#So why the hell didn’t he keep that bed for himself and get me a new one
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
AYAYUI IDOL AU: Chapter 2
// It’s time for the second chapter! This one focuses more on the conversations with other characters than on Ayayui interactions, but I’m really curious to see if anyone can guess who the second Diaboy to meet Yui will be. 👀
This story isn’t meant to be a harem or anything like that though, but all the Diaboys will meet Yui at some point. I hope you enjoy this chapter until the next one! 💖
Chapter 1
Place: Dorms
Ayato: Good night.
Laito: Nighty night~!
— Ayato enters his room —
Laito: ( Hmm… he seems unusually quiet. He hasn’t said a single word the entire way, which is so unlike him. )
( It’s as if something’s weighing on his mind, that he’s deliberately keeping to himself. )
( Something must have surely happened to him when he went outside, but why won’t he say anything? That’s weird… )
— stretches and yawns —
Anyway, there’s no point in overthinking it. As long as it doesn’t damage his and our reputation, it’s not worth worrying about.
Place: Ayato’s room
Ayato: ( Phew, I managed to slip into my bed without waking Shu up. )
( The last thing I needed was a lecture about sneaking off to the club as an idol and nearly getting caught. )
( Haa… what a mess. I really made a fool of myself today, didn’t I? )
( If it weren’t for that girl, I’d probably be in the hospital right now, all over the news for alcohol poisoning. )
( Man, that would’ve totally wrecked my career… )
???: Heh, where have you been?
Ayato: …!
( Was that—)
O-Oi, you’re not sleeping!?
Shu: I was until a certain someone tripped over the WI-FI cable and woke me up.
Ayato: ( Fuck! )
Shu: But whatever, I answered your question, so now it’s your turn to answer mine.
— opens one eye and looks at him —
Ayato: ( Wait… I could just make something up and play it off as the truth! )
( Heh, exactly! There’s no way he’d be able to tell it’s a lie! )
Just practicing. I want to be the best version of myself for the next concert, y’know?
Shu: Hmm… I see.
And now, what’s the real answer?
Ayato: …!?
( How did he— )
Hah? W-What do you mean? I’m telling the truth!
— Shu opens both eyes and looks at him —
Shu: You went there, didn’t you?
Ayato: …!
( This guy… he can see through me! )
How the hell did you know that I went to the night club!?
Shu: Heh~? So I was right after all. You really did go there, huh?
Ayato: ( You… You fucking tricked me! )
Look, I know I’m not the best at keeping things together, but don’t tell Reiji! I beg you!
If the leader finds out, the staff will know, and once the CEO hears, I’m done! He’ll fire me in a heartbeat, no questions asked!
Shu: You’re overreacting. No idol is gonna get fired for just going to a night club.
Ayato: Man, you just don’t get it! It’s not just about going there— it’s what went down while I was there!
Shu: Oh? Now you’ve got me curious. What exactly happened?
— starts piping —
Ayato: ( Why do I keep getting myself in this!? )
( Haa… but I guess there’s no point in running away from my issues anymore. )
Basically, I was very tired and thought of over drinking to get my mind think of something else, but the alcohol and exhaustion made a really bad combination, so my chest started aching.
I went outside to get some air, but the pain just kept getting worse until this random chick found me and gave me her water bottle.
Shu: Wait… so you got caught?
Ayato: Luckily, no! As crazy as this sounds, she didn’t recognize me.
Heck, she even asked for my name after I called her a cab! But of course, I’m not that dumb. I knew it would have been way too risky to tell her my name.
( Honestly, I don’t even know why I was so anxious about it. In the end, everything worked out just fine, and I bet that girl will forget all about it in a few hours anyway. )
Shu: Hmm… you do realize that might have merely been an act, don’t you?
Ayato: Huh? What do you mean…?
Shu: Women are sly as foxes.
They’ll play all innocent and clueless, behaving like they have no idea what’s going on, but in reality, they’re just getting exactly what they want without anyone even realizing it.
Heh, it’s almost impressive how they pull it off.
Ayato: Wait… so you mean that girl knew who I was and only pretended not to so as to stalk me? But if that’s the case, then——
Shu: Haa… no need to scream, it’s almost 3 in the morning.
I’m not saying she’s a stalker, but you should probably be more cautious.
You know how fangirls are. If they see you talking to any girl that’s not them, they’ll lose it. Better to just watch out and avoid any unnecessary trouble.
— closes eyes again —
Not just for you, but for everyone else around too.
Ayato’s monologue
Shu’s right. I need to step up my game and start taking this job more seriously.
Being an idol isn’t just a paycheck; it’s a responsibility that goes far beyond me.
Every choice I make carries weight, and not just for my future, but for the company’s and everyone I work with.
Yeah… Exactly. If I let my career fall apart, it’s not only me who’ll feel it— the whole team, every project, and all the hard work we’ve put into this place will take a hit as well.
That’s why, from now on, I’m done making stupid decisions that could mess everything up. My focus is on my idol activities and nothing else.
I should have realized from the moment I signed the contract that living like a normal teenager just isn’t part of the deal anymore.
*Timeskip*
Place: Hotel kitchen
Yui: ( Working here is surprisingly relaxing. Not only that, but the co-workers I met seem very nice too! )
( I’m really excited to put my cooking skills to good use. From what I remember, this hotel has a great reputation, therefore it’s truly amazing to learn from such experienced professionals. )
???: Noooo!!!
Yui: …!?
( It’s coming from the storeroom! )
— quickly opens it —
???: ….!
Yui: Hana-san!
I-I heard you scream, are you alright?
Hana: Wa—… Was I really that loud? This is so embarrassing… I’m so sorry!
— covers face with hands —
Yui: Ah, there’s no need to worry about that, it’s fine.
More importantly, what happened? Did something scare you?
Hana: No, I’m not scared, more like… disappointed.
In case you haven’t heard already, the SAKAMAKIS are filming a special episode for their YouTube channel at three different locations, and guess what? My two favorite members are coming to this hotel in 4 days, but the issue is... it’s happening right when I’m not on shift…!
— starts crying —
On top of that, I promised my sister I’d visit her in Fukuoka, since we'll both be off work at the same time, which means that there’s absolutely no way I can meet them now!
This is such terrible timing…!
Yui: ( SAKAMAKIS… Based on Hana-san’s intense reaction, they must be some sort of important public figures, no? )
Oww… it does sound unfortunate, but you shouldn’t give up hope completely. After all, you live in Japan, so I’m sure there’s always a chance you’ll get to meet them!
Hana: It’s not as easy as you say…
They will return to Korea soon, and who knows when they’ll promote in Japan again? This was my only opportunity to see them outside of the concerts… and I couldn’t even manage to get any decent seats there.
— pouts —
Yui: ( Wait, did she say ‘concerts’? )
Ohh, I see. So they’re idols!
Hana: Eh? You… You actually don’t know the SAKAMAKIS—!?
Yui: W-Well… I’m sorry, the name doesn't really ring a bell, and to be honest, I can’t say I’m familiar with the idol world in general.
Hana: But come on, you must have at least seen their faces before, right?
— shows her a picture of them —
Yui: ( Will she be let down again if I say ‘no’? )
( Hmm… But truth be told, these boys are undeniably good-looking, and it’s clear that they must be hardworking as well, considering how they manage to juggle such hectic schedules. )
( I can easily see why they’ve captured the hearts of such passionate fans. )
— eyes suddenly widen —
( The red-haired one——! )
— blushes —
Hana: So, who did steal Yui-san’s heart~?
Yui: Ah, n-nobody…!
— gets embarrassed —
It’s just that the boy in middle… he got an incredibly well-featured face. I don’t know how to put it into words, but he simply appears unreal.
( To think that a human could look like this… it makes me a bit envious. His eyes and face shape are especially pretty. )
— Hana starts laughing —
Yui: ( Eh? Did I say something wrong? )
Hana: Get in line, that’s Ayato-san!
Hmph… just the thought of not being able to see his tiny, perfect face up close makes my heart ache.
Yui: ( Hana-san… she really seems to love this group a lot. )
( I can't help but think that if I were in her shoes, I'd feel hurt too not being able to see someone I admire so much… )
Hey, Hana-san… I know it’s not exactly the same as having it personally from him, but if it’s possible, I’d be more than willing to ask Ayato-san for an autograph on your behalf!
Hana: Eh—? Would you really do that for me!?
Yui-san, you are the best!
— hugs her —
Yui: I-It’s nothing, really.
Hana: Wait a little—! Now that I think about it, you could also totally grab a photo with them! Isn’t that wonderful?
( I can’t believe it! This way I’ll be just one person away from Ayato-san! )
Yui: Uuh… I’m sure it’d be a nice memory to look back on, but wouldn’t it bother you if I did? After all, you’ve been their loyal fan all this time, not me.
Besides, there’s no guarantee that they would agree to take a picture with an ordinary person such as myself.
Hana: That doesn’t matter, silly! They’re super chill with their fans, and everyone says they never turn down a picture request— unless they’re busy, of course. There’s no way they’d refuse you, especially not in a setting like this.
You also mentioned being captivated by Ayato-san’s visuals, so fan or not, I think anyone would jump at the chance to take a picture with such a fine man~!
Yui’s monologue
Hana-san and I continued to talk about it for a while, and during our conversation, she suggested a few of their songs for me to listen to on my way back to the Airbnb.
At first, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but as I played each one, I was pleasantly surprised.
While I’m still not very knowledgeable about this group, the melodies, the lyrics, and even the energy in their performances were captivating in a way I hadn’t expected.
That Ayato boy… he seems like someone who was born to be on stage. Such charisma and beauty… It really makes me wonder how he acts off-cameras.
Hana-san has clearly supported the SAKAMAKIS for such a long time, and to finally get the chance to meet them, only to have it slip through her fingers, must be heartbreaking.
A part of me can’t shake the feeling of guilt, even though I know very well that it wasn’t my or anyone’s fault.
It might not be a fair comparison, I know, but it reminded me of the boy I met yesterday.
He has probably forgotten about me already, but just like Hana-san dreams of meeting her idols, I find myself wishing to meet him again.
Author’s note:
* In case you're wondering why Ayato is sharing a room with Shu and not Laito, many companies assign roommates to idols randomly. The idea is that idols are supposed to get along with everyone, so the arrangement is made to promote harmony and teamwork, regardless of personal preferences.
134 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Wanna Go on Walks with You (2) ₊˚⊹♡
♡ stan marsh x fem!reader insert | college au, smut
♡ A/N | sorry if this part is kinda fucked up, but i really did enjoy writing the smut LOL. i love u stan <3 thank u guys again for all the support!!! kyle is also based af in this... also this will probably be my last fic for awhile, uni and work is starting back up for me so im rlly sorry!!
♡ C/W | nsfw (18+), all characters are aged up! drinking, smoking, hookups, vomiting, physical fighting, inexperienced reader, p in v, oral sex (male and female receiving), reader is kinda manipulative/asshole-ish and depressed, stan is depressed, bi stan
♡ Synopsis | stan thought he could outrun the weight of his feelings, but when the past and present collide at a party, the cracks he's been trying to hide threaten to shatter completely. amid the chaos, one truth becomes impossible to ignore—sometimes, the mess you make is the one you can't escape.
event masterlist | part one
Stan’s breath hitched as he fumbled with his keys, the cold metal slipping in his trembling fingers. He cursed under his breath, his voice cracking as he shoved the key toward the lock again. His vision blurred—not from tears, not yet—but from the suffocating weight pressing down on his chest.
Why couldn’t he get the damn key in? His hands were shaking so violently that he couldn’t even do this one simple thing. The door wobbled slightly under his palm as he slammed his other hand against it, his frustration boiling over into a muttered, “Fucking useless.”
Finally, the lock clicked. He pushed the door open and stumbled inside, letting it shut behind him with a loud, hollow thud. The sound reverberated through his skull like the echo of every mistake he’d ever made.
Stan wasn’t expecting to see Kyle sitting at his desk, surrounded by open textbooks and scribbled notes. His best friend’s head snapped up at the noise, his expression immediately shifting from tired concentration to alarm as he took in Stan’s disheveled state.
“Stan?” Kyle’s voice was cautious, his brow furrowing. “What the hell happened? Are you—”
Stan didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The words jammed in his throat, choking him as he dragged himself to his bed. His legs felt like they might give out, and the second he hit the mattress, he folded in on himself. His elbows dug into his thighs, his head dropping into his hands as his shoulders slumped forward. His hoodie felt too tight, like it was strangling him, and he tugged at the neckline with shaky fingers, desperate for air.
Kyle didn’t move at first. Stan could feel his gaze, sharp and calculating, like he was trying to piece together the puzzle of what had just walked through the door. The silence between them was thick, suffocating, broken only by the sound of Stan’s uneven breathing.
“What the hell is going on, Stan?” Kyle tried again, his voice quieter but no less insistent. “You look like you just—” He stopped himself, his words trailing off when it became clear that Stan wasn’t going to respond.
Stan’s mind was racing, but none of his thoughts made sense. They jumbled together, incoherent and overwhelming: the heat of your skin, the weight of your words, the way you looked at him when you wiped your mouth and told him you wanted to. The memories hit him like a series of sharp, jarring flashes, each one leaving a heavier weight in his chest.
What the fuck was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he stopped it sooner? He’d let it happen—hell, he’d encouraged it. He could still feel your touch, your breath, your voice as you asked if it was okay, and all he could do was nod like some pathetic, desperate idiot.
His stomach churned violently, and he swallowed hard, willing himself to keep it together.
Kyle finally stood, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor grating on Stan’s frayed nerves. His footsteps were slow, cautious, as he approached the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under Kyle’s weight as he sat down beside him, leaving just enough space to avoid crowding him.
“Stan,” Kyle said softly, his voice devoid of the usual judgment or irritation. He waited, but Stan didn’t lift his head.
Then Kyle’s hand landed on his shoulder, firm and steady. The contact jolted something loose in Stan, and he let out a sharp, broken gasp. The tears came before he could stop them, spilling hot and fast as his shoulders began to shake.
“I can’t—I can’t fucking do this,” Stan choked out, his voice cracking with every word. He dug his fingers into his hair, pulling slightly as if the pain might ground him. “I’m so fucked up, Kyle. I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing anymore.”
Kyle’s hand tightened slightly, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t tell Stan it was going to be okay, didn’t try to fix it, and for some reason, that only made Stan’s chest ache more. He wasn’t sure what he wanted Kyle to say—maybe nothing, maybe everything. Nothing felt like it would be enough.
“I keep screwing everything up,” Stan muttered, his voice muffled by his hands. “I’m such a fucking mess. She deserves better than this—better than me. And all I’m doing is—” He cut himself off, a sharp sob tearing its way out of his throat.
The image of your face flashed in his mind again, bright and vivid and so goddamn innocent compared to the mess he’d made of himself. He hated it—hated himself for letting you get caught up in his shit. You deserve someone who wasn’t drowning, someone who wasn’t going to drag you down with him.
Kyle shifted beside him, his presence solid and unmoving. “You’re not a lost cause, Stan,” he said finally, his tone even but firm. “But you can’t keep running yourself into the ground like this. Whatever’s going on, you need to face it. You can’t keep burying it under all this… whatever this is.”
Stan let out a bitter laugh, though it came out more like a strangled sob. “Yeah? And what if there’s nothing left to face? What if I’m just broken, Kyle? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”
Kyle didn’t answer right away, and Stan could feel the weight of his silence like a lead ball in his chest. Finally, Kyle let out a quiet sigh, his hand still firm on Stan’s shoulder. “You figure it out. One step at a time. But you can’t keep doing this alone.”
Stan shook his head, his hands dropping from his face to rest limply in his lap. His chest ached, his throat raw from the effort of holding back more tears. He stared at the floor, his vision blurred, and muttered, “I don’t know if I can.”
The words felt hollow, heavy, like they’d been pulled from the deepest part of him. For a moment, he thought Kyle might try to argue, to push back against his hopelessness. But instead, Kyle just sat there, his presence a quiet reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere.
Stan’s voice was hoarse as he spoke again, barely above a whisper. “I’m ruining everything. And I don’t know how to stop.”
Stan leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the passenger window, his eyes unfocused as the city lights blurred past. The hum of Kyle’s car engine and the chaotic noise from the backseat felt distant, like it was happening to someone else entirely. Kenny and Cartman were mid-argument—something about who ate the last slice of pizza before they left—but their voices were muffled, almost drowned out by the weight pressing on his chest.
Kyle was muttering under his breath, his knuckles tight on the steering wheel as he navigated through traffic. Stan wasn’t sure if Kyle was complaining about the frat party, the noise in the car, or the fact that he had to drag Stan out at all. Probably all three. But Stan didn’t care. None of it mattered.
His phone buzzed again in his pocket. He didn’t need to check to know it was you.
You’d been texting him all day, calling him, leaving voicemails he hadn’t dared to listen to. The notification counter on his lock screen was absurd—double digits at least. It was like you were desperately trying to reach out, to fix something that Stan had already smashed into pieces.
He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing harder against the window like he could will himself to disappear. Every buzz of his phone was a knife in his chest, sharp and relentless. He didn’t have to read the texts to know what they said. He could hear your voice in his head, asking him why he’d been avoiding you, why he hadn’t answered, why he’d left so suddenly that night. And what could he say? That he’d felt so disgusted with himself, so ashamed, that he couldn’t even face you? That every time he thought about you—about your hands, your voice, your touch—he felt like he was going to fucking unravel?
Stan’s stomach churned as he imagined you sitting in your room, staring at your phone, waiting for a reply that would never come. He could picture it so vividly: the way your eyebrows furrowed when you were frustrated, the way your leg bounced when you were nervous. You probably thought you’d done something wrong. Maybe you even blamed yourself.
He hated himself for that the most.
“Yo, Stan,” Kenny’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and teasing. “You gonna sulk all night, or are you actually gonna have fun for once?”
Stan didn’t move, his forehead still pressed against the window. “Not in the mood, Kenny,” he muttered, his voice flat.
“Shocker,” Cartman chimed in from the backseat, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Stan Marsh, king of depression, strikes again. Someone get this guy a participation trophy for most miserable bastard alive.”
“Cartman,” Kyle snapped, his voice sharp and tired. “Shut the hell up.”
Stan didn’t even flinch. The jab rolled off him like water on glass. He’d heard worse—from Cartman, from himself. His own thoughts were infinitely crueler than anything Cartman could come up with.
His phone buzzed again, and this time, the vibration felt like it echoed through his entire body. He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing the cool metal of the device, but he didn’t pull it out. He couldn’t bring himself to look at your name on the screen again. Couldn’t bring himself to see the timestamp on the last text he’d ignored.
God, why won’t you stop?
The thought hit him like a slap, bitter and sharp. He clenched his teeth, his jaw aching from the tension. He knew why you wouldn’t stop. You cared. You’d always cared, even when he didn’t deserve it. And that was the worst part. Because no matter how many times you reached out, no matter how hard you tried to pull him back, he’d only end up dragging you down with him.
Stan let out a shaky breath, his fingers curling into fists in his lap. The party wasn’t going to help. It was just another excuse to drown himself in alcohol and noise, to bury the weight of his guilt under layers of bad decisions. But Kyle had insisted. Said he needed to get out, to “snap out of whatever funk” he was in.
Funk. Like it was something he could just shake off. Like he hadn’t been carrying this hollow, gnawing emptiness for years, long before you’d gotten tangled up in it.
Another buzz. Another text. Another reminder that he was too much of a coward to face you.
He closed his eyes, the cool glass against his skin the only thing grounding him. His mind replayed that night in your room on an endless loop—the way you’d looked at him, the way your voice had wavered when you asked if it was okay, the way he’d broken down the moment he’d left.
He deserved every ounce of this misery.
The car rolled to a stop in front of a two-story house, its windows glowing with multicolored lights. The muffled bass of music thudded against the walls, vibrating through the air. People crowded the porch, cups in hand, laughter and shouts spilling out into the street like the party couldn’t be contained.
Stan dragged himself out of the car, his feet heavy against the pavement as he followed Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman up the steps. The scene was chaotic, but Stan barely registered it. All he could think about was how desperately he needed to shut his brain off, to drown out the endless loop of shame and guilt that had been gnawing at him since he’d bolted from your room.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the stench of sweat, alcohol, and something vaguely herbal hit him like a wall. The house was packed, bodies pressed together in a chaotic rhythm that matched the deafening music. Stan scanned the room, his eyes narrowing as they landed on the makeshift bar set up in the kitchen. Without a word, he started toward it.
Kyle grabbed his arm, his expression tight. “Stan, come on. Maybe you should chill for a second.”
“Get off me, Kyle,” Stan muttered, yanking his arm free. He didn’t stop walking.
“Dude, just let him,” Kenny said from behind, his tone light but laced with a resigned edge. “If he wants to drink himself stupid, it’s not like we can stop him.”
Kyle shot Kenny a sharp look, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he trailed behind, his concern palpable as they followed Stan into the kitchen.
The bar was a mess of half-empty bottles and sticky counters, but Stan didn’t hesitate. He reached for the nearest bottle of clear liquid—vodka, maybe—and unscrewed the cap with shaky hands. A few people around the bar turned to watch as he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long, burning swig.
“Jesus, Stan,” Kyle hissed, his voice barely audible over the music.
Stan ignored him, the vodka scorching its way down his throat and settling in his stomach like fire. He took another swig, longer this time, the burn making his eyes water. Someone nearby let out a low whistle, and a few others laughed, their voices mingling with the pounding bass.
“Damn, dude. Save some for the rest of us,” a guy called out, his tone half-amused, half-impressed.
Stan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his grip tightening on the bottle. He didn’t respond, didn’t even look up. The vodka was already doing its job, the edges of his thoughts starting to blur, the weight in his chest loosening just enough to breathe.
Kyle reached for the bottle, his expression tense. “Stan, stop. This isn’t—”
“Leave it,” Stan snapped, his voice harsher than he intended. He pulled the bottle out of Kyle’s reach and tipped it back again, the alcohol rushing through him like a lifeline.
Kenny leaned against the counter, his eyes tracking Stan’s movements with a mix of curiosity and unease. “Guess we’re doing this, huh?” he muttered, mostly to himself.
Stan didn’t care about the stares or the murmurs around him. He didn’t care about Kyle’s disapproval or Kenny’s detached amusement. All he cared about was the bottle in his hand and the numbness creeping over him, muting the thoughts that had been eating him alive for days.
But as he took another swig, he couldn’t help but think about how temporary it all was. How the numbness would fade, leaving him raw and exposed again. How he’d have to face your texts, your calls, your voice in his head asking why.
He pushed the thought away, his grip tightening on the bottle as he took another drink, his focus narrowing to the burn in his throat and the faint, fleeting relief it brought.
Stan barely registered the presence next to him until a hand clapped down on his shoulder. He flinched slightly, his body tense, but then the unmistakable voice of Cartman broke through the haze.
“Alright, dude,” Cartman said, his tone surprisingly even for once. “Let’s take this outside and chill, huh?”
Stan turned his head, blinking blearily at him. Cartman had a half-empty bag of chips in one hand, crumbs dusting his hoodie. The contrast between Cartman’s casual demeanor and Stan’s unraveling was almost laughable, if not for the fact that Stan couldn’t summon the energy to care.
“What?” Stan muttered, his voice hoarse, the word dragging out like it took effort just to speak.
Cartman gestured loosely toward the back door with the bag of chips. “You heard me. Outside. You’re, like, two seconds away from face-planting into the counter, and I’d rather not have to haul your drunk ass to a hospital. Plus, it’s too loud in here.”
Stan stared at him for a moment, his grip still tight on the bottle. The idea of going outside, away from the noise and the crowd, wasn’t entirely unappealing, but he couldn’t shake the nagging voice in his head that told him to just keep drinking. To keep burying it all.
“I’m fine,” Stan mumbled, raising the bottle again.
Cartman’s hand tightened on his shoulder, uncharacteristically firm. “No, you’re not,” he said, his voice lower, almost serious. “And I’m not asking. Let’s go.”
Stan hesitated, his jaw tightening as he glanced down at the bottle in his hand. The burn of the vodka had dulled, replaced by a creeping nausea he couldn’t quite shake. The room felt too hot, too claustrophobic, the thrum of the music pounding in his skull like a second heartbeat.
Without another word, Cartman started guiding him toward the back door, his grip firm but not rough. Stan didn’t resist, his legs moving on autopilot as they weaved through the crowd. Kenny and Kyle were still in the kitchen, their voices blending into the cacophony around them, but Stan didn’t look back.
The cool night air hit him like a slap to the face as they stepped onto the porch. It was quieter out here, the muffled bass from inside fading into the background. A few people lingered around the edges of the yard, smoking or chatting in low voices, but it felt a world away from the chaos inside.
Cartman let go of his shoulder and leaned against the porch railing, shoving another handful of chips into his mouth. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched Stan with an unreadable expression.
Stan sank down onto the steps, the bottle still clutched in his hand. He rested his elbows on his knees, his head hanging low as he stared at the ground. The vodka churned uncomfortably in his stomach, mixing with the weight in his chest until he felt like he might collapse under it.
“You’re a mess, dude,” Cartman said finally, his tone blunt but not unkind. “And that’s coming from me.”
Stan let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “No shit, Cartman.”
Cartman shrugged, his hand rattling the bag of chips as he reached for another handful. “I’m just saying, whatever’s got you spiraling this hard? Might wanna deal with it before you end up, I don’t know, dead in a ditch or some shit.”
Stan looked up at him, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. “Thanks for the pep talk,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Cartman smirked, leaning back against the railing. “Anytime, Marsh.” For a moment, he was silent, his gaze shifting to the bottle in Stan’s hand. “Seriously, though. You gonna talk about it, or are we just gonna sit here while you drink yourself into oblivion?”
Stan didn’t answer right away. His grip on the bottle tightened, his knuckles white as he stared at the ground. The thought of talking about it, of saying any of it out loud, made his throat close up. But the silence felt heavier than the words he couldn’t bring himself to say.
Finally, he sighed, the sound shaky and hollow. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said quietly, though even he didn’t believe the words.
Cartman didn’t push. He just stood there, eating his chips. Stan’s chest tightened as the silence between him and Cartman stretched on, his own words hanging heavy in the cool night air. He could feel Cartman’s gaze on him, assessing, but he didn’t look up. He didn’t have it in him.
“So,” Cartman said, his voice casual but pointed as he crunched on another chip. “This spiral of yours—it’s about [Y/N], isn’t it?”
Stan’s stomach dropped. He didn’t move, didn’t react, didn’t give Cartman the satisfaction of an answer. His hands clenched into fists on his knees, his nails digging into his palms as he focused on the ground in front of him.
When Stan didn’t respond, Cartman just shrugged, shoving another handful of chips into his mouth. “Figures,” he said through a mouthful of food. “Chicks, man. They’ll fuck you up every time.”
Stan finally looked up, his glare sharp, but Cartman wasn’t even looking at him. He was leaning against the porch railing, staring out at the yard like this was just another Saturday night. For all his bluntness, Cartman didn’t press the issue, and Stan was oddly grateful for it.
He let out a shaky breath, trying to steady himself, when movement caught his eye. Out in the yard, among the small clusters of people, was someone who looked exactly like you. The way they moved, the curve of their shoulders, even the shine of their hair—it all screamed you. His heart stopped, his chest tightening painfully as a wave of nausea rolled through him.
Oh, God. No. Not here. Not now.
Stan felt his stomach twist violently, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps as he tried to ground himself. His grip on the bottle tightened until his knuckles turned white, but his hands were trembling too much for it to feel steady.
“Dude, are you gonna puke again?” Cartman asked, his tone half-concerned, half-mocking as he finally glanced over at him.
Stan shook his head sharply, his eyes locked on the figure in the yard. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though his voice sounded far from convincing.
It wasn’t until the person turned slightly, giving him a better look at their face, that he realized it wasn’t you. The relief that hit him was immediate but fleeting, replaced by a hollow ache in his chest that left him breathless.
Get a grip, he told himself. You’re losing it.
Without looking at Cartman, Stan pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly as the alcohol in his system made his movements clumsy. “I’ll be right back,” he said, his voice low and strained.
Cartman raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop him. “Yeah, sure. Don’t die or anything.”
Stan ignored him, his focus zeroing in on the person who looked like you. He didn’t know why he was doing this—why he was chasing a ghost in the middle of a party—but his legs moved before his brain could stop them.
His steps faltered slightly when they turned, their profile confirming what he already knew: it wasn’t you. The sharp pang of disappointment hit him, but he pushed it down, plastering on a crooked grin as he closed the distance between them.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, though it wavered slightly. “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the yard.”
The person turned fully, their eyebrows raising in mild surprise. “Uh, hi?” they said, their tone cautious but polite.
Stan shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets, trying to steady himself as he leaned slightly closer. “I know this is kind of random, but… you look familiar. Do we know each other?”
They tilted their head, studying him for a moment. “I don’t think so,” they said finally. “But… thanks, I guess?”
“Sorry if I’m coming off weird,” Stan added quickly, the words tumbling out before he could think them through. “It’s just—you have this vibe. Like someone I used to know.”
His stomach churned at the words, the lie leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore—flirting, coping, or just flailing in the dark. Maybe all three.
The person gave him a small smile, their posture relaxing slightly. “Well, I hope they were cool,” they said lightly, their voice carrying a faint edge of humor. “Because that’s a lot of pressure.”
Stan laughed softly, though it felt hollow. “They were… one of a kind,” he muttered, his throat tightening as he glanced down at the bottle in his hand.
The person shifted their weight, their gaze flicking to the bottle before meeting his eyes again. “So… are you okay?” they asked, their tone genuine but hesitant.
The question hit him like a slap, the concern in their voice cutting through the haze of alcohol and self-loathing. He forced another grin, though it felt like it might crack under the weight of everything he was trying to hold back.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice rough. “Just… blowing off some steam, you know?”
The person nodded slowly, their expression softening. “Well, don’t go too hard on yourself,” they said, their smile faint but kind. “It’s not worth it.”
Stan’s chest tightened, the words hitting far too close to home. He hesitated, the idea forming in his mind before he could stop it. Maybe if he just leaned into this—into them—he could bury the mess he was drowning in. Just for a night.
“So, uh…” He cleared his throat, his grin turning slightly sharper, more deliberate. “Do you want to maybe get out of here? Just hang out, away from all… this?” He gestured vaguely toward the party, his pulse racing as he waited for their response.
The person blinked, their surprise evident. They hesitated, glancing around before meeting his gaze again. “I don’t know,” they said, their tone cautious. “I’m not really looking for anything serious.”
Stan’s grin faltered for a split second before he forced it back into place. “Neither am I,” he said smoothly, though the words felt like sandpaper in his throat. “Just… looking for some company.”
They looked at him for a long moment, their expression unreadable. Stan’s chest tightened further, the silence stretching as his grip on the bottle grew tighter. Finally, they nodded, their smile faint but genuine.
“Alright,” they said, their voice light. “Lead the way.”
Stan exhaled, the relief crashing over him like a wave as he gestured for them to follow him. But as they walked toward the edge of the yard, the hollow ache in his chest twisted deeper, darker. He could feel it gnawing at him, an insidious reminder that this wasn’t about connection or distraction—it was about punishment.
Because that’s what he deserved, wasn’t it? To scrape the bottom of the barrel, to throw himself into fleeting moments that meant nothing and left him emptier than before. To chase ghosts and bury himself in mistakes just to forget the weight of your voice, your touch, your trust. He clenched his jaw, his steps heavy, each one dragging him further into the abyss he’d created for himself.
It didn’t matter who they were or how kind their smile was. They weren’t you. And no amount of cheap liquor or borrowed warmth would change the fact that he’d ruined the one thing that might’ve saved him. He wasn’t just falling apart—he was clawing himself to pieces, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop.
As he led them into the dark, his lips twisted into a bitter smile. Maybe he was beyond saving. Maybe this was all he’d ever be—a mess of regrets and bad decisions, staggering forward just to avoid looking back.
The phone felt heavy in your trembling hands, its screen glowing with the draft of a message you couldn’t bring yourself to send. Your mascara streaked down your cheeks, smudged by the steady flow of tears you hadn’t managed to stop for hours. The lump in your throat ached, a constant reminder of the sobs that wracked your chest. You sniffled, trying and failing to take a steadying breath, as your thumb hovered over the send button.
“Hey… I think it’s best if we don’t see each other anymore.”
The words on the screen blurred through your tears, and your hands shook so violently you could barely hold the phone still. Damien didn’t deserve this—he hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d been patient and kind, the perfect blend of calm and confident, someone who made you feel like you mattered. And yet, none of it had been enough to drown out the relentless weight of Stan in your mind.
Your chest tightened as you stared at the message, the silence of your room only amplifying the storm of your thoughts. A week had passed since you’d last seen Stan, but his absence had carved itself into every part of your life. You couldn’t escape it—not in the dead of night when you stared at your phone waiting for a message that never came, and not during the day when everything reminded you of him.
Every laugh, every smile you’d shared, every clumsy touch from that night—it all played on an endless loop in your mind, growing louder with every moment he ignored you. And now you were here, mascara running down your face and heartbreak threatening to choke you, about to push away the one person who had actually wanted you.
You felt your stomach twist with guilt as you thought about Damien. He’d been so excited when he’d texted you last night, asking about your weekend plans. The idea of crushing that enthusiasm, of turning his warmth into confusion and hurt, made your fingers falter.
But you couldn’t keep lying to yourself, or to him. Your heart wasn’t in this—how could it be when it was still chained to someone else? To someone who hadn’t even spared you a text in a week? Someone who was probably out there living his life without a second thought for the mess he’d left you in?
Your tears fell harder at the thought, your thumb finally pressing the button as the message sent with a soft ping. The room seemed impossibly still as you stared at the screen, watching the text sit there, delivered but unanswered.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered to no one, your voice hoarse and broken.
You dropped the phone onto the bed, your body trembled with every sob, your chest heaving as the weight of guilt crushed you. It was unbearable, like a physical ache gnawing at your ribs and spreading through every inch of you. You let your head fall into your hands, your fingers tangling in your hair as shame and regret clawed at your heart.
How could you have been so selfish? So stupid?
You replayed that night in your mind, every detail vivid and suffocating. The way Stan’s hands had hesitated before gripping your hips. The way his voice had trembled when he asked if it was okay. The way he’d broken apart in your room after you’d pushed too far.
You’d told yourself it was for practice, for Damien. That lie sat bitter in your chest now, hollow and meaningless. You hadn’t cared about Damien in that moment, not really. You’d cared about Stan, about distracting him, about being the one to pull him out of the darkness that had been swallowing him whole. But instead of helping him, you’d only dragged him down further.
I used him. The thought hit you like a slap, fresh tears streaming down your face as the realization sank in. You’d taken advantage of his vulnerability, of his trust in you, and for what? To play pretend for a few fleeting moments? To feel wanted?
You pressed your hands against your face, your fingers digging into your skin as if you could scrub the guilt away. “I’m a terrible person,” you whispered, the words shaking as they fell from your lips. “I’m so fucking terrible.”
The silence of your room felt deafening, wrapping around you like a noose. You hoped, desperately, that Stan was feeling better now that he didn’t have to deal with you. That cutting you out of his life had given him some peace, even if it left you feeling hollow and alone.
The thought of him—his face, his voice, his touch—was like a knife twisting in your chest. You wanted to forget, to drown out the ache that wouldn’t let up no matter how much you cried. You wanted the numbness that had always felt so far out of reach. And then, unbidden, your mind drifted to the one thing that might offer it.
Alcohol.
You thought about the parties Stan and the guys dragged you to, the cheap liquor that burned your throat but left your mind blissfully hazy. You thought about how easy it would be to lose yourself in that fog, to forget the guilt, the shame, the sound of your phone buzzing with messages you couldn’t bring yourself to read.
Your breathing hitched as the thought took hold, the temptation curling around you like a siren’s song. You pushed yourself off the bed, your legs unsteady as you stood. Your heart pounded in your chest, your movements shaky and uncertain as you made your way to the closet.
Throwing the door open, you rifled through the clothes hanging limply on their hangers, your fingers trembling as you searched for something—anything—that screamed distraction. Your hand paused on a short black dress, the one you’d worn to a party months ago, the night you’d laughed too loud and let Kenny drag you onto the dance floor. You grabbed it without thinking, pulling it off the hanger and clutching it to your chest like it was a lifeline.
You needed out. Out of this room, out of your head, out of the suffocating guilt that threatened to consume you whole. And if a few drinks and a crowded room were the only way to get there, then so be it.
Your hands trembled as you reached for the makeup wipes on your desk, dabbing at the streaked mascara that had smudged across your cheeks. The image of your tear-streaked face in the mirror only deepened the knot of guilt and shame in your stomach, but you pushed it down, focusing on the task at hand. If you were going to do this—if you were going to escape your thoughts tonight—you couldn’t look like the emotional wreck you felt.
As you applied fresh eyeliner with trembling hands, you heard the familiar jingle of keys outside the door. The knob twisted, and Red stepped inside, her phone in hand and earbuds dangling from her neck. She stopped mid-step when she saw you at your desk, makeup wipes and half-finished cosmetics strewn across the surface.
“Whoa. What happened in here?” she asked, her voice lighter than the concerned look on her face.
You didn’t meet her gaze, focusing instead on lining your lips with the bold red lipstick that matched the armor you were trying to piece together. “Nothing,” you said quickly, your voice tight and unconvincing.
Red closed the door behind her, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took you in. She set her bag down on her bed and crossed her arms, leaning against the edge of the frame. “You don’t look like nothing.”
You swallowed hard, willing yourself to keep your composure. “I’m fine,” you insisted, though your shaking hands betrayed you as you applied a final swipe of mascara.
Red didn’t budge. “Fine,” she said slowly, drawing the word out. “Fine enough to be getting all dressed up for something. Where are you going?”
You capped the mascara with trembling fingers and turned to face her, forcing a smile that felt brittle. “I was going to ask if you’re going to any parties tonight,” you said, deflecting the question. “I thought I’d tag along.”
Red’s brows shot up in surprise, but she didn’t push the obvious lie. “Uh, yeah, I was gonna head to that Pi Kappa party. I heard it’s gonna be huge. Why, though? You haven’t wanted to go out in weeks.”
“I need to get out of here,” you said quickly, your voice too sharp and too quick. You softened it with a weak laugh. “Clear my head, you know? Blow off some steam.”
Her playful grin faltered, her expression softening with something you hated to see—pity. But, thankfully, Red wasn’t the type to prod too much. “Okay, babe. If you’re in, you’re in. Let me throw something on real quick, and we’ll Uber together.”
You nodded, relief mixing uneasily with the lingering ache in your chest as she turned to her closet. While Red rummaged for an outfit, you sat on the edge of your bed, staring at your reflection in the tiny mirror propped on your desk. The person staring back at you looked composed, ready for a party. But beneath the fresh makeup and tight dress, you were anything but.
“Okay, done!” Red chirped, snapping you out of your thoughts. She stood there in a sequined mini-dress that shimmered under the fluorescent dorm lights, her lips curling into an excited grin. “You ready, or are you still doing that thing where you stare at yourself like you’re in a bad movie montage?”
You forced a laugh, shaking your head. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
She grabbed her bag and slung an arm around your shoulders, leading you out of the room with her usual bright energy. Her chatter filled the silence as the two of you walked toward the dorm exit, her voice animated as she hyped up the party and gossiped about who might be there. You nodded along, grateful for the noise to drown out the storm in your head.
But no matter how loud Red’s voice was, or how bright the city lights were as the Uber carried you both toward the party, the knot in your stomach refused to loosen. You hoped the drinks would help. You hoped the crowd would distract you. You hoped you could forget, even if only for one night.
You hated alcohol—the taste, the burn, the way it made your stomach twist and churn. But tonight, you didn’t care. You didn’t want to care. All you wanted was to drown out the heavy, suffocating weight in your chest and replace it with something, anything, that felt lighter. Even if it came at the expense of your body.
The frat house was alive with music, laughter, and the faint haze of cigarette smoke wafting in from the backyard. Red tugged you inside, her arm looped tightly around yours as she greeted nearly everyone who crossed her path. Her energy was infectious, her voice rising over the thrum of the crowd as she exchanged hugs, jokes, and smiles with familiar faces.
You tried to mirror her enthusiasm, but it felt hollow. When she greeted Craig and Tweek, who were standing near the corner with Clyde and Tolkien, you forced a weak smile and waved. Their replies were friendly enough—Clyde even cracked a joke about your absence at previous parties—but their voices blended into the background noise.
Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the faces you knew: Jimmy and Butters at the beer pong table, Cartman and Kenny arguing over something near the kitchen, Wendy and Bebe chatting animatedly with Heidi and Nichole by the staircase. But there was no sign of Stan. Relief and disappointment mingled in your chest, twisting together in a way that made you feel like you couldn’t breathe.
“Be right back,” you mumbled to Red, slipping your arm free from hers before she could protest. “I’m gonna grab a drink.”
She nodded, already turning back to her conversation with Bebe, her laughter ringing out as you retreated toward the counter. Your hands trembled slightly as you scanned the selection—plastic cups, kegs, an assortment of bottles in varying states of emptiness. Your eyes landed on a bottle of vodka, the label peeling at the edges, and you grabbed it without hesitation.
No one was looking. No one cared.
You twisted the cap off and pressed the bottle to your lips, the sharp smell making your nose wrinkle. The first sip burned, and you nearly coughed, but you swallowed it down and took another. And another. The fire in your throat spread to your chest, and your stomach twisted in protest, but you ignored it. You kept drinking, the edges of the room blurring slightly as the alcohol began to take hold.
Your thoughts swirled, chaotic and relentless, as you clutched the bottle tighter. You hated how desperate you felt, how pathetic it was to stand in the corner of a party, drinking like your life depended on it. But you hated the silence in your head more—the voice that whispered that this was all your fault, that you’d ruined everything, that you deserved to feel this way.
You deserved it.
The vodka burned, but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as everything else. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, setting the empty bottle back on the counter with a hollow clink. The world felt hazy now, the room swaying slightly as the alcohol settled into your system. You grabbed a red Solo cup and filled it halfway with whatever was closest—some dark, amber liquid that you didn’t bother to identify. You just needed to keep going, to stay numb.
You turned back toward the crowd, the cup clutched tightly in your hand. Your eyes scanned the room for Red, but instead, they landed on something that made your breath hitch.
Kyle was at the edge of the crowd, his hand wrapped firmly around Stan’s arm as he pulled him through the throng of people. Stan looked disheveled, his hoodie rumpled and his hair a mess. His face was pale, his eyes shadowed with something you couldn’t quite place, and he moved sluggishly, like he was trying to resist Kyle’s pull. Kyle leaned in, whispering something urgently into Stan’s ear, his expression tense.
Kyle’s eyes flicked up and met yours, and the world seemed to still for a moment. His lips pressed into a thin line, his brow furrowing slightly as he held your gaze. The knot in your stomach twisted tighter, and your breath felt caught in your throat.
Stan, noticing the shift in Kyle’s attention, turned his head to follow his gaze. When his eyes landed on you, his entire body seemed to lock up. His expression shifted in an instant—his jaw tightening, his eyes widening briefly before narrowing into something unreadable. He froze, his arm still in Kyle’s grip, and for a moment, it felt like the entire party had gone silent.
Then, as if jolted into action, Stan yanked his arm free from Kyle’s grasp and turned sharply, heading in the opposite direction. He didn’t even glance back as he pushed through the crowd, his movements stiff and hurried.
Your chest tightened painfully as you watched him retreat, the cup in your hand trembling slightly. Kyle turned back to you, his gaze softer now, almost apologetic. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but the distance between you made it impossible to hear.
You shook your head, breaking the stare, and looked down into your drink. The liquid swirled lazily in the cup, the faint smell of alcohol wafting up to meet you. You downed it in one go, ignoring the bitter taste, and wiped your mouth again.
Red appeared beside you then, her voice bright and oblivious. “There you are! Come on, they’re playing flip cup in the kitchen!”
You forced a smile, the edges of it wobbling. “Yeah,” you said, your voice hollow. “Let’s go.”
Red dragged you into the kitchen, her arm hooked around yours as she babbled on about the flip cup teams already forming. The room was buzzing with energy, laughter bouncing off the walls as drinks were poured and rules were loudly debated. You scanned the crowd and saw a mix of familiar faces—Clyde, Tweek, Craig, and even Bebe, who was already half-draped over a laughing Jimmy.
“You’re on my team,” Red declared, her grip on your arm tightening as she pulled you to her side. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and you managed a small smile despite the heavy knot still twisting in your stomach.
The game started, the air thick with playful shouts and competitive taunts. Red went first, downing her drink and flipping the cup expertly in one smooth motion. “Boom!” she cheered, throwing her hands in the air.
When it was your turn, you hesitated, the Solo cup trembling slightly in your hand. The alcohol buzzing through your veins dulled the sharp edges of your thoughts, and for the first time all night, you didn’t feel the crushing weight of everything on your chest. You took a deep breath, downed the drink in one gulp, and flipped the cup on your first try.
“Hell yeah!” Red whooped, clapping you on the back. “You’re a natural!”
The cheers and laughter from your team were louder now, and you couldn’t help but laugh along. The alcohol coursing through your system made everything feel lighter, fuzzier, and the tension in your chest loosened just a little more with every round. By the time you’d flipped three more cups flawlessly, you were grinning, your cheeks flushed with both alcohol and the heat of the crowded room.
“You’ve been holding out on us!” Clyde called, pointing at you with an exaggerated look of mock betrayal.
“Where’s this pro-level flip cup energy been hiding?” Red teased, nudging you with her elbow.
You shrugged, laughing as you reached for another drink. “Beginner’s luck,” you said, your voice lighter now, almost unrecognizable to yourself.
As the game went on, you found yourself laughing more, the warmth of the alcohol and the camaraderie of the group easing the heaviness in your chest. The laughter around you started to blur as you spotted him out of the corner of your eye—Stan, standing in the crowd, leaning against the wall with a girl you didn’t recognize. She was all legs and confidence, her hand lightly touching his arm as she giggled at something he said. You couldn’t hear them over the music and chatter, but whatever it was, it made Stan smirk. That smirk twisted something deep in your chest, something sharp and unexpected.
Jealousy.
You didn’t get jealous when Stan flirted with people. You’d seen it before, a million times, and it had always been just Stan being Stan. But this? The way he was looking at her? The way she was looking back? It made your stomach churn in a way you couldn’t explain.
Your grip tightened on the edge of the counter as you watched him. He must have felt your stare because his eyes flicked up, meeting yours across the room. For a split second, you thought you saw something flicker in his expression—hesitation, guilt, maybe even regret. But then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned down and kissed the girl.
Your breath hitched, disbelief freezing you in place. His lips moved against hers with purpose, his hands resting low on her waist as if he wanted to make sure you didn’t miss a single second of it. The girl looped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and your stomach dropped.
They were full-on making out now, right there in the middle of the party, and all you could do was stand there, your mouth hanging open as the world seemed to tilt on its axis. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman watching too. Kyle looked horrified, his brows furrowed in a deep, disapproving frown. Kenny had a smirk on his face, though his eyes flicked between you and Stan like he was watching a train wreck unfold. Cartman, of course, was laughing, the sound obnoxious and grating as he elbowed Kenny in the ribs.
Your blood boiled. The knot of anger and hurt in your chest exploded into a white-hot fury that you couldn’t contain. “Be right back,” you muttered to Red, your voice tight as you shoved your way through the crowd.
“Wait, where are you going?” Red called after you, but you didn’t answer. Your sights were locked on Stan, your pulse pounding in your ears as you marched toward him.
“What the fuck is your problem?” The words flew out of your mouth before you could even process them, your voice cutting through the party like a thunderclap. You weren’t even sure who you were directing them at—Stan, the girl, the situation itself—but as you stormed across the room, the alcohol buzzing hot and angry in your veins, your focus locked on her.
She turned to you, her perfectly manicured brows raising in surprise before they knit together in irritation. She didn’t flinch under your glare, instead tilting her head and looking you up and down like you were an inconvenience rather than a threat. That expression alone made your blood boil hotter.
Stan stood frozen, his face slack with shock, but you didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Not when the girl—the one he had just been making out with—was standing there, calm and collected, like she hadn’t just done something unforgivable.
“You,” you spat, pointing a shaky finger at her. “What the hell is wrong with you? You think it’s cute throwing yourself at someone like him?”
The room seemed to hush slightly around you, but the alcohol made you too numb to care. Your heart pounded against your ribs, your head swimming from the vodka and the rage coursing through you.
The girl arched an eyebrow, her lips twisting into a smirk. “Excuse me? Who even are you?” Her voice was sharp, disdain dripping from every word. “His fucking mom or something?”
Her tone was like a match to gasoline. Your vision blurred, your fists curling at your sides as you took another step toward her. “I’m the person who actually knows him,” you slurred, your words tumbling out unsteady but vicious. “Not some random nobody trying to get her claws into him.”
The girl’s face darkened, her smirk replaced by a scowl. “Oh, please,” she snapped, crossing her arms. “If you knew him so well, maybe you’d have done a better job keeping him.”
The words hit you like a slap, sharp and humiliating, and they cut deeper than you wanted to admit. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, tears threatening to prick at the corners of your eyes. But the vodka burned hotter, stronger, drowning out the shame with unrelenting anger.
“Desperate,” you sneered, your voice shaking as you leaned closer to her. “That’s what you are. Desperate enough to kiss a guy who’s clearly not even into you.”
She barked a laugh, the sound cold and mocking. “Desperate?” she repeated, her eyes flashing with disdain. “You’re the one making a scene over a guy who doesn’t give a shit about you.”
The room seemed to tilt, her words cutting through the haze of alcohol and hitting you square in the chest. Without thinking, without even registering the consequences, your hand swung out, the sound of the slap ringing through the air like a gunshot.
Gasps rippled through the crowd as her head snapped to the side, her hand flying up to her cheek. She stared at you, wide-eyed, for a single frozen moment before lunging forward.
“You psycho bitch!” she screamed, her voice shrill as her hands flew toward you. You barely registered the sharp pull at your hair as she grabbed at you, her nails scratching at your arm. You swung back instinctively, your movements clumsy and fueled by adrenaline, landing a hit on her shoulder.
Everything was chaos. People were shouting around you, their voices blending into an incoherent roar. You couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of your own heart, the way the room spun around you as the two of you clawed and yanked at each other.
“Hey! Stop it!” Kyle’s voice cut through the chaos, and suddenly, strong hands were gripping your waist, yanking you back. You struggled against him, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you tried to shrug him off.
“Let me go, Kyle!” you shouted, your voice cracking as tears burned hot in your eyes. The fight, the alcohol, the shame—it was all too much.
“Not a fucking chance, perfect for each other, my ass,” Kyle snapped, his grip tightening as he pulled you farther away from the girl. Across the room, her friend was doing the same, holding her back as she glared daggers at you.
Stan hadn’t moved. He stood rooted to the spot, his face pale and his eyes wide with disbelief. The sight of him just standing there, saying nothing, doing nothing, made your chest ache with something raw and unbearable.
“You’re insane!” the girl yelled as her friend dragged her farther away, her voice echoing in your ears like a siren. “Fucking crazy!”
Kyle finally let go of you when he was sure the girl was out of reach, spinning you around to face him. His face was tight with frustration and concern, his brows furrowed deeply. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he demanded, his voice low but filled with anger. “What were you thinking?”
You shoved past Kyle, your breath hitching in uneven gasps as you pushed through the crowd. The hallway blurred around you, voices and music melding into an unbearable hum. You found the bathroom door, yanked it open, and stumbled inside. Before you could slam it shut, Kyle’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist.
“Get off me,” you snapped, your voice breaking.
“Not a chance,” he shot back, his tone sharp and unforgiving. “You’ve already caused enough of a scene.”
Twisting your arm free, you stumbled toward the toilet, dropping to your knees as your stomach twisted violently. Before you could even think, you were retching, the sour burn of alcohol and bile scorching your throat. Shame burned hotter than the vomit, tears spilling down your face as you gagged.
Kyle let out a frustrated sigh but didn’t leave. Instead, he crouched behind you, gathering your hair in one hand and holding it back as you emptied your stomach. “Jesus, you’re a wreck,” he muttered, his voice laced with equal parts exasperation and concern.
You gasped for breath, your body trembling. “Leave me alone,” you croaked, but the words carried no conviction.
“Not happening,” Kyle snapped. “I’m not going to let you self-destruct because you’re too stubborn to deal with your shit.”
You wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand, refusing to meet his gaze. “I’m fine,” you mumbled weakly.
Kyle scoffed, the sound harsh in the small bathroom. “Fine? You’re puking your guts out in a frat house bathroom after starting a fight with some random girl. Yeah, you’re real fine.”
You clenched your fists, anger flaring up alongside the shame. “Why do you even care?”
“Because someone has to!” he shot back, his voice rising. He loosened his grip on your hair but didn’t let go completely, his other hand gesturing wildly. “You’re acting just like Stan, you know that? All this drinking, picking fights, spiraling out like you’re trying to hit rock bottom as fast as you can.”
You flinched at the comparison, your stomach twisting for an entirely different reason now. “Don’t,” you whispered, but Kyle wasn’t done.
“Oh, no, I’m saying it,” he continued, his eyes blazing. “No? So what, you just ‘accidentally’ used Stan, picked a fight with some random girl, and drank yourself into oblivion? Grow up. Take some responsibility for once.”
Your head snapped up, and you stared at him, wide-eyed, your breath catching in your throat. “What did you just say?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Stan… he told you?”
Kyle’s expression didn’t waver. If anything, his gaze hardened. “Of course he didn’t tell me,” he said sharply, crossing his arms. “He didn’t have to. We’ve known Stan since we were kids—I can see the signs. He’s been a fucking wreck since that night you got with Damien. Do you think I wouldn’t put it together?”
Your heart sank, a pit forming in your stomach that had nothing to do with the alcohol. You hadn’t realized it was so obvious, hadn’t considered that Kyle—or anyone—would notice the cracks in Stan’s carefully constructed façade.
“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” you whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks again. “I—”
Kyle cut you off with a bitter laugh. “You didn’t mean to?” he repeated, his voice biting. “Then what the hell were you doing? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve been on a one-way trip to self-destruction and decided to drag Stan down with you.”
“I hate myself,” you choked out, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t—”
Kyle’s hand tightened on your shoulder, not unkindly, but firmly enough to ground you. His voice softened just a fraction, though the frustration still lingered. “Then fix it,” he said, his tone quieter but still firm. “Before there’s nothing left of either of you to fix.”
You buried your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking as you sobbed. Kyle stayed for a moment longer, then finally stood, reaching for the toilet paper. He handed them to you without a word, his expression unreadable.
“Clean yourself up,” he said as he turned to leave. “And figure out what the hell you want, because this? This isn’t it.”
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with the sound of your ragged breathing and the reflection of a stranger in the mirror. Smudged makeup, tear-streaked cheeks, and hollow eyes stared back at you, and for the first time, you wondered if Kyle was right.
Maybe it wasn’t Stan or anyone else you were hurting the most.
Maybe it was yourself.
You sat on the cold bathroom floor, the sobs wracking your body so violently that it felt like your chest might cave in. Your cries echoed off the tiled walls, raw and unrelenting. There was no point in trying to quiet yourself—no one left to pretend for. You buried your face in your knees, the damp fabric of your clothes soaking up your tears.
The sound of the door creaking open barely registered through your haze, but the quiet shuffle of footsteps did. A moment later, you felt someone kneel in front of you. You lifted your head slightly, your blurry vision focusing on Kenny’s face. His usual smirk and mischief were nowhere to be found. Instead, his expression was soft, his brow creased in concern.
At the sight of him, the sobs came harder, spilling out of you like a dam breaking. Your hands flew up to cover your face, shielding yourself from his gaze, from his pity.
Kenny didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He reached over to the crumpled sheets of toilet paper Kyle gave you, forgotten on the bathroom counter. Slowly and carefully, he began wiping at the streaks of mascara and tears staining your cheeks. His touch was steady, almost too kind, and it made the guilt inside you churn like acid.
“Stop,” you choked out, your voice cracking, though you didn’t mean it. “Why are you… why are you doing this?”
Kenny paused briefly, his gaze flicking to yours before he continued wiping at your face. “Because someone needs to,” he said simply, his tone calm but firm. “And because you obviously can’t right now.”
His words broke something inside you, and your hands dropped limply to your lap, letting him finish his task. He worked in silence, each swipe of the tissue a quiet reminder of just how far you’d unraveled.
When he finally tossed the crumpled tissue aside, you whispered, “I screwed up, Kenny. I messed everything up so bad, I—I don’t even know how to fix it.”
He sat back on his heels, watching you for a moment. “Yeah, you did,” he said bluntly, his honesty cutting through you like a knife. “But sitting here crying isn’t going to fix it.”
Your throat tightened, and you nodded faintly. “I just… she didn’t deserve that,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “The girl, the one I fought with. She didn’t do anything wrong. I just—I don’t even know why I went after her like that.”
Kenny leaned back against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest as he studied you. “You know why,” he said, his tone quiet but pointed.
You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Because I’m a mess? Because I can’t deal with my own shit, so I decided to take it out on some innocent girl? She was just… there, and I hated her for it.”
He shrugged, his gaze unwavering. “At least you’re owning up to it now. That’s a start.”
“I’m a terrible person,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands again. “Stan… he’s better off without me. Everyone is.”
Kenny didn’t respond right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, more measured. “Maybe you are a mess. And maybe you’ve screwed up a lot. But you’re not beyond fixing. You just have to stop running from everything. From Stan, from yourself.”
You sniffled, lifting your head to meet his gaze. “What if it’s too late?”
“It’s only too late if you keep doing this,” he said, gesturing to the bathroom, the remnants of your breakdown still visible. “Start being honest. Own your shit. That’s the only way you’re gonna move forward.”
His words hung heavy in the air, sinking into you in a way that left you feeling raw but strangely steady. For the first time, you felt a flicker of resolve, faint but real.
Kenny sighed and pushed himself to his feet, holding out a hand to you. “Come on,” he said, offering a small, tired smile. “Let’s get you cleaned up before Red comes in and loses her mind.”
You hesitated before taking his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Kenny said with a faint smirk. “I’m still debating if I should charge you for this therapy session babe.”
You let out a weak, breathy laugh that barely felt real and let him lead you out of the bathroom. Your hand clung tightly to his, like letting go would drop you into some void you weren’t sure you could climb out of. Kenny glanced back, catching the death grip you had on his hand, and chuckled under his breath.
“Relax, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, though the softness in his voice was a sharp contrast to his usual teasing tone.
The music and the noise of the party hit you like a wave as the two of you stepped back into the crowd. People danced, shouted, and laughed in every corner, the chaotic energy of the house thrumming against your skin. Kenny navigated the sea of bodies with ease, tugging you along as if it was second nature.
Then you saw her. The girl from earlier. She stood with her friends across the room, and their conversation came to an abrupt halt when they spotted you. Her glare was sharp, and you could feel the animosity radiating off her group as they stared. A lump rose in your throat, but you refused to shrink under their gaze.
Before you could stop yourself, you stuck your tongue out at her—a childish, stupid gesture that you regretted immediately but couldn’t take back. Her expression darkened, her friends whispering among themselves before one of them dramatically rolled her eyes and turned away.
Cartman’s raucous laugh broke through the tension, loud enough to make your head snap toward him. He was a few feet away, holding a red solo cup and grinning like a hyena.
“You’re a goddamn disaster,” Cartman wheezed, swaggering over to you and Kenny with a look of absolute delight. “Holy shit, this is better than reality TV.”
“Fuck off, fatass,” Kenny muttered, clearly unimpressed.
But Cartman wasn’t paying attention to him. Instead, he leaned down toward you, his breath reeking of beer, and whispered something that made your stomach plummet.
“Stan’s watching you. Just thought you’d want to know.”
Your body went rigid, and your grip on Kenny’s hand tightened instinctively. You hated how Cartman’s words set off a flurry of nerves in your chest, but you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing across the room. And there he was.
Stan was leaning against the far wall, his expression carefully neutral, but his eyes weren’t on you. They were on Wendy, who was standing beside him, gesturing animatedly as she spoke. He wasn’t looking at her, though. His gaze was distant, unfocused—until it suddenly snapped to you.
The weight of his stare knocked the air out of your lungs. Your stomach twisted as his expression hardened, his jaw tightening slightly. Wendy noticed, following his line of sight, and when her eyes landed on you, her brows furrowed.
Cartman’s grin widened. “Oof, triangle vibes. Messy as hell,” he muttered, stepping back with a laugh.
“Dude seriously, shut the hell up,” Kenny said sharply, tugging you forward before you could spiral further.
“Let’s just… move,” you mumbled, voice trembling as you ripped your gaze away from Stan and Wendy. Kenny gave you a knowing look but didn’t press, instead tugging you toward the other side of the room.
You spotted Kyle near the drinks table, engaged in what looked like a heated debate with Tolkien, his hands gesturing wildly as he made his point. Kenny let go of your hand and went to interrupt, leaning casually into the conversation like he hadn’t just been babysitting your emotional meltdown moments earlier.
Red appeared seemingly out of nowhere, slipping up beside you with a grin. “Well, well, look who’s causing chaos and stealing the show,” she teased, nudging you with her elbow. “That fight back there? Iconic. The stuff of legends.”
You gave her a weak smile, but the lightness in her tone made your stomach churn. “It wasn’t… I shouldn’t have—”
“Relax,” she interrupted, brushing off your guilt like it was nothing. “She had it coming, I’m sure. Besides, you looked badass.”
“I don’t think that’s the takeaway here,” Kyle interjected sharply, stepping away from Tolkien and Kenny to join you. His gaze was serious as he folded his arms over his chest. “What’s the plan here, huh? Keep ignoring each other until the tension finally explodes and ruins everyone else’s good time?”
Your stomach dropped. “Kyle, I—”
“No, don’t even try,” he cut you off, his tone exasperated but not unkind. “You and Stan need to figure your shit out. It’s making everything worse—for you, for him, for everyone.”
You glanced at Kenny, hoping for some kind of backup, but he just shrugged like he agreed with Kyle. “He’s got a point,” Kenny said, sipping casually from his solo cup. “This whole cold war thing? It’s exhausting.”
Kyle stepped closer, lowering his voice but keeping it firm. “If you two don’t talk by the end of the week, I swear to God, I’ll step in myself. And trust me, you don’t want that.”
You blinked at him, stunned. “What do you mean you’ll step in?”
“I’ll lock you two in a room, throw away the key, and let you sort it out like adults,” Kyle said flatly, but there was an edge of humor in his voice that didn’t quite soften the weight of his words. “Or maybe just yell at both of you until one of you finally cracks. Either way, this has to end.”
You didn’t know what to say. The idea of talking to Stan, of facing everything head-on, felt insurmountable. But Kyle’s stare didn’t waver, and the weight of his words settled heavy on your chest.
“Fine,” you muttered, barely audible. “I’ll try to talk to him.”
“Good,” Kyle said, satisfied. He turned back to Kenny, who was smirking into his drink like this was all some kind of sitcom. Red just gave you a sly grin and a thumbs up, clearly amused by the whole exchange.
But you didn’t feel amused. You felt like the ground beneath you was crumbling, and the thought of confronting Stan made your stomach twist into knots. Still, you knew Kyle was right.
Stan lay motionless on his bed, the faded ceiling tiles above blurring into nothingness as his chest tightened with every passing second. The air in the dorm room felt thick, suffocating, like it was trying to choke him out. His phone buzzed once from the desk where he’d abandoned it—just like he’d abandoned you. He didn’t even need to check to know it wasn’t you this time. You’d stopped trying a few days ago, and the silence was worse than the calls ever had been.
Kyle was at his desk, typing something furiously. Stan didn’t care. He barely registered anything outside his own head these days. His mind kept circling back to that night, the way your voice had cracked, the way you’d called him out in front of everyone, and worst of all, the way you’d gone after that girl.
He squeezed his eyes shut, but the memory still played like some sick, never-ending movie. You screaming, your voice loud and shrill and full of venom. That slap—sharp, unforgiving, echoing through the room. Stan’s stomach churned just thinking about it. She hadn’t done anything to you. Nothing but exist, but smile at him, but… but what? Be the wrong girl at the wrong time?
You don’t even know her name, asshole.
But that didn’t stop him from standing there, frozen, as everything spiraled out of control. He could still hear Wendy’s voice in his head, soft but firm as she pulled him aside after it was all over.
“She’s a mess, Stan,” Wendy had said, her eyes piercing through him like she already knew everything. “And you’re making it worse for her. For yourself.” She’d put a hand on his shoulder, her touch grounding in a way that should have helped but didn’t. “You need to figure out what you want. Otherwise, this is just going to destroy both of you.”
He’d nodded like he understood, like any of it made sense, but inside he felt like he was fucking disintegrating. The guilt, the anger, the shame—they were eating him alive. He’d wanted to scream at Wendy, to tell her to fuck off, to say that this wasn’t her problem—but he didn’t. Because she was right. She was always right. And that only made it worse.
“You gonna talk to her?” Kyle’s voice cut through the silence like a knife, snapping Stan out of his thoughts.
He stayed silent for a moment, his jaw tightening as he stared at the same goddamn spot on the ceiling he’d been fixated on for hours. “No,” he muttered finally, his voice flat and lifeless.
Kyle let out a frustrated sigh, the sound grating against Stan’s nerves. “Seriously? You’re just gonna sit here and do nothing? That’s your plan?”
“Fuck off, Kyle,” Stan said, his tone harsher than he intended. He didn’t care.
The scrape of Kyle’s chair against the floor made Stan flinch. He heard Kyle move closer, felt the weight of his stare like a physical thing pressing down on him.
“You’re unbelievable,” Kyle said, his voice low and bitter. “You can’t keep running from this. From her.”
Stan didn’t respond. What was the point? Kyle didn’t understand. Nobody fucking understood.
The door slammed shut behind Kyle, leaving Stan alone with his thoughts again. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he replayed the scene from the party for the millionth time—the way you’d looked at him, furious and hurt and drunk off your ass. The way you’d lashed out at that girl, the sound of the slap still ringing in his ears.
What the fuck had you been thinking? What the fuck had he been thinking, letting it get this far?
He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to shove the memories aside, but it was useless. They were always there, lurking in the back of his mind. Wendy’s words echoed louder now, and they felt like a slap to the face. You’re making it worse for her. For yourself.
But how the fuck was he supposed to fix this? He wasn’t good at fixing things. He was good at ruining them. And you—you didn’t deserve to be dragged down with him. You deserved better. Better than him. Better than the wreckage he left in his wake.
His chest felt like it was caving in as the weight of it all pressed down on him. He thought about you crying, about the way you’d looked at him when he kissed that girl, about the way you’d tried so fucking hard to act like what happened between you didn’t mean anything when it meant everything.
Maybe Kyle was right. Maybe he needed to figure out what the hell he wanted. But as he lay there, his body heavy and his mind drowning in guilt and shame, one thing became painfully clear:
He didn’t deserve you. And he sure as hell didn’t deserve forgiveness.
Some time has passed, and Stan hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed. The ceiling tiles blurred together as he stared blankly, his thoughts a mess of self-loathing and memories he wished he could erase. The muffled sound of yelling seeped through the door, but he chalked it up to his imagination. He was used to noise in his head.
But then the screaming grew louder, sharper. It wasn’t in his head. It was outside.
Before he could sit up to make sense of it, the door burst open, slamming against the wall with a bang. Stan flinched, his head snapping toward the noise as Kyle stepped into the room, dragging you behind him.
You were a whirlwind of rage, your voice raw and cracked as you hurled accusations and protests at Kyle. “Kyle, I swear to God—” But the moment your eyes locked on Stan, everything came to a screeching halt.
The room was thick with silence.
Stan sat frozen, his breath caught in his throat as he stared at you. Your hair was a mess, your cheeks flushed from exertion, and your makeup was smeared—but it was your eyes that hit him the hardest. Red-rimmed, puffy, and filled with something he couldn’t quite name. Anger? Hurt? Desperation? Maybe all of it.
Kyle, panting slightly from wrangling you all the way here, broke the tense silence. “The two of you are gonna talk this out,” he said, his voice firm and unforgiving. “You’re not leaving this room until you do. I’ll be right outside, so don’t even think about trying to get out.”
Before either of you could argue, Kyle shoved you further into the room and stepped back, slamming the door shut behind him. The sound of the lock clicking into place echoed ominously.
Stan stared at the door, his heart hammering in his chest. He could hear Kyle’s muffled voice outside, probably telling someone off, but it was distant compared to the deafening silence in the room.
“You’re just gonna sit there?” Your voice broke through, sharp and biting.
Stan looked at you then, really looked at you, and felt the weight of everything between you crash over him. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“Unbelievable,” you muttered, your voice trembling as you crossed your arms over your chest. “You’re really just gonna sit there like this is nothing?”
“It’s not nothing,” Stan finally croaked, his voice low and rough. “You think I don’t know that?”
“Then say something!” you snapped, stepping closer. “Because I’m standing here, trying, and you’re just… just—” You gestured helplessly, your voice cracking on the last word.
Stan sat up slowly, his hands gripping the edge of the bed as he tried to find the right words. “I didn’t ask Kyle to do this,” he said finally, his tone defensive, but weak.
You let out a bitter laugh, one that didn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah, because God forbid you actually confront anything.”
Stan flinched, the words cutting deeper than he wanted to admit. He looked down at his hands, his knuckles white from gripping the edge of the mattress. “What’s the point of this?” he asked, his voice quiet but edged with something raw. “You didn’t want to be here, and I sure as hell didn’t ask for this either. So why even bother?”
Your anger faltered for a moment, your expression softening before it hardened again. “Because I’m tired of this, Stan. I’m tired of us pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. I’m tired of not knowing what the hell we even are. And I’m tired of you avoiding me.”
Stan’s jaw tightened, and he looked up at you with a mix of guilt and frustration. “You think I’m avoiding you because I don’t care? Because I don’t want to deal with it?” He stood abruptly, the sudden movement making you take a step back. “I’m avoiding you because I can’t fucking handle it. Any of it. You. Us. That night.” His voice cracked, and he turned away, running a hand through his hair.
You blinked, stunned into silence for a moment before the anger surged back. “So what? You just decided to shut me out instead? To let me sit there and drown in my own guilt while you—what? Pretend I don’t exist?”
Stan let out a humorless laugh, his back still to you. “Guilt?” He turned then, his eyes blazing. “You think you’re the only one who feels guilty? I haven’t been able to fucking sleep because every time I close my eyes, all I can think about is how much I’ve screwed everything up.”
The room fell silent again, the weight of his words hanging heavy between you.
“Stan…” Your voice was softer now, hesitant.
He shook his head, his shoulders sagging. “I don’t know what I’m doing, okay? I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t even know if it can be fixed.”
You stepped closer, your own anger fading as you looked at him—really looked at him. The dark circles under his eyes, the way his hands were trembling slightly at his sides. “It’s not all on you to fix,” you said quietly. “I messed up too. I—” Your voice faltered, and you looked away. “I’m sorry for how I handled things. For that night. For everything.”
Stan’s gaze softened, and for a moment, he looked like he might reach for you. But then he took a step back, his walls going up again. “Sorry doesn’t change anything,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
You nodded, swallowing hard as you tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill. “I know. But it’s a start.”
You hesitated before sitting down next to him on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under your weight, and for a moment, you thought he might move away, but he didn’t. Your hands fidgeted in your lap as you stared down at them, the lump in your throat growing heavier with each passing second.
“I… I cut things off with Damien,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt heavier than you expected, like you were exhaling something you’d been holding onto for too long. You hadn’t planned to say it like this, hadn’t planned for your voice to break halfway through, but the weight of everything was too much to hold back.
Stan turned his head slightly toward you, his brows knitting together, but he still didn’t say anything. His silence was unbearable, and you felt like you had to fill the void before it consumed you.
“I couldn’t… I couldn’t keep pretending that it was working,” you continued, the tears spilling before you could stop them. “Not when I—” You bit your lip, cutting yourself off. You couldn’t say it. Not yet.
Stan’s gaze finally lifted to meet yours, his blue eyes clouded with something you couldn’t quite place. Hurt? Anger? Something else entirely? You didn’t know, and the not knowing only made your chest ache more.
“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse. It wasn’t accusatory, but it wasn’t kind either. It was cautious, like he didn’t know what to do with the information you’d just given him.
Your shoulders trembled as you took a shaky breath, swiping at your wet cheeks. “Because you deserve to know,” you said, forcing yourself to look at him even though it hurt. “You deserve to know that I…” You hesitated, your throat tightening around the words. “That I messed everything up. That I hurt you. And I hate myself for it.”
Stan’s expression flickered, something almost imperceptible crossing his face, but he quickly masked it. He let out a sharp exhale, his hands running through his hair as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
“Cutting things off with Damien doesn’t change anything,” he muttered, his voice cold and distant. “It doesn’t fix what happened. It doesn’t fix what you did.”
Your heart clenched at his words, but you nodded. “I know,” you whispered. “I’m not trying to fix it. I just… I just wanted you to know that it’s over. That he’s not part of this anymore.”
Stan let out a humorless laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly. “It was never about him,” he said, his voice dripping with bitterness. “It was about us. Or whatever the hell this is.” He gestured vaguely between the two of you, his frustration spilling over. “And I don’t even know what that means anymore.”
You swallowed hard, the sting of his words cutting through you like a knife. “I don’t either,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “But I miss you, Stan. I miss us. And I’m sorry—God, I’m so sorry.”
Stan’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white as he stared down at the floor. The room was heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid, the air thick with tension and regret. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence wrapping around you like a shroud.
Finally, Stan lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen in weeks. “You don’t get to just say sorry and expect it to fix everything,” he said, his voice trembling. “But… I don’t know. Maybe I needed to hear it anyway.”
You nodded slowly, your throat tightening as the tears streamed unchecked down your cheeks. It was hard to meet Stan’s eyes—those blue eyes that had seen you at your worst, that now held a mixture of exhaustion and guarded curiosity. But you forced yourself to speak, your voice trembling with every word.
“I—” you started, your voice cracking immediately. You cleared your throat and tried again. “I thought… that night in my dorm… I thought if I could make you forget, even just for a little while, that maybe you’d feel better. That whatever you were dealing with, whatever was hurting you, it wouldn’t feel so heavy.”
Stan blinked, his expression hardening slightly, but he stayed quiet. His silence felt like a double-edged sword—an invitation to continue, but also a sharp reminder of how much your actions had hurt him.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” you went on, your voice quieter now, each word weighing down on your chest. “I just… I’ve seen you spiral before, Stan. I’ve seen what it does to you, how it eats you alive. And I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Stan let out a sharp exhale, leaning back slightly and running a hand through his hair. “So your solution was to use me?” he asked, his tone bitter but not as sharp as it could’ve been. “You thought making me… what, lose myself in you would somehow fix everything?”
“I wasn’t trying to use you!” you shouted, your voice sharp and raw. “How could you even say that? You think I wanted to hurt you? You think I wanted to make things worse?”
Stan flinched at your outburst but didn’t say anything. His silence only fueled your anger, the dam of your emotions cracking wide open.
“I just wanted to make you feel better!” you screamed, the words tumbling out of you in a messy, desperate rush. “I didn’t know what else to do, Stan! You were falling apart, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t just sit there and watch you drown!”
His head jerked up, his blue eyes blazing with emotion. “So what? You thought kissing me, escalating things—doing all of that would somehow fix me?” His voice cracked, the hurt in it cutting you deeper than you thought possible. “Dude, do you know how fucked up that is?”
“I know it’s fucked up!” you yelled back, your voice shaking as fresh tears spilled down your face. “I know I handled it wrong, okay? I know I made a mess of everything, and I hate myself for it! But I wasn’t using you, Stan. I swear to God, I wasn’t.”
Stan stared at you, his jaw tightening, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress so hard his knuckles turned white. “Then what the hell were you doing?” he demanded, his voice quieter but no less intense. “What was all of that supposed to be?”
You hesitated, your breath hitching as your emotions threatened to swallow you whole. You looked down at your lap, shaking your head as you sobbed uncontrollably. “I—I was trying to help you,” you stammered. “I just wanted to see you smile again. I wanted to make you feel something good—anything other than what you were feeling.”
Stan’s eyes softened, but his expression remained guarded. “And that’s supposed to make it okay?” he asked, his tone laced with disbelief.
“No, it doesn’t make it okay!” you shot back, your voice cracking as you threw your hands in the air. “Nothing about this is okay! But I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Stan. I just… I just…”
You sucked in a ragged breath, the words bubbling up before you could stop them. “I love you, okay?” you shouted, the confession bursting from you like a wound splitting open. “I love you, and I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember! And I didn’t know what to do when I saw you falling apart, and I panicked, and I made a mistake!”
The room fell deathly silent, your words hanging heavy in the air. Stan’s eyes widened slightly, his lips parting as he stared at you, stunned into silence.
You buried your face in your hands, sobbing harder now, the weight of your confession crashing down on you. “I know I screwed up. I know what I did was wrong. But I swear to you, Stan, I just wanted to help. I just wanted to make it better.”
For a long moment, neither of you said anything. The sound of your crying filled the room, raw and unrelenting, as Stan sat frozen beside you. Finally, he exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair as his own emotions threatened to spill over.
“Why didn’t you just talk to me?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before it got so… so fucked up?”
You shook your head, your words muffled behind your hands. “Because I was scared,” you admitted. “Scared that you’d hate me, scared that I’d lose you, scared that I’d mess everything up—and I did anyway.”
Stan let out a bitter laugh, though it sounded more like a sob. “Yeah, you did,” he said quietly, his voice trembling. “But… I’m not blameless either.”
You looked up at him through tear-streaked eyes, your breath catching as you saw the raw vulnerability etched across his face. His hands trembled as they rested on his knees, and his gaze flickered between you and the floor.
“Why do you hate Damien so much?” you asked softly, your voice trembling as you tried to bridge the chasm between you. “And why did you… start to spiral after that night? After we practiced?”
“You want to know why I spiraled?” he asked, his voice low and rough. He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Because seeing you happy with Damien—seeing you in a relationship—made me realize something I’d been too scared to admit to myself for years.”
You stayed silent, your breath hitching as you waited for him to continue. His blue eyes, rimmed red from unshed tears, locked onto yours.
“It made me realize I’ve always loved you,” Stan confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, but the words carried a weight that seemed to fill the entire room. “Since we were kids. Through everything. You’ve always been there, and I just… I don’t know. I thought maybe it was just friendship or something, but seeing you with him—watching you look at him the way I’ve always wanted you to look at me—made it impossible to ignore.”
Your heart clenched painfully, and your tears spilled over as his words sank in. “Stan…” you breathed, your voice trembling.
He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not saying this to guilt you or make you feel bad. I know I screwed up too, okay? I know I pushed you away when I should’ve just been honest. But watching you be with someone else made me realize how much I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me. And it fucking killed me, because I wanted to be the one who made you happy. I’ve always wanted to be that person.”
You felt like your heart was breaking and mending all at once, the weight of his confession crashing over you. “I didn’t know…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.
“Of course, you didn’t,” Stan said, his tone softer now, tinged with resignation. “I never told you. I didn’t even let myself admit it until it was too late. But it’s the truth. It’s always been you.”
Tears blurred your vision, and you reached out hesitantly, your hand brushing against his arm. “Stan,” you said, your voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t know I was making you feel like that.”
He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and something else—something softer, more fragile. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know you didn’t mean to. And I don’t blame you for moving on or trying to be happy. I just… I couldn’t handle it. And that’s on me.”
The silence stretched again, heavy but different this time, as if something had shifted between you. Finally, Stan let out a deep breath, leaning back against the wall. “I don’t know if things can ever go back to the way they were,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel this way. I’ve loved you my whole damn life, and I don’t know how to stop.”
The words hung heavy in the air, the weight of Stan’s confession pressing against your chest. Your breath caught, your pulse pounding in your ears as you searched his face, taking in every crack in his composure, every flicker of raw emotion in his eyes.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “But I know I don’t want to lose you, Stan. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
His gaze flickered to yours, hesitant and vulnerable, as if he was bracing himself for whatever came next. “You didn’t lose me,” he said softly. “I don’t think you ever could.”
The knot in your stomach loosened just slightly at his words, but the ache in your chest remained. Slowly, you leaned in closer, your hands trembling as you reached out to cup his face. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, and you could feel the faintest tremor in his jaw as he looked up at you.
“Can I kiss you?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart hammered against your ribs as the words left your mouth, the question carrying more weight than you could have ever anticipated.
Stan’s eyes widened for a moment, his breath hitching. He didn’t answer right away, and for a terrifying second, you thought you might have pushed too far, too fast. But then, he nodded, just once, his gaze locked on yours.
You leaned in slowly, your heart in your throat as you closed the gap between you. Your lips brushed his, soft and tentative, like you were both testing the waters, afraid of drowning but too desperate to stay away. His breath hitched again, but then his hands came up, one settling on the curve of your waist, the other tangling gently in your hair.
The kiss deepened, and for a moment, everything else fell away. The guilt, the fear, the pain—it all melted into the background, leaving just the two of you, tangled up in the unspoken truths and years of emotions that had finally come to light.
When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, your breaths mingling in the space between you. “Stan,” you murmured, your voice shaky but resolute. “I don’t know if I can make up for everything. But I want to try.”
His eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with a mixture of disbelief and something softer, something fragile but unbreakable. “Me too,” he whispered, his voice rough but sincere. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”
Stan’s breath hitched as your lips met his again, the sudden intensity catching him off guard. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his like you were afraid he might vanish if you didn’t hold on tight enough. He froze for a split second, his heart slamming against his ribcage, before his hands found your waist, steadying you.
What the hell is happening? The thought raced through his mind, tangled with a thousand others—your warmth, the softness of your lips, the way your fingers threaded through his hair like you were trying to memorize every strand. He felt dizzy, like the world had been tilted on its axis and he was still trying to find his balance.
She loves me. The words echoed in his head, impossible and overwhelming. She actually loves me.
He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve you. And yet, here you were, holding him like he was something worth holding onto, kissing him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered. His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers pressing into your skin as if to reassure himself this was real.
She’s not pulling away. That realization sent a bolt of something electric through his chest. All the years of pining, of watching you from afar, of convincing himself he could never have this—it all dissolved in the heat of your kiss.
But there was still a tiny voice in the back of his mind, nagging and relentless. What if she regrets this? What if you’re just another distraction, another mistake she’ll hate herself for later? The thought made his stomach twist, but he shoved it down, focusing on the way your lips moved against his, the way your body felt pressed against his.
As you shifted in his lap, pulling yourself impossibly closer, Stan let out a quiet gasp, his hands instinctively gripping your hips. His pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out the world around him. You pulled back just slightly, your forehead resting against his as your breaths mingled in the charged space between you.
“I can’t believe this is real,” he murmured, his voice cracking. His fingers traced slow, hesitant patterns on your waist, his touch light but grounding. “I’ve spent my whole life wanting this, wanting you.”
You smiled softly, your hands framing his face as you looked at him with an intensity that made his chest ache. “It’s real,” you whispered, your voice trembling but certain. “I’m here, Stan. I’m not going anywhere.”
He wanted to believe you. Wanted to believe that he could have this, that he could have you. But the fear still lingered, a shadow he couldn’t quite shake. Still, as you leaned in and kissed him again, Stan let himself forget about the doubts, the guilt, the pain—just for a little while.
Stan blinked, still dazed from the kiss, as he felt you hide your face against his neck. Your breath was warm against his skin, your words spilling out in a nervous tumble.
“Is this okay?” you asked, your voice muffled and trembling. “I mean, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I’m not trying to use you, I swear. If you’re not okay with this, just tell me, and I’ll stop. I’ll—”
Stan’s arms instinctively tightened around you, cutting off your rambling. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice low but steady. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
You pulled back just slightly, your eyes searching his with a mix of uncertainty and vulnerability. Your cheeks were flushed, and your lips were slightly swollen from the kiss, and it hit him all over again just how real this moment was.
“I mean it,” you said, your voice cracking. “I’ll stop if you want me to. I don’t want to mess this up, Stan. I—” You stopped yourself, biting your lip as tears welled in your eyes.
Stan reached up, his thumb brushing a stray tear from your cheek. His heart clenched at the sight of you so raw and open, and he realized how much he hated seeing you like this—so unsure of yourself, so afraid.
“Stop,” he said gently, his voice carrying a softness he didn’t know he was capable of. “You don’t need to explain yourself. You’re not using me. I promise you’re not.” He let out a shaky breath, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb traced the edge of your jaw. “And if I wasn’t okay with this, I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t be here like this with you.”
You stared at him, your breath hitching, and he could see the conflict in your eyes—the doubt, the guilt, the lingering fear that you were somehow doing something wrong. But he wasn’t going to let you spiral. Not now.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Stan admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared too, okay? I don’t know if we’re doing this right, or if we’re gonna screw it up, but…” He paused, his thumb still brushing your cheek, grounding both of you. “I don’t care. I just know I want to figure it out with you.”
Your lip quivered as you looked at him. Without thinking, you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. “Thank you,” you whispered against his shoulder, your voice choked with emotion.
Stan let out a small, relieved laugh, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly. “We’re in this together, okay? No more overthinking. No more guilt. Just… us.”
You pulled back slightly, your heart hammering in your chest as you looked into Stan’s eyes. They were so close, so full of emotion that it made your breath hitch. The words spilled out of you before you could stop them, raw and unfiltered.
“Can I be yours?” you asked, your voice trembling. “I mean… officially? I want to be your girlfriend, Stan.”
Stan froze, his lips parting slightly as the words settled between you. His hands, still resting on your back, tightened their hold ever so slightly. His brows knit together, a mix of hesitation and disbelief crossing his face.
“You really want that?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost unsure. “Even after everything I’ve put you through?”
You nodded without hesitation. “Yes. I’ve made mistakes too, and I know I hurt you, but I’ve never been more sure of anything. I love you, and I don’t want to keep pretending like I don’t.”
His breath hitched, and he exhaled sharply, his eyes softening as he took in your words. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” he murmured, his voice thick. He paused, searching your face for any sign of doubt, before letting out a small, shaky laugh. “Yeah. You can be mine. You’ve always been mine, really.”
Your chest felt like it might explode, the sheer weight of the moment leaving you breathless. Before you could stop yourself, you asked, “So… you’ll be mine too?”
Stan blinked at you, his lips twitching into a faint, lopsided smile. “I wanna be your boyfriend,” he said simply. His voice was rough, but there was an undeniable sincerity in his tone. “I wanna do it right this time. Dates, hand-holding, all of it. I wanna go on walks with you—just us.”
Tears stung your eyes, but they weren’t from sadness. Relief, joy, and overwhelming affection coursed through you. “I want that too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but sure.
Stan’s hands moved to cradle your face. He leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. The kiss deepened, your breath hitching as you pressed closer to him. Every brush of his lips against yours sent sparks through your body, and you felt a quiet desperation in the way you clung to him, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, the intensity of the moment making it hard to breathe.
Stan’s lips curved against yours, and you could feel the faintest hint of a smile as he pulled back just slightly. His forehead rested against yours, and his voice was soft but tinged with amusement. “You’re, uh… getting a little carried away there, dude,” he teased, his own breathing uneven.
Your face burned, and you tried to pull back, but his hands stayed firm on your waist, grounding you. “Sorry,” you mumbled, your voice shaky as your eyes darted away. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Hey,” Stan interrupted gently, tilting your chin so you’d look at him again. His blue eyes were warm, filled with something so soft and unguarded that it made your chest ache. “I didn’t say I minded.”
You bit your lip, a small, nervous laugh escaping you as you tried to steady yourself. “I just… I really want this to work, Stan. I don’t want to mess anything up.”
“You won’t,” he said firmly, his thumbs brushing soft circles on your hips. “We’ve both screwed up enough to know what we don’t want. This… this is what I want.” His voice lowered, his words carrying an almost reverent weight. “You’re what I want.”
Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they didn’t spill. Instead, you leaned in and kissed him again, slower, softer, but no less fervent. The way his hands moved, holding you as if you might disappear, made your heart swell.
You shifted slightly in his grasp, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. The soft rustle of fabric drew Stan’s attention, and his hands instinctively tightened their grip on your waist as you pulled the shirt over your head, leaving you in just your bra.
“Is this okay?” you asked, your voice trembling with nervousness, your eyes locked onto his for any sign of hesitation. Your cheeks burned, your vulnerability on full display, but the warmth in his gaze made your pulse race.
Stan swallowed hard, his eyes flickering over you before quickly darting back to your face. “Y-Yeah,” he said, his voice a little shaky but sincere. “But… you don’t have to do this just because you think you need to.”
“I’m not,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I just— I want to be close to you, Stan. I want this to feel… right. With you.”
His breath hitched, and he reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “It already does,” he murmured, his voice softer now, steadier. “You don’t have to do anything to prove that.”
You bit your lip, your heart pounding as you searched his eyes. The sincerity in his words made your chest ache, but it didn’t quell the need you felt—this overwhelming desire to bridge every gap that had ever existed between you.
Stan’s hands moved slowly, tentatively, as if giving you a chance to stop him. His fingers brushed against your sides, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “We don’t have to rush this,” he said, his voice low, his blue eyes filled with something tender, almost reverent. “I’ll wait for you. As long as it takes.”
“I know,” you whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. It was brief, but it held every ounce of emotion you couldn’t put into words. When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his, and you let out a shaky breath. “I want to, Stan. I’m sure.”
Stan exhaled sharply, his hands still resting on your bare sides, his thumbs brushing against your skin. “Okay,” he said softly, his voice laced with both hesitation and determination. “But if you ever feel like it’s too much, just tell me. Promise me.”
“I promise,” you whispered, your lips curving into a faint, nervous smile.
For a moment, neither of you moved, the air thick with unspoken emotions. And then Stan leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was deeper, more certain, more consuming than any before.
Stan’s fingers played at the hemline of your sweatpants, his touch light but deliberate, sending sparks through your skin. He teasingly dipped his fingers just below the waistband, his lips brushing against yours in a way that left you breathless.
He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, and his voice was low, almost a whisper. “Can I?” he asked, his fingers still toying with the fabric. “Can I take these off?”
Your cheeks burned as his question lingered in the air, your chest tightening with both anticipation and nervousness. You swallowed hard, nodding before you found your voice. “Yeah,” you murmured, so quiet it was almost drowned out by the sound of your own heartbeat. “Yeah, you can.”
Stan hesitated for just a moment, his gaze searching yours for any sign of uncertainty. When he found none, his hands slid to your hips, his touch steady despite the slight tremor in his fingers. Slowly, he tugged your sweatpants down, his movements careful, almost reverent.
The cool air against your skin made you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating off him as he leaned back, his gaze flickering over you. His eyes softened, the corners of his mouth twitching upward into a faint smile.
“You’re… stunning,” he said, his voice thick, the words carrying a weight that made your heart ache in the best way.
Your breath hitched, and you instinctively reached for him, pulling him closer as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. “You don’t have to say that,” you mumbled, your voice muffled and shy.
Stan chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you as he rested his hands on your waist. “I’m not saying it because I have to,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”
Your laugh was soft, a nervous yet genuine sound that made Stan’s smile widen against your temple. His hands, warm and steady, shifted you gently so your back pressed against his chest, the closeness making your heart race. His breath tickled your ear as he leaned forward, resting his head against your shoulder, his lips brushing against your skin in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.
Stan’s fingers found the waistband of your panties, his touch featherlight, teasing, as he traced the elastic edge with slow, deliberate movements. You felt heat bloom in your cheeks, your hands instinctively rising to cover your face in a mix of embarrassment and anticipation.
Stan’s hands gripped your waist firmly, keeping you steady as his lips moved against your shoulder, leaving a trail of soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His voice, low and rough, sent shivers straight to your core. “You’re so pretty like this,” he murmured, his fingers teasing just under the waistband of your panties. “Can I touch you? Really touch you?”
Your breath hitched, a mix of nerves and anticipation making your voice tremble. “Y-Yeah,” you stammered, nodding as you shifted slightly, giving him permission. “Please.”
His chuckle was warm, vibrating against your skin. “That’s all I needed to hear.” Slowly, deliberately, his fingers slipped beneath the fabric, brushing against the heat of your slick folds. A sharp inhale left your lips as he dragged a finger down your slit, collecting the wetness there before circling your clit with maddening patience.
“Fuck, you’re so wet already,” he muttered, his voice thick with awe. His lips found your neck again, sucking lightly as his fingers slid back down, testing your entrance. “All for me?”
You whimpered, your hands gripping his arms for support. “Yeah,” you whispered, barely audible, your walls clenching around nothing as you felt his finger press into you, slow and careful.
“That’s it,” he murmured against your ear, his tone soothing yet filled with need. “Relax for me. Let me make you feel good.” His finger eased in deeper, and you bit your lip, overwhelmed by the stretch even though it was gentle. “So tight,” he groaned, curling his finger slightly to test your reaction.
Your hips moved instinctively, seeking more, a soft moan escaping you as he found a rhythm, each slow thrust of his finger coaxing more sounds from you. “Stan,” you gasped, his name leaving your lips like a plea.
He kissed your neck again, adding a second finger with care, his free hand gripping your hip to keep you from pulling away. “You’re perfect,” he rasped, his fingers pumping steadily now, scissoring slightly to stretch you. The wet sounds of your arousal filled the room, obscene and intoxicating, making him impossibly harder. “Taking me so well, baby. So fucking good.”
Your breath hitched at the word, a new kind of heat spreading through you that had nothing to do with his touch. Baby. You’d never heard him call you that before, and the intimacy of it sent a jolt straight to your chest. “Baby?” you repeated breathlessly, your voice trembling as you looked back at him. Stan’s lips twitched into a faint smile, his fingers never slowing. “Yeah,” he murmured, his gaze dark and full of something you couldn’t quite name. “You are, aren’t you?” The way he said it—so natural, so sure—made your heart twist in a way that almost hurt.
Your head fell back against his chest, your thighs trembling as his pace quickened. He curled his fingers just right, hitting a spot inside you that made you cry out, your nails digging into his arm. “Right there,” you begged, your voice breaking. “Please, Stan—”
“I got you,” he interrupted, his voice low and rough as his lips brushed your ear. “Gonna make you cum for me. Just let go.”
Your walls fluttered around his fingers as he pressed his thumb to your clit, rubbing tight circles that sent pleasure shooting through you. The pressure built quickly, your moans growing louder as you bucked against his hand. “Stan—fuck—I’m—”
“Cum for me,” he growled, his teeth grazing your neck as his fingers thrust faster, relentless now. “Let me feel it.”
Your body tensed, then shattered as you came, your cries muffled as you bit down on your lip. Your thighs clenched around his hand, and he didn’t stop, drawing out every last wave of your orgasm until you slumped back against him, boneless and breathless.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with pride as he pressed soft kisses to your temple. Slowly, he eased his fingers out of you, and your breath hitched at the loss. He held them up, glistening with your release, before meeting your gaze with a smirk. “So sweet,” he muttered, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean, his eyes never leaving yours.
Your cheeks burned, but the heat in his gaze made you shiver all over again. “Stan,” you whispered, your voice still shaky. You didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t matter. He leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, grounding you as you melted into him.
Your fingers moved instinctively, threading into Stan’s hair as you deepened the kiss, your lips parting against his in a rhythm that left your heart pounding. The warmth of his body against yours was intoxicating, grounding yet electric all at once. Slowly, your hands trailed downward, brushing over the hem of his shirt before settling at the button of his jeans. You hesitated for only a moment, your eyes flicking up to meet his as you worked the zipper down with trembling fingers. His sharp intake of breath was audible, his lips parting as though to say something, but the weight of the moment rendered him silent.
Your fingers grazed the waistband of his boxers. The way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard sent a thrill through you. Slowly, you tugged at the elastic, watching as his cock sprang free, heavy and already leaking at the tip.
You exhaled sharply, your fingers hesitating for a split second before wrapping around him, the weight of him warm and solid in your hand. His reaction was immediate—his head fell back slightly, his lips parting with a low groan that sent shivers down your spine.
"Fuck," Stan muttered under his breath, his fingers gripping the sheets beside him. His hips twitched slightly, as though he was holding himself back. "You don’t… you don’t have to—"
You cut him off with a soft laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip, tasting the faint saltiness of his precum. "I want to," you murmured, your voice soft but certain, your hand starting to pump slowly, spreading the slickness along his length. "Let me take care of you, Stan."
His breath hitched, his eyes fluttering shut as you began to move with more confidence. You blew softly against his weeping head, watching as he twitched under your touch. “How are you this pretty everywhere?” you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Your lips curled into a faint smile as his eyes snapped open, dark and filled with need.
“Pretty?” he huffed, a shaky laugh escaping him as he tried to focus on your face. “You’re killing me here, dude.”
You didn’t respond, instead letting your tongue drag slowly down the length of him before circling back up to the head. His reaction was everything—his hands flew to your hair, fingers threading through it as his head fell back. "Shit—" he hissed, the sound rough and desperate.
When your lips finally closed around him, taking him inch by inch, his hips bucked slightly despite his effort to stay still. You moaned softly around him, the vibrations drawing a choked sound from his throat. "Fuck, baby," he groaned, his voice rough. "You feel so—"
You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper until his tip brushed the back of your throat. His grip on your hair tightened, not enough to hurt but enough to ground himself. "Slow down," he rasped, though the way his hips shifted betrayed how much he wanted more. "You’re—fuck—so good."
The wet, lewd sounds filled the room as you worked him over, your hand stroking the base while your tongue teased his slit. His thighs trembled under your touch, and the low, broken moans spilling from his lips only spurred you on. “Dude, I’m—” he gasped, his voice catching. “I’m close—”
He tried to tug at your hair, as if to pull you off, but you shook your head slightly, keeping your lips sealed around him. You tightened your grip on his hips, holding him in place as his cum spilled hot down your throat. He moaned your name, the sound raw and unrestrained, his body trembling as you swallowed every drop.
When you finally pulled back, a string of saliva and his release connected your lips to his cock. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, meeting his gaze with a mixture of shyness and satisfaction. "You taste so good," you murmured, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips, letting him taste himself.
Stan was still panting, his chest heaving as his hands cupped your face gently. "You’re… incredible," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He kissed you deeply, his lips moving against yours like he couldn’t get enough. "And, dude, I think you might’ve just ruined me."
You let out a soft, breathless laugh, brushing your lips against his once more. “Do you…” You hesitated, biting your lip as your cheeks flushed. “Do you have a condom?”
Stan blinked at you, his darkened gaze clearing slightly as your words registered. He stared at you for a moment, his expression caught between disbelief and a flicker of something softer, almost hesitant. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice low but steady, his thumbs brushing gently against your cheeks.
You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m sure,” you whispered, your voice trembling but full of intent. “If you are.”
Stan’s lips parted as he let out a shaky breath, his hands dropping from your face to rest on your waist. “I, uh…” He glanced toward his nightstand, a faint, sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I think I do. Hold on.”
You shifted slightly, giving him space as he leaned over to open the drawer. His movements were hurried but not frantic, his fingers rummaging through the clutter until he found what he was looking for. He held up the foil packet with a small, nervous laugh. “Got it.”
Your cheeks burned as you watched him, your stomach twisting with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. “Okay,” you said softly, your hands fidgeting slightly in your lap. “I’ve never… I mean, I don’t really know how this works, so…”
Stan paused, the condom in his hand, and turned back to you. The teasing smile he usually wore softened into something more serious, more earnest. He reached out, taking your hand in his and squeezing it gently. “Hey,” he said, his voice low and comforting. “We’ll go slow, okay? We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”
You nodded, his reassurance grounding you as you met his gaze. “I trust you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.
Stan’s expression softened further, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ll take care of you,” he promised, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I promise.”
You watched as he fumbled briefly with the condom, his hands trembling ever so slightly as he rolled it on. The vulnerability in his movements tugged at something deep in your chest. While he was focused, you reached behind yourself, unclasping your bra with shaky fingers before sliding it off. Your panties followed, leaving you completely bare before him.
When Stan turned back to you, his gaze landed on your form, and he froze. A breathless laugh escaped him, one hand running through his dark hair as he took you in. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. The awe in his tone made your cheeks flush, and you instinctively tried to cover yourself with your arms.
“Don’t,” Stan said gently, his hands catching yours and lowering them. “Don’t hide from me. Please.”
Your heart pounded as he leaned forward, pressing soft kisses along your collarbone before trailing lower. His lips found your nipples, sucking lightly at the sensitive buds, and you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair.
“Ah—S-stan,” you gasped, your voice trembling.
He didn’t reply, but the warmth of his kisses and the way he held you so delicately spoke volumes. He positioned his hard cock at your entrance, his eyes flicked up to meet yours, searching your face for any hesitation. His tip was dripping from his previous release, and the way he dragged himself across your slit, in an almost teasing manner, made you shudder.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with vulnerability.
You nodded, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer. “I’m sure,” you whispered. “I want this. I want you.”
Stan exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead against yours as he began to push forward slowly. His length parts your walls, inch by inch. The stretch was unfamiliar, and you tensed for a moment, but his hands on your waist were grounding, his voice soft and reassuring.
“Relax dude,” he murmured, kissing your temple. “I’ve got you. Tell me if it’s too much.”
You bit your lip, focusing on the sound of his breathing and the way his hands held you like you were something fragile and precious. Slowly, he eased further inside, his movements careful until he was fully in. Your hips were touching now, and the sensation was maddening.
“You okay?” Stan asked, his voice hoarse as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face.
You nodded, tears welling in your eyes—from pain, but also from the overwhelming intimacy of the moment. “I’m okay,” you whispered, your fingers trailing along his jaw. “I’m more than okay.”
Stan’s lips curved into a soft smile as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, and finally your lips. “You’re everything,” he murmured, his voice raw with emotion. “I hope you know that.”
You didn’t respond with words at first, instead pulling him closer and wrapping your arms around his neck, your lips pressing softly to him again. The kiss deepened naturally, slow and deliberate, as though neither of you wanted the moment to slip away. His hands skimmed down your sides, gripping the flesh of your ass, and you could feel the faint tremble in his touch.
“God, Stan…” you whispered, your breath hitching as you gazed into his eyes. Your cheeks burned as you added hesitantly, “Please move.”
Stan exhaled shakily, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint as he slowly drew his hips back. He watched your expression closely, searching for any sign of discomfort as he thrusted forward again.
The stretch was still there, but it wasn’t as overwhelming this time. Instead, a new kind of heat unfurled within you, building with each careful movement. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, grounding yourself in the sensation of him, the closeness of his body against yours.
“Jesus-fucking-Christ,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. His lips brushed against your temple, trailing down to your jawline as he found a steady but punishing rhythm. “So fucking tight—so tight.”
Your breath hitched, a soft moan escaping your lips as the pleasure began to build. “Stan,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “Y-you’re so deep, I—” You're cut off by his cock twitching against your walls at your words, a shiver coursing through your body.
His strokes become faster and deeper, his hands roaming your body with reverence. The intimacy of it all—the way he kissed you between every thrust, the way he whispered your name like it was something sacred—sent a surge of warmth through you that had nothing to do with the physical connection.
Stan’s lips pressed against your neck, sucking and nibbling on your soft skin. The tightening of your walls stopped his advances, his breath coming out in soft, uneven pants. “I can’t believe this is real,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “You… you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You’re—ah—you’re so good f’me.”
You cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing against his cheeks as your eyes met his. “I—fuck, I love you,” you moaned, your voice all over the place due to the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. “This is s-so not real.”
Stan’s lips captured yours again, a quiet groan escaping him as he deepened the kiss. His thrusts grew slightly faster, more confident, and you arched into him, a gasp slipping from your lips as he fucked that spot that made your vision blur.
“Right there,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Don’t fucking stop.”
“I won’t,” he promised, his voice trembling as he clung to you like you were his lifeline. “I’ve got you, baby. Always.”
The tension built higher and higher, each thrust drawing you closer to the edge. His name fell from your lips in a breathless chant, and when his hand slipped between your bodies, his thumb circling your clit, it was enough to send you spiraling.
“Stan. Stan, oh my G-god,” You choked out, your nails clawing his shoulder blades leaving red, angry marks in their wake. Stan could feel your slick arousal dripping against him, creating audible squelching noises, and he knew you were close.
Your release hit you hard, your cunt fluttering around him as waves of pleasure washed over you. Stan followed shortly after, a guttural moan leaving his lips as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hips stuttering against yours. You felt the warmth of his cum through the condom as it expanded. The way he held you so tightly as if afraid to let go, left you feeling safe, cherished.
As the aftershocks faded, Stan eased himself back slightly, his hands cradling your face as he pressed soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. “You okay?” he asked, his voice hoarse but gentle.
The soft, hoarse question lingered in the air, and you managed a shaky, “Yeah,” your voice barely above a whisper. Stan let out a small breath of relief, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks as if grounding both of you. His lips pressed against your forehead again, warm and comforting, before he shifted slightly.
The sensation of him pulling out was slow and careful, but it still made you whine softly, the emptiness leaving a dull ache behind. Your cheeks burned as the sound escaped you, and Stan’s gaze immediately snapped to your face, a faint flicker of worry crossing his features.
“Hey,” he murmured softly, his hands sliding down to rest lightly on your hips. “You okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
You shook your head quickly, your arms wrapping instinctively around his neck to pull him closer. “No,” you murmured, your voice still trembling. “I just… I don’t know. I feel… weird without you.”
Stan’s expression softened at your words, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “Weird?” he repeated, the word coming out in a gentle tease as he kissed the tip of your nose. “Is that a good weird or a bad weird?”
You hesitated, the vulnerability of the moment making your chest tighten. “Good, I think,” you admitted finally, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I just… I don’t want you to let go.”
Stan’s arms tightened around you at that, his forehead resting against yours as he let out a soft, contented sigh. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, his voice steady and reassuring. “I’ve got you.”
For a while, neither of you moved, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a blanket. The weight of everything—the vulnerability, the connection, the raw emotion—settled into something warm and steady, a feeling that made you fuzzy all over.
Finally, Stan pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice soft as he broke the silence. “Let’s clean up, yeah? I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.
A playful grin tugged at your lips despite the lingering warmth in your chest. “Okay, boyfriend,” you teased, your voice still a little shaky but lighter now.
Stan rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward into a faint smirk. “Love you, girlfriend,” he shot back, his tone carrying just enough sarcasm to make you laugh softly.
“Good,” you replied, still smiling as you brushed your fingers through his hair. “Because I’m kind of obsessed with you.”
His smirk softened into something more genuine, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’ve got no idea,” he murmured, leaning in to press another kiss to your lips.
After a moment, Stan pulled back, his cheeks slightly flushed as he gave you a sheepish smile. “Alright, seriously though, let me grab something to clean us up. Be right back.”
Kyle leaned back against the dorm door, his legs stretched out on the hallway floor as he scrolled through his phone. The muffled sounds of your voices arguing inside were barely audible, but every now and then a sharp tone or raised word would cut through. He rolled his eyes, letting out a soft scoff as he aimlessly refreshed his feed. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.
Minutes passed, and the dorm grew quiet. Too quiet. Kyle glanced at the door, debating whether to knock or just barge in to check if you two had killed each other. Just as he was pushing himself to stand, his ears caught something unmistakable—a faint moan followed by the rhythmic creak of the bed frame.
Kyle froze.
His phone slipped out of his hands, hitting the floor with a dull thud as his eyes went wide. For a moment, he stood there in disbelief, his face heating up so quickly it felt like steam might shoot from his ears. "What the actual fuck?" he whispered to himself, his voice tinged with panic.
The creaking continued, and Kyle bolted, muttering curses under his breath as he sprinted down the hall. His thoughts were a jumbled mess—equal parts disbelief, irritation, and a deep desire to bleach his brain.
Reaching Kenny and Cartman’s shared dorm, Kyle didn’t bother to knock. He shoved the door open, startling the two boys who were mid-conversation. Kenny blinked up at him from his seat on the bed, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Cartman, lounging in a beanbag chair with a bag of chips in hand, raised an eyebrow.
“What’s your problem, dude?” Cartman asked, crunching obnoxiously loud.
Kyle stood there, chest heaving, his face still flushed a deep red. And then he started laughing. Not the normal kind of laugh either—it was a borderline maniacal, disbelieving cackle that had Kenny and Cartman exchanging wary glances.
Through his hysterics, Kyle waved a hand, doubling over slightly as he tried to catch his breath. “Don’t ask,” he managed to choke out between gasps of air, his laughter tapering into a slightly unhinged giggle.
Kenny leaned back, taking a long drag from his cigarette as he eyed Kyle skeptically. “Did you, like, witness a murder or something?”
“Nope,” Kyle said, his voice cracking as he wiped at his eyes. “Worse.”
Cartman snorted. “Worse than a murder? Doubt it, bro.”
Kyle just shook his head, sinking into the nearest chair and burying his face in his hands. “Just… I’m never going near that dorm again,” he muttered, his voice muffled but filled with exasperation.
poor kyle... | part one
#south park x reader#south park x y/n#sp oneshot#stan marsh x reader#south park smut#x reader#i wanna be your boyfriend m!list
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
I’m so fucking done
#Everything’s just going downhill#The father (derogatory) is being awful. He’s being a bitch about the fact that I don’t like the bed at his house#The thing is#the bed in my room over there is the bed he used when he lived downstairs at home#He said it was comfy and he liked it#So why the hell didn’t he keep that bed for himself and get me a new one#A normal mattress#Instead he spent more money than he would have otherwise to get himself a fancy bed#Bitch????#that bed I use at his house makes everything hurt#Like I’m not even kidding#I hate him and I hate this and I hate how he is being so fucking immature and childish#Gods I might not make it to eighteen I’m gonna fucking loose it
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
number one sorcerer (and virgin) .
synopsis: req! in which your boyfriend — notorious for boasting about how good he is in bed — turns out to be all bark and no bite (until you give him some guidance, at least).
pairing: virgin!switch!gojo x f!reader
wc: est. 6k?
incl: unprotected sex, pull-out method, lots of dirty talk, a bit of teaching gojo, petnames, manhandling, size kink, clit play, praise kink, edging (himself), teasing, mocking, fingering, oral (f + slight m), cum swallowing
a/n: ty for awakening smtn in me anon it was nice to be writing a full fic again!! hope im not too rusty,, this is straight up filth tho so mdni
back when satoru and you were just friends, he liked to make it very clear to your circle of peers that he wasn’t just good at sex.
no, according to himself, he was some kind of sex god — to match his power level in sorcery, of course.
and obviously, who was anyone to think otherwise? the great gojo satoru; such a cocky and confident demeanour paired with angelic white hair, piercing blue eyes, and a tall sculpted body that other guys at the gym double-take at. him..? a virgin? hah! good one.
satoru believes that he’s done a rather spectacular job at keeping his reputation sky-high.
the only problem was.. now he had a girlfriend with high expectations to please.
since the day you’d gotten together — going multiple months strong — satoru was starting to sweat more and more knowing that his rather crucial fabrication was bound to be brought up sooner or later. you had your needs just like him, and satoru wouldn’t blame you if you were a bit worried about why he hasn’t initiated anything; y’know, since he was supposedly eros in human form and all that.
little did you know your boyfriend felt equally frustrated. for slightly different reasons.
“bro, it’d be hot if she was a virgin, but me?!” flopping back against the armrest, gojo lets out a theatrical groan while his best friend — the only other person to know of his dark secret — snickers against the cushions nearby.
“everything’d be fine if you didn’t pretend to be some incubus that makes girls cum with a snap of his finger,” geto quips unhelpfully.
satoru lifts his head, sneering when he realizes that the raven-haired man was much too busy scrolling on his phone to notice how he’s resting a pair of dirty shoes on his white couch. “that would be pretty cool..” when he only receives a disgusted glance, he huffs, suddenly feeling a bit vulnerable as his thoughts wander further. “how’m i even gonna tell her? what if she doesn’t trust me anymore?”
at last, suguru looks up with a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “you know y/n isn’t like that. just.. wait for her to initiate something and go with the flow,” he advises, lips curling into a knowing smirk.
“you find a way to be good at everything, anyway, toru. she’ll be begging for you in no time.”
as usual, geto knows him too well, because those last few words have gojo shooting up from the sofa with a grin. “ya think so?”
“hell yeah, man.” the two idiots end the discussion by dapping each other up, a confident gleam in both of their eyes.
only a couple days later, satoru discovers that going with the flow isn’t as easy as suguru advised. with your plush lips sucking his bottom one through occasional moans, along with a delicate pair of nails scratching perfectly at his undercut, he already felt himself getting breathless and aroused like a teenager.
perhaps you’ve put him under a spell; how is it that he lasts through prolonged battles while barely breaking a sweat, but having your cute hand move to rub up on his abs and pecs send his nerves into overdrive? it wasn’t like making out wasn’t uncommon for the two of you, this time it just felt so passionate with the way your hips moved to straddle his, tongue practically begging for entrance while the movie on screen was left long forgotten.
gojo can’t help but groan as your muscle explores his mouth, core ever so smoothly grinding on his bulge and igniting heat through his entire body. even as you pull away to take a breath, his grip on your waist remains stable as if you’d disappear at any moment— growing even tighter with the way you bore into his eyes hungrily. “satoru..”
your unusually seductive voice makes him audibly gulp. “y— yeah?” he whispers, glancing to the hand thats now moving down over his grey sweats. shit, this was too much, was he dreaming? he should do something, pinch himself before—
“touch me, please?” as you voice your request, you squeeze his dick so nicely that satoru swears he nearly explodes in his boxers.
he swallows, words getting lost in his throat. “i— i uh...”
for the first time in history, satoru has been rendered speechless, and you visibly panic at this realization. yet when you try to carefully maneuver off his lap and give him space, the clutch on your waist intensifies. “what— are you okay? what’s wrong?” you murmur, brows creasing with concern.
though you never brought it up, satoru’s worry about your confusion was correct; you’d been expecting him to jump your bones a week into your relationship, but seeing how he never forced anything and remained respectful was cute.. at first. after a month of rejection and being pushed away whenever things got too heated, insecurities were bound to start brewing inside you.
he better have a damn good explanation.
“i’m fine,” he reassures, “it’s just— i should probably tell you something..” refusing to meet your eyes, the sorcerer resorts to drawing shapes against the skin under your t-shirt. in other situations, this would feel soothing, relaxing even — but currently, his lacking and lingering touch made you want to rip the hairs off your head.
all you wanted was to finally get a taste of your steaming hot boyfriend. what could he possibly need to say right now? you ponder, hasn’t he been dying to finally show off how amazing he is in bed?
“yes..?”
“it’s actually a funny story, ahaha..” he stalls, chuckling nervously as you turn his jaw to make eye contact. a feeling of impatience and neediness pulls through you, but you contain yourself with a deep breath.
“spit it out, satoru.”
there was no going back now, right? “so.. i’ve uh— i’ve never actually done this before.”
you blink.
“you’re a virgin?”
it was difficult to believe your own words; it sounded wrong no matter how hard you tried to wrap your head around it. satoru being inexperienced? the satoru with a rock hard 6 pack? the satoru with biceps that bulge out of his shirts and a face sharp enough to be sculpted by aphrodite herself? your satoru?
it sounded ridiculous, but the ugly pout rising across his lips tells you that it wasn’t a prank after all. “hey, don’t call me that, now it sounds way worse!”
a sigh escapes your lips, arms folded across your chest. “so all those never have i ever games and stories you told about one night stands were— mph!" before you know it, a large hand is covering your mouth.
“listen, how about we talk about this after having some fun?” a surprisingly determined gleam shines in your boyfriend’s icy blue eyes, making your thighs clench together in excitement.
who were you to say no to that?
—
next thing you know, pillows support your back as a shirtless satoru lies directly in front of your clothed crotch, hot breath making you wiggle around impatiently.
“jus— just take it off me, toru. so damn slow—“
“baby,” he scolds, looking genuinely upset, “this is my first time seeing a pussy in real life and you’re ruining it with your lack of patience.”
you can only roll your eyes and groan, head flopping back against the cushions in boredom. there was no way to predict how satoru’s first time would go, but you never expected it’d be this agonizing on your end — nor that he’d be so bossy.
though luckily, after another deep breath, your panties are gently tugged down your legs, and satoru can only inhale as he watches your poor hole clench around nothing. it only made sense that after all that dry humping and making out that your neediness increased, and it didn’t help that you could clearly see the way satoru was not only rock hard, but much bigger than average through his grey sweats.
“ooh.. oh shit..” like the invasive pervert he is, satoru moves even closer to the point where your thighs rest on his muscular shoulders before taking two fingers to spread your lips apart. this way, he has a clear view of the place that needs him most, and it makes a furious blush blossom on your cheeks.
“s— satoru.. what are you doing?” now you felt like the virgin, desperately attempting to shut your legs with no avail. damn this big idiot and his strength.
suddenly, his piercing eyes snap up to you, a feral look in his gaze. “shit, how’m i gonna fit in this little hole?”
you can’t deny the way his dirty words does something to you — not that you’d ever admit it. “that’s why you gotta prep me, toru. y’know..” you gulp, “fingering, or like.. eating me out.”
in response, you get a cheshire grin. “sounds fun. show me how you do it, sweets.”
“w-what?”
satoru leans back, attemping to hold in a mischievous smile. “how else am i gonna learn?”
even masturbating alone makes you flush in slight embarassment, so doing it in front of someone else — your cheeky, shamleess boyfriend no less — had you drowning in nerves. the bigger problem was that his words held a strong point; you’re supposed to be teaching him for his first time and ensuring it’s as enjoyable as possible.
these reminders make you mumble out a gentle fine, breath stuttering as you spread your legs further for the man in front of you.
satoru is now resting his weight on the palms of his hands, looking laid back and relaxed, but evidently still focused at the way your fingers move to unclasp your bra with skill. “damn..” as your tits are freed, he finds himself needing to adjust his sweatpants and nearly letting out a pathetic noise you would definitely tease him for.
you gulp, trying to ignore his blatant gawking. “it’s good to.. y’know, tease a bit before getting straight to it. makes it feel better — for me, at least,” you explain while massaging your chest, hiding surprise at the way he sternly nods in understanding.
now that you think about it, something tells you this is the most focused satoru has ever been in a learning environment.
after a bit more pinching and fondling, your hands slide down to your stomach and thighs, trying to get your breathing to relax. having gojo watch you do something so private was.. surreal, but you know for a fact you’ve never been this wet before, if that meant anything.
once you finally move down to your most intimate part, satoru takes a deep breath. he watches as you use your fingers to reveal a small bundle of nerves, pulsing and desperate for attention. “this is the clit, toru. s’very important.”
his eyes light up. “oh, i know that one!” he announces proudly, “i remember suguru saying i have to.. uh, worship it or something.”
you snicker at the thought of geto giving out sex pointers. “mhm, sometimes penetration isn’t enough, so you need to give it attention or i can’t really finish.”
gently, you start massaging the bud in circles, humming at the feeling of finally getting some type of relief. you move down to your hole to collect some of your wetness before bringing it back up, letting out a moan in satisfaction.
the way satoru licks his lips as you finally plunge a finger into your wetness has you shivering, but you remind yourself that for now, this was simply a demonstration and that you’d get a taste of him later.
after adding another, you attempt to reach your sweet spot by curling upwards, but it seems that even your hopelessly inexperienced boyfriend could tell that it was getting nowhere.
“aw,” he pouts teasingly, “lil’ fingers can’t reach anything, huh?”
“shut— shut up, satoru.”
before you know it, he’s moved onto his stomach again, face to face with your pussy and gripping your now soaked fingers. “you use these pathetic things when y’masturbate, huh? imagining my dick while having such tiny fingers up your cunt? kinda offended, babe..”
you feel your tummy flip, where did he learn to talk like that?
“do you have to be so vulg—“ you’re cut off by a choking gasp as a warm, wet muscle licks a stripe from your hole all the way to your clit.
“thanks for the lesson. ‘think i got it from here,” is all satoru says before he’s diving in, slurping up as much of your essence as possible before latching his plush lips right onto your poor little clit.
you can’t help but wiggle around at the jump in stimulation, but that only lasts about five seconds before a muscular arm presses you firmly against the mattress, rendering you trapped and unable to escape to his ministrations.
“hey, slow down!” your words are coincidentally yelped out right as he wiggles a much bigger finger into you. it explores your insides eagerly, caressing and feeling up what satoru believes will be his new favourite place.
“wow..” sluuurp, “so warm n’ soft in here..” he happily mumbles against your pussy. the vibrations of his now deeper voice shoot through you like electricity, eliciting another choked whine from your throat.
it felt like he was just toying with you; looking way too content drinking up everything you offered, fluid rushing down his chin and nose pushed firmly against your pelvis to inhale your scent.
suddenly, he’s jabbing his fingertip right into that pocket of sunshine that makes your eyes roll back, a loud whimper leaving your throat before you could stop it. “satoru, right there!” he swiftly seperates from your clit just to mumble out a here? in confirmation, prodding your sweet spot over and over in record breaking speed.
when you nod, he grins smugly, now adding another finger to stretch you further. “mmmph, this is pretty fun. could lie here all night.”
luckily, you barely process his words, much too busy enjoying the best finger-fuck of your life — and this was only his first time, you remember, what will the bastard do to you once he’s got some practice in?
a shaking hand tumbles into his snowy locks, attempting to pull him back weakly. “wait, m’gonna cum, toru—“
gojo growls almost animalistically, tugging your hand back onto the sheets. “then fuckin’ do it,” he demands. “c’mon, i’ve earned it, right?” then, he sucks even harder, fingers slamming and curling and making the loudest squelch you’ve ever heard.
“see?” he continues, “lil’ cunt wants to cum so bad for me. knows who 'er owner is already.” his filthy words definitely take part in the way your orgasm hits like a train, body shaking and toes curling as you let the feeling of bliss take over you. you flinch at how swiftly his tongue licks up everything you give him, the fingers in his hair tugging harder in overstimulation.
“toruuuuu..”
he simpers, tasting his cum-covered lips. “yeeees?”
“this— this is your first time, i should be making you feel good.”
slowly but surely, your eyes reopen, meeting your boyfriend’s relaxed gaze as he rubs your thigh affectionately. “dunno what you’re talking about, i felt pretty good just now.” when you only pout further, he snickers, pushing some of his bangs back smoothly. “c’mon, there’s lots of time for you to get me off later. m’ too excited for the main event..”
at last, he reaches for his sweatpants, more than excited to tug them down and finally give his aching cock some freedom. satoru doesn’t think he’s ever had a more painful boner in his life, but it was all worth seeing you release all over his tongue and fingers.
right as he finishes untying the knot, pale fingers drifting up to the waistband, you’re smacking him away to make room for your own hands. he watches with an open mouth as you pull his boxers down along with his pants, leaky, hard cock springing free and nearly hitting you in the face.
shit, of course his dick is perfect too. with a bit of white hair at the base, bulging veins adorned the entirety of his massive length, and the tip — shit, the tip was even bigger than the rest, mushroom shaped and angry red. his balls looked equally agitated and full — the epitome of breeder balls, and you gulped at the thought of him filling you up with everything they had.
now his question from earlier made sense, and he seems to be enjoying the realization on your face from his spot kneeling on the bed. “like what’cha see?” he coos, one big hand lowering to relieve the aching in his balls.
“toru, i don’t know if you’ll even fit. why— why do you have to be so big?” it’s annoying, you want to say — but the white-haired man has already laid back and manhandled you onto his chiseled stomach, a yelp escaping you at his suddenness.
he’s smiling so hard at your little dilemma that it’s almost sick, hands resting behind his head cockily. “tell me more while you ride me, baby.”
after processing that all you’ve been doing is feeding his size kink and inflating his already massive ego, you frown. “i’m serious, toru!”
“what!? i’m serious too!” the man defends with fake innocence, blue eyes shining in glee. “you’re the expert here, remember? ‘supposed to be teaching me how it’s done.”
all you do is grumble whilst moving down to sit between the sorcerer’s thighs, lightly prepping him with your fist and a dribble of spit from your mouth that has the white-haired male biting his lip. “fuck..” satoru can’t recall how many times he’s masturbated to the mental image of this exact moment, but now that it was finally happening, he promised himself to savor it as much as possible.
when you move to finally straddle him, hole hovering just above his length, he begins bucking his hips up desperately. “hurryyy…”
“are you in heat or something?” you snort, giving him a dirty glare as if you weren’t about to let him inside you.
“for you? yeah.” satoru offers you a cheesy wink and grin that dissipates the second your warmth encloses his aching tip. his hands slowly move up to grip your waist, jaw clenching in an attempt to not slam you down to his balls right then.
“ngh… fuuuck, baby,” he groans as you ever so carefully move down another inch. “jesus.. you’re sooo damn tight. dunno’ how you’re even taking me..”
you squeeze your eyes shut in attempt to bare the discomfort for him, a slight crease growing between your brows. “satoru, fuck— hurts..” he immediately reopens his eyes in worry, searching for a way to take your pain away.
yes, he could already tell that he enjoyed being meaner with you in bed — but it’s never fun if you don’t feel good as well. though he luckily recalls your lesson from earlier, moving a soft thumb down to massage your clit in tight circles.
when you jolt and nearly faceplant into his neck, he only grins proudly, now using one veiny hand to help push you further onto him. “theeere we go.. aw, feel better?”
“mhm, feels full..” you mumble back, looking down to see that you — unbelievably — still had a couple inches to go.
satoru feels like he’s about to burst on the other hand, thriving in pure ecstasy at the feeling of your walls massaging him just perfectly. he can’t help but thrust up and force his last inches inside you, an echoing smack! of skin against skin singing through the room and eliciting a startled yelp from your throat.
“toru!” despite your scolding, you can’t deny the perfection in which his tip kissed your g-spot effortlessly. his hands felt ever so soothing, comfortingly running up and down as you sat impaled on his cock, wiggling around to get comfortable and ruining him in the process.
just as you start to adjust, you feel yourself being lifted up. “m’ sorry sweets..” gojo suddenly voices, “i can’t..”
“huh? what do you m—ah!” you’re flipped onto your back before you know it, knees resting on the shoulders of your boyfriend who has a gleam in his pupils that you’ve quite frankly never seen before; he looked feral.
satoru carefully pulls out until only his tip is encased in your warmth, and everything is calm for a moment. you both take a deep breath, and he smiles down at your already fucked-out face with pride. “satoru—“
then he’s pushing back in with all the strength his massive hips can produce, and you think if it weren’t for his hands wrapped around your thighs, you would’ve got pushed off the bed entirely. you unintentionally let out the loudest sound of the night, and this sets him off.
now he was getting brutal, bullying your cunt with hit after hit against the spot that has drool dripping down your cheek and eyes crossing. you can’t even stop the pathetic noises and symphonies of right there! that leave your lips, no matter how hot your cheeks flush in embarrassment. it felt as though every time his dick jabbed back in he was right up in your tummy, veins pulsing and ensuring your pussy is molded to the perfect sleeve for him.
“toru, shit— nghh, faster, please! feels s’good!”
“nghh, toru, faster! ahaha..” he mocks you — of course he does, but picks up the pace nonetheless — now holding your lower body up so that your knees dangle higher over his shoulders and each stroke is angled exactly where you want him. “so cute when you’re gettin’ stuffed full, baby.”
he leers as you send him the harshest expression you can manage, reaching down for your clit and giggling as you start squirming in an attempt to escape the overwhelming pleasure. this bastard is having way too much fun, you realize, moans being forced out of you almost tauntingly.
tonight you discover that satoru’s way of fucking is rather animalistic, frantic, thrilling, and with the sole purpose of making you both feel as good as possible. if you want him to go slow or make love to you, you’d probably have to ask beforehand — or perhaps tie him up so you could have your fun in peace.
if your insides weren’t being rearranged, you’d grin at the thought of your boyfriend restrained and at your mercy. another night, you promise yourself.
“tightest pussy ever f’my first time baby.. haah.. can’t believe i’ve been missin’ out on this.” for once, something praising comes out of his big mouth, breathes getting cut short every time you involuntarily squeeze him harder. he swears there’s no better feeling then what you were giving him right now, not even singlehandedly resurrecting himself using the reversed curse technique.
and while no injuries have ever left a scar on gojo satoru, he decides that the claw marks you’re ruthlessly digging into his back will stay as long as his body allows — why should he hide how good he’s made you feel despite being a virgin an hour prior?
maybe if he’s in the mood to brag, he’ll show them to suguru later.
“feels good toru, fuckin’ me so good,” you feel the way his whole body reacts to your praises, a deep growl melting from his lips as the sounds of skin slapping increasingly grows in volume.
“babyyy,” he pants, legs being held higher while he digs deeper into your guts, “m’gonna cum.. need you to cum with me.“ the twitching of his length inside you gave away the fact that gojo has practically been on the edge ever since he pushed into you — and while he knows it’s completely normal to cum prematurely on your first time, when has he ever not gone above expectations?
in a split second you’re flipped onto your hands and knees, veiny hands pushing you into a deep arch while your boyfriend gives his body a moment to relax, pinching his base (a rather perverted method he’s learned by edging himself while masturbating) between his thumb and pointer.
when you needily wiggle your hips in an attempt to find his cock again, he grins boyishly. “lookin’ for this?” he sings the words right before plunging his entire length back into you, abusing your g-spot while a lanky finger impressively finds the bud between your legs right away (a skill that most ‘experienced’ men you’ve previously been with fail to achieve), circling and pinching in a frantic attempt to make your orgasms arrive in sync.
“fucking hell.." you whine, the new angle making his tip bump against spots that have never been rubbed before. “can feel you so deep..”
“oh yeah?” his bicep pulls you up so your head rests on his broad shoulder, now victim to the filth being whispered directly into your ear. “m’ i doing good? fuckin’ this lil’ pussy nice and deep like she needs?”
when you nod, he beams like a maniac, seemingly encouraged to pound you even harder as his hips pick up the pace. “damn, ‘think i’m already a pro at this, huh?”
for the sake of your sanity, you ignore his bragging. “toru, don’t stop. i’m— i’m gonna..”
“you’re gonnaaa?” he derides, kissing the corner of your lip sweetly. “tell me, baby.”
“gonna cum for you, please.” satoru almost decides to fill you up at those words, but his self control is just a bit stronger. he feels the way your cunt is pulsing, body practically shaking as you get closer and closer to release, and he’s determined to help you reach it.
his thrusts get a bit sloppier, and you’re too busy basking in your own pleasure to see the eye-candy that is gojo biting his swollen lips, sweat dripping down his temples all the way to his solid abs, snowy bangs a tad bit moist against his forehead. he looked like the definition of temptation; straight out of a wet dream with stamina that seemingly never declined.
“me too, baby. c’mon, cum on this dick. s’all yours to ruin.”
you moan as you allow yourself to let go, toes curling and nails digging into his toned forearms ecstatically. “thaaat’s it, good girl.. ahah.. such a good girl f’me.” he talks you through it as if he’s done so a million times, both of you looking down to watch your release coat his dick and the crumpled sheets below.
at his praise, you squeeze him just a bit tighter, making his lips curl up in interest. “my girl likes being praised, huh? yeah.. doing so good makin’ a mess on me..”
he pulls out, carefully lowering you to the mattress before tugging on his dick in hopes of reaching his own peak. satoru forces himself to open his eyes just enough to admire the view of you fucked out below him, body shaking slightly as you recover from the intense waves of your orgasm.
“y/n,” he abruptly whines, patting your shoulder with a subtle urgency in his voice.
“..mhmm?”
“where can i cum? quick baby— please, i’ve been holding this for way too long—“ this has your body moving, eyes popping open as you swiftly bend down so your mouth hovers directly in front of him.
you replace his fist with yours as soft lips move to suckle harsly on his leaking tip, and now it’s gojo who has his eyes rolling back; whimpers flying out of his throat every time your tongue massages the delicate underside, sending visible shocks through his body. “fuck!” he can only curse and run his fingers through your hair for support while you pump him dry. “just like that, good.. haah.. good fuckin’ girl, shiiit.”
you’ve never seen your boyfriend — the strongest — look so pathetic and desperate, but it only spurs you on further, enjoying the way he continues to blabber about how pretty you are and how he’s gonna fill your mouth like he would your pussy. in response, you greedily hum around him, licking through his slit as if you were pleading the little hole to give you what you deserved.
and only moments later, satoru’s words become reality; though he attempts to keep revelling in the feeling of your warm lips and hands, his body stills in place instinctively, one last warning tumbling out of his throat as your mouth is flooded with rope after rope of bitterly sweet fluid.
it seems like your accusations about his breeder balls were correct, because once it starts it seemingly never ends; cum now overflowing from the corners of your lips as you struggle to swallow frequently enough to not choke on how much he deposits.
meanwhile, gojo feels like he is quite literally ascending, everything becoming unimportant next to you and the feeling of pleasure being forced through him like an overwhelming earthquake, pulse after pulse as you suck him for all he’s worth.
“thas’ right.. take every damn drop, baby.” when satoru looks down and earns a glimpse of the white fluid trickling down your chin, his dick twitches in your mouth. “god, you’re so sexy..”
once he was done, you both flop onto the bed in exhaustion, and while the vulnerable moment has utmost potential to become something cute and memorable, a certain blue-eyed bastard decides to open his mouth once again.
“what’re you huffin’ and puffin’ for?” he sasses, shamelessly eyeing the way your tits rose and fell with every breath you took. “all you did was lie there while i had a full body workout!”
you take a very deep breath. “i just let you put your dick inside me. shut the fuck up.”
at your reminder of what’d just occurred, he grins like an idiot. “you’re right, thank you.” they’re soft, but he ensures his words are as audible and genuine as he can make them.
satoru isn’t exactly the best with words, but he knows damn well that — despite all the bullshit he'd spouted at those parties — you’re the only person he wanted to have his first time with, and the fact that you allowed his wish to become reality is something he’ll forever be grateful for.
“i love you..” you soften. “even if you’re a pillow princess.” you stiffen again.
nothing could stay lovey-dovey with him for too long.
a fake cry is pulled from his lips as you rudely smack his shoulder. “i tried to ride you but you flipped me over after ten seconds!”
“it’s not my fault you're as slow as a fuckin' snail!”
somehow, you both make it to the washroom despite all the banter. just as you bend over in hopes of starting the shower up, a mean spank is delivered to your ass.
when you turn to meet the culprit, he only narrows his eyes at you playfully. “round two, m’lady?” it’s almost like his voice lowers on purpose, dirty words rumbling in his throat, knowing what it did to your body.
you do your best to send him a disappointed glance anyway. “day one of not being a virgin and you’re already the horniest man i know.”
after following you inside, his fluffy hair flattens from the steamy water before nudging you back, encasing you between him and the solid wall.
“i might be willing to overlook the fact that you know other horny men if you agree to some very loving, extremely intimate making out,” he requests with a smirk, sleek nose poking yours in a much gentler way than expected.
you still send him a distrusting raise of your brow. “only making out, huh?”
the dirty smirk he sends you is all you need to know, along with his hardened dick pressing against your thigh as he moves in to kiss you.
what have you gotten yourself into?
mlist! gojo showing off his back scratches! <- if you enjoy silly virgin gojo pls lmk in the reblogs, comments, or asks <3
© inmaki on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.
tags: @gojoallmine @allofffmypeaches @haitaniholic @pandoraium
#inmaki#gojo satoru x reader#gojo smut#gojo x you#jjk gojo#gojo x y/n#gojo x reader#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojou satoru x reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen drabbles#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x y/n#jujutsu satoru#jjk x female reader#satoru x reader#gojo satoru#jjk x you#satoru smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk#jjk satoru#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jjk headcanons#jujutsu kaisen fluff#gojo fluff#gojo x female reader#jujutsu kaisen satoru
10K notes
·
View notes
Note
CAN U PLZ DO BABY DADDY SUKUNA AND SURUGU TOO?? (i love u)
THAT'S JUST MY BABY DADDY! #3 — GETO + SUKUNA
SYNOPSIS...geto and sukuna being annoying baby daddies that still make their way into your pants
INFO...sukuna x fem!reader, geto x fem!reader, p in v, sloppy kisses, baby daddy drama (yk the drill), jealousy, alcohol mentioned, possessiveness, choking, spanking
OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated
thanks for the request anon (i love you too)
part 1 part 2
SUKUNA
you finally got your daughter down to sleep, placing her stuffie beside her, shutting her light off and walking out her room. Just as you were getting ready to wash the dishes, your doorbell rang, an annoyed sigh leaving your lips. “Who the hell is ringing my doorbell so late?” You stomp over to the door. “Who is it?” You call out.
“Ryo!” No one other than your baby daddy. As if you weren’t already annoyed, you roll your eyes and open the door to see him standing there. His eyes rake over your body as if he didn’t see you just an hour ago when he dropped his daughter off. “I left her blanket at my place. Thought I bring it back.” He stepped into your house without hesitation.
“Damn, well come on in,” you scoff, shutting the door behind him. He tosses the blanket on the couch. “She’s sleeping, so don’t wake her.” You walk towards the sink, turning it on.
He hums in response, walking around your house, seeing how tidy you keep it, remembering all the moments you two shared before breaking up. He ever so carefully walks up behind you, leaning against the counter. He just looks at you, smirking to himself. “I can feel you staring, weirdo.” You glance over your shoulder.
He laughs, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Can you blame me?” He exhales, stepping closer and closer until he’s inches away from you. His hands reach out and snake around your waist, startling you. “How’ve you been?” He asks, his sultry tone sending chills down your spine.
You shake your head at his weak attempt to get in your pants. “Leave me alone, Ryomen.” You nudge him with your elbow.
“Come on! I know you’re not getting good dick anywhere else. When was the last time we did it, huh? A month?” He questions. You groan in annoyance, turning the sink off and drying your hands on the towel.
“That was the final time.” You stare at him. “We promised no more after that.”
“You really think I meant it? Think a promise is gonna keep me away from you?” He cages you in between him and the counter.
“I’m not just some girl you’re gonna fuck when you wanna get your dick wet.” You push him away from you and walk over to the couch to grab your daughter’s blanket. “Find someone else.”
He laughs at your stubbornness, trailing behind you. “You know no one tastes or feels as good as you. Why do you think I keep coming back, hm?” He narrows his eyes at you.
“Ryomen, I’m not doing this shit with you tonight. Get your dick wet somewhere else,” you say, annoyance in your tone. His warm hands find your waist once again and he’s pulling you closer to him. His soft lips kiss down your neck and back up towards your jaw.
“Just once more. I swear that’ll be the last time,” he whispers. And you don’t know if he casted some type of spell on you or something because within the next five minutes he was in your bed.
Your knees were pushed to your chest, a long whine leaving your lips every time he hit your g-spot, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “Feel so fucking good around me,” he grunts, pressing his forehead against yours. “That’s right, lemme look into those eyes, show me how good I make you feel.”
You’re clinging onto his biceps, nails leaving crescent marks in his skin the harder and faster he goes. God, you hate to admit how good it feels. How good he feels. “Mmmm, Ryo. Fuck!” You moan, your jaw slack as pushes his cock deeper.
“Can feel this pussy squeezing me. You gonna cum, baby? Yeah? Yeah?” He coos, a smug smile on his face as he pushes your legs farther. “There you go, baby. Yes, cum all on my dick. Goddamn.” He watches your eyes roll back, a soft cry leaving your lips, your body shaking.
“This…this is the last time!” You manage to speak, looking up at him through your lashes.
“Shut up.” He kisses you sloppily, swiping his tongue against yours, continuing to pound your poor cunt. He knows this won’t be the last just as much as you know. You’re only saying it to make yourself feel better about cumming on his dick so easily.
GETO
after a stressful week, you were finally able to go out and have fun with your best friend, Shoko, while Utahime offered to watch your daughter for the night. It felt good to get out, drinking, dancing, a change of scenery compared to being cooped up in the house all day. You’re swaying your hips to the music, taking shots and you can already feel the regret coming next morning.
“Hey!” Shoko shouts. “I think Suguru is here!” She looks in the direction where he’s sitting.
“What?” You lean in closer towards her.
“Suguru! He’s here!” She points towards the crowd and to where the seating area is. You follow to where to points and see Suguru talking to some random girl on his lap, laughing his way into some mediocre sex.
“So what?!” You shout back, shrugging your shoulders. “He probably doesn’t even know I’m here! Fuck it!” You smile at Shoko, grabbing her to dance.
“I’m gonna go grab another drink!” She lets go of your hand and walks towards the bar.
You’re too tipsy to even care, in your own little world, dancing and eyeing all the handsome men around you. “Excuse me?” You feel hands on your waist and turn to see a tall, muscular man looking right at you. “Sorry, I just wanted to say you’re beautiful. I saw you dancing from over there!” He points to his seating lounge. “Wanna come sit?”
“Thank you!” You smile, placing your hand on his broad chest. “I’m here with my friend. Can we wait for her—oh there she is. Shoko!” You wave her over and she hurries through the crowd. “He invited us to sit with him, come on.”
“Fuck it, I’m down.” She sips from her drink.
The man grabs your hand and leads you through the crowd of people. It felt good to sit after standing in heels all night. After settling down you could finally get a better look at the man, noticing his sharp features and the scar on the corner of his lip. How handsome he was. What you didn’t notice was how closely Suguru was watching you, eyeing your every move. He took notice of the way your hand ended up on that guys thigh, how easily you laughed at his jokes.
“I’ll be back, gonna grab us some shots.” The girl got up from off his lap.
“Yeah, you do that.” He said without moving an inch, so fixated on you and you only. He couldn’t deny how good you looked tonight. Hands and toes freshly did, your hair in a style he’s never seen, and that dress that hugged your body so tight, showing off every curve you had. Without hesitation, he got up from his seat and walked over.
Shoko looked behind her just in time, eyes wide before immediately turning to face you. “He’s coming over.” She tapped your leg.
“Huh?” Your brows creased.
“Suguru!” She yelled in a whisper. “He’s walking over—heyyyy!” She smiled up at him.
“Hey, Shoko. Hey, y/n.” He greeted you.
You ignored him, sipping from your glass, hugging against the man who you knew as Toji, his arm wrapped around your waist. There was an awkward tension in the air, Shoko clearing her throat as she smiled.
“Y/n, can I talk to you really quick?” He stood in front of you now. “We’ll just be five minutes.” He looked at Toji, grabbing you away from him.
“Ugh, what do you want? Do you have to ruin every fun thing I do?” You follow him into the bathroom. He locks the door, standing before you, looking into your eyes. “What, Suguru?” You fold your arms over your chest.
He knows he’s tipsy, and so are you but he can’t deny what he’s feeling right now and from the looks of it, he can tell you’re feeling the same exact way. “You piss me off. But fuck, you look good doing it. Hugging up on that random ass guy, touching him.” He grits his teeth.
“Don’t be a hypocrite. I saw your little girlfriend sitting on your lap earlier. Where is she now?” You raise a brow.
“She’s a random girl. Don’t even know her name. Why? You jealous?” He walks closer towards you, closing the gap.
“Are you?” You retort, never breaking eye contact with him. There’s several seconds of silence besides the blaring music in the background, until his lips are suddenly on yours, stealing every breath.
Minutes later, you’re bent over the bathroom sink, your skirt bunched up at your waist while he pounds into you. His hand is wrapped around your throat as you grip the sink, feeling like your legs were about to give out any second. “Sugu…fuck!” You whimper. His hips slam against yours, your body jolting forward.
“That’s right, pretty. This is my pussy. Look at how well she’s taking me,” he chuckles, looking down at the way his cock disappears inside of you so effortlessly. “My god.” He lands a few harsh slaps on your ass.
You’re reaching out, pushing back on his stomach in attempts to get him to slow down, feeling like you were going to crumble beneath him. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” You cry. “You’re so fucking deep!” You gasp.
“Yeah?” He pulls you flush against his chest, nibbling on your earlobe. “That’s just how you like it. Deep and slow, hard and fast. I know all the ways to make you cum,” he whispers. He grips your throat tighter. Plap! Plap! Plap! “Better hope your new boyfriend doesn’t realize how long you’ve been gone. Don’t want him to get suspicious.”
Your body convulses as a harsh orgasm takes over you. “Ah! I’m cumming!” You whine before your jaw drops. Geto can feel your pussy fluttering around his cock, making it hard for him not to cum inside. But, now that he thinks about it…that wouldn’t be all too bad.
#—☆classyrbf#jjk#jujustu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk smut#geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#geto smut#geto suguru smut#geto x reader smut#geto suguru x reader smut#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna smut#sukuna x reader smut#ryomen sukuna x reader smut#jjk x reader smut
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
alastor request HAI can it be based on the fact that alastor doesn't sleep, and it's his lover finding out that petting his ears during cuddling makes him fall asleep.
thank you for your service
yess i love sleepy alastor thank u so much anon :D!!
Goodmorning, Love
Alastor x Reader (fluff) TW: none! join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══
You were well aware of the Radio Demon’s sleep habits. Or, well, lack of sleep habits. You often spent nights in his room, where he would sit with you in bed until you fell asleep and go do whatever the hell he gets up to late at night. You always woke up in an empty room, and often so in the middle of the night, struggling to rest again as a greedy tightness gripped your chest in worry and disappointment.
You understood, though, and tried your best not to let it get to you that you didn’t have his warm body next to you when you woke every morning. But you couldn’t help that twinge of sadness. You weren’t particularly needy or clingy, but would it kill him to stay in bed with you for a single night? And to have a slice of domestic bliss as you woke up?
Obviously.
You roll your eyes as you lay, staring up at the ceiling. You had just gotten ready for bed, and now waited for said demon to join you for a few hours. Your fingers tapped, impatient, against your chest as you hummed absentmindedly.
“How lovely,” You heard him speak. Tickles of that radio static that always followed him clung to your exposed skin, which was signal enough that he had entered the room had he not announced himself. “What a siren you are, luring me here with that hum of yours.”
You smiled slightly at his comment, scooching over slightly to encourage him over. He obliged, joining you under the covers. He still wore his usual outfit, which made sense considering his tendency to go away all night. You purse your lips at the thought, slightly chewing on the skin.
“Why the face?” Of course he noticed your expression. He always noticed when any emotion tickled your face. You appreciated the genuine tone in his voice, the typical buzz of radio barely detectable in his words. He always got a little softer and kinder when he was alone with you like this.
You appreciated nights with him, being able to see a side of him that nobody else would live to spread word of. You enjoyed feeling a little special, especially to somebody like him.
“Do you think you could stay in,” You asked cautiously, fiddling with your hands as you inched closer to him, pressing your body against his. Even laying, he still seemed much taller than you. You gingerly guided his head down, against your chest as you spoke, hoping the multitasking would keep him from sitting up and rejecting your intimate gestures. “Just for a night. I miss you all night long.”
He allowed his head to lay against you. He did feel tense, of course, letting the back of his head be exposed in this manner as he lay vulnerable on you. It was a strange feeling, but not one he cared to consider for too long.
“(Y/N),” He began with a sigh. “It’s impossible for me to get much done during the day, what with all the running around Charlie does. Somebody has to keep an eye on that young princess. I prefer to stay awake to get my own errands done at night.”
I know that, you wanted to say and interrupt his explanatory ramble. You wanted to beg him to understand, just this once. You held in a sigh, watching as his head gently rose and fell with every breath you took. Maybe you should just take this submission from him as good enough.
You gingerly began tangling your fingers through his red hair, brushing out any kinks he may have gotten throughout the day. His tense body seemed to ease slightly, becoming more and more relaxed as you weaved your fingers through the locks.
“You have really soft hair, Al,” You commented, changing the subject. You figured there was no use convincing him. You let your fingers lightly trail upwards, up to his ears. You grazed them slightly with a finger. You touched again. When he made no motion of dislike, you fully began rubbing them. Petting him. You smiled to yourself at the idea of petting the feared Radio Demon. “And your ears are even softer.”
“I try to take care of myself,” He responded proudly. There was another hint of something in his voice, but you couldn’t quite place what it was. But it seemed heavy. “A well groomed man is a successful one.” You absentmindedly agreed as you stroked the velvety fur of his ears, switching back and forth between them and his hair. You had a preference for the ears, though.
You sighed and began humming quietly again. He rarely got so… comfortable, even around you. He always had some sort of guard up, always had his shoulders squared. He almost never became so… loose and vulnerable.
You noticed the clippings of radio frequency had stopped, which was a noise that was ever present in his wake. You had a suspicion why it disappeared, a small grin forming on your face.
Yes, the Radio Demon never slept. But that was a choice he made, not a curse that prevented him. Even demons get tired. You don’t know how Alastor makes it day by day without a wink of rest, but it was apparent that exhaustion had built up in him. He just needed to relax for a second.
You graced your fingers over his fringe, and craned your neck in a way to get a glance at his face. Yeah, you were right.
He laid there, eyes shut, features relaxed with the lightest grin playing on his face. Even in sleep, you complained. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was the sound of his deep, slow breathing and occasional twitch of his velvety ears. You briefly wondered what the Radio Demon would dream about.
Would he be aggravated with you when he woke up, realizing you had practically cast a sleep spell on him? You didn’t, but the rate of which exhaustion took over may as well have been some sort of magic.
You shut your own heavy eyes, exhaling lightly as you continued to comfort yourself with the texture of his fur and hair. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.
You craned your arms and neck as consciousness came back to you, but an unfamiliar weight kept you from getting that good stretch in. Momentarily confused, you blinked open and looked down.
Red and black hair, more of a mess than usual, still took place on your torso. This was a first, and your chest felt like exploding with the glee of seeing Alastor still resting with you. He somehow looked even more relaxed than the night before, his cheek flush against your stomach, squishing his lips up slightly. A light grin was still there.
You gently brushed your fingers over his face, trailing a line around his features with an index finger. His eyes squeezed for a moment, and that static ambience of his slowly, quietly, returned. It was a noise that you had learned to find comfort in. He slowly opened his red eyes, a confused and sleepy daze clouding them. There was a wrinkle in his brow as he roughly propped himself up with an elbow, looking up at you with a furrowed expression.
“(Y/N)..?” He trailed, pausing to take in a shuddering morning yawn through a confused smirk. “Did I… Dear, what time is it?”
You looked at him tenderly. Oh, how cute he was, sleepy like this. Composed like an exhausted kid. Something even you have never seen before.
“Yeah,” You responded to his unspoken question. “It’s probably seven a.m. or so. I dunno.” There wasn’t a clock in your immediate line of sight.” “A.m. …” He said slowly. He sat up fully, looking down in disappointment at his wrinkled day wear. He quickly blinked the sleep from his eyes and managed to bring some composure to himself, but that lick of exhaustion was still prominent. Especially under his eyes.
“Yeah,” You said again, a light chuckle following. “Goodmorning, Al.”
He wasn’t obviously upset, it seemed. Though he probably was too tired to think about it too much yet. Maybe later.
“Well… Goodmorning, love.” He responded, still with a hint of confusion in his voice. “I suppose I accepted your plea from last night.” He brushed at his clothes while he spoke, trying to flatten out the creases that were brought on through a night of rest.
“Maybe more often?” You asked, twiddling your thumbs in anticipation. You already knew the answer, but it was okay. You knew how to keep him in now. You mischievously smirked as he closed his eyes and shook his head.
“Unlikely.”
#alastor#alastor x reader#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#ohdeerfully#alastor is eepy#fluff
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
SUBTLE LOVE, DARING WORDS
masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3
-ˋˏsummary: Aemond is in no hurry to take a wife, yet once he realizes that he doesn't value what he has until he might lose it, he takes action. (based on THIS request!)
✧Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!Reader.
✧word count: 3.1k
✧tags: fluff and comfort, aemond is BAD at feelings, reader doesn't really admit anything either, slight? slowburn?, overall fluffy!!, this is really vague about in which year happens, lol
The first time he met you it was in the library.
He had his mind on the whole commotion at court, the tournament which he had refused to entertain, much to his mother's dislike because of his position as a royal. To him, it seems like a foolery, as if he was willing to participate in making himself a fool such as Mushroom.
When he came to the library, intending to search for a book to comfort himself, he found a lady leaning down one of the staircases, where there were lots of books stacked only for maesters, with him as an exception… but not a lady surely, less one that seemed to be looking for something below. He was astonished, for many reasons.
He watched her big, puffy dress, in rich red velvet and gold details. It was definitely a Westerlands style, so he was more confused as to why she was in this part of the library, only for maesters, and… well, him. How did the guards allow her to enter? How did she do it so confidently, as if he couldn’t make her life hell for it?
“Ehem” he scoffs, as if trying to get her away. The least of his worries was having a lady on the forbidden library corner… for now. “Get out. You are in a forbidden part”
“I am aware” your voice comes from down the staircase you had even moved some books! That made him slightly… annoyed. As you move your head out to see the prince above you, and you make a movement with your head as if doing a courtesy. “My prince”
He was not amused, at all. You had green eyes, and the most golden hair he had seen in ages. The small lions on your dress allowed him to know who you were: A Lannister. And he definitely never wanted to deal with any of your kin.
“And I said-”
“My cat is down there” you say, as if he cared.
“Okay. Take it out of here”
“I can’t” you say simply, watching him with a grin. “She seems to be in labour. I didn’t know she was pregnant at all…”
He has many questions, and he frowns at your reasoning. He would take the cat and throw it out himself if he had to.
“It is your cat, just take it away”
“Well, my father gave her to me two weeks ago!” You make a face, almost whining about it. Of course he could know which Lannister is your father. “I didn’t know she was pregnant, and she is still getting used to me. She will scratch me, more if I get closer to her babies”
“A scratch won’t kill you”
“Just sit” you say softly, watching the cat and sitting on the ground to wait. “You can even keep one of the baby cats”
“My grandsire has brought enough cats already” Aemond says, walking to grab some wine for him and the lady. He wasn't impolite to be rude to a lady, much less one with your status and beauty. “They come to my bed when I am sleeping, and I wake up to cats in my chest”
“Well, I think they are cute” You say, taking the cup of wine, thanking him as you sip the wine. “Cats are felines, like lions. So I think having a cat is reasonable, better than a lion”
“Don’t you want one?”
“I have one back at home” you say shrugging, smiling widely. “He is called Brightroar”
Of course you named it like the ancient weapon of Lannisters. “And this one?”
“I wanted to call it Brightroar second, but it turned out to be a she. So she is just called Gemma”
He can’t deny that he is amused, watching you being so nonchalant about it all, as if you owned the world. He raises an eyebrow as he has a slight smirk, as he sits near.
“Gemma” he scoffs. “A very…”
“Lannister name” you say smugly.
“Hm. I was going to say… common, perhaps” he adds.
“You would love for Lannisters to be commoners, my prince. Yet you seem to rely on our gold” you notice, raising one eyebrow. So you weren’t a silly lady, he realises, you had the wits.
“Hmm… Our gold seems a bit excessive, my lady. It is your father who is the head of your house” he reminds you, leaning back on his chair.
You smile softly. He thinks you are Cerelle, probably. Mostly because you know Cerelle was still a kid and never been presented to the royal court.
“Mine or not, I still am more entitled to it.”
“I have a dragon.” He adds, as if this was a debate between you both. He was actually enjoying it. He had totally the wrong impression of you and he… was enjoying it. “The biggest dragon”
“Yeah, and?”
“And I could burn your silly little castle” he shrugs, taking a dip of wine.
“No, you could not”
“I’m pretty sure I can”
“No, actually. I know you haven’t gone out of these four walls and this... city, my prince, but I remind you out of the kindness of my heart: Casterly Rock is literally… a rock”
Aemond rolls his good eye, yet his smirk doesn’t leave his face. As if your cat was forgotten, he keeps on his point.
“As if has stopped a dragon before” Aemond says simply. “Because I am as kind I shall remind you of Harrenhal, perhaps?”
“And I shall remind you that Harrenhal is a castle made of rocks.” She shrugs softly. “Not exactly a rock. Casterly Rock is literally a castle inside a rock.”
“Some parts are out of it”
“Not the part where we keep our gold, not really”
Aemond squints his eye, and you look back at him. You amused him, looking like a defiant cat that got away with their mischief. It was fun to see, and he could hear the wails of your cat. You didn’t seem worried, neither was he. Perhaps that was the circle of life, and you knew your cat would manage.
As you speak of such trivial matters, waiting for your cat to end her labours, he couldn’t help but admire your wits, as much as your beauty. Your velvet gown, of a strong red and some gold details did wonders with your appearance, and your brains only made you brighter.
“What are you doing here?” It was Tyland Lannister, coming with a Maester behind, probably who sneaked your position in a forbidden library. “You know ladies can’t be here”
“Father... My cat is giving birth” You say, frowning as if it was the most obvious thing.
“My prince” Tyland makes a courtesy to him, a bit rigid and tense. You had heard how the prince would often terrorise your father, making him do the silliest things as if that amused him. Your uncle Jason often had a laugh about it.
“I was not aware your daughter was…” Aemond says, turning his gaze to you “All grown up”
He knew about you, but your father talked about you as if you were a babe. You were practically his own age, for what he could tell.
“Yes, my little lion is certainly… grown” Tyland agrees, his hand on your hair as he spoke. “Come on; let’s not bother the prince…”
“It is not a bother” Aemond cuts him, serving himself more wine. “She is rather amusing”
“How dare you-!” You say, offended as you come to your defence.
“Sweetie” Your father tries to calm you, with a tense smile as if telling you to shut up.
“I am not a jester”
“No one said you were” Aemond says, amused as he smirks.
“You are such a…”
“Apologise” your father murmurs.
“But fath-”
“You heard me”
“I am sorry, my prince” You say mockingly, and he smirks, even more amused.
Tyland seemed as if he was about to have a stroke, because he had enough things on his plate, and he didn’t need the prince making his life at the small council harder.
Aemond sees Gemma, bringing her cats to show you how they were, all of them bloody, and squirmy, a bit pink and small. You petted them as you didn’t mind the blood.
“Come on. Servants will need to clean the blood” Tyland says, making a notion for you to stand up “Grab the kittens and let’s go”
“Ew, no. They are all bloody” You say frowning. “You take them”
How lady-like. He thinks, as you didn't seem to mind the blood two seconds ago.
Even with your persistence, your father took the small and weak kittens, and your cat kept meowing at him as if he would kill him.
“How did your cat even come here to give birth?” Your father asks as he tries to not get Gemma to kill him.
“I have no idea, father…” You say, and Aemond sees you standing up.
He sees the pile of books in your hands, behind your back as you walk behind your father. You smart wench, he thinks, as you had just successfully stolen forbidden books by setting up your cat to give birth here. You even had him fooled. No one else notices, since your dress was puffy enough, and he noticed it by shamelessly trying to see your ass.
You watch him, and press your index finger in your lips, as you walk behind your father and his complaints about your cat.
“Do not bother the prince, darling” Tyland says once you get out of the library.
“I think he is quite handsome” you admit, when you know the prince won’t hear you. You father watches you shrug, walking forward him, not allowing him to see your hands. He sighs, as Gemma starts meowing loudly.
While the rest of your interactions have been brief, he notices that you are more of a troublemaker than you let yourself look. You had that mischievous smirk always, arching your eyebrows in such a way when you had a plan.
Yet, you were sweet. He notices how you play with your cousins, Cerelle, braiding her hair, and with Loreon, the small heir to Casterly Rock, a kid that enjoyed running around, and you often entertained his antics.
“And there will be so many ladies, Aemond. In this time, we need alliances…” His mother says, as they walked through the castle. He hears the step of Cole behind them, guarding them, and probably hearing how his mother tried to make him a lovebird.
“It does not interest me”
“It doesn’t have to interest you. It is a matter of duty-”
“I won’t marry, mother.” Aemond shrugs, as if that was the way of his life. “Not yet. I have things ahead of me yet”
“You inscribed on the tourney?” The queen inquires, curious.
“No” he says shrugging, slyly trying to seek for you in the royal box, to no avail. “I am not in a hurry.”
He greeted noble ladies, of course. As he was seated on the royal box, bored and waiting, he could see girl after girl doing courtesy and smiling in a flirty way to him. It did not amuse him, and he was polite enough, almost rude.
“She is trying really hard, you know” A voice joins his thoughts. It is you, sitting by the empty chair by his side, where Aegon is supposed to be, but he never is on time.
“Who isn’t?” He rolls his eye.
“I didn’t know you were so in demand. High valued. Sought after” you list, as you fan yourself as it was indeed a hot day.
“Very amusing” He murmurs.
“Come on, my prince. There must be a lady who catches your attention.”
“I am not blind” he says, rolling his good eye. “Of course there are women I find beautiful”
“Oh my... Having feelings now, congratulations, the Seven indeed are capable of the most... unthinkable miracles”
“You just woke up being so funny” he says, looking at you, raising his eyebrow, yet the small way his lips curved allowed you to know he was amused.
“I am always funny, my prince” you say watching the crowd get settled, squinting your eyes due to the sun. “My cats are good, thanks for asking. Gemma is quite the mother, even if she tried to eat one of them.”
"How... vivid." He says, raising his eyebrows in slight disgust.
"I saved them. Since they are four, I named them: Elia, Joy, Alyssa and Teora"
"And what if one of those silly cats was to be a male?" he asks, as if seeing a flaw in your cat-naming thing.
"Pff, none of them will be. I know it. And if they are, I won't change the names"
He remains quiet, surprised by how bold and petulant you could be. It was amusing to him, and he enjoyed talking to you more than he cared to admit.
“You stole from the library.” he reminds you.
“I have no idea what you are about” you say, still looking at the crowd, smiling softly. The red of your dress made your gold hair bright even more. “Ladies do not read such matters”
“Yeah, right. You are unlike any lady”
“Quite the contrary” you finally turn to see him “I am just like any other lady” you says, smiling. "It just happens that I am friends with the prince, so I am allowed to speak freely"
"Who said..." He says, opening his mouth and turning his face to you, a bit impressed by your silliness "How come you think... you suppose that we are friends?"
"Since you have neither sneaked about the time at the library, or told me to shut up and leave you alone, it is a logical conclusion, if we have in mind your previous reputation to anyone else." You say smiling. "And do not worry, if you do not consider me as such, doesn't matter, because I do and I appreciate you even if you hate me"
"You are..." He scoffs, grinning like a fool "Unbelievable"
"I know. One of my many charms. That and being a matchmaker. I love it. It is wonderful to make couples at court, and more if they end up together, being all happy and..."
“Huh.” He hums, thinking of how odd you were. “Talking about the wonders of a married life”
“I didn’t say that. I merely stated that… marriage isn’t the worst. I intend to find a husband very soon as well. I would very much like to be a wife”
“I shall pray for the poor soul who calls you wife” He murmurs as he looks at the field below, where the knights were preparing, yet you hear his grumbles.
“And I shall pray to see prince Aemond besotted for a lady” you say teasingly, standing up, not before doing a small courtesy and leave to sit by your father, who had just arrived, frowning a bit as to why you were with prince Aemond.
The tournament does not bore him at all. He is very into the way the fight develops, and he takes mental notes when he sees some weaknesses in the participants. He regrets, just a bit, not joining, because he thinks he could have won.
He sees you, on the seats below him, jumping in excitement as the fight develops. You are into it very much, clapping and screaming as any commoner does outside the royal box. It was improper, but it was… cute.
He can see the rest, clapping politely, not overly excited yet proper for the occasion. You were unlike the rest, yet at the same time, you were just like any lady. It amazed him, and he did not understand.
He soon realises that he is not the only one that has you in mind, when the winner of the tournament comes closer to the stands, riding triumphantly in circles while the audience cheers him on, the crown of the Queen of Love and Beauty on his lance.
“The Winner, Ser Dale Dondarrion shall find his Queen of Love and Beauty”
He hesitates for some moments, he thinks he shall name his niece Jaehaera to win the favour of the royal house, like his ancestor once did to little princess Daenerys at the early reign of King Jaehaerys.
Yet his smile faints when he sees that the queen of beauty’s laurel falls into your lap.
“Lady Lannister, I hope I am deserving of dedicating my victory for you, and shall your reign be full of joy, even if lasting one night”
You take the wreath of flowers, almost jumping in sight and squealing some thanks as Tyland accommodates the crown onto your braided hair. Your crowning came with an ovation full of applause, from the box and from the commoners… but him.
It was an odd feeling, stirring something in him, as he watches your cheeks pink from the compliments of all, and most of all; having a suitor. Being named queen of love and beauty was not anything like a dull compliment of court merely because it was proper. It was being publicly courted, and often something many ladies wished, because there was no better feeling than being shown off to everyone.
He was quiet the rest of the day. Humming when ladies talked to him, in hopes to gain his attention and be courted; when Aegon mocked him; when Helaena placed one of her bugs in his lap, which Maelor ended up squeezing on his grip; when his mother presented him a lady of a high castle with expensive clothes and a sweet behaviour, pure, and devoted. He paid little attention to it all.
It was when your reign was coming to an end that he asks for Tyland to come to the empty throne room. He was watching the throne, carefully inspecting it, as he calculated of his next words. He was being irrational, clearly driven by his emotions and desperation rather than the logically he usually had.
“My prince”
Tyland was no stranger to the formalities of court, yet he never let himself be intimidated by lords that tried to impose themselves. He was the second son, yet he had established a name for himself and earned respect in his position; there was nothing for him to feel belittled about
Yet intimidation comes natural with prince Aemond around.
He has the impression that his one eye is wide open, and the smirk that naturally was on his lip was one of amusement in the suffering of the rest. Always stoic, never doing things out of impulsivity... Which was even worse. His hands behind his back, as he remained as still as a statue.
It did not frighten him, but he knew Aemond was as cold as unforgiving. And slicing his head won’t make the prince feel regret.
“Lord Tyland” Aemond greets him softly.
A silence follows, as Tyland feels his hand sweating slightly. “An idea for the small council?” He tries to guess. “I am sure it can wait, my prince, I should be with my daughter, since it’s her day…”
“Exactly. That’s what I wanted to speak about”
Tyland is a smart man, and he quickly realises the problem.
“I know she can be presumptuous and slightly spoiled, my prince” He starts, feeling Aemond’s eye on him as he turns to face him. “She takes the title too seriously, when it isn’t, Mushroom was just hyping her up, and she is just still a girl, and I apologise on her behalf for trying to impose herself as Queen, when her reign only lasts for a day, and she really is…”
“I want to marry her” Aemond tells Tyland simply. “Her reign shall not end. She can be a princess.”
Lannisters usually aren’t left speechless. They had never been known for their silence, yet here he is, silent.
“Ser Dondarrion made the same proposal hours earlier, my prince, and I…”
“And you will allow your daughter to marry a Ser instead of a prince? I have already told you. I want to be her husband” He insists, his tone not certainly soft as he loses patience. His soul craves you. He needs to be yours. He can’t let you go away. “She is smart and she has the wits. She is spoiled, and she loves to have her way. She is kind, sweet, and funny. And I want to be her husband and give her anything she asks for. Is that so hard to get?”
What wakes up Queen Alicent is her son with a stoic expression, not even entering her rooms to speak.
“I was wrong” He says simply “I shall marry Lady Lannister, mother. I am in a hurry. So I ask you to prepare the wedding. Good night and Seven blessings”
Almost a year later is when your father comes closer to your chambers once again, seeing how your ladies in waiting do a courtesy out of politeness, and he watches prince Aemond at your door, waiting for him.
“Came as fast as I could…”
“Hm” Aemond says, as he walks toward the open doors.
Tyland could have his distance with Prince Aemond, but he couldn’t deny how good a husband he was. He wasn’t a man of many emotions, in his perspective, yet he was a devoted husband. He danced as many times you wanted in the ceremony, sighing every time you made him stand up from his seat. He didn’t wear the eye patch on your wedding, just as you requested.
“That is the worst idea ever, darling” He said to you, and you rolled your eyes.
“Well, he will have to if he wants to marry me”
And so he did. When you wanted to travel to Volantis, he arranged it all. When you wanted for him to meet Brightroar, he took Vhagar and rode into the Westerlands with you.
“Was it all well?”
“Everyone in the castle heard a lion roar” Aemond says walking past the maesters.
You seemed so little, in Tyland’s eyes, all sweaty and tired, like the time you got so sick he was afraid you would die. He had brought the very best maesters he could find, just to assure you were safe.
“It is a girl” It’s the first thing you say to your father, smiling a bit. “A healthy baby”
Tyland leans, to kiss your forehead, as you extend your babe to him. It was a small thing, yet chubby and all pink still. She had small, silver hair, very thin, but present. He could see the little gold spot, as if gold hair would grow on some of her hair. It was indeed curious, and yet he couldn’t think she was anything but perfect.
“A bit squirmy” He comments, as the baby yawns, opening her mouth as she whines slightly.
As he tries to coo the small thing, he watches how Aegon sits by your side, at the edge of the bed, passing his hand behind your shoulders to caress your shoulder. You lean against him a bit, and say.
“It is a pain to breastfeed, why didn’t you tell me?”
He chuckles a bit awkwardly, he had never gotten used to your bluntness and honesty. “I never knew anything about that”
“Well, it is. I thought babies knew how to do it, but she takes a long time” You say, looking up at Aemond.
“She is still very little, my love” Aemond reminds you.
“I know, but what if I am doing it wrongly? Mothers usually know those things, and I find myself clueless. Aunt Joanna says it comes naturally, but she has successfully raised kids who have survived childhood.” You say, looking at Aemond. “So has your mother. How comes I don’t know?”
“Because you are a mother from little more than a day.” Aemond reminds you “And they had help. So you do. You have me, of course. You have wet nurses, maids, maesters, and my own mother and of course, you have the brightest mind. We’ll do”
“Did you know Aemond cried, father?” You tell him, and he finally looks away from his little granddaughter.
He blinks, a bit confused, watching the prince. “Oh, did he?”
“Yeah, it was rather cute” Aemond rolls his eye amused, as your hand was on his knee.
“It’s the only natural response.” Tyland says, his finger caressing the skin of the sleeping babe, who squirmed a bit at the feeling, like a cat. “She is delightful. Have you named her?”
Aemond looks at you, amused, expecting you to answer the question. You had the smug grin on your face, and nodded. “We had a deal. If she had golden hair, she would have a Targaryen name. If she had silver hair, she would have a Lannister name”
“And?”
“Well, she is rather… peculiar. She had silver hair, but you can see how some gold hair has grown too? It is the oddest of things, but the Maesters said it was natural. You know how cats have different hair colours?”
“Don’t compare her to a cat” Tyland makes a face, softly rocking her in his arms.
“She has both silver and gold.” Aemond says, as if reminding you to keep on trail.
“Ah, yes. Since it’s most silver, we agreed on something that you will find the brightest things, father.” You look at your husband and then your father. “Gaemma. It’s a bit… weird to say it, but with time it shall be delightful”
Tyland looks at you, and he blinks. “Like your cat?”
“Well, thanks to her I and Aemond met.” You remind him. “She deserves some credit” You add.
“I like it” he murmurs. “Don’t make your mama lose her mind” He says, as the baby yawn, extending her arms.
“She will, after all she is her mother’s daughter” Aemond says, taking her back, and he adds “You should have seen how loud she wailed once she came.”
“I am here, world. Hear me roar” you say, as if trying to translate Gaemma’s cries. You smile widely, and Tyland knows that even if you were always going to be his little girl, you were in the best hands, and that Aemond adored the ground you walked on. Even if you name their child after your cat.
#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x reader smut#house of the dragon#aemond smut#hotd fanfic#aemond targaryen x you#aemondtargaryen#aemond targaryen#ewan nation#aemond the kinslayer#hotd#prince aemond#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen x reader#ewan mitchell#aemond targaryen imagines#aemond one eye#hotd x reader#aemond fanfiction
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
He stared at her from his desk as she sat on his bed, playing a game on her phone; the screen occasionally flashed different colors across her face as she went back and forth between texting her friends, most likely Gaz and Soap, and her game. At one point, she shifted, laying flat on her stomach, her elbows pressed into the bed as she played, then she pushed her arms across his pillow and propped her chin on the cushion.
The show of comfort from her had a spur of irritation licking its way from his gut to his throat and before he could tell his mouth to shut the hell up, “I fucking hate it when you’re in my room,” came out.
Her eyes immediately met his, expression startled, starting to twist into hurt as she absorbed and processed what he had said to her. A pathetic and hurt, “What?” was all that managed to come out of her mouth and Ghost knew better than to say more, but even damage control wasn’t at the forefront of his mind, and since he’d already opened the door, he may as well walk through it.
He let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand down his face. “You’re always in my room. My room. Why are you always here?” he was a smart man; he knew how to articulate himself. “My room is the one place I go to get away from everything and everyone and somehow you’re always here. You never leave me alone.” He didn’t really mean to be as scathing as he was, but all the overwhelmingness of her finally came to a head. “Everywhere I go, you’re always there, stuck to me like fucking glue, and it’s ‘Lieutenant this,’ and Lieutenant that.’ Why can’t you just quit being so fucking clingy?” Ghost pinched his brow and heaved out another sigh, rubbing his eyes before he pulled his hand away and looked at her.
And he knew, just with one look, that he had fucked up more than he could ever think of trying to repair.
Her lips wobbled as she kept trying to purse them to keep herself from crying, but it wasn’t doing much as the tears were already tipping over the edge of her eyes and down her cheeks.
Ghost had never seen her cry before.
He realized how much he fucking hated seeing it.
Her eyes left his and he watched as a deadness replaced them, though the distraught was still evident as she whispered, “I’m sorry, Lieutenant Riley.” And clambered to her feet, dazedly sliding off his bed and heading for his door.
His mouth was open before he knew it, “Private, I didn’t—"
“I won’t bother you again unless it’s for work, I promise,” she said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was being a bother, sir.”
He hated being called “sir” by anyone.
“Private, wait, I—”
“I just thought we were friends,” she whispered more to herself than to him, and shut the door behind her.
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader imagines#simon ghost riley x reader imagine#simon ghost riley imagines#simon ghost riley imagine#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x reader imagines#simon riley x reader imagine#simon riley imagines#simon riley imagine#simon riley#ghost x reader#ghost x reader imagines#ghost x reader imagine#ghost imagines#ghost imagine#ghost#cod imagines#cod imagine#cod#call of duty imagines#call of duty imagine
6K notes
·
View notes
Note
Can you pls make one abt miles and yn getting into a very heated argument and she slaps him for saying smth outrageous and then she leaves and he climbs into her window after a few hours and tries to work it out with her
anything for you.
earth 42!miles morales x fem!reader
SUMMARY: you go over to miles practically drenched in another man's cologne, and he jumps to conclusions all too quickly.
GENRE: fluff to angst to fluff.
WARNINGS: bickering/arguing, physical contact made by reader, jealous miles, cursing, kissing/making out, suggestive (?) miles calling women females (this needs a trigger warning in itself), CORNYYY
AUTHORS NOTE: yo why this tumblr shit lowkey fun? + this is my first request agagaa thank you!! omg and i hit 200?? and my eyes only is almost at 2k notes wtf r y’all onnnn?? anyways thank you for requesting! i didn’t make miles say anything too outrageous just so he could redeem himself later on, hope you like it!
“you look so good,” your boyfriend says for what seems like the 100th time today, his large hands immediately dropping to your bare waist, fidgeting with your waist beads as he leans in to mold your lips, a smile gracing his face when you return his affection.
“all mine.” he mutters as he intensifies the kiss, his hands approaching the waist band of his boxers that you’ve claimed as your own. when he lifts your feet off the ground, the heels of your feet lock around his back, a giggle escaping your lips when he lays you down on his bed. you pull away from him, laying the palms of your hands on his chest to keep him away when he pursues your lips once more.
“miles, we can’t make out all day.” you giggle, running your manicured fingers down his chest.
“says who?” he buries his head in the crevice between your neck and shoulder, leaving wet kisses along the space when he suddenly pauses.
he removes his head from the crevice, sitting up to which you follow.
“baby,” you hum in acknowledgement, “where’d you go today?” he questions you, a hint of an indistinguishable emotion in his voice.
“just here, why?” you question him, running your nails up and down his neck. a look of confusion immediately sweeps over your features when he calmly removes your hand from his body.
“cause you smell like somebody been rubbing all up on you.” he looks you up and down, leaning in to now smell your clothes, hair, neck, anything within the perimeter really.
he pulls back, “who were you with?” his expression solidified.
“nobody, i swear i don’t know why i smell.” you reason with him, genuinely confused as well.
“oh? so the smell just magically took over your hair and your clothes?”
he completely gets up from his position next to you, hovering over you. “y/n, i know im not tripping, who the hell was rubbing up on you and why’s the smell so strong? that’s what we doin’ now? and then you got the audacity to bring your ass over to my house, lay in my bed, and wear my clothes.”
“what are you implying?” you scowl at him, now rising to your own feet.
“im implying that you forreal out here fucking on other dudes when you got a whole ass boyfriend.”
the next few moments go by swiftly and mindlessly, but the scorching sensation left in the palm of your left hand enables you to process what just happened almost immediately; you slapped him. though, not an ounce of regret filled your tank of emotions, adrenaline being the only identifiable one.
“i don’t know who the hell you’re talking to but it can’t be me, how dare you?” you glare at him, the imprint of your palm already making its mark on his face, the surrounding skin blemishing. “when have i ever done something like that to you?”
“today, apparently.” he mumbles under his breath, caressing the skin of his cheek to soothe the discomfort.
you look at him like he’s just grown 3 heads before silently walking over to the corner of his room, pulling his graphic tee over your shoulders. you immediately lunge it at him, same with his boxers, bracelets, his necklace, anything of his that is currently making contact with you. you zip up your navy blue hoodie, slipping your sweatpants over your bare legs.
you bring your tote bag over your shoulder, making your way towards his window which he currently guards, glaring at you from where you stand.
“miles, get the hell out my way before i pop you in your mouth next.”
“i want his name and address, you not going anywhere till i get an answer.”
you flail your arms in his face, “are you deaf or just stupid? there is no “him” because the only person i been rubbing up on is you!”
“baby, i don’t smell like no cheap ass cologne.”
“don’t call me that, move!” you raise your voice, stepping up to him.
“what’s his name?”
“you’re crazy.” you scoff, instead bolting for the front door. you’re mindful of mama rio cooking in the kitchen, slipping past quietly as to not raise any suspicion. though, you do bid her a quiet farewell, yet even when you slip out the front door with a smile on your face she knows something isn’t right by the way miles isn’t trailing behind you.
“miles, qué pasó?” she calls out from the kitchen, wiping her hands down her apron and subtly knocking on her sons door before entering.
“it’s nothing.” he calls back, digging his cheek into his pillow to prevent his mother from spotting the blossoming blemish. he didn’t want to explain how he got you so worked up that you slapped him to his mother, or anyone for that matter.
“it’s nothing? invite her over for dinner tonight.” rio arches her brow, taking a seat next to her son on the bed.
“we aren’t on good terms right now.” he sighs out, rubbing his hands over his eyes.
“even more of a reason to invite her over, right?” rio says, making her way out of his bedroom before miles could come up with a rebuttal.
he lazily grabs his phone when it pings, though when he realizes the message is from you, he throws it on the floor until the phone pings with a second message. he groans loudly swiping open your messages.
one attachment
next time don’t make stupid assumptions you dick
the photo captioned was of a half empty cologne bottle you had probably found somewhere in your home, miles heart immediately dropping to his stomach.
okay, maybe he fucked up a teensy tiny bit.
when you got home, you racked your brain for a possible explanation as to why you smelled like anything other than your boyfriend. you were stumped till your brother had walked past you, the aroma that had gotten miles so worked up earlier clouding your senses immediately.
you lay on the pad of your tummy on your king sized bed, your irritable mood causing a burning sensation to spread throughout your body. though it may not be displayed through your face, you were absolutely livid. after all you’ve done for him, this is what you got in return, his unprecedented allegations.
sure it was reasonable to be suspicious, but to outright accuse you? you’ve never given him any reason not to trust you, reassuring him whenever he needed it. had your words not been enough? what about your gestures? what about the times you’d cuddle up with him in bed, sleepily muttering words like “im yours,” or “i belong to you, miles.” had that not been enough?
your jittering thoughts are interrupted by a newfound presence in the corner of your room, the peripherals of your eye capturing those twin braids that you adore so much.
“nuh uh, get the hell up outta here.” you sit up, pointing back towards the window.
“deadass?” he raises both brows, staring at you dead in the eyes.
“deadass.” you return the gesture.
“nah.” he climbs into bed with you, settling his arm over your waist.
“im being serious miles, get out. don’t touch me either.” you pick up his arm as if it’s diseased, laying it over his stomach.
“you don’t like it when i touch on you?” he says in a sultry voice, and you roll your eyes.
“ma, listen to me,” he grabs your chin meeting you at eye level, your brows still furrowed out of anger. when your eyes meet his, any foreign sense of anger evaporates from your system, turning to putty in his hands, no matter how much you tried to fight it.
“you’re so pretty baby,” he kisses your downturned lips once.
“why you look so mad?” he ignorantly questions you, kissing your lips once more.
“baby smile for me?” he squishes your cheeks, yet he’s still met with silence till you finally part your lips.
“this isn’t helping your case by the way.” you roll your eyes at his obvious attempts to bribe you.
“alright, what if i came to you smelling like some other female? you wouldn’t like that huh?” he attempts to reason with you.
“i came to you smelling like my brother? and even then if you came to me smelling like some girl i would conduct a thorough investigation first.” you side eye him.
“how was i supposed to know it was your brother? i didn’t even know he was back.”
“he got back this morning, i gave him a hug and he must’ve rubbed off on me.”
“you didn’t tell me all that. so what i gotta do for you to believe im sorry, hm?” he climbs on top of you, following your darting eyes with his own.
“buy me a pandora bracelet.” you joke.
he perks up, “on god? baby i buy you jordans every other day, the hell is a bracelet?”
“i mean i was joking but you serious?”
“you didn’t know that i’d do anything for you?”
“you’re corny boooo, leave me alone.” you push his head away from yours, your facade breaking when a smile plays at your lips.
“y/n?”
“hm?”
“why do you hit so hard?”
“what do you mean?” you ask him, your outburst from earlier had completely left your mind. he turns to the side, and your eyes widen as they lay upon the imprint of your hand slowly fading,
“oh shit,” you wince, inspecting the damage of your earlier actions.
you throw the blanket off your legs, sitting on your knees to inspect further. you silently grab his hand, heading towards your bathroom as you slowly feel guilt begin to stir inside you.
“stay here.” he watches as you disappear into the hallway, coming back with a frozen pack of peas. you hold it up to his cheek for him, fiddling with the ends of his braids as you repeatedly check for signs of the bruising going away.
“im sorry miles, i shouldn’t have hit you.”
he hums in acknowledgment of your apology, parting his lips to speak. “it’s okay, i like them aggressive.”
a smile threatens your lips, your hand going up to cover your mouth to keep your false facade up.
“nah why you keep smiling?” he grabs your wrist, pulling your hand down to stare at you intently.
“stop that.” you attempt to straighten out your face.
it’s silent for the next few moments as you adjust the frozen peas seeing that the bruise had almost completely faded.
“y/n, you know im being forreal when i say i’d do anything for you, right?”
“yeah, i know.”
love, berry.
#miles morales x reader#across the spiderverse#atsv miles#atsv x reader#miles morales x you#miles morales x y/n#earth 42 miles x reader#earth 42 miles x you#earth 42 miles morales x reader#miles morales
9K notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐅 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑!
🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩 jason meets a single father, desperate for a chance at love again. little did you know, you’re right up his alley! ~
⋆˚࿔ FEATURING . . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ JASON TODD X MALE! READER
° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . cw — ftm!reader, dilf!reader, red hood! jason in mind, age gap [reader is in his 30s while jason is 23] mentions of divorce, sexting, doggy style, implied size differences, breeding, jason wants to knock you up so bad omfg
[・:。author’s note ! 「 ✉️ 」・𓂃 ࣪˖ this was lowkey a little self indulgent but can you blame me? no. now shush and enjoy <3
ᥫ᭡. — jason todd never really cared about his dating life, and really why should he? getting blown up, resurrected and busting some heads open keeps a man busy! if he’s not dealing with black mask’s goons or the bat himself, you can find him in the nearest diner enjoying his own company. that is of course..until he laid eyes on you.
ᥫ᭡. — alone and pretty, you sat at the bar stood a couple feet away from him. staring down at the empty pit of your dark coffee, you’re heart heavy and tears threatening to spill out. jason, while having a hard outer, still had a little heart to scotch over and struck up small talk with you. after all, he did say it himself that he is a good listener! after some innocent chatter, you finally allowed the friendly face to fall and began to vent to the stranger. you’re recent yet messy divorce from your ex-husband, the juvenile drama he brought, the exhausting routine of juggling work with your daughter—wait. you had a daughter?! jason eyes widened, finally allowing himself the realization. you were one hell of a dilf! <3
ᥫ᭡. — despite being nearly a decade apart in age, you looked so damn good. tired eyes peering upwards at him with that adorable, gentle smile. fuck, you were so small compared to him. he could’ve easily picked you up and threw you over his huge shoulders and just take you away, back to his place. his bed. he couldn’t stop the lewd images from flooding his head, you taking his girth in that pretty mouth or face down while he dicked you down doggy style. you’d make the prettiest noises while he breeds your pretty pussy full, only to flip you onto your back and ass fuck you until you ruin the sheets.
ᥫ᭡. — fuck it. he thought to himself as you walked out of the diner happier then before, and with his number too! the next few weeks, every text the vigilante sent you made you feel more in love then your last marriage could’ve gave you. of course, the conversation didn’t stay innocent for long. soon, jason began to open his texts to pictures of you in the sexiest lingerie, you’re legs spread open to show off your needy cunt. strip tease pictures at your workplace’s restrooms in your uniform, and the audios…you’d send him a particularly lewd audio of you fucking yourself with one of your many sex toys you’ve stashed away, moaning jason’s name and begging him to come over and satiate your neglected desires. safe to say, he drove like a madman to your house the next night your daughter is with a sitter.
“o-oh jason! don’t stop please..!”
just like the way he wanted, you face down and ass high up for him to fuck your cunt stupid while you moaned like a bitch in heat. your cute cheeks were littered with his giant handprints from his harsh spankings. you were fuckin’ perfect.
“mm keep talking baby, takin’ me so well like a good little boy yeah?”
jason knew the comedic irony of calling you, an older man, a little boy. yet the name made you clench around his girth with a sigh of pleasure leaking through your drooling lips. you loved that name, a lot. something that snapped the rope of control in two, unleashing an insatiable nature that only existed in his disgusting fantasies.
jason pulled out, grabbing you by your upper body before practically manhandling you onto your back. before you could even make a noise, the young man pressed his whole weight against yours and sunk his cock into you until he was already balls deep. taking it from behind was a challenge in itself, yet he outdid himself once again as a strained moan tore itself out of your throat.
“shhh..” jason’s shushes tickled your ear, drowning out your shakey whines. “relax baby, can’t fuck a baby in you if your squirmin’ like that.”
oh..oh shit. it was enough to have you clench around his girth as he snapped his hips against yours with an unforgiving pace. a pace that spoke more then whatever came out of his mouth. nothing but promises of another baby, a sibling for your little girl from a man you met in a diner not long ago.
“just like that! like that ja..son! oh god!”
nails raked against the bare skin of his back as your felt that familiar yet distant feeling of your orgasm inching closer and closer, eyes rolled to your brain as jason kept spewing out profanities and coos of faux sympathy.
“shiiit, can’t believe you’re husband left you baby. i would’ve knocked you up every chance i got, treat you like a damn prince..”
he was right, you’re husband never gave you sex this good nor did he spoke such words that went straight into your cunt. every praise, every groan and grunt jason let out pushed you closer and closer..until you finally snapped.
“j-ja-SON! MMM FUCK!”
you gushed all over the vigilante’s cock as he painted your pussy white, breeding you until you couldn’t hold another drop in. the pleasure could’ve damn well nearly killed you as you laid there near unconscious and panting like a dog. jason, however, was only getting started.
“don’t think i’m done with you yet boy..it ain’t over till you’re kid has a sibling.”
© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.
#𓆩♱𓆪 — porcelaincunt !#x ftm reader#ftm!reader#ftm reader#jason todd#jason todd smut#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x male reader#red hood#red hood smut#red hood x reader#red hood x you#red hood x y/n#red hood x male reader#batfamily#batfamily x reader#batfamily x male reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Simon "Ghost" Riley and Your New Cat 🌷
simon having beef with a stray cat you brought home silly little idea i had no content warnings, just cute fluff, female reader :3 not proofread!
i just realised the cat’s name changes half way through 😭 i’ve fixed it now - 04/11/2024
"What the hell is tha’?" he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared in disbelief at the little black kitten in your lap.
"I found him. He’s called Lettuce," you grin, cuddling the cat to your chest. You’re well aware that lettuce is a stupid name for a cat, but it just seemed right at the time. The kitten was tiny, and had seemed very weak when you’d discovered him shivering in a box outside your apartment block. Now, he seemed a lot more comfortable, making a little home for himself on your sweater. He was so small - he literally fit in the palm of your hand - but his frizzy black hair stuck out at every angle so that he looked less like a kitten and more like a wiry pompom.
"Love," Simon laughed, rubbing his face with a sigh, "Lettuce looks like a flea. Where the hell di’you find ‘im?"
"Oi, he does not! Well, maybe a bit. I found him in a box. He was meowing at me, he looked so cold…" you stroke the kitten’s cheek with your thumb as you he meows up at you.
"You can’t keep him, he might have diseases. You should give him to a pet shelter." Your boyfriend wasn’t being harsh, he was just worried about you - he didn’t want your little heart breaking because you’d got all attached to a poorly little kitten who might not last the week. But it didn’t come off like that.
"Wh… what..?" you frown, cupping the kitty in your hands to protect it.
"I’ll drive you to the shelter tomorrow, okay?"
"What? Si, no!"
"Baby…" he sighs, trying not to upset you "you can’t just find a scruffy animal on the street and take it home."
"S’what I did with you ," you pout, pulling the same face at him as Lettuce pulls at your sweater sleeve as he paws at it.
"Look," he crosses his arms, about to explain to you the reasons why you two don’t have the space for a cat, nor the prior knowledge. What if the cat walks in on the two of you in bed? What if it bites you and his pretty girl gets hurt? What if you end up loving the cat more than Simon and it steals you away? But your pleading eyes and the tiny, stupid looking kitten chirping in your laps convinces him. If you really wanted anything, you know he’d get it for you, so he’ll let you have your silly kitten.
"Alright, fine. For now." He laughs, ruffling his hair.
"I love you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I love you!" you squeal, gently placing the cat down before jumping up with and wrapping your arms around your boyfriend. He rubs your back softly, watching the stupid fluffy ball on the sofa chirp for your attention. Just because he’s letting you have the cat doesn’t mean he won’t see it as his mortal enemy.
The next morning, after having gone out to buy cat food for you, Simon is sitting on the sofa, softly kissing your neck from behind. You’re sitting in his lap… completely ignoring his affection in favour of the kitty.
"Si, look! He can walk!" you grin, holding the kitten up so it looks like it’s standing on two feet.
"Mhm… cute…" Simon mumbles into the nape of your next, a strong hand wrapping around your waist to pull you into his chest. He is not watching the cat, he’s busy with you.
"I know right!" you ignore his advances still, gazing at your new pet with adoration, "I should make him a little hat, he’d look so sweet."
"Yeah, fuck, you’re so sweet…" Si keeps kissing you, moving between your neck and your shoulders, which are hidden inside his old tshirt.
"He’s so cute," you grin, stroking the back of the kitten’s head until it purrs, "I love him so much… he’s my baby."
That catches Simon off guard. He would never admit it to anyone, but he loves it when you call him your baby. He’s the only one you should be calling baby. This cat is stealing his girl. [gasp]
Si shoots the kitten a death stare.
"Oh yeah, he’s your baby?"
"Yeah, he’s the cutest…"
"Mhm. I’m sure," he pouts. When you’re not looking, he glares at the cat and points from his grey eyes to its little beady ones, like he’s trying to intimidate it.
A few days later, the two of you fall asleep together, with Simon spooning you and holding you close. But you forgot to shut the door. So your boyfriend is rudely awakened by a very small, scruffy kitten stomping on his chest.
"No, oi, get off of me," you can hear him grumbling sleepily as you start to stir, alongside the cute chirping of your kitty.
"Listen, Lettu- cat. Stupid name anyways. We can’t have you disturbing the Mrs, alright?"
You can hear him pause until he hears the kitten meow softly in response.
"Tha’s right, soldier. She’s my Mrs, not yours, and if you so much as try to change that, I will never let you see her again. My girl. Mine," he pouts.
The kitten meows again, as if he’s responding to Simon’s orders. You have to try your hardest not to giggle, biting your lip in the dark as you listen to your big, tough boyfriend have an argument with a little kitten.
"Alright, now leave the lady alone." You almost think you can hear him plant a kiss on the cat’s head before he sets it down at the side of the bed.
You’re away for the weekend, visiting family, without your boys (Simon and the kitten). :(
Simon’s fine, he’s a tough guy, he has no issue being alone - that is, until he’s poorly and he needs you to cuddle him and make him tea. But you’re not there, and talking to you over the phone only makes him feel worse.
So he resorts to laying in bed, in the shade, trying to nap. Poor boy feels too ill to do anything else (he has the man flu).
With the back of his hand over his forehead, one leg over the covers and one leg under, not quite sure whether he’s awake or asleep, he closes his eyes and frowns. A little black ball hops up onto his bed, waking him up a little.
It plods around in a little circle, looking around and exploring its new environment. When the fuzz creature spots Simon, he waddles over curiously, his little feet sinking into the soft duvet cover.
"Hey, cat," Simon smiles softly, watching the fluffy baby wander and get closer to his face. It looks up into his eyes, chirping, and brushes its fur against his cheek before settling into the crook of his neck.
He chuckles, closing his eyes as the tiny guy curls into a ball against him. The rivalry isn’t quite over for Simon, but that funny looking kitty is a little piece of you, and he’s happy to have its affection.
When you come home, it’s to the two of them, cuddled up on your bed. Silently, you change into a t-shirt and slip into bed behind Simon, planting a little kiss on his cheek.
"Told you he was cute."
how i imagine your kitten 💗
i spent way longer on this than i thought i would but it’s so cute and i loved writing it! hope you enjoy lovieeees
#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#cod#ghost#ghost x reader#ghost x you#fluff#simon riley x reader#cod x reader#headcanon#kitten#kitty#cute kitty#pet#kitty cat#cats of tumblr#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley#cod ghost x reader#ghost fluff#ghost cod#ghost fanfiction#ghost call of duty#cod headcanons#cod mwii#call of duty modern warfare#cod modern warfare#call of duty#call of duty x reader
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
✨SHARING IS CARING - l.d.h.✨
© sparklysung – 2024. all rights reserved. no reposts, modifications and/or translations allowed.
pairing – lee donghyuck x female!reader
genre – smut, fluffish | non-idol!au, roommates!au, friends (?) to lovers!au
warnings – oral (m. and f. receiving), face sitting, cum eating, squirting, exhibitionism (reader touches hyuck while he's on a call with his friends), unprotected sex (pls don't), lots of cursing, mentions of hyuck masturbating to the thought of reader), a little possessiveness at the end, panty thief!hyuck.
word count – 5.733 words
summary – where your roommate from hell is also hot as hell, and both of you enjoy annoying the hell out of each other.
note – so... i've been working –on and off but still– on this for about maybe 2 years? i just recently got inspiration to finish it lol any feedback would be greatly appreciated, just pls be kind <3 anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this!
“hey, y/n. have you seen my-.”
“how fucking rude of you to just walk in unannounced. what if i was naked or something? learn how to knock, you airhead.”
your face turned into an ugly scowl when your roommate and the cause of all your nightmares –and wet dreams–, lee donghyuck, completely ignored your complaint, looking equally annoyed as you.
“shut up,” the boy sneered, “is that my fucking shirt you have on right now? i’ve been looking for it for the past three days!”
you let your eyes trail down your body, the graphic tee barely long enough to cover your ass as your fingers toyed with the hem of the garment.
“oh, yeah. i found it while doing laundry and thought it looked good on me so i decided to keep it,” you shrugged carelessly, “don’t you agree, hyuck?”
the piece of clothing that was oversized on him fitted even bigger on you, drowning your smaller frame. you looked so soft and warm in it, so incredibly comfy the tip of his fingers itched to touch you. to feel your perky breasts through the soft fabric of his shirt.
he couldn’t deny it, you did look awfully good in his clothes.
but he would rather shit in his hands and clap than admit it out loud. especially to your face.
“i mean yeah you look good,” donghyuck mumbled under his breath, shamelessly licking his chapped lips.
when he noticed the sly grin etched on your face he had to pinch himself to force his eyes away from your alluring figure, careful not to get distracted by your smooth legs gracefully spread across the bed.
shaking his head, he tried to remember why he had almost left a dent on your wall from the way he had slammed your bedroom door open in the first place.
“but that’s not the point here. you stole my clothes!”
his words made you scoff loudly, clearly pretending to be offended by his accusation. “i still don’t see the problem. didn’t your mom teach you to share?”
your blank expression and unbothered attitude was so incredibly infuriating donghyuck felt like plucking his eyelashes one by one. and he had no doubt in mind you were well aware of it.
although most of your conversations consisted of you both bickering back and forth like two middle school kids fighting for the same toy, donghyuck had learned how that evil little mind of yours worked throughout the time you lived together.
your roommate may have not been the brightest lightbulb of all, but anyone with two working brain cells could agree that there was no activity in this world, nothing, that gave you as much joy as annoying the living hell out of him.
truth is, nothing could have prepared you –or donghyuck– for the turn of events your life would take in the span of 24 hours. the moment you opened the front door to your dorm apartment –fully expecting to see a fellow uterus-bearer–, to him, luggage in hand and ready to move into the room next to yours, you made it your ultimate goal to terrorize the poor boy.
and how could you not? your roommate-from-hell made it so easy for you to read him like an open book. one look at his face, at those big, expressive eyes and you could almost hear his thoughts.
“that’s my lucky shirt, i need it back. right now.”
“don’t you see i need it too? what am i supposed to wear if you take it away from me?”
“i don’t really care, y/n, that’s not my problem.”
“then come here and take it off yourself.”
the small gasp that tumbled out of his plush lips made a warm feeling pool at the pit of your stomach. if it weren’t because you were trying to fuck donghyuck and not fuck with donghyuck, you would have giggled.
“w-what?”
“you heard me. if you want it back you’ll have to come take it off with your own hands.”
“you’re fucking crazy. i-i, what the fuck, y’know i can’t do that!” donghyuck cried out, his skin beginning to prickle with frustration, heart rate spiked up to reach dangerous speeds. “c’mon, y/n, just give it back already. the guys are waiting for me.”
“too bad.”
your pouty lips had him clenching his fists. not only to stop himself from choking you to death, but also to ground himself. he could feel a droplet of sweat drip down the back of his neck, body temperature rising concerningly fast at your very clear attempt at taunting him.
if only he could have them stretched around him, struggling to fit the thickness of his dick…
but that was not the matter at hand.
donghyuck was known for always being late to everything. and usually it was for a good reason. like forgetting about an important assignment until the very last minute and having to stay home to submit it on time. or getting stuck in traffic. or maybe even finding himself in trouble for running his mouth too much for his own good.
all of them were pretty believable. things no one would ever have an ounce of a doubt could potentially happen.
but this, this right here was something donghyuck could never explain to anybody without them immediately calling him out for trying to bullshit his way out of trouble. even if it was indeed real, no one would believe him. ever.
and to be fair, it did sound like the plot of a bad porn movie, one probably titled something along the lines of ‘lucky guy fucks hot roommate’.
considering how big of an attention whore you were, he wouldn’t be surprised if you had your own only fans account and were seeking a helping hand. his hand.
“don’t you wanna fuck me, hyuck?”
if donghyuck wasn’t taken aback by your attitude before, he had to physically take a step back this time, jaw almost hitting the floor.
“why are you so horny all of a sudden?”
“wouldn’t you also feel horny if you had to constantly sit through your roommate getting off in the other room?”
donghyuck felt like a bucket of cold water was tossed over his head, and he couldn’t help the way his heart dropped to his feet. you could see him scrambling to think of something to say.
poor boy looked like he was caught committing a crime.
how adorable.
“okay, well, i’m sorry. i have needs, y’know? unfortunately i can’t control when my dick decides to get hard-.”
“i know you jerk off to the thought of me,” you interrupted abruptly, staring at him with a dangerous glint in your eyes. “i’ve heard you before.”
the blood instantly drained from donghyuck’s face. he suddenly felt lightheaded, having to lean against your door in case he fainted.
how did you even find out?
sure, he knew the walls were thin and not exactly soundproof. and yeah, your rooms were right next to each other, separated only by one of those thin walls he often joked about being made out of cardboard. but he always waited until you were out of the apartment to enjoy his much needed self care time. and he swore he was always quiet. as quiet as one can be when beating your meat to the thought of your sexy roommate.
“what are you-.”
“why don’t you just come fuck me instead of using your own hand?” you sounded as if you were offering him to wash the dishes, way too casual for the situation at hand. “i bet it doesn’t feel the same.”
donghyuck didn’t know what was going on. everything was moving too fast for his poor brain –rotten due to all the hours he had spent masturbating to hentai porn– to keep up, visibly struggling to process the situation.
“fuck, you can’t just say shit like that and expect me not to react.”
the thing is, that was exactly what you wanted. for him to lose his shit and fuck you into next week. shove his dick in your pussy without even bother to let you adjust to the stretch and take you to pound town for the next five hours.
“i’m not joking, hyuck. i meant what i said.”
someone pinch me, he thought.
was this a new way you discovered to toy with him? because if it was, then it was so fucked up.
“fine. i’ll call jeno over then,” you shrugged, reaching out for your phone at his lack of response. “i’m sure he wouldn’t mind sticking his big dick in my tight little pussy.”
your words hit donghyuck like a fucking truck. his jaw almost dislocated from how wide his mouth flew open, the tips of his ears turning a rosy color at the prospect of his friend. in bed. with you. fucking his huge dick –because everyone knew he was packing– into your needy hole. having you cream all over his cock, holding onto his strong arms as you cry out his name.
just the thought of your fucked out expression and loud whines had him salivating in his mouth.
donghyuck and jeno had been friends since forever, which meant he knew for a fact that his best friend would ditch him in a heartbeat if you did as much as look at him the way you were currently looking at your roommate.
“c’mon hyuck, i know you’re dying to touch me.”
the boy in front of you visibly struggled to keep himself together when one of your hands traveled down your body to rub yourself through the thin material of your pajama shorts. his knees felt weak, ears burning at the sound of your sweet moans.
“i need you.”
your words replayed in his head like a broken record. you said you needed him. not jeno. not anyone else. him. as in donghyuck. your roommate for the past year.
as much as he did want to touch you, feel every curve of your body, he was also scared you were just messing with him. he was scared that finally giving in to his desires would just embarrass him and ruin his almost nonexistent chance with you.
god, donghyuck liked you so much. his little crush on you had already become annoying the moment he realized it even existed.
you were the biggest tease he had ever met. and that says a lot coming from the lee donghyuck himself. you were always playfully flirting with him whenever you felt like it. or felt like giving him a hard time. and he could see it in your face you enjoyed every second of seeing him struggle to respond.
“i-i,” he gulped with difficulty, mouth dry as a desert. “i can’t.”
you watched the slim boy waddle his way out of your room. and you would’ve missed the tent growing in his shorts if he hadn’t almost tripped over his own feet and fallen next to you on your bed.
for around ten minutes, you remained frozen in place, figuring out how to get your roommate to break and give into his –and your– desires.
this was the closest you had gotten to crossing the line separating an innocent friendship –if you could call it that– between roommates from something more. something you both wanted but knew he was far too scared to try and make happen.
and how were you so sure about his feelings for you?
easy.
the boy wore his heart on his sleeve.
anyone could tell how enamored he was with you. how he visibly perked up whenever you were around. the way his cheeks would turn an adorable shade of red and his eyes alternate between staring at the floor, daydreaming about you, and sending heart eyes your way.
it had even become an ongoing joke within your own friend group. no one could –or wanted to– stop teasing you about his seemingly undying love for you.
“c’mon, just look at him,” chaewon once pointed out in the middle of the library, elbowing you while whisper-shouting, “he follows you around like a lovesick puppy. even to the library!”
as much as you wanted to shush her, she was right.
before he moved into your now shared apartment, he would remain at least a 100 miles radius from the library. it was as if he was allergic to knowledge, his handful of brain cells immediately going out of service at the smell of old books.
now, once you joined the picture, it was as if a switch was flicked. he became a regular at the campus library all of a sudden, so much so that even the old librarian tending the front desk knew him by name.
the end might be near, you thought when you first saw him sitting in a corner of the library, a variety of books sprawled across the table as he pretended to understand the book in his hands on quantum physics. you knew, of course, he didn’t. the boy was so busy looking around the building for something –or rather someone– to notice the book he was holding was upside down.
his blatant attempts at getting closer to you weren’t a complete fail though, as they had your heart skipping a beat every time you thought about the messy boy on the other side of your bedroom wall.
but before even thinking about how boyfriend material he was when he wasn’t trying to piss you off, you first wanted to test the waters. get a sneak peek at what dating donghyuck would look like without actually committing to it just yet.
and the only way you could think of to do so without forcing yourself into a vulnerable position and directly confessing was by fucking your roommate.
after taking a run for it out of your room, donghyuck decided he would have to do without his lucky shirt during this gaming session. hopefully only tonight. he knew the guys would not leave him alone if he was the reason for another loss, especially after boasting so much about his abilities the last time they played together.
sitting on his gamer chair, still shaken by the interaction, he ran his fingers through his hair to clear his reeling mind. he needed to forget about what had just happened in the other room and focus on the task at hand: winning rounds in pubg.
soon, donghyuck was able to immerse himself in the game, all thoughts about you drowning at the loud sound of firearms and the screams of his friends coming from his headset. so far he had been able to take down roughly a dozen other players, carrying the highest streak among his friends much to his delight.
however, the calm before the storm didn’t last long.
the boy tensed up, fingers stuttering over his gamer keyboard when you rested your warm cheek right next to the still noticeable bulge in his basketball shorts. instinctively, his legs parted to give you space to position yourself between them.
he hadn’t even noticed the moment when you had slipped into his room and quietly crawled under his desk, too deep into the game to sense the movement.
donghyuck would be lying if he said he had never thought about you on your knees for him before. so many, almost too many times. he wasn’t going to let this opportunity slide.
willing his heart to slow down a bit, he peered down at you. you looked so unbelievably beautiful with your long eyelashes fluttering delicately as you stared up at him, big eyes locked on his.
“keep playing,” your hot breath against his inner thigh had the hairs in his neck standing up.
he hadn’t even realized when exactly he had stopped playing, too busy engraving the visual in front of him in his head.
gulping with some difficulty, donghyuck did as he was told. usually it came easy for him to submerge himself in the game, tuning out everything but the loud voices of his friends.
“you’re so hard, hyuckie,” you snickered, licking your lips as your finger trailed the outline of his painfully hard cock with a feather-like touch that caused him to shiver. “is it all for me?”
he pursed his lips tightly and simply bobbed his head yes, afraid of his friends catching onto what was going on on his end of the call.
satisfied, you let yourself cop a feel of his length. your hand palmed him over his pants, squeezing around the sensitive head every so often. even through the material of his shorts you could feel the precum leaking out of his tip.
the view in front of you had you desperately rubbing your thighs together, thickened clit throbbing in excitement.
his silky hair, usually styled, was now messily framing his pretty face in the most beautiful way possible. his dark eyes were rolled back, slender fingers curling into fists as his hips raised from the chair, sloppily humping your hand. he looked fucked out already with sweat already dripping down his temple.
what a man.
“dude, what’s up with you? you sound like you just ran a marathon,” mark’s voice had donghyuck squirming in his seat, heart almost beating out of his chest. “are you alright?”
the boy’s head snapped to look at the screen in front of him, neck almost breaking from the aggressiveness of the movement.
“speak up,” you hissed through gritted teeth, tightening your fingers around the base of his cock.
his hips stuttered, hands holding on the edge of his desk as he swallowed the frustrated groan threatening to escape his lips. he heaved a shaky breath, summoning all his self control to not bust his load right then and there.
“i-i’m fine,” his voice sounded strained, as if he was struggling to make a sound. or more like to not make a sound. “shouldn’t have had taco bell for lunch.”
you could see the boy holding his breath, terrified his friends would see right through his weak excuse of a lie. and a sigh of relief almost slipped past his lips when they only hummed, quickly going back to their previous conversation, not very interested in digging into the cause of his unusual behaviour any deeper.
meanwhile, the pretty little devil between his legs got to work, releasing his dick by harshly pulling down his shorts. you blew air at the sensitive tip, making him shudder at the sensation. but it wasn’t until you placed a peck to his slit, fingers going to hold him at the base, pumping your fist up and down, when the boy gave into his primal desires.
“guys, gotta go,” donghyuck interrupted the conversation less than five minutes later, hurriedly clicking off the game and moving to end the call.
“what-,” renjun protested immediately, sounding nothing less than annoyed, and donghyuck was sure he would be getting nagged next time he saw his friend. “we’re in the middle of a round and getting our asses kicked because of you, you can’t just dip now!”
“i’m sorry,” was all he mumbled before turning off his computer.
donghyuck didn’t even bother taking off his headphones, opting for simply letting it hang around his neck. he was too close, too desperate for release to worry about getting sweat all over the –new and very expensive– device –that he had just acquired not even a week ago after months of hard work–.
he could feel how hot his face was, sticky skin burning under the intense heat of your gaze. the smug smirk that adorned your pretty face had his body on fire, a combination of embarrassment and need making his cock twitch uncontrollably.
being able to see the power you had over the lee donghyuck had you almost shaking with excitement, adrenaline pumping through your veins and leaving you out of breath. you would be lying if you said you had never thought about this, having him all to yourself, at your disposal, ready to take anything you gave him.
your hand never stopped moving up and down his length, giving kitten licks to the swollen tip of his cock.
he wanted to scream and smash his head against the desk, desperation clawing at his throat. he knew you were trying to break him, to make him beg for it, to fully give in to you.
the idea of pleading for your touch, for you to engulf his hard cock with that sweet little mouth of yours had his jaw clenching.
but fuck… he really wanted, no, needed more. to watch you gag as he fucked your throat, tears escaping the corner of your eyes at the discomfort. he wanted your soft hands gripping his strong thighs to hold yourself together, a mix of saliva and his precum making the lower half of your face glisten under the light of his screen.
“i,” he struggled to speak up, voice trembling from the intense pleasure. “i’m close.”
“i can see that,” you smirked, twirling your tongue around the head before gently poking his slit with the tip of your tongue.
“please, i need more.”
donghyuck finally broke, babbling incoherent words, urging you to fully take him in.
fortunately for him, you immediately obliged, pushing your head down until the tip of your nose hit his neatly trimmed pelvis. he really thought some more begging was going to be necessary for you to give him what he wanted.
“fuck, yeah. just like that,” the sigh of relief he let out quickly turned into a loud moan when you swallowed around him, nails digging into the skin of his thighs.
his orgasm hit him like a wrecking ball. his entire body began trembling, hands shooting to hold your head down –as if you were planning on pulling away–, fingers threading through your hair for a better grip. spurts of hot, salty cum painting the walls of your throat, and you eagerly swallowed everything he gave you.
the sound of his heavy breaths filled the dimly lit room, his body still trembling from the mind-blowing orgasm that had just rocked his world.
you pushed his gamer chair back by his thighs, climbing onto his lap with a satisfied hum. you allowed him some rest, aware of his shaky legs, and instead focused your attention on the tan skin of his neck. you placed a tentative lick right under his jaw, slowly moving down the expanse of his throat. the feeling had the boy’s adam’s apple bobbing aggressively, your fingers going to play with the hem of his shirt before pulling the fabric over his head and tossing it somewhere in the room.
once he stopped feeling like his legs were going to give up on him, donghyuck stood up from his place on the chair making you yelp in surprise, strong arms holding you against him. he then sat at the edge of his bed, head resting on your shoulder.
“i wanna taste you,” donghyuck pleaded, reaching for your waist to pull you closer. “please, sit on my face.”
you instantly nodded, quickly removing your pajama shorts, body tingling with anticipation as you pressed your palm flat on his chest to push him onto his back. he complied, not a single complaint coming out of his mouth at your display of dominance.
donghyuck swiped his tongue over his pretty lips, wetting them and leaving them glistening with spit as he patiently waited for your next move.
“so eager,” you teased, a smug grin on your face.
“stop playing and hurry up,” the boy whined, lifting himself from his place, holding himself up with the help of his forearms.
his eyes were barely open, pupils blown out. he looked so hot, laying shirtless on his messy bed. all hard and wet, ready for you to drop your panties and sit on his dick.
and oh how bad you wanted to sit on it.
swinging your leg over his body, you positioned yourself so your dripping pussy was hovering right over his mouth. you immediately felt his large hands grip at your ass, forcing you down to finally sit on his face.
“thank you,” you could clearly feel his lips moving against your panty-clad core, the breathy sound of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “god, thank you so much.”
you didn’t even get to laugh at him, or tease him about how desperate he looked sucking your juices off of your panties. all that died on your tongue when he used two fingers to push the crotch of your underwear out of the way and immediately latched his mouth to your pussy.
“look at you, what a messy munch, eating me out like your life depends on it,” you teased, biting your lip when you felt his tongue poke at your gaping hole, caressing your insides.
the dirty words coming out of your mouth had donghyuck physically shaking under your weight, urging him to keep going. he wanted nothing more than to see you cum, have your hips sloppily rocking into his pretty lips and leaving the evidence of your arousal all over his face.
“fuck, hyuck. just like that,” you sighed contently, harshly grinding against his mouth. “you’re such a good boy.”
donghyuck hummed appreciatively, relishing at the praise, eyes falling shut and hands reaching for your thighs, massaging the soft flesh.
he loved the attention you were giving him, and he let you know just how proud of himself he was when one of his palms slammed against your ass cheek before nipping at your clit, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.
it all happened so fast that your orgasm caught you completely off guard. you didn’t even have time to flinch at the stinging on your backside, the knot in your stomach suddenly snapping, and you melted into a puddle. your trembling thighs clamped around donghyuck’s head, your entire upper body folding forward, struggling not to collapse on top of the boy under you.
you must have blacked out for a second there, and once you regained consciousness you were left in a breathless, sweaty mess.
“shit, that was so fucking hot,” donghyuck mumbled, sounding breathless as he stared down at his body with hooded eyes, snapping you out of your daze. “when were you going to tell me you could squirt?”
“i can’t-,” you choked on a loud gasp when you saw his now glistening chest.
your cum had sprinkled all over the place, some of it even reaching his naked thighs. embarrassment washed over your face, making your cheeks heat up.
“this is so much better than what i had hoped for, fuck.”
his pretty cock stood tall, in all its glory once again, hard and leaking, twitching every time his eyes travelled back to the mess you made.
swallowing your embarrassment, you moved to straddle your roommate’s hips, teasing your wet pussy over his hard cock. but before you could fuck yourself with it, donghyuck’s arms wrapped around you before flipping you both on your side.
“what are you doing,” you scowled, a pout on your swollen lips. “i was about to ride you!”
“as sexy as that sounds, we can do that later.”
“but-.”
“just, let me, okay?” his voice sounded so soft, so soothing you couldn't find it in you to fight with him as you usually would. “do you trust me?”
“what? what are you gonna do?”
“answer me, please.”
donghyuck’s soft voice and tender gaze made a wave of warmth spread throughout your body, a fuzzy feeling settling into your chest.
“i do.”
one of his hands grabbed your leg, bringing it to rest over his hip before positioning the head of his cock at your entrance. donghyuck smashed his mouth against yours, swallowing the small whimper that fell from your lips when he teased your clit.
“hyuck, put it in already,” you whined, clenching around nothing at the friction.
and how could he say no when you sounded so desperate to feel him? when he had been waiting for this moment for so long?
nodding, he did as you wished, pushing his hips into yours. his thick cock stretched your pussy wide open with each delicious inch, filling you up in a way you didn’t know you needed. his mouth fell open as your velvety walls enveloped him. your head rolled back, holding onto his arms for support, letting him push himself in further, deeper.
it felt like heaven. your bodies fitting perfectly against each other, as if you were both made for the other; just like puzzle pieces.
low groans left his chest at the sound of your tiny mewls, enjoying the burning sensation of your nails digging into the flesh of his arms.
donghyuck liked the way you said his name, how you called out to him with pretty eyelashes decorating those big eyes of yours as you looked at him. he liked the frustration and raw desire swimming in your eyes, and the way it made your lips form into a pout and your eyebrows scrunch together.
“move, hyuck,” you pleaded, attempting to grind your hips into his. “please.”
a scream was forced out of your throat as donghyuck immediately began slamming his throbbing cock inside of you. your whole body trembled in his arms as the bulbous head hit your g-spot, and almost as if he had just pressed a button, your mind went blank.
“t-there, fuck, oh my g-god.”
the distant look in your eyes, lips parted into a silent moan, drool threatening to drip down the corner of your mouth, let him know just how good he was making you feel. his chest swelled with pride, a newfound passion taking over him and turning his thrusts into deep, precise strokes that had you reaching heaven.
“feels good? this is what you wanted, right? to have my dick fucking you full?” donhyuck grunted, repositioning you on your back and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. he could feel himself throbbing wildly inside of you, warning him about his up and coming high.
“yes,” you gasped, legs tightening around his waist in an effort to bring him closer.
you would be telling the truth if you said you had never gotten railed like this before. who would’ve guessed the hentai-crazed dork next door would be so good at fucking you dumb? if it weren’t for his now obvious experience in the matter at hand you would’ve confidently assumed he had never been touched by a woman.
oh how wrong you were.
“i’ve dreamed about this for the longest time,” the boy confessed, “every time you walked around the place, wearing only a large shirt and panties, ass in full display, i had to lock myself in this room to fuck my first, wishing it was you instead.”
donghyuck could feel your walls clamping down on his cock like a vice at the weight of his confession. with your orgasms quickly approaching, he propped your calves on his strong shoulders to reach even deeper, lips going to kiss your breasts and nibble on your nipples.
“i can tell how much you like to be treated like the dirty slut you are,” he groaned against your chest, feeling his vision blur. “you’re fucking dripping all over me, creaming my cock.”
“h-hyuck,” your body began convulsing under him, about to tip over the edge.
“cum for me, y/n, let me see how pretty you look falling apart on my dick.”
and that was all you needed to hear before a wave of overwhelming pleasure washed over your entire body, calves squeezing donghyuck’s head from the intensity of your orgasm.
before you were able to fully ride your high, donghyuck pulled out, drawing whines out of you at the emptiness he left behind. ignoring your complaints, he shoved your legs together, shoving his cock between your plush thighs as he picked up his pace once again.
“fuck, i’m almost there,” he moaned, breathless.
and you couldn’t help but do the same as you stared at his face, eyes struggling to stay open as he chased his high like a rabid dog, using your body for his pleasure.
it didn’t take more than three harsh thrusts before he was spilling his essence all over your lower stomach and thighs with a pornographic moan.
releasing his hold on your legs to let them fall back in place, he collapsed on top of you, almost crushing you with his body, completely spent.
fortunately –or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it–, donghyuck was unable to successfully commit homicide. and after showering together and going for another round, each of you went back to your respective rooms, moving on like nothing happened.
just like that, your lives quickly fell back in place and normality took over once again.
or so you thought.
“hyuck, have you seen my pink panti-.”
you audibly gasped when you saw the pink lace panties you were searching for discarded on your roommate’s bed, a huge cum stain you were sure was not there the last time you saw them messily smeared on the crotch.
“what the fuck?”
“oh, yeah, i saw them in the dryer the other day and thought they looked too pretty not to jerk off to them,” the boy shrugged from his place in front of his large monitor, not even bothering to look at you. “honestly, you should invest in satin thongs, i think they’d look hot as fuck.”
“you little thief! i’ve been looking for them for days!”
“need i remind you that sharing is caring?” you huffed, a scowl on your face. “what do you need them for anyway?”
“to go out with chaewon, obviously?” you scoffed, annoyed.
he finally turned to look at you, eyebrows scrunched up and a dark look in his eyes. “so? were you planning on showing them to her or what?”
the growing annoyance in his tone left you scrambling for an answer, equally parts surprised and turned on by the hint of possessiveness in his voice.
“so what if i was?” you challenged, arms crossed in defiance.
you barely got time to react when his chair suddenly swirled around, donghyuck’s full attention now set on you.
“only i am allowed to see you in them, so you better behave.”
–lia:)
#nct smut#nct dream smut#kpop smut#haechan smut#lee haechan smut#nct x reader smut#lee donghyuck smut#nct donghyuck smut#nct dream haechan smut#nct haechan smut#nct 127 haechan smut#nct 127 smut#nct u smut
914 notes
·
View notes
Text
OPERATION: FUCK SIM JAEYUN.
—✧ summary: as a student, you were a huge academic overachiever, always wanting to excel in class and get the highest grades. as a teenage girl, you wanted to get some hardcore action. academics were stressful, and you needed an outlet for that stress. besides, it’s your second to the last year in high school. what could possible go wrong if you deviated and have a little fun? you’ve had your eyes on one guy for a while now, sim jaeyun. the handsome guy, the star soccer player, good at physics. now, you now had another goal aside from finishing the school year as the top student: fuck sim jaeyun. one day, you get partnered together for a project, and one thing led to another, you end up in his bed. this might just turn your life for the better… or the worst.
—✧ pairing: jake sim x y/n
—✧ genre: highschool! au, fluff, pining (mutual? you’ll see), friends with benefits, casual relationship, smut (in later parts)
—✧ a/n: i’ve been thinking about this plot for soooo long now and i really want to write it so here i am haha. this story will be split into two parts (you’ll understand why soon) each part with a vague number of chapters for now. depends on my mood, i’ll be writing and posting the chapters whenever since i’m pretty busy. but i promise, i will finish writing this because this is the plot i’ve been both daydreaming and sleeping to at night. this’ll be my outlet for my stress from academics ;)
—✧ taglist: @youreverydayzebra @witheeseung @w3bqrl @renjuns-grillfreind (cant be tagged) @freakywonbin , @enhafika , @enhacolor, @woniebuns, @cyberstephzz, @sumzysworld, @woniefull, @aanniikkaa, @faithnsstuff, @wonnienyang, @wonlluvie, @slut4hee, @hwaluvrsblog, @jakeswifez, @jiryunie, @nikibleist , @friurt, @jungwonsstrawberriesnchocolate, @jakesimfromstatefarm, @lolddhfsdcvff-blog (cant be tagged), @my10monthslovesimjae, @heefever, @milanco, @khaisdrz, @cha-raena, @khaisdrz , @milanco , @bananna-12 (cant tag), @ilovejakesimsm (cant tag), @enhypenlovre, @simjaeyunswifee, @shawnyle, @hoonieluv, @niniissus, @bookloversomuch . send an ask or comment if you want to be added!
SHORT PREVIEW:
══════*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*══════
you pull away from jake, panting, trying to catch your breath. you hear him breathing in the same pace as yours, and your brain short-circuits for a moment. you couldn’t believe what the hell just happened.
who the fuck leaned in first?
was it me? him?
and why did i enjoy it so much?
“s-shit, i…” you try to say, clearing your throat. you weren’t so sure what to say after that. wow? you’re an amazing kisser. we should do this more often! oh no you would sound insane. but then again, you were never even sane in the first place.
jake continues to stare at you, still trying to catch his breath. he looks at the unfinished project beside you, biting his bottom lip to keep himself from smiling. you notice this, raising an eyebrow, “what are you smiling about? is this funny to you? we just—“
“yes. we just made out. in my bed.” he cuts you off, looking you in the eye once again. you wanted to look away, growing shy under his gaze, but you find yourself not doing so. “didn’t think you were capable of that. always thought you were the saving yourself after marriage type of girl.”
your eyes widen in surprise, pushing him off. “e-excuse me! you act like you just fucked me in your mattress, which you didn’t, and we won’t ever do!” partially a lie. now that he mentioned it, you couldn’t stop thinking about that scenario now after that incredible almost experience. “and besides, i am that type of girl. i have huge respect for myself.”
jake smiled even wider at your response, “right. i’m not saying you don’t. but i gotta say, i wouldn’t mind doing that again.”
did you hear that correctly? did he just say he wouldn’t mind doing that again?!
well, to be fair, you honestly wouldn’t mind either.
you shake your head, “oh, shove off! let’s pretend that never happened. keep that between us.” you point a finger towards him, “say a word to anyone else and i will cut your balls off. that isn’t a threat, it’s a promise.”
“oh y/n, i know better than to disobey you.” jake replied, holding your hand in his and pressing a kiss to the finger you pointed at him. you could see the mischievous glint in his eye and you wanted nothing more than to slap (kiss, no, scratch that) smirk off his face, but that would mean you were in the losing round in a game that was never played in the first place.
not yet at least. oh god, what the hell were you thinking?
you gulp quietly, nodding at him, and quickly turned to the project in front of you. “right. we’re finished with our short break, l-let’s continue working. we’re not nearly done with this.” great. distract yourselves from what happened. that’s a good idea. put it all behind you and him.
you couldn’t exactly look him in the eye when saying that, so you could probably guess all that jake heard from you was blah blah blah. fortunately for you, jake hummed beside you and continued to work, acting completely oblivious (or so you’d like to assume) to what you were feeling right now.
once you went home, you were going to spend the whole night thinking about this. not just about what happened, but what jake responded to your embarrassing outburst.
“right. i’m not saying you don’t. but i gotta say, i wouldn’t mind doing that again.”
now why on earth would he say that to you?
══════*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*══════
chapter list! (tentative)
chapter 1
chapter 2
chapter 3
chapter 4
chapter 5
chapter 6
chapter 7
chapter 8
chapter 9
chapter 10
══════*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*══════
©2024 ©woniehugs
#enhypen#enhypen scenarios#enhypen fluff#enhypen hard hours#enhypen smut#sim jaeyun#jake sim#lee heeseung#park jay#yang jungwon#park sunghoon#kim sunoo#nishimura riki#enhypen soft hours#enhypen fic#enhypen drabbles#enhypen x reader#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen jake smut#enhypen as your boyfriend#enhypen reactions#enhypen suggestive#enhypen jake#woniehugs
803 notes
·
View notes
Text
They were gonna put Eddie down like a damn dog.
The group had insisted that Steve visit the hospital today, one year and two months after the incident. It was a random day, and he thought, ‘ why the hell not?’
Family Video had been closed for months, doing ‘ repairs’, so he really didn’t have much else to do.
He thought it was weird, the way the group was as far away from the bed as possible, and how when he entered the room, Hopper almost blocked the exit.
He doesn’t question it though, sidling up to the open chair beside Eddie, who was still asleep after all this time, and punching his shoulder lightly.
“ Hey, Hero.”
He’d taken to calling it sleeping instead of what it was, a coma. Sleeping sounded more peaceful, because with sleeping came dreams and relaxation.
Eddie doesn’t respond, doesn’t react. Steve didn’t expect him to.
He turns his head to Dustin, the one who’d called him in the first place. “ So, why’re we gathered here today? Any updates?” He asks, addressing the whole room.
The boy swallows, and something tells him something’s wrong. Really wrong.
“ Yeah, actually. Uhm, since it’s been so long, we were thinking-“ He cuts himself off, crosses his arms and starts tapping his foot. Thinking, probably.
Hopper glances to him, and sighs, deciding to lead. “ We’re gonna have to let Munson go.” He states.
Steve takes a sharp breath.
“ What?”
‘ Let him go’ like this is a job. Like this isn’t him losing his life. He wonders when they decided to do this, in the hospital room for the ten minutes they were waiting.
Eddie doesn’t give any indication he hears what’s being said, the beeps from the heart monitor still steady and even as ever. A constant metronome of the exact same sound on the exact say beat, all the time, always.
Except maybe not always.
Dustin takes over again, arms placating. “ It’s been a really long time, Steve. We’ve come to terms that he probably won’t wake up, and it’s doesn’t have to be sad-“
“ You’re killing him.” He hisses, “ You’re killing him and it’s not meant to be sad?”
Nancy steps forward, seeing it as her time to speak. “ Steve. You barely knew the guy, and you spend all your time here, it’s not good for you.”
“ There’s been no good signs, no nothing, not even when El looks into his brain.” Dustin nods at the girl across the room, who’s fiddling with her fingers.
Steve furrows his brow, “ Oh, so I guess you’re gonna pull the plug on Max too?”
Lucas’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open, and Nancy glares. “ That is not fair, Steve.”
“ This whole situations pretty fucking unfair, so I guess you’re gonna have to explain to me how this is different from Max.” He stands, stance wide as he points to the man in the hospital bed.
“ Max is making progress.” Lucas says weakly, and El sets a hand on his shoulder. The boy deflates.
He turns toward Hopper and Joyce, the latter still not having spoken. The Byers family had moved back to Indiana for God knows what reason, and Steve knows that if he had the money, that he could’ve moved somewhere else long ago.
“ Does Wayne know you’re killing his kid?” He asks.
He’d met the man while visiting, and they’d usually sit in silence and watch baseball or whatever was on. He never questioned why Steve was there, or why he was holding a limp body’s hand and taking off it’s rings and putting them back on.
When they did speak, it was stories he had from Eddie’s childhood, about how he buzzed his head because a spider crawled on him and he was convinced it was hidden in his hair, making babies.
Hopper pinched his nose, like he was being a pest. “ Stop using words like killing, and yes. He said he didn’t want Eddie to have to suffer, and his bills are getting expensive.”
And he blinks, realization dawning.
This hadn’t just been decided, had it? This wasn’t a ten minute decision while Steve was getting ready to come here.
He speaks, his voice low and keeping even through each word, “ You guys had a meeting.” The ‘ without me’ goes unsaid, but still echoes throughout the room like if would’ve if he shouted it.
They’d decided this whole thing beforehand, somehow knowing that Steve would hang on. And he would, will. He can’t let him die, he can’t lose.
Will nods, and next to him Mike and Dustin look ashamed. He would’ve thought they’d hold out more.
He racks his brain for any reason they should keep alive, can’t find one. Somehow, even without one for them, he has a million for himself.
“ If the bills are the reason, I’ll pay the damn bills. He’s fucking alive.” He tries.
“ You don’t have a job, Family Video is closed. Just let it be, Steve. Please.” Robin had been eerily quiet during this entire conversation, and it brings him chills him when she speaks.
His best friend had been in on it.
He crosses his arms, “ I’ll get a job. Listen, I’ve been having dreams,-“ He lies. He lies because there’s nothing true to prove Eddie is getting better. “-dreams that he’s alive in like a dark space, I don’t know- his mind maybe? I just- I really think he’s in there.”
The hope Dustin gets on his face hurts, but he doesn’t care. The guy will wake up and it won’t matter that the ‘ dreams’ never existed.
Maybe it’s because he’s an optimist, and that’s why he’s trying so hard, as pessimistic as he can be sometimes.
“ Why didn’t you tell us?” Dustin asks and Steve licks his lips.
Why didn’t he tell them? “ Despite all this crazy shit, me having dreams that he’s alive still sounds crazy.” He doesn’t look at the boy as he says this, eyes roaming over Eddie’s face.
He looks serene, the bat bite on his face as healed as it can get. The doctors had mentioned swelling on his back shoulder blades, but Steve thinks his would be swollen too if he sat on them for a year.
‘ A year and two months.’ He corrects himself.
He stares at the hair that, occasionally when it got matted, Steve would go through and brush it, not wanting him to wake up to being bald because a doctor seemed it necessary.
Wayne mentioned how much he hated the shaved head, and he wouldn’t put him through that again.
As he looks at him, he thinks ‘ I’m doing this for you, so you better wake up, asshole.’
Dustin’s eyes are wide, staring at the members of Hellfire. Steve could only describe the look as ecstatic.
“ Holy shit, I mean, holy shit!” He laughs, and Mike breaks into his own grin.
Jonathan chimes in, disbelief sketched into the lines all over his face. “ Sorry, but doesn’t that seem too convenient? I’m not saying you’re lying Steve, just… If El didn’t find anything, that’s pretty much it.”
His lips form into a line, determined. “ I told you, I’ll be paying for whatever. It’s no skin off your back, or money out of Wayne’s pockets.”
Joyce nudges Hopper when he goes to speak, and nods at Steve. “ If you wanna try, sweetheart, you can. But I don’t want you visiting too much, it’s doing you more harm than good.” She wraps him in a hug, before leading the ex-chief of police out of the room.
Slowly, everyone vacates, until it’s just Steve, Eddie, and El.
She doesn’t make a move toward the door, eyes locked onto his face.
“ You’re lying.” She whispers like a secret.
He nods.
She looks toward Eddie, nervous, and she messes with the hem of her shirt when she starts to speak again. “ I lied too.”
She doesn’t elaborate, walking out of the room without anymore information, and Steve blinks.
The hospital has to call Wayne to confirm the transfer, that's how he learns of the circumstances. He doesn't say much of anything, aside from a promise of a visit on Tuesday before he hangs up.
That night, that same fucking night, he gets a call.
It's the front desk lady, voice distressed rushing through an explanation.
" Eddies gone...Only blood in his bed...We don't know where he is."
Steve stares at the wall, the rest of the words falling upon deaf ears.
Someone had probably found out where he was being held, murdered him a year later for his crimes, and stashed the body away.
He sets the phone back in its holster without saying anything to the other line. Not even a goodbye, or a thanks.
He thinks, it only for a second, that he should've let them just pull the plug, it would've been far less painful.
A creaking brings him out of it, and his eyes dart to his door.
It's dark, too dark, and Steve's aware the Upside Down fucked him up in incomprehensible ways, and now every shadow looks like something,
But there was definitely someone in his house.
He keeps slumped on his bed, the same position as when he'd answered the call. He doesn't flinch when the door pushes open enough for a body to slip in.
There's the sound of something dragging along the carpet as they come closer, probably a shotgun, or maybe they're gonna beat him with his own nail-bat.
He doesn't care to decipher the shape, instead shutting his eyes.
A hand grabs his, sets it on dry skin. His thumb touches a rough patch, a scar like feeling.
One his hands had roamed over while patching up his stomach, refusing to get looked at. That concave patch of scratchy skin that they tell you eventually will just be soft, scarred, but normal.
The skin stretches, and he feels a cheek.
Somehow, he thinks if he keeps his eyes shut, he doesn't have to face the thing in front of him, that it somehow isn't real.
A scratchy, disused, and croaky voice sounds out.
" ' Hey, Hero.' "
#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#eddie munson x steve harrington#steve harrington x eddie munson#camazotz eddie munson#rottenaero#rottenaero rots#rottenaero writes#steddie drabble
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Last Friday Night | Modern AU! (Cregan Stark x Y/N)
In the realm of scandalous misdeeds, slumbering with your brother’s best friend should be a cardinal sin—dangerous liaison that Y/N Velaryon ought to steer clear of, now nor in any future reincarnation. But, oh, how the rules bend under the weight of temptation. A night of drunken sex with Cregan Stark, Jace’s insanely hot best mate and a towering 6-foot something alpine skier with ice in his veins. What a night it was! Only problem? They were both so tipsy that the details are a hazy blur, and now they awaken in a tangled mess beside each other. Word count: 5,6k
TW // Strong language and profanities, sexual content, mentions of alcohol, smoking.
“Fuck.”
That was the first coherent thought Y/N Velaryon had when she opened her eyes. Her head throbbed like a drum, each pulse a reminder of why tequila shots are the devil’s work. The room was unfamiliar—definitely not hers. The bed was too big, the sheets too expensive, and the body lying beside her too…well, fuck again.
She turned her head slowly, hoping against hope that her suspicions were wrong. Maybe it was some rando, some nameless, faceless guy who she could shove out the door with minimal awkwardness. But when she finally caught a glimpse of the dark, messy hair and the broad, bare back that could only belong to one man, she groaned internally.
Cregan fucking Stark.
Of course, it was him. It couldn’t just be some forgettable one-night stand. It had to be her brother’s best friend, the guy Jace had always been crystal clear was off-limits. And here they were, in bed together, like the setup to some bad rom-com, except this was way more fucked up.
She pressed her palms to her eyes, trying to piece together what the hell happened last night. There were flashes—Jace convincing her to go to some ridiculous party at a mutual friend’s country estate (more like a palace really), the champagne flowing, the ridiculous number of shots, and the way Cregan had looked at her from across the room. Not that she'd paid much attention, or so she thought.
And then…nothing. A blank slate. Well, at least until now, when the reality of waking up next to the man Jace had declared off-limits hit her like a truck.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Y/N muttered under her breath, shifting slightly to get out of bed without waking Cregan. But the sheets rustled, and before she could even swing her legs out, a deep voice rumbled beside her.
“Morning.”
Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She froze, mid-escape, and slowly turned to face him. Cregan was wide awake, propped up on one elbow, smirking at her like the cocky bastard he was.
“Morning,” she croaked, her mouth dry as hell. “This is, um…”
“A fucking disaster?” he suggested, his grin widening.
“Yeah, something like that.”
Cregan chuckled, the sound rich and annoyingly sexy, even through her hangover. He looked far too pleased with himself, considering the circumstances. His dark eyes held hers, and for a second, Y/N was painfully aware of the fact that she was still very much naked under these sheets. So was he.
This was beyond bad.
“I remember bits and pieces,” she admitted, rubbing her temples. “But not…this. Why didn’t you stop me? Or yourself?”
“You think I could have stopped you?” Cregan raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You were pretty damn determined.”
Y/N groaned, slumping back against the pillows. “Fuck. Jace is going to kill us. You know that, right? He’s literally going to skin you alive.”
“Pretty sure he’s got more important things to worry about than who his sister hooks up with,” Cregan said, stretching lazily. “Not that I’m planning on telling him.”
She shot him a look. “And how exactly do you think we’re going to keep this a secret? He’ll know. Jace always knows when I’m up to something. He’s like a damn oracle.”
Cregan shrugged, like he wasn’t at all fazed by the prospect of Jace’s wrath. Which, Y/N supposed, he wouldn’t be. Cregan Stark was all ice and steel when it came to handling pressure. Professional alpine skier, always on the edge of danger—like he didn’t have enough adrenaline in his life without adding ‘sleeping with his best friend’s little sister’ to the list.
“We just pretend it didn’t happen,” Cregan suggested, as if that was the easiest thing in the world. “Last night was a blur, and this morning’s just a bad dream. We’ll go our separate ways, no one’s the wiser.”
“You really think that’ll work?” Y/N asked skeptically.
“We won’t know unless we try,” he replied, his tone almost teasing.
She couldn’t believe this was happening. She’d just finished uni, started her internship at a nice law firm, and was supposed to be focusing on her career. Instead, she was tangled up in the sheets with Cregan Stark, about to engage in the most complicated cover-up of her life.
“Fine,” she finally said, exhaling sharply. “But if Jace finds out, you’re the one explaining it to him.”
“Deal.” Cregan’s smirk softened into something almost genuine, and for a moment, Y/N’s stomach did a weird flip.
She quickly pushed the feeling down. This was a one-time thing, a mistake—one she couldn’t afford to repeat, no matter how tempting it might be. The last thing she needed was more complications in her life.
“Okay, I need to get out of here,” Y/N said, sitting up and scanning the room for her clothes. They were scattered across the floor, a chaotic mix of her dress, shoes, and underwear. Cregan’s clothes were mingled with hers—of course, he didn’t seem to be in any rush to get up. Typical.
As she scrambled out of bed, trying to gather her things, she felt Cregan’s eyes on her, and when she looked back, there was something in his gaze that made her pause. It wasn’t just the lazy, post-hookup look she expected. There was something else, something deeper that she couldn’t quite place. But before she could analyze it further, he smirked again, shattering the moment.
“Need any help?” he offered, his tone suggesting anything but.
“I’m good,” she replied quickly, slipping into her dress and trying to maintain whatever dignity she had left. “I’ll just, uh, see myself out.”
“Sure thing, Y/N,” Cregan said, his voice holding a hint of something she couldn’t quite identify—teasing, maybe, or was it something more?
But she didn’t have time to dwell on it. She needed to get out of here, get back to her place, and pretend this never happened. As she slipped her shoes on and made a beeline for the door, she could feel his eyes on her the whole time, and it took every ounce of willpower not to look back.
The walk of shame had never been so literal.
▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌
Y/N finally made it back to her flat in South Kensington, pushing through the ache in her head and the overwhelming need for a gallon of water and a hot shower. She fumbled with her keys, silently praying to every god she didn’t believe in that Jace would still be at the photoshoot he’d mentioned yesterday.
But as soon as she swung the door open, she knew her luck had run out.
Jace Velaryon was sprawled out on her couch like he owned the place—legs kicked up on the coffee table, remote in one hand, a half-eaten bowl of cereal in the other. He looked up as she entered, and his face lit up in that way only big brothers get when they know they’re about to cause trouble.
“Well, well, well,” he drawled, a grin spreading across his face. “Look who’s doing the walk of shame this morning.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to play it cool. “Shut up, Jace. I just went for a…walk.” Even she cringed at how lame that sounded.
“A walk?” Jace repeated, raising an eyebrow. “In last night’s dress and heels? That’s a new one, even for you.”
“I wasn’t—” she started, but Jace cut her off with a laugh.
“Please, sis. Don’t even try it. I’ve known you too long to fall for that bullshit.” He sat up, clearly enjoying himself. “So, who was the lucky guy? Or girl? I’m open-minded.”
She shot him a glare, trying to ignore the heat creeping up her cheeks. “It’s none of your business, Jace.”
“Oh, come on,” he whined. “You’re my little sister. It’s literally my job to make your love life my business.”
She snorted, moving past him toward the kitchen. “Right, because you’re such an expert on relationships.”
“Hey, I’ve been in plenty of—” he began defensively, but she cut him off.
“One-night stands don’t count, Jace.”
He laughed, unfazed. “Touché. But seriously, you look like death warmed over. Was the party that wild?”
Y/N could still feel the blood rushing to her face, and she kept her back to him, rummaging in the fridge for a bottle of infused water. “Yeah, it was…something.”
“I knew it!” Jace crowed, slapping his knee. “I knew you’d have a good time once you loosened up. See, you should listen to me more often. You’re always so serious with your work stuff, but you gotta live a little, Y/N. You’re too young to be so…responsible.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Because as much as she hated to admit it, Jace had a point. Her life had been all about exams and internships lately, no time for fun or the kind of reckless behavior that usually ended with waking up next to a Stark.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Party more, work less,” she muttered, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a long drink.
Jace leaned forward, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “So, was he hot at least? This guy you left with?”
Y/N almost choked on her water. “What? I didn’t leave with anyone.”
“Right,” he said, dragging the word out. “That’s why you’re sneaking back in at ten in the morning with bedhead and makeup smudged like a panda. Come on, just tell me who it was. Was it that guy Luke introduced you to last week? What was his name…Liam? Leon?”
She shook her head, exasperated. “Hells, Jace, can you just drop it?”
Jace grinned, leaning back again. “Oh, this must’ve been a really good one if you’re getting this defensive. Come on, Y/N, I’m dying here. Give me something.”
For a second, she considered telling him the truth—just blurting it out and watching the chaos unfold. But then she thought of Cregan’s lazy smile, the way he’d suggested they just forget about it and move on. The way her brother would probably explode into a million pieces if he knew. And she decided against it.
“Fine,” she sighed dramatically. “If you must know, it was some random bloke, okay? No one you know. Just a guy. But yes, he is fit. Satisfied?”
Jace considered this, squinting at her as if trying to detect a lie. Finally, he shrugged. “I guess. But if you don’t want me to know, that just makes me want to know more. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, well, good luck with that,” she replied, moving past him again, hoping he’d drop it.
He watched her go, still grinning like an idiot. “You know, you should bring him to the next party,” he called after her. “Introduce me. I promise I won’t bite…unless he’s into that sort of thing.”
Y/N groaned and flipped him off over her shoulder. “You’re disgusting, Jace.”
“Love you too, sis,” he shot back, laughing. “And don’t think I won’t find out who it is. I always do.”
She shook her head, muttering curses under her breath as she retreated to her room. She needed a shower, a coffee, and about ten years of therapy to figure out how she’d ended up in bed with Cregan Stark of all people. But first, she needed to figure out how to keep Jace in the dark. Because if he ever found out…
Well, that wasn’t even worth thinking about.
▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌
Cregan Stark stood in the middle of his wrecked bedroom, hands on his hips, surveying the chaos. Sheets twisted, pillows on the floor, a lamp somehow knocked over. It looked like a tornado had swept through, and that tornado’s name was Y/N Velaryon.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his tousled dark hair. He tried to piece together the events of last night, but the details were hazy, like trying to grab smoke with his bare hands. He remembered flashes—the way she looked at him, the heat in her gaze, the sound of her laugh, and the taste of alcohol on her lips.
But everything after that? A blur.
Goddamn shame, too, because if there was anything he wanted to remember clearly, it was Y/N Velaryon in his bed, under him, her nails digging into his back. Fuck, he’d have liked to play that on repeat in his mind forever, but the alcohol had betrayed him, stealing away the details of what was undoubtedly the hottest night of his life.
He started picking up his last night’s clothes scattered across the floor and cursed himself again. How could he forget? He rarely drank that much, being an athlete and all, but last night…last night had been something else. He found his shirt flung over the back of a chair, his pants half-hanging off the edge of the bed. His brief were bunched up in the corner, and then—
Oh.
A small, red scrap of lace was tangled up in the sheets. He picked it up, grinning as he realized it was her G-string. She must’ve been in one hell of a hurry to leave it behind. He turned it over in his hands, feeling the delicate fabric, imagining her wearing it, and smirked.
“One hell of a merchandise,” he muttered with a chuckle, tucking the lace into his pocket. “Score.”
It was stupid, really. A goddamn G-string, and here he was, acting like he’d found a winning lottery ticket. But there was something about Y/N—something that had always pulled him in, even when he’d been trying his hardest to ignore it. Jace’s little sister, forbidden territory. He’d spent years pretending he didn’t notice how fucking gorgeous she’d grown, how smart and sharp-tongued she was. But last night had shattered all of that pretense into a million pieces.
He shoved the rest of the clothes into a messy laundry pile, wondering how long it would take for Jace to find out. Y/N was good at keeping secrets, he’d give her that, but Jace was practically psychic when it came to his sister. Cregan could already hear his best friend’s voice in his head, pissed off and protective, probably ready to bash his skull in.
But for some reason, that didn’t bother him as much as it should. He found himself smiling, still, as he started straightening up the room. Maybe it was because he liked the idea of having something that was just his and hers—something Jace didn’t know, something they could keep between them.
And hell, if it was anything like last night—at least, what he could remember of it—he wouldn’t mind making a habit of it.
As he finished tidying up, he spotted his phone on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a new message. He picked it up, already knowing who it would be.
Jace:
Yo, brunch? Need to talk to you about something.
Cregan snorted. Of course, Jace wanted to talk. He always did when something was up with Y/N. He hesitated for a second, wondering if Jace had already figured out what had happened. But nah, if Jace knew, the message would’ve been a lot less polite.
He typed back a quick reply.
Sure, mate. Usual spot?
There was a pause before Jace responded.
Jace:
Yeah, see you in 30. And don’t be late, you lazy fuck.
Cregan chuckled, tossing the phone back on the bed. Yeah, this was going to be fun. He grabbed a fresh shirt, slipped it over his head, and, with a final glance around the now semi-clean room, he headed out.
He might not remember every detail of last night, but he’d be damned if he let that stop him from figuring out how to make it happen again.
▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌
Cregan arrived at the little brasserie they always met at, a tiny spot tucked away on a quiet street. The kind of place with faded awnings and mismatched chairs that served strong coffee and even stronger Bloody Marys. Jace was already sitting outside, a cigarette dangling from his lips, dressed in designer shades and a leather jacket that probably cost more than most people’s rent.
“You’re late,” Jace called out as Cregan approached, flicking ash into the street. “I was starting to think you’d bailed.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, mate,” Cregan replied, sliding into the chair across from him. “But, you know, mornings are a bitch.” Especially when you’ve just spent them cleaning up the aftermath of what could’ve been the best mistake of your life, he thought.
Jace smirked, passing him the pack of cigarettes. “Yeah, looks like you had a rough one. Big night?”
Cregan shrugged, playing it cool. “Something like that. But hey, speaking of big nights…” He leaned in conspiratorially, lighting his cigarette. “What’s this I hear about Aegon?”
Jace snorted, taking a drag from his own cigarette. “Oh, mate, you haven’t heard? It’s fucking priceless.” He leaned back, tapping the ash off with a grin that was half-amused, half-disgusted. “My dear cousin managed to land himself in the hospital. For his cock.”
Cregan choked on his first drag, coughing out smoke. “What?” he managed between laughs. “His cock? You’re joking.”
“I swear to god,” Jace said, holding up his hand like he was taking an oath. “Apparently, he was trying to pull off some kind of…threesome, foursome, who the fuck knows, at one of those clubs he’s always getting kicked out of. Anyway, things got out of hand, and next thing you know, he’s screaming in agony and they’re rushing him to A&E.”
Cregan was in stitches, wiping a tear from his eye. “You’re telling me Aegon actually managed to break his dick?”
“That’s the rumor,” Jace replied, chuckling. “Doctors said it was some kind of penile fracture. Can you imagine? Poor bastard was probably halfway to heaven when he got dragged right down to hell.”
“Thoughts and prayers mate, that’s rough,” Cregan said, still laughing. “How the hell does that even happen?”
Jace grinned, leaning in. “Apparently, he got too enthusiastic. Girl was on top, he was thrusting up, and…” He made a snapping motion with his fingers. “Snap.”
Cregan winced, half in sympathy, half in amazement. “Fuck me, that’s got to hurt. How long’s he gonna be out of commission?”
“Couple of months, at least,” Jace replied, blowing out a stream of smoke. “He’s already whining about it all over social media. You know Aegon. Can’t suffer in silence.”
Cregan snorted. “Sounds like him, alright. Bet he’s milking it for all it’s worth, too. Getting the sympathy votes.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Jace agreed. “He’s already got half the city sending him flowers and chocolates like he’s some kind of war hero. Even Mum’s getting involved—sending him a care package like he’s gone off to battle instead of just fucking his way into the emergency room.”
They both laughed, loud and unrestrained, the way only friends who’ve known each other too long can. The kind of laughter that turns heads from the neighboring tables, but they didn’t care. They were in their own world, swapping stories, cigarettes, and coffee.
“Honestly, though,” Cregan said after a moment, shaking his head. “Only Aegon could turn a night out into a medical emergency. Guy’s got a talent.”
Jace grinned, flicking his cigarette butt away. “Yeah, but you know what they say about talent and stupidity—it’s a thin line.”
Cregan chuckled, taking another drag. “And Aegon’s crossed it, time and time again.”
“Too right,” Jace replied, nodding. “But it makes for good entertainment. Can’t wait to see how he spins this one. You just know there’s gonna be some kind of dramatic story about how he risked it all for love or some other bullshit.”
“The hero’s journey,” Cregan quipped, smirking. “Except with more broken bones and fewer dragons.”
Jace laughed. “Fewer dragons, more dick injuries. Welcome to the modern world.”
Cregan took a long drag, blowing out smoke slowly, his mind still partially elsewhere, still thinking about the G-string tucked in his pocket. Yeah, this was the kind of gossip he could get behind, but there were other things—better things—on his mind. Like how he was going to see Y/N again without Jace getting suspicious. Because if Jace found out…
Well, he’d just have to make sure Jace never did.
Jace was mid-sip on his coffee when he caught a glimpse of something on Cregan’s neck. He blinked, did a double take, then broke into a wide, shit-eating grin that could have lit up all of London.
“Oh, no fucking way,” he practically howled, slamming his coffee cup down onto the table and leaning forward. “Is that…what I think it is?”
Cregan, who had been in the middle of stubbing out his cigarette, froze. “What the hell are you on about?”
Jace pointed, still grinning like he’d won the lottery. “Your neck, you dumbass. You’ve got hickeys all over it.”
Cregan felt his stomach drop, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he reached up, rubbing his neck as if he is already aware of them. “Oh these?”
Jace let out a loud, triumphant laugh. “Come on, don’t play dumb with me. Whoever you were with last night really went to town.”
Cregan could feel his face heat up, but he kept his expression neutral. He was an expert at this game; he’d been friends with Jace for too long to let him see he was rattled. “Maybe I just ran into a really aggressive mosquito,” he shot back dryly.
“Bullshit,” Jace cackled, smacking Cregan on the arm. “Come on, bro, spill the beans. Who was it? Who’s the lucky lady leaving marks on your neck like you’re a piece of meat?”
Cregan shifted in his seat, trying to keep his cool. He could still feel the faint burn of Y/N’s lips on his skin, and damn if that didn’t send a shiver down his spine, even now. “Just a random girl,” he said casually, waving a hand like it was nothing. “Nothing serious.”
“A random girl, my ass,” Jace scoffed, leaning closer, his grin wider than ever. “Come on, mate. I know you better than that. You don’t let just anyone mark you up like that.”
Cregan rolled his eyes, trying to deflect. “And how would you know what I do or don’t let happen?”
“Because I’ve known you for a decade,” Jace shot back, grabbing another cigarette. “You’re picky. Way pickier than me, and that’s saying something. So, whoever it was…must’ve been special.”
Cregan fought the urge to wince. If only he knew just how “special” the girl had been. He could almost see Jace’s face if he ever found out. Cregan could already imagine the explosion—the yelling, the accusations, and Jace’s unrelenting fury. Yeah, best to keep this under wraps.
He leaned back in his chair, shrugging. “You’re reading too much into it, Jace. It was just a fun night. No big deal.”
“Fun enough to leave those,” Jace said, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Seriously, they look fresh. Did you at least get her number?”
Cregan snorted, taking another sip of his coffee. “Nah. It was just one of those things, you know? No strings attached.”
“Huh, strings,” Jace snickered. “Or no strings…left, eh?”
Cregan’s hand twitched towards his pocket, where Y/N’s G-string was still tucked safely away. He felt a momentary thrill of panic, wondering if Jace could somehow read his mind, but his best friend’s smirk told him he was still in the clear…for now.
“Look, mate,” Jace said, putting out his cigarette and leaning in with a mock-serious expression. “All I’m saying is, whoever she was, she clearly had a good time. And you…you’ve got the evidence to prove it. But come on, give me something. I’m dying here.”
Cregan laughed, finally slapping Jace’s arm in return. “Alright, alright, fine. Maybe I’ll tell you…someday.”
“Oh, you will,” Jace replied, eyes twinkling with mischief. “One way or another, Stark, you will.”
As Cregan leaned back, smiling like he hadn’t a care in the world, he knew this was a situation he’d have to play carefully. Because if Jace ever found out the truth, those love bites on his neck would be the least of his worries.
▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌
Monday arrived like a slap in the face, and Y/N was not ready. Not even a little bit. She sat at her desk, her fingers hovering over her laptop keys, but her mind was a million miles away. She was supposed to be working on some due diligence report, but instead, she was spiraling.
Full-on, out-of-control spiraling.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t had her fair share of one-night stands before. She was young, single, and sometimes she just needed to blow off steam. But this? This was different. Because it hadn’t been just anyone. It had been Cregan Stark. Her brother’s best friend. The guy Jace had practically tattooed with the words Do Not Touch where she was concerned.
And it wasn’t like she was worried about Jace finding out, not really. She was a lawyer, for fuck’s sake. She lied for a living, spun stories into gold, and could argue her way out of anything. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw Cregan’s face, felt his hands on her, and heard his deep, rumbling laugh in her ear. The memory alone sent her into a panic.
She’d needed to talk to someone. Someone who wasn’t Jace. So, of course, she’d turned to her cousin, Baela Targaryen, who was currently perched on the edge of Y/N’s desk.
“You did what?” Baela practically screeched, her voice loud enough to turn a few heads in their direction.
Y/N winced, shooting her a look. “Keep your voice down, for fuck’s sake,” she hissed.
But Baela was having none of it. She was practically vibrating with excitement, her violet eyes wide. “You slept with Cregan fucking Stark?” she repeated, but at least this time she whispered. “Holy shit, Y/N. This is…this is epic.”
Y/N buried her face in her hands, groaning. “No, it’s not. It’s a disaster. A full-blown, Jace-will-kill-me disaster.”
“Are you kidding?” Baela snorted, leaning in. “Jace doesn’t have to know. And besides, Cregan’s hot as hell. I mean, have you seen him? Those shoulders? That jawline? And he’s an athlete. A pro skier. The man probably has a body like a fucking Greek god. Why are you freaking out?”
“Because it’s Cregan,” Y/N said, exasperated. “It’s Jace’s best friend. And I’m supposed to be focusing on my career, not getting tangled up with guys I shouldn’t be touching.”
Baela rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You’re young, hot, and brilliant. You can focus on your career and still have a little fun on the side. I mean, who hasn’t wanted to sleep with their brother’s best friend at some point?”
Y/N gave her a look. “Most people, Baela.”
“Well, most people are boring,” Baela shot back, grinning. “Look, you’ve always been the responsible one. The one with the plan, the one who does everything by the book. Maybe it’s time you let loose a little. And besides…” She leaned in, her grin widening. “How was it?”
Y/N felt her cheeks heat up, and she hated how easily Baela could do that to her. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “I mean, it was…good. Really good. But that’s not the point.”
Baela laughed, her bright, melodic sound echoing through the open office space. “Oh, that’s exactly the point. Come on, Y/N, you’re practically glowing. It must’ve been better than good if you’re this messed up over it.”
Y/N shook her head, trying to pull herself together. “It doesn’t matter. It was a mistake. A one-time thing. It can’t happen again.”
“Why not?” Baela asked, still smiling like a psychopath. “If it was so good, why can’t it happen again?”
“Because…” Y/N started, fumbling for the words. “Because it just can’t, okay? I can’t deal with the drama. And Jace will find out, and then it’ll be this whole big thing, and—“
Baela waved her off. “Jace doesn’t have to know, alright? You’re smart. You can handle it. And who knows? Maybe Cregan’s just the kind of distraction you need right now. Especially with all these dry, boring cases we’re stuck with.”
Y/N sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Yeah, a distraction is the last thing I need right now. What I need is to keep my head down and avoid any more…complications.”
“Oh, Y/N, you can do that,” Baela teased, nudging her with her elbow. “But where’s the fun in that? Life’s too short to be boring. Especially when you’ve got a Stark on your side.”
Y/N shot her a glare, but she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re not helping.”
“And you’re overthinking it,” Baela replied. “Look, you had a wild night with a hot guy. Enjoy it. Don’t spiral. Just…see what happens. You might surprise yourself.”
Y/N wanted to argue, wanted to tell Baela she was wrong, but deep down, she knew her cousin had a point. She was spiraling, and it wasn’t getting her anywhere. Maybe Baela was right.
Or maybe she’d end up in even deeper shit. But what’s done is done.
▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌
Cregan slammed the barbell back onto the rack with a grunt, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. The gym was quiet on a Monday afternoon, just the rhythmic thud of weights hitting the floor, the hum of the treadmill belts, and the occasional grunt from the other athletes scattered around. It was exactly how he liked it—minimal distractions, just him and the iron.
But today, he couldn’t focus for shit.
He was supposed to be prepping, getting his body in peak condition for the winter season. Autumn was crunch time for a professional skier. Every session counted, every rep, every second shaved off his sprint time mattered. And yet, here he was, barely keeping his head in the game, because all he could think about was Y/N Velaryon.
Fuck, he needed another go.
He dropped down onto the bench, grabbing a towel and rubbing it across his face, trying to clear his thoughts. But it was impossible. His mind kept replaying the brief flashes he remembered from that night—the way she’d looked up at him, her lips parted, her hands pulling him closer, nails digging into his skin like she couldn’t get enough of him.
And the way he couldn’t remember every goddamn detail was driving him insane.
He needed a do-over. A second chance to burn the memory of her into his brain properly this time. The half-forgotten fragments weren’t enough. Not even close. He wanted to remember everything—the way she tasted, the sounds she made, the way she moved against him. He wanted to savor every moment, replay it in his mind during the endless hours of training and competition.
He grabbed a medicine ball, slamming it down against the floor with a force that rattled the nearby weights. He knew he needed to get his shit together. He couldn’t afford distractions, not now, not with the season so close. But the harder he tried to focus, the more his thoughts drifted back to her.
To the way she’d looked that morning, rushing out of his flat, her hair a mess, her dress askew, and the small, scrap of lace she’d left behind like a calling card. He felt a grin tug at his lips just thinking about it. Fuck, she’d been gorgeous. And he’d been too smashed to enjoy it properly.
“Get a grip, Stark,” he muttered to himself, slamming the ball down again, trying to burn off some of the frustration coursing through his veins.
But it was no use. No matter how many reps he did, no matter how much weight he lifted, the image of Y/N wouldn’t leave his mind. He remembered the way she’d smirked at him from across the room at that party, the way her eyes had lingered on him just a little too long, like she’d been daring him to make a move.
And, oh, he’d made a move, alright. He just wished he could remember every damn second of it.
He switched to the rowing machine, gripping the handles tightly, and started pulling with quick, powerful strokes. His muscles burned, sweat dripped down his back, but it still wasn’t enough to push her out of his mind.
The problem was, he wanted her again. He wanted to see her, touch her, hear her laugh that low, teasing laugh she had. But this time, he wanted to be fully aware of every single thing he did to her, every little reaction he could coax out of her. He wanted to watch the way her pupils dilated when he touched her, hear the way her breath hitched, see that flash of challenge in her eyes when she bit her lip.
He wanted to remember. All of it.
He needed to see her again, needed to make that happen. But how? It wasn’t like he could just call her up. She was Jace’s sister, for fuck’s sake, and Jace was already poking around, suspicious as hell. No, he’d have to be careful, play it smart. He needed to find a way to get her alone again, away from her brother, away from prying eyes.
The rowing machine beeped, signaling the end of his set, but he barely heard it. His mind was already spinning with possibilities, ideas forming as he wiped the sweat off his face.
Yeah, he’d find a way. There was no way in hell he was letting this go. Y/N Velaryon was under his skin now, and he’d be damned if he didn’t get a chance to do things right this time.
Cregan cracked his neck, a determined smile spreading across his face as he headed toward the free weights. He’d figure it out. And when he did, he was going to make damn sure he remembered every single second of it.
#hotd cregan#cregan fanfiction#cregan x y/n#cregan stark#cregan stark x reader#cregan x you#cregan x reader#hotd modern au#hotd fanfic#hotd x reader
881 notes
·
View notes
Text
# - 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆
˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ — 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : Yuji Itadori, Nobara Kugisaki, Yuta Okkotsu, Maki Zenin, Satoru Gojo & Toge Inumaki
masterlist | jjk masterlist | upcoming anon asks
Yuji
Yuji downright catches you two making out completely by accident. He borrowed a copy of a certain manga from megumi and planned to return it so when megumi told him just to bring it to his room to return it when he found the time, he not so subtly stumbled upon his two friends. Megumi was sat on his bed, you comfortably on his lap as sucked faces. His hands were rubbing your bad under your shirt, toying with the strap of your bra. Megumi’s hands moved to your hips to grind you on top of him.
Just as you were about to take the lead - “oh shit” stood at the entrance of your boyfriend’s door was non other than Yuji, eyes wide as he took in the position of you both. It took a few seconds of stuttered and jumbled up words only for megumi to grab a pillow and throw it in Yuji direction “piss off! Why don’t you knock next time?!” Narrowly missing the attack, yuji bent down to place the manga on the floor before quickly scurrying off in the furthest direction, “I’m so telling Gojo Sensei!”
Nobara
Nobara can tell straight off the bat just simply from the way you smile. “Why’re you smiling so damn much?” She’d ask, knowing damn well why. “Don’t I always smile this much?” Normally she’d agree until she sees the way your eyes flicker over to the table behind her, already imagining the love-stricken face a certain dark haired boy held. The next clue was the your reaction to a notification sounding on your phone, nearly diving for the device and soon followed by an even wider smile. “You’re practically glowing, you fucked already huh” whipping your head towards your friend you fumble over your words as a hue of pink stains your face - a dead giveaway. “that’s a sex glow if I’ve ever seen one”
Yuta
He is the one who keeps his nose out of everyone's business but even he couldn't help but feel intrigued when he noticed that Megumi had your scent on him one morning. Tasked with training with the first years, he was paired with Megumi. Battling back and forth caused the two to be within close proximity to each other, allowing Yuta to notice the whiff of perfume on Megumi’s uniform. Strange, where had he smelt that before? He’d find it strange how strong the scent was and took it upon himself to find out.
His opportunity arose on his walk through the school’s gardens, nearly knocking heads with you before he caught himself. Yuta didn’t even have time to open his mouth before a certain scent practically punched him in the face. And it certainly didn’t help when he was sat between you both on the field, overwhelmed with the mix of smells. “Do you guys swap deodorant or something?” Megumi just scrunched his eyebrows in frustration, his attention taken away from his book, “what the hell are you talking about now?” The irritation was clear in his voice as Yuta’s eyes flickered between you two. “You two smell like each other, why? You sleeping in the same bed or somethin’?”
Maki
Ohohoho she knew. Maki’s not stupid, she can see the way you both steal glances at each other, the secret smiles in the hallways, the ‘slick’ passing of notes… so when you start making excuses on days you’re due to train together she knew exactly where you’d be. “I’m really sorry but my mum asked me to head into Kyoto later to get something for her” another one of your white lies bled through your teeth. She just raised an eyebrow to your poor excuse. “A-ha, you heading there with your boytoy?” This of course caused you to trip over your words- “wha-I don’t-boyfriend? What’s that?” Only to receive a deadpan face in return.
Not only was that embarrassing enough but you just had to run into her in the hallways of your school - no less holding hands with your ‘boytoy’. “Oi name!” You heard from the other end of the hall, and unfortunately for megumi, causing your instincts to kick in. Quickly snatching your hand from his grasp you shoved him into a nearby classroom (hopefully not currently in use) followed by a crash bang - the tell tale signs of an upcoming injury and whiny boyfriend. “What was that?” Although she knew full well what - or who - that was. “Nothing! You’re seeing things!” You spat out in a panic. “Uh-huh, well tell megumi to come out when he has time, he has training with Gojo Sensei”
Gojo & Toge
Toge, the bastard, even though his speech fails him that doesn’t stop him from becoming the school’s gossip queen. Toge would be the one to tell everyone in the school group chat which of course includes Gojo which also leads the entirety of Japan to find out. And Gojo, oho Gojo, he’d make it his life mission to involve himself as much as possible in Megumi’s life. They’d actually work together; Toge would gather information and pass it on to his Sensei only for Gojo to use it against his son. They’d have their little gossip sesh during class of course, absolutely no shame whatsoever. But the way they found out was unfortunately unforgettable.
Walking into class after hours to get his pencil case that he mistakenly forgotten, Toge only walked in to find you sat on megumi’s desk with the boy sat on his chair with his head on your lap. Megumi had a girlfriend? Toge was almost convinced that he wasn’t into girls seeing as he paid no attention or care to the opposite sex. Oh how wrong he was. Of course he took a picture, what else was he supposed to do? Walk away? “Oh and what’s this?” Behind him of course was non other than the infamous six eyes - also his teacher. “Little Megumi’s not so little anymore huh”. If anyone were to see them they’d surely come off as creeps with Gojo’s tall frame shadowing Toge’s, both peeking through the screen door of the classroom. “Send me that picture won’t you?” Fortunately for them they didn’t make themselves noticeable, unfortunately for you word spread the next day.
—
=͟͟͞͞ ⌧ 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋 : I feel like I’m forgetting someone…
— 𝘒𝘰𝘪 𝘹𝘰
#‧₊˚🖇️#˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔#˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝒋𝒖𝒋𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒖 𝒌𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒏#jujutsu kaisen#fluff#jjk oneshot#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#megumi x reader#megumi x you#megumi headcanons#jjk megumi#megumi fushiguro#jujutsu megumi#megumi fushiguro x reader#jujutsu kaisen megumi#megumi imagine#fushiguro megumi#megumi fluff#megumi x y/n#jjk fushiguro#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen fushiguro#jjk crack#jjk scenarios#jjk fluff#jjk yuji#jjk nobara#jjk yuta
4K notes
·
View notes