#aaaand he kept going all night | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lalal-99 · 4 months

Text

of dirty cheats {h.j.} | track 6

©July 2023, June 2024 by lalal-99

Han Jisung x afab!reader | trope: slice of life, coming of age | word count: 5.8k

Synopsis: The one where you're hungover and visit home.

Check Chapter Overview for complete list of warnings

Note: Aaaand, I'm back! I'm sorry for the long wait, but if you've kept up with my life, there's been so many things going on... Anyway, this chapter concludes the overwork of previously posted chapters, and the next one will be brand new. I hope you enjoy this. If you do, please leave comments and reblogs. They always encourage me so much!!!

Tumblr works on a reblog system. Please consider reblogging this post so that it can reach more people. Thank you :)

Please don't flag as mature or repost this story - Thank You

You woke up the following day with the sun shining in your face and your head spinning.

Nausea overtook you within seconds, so you rushed one hand to your temple in an attempt to massage the pain away. It lifted some of the discomfort while also shielding your irises from the light, but it was hardly enough. Every effort to get up got cut short when you noticed Jisung’s arm snug around your waist, holding you close. It took you a couple of seconds to untangle one arm and reach for your alarm on the bedside table.

7 am. You shouldn’t have gone out yesterday.

Five more minutes of dozing and some careful wriggling later, you sat up, taking a moment to asses your state. The initial urge to throw up subsided once you came to a standing, although you still moved with care. It wouldn’t have been the first time, your initial assessment was completely off.

Your whole body was in a state of freezing, even once you had gotten dressed. Slipping yesterday’s clothes back on, you snatched one of your boyfriend’s hoodies, so you wouldn’t catch a cold on your way to your place. Also, your mini-skirt was too mini to be considered everyday attire. The length of the hoodie would shield most unwanted attention to your exposed legs.

Worry spread in your veins when you noticed Felix’s empty bed while gathering your belongings.

After the party Jisung and you had decided to sleep over at his place for convenience. It was distinctly closer, and you needed to get him into bed sooner rather than later. Which turned out to be tougher than expected. He had quite a lot to drink as the night progressed, so you stayed with him. Felix hadn’t made it home after your run-in in the bedroom back at the frat house, and his absence filled you with concern. He couldn’t have been avoiding you on purpose, could he?

“Baby?”

You turned to your hoarse boyfriend, whose eyes remained shut as he searched for your body next to him.

“I’m here. You alright?”

“I don’t know. Ask me in two hours when I’m all caught up on sleep.” After about 4 hours of actual rest, you weren’t doing much better than him on the tiredness scale. Still, you were up, and he— wasn’t.

“You’re not going to your class this morning?”

A sarcastic chuckle and Jisung rolled over, pulling the blanket deeper into his face.

“Can you close the blinds before you leave?”

You did so after slipping into your shoes. It annoyed you that Jisung was skipping class—this habit being one reason his grades had suffered back in High School. Yet, there was nothing you could truly do about it. He was in no state to tend to anything but his sleep deprivation, and you knew how he could get when overtired. After all, you were driving back home later today. You figured he would be less annoying once he had caught up on at least some of his sleep.

“I’ll be back at 10 to pick you up. Can you be ready by then?”

“Sure.” You knew there wouldn’t be a further answer, his mind already dozing off again. You left the room to be on time for your own morning lecture. One of you had to be responsible, after all.

The morning progressed so slowly, it was painful.

By the time you reached your class, you had somewhat woken up. A very intended goal, achieved by two double shots of espresso and a cold shower. Although your headache never truly left you, you made it through the first two hours of the day. Turned out, Jisung wasn’t the only one skipping morning classes today. About a third of the chairs in the lecture hall remained empty, thanks to Jackson and his gift of throwing amazing parties.

Unfortunately, that third also included Yuqi. Without her and her endless chatter about the latest trends or her latest crush, it was harder to stay awake. You must have dozed off half a dozen times, so you might as well have stayed in bed after all.

The anticipation of home was the one things that helped you power through. It had only been about two weeks since your move, though you already missed your family like crazy. This, by far, was the longest time you had been away from them. Ever. The thought of walking your hometown streets again was the light at the end of the tunnel— in this case Macroeconomics 101.

You must have mentioned your excitement about visiting home countless times to Jisung. So, why was it that when you reentered his dorm three hours after leaving, he hadn’t moved at all?

“Dang it, Jisung, you said you’d be ready by 10.”

“Why are you mad? I’m perfectly on time.”

“It’s 10:05, and you are still in bed. Unshowered.”

“I’m getting up already.” Your annoyance rubbed off on him, his tone raspy from alcohol, lack of sleep and irritation. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

Said panties, mind you, the same ones he couldn’t wait to get into the night before. He definitely hadn’t sounded so frustrated at you then.

You suppressed a scolding reply, aware of how it held power to start a full-on fight, making you even less on time. It took a lot of willpower to push the urge to confront your boyfriend about his choice of words down.

Stumbling out of bed, Jisung picked up some fresh clothes and his shower gel, before leaving with mumbled sounds of disapproval. A heavy reek of sleep and alcohol veiled the room despite the open window, so you moved closer to it. The nausea, yet again, vanished.

You ran your hand down your tired face, letting your bag fall onto his sheets.

“Is he always in a mood when he’s hungover?”

You sighed, “It’s really frustrating.”

Felix nodded, letting his phone fall onto his pillow. You could feel his eyes lingering on you, lip caught between his teeth and his leg bouncing, restless. It didn’t take more than a glimpse from your peripheral vision to identify his mood. Tired, nervous. Anxious. Of course, you knew what he was biting his tongue about. Remembering his shock and angst when you had walked in on him yesterday, it surprised you, he even spoke to you. And you were even more surprised when he was the first to mention it.

“Y/N?” You met his glances with a kind smile, leaning up against the wall. “I wanted to talk to you about something. About what happened— yesterday, actually.”

“You mean when I walked in on you?” His earrings dangled along to his nod. You swore you heard his heart pounding through his chest.

“I was wondering... If you— whether you saw—” He struggled to find the right words to voice his question before giving himself a push. “Exactly how much did you see?”

“Well,” you started, getting up and walking over to his bed to join him. Having this conversation with him called for physical proximity. “I saw you in bed. Naked, and with someone. With—” You cut yourself off, sending him a comforting smile. Felix’s face was about as white as fresh snow. By the time you ended your sentence, fear clouded his irises, “A boy.”

A tear slipped out of his eye and into his lap as he stared at his hands. He was avoiding your gaze, so you brought your hand to his back, rubbing him through his shirt. Hopefully consoling him. You could feel his shallow breaths become steadier, so your comfort must have worked in some ways.

It took him a few more deep breaths to speak up, your silence helping him voice his thoughts.

“I haven’t really told anyone. Ever.”

When he turned to face you, you saw a hint of dread in his eyes. As though he was expecting a negative reaction to his revelation. Or that you’d out him to everyone. Had it been anyone else, that assumption would have hurt you. Though you figured this reaction was only fair, coming from him. He barely knew you. He couldn’t have known how unreasonable his fear was.

“How long have you known?” you questioned, trying your best to not overstep the boundaries. To help him understand how you wouldn’t feel any different about him because of what you saw. What you now knew about him, as apparently the only person on earth. Well, apart from that guy he had been with the night prior. He must have figured from contextual clues.

“Honestly, I always sorta knew. But I only started accepting it a few months ago. I tried dating girls for years, but it never felt right. The guy from yesterday... He was kind of—” Felix stopped again, trying to find the right words. “He was my first guy.”

“Oh, honey!” You pulled him into your chest, your hands wrapping around his body. Felix soon hugged you back, holding on so tight your shirt wrinkled. As though he had needed this hug more than anything. It lasted for a couple of seconds, maybe even a minute, tears hitting your shoulder and drying on your shirt. “Thank you for telling me,” you mumbled against his skin. The burden of keeping his secret hidden fell from his shoulders with every tear.

“Thank you. For accepting me.”

“Of course.” As you drew away, he wiped the tears from his cheeks, eventually calming down. “And don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

“I appreciate that. I don’t think I’m ready yet. I should tell my family first, but I’m afraid they won’t take it as well. They don’t really— believe in this stuff.”

“Well, you can always come to me when you need someone to talk to.” You shared a moment of eye contact, smiling at each other. “Now to the important stuff. Who was the guy?”

Chuckling at your question, Felix took a tissue from his nightstand, blowing his nose. When he met your gaze, you saw a spark behind the watery curtains. “It’s this guy from my Psychology class. We never talked before yesterday. But then we shared a moment and somehow— I don’t even know how, but one thing led to another. Kinda like in the movies.”

“Damn, that sounds like straight from Hollywood. Was he any good?” Judging from Felix’s suggestive expression, eyebrows raising and eyes gleaming, you could tell his answer. “I take that as a yes. Well, I’m very happy for you.”

“Thank you.”

You wouldn’t have minded some further details on last night. Whether Felix would be seeing the guy again outside of classes. Or whether he even wanted to or rather explore his options, now that he had the opportunity. Felix, too, seemed eager to finally have someone to talk to about this.

It was the creak of the door thrown open that stopped your conversation. Jisung rushed in, hair wet from his shower, fresh clothes clinging to his moist skin.

When he noticed your proximity, Felix’s eyes reddened, Jisung’s eyebrow quirked. “Did I miss something?”

“Nothing,” you replied, sending Felix a wink as you rose from his bed. “Are you ready?”

“Two more minutes. I need to pack some things.”

“Are you kidding me? I told you to pack your stuff two days ago.”

And just like that, your mood suffered another hit, although you tried to not let it affect you too much. When Jisung started throwing random items onto his bed, you sent Felix a sarcastic eye-roll. He couldn’t help a relieved grin from spreading, the Mount-Rushmore sized rock finally lifted from his shoulders.

“Well, since you’re already pissed, I might as well tell you now.” What an awful way to start a sentence. “I’m not sober enough to drive yet. So, you’re gonna have to get us home.”

Not the easiest task with your brain still thumping against your skull, but at least Jisung could help you stay awake.

When you were younger, you used to be embarrassed by where you lived.

You had always felt bad for your privilege. Guilty even, seeing none of your friends lived a life close to the one you had. Most of your friends lived in small and run-down apartment-complexes, confined to little space and sometimes even sharing a bedroom with several siblings. Blame the recession that had taken its toll on their parent’s income.

It mostly seemed like they had made due with it, finding their content in it. It was still uncomfortable whenever you invited anyone over to your place.

You felt the worst about growing up rich when you met Jisung.

His dad had left the family when he was seven. His mother stranded alone in an apartment she couldn’t pay for and with two children she hardly had the money to feed.

She already worked one full-time job when his piece-of-shit father left. She needed to pick up another part-time one just so they could afford their most basic needs.

By age ten, Jisung supported his mother’s second job, cleaning the houses of the rich and wealthy on weekends. With his sister in a time-consuming gifted program—paid for by a scholarship—he had no other choice. Jisung needed to put his own interests behind if he wanted to keep the roof over their heads. Being the sweet son he was, he did exactly that. Without a single complaint about the afternoons his friends spent hanging out at the mall or enjoying their hobbies.

When you invited Jisung over the first time, your friendship only weeks old, you felt ashamed. He lost control over his facial muscles, his jaw slacking when he saw the entrance of your house. He almost passed out when you showed him your new Nintendo in your room. Jisung forgot all about the expensive gaming console once he realised you didn’t have to share it. Neither your toys nor your room, which already took up the space of his whole apartment. A Queen sized bed occupied the middle of your room, and still left enough room for a motherland of games.

It wasn’t until Jisung invited you to his apartment, that you fully understood his mesmerisation with the simplest things in your house. Like the fridge, which was taller and broader than the two of you combined. Or your couches—plural, not singular.

You tried hard not to let your pity show while meeting his mother and sister. You feared you’d say something to offend them, making them feel bad or appearing like a snob. Needless to say, you didn’t talk much that afternoon.

Jisung never once gave you any reason to feel any more guilty than you already did. He assured you time and time again that you had nothing to be ashamed of. You had your own hardships, your own problems. And his family was doing fine. He couldn’t remember a time not sharing all their meals at a tiny table or sleeping in the same room.

Nothing about that changed when you fell in love at 14, two years after meeting.

Still, that same guilt knocked down your self-esteem whenever you passed the mansions of your street in Jisung’s rusty, old car.

Your boyfriend had slept through the whole two-hour drive from campus to your home. It had annoyed you in the beginning as you had hoped to get some time to talk. As your carefully crafted playlist progressed, all annoyance faded into the air. Plus, speeding down highways and crawling through neighbouring villages made you nostalgic. By the time you arrived home, Jisung had caught up on his sleep and you were beaming in excitement.

Your dad was already waiting for you, ever so happily smiling as he hugged you.

“I’m happy you’re home,” he mumbled against you as he pulled you in. His statement wasn’t needed with how visibly content he was, having his only daughter and future son-in-law back.

“I’m glad to be back. I missed you.”

“We,” Jisung corrected, nodding to your dad. “We missed you.”

“Well, I’m happy you’re here. Brunch is ready as soon as you are.”

At the mention of food Jisung’s stomach rumbled, sending him into a laugh.

“He’s ready, too,” your boyfriend translated the sounds as you placed your bag beside the door.

The TV played in the living room, overshadowed by the juicer-sounds in the kitchen. The smell of fresh oranges filled your nostrils, your mouth watering as you stepped through the doorway.

“Is that orange juice I smell?”

“Y/N!” The young woman jogged around the island, pulling you into a bone-crashing hug. “I missed you!”

“I missed you, too, Jia.”

“What about me?” Jisung questioned, taking over your space once Jia let you out of your hug.

“I missed you too, but a little less.”

“Wow. Thanks, sis.”

“So, how’s university? Tell me everything.”

Jisung did. He told his sister all about his dorm, new friends and courses he visited. All the while, you only had one ear with them. The other was searching the attached dining and living area. Soon enough, your eyes joined as you wandered the lower floor of your house. You identified a pair of tiny dinosaur-themed socks discarded on the coffee table. The couch stood buried under plastic toys and books, a children’s show playing on the flatscreen.

When you found the rest of the room empty, you exited the living area altogether. As soon as you set foot into the hallway, you finally heard a familiar voice call out to you. Your head turned and you found a small figure running towards you. Quick reflexes came into play when he all but jumped into your arms, making your heart jump through your chest.

“Mama!” Tiny arms wrapped around your neck and tears immediately filled your eyes.

“Hi, baby.” His breath hit your neck as your heartbeat accelerated. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” he answered as you picked him up, giving him a small peck on his cheek.

“He couldn’t stop talking about seeing you again. He barely slept tonight.”

With your dad by your side and your baby in your arms, you reentered the kitchen. When he saw Jisung, your son’s eyes reshaped into hearts.

“Papa!” You couldn’t set him down quick enough before he began sprinting towards his father.

Jisung picked him up and spun him around once before hugging him tightly against himself. “Hi, Ki. You miss me?”

“Yes,” the boy agreed, his smile reaching from one ear to the other. Seeing him so joyful made your heart swell and you swiftly wiped your tears away. For the first time in two weeks, you felt at home.

“Should we eat?”

Your dad was already one step ahead, carrying the pan filled with pancakes from the stove to the table. Four sets of tableware were set up neatly as fresh-cut flowers decorated the scene. Food from all sectors of the food-pyramid occupied the dark wood, making your mouth water.

“Did you set the table, Dad?”

He laughed at your assumption, “I wish. It was this wonderful lady right here.” He pointed at Jia. “Remember, you can move in whenever.”

“You might say that now,” Jisung interrupted, taking the seat between Ki and his sister, “but wait ’til you actually live with her. She’s a slob. A big-brain slob, but a slob.”

“Says the boy who uses his dirty underwear as parquet flooring.”

Ki giggled at that mental image, munching away on the food his grandfather had set on his plate.

“We haven’t lived in the same room for 3 years. I’ve changed.”

“Y/N, back me up here.” You looked at Jia while filling the fresh orange juice into the glasses by everyone’s plate. “You’ve lived with him for the past 3 years. Does he still keep his dirty clothes anywhere but in the hamper?”

After he had moved from his childhood room into yours a few years back, you remembered this habit of his. Vividly. It had been the main reasons fights would break out between you. Other than the constant debate on how to raise a baby, of course. Over the years, it had gotten better; his clothes landed closer and closer to the laundry basket each week.

“He tries, but he never mastered reaching into the hamper. I don’t know how someone’s aim can be so off.”

Jia laughed, Ki joining in once he understood your words to be of the joking kind. He was at that age where he tried mimicking the people around him. That included emotional reactions from the ones closest to him. And to think you were missing this crucial part of his childhood.

“Complain as much as you want. Ever since we moved to campus, I’ve been very diligent about keeping things clean.” Your expression told him that you had seen his room and didn’t quite agree. “At least Felix never complains.”

“This Felix guy sounds like a catch.” That you couldn’t disagree with. “Glad you got a decent roommate.”

“He’s alright. Although—” Setting his fork and knife beside his plate, Jisung took a sip from his glass. “What were you two hugging about before? You seemed… close.”

There was no undertone to his question other than wanting to know the content of your talk. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Jisung was hinting at something.

“Nothing. Just small-talk.” Not a lie, but not the truth either. Though you figured a little white lie couldn’t hurt, knowing all it did was hide the secret Felix had shared with you. Jisung wouldn’t have judged Felix if you had told him, but you didn’t believe it was your right to out him. Especially after promising you wouldn’t tell anyone.

“Really? I could swear he was crying or something.”

“Oh, that? He was going through some personal things.” A little closer to the truth but still not revealing the whole story. Jisung seemed to believe you, and why wouldn’t he have? Had it been something that concerned your boyfriend, you would have told him. Didn’t have a reason not to. “Nothing to worry about, though.”

“Alright.” Your boyfriend picked his cutlery back up, slicing some of his son’s food for easier eating. “You’d tell me if it was serious, though. Right?”

“Of course,” you agreed as you beamed at your son. His mouth was stuck in a grin while he shoved spoons full of pancake into his mouth. “Everything’s alright.”

Brunch continued with little distraction. The topics reached from your future sister-in-law’s studies, which she was about to finish, to your son’s upcoming birthday. Still over a month away, but you could never start planning too early. It almost felt like you had never left. Your family, spending the late morning like you had any other weekend before moving to live on campus.

Your son’s lack of sleep showed right after he finished his plate. Despite his best efforts to keep himself awake, his eyes fell shut every few seconds. After missing you so much the past weeks, he wanted to spend any minute with his parents. It broke your heart. Of course, you knew it was better this way— staying close to campus and concentrating on your studies while your son stayed with your dad. Providing him the childhood he deserved. Still, it hurt you, knowing Ki missed you so much. Your own pain played a critical role in that feeling as well.

“I’ll take him to bed,” Jisung explained as he lifted his son from the high chair. Ki waved at you, already half asleep, as his father carried him out of the room.

Your dad had left a minute or two earlier, telling you about a discovery he had made while cleaning the attic. Thus, Jia and you were left to clean up the table, which you didn’t mind. It gave you a chance to catch up, something you had wanted the past few weeks but had never found the time for.

“So? How’s Uni for you? Did you make a ton of friends already?”

“I don’t know about a ton. But I did meet some people already,” you told her as you filled the sink with soap and water. “There’s this girl, Yuqi. She’s in my marketing classes, and she’s very nice. We get along great. And then, there’s Felix.”

“Sungie’s roommate?”

“Yes. He’s also very nice. I can see us becoming close.”

“That’s good. You never know when you’ll meet those people, but some of them will stick forever.” You nodded at her words, feeling like you had found two of these forever people in Yuqi and Felix. You had hardly met anyone you could open up to like you could to them, not even your High School friends. “How’s my baby bro doing on the friendship front? Is he adapting?”

“Surprisingly so. Jisung found a group of boys he’s been hanging out with. They seem cool; down to earth. They’re having a positive impact on him already.”

Had Jisung overheard your conversation, he would have most likely confronted you. Why would you talk about him behind his back like this? As though he was a social outcast you had to chaperone in his endeavours to make friends? However, he would have had to agree with you in the end.

Since you met him, Jisung hadn’t had the easiest time meeting new people. He was often awkward in social situations, and the lack of a filter caused him more problems than it fixed. You for one, loved him for it, as you always knew what was going on in his mind. Other people, not so much. In the past, Jisung had gotten himself in trouble due to saying the wrong things in tense situations. His social anxiety had only worsened the older he got. Having made friends already—without much effort—was a big deal.

Jia, being his older sister, knew about his issues.

“I’m glad he’s doing alright. It sounds harsh, but I wasn’t expecting him to make friends. Or worse.” She placed the dishes in the dishwasher as her eyes met yours. “He could have made the wrong friends.” You could tell where she was going with this. Her transition felt rather forced, but who could blame her? You, for one, had expected her to ask even earlier. “Speaking of—” And there it was. “Did you run into him already?”

Sighing at her words, you started scrubbing the pan below the soapy surface of the sink.

“We did.” Jia nodded, eyebrows furrowing in thought. “Seems like Jisung and him kept in contact. He invited us to this party at his fraternity yesterday.”

“So you talked to him?”

“Yup.” From her reaction you knew that she wasn’t satisfied with that. Jia was trying not to get too caught up in how you had talked to the one person she never wanted to think about again. After all, she couldn’t control who you ran into and chose to spend your time with. That went for both you and Jisung. Although, you were a bit more reserved about your relationship with the one who shan’t be named.

“I’ll regret asking later, but—” Again, you knew exactly what she was about to ask. “Did you meet— her?”

You placed the clean pan onto the rack to dry, taking off the cleaning gloves to hang them over the tap. You had thought a lot about how to approach this, but couldn’t come up with a painless explanation. So, the truth it was.

“I think so. I’m not 100 percent sure, but I believe she might be my roommate.”

A huff escaped Jia’s lips at the irony. “Of-fucking-course, she’s your roommate. And let me guess. She’s super nice and not at all a bitch who stole my boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t cheat on me and break my heart. That was all him.”

The glimmer of hurt in Jia’s eyes reminded you of that afternoon you found her crying on your doorstep. Her makeup smeared over her face and body trembling in your embrace. The pain wasn’t the same depth as three years ago, but you could tell it had left a scar. How couldn’t it have?

Jackson and Jia had been together for three years when she discovered his infidelity. There had been talks of marriage already, when he decided to throw it all out the window. And the worst thing, Jackson even tried to deny it when she confronted him. What he didn’t know was that Jia had seem them together. Two hours she had driven to campus to surprise him one weekend, and all to see him hugging and kissing some hot piece of ass. That’s how Jia had described her boyfriend’s affair after spotting them together. It had taken her around a minute to realise what was happening, then she up and left again.

A surprise phone call later that weekend Jackson answered with shock and denial. Not five minutes later, Jia decided she couldn’t hear it anymore. Like that, three years ended in what you could only describe as the second most heartbroken you had ever seen a person.

So, yes. The woman was still hurt. She was still in pain. Although that pain had morphed into hatred along the way.

“If it’s any comfort, she doesn’t seem to know you existed. And—” The next part was a shot in the dark. Hopefully, Jia would understand the humour in it all. “She started dating a woman immediately after Jackson. Said he made her realise she’d be better off without a man.”

That, Hwasa had told you in confidence. But seeing as it lightened the mood, you didn’t regret telling Jia. “Okay, that does make me feel better.” The atmosphere lightened up after that, though Jia needed to get one last thing off her mind. “But, you should keep track of that friendship between Jackson and Sungie.”

“You think?”

“Jackson himself might not be the problem. As hard as it is for me to say, he has a good heart. But that hardly goes for those friends of his. They’re some sketchy people.” Jia’s eyes showed honest concern. So much so that it worried you a little. “To this day, I believe he wouldn’t have done what he did, had his friends not had as much impact on him. They kept telling him he was too hot to let opportunities for hookups with random girls pass by. That our relationship was holding him back from reaching his full potential. And that’s a literal quote I overheard one of them telling him over the phone.”

“What? That’s crazy. Why did Jackson let them talk like this about you?”

“Who knows? But the matter of fact is that Jackson is a confident man. Always was. My brother, however...”

You understood she was hinting, again, at his social introversion.

“Since Dad left us, he’s been searching for a father figure in the older men around him. Do you remember that guy, Wonho, he hung out with in High School?”

“Do I? The dude was the personification of steroids.”

“Exactly. And Sungie had the biggest man crush on him. You do recall how that ended, right?”

“He broke his wrist trying to lift double his weight.”

“I love Sungie to the moon and back, but he has serious daddy issues. Not that it’s any his fault.” Jia had a point in everything she said. Even though you hoped Jisung couldn’t be manipulated, you understood it wasn’t impossible. “That Wonho-guy was his hero for months, and he wasn’t even trying to be. Imagine what could happen if some seriously sketchy guys meet him and see a trainable puppy.”

There was a moment of consideration as you imagined what Jia had described. Jackson and she had been happy before they went to university. Much like you and Jisung, they had been together a long time. Still, something inside you told you that Jisung wouldn’t hurt you like this. Jackson was a good guy, and they had been good together. But they also had their fair share of issues. Jisung and you, that was a whole other thing. You were soulmates. You had a son. Other than sweeping them under the rug, you talked about your relationship problems.

You wanted to voice those thoughts to Jia, but before you could do so, your dad and Jisung entered the room. Your dad carried a thick book, showing it to your boyfriend, who laughed at whatever he saw on the page.

“Baby, how were you so cute as a baby? I could eat you up.”

Your confusion resolved when your dad explained the situation. “I was showing an old photo album to Jisung. I found a stack of them in the attic.” Flipping the page, another chuckle escaped your dad’s lips. “Look! It’s you and your father. Gosh, I haven’t seen this picture in ages.”

At those words, a smile spread over your face as you made your way to his side of the book. And sure enough, there you were. Sitting in a flowerpot as your father held you up, smiling into the camera. The unfamiliar image warmed your heart, despite the tinge of sadness that appeared whenever you saw a picture of him.

“Your father was so handsome,” Jia said as she caught a glimpse.

“The most handsome,” your dad agreed, looking up from the page. “He did some modelling work while we attended law school and was good at it, too. Even made it into some magazines. He was so handsome even, it took me months to finally muster the courage and ask him out. And thank God, I did.” With those words, his eyes met you, still completely captured by the picture. “He would have been so proud of you, honey.”

A single tear rolled down your cheek as a smile plastered your face. Oh, what you’d give to have the chance and talk to him one last time. You would have told him so many things. Most importantly, you would have told him about the family you had found between all the grief and loss. The ones surrounding you, being the closest to you. And, of course, Ki. The love of your life.

No doubt, he would have loved your father as much as you did.

Next Chapter >>> coming soon

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist (must have age listed in profile)

Masterlist Leave feedback!

68 notes · View notes

ihavemanyhusbands · 2 years

Text

Tease (18+)

Pairing: Dom!Aaron Hotchner x Dom!Spencer Reid x Sub Fem!Reader

Dedicated to @hausofwhores <3

WC: 3.1k of the nastyyyy

Warnings: SMUT (18+ ONLY // MINORS DNI), threesome, dirty talk, brat taming, oral (m and f receiving), very light bondage moment, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, power imbalance, light slapping, some choking, just a smidge of degradation and humiliation, spit kink, edging, swearing aaaand i think thats it but lmk if i forgot something!!

A/N: I LOVE WRITING THREESOMES!! And who better to write about than these two 😏 i literally wanted more content of threeways with them sooo thought i’d make my own hehe im literally frothing at the mouth this was so fun to write hope you like and aaaaaaaaaaaa

———————————————————————

You loved being a tease.

There was no polite way to directly ask someone to fuck you brainless, after all, so you had to get creative. It was an art that took some time to perfect; A thrill you would never tire of. Especially because you knew it was going to cost you eventually.

And it seemed tonight was the night you would pay your dues.

All week, you had ramped up your efforts, in a not-so-subtle way. Your usual targets were Spencer Reid and Aaron Hotchner, but the way to tease them was vastly different.

To get under Hotch’s skin, brattiness was necessary – Glossy, pouty lips and clothes that hugged your curves just so, which were sure to attract his eye. Just a little less willingness to follow orders, paired with sassy remarks and little eye rolls. Catching him looking at you and winking, always feigning innocence. It drove him insane, truly.

As for Spencer, the key was to get him all flustered. Words whispered close to his ear, fingers toying with the curls at his nape when no one was looking. Your undivided attention when he rambled about his interests, a small smile tugging at your lips. Playfully defending him from Morgan whenever he kept needling poor Spence.

What you didn’t know was that they’d been formulating a plan to get back at you.

The team had just returned from a case in Colorado, all at different levels of exhaustion. You and Spencer climbed into Hotch’s SUV as everyone broke up in groups to head home. The two men sat in the front, and you sat in the middle seat in the back.

Spencer was uncharacteristically quiet, twirling his thumbs anxiously. You could tell something was on his mind by the firm set of his shoulders and the way a muscle in his jaw ticked.

“Hey, Agent L/N, you up for one last little adventure?” Hotch asked, glancing at you through the rearview mirror.

You nodded eagerly, not thinking anything of it, hoping this adventure would involve food. But you passed all the commercial areas, soon crossing onto a more residential area. The drive was mostly silent, and there was a palpable tension in the air. Much to your surprise, Hotch soon pulled into his apartment’s parking garage.

“What are we…” You started, but Hotch cut you off.

“Oh, we’re just gonna go up to my apartment and have a little chat,” he said. “I think you’re in need of a lesson to remind you of your manners, which have been severely lacking as of late.”

You blinked, momentarily unsure if this was really happening. Realization hit you all at once, making you shudder. You pressed your thighs together as a broad, cheshire cat style grin spread across your face.

“Oh? Is that so?” you asked, feigning innocence despite the mischievous look in your eyes. “I’m so sorry, sir. I just have no clue what you’re talking about.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“I wouldn’t make things worse, if I were you,” Spencer said, voice low and almost sympathetic.

Oh, but that was the whole point, wasn’t it? You liked fanning the flames, especially when you had a clear view of Hotch’s white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. You couldn’t help but squirm a little in your seat.

Once the three of you were in the elevator, heading up to his floor, Hotch placed his hands on his hips. His eyes searched your face for any sign or discomfort or hesitation.

“This is exactly what you wanted, wasn’t it?” He asked, which was his way of checking you were actually okay with this.

You bit your lower lip, batting your eyelashes. “Was I that obvious?”

The two men shared an incredulous look, and Hotch shook his head once more. His voice lowered, momentarily losing some of its edge

“Well, if you change your mind at any point…”

“I won’t, trust me,” you stated, winking in Spencer’s direction to further drive the point home.

As soon as you were past the threshold of Hotch’s apartment, you tried to reach your hand towards him, but he took a step back.

“Reid, take your tie off and bind her hands,” Hotch ordered. “Since she doesn’t seem to be able to keep them to herself.”

You raised an eyebrow, a cocky smirk on your lips. “Can’t tie me up yourself, sir?”

You could hear Spencer’s intake of breath behind you, along with the slight rustling of fabric as he slipped his tie off. He knew well you were in for it.

As he gingerly tied your hands behind your back, Hotch stepped forward and grabbed your face with one hand, lust and fury darkening his gaze.

“Just who do you think you are?” He growled. “Being such a smart-ass to your superiors? It’s really no wonder you’re in dire need of some discipline.”

You couldn’t help shivering a little as a tingle trailed down your spine. He noticed this, of course, and he grabbed your arm and walked you to the living room.

“On your knees,” he commanded, and you immediately complied. “Any ideas, Reid?”

“I say we put her mouth to good use,” Spencer said. “That way, she won’t be able to talk back.”

You nodded in Hotch’s direction almost imperceptibly, letting him now it was okay to proceed. He gestured towards you as he began undoing his own tie, undoing the top buttons of his shirt.

“I think that’s an excellent idea. She’s just been such a naughty girl with you too, hasn’t she? Why don’t you go ahead and remind her of her place?”

Spencer nodded, undoing his pants and pushing them down just enough to pull his cock out, lazily tugging at it. Your mouth watered at the sight, your hands straining against his tie in your desire to get them on him.

He stepped closer, his free hand coming to rest at the back of your head, guiding you forth.

“Tap your foot three times if you need me to stop,” he whispered, just loud enough for Hotch to hear so he knew the signal as well.

You appreciated them both for being so considerate, despite everything, but you knew there was a slim chance you’d be taking them up on it. This was a punishment you more than gladly welcomed.

You stuck your tongue out and swirled it around the head before wrapping your lips around it. He let out a sigh as you took more of him into your mouth, the soft underside easily sliding against your tongue.

You hummed around his length, eyes momentarily fluttering closed. His movements were slow as he began shuttling his cock in and out, getting closer to your throat each time.

“There we go, that’s better,” Hotch praised, which made you open your eyes once more. “Go on, get to work. I know you can take him deeper.”

His hand replaced Spencer’s, and he gathered your hair away from your face, holding it as he guided your head. He kept it down when you’d reached the base of Spencer’s cock, nose against his pelvis.

You breathed in through your nose, tears pricking your eyes at the effort. Then he relented, letting you come up for more air, drool spilling all over your chin.

“Just look at the mess you’re making. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Hotch said, making you look up at him.

With his free hand, he palmed one of your breasts over your shirt, which made you arch your back. You smirked, licking your lips.

“I want more,” you said.

“Oh, do you now?” He raised a dark brow, half amused. “Greedy thing. Think you can work two cocks at once?”

Your pupils were blown wide with lust, chest heaving with rapid breaths. “Yes, oh god, yes.”

“She hasn’t learned a thing yet,” Spencer tsked, feeling more bold now that he was so aroused. “Say please, now.”

For a moment, you stubbornly pursed your lips.

Hotch gave your cheek a little slap then, sharp enough for you to feel a sting, but light enough for it to not have a lasting impact. The smirk never left your face, heat roaming all over your body.

“Please use my mouth,” you said finally.

And so, Hotch undid his slacks as well, tossing his belt to the side. The head of his cock glistened with precum, which you eagerly lapped up. He hissed a little as your tongue made contact with his skin, which was the only indication you were getting to him more than he was willing to admit.

The two of them took turns fucking your mouth, Hotch being rougher than Spencer. Still, you did not ask them to stop. You could feel that your panties were absolutely soaked, some of your arousal beginning to trickle down your inner thighs. Your cunt clenched around nothing, and you shifted in a futile attempt to get any sort of friction.

It was Hotch’s turn now, his fingers buried in your hair. You didn’t break eye contact as you worked him, hollowing your cheeks. He truly was a sight to behold, giving in to pleasure like that – hair disheveled, eyes glazed over, mouth a little slack. His low moans were music to your ears, the smell and taste of him utterly narcotic.

“Filthy girl… who knew you’d be such a diligent little cocksucker?” He said, groaning. “I think you’ve earned use of your hands once more, but only so that you can take those clothes off. No need for them right now.”

Spencer took the chance to kick his pants off and he knelt behind you. He untied your arms, massaging them a little in the process. You released Hotch’s cock with a loud pop, and obscene string of saliva still connecting your lips to it.

Spencer helped you stand and hurriedly, you began undoing the buttons of your shirt. You soon tossed it aside, along with your bra. He reached around you to undo your pants, pulling them down along with your underwear.

You could feel his shaft pressed against your lower back, still hard and demanding attention. Arching your back, you ground your ass against it, still not done with your teasing ways.

With a small hiss, Spencer pulled back and smacked your ass. Your body jerked a little at the contact, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips, your nipples hardening. Your senses felt heightened, every touch to your skin almost electric.

Hotch chuckled at this. “A brat through and through.”

“It’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it?” Spencer said. “She’s dripping and yet we’ve barely touched her at all.”

“Let’s see,” Hotch said, stepping right up to you, effectively sandwiching you between the two of them.

You gasped as he reached down, his fingers parting your folds. He slicked them with your arousal, his middle finger sinking into you. Your lips parted in a soundless moan, and he brought his fingers to your mouth, making you taste yourself.

You hummed around his digits as you sucked them clean. He retracted them with a low groan, this time grabbing your face to kiss you. It was a ferocious, hungry kiss, in which he dominated your mouth. His tongue parted your lips, tangling with yours. Your head spun as his teeth grazed your bottom lip.

You felt Spencer’s broad palm on your lower back, gently pushing you forward a little. He knelt behind you once more, this time spreading you open and licking a long, languid stripe through your folds. His tongue swiped the inside of your thigh, subsequently raking his teeth there before chasing away the sting. Then, without warning, he buried his face in your cunt.

You let out a shuddery, “fuck” into Hotch’s mouth, your eyes screwed shut and brows drawn together. Your hands gripped his strong arms tightly, anchoring yourself lest you utterly lost yourself in the decadence of Spencer’s tongue.

“You poor thing. You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He smirked down at you, gently wiping hair away from your forehead.

His fingers stroked your face, and he used his thumb to open your mouth. He let a trail of saliva fall into it. You swallowed, body involuntarily beginning to squirm a little in an attempt to find your release. Spencer’s hands kept your hips pinned in place as he continued his relentless, delicious torture on your clit.

Your body went rigid as he inserted one finger into you, pumping it in and out at a steady rhythm. He soon added a second one, curling them inside you to reach a spot that had your vision swimming. He pulled back only to bite one of your ass cheeks, which made you whine as you clenched around his fingers.

“Don’t make her come yet, Reid. She hasn’t quite earned that,” Hotch warned.

Spencer nodded, returning his smirk. You huffed in frustration, which earned you another little slap, this time on one of your tits. Hotch’s hand came to rest on your throat, barely squeezing, as he made you look at him.

“What’s that, sweetheart? You don’t like being teased?” He taunted. “It’s not so nice, is it?”

“I never said I was nice,” you grinned slyly.

Spencer pulled back once more, standing up this time, which only left you even more frustrated. “Tough to break, this one.”

“Not for much longer,” Hotch assured him. “We’re yet to fuck the attitude out of her. Come on, get on the couch, hands and knees.”

He shoved you towards it, and you quickly positioned yourself. With his knee, he spread your legs further, one hand on your hip while the other probed your slit.

“You’re on birth control?” He asked, and you nodded in response. “Good, cus we’re both gonna fill up this pretty pussy once we’re done using it.”

You felt his cock lining up with your entrance, slowly pushing in. You moaned his name, pushing your hips back to take more of him. He tsked, two hard smacks landing on your ass to make you stay still.

“So fucking needy,” he grunted, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pushing your head down to rest on the couch. “Be good and I’ll give you what you want.”

His hand remained on your head as his cock bottomed out inside you. He was impossibly deep at this angle, reaching places you never thought possible. When he started to move again, his thrusts were hard and fast, almost punishing.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, nails digging into the cushion as desperate, almost inhuman sounds leave your lips. You couldn’t even feel embarrassed about it, any sort of coherent thought flying out the window as he fucked you like an animal.

“Y-you should feel how her pussy’s clenching right now,” Hotch said through gritted teeth. “Sucking my cock back in every time I try to pull out… fuck. Do you want to come, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” You begged, right at the edge and unsure if you’d be able to hold it. “Please, please, please…”

“Hmmm, well, since she’s asking so nicely,” Spencer purred, stroking his own cock slowly, flicking his wrist near the tip.

“Come for me,” Hotch rasps, moving his hand away from your head to grab your hips, pistoning in and out quickly. “I want to feel you coming all over my cock.”

That was all the encouragement you needed, the tight coil in your stomach finally snapping. You cried out as your muscles locked, stars exploding in your eyelids as you gushed all over his cock, clenching around him even harder than before.

He came with a low groan soon after, shooting ropes of cum into your throbbing cunt. His movements stopped, keeping himself fully sheathed inside you as he rode out his high.

When he pulled out, you felt it trickling down your thigh, coalescing with your arousal. He helped you raise the upper half of your body, kissing your spine. He brushed your hair away from your face, lightly massaging your shoulders.

“You okay?” Hotch asked, his voice losing its hardened edge to give way for.

“Yes, sir,” you said, smiling beatifically.

He thought you looked so beautiful then, utterly unraveled and flushed with euphoria. That smile of yours was different from the others, more open and genuine. Oh, you were most certainly trouble. He could already tell this wouldn’t be a one time thing.

He kissed you, mirth dancing in his dark eyes.

“There’s a good girl, so docile now that she’s been fucked silly,” he got up as you turned to lay on your side. “Let me get you some water and something to clean you up.”

Hotch went to the kitchen, and because you were such an insatiable creature, you reached towards Spencer.

He chuckled, letting you pull him towards you, and he lied behind in order to spoon you. You turned your head to kiss him, tasting yourself still on his lips. Reaching behind you, you grasped his length and blindly tried to line it up with your entrance.

He helped you out, sinking slowly into you. He was much gentler, thrusting slowly and deliberately, never breaking the kiss. His hand trailed down your body, towards your overly sensitive clitt, rubbing it in circles in tempo with his thrusts.

The two of you shared breath as he picked up the pace, a languorous heat spreading through you as you came for the second time that night. Spencer followed suit, moaning against your skin as he moved to kiss your neck.

“So perfect…” he sighed.

Hotch soon returned with water for everyone, as well as a couple of towels. Spencer unsheathed himself from you, and they both took the time to gently clean you up as you downed the water.

You grabbed Hotch’s shirt from the floor and draped it over your shoulders, scooting closer to Spencer as he sat back down. You tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, kissing his cheek.

He blushed a little, which you found utterly charming, given that they were both so domineering mere minutes ago. Hotch leaned down to plant a kiss on your forehead.

“Think you’ve learned your lesson?” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at you.

You snickered, grinning impishly with a shake of your head. “I might need a reminder… or two.”

The two men shared an amused look. They’d have their hands full with you, that was for sure.

Hotch took your empty glass to go refill it with water. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #aaron hotchner smut #spencer reid smut #aaron hotchner fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #minors do not interact #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #aaron hotchner x fem!reader smut #ssa aaron hotchner

591 notes · View notes

ungodlyslut · 2 years

Text

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬

pairing: Koby x GN!reader

word counts: 1,200

genre: soft sweet fluff aaaand a little suggestive ig :>

summary: Koby has spent the whole day doing paper works, and you feel so lonely. You only ask him for a goodnight kiss before going to bed. And just one. Right...?👀

Koby has spent all day poring over his reports and documents, even though a sunny day like today is rare on Rainfall Island. You had hoped to spend the day wandering around with him, surfing, bathing in the sunlight, and trying the local street food. But your plan had gone in vain, thanks to the emergency call from The Vice-Admiral last night.

Your boyfriend has to finish some paper works due tomorrow on behalf of one of his comrades, who unfortunately didn't make it after a dreadful battle. In other words, no dating, no surfing, or eating whatsoever.

You sprawl lazily on the couch, listening to the rustling sound of the pen running down on papers from Koby's desk. The contrast between the slow ticking of the clock and the alluring sounds of the waves from afar tempts you to leave this boring place and enjoy the vast space out there, where the sun is shining more brightly than ever. However...you lower the book in front to take a peek at Koby: bright eyes behind his glasses and tight lips as he concentrates on the pile of documents. The marine always gives his all when it comes to work. You just can't leave him here to have all the fun for yourself.

Sighing, you return to the book unwillingly. Well, it's work, after all. There is nothing you can do.

......

It's already midnight when you knock up. The book lies forgotten on the floor, and outside, the rain is drizzling down quietly. Through the dim light from Koby's lamp, you can barely make out the black silhouette of your man's back, still hunching over his works.

You feel a flicker of irritation. Koby has been the bravest and most hard-working soldier Garp has ever had, but that is no reason to overwork him like this. Stumbling to your feet, you notice the thick blanket draped over you, which had probably kept you warm all the time.

Oh...Koby!

As quiet as the snowflake, you pad across the room to Koby, and with a swift movement, you pull your boyfriend's broad shoulder into a warm embrace. Koby is startled by the sudden warmth but immediately bursts into laughter when he recognizes your familiar scent as you nuzzle the hollow of his neck cordially.

"Y/n," He drops his pen to reach for your face. That's the chance you need to slip right into his lap, wrapping the blanket over you and hugging him tightly. You can feel the laugh vibrating from his chest, and unconsciously, you smile at the welcoming sensation; all the prior rage goes up in smoke.

"What's up?" He coos, holding your face with both his hands.

"It's late, baby. Let's go to bed together."

"Oh," He leans back to stretch his arm, yawning loudly as if he only notice that just now you mention it, "Works almost done. Just go ahead without me, baby. There are just some finishing touches. I will finish this in no time."

You pout. This work maniac doesn't get your invitation. What a shame!

"But," You look at him with doe eyes, sniffing as if to cry, "I miss you!!! I miss you so much, baby."

Only then does something dawn on Koby.

"Ah, the plan," The pink-haired man slaps his forehead, "Oh no, Y/n, I am so so sorry..."

"Hey, hey, it's alright! It's work, yeah? I don't blame you," You place one finger on his mouth to stop his apology, "But you must look after yourself as well. You've been working all day. It's time to rest, Koby."

Koby looks sheepish and apologetic. He flashes you a clumsy smile while stroking your hair in a false attempt to bring you to bed before him.

"I swear, I only need to go through the report one last time. It won't take long. Go to sleep, baby. I-I will make up for you tomorrow."

Go through the report, he says. You glance at piles and piles of files laid on the table. It definitely will take a long time.

"Fine," You huff, and through the corner of your eyes, you can see his face brighten up. Silly boy! Suppressing a laugh, you continue saying, "But at least you have to let me kiss you."

"Huh?"

"Aww, come on! Just one kiss. A goodnight kiss. Please? It won't take long." You tease, mimicking his voice. Koby chuckles kindly and closes his eyes as if to permit you.

Smirking to yourself, you lean forward. One hand resting on his chest, the other playing with his wavy curls, you take a while to admire Koby's beautiful features before closing your distance.

Just one kiss, you have said. Yes, just one.

One on the bridge of his nose. One for his right cheek and one for the left. One ghost over his delicate lips before falling upon its corners. One after another trails down to his chin, his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. His smooth skin feels silky against your mouth, and purely, you take a bite out of curiosity, earning you a low groan from his position.

Glancing up, you giggle as you spot him looking down at you; affection fills his mesmerizing eyes, cheeks flush in the bright color of red, and lips curve upward in a timid but loving smile.

"You're supposed to work, baby." You deadpan remind the marine while shamelessly nibbling his notch, making him growl in pleasure. His grip on your waist tightens, fingers running through your loose hair as he pulls you flush to his chest. You immediately lock him up by wrapping your legs around his slender hips, bringing yourself even closer to him.

Koby smells nice. He has the scent of paper and inks but also the smell of fresh flowers, of nature after one summer downpour.

"What's up?" You grin, poking his chest teasingly.

"You're unbelievable." Koby breathes out. Taking his glasses off, he quickly leans down, and with enthusiasm close to the one he has for work, Koby kisses you, passionately and hungrily. And you reply to him with an equally eager one, as if you don't get enough of each other, as if this moment is what you guys have always yearned for the whole day.

Before you know it, you have already lay flat on Koby's desk, legs still hanging tightly around his hip, and face flushes from the fierce kissing.

Papers now scatter everywhere, but Koby doesn't care. He is towering above you, hands next to both sides of your face, breathing heavily. Koby's blushing makes him look like an innocent high schooler, but if you look deep into his eyes, which now turn into a dark shade of blue, you can tell what a strong, demanding man he is. And you can't help but smirk at him playfully.

"Well, well, well, Captain Koby. And what's your order now?"

The marine grins.

"Assistant Y/n."

"Yes, sir?"

"You have to let me kiss you. Just one."

"Your wish," You chirp, "Is my command."

And before Koby can do anything, you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him down to an even more fervent kiss than the last one.

Outside, rain keeps falling gently into the endless night.

753 notes · View notes

stvharrngton · 9 months

Text

a lesson in romantics; lesson ten

summary: a multi-part series where reader is the new art teacher at hawkins high and the history teacher, mr. harrington, takes a shine to the new girl. mutual pining ensues on their road to love 🥀

a/n: aaaand that’s a wrap! (sort of 👀) i just want to say a quick thank you to everyone who has read or reblogged or commented anything on this series. it’s been something totally out of my comfort zone compared to what i usually write lol and it’s been hard sometimes to want to stick with it but i have done (somehow!!) 🥺 but stick around for the alternative ending coming soon 👀😮‍💨

characters: steve harrington x fem!reader, robin buckley

word count: 1.4k

warnings: none, fluff, happy ending

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke @gvf23 @nix-rose

series taglist: @pbs-theundeadmaggot @alana4610 @onceuponaoneshot

SERIES MASTERLIST

HAWKINS HIGH, MAY 1993

The school year had soon run its course and was coming to the end, the summer break right around the corner but not before the big end of year senior prom. It had been a big year for you, with its ups and its downs, but you were looking forward to your first summer in Hawkins, you couldn’t lie.

You had your dress picked out, something simple yet formal enough to chaperone at a high school prom. It was a long and a deep red, with capped sleeves at the shoulders, the fitted material fitting you perfectly. Every time you caught a glance of it hung up in your wardrobe, your mind would drift to seeing Steve in a tux for the first time.

It was silly really. You felt like you were getting ready for your own senior prom, rather than one at a school where you taught at.

The evening soon rolled around and you were sat on your couch, patiently waiting for your ride to pick you up. Your car was in the shop, much to your dismay, your knight in shining armour had saved the day.

The knock soon came at your apartment door, the man standing behind it wore a suit with a simple black bow tie, his hair perfectly tousled, wire frame glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and his mouth hanging open for way, way too long.

“Wow,” he breathed, “you look—,”

“Is it too much?” you blurted out, feeling a tad overdressed as you made your way to the passenger side of the car. Steve held your hand as you lowered yourself into the cream leather seat.

“No, God, no,” he insisted, leaning down with you so you could see the bashful smile on his face, “it’s perfect, I promise, you look perfect.”

The prom was in full swing, students dolled up and suited and booted dotted across the school gym as the music blared and the lights strobed. The teachers were spread across different corners of the gym, hands stuffed in pockets or nursing a red solo cup filled with punch, on-looking the students on the dancefloor.

Robin sauntered over to Steve, slinging her suited arm over his shoulder, coming in close before she spoke.

“You all set for tonight? Big plan still in action?” Robin joked, her hand patting Steve’s shoulder as she spoke.

He rolled his eyes as he pushed the frames of his glasses back up his nose, “Please don’t call it a ‘big plan’, it makes it sound like some kind of scheme, Robin.”

“Whatever,” she scoffed, taking a sip from her cup, “I’d wish you good luck, Steve but I don’t think you’ll need it. Not from the way she’s been trying to sneak a glance at you everytime she thinks you’re not looking all night.” Robin said all cocky as she nodded over to where you were standing.

Steve tried not to let that linger in his mind too much, tried not to think about how he was doing the exact same thing to you all night. Teachers and students kept you away from him with their short conversations and jokes but Steve was damned if he was going to let that from carrying out his plan tonight.

As it got a little later, a little quieter, Steve finally found a minute to sneak up behind you, his large hand hovering over your back as he leaned in to ask, ‘You wanna get out of here?’

You snorted at the question and the implication of it, “You don’t wanna see who gets crowned Prom King and Queen, Mr. H?” you said with a smirk, raising one of your eyebrows.

“Not really my scene,” Steve said casually, “come on, there’s a great little diner just outside of town that does the best milkshakes. You’re telling me that doesn’t sound amazing right now?”

You couldn’t lie, that did sound amazing and so that’s how you found yourself sat on the hood of the burgundy BMW, strawberry milkshake in hand as the neon diner sign blinked in the dark sky. Steve’s dinner jacket thrown around your shoulders as the cool spring air nipped at your skin.

The space between you was silent, but a comfortable silence. The only sound around was the occasional car driving past and the hum of the radio of Steve’s car. It wasn’t until the next song ticked over that Steve made his first move,

Friday I’m in Love by The Cure began to flow throughout the speakers and out through the windows as Steve held his hand out to you, a coy smile on his face as he asked, “Dance with me?”

You placed your hand in his and you couldn’t help the heat that crept up your cheeks. He pulled you close, his hands held you at your waist whilst you tentatively slung yours over his broad shoulders. He swayed you back and forth in the diner parking lot, not giving a single damn about the funny looks you might be getting.

You giggled at the situation you found yourself in and Steve’s ears immediately pricked up at the sound, “What’s so funny?” he asked, voice quiet like he was afraid to disturb the peaceful moment between you.

“Oh, nothing,” you insisted, your mascara covered lashes fluttering against your cheeks, “I’ve just never slow danced to The Cure before and definitely never in a parking lot, either.”

“First time for everything,” Steve said so casually, so coolly, “and hey, it’s a good song!” He took your one hand in his now, as he span you around and back in again singing along to the words of Robert Smith.

Your hand hit Steve’s firm chest as he span you around again as he sang the words, “It’s Friday, I’m in love.” He couldn’t help but grin at you but you could only hide your bashful smile in Steve’s shoulder.

“Come on,” he cooed, “don’t get all shy on me now.” Steve dropped your hand now but let his long fingers tuck themselves under your chin so he could bring your gaze back to him.

You blinked up at him, all bright eyed and hopeful as if Steve’s eyes held all the answers. You whispered out a ‘sorry’ and you couldn’t help but let your gaze fall to his pretty pink lips.

“Can I try something?” He asked, voice as smooth as velvet. The way his fingers moved from your chin to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, how they lingered by your neck before they finally cupped your cheek, it told you that just maybe, you may be on the same page.

And so you nodded, laying your hands flat on his chest, waiting for what was coming. Your lashes fluttered as your eyes closed as Steve leaned in, his warm breath tickling your lips as he brushed them against your own.

The kiss was everything you ever could have dreamed of. Soft and sweet as the butterflies churned in your stomach, the metaphorical sparks igniting as Steve pulled you in closer with every second that went by. You felt as giddy as a teenager that was experiencing her first kiss, like it was your first date with your high school sweetheart, like it was your own senior prom.

Steve made you breathless and your knees weak. It was like all the feelings you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t have came bubbling back up to the surface, pouring out through your kiss. Nothing else mattered right now, except for you and Steve, standing in the middle of the diner parking lot.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that for,” Steve breathed against your lips when you finally managed to pull yourself away from him long enough, “it’s been driving me crazy.”

You grinned before your bottom lip found its way between your teeth, your brain doing its best to muster up a quip in reply. Especially when all you could think about was how badly you wanted to kiss Steve again.

“Is that so?” you teased, fingers drawing circles over the material of Steve’s shirt, you could see the blush creeping on his cheeks underneath the neon lights, “well there’s more where that came from if you agree to take me out on a date. What do you say, Mr. H?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #teacher!steve #alir #k.fic

113 notes · View notes

hippolotamus · 7 months

Text

Tease Tidbit Tuesday/WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the Tuesday tags @elvensorceress @loserdiaz @spotsandsocks @hoodie-buck @weewootruck @wikiangela @giddyupbuck @daffi-990 @tizniz @diazsdimples Tagging you back for WIP Wednesday and looking forward to all your works 💖

So don't be mad, OK? I'm posting another snippet of this. (Under the cut because it got long) That being said, it's going to be the last one for a while until I finish some other stuff. Aaaand it's written in a POV I'm not sure I'm gonna keep. With that in mind... enjoy???? Also everybody who's into this thank James for forcingmaking me flesh out more details and @watchyourbuck for threatening me (with love ofc).

no pressure tagging (lmk if you want added or removed) @stereopticons @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @theotherbuckley @apothecarose @barbiediaz @buckaroosheart @buddierights @chaosandwolves @eowon @fortheloveofbuddie @gayedmundodiaz @giddyupbuck @heartshapedvows @honestlydarkprincess @indestructibleheart @jesuisici33 @ladydorian05 @lemonzestywrites @monsterrae1 @spaceprincessem @statueinthestone @steadfastsaturnsrings @the-likesofus @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @thewolvesof1998 @vanillahigh00 @watchyourbuck @wildlife4life @your-catfish-friend @epicbuddieficrecs @rmd-writes @welcometololaland @lizzie-bennetdarcy and anyone else who wants to 😘

Shit. This moment calls for a lot of different emotions, but that one is the most prominent. The glaring neon sign at the forefront of her brain as she registers the second pink line that’s becoming increasingly blurry.

She brings a hand to her mouth, covering a silent exclamation. She wouldn’t have to. It’s not like there’s anybody around to hear. Just the secondhand furniture, personal items moved from her Mom’s place, and a few decorative things she bought to make the apartment more cozy.

She sinks to the bed still clutching the plastic stick tightly between her fingers. Something about sitting there feels almost like she’s breaking the laws of a sacred space. Normally that would be right up her alley. Poking at the edges of societal norms just to see what she could get away with. But right now, perched on the edge of the mattress with a positive pregnancy test feels wrong. Even if it is the same place it happened. The place where her and Eddie first stumbled into something more than friendship together after too many drinks at the bar one night. Where they woke up the next morning and muddled through Did we just… and We could do it again. Where they kept landing until they had the guts to admit it was fun, but not what either of them really wanted. Because they both missed their best friend and enjoying each other without the expectations of romance.

Not to mention the Evan of it all. Shannon had seen it coming from a mile away. From the first week her and Eddie met him at the Brass Bell and kept managing to run into him as he settled into town.

A few people, one or two of her girlfriends included, whispered about Eddie and Evan getting together so quickly after the “breakup”. Some, thinking they were being supportive, came to her bitching about how rotten the situation was and that she deserved better. How dare he leave her for someone he barely knows? Honestly, it gave her a great deal of satisfaction watching them go pale when she casually mentioned she not only didn’t mind, but had pushed Eddie towards him.

It was already obvious that her and Eddie weren’t heading for anything serious. And, as his self proclaimed platonic soulmate who knows him better than he knows himself, she felt it was only a matter of time anyway. Why delay the inevitable?

She looks at the two lines again. How is she going to tell him? He’s the happiest she’s seen him in a long time. Maybe ever. Without question, he’s going to feel that overwhelming sense of loyalty and responsibility. The same fiercely protective instinct he has for Sophia and Adriana. Shannon can already see him devoting himself to this– Fuck, she can’t even think the word to herself. But he’ll throw himself into caring for her and break Evan’s heart. She can’t let him do that. Not when she doesn’t even know if she wants to move forward with everything.

Shannon sits up a little taller, wiping away the remaining dampness from her eyes and cheeks, and makes a decision. She walks the test to the closest trash can, ties up the mostly empty bag, and drops it down the building’s garbage chute.

When she returns to her apartment, she navigates to the last picture Eddie texted of him and Evan. They look… blissful. Content. He and Evan have their arms wrapped around each other while Evan presses a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. His skin is flushed and rosy, making him look almost bashful.

She can’t tell him. It’s as simple as that. Eddie hasn’t said anything, but he doesn’t have to. She knows that look. He’s in love. Even though it’ll be ages until he allows himself to admit it and say the words out loud, that doesn’t make it any less true.

There’s still time, she thinks. Time for her to get a checkup, to gather facts, to evaluate what she wants to do. Time to let Eddie be in love and hope he forgives her for not saying anything.

#there will be no Shannon bashing or hatred #understand my dudes????#so a lotta angst in the middle #or maybe right up front???#who knows...#certainly not me #tw pregnancy #usernolan #buddie wip #hippo writes #fic: you can plan for a change in the weather and time #tease tidbit tuesday #wip wednesday

53 notes · View notes

strikersexhaver · 1 year

Text

Striker x Reader | Trip to Ozzie’s! 💋

A/N this would be a silly little thing to do in my meantime! Plus, I really like the idea of Ozzie’s entirely so, here we go! A much more jokey-fic, plus probably OOC for Striker maybe, but with the new episode anything goes LMAO.

CW: sexual innuendos and themes, drinking games, drunk Striker but no NSFW here.

Also the Reader has a tail!

If you somehow catch him with a free schedule, and catch an Ozzie’s reservations. He’ll be up for it, it’s a date with you and he gets to make fun of some lustful people with no shame.

And that you two did, together watching the performances.

His arm around your neck, you leaning into the touch and on him. Tails intertwined, for most demons this would be considered pretty intimate.

You two chuckled quietly, at the bad performances. Cracking jokes in whispers and holding in laughter.

Only till then when the actual good performances start to kick in and Striker’s eyebrows raised with widened eyes as he slowly turned to you when they got to certain ‘desires’ in the song.

He turned to you and thought about performing said desires eventually at home, to spice things up a notch.

And you turned to him, having a gleeful smile to ‘oh shit he’s planning something hella devious’ 💀

Aaaand that’s when you started ordering drinks, ignoring the gears grinding in his head.

He chuckled at you, then he got an idea to start a drinking game.

It was ‘take a shot whenever someone said something you’d wanna try in bed’

He chuckled to himself whenever you drank at all, but then pridefully looking at you with a grin when he drunk a few glasses.

Apparently, lusty demons give good ideas for the bedroom (who knew?) so for Striker, he was tipsy easily after enough shots.

He then realized a good idea, an idea fueled by drunk thoughts and that’s all, plus he was feeling himself after you kept bashfully looked away from how much drinks he had.

He stole a guitar, kicked the lustful imp off stage, singing about his desire instead. Keeping eye contact with you the whole time, winking at you. If it wasn’t for the fact he had good vocals… and the fact he’s one sexy ass snake, his poor lyrics would absolutely been made fun of.

you felt second hand embarrassment, but you couldn’t stop watching and you also knew you had ammo to make fun of him for this later.

Just like the guitar, you stole him and bolted, taking him to a hotel for the rest of the night because you cannot ride Bombproof for the life of you. Plus, the horse doesn’t let anyone but Striker ride him really…

When the next day hit and both of your heads hurt, Striker’s more than yours, you told him all about last night and he was the one who became ashamed and bashful.

“Ya’ gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me…”

“I got it on video…”

And that would be the last time Striker ever set foot in the Lust ring ever again-

#striker x reader #striker x reader helluva boss #striker #striker helluva boss #helluva boss #helluva boss striker #helluva striker #striker x oc #striker x y/n #striker / reader #striker and reader

186 notes · View notes

cielles-random-vault · 1 year

Note

OMG! I love that you included the age regression part in the Hobie and neurodivergent reader thing! It's really cool to see people write for it especially with Hobie! It would be really cool if you could write more for it! No pressure tho! (Your writing is really really cool! /srs)

OMG TYSM ILY I- <3 <3 <3 /p

ofc!! if you want i can try writing it for all characters ? but im scared it'd be repetitive 🥲

BUT OMG I'M SO HAPPY PPL LIKE MY WRITING AAAAAA /pos

so here have a lil fic :3 tysm once again ily this made my day /g /p

sharing a non verbal moment in little space with hobie !

author's note: omg anon you made me so happy you fr got me giggling and kicking my feet in the air /pos

author's note 2: age regression is a coping mechanism often used by trauma/abuse victims in which one puts themself at the age they were when the trauma occurred - find more about it here!

synopsis/content: just a whole bunch of fluff for my new favorite anon <33 reader is a non verbal age regressor and gender neutral 🦅 this won't be proofread 🕺🏻also hobie is the reader's boyfriend <3 aaaand small mention of trauma

you heard some gentle knocking on the door of your room.

"doll? can i come in?" hobie asked, waiting for your response.

seeing you didn't say anything, he gently invited himself in.

as he noticed you playing with your stuffed animals on the floor, he instantly knew you were age regressing.

though you never talked to him about your trauma, he knew what were the signs of you being in your little space, so he tried his best to support you as he knew it was a trauma induced coping mechanism.

"i'm sorry i arrived late at the tea party" he says, joining you on the floor.

you chuckle at the sight of your boyfriend - the punk, careless boy - taking parts in such activities.

you took a small piece of paper and a colorful, shiny pencil next to you and started to write something.

"me.. can't talk.. me is nonverbal.." read hobie. "no problem!" he says with a frank smile. "you don't have to talk if you don't want to, there's really no pressure. do you want to watch some cartoons while i prepare you your favorite food? we can cuddle and fill in some coulouring books if you'd like to?"

you nod and flap your hands in excitement.

a few moments later, your boyfriend got in the living room with two plates of dino nuggets and a glass of vanilla milk and sat next to you.

while the two of you were eating, you excitedly pointed to the tv.

"bluey? is this who you are trying to show me?" he asked.

you nod as excitedly as you pointed out your favorite character again.

"you're right, star." hobie nods. "bluey is also my favorite character. you know why? because she reminds me a lot of you - being so cute and when she's all excited."

you and your boyfriend kept on watching bluey and filling out coloring books for so much time you started to get tired.

"say, isn't my little star getting tired?" he asked as he noticed you started yawning.

you tried to shake your head as a way to say no, but soon after that you started falling asleep on your colorings.

"come on, little one, i think it's time we go to sleep" hobie said softly. "don't worry, tomorrow we will have plenty of time to finish those coloring pages."

you headed to the bathroom, holding hands while he helped you brush your teeth and fix your hair.

he then helped you getting in bed, making sure that you didn't leave out any plushies on the floor (that made you sad) and joined you for some pre-sleep cuddles.

"have a good night star" he says as he softly kisses your cheek. "i love you."

THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE ILY FOR THAT ANON <333 I HOPE YOU'LL ENJOY <333

133 notes · View notes

velvetsybiiil · 1 year

Text

soft bf! miguel x fem! reader ✧ ﾟ.

A/N! that’s my first fic so please be indulgent !! and english isn’t my first language btw sorry for the mistakes ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ i hope that you’ll enjoy !!

CW! fluff ☆ ooc ☆ aaaand a little bit spicy hehe

soft and warm. that’s how you feel when miguel’s arms are around you. especially under the sheets of your bed.

he loved cuddling with you, kissing you and whispering to you lovely words..and you loved it too.

speaking of cuddling, the sunlight started to wake you up slowly. you tried to move but the muscular arms of your boyfriend are around you so it’s a little bit…difficult.

"no te muevas hermosa…" (don’t move beautiful) he whispered in a sleepy tone as he kissed your forehead and hugged you tightly. his spanish accent could melt your heart everytime...

his hand was still moving slowly, he has a really strange way of touching you. it’s like he’s trying to memorize how you’re made, like it’s the last day he get the chance to do it..

"morning…" you murmured as you tried to let go of him but without success.

he chuckled when he saw you literally fighting to move just a little bit. "i’m not letting you go, amor…you perfectly know that i love being like that with you.."

he hugged you more tightly and started giving you soft kisses on the neck : it wasn’t rough as usual because he’s sleepy.

the spiderman’s breath increased before he continues to kiss and whisper on your neck.

"te amo mi amor.."

you can feel his lips touching the hairs on your neck, he’s playing with them..

he bites your neck."no dejarás que nadie aparte de mi te bese, ¿correcto?" (you won’t let anyone else kiss you, will you?)

he chuckled since he’s doing this to make you giggle and you actually did it. as you were giggling, he putted you in front of him so he could lay on you again, this time with his arms around your waist as he rests his head on your chest.

"migueeeeeel…you’re heavy, love…” you wined. but even if he was heavy, you loved when he did this : it was one his ways to show you his love.

he snickers. "that’s not what you’re usually saying to me..you should be used to my weight already, guapa." he said while tracing fingers up and down your sides.

you roll your eyes. “of course I’m used to it miggy...”

his face is now back to the position resting on your chest. he starts pressing his lips on your neck to try to make you blush.

"are you saying that we shouldn’t cuddle anymore, mi amor? or that you can’t wait until i go to work so you can breath without me all over you..?"he smirks while looking at you.

your eyes widened as he said that : you couldn’t imagine one day (and night) without your lovely boyfriend’s cuddles…

you stutter. “i—i never said that !! but you know that sometimes I can’t even breath with you on top of me..”

he moves his head so he could look you in the eyes. He was wearing a small smile as he started to rub his nose against yours.

"mmm..you're so cute, you know that?" he spoke in a playful way before biting your lower lip. he bit it in a soft way, to not hurt you.

as he did that, you started to caress his hair : you wanted that moment to never end.

when he finally let go of your lip, he put his hands around your waist : it was the warmest feeling on earth..

"te amo…" he whispered softly in your ear.

he placed his hands on your cheeks, his fingertips slid over your face, down your shoulders and towards your neck.

then he started to give light kisses across your neck and lips, making you unable to think about anything but….this moment.

he moved his lips toward your ear, letting his warm breath tease you along the way. "te quiero, hermosa..." (i love you, beautiful...)

he took one of his hands off your waist and brought it down to your side, caressing it up to your leg while he kept giving you little kisses. the warmth of his body and the feeling of his skin against yours was a complete sensation.

you could almost melt with those feelings and forget about the rest of the world.miguel was like this with you.

he came closer and his lips touched yours softly, it almost felt like he was not gonna kiss you, but he was. he moved his hand under your shirt and his hands felt so cold, surprisingly it gave you a pleasant sensation.

your stomach suddenly made a loud growling noise and you instantly turn slightly red… "whooops…!!"

miguel chuckled and then whispered to your ear. "tienes hambre, cariño?" (are you hungry, sweetheart?)

you tried to act like nothing happened : you didn’t wanted to let go of his arms.

"n—not at all haha…" you stuttered with a fake happy tone.

he slowly takes you in his arms as he gets up from bed and gently carries you to the living room.

"hm…wait for me, querida."

he kisses your forehead and then get up of your bed, walking towards the kitchen.

"what do you want to eat, hermosa ?"

you stayed silent for a few seconds to think about it but nothing came into your mind, you just wanted to eat.

"hmmm…anything you want…!!" you yelled, even he can clearly hear you.

"hm, let’s do the most simple…you like waffles, no ? maybe i can cook you some.."

miguel says before smiling at you gently, his cheeks being flushed.

after an entire hour (he absolutely wanted to make you the waffles of the century) miguel returns with a plate of waffles, smiling gently at you.

"here's your waffles, amor..." he says as he puts a plate of waffles in your nightstand, next to your bed.

after looking at you for a few seconds, he chuckles."maybe it’s not the best breakfast in the morning…"

you give him a small little kiss on his cheek. "i don’t care. if it’s a morning with you, i’m the happiest girl in the world…!!"

he takes your face into his hand and then looks at you lovingly. the morning sun make his hair shine. he smiles at you and then slowly move his lips on yours, gently touching them.

"I love you, cara.."

miguel, still seated on your bed, kiss you gently, but with passion. you can feel the love he has for you in his kiss.

miguel then break the kiss and kisses your cheeks gently. still holding your head into his hands, he looks at you with a soft gaze, a slight blush coming on his face.

"i hope that you loved that, hermosa."

he smiles before gently caressing your cheek with his thumb, a sweet gesture.

the caress of your lover's thumb makes you shiver. you love these little gestures and the affection that miguel give you.

a sweet smile appears on your lips. "mm…thank you..i loved it."

you look at him, still smiling, and take him into your arms. "i love you so much, miguel…"

he kisses your forehead gently."i love you too, hermosa.."

miguel looks at you and caresses your cheek. "i’m…glad that you're my girlfriend."

he smiles at you, his heart beating faster.

"you are my sunshine. i love the way you take care of me…" you whispered.

you giggle, a slight blush appearing on your cheeks, before you kiss miguel's cheeks again and then kiss him on the lips.

your lips on his make him go red on the face, miguel's heart go faster and the blush still on his cheeks.

he holds your head into his hands and caresses your hair. he can feel the affection you have for him and it makes him happy.

"mmm..you’re my sunshine too, hermosa.."

✧ ﾟ. dunno if i should make a part 2 lmao

taglist : not yet!

#atsv x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel o'hara #fluff #atsv fluff #miguel o’hara fic

138 notes · View notes

guggi04 · 3 months

Note

Okay, I'm gonna have to ask about two.

First Damkris Flowers, which I already know about but I'm insanely curious about it!!!!

Also Jure JO fic? 👀

*clasps hands together* Ask and I shall deliver🤩

Yep, the DamKris one you know about (and have helped me with heh) but there are still a lot of stuff I’ve kept to myself so I’m gonna let you have a peek now😉 I chose this DamKris snippet especially for you:

He’d been texting. With Damon. Just a little, nothing much. Kris was busy and so was Damon. That’s why they couldn’t meet up before Saturday. Six whole days from now.

It was going to be the two of them. Alone. Together. Kris hadn’t tried being alone with him before, but Damon had asked Kris - and no one else! - to accompany him and celebrate the grand opening of some street food vendor located in a quiet and seemingly forgotten side street. Kris had Googled the restaurant’s name and it didn’t appear to even have an online menu.

Certainly an experience that promised … intimacy in favor of glamor.

Aaaand the Jure fic? It’s gonna be hella nsfw, so I put it under a cut😄

It’ll be a Nace/Jure thing or possibly end up in JanceJure. Haven’t decided yet. I also haven’t written a lot yet but I do have some stuff. It’s mainly about Jure hooking up with people after shows, and Nace pining because he wants to be with Jure. And also a bit of ‘Jure is with all these people, why has he never come on to me??’ (Psst, it’s because Jure wants more than ‘just’ a one night stand with Nace (and maybe Jan😉)) And this scene is when Jure starts coming to Nace for comfort after the hook-ups.

Nace rested a leg between Jure’s welcoming thighs. The white and sticky remains from Jure’s evening entertainment still seeped slowly from his well-used hole, staining the hairs on Nace’s leg. He always secretly wished it was his own cum dribbling from Jure all night, instead of random people he picked up after shows.

Jure’s sleepy mumbles into Jan’s warm skin turned louder when Nace’s hand creeped below the covers and pushed a finger past the puffy rim to conceal what some guy had left behind inside Jure.

Thanks for the ask!! 😃

#joker out #damkris #ask #joker out fic #kris guštin #damon baker #nace jordan #jure maček #nacejure #JanceJure

17 notes · View notes

marchy-emmet · 9 months

Text

Pokémon White - The Battle Subway's Void

MARCHY... WRITING?!?!! Pppffff, aside from that... I wanted to write a little one-shot thingie in creepypasta format to explain in a lil' more detail what glitchy Submas are about. No gore or anything, only madness!! Without further ado, let us dive into this shitstorm...

And as a note: The player's opinion of Submas does not reflect my own, lol.

----

So… here’s the deal. I’m going to jump right into it – no sugarcoating whatsoever.

I’ve been an avid Pokemon fan for my entire life – way down from childhood and up till now, even as a broke unemployed college student. Generation 5 had always been my favorite, and though the attractions in Nimbasa City aren’t particularly pleasing to me, there was one place that had caught my attention – Nimbasa Gear Station.

Now, I am no rookie player… I’ve been through this subway time after time again – my favorite being the singles lines due to how quickly you can farm BP. And the doubles line was slower but gave you the same amount of BP, so what was the point? My copy of White was maxed out in money and time. No need to add more grueling tasks.

… Well, enough yapping for now – I don’t have much time, anyway. Let’s, once again, jump right into it.

Just a few nights ago, I had made my rounds with the battle subway again – but this time, I decided on choosing the multi lines. I’ve got barely any friends who play, so I ended up playing this with the NPC Hilda in the comfort of my own dorm room… If only I could play with sentient beings, I thought sarcastically to myself – no one being around and all…

It was unsurprisingly a typical, boring and usual sweep of the battle subway. A timid Hydreigon with max EVs in special attack and speed with dark pulse, flamethrower, surf and dragon pulse had done the trick. Way too easy!! We had a bit of trouble with a few NPCs here and there, but it was nothing terribly difficult.

Then came, of course, Ingo and Emmet with their usual cone stance. I never understood the hype around these two random NPCs… Sure, strange design and all – but what’s the deal?

With me already having dull feelings about the subway masters and their undeserved hype, the experience I was about to have this very night would ruin their image forever.

Aaaand the game crashes. What the fuck??!?! All of that hard work of grinding in the battle subway while mashing A had gone to waste. I am gonna fucking lose it… I thought. The only logical thing to do was to man up and suck it up and redo the entire thing over. So I rebooted the game, muttering profanities under my breath and waiting impatiently for the title screen to appear.

And it didn’t. At this moment, I thought, okay, obviously the game is fake. What is this shit? Perhaps I was a bit too irritable for no one’s good, because as soon as I had restarted it again, the title screen actually showed up with a bit of lag. But still… Something was off. Lag is a telltale sign of a fake game, right?

This thing’s cartridge was used, after all. I had no idea what the previous player had done to the game… In the back of my mind, I had hoped all my save data hadn’t been deleted. Fuck.

I eagerly waited for the game to boot fully and take me back to Gear Station as I hit the save file, but the performance of the virtual world only got lower and lower, steadily dragging itself back to where my character was standing. As per usual when you “quit” a subway battle, the employee was facing me in preparation to scold me.

… But he didn’t. He just stood there. And at this point I thought the game had frozen.

My heart kept beating fast as I frantically thought up plans of what to do with my save file. Transferring all of my work to another file was an option – but I didn’t have another DS or any friends who did. Again, fuck. At this point there’s no use in searching for resources online to find out if it was fake – it definitely was.

I took a deep breath and looked away from the screen for a moment as I hoped and prayed that the game would cooperate with me. The Gear Station theme was still playing, after all…

A few minutes later, and I simply gave up, rebooting the game yet again. And again, I experienced the laggy bootup screen and the strange pause at the employee. I dropped my DS, putting my hands in my face and releasing the most frustrated sigh to grace the earth.

This is when I suddenly heard an 8 bit screeching sound that had scared me shitless. I jumped up, removing my hands from my face and widening my eyes at the screen. Nothing was out of the ordinary, but the grating sound… ugh.

I reached for the DS’s power button and tried to turn it off – but to no avail. Okay, then let’s try holding it down for 10 seconds… Nope. Pressing all the buttons? Futile. Button combinations? Nada. And so I turn to Google – my attention now directed at my laptop screen – a terrible mistake, really.

After a few unhelpful searches, I turn back to my DS screen and jolt.

It was back where I was with Ingo and Emmet, but the background had gone completely black. How…? How was this even possible? At this point, I even considered that I had picked up a rom hack!

So, with all of the textures lost, I had of course entertained the idea that I was in generation 5’s “void” – similar to gen 4’s “void glitch” where you could catch Shaymin and Darkrai via the exploit. But I knew the walls of the battle subway were probably still around, and the only way of getting out would’ve been through the subway doors.

After a few moments of cautious reconsideration, I moved my fingers to the DS button’s arrows and pressed to go left. To my surprise, my character was actually able to roam around the void around Hilda, Ingo and Emmet!

Curiously, I approached Ingo and mashed the A button, attempting to speak to him. For a moment, this seemed to have frozen my game, until a text box popped up…

“What can I see after winning, winning, and winning? … Nothing – not without this fellow standing beside me.”

Huh. I had vaguely remembered the first half of this line from Ingo, but not the second half. At this point I was definitely convinced I had received some sort of fucked up rom hack in the real White’s disguise.

I spoke to Emmet, and his text box lagged similarly before he stated, “I am Emmet. I am a subway boss. And I am verrry angry. Too angry.”

When I spoke to Hilda, her text box was blank. No ellipsis or anything.

I… didn’t particularly enjoy the expressions the subway masters’ pixelated little faces were making. Dead, cold and glaring. But I had figured that’s how they always looked. Something was definitely going astray with their colors, because the more I stared, the bluer Emmet got, and the redder Ingo got. Their sprites were progressively getting freakier and freakier. What kind of fucked individual sat down and made this hack?

This is the part where a battle suddenly started without my knowledge or consent, despite my character standing far from their usual battle position. Uh… Okay then.

Subway masters Ingo and Emmet got into their usual battle position, backs turned before pointing… straight at me, as the player. This wasn’t quite right, I thought to myself, as I had remembered them pointing in opposite directions prior to this weird interaction. I did get a closer look at them, and their appearance was ever-changing.

They left the screen, and as per usual, Haxorus and Archeops were sent out first… Nothing was at all wrong with the sprites – except their eyes were missing? That and the fact that the battle’s background was white. A few blocky particles of what I call “glitch” were floating around the screen erratically. I also couldn’t help but to notice the Pokemon’s sprites weren’t animated.

I had a horrible pit in my stomach as my intuition was begging me to listen… But I persisted in thinking this was merely a twisted rom hack. The Pokemon still weren’t moving, and the screen was still struggling to load in the background with chunks of “glitch”. Colored particles were everywhere.

More possibilities floated through my mind… Was my DS broken? Was the cartridge dropped in water? Whatever the case might’a been, this was the most terrifying experience I ever had in a Pokemon game.

Unable to send my Pokemon out, I set the DS down and clutched my stomach a little, beginning to feel nauseous. My fingers tightened, rendering them paralyzed. I felt my whole body vibrate as I became deathly ill… Wasn’t quite sure why. There’s no way I was panicking so much over a video game.

As I stood up, I felt the room spin, so I sat back down. A distorted groan rang from the DS as Ingo’s sprite appeared back on screen, in the same pointing position.

His text box read, “The system cannot be shut off at this time. However, you could always offer reconciliation.”

Reconciliation? What the fuck was he on?

As Ingo’s distorted sprite faded out, Emmet’s appeared next – but he had black splotchy markings all over his body and face. I felt my heart beat faster again, and my breathing hastened as his text box popped up. It remained blank for a few seconds as Emmet’s round, soul-piercing eye revealed itself through his face’s shadow.

At this point I tried to shut the game off again by holding down the power button, but it was no use. Not even removing the cartridge stopped it.

“Do not try to turn the game off. Do not try to save the game. You cannot.”

How… How did he just break reality? I knew the funny business was over. This is real.

Ingo appeared again next to his Haxorus, who was melting into a glitchy mass. He began to speak again, his sprite’s eyes appearing in his face’s shadow. “I knew my partners wouldn’t make it through this – but I must protect what’s left. Why wouldn’t you play the multi lines for such a staggering duration of time, player?”

“I just did!!” I yelled back out loud, absolutely bewildered and jittery. I wasn’t even sure if responding to him would warrant a response, but…

Emmet’s Archeops began melting into a glitchy mass next as his sprite approached closer. Any light that was left in his eyes had died when he noticed his Pokemon partner was succumbing to the supposed reality break I was witnessing. His smile dropped for the first time. I’m pretty sure I had never seen that twin frown up until then.

“I am Emmet. This world is too limited. And I will break free. What you did was verrrry rude, player.”

“What did I do?!” I shouted back, feeling tears well up in my eyes. Not tears of regret or guilt, no – tears of confusion. Panic. My head was spinning at this point, and I had wondered if I was experiencing psychotic derealization. Something like this is much too bizarre to be real.

Another text box appeared as Ingo gestured to Emmet, Archeops and Haxorus. “Intentional separation is a sin that cannot be forgiven. Excuse me for repeating myself – but it would be kind of you to ask for reconciliation. I’m not sure how Emmet feels.”

I stared at my screen, my voice hoarse as I responded, “I… I’m not the one you’re looking for.”

I felt ridiculous responding to a video game character, but in my derealized mind this was logical at the time.

“Do not lie,” Emmet began, his sprite becoming increasingly glitchy, “I do not like liars. I do not entertain liars.”

I refused to press A past this point, instead reflecting on what could be happening. Are they feeling something? Is that why Haxorus and Archeops had died – due to a fatal game error?

“I’m sorry,” I say without really thinking, my thoughts racing with contemplating fear.

And Emmet responded again without me hitting A. “You said you are not the one. I do not like liars.” His sprite became bitter again, vibrating against the glitchy masses that were surrounding the twins and broken Pokemon.

I once again took a deep breath in complete disbelief, shutting the DS and dropping it harshly. I sobbed into my hands, unable to make out what I thought of this. Do I need psychiatric help? Was it real?

I felt as if something horrible was going to happen – as if these characters wanted revenge on me. And the game was still playing despite the fact that I had closed it.

Five minutes past as I rocked myself and wept, occasionally glancing over at the DS and putting destruction of the system into consideration. But before I could even formulate the plan, I noticed the DS was… vibrating. This just sent me back into the spiral of sobbing into my hands, but I kept my eyes locked steadily onto the DS. I knew a DS was not supposed to vibrate.

And then came what I can only refer to as a hallucination…

Something was pushing the DS’s screen back up – a finger covered by a black glove. The surrounding area erupted into glitchy fragments, and the gaming system was practically breaking itself and making crackling sounds as the plastic warped. Welp, guess my plan to destroy it was no longer needed.

Without a second thought I let out the loudest shriek I could ever release – and I had sworn the entire complex had heard it. Stood up and ran without hesitation. Not even going to stay to observe the scenery.

I made my way out of the dorms, speeding down the halls and immediately causing a scene. Everyone I passed just stood there, bewildered by my behavior. I was too scared out of my wits to even warn anyone.

I made my way out of the building and down the street, panting heavily and feeling my whole body cake in sweat. Pure fight or flight instinct. I knew then that someone wanted my head on a silver platter – video game character or not.

Eventually I was at my friend’s house, frantically knocking on their door… It isn’t my intent to bring danger towards them or their family, but it’s my only option at the moment. No way I’m staying back at that cursed dorm.

Explaining such a situation to my friend was uncomfortable, but they were concerned for my mental health and well being. And of course, they didn’t seem to believe my story, either… No one did. Everyone I texted, voice chatted with, and told in person always asked if I was joking, or if I needed some sort of help.

It’s been a couple of days since the incident, and I’ve missed plenty of classes – but they’re my last concern. Whether or not I come to find out if that thing was real, I need to hide for my own sake.

And I hope someone runs across this as a tale of caution (unironically, the reason I’m writing it). If you’re sold a game that’s advertised as real, and something strange begins to happen… don’t delve in further.

… Or you may end up like me – alone, just as the subway masters were. And possibly still being tracked down as I write.

#submas #subway bosses #ingo and emmet #pokemon #pkmn #glitchy submas

41 notes · View notes

travellingwiththedead · 4 months

Text

Ok, watching iwtv s2e2 again and taking notes because everything happening too much:

(Spoilers under read more)

Louis and Armand arguing about who should have made contact first sounds a bit like Louis and his mum arguing about who should have kept in touch, but less angry.

Also Daniel absolutely not buying their domestic bliss charade is hilarious. "Keep selling it"

Ok, on Louis and his photography: How are all your pictures turning out so well? You're taking them at night, free hand, no flash light. I guess for less hurried ones he can, because he's a vampire, just stand very very still, but we see him and Claudia move the camera while taking pictures (or use a way too short exposure time), he's taking pictures on a moving bike. They should all be underexposed or blurry as hell xD

Louis getting nasty when Daniel's questions go places he doesn't like is so good. Three grumpy old men in a penthouse, trying to one up each other.

Love how Claudia is all indecisive about going into Madeleine's shop until someone tells her not to do it, then she immediately goes in. Lestat's daughter, absolutely. They both hear someone say "Lestat/Claudia, no!" and immediately go "Lestat/Claudia yes!" xD

Aaaand now Daniel's hand is shaking again. Guess it's time for another visit from Fareed (give me my mad scientist husbands)

Love Daniel gleefully correcting Rashid (and indirectly Armand) that you're not supposed to be using gloves with old books and documents. Have the writers stolen this from tumblr posts after s1? ;)

Armand, give poor Real Rashid ('it's just Rashid') a raise already xD

Armand, you dramatic shit, making the lights flicker like that when meeting Louis

The whole Theatre part is just so good. Ben Daniels gave his all and he's stealing the show. Standing ovations for this man. (and also wishing him so much strength after the loss of his husband, so sad for him)

The whole Annika scene was so intense, the actress is fantastic.

KP (the MVP of production crumbs) and his little knitted hat ^.^

The whole theatre troop looks so good. And the set is great.

Celeste's "Do American vampiresses all wear pastels?" is giving Morticia Addams xD

Daniel calling it all a telenovela, and making sure to have the fitting background music, is hilarious xD he's right and he should say it

Delainey is so pretty when she smiles. And also once again doing so well.

Roget, what do you know? Also I wanna know what else was in that box, apart from the letter (looks like some kind of deeds or other official documents? maybe money?).

And there Louis goes lashing out again. Vicious.

Hm, not sure where this whole scenes puts the Armand-is-Alice-theory (which I don't subscribe to). Because Louis clearly thinks Alice as an actual person and that he could find her in present day.

Personally I think Daniel remembering 70s Armand here has less to do with Alice and more with Louis now and Armand then using his memories as weapons against him.

I bet Daniel will make them pay for this in the future, he's not just gonna take that. I mean, he sees nothing wrong with slapping a vampire so collecting himself and then striking back even harder would definitely be something he'd do.

the preview for next episode is confusing me. 1576??? But yay for past-Lestat and Nicki ^^

#iwtv #iwtv amc #iwtv s2 #iwtv spoilers

21 notes · View notes

ihopeinevergetsoberr · 6 months

Text

the counterpart

chapter 5 — violator

summary: can you guys tell i really want that fucking violator record?????

word count: 2,8k

nsfw-ish, reader is a pining mess, smoking (that's a given at this point, sorry), kissing, viktor is so sweet it makes me gag a little into my mouth. aaaand of course. my beloved heavy dialogue. (i’ll proof read this properly a bit later)

part 6 —

It starts with a breathy “I don’t want you to go.”

Evolves into a bitter “I don’t want to go either” and lingers, warm and slightly chapped, upon the curve of your shuddering shoulder. And then he’d hold you through your pouts and frowns, kissing sweet tickling redemption wherever swollen lips could reach, each touch a gentle apology for having responsibilities that he had to attend to instead of staying bedridden in your grasp.

Made you wish the smell of his skin soaked through your sheets.

If only you didn’t smoke that much.

And then he’d bite you teasingly at each collarbone, taking his delicate, slow revenge — for every claw pulling at his hair, skin and soul. And the room would smell of sex, taunt and laughter: until limbs were finally demerged, cane was rescued from under the bed and returned to its departing owner, goodbye kisses were traded hastily in the doorway.

He wanted to stay. Whispered you that much before reluctantly crawling out of your room — boneless and marked up, no doubt claimed by you in every possessive way known to man, with a special emphasis on that tangible, purple-ish one coating his neck and shoulders.

You despised the morning lecture he had the following day as if it were the other woman stealing him away from you. Even made a taunting spiteful comment about that figurative mistress when he came back after attending to her, and your room was filled with jabs until he was gone again, just as reluctant — if not more, actually — as he was the night he first left. Something kept telling you it was going to become a regular occurrence, though.

A joyful loop — it lasted for a few eventful days, made ‘bed-classes-Viktor’s arms’ your new route of choice. Didn’t even give you the chance to catch when exactly ‘Play chess with me tonight’ has become the new ‘Fuck me senseless’.

And all the talking. Gods above, the talking — hushed, gentle conversations on the comforter of your bed, or on that famous windowsill; mostly by a smoldering mouthful of nicotine or steaming cups of coffee — an ingenious aftercare both of you cherished deep enough to soak in it for hours. That’s how you found out the meaning behind every single one of those Czech little swears he spilled into your flushed ears. However the less harsh words weren’t revealed to you just yet — he mumbled something illegible and turned away with a strangled cough, which had only confirmed your suspicions about them being obvious endearments.

And when the exchange would inevitably resolve into a heated destruction of your poor bed (that was now creaking worse than it ever had) — he’d drive you back into madness, the sweat of its breathless aftermath haunting you until both participants stepped into the cramped space of shower and fingerprints soothed the soreness of lower backs wet and slow. You’d kiss the water off the tip of his handsome nose — to help him push it into your soul and investigate. Not only figuratively too: well, if one’s soul is located between their breasts, that is.

Four slothful days of tender prying — and his cautiousness had finally paid off. You’d listen less and talk more, and his attentive eyes were drawn to you like ones of a doomed man, shining with rejoicement every time you’d fall a tad bit too deep into your thoughts, and your voice would put him to sleep — all calm, deep exhales against the warmth of you. Dark strands poked the side of your face while long arms curled around your waist, trapping you discreetly under his resting form. However, that could never stop him from memorizing every insignificant little something you whispered even through his peaceful snuffling. Needless to mention the things you told him while he was still awake, conversing with you softly while hands stroked a tease up your spine damp and shaky.

A game of chess requires just as much sweat as a confession or an intercourse.

And it escalated so rapidly. The literal definition of a Fool’s Mate, and that’s precisely what you were reduced to by his side — a fool, careless enough to make two exceptionally thoughtless moves, letting your whims take over when you first had him, then allowing him to come back for more.

But you were fine with getting checkmated like this. Content, even. As long as you lied sprawled out beneath his pale slenderness, talking him through and after it, then sharing a game of chess over and over again. Until fingers couldn’t gnaw at skin or move the pieces anymore, every limb shook and throat felt sore from speaking or whispering tender filth.

The lovely loop broke on Friday, when your opponentship reached a week’s mark.

You skipped both of your morning lectures — being responsible isn’t transmitted sexually, even when one is fucking the most duty-bound person in the world. Especially when the weather was not nearly encouraging enough to crawl out of your precious compact cave: the summer heat had finally built up to a season of lavish August rains, and the droplets were drumming against your window with all their pent up strength. They lured you into staying in bed until noon, dreamy gaze nailed into the wet glass, fingers toyed with a pen in a failed attempt to finish some commissioned essays and dreadful remnants of your own work — anything to find a distraction from inevitably returning to the empty spots of the room where Viktor liked to rest after committing the deed that was now the reason to your freshly obtained slight limp.

So silly of you. To still expect him at your door all ready to proceed with the routine, to overcome all the weather obstacles just for you.

Eyes flew back to the chess board. It still hosted the crime scene: that checkmate you put him in before he shed you off your clothes to claim vengeance for it.

The rain kept thudding with rhythmic judgment. He’s not coming today.

But was it really so bad to wish he did? To lack him — fully, semi or not clothed at all? To miss the way it felt to lie on his side, still warm after he was off to classes? To replay the sound of your name on his accented tongue, uttered through moans, gasps for air and laughter? To long for a boy that knew you so vaguely with a passion of that extent — almost as impressively potent as one of a suitor who hasn’t seen their lover in decades? Whatever he was willing to share — you’d feast upon it, no questions asked – if not for a single plea for addivities.

So easy to get lost in his endless patience, to confuse the simple crave for tenderness with a selfish crave for him — the first man to treat you carefully in a long time, to make you feel wanted for your brains, then for beauty. And even the latter didn’t involve disrespect or haste — he’d always prefer trembling touches over rough grips, so thoroughly attentive to the detail.

“I love it when I make you think so hard you frown,” he once whispered with a curt smile, thumb a swipe over the wrinkle on your forehead. You would quizzically pull away from the board, one eyebrow cocked at him in guarded confusion.

“Are you that keen on making me suffer?”

“Perhaps only a little,” he’d confess, fingers snaking nimbly behind your ear, carefully brushing through a single soft strand — had you almost crushing the pieces with your weight as you leaned into the offered sweetness, lids fluttered as eyes rested underneath them.

“You didn’t strike me as a violator,” you murmured with a cheeky tilt to the side, caught his lips aiming for the exposed length of neck, let them settle for whatever little skin they could reach from the other side of the board. The check he had yet to run away from was awaiting him angrily beneath the tangle of touches.

“Excuse me?” he countered your tone, letting you slide away from his attack with tactful reluctance.

“Violator?” It didn’t ring a bell. Only earned you a confused pout and a guilty chuckle. “That one sexy Depeche Mode album?” It didn’t help either. He shrugged, wearing a nervous smile — like a skittish student about to fail a test. A compatibility one, apparently.

“You’re kidding!” you exclaimed, mouth wide open in exaggerated astonishment.

“I’m afraid I’m not,” he shrugged again, sharp shoulders defensively angled upwards. Made you ditch the unresolved trap of his king, blocking his view on the board by crawling over it with rushed inelegance. The issue at hand was far more urgent than a possible victory in four moves.

“You,” a single finger pressed steeply into his chest, “need immediate musical rehabilitation. A very severe one at that.”

Warm laughter seeped out of him loud and generous, thin body quivered briefly against the firm glance of your perception. Serious cases call for radical measures, and thick eyebrows arched resentfully when you shrunk away from the kiss, uttering a taunting ‘ah-ah.’

“Fine then,” he accepted his penalty with a calm sigh, returning your artful grin. “Rehabilitate me. Do whatever you deem necessary.”

Pleased with the obtained permission, you allowed him to claim a fleeting peck before leaving his intrigued side. Still had some mercy in you, or, rather, simply couldn’t resist the soft temptation. Crossed the room to tend to the old record player you seized him eyeing earlier, ran through a pile of vinyls to pick out the prettiest one, lovingly caressing the crimson flower on its cover. You took a lot of pride in owning that sacred thing, recalling just how hard it was to get your eager hands on it.

Careful not to scrape it, you put your precious record under the needle nice and slow — as if it was fragile enough to shatter from the smallest touch. But what a joy it was to finally have it spinning languidly on that dusty platter, to hear the first notes reward you with their rich sound. Couldn’t fight the urge to stop hips from swaying clumsily, hands up in the air as his cried to find your waist and take the lead — yet right leg cramped more than your dance lured in. So Viktor stayed on the bed, smile so spellbound the corners of his mouth almost hurt, and you swore the amber in his eyes shined brighter than it ever had before, struggling to pick a single pretty sight to settle on.

You waltzed into his embrace, letting him catch you after a twirl. Went limp for a second as he pulled you down, then climbed atop him in an already familiar straddle. Stayed still to admire the spill of dark hair all over the crumpled sheets, smiled back at him from the high of your slight raise. So beautiful and all yours to play with — both chess and heart, but you only preferred the former. Showed him that much with a lingering kiss — a sloppy touch of tongue against the pointy shape of his upper lip. Throaty whimper tasted deliciously of submission. Lewd. But not too much. Just enough to send the throb of your pulse straight between parted thighs.

“I could watch you dance forever.” So luscious. His heart might be safe for now, but yours sure kept inching closer to a stroke with every new sweet nothing he uttered.

“Is that the only thing you want to do to me?” you were suddenly armed full of taunt again. “To watch me dance?”

“How rude of you to vulgarize my attempts at being romantic.”

“Perhaps I was hinting at something civil too. Not my fault dirty is the first direction you think in.”

“You’re insufferable. To think I would ever act upon such obscenity—“

“Oh, so you’d rather I get up? Fine, bask in celibacy for all I please—“

“Wait, no! That’s not what I meant! Come back here—“

You chuckled at the memory, sinking deeper into the pillow. Teeth bit at the pen you were still fidgeting with, clenching hard when you recalled just how insistent he was on proving you right. Needless to mention that neither of you got to Enjoy The Silence that heated evening.

But now there’s a pile of papers lying where he used to, keeping you silent, cold company. And you fucking missed him — bad to the point where it gets concerning, bitter for the way you failed to guard any strings from possible attachment. Though who said you should’ve prevented that in the first place? Was there really some heavy tacit agreement to stop whatever this was from escalating further, from offering you that soft solace? Sure, maybe you could use a change of pace — but was that really necessary when you were always the ambassador of everything rapid and unstructured?

How does love even come? Was it too big of a word to define that smoldering little thing slowly melting your enclosure from the inside? How much were you actually willing to show him — without creating new obstacles for him to tiptoe around, or covering the sensitivity he finally started to disrobe — only with your consent, so grateful for the little bits of you he finally got to meet?

Your world wasn’t ending where his started. They could coexist — or merge, even, into an environment full of that scary four-letter-word, if only both participants cared enough to fertilize it with mutual pining.

And, well.

One of them already stood chin deep in that formula. At the door of a pitifully longing another. Knocked thrice — politely intrusive as always. Whispered a raspy ‘It’s me’ — as if you could ever confuse that arrival with someone else’s or fail to catch the clack of cane against the scraped floor.

No lecture, even a morning one you tend to blissfully oversleep, would force you to jump out of bed as fast as you rushed to let him in. Fingers yanked at the handle so hard it slipped out of your excitedly shaking grip, and god was he a mess — soaked shirt clung to the lean frame so tight you could count his ribs through the sheer drenched white. Rain still leaked pointwise out of the ruined waves of his hair, falling to the ground and gathering there into little puddles. Shoes squelched when he stepped inside with a hesitant gentle smile — slightly embarrassed for dripping mercilessly at your parquet floor. So shy all of a sudden, he contemplated whether the chaotic state would dispose him of a greeting kiss, but you dispelled his worries with your lips and savoured the ozone he was now flavored with as a low hum invaded your chuckling mouth.

What are the odds. Think of the devil.

“I’m sorry,” the devil purred against your grin. You wiped it off your face with the little damp beads he dropped on your chin.

“What for?”

Eyes slid to the hand he sneaked slowly from behind his back, sighing apologetically when the content of it was revealed to you wet and tortured. A beautiful ruin of missing petals in the careful hold of his fingers. What should’ve been red to the point of scorching the vision was now plucked out and lacked in life. A single rose left intact among the numerous bare spiky stalks.

“If only I brought a coat or an umbrella to cover them with… Such a waste — I assure you they looked decent before my foolish omission, but that’s not relevant anymore, I suppose.”

You cradled the bouquet — or, rather the remnants of it— gently against your chest. Couldn’t care less about the spikes or the rainy spot it instantly stained your shirt with.

“It’s the effort that counts.”

“Perhaps, but you only deserve successful ones. And I didn’t manage to accomplish that.”

How stupid of him to think that mattered to you at any capacity — oh no, you laughed and kissed him hard once again, stealing a pleasant gasp of awe. Tugged at the buttons of the ravaged shirt and pulled them slyly open, hand met the shivering skin of his chest with a delicate tingle. But you didn’t let him get into it while he was still so miserably sodden. Felt him murmur something regretful when you stepped away to swallow some air.

“How about we hop into the shower before you manage to accomplish a cold?” The offer stood before him with a sheepish wince. As if Viktor could ever refrain from your tempting kindness.

—

So how does love come? Abruptly? With a twenty four hour notice? Relentlessly? Gently? With a dagger to stab you right in the heart?

Well, yours did with his eyes closed. With water in his mouth and your name on his greedy lips. With enamored moans of rapture and tender praises when both bodies returned to bed wrapped in fluffy towels, sharing secrets and fondness while the inanimate witnesses watched you quietly from their distant corners: thirty two chess pieces, his cane and two lonesome roses — one drawn on the cover of your most precious vinyl possession, the other rested calmly in the sheer vase.

—

tags: @thehistoriangirl @zaunitearchives @blissfulip @queen-of-elves @vyshnevska

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor smut #no beta we die like men #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #the cunterpart #viktor arcane fluff

40 notes · View notes