#I’m just formulating some thoughts here | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hwallazia · 4 months ago

Text

OCEAN, BED, TATTOO – 정우영

synopsis . in which wooyoung tattoos your skin with ink... and with his lips.

pairing . jung wooyoung & fem! reader

genre . smut (mdni!), fluff & comfort, established relationship, tattoo artist! wooyoung

taglist . @bro-atz @purplenimsicle @vampzity @iykyunho | comment your username if you wanna be added to my permanent taglist! ♡

word count . 2,1k

DISCLAIMER! dom! wooyoung (he’s a teasing menace here) sub! (and very whiny) reader, fingering, clit play, light scratches, unprotected sex (boooo👎), tattoos involved, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, petnames (my love, sweetheart, youngie & more). lmk if i missed anything.

NIC’S NOTES hey, i’m back at the game again after a long month full of exams !! i’m soo glad, i missed writing so much ♡ well, enjoy <3

tattoos aren’t as bad as people say. they look cool on your skin and they are aesthetically gorgeous. when you were about nine years old, your older sister, a few months after she came of age, got a tattoo of a beautiful, fine mandala on her right leg, and from that moment on, you were committed to tattooing your skin—probably the forearm, you often thought.

and you finally did it when you turned 20. with your sister’s company, you arrived at the tattoo parlor in search of a certain “wooyoung”, who would be the artist who would draw the permanent (and hopefully pretty) lines on your skin.

“excuse me. um, we’re looking for wooyoung? he’s supposed to be the tattoo artist for my sister.” your sister said to the man behind an old oak desk that seemed to be some kind of reception, her body leaning against the wood, elbows resting on it.

“guess you’re looking for me then” a voice not participating in the conversation intervened. since you heard it coming from behind you, you turned around. just to meet the most good-looking, jaw-dropping, mouth-watering man you’ve ever seen, his figure leaning against the door’s frame that seemed to lead to his studio with his arms crossed in front of his chest, his notoriously pump chest.

“you must be yn.” he continued as he approached you and your sister’s position. “hi. i’m wooyoung.” he extended his right arm, placing his left hand under it. oh, he looks like a prince, a tattooed prince, but hush. “well, do you want to come in alone or do you want your sister to accompany you?”

fortunately, your sister could read you like a book. so when she saw your momentary inability to formulate coherent sentences —she’d later study the reasons why you suddenly were flabbergasted— and before you could say whatever thought your short-circuited mind processed, she answered for you. “go on. i’ll wait here. sometimes you gotta face situations without your dear older sister’s help, right?” she said as she ruffled your hair playfully, slightly messing up your hairstyle. an annoyed huff escaped from your lips with a small pout in reply.

a cute, quiet snort came from wooyoung, your embarrassed heart racing a little at the sound of it. “come on, then” he tilted his head sharply indicating you to enter his studio. you walked side by side towards its door and before you both could pass the threshold, he stepped aside the door’s frame and extended his arm, his fingertips pointing to the inside of the room.

“ladies first” he uttered in a honey-dripping tone that made your heart skip a beat. and the warm smile he gave you after you locked gazes? double kill. heat flushed through your cheeks, now turning into a more reddened hue. when wooyoung saw your adorable, bashful face turning into a cute tomato, his eyes closed even more. two beautiful, heartwarming crescent moons decorating his eyes. you bowed your head slightly at the embarrassment and entered the studio. abstract art pieces hanging on the wall; a melting-type clock on the side of one of them; a few framed diplomas embellishing a narrow decorative table located below a large window, which gave the most beautiful view of the busy downtown of seoul and, at the same time, allowed the entry of divine natural light, changing the ambience completely. he also had some plants here and there.

“so, what did you have in mind for today?” he spoke as he reached for his chair, grabbing it by its back and pulling it to him so he could sit on it. his arms finding support on the top of the chair as his upper body vaguely leaned against it. “is it your first time?” he asked and turned around to prepare the tattoo machine by grabbing the black ink he’d possibly need.

“yes, um. it is, actually” you stuttered, trying to sound as clear and understandable as possible. “i thought about tattooing the word ‘resilience’ on my forearm. is that okay?” your eyes wondered between wooyoung’s fingers and the veins that came from them, a bottle of isopropyl alcohol in his right hand.

“of course it’s okay. you’re the boss in here.” he chuckled a little at your stammering tone. ‘well of course it is, you’re the one getting the tattoo and paying for it anyway, so duh’ a bothering voice in your head replied to you, a soft huff from you was heard. “so, do you have an idea of how you want it to look?” he continued while he stretched the latex glove on his left hand and then replicating the action on his right.

“yeah, let me get my ph-” you started to say as you touched your upper body, and then your hips, and then your pockets, and then your pants... you had totally forgotten your phone, in which you kept the idea you saw on pinterest the other day of the tattoo you wanted to get. a murmured curse coming off your lips when you realized. “i, uh. i don’t have my phone with me right now. i... forgot it at home.”

“oh. well don’t worry! it happens to me more times than i’d like.” he laughed not too exaggeratedly. he wasn’t trying to piss you off by giggling at your disgraceful situation; he was comforting you in the best way he could because, after all, you were strangers. “hm. so do you wanna reschedule or-”

you didn’t think twice before responding by shaking your hands in front of you. “no! i trust you with it! it’s just a word anyway.” the words easily slipped out of your tongue, not a hint of doubt in the spark that glimmered in your orbs.

“but it’s your first tattoo-” wooyoung replied with notorious insecureness in his tone and you, unbothered, interrupted him.

“come on!” you spoke as you lifted your dark purple oversized sweater’s sleeve, revealing your soft skin to his fox-like eyes which doubted for a second before resting his slim, latex-covered fingers on your exposed skin. you were able to see a very close-up of the touch of his fingers against your skin, your hair standing on end as a result. his fingers sent shivers and sparks down your whole anatomy, a weird feeling forming in your belly and chest. you felt how his touch dragging flowers through the meadow of your complexion, creating the most beautiful garden.

who would say that that boy who marked your skin for life with his art would now be the one with whom you wake up every day, the one to whom you trust your most intimate secrets, the one whom you love and kiss every day. the one that makes you see stars.

like now, fucking his fingers sloppily from all the right angles into your wet cunt.

“youngie, wait i- hgh- i don’t wanna cum yet.” you whine as you grip the silk, champagne-colored sheets underneath you. he has spent a generous amount of time prepping you, playing way too much with your sensitive clit. and that has brought you to the brink of abyss. you want to cum when he finally fills you with his rock-hardened cock, but wooyoung seems to have no intention of stopping. he is a hundred-percent committed in making you cum as much as you physically can.

“huh? what’s that, sweetheart? didn’t quite catch that.” he mocks at you, deepening his index and middle fingers inside you and putting his thumb to work on your bud’s stimulation. a desperate cry bubbling out your throat. “but stop crying, baby. so you can respond.” his non-working hand releases its firm grip on your hip and moves up to your cheek to stroke it in the most gently way.

your voice lets you down, your tone drowning in the blubber that erupts from your lips once your body feels the consequences of wooyoung’s incessant thumb swaying over your clit. the palms of your hands sheltering your reddened cheeks.

he chuckles at the sight of you, “covering your face when you’re dripping all over my fingers?” he withdraws his fingers from your warm interior, your walls clenching around nothing due to the nostalgia of being satisfyingly full. he then covers your hands with his and takes them away from your blissed expression and pecks your lips briefly. “shameless.”

he gets on his knees in between your legs, his hands pushing them apart before he bends over your figure, trapping you between his strong, tattooed arms. you have tried in the past putting your legs on his shoulder; and yes, he does push further than usual, but it was an uncomfortable and painful position for you. so you opted for simpler things, nothing so difficult so that it replaces pleasure with pain. wooyoung always puts your satisfaction over his, doing everything he can to give you the most toe-curling orgasm every time. and he never fails.

your hands instinctively find comfort on his back, your fingers mindlessly stroking his back tattoo. “i’m putting it in, love.” he murmurs against the crook of your neck as he pushes in further and further, your nails digging onto his bare back. the combination of a masculine grunt and a whimper floats in the air, which is getting heavier and heavier.

“holy shit- ah, wooyoung. you’re so.. fucking deep.” you blubber as you feel his cockhead faintly rubbing your g-spot. his thrusts are precise and strong, driving you quickly over the edge. his sighs blowing on your face as almost invisible clouds because of the humidity generated by the situation.

“fuck baby. you feel so soft and warm. and tight” he exhals, some strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. he does some kind of push-up to come down your face and kiss your swollen, red lips frantically. your tongues fighting and his winning over yours. “wanna stay inside you forever. ah.” wooyoung pants out his words, hips still going and knocking a little more roughly against your cunt with every push.

“i know you can give me a little more, though” he pants raspily, totally out of breath. your fucked-out mind can only process something about ‘wanting more’ or something like that, you don’t know, way too gone to even say your name without stumbling with your own words. you can only understand what he says when his very familiar touch lingers strokes on your clit, so swollen and tired of overstimulation. the cute, pleasured sounds coming out of you only encouraged him to speed up his fingers and his hips as well. he practically is wanting to break you completely until you aren’t able to even recognize where you are, your name or how much is two plus two. and wooyoung finds your current state quite amusing, so he starts to imitate you, mocking your broken sobs and pathetic mewls exaggeratedly.

“if only you could listen to you right now. but you aren’t even listening to me, are you, doll?” he teases, enjoying a bit too much the tears that pitifully stream down your face profusely. your eyebrows furrow together, your thighs shake more than usual and you start feeling lightheaded; you’re about to fall into the abyss of pleasure and wooyoung is more than happy to receive your warm, dripping juices.

“oh fuck, youngie. ’m gonna cum. you’re gonna make me cum. please let me... fuck... please, i—” you give up on the rambling begging and let yourself just helplessly whine and mewl.

“i know, my love. go on, cum for your youngie. make me proud, angel.” he encourages you, his fingers keeping a steady pace on your bud as well as his thrusts. three or four more are more than enough to melt you under his divine touch as your throat lets out the very last shriek of the night. “ah you’re so good, so fucking tight for your youngie, aren’t you? ugh” he shakes above you as he lets out a moan that sounded more like a cry. he quickly, but carefully pulls out, your body shuddering at the sudden emptiness, releasing hot shots of cum over your belly, painting your navel’s surroundings with pearl-like spurts.

he finally lets his body surrender to the overwhelming tiredness, collapsing above you.

“wooyoung. love. get off of me, i can’t breathe.” you speak, receiving a drowned and unbothered ‘mm’ as a response. you chuckle with the little strength you have left, “at least get off of my arm?” you try to negotiate with him the dumbest thing ever. but he finally does as told and moves a little to the side, releasing your right arm from his weight, “there you go. see? it wasn’t that hard.”

“hush. i’m sleepy. and tired” he mentions separately in a grumpy tone. of course, how could you forget the grumpiness that wraps your boyfriend when he runs out of energy?

“fine, babygirl.”

“don’t call me that!”

| masterlist

#© hwallazia #ateez #ateez smut #jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung smut #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #wooyoung os #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic

682 notes · View notes

formulawolff · 5 months ago

Text

xiii. show the world - t.w.

pairing: female!driver x toto wolff

word count: 2.7k

warnings: cursing, angst, lots of angst to be completely honest, pining, age gap relationship, toto being down bad per usual, two idiots in love but won't admit it, yadayadayada

prev. | next.

“be honest with me. are you seeing someone?”

daniel brings a wine glass to his lips, tilting it back as you sit across from him, your fork clattering against the table. heat radiates off of your cheeks, flourishing into your neck as your eyes snap away from his intense stare.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

the sun was starting to set over the water, casting a tangerine glow across its surface. fluffy clouds float along, the sky bursting with lavender, fuschia, and cerulean hues. yachts drifted along, their lights beginning to glimmer as the sky grew dimmer and dimmer. on your left, it was almost like the city was given its first breath of night life, locals strolling along the streets, their conversations and the growl of engines as they zoomed along the streets merely white noise.

it was truly a breathtaking view, distracting you for just a moment, taking your focus away from the conversation at hand.

yet, you remember he’s awaiting your answer, arms folded across his chest, brows knit together. scrambling to formulate some sort of response, you gnaw on the inside of your cheek, shoulders slumping.

“what if i told you i was?”

“hmm,” daniel hums, downing the rest of his wine, “then i would say good for you, i guess.”

“oh come on,” your regain your composure, frustration brewing in the pit of your stomach, “i thought we consensually agreed that we wouldn’t explore a relationship because we needed to keep things professional.”

“i did that because that’s what you wanted,” daniel swivels his head, glancing out at the water, “i never agreed to that. i only respected your wishes because that was what you wanted. i never wanted that. i wanted you.”

“but you never told me,” you protest, absentmindedly picking at your ratatouille, “that night in jeddah, i vividly remember you telling me that you never acted on your feelings because you knew that it was one-sided.”

daniel huffs, shaking his head, “i didn’t think i would’ve had to spell it out for you. i was under the impression you knew that i had feelings for you. and actually, i thought you reciprocated those same feelings. thank you for reminding me of the cold hard truth. i feel so much better about this. thanks for that.”

“you’re not being very mature about this. what happened to staying emotionally mature about the matter?”

“i was doing that until i heard from alex that you were dating someone,” daniel retorts, his tone seething with fiery anger, “you couldn’t just tell me yourself? also, how long were you going to keep that from me? were you just not going to mention it until i found out?”

“i didn’t think it was important,” you shrug, shrinking in your seat as pairs of eyes sear into you, the stares becoming more and more prominent as daniel’s voice carries throughout the patio.

“starting a relationship with someone isn’t important?”

“daniel,” you hiss, desperately wishing you were wearing a cap or some sunglasses, “people are starting to stare.”

“okay and?” he cocks his head, “i don’t give a fuck. you have no fucking idea how heartbroken i’ve been these last few weeks. i feel like my entire world has been turned upside down. meanwhile you’re frolicking around with some douchebag from st. louis. obviously the dick is must have you in a chokehold because you’ve been a completely different person.”

“daniel, please,” the notes in your tone raise an octave as your lower lip trembles, “stop, please. people are listening. can we talk about this some other time–”

“well luckily for you,” daniel inhales sharply, rising to his feet, “i don’t want to discuss it any further. i’m done here. see you around, america’s princess.”

tossing his napkin on the table, the australian snatches the keys to his rental, muttering under his breath. you remain at the table, people resuming back to their previous conversations as the waitress comes by, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“is everything all right, madame?”

“i just need the check please,” you mumble, tears threatening to spill over as you reach for your purse, “i’ll pay for it all. i am so sorry about that.

“no worries madame,” the waitress chirps, “would you care for a free dessert for your troubles?”

you know what? free dessert didn’t seem too bad after all.

“oui, s’il vous plait.”

at your response, the waitress’ lips curve into a wide grin, “tu es le bienvenu.”

letting out a shaky breath, you wipe away a tear, pulling your phone out of your purse. swallowing the lump in your throat, you message the one person you needed most.

i hope things are going well on your end tonight. is there any chance you can come by my hotel room, or i swing by yours? it would be later tonight. i want my sexy, smoochable, handsome boyfriend. :’(((((

the moment you send the message, three little bubbles appear, signaling that he had received it, and was crafting a reply.

i take it the dinner didn’t go well? what happened, meine liebe? ich vermisse dich auch.

wrinkling your nose, you highlight the text, tapping the copy option. thumb gliding across the screen, you click on the google translate app, pasting it into the textbox.

what happened, my love? i miss you too.

i can explain more later. you type, are you busy?

never too busy for you. remember, we’re in monaco. i own a place here. 😘 you can just come by whenever you need. i’m at home. do you need the address?

yes please. i’ll be there as soon as possible.

i can’t wait to see your beautiful face. here’s the address. i’ll be waiting impatiently.

the second you type his address in your phone, the waitress comes by your table, a box in one hand, billfold in the other. placing the box on the table, you anticipate her to do the same with the check. yet, she doesn’t keeping it in her grasp.

“madame, your meals have been taken care. a gentleman called, inquiring if he could foot the bill. he stated he did not want you to worry about anything else this evening. is that all right?”

your heart flutters, “did he say a name, by chance?”

“no madame,” the waitress flashes you a quaint smile, “again, i am so sorry if your evening has been ruined in any sort of way. i hope the dessert helps in some fashion!”

“thank you,” you reciprocate the gesture, “and again, thank you for the dessert.”

“it is no problem,” the waitress dips her head, “have a great evening, madame!”

rising to your feet, you push in your chair, ensuring that you don’t forget the plain white box that was placed on the table. carrying it under your arm, you pull up your maps app, feeling a grin form.

maybe tonight will not end as poorly as it began.

you could thank toto wolff for that.

ever since miami, you felt as if the weight of the world was off your shoulders. the stress was alleviated, dissolving almost completely. you could go about your day without that ever-present thought in the back of your mind, gnawing away at you.

however, there were more mountains to climb. more obstacles to face.

you had yet to sit down with james, alex, or anyone else really, to discuss your decision to depart from williams at the end of the 2024 season.

toto was the only one who knew.

and for the time being, you were okay with that.

but you were running out of time. the days were soaring by. you would blink and suddenly it would be time to board that flight. it would be time to get behind the wheel, adrenaline coursing through your veins. it would be time to step on that podium, raising that gleaming trophy above your head, your team roaring below.

with four grand prixs wins, three of which were back-to-back, you were unstopabble.

a force to be reckoned with.

max tried to catch you, he really did.

but you were too fast, fueled by the thrill of victory.

it was intoxicating, sending an electric, exhilarating buzz throughout your entire being every time you breezed across that finish line.

and with a man like toto by your side, how could you possibly lose?

with the monaco grand prix on the docket for the weekend, you were preparing for a challenging race. the circuit was extremely tight, the track interweaving through the buildings and sights the city. it was an infamous track, known for its rich history and well, the accidents.

additionally, there was little to no room for overtakes. so if you wanted to be on that podium on sunday, you had to execute a stellar qualifying lap. with that added pressure, you were a little apprehensive for what was to come.

yet, you couldn’t let that anxiety creep in. you had to maintain your composure. it was crucial that you kept a calm, cool outlook on the race.

and as you found yourself at that massive gate, pressing the button to your left, you couldn’t help but feel peace of mind.

you could thank toto wolff for that as well.

with every moment spent with the team principal, you couldn’t help but shake this aching, nagging feeling.

it was a pure, innocent feeling. one that filled you to the brim with bliss, a cozy warmth blossoming in your chest, your heart swelling with joy. one that had you beaming from ear to ear, your once gloomy days now shining with this golden, rich light.

you were in love with him.

hopelessly in love, your whole heart resting in his tender hands.

you couldn’t tell him that though. you couldn’t bring yourself to.

at least, not yet.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“all right,” james’ sucks in a breath, his head swiveling from side to side, taking in the commotion all around.

“are you ready?”

“come on,” you wave a hand, “you know the drill. i was born ready.”

“i know,” the team principal’s lips twitch as he fights a smile, “but this is a pretty significant race. there’s a lot of history and heartbreak on this track.”

“are you saying that you don’t think i can win?” you tease, your voice muffled slightly by the thick exterior of the helmet, “james, i can do this. believe me, i can do this.”

“there’s a lot at stake here,” he places a hand on the top of your head, patting it, “just remember, whatever happens, i believe in you. always.”

i believe in you. always.

your lower lip trembles, and in that moment, you want to confess right there. you almost blurt out the words that had been lingering on your tongue for weeks now.

james, after this race, we need to to talk.

however, you don’t. you simply nod, drumming your hands against the steering wheel, “i’ll make you guys proud, i promise.”

“oh, you already do,” his eyes glimmer, bursting with pride, “you’ve made us so fucking proud these last few weeks. and you know what? i know you’re going to continue to make williams racing proud. i can’t wait to see what the future has in store for us.”

fuck.

that conversation was going to absolutely destroy you, splitting your heart into two.

you couldn’t think about that, though.

the race was about to start.

on the grid, you were behind charles leclerc and oscar piastri. it wasn’t terrible positioning, but with the limited space, you knew that getting ahead would be nearly impossible. it would be a miracle if you were able to cross that finish line in first place.

yet, you were more than willing to take the risks involved to get to that position.

all you needed was a little bit of luck.

which, these days, it seemed like you were full of it. like you were carrying a four leaf clover in your pocket at all times.

as rays of sunshine filter through the clouds, a gold streak of light dances in your peripheral vision.

nestled on your wrist was the charm bracelet toto had gifted you that fateful night in jeddah. the charm gleams, reminding you of two things.

one, your very first grand prix victory.

two, that he was always with you.

perhaps he was that good luck charm you were desperately searching for.

maybe. just maybe.

in about seventy-eight laps, you would have that answer.

“and she has done the impossible! she has shattered yet another record! miss america has won monaco! she has won her fifth grand prix!”

“fuck yes!” you shout, “we won! we won monaco!”

“brilliant fucking job,” james’ voice trembles, thready with excitement, “bloody good job!”

euphoria crashes over you like a tidal wave, leaving you speechless as it sucks the air out of your lungs. burying your head in your hands, your shoulders shake as you sob.

never, in your wildest dreams would you have expected to have made it this far.

never would you even imagined racing as a little girl, let alone racing at this caliber.

and winning races? five of them?

little you, cheesing with her toothy five-year-old smile, standing next to a kart, helmet under her arm, wouldn’t have ever dreamed of this moment.

you had improved miles upon miles from the driver you were last season. you made history. time and time again. you had shattered records, obliterating barriers in the world of formula one racing as a twenty-two year old woman.

and fuck, you weren’t even done yet.

you still had a world title to chase after.

“holy shit. holy shit. holy motherfucking shit.”

stepping out of the car, your heart races, your team nearly sprinting to congratulate you. picking out james, you flash him a thumbs up. the crowd raves, whooping, whistling, and hollering your newfound nickname.

“miss america! miss america! miss america!”

cameras appear out of thin air, recording as you step down, james and alex swathing you with their embrace. alex rattles your helmet, james’ grin shining bright as the cameras flash.

“what a bloody brilliant day!” james shouts, a glossy sheen over his eyes, “what a fucking day!”

“what place did you finish, alex?” your voice rises above the noise, “what did you get?”

“ninth!” he chirps, “two drivers in the top ten? that’s a pretty fucking good day!”

“a very fucking good day,” laughter rises in your chest, spilling out, “fuck, that nearly took everything out of me!”

“well you better shape up,” alex pats your back, “because you have a podium that’s calling your name.”

as the team gathers, making their way to the finish line, your heart yearns for one thing. well, one person.

toto.

pursing your lips, your eyes scan through the garages, attempting to make out the mercedes paddock. yet, there is too much movement in your line of sight as the crew members assemble, circling around their respective drivers.

the euphoria lingers as your step onto the podium, the crowd below applauding. there are shouts that rise above the clapping, yet you can barely make them out.

surveying the mass, your heart skips a beat as you locate him.

his eyes lock with yours, pure, radiant adoration painted across his features.

that’s my girl. he mouths, dimples apparent with every word.

a few strands of hair flutter in his face, the top button of his shirt un-done, the fabric slightly wrinkled from the chaos of race day.

yet, he was as gorgeous as ever.

as charles and oscar pop open the champagne, you hesitate, fingers trembling as they wrap around the neck of the bottle.

you know what?

fuck this.

“hey!” charles calls out as you step down from the platform, “where are you going?”

there’s a brief moment of confusion from the crowd, a few gasps ringing out as you shoulder your way down the stairs, muttering numerous apologies as you accidentally elbow several people along the way.

there was only one thing on your mind as you nudged your way through the throng of people gathered beneath the podium. although your skin burned beneath your suit, sweat clinging to every part of you, there was this tugging sensation at your heart. it urged you to keep going. to keep searching.

you were face-to-face now, his brow furrowing with concern, arms folded across his chest as you take another step forward.

“what are you–"

that’s when toto wolff found your lips colliding with his, the entire world crumbling away as he found himself lost in you.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

taglist: @k3ira13 @prettiest-at-the-party @martwll @annewithaneofthegreengable @zoeyjadetice2010 @sinners-98-world @laura-naruto-fan1998 @nebarious @joalslibrary @swifth0lic @statuewoman @strangegirl974 @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @m-1234 @whoisss @msbyjackal @annaaepf1 @paigelouise @bborra @bblouifford @upsteadsstuff @omgsuperstarg @younxii @toldyouitwasamelodrama @kravitzwhore @persona1lies @pucksandpower

as always, if i forgot to add you, or if you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know! thank you all for the endless support and love for this series! y'all are the sweetest! <3

#toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #formula 1 #f1 #formula one #alkaline series #alkaline: female driver! x toto wolff #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #formula 1 x reader #williams racing #mercedes amg petronas #alex albon #charles leclerc #daniel ricciardo #oscar piastri

430 notes · View notes

rinhaler · 1 year ago

Text

𝖒𝖞 𝖋𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖎𝖘 𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖓

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ ⁭plug!ryusei shidou x f!reader

Genre: smut Notes: iiiiiii want him n need him desperately ♡ i made him icky, manipulative and dress like pete davidson warnings: 18+, (soft?)dom!shidou, sub!reader, dubcon, drug use (weed), blowbacks/shotgunning, reader has pubes!, ryusei has a gold tooth, virgin!reader, corruption kink, dumbification?, fingering, blowjob, head pushing ♡, male masturbation, use of nii-chan (not referring to ryusei), slight dacryphilia, shush!kink, praise, pet names, cum eating ♡, he calls your pussy 'her', slut used once. words: 7.1k

“No way am I coming over. Your big brother would kill me.”

Ryusei can’t stop himself from smirking when he can hear your attempt to conceal a whimper. And he just knows there’s a plump little pout on that pretty little face on the other end of the line.

He’s been dealing to your brother for years, they’re basically best friends if you subtract the client aspect from the equation. They smoke together, they’re always hanging out and Ryusei isn’t a stranger to the apartment you and your brother share.

“How did you even get my number anyway, darlin’? Reaaaal naughty of ya to be calling me like this. Gonna be in big trouble if I tell your nii-chan.” he tells you. And this time you hear the smirk behind his voice. He’s teasing you. He’s toying with you, but you still can’t stop yourself from becoming paralysed with fear.

“He gave me it for emergencies! Please don’t tell ‘im!” you sigh. “He’s on some weekend work trip because he’s tryna get a promotion. I’m just lonely…”

“Awe, and why is that my problem?” he asks, harshly. It takes you aback slightly though your determination doesn’t falter. You take a deep breath and try to formulate a response in your mind.

“You guys are always havin’ fun together… but you never let me join in. I wanna have fun with you too, Ryusei—”

“No.”

“But—”

“I said no.” he stands firm and shows no signs of backing down. He hears the little deflated exhale you release, and he licks his lips as he thinks. He doesn’t want you to be sad, but he knows fucking around with a client’s sister behind his back is a stupid fucking idea. “You’ll be alright on your own. Why don’t you invite one of your friends over.”

“W-Well… I just wanted to see you.” you tell him, honestly. “I— I wanted to try smoking with you.”

He chuckles when he hears that. It hasn’t been a discreet crush you’ve harboured since you saw him for the first time. You may have thought otherwise, but Ryusei has always known. He kisses his teeth and laughs again as he thinks about this tantalising proposition being thrown onto his lap.

“You’re really tryna get into trouble this weekend, huh? Do you always invite drug dealers over?” he wonders, knowing the answer already. He knows you’re a good girl who always does as her nii-chan says. But today you want to let your hair down. Today you can let your hair down because he isn’t here for the whole weekend. You can be a little naughty and reckless and have some fun for a change. “Are you that lonely, baby? Jus’ want some company?”

“… Y-Yes. ‘m lonely…” your lower lip wobbles as you think about being in the same apartment all by yourself for the next two days. You’re fine now, it’s only 12:30pm. But what about when it gets dark out? You’re a stupid girl who lets her mind run wild with the possibilities of ghosts and home invaders. You’ve seen one too many horror movies while your brother and Ryusei are high in the front room for no regard to your taste in genre. You hate horrors but you’ve seen so many thanks to them. And now your mind is racing. What if you got kidnapped or killed for the fun of it? “I don’t wanna be alone, Ryusei… ‘m so scared.”

He grits his teeth, resolve crumbling as he thinks about you all alone in the apartment he’s spent so many nights in. So many pointless nights where he could have been out making more money or fucking a multitude of girls who don’t hide their attraction for him. So, is he really about to sacrifice the same for you?

Lonely, frightened, you?

“Well, we can’t have that, can we? I’ll be there in twenty.”

Now that he’s here you’re not sure what you were thinking. You’ve never smoked before. You’ve not even had a sip of alcohol before! But you know drugs are Ryusei’s whole life right now. Selling, buying and occasionally consuming. He locks the door behind himself as he enters. He’s wearing a wide grin as he comes in and approaches you.

He thinks you’re just the sweetest little thing.

Your feet walk you backwards as he gets closer to you, lunging forward to grab you when you almost trip over your pink Kirby slippers that your brother got you for your most recent birthday.

“Clumsy girl.” he grins, gripping into the fat of your underarms. He leads you over to the couch and more or less throws you down onto it. He dumps his backpack on the coffee table. “What time does your brother come home, sweetheart?” he asks, not even looking your way as he takes out his belongings and spreads them out on the table.

“Uh—” you think, eyes squinting as you look up at the ceiling and try to act natural. “Monday… morning.” you tell him.

“Well, I’m sure he won’t mind if I keep you company ‘til he gets back, right?”

“R-Right…” you aren’t so sure about that, but you’re hardly going to disagree with him. Though in truth, he knows he’ll be furious. But the time he cared about your pathetic brother’s opinion has been and gone. What kind of man would he be if he left a poor defenceless thing like you all on your lonesome in such a sketchy part of town?

You watch him carefully as he pulls out a grinder, some papers, and a large baggie of weed and puts them all down on the table. Your mind wanders as he describes the effects to you, none of it is computing. And it gets even worse when he starts talking about different strains doing different things. As far as you were aware, weed was just… weed. You’d never heard about strains or effects. All of your knowledge comes from movies. Tripping, munchies, all of the cliché stuff.

He grins when he sees your dumb expression. Of course you’re not understanding anything he says. All you need to know is that you’ll be okay because he’s here to look after you. He’s here to take you through it.

You watch him as he grinds it up in a tall metallic grinder. And seeing him roll is like witchcraft to you. It’s not like it’s the first time, but it’s the first time you’ve seen it up close. Your nii-chan always exiles you to your bedroom when they’re rolling and smoking. You’re only allowed out once they’re high, though it’s never stopped you peaking from the crack of your door.

Your eyes widen in disbelief as he holds eye contact with you while he licks the paper. Suddenly you’re looking anywhere but in his direction. He’s revelling in it, making you so uncomfortable and shy. You really are sweet ‘n innocent, huh?

“Here.” he hands it to you, his voice earning your attention and you look into his pink eyes before they drop to the blunt in his hand. You look back at him, confused, and he finds himself adjusting the baggy shorts he’s wearing in hopes that you haven’t noticed the way his cock jumps when you tilt your head so stupidly. “What? This is what you wanted.” he speaks, his defensive tone surprising you.

“But… I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never smoked before…”

“Never? Not even a cigarette?” he asks.

“Nothing… never smoked or had a drink or even been to a party. Nii-chan is too protective.” you pout. He wants to fucking ruin you. You’re so fucking cute and stupid he thinks he might cum in his underwear just from hearing you speak. You’re so obedient and it makes you so fucking stupid. As if you aren’t a grown woman who could get her own apartment and do whatever she wants. “Will you show me?” you speak, cutting through his thoughts.

He nods, effortlessly. He lounges back into the couch, legs spread wide as he lets the blunt balance between his lips. It’s lit instantly, and you can’t believe what a pro he is. He’s got one of those stupid lighters. The ones with the metal bit you have to spin with your thumb rather than one of the plastic ones you just push down. You can never use them. Your brother always lends them to you when you want to light a candle, but he always ends up lighting them for you.

“Get me somethin’ to use as an ashtray.” he tells you, it’s a rude demand rather than a request. But his lack of manners doesn’t stop you from immediately jumping to your feet and rushing over to the kitchen sink. You just washed your brother’s ashtray this morning. You smile happily as you hand it to him, clearly willing to do anything he asks whether he’s polite about it or not.

He takes a few more drags and flicks the ash every so often. And when he’s halfway through, he looks at you, expectantly.

“Your turn.” he tries to hand it to you again. You take it, and you flinch as he also forces the lighter into your palm. “You didn’t invite me over just to watch me smoke, did you? What, are you trying to take advantage of me?” he laughs, running his tongue along his top row of teeth. His golden canine twinkles at you, halting you from speaking for longer than you’d intended.

“It’s not like that! I just— I’m nervous, and I hate these lighters.” you explain. You stiffen as he rolls his eyes and adjusts his body, angling it to face you. His stare is harsh, bordering on agitated. It’s only fair, you think. He hadn’t planned on spending his day babysitting you or showing you how to do something so simple. “’m sorry.” you speak, it’s so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it. Almost.

“Open up.” he commands. You’re confused at first, and before you know it his rough thumb is tugging at the fat flesh of your lower lip. “I said: open up.”

You clear your throat and angle your body in a similar way to him. Although you’re nowhere near as tall or intimidating as him. You’re like a sullen little dormouse, respecting the orders of your master. Your lips part ever so slightly as he places the blunt between them. Your lips close around it, keeping it perched firmly between them. He can see lip gloss residue smearing on the paper; his depraved mind is going into overdrive. His lewd thoughts encompassing him, he needs to break free and focus on you before you start to ask more silly questions.

He tucks your hair behind your ears and away from your face. A brief thought crosses his mind of how embarrassing it would be to get caught by your brother because he singed your fucking hair.

“Don’t just suck it, yeah? Breathe it. You wanna feel it go in your chest, alright?” he asks you, it sounds like a reminder. Like he’d already told you this and he’s making sure you are listening this time. It’s hard not to when all you can focus on is him. How he’s staring at you. How he smells like cheap aftershave and weed. The smell of weed is revolting, truth be told, you aren’t sure how you’re going to be able to inhale it without gagging.

He flicks the lighter a few times and keeps an eye on your expressions and your breathing to make sure you’re doing it right. You look terrified.

And he likes it.

Your eyes get wider and wider the more you inhale, and he’s worried they might pop out of that pretty head of yours. You suck and you breathe in as much of the earthy smoke as you can until it embraced your lungs like an invader claiming its new home. He can’t hide his laughter when you begin to choke, realising you are the good girl you’re claiming to be and absolutely have never smoked anything in your life.

“Everything hurts.” you tell him, still coughing and sputtering out lingering smoke as your eyes water. “It tastes like shit…” you continue, covering your mouth as you can’t stop yourself from choking anymore. He gets up, handing the ashtray to you to balance the blunt in and he flees the scene of the crime without a word. He returns a few moments later with a glass of water, he even added in a few ice cubes for you.

“Think you’re all grown up because you’ve had your first puff?” he wonders, “Never heard you swear before, darlin’.” he finishes as he hands the glass to you.

“I swear… I’m allowed to swear, Ryu.” you answer defiantly.

Cute, he thinks. You really are trying to sound all big and bad for him. But he’s never going to take you seriously after that little display, you’re just a little girl trying to act tough. A cute girl trying to be the cool girl.

But you both know you’re far from cool. A cool girl wouldn’t care so much about pleasing her brother and being a good girl for him. A cool girl would do whatever she wants without fear of the consequences.

At least you’re trying, he thinks.

You glug and you glug until you soothe the suffocating dryness in your chest. He’s transfixed on a droplet of water clinging to the corner of your mouth, unable to tear his gaze as it begins to run down your face. And he can’t think of a cuter sight than you still trying to be the cool girl, wiping it away with the back of your hand before he can notice despite it being much too late for that.

“C-Can I do some more?” you ask him, big wet eyes blinking at him as you hope he’s still willing to guide you.

“Think you can handle it?” he asks. “Get some more water.” he commands, not even letting you answer first. It’s probably the right call, though, you’re hardly going to be accustomed to the feeling of smoke contaminating your insides after one heavy inhale.

You follow his pathing from moments before, getting yourself some water and fresh ice cubes before returning and facing him again. You drink so much; he grabs your wrist and moves the glass away from your lips before you down the whole thing.

He lets out a heavy breath as he holds the blunt and sees how your lips immediately part for him this time without being asked. Fast learner. His thumb pulls at the metal wheel twice, each time it sounds make your eyes flicker further open.

“Breeeathe.” he demands, and you obey. You take it waaaay better this time, holding it for longer after he pulls the lighter away and takes the blunt from your lips. “That’s it, atta girl.” he smiles as you slowly exhale, only coughing a little bit. Your little hands are immediately reaching for the glass of water you set down moments before.

“I feel…” you try and think, eyes darting around the room in search of the right words to use. Your eyes close without your permission, humming happily as you embrace the feeling, a cheery smile visible on your face. “Weird…” you giggle, deeming it the only appropriate word that springs to mind.

“Is that right, baby? Feelin’ weird?”

“Mhmm.” you sigh, dreamily, letting the feeling consume you wholly. You want to melt into the couch beneath your thighs; and you involuntarily begin to lean back into the plush leather before Ryusei stops you. “My eyes are hurting, Ryusei…”

“Mm, I’ll bet. They’re all bloodshot, princess. Think you’re high.” he smirks.

“Wan’ some more.” you tell him, reaching to take the blunt from his hold. He moves his hand away. The fat, brown joint just out of your tired reach. And fuck he can’t stop his cock from twitching when you don that pout. That pretty little pout that you can’t stop yourself from displaying any time you’re disheartened. “P—lea, p-please…” your lower lip juts out further.

“C’mere.” he instructs you, his empty hand patting at his adjacent thigh. He sees the hesitation in your eyes. The little protest lodged in your throat as you think what a bad idea this could be. Why does he want you to sit on his lap? Your heart is racing with possibilities. Is he going to try and kiss you? Or is it simply an easier position for him to help you smoke? “Move, baby, now.” his voice is firm, almost scary. Your movements are slow, but you find yourself moving on his order regardless.

You go to him, but he stops you as you try and sit nicely in his lap. It isn’t quite what he had in mind. He doesn’t want to baby you like the princess you want to be for him. You’re like a ragdoll as he positions you, limbs loose beneath his touch until you realise you’re straddling him. His legs are spread wide, relaxed, and you’re hovering above him a little.

“Open your mouth f’me.” you’re like a robot, complying with each and every command he issues without hesitation.

You’re too good, too perfect. And Ryusei Shidou is quite the opposite; he’ll ruin you if you aren’t careful.

But right now, you couldn’t care less.

Your dewy lips part, wider than they had earlier until Ryusei seems satisfied. He’s relieved you’re only hovering over him, or you’d have definitely felt the way his dick twitched at the sight of your pudgy lips widening for him.

He relaxes, fully, his own eyes becoming more bloodshot as the minutes go by. Weed doesn’t affect him like it used to, not in the way it’s affecting you. But he’s calm. All of his thoughts are collected, and he feels at peace. It’s probably the reason he’s being so brazen and not giving a second thought to the consequences of being with you anymore.

While you’re waiting for his vision to be realised, while you’re waiting for the reason as to why he wants you in this position with your lips spread, he lights up the blunt once again. You watch him through a heavy-lidded stare as he takes a hefty inhale.

You sense him planning something, the cogs whirring sinfully in his mind as he looks between your eyes and your lips as he inhales the smoke deeper and deeper into his lungs. He rests his arm over the rest of the couch, harbouring zero consideration for the potential ash staining the cream carpet below.

He tries to close the distance between your bodies, and you instinctively jolt away from him, your lips clamping shut just as quickly. As much as he wants to smile, to laugh, his lips remain neutral and sealed. His empty hand holds the small of your back. His fingers drift, trailing up the column of your spine. He flattens his palm between your shoulder blades, pushing your face and body closer to his. His right hand remains between your shoulder blades, the other coming around to tug your viscid lower lip until your mouth is ajar. He leans in, closer. The closest he’s ever been to you in the entire time you’ve known him.

He's going to kiss you.

Your heart is thumping, the intense beating, hammering your heart through blood, muscle tissue and flesh. Your eyes close instinctively, and at that, he does smirk.

His eyes alternate between yours, and your gloss covered lips. And then his are ghosting yours, not close enough to touch but not far enough for you to not feel their presence. His gaze becomes heavy, lustful as he observes you. He’s fixated on how you react as he blows the smoke from his lungs into yours.

Your eyes widen as you realise he isn’t kissing you, but your mind is hazy as you realise what he is doing. His lungs shrink as he empties them, but he doesn’t move. He smiles, though, and you fucking feel it. He’s waiting patiently to see just how desperate you are for him to kiss you.

Your breathing is intense. He can hear each breath you take through your nose as you try and compose yourself. You try and calm down and hide your burning shame from him. He knew what you’d assume and chose not to correct you. Just to see you squirm.

But you want to kiss him.

You want him to kiss you.

He chuckles lightly when he sees a nervous little gulp plummet down your throat, he’s sure if he blinked he would have missed it. He wonders if your eyes always vibrate so intensely when you’re nervous.

“Did you like that?” he whispers, his lips still inching away from yours. You feel each and every breath it takes for him to speak that sentence.

“Yeah…”

“Yeah?”

“Mm… mhmm…” you nod, eagerly and yet somehow still awkwardly. “D— Can you do it again?” you whisper. It’s so meek and downright precious he can feel pre fucking ooze out of his tip.

He adjusts his position, nodding, his lips almost catching yours but not quite before he pulls away to smoke some more. Your lips part beautifully and he’s smiling sinisterly yet again. His hand travels from your back to hold the crown of your head, you can’t back away this time, not that you’d want to. He’s keeping you in place as he slowly begins to puff smoke past your desperate lips.

You moan, involuntarily, as you feel your mind cloud and your body grow wearier. But still, you can’t get enough. You can’t fully satiate your desires of intoxication. Not with drugs. Not with attention. Not with touch. You need him. More of him.

“Baby?” you hear him mumble, his lips clumsily toying with yours as he refuses to fully close the gap between them. “I think ya wanna kiss me.”

You squeak, almost, a high pitch whine sounding through your nose as the uncomfortable statement surges through you. Were you so pitifully obvious the whole time? You lean in closer, attempting to close the separation between you. But he pulls away, ever the tease, and he can’t help but relish the whimper that claws its way up your throat.

“You ever even kissed anyone?” he asks, closing the gap once again. “Y’know, since you’re such a good girl.”

You feel the tips of your ears and face begin to sear with heat, embarrassment flooding through your blood. You nod, defiantly, doing all you can to assure him you’re not the big loser he seems to think you are.

“I have… ‘ve had boyfriends before… Ryu…” you tell him, though it’s still a little humiliating.

“So,” he starts, his hand holds your hip as he adjusts himself slightly. Thumb stroking your side calmly, despite his cock driving ever so gently into your core as he moves. Not hard enough to set off alarm bells, but just enough to leave a lasting impression. He bites lip and releases it just as fast as his eyes rake over you, and you feel so small under his stare, despite him being the one looking up at you. His fingers weave and comb through your hair until he gets a tight enough grip. Your noses are touching before he tilts his head, your lips barely lingering on one another’s as you each fight against fully committing. “If I kiss you right now, it’s gonna be worth my time?” he whispers.

In truth, it’s been a while since you kissed anyone. You haven’t had a boyfriend since high school and that seems like a lifetime ago now. But you don’t want to go another second without feeling his lips fully pressed against yours. So, you nod. It’s weak and unconvincing, but you nod anyway.

It’s enough for him. In truth, he wouldn’t have cared if you’d never been kissed before. He’d be more than happy to teach you, though he’s sure he’ll teach you plenty anyway. He’s going to turn you into a masterpiece; one that has been created only for him to enjoy.

His lips slot against yours and it’s like an explosion. You’ve been fucking starved for him, and you can barely remember to breathe as it intensifies. Suctioning sounds repeat as you kiss without stopping. Neither of you remember to come up for air until you’re gasping.

Your lips part divinely as his tongue pushes past them and it’s so rapturous as your little wet muscle meets his. He groans, loudly, as he licks and swipes all while you’re moaning pathetically into his mouth. He bets your soaked, he’s rock hard and leaking like a virgin getting his first hand job after all.

“Stick out your tongue.” he tells you, and like always, you do as you’re told. He licks at it, swirls his own tongue around it. He sucks it until he’s heady with lust.

His body collapses against the back of the couch, and like the perfect pet you follow him. You can’t stop making out with him now. You can’t possibly get enough. You doubt it would even be enough to crawl inside his skin and live out the rest of your days there.

You’re addicted to him.

He pushes your body down so that your crotch is fully pressed into his. The feeling of his throbbing cock almost entirely against your panty-clad mound is a surprise to say the least, you hadn’t expected it and your surprised expression gives you away instantly. But he doesn’t comment right away, instead, he grinds his crotch against yours as you carry on kissing. Your breath fans across his face, you’re delirious from the sensation of him being against you like this, you’ve never known anything quite like it.

“Feel what you’re doin’ to me?” he chuckles, parting away from you enough to look up at you again and lick his lips. But you chase him, you think you might stop breathing if you deny yourself of him. Your tongue pushes past the seam of his lips, and of course he doesn’t object. He feels your little wet muscle searching for something, and he can’t contain the amused scoff when he realises you were tracking down his gold tooth, the tip of your tongue licking it from behind all of the way to the front until you reach his gums. “Fuck… you’re filthy.” he informs you before kissing you again.

You giggle before he yanks at your hair. Flirtatious laughter being forced into a tantalising gasp, your head angled so that you’re looking up at the ceiling above. The column of your neck is almost enough to make him cum. It’s so fucking bare. So pure and untainted. He wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into you. To cover you in hickeys and bite marks so that everyone knows what he fucking did to you.

But he knows, deep down, it isn’t worth it. It isn’t worth the questions and the bullshit and the drama. Not this time, anyway. Instead, he leaves gentle kisses and soft suckles against your skin. His tongue leaves fat, wet stripes over your throat and pulse point, hot breath fanning over them between kisses. You’re keening for him as his lips begin to ascend. You’re shuddering against him as he breathes heavily, deliciously, into your ear. His hand drifts to squeeze your tit over your crop top as he continues to breathe thickly into your ear canal. The intensity forcing your skin to break out in goosebumps.

You mewl, and it’s a fucking siren song as he sucks on your earlobe. He drives his covered cock up into you as he takes the cartilage between his teeth, alternating between that and sucking like he’s trying to get milk from nipple.

“Does anyone else know what a naughty little thing you are?” he talks directly into your ear, thumb rubbing over the thin material of your top, your hardened nipples unfortunately hidden behind your push up bra. “Or do you only get like this f’me?”

“Jus’ you…” you sigh, your arm wraps around his neck so that you can hold his head the same way he had yours. Tiny little fingers toy with blonde and pink tufts, he groans slightly at the comforting feeling.

“Darlin’… you know you have to pay, don’tcha?” he asks. It’s so out of the blue, you push away from him. He grins as he watches the confusion and horror take over your facial expression. You were so blissfully at peace, lost in the feeling of his lips and his touch all over your body. “Drugs aren’t free, y’know.”

“B-But…” you think, panicking, “I— nii-chan only left me enough for emergencies…” you tell him, hoping he’ll take pity on you. He offers a fake little pout, tutting at your excuse. It’s so feeble and pathetic and he loves how easy it is to mess with you.

“Awe, baby.” he offers faux sympathy, his thumb stroking over your cheek yet again. “You better do what I say then, yeah? Gonna have to keep bein’ a good girl f’me, ‘n then we can forget the whoooole thing.”

“What do you want me to—”

He thrusts his hips up, and you lose balance, falling perfectly into his arms. He tugs at your crop top, urging you to take it off. You start pulling it upwards, though it’s too slow for his liking. He yanks it over your head, getting a quick eyeful of your tits and aqua blue bra before he sucks hard into the fat flesh of your breasts.

You’re too busy moaning, rolling your hips against him to notice he has unclasped your bra with one hand. He pulls carefully at the straps, ridding you of the material covering part of your modesty. He bites his lip and breathes heavily as he ogles them. You feel the way his cock pulses against your cunt.

“S’fuckin’ pretty—” he muses. You feel different, now. You’re fully on display for him and you are completely at his mercy. Your rational mind is telling you to give him the emergency money your brother left and send him on his way. But sadly for you, your poor neglected pussy wants him to stay and have his way with you. “You’ve gotta suck my cock, baby. Now.” he demands.

Your heartrate sky-rockets. Things are moving so fast you can barely process it at all. You look down between your thighs and see the ever-growing bulge in his shorts. Can you argue with him? Reason with him? It doesn’t matter either way, you’re already sliding carefully onto the ground and getting down on your knees between his spread legs. You aren’t sure where to start. Everything you think about doing dies a sudden death with each new idea that comes to the forefront of your mind.

“Pull it out, hurry up.”

Little hands shake as nimble fingers grip onto the waistband of his shorts. You pull and you pull and he lifts his body to help in your efforts. He almost grunts as his cock springs free, pearlescent pre leaking a ton from his twitching slit.

“Mmmm…” he moans as he grips his cock at the base, shaking it a few times so that the tip hits your nose softly, soupy liquid sticking to you as he does. “Be a good girl, show me how bad you can be.”

There’s not a single universe where you’re successfully concealing your apprehension from him, though he thinks nothing of it. He thinks you’re nervous because you’ve had a crush on him for quite some time now and you don’t want to disappoint him. Your hands carry on shaking as you grab onto his length. He’s huge, both of your little hands are holding him in your grasp and there’s still more of his thickness unable to be held.

You think to start off you should clean the tip; you lick and lave over his throbbing head and your face scrunches as you register the warm tanginess permeating your tastebuds.

His body almost dissolves into the couch as you start to take more and more of him. He shoos your hands away and holds himself so that you can balance your hands on his thighs. His free hand holds your head, forcefully attempting to shove you further and further down on his length until you’re choking on him. You’re spitting and sputtering just like you had when you smoked.

“S’cute.” he moans. The light praise encourages you to keep trying for him. So, you do, try. You try to give him mind blowing head. You try to remember to use your tongue to keep him nice and stimulated as you bob up and down on his cock. You even remember one of your friends telling you that squeezing your thumbs stops you from gagging as much.

But it’s all in vain.

Ryusei hisses, flinching from an amalgamation of too much teeth and not enough spit. He snatches you away by your hair, seeing red veins stabbing through the whites of your eyes as they begin to gloss over. A watery sheen telling him of your deepest shame and embarrassment.

“Are you a fucking virgin, baby?” he wonders. His cock spills more pre as he sees tears fall from your eyes and cascade down your cheeks. The little sniffles you can’t stop are a symphony to him and he can see the way your throat is choking back audible cries. He can hear the little croaks trapped there, though, poor thing. “Never sucked a cock before, have you?”

“’m s-so sorry.” you stop fighting your losing battle as you start to cry, utterly humiliated that your secret has come to light because you did such a terrible job giving head. “I’ll— g-get my purse ‘n then you can just g-o. I’m sor—”

He leans forward, hand snaking between your thighs to cup your cunt. “Never had a cock in her, huh? What about fingers? Anybody ever ate your pussy, sweetheart?”

“N-Nothing!” you speak, almost defiantly though that wasn’t your intention. You’re feeling vulnerable and defensive. You’re embarrassed, and he has his hand somewhere nobody has ever touched you before. “Only kissed before…”

“Mmm… no wonder you’re so wet.” he speaks, though he isn’t seeking a reply. He’s simply musing to himself. He should have known, really. When would you get a chance to fuck and learn how to suck cock when your brother practically holds you hostage in this shit hole apartment? “I won’t fuck you, today. You’re not gonna suck my cock either. Come here.” he continues, he grabs both of your wrists and drags you back to your previous position with little effort. You’re above him, again, your thighs straddling his. “Stand up, actually.” he orders, you obey.

Your tits are still exposed and you’re standing in nothing but your pleated mini skirt and silk panties beneath. He twirls his finger, encouraging you to do a spin for him. You complete it, quickly, your skirt raising ever so slightly and exposing a peak of pink silk before you find a neutral position once more.

“Slower.” he tells you, so you spin again. Slower, just for him. “Stop.” he tells you when your back is facing him.

“Is something wrong, ah—!” you yelp as he ruthlessly kicks the inside of your ankles until your legs are spread apart from each other.

“Bend over, put your hands on the table.” he instructs you. You’re slow in doing so, not wanting to rush this time; though you still feel your heartbeat in your throat. Your skirt rides up, the pink silk completely covering your most precious secret. Though he grunts at the sight, unable to control himself. His jaw clenches and bubbles at the sight of brunette curls peaking from the sides of your panties. “Holy shit, fuck.” he sibilates, thick long fingers hooking into the pink silk. He wastes no time tearing them from your body, shoving them into the pocket of his hoody.

He grabs the globes of your ass, kneading the flesh under your little skirt and parting your pussy lips in the process. He’s enamoured by the sight, the way your arousal has soaked your pubic hair. It’s shimmering, he can’t help but to touch and toy with your pubes when they’re taunting him like this. He can’t remember the last time he fucked a girl with a cute bush of hair like yours. It’s always fucking waxed and landing strips and of course he won’t complain, but seeing your intimate form in all of it’s glory like this… you’re perfect. You’re fucking holy.

He pushes a single finger hastily into your wet hole. You almost fall forward; you cry out from the feeling of being stretched for the very first time.

“Never shave this fucking pussy, yeah? Leave it like this f’me.”

You don’t reply, mind spiralling from the feeling of pain and pleasure as he burrows his finger in deeper and begins to curl it when he feels that perfect little spongy spot buried deep. Your cheeks are stained with glittering tears, the overbearing living room light not offering you any courtesy in that regard. Your tear-stricken face will be exposed to him, eventually.

Will he care?

Will he show concern?

Will he be sympathetic since he is the cause?

It appears not. He holds no consideration as he pummels a second finger inside of your gummy interior. He scissors them again and again and again until you’re practically screaming. It feels worse when he pushes against the spot. That spot that blinds your fucking vision.

“A-Ah. Aaah—!” you sob, scream, anything your body can physically project in your current state. It almost feels like an out of body experience. “Ouch! Ow, R-Ryusei. Hurts! Hurtin’ me—!” you explain. He wraps an arm around your midsection, fingers still cosy deep inside. He pulls you back, your spine flush against his chest. His hand moves from your stomach to your mouth, silencing your cries and whimpers as his fingers carry on battering your g-spot.

“Shhh, it’ll feel good in a minute.” he informs you. “Rub your clit, baby, show me how you touch this virgin cunt.” your entire body becomes scalding in an instant, the lewd language and very notion that you masturbate filling you with unease. But without question, your fingers find the swelling nub between your pussy and begin to rub and rub.

He rests his forehead against your shoulder, smiling down as he hears painful cries turn to libertine moans. His smothering hand frees your airways, allowing you to send your mewling into the airspace freely. He squeezes his cock, hard, and begins to masturbate himself. A sticky, clacking sound filling the room. It’s mixing in with the sound of your squelching cunt.

Your eyes cross as he finds a perfect rhythm with you. You’re sure you look like a bona fide whore, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re balancing on the balls of your feet with your legs spread open wide, putting your cunt on full display. Your left hand digs into the leather arm rest beside you, the only form of balance you have.

You’re so fucking loud. He’s never heard anyone scream or moan as loudly in his life, though he’s one to talk. He’s on the verge of cumming after so much torment and he couldn’t be more vocal if he tried.

“D-Do you want all the neighbours to hear what a little slut you are? Want ‘em to tell your brother you got fucked stupid while he was gone?” he asks, it’s rhetorical, of course. He doesn’t care that you’re being loud. He just wants to torment you, tease you and build that unadulterated shame that you’ve had embedded in you your whole life. You are the product of repressed sexual urges. Would you have let a drug dealer strip you and play with your cunt if you weren’t so desperate and needing to be toyed with?

“’m gonna c-cum. Fuck, Ryusei! Cumming f-for you—!” you cry, your walls squeezing his fingers until they feel close to breaking. “Oh my god…” you sob. Your poor little virgin slot throbbing and pulsating around his thick heavy fingers and you continue to cum for what feels like a lifetime. His curling fingers dragging out the feeling for as long as humanly possible.

“Hah- haah- ah, fuck!” he finishes, white, gluey fluid shooting up your back. He fucks his fist until he drains every last drop from his swollen balls. He admires his work, smearing the remaining residue on your ass cheek and your skirt. He wonders if you’ll remember to wash it, God forbid your stupid brother find a cum stain on it.

He scrapes his cum onto his fingers and orders you to face him. He brings his sperm to your lips, expecting you to know what to do.

“Eat.” he says. You hesitate. He wants you to what? It’s a liquid, you can’t eat it. Does he want you to lick his fingers? Put them in your mouth? He’s sick of waiting, however, forcing them by your lips until the bitter taste coats your tongue. “Eat it.” he looks at you with venom in his stare.

You hold his hand sweetly with both of yours. He watches you as you suck his fingers, internally thinking how much better you are doing this than you are at sucking cock. He bears his teeth, the golden one glimmering in your eye once again as you continue to clean the cum from his digits.

“Thaaaat’s it, good girl. It’ll get the taste of weed out of your mouth.” he tells you. You finish sucking, releasing his fingers with a gentle pop before placing his hand back on your thigh.

He allows his fingers to lightly caress your skin. The pads carefully glide over you as you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him for the final time during this encounter. But he wanted to fuck you, didn’t he? He wanted you to suck him off properly, too. He’ll let it go for today, but this certainly won’t be the one and only time you’ll bare it all for him.

You still owe him for the weed, after all.

He thinks he might set up a depraved little payment plan for you.

2K notes · View notes

sanakimohara · 20 days ago

Text

[ GAME OVER ] Pt.2 Y. J. + K. S.

pairing: jeongin + seungmin + fem! reader

summary: Scared of a little tag-team from your killer best friends or secretly obsessed with the thought…

type: headcannons \ set plot \ finale

playlist:

warnings: smut + nsfw + mdni + blood + gore + cnc + descriptions of violence + drugs + creampies + oral + blood kink + knife play/kink + degradation / manipulation + spit kink…

authors note: this’ll be intense and I know a lot of you wanted a part 2 but I just never got around to it so here you go! It’s nearing my favorite time of year so why not give you guys a little taste of what’s to come in my future projects.

Stalker/Ghostface Jeongin decides blackmail is the best way to handle you. “Couple of pictures…” he mutters, moving and positioning you around in his bed in precarious and provocative positions while Seungmin lazily clicks the ‘capture’ button on his phone. Your clothes never leave your body, and both agree to the limit, but Jeongin finds it hard to resist seeing you lying in his bed, unconscious and utterly clueless. He’d always been more than irritated by how perfect you seemed: good grades, college sweetheart to the masses, and the dean’s only daughter. Everything you did and said somehow equaled perfection, and part of him wanted to ruin that for you in some sick way, but Seungmin played devil's advocate on your behalf, convincing the younger there’d be a better way to corrupt you. “Patience is key,” he mumbled, passing Jeongin’s phone back to him and pocketing his own. The younger scoffed, scrolling through the scandalous photos Seungmin had taken once before glancing at you, still entirely passed out with a frown tugging at his lips. “You take the fun out of everything, hyung….” He groans quietly, unable to hide the slow smirk spreading across his face, seeing your body shudder involuntarily.

Stalker/Ghostface Seungmin is the first person you see the following day. He shows up at your dorm just as your shared peers start to leave campus. You’re startled to hear a knock on your door so late in the evening. Having missed classes all day in hopes of remedying the unbridled exhaustion you felt. Still groggy and dealing with a debilitating migraine for most of the day, after a night you barely remembered, you force yourself to peel out of bed and answer it. “Oh…hey Min…” you mutter, hiding behind the door as he smiles at your hesitant greeting. Of course, you’d be more cautious after last night -he’d been counting on it. “You okay…? You weren’t in class, so I thought…” Seungmin trails off, plain concern written across his face as you search it with tired and apprehensive eyes. When you don’t spot a hint of falsity or hidden unease in him, your gaze softens, and you offer him a small, weary smile. “I’m fine…I must’ve drunk more than I thought last night at your place..” Seungmin chuckles, casually stepping through the doorway when you step back to let him inside, “Yeah, you did…Jeongin brought you back here since I passed out during the movie. I’m glad you’re alright, though..” He watches you process the explanation. Your brows slightly furrow in confusion before they relax, and a relieved look replaces the tense one. “Thank god, I thought…” you gulp, unable to formulate a way to explain the foggy assumptions you’d been having all day about the night before. You weren’t sure if explaining your doubts to him would seem ridiculous or accusatory. Seungmin didn’t give you time to consider which option was best, offering warmth and his company for the rest of the evening to distract you. He doesn’t leave until the middle of the night, aiding you to sleep but taking off when you’re passed out. Jeongin waits for him right outside your door, trading the spare key to your dorm. Seungmin swiped from the bottom drawer of your dresser with a newly cleaned knife and leather gloves. “Ready?…” Jeongin whispers, tucking the key into his pocket as Seungmin nods and slips the gloves on. “She’s completely out of it. Convinced her she got drunk last night, and you took her home…” Jeongin ticks his head, stifling a laugh, “Perfect.” Seungmin smiles, taking the mask he offers and slipping it on with natural ease, “Let’s have a little fun tonight..”

Stalker/Ghostface Jeongin makes the first call. Phone to his ear, voice changer switched on, and mask pulled down over his face. He waits alone in your dorm’s tiny kitchen, leaning against the counter and listening to the muffled sound of your phone ringing through the bedroom door. You pick up on the third ring, half asleep and tempted to curse whoever interrupted your much-needed rest. “Hello?!…” you hiss out, brows knitting together, and your voice doused with grogginess. You wait for a response, annoyed by the permeating radio silence on the other end of the call. A slight grimace clouds your features, quiet curses leaving your lips, “Fuck, is anyone there? Hello?!” You snap, looking at the time on your phone to be sure you aren’t cursing someone out at the break of dawn. Luckily, it’s only half past 3 in the morning, and you feel less guilty for being so agitated by the unexpected call. That is until pure fear penetrates you, injected straight into your head as a distinct and distorted voice scratches through the phone. “Look who’s finally awake,” Jeongin utters on his end, unable to keep the smile off his face, hearing you inhale sharply and frantically shuffle around in bed. “Who…who the fuck is this?!” Your heart drops as the question flies out of your mouth, quietly echoing in the dark, “If this is a prank, I swear to god-“ Jeongin laughs, a stiff and short sound that leaves your chest twisting with anxiety. “A prank? No. A game? Yes.” He flips the knife in his free hand, balancing its hilt in his palm each time it lands in his grip. He counted your breaths before speaking again, enjoying how each shuddered and ran into the next. You were terrified already. That much was clear to him. “I’m not interested in playing….” You finally speak up, glancing around your darkened room as if casing it for an intruder. The precaution was useless, nonetheless. It was completely pointless, even when Seungmin and Jeongin stood outside your bedroom door. “Ah shit, really? And to think I had a perfect prize for the lady if she won.” Jeongin lets out a dramatic sigh, head turning in Seungmin’s direction, “You’d think a smart girl like you would want to know what she’s missing out on before she turns a good time down…”

Stalker/Ghostface Seungmin scoffs underneath his mask, leaning against the wall bordering the left side of your bedroom doorway. He hears you shifting in bed, the momentary pause of fear you take while debating getting out of it. One quick trip out of your room to grab a thick carving knife, and you’ll feel much more at ease. You mustered up the courage to leave, tiptoeing out of bed and shuffling towards your bedroom door. “Listen, if you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to call the cops and let them deal with you-“ Seungmin hears Jeongin sigh loudly, free watching from across the room as he tucks an arm under the other, “You are no fun, huh? Guess we’ll just have to give you a reason to play.” “A reason?….” You swallow hard, feeling your skin crawl at his sinister implication, “What…. What's that supposed to mean?” Seungmin listens to you pant the words out, hearing you leap from bed in a frenzy to sprint into the kitchen, watching you freeze, and hearing Jeongin gliding his knife across your marble countertops.

The silent screeching echoed, driving the frantic pace of your heartbeat as the crackled voice you’d been conversing with rang loud and clear with it. Seungmin smirked under his mask, listening to your breaths slow and your footsteps halt around the hallway corner. “Call them.” Jeongin taunts you, taking slow steps towards the wall that separates you from his sight as he continues, “I. Dare. You.” Each word is punctuated with a knife’s tip-tapping against the wall, catching your attention and bringing stinging tears to your eyes. Seungmin stifles a laugh when you sniffle, picking up on the panic rising in your every breath.

Whoever was in your dorm would get their hands on you before the police even processed your call. You could run for it, somehow get past them, and run out into the middle of campus in the dead of night and search for help, but then there’d be the risk of them catching you before your hand reached for the door. You settled on the next best option: going back to your room and locking yourself in it and hopefully being safe enough there to call and wait for the cops. Yes, that you could do, and with a sharp inhale, you gathered the resolve to do it. “Fuck you and your game,” you seethed into the phone, spinning around, poised to hang up the call while rushing back to your room.

Stalker/Ghostface Jeongin steps past the edge of the corner, the phone still pressed to his ear and his smile growing a grin, watching you come face to face with a masked Seungmin. “And just like that, you’ve lost the first round..” He snickers, ending the call and laughing when you stumble backward, shaking and shivering as Seungmin corners you into his chest. You jump in shock, feeling a second broader, warm body press into you from behind, a forceful shove from Jeongin’s hand to your wrist knocking the phone from your grasp and sending it crashing into the wall before it shattered to the pieces on the floor near the two pairs of clad black boots caging in your stocking covered feet. Jeongin hums as your head slowly lifts to stare up at him, tilting back at you as his gloved hands raise to muffle the terrified screech that tears through your throat seeing him. You choke as thick leather seals over your mouth and nose, gagging quietly when Jeongin’s grip tightens enough to knock your head back into his shoulder while he purrs against the shell of your reddening ears, “Don’t be a sore loser, Y/n..”

Stalker/Ghostface Seungmin huffs, tired of watching the younger have so much fun toying, drawing your attention his way with a nudge of his knife-cold edge to the heated skin of your throat. “Guess that means you owe us a prize…” he muses, smiling to himself when you start to struggle as best you can in Jeongin’s hold, glancing between the steel pressed to your neck and the masked men holding you captive. The pure fear in your eyes stirs Seungmin’s ego, bringing out a laugh from him that chills and enthralls your nerves all at once. You’d heard that laugh before -or at least you thought you had- even beneath the distortion, it stood out to you. Charming and full of life, even if it came at the expense of your life being in its owner's hands. Seungmin settled down when you went still, a flicker of recognition in your expression warming his heart just a tad before calloused obsession hardened it again. He gave a curt nod to Jeongin, retracting the knife from your throat as the younger lifted you from the ground without another word.

Stalker/Ghostface Jeongin drags you into your room, not minding how much you scream and kick and toss around to try and rip your way out of his hold. He refuses to let you go, keeping your screams and whimpers quiet until Seungmin closes your bedroom door and locks it behind him. Your nails claw at him, attempting to pierce through his black clothes to harm him in any way you could think of, but Jeongin takes your frantic scratching with a smile. He settles on the edge of your bed, sitting you down in his lap and holding you there with an arm wrapped tight around your chest. You whine and scramble to lift off of him, chest burning as another failed scream dies in your throat. “Just give the fuck up already..” Jeongin hisses into your ear, groaning when you shake your head in refusal, unconsciously rocking your ass against his crotch the harder you struggle. Your legs tremble, tensing up the harder you fight, and nearly numb by the time he shifts his arm around your chest, letting his hand linger over your breasts, caressing each one until your nipples peak through the thin fabric over your oversized shirt. You shiver, not used to the rough scrape of leather on your body or the combined strain of being groped by a strange man while another one watched from less than a foot away. Jeongin savored the softness of your chest, palming a handful of the tender flesh until your frantic breathing slowed into hesitated moans. “There we go, baby….just enjoy it…be the slut I know you are,” Jeongin mumbles amid a groan, tempted to lift his hips into you as your back arches to chase the warmth of his heavy hands. “Fuck…! Look at her…” he calls to Seungmin, the voice on the edge of a disbelieving whine as the older continues to watch him feel the expanse of your body. You give up fighting then, feeding off the air of desperation he exudes, falling head first into the need for more hand trails past your breasts, over the center of your stomach, and right down to the middle of your thighs.

Stalker/Ghostface Seungmin watched your legs spread open for Jeongin’s hand, biting his lower lip behind the mask as the younger cups your cunt before landing a light slap to it. You jolt at the contact, crying into the hand over your mouth and throwing Seungmin a pleading look -begging him to give you way out despite your body telling him the complete opposite. He sighed, cracking his neck, closing the distance left between you, just as Jeongin dealt your covered cunt another slap. You keened from the harsh treatment, groaning loudly as the sudden affliction made your walls tighten around nothing and your head fog with shame. “Thought you’d be a little harder to break,” Seungmin scoffs, fisting the hair at the crown of your head to drag it back and make you look up at him. You whimpered, drooling into the glove around your mouth, eyes watering from the thrill and shock running up your spine as he tugged you from Jeongin’s lap to kneel at his feet. You meant to scream the moment you could breathe again but were kept silent with the prick of a blade sliding under your chin and a quiet warning from him. “Scream, and I’ll slit your pretty little throat…” You cringe as the knife drags across your skin, drawing a thin line of blood and inducing a sting of pain that snaps your drooling mouth shut. Seungmin hums in approval, cock jumping at the sight of your blood trickling down the edge of steel and the apprehensive obedience in your eyes as they stare up at him. Your heart thunders with adrenaline, threatened and disconcerted by the promise of being hurt but forced to confront the leaking tip of his length at the very exact moment. The sound of metal clicking and shifting through fabric loops comes from behind you, but Seungmin keeps your focus right on him, easing your pouty and damp lips around the head of his cock, moaning softly under his mask as you tentatively relax your mouth to take him in inch by inch. “Knew you’d be good at this…” he pants, hips slowly rocking against your face, sinking his throbbing shaft to the back of your throat despite your soft gagging and reluctant moans. The knife at your throat flexes with every rut of his hips, dangerously digging into your skin while he fucks your mouth with little remorse and reckless abandon.

“Told you she would be, “ Jeongin moans loudly, voice carrying over the sound of your muffled choking and whines around Ssungmins cock and the slick squelches of his pulsing member sliding in and out of a closed fist. Seungmin grunts, gazing down at you through his mask, mouth slightly agape and brows knitted together as he watches you sink your head up and down his length. Strings of saliva and precum trickle down your chin, mixing the tears streaming down your cheeks and drizzling into the small droplets of blood trailing along your neck to your chest. He curses under his breath, fist tightening in your hair as warmth flows from chest straight into the pit of his stomach, “I’m gonna fucking cum if she keeps up like this….” You shudder at the comment, threatened but proud you’d put him in such an agitated state. A part of you wanted to savor it, to fully enjoy the way his cock filled your mouth, to revel in the excitement you felt when the muscle twitched against your wandering tongue. You wanted to admit you liked the way he was using you, forcing you to accept whatever he graced you to have, even if he was pressing a knife right to your throat as he fucked it.

But then you’d be just as sick as him, just as sick and twisted as the both of them.

Stalker/Ghostface Jeongin is fine watching you be used, pumping his cock to the view of your trying your hardest to match Seungmin’s pace and keep his knife from cutting any deeper. God, you were a sight to see, too; hands twitched at your sides, eyes fluttering and rolling, and face a flushed mess. His hand slipped up and down faster, motivated by the trembling moans and cries you let out. Jeongin watched in vague awe as Seungmin stiffened, hips stuttering towards your face and coming to a complete stop as the corner of your lips began to leak with cum. “Swallow…” the older huffed, holding your head back to get a good view of you obeying his command. Jeongin stares in a daze as you down the creamy substance, sticking your tongue out to show a clean palette. The fight in your eyes dims then, replaced with a distant satisfaction when Seungmin releases you from his hold and drags you to your feet. With one shove, you’re pushed to bend over the bed's edge, barely catching yourself with shaking hands and mindlessly shifting to crawl away from both. But you’re nowhere near fast enough or in the right mind, too dizzy to stop Jeongin from retaking hold of you. “Don’t cheat,” he mumbles, forgetting the task of stroking himself to stand and catch your ankle in one hand while the other grips your waist. “Can’t take one of us and run from the other,” he scolds you through a quiet laugh, ignoring the small yelp and sob you emit when he roughly drags you towards him. “Just let me go…please,” You fist the covers, panting through hot tears and sniffling. “I…I promise I won’t tell anyone-“ “I know you won’t tell anyone about this…about us…” Jeongin tuts, hands finding your shivering hips, smoothing the fabric of your shirt upward until your panties were on full display. Your breath catches in your throat, cool air sweeping over the glistening wet patch spreading on the thin cotton, and your head spinning from the lack of compassion in his response. Jeongin tilts his head thoughtfully, muttering under his breath as he pulls your panties to the side and admires the slick folds of your cunt. “We know you can keep that adorable mouth of yours shut..” A whimper spills from you, partially anxious at his implied threat and partially emitted, feeling a warm line of his spit leak straight onto your entrance. Jeongin watches his saliva coat your folds, holding your shivering body still as it mixes with your arousal and drips onto your bedsheets. “Wouldn’t want to waste this good of a pussy anyway..”

Stalker/Ghostface Seungmin is already hard again, watching Jeongin sink into you, pleasuring himself in your cozy desk chair as the younger one holds you face down in your bed and fucks the decency out of you. Moaning into his mask feels suffocating, and the desire to get a clear view of you breaking to pieces clouds his better judgment. “Can’t fucking take it,” he growls, ripping the mask off his face just out of your blurred sight and inhaling a sharp breath as the excellent air filling with the smell of sex fans over his face. He doesn’t care that Jeongin laughs at him between his moans, caring even less that he follows suit and tosses his mask onto the bed near your head. “She feels so good, hyung…” he hears him pant, pumping his cock faster at the statement and the indecipherable cry you let out at the one-sided compliment.

Their voices sounded familiar to you now, but it couldn’t be them, could it?…

Your lovely Jeongin who always listened when you needed someone to talk to. Who forced you to go out and have fun when you studied too hard for too long?

Your practical and dependable Seungmin, who always didn’t mind being your study partner. Who brought your favorite snacks and drinks to class when you missed lunch with him?

These two strangers using you so shamelessly…

They couldn’t possibly be them, right?

Stalker/Ghostface Jeongin doesn’t give your body or mind enough of a break to make the connection, mumbling one sick thought after the next into your ear as he neared his end. Your core twisted and winded, hungry for the constant pressure his cock imprinted into your cervix, delving deeper and deeper into you until his body shuddered above yours. The scratch of his nails and the blooming prints of his fingertips digging into your hips mixed with the burning cuts along your neck paling in comparison to ecstasy that racked your body as thick ropes of his cum filled you. “A-ahngh! Please…please, not there!” You whine and wriggle beneath him, torn between rolling your hips for more and pulling away from him. Jeongin tangles a hand through your hair, slamming your head back down into the pillows as he finishes inside you. “I think you need a little more,” he hums, beginning to fuck his cum more profound into your cunt, grunting when your walls contract around him from the sudden overstimulation. “Don’t want it…” you whisper, blushing as the pit of your core swirls with pleasure from every movement he makes. Jeongin bites his lip, glancing at Seungmin to reiterate, “I think she needs a little more, hyung..”

Stalker/Ghostface Seungmin is more than ready to take Jeongin’s place, addicted to seeing the fear on your face when you realize his knife is pressing to your throat again. You’re practically paralyzed with fear as he fucks the younger’s cum into you until his own adds to it. You cling to the covers, vision blurred, head spinning, and body sore by the time Seungmin slides his cock out of you. He drops the knife on your bed, confident that you’re too fucked out to make a move for it and satisfied with the amount of marks he’s left on you. “Never thought she’d be such a slut,” he chuckles, glancing at Jeongin as he picks up the discarded weapons stained with your blood.

“The good ones always are, hyung…”

authors note: …u-uh….so did I go to far or…are yall okay?…..

other links: n/a

[ bonus content ]

I s(C)reamed- DONT LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT I KNOW YOU DID TO- 🤨🙂‍↕️ Credits to creator 🖤

173 notes · View notes

transmutationisms · 11 months ago

Note

can you elaborate some on how the formulation of comphet sucks? i’m not super familiar with it & i trust your thoughts

well i am just some guy blogging also you can read the essay here if you're interested.

there is a clear streak of sexual conservatism that runs through the text (eg, the equation of bdsm with violence & 'vanilla' sex with a 'natural' & intrinsically 'feminine' sexuality that is being stifled; the failure to contextualise sex work as work; the attempt to differentiate gay men from lesbians on the grounds that gay men have too much casual sex & large age gaps in their relationships...) & these are not just local issues because they're all connected to the fact that rich is fundamentally uninterested in questioning gender (that is, the construction of womanhood itself) the way she is in questioning heterosexuality.

her formulation therefore always falls back on the notion of a shared biological basis for a 'female' existence, one that is continually violated & encroached upon by the male violence that oppresses it. to understand 'compulsory heterosexuality' in light of a concept of gender as biological, transhistorical, & inescapable thus becomes a call to reclaim a kind of mythologised prelapsarian 'female–female' relationship that is being artificially suppressed & oppressed under conditions of patriarchy. the question rich raises as animating the paper is: would women choose heterosexuality if they were not constrained into it? but never is this category 'women' historicised or problematised in the same way (glibly we might ask: would people choose womanhood, or indeed manhood, if we were not constrained into them...?); for rich the sexes simply exist; the question lies only in the correct relations between & within them.

i don't really find her idea of a 'lesbian continuum' is particularly useful & i think it elides discussion of the material factors that enforce heterosexuality with a more idealist, psychologised discourse about the comparative emotional 'valuation' of basically any interpersonal relationship. but that move away from material analysis also just characterises the whole essay, really, because again, rich takes as a point of departure the presumption of the reality & primacy of the sexgender binary whilst trying to analyse the artificiality of heterosexuality alone. really this is just business as usual in terms of talking out both sides of your mouth for radical feminism though, & indeed for any feminism reliant on essentialisms at its core.

#adrienne rich

564 notes · View notes

chronicallycouchbound · 1 year ago

Text

Intelligence Doesn't Equal Morality

Intellect is rooted in ableist systems and stupidity and intelligence are pointless social constructs that don't relate to morals or character.

I try to be a pretty good person, I fight for human rights, I regularly engage in mutual aid, and I care for my community. I try to do the right thing and support causes I care about and make positive changes in the world.

But I also am not very smart. I have several neurodevelopmental disorders, as well as cognitive disabilities. I can’t do simple, basic math, it’s hard for me to remember facts or algorithms, I rely entirely on spellcheck and speech-to-text to write, I failed many classes in high school and I barely passed with a low GPA, I had low pSAT scores and I never took the SATs. I moved around a lot all through school starting in third grade, and I missed a lot of basic fundamentals in learning (like how to do division and multiplication) so when I went to a different school they had already passed it and expected me to know. After my TBI, I could barely read AFTER I was cleared from my “concussion” symptoms because letters and words would flip around and I’d get headaches. Which still happens sometimes.

A lot of people see me as smart because I've learned a lot of academic language and can formulate thoughts into cohesive posts. But I lack a lot of necessary skills and rely on my caretakers to assist me. Things like budgeting and planning are extremely difficult for me. If I need to do simple addition or subtraction, even with a calculator, I quickly get confused and struggle. I forget basic information about myself all the time, let alone other subjects. I'm talking, has to check my ID for my birthday type confused. Doesn't know my name or address or what year it is confused. It happens daily, sometimes multiple times a day. Being able to type out posts like this often takes weeks and many adaptive tools to get there. Focusing is extremely difficult on many fronts, severe chronic pain, ADHD, dissociation, fatigue, migraines, and TBI, are just some of the contributing factors. I struggle daily with many things because of my lack of intellect.

I’m also privileged in the fact that I had some access to education as a homeless youth, that I had some supports in place to help me (towards the end of school), that I was somewhat able-bodied at the time and could walk or bike to and from school when the school system didn’t provide transportation. I was fortunate to have a chance to succeed, and I’m proud that I graduated high school because it was a difficult task for me, and others often aren’t offered that chance or get accommodations. I almost didn’t and I dropped out many times before graduation. I passed on sheer luck and what little privileges I had.

That all being said, me being stupid (reclaiming it here) doesn't make me a bad person. I don't hurt people because I can't do math. I may mess up things or get confused but it doesn't make me want to harm others.

We often (wrongfully) equate morals with intellect. Being ‘stupid’, ‘dumb’, or an ‘idiot’ doesn’t automatically make someone a bad person. Plenty of evil, awful, and abusive people are extremely intelligent.

I see this most notably with people advocating for IQ tests to be able to vote. Often from left-leaning people, in hopes it'll make the right (that they view as unintelligent), unable to vote. The reality is, it just hurts some of our most vulnerable members of the community while not actively doing anything to restrict some of the most dangerous members of our community-- those who know what they're doing to harm others and deliberately doing so. My voice matters, and I speak up against injustice and participate in dismantling oppressive systems. Taking away my right to vote won't make the right stop oppressing minorities (which also puts a lot of faith into the two-party voting system, which is a post for another day).

Additionally, legislative measures that discriminate against intellectually disabled people such as IQ tests for voting are also rooted in racism and classism.

Yes, education can be a vital tool when it comes to addressing discrimination and creating safer communities. But the kind of education that is measured with an IQ test (or any test) isn't the same. Building compassion and caring for others can (and should) happen at any IQ level. We can all practice this, we can all participate.

It harms our communities and stagnates our progress when we equate intelligence with high morals.

1K notes · View notes

hansensgirl · 10 months ago

Text

summary. | The mob boss has an alternate way you can pay off your debts.

prompts. | Ari Levinson + Mob Boss + “You want something from me? You gotta ask nicely.” (credits to @celestianstars for inspiring this prompt) + Innocence, requested by Anonymous.

pairing. | dark!mob boss!Ari Levinson x innocent!fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, mob stuff, age gap, abuse of power, power imbalance, pet names, innocence kink, corruption kink, smoking (ari), drinking (ari), debts, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics.

The weight of the debt sits heavy on your shoulders, dragging you down. You find it hard to breathe as one of Ari’s associates leads you to the leader’s office. You note that the man doesn’t keep a hand on his gun as usual. You clearly aren’t a threat—what could a little thing like you do to the big, bad mob boss?

Ari welcomes you in and ushers you to sit wherever you’d like, and you relieve your shaky legs when you sit in front of his oak desk.

“Do you need anything to eat or drink? I can make some coffee or tea,” he offers. “N– no, thank you, sir,” you nearly whisper, scared and, therefore, quiet. Ari gives you a smile as he rubs his beard, flashing the tattoos, scars, and rings that decorate his hand.

“Shy, aren’t ya? Don’t worry. I don’t bite unless you ask me to,” he chuckles, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. You can spy smoke swirling from an ashtray, a cigarette freshly put out sitting inside.

“So, what did you need to talk about?” Ari starts for you, and for a second, you forget why you’ve come here. The debt. A few beats of silence pass as you try to formulate your thoughts, and Ari watches you intently the entire time. “You want something from me? You gotta ask nicely,” he eventually adds.

“S– Sir, I never knew my family owed you money,” you begin, taking a deep breath. “Of course you wouldn’t, baby. That was many years ago, and I doubt an innocent thing like you knows what goes on around here,” he grins.

“Yes, well, I was hoping I could have some more time to pay it off. I don’t make much at my job, but I promise I’ll get you your money back,” you explain, hands flying out of nerves. Ari hums as if considering your offer.

“The interest is a bit much, but I can handle it. Please, I just need some more time,” you plead, and you wonder if you’ve spoken too much. Or perhaps your request is too outlandish. Either way, you worry that you’re doomed.

There is more silence and then a deep sigh from the burly man before you.

“You make a good case for yourself, pumpkin,” he tells you. You look at him, raising your gaze from your lap, where your thumbs twiddle. “But now that I think about it, I really don’t need your money. I have more than enough of my own, anyway,” Ari snickers.

You force a smile. He mirrors it, but the mob boss’s seems genuine.

“I– I’m sorry, sir. I don’t quite understand,” you admit to him sheepishly. Ari coos at you. “That’s alright, bunny. What I’m saying is that you don’t have to pay the loan back,” he says, and you’re filled with elation.

You could nearly jump for joy, but you know you should restrain yourself in front of the city’s most dangerous man. Instead, you settle for grinning until your cheeks hurt and giggling. “Oh, my. Thank you so much, sir! That means the world to me—you don’t understand,” you cheer.

Ari chuckles at your happiness before the smile on his face fades. “But that doesn’t mean you can just walk away freely, baby,” he tells you, and you can feel your bubble bursting. “Don’t worry, your punishment won’t be anything bad. In fact, you’ll probably end up loving it as much as me,” Ari continues, and he stands up.

He walks towards you and kneels in front of you. “You’ll be my perfect little plaything for the rest of the year. No ifs, ands, or buts. Unless you want me to add to your debts… Increase your interest?” Ari threatens, and you’re quick to shake your head.

“Good girl,” the older man coos. “I’ve been dying to have you on my arm, angel.”

#sab’s dark concepts (2023)#ari levinson #the red sea diving resort #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x y/n #dark ari levinson #dark!ari levinson #chris evans #drabble #request #sabs concepts

511 notes · View notes

mochidoie · 5 months ago

Text

the summer of us ☼

kim doyoung x reader wc - 8.6k genre - slow burn, fluff, slightly angsty, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining warnings - kiss scene a/n - italicized sections are written as flashbacks, while regular texts correspond with the present

You and Doyoung reunite at your high school reunion. Him, just as he has always been. You, bolder but just as beautiful. Upon meeting again, the memories of the one summer you two shared during your college years resurface, along with the same romantic feelings that never had a proper ending. Will that summer love find its way back to your present?

The only people who show up to high school reunions are those who used to be popular and lonely individuals. It’s the people who reminisce about their glory days in the tight hallways and how everyone knew their name. It’s for the people who currently have no one back in their hometown and are looking to rekindle old flames or friendships. Doyoung was neither one of these, and yet, here he is standing in the middle of his old high school gymnasium amongst his past peers and barely making out familiar faces in this mood lighting.

There were predictable appearances: Johnny was King of the Field, wore his letterman jacket nearly every day of senior year until the leather wore out and crusted off. Mina was captain of the cheerleading squad, admired by many but envied by most. Jaehyun was the campus sweetheart, confession letters and gifts would flood out of his locker on Valentine’s day.

They are all holding onto that piece of glory, making remarks on how they wish they could go back in time to experience it all over again. Nothing in their current lives gives them that same thrill. It’s sad and for a brief moment, Doyoung genuinely pitied them.

Some unexpected faces took him by surprise: Taeyong was his lab partner for most of his projects, his mind was always on a creative tangent at such a young age. Yuta was the underrated soccer star, he was humble in his skill, but extremely competitive in everything he did. Haechan was that underclassman that never hung out with his own grade, but he could crunch numbers faster than anyone in the school.

And you. You, who walked in with a dress that fit perfectly and painted lips that curved into a sweet smile, a smile that Doyoung found himself wanting a glimpse of throughout the night. You were quiet and so much more timid back then, always trying to blend into the background of things.

Nonetheless, Doyoung had shared the same sentiments except an unlikely friendship with Mark really gave him a leg up in high school with the popular crowd. But, Doyoung always saw you and formed a silent camaraderie between the two of you without your knowledge.

Why would you come? He didn’t understand. If it wasn’t for Mark’s insanely theatrical pleas to attend, Doyoung would happily be on his couch watching his reality dating shows. It seemed out of character and some could say the same for him. However, Doyoung didn’t actually know you well enough to understand your reasoning.

Mark nudges Doyoung, “hey… who is that?” Gesturing toward your figure by the makeshift bar, Doyoung tries to think how to formulate your identity to Mark. Did Mark even know of your existence prior? Doyoung thought.

“I think it’s… y/n?” He doesn’t sound confident, in fact, there is a slight quiver when he says your name. Mark confusingly stares at Doyoung and he can read his mind before Mark even asks.

“Who?”

Rolling his eyes, he patiently explains. “Junior year chemistry. I’m pretty sure you two sat next to each other in class.” Doyoung brings his glass to his lips.

Mark tilts his head, an expression of great pondering on his face. Unconsciously, Doyoung’s eyes follow you at every step. He is still trying to process seeing how much you’ve changed.

“How did you remember something like that?” Mark laughs, biting the cookie he has been rolling between his fingers.

Doyoung shrugs nonchalantly, “I had to stare at your big head the whole period and all the posers who tried to be your best friend during class.” It isn’t a complete lie, Doyoung did pay attention to his good friend during class, but only because he had to sit a few rows behind him.

He isn’t going to reveal the silent alliance he created between the two of you. The two quiet ones, navigating the world of high school in their own way and trying to graduate without a trace of who they were during those years. That’s what Doyoung wanted for himself.

“We should catch up, what do you say?” Mark suggests to Doyoung. You’ve made your way toward the center of the draped tables, trapped between Johnny and Jaehyun. Those two idiots probably have no recollection of who you are. “You can reintroduce me.”

Doyoung scoffs, “you don’t need an introduction. You’re literally valedictorian Mark Lee.” The two of them make their way toward you. With every step closer, Doyoung’s throat dries up. If there is any need for liquid courage, it would be now.

The truth is that Doyoung has exchanged several small conversations with you during your adolescence, so you two are acquaintances at best. However, there was one summer between the first and second year of college where the two of you ran into each other quite frequently. It was enough to where the two of you were actually friends, one could even argue more than that.

Doyoung always hated the heat that came with summers at home. It was partially the reason why he decided to go away for college in a city without changing seasons. Beads of sweat run down the sides of his forehead as he seeks air conditioning in a crowded gelato shop.

He had just finished an intense soccer match with Yuta. It probably was one of the worst decisions to do during the highest temperatures of the year. The copious amount of sunscreen has most likely melted off of his body with the amount of sweat he was producing and all his water dried up from sitting in the sun.

He digs in his pockets for spare change for the sweet treat, not thinking how much he would be suffering from the hot weather.

“I can help the next person.” A voice calls and Doyoung is frantically rummaging through his pockets for more bills. When he looks up, a familiar face shares a slightly shocked expression over the fridge counters. You call his name and instantly, Doyoung feels flushed at your great memory.

Your name tag hangs crookedly on your apron and Doyoung recognizes it immediately. “Hey! It’s been awhile.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have expected to bump into you.” Your giddiness warms Doyoung’s chest. He had forgotten how inviting you were the moment you would speak. Your features were slightly the same, but definitely a bit older. You weren’t wearing your glasses and your hair was neatly pulled into a ponytail.

“I just came back for the summer.” Doyoung pulls out some loose change, damp from his sweaty hands. “When did you work here?”

“I started the summer after we graduated. I come back during the breaks to help out.” Before Doyoung could respond, a voice cuts the feverish reunion and reminds him he is holding up the line for gelato.

You chuckle timidly to yourself, “anyways, what can I get you?”

Doyoung, now pressured by the line of impatient customers, chooses his favorite mango sorbet before he could glance at any other options. When you ring him up, he counts his change in his palm and groans.

“Ah, I’m short two dollars. It’s okay, I won’t get it. I’m sorry to waste your time.” Doyoung pouts, ready to hide under a rock for being a complete embarrassment the first time you are seeing each other again.

You grasp his wrist quickly, “Wait, it’s on me.” Placing the cone in his hand, you fiddle with something on the register and smile sweetly at him.

Doyoung feels the world stop and can’t find the words to express his gratitude. “Thanks.” He whispers, deer eyes wide and mouth open.

“No problem. It was good seeing you again, Doyoung.” You’re already trying to move on to help the next available customer, while Doyoung mindlessly blinks at the cone in his hand. It was really nice seeing you and he wonders to himself if there could be another chance.

It’s a relief when Mark saves you from the conversation with Johnny and Jaehyun. He does so happily and cluelessly at the tactics of their flirting and lack of your identity. It actually almost comes to a shock to you that Mark remembered you, not that the two of you shared any conversation between one another during class. It isn’t until your eyes fall upon the other individual behind him.

All tall and lean, Doyoung stands before you after all this time. The memories of that one summer together flash by in a millisecond and all the feelings come rushing back like adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Then, a mixture of disappointment and sadness fill your heart, gazing upon Doyoung’s stare, it’s apologetic. With Mark’s chirpiness in the way, you try your best to pretend that you and Doyoung had no prior affairs.

“Wow, can you believe how long it’s been? My mom still talks about your valedictorian speech, Mark.” Doyoung can see right through you. The fakeness is full in your tone, like you’re trying so hard to convince everyone that you’re fine and after all this time, alright with seeing Doyoung.

“Yeah, that speech. I swear I blacked out because I can’t even remember it.” Mark laughs, rubbing the back of his neck in a shy manner. “But how have you been, y/n?”

“I’ve been good. Busy with work and enjoying life at the same time.” Keeping your answer vague, you direct your attention to Doyoung. “How have you been?”

He is taken aback by the sudden shift, despite very clearly being part of this three way conversation without any contribution other than his presence. Clearing his throat, he begins with, “good. I’ve been busy with work too.”

Mark continues, poking at Doyoung’s arm to slightly tease him. “This guy became a workaholic after we graduated college. He is the first person I knew that got a job right away and has been slaving away since.”

Doyoung feels embarrassed as his friend describes the lamest life that he has been living. He almost speaks up to defend himself or mention how all those years of hard work has earned him a golden plaque for his loyalty with the company.

“That’s really impressive, Doyoung.” Your breathy compliment causes his heart to skip a beat. He looks at you, noting the sadness in your eyes. “I’ve been jumping around jobs for awhile. It’s been hard figuring out what I want to do with my career, sometimes I think back on how easy life was when I was scooping gelato.”

Gelato takes Doyoung back to that summer again. All the warm nights he waited for you to close up the shop, how your clothes would smell like sweet waffle batter, and you’d always come out with a scoop of mango sorbet just for him. All the nights he wished he was brave enough to kiss you.

“Doyoung, you don’t have to wait for me!” Your smile doesn’t leave your face upon seeing him outside the shop, hands in his pockets and head up high watching the stars. At this point, it’s routine that the boy would show up five minutes before closing time and patiently wander outside until you were ready to leave.

You thought it was a coincidence to bump into him after one of your shifts, but he kept showing up. After a few times, you began to realize that he was intentionally waiting for you. Never questioning why, Doyoung walked you home every night as you two reminisced about the moments in high school or new memories you both had made in college.

Slowly, you two got to know each other very well. Doyoung told you about his dreams and you told him about your family. He knew your closest friends and your favorite memories about them. You knew facts about his brother and their upbringing, family traditions during holidays and vacations spent at the ski lodge despite not knowing how to ski.

Occasionally, the two of you would stop by boardwalk and walk down to the beach. Doyoung would pat off the sand to the bench for you to sit beside him. You’d keep a respectable distance, with your hands in your lap and hair blowing in the warm wind. Doyoung’s eyes would sparkle along with the street lamps and you’d both be secretly enchanted by one another.

These were the summer nights that you wished upon the moon and stars that Doyoung would kiss you.

“You worked at the gelato shop by the boardwalk?” Mark asked, excited and completely oblivious to the can of worms he is about to open leading with that question.

Chuckling, you glance sly at Doyoung. “Yes, it was my summer job. My sister knew the manager that worked there, so I’d help out during the summer when I came home.”

Mark lightly slaps Doyoung on the chest and he coughs at the sudden impact, jolting and nearly spilling the drink in his hand. “Doyoung used to rave about the mango sorbet at that place, didn’t you?”

Doyoung nodded. It comes as a confirmation to you that Mark doesn’t know anything that happened between you and Doyoung that summer. You’re all laughing awkwardly, Doyoung a bit more nervously than you and Mark.

“Yeah and he’d always say how it was his favorite of all time, that nothing could compare–”

“--Okay, Mark. I think we can drop the mango sorbet debate.” Doyoung firmly pats Mark on the shoulder to get him to please shut the fuck up. He couldn’t take any more of his friend’s clueless babbling, especially not to you about all the subliminal messages.

“It’s good. They make it in house, peeled over a hundred mangoes in the back every morning.” Speaking very matter of factly, your face is full of angst.

Mark and Doyoung blink at you in disbelief. He feels bad about all the nights you’d get him a scoop, not knowing you practically worked away your life for it. “Wait, seriously?”

“No.” You laugh and your face lightens up, “that would be actual hell if I did. We had frozen mangoes with a premade syrup.” Doyoung forgot about your humor and how much he enjoyed it. He found himself laughing along, thinking about how melodic your sounds of happiness are.

In the midst of your chuckles, someone calls for Mark from across the auditorium. He excuses himself and hurries joyfully over to another old classmate. The air instantly becomes suffocating between you and Doyoung. Without a third party there to ignore the elephant in the room, the two of you avert eye contact and stand stiffly.

“So..” Doyoung clears his throat, unsure how to work around the awkwardness. “Why did you decide to come? I never thought I’d see you at something as lame as this.”

“Are you implying I’m too cool to show up here?” He got you to relax a bit, earning a small chuckle at how he phrased his question. Your shoulders drop the tension that caused it to stick by your chin.

“Of course.” You weren’t necessarily popular back in high school, so you had no reason to come back and gloat about the past. He isn’t sure about your current social life, but surely it isn’t lonely enough to want to come back and rekindle old ones, especially with these amateurs.

“Well, I appreciate that thought. I had a feeling you’d be here.” Your eyes wander the floor, calculating your next words very carefully. While you had no idea how Doyoung feels about you right now, you wanted to test the waters. If it comes to be bad, then you can avoid him for the rest of your life. If it turns out well, who knows? There wouldn’t be another missed chance.

“Oh god, I’m so uncool that you’d expect me to show up?” Doyoung pretends to be offended, or maybe he actually is. You aren’t sure, but he holds his hand to his chest as if he is. “I’ll have to rebrand myself going forward.”

“No, no. It’s not you. I saw Mark tag you in the comments of the announcement post.” Peering up, Doyoung lets out an exasperated sigh at the fact that Mark was the culprit. He should’ve known that Mark basically announced their attendance via social media. “So, I figured you might show up.”

“It is a hundred percent Mark. He dressed me himself and dragged me out the door to come to this.” He rolls his eyes and finishes his drink in one big gulp.

Doyoung scans the room one last time at all the people that came to the reunion. To his surprise, there was a decent amount of attendees and everyone looked like themselves more or less. Everyone remained recognizable to a degree, but no one made an entrance like you did.

Then, the conversation clicks in his head. Like someone turned the lights on in his head, he understands the intent behind your responses. You didn’t come to see him, perhaps?

It is as if you could see the gears in his mind turn in real time. You smile and close the distance between the two of you. “I came to this lame reunion because I wanted to see you again.”

And like that, Doyoung is brought back to the world stopping feeling he felt several years ago in that gelato shop, your hand on his wrist and a cone of mango sorbet in his hand. His eyes resembled a baby deer in headlights and his mouth agape. His heart is loud in his ears and pressure in his throat.

He isn’t sure how he should proceed. Doyoung fumbled his chances with you long ago, at least that’s what he had thought. Barely processing your confession, he stammers over his words.

“Want to head out?”

A wide grin spreads across your lips, lifting your cheeks high on your face. “What about Mark?”

“He’ll manage.” Doyoung doesn’t even look for his good friend in the crowd, knowing that Mark was going to leave him for a random old acquaintance sooner or later into the night. This, however, was an opportunity Doyoung didn’t know he’d ever come across again. “I’ve waited long enough to have a chance like this again.”

Your eyes light up at his statement, like a spark to a new flame erupting inside of you. Doyoung extends his hand for you to take and softly, you accept his grip and let him guide you outside of that dreary gymnasium.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

“Did you know that Bethany had the biggest crush on you?” Kicking your feet in the air, you’re giggling at the silly high school secrets you had always kept to yourself. Doyoung shoots up from the blanket on the sand and turns to face you, utterly horrified by the new piece of old information.

You had an early shift today and managed to catch the sunset with Doyoung. He had brought his picnic blanket for you two to enjoy the views right on the beach. The pink and orange hues paint the sky above you, faint sounds of seagulls in the distance and of waves crashing against the shore set the mood.

You two could talk for hours, without a care in the universe and any concept of time. Doyoung is mesmerized by your perspective and way with words. You’re astonished by the wisdom and empathy Doyoung holds. From one quiet kid to another, you two sure felt comfort in each other.

“Blonde Beth?!” Doyoung exclaims.

You sit up with him, matching the higher level of energy. “Yes. She was so into you!”

He blinks in disbelief, never thinking someone like Bethany would have a crush on him in high school. Not that he is any better now, but he isn’t sure how well he was perceived in his adolescents. “How did you know?”

“You’re always such a skeptic.” Your eyes watch the horizon. The round, golden sun barely hits the glimmering water. “I sat at the same table as her and her friends in math class. She talked about you quite often.”

Doyoung follows your gaze toward the sunset. He contemplates long and hard. “What a strange crush.”

Scoffing, you briefly glance over at him. There, Doyoung sits with his knees hugged to his chest and a look of deep thought. The sun kisses his skin so lovingly, highlighting his sharp facial features. The light breeze blows his tousled bangs over his forehead. Doyoung looks like he was chiseled by the gods, just absolutely unreal.

It strikes you like a chord. In the midst of this summer sunset, you were falling for Doyoung.

When he peers over and meets your eyes, something drops in the pit of your stomach. A sudden shyness accompanies your chest and it compels you to look away, but you remain locked in and lost in his starry pupils. You find yourself breathless, mouth open to speak but words caught in your throat.

Nonetheless, you catch yourself before it becomes suspicious. “W-Why would it be strange?” Gulping, your mind is running circles at your realization.

“Because I swear she hated me. I would always beat her by one point in our exams and there was always a rivalry between us.” Doyoung ponders, barely able to make out the memories of the girl from his classes. He never acknowledged her enough to remember.

He hears your chuckle, snapping his attention at you. “You’re so dense. She probably had an enemies to lovers type thing going on for you.”

“A what?” Doyoung snarls.

“Enemies to lovers… like you hated each other so much that you ended up liking them.” Your voice grows small at the ridiculous explanation. You may have revealed too much of your personal interests and hobbies to a boy who only reads textbooks and self help books.

It was Doyoung’s turn to laugh, but right in your face at the silly description. “Is that something you like reading in your literature?”

“Perhaps. I’ve already said too much.” You fume, laying back down on the blanket. Your back hits the firm sand with a thud and you close your eyes out of embarrassment.

“I’ll confirm with you right now that I’m more of a friends to lovers type guy. I can never hate someone so much that I end up liking them. My disdain for them would linger.” The blanket shifts a bit underneath you. When you open your eyes, he is hovering over you with a kind grin.

A veiny arm is situated by either side of your head. You nearly gasp at the sudden perspective of Doyoung above you, keeping your own arms close to your chest. Your heart races quickly, anticipating his next move.

“You’re not trying to fall asleep on the beach, right?” He laughs, his chain slipping out of his shirt and dangling from his neck. “If you’re tired, let me walk you back.”

A rush of flustered emotions cascade over your weak body. Dizziness quickly accompanies your head, like the sight of Doyoung looking dreamily above you is enough to cause you to faint. You pat your hot cheeks, giving small slaps to wake you from this embarrassing feeling you’re experiencing over a friend.

Doyoung laughs at your gesture, oblivious to why you’re just hitting yourself. “Enough, don’t want you to hurt your pretty face.”

Like a straw to a camel’s back, that is the last thing you’ll let yourself get ruffled over. Sitting up, you’re inches from Doyoung’s lips. He blinks at your sudden proximity and immediately widens his eyes.

Gulping, your breath dances softly on his cherry red pout. “Let’s go.”

He follows your lead, grabbing his blanket in a swift motion and dusting off the sand from the fabric. Nonetheless, you don’t wait around or help him. Instead, you’re already up on the curb and recollecting everything that just happened, all the feelings that had surfaced. Confused, but excited to feel your heart bursting with the rays of the summer sun.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

“So, this is where you live. I remember requesting a tour for one of the units when it was in its developmental phase. I’m happy to see that it lives up to the pictures and that someone I know lives here.” You walk around Doyoung’s living room aimlessly, pinching at the cover of the couch, dusting your finger on the window shades, inspecting the ceiling fixtures.

“You’re restless. Take a seat before you spot something that will cause me to hyperfixate.” He chuckles, patting the seat next to him on the sofa and placing a glass of water for you on a cute coaster.

For a brief moment, you hesitate sitting so close to him. It wasn’t like all the ill feelings you held simply disappeared upon seeing him. There is still a part of you that didn’t forgive him, didn’t wish to be so friendly again.

Nonetheless, Doyoung had always been attentive and observant. He catches on immediately, scooting over to another chair that had a big stuffed penguin plush. Clearing his throat, he gestures to the spot once more now that he created a comfortable distance. “Why did you decide on another place?”

“It was closer to my ex at the time.” Your casualness catches Doyoung off guard, as he watches you finally take a seat. “He kept complaining about our commute to each other and I was in need of a new apartment fast, so it just settled that way.”

Doyoung nods, like he understands despite not fully. He can’t imagine moving closer for anyone beside himself or going without a compromise from both parties. “Then, does your ex still live near you?”

“No, I told him to move far away so that I would never have to see him again. I’m all about setting boundaries.” The person Doyoung knew you to be would never have been that bold, would not have known how to set boundaries firmly. Like an ember catching a light, a spark appears in his eyes as he takes in your physicalities again.

Now under proper lighting, Doyoung can really see all of you. The dress did more for you than he had noticed before, bringing out your confidence and kissing your skin tone. The satin on your lips is seductive, but saccharine paired with your smile. Voluminous curls frame your face perfectly and when he finally takes a long look at your features – he is astonished all over again at how beautiful you are.

He clears his throat, “boundaries are important.” It’s all he can say while still enamored by your newfound confidence and looks.

“What about you? Have you been in any relationships since we last saw each other?”

Doyoung tries to piece together his response delicately, mostly because he didn’t want to sound like a complete loner and corporate loser. Truthfully, after the summer together, Doyoung could not stop thinking about you. It was an endless cycle of wanting to reach out again, but he never found it in himself to do so. When you nearly fell off the face of the digital world, he tried to put his efforts into other people.

Failing horribly, he couldn’t find anything remotely close to what you and he had shared in a few months. A connection so powerful and genuine, a fresh breath of air that filled his lungs every time he thoughtfully inhaled. A feeling that warmed not only his skin, but his heart that he no longer despised the hot weather. Doyoung found himself looking for you in everyone he met, only to be faced with utter disappointment when they were nowhere close.

With all his withered attempts at romance, he gave up. He settled on being alone for this portion of his life and didn’t desire that fleeting feeling of romance he had once felt. Because at the end of all his days, he’d come home to this empty apartment and pretend to be content with himself when he had lost the opportunity to be with you.

So when he begins with his calculated reply, he mentally prepares himself for your reaction. “I haven’t. I’m married to my work.” His eyes flicker at your expression, trying to make out the sympathy in your pupils and dip in your frown.

“You haven’t changed at all.” When you examine Doyoung, he is just as you remembered him that summer. With his sharp features, quick wit, quiet demeanor and all of his dedication, Kim Doyoung remains exactly like how he had left you that temperate night.

He is all the man that you had fallen for and longed for in your present. It’s a bit sad all the times you would wallow in it — the crush that became undying on a man who only smiled brighten when you were around. A man who is intelligent, trivial, and hungry for success that he is willingly to dedicate his entire life to it. Yet, he is a man who is also kind, soft, and attentive to others around him that caring for others comes second nature to him.

With the time that has passed since you two last spoke, you had wondered if he had changed to be more cynical, withholding his heart and laughter to those who tried to grow close to him or if he had opened up and shared his kindness to someone who is worthy of it. To your countless of painted possibilities, Doyoung had done neither and a part of you finds immense comfort in him all over again.

Doyoung isn’t sure how to interpret your statement. Greatly puzzled, he tilts his head and asks, “is that a bad thing?” Swallowing the lump of spit gathered in his throat, he anxiously overthinks your implications.

Instantly, you note his change from relaxed to tense. His jaw is clenched as he crosses his legs, neatly folding his hands together and resting them on his lap. You’ve made him uneasy, but it only makes you chuckle at how unnerved he is.

So when you answer him, he is vastly surprised and speechless. “No, I’ve always liked you the way you are.”

He ponders and lets the adrenaline take its course of action. Without another thought or hesitation, he matches your boldness. “You’ve changed.”

The proclamation feels sudden, so much that it genuinely catches you off guard. There is a slight whiplash you experience with how quick Doyoung’s words hit you. Although there is no accusatory tone that lingers, there is some sense of self consciousness.

“Is that bad?” You take his same words to use against him. Instead of feeling tense and perceived, you somehow feel defensive. All the years that you two haven’t encountered one another, you’ve worked hard to be the person you love now.

You acknowledge how quiet and hidden you were in the past. The person that never wanted to be noticed, often wanting to hide behind their hair or clothes. You used to speak just barely above a whisper, scared that any louder would draw the unwanted attention of others around. Only spoke when spoken to, only looked up when tapped, that was just the way you were.

High school was never a comfortable time for you, but wasn’t it like that for everyone? Seemingly awkward and unrevealing to who someone truly is. It had been a feeling that troubled you greatly, that you felt fearful to be too bold, too audacious. You couldn’t wait to graduate silently and move on from that version of yourself.

“No, no. It’s not bad at all.” Doyoung puts his hands up, waving them in a worrisome manner. He settles back into his seat, sitting back against the bouncy cushion and leaning his chin on his fist.

There is a brief stiffness in the air, like Doyoung had more to say. Watching his eyelashes flutter over at you, he eats you up under his long gaze. You shift oddly in your place, heart pounding in your throat and feeling slightly flushed under his spotlight.

He speaks with a low voice, but it is gentle and firm. “I think I see you more clearly now.” His eyes trail down to your toes and back up to the curls that frame your face. An audible gasp escapes your lips, a lack of words fallen upon you.

With every second spent with Doyoung, it has slowly eroded away at the resentment and sadness you felt prior. You wish for nothing more than to be closer to him, to feel his fingertips dance across your hot skin. This is not a foreign feeling, but one that you knew too well.

“Funny that you only see me now when I had been right in front of you for an entire summer.” Fumbling with your purse, you peer away from his sultry stare. The air in the room suffocates you, like a sticky humid day.

“You misinterpret my statement.” He is quick to answer. “I have always seen you. The person who tried so hard to fade in the background in high school, the person who was still trying to figure themselves in college, and now, the person you fully find yourself to be.”

There is a heaviness that fills your chest, like guilt that you had held such a tremendous grudge after so long. Wallowing in your angst, you try to process his words thoughtfully. When you don’t say anything, Doyoung’s voice continues on and his heart fills his words.

“You know, I go back to that summer every year, just recalling and regretting.” Doyoung sighs, emptying his lungs into one breath. He finally feels ready to address the elephant in the room, the words he never said. With you as beautifully before him once again, Doyoung never dared to imagine this chance because he knew he didn’t deserve it.

“What would you have done differently?” You seldomly ask.

And when you glimpse up at him with glossy eyes, Doyoung’s confession pours from his lips effortlessly. “I’d tell you how you made me feel – seen and whole. Because I knew you saw me too and accepted me with all my flaws. It’s like you saw my soul and understood me for the person I was. Then, I’d kiss you, I’d kiss you like the world was ending.”

“Desperately and holding onto the last glimpse of hope?” Chuckling, your heart literally feels like it could burst any second looking at him.

Doyoung stands up, taking small steps forward and closing the distance between you two. Making room for him to sit next to you, his knee radiates heat against your own. He smiles sweetly, “desperately, yes, but as if nothing else mattered than being there with you in that moment.”

Finally face to face, it feels impossible to resist each other’s aura. “I would like that.” Your eyes flicker from his lips to his pupils. His eyebrows raise slightly and like clockwork, the gears in his head are spinning at full force until everything clicks.

Without another thought or a second to lose, Doyoung pulls you toward him by your wrist and your lips land hastily on top of his. Staining him with the color of your lipstick, you’re gliding effortlessly. Immediately, all the romantic feelings from that summer flood both of your chests’.

Doyoung kicks the sand that loosely piles the boardwalk. His hands shoved into his shorts as his attention turned to the sound of your voice. This night between the both of you feels weirdly melancholy. It was a third of the way into summer and you were the only person Doyoung wanted to be around.

Beyond the nostalgia, the family traditions, the dreams, there was one part of each other that you two never shared. All until he hears the drip of sadness in your voice, “you want to know something?”

“Of course.” When it came to you, he wasn’t sure if he had the power to say no.

The stars hang low and the moon twinkles at the highest point of the night. The chatter from the normally busy boardwalk has been replaced by sounds of waves crashing in the distance and all the shops have gone dark. The smell of sweet waffle batter lingers from your clothes and the chilly summer breeze blows at the strands of your hair.

“I’ve still never had my first kiss.” It had been a long kept secret, feeling embarrassed that someone at your age hadn’t experienced a simple kiss. You had thought that the moment you entered college, everything was going to change and you were going to experience it all.

However, the romantic in you wouldn’t allow it. In all the books you read, you only hoped for a magical kiss that swept you off your feet. One that deemed itself memorable, that would have you replaying over and over in your head. A kiss so full of passion that it would destroy you to pull away from.

“It’s nothing amazing.” Doyoung dully answers, noting the pout on your face the moment he says it. He immediately feels bad for damping the mood even further. “Sorry, that’s not what I mean.”

“How was your first kiss?” You lay that million dollar question on him so innocently.

He genuinely couldn’t even remember how his first kiss was. All he could make out was how sweaty his palms were and how he threw up right afterwards. “It was mediocre. I think it was with someone random at a freshman welcoming party. I had too much to drink and barfed on the curb right after it happened.”

The sound of your melodic laugh causes him to follow. “Hey!” He points, the reoccuring grin appearing on his face, “don’t you dare laugh. I shared that in secrecy. It was a very vulnerable moment for me.”

You hold your stomach from the intense chuckles, tears rimming your eyes. “I appreciate the vulnerability. It made me feel a lot better.”

Amidst the robust laughter, Doyoung found himself wanting to be the reason behind your happiness. A burning sensation spread across his chest, intense enough to where he thought he might’ve had a bad sunburn. He peers over at your giggling figure again.

Your mouth opened in a toothy smile, your cheekbones high up on your face. Under the dimly lit boardwalk, Doyoung’s heart races at how stunning you look hunched over and just doing something as simple as laughing. Joy matches you so well and he can’t seem to look away.

It’s like the wind knocked the air out of his lungs, but he falls breathless at the realization. Underneath the stars of this summer night, Doyoung was falling for you.

When your laughter comes to a gradual stop, Doyoung snaps out of his internal confusion of these new blossoming feelings for you. He bids you a small smile, “what I meant to say was that first kisses don’t have to be the special one. All it takes is the right person at the right time. A kiss like that would trump any first kiss.”

“You sure say that with a lot of vindication. Do you think you’ve experienced that yet?” Curious eyes fall upon him, you watch him like a spectacle and he grows nervous under your gaze.

“Definitely not. All I’ve experienced are wrong persons and wrong times.” It is a mindless thought he let escape and he doesn’t hope you read too much between the lines. He surely did not include you in that statement whatsoever. You had to be the right person, deep down somewhere he knew that. “Those are once in a lifetime moments, that's why I think they're so special.”

“I like that perspective.” You nod knowingly. “I hope to experience something like that one day too.” Your head drops to your hands, fiddling your thumbs at the thought of something so remarkable.

Doyoung could kiss you right here. He’d pick up your chin and dive right into you. He’d give you your first kiss and something even more special. Nonetheless, his body remains stuck on his side of the bench. It’s as if he physically cannot get himself to do it, as if rushing into it wouldn’t be a good idea.

He doesn’t know or understand why his body stayed frozen in place. As much as the desire to kiss you stirred within the pit of his stomach, there seems to be a barrier halting him from acting on it. Almost like his mind is telling him that this isn’t the right time, not yet.

Hands in your curls, Doyoung presses his face deeper into you. Both of your hearts pulse rapidly at the long awaited kiss. Your trembling fingertips brush his cheek and his knees grow weak at every inch you touch. Your lips dance together like they’ve known the steps this whole time.

Doyoung kisses you like the world really is ending, like the only two people who exist are you and him. It’s beyond romantic– it’s feverish, transcendent, and special. Kissing him has your feelings bursting into a chaotic, wild flame that only he can put out from this moment forward.

You kiss him like you’ve known him all his life and everything has led up to now, like the right person at the right time. This has been the kiss he has been patiently waiting for, growing for, all of this time has amounted to this one beautiful moment with you. You grip his arm, holding onto him tightly and afraid that he’d let go, that if your lips parted, it would completely destroy you.

Until you’re both gasping for air and joints in pain from the awkward position you’ve made your way in, the kiss comes to an end. Doyoung blinks with round, innocent eyes and puffy stained lips, truly stuck in a daze. His hair resembles a bird's nest, sticking out at random directions and clearly disheveled.

You pull down the part of your dress that managed to ride up on your thighs, tidying the strands of flyaways around your face. When your eyes meet and shyly part, you’re both bursting into laughter and the steamy tension in the tiny apartment dissipates instantly. This is how it should’ve been.

Your thumb smears the remaining lipstick that painted Doyoung’s lips, doing your best to wipe away the mess. He catches your wrist in the midst of it, “I’m sorry for ever hurting you in the past.”

With your mouth agape, you’re unsure how to respond. With a long awaited kiss, came a long awaited apology, that is something that Doyoung knew well. You deserve every ounce of his sincerity and explanation. He gulps, anticipating whatever you may throw in his direction. Despite being full fledged adults, Doyoung feels as if he is back in his early adult years and still foolish when it comes to his feelings for you.

“I just never understood why you ran away, why you had so many excuses.” Reliving that memory has been painful, but less as time passed. It had been a tremendous part of your growth, even if it wasn’t something you wanted to experience.

The end of summer finally dawned on the two of you. Doyoung had been distant the last few days, but played it off as needing to pack for his trip back to college. You respected his space, but it would be a lie if you didn’t hope to see him waiting for you after your final shifts at the gelato shop.

All the bright days and breezy nights spent together were going to stay with you for a long time moving forward. Never did you think that you and Kim Doyoung would reunite and grow so close. Along with that, you never thought that you’d grow to like him so much.

You’ve tossed and turned long enough. Now that Doyoung is leaving, you’d feel regretful if you didn’t let your good friend know at the very least how you felt. So, on the night before he makes his way back to school, he agrees to meet you on the pier for a goodbye.

Doyoung is already leaning over the ledge, peering out into the dark waves in deep thought. He had been so conflicted the past few weeks, coming to the realization of his romantic feelings for you. He knew that meeting you again and growing close had that possibility, but he was unable to think that far ahead. He just wished to enjoy every waking moment with you.

This summer with you had been a dream, one that he didn’t want to wake from. Now that he had to go, he didn’t know how to proceed. He had considered a confession, but what then? In the sheer chance that you reciprocate, he couldn’t give you the relationship you wanted. He couldn’t be there waiting for you after your shifts like he did here. He was going to be miles apart and so zoned into his studies.

The internal conflict ate him alive, avoiding to see you on the last few days of summer you two had left. It was selfish on his part, but couldn’t let his feelings grow more to the point of recklessness. Doyoung could not afford to be reckless.

You come running toward him with a gigantic smile on your face, the one that makes Doyoung naturally grin back. He loves seeing you this way and his chest burns with an aching pain at the reality that awaits him.

“Hey! How’s packing been?” You greet him, exasperated from the light jog.

“I managed to finish a bit ago. I realized that I should pack more of the sweaters I left behind. It’s not as warm out there as it is here.” Doyoung shoves his hands into his jean pockets, the wind picking up the ends of his shirt and blowing lightly.

“That’s good.” It’s all you could say before mustering up the courage to speak the real reason why you’re here tonight. Your eyes drift to the waves crashing along the shore and the footprints left from earlier in the day getting washed away. Your throat nearly closes, but you knew it had to be said.

“Doyoung, I actually came out to tell you something important.”

He chokes up, afraid to know and unprepared for what you were going to say. Nodding, he looks at you with a blank expression.

“I had such a fun summer with you that I found myself growing to have romantic feelings for you. Do you feel the same?” Your confession evokes a sense of excitement and joy, Doyoung could do cartwheels. Nonetheless, they soon become squashed by the impending truths of reality. As much as Doyoung wanted to confess and tell you how he felt the same, he chose not to.

Instead, he chooses to find a way to reject you. Dragging it out would be more painful than ending things between the two of you now. He thought this had to be the best option for your happiness.

“I’m sorry, but I’m going away tomorrow.” He can’t answer your question because then he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from revealing all the ways you make his heart race and palms sweaty. He can’t hold onto a hope for the two of you to exist, knowing that the distance and his dedication to his studies came first. He wasn’t ready.

Your smile drops immediately, being replaced with a frown. “I know, but we can work things out. You’re not too far–”

“I can’t do the distance. I can’t sacrifice the time from my studies.” Doyoung can see your heart shatter with every word and he doesn’t know how to help. His own heart crushed in his chest and nothing, but sharp pain reveals itself.

“You can’t or you won’t?” You’re biting back tears. You didn’t expect the confession to go like this. Not that you expected him to reciprocate, but you didn’t think he’d chew and spit out your feelings like this. All this time, all his gestures, all his smiles, were they really not meant for you?

He says the same excuses again, which only frustrates you further. It didn’t feel like he was being honest with you, but he refused to give another reason. “I thought that this summer was special to us.”

Doyoung doesn’t wish to upset you more, so he says his last words to you before running off. “Summer is not enough.” You’re whiplashed by his cruel response, left speechless as you watch his figure dash off and down the pier.

You’re left alone and staring at his fading shadow. A hole in your chest from your heart being ripped out and trampled on the ground. As a tear runs down your cheek, you think to yourself how Kim Doyoung is a coward, but how you are a fool to think that this summer meant anything more than it was.

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Doyoung sighs, that memory haunting him like a nightmare. “I was stupid. Not only was I a coward, but I was thoughtless. I thought that if I ended things there, you wouldn’t be hurt in the long run.”

“Did you always plan to hurt me?”

Doyoung snaps his head over at you, a ghastly expression on his face at your question. “Absolutely not. I-” He searched for the right answer, “I knew that I wasn’t going to be a good boyfriend to you if things continued. I was so imperfect that at the point of my life I was in, I was not ready to be the person you deserved. I wanted to give you the moon and the stars, believe me, but I was a boy who couldn’t even afford a scoop of mango sorbet.”

“Doyoung, the boy I loved was imperfect, but he managed to make sunflowers bloom in my chest and feel as if I wasas loved by the sun. I wanted nothing more than to be yours that summer.” Your hand lightly clasps onto his.

He tightens the grip, “again, I’m so sorry I so selfishly and idiotically ruined things between us, for making you sad. I only wanted to be the reason behind your gorgeous smile. I wanted to reach out all this time, but I couldn’t get over the guilt that built up after all this time. Why would you want someone who hurt you to come back into your life?”

You lifted Doyoung’s chin, bringing his focus back on your face. The connection is electrifying, like an instant buzz that fills your system with a simple look. The way that Doyoung looks at you is like a mesmerized, starstruck fool.

“You hurt me and it took a long time for me to build that bridge and get over it. However, after all these years, you’re all I could think about. That summer is all that floods my mind when I’m alone, that summer of us.” Your gentle words remind him of a softness he had forged a long time ago. A tenderness in your touch, in your gaze, in your tone is enough to break down his walls.

“I’ve wondered about you everyday.” He feels himself so easily drawn to you, so willing to open his pages for you to read. “And everyday, I wished I could get another chance. Would you allow me that? Another chance to be with you?”

It’s like the person you were from that summer awakens inside of you, longing and yearning to be Kim Doyoung’s. This entire night had been full of pockets of nostalgia seeing him again. Remembering, feeling, forgiving. But that question really solidifies that that young kid still lives inside of you, still wanting to love their summer crush as much as they did.

“Yes, I’d give you that chance in a heartbeat.”

Doyoung kisses you again. And again. And again. For every moment under the summer stars that he wished to do so. Your summer love has found its way to your present.

#nct scenarios #doyoung scenario #nct scenario #doyoung scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct imagine #nct doyoung #doyoung #kim doyoung #doyoung x reader #nct x reader #nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct #omg finally it worked

249 notes · View notes

cinnbar-bun · 4 months ago

Note

the jotaro munchies have HIT…. can i please request a pt.4 jotaro and some good domestic family fluff w smolyne…. i am so…. soft for her……

A/n: Okay so I'm going to cheat and combine like... the 4-5 requests I got of 4taro and Smolyne into one!!!

Domestic Family Fun Time (ft. Smolyne)

Summary: After recognizing he needs to be at home more, Jotaro is tasked with joining in on some of the activities you and Jolyne often partake in together!

Today's activities... slaying an evil monster and doing makeup.

Rating: SFW- pure fluff and comedy!

Word Count: ~1.4k

Notes: Reader is GN! but they do know/use makeup. Never specified if Jolyne is your biological/step daughter, and no mentions of Jolyne's mom- so feel free to imagine whatever you want! I imagine Jolyne as about ~5-6 here.

Taglist (if you'd like to be added, please fill out the form in the pinned or message me!): @gingernut1314 @adeadcreator @child-ofdust @starr-l1ghtt

Jotaro does his best to rectify some of his absence in the house since Jolyne was a newborn. He’s more present now and tries to support you and his daughter.

Still, he’s the same stoic man, so don’t expect him to be so different now that he’s at home. He’ll be taking these duties very seriously, keeping an eye on the house, never taking a break, always work and-

Oh who is he kidding? Even if he tries to look tough, Star Platinum is pretty much always exposing him. Star Platinum can’t help but reveal how happy and excited Jotaro gets at home with you two.

Jotaro isn’t too used to dealing with Jolyne as she gets older, in the sense that she is becoming more active and starting to formulate her own thoughts. Still, he tries his best to work with his hyperactive daughter.

Jolyne loves playing games and being physical. One of her favorite things to do with you is pretend to have to save you from a big monster while she is a super cool ‘fairy mermaid knight’. Normally, you two would play this by yourselves, but since Jotaro has been focused on being at home, he gets to witness these games.

At first he stood off to the side and watched as Jolyne jumped off the couch and hit a large pillow covered with a blanket that served as one of the ‘minions’. He noticed how active you were in playing along and expressing with Jolyne, which he took note of for future reference.

The next few times you played pretend, Jolyne beggggedddd Jotaro to please please please pretty please with a cherry on top play mermaid fairy knight with her.

He wasn’t sure what his role was supposed to be, so he awkwardly asked, making her brainstorm.

“Um… hm… well…”

That is, until you had the brilliant idea to play the ‘evil villain’ and ‘kidnap’ Jotaro (put him inside the foldable pink castle playset). Jolyne was so excited to play along, and you began monologuing like a cheesy villain.

“Now, young princess, I’ve kidnapped your father and placed him in this indestructible fortress where he can never leave! Mwahaha! Look at how terrified he is!”

Jotaro just stands there, unsure of what to do, before you nudge his arm and gesture with your face for him to act along. He nods and then in the most bland tone ever-

“Ah… I am… so scared. Please Jolyne. Save me.”

You and Jolyne had to look away and stifle your laughter from that awful performance, but quickly got back into character.

Jotaro uses Star Platinum to help Jolyne jump higher or make her feel like she is gliding for a bit.

You hammed up the evil act while Jotaro would make the most monotone ‘screams’ as you ‘tortured’ him (tickling him or kissing him all over his face). Jolyne would yell back or gag playfully and then smack you with her fake weapon.

Of course, you had to give a riveting performance and fake die dramatically before laying on the ground with a silly face, making Jolyne squeal happily and run up to Jotaro.

“Thank you, Jolyne, for saving me. I’m in your debt.”

Jolyne gets smug and talks about how of course she was going to save him, she’s his dad, and she’s gonna be a cool hero just like him!

Cue you nearly breaking character to sob and Jotaro mumbling a ‘good grief’ while tilting his hat down to hide the fact he also wants to break down at how cute Jolyne is.

He makes sure to make her favorite dinner after- pizza rolls.

Another thing she manages to whisk you into doing is makeup. Jolyne loves to try it on and even put it on you. Sure, you end up looking like a brightly colored clown at the end, but it’s quite fun.

Jolyne loves how colorful and sparkly she looks by the end of it when you finish her makeup.

One day, though, while Jotaro is watching a documentary on dolphins, Jolyne comes up to him with her makeup kit and asks (read: says) to do his makeup. Jotaro is unsure at the suggestion- he’s never even worn makeup before- and seeing you walk behind her with lime green and purple eyeshadow and red lipstick makes him nearly second guess if he should do it.

But one look at Jolyne’s face (which is done up in very pretty blue makeup thanks to you) and he sighs and accepts his fate, promptly closing his eyes and pausing the documentary.

You join in with Jolyne and help her apply the makeup, properly showing where everything should go.

“Ah, see, we have to apply the foundation here like this-” “Damn, dad, you’re pale!” “Jolyne-!”

Jotaro knows this is going to be a mess but he’s finding it admittedly hilarious how serious you and Jolyne are taking this. Star Platinum is smiling widely at the both of you and eagerly pointing at different products as you two apply them.

“Hm, which color should we choose, Jolyne?” “Ah… I think dad should get green! No, wait, black!” “Black, huh? A bold choice, dear.”

Everything goes pretty smoothly until he comes upon perhaps the worst torture known to man.

Doing his eyelashes and eyeliner. Before you can even apply the eyelash curler to him, he opens his eyes and gasps. Hell no. That is NOT going anywhere near him.

“Jotaro! It’s safe, I promise!” “The fact you need to clarify that it’s ‘safe’ tells me it isn’t.” “Stop being a baby and just close your eyes.”

He relents after a bit of arguing, only to feel his heart stop when you bring the eyeliner out.

“You are not putting a pencil in my eyes.” “It’s not in your eyes, it’s around-” “No.”

Jotaro swears this is supposed to actually be a torture device. There’s no way that people around the world willingly put this stuff on. He cannot keep looking up without blinking a million times as you try to put the eyeliner on.

“Stay still!” “Don’t put a pencil in my eyes then!”

Jotaro honestly would rather fight Dio again than bother putting on eyeliner again.

Finally, you finish and he releases the breath he held in… until you bring out mascara.

Kill him. Please. This man is so damn twitchy with it and ends up getting the mascara around his eyelids.

“You messed it up, dad!” “Sorry, Jolyne. Good grief, the things you two make me do.”

After all that pain, Jolyne volunteers to do his lips. She grabs one of her lip balms and once Jotaro tastes it, he grimaces and gags.

“What is that?!” “Coca-Cola! The Fanta one tastes the best, but you can’t have it because it’s my favorite.”

Finally, it’s time for him to see the results of you and Jolyne’s silly game.

“Wow… green lipstick… I didn’t even know they made that…” “Right? So what do you think, dad?”

“I think I look like a zombie…”

You laugh and press a kiss to Jotaro’s cheek. “A very handsome zombie.”

He sighs and shakes his head before grabbing the two of you to pull you into a hug.

“Thank you. Now how do I take this off of me?”

Jolyne screams that he can’t because he looks so cute and she needs to commemorate it. She runs to her room and gets the old digital camera he got her then demanding the two of you pose in your ‘beautiful’ makeup.

“Come on! Say cheese!”

The three of you have a small photoshoot with it, which you ended up having printed at the store later. The photo with you smiling and hugging Jotaro while he has a tiny smile is proudly displayed in the house. In her teens, years later, Jolyne gets embarrassed by it and often hides it when her friends are over, asking you throw it out or something. She still secretly loves the memories of it so she wouldn’t actually want you to do that.

Jotaro still has some ways to go when it comes to playing and taking care of Jolyne, but he’s slowly getting there. He’s happy he chose to make more of an effort and that you gave him another chance to prove himself. He can’t imagine another life than the one he has now.

And… he can’t imagine feeling safer and more content than he is now, especially seeing you and Jolyne laughing over the photos you all just took.

#x reader #reader insert #jjba #jojo #jotaro kujo #jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro 4 #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #jjba imagines #jolyne cujoh #young jolyne

178 notes · View notes

paper-crab · 1 year ago

Text

It’s cold

summary: it’s late and it’s cold outside and matt is avoiding your questions

warnings: unintentionally a bit suggestive

wc: 998

“What are you doing up?” Matt asks you. He’s visibly shaking from the chilly Boston weather, but he’s wrapped in a hoodie and a blanket. He lifts the blanket up, creating a spot for you on the little outdoor loveseat.

“I could ask you the same question,” You roll your eyes at him, taking a seat.

“I’m enjoying the night.”

“Yeah because you enjoy oh-so much.”

“Well, aren’t you just a little bundle of sunshine tonight.” He says, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Despite his lingering words, he scoots closer to you. “What can I say?” You shrug, leaning into his body in an attempt to conserve some warmth. The chill is beginning to seep through the blanket, and you understand why Matt was shivering earlier.

“It’s not every day you get to freeze to death with a stinky guy.” You tease, chuckling at his bemused expression.

“Hey! Where did that come from?” Matt yawns, leaning his head on your shoulder. His teeth are still chattering, cold nipping at both of your covered skin.

“If you’re so cold, why don’t you go inside?”

“Why don’t you?”

“Who said I was that cold?” He lifts his head from your shoulder, giving you a knowing glance. Your body is shaking too. “Okay, maybe I am a little cold.” You say, trying to remain a facade of indifference despite the chill.

“What are you doing out here anyway?”

“I told you, I’m enjoying the night.”

“None of that bullshit Matt, what’s going on?”

“You first, what’s running through that pretty little head of yours?” He says, pulling the blanket up to his chin and snuggling up more.

“I asked first.”

“I asked second,” Matt softly murmurs, giving you a challenging look. “Guess neither of us are getting answers.”

You sigh at his difficulty, leaning into him even more. Huddling together is doing wonders for your collective warmth. You feel like penguins, getting so close together.

“I’ve just been… thinking.”

“Wow, that’s a first.” He grins. You maneuver to punch his arm.

“Hey, it happens! Occasionally…” You whisper the last part, shaking your head at his antics. “But seriously, just needed some fresh air and quiet. You know how loud Chris plays his music at night. I thought the cold would help clear my head.”

“Has it?”

“What?”

“Has it cleared your head?”

You clear your throat. “Wouldn’t you like to know,”

“I would.”

“Well, I’d like to know why you’re out here.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” He smiles, proud of himself for using your jokes against you. “Yes, actually. That’s why I asked. Now get on with it or I’m going to leave you to freeze by yourself.”

As they huddle together, the tension rises. Matt hums, seemingly trying to formulate sentences and get out what he wants to say.

“You know,” He starts, his tone edged with curiosity and a hint of frustration. “Sometimes I wonder what you’re hiding.”

“What I’m hiding?” You retort, laughing in his face. “Yeah, I’m the one doing a lot of hiding right now.” Your face stiffens under his gaze. You are hiding something, but right now, it seems like Matt is hiding more.

“Maybe not right now,” Matt counters, his voice softer, “But I’ve seen it before. You deflect.”

“Like you’re doing right now?”

“Touché.”

The accusation lingers in the air, making you feel slightly uncomfortable. Matt can tell, a mix of defense and vulnerability appear in your eyes; like you’re putting your guard up. Despite knowing he’s right, you feel like you’re being too exposed to him of all people. “You can't expect me to open up if you won’t do the same.” You say, turning away from him. You’re prepared to stand and leave, but you feel him grab you, weighing you down.

“I was thinking about you when I came down.” His gaze softens and his grip loosens, letting you know you’re free to go.

You don’t.

“You were thinking about me?” Matt lets out a puff of air, white coming out of his mouth because of the cold. His gaze remains steady, hesitation in his voice. “Yeah, I just… wanted to check on you.”

“Why?” You’re unable to hide the confusion you feel from his words, and as the admission sinks in, your chest feels a bit lighter.

“Because… I care about you,” He nervously smiles, voice barely above a whisper. His stare shifts, hopping from star to star. In that quiet moment, there’s a million thoughts running through your mind, the most prominent one being ‘I want to kiss him’.

For a brief moment, the world around you seems to fade away. The soft glow of the moonlight shines between you two, no sounds around able to take away from the ambience. Even though you’ve had this revelation, you don’t move.

“I care about you too, more than you know.”

“I might have an idea.” He replies softly, a gentle understanding written over his face. While he might have hesitated earlier, he refused to let this moment slip from his grasp. “Can I kiss you?” He’s mere centimeters from your face, breaths mingling in the nippy night air. Your chest tightens in anticipation as you lean even closer to him, whispering “Yes.” against his lips.

In quiet understanding, he leans forward. Refusing to take a peck, he deepens the kiss, effectively stealing your breath.

There’s almost a magnetic pull guiding you together, an almost imperceptible sensation courses through you. Matt refuses to let any of that slip away, so the second he can breathe again, he’s right back to kissing you.

The chilly air fades into insignificance. Matt is the only thing that matters right now.

“Can we go inside?” He mutters, shuddering. “Yeah it’s cold dumbass, why would you come outside in the first place?” You say, pressing another kiss to his lips.

“Why would you follow me?” He picks up the blanket, extending a hand to pull you up from the loveseat.

“I’d follow you anywhere.”

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

486 notes · View notes

chukys-mouthguard · 5 months ago

Text

Kinda Tempting pt. 3

Part 2

Word count: 3.7k

Featuring: mat barzal x female reader x matt rempe

Warnings: this gets a bit angsty (sorry to my rempe gang)

Note: I thinkkk I have an idea of where I want this to go, but hopefully you all like this part? Please feel free to send me some feedback because i love hearing your thoughts!!

What were you doing?

You’d told Mat that you needed some time to think about his proposal, asking if he’d be okay with you heading home to sleep on it. He of course agreed, understand it was a lot to take in and think about. Not wanting to pressure you into saying something right then and there.

But here you were, at Matthew Rempe’s apartment.

“Well hey there sunshine!”

Matthew’s signature dorky grin plastered on his face as you stood in his doorway, a not so excited look on your face.

“Shit, is everything okay?”

He took your hand and pulled you into his apartment, wrapping you in a hug. Not knowing what was wrong, just sensing you needed it. The second you felt his arms around you the tears immediately started flowing.

All the emotions overwhelming you as you’d finally felt comfortable enough to just let yourself feel something.

“Hey, hey hey. Talk to me y/n. What’s going on?”

Matthew tried to calm you down, to settle your breathing as he pulled you over to sit on the couch. He wiped away your tears as he waited for you to finally tell him what had you so worked up.

“Did the date not go well?”

“No, it, well not at first. But-“

Matthew’s gaze fell to the floor as he knew in his heart these were tears of sadness, not because you and Mat were back on good terms. But instead because you’d come to end whatever fun you two briefly had. You didn’t have to say a word, your body language saying it all.

“You guys are back on good terms?”

Simply nodding, not able to formulate a word let alone a sentence as your mind was still focusing on the hardest part you had to tell Matthew. He smiled at you as he took a deep breath.

“Well, I’m happy for you, honest. And I-“

“That’s not everything…”

He looked to you concerned as you nervously picked at your fingers, the words so difficult to say you as you two sat in silence for what felt like forever.

“He, he asked me to marry him.”

Matthew’s jaw practically on the floor, his knuckles clenching as he stood up. Pacing the floor he tried to figure out what to say. While he wanted to be happy for you, it hurt his heart knowing that he’s opportunity to have anything with you had just gone out the window.

“And you said yes?”

He stared at you as you shook your head. “I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I told him I needed time. It was so sudden, and after everything that’s been going on. I couldn’t give him an answer that I wasn’t 100% sure about.”

Matt nodded as he sat back down, this time leaving a bit of space between the two of you. Which you’d noticed and didn’t appreciate, still confused and feeling like you needed his comfort.

“Well, do you, do you want to marry him?”

“Fuck Matthew I don’t know!”

You didn’t mean to shout, it sort of just coming out as you ran a hand through your hair. “I don’t know what I want. Just yesterday I was so sure my relationship was going to shit that I cheated on Mat with you. Then today, the date starts awful, we get into an argument, we fuck, and then he’s proposing to me. I just-I have no fucking clue what I want.”

He watched you going through all the emotions, unsure as to what he should say or do. Things seeming different now that he didn’t feel like he could comfort you the same way he would’ve yesterday. He kept his hands to himself, mostly just responding verbally rather than physically. Though he hated feeling like he had to be that way. He wanted so badly to hold you, to kiss you, tell you it was all going to be okay.

Controlling his feelings he’d just let you be. Knowing that the last you needed was him to over complicate things even further.

But after the shit you’d be through with Mat, all of that was just wiped away now because he proposed? You were just supposed to forget how shitty you’d felt for months? He wanted to be respectful, but he could see how torn you were. How much you wanted to know the answer but no one could give you that except yourself.

“I wish I could tell you what to do,” he slightly chuckled as he took your hand, “but unfortunately this is something you have to figure out.”

Nodding at him you tried your best to calm down, not let your thoughts run rampant as you took a deep breath. “I wish I could have it both ways.”

You joked with a laugh, wiping your tears as Matthew shook his head. “And as much as I’d love that, it’s a bit different if you’re engaged.”

“I mean, it’s still cheating if I’m engaged or not.” You playfully argued back, making Matt shrug. “I don’t know, engagement makes things seem more serious, a bit more difficult to call off. So, I just think it’s different, I don't know.”

The two of you sat in silence as you’d finally calmed down. Letting out a sigh as you glanced at Matthew, sitting on his phone.

“Do you not like me now?”

He quickly looked up at you, raising an eyebrow as he immediately shook his head. “Not a chance I’d stop liking you just because he proposed. Plus, you didn’t technically say yes yet.” He shot you a wink before he headed off to his bedroom to change.

“So you still think you’ve got a chance with me then huh?”

Playfully questioning as you’d followed behind him, leaning against the wall in the hallway while he pulled on some sweats then joined you back out in the kitchen.

“I mean, I’m always going to think I have a chance with you. I could sense it just from the connection we have. But, I can respect if you choose to get married to him that I’d need to back off. Can’t say I’d be happy about it, but I’d respect it.”

He grabbed you a beer from the fridge, cracking it open before he slid it across the counter into your hand.

“I just, I’ve got a lot to think about. I mean, if you would’ve asked me a year ago, I would’ve told you hands down this was the man I was going to marry.”

“But?” His voice trailing off as he brought his beer to his lips.

“But, I don’t know. I still love him, and I think I want to marry him. He says he’s going to be better. Try harder. So I guess I’d need to see that before I can really say yes.”

Matt hummed in agreement as you nervously tapped the beer bottle, he smirked at the action as you continue on with your nervous thoughts. Matt just listening to you and letting you speak everything out that was in your mind.

Looking at the time, you realized it was late and there was no way Matt was letting you head home. He offered up his bed for you and he’d take the couch, but he soon regretted that as he looked like a giant sleeping on a toddler bed. Within minutes appearing in the doorway with his pillow, making you chuckle as you laid in his king sized bed comfortably.

“If you feel uncomfortable, I can suck it up and sleep out there. I really don’t want to do anything that you’re not okay with.”

Rolling your eyes you pulled the covers back, not the type to deny a grown man out of his own bed.

Turning on your side you pulled the pillow close and tried your best to get some sleep. Knowing you needed it.

“Y/n?”

Matthew’s voice soft behind you as he lay staring at the ceiling. Humming a response you signaled for him to continue.

“I, I don’t want my feelings or my opinion to cloud your decision making. I truly want nothing more than you to be happy. And if that’s with him, then I will be your biggest supporter through and through. But please don’t say no just because of anything I might say. You need to make this decision solely for yourself and with your heart.”

His words tugging at your heartstrings as you smiled against the pillow. Matthew not requiring a response as he rolled over himself, whispering a quick good night before he’d drifted off to sleep.

But by the morning, you’d be gone.

Waking up in the middle of the night, something in you didn’t feel right being in Matthew’s bed. Grabbing your clothes, you’d quickly changed before heading out the door.

Matthew hadn’t heard from you in weeks, maybe the occasional text when he’d reach out, but even around the rink he hadn’t seen much of you. Assuming you were just taking your time to think things through, him keeping his distance not wanting to overstep or cause any additional stress.

He and the boys were warming up with the soccer ball, the typical routine on game days when Matt saw you heading in their direction. He smiled, missing seeing your face as you’d been MIA as far as he was concerned.

“There she is! The future Mrs. Barzal!”

Matt snapped from his thoughts as he heard Vinny Trochek calling out to you. His heart sinking the lowest it ever could as you shyly smiled, thanking the guys for their congratulatory words as they asked to see your ring.

“Sheeeesh, the Islanders must pay him good. You bagged a good one y/n.”

Looking up from the ring on your finger your eyes immediately locking with Matt’s. The smile on your face gone as you saw the pain in his. Mouthing a quick I’m sorry before you had to head off and film a few things for pregame.

Despite his efforts to block the image of you with a ring on your finger out of his head, Matt couldn’t shake it. He said he’d be happy for you, and he was. But the last thing he expected when seeing you for the first time in weeks, was that Mat had won. That you’d actually said yes.

Matt wasn’t one to get tons of ice time, but tonight his shifts were slim, even for him. The coaches sensed he wasn’t himself, not risking putting him out there if he wasn’t one hundred percent.

“Rempe!”

Quickly looking at the assistant coach over his shoulder, he waited for further instruction.

“I don’t know what’s up your ass tonight, but we need you to get the energy back. Go out there and do your job.”

Matt shook his head, taking a deep breath before climbing over the boards. He knew the last thing he needed right now was to fight someone, especially not being entirely focused. But he couldn’t tell the coaches no. Sucking it up he skated up to the face off, signaling to the other team’s enforcer that he was dropping the gloves once the puck was in play.

Watching from your usual spot along the glass, you saw the look on Matt’s face, not wanting to watch things play out. But, your job required you to watch and film every second of it.

With the first swing it was clear Matt’s head wasn’t in it. He was shaky, punches not landing. Taking blow after blow, not able to dodge anything. It didn’t take long for him to take a punch square on the jaw, crumbling to the ice as he was dazed.

“Fuck…”

Sighing to yourself you’d stopped recording, wanting to run and check on him, though you knew he didn’t want to see you right now. This was your fault, and it was a shitty feeling.

The game had ended, the Rangers losing in embarrassing fashion. Sorting through content and editing after games like these was even harder. Having to relive everything all over again.

Closing your laptop you’d decided it was time to head home. Noticing several of the guys making their way to the parking garage, you’d slowed your pace, hoping to run into Matt.

As he emerged from the locker room, his eye already bruised and swollen, your heart sank.

“Matt…”

He barely looked at you, adjusting his backpack over his shoulders as he stopped in his tracks. Looking to the ground as you attempted to bring a hand to his cheek, which he quickly turned down.

“I’m fine, just wasn’t my best night.”

“Bullshit, I know you didn’t want to go out and fight that guy. This is my fault.”

“Y/n stop it, not everything has to be your fault okay? I just had an off night, can’t go out there and win every fight I get into.”

His voice stern as he spoke, this side of Matt not one you were used to. Shaking your head you refused to believe he just had an off night.

“Well I’m sorry, okay?”

“For what?”

Your gaze falling to the ring on your finger, Matt annoyingly sighed as he started to walk away from you.

“Matt, wait!”

“What do you want me to say! You want to say you’re right? You want me to say that it’s your fault I got my ass handed to me? Okay fine! Seeing you show up with a fucking ring on your finger broke me y/n. Hearing the guys call you the future Mrs. Barzal. I mean for fucks sake you didn’t even tell me! Do you understand how hurtful that is? I get it, it was never going to be me. It was always him. But I at least thought you cared enough to tell me what your final decision was. So yeah, sure, it was your fault tonight. Happy?”

Tears streaming down your face as he finally finished yelling. And it hurt, knowing you’d hurt him so bad. Knowing that you’d toyed with his emotions that night you’d hooked up with him, only to turn around and go right back to the man you convinced him you were walking away from. Whether you intentionally convinced him of that or not, it was clear deep down he’d thought you were.

“Congratulations y/n. I’m really fucking happy for you.”

Trying to formulate some type of response, you’d failed as your words caught in your throat. Matt walked away from you without another glance.

Quickly you wiped your tears, hoping none of the guys would be walking by and notice. Giving yourself a minute before you headed out to your car.

Once inside, you called Mat, knowing he’d had a game but it should be long over by now.

“Oh hello Mrs. Barzal.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Mat’s words, trying you best to prepare your voice to not let him know you’d been crying.

“Soon to be Mrs, not there yet babe.”

He laughed as you heard him getting into his car. “Well I’m impatient I guess. How was your night?”

“We lost…and, it was a rough night all around. But, the guys were really nice, they said congratulations.” “Yeah? That’s really nice of them! Sucks they lost, but I’m happy to know they said something. I got texts from a couple of them when I checked my phone after the game. Makes me happy to know they treat you well over there.”

“Yeah…they’re, a great group of guys.”

Mat instantly noticed the change of tone in your voice. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just, I’m overwhelmed at guess. By the support of everyone, by how excited I am to marry you, by the amount of work I still have to do as far as editing goes.” The two of you laughing as you both were now well on your ways home.

“Yeah, I get it. It’s definitely a lot. I’m feeling it a bit too. Although, my work day is now over compared to yours.” His voice trailed off, the sound of his turn signal the only thing filling the silence.

“How about I come over? I can sit with you while you edit. Maybe help you feel less overwhelmed with things?”

“No Mat, you don’t have to. It’s late, you just played a game. Honest it’s-“ “Too late, I already took the exit. I’ll be at your place in twenty minutes baby girl!”

Shaking your head you simply accepted his offer, having no choice considering he was already on his way. But happy to see him making the effort. Mat from a few months ago would’ve never offered. And it made you hopeful that you were making the right decision.

“Okay, I know I don’t have to tell you, but you’re really good at your job babe. Like seeing how you can just edit this stuff like it’s nothing. I’m blown away.”

You smiled over your shoulder at Mat, thanking him as he sat behind you while you were editing the game's footage. Needing to finish a few more clips to be ready to post the content.

“Ouch, that’s Rempe’s fight from tonight?” Shit…he doesn’t look like he was even ready. What the hell happened?”

You shrugged as you tried clipping some of the footage for your game summary video, not having much to choose from that didn’t show Matt getting his ass kicked.

“He said he had a really off night. He didn’t seem like himself from the moment I got there. I’m not sure what was wrong.”

You tried to end the conversation and hope Mat didn’t continue to talk about him, not wanting to think about the things he’d said to you earlier.

“That’s too bad, he’s been doing pretty well so far this season.”

Mat slightly leaning you forward as he got up and headed to the kitchen, grabbing a water from the fridge as you decided your video was as good as it was gonna get. Closing your laptop with a yawn, checking the time and desperately wanting to go lay down.

“He actually sent me a pretty nice text earlier too.”

“Who?”

Your eyes wide as Mat followed you to the bedroom, watching as you removed the throw pillows and drew the covers back.

“Rempe. I assume he got my number from one of the guys. Though it was a little weird since he and I never really officially met. But, maybe he felt like since you two were so close it wasn’t a big deal?”

“I mean, I don’t know if I’d say we are so close. But I get what you mean. What did he say? You said it was pretty nice?”

Mat pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling to find the text.

“I mean, for not really knowing the guy, yeah I thought so….Hey Mat, it’s Matt Rempe. I know we haven’t really met, but I feel like I’ve gotten to know you through y/n. I heard the news tonight that you two are engaged, and I wanted to say congratulations. I saw how happy she was when the guys called her the future Mrs. Barzal, and it’s clear she’s the happiest girl in the world right now. You really do make her feel that way. And I hope you know how much she loves you and cares for you. I’m happy to see her happy, and I wish you two nothing but the best.”

“Wow…that is really nice. He said something to me, but I didn’t know he’d texted you too.”

Mat shrugged as he climbed into bed, holding a hand out for you to join him. “Yeah, I mean, plenty of guys I don’t really talk to texted me today. I feel like word traveled and people just like being happy for other people. You know?”

You smiled down at him, nodding as you looked to your bedside, “oh crap I forgot my phone. It’s gonna be dead by the morning if I don't charge it.” Mat playfully pouting as you pulled away from his grip. “Oh just hang on you big baby, I’ll be back in ten seconds!”

Quickly tiptoeing down the hall, you spotted your phone on the coffee table. Checking to see if you’d gotten any texts from Matt, not expecting him to say anything after he blew up on you. But wishful thinking…

“Ten seconds babe? Really?”

Mat laughed from the bed as you told him just a second, needing to turn off the lights you two had left on. Before returning to the bedroom you typed a text to Matt, hoping he was at least awake to read it.

But just as quickly as you’d hit send, a red exclamation mark appearing to warn you your text was not delivered. Trying again won you the same result. Thinking perhaps it was a fluke, you hit the call button as you made your rounds to shut off all the lights. But sure enough, your suspicions had been confirmed. Matt had blocked your number.

Trying not to show your annoyance, you plugged your phone in and curled up next to Mat. Doing your best to act like everything was normal.

“Closed up shop all right?”

Nuzzling into his embrace you hummed a response. “Good. So, I didn’t get to ask you a wedding question today.” Playfully you groaned as Mat laughed, “oh come on! You love the wedding questions!”

He wasn’t wrong, you did love thinking about the wedding and answering his random questions. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

“Colors, what are you thinking?”

“Mmm. Obviously New York Islanders blue and orange.”

Mat rolled his eyes as he wrapped his arms around your waist, flipping over to be on top of your as he playfully peppered you with kisses.

“Ha, ha. Very funny.”

“I thought you’d like that one.”

“I don’t care what we wear, as long as you’re my wife at the end of it.”

His fingers intertwined with yours as he kissed your lips, then moving back to your side as he filled the role of big spoon perfectly. The days events seeming meaningless now, the whirlwind of emotions subsided, as nothing could ruin the way you felt in this moment. Exactly where you were meant to be.

#matt rempe #matt rempe imagine #matt rempe x reader #matt rempe angst #matt rempe fic #mat barzal #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal fic #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fics #hockey imagine #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #nhl blurb

152 notes · View notes

charmandabear · 8 months ago

Text

Office Hours - Chapter Eight

Summary

When whining about season selection to your therapist turns into confronting the complicated ways that Astarion makes you feel, she challenges you to really explore what it is that you - or perhaps your subconscious - want.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2.6k Tags/Warnings: imagined D/s dynamic, light bondage, ascended Astarion lines, vaginal fingering, masturbation

Thank god this girl is finally getting into therapy, am I right? I don't have a ton to say other than now that the major conflict I had planned is winding down, it's going to be a lot more about exploration from here on out.

Once again, Zaria is out here killing it with these screenshots!

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

You massage your temples in an attempt to ease your headache. Season selection has been going terribly – every meeting just ended with everyone talking in circles. Today, it’s Alfira’s turn to make her case as to why hers is the best choice.

“I just think that it would do our students a lot of good to have this outlet to talk about their mental health,” she insists, bleeding heart that she is.

“I’m not necessarily saying I disagree with you,” you begin, gears in your head turning as you formulate your thoughts. “But isn’t Heathers, like, dark to the point of troubling?”

“Well sure, it’s dark, but what do you mean troubling?” Her eyes are big and round, and you try to imagine someone as tender as Alfira blocking a scene like “Dead Girl Walking.” It’s not easy.

“I’ve seen the way teen girls talk about the character JD, it’s a little concerning.” You fold your arms and lean back in your chair, studying Alfira’s expression carefully as it twists into a frown.

“I mean, sure, some of them think he’s cute, but I don’t think anyone is looking at him and thinking ‘boyfriend goals.’”

“Are you sure? Have you seen the TikToks for that one song? What’s-it-called, the ‘open the door’ song.” Your fingers twitch towards your phone, fighting the urge to pull up the app.

“Yeah, ‘Meant to be Yours,’ I’ve seen them, and I think they’re fairly harmless. They know it’s not real, you know?” She fiddles with the pen in her hand, not taking her eyes off you. You squirm, uncomfortable under her persistent gaze.

“Maybe you’re right. I don’t know.” You look down at your notes, giving yourself a second to think. “Something about the way they talk about JD makes me feel icky. JD as a character makes me feel icky. Besides,” you add quickly before she gets that puppy dog look in her eyes, “I don’t know if building around a theme of ‘mental health’ is specific enough to be interesting. I’m not even sure I can think of a classical play that fits into that.”

“Perhaps Hamlet?” Lucretious says with a smirk, and you groan loudly as others in the meeting titter.

“Gods, please, literally anything else,” you whine.

The discussion continues, going absolutely nowhere, until the clock ticks over and everyone starts to pack up their things. Another meeting gone, and you’re no closer to having a season for next year. You put away your notebook and Alfira comes up beside you.

“Just think on it a little more,” she implores. “The kids have talked a lot about wanting to do Heathers, I’m just advocating for them.”

“But do you think it’s a good, timely choice? You, the professor?” you ask suspiciously, trying to scope out her intentions.

“I really do, yes. I think there’s a reason why they’re drawn to it right now.”

You chew on your lip and look at her a little longer. Then you sigh and acquiesce. “Fine, I’ll give it another read. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it, maybe there’s something I’m missing.”

“Thank you! I appreciate it, and I know the students do too,” she says, giving your arm a little squeeze. You soften, finding it difficult to perform your usual stubbornness with someone as sweet as Alfira.

Something is still gnawing at you, though, and you can’t figure out what.

***

You arrive at your therapist’s office a few minutes before your appointment. You sit in the waiting room, the white noise machine humming pleasantly. At 6:00 on the dot, Jaheira opens the door and waves you forward.

“Come in,” she says in her thick Russian accent. You walk past her into the office, which has a cozy, natural vibe. Between all of the plants and the bookshelves, you have no idea what color the walls are. You toe off your shoes and settle on the couch cross-legged as she sits across from you in an elegant red chair.

“So tell me, how are things going?” she asks, crossing her legs and letting her legal pad balance on her knee. You fidget uncomfortably, trying to figure out what to bring up first. But the season selection meeting is still so fresh in your mind, and you have so many thoughts bouncing around your head. Before you can stop yourself, you’re filling her in on all the details, including your feelings about Heathers.

“I just don’t understand why she’s so insistent on this musical, it’s not even really that good,” you grump, picking at your cuticles. She taps her pen to her mouth contemplatively.

“And this character that bothers you so much, JD? What is it about him specifically that gets under your skin? Surely you don’t feel this way about all bad guys in plays.” She tilts her head as she speaks and your eyes dart around the room, both avoiding her gaze and trying to gather your thoughts.

“I don’t know, there’s just something… Honestly, I think it’s the way these teen girls talk about him. I can totally see some of myself in them, too. I feel like if I were a teen when this musical came out I’d be foaming at the mouth for him.” You roll your eyes at the imaginary version of yourself you’ve conjured.

“Is that bad? To find the villain attractive?”

“It’s not just finding him attractive, it’s what qualities they find attractive. The toxicity, the obsessiveness, the violence. I don’t want them to take that into their real lives, you know?” Your words ring in your ears with double meaning and you quickly shut the errant thought down. Not Jaheira, though. She picks up on it immediately.

“We’re not talking about JD anymore, are we?” she asks softly and you fold your arms across your chest. You’re silent for a good long time, various thoughts and feelings barreling through your mind like a train, while she just watches you patiently. Finally, you muster up the energy to speak.

“I just… don’t like that I like it. Every time my body gets turned on by something terrible that he does, I feel betrayed. Like I’ve violated my own consent. It makes me feel sick,” you say in a very small voice, fixing your gaze on a small succulent on the coffee table in front of you.

“I believe you said last tenday that he thought it was all a game, correct?” she asks carefully, and you nod. She continues, “Well, what’s stopping you from playing along with him?”

You stare at her, that ringing in your ears coming back. Your stomach lurches, but you genuinely can’t tell if it’s from aversion or excitement.

“I mean, I don’t want to think of my relationship as a game,” you say with slight disgust. She shakes her head.

“Not the relationship, no, but perhaps other things. If you two agree on the rules ahead of time, find a safe way to tap out if need be, what’s to stop you from having fun?”

“What, like kink?” you ask with incredulity. It’s not something you had ever considered for yourself.

“You could call it that, but it doesn't need to be anything so formal. As long as you agree on your boundaries prior.” She looks at you with that penetrating stare again, like she can peer directly into your thoughts. “Can you trust this man?”

You genuinely don't know the answer to this question.

She doesn't let the silence linger for quite as long this time. She continues, “Try it on your own, first. Just fantasy. Give yourself permission to go as dark as you want. Just make sure you have a bottle of wine and a good friend on hand.” You immediately picture a smiley Shadowheart.

There's still something tugging at your mind, though.

“But doesn't it say something about my, like, feminist values if I want to get beat up in the bedroom?” You pick some lint off your sock so you don't need to look at her, but you steal a glance up at her anyway. She’s raising an eyebrow.

“What does it say?” she asks in that tone she uses when she's pushing back on one of your biases. You swallow your instinctive response and really think about an answer.

“I don't know, like I'm a bad feminist or something,” you finally mutter. Jaheira barks out a laugh.

“Please, what, do you think you're going to go to Feminist Thought Jail? That the Feminist Police are going to come and arrest you?” Her tone is snide but it makes you crack a smile nonetheless. She knows that you sometimes need a firm hand to keep your anxiety in line.

“Your homework,” she continues, glancing at the clock, “is to let yourself explore this fantasy, however you want. Whether it's just in your mind, or in writing, you can touch yourself or not, it's up to you.” Your cheeks redden slightly at getting “masturbate” as therapy homework. “Just make sure you're listening to your body. I think she knows what she wants more than that brain of yours.”

You take a deep breath and put your feet on the floor again, slipping your sneakers back on.

“Thanks, Jaheira.”

“You're welcome. It's literally my job. I'll see you next tenday, yeah?”

You nod, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You exit her office, ideas for your “assignment” bouncing around your head.

***

You get back to your apartment and kick off your shoes. You drop your bag and immediately head into the kitchen to pour yourself a drink. There’s absolutely no way you can do this stone cold sober. Your eyes flit between the fridge handle and the wine rack above it. Red or white? The image of Astarion licking your blood off his lips invades your mind.

Red. Obviously. Unfortunately.

You catch yourself. You don’t need to be so judgmental. You like red, and if it adds to the experience because it makes you think of him, so be it.

Your desire to cringe is potent nevertheless.

You bring the glass into your bedroom and dim the lights in an attempt to set some sort of mood. You pull a candle out of a Bath and Bodyworks bag on your dresser, trying not to think about how much time you spent trying to find one with the right smell. You set the candle and your wine glass on your bedside table. You strike a match and watch as the wick catches light, the flame bobbing around like a chipper little parakeet.

While staring off into space in the direction of the candle, you take a long, deep sip of wine. After a moment, you lie back on your bed and stare at your ceiling. Echoes of the fire dance across your vision. You take a deep breath, nervous about where you’re about to let your mind wander.

You conjure up his expression from the night you saw Taming. That snide grin, fangs bared, blood dripping down his chin. You remember him closing his hand around your throat and something deep in your core constricts. You let your hand slide down your front, taking your time, and his words reverberate in your ears.

Little love, do you think you’re in control?

You unbutton your jeans and your hand slips below the waistband of your panties. You dip your middle finger into your slick and let out a shaky breath.

You insolent little brat. I will absolutely ruin you.

The thought brings a voiceless moan to your lips. Your ring finger joins your middle finger and they lazily run along your folds, spreading your wetness.

Your eyes shoot open – you hadn’t even realized they were closed. You can feel the judgment, the anger, the frustration, all bubbling up inside of you. You take a deep breath, acknowledge it, and let your imagination take over again.

You visualize him smugly peering over his glasses at you, the round wire ones, and he points down to his feet.

On your knees, darling.

His voice in your mind is smooth like velvet, low with just a tinge of threat. You look up at him, your bound hands resting in your lap, a collar around your neck. He holds the leash.

Back in your bedroom, your back arches as you slide your middle finger into your cunt, just barely up to the second knuckle. You whimper at the thought of him pulling the leash tight. Your breath moves high into your chest, making your tits heave with the exertion. You move your other hand to your nipple, gently rolling it between your fingers as another needy moan works its way into your mouth. You savor this one slightly, lending it some of your voice.

The collar is replaced by his hand, his fingers tight on your neck. He pulls up on your jaw, bringing you to an upright position on your knees. He kisses you, rough and hungry, your hands twitching against their cuffs.

You let a second finger join the first inside your cunt, tilting your pelvis to get a better angle. Your jeans constrict your waist, and in a huff you shove them down past your hips and kick them off your feet. Your fingers immediately dive back into you and you groan, thinking about his hand yanking your hair back and exposing your neck to him.

In your fantasy you say something, anything, the words are garbled nonsense in your mind. But he laughs cruelly, a far cry from his high pitched giggle that you love so much.

“Don’t be stupid, darling,” he spits, and your legs fall open to let your fingers in further, the top of your palm coming into contact with your clit. Your hips cant into your hand, your throbbing pussy aching for more friction, more heat.

“Fuck me, Astarion, make me yours,” you whine instinctually, his name sweet and bitter on your tongue. Your conscious mind recoils – do you want him to call you stupid? You’re already insecure about that as it is.

Fantasy, your subconscious coos. It’s just fantasy. You take a deep breath and give yourself permission to keep going.

He traps your naked body with his, caging you in without a means of escape. His eyes glint with something feral, like a predator, as he buries his nose into your hair. You squirm and moan for him, the line between fantasy and reality blurring. His fangs scrape across your jaw as his words spit rapidfire into your ear.

You precious little thing.

You’re mine, remember?

I shall lock you in a room and keep you all to myself.

You’re going to be wonderfully obedient.

Your fingers slide out of your cunt and you move their ministrations to your clit, rubbing in quick, small circles as his imaginary voice rattles in your brain. Your feet push against the mattress, pressing your hips into your fingers as you desperately chase release. Every part of you aches to be held down by him, his cold hands gripping your wrists as he fucks you senseless. His palm slapped across your mouth to muffle your cries of pleasure. His fangs deep in your neck as his cock thrusts even deeper.

Your hand stutters as it tries to keep pace with your fantasy, yearning to feel every inch of him across your body. Your stomach tightens and your pussy clenches and you come in a crashing wave all over your hand. You continue stroking yourself through the end of your climax, eventually succumbing to stillness. The only sensations you feel are the slowing throb in your cunt and your breath wracking through your lungs.

You let your hand linger in the sticky mess between your legs, turning your head to face the flickering orange light from the candle.

What do you want?

You’re very good at asking me that. I’m not sure you’re good at answering it yourself.

So… what do you want?

163 notes · View notes