getting awkward.
“Why have you summoned me?” He asks, softening his tone. By their winces, he didn’t get it as well as he thought. Danny grimaces. At the first sign of discomfort though, the man in the trenchcoat- is that fucking Constantine?!- launches into a nerve filled tirade.
“Your, uh, Majesty.” He starts. “One of… One of your subjects is wreaking havoc on the world. We would be extremely grateful if… if you could reign him in?”
Danny’s face sours, only to quickly clear his expression as he realized how much even a small hint of displeasure causes the jumpiness in Constantine and the others.
“To do that, I will have to make a contract with you, seeing as you���ve summoned me.” Danny drawls, letting his overly long digits wave at the summoning circle in question. He could break it, of course, but Danny’s bored and trying to draw this out. He’s not saying he’d take a batch of cookies as payment but that’s exactly what he’s saying.
“The price… you could always have my soul?”
Danny pauses. “Your… soul?”
Oh, he did not say what he just said.
“Yes. My soul.”
Oh, he did.
Fuck it. Danny’s flashbacks of suffering through the reports pushes green into his irises and urgency to his action.
He breaks out of the circle, hands lunging and gripping Constantine’s jaw tightly. Danny ignores the shouts of alarm as he allows the thrown weapons to pass through him.
John Constantine is panicking now, struggling in the air as Danny lifts him an inch off the floor in agitation.
Good.
“Your soul, little wizard? The one you’ve split eight ways till the thirtieth of February? The one that caused,” he tightens his grip, no doubt bruising the man. “An insane amount of paperwork that I’ve had to suffer through. Your soul, John Constantine?”
Danny hisses his name. The man makes a warbling noise that Danny takes as acknowledgement. Danny bats away the weak spell Zatanna sends at him with a hand.
“You’ll find that I am in the possession of most of your soul contracts. To simply put,” he grins, teeth made of dying stars on display. “I own your soul. My soul, now.”
He drops the wizard who collapses onto his knees to stare up at him in horror, eyes flicking between the circle that was meant to contain him and Danny, who is very much not contained. He crouches down- something necessary but disjointed as he’s not used to this taller form- and speaks to Constantine in a slow, dead serious, drawl.
“If you ever sell your soul again, you and I are going to have issues. Is that clear, John Constantine?”
“Uh- yeah, yes, yes, your majesty.”
Patting his cheek condescendingly, Danny gets up and sighs, stress relieved. He’s starting to feel bad, though, so he allows his form to ripple back to his normal teenage Phantom self.
“Well, it’s not like anyone will buy it, since they know they’ll have to go against me.” He chirps, flipping 180 from his terror inducing eldritch voice. “So, what’ll you pay me to get rid of whatever ghost you’ve got?”
“…. Nothing?”
Red Robin holds out a bag, eyebags betraying his exhaustion. “I’ve got fifty dollars and a bag of cookies.”
Phantom beams at him. “Throw in a couple of autographs and you’ve got a deal.”
“That’s- yeah, okay.” Red Robin says, inching forward cautiously to hand him the bag.
“Great. I’ll be back for them later. You can call me Phantom. ‘Your Majesty’ gets annoying after a while.”
“Thank- thank you for your mercy, Your- Phantom.” Wonder Woman says.
“Sure. Make sure this idiot doesn’t make any more deals with demons while I’m out, yeah?”
With that, Danny Phantom grabs the bag of cookies and fifty dollars and flies through the wall to do his job.
John slams his head onto the space station floor.
“Fuck.”
—-
Danny: lol I’ll do it for the shits and giggles
Constantine and the League: he’s terrifying, a bastion of pure power and authority
Red Robin, Young “we commit war crimes bc it gets shit done” Justice leader and fellow gremlin: he’d probably do it for cookies. I would.
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reddragon-cowboy · 1 year
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[ooc: tag drop]
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bruciemilf · 3 months
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Protective daddy Thomas Wayne.
No thoughts, only baby Bruce riding on his papa’s shoulders, mind ice cream in his tiny hand, much to Alfred’s utter dismay. “You’re getting so big, bunny! Oh don’t look so salty. He likes it.”
“If he wakes up and likes tigers, shall we commence to that, too?”
“Siberian tigers, sure.”
“T’ger,” Bruce just started speaking and it’s the most adorable and beautiful thing he’s ever heard. Thomas can’t deny himself peppering kisses all over him, and Alfred, too.
His hair shivers.
Carmine Falcone approaches them with a sharp eye. “Thomas Wayne outside and walking. Didn’t think I’d see you. And who’s this?” He’s bad at appearing harmless. Bruce hides behind Thomas’ head, peeking at him through his eyelashes.
Thomas’ radiant smile vanishes in something cold. “My baby.”
“My future competition,” he hums, “Pretty little thing. Like his daddy.”
A flat silence snows over them, and Thomas gently passes his baby boy to a still, smiling that switchblade smile of him.
“Let’s talk, Carmy.”
“Listen here, ya rat bastard,” He sneers, smile manic and eyes wide, like a scorned serpent baring its fangs, forearm pressed tight against Carmine’s throat. He watches that little vermin thrash and wheeze.
Thomas’ accent is honeyfire, drawling like a whiskey river and booming like lighting. “You even look at my son again, I swear on my mama’s body, boy, I’ll dig up your piece of shit daddy and make you eat the skin. You understand?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t fucking play with me, Falcone. “
“I swear,” he groans, clawing at Thomas’ arm, but he doesn’t even feel it, that’s how enraged he is. “On my father’s name, I swear.”
“Good. “ A knee to the stomach is unnecessary, yet greatly desired. “Get the fuck off my streets.” And if Alfred watches Thomas hide his bloody knuckles from Bruce while they’re at the park, who’s he to say anything?
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hecvenwept · 2 years
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before i continue with the replies & starters... 
NEW TAGS DUMP ︾
(only for main/basic function tags. tags for ships & muse relationships remain the same, only changing format to make them look fancier or w/e! )
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fangswbenefits · 1 year
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For Science
𓂅 𓄹 Summary: There has been a rumour circulating in regards to Miguel’s venom. It has to be too far-fetched, right?
𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader
𓂅 𓄹 Warnings: 18+. Fangs. Biting. Venom!play (is that a thing?).
You eyed Jessica Drew with utmost interest as she worked her way around Miguel’s surveillance station, easily dragging files in and out of the multiple screens.
“Why do you get access to his stuff and I don’t?” you asked as sudden jealousy crept in.
“We go way back,” she started, pulling some information to her watch. “You’ll get there in time…”
Your ego soared.
“… if you don’t keep annoying him.”
It immediately plummeted.
“He’s easy to piss off,” you beamed. “And I’m easily entertained. What can I say? Match made in heaven.”
She chuckled at your antics. “Just don’t get yourself expelled.”
You nodded and waved your hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. So have you heard that rumour about him?”
Jessica finished setting up her watch and mission logs and threw you a suspicious look.
“Well… the one that says his venom does more than causing paralysis,” you wiggled your eyebrows, letting the not so subtle implication dangle.
“You know what? One day Miguel is going to kick you out and I won’t do anything about it.”
“What? I didn’t come up with this!”
It was absolutely true. You hard heard it from some spiders one night while strolling throught the lobby. Rumours came and went. No one thought much of them and these were just harmless fun.
“Well, I’m not commenting on this.”
“Fine! But it’s fascinating.”
Jessica sighed, rotated on her feet and went down the stairs. “You can go ask Miguel, then.”
“Ask Miguel what?”
You froze in place as spider-man 2099 entered the dark room, eying both of you.
“Oh, I’m out,” Jessica snorted, heading towards the exit. “You two have fun.”
Miguel kept his gaze on your and you waved a hand at him.
He frowned.
“Lyla, reroute all the main sectors to earth-1610,” he said, pressing on his dimensional travel watch. “Any possibility of a canon event being disrupted must be reported to Jessica.”
The AI appeared next to him and adjusted her heart-shaped glassed up the bridge of her nose. “Is she tagging along, too?” she pointed at you.
He shook his head. “Not a chance. She’s more useful here.”
“Hey!” you were about to protest, but decided against it.
You knew there was a compliment in there somewhere. Your past missions had not gone without some minor bumps, which was why it had been decided the previous day that you’d tag along Miguel for a couple of weeks to hone your off-field abilities.
“Anything major must be reported to me.”
Jessica nodded but Lyla was not so easily dismissed. “I didn’t hear you say iiit.”
Miguel rolled his eyes. “Thank you for your services as always, Lyla.”
She took a dramatic bow and vanished.
He took large steps towards the platform, greeting you with a curt nod.
How would you describe your relationship with Miguel O’Hara? Tense? On the verse of collapse each time you teased him? Friendly? But only when you didn’t have to spend more than one hour together.
“Morning to you, too, boss,” you saluted.
He let out an exasperated sigh as he checked the screens in front of him.
Maybe you should go easy on him. You were already on thin ice, but just adored pushing him. There was something about teasing him that just did wonders to you.
“Did you sleep well? Did you get some food?”
“Don’t start getting on my nerves.”
You raised both hands, feigning a look of innocence. “I did nothing. You’re paranoid.”
His head turned to you.
“You do have an issue obeying the chain of command. Your last mission was a disaster, because you got into an argument with Peter instead of focusing on the anomaly — don’t interrupt me!” he said pinching the bridge of his nose as you were about to defend yourself. “You have much to offer, but you’re also all over the place and lack discipline. I don’t think you—”
You gave him a jaw-popping yawn which effectively cut him off.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I boring you?” he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You do know that I was pressured by others to let go of you.”
A long pause stretched out.
“Then why didn’t you?”
In your mind, you had hoped your growing friendship with him had played a part, but…
“You have potential,” he said with a sigh. “One day you might even be better than me.”
Well, that was a high praise and your spine snapped straight instantly. “Really?”
“Maybe… probably not,” he concluded. “But if you keep your focus and work hard, you will be a very skilled spider.”
You rolled your eyes. “Woah, thanks a bunch!”
In truth, you knew Miguel was trying his best to smooth over your bruised ego, but your pride got the best of you.
“Any questions you have, just let me know,” he said reassuringly while glancing at the screens in front of him.
“I can ask anything?”
“Yes.”
“Sooo… have you heard that rumour about your venom?”
It was too early in the day to be so serious, so you genuinely saw no harm in lightening the mood.
He threw you a side glance. “Be specific.”
“Well… that it can cause extreme pleasure,” you blurted out. “Oh, besides the paralysis thingy,” you quickly added.
Miguel turned to fully face you. “I don’t even want to know where that came from.”
Deep down, you felt a pang of disappointment. It would be such an interesting finding.
“Ah, so it’s not true.”
“Probably not.”
That piqued your interest. “Probably? So there’s a chance? It’s just so fascinating, because you’re already so different from the rest of us,” you started rambling not able to hold back your enthusiasm. “Now this is just an added layer!”
You were a scientist at heart and Miguel was pretty much an outlier when it came to being a spider-man. For months you had been trying to let him agree to you running some tests, but to no avail.
In all honesty, Miguel knew his way around science and the inner workings of biology better than you could ever, so he had no reason to indulge your curiosity.
“How do you do it? Is it the same venom or a different one?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Science, remember?”
It was a half truth, though. Yes, this would be mind-blowing science-wise, but this was also about Miguel O’Hara. The very man who had been guiding you through spider society for months. The same men who whose genius and dedication had built the foundations of the spider society.
He now had both hands on his hips and you figured you were already pushing it too far, but enjoyed doing it too much to stop now.
“Can you just tell me how it works? Please?” You clasped your hands together into a beg, hoping it would be enough to bait him for information.
But Miguel remained unfazed.
“No.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” you offered expectantly.
He didn’t budge.
“Please, pretty please?” you tried once again.
Nothing.
“I’ll bring you empanadas every single day from now on,” you enthused. “On demand! Whenever you have those cravings. Two in the morning? Check! Canon event disrupted and universes imploding? Check!”
Miguel quirked an eyebrow. “Do you ever shut up?”
“Is that a yes?”
“No.”
“Just show me how it works,” you sounded desperate by now. Arguing with Miguel ranked high up with the likes of trying to move a boulder with a wooden fork. “How did you get it to work?”
His eyes to widened slightly. “Show you?” he started out. “Are you asking me to pleasure you?”
Now that was probably on your top three of ‘Things you never expect Miguel O’Hara to say’.
“Oh — I mean… well… what?” you stammered, caught by surprise. “I didn’t — you know… huh…”
He only glared at your babbling self.
“Are you… offering?”
Miguel extended his arm to you. “Give me your hand.”
You panicked. “What? Now?”
“For science, right?”
Point taken.
You hesitated momentarily. “You’re not going to paralyse me, right?”
“Do you want me to?”
You offered your hand for him to grip, flipping it palm up. “No.”
“Then I won’t.”
Miguel’s voice was so flat he could just be reading items off a grocery list.
His gloved fingers traced the heel of your palm and his eyes darted down. You held your breath at the sight of him lowering his head. “This might sting.”
And just like that, you watched in complete awe as Miguel O’hara bared his fangs, slowly raking them across your skin before digging into the flesh.
“Ouch!”
Your stomach turned and your heart fluttered as his warm lips grazed the spot he had just bitten. Two circular and symmetrical openings pooled with a tiny amount if blood.
“So? Do you feel a wave of intense carnal bliss?” Miguel asked, straightening up and brushing the droplets away with his thumb.
You merely stood there, waiting for something — anything — to kick in. But as tense seconds ticked by, it was evident nothing was happening.
“No…”
He shrugged, letting go of your hand to tap his watch. “Ah, well. My pleasuring abilities must be below par this morning.”
You scowled at him and considered smashing his arm with a fist. “You could have just said it was all a lie!” you grunted in sheer annoyance, feeling like an idiot. “Now I’m bleeding to death.”
“You’re not going to die.”
“You’re annoying,” you huffed as you checked the bite marks.
“It’s not a lie. I can indeed inject an innocuous version of my venom that can be quite pleasurable,” he said.
“Then do it!” you said, your temper flaring.
Miguel wasn’t one to take orders. He was much more into being the one to call the shots, but your curiosity was eating you alive now that he had revealed that this rumour had some truth to it.
He was now looming over you, his impressive height adding to the tension. “It depends on where I inject the venom. Certain places are more effective,” his voice was uncharacteristicly low as his eyes landed on your neck. “This is just scientific curiosity, right?”
Your mouth had gone too dry to reply, so you just shrugged. Miguel had you taking a few steps back until your lower back hit the railing that lined the platform, causing your hands to clasp around it reflexively.
“Tilt your head.”
You did as you were told and felt his fingers tracing along your jaw, angling you just the way he wanted.
“Hold on tight,” he said, breath now fanning the prickling skin of your neck. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”
Feeling your face heat up from the sudden close proximity, you closed your eyes as if embracing for impact. He pressed his lips to your pulse point before digging his fangs slowly into you.
Your mouth dropped open, aghast, and you finally felt it. His venom poured from the fangs and into your bloodstream, spreading through your veins like wildfire. At first, it was just merely a pleasant sensation, like the one you’d get as you finally drank water after a hot day in the sun.
But it soon turned into something else, and unlike water, the new overwhelming feeling was leaving you thirstier with each thump of your racing heart.
Miguel had his hand on the back of your neck, keeping you in place. He moaned first — no, he grunted —, and you felt a jolt of almost painful pleasure shot down your spine and spread between your thighs.
Your grip on the metal surface wavered momentarily and you feared you might fall, but were firmly grounded by his other hand on your waist. It didn’t take long until your clit started throbbing in unison with your heartbeat.
“Miguel… this… this…”
Suddenly, your suit felt too tight and in the way, especially once he pressed lightly into you.
The venom was no longer being injected, but the remnants of it were enough to wreak havoc throughout your body.
“It’s just for science…” he growled, pulling his fangs away from you. “Does it feel good?”
You didn’t dare open your eyes and could only gasp when you felt him push his erection into you.
“Yeah… science… or whatever…” you gasped, feeling yourself being pushed over the edge with each second that passed.
Just when you thought your orgasm would hit you slowly, Miguel tilted your head to the side, exposing the intact skin.
You gripped his wrist as if holding on for dear life, fearing you’d explode. “Again?”
“Your body is neutralising my venom too fast,” he rumbled, lips hovering a sensitive spot. “I need to inject more.”
“Miguel…” you nearly cried out at the thought of your heart no being able to handle the intense pleasure.
“Look at me.”
Your breathing evened briefly as you did as commanded, his red eyes fixed on yours, pupils fully blown.
“Think you can do this?”
You blinked.
“I know you can take more.”
Your clit was now throbbing at an alarming rate at the promise of more of him.
Miguel flashed you his blood-tipped fangs before sinking them into you once again.
The liquid traveled through your body so fast, you felt like someone had punched the air out of your lungs. You vaguely wondered if you would die from this, and concluded that there were worse ways to go.
Being on the receiving end of Miguel’ dry humps would be enough to make anyone tip over the edge, let alone with the added layer of venom engulfing you into an explosive orgasm.
Your vision blurred in an instant as spams and contractions swept through your body. The friction of his clothed cock rubbing against your clit had you arch your back into him, feeling the bittersweet realisation that you were clamping around nothing. You weren’t sure if this was his venom’s doing, but you felt an overwhelming part of you wishing he had been inside you.
It hurt.
It hurt so good and lasted for so long, you like crying from the overwhelming tide of pleasure.
Miguel gave you time to ride out your orgasm, pressing a bloodied kiss to your lips, swallowing your cries.
Metallic taste filled your mouth and you broke away from him, gasping for air.
Your eyes landed on his crotch.
He was hard. Painfully hard. A faint stain of precum seeping through the material of his suit.
“You okay?”
You bent over, hands on your knees and laboured breaths.
“Are you?” you managed in between gasps.
Miguel crouched to eye-level with you. “I think you owe me one.”
“Yeah…” you nodded, swallowing hard. “Thanks for the… scientific… huh… demonstration.”
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Masterlist
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eilidh-eternal · 5 months
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You make a promise
Part of the Metanoia series | Part 1 | Masterlist |
| SingleDad!Johnny x f!reader | 18+ MDNI | CW mentions of SA, stalking, general PTSD warning for reader and Johnny |
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It happened again.
You knew it would. Know that part of being a woman in this world means living in near constant hyper-vigilance; with an acute awareness of your surroundings.
Should have known better. Should have been more aware. Should have kicked and screamed. Should have fought back.
It’s disappointment that curls around your mind like a serpent and sinks its fangs in deep, floods you with venomous, paralyzing thoughts.
Paralyzed. That’s a good word for it. Pinned against that bookshelf and presently burrowed beneath the blankets in the dark, body curled in on itself with trembling hands tucked tight to your chest. Small. Meek. Trapped in a body that betrays everything you taught it to do. Disappointed that the months of training you endured in the aftermath proved useless when tested outside of a controlled environment and theoretical scenarios.
It happened again–and you let it.
“Bubby?” Isobel is strapped in her car seat, kicking impatient little feet while Johnny works to unfasten the belt across her lap.
“Yes leannan?”
“Why’re the polis here?”
His hands go still, hovering above the buckle, and he turns his head over his shoulder just enough to glimpse the two lids standing on your front stoop. The air in his lungs rushes out of him, chin falling to his breastbone as the panic winding tight in his chest slowly unfurls.
This is home. Isobel is safe. Everyone is safe. This isn’t that day, he reminds himself, but seeing them on your doorstep strikes flint against steeled nerves. The carefully compartmentalized part of his brain that he reserves for work wrestles itself free from its confines and floods his body with adrenaline. Makes the hair on his nape stand on end and the muscles in his jaw tighten until it aches from the tension.
With Isobel extracted from the car, perched on his hip and her book bag slung over the opposite shoulder, he turns to nudge the car door closed, just in time to see your door crack open. Watches the two men present their badges and a folded bundle of paperwork. Gnashes his teeth when he sees, even from the street, wide and fearful eyes that scan everything behind them. Eyes that note his presence and dart away to catalog the next detail. Trodden snow and parked cars. The woman across the street, walking her dog. Surveying your front yard with the same scrutiny he does an engagement zone. 
Isobel squirming in his arms tears his focus away from you, forces him to register the burning sensation at the tip of his nose, the tops of his ears, cold winter air surely biting into her skin just as mercilessly as it does his own.
“I dunno. Let’s get ye inside, aye? Dinnae want to find any missing fingers or toes tonight.” 
To anyone else it would look like he’s taking his time with the ice, treading carefully with the little girl in his arms so as not to send them both crashing down into the snow. Anyone else would see lids next door and mind their own damn business.
Johnny’s never been particularly good at that.
Their presence alone is enough to raise his hackles, to pull the pin from his nerves and toy with letting the hammer fall. Just enough to see if they’re as trained up as the SNP says they are. But all that’s likely to do is scare you more, and he can’t have that. He just found you, just started to get to know you. He’ll be damned if he lets another rash decision chase a pretty thing like you away. 
The thought of it twists and knots in his stomach, plucks at the out-of-tune strings wound through his heart in a weeping facsimile of something he doesn’t dare put a name to. Can’t name because it gives it too much power. Makes it too real.
It’s slow going, pretending to fumble with the keys in the cold. Feigning indifference as he grapples with “—in custody, for now—” and “—press charges?” 
The snow and ice outside is a brilliant, blinding white. Inside, all Johnny can see is red. 
Charges? What on earth happened that she needs to press charges for?
“Bubby, too tight,” Isobel grouses, and he loosens his arm around her with a sigh, lowering her to the ground to help with her jacket and boots. 
“‘M sorry, Bell. Didnae mean to squeeze ye so tight.” Curls bounce around her face as she teeters on one foot, hands on his shoulders to keep her balance.
“It’s okay.” She shifts to her other foot, pulling free of the fleece-lined boots. “Ye’re makin’ a twisty face again,” she observes, and her brows mirror the pinch of his own.
Too damn observant.
“Ah know,” he admits, and his chest heaves with another sigh, reaching up to smooth the crinkles in her forehead with his thumb. “Dinna worry about me and muh twisty face. How ‘bout some hot cocoa? We’ll warm up and then see about supper, hm?” Her face splits into a toothy grin and he softens at the sight. Lets her latch onto his hand and drag him into the kitchen.
“May we come in?”
No.
“Of course.” You take a step back, pulling the door open just wide enough to let the two officers through. Melting snow pools on polished hardwood under their boots, and you quickly herd them towards the carpeted sitting room before the water can warp your floors. You sit opposite of where they do on your sofa, big fluffy robe pulled tight over flannel pants and a pullover.
“He’ll be released on Thursday morning, unless ye’d like to go ahead with the charges for—”
“—No.” Your fingers curl into your palms. “Just the restraining order. I—” Can’t see his face again. Don’t want to be in the same room with him again. “—just the restraining order. Please.”
The shorter of the two nods and produces a pen from his coat, scribbling something in the margins of the papers he holds before sliding them across the coffee table towards you.
“Tha’s the station an’ phone number,” he says, tapping on the notes he made. “We’ll ring ye when he’s released. An’ we’ll ‘ave the protective order in place by tomorrow. He shouldnae be botherin’ ye anymore.”
All you can manage is a nod and a whispered, “Thank you.” They’re kind enough. Most people are.
Until they’re not.
——
It’s dark outside when you hear a knock at your front door, and your hand immediately reaches for your phone, breath forced out of your lungs by the panic squeezing them inside your chest.
There’s a muffled voice. A giggle, followed by shushing and shuffling feet. “Dinnae want to spoil the surprise,” you hear in a familiar lilt.
Johnny?
You draw a relieved breath and wince when your nails press into the marks on your palms, angry crescent moons, and pull yourself up off the couch to peer through the edge of the curtains.
Johnny and Isobel stand, the former holding the latter, on your stoop, small pan of… something, in Isobels gloveless hands.
Bewildered as you are, you shed the blanket from your shoulders, smoothing a hand over your rumpled jumper, and hurry to the door, fretful over Isobels fingers in the frigid air.
The door cracks open, and with it, so do their smiles. 
“Hi, bonnie—”
“—Surprise!” they say at the same time. 
You stand dumbfounded in your doorway, hand braced on the wooden frame, and Isobel holds out what might be something of a cake beneath a mountain of whipped cream towards you.
“It’s a trifle,” she proudly announces. You turn a questioning eye to Johnny.
“Didnae have the fixin’s for a proper cake,” he supplies. “Figured it would be a sort of… olive branch.”
Olive branch? Why would he need—?
Clipped memories from several days ago replay in your head. Coming home. Sitting in the car. Johnny calling after you. Practically running away and slamming the door on him. Shutting him out.
And here he stands, thinking he’s done something worth apologizing over.
“You don’t need- you didn’t… oh, come in out of the cold, will you? No sense in freezing out there.” You push the door open wider, beckoning them in.
“Thought ye’d never ask,” he teases with a wink and shuffles inside, following you to the kitchen with Isobel in tow behind him.
“Here, let’s put that on the table.” Isobel gladly relinquishes the pan and you’re relieved when you feel its warmth seeping into your fingers, a little less worried about both of their lack of proper winter attire. “I’ve never served trifle… would bowls be best?” 
“Aye, ye’ll probably need spoons too. More of a pudding than a cake,” he says as he settles himself in a chair, Isobel quick to clamber up onto his lap.
You’re surprised by your own lack of nerves. The dishes don’t clatter together when you pull them from the cabinet as they have in recent days, and you don’t feel so uneasy with your back to them. Don’t feel the need to look over your shoulder when Isobel thrums her little fingers on the wooden table, or the deep rumble of Johnny’s voice, speaking to her in hushed tones.
You’re safe here. Safe with them.
Johnny’s right about the dessert too. It’s warm, freshly made, and it’s made for a bit of a runny affair, melted whipped cream seeping into custard and some sort of cake on the bottom.
“It’s good. Thank you for, um… Thank you for sharing.” You spoon another bite into your mouth before you can shove your foot in it. Isobel seems to be in another plane of existence entirely, too absorbed with the confection smeared at the corners of her mouth. The same can’t be said about Johnny. He’s focused wholly on you, dessert in front of him a secondary matter. Tertiary, even, with Isobel perched on his knee and his arm looped around her midsection.
The warmth in his eyes has shifted, burns brighter, in a seeking sort of way. Searching for tinder to catch on. More air to billow and blaze. “Can I ask ye somethin’?”
You settle your silverware in your bowl and fold your hands in your lap, pulling the inside of your cheek between your teeth when your nails slice into your palms again. “Sure.”
The silence isn’t uncomfortable so much as it is heavy, laden with the weight of his unspoken question as he continues his assessment of you. For a moment, you wonder if maybe it’s you who owes him an apology.
“Havnae seen ye for a few days. Yer car’s nae moved and yer curtain’s been closed. And last week, when ye–” He pauses abruptly, mulling over his next words carefully. “Ye looked like a green recruit, fresh off the field.”
Terrified.
Shell shocked.
“That have anythin’ to do with the fellows who dropped by today?”
Your eyes flick between his, the bowl on the table in front of you, and Isobel–still lost in her own little microcosm. Untainted by the dark things lurking just beyond her understanding. You knew he’d seen them. Knew he might ask about them at some point. What you hadn’t expected was a trojan horse in the form of a trifle. Thought you would have more time to think of something to explain the situation away.
This isn’t something he should be burdened with. Not over you. Not when he has Isobel to look out for.
When you finally meet his eyes again they’re no less dim. Still searching for words buried beneath ash on your tongue.
“I… Yes. It did.” You swallow, shove down the knot working it’s way up from your chest. “I was followed, out at the shops,” you lie. “The man, he wouldn’t leave me alone, so… the shopkeeper called for the polis. He left me alone after that, but they still took a statement.” You glance towards Isobel again. To give yourself reprieve from the intensity of his gaze and to ensure she’s not listening too closely to the conversation being had. “Guess it wasn’t the first time he’d done it. They came by today to… to let me know he’s in custody. Wanted to know if I wanted to press charges.”
He’s quiet, unearthly still on the wooden chair, staring hard at the expression you’re doing your best to keep calm.
“This happen before?” he questions, hand curling into a fist on the table. 
“No,” you lie–again. 
He nods, a near imperceptible tilt of his chin. “Are ye filing?”
You nod in return. No need to go into the specifics. 
His shoulders relax a fraction when he looses a long breath. “No wonder ye wouldnae come near me that day,” he muses aloud. “‘M sure my givin’ ye a fright in yer car didnae help much, either.”
“It’s not your fault,” you interject.
“Maybe so, but…” His eyes drift with his words, searching the patterns of the wood grain for something. “Can I ask ye another question?” When he looks up at you again, you nod. “Promise ye’ll tell me, if anythin’ like that happens again? Dinna like the thought of ye dealin’ with it on yer own, lass.”
“Tell ye what?” Isobel queries, bowl of trifle empty in front of her, but his gaze remains firmly on you, and you don’t think he’s willing to take no for an answer.
“Okay. I promise.”
Next>>>
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deathfavor · 6 months
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@requiemofrebellion said: " it's the pressure, Kazutora. that's all it is. " (Kisaki to Kazutora, bad toman verse)
jacob's ladder sentence starters
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His head hurts. Kazutora's eyes squeeze shut, discomfort crawling under his skin as he exhales. He's fine. He's fine. But it doesn't FEEL fine. It feels like someone's fucking with his senses and messing everything up. He doesn't like the feeling, hands digging into the armrest of the seat as he tries to focus on something else. He feels irritated and agitated with the sensation.
. Kisaki's voice comes as a welcomed distraction.
He nods slightly to show that he has, in fact, heard Kisaki's voice. Pressure. That's right. He'd heard about people talking about the pressure during takeoff, but it was something he'd never properly understood until this moment. Thankfully his ears pop though, and he lets out a breath he'd been holding. It seems to quell some of the rising agitation he had been feeling moments ago. The feeling of discomfort under his skin had vanishes and he finally relaxes a bit more against the airplane seat.
" Thanks. " Kazutora breathes, his gaze flicking towards Kisaki. " Sorry. I've never flown on a plane before. I heard people talk about it before but I've never felt anything like that before. " He offers an explanation, though he knows Kisaki's already aware he's never been outside the city. " That pressure change sucks. "
Gold eyes peer at Kisaki for a moment but it isn't long before his eyes turn to gaze outside the window with wide eyes. Everything looks so...small. It's a perspective he's only seen in movies and pictures. It's a whole different experience to see it with his own eyes
. All of this felt a bit unreal if he was honest with himself. Not having Hanma was strange. It was especially strange when he considered the fact Kisaki had said they were traveling for business. Normally that was Hanma's thing, and Kazutora would stay patrolling the city. It vaguely feels almost like a test somehow, though Kazutora can't quite pin down the reason that idea comes to mind. He's been good - but this is a whole new beast to tackle to just be with Kisaki for the duration of this trip.
" You said the meeting is tomorrow morning, right? So we'll have some free time when we land. Was there anything on your schedule? " He asks while the thought is on his mind, though his eyes remain fixated at the shrinking world outside the window.
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gojonanami · 8 months
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BLOODSUCKER - SATORU GOJO
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✴︎ summary: you had avoided your ex for so long, only to run into him at a halloween party, and he's the same as ever but has his teeth always been that sharp? ✴︎ contents: 18+ only, nsfw, dub/con, blood kink, gojo has fangs, biting, marking, bloodsucking, fingering (f!receiving), swearing, semi-public sex, sex against a car, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (sweetheart, pretty, baby), ✴︎ wc: 2,704
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“Can I have a bite?” He whispers, lips against your ear, his breath hot against your skin, sending a warm flush down your body — and why did he smell so intoxicating? 
The night had gone on normally enough — yet another Halloween party you had been dragged to (after you had lost a bet and ended up being the designated driver for the evening) in another coordinated themed costume — this time for the Barbie movie. Yet another throng of costumed drunks and weirdos you had to wade through while your friends had their fun. And you thought the night would be boring. 
Oh, you were so wrong. 
He saw you first. You were only sure of that, after, because you remembered the prickling of your skin when his ice blue irises had found you lounging in the loft area upstairs — where most people had begun to clear out of after the keg had arrived downstairs. You had let your hair out of your wig, your head aching from the weight of the hair on your head and the cheap elastic band trying to work its way into your forehead. 
You unlocked your phone, looking at yourself in your camera, pouting at the state of your hair — unkempt and unruly from the wig, but you only could do what you could. 
“Great, now I can be a scary Barbie,” you murmur, locking your phone, as you pocket it. 
“Oh, you’re not scary,” and your head snaps up, eyes finding those pools of still blue that looked like you could drown in them — and you very well would. His lips were curled in a small smile, his skin looked pale in the harsh fluorescent lights of the kitchen, “but I wouldn’t mind seeing you be a little scary,” 
“Satoru,” your lips twist, fuck, you thought he’d never show up to this party — you had avoided him flawlessly since your breakup — if you could even call it that. You never official — you were never anything, just a situation that was more than a booty call, but less than a relationship. Every invitation was only accepted with assurance and recon that Satoru would not attend, every exit strategy was planned, and every move was carefully made. 
Except this one. 
“Oh, you recognize me?” he gasps in mock surprise, lips in that shit eating grin you had loved to kiss off of him, but now, all it did was make you want to slap him, “surprised you did after you’ve avoided me for so long, sweetheart,” 
“And apparently you’re the one with brain damage because we broke up — don’t call me that,” you sigh, eyes glancing down at his outfit — a black and white suit with a high collar, as his mouth moved as he spoke, you caught sight of fangs on his teeth, and his eyes glinted with a crimson tint dipped in an ocean of blue, “your costume is fitting — you definitely did suck the life out of our relationship,” 
“Bitter doesn’t suit you, baby,” your eye twitches, as he dares closer, eyes glinting in the low light of the kitchen, “plus y’know, you always did the best sucking,” 
Your traitorous cheeks flush, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes betray you by flickering downwards, “fuck off—“ 
“Oh, I know you want me to fuck something — don’t think it’s off though,” he looms closer, licking his lips, as he smiles — and your heart forgets to beat — did he always smell this good? He smelt of musk, wood, and everything warm and honeyed — the scent melted over you, plying your resistance with sweetness in contrast to his vulgarity, “look at you, haven’t even touched you and you’re so pliant, where’s that mouth now?” And his thumbs drag down your lips, pulling at the bottom one — “looks better wrapped around my cock, doesn’t it?” 
And his words snap you from your trance, slapping his hand away, “didn’t expect an apology from you, but I thought you’d do better than this shit,” 
“Can you blame me for missing you, pretty?” He pouts, “thought you loved me more than that,” 
“And I thought you loved me enough to commit but looks like we both are wrong,” you roll your eyes, “go find someone else to fuck with, Gojo,” 
He raises an eyebrow, “Aw, baby, don’t act so unfamiliar, you had my dick in you after all, you can still call me Satoru,” and then there’s a cheer in the living room that cuts off your retort, as he turns to look. 
And that’s your cue to leave, you slip away from him, grabbing your jacket, making an Irish exit, slipping through the throng of people partying. You manage to get down the street, the streets quiet now, the sounds of the party growing more distant by the second. A sense of dread settled over you the more you walked, forming a lump in your throat and a pit in your stomach. The streetlights flickered above you, the wind cutting through your jacket as you pulled it closer around you. Your car was close, right past this wooded backyard, trees lining what seemed to be an abandoned home. There was only a few more yards — and then you heard a twig snap — your head snapped around to look behind you. 
And that was your mistake. 
A hand clamped over your mouth, as you gasped against it, another tight around your middle, your scream was muffled against the palm. And then a familiar voice whispered in your ear, “Boo,” before he lets you go, and you whirl around, smacking Satoru against his chest, hard. 
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Your heart was pumping, hard, nearly banging against your ribs, body still shaking with adrenaline, “what the fuck - that’s not fucking funny,” 
“It wasn’t supposed to be funny — it was supposed to be spooky,” he grins, unaffected by your anger, as your fingers clench into fists, “you didn’t give me a treat so I had to play a trick. It’s the rules of Halloween, pretty,” 
“It wasn’t spooky, it was fucking scary—“ you move to hit him again, and he catches your hand by the wrist, and he’s pulling you close, “let me go, Gojo—“ 
“Satoru,” he corrects, his fingers caressing your cheek, and you feel your knees knocking together, the world shifting beneath your feet, “I’m sorry for frightening you, sweetheart,” and he’s helping you walk over to your car, “just wanted to make sure you get to your car safely,” 
Why were you letting him help you? Why was your body leaning against his? Why were you letting his arm slink around your waist, fingers squeezing your hip? But those same questions sunk away into the inky abyss of your mind, as thoughts blurred over each other, and all you can think about was him.  
“Satoru,” you murmur, as you stumble against him, and he catches you by your waist, steadying you, “I don’t know what’s wrong,” your head rests against his chest, but you felt so comfortable, so…content. 
“It’s okay, baby, I got you,” he purred, his words only intoxicated you further, drizzled like melted molasses down your throat, “that spook I gave you earlier really took it out of you, but,” his fingers tilt your chin up, his eyes finding yours — and they glowed, a shiny blue that unnerved you, “should I show you something really scary?” 
“Satoru, what—“ and he’s kissing you, lips sliding against yours — he tastes familiar, hint of candy corn that he was always a fiend for, but he tastes even sweeter than that, headier too — before he parts, “what are you doing?” 
“Showing you just how much I missed you,” he hums, thumb gliding over the length of your cheek, “y’know how hard it was for me without you? Wouldn’t be able to sleep. I could only think about how I had screwed thing up. Would take these long walks at night when I couldn’t sleep,” and his fingers trace down your jawline, before reaching your neck, his thumb resting against your pulse, “turns out those walks were good for one thing,” 
“And what’s that?” You murmur, still utterly distracted by his touch. 
And he brushes his lips against your neck, teeth grazing against your pulse, “Finding a way to keep you — forever,” and his lips find yours again, more insistent this time, as his arms press your body to his, your hands sliding up his chest, caged in by his form, “can I have a bite?” he whispers, lips against your ear now, sending a flush across your cheeks, “just wanna mark you again, like i used to, make you mine,” 
For a moment, the curtain snaps back, mask slipping, as your eyes flutter open without the rosy glasses he had slipped over your eyes, “I’m not yours,” and you only see him — the true him — for a moment. 
His muscles tighten, fingers digging into your sides harshly, gripping your flesh hard enough to bruise, his gaze is dark, navy instead of the usual cerulean with a ring of red that pierces through your skin, but his teeth — his teeth scare you the most — his fangs aren’t fake, his tongue sliding against them both, as he flashed an unnerving smile at you that sends your blood running cold.  
But not colder than his. 
“Satoru — what—“ and his lips find yours again, sending a headiness throughout your body, from your head to the tips of your toes, “I-“ 
“Just let me have this, just this one night,” he murmurs, words as smooth as glass and as needy as need itself, “please,” 
And you’re the one pulling him to you, back against the cool metal of your car, and your fingers cup his face, pulling him against your lips. He tastes like want, his tongue parts your lips, as his fingers slide up your dress, sending goosebumps up your thighs, “Fuck, all it takes for you, huh?” He murmurs, and his fangs nibble at your bottom lip making you gasp, pressing wet kisses down your jaw, until he reaches your neck. 
“Been thinking about this for far too long, sweetheart,” 
two fingers drag down your neck first, as he tilts your head for easy access, and you shiver at his touch — was he colder than before? “I’m going to be doing a lot more than marking you like I did before,” his lips press a delicate kiss to your neck, “need to taste it,” 
And his fangs drag over your soft flesh, before he finally bites you. Your mouth hangs open in a sharp gasp as his fangs pierce your skin, and your head lolls back, as pleasure floods your body. You feel your warm blood dripping from your neck, slipping down your skin, as he sucks from you. 
He pulls away for a moment to look at you, your scarlet blood dripping from his mouth, painting his pale pink lips burgundy, as his tongue darts out to catch the blood slipping down your chin. 
“You taste like everything to me,” he murmurs, pressing his nose against the nape of your neck, “sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted, aren’t you?” 
You whimper, “Satoru, feels so good,” and he’s kissing you again, letting you taste your own blood on his lips, it only makes you want him even more. But this isn’t right, something wasn’t right—
“Just give in, sweetheart,” he’s dragging your hands down your sides, squeezing your hips, as his palms rest under your thighs, “let me make you feel good,” 
And he lifts you, guiding your legs to wrap around your waist, as his large palm slides up your thigh, hiking your dress up. He grins, looking at your soaked panties, thumb pressing against your puffy clit, making you gasp and squirm, “wonder if you taste even sweeter down here, baby?” 
You whine louder, as his fingers slide into the waistband of your underwear and snaps it against your skin, “Your blood is pumping harder than ever, bet it tastes even better like that — full of your fear, full of your pleasure,” his fingers are sliding your drenched panties down, “fuck, you’re a little freak, bet you got wet when I grabbed you, can’t all be from the last few minutes,” 
And his lithe finger sinking into you, as your lips part in a gasp as he bullies your walls, “So tight for me,” he groans, as his finger curls against you, making you moan, and his teeth graze against your neck, before sinking in. You both moan in tandem, as he drinks more of your blood, as a second finger parts into your folds, your release dripping down his palm. He’s stretching you out — fingers pistoning in and out, Pleasure courses up and down your body, toes curling, as all you can hear is the sucking of his fangs and the squelch of his fingers in your cunt. 
And then he hits that spot, and you’re cumming, slick dripping down your thighs as you moan, as your hips move against his fingers, riding out your orgasm. He pulls your fangs from your neck, letting your blood drip down your neck. 
He tilts your head back, letting him look at your fluttering eyelashes and fucked out expression, lips parted, as your blood paints your skin a beautiful maroon. 
“So fuckin’ pretty, sweetheart,” he’s pulling his fingers from you, as you gasp from the emptiness. He places them in his mouth, cleaning them of your release, “think I may get addicted baby, gotta have more of you — doesn’t matter if it’s your blood or your cum,” 
And you hear the clink of your belt buckle and sound of his zipper, as he frees his cock, rubbing against your dripping pussy, “Gonna let your ex fuck you against your car? Gotta have you baby, but if I take you now, I don’t know if I’ll ever let you go,” he’s teasing the head of his cock against your pussy lips, “do you still want me to do it?”
You whine, back arching against the hard surface of the car, “please, I need you,” your fingers wrap around his neck, his lips against yours, “Satoru—“ 
And he’s sinking his cock into you, as he’s lifting your legs to your ears, ankles by his ears as his hips flush against your ass, “Fuck, can you feel me kissing the deepest part of you?” His hips roll into you now, slowly at first, again and again, as your walls throb around him, the car groans and your ankles ache against his slow thrusts, “best cunt I’ve ever had, and all fucking mine now,” 
“Toru, please, more—“ 
And he barks a laugh, sweat slipping down your forehead, his balls slapping against your ass, “so needy f’me, you’re mine aren’t you? Say you’re mine,” he’s grunting as your walls flutter around him, and he knows you’re close—
Your orgasm washes over you, toes curling, and he leans forward, fangs sinking into you, as he fucks you through it. The blood he drinks makes your head dizzy with pleasure, until he pulls away, letting your blood drip from his lips. And he’s grunting, hips stuttering as he bottoms out — making you gasp and whine again. Until he’s cumming inside you, painting your walls white, emptying his load into you. He’s fucking his cum inside your cunt.
And he’s easing your legs down as the two of you come down, his face buried in the nape of your neck, licking at the blood dripping from his bites — your neck beginning to ache and sting now. 
“So pretty, so perfect,” he coos, his lips curling still red from your blood, as he’s curling his arms around your waist, “gotta take you home so I can taste you all over again.” 
“No, I can’t. This was a one time thing—“ 
And he’s tilting your chin up, eyes flashing dangerously, as his lips curl, “I told you, I’m not going to let you go, besides,” he turns your head towards your rear view mirror, your eyes beginning to glint red, “I have to let you have a bite of me later,” and you can feel your blood run cold, “it’s only fair, isn’t it, sweetheart?” 
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✴︎ a/n: was possessed to write this by the halloween spirits -- also i have a thing for bloodsucking now unfortunately. have a spooky season :)
✴︎ tag list: @d1rtv, @crazynocturnalkiki, @ichikanu, @dazailover1900, @sinnerstardoll, @bisexualpanicwentoutforasmoke, @dumbabie, @aureatekintsugi, @mooly-artistic, @happymangospot, @hiimarandin, @bunsunee, @5-xiaoo,
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starsofang · 1 month
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Get Well Soon john price x f!reader word count: 4.3k tw: MDNI, NSFW, jealous price, possessiveness, oral sex, fingering, dirty talk, just a bit nasty ngl
Jealousy was a disease, and John was its desired host that it ravaged with an unfurling blaze of smoldering flames that scorched through the bloodstream like injected venom. It simmered at the bones and left him scathed, dissipating into bitter ash that filled the air around him with the pungent scent of his own distaste.
In other words, John really fucking hated seeing you wrapped around Soap like a damn boa constricter ready to sink your fangs into him like a feast.
The whiskey he’d been sipping on with tedious sips was now thrown back into his throat, sliding down to his stomach and leaving him with an acidic aftertaste. The alcohol only coaxed the fire into an uproar, the tips of the flames flicking its red-hot tongue in the flesh of his skin and scalding him with third degree burns from the inside and out.
He tried focusing on the emptiness that stared back at him from the bottom of his glass, fingers coated in the icy condensation where he gripped around it with vice. It prickled his fingertips, the force of his grasp causing his knuckles to go white and veins to flex uncomfortably in the back of his hand.
But the grim sight of melting ice wasn’t nearly as intriguing as the sight of you, the woman who’s been gnawing your way through his skin and bone for the past however-the-fuck-long that John’s been tongue-tied over you, smiling like a cheshire while Soap maneuvered you around on the dance floor of the dimly lit club, dipping his fingertips in the fat of your hips.
Your hips swayed in earnest, Soap and you sharing a laugh as he tried to replicate your pace and ended up stumbling around like a damn fool. The spark of amusement that shimmered in your irises was so bright, John could see it from where he sat at the bar. It blinded him, like a flashbang being hurled his way without a single ounce of warning, causing his ears to ring and his eyes to blink away the dryness that dusted his retinas.
He shouldn’t be mad, really. You weren’t his, and he wasn’t yours.
Soap was simply livening the mood after a grueling mission was deemed a success. John was the one that offered to take you out, allowing you a night free of suffocating peril, yet here he was, moping like a child who’d just gotten his video games taken away.
He wasn’t a jealous man. He’d never taken an interest in a woman long enough for it to tread into that type of territory, and his work occupied him like a slave to commitment – commitment to the job, and never to a pretty woman deserving of much more than him.
Yet, you had somehow begun worming your way into his brain, molding it to the shape of you. Your smile, your laugh, the way you chewed your lip when deep in thought, the plush skin reddening under its abuse and clashing with the tone of your skin. Everything about you was hardwired into his brain, filed away and hidden in the depths of his thoughts.
It was selfish of him, he knew.
You were his subordinate – if he could call you that, really. You worked with Laswell, which meant you worked with him. A package deal, one he had no choice but to accept when it came down to it.
He was playing a dangerous game, allowing the churlish spur of envy to grab him by the throat and choke him into submission. It darkened his vision with spots of red rage, lighting with a flicker of flames that illuminated in the reflection of his pupils.
But John was a fond lover of games, given his track record of coaxing enemy intel out of the lips of grotty men through the bite of his threatening words and the sting of his knife into their mangy skin. He knew how to play to get what he wanted, what he needed, but you were a puzzle with thousands of pieces that he just couldn’t figure out how to complete.
He clung to you like a moth to a flame. A dog to its bone. A bullet to a wound.
You were his ecstasy that he could no longer deny, and he was slowly succumbing to the addiction. He got high off of the very being of you, injecting you into his veins with guilty pleasure.
And John didn't know how much longer he could starve himself from his fix.
Unable to watch the way Soap embraced you with a feverish warmth that had your expression melted into content gratification, he stood from the bar stool with a lick of virulent hostility, the legs scraping against the floor like nails to a chalkboard. Gaz spared him a worrying look, and when he went to open his mouth to ask if he was okay, John sent him a dismissive wave of his hand, muttering a gravelly ‘smoke break’ before taking off.
The chill of the night air smothered him with a relieving shiver down his spine, nipping his cheeks that were warmed from a mix of club smog and alcohol firing in his bloodstream. He was far from drunk, far from tipsy, but the burning desire he harbored for you made him feel the buzz of a high that hazed over all thoughts of calm serenities.
Leaning against the old brick of the club, he sifted a hand through the pocket of his jacket, fishing out a cigarette. Cigars were much more his taste, but unenjoyable when having to shove them in the bowels of a cramped pocket.
Lighting it up and taking a thick puff, the burn of smoke did nothing to calm the hideous monster that dared to rear its head against the fabrics of his heart. It was hungry, vengeful, baring its teeth in hopes of sinking them into flesh and bone, tearing its victim apart limb by measly limb.
The music boomed faintly from the closed door of the club, pounding vexing notes through his eardrums and tainting them with a distasteful noise.
John continued his routine of inhale and exhale, dipping into the dance of wispy smoke that surrounded him and basked his aura in musk and pungency. It swallowed him whole, enough so that he didn��t hear the whisk of the club door opening from beside him, and a familiar voice sparking fireworks in his mind.
“Sir!” you exclaimed, and John felt his shoulders tense with wavering remembrance of the way Soap wrapped his tattered arms around you, his lips leaned in close to your ear to speak with you over the loudness of the music, the way he was the reason you were giggling like schoolgirl off her rocker. “I didn’t see you at the bar. You feeling okay, Captain?”
The name left a tangy taste in his mouth. Bittersweet, souring.
“Thought I told you to call me John,” he grumbled with a ghost of a smile, tight and forced. It was more a grimace than a smile, as of course you would notice. Of course.
Keen eye, you had. It was one of the many traits John found himself falling into.
“John,” you corrected with a smile so bright, it practically laid out all of the stars in the sky in a shimmering blanket of wondrous light. “Why are you out here and not inside with the others?”
John had to hold back a lingering scoff that threatened to claw its way out of purgatory and fill the air with bitter irk.
“Got a bit stuffy in there, don’t you think?” he offered in place of spiteful words, but even at his attempt, the words came out clipped if your frown was anything to come by. “Needed a break.”
“You seemed bothered, Cap– John.”
“Mm.”
Your frown deepened and it only burdened him further. He didn’t want to be the reason for your upset, but that green little gremlin that coaxed him into anguished jealousy didn’t give two shits. It settled into his bones with enervating annoyance, paining him with ache.
“Don’t let me stop you from your fun with Soap,” he muttered dryly, uttering the words before he could stop himself.
Your eyebrows raised and you stared at him for a long moment, taking him in. His tense shoulders, tight lips pulled into a thin line, his firm grip on his cigarette that would’ve snapped it in half if he used an ounce more of strength.
“Something’s bothering you, sir,” you noted, and he gave you a taut smile.
“Look at that. Quite the brain on you.”
“No need to be rude about it, John.”
“Not being rude.”
“You are.”
John sucked in a sharp breath, nostrils flaring when he deeply exhaled. His eyes bore into yours like frigid icicles ready to pierce into you. It was chilling to the bone, sending an unsettling shiver down your spine. John noticed.
“It’d be best if you head on inside,” he hummed, his tone quipped with a hint of warning.
“Really?” you asked in disbelief and he snorted.
“Really.”
John knew he was being unfair. His envy was eating at him from the inside, bubbling its way out in molten poison that burned in his mouth.
“Something is clearly bothering you, Captain. Is it a crime to check on you?” Your tone began matching his own sour one, biting into him like a feral dog with its hackles raised.
“What’s a crime is you saddlin’ up with Soap like he’s your bloody suitor,” he hissed, and there it was, the bitter taste of frothing temper seeping out of his lips like red-hot lava. It scalded him, leaving him with third degree burns on his tongue. “Lettin’ him have at you like a fuckin’ dove for the takin’.”
“What?” you breathed, eyebrows knitting together in bafflement. “What are you trying to say?”
“What I’m tryin’ t’say, what I’ve been wantin’ t’say, is that I don’t like the way he was touchin’ you,” he declared in earnest. He stood straight from where he was leaned against the wall, glowering down at you with a look that could’ve pinned you to the gravel beneath your foot. “I’ve been patient. I’ve kept my distance. But enough’s a fuckin’ ‘nough.”
You didn’t cower under his looming glare, nor did you take a step back like you should’ve. You remained firmly rooted in your spot next to him, eyes flickering between the scowl on his mouth to the fiery eyes that threatened to burst into explosion any second.
“You’re jealous, Captain,” you stated, quite obviously. It tickled the little monster that was nearly bursting out of his skin.
“Rightfully so,” he muttered. “I don’t like people touchin’ what’s mine.”
“I wasn’t aware that I was yours to begin with, Captain.”
“John,” he reminded you. “I’d be happy to make you aware of it. Print it in that pretty head of yours so you won’t forget it.”
Warmth blossomed under your skin, spreading from head to toe and curling you into his burning embers. The words struck you like lightning, quick and sudden, leaving you dazed.
You could smell the faint cigarette smoke and whiskey in the fan of his breath as it settled over your face. You took it in, breathing through your nostrils and letting it settle to the core. It was musky and fragrant, stirring your brain into goopy mush.
“How’s that sound, sweetheart?” he mused, nearly sending you into an early grave. Fuck, you’d dig it yourself if it meant hearing those words on repeat.
“I–” You swallowed, mouth suddenly parched.
John stepped closer to you, a dangerous and brooding step. His frame towered over yours, head tilted down to ensure eye contact remained secured. He wouldn’t allow you to look away, wouldn’t allow you the chance to catch your breath. He knew what he was doing, knew what you were feeling.
“Just say the word,” he breathed, tickling your nose with his piquant scent. “Say the word and I’ll make it happen, sweetheart.”
“Yes,” you managed, voice less confident than it had been before when you let your frustration get the better of you. Submissive, willing.
John’s lips perked into a pleased smile, eyes brimming with amusement and risk. He was taking the leap off of a daunting cliff, diving headfirst in a pool of unknown and uncertainty. But oh, he was certain of this.
You tasted the poignant flavors that melted from his tongue on to yours when he sealed his offer with a kiss. It was demanding, stern, his mouth molding into yours in the shape of a promise.
He traveled the shape of your jaw, rough hand entangling itself in the feathers of your hair. Tugging, wrapping it in his grasp, luring you into him with a burning desire to mark what was his. It was fire mixing with gasoline, burning scriptures in your skin, burning his name.
John swallowed every gasp and groan, eager and greedy. He captured your bottom lip with teeth, sinking in with a grueling bite, carving his indents into the plush flesh. He barely allowed you to gather air in your lungs, and it left you feeling dizzy, untrusting of your own legs to keep you steady.
“Do me a favor, love,” he grunted in the midst of your kiss, pulling back only to get a glimpse of the glossy look in your eyes. “Go on and tell the boys you aren’t feelin’ well and I’m takin’ you home. Had too much to drink, so I’m gettin’ you to bed, hm? Can you do that f’me?”
Your breath was shaky when you released a sigh, and nodded in tenacity, practically scrambling back into the club like a dog with its tail between its legs.
John stayed true to his promise of taking you home and tucking you into bed – just not in the way the boys were told.
He was like a predator pouncing on its prey the moment you arrived at your humble abode. His hands explored every expanse of your body, shedding you until you were bare with a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom in its wake.
He was famished, like a man starved for weeks on end, and the only thing that would satiate him was ravishing you to the bone.
You thought after agreeing that you were John’s and he was yours, it would feed his burning anger warranted from jealousy. If anything, it was the opposite.
He was firm and demanding, determined to etch every part of him into the plains of your skin. His hands were skilled in the way he practically shoved you into the mattress, lips remaining locked into place on your own.
He was a man on a mission, and you knew John to be one to never fail to complete it.
“M’gonna show you exactly what’s botherin me,” he mumbled into your mouth. His voice was raspy and guttural, laced with an undeniable wisp of arousal. “Been botherin’ me for ages.”
True to his word, his lips, chapped with a sheen of your mixed saliva moistening them, trailed down the column of your neck. They were neither rough or soft kisses, but rather balanced and precise. Teeth nicked the sensitive skin, taking it between tender bites and nursing the hissing stings with the point of his tongue.
Marking his territory, just as promised.
“You never said anything,” you acknowledged through a breathy sigh, lips parted and hazy eyes pointed at the ceiling as he worked wonders on your jawline.
“Didn’t have the gall to, ‘til I saw you cozied up with Mactavish,” he grunted, and as if the thought passing by in remembrance settled into his brain, he bit down a bit harder on the spot where your neck and shoulder met.
John peppered his kisses down from your clavicle, creating a trail to your sternum. It tingled with a feverish burn, spotting your skin with a faint flush. One of his calloused hands slid up your side, prompting a shiver along the way, until it grasped the mounds on your chest in a possessive hold.
His tongue darted out to circle a perked nipple, teasing, mocking. You couldn’t hold back the pathetic whine, and the rumble of his smug chuckle vibrated your whole body. Offering mercy, he enveloped the entirety of your nipple in his mouth, grazing his teeth along the sensitive bud and causing you to hiss in a mix of pain and pleasure – perfectly balanced, because John was a calculated man, and he never left a job unsatisfactory.
Your thighs rested limply on each side of his waist, and when he gave a particularly hard suck, they tightened around him, knees knocking into the thick of his ribcage. Instantaneously, his other hand that wasn’t occupied with holding your breast came to grab hold of your knee, carefully peeling it away from where it rested on the warmth of his skin, tugging you apart until you were spread and vulnerable.
That same hand slowly slipped down your knee, sweeping along your inner thigh and worshiping the smooth skin with a swipe of his fingertips. They were rough against your skin in comparison, and the sensation made you jolt.
They continued their downward exploration until you felt the subtle touch of a finger experimentally slide along your slit. You wanted to feel embarrassed by how wet you were from nothing more than kissing and him ravishing your breasts like he was feasting on a meal, but you couldn’t.
Judging from his muffled groan, he didn’t seem to mind it either.
“Fuckin’ soaked and I haven’t even touched you,” he observed, rearing his head back from your chest so he could gleam down at the sight of you spread out for him, glistening in the dim light of the room, forming a sheen over the tips of his fingers.
An embarrassed noise sounded in the back of your throat and you tilted your head to the side to avoid his smoldering gaze. He tutted, grabbing hold of you by the chin to force you to look back at him. His eyes were lit up with the same fire as before, yet this time, it burned brightly, illuminating his thirst for salvation.
“Don’t do that,” he said, tone dripping with the command of the leader he was and had always been. “You’re goin’ to look at me while I take you. Had no problem lookin’ at Soap when you danced with him, so you should have no problem lookin’ at me when I make you come on my tongue.”
You had to close your eyes to compose yourself, sucking in a sharp breath that pierced your lungs and filled your chest with an ache only he could soothe. They sent shocks through your body, lighting up like fireworks.
When John seemed satisfied that you’d listen, that you’d digested every word and command that slipped off his tongue, he let go of your chin, pleased to see you kept your promise of keeping your eyes on him.
He returned his attention to your silky cunt, dipping a finger in the slick that seemed never ending. His mouth was practically watering at the visual, and he was desperate for a taste.
John wasted no time in stooping down to be leveled with your cunt, breath fanning over it and causing you to squirm. He sent you a warning glare before poking out his tongue, gliding it over the sensitive nub before fully engulfing his mouth around it.
The sound you released was near inhuman, strangled and choked in surprise. His mouth was warm and inviting as he began devouring you, humming greedily at the tangy taste that smoothed over his tongue and filled his mouth.
It was intoxicating, addicting, surging through his bloodstream like a high he’d never come down from. Hazy, clouded. It disoriented him, smoothing over his mind with nothing but thoughts of consuming you until you were a puddled mess.
Your hand found its way in his hair, tangling in the mess of strands and tugging. Possessive in the way you pushed him deeper into your core, his nose digging into you as he inhaled the sweetness of your scent. The smell of you attracted him like hummingbirds to nectar, and he couldn’t get enough.
“Fuck,” he breathed into you, and the gust of air mixed with warmth and a slight chill all at the same time had you whining. “Look at you. Such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”
He didn’t bother to wait for your answer before diving right back into you. He didn’t want to hear words, he didn’t want to hear smugness. All he wanted was to hear those sweet sounds filter out of you, like a soothing song playing on repeat.
He became more possessive in the way he took you, the subtle tenderness he was showing before melting into filth. Your slick soaked into the coarse hairs of his beard, chin dripping with evidence of your arousal that only became more pungent the more he sucked and prodded.
“John,” you whimpered helplessly, and he rumbled with a satisfied noise, so you repeated his name. It became pleading, desperate, voice turning into a shaky mess that only sent his mouth into overdrive.
The ghost of a fingertip brushed along the rim of your entrance, and when you took a breath, he seized the opportunity to sink it into you, all the way to the knuckle. It curled into you, before pulling out then pumping back in. It became a dance, the way his finger fucked into you with curious ambition, and it had you pooling into a moaning mess, writhing from stimulation.
His eyes fluttered up to meet yours with his mouth still wrapped around your clit, and you nearly gushed just from the look of him alone – beads of sweat already dotting on his hairline, brows furrowed in concentration, eyes dark and sultry with intentions of ruining you. They locked on to yours and never left for a single moment, not even when he stretched you open with a second finger, then a third.
It was all so fucking much. You could barely think with him filling you, curving right into that sweet spot of serenity that had stars bursting in your vision. Your body moved on its own accord, and to keep you still, he placed a thick arm over the plains of your stomach, holding you down while keeping the other occupied in the tightness of your cunt.
Too much, so much, all at once. It had your mind in the skies, floating on clouds of euphoria.
John seemed to map out your body language just from one taste of you on his tongue along, because when your stomach began to tighten and flex, legs trembling and quivering, he pulled his mouth away from you, fucking you with his fingers with a quickened pace.
“You goin’ to come, sweetheart? Hm?” he asked, and it felt as if he was teasing you. Mocking you, filled with overwhelmed smugness. “Goin’ to come from my mouth like I told you?”
You nodded vigorously, shameless in your own desperation. The squelch of his fingers dripping into your cunt with every shallow thrust was enough to leave you breathless. They filled you with a frantic need, shooing away the emptiness you once felt and submerging you in a febrile warmth.
“Good fuckin’ girl,” he praised, and it had you keening.
You attempted to lift your hips, pushing them in the direction of his mouth. He released a hearty chuckle, eyes crinkling from his bashful smile before he gave in to what you wanted, Mouth returning to your cunt, sinking into you like a feral animal, quenching his thirst and hunger.
You cried out, hand tightening in his hair. It was almost instant that you felt the coil of string ready to snap at any moment, tearing and tearing, bordering you on the edge of breaking apart.
His tongue flattened over your clit before circling his lips and giving it a hard suck, all while curling his fingers once more. That was enough to send you over the edge, your climax hitting you like a collapsing building, smothering you in its aftermath.
Your entire body shook, wetness gushing around his fingers as you clenched on them for dear life. You ground your hips subconsciously, fucking yourself on his fingers and riding out the seamless paradise and basking in the warm light. All thoughts blanked into nothing but your own ecstasy, and you selfishly drowned yourself in waves of rapture.
You were in heaven, you were one with the angels, singing godly praises with a halo over your head and a fluorescent glow that accumulated around you. This was what peace on Earth felt like, this was what it felt like to die and be reborn.
John’s voice was the gospel, embracing you with clarity and purpose, guiding you to the pearly gates to seek pursuit of happiness.
When John pulled away from you and carefully slipped his fingers out of you, he brought them up to your view, flaunting them with pride. His chin was soaked, glistening with sinful beauty, mangling itself in the hairs of his beard.
If you weren’t so high off of pleasure, you might’ve thought that John was God himself, smiling down at you from the clouds and showering you with loving conviction.
“See that, sweetheart?” he asked, referring to the sticky strings that stuck together when he parted his fingers. “That’s from me. And nobody’s goin’ to get a chance to taste you like I have. We clear on that?”
It was a silly thing for him to even state, given he had just taken you to oblivion, but you nodded anyway, going as far to even hum in dazed satisfaction when he brought his slick-covered fingers to your lips and you wiped them clean.
Jealousy was a disease, and you were the only thing that could cure John of the simmering rage that came with it. Now that he’d made it clear who you belonged to, the ugly monster returned to hibernation, and the sickening green that tainted his insides melted into worlds of color that only you could paint.
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wrote this for my girly @ebodebo because i've been deprived of john and needed to write something for him asap, so i hope this met your needs (I need this man so badly it's unhealthy) <3
if you see any writing mistakes, mind you it’s 3am and i woke up to write this so no u didn’t
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sanguineterrain · 1 year
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about a boy - e.m.
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Summary: You've never had a boy in your bed. You're not sure what you're meant to do with one.
Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader
Word count: 1.3k
Warnings/tags: none i don't think? mainly fluff and an overthinking reader (they're so me)
divider by firefly-graphics
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There's a boy in your bed.
"M&M?"
You turn your head. Eddie holds the bag of candies to you.
"Okay," you say, and take a blue M&M.
Eddie smiles, about fifteen M&Ms in his own mouth. His attention returns to the screen. You have no idea what's playing.
A boy is in your bed, and he's put a movie on, and now his thigh is pressed against yours, lean and warm.
Eddie's socks are green and have tiny yellow stars on them. He's pulled them over his jean cuffs to keep the cold away. Not that it matters when he has a sleeveless Metallica shirt on.
But Eddie doesn't seem to get cold, anyway. You went for ice cream last week even though it had snowed the night before.
Eddie had paid for your ice cream, which isn't something to look too into. Steve's paid for your ice cream before, because Steve's a nice guy. And Eddie's a nice guy too. So maybe nice people pay for ice cream. And that's all.
Your eyes trace the dip of Eddie's belly, the slice of skin that peeks out between his waistband and shirt hem. His exposed arm and neck is sprinkled with freckles and you can see the edge of the demon tattoo on his breastbone.
Your heart races. That's wrong, isn't it? Looking at Eddie like that? Hoping he'll give you more?
You don't know. You've never had a boy in your bed. There's no guidebook.
Eddie laughs at the screen. You relish in his swelled cheeks and glimpse of fanged canines. You love Eddie's smile; bright and all-encompassing. You can't help but be pulled into his orbit every time you're around him.
You ought to give Robin something for introducing the two of you. A fruit basket, or maybe Vickie Summers in a gift box.
Need curls deep in your chest as you watch Eddie sink further into your pillows. You wonder if he can feel your eyes on him. That would be embarrassing. But maybe he'd be flattered that you're looking at him; that you can't help but.
He's touchy. Affectionate. You're really not, but Eddie takes it in stride. He gives you little half-hugs instead of his usual squeeze-the-soul-out-of-you ones. He bumps your shoulder or simply walks beside you, respecting your space.
And funnily enough, through all that, you've begun to wish Eddie would touch you more.
"'M gonna get more popcorn," he says. "Y'want something else?"
You turn your head in a vain attempt to make it seem like you haven't been mooning over him like a lovesick calf.
"No, no, um, thanks. Thanks."
You cringe at your clumsy mouth. Eddie's oblivious, hopping off the bed and disappearing into the hall.
Are you even allowed to want more? You and Eddie are friends. Maybe even Good Friends, especially after the 'murderous monster tries to swallow Hawkins' crisis died down.
But you don't hang out like this. Where Eddie can see all the Polaroid pictures of trees you thought were good reasons to love the earth and of your mom and of the deer you saw once, and your sky blue wallpaper with clouds painted on it. You wonder if he thinks you're childish or silly.
Why does he even spend time with you? Are you the only one free? Was today a non-Hellfire day and that's why Eddie had agreed to come over? Nothing better to do?
You haven't the slightest idea what's happening in the movie. You should pay attention because Eddie might want to talk about it afterwards, and he'll be cross if you don't know what he's talking about.
Except, that doesn't really seem like Eddie. Still. You've never had a boy in your bed. You don't know if they expect you to pay attention to the movies they play.
You chew on a cuticle. Eddie returns in a couple minutes, climbing onto the bed with his knees. He offers you the bowl of popcorn. You shake your head.
"Everything okay, sweet thing?" he asks.
Oh, don't you just melt over that. You feel like the yellow M&M between Eddie's fingers.
"Yeah, f-fine."
You stare at the foot of space between you. Once, you'd dared to lean on the shoulder of a boy you didn't like that much. Your head hadn't stayed long on his shoulder, and afterwards, you wished you'd been struck by lightning.
What if this is like that? What if Eddie sneers at you and shuffles away. God, you can't handle that. You like this boy in your bed so much, it frightens you.
"This guy, the one in the raincoat." Eddie points. "He's one of my favorite actors. I like the way he talks. You ever get that? Liking the way someone talks?"
You look at him. Eddie looks at you. He's trying to pull you out of your head. He thinks something's worrying you. You're so anxious all the time. And Eddie knows that, so he tries to ground you. You withdraw and Eddie will call out to you and ask you questions. He always sounds lovely. Sometimes, you try to gather the courage to ask him something back. But the words remain lodged in your throat.
"Yeah, I get that." Be brave, be brave. "I like the way you talk."
You wait for lightning to strike.
"Really?" Eddie asks, sounding genuinely curious.
"Uh-huh. You have a nice voice."
Nothing. Not even a rumble of thunder.
"Sweet thing, you're gonna give me a big head," Eddie says with a grin.
He's not teasing you. Once upon a time, you might've thought he was, because it seemed like that's all people were capable of. But Eddie's not. He thinks they're nice, the words you say. You want to say more nice words. You want to keep this boy in your bed.
You also want to close this distance. Be a permanent planet in Eddie's orbit. Be brave.
You stare at that tiny foot of space between you again. You're probably being too quiet and still, and Eddie's probably worried you're stuck in your head again.
So before he can coax you out again, (because he cares about you. He cares about you, and you're just going to have to get used to that, alright?) you scoot an inch.
And another inch. And another.
You move at a glacial pace. You don't think Eddie's picked up on your little scheme. How fiendish you are, attempting to cuddle with the boy in your bed. Wicked!
Now, you're so close you can feel Eddie's body heat. His shirt looks soft and worn. You wonder what he smells like.
You move closer. Now, your chest is touching Eddie's side. He looks at you.
His eyes are dark like the blackest parts of space. If you do this and fail, those eyes might just swallow you up.
You listen for thunder, but the skies are clear.
"What's goin' on, pretty?" he murmurs.
"Do you like me?" you blurt, helpless in his pull.
Eddie's brows lift. He blinks, cocks his head.
"'Course I do, sweet thing."
"No, like." You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, then open them. "You like me enough for a movie, but do you like me enough to let me put my head on your shoulder?"
"Is that all?" he asks, eyes dancing. There's stars in them. "I like you so much, I want your head on my shoulder forever."
Cinnamon. Eddie smells like cinnamon.
You no longer wish to be struck by lightning.
"Oh," you breathe.
Eddie hums and gently taps your head with one finger.
"That what you've been thinking so hard about?" he asks.
"I've never had a boy in my bed," you say.
"'M honored to be the first."
You nod, jittery with hope. "I'm glad it's you."
And then Eddie eases you into his side. It's perfect. It feels like you're young and don't know any better. It feels like you'll never find anything else like it.
Eddie bows his head. His curls tickle your cheeks and shroud you from the rest of the world.
"And will you kiss me too?" you ask.
"As much as you want, pretty."
You think you can get used to having a boy in your bed.
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luveline · 2 months
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I've read your vampire eddie fic and its soo lovely I adore them being weird toghether <3 and I thought how will reader and eddie pass the summer? I totally see her saying shit like Vlad please put on some sunscreen lol and eddie be so grumpy
“It’s not that you don’t like it,” you’re saying. 
“No, that’s exactly what it is.” 
You sit down on the picnic blanket by his hip with a plate of summer fruit sweating in your hands. You’ve dotted a few ice cubes through the mountains of it, water melting, turning pink from the melon and yellow with the pineapple juice as the sun bears down.
“The sun is good for you,” you say, taking a slice of apple with green, bright rind in between two fingers. You have very pretty hands, Eddie’s thought that ever since you met, and they’re prettier still because of how you use them, you’re oh so gentle. “Just like this.” 
He won’t let you feed him, taking the apple as you press it to his lips, juice and water wetting his fingers. “The sun does nothing for me. I’m dead.” 
“Are you?” you ask, a genuine curiosity to your tone as you put the plate in front of him. Eddie, on his front, anticipates your next move before you’ve decided, not just because of his super senses but also because you’re a predictable creature, who loves him very much. Unlikely and true. “I thought you were only half dead,” you say, resting a hand by his ribs and leveraging yourself across his back in a hug. “Well, I thought you were undead.” 
Eddie is regrettably undead. “I forgot you were the expert on my condition,” he says, putting the apple slice in his mouth whole.
“Your condition,” you say, your face slotting into the back of his neck, forcing him to close his eyes and settle into the blanket, grass beneath it crisp from the heat. 
“My vampirism.” 
“Ah, I thought you meant your behavioural issues.” 
“Of course you did.” 
You don’t say anything back. Quiet, your hands slide up in front of his armpits, your head lolling heavily to one side. You mouth a word against his neck, a second and third, but Eddie can’t decipher what it is you’re saying even with his incredible hearing, can only feel the soft curve of your lips as they shutter closed, hot like a fresh bruise beneath his ear. 
Eddie nudges you to slide off of him, turning, cautious of the plate, to offer you his arm, and to see your face more clearly. You’ve forgone any of your fun makeups today, weary of the heat, all your wrinkles and lines in stunning detail under his gaze.
You lay on your side and Eddie lifts the arm that isn’t supporting him with his finger bent into a tight ‘n’ to stroke the skin under your chin. “You’re pretty,” he says, his knuckle rubbing back and forth. 
“You’re beautiful,” you say back. The hair at the nape of your neck is damp with sweat, and as you both lay there in the humidity, a bead of it races suddenly to sink into the fabric of your top. 
“You’re really pretty,” he says, ignoring your deflection —though for you, he doubts it’s a deflection at all, only a thought you’d had and spoken without qualm— in favour of lavishing you with some more love and praise. He opens his palm and touches his fingertips to your cheek, conscious of the heat, stringing the words together slow as the heavy pour of a maple tapper, “I don’t like the sun, it’s hot, and I’m melting, but I don’t think I mind it when you’re here too.” 
Your heart does a jump, to his smugness, an audible caper of your pulse. “Everything’s better when we’re together,” you say. 
He nods severely and lifts your chin just a touch, tilting his head to the side to kiss you. The pressure of his fangs is forgotten, a blood sate too far away to ignore the more nefarious longing that thrums at the centre of his chest, but overpowered anyways by practice, and desire; he’s gotten a thousand times better at kissing you, because you like to be kissed, and he likes to give you anything he can. 
He can’t pretend he doesn’t like this, either. You cover his hand with yours and wade in like a quick tide, pulling back and pushing in, like nips without the pain. Your hand slips into his hair. “I love you,” you say, “but you’re sweating like crazy.” 
“You’re sweating worse,” he says. 
“We’ll have to take a vacation.” 
“Where do you want to go?” 
“Literally everywhere cold.” 
Eddie can’t leave Hawkins. He needs blood, and there’s only one sheriff who’s willing to source it for him. But it’s a nice idea, a fantasy he won’t ruin for you. “Where’d you want to go first?” 
“I wanna go to that place with the Northern Lights. We’d never complain about sweating again.” 
You squint at him. 
“What?” he asks. 
“Where do you want to go?” you ask. 
“Anywhere with you.” 
“Well, you’d have to.” 
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” he asks. 
“I’m your only portable blood bag, Eddie.” 
He lays back on his back, covering his eyes with an arm as the other comes to rest on his soft stomach, whirl of a scar thick beneath his shirt. “Never gonna happen.” 
You shuffle closer to him. “One day,” you say, laying down next to him with your face nearly flat to the blanket, the heat of your body a palpable thickness he wouldn’t change for the world, dehydration inevitable. “You’ll give me a nice sharp kiss and that’ll be that.” 
“Never.” 
“Imagine it.” Your voice turns to a whisper. 
“Never, babe,” he says, he promises, the weight of his arm over his eyes like an iron. 
“I’ll just have to bite you instead.” 
You open your mouth and press your teeth to the hill of his shoulder, dull and wet, your breath like a kiss before you let your lips drift shut and give him a proper one. “Love you,” you say. 
“Love you, freakazoid.” He wrestles you into a cuddle he’ll regret sooner rather than later, wishing his vampirism were better at keeping him cool. He’s cold to the touch most of the time. Right now he’s baking. “But I’m not biting you,” he says into your forehead. 
You laugh breezily. “Not today you’re not. That’s why I made fruit salad.” 
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