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samsblades · 3 days ago

Text

✶ natural — sam winchester

cw : gn!afab!reader, fluff & smut, sorta sunshine!reader, post-hunting!au, passing mentions of monsters hunting and guns, nightmares, illness/fever (reader gets sick), consensual somnophilia, oral (r!recieving), swearing, praise, aftercare, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, love), mostly unedited, 5.3K words. requested ! MDNI !!! 18+ ONLY

summary : five times that you and sam are woken in the middle of the night, and one time you get to sleep in.

when you moved into this apartment with sam, you were both worried about having neighbors. you have the middle complex, so there's people upstairs and downstairs. overall, it's actually been pleasant. it feels nice and normal, and you're pretty sure that no one suspects that you and sam were previously monster hunters. mostly because none of your neighbors know that they exist. maybe it's a bit strange that you're a little older now, and just starting your lives, but you've just told everyone that you and sam didn't like what you were doing before, and have decided to start over.

the downstairs neighbors are delightful. lina and isa are just a bit younger than you and sam, brought you homemade bean and rice as a welcome, and told you about the fantastic panadería just a few blocks away. your only complaint might be that their music gets a little loud, and their luckily infrequent yelling matches in furious spanish are even louder.

it's the upstairs neighbors who bother you more. riya is nice, but you think they're too hot and too cool for their boyfriend nate. of course, that's not the problem, nor is it any of your business. for the record, though, sam agrees. it's more so about the middle of the night sex and the poor quality of whatever bed frame they made the awful choice of purchasing.

the first time they woke you up, it had been less than a week since you'd moved in, and none of the paranoia from your previous life had even begun to wear off for you or sam.

your heart is thundering at the first loud bump that wakes you. sam's hand finds yours just as yours looks for his. your other hand is searching blindly for a gun on your beside table that isn't there. it's in the drawer, still nearby, but hidden now and less accessible than you used to have it. you and sam sit up, eyes quickly adjusting to the dark and ears tuned for any other noises that might be out of place.

another thump nearly makes you open that drawer, but your now sharpened senses register that it's coming from the apartment above you. the next realization is that the sounds are rhythmic, and you just barely catch the sound of a muffled moan.

with that, you collapse back onto your pillow with a light laugh, eyes still bleary with sleep.

"goodness," you say through a breathy laugh, the headboard of their bed banging against the wall with complete insistence. it sounds unstable, honestly. "i think they're actually going to break the bed."

sam laughs with you, laying back down as well and turning on his side. his arm wraps around your waist and he buries his face into the side of your neck, nuzzling your warm skin with the tip of his perfect nose. this is followed with a soft kiss, as usual. you grin. sam can't see or feel it, but he knows it's there. that smile of yours and another soft laugh when the wall receives a particularly harsh bang.

"think this'll happen often?" you lament. "will we have to tell them to get a new bed frame? or have quieter sex?" it's sam's turn to laugh, a sleepy sound that suits him much better than anything loud or bloody.

"might," he murmurs into your skin, all soft and tired now that he knows there's no threat. for a few awful seconds, he thought some monster or hunter or whatever possible enemy had come to ruin your attempt at normalcy together before you'd even finished setting up all the furniture. he's happy that it's just the neighbors with a wobbly bed frame.

almost abruptly, the noise stops. you wait in quiet for a few moments to be sure that you're really being granted silence.

"they're done already?" you tease with a whispery laugh. it's not that sam doesn't have the skill to get you off quickly, or you him, but you tend to last much longer together. quickies aren't your go-to, even if they're required sometimes. now that you have your own place and are starting to settle down, you don't imagine things starting and ending that fast. as for last night, it felt like forever, in the best of ways.

you and sam are courteous enough to have a sturdy, quiet bed, though.

꩜｡⋆

you sleep light when you're feeling poorly. little things like the soreness of your throat or the movements of your upstairs neighbors wake you easily. so a sharp gasp from sam and the tensing of his muscles certainly pulls you out of your sleep. your eyelids seem to stick shut for a moment before fluttering open, and you shift in his arms. his slightly labored breathing goes silence as if he's holding his breath, likely worried that he's woken you and hoping that if he's quiet enough now you'll fall right back asleep.

"nightmare?" you whisper, voice course and barely audible. you resist curling your arm around his middle in case it's one of those dreams that makes touch difficult for him.

"sorry," he murmurs, answering your question with the tone of his voice rather than his words. he sounds tense and tired, and you know definitively now that his dreams have been unkind to him. you wish he'd never apologize for accidentally waking you. it's not as if you don't do the same sometimes.

"don't be sorry," you insist, as usual. his arms tighten around you, and you take it as a sign that you can do the same if you like. instead of slipping around his waist, your hand reaches up to settle into the soft hairs at the base of his neck. you pull his head close, pressing a kiss to his forehead, lingering long. he's still all tense and closed off. "you don't have to talk about it if you don't want. but talking about it won't… it won't make everything come back. talking about it won't change what we have now, you know that. we're allowed to talk about it. any of it."

"i know," he says, sounding like he doesn't really know it. you give a soft sigh, but don't push it. maybe you'll talk about it later, when he's ready. it's hard to focus on learning to live again when you're still haunted by the past. sometimes it's easier to just let the past be, to know that there are monsters in the closet, but keep the doors shut anyway. the understanding you have of each other has to be enough, and you've found so far that it is.

"you okay?" you decide to ask instead, voice as soft as it can be while your throat hurts like this.

he nods, then tilts his head up. "i'm okay." his lips find your chin as a reassurance, a promise. "it wasn't… as bad as it could've been." he's calming slowly, melting into your hold, so you suppose he's not lying. it's true that you've seen him worse.

"doesn't mean it wasn't bad at all," you murmur in protest, but not with any force. you follow it with another kiss to his hairline. "think you'll be able to fall back asleep?"

he hums in confirmation. "i'll be fine. but what about you? your throat still bothering you? do you need some tea?"

you give him a hum of your own, but it's not really an answer, just a little noise in response to how sweet he is, always more concerned for you than anyone else. your voice comes out as a grumble, "i think it's getting worse," you admit, "some tea might be a good idea, since i'm awake. i'll get it myself though, you go back to sleep. i'll be quiet."

a huff of air leaves his nose, tickling your neck. "you're funny," is all he says, like it's preposterous to suggest that he go to bed while you make yourself tea. he's too much of a gentleman to let you do that, but you also feel his hold on you tighten, just a bit. he doesn't want to be alone, even just for a few minutes. there is no comfort in being alone in the dark.

you retort with a gentle, "you're right, i'm hilarious. c'mon. since i'm letting you make me tea, it had better be good." he sits up with you, one of his hands still on your waist. his fingers slide to your lower back as you untangle yourself from him and the sheets, and he follows suit right after. he pads through the hallway behind you, overtaking you in the doorway into the kitchen with his hand brushing over the small of your back again before opening the cupboards for a mug.

he doesn't need to flip on a light because the blinds are open and the moon is bright tonight. so you watch him move through the shadowy room, preparing the tea that he knows you'll like the most right now. he makes a cup for himself too, liking the feeling on your eyes on him, never leaving.

the tea does a fine job of soothing your throat for the time being, and calms sweet sam's frayed nerves. he's had awful nightmares for as long as he can remember, but sometimes they're even more haunting now that his days are full of nice things. last week, you took a free ceramics class at the community center together. there's a few plant pots with herbs on the tiny fire escape balcony, and when you're not busy working to get better jobs, you sit and read novels that have nothing to do with hunting monsters.

your pinkies are linked across the little dining room table as steam rises from your mismatched mugs. the table is only outfitted for two, because you could only afford two chairs. that's alright, though, because you don't have anyone to invite over besides maybe the downstairs neighbors. but sam's starting to make friends with someone he volunteers at the library with, and unbeknownst to you, your bright friendliness is making your coworker want to hang out with you after your shared shifts. maybe you'll get a set of plastic chairs to use when there's guests.

꩜｡⋆

sometimes, loads of tea and vitamin supplements aren't enough to keep a nasty cold at bay. despite how nicely sam makes you several cups of tea a day, you're truly and fully ill now.

you're woken in a fit of fever, head fuzzy and cream-colored sheets sticking to you with sweat. for once, your body heat permeates more thickly than sam's, who always runs warm. an achy sigh leaves your parted lips, and your clumsy hands fight to push the plush comforter off your tired limbs.

your restless stirring wakes sam after a few moments, who props himself up on one elbow and runs a hand through his hair, immediately searching for the reason you're awake. his eyes adjust to the dark quickly to catch sight of the light, involuntary pout on your lips. before that even, his hand brushes over your upper arm and he feels the heightened heat of your skin.

"oh, baby," he whispers, reaching over to drape his palm carefully over your forehead. he doesn't have to say anything cliche, like 'you're burning up.' it's quite obvious on its own. he just pulls the thicker blanket from your body, but settles the sheet over you to prevent any chills. his thumb lightly brushes over your cheek. "that any better? i'm gonna get you some tylenol."

you only give a noncommittal hum, but he takes it as permission to leave you for just a moment. if you weren't so uncomfortable, you'd fall back asleep before he even got back. instead, you lay there, senselessly missing him and too exhausted to move.

he returns with tylenol as promised, along with a glass of water and a cool, damp rag. he sets the pills and glass down and carefully settles the rag over your forehead, earning a soft sigh of satisfaction from you. underneath the fabric, the furrow between your brows lessens just a bit. with all the gentleness in the world, he slips his hands under your head to tilt it up and brings the lip of the glass to your mouth. you drink as wordlessly instructed. he sets the water down for a moment and replaces it with one of the two pills. your lips part when he brings it to your mouth, then the cool glass is touching your skin again. both pills go down just fine, and he's settling your head back onto the pillows.

you fail to notice that he's brought the thermometer with him too until he asks you to open your mouth again. "just gonna take your temperature, honey," he murmurs softly. you give him no hassle, letting him tuck it underneath your tongue. when he pulls it out, he gives a little sigh. "definitely a fever, but it's not so bad," he tells you, taking your hand in his before pulling it up to his lips for a kiss to your knuckles.

"come back to bed," you grumble, giving him a weak tug.

"i think you'll get too warm," he protests kindly, "i'll just sit with you."

"there's no chair," you tell him, as if he doesn't know, "and i want you in bed with me. please?" you manage a little smile to try and convince him, looking sweet and tired and a little pitiful too, in the way that's so endearing it makes his heart hurt.

"i'm sorry, but i don't want to make your fever worse," he insists, voice still as gentle as it ever gets. "i'll bring a chair from the kitchen, okay?"

"but it's the middle of the night," you sigh, your smile slipping. it's too much effort to keep it there. "sleep with me."

"honey. it's already five in the morning. you know that's not too early for me," he says. it's true. in the past, sleeping until five would be a luxury for him. but you don't really care, and it's not the past anymore.

"you're crazy," you tell him, a little furrow settling between your brows.

"i know," he murmurs sympathetically, unfazed by your feverish accusation.

"it's too early for me," you complain. "won't you come back to bed with me? please?" of course, sam has known this entire time that he'd never beat you. it's just a matter of how many times he can deny you before he inevitably caves to your pretty eyes and hoarse voice. your soft 'please' has him ready to wave the white flag for peace; you're going to tear out his heart at this rate. but then your voice quiets even further, like you don't quite want to be heard despite the fact that you need to be understood. "i want you to hold me."

in the blink of an eye, he's kissing your cheek with a soft sort of determination. he doesn't even move a full inch away before he's whispering, "okay. alright, it's alright. i'll hold you. don't worry." then, his long limbs are slipping back under the covers and curling around you until you're settled on his chest, one hand still holding the cool rag over your forehead and your head carefully tilted so you can breathe easier.

he soaks up your heat, and the bottom sheet grows practically damp with your combined sweat. but he doesn't mind one bit, because you fall back asleep, looking far more comfortable and contented than before, for a while.

eventually, he does have to untangle himself from you because a frown settles on your lips and you turn restless in his arms again. he refreshes the cool compress to dab away your sweat and press to your hot skin. after a moment, he decides to prepare a second one for the back of your neck, and maneuvers everything so gently that you never wake until your body decides it must have water.

you wake with a little moan that he'd find sweet were it not an indication of your discomfort. he gets you more water, then lulls you back to sleep with his touch until it's time for another dose of tylenol.

꩜｡⋆

this moan is sweet, still hoarse and quiet, but only from sleep rather than sickness. your sounds start as little huffs of breath, a sigh here or there as his hands trace down your body and tug at your underwear, soft and quiet as to not wake you right away. he wants you to wake to the feeling on his lips on your hot, wet skin.

you most certainly do wake to that, a soft moan escaping your lips as your body gains awareness and your mind catches up to it. sam hums into your sensitive pussy as he feels you rouse, his hands gently holding your legs apart. he gives your thighs a sweet squeeze, then wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, softly at first to pull another noise from your lips.

he's easily successful, a quiet grunt leaving your lips as your tired arms reach down for some sort of contact with him. aside from his face buried in your cunt, of course. one hand finds purchase in his hair and the other curls around three of his fingers, holding his hand there against your thigh. your hips squirm as his tongue laves over you, your movements sluggish with sleep.

"sam," you sigh, out extra sensitive after just waking up and too tired to have complete control of your body. you're not loud, but you're noisy, letting out sweet and unfiltered sounds almost every time you breathe out. he gets more insistent the longer you're awake, letting his hunger and desperation show. his grip on you tightens, and his nose bumps relentlessly against your clit as he eats you out like he'd swallow you whole if he could.

the pleasure is overwhelming, overpowering, and you can't seem to keep a steady grip on him. your hands are still weak with sleep, so you continuously tangle and untangle your fingers in his hair, torn between pushing him away so you can breathe and pulling him closer so that the feeling will never stop.

"jesus," you groan, "please!"

"i got you," he mumbles, quickly so he doesn't have to stray from his task for long at all. "so good. so good for me, you taste so good."

"y-you couldn't.. hahh, help yourself, could you?" you pant out, eyes squeezed shut.

"never," he agrees before giving your clit a suck that tugs your back from the bed and pulls an extra pretty whine out of you.

"fuck," you sigh, "mmm, feels so good. please, sammy." really, you're not begging for anything other than for him to keep going exactly as he is, and and you know he has no plans to do anything but that. he loves this just as much as you do, possibly more. he's a damn addict, so much so that it wakes him up in the middle of the night.

the way he sweetly strokes the inside of your thigh with his fingertips is an easy contrast to the way his mouth moves against you, shameless and ravishing. your hips buck up into his face and your feet scramble for purchase on his hips to try and stay grounded. your thighs tremble with the effort, and sam moans right into you, beyond obsessed with the way you sound when you're sleepy and desperate and overwhelmed like this. it's no wonder he can't help but wake you like this sometimes, you sound like heaven, look like heaven as his eyes adjust to the dark and a sliver of moonlight finds its way into the room.

he gives you everything you need and takes everything he wants all at once, sending you over the edge with a sweet hum and relentless tongue. you clutch him close for a moment of hot ecstasy that may have lasted forever, then sag like a rag doll into the sheets. like always, he can't resist breathing you in, deep and long, and giving one last swipe of his tongue that sends a shudder up your spine.

your eyes flutter open and closed, exhausted by the pleasure and an already tired body. you swear you're still half-asleep, but in the way that you feel like you're floating, mind and body all fuzzy, soft, and satisfied. he stays tucked between your legs, sleepy too, despite being the one who was so ravenous in the first place. his head rests on your thigh, one hand still holding yours, and the other drawing stars over your hip bone.

he presses a kiss to your sweaty skin, his soft as ever and wet with your slick. "i love you," he whispers, "sorry for waking you up in the middle of the night." it's not the first time he's woken you like this, and you certainly hope it's not the last.

"i love you too," you murmur back, voice still raspy. "it's okay. love it when you wake me up like that. feels so good, every time. you're so pretty." you say that last part for no reason at all, other than it being true.

sam feels like blushing. "you're so pretty," he retorts quietly.

"thanks," you smile softly. to him, you shine like the sun, even in the dead of night. you're such a wonderful accompaniment to the moon, he thinks.

꩜｡⋆

neither the moon nor the sun show themselves much during the winter months. it tends to be quite cloudy here. the cold, on the other hand, is pervasive. and you and sam have discovered the horrors of having a landlord who's doing everything he can to avoid paying to fix your unreliable heating system. since it's not completely dysfunctional, he is most definitely stalling.

until it is completely dysfunctional, an issue that is made known to you at about 3:47 in the morning. the first thing you think is that sam must've accidentally stolen all of the blankets like he does sometimes. they'll get wrapped around his long legs, he'll roll over, and the whole plush comforter will go with him, leaving you exposed to the night air. but when you blindly reach for the blanket, you find that it's still snugly laid over you. that's when you begrudgingly open your eyes in confusion. your fingers are cold. the tip of your nose is honest-to-god freezing. and your feet. your poor, poor feet that have slipped out from the blankets and been left for dead in the cold air.

you're not the type to get grumpy. but you are now. you tuck your feet in and curl up against sam's back, seeking out his warmth. but it's too cold to ignore, so you shake sam's shoulder.

"sam, wake up," you groan, cursing his inconsistent sleeping style. sometimes he's the lightest, worst sleeper out there. other nights, he's impossible to wake. as he grows more accustomed to living a safer life, he gets more of those nights where he sleeps like a fallen log. you shake him again and he wakes with a grumble.

"what is it?" he asks as soon as he's awake enough to speak, voice gravelly. "god, it's freezing." he sits up groggily and immediately regrets it. you regret it too, because it leaves more of you exposed too. you chase after him, tucking yourself under his arm and against his chest.

"i think the heating gave out, like really gave out," you complain, trying to steal his body heat. he wraps his arms around you without any qualm, rubbing up and down your arms in attempts to warm you. he knows you get colder than he does most of the time.

"no kidding," he mumbles, pressing an absentminded kiss to the top of your head. "i'll get the space heater and hopefully that'll be enough until the morning." the light annoyance in his voice is indicative of what he plans to do in the morning. that is, call the landlord and demand he gets the heating fixed right away. it's not like the two of you have anywhere else to go without traveling farther than you'd like to. it pains you to let sam untangle himself from you, but the promise of more warmth is enough for you suffer without him for just a few minutes.

he returns with the space heater that you keep in the living room. the bedroom is usually warmer when you keep the door shut, but tonight, that makes no difference. he plugs the heater in, as close to the bed as he can at a safe distance, then wraps the blanket from the couch around your shoulders before climbing back onto the mattress.

despite the cold, you smile at him sweetly and contentedly as he gives you the extra blanket. he's so easy to be in love with.

he anticipates the way that you tuck yourself into him the moment he's laying down with you. and it's not as if he doesn't want you in his arms as much as you do, so he most certainly welcomes it. he settles one hand on the back of your head and pulls you close until your nose brushes against the soft skin of his neck. one of your legs sneaks between his, and he hooks his ankle with yours.

"i guess this is what it's like to have normal people problems, huh?" you whisper, your breath fanning over his neck. he'd love to kiss you senseless right now, but he's too tired and he's pretty sure you are too.

"yeah," he sighs, sounding relieved. "yeah. beats… beats the other stuff."

"even though it's really, really cold," you agree, smiling. he can hear the smile in your voice.

"even though it's really, really cold," he echoes. "it'll warm up."

he's right. this sort of thing passes. it gets better. the space heater serves its purpose, eventually warming the little bedroom enough that you can fall back asleep. the tile floor of the kitchen is hell in the morning, of course, and you spend the rest of the day in the library together after convincing the landlord to have everything fixed.

the weather warms too, and the relentless cloudiness fades into bright blue spring mornings. the blinds are always left closed on friday nights so that the rising sun won't wake you early on saturday mornings. it's been a blessing. sam still wakes up early sometimes, but sometimes he sleeps in late with you.

no alarms go off this morning; you and sam were up late last night watching a movie you found at the library. he really prefers vhs movies, but he'll settle pretty easily for cds. vhs is too hard to find these days, which is a shame. after the movie, you stayed up much later than intended, sprawled in bed while discussing the movie in depth. it was the sort of movie that was easy to watch, entertaining and pretty, but thought-provoking all the same. maybe it's because the mundane is something so special to you and sam that you could talk about it forever.

the blinds don't block out all the light, especially when it's so sunny like it is now. but it makes waking gentler and kinder while still letting you love the light of the morning.

gentle really is the right way to describe how you wake this morning. there's nothing particularly special about it, but that's what's so lovely. it's just a breath in, then a breath out and the fluttering of eyelids. it's a moment of peace, but the moment never ends. there's no threat of monsters or a hunt or the end of the world.

there's just sam and his heavy arm wrapped around your waist, grounding you, keeping you near him. there's sunlight on the white wall and a green plant in the corner of the room. pillows and blankets you call your own, a stuffed armchair, and a closet of clothes. sam wears sweaters and tshirts and sometimes even slacks rather than jeans these days. you can't stop telling him how handsome he looks when he's comfortable.

you don't move for a little while, and you let your eyes fall closed again. maybe you fall back asleep, maybe not. it doesn't really matter. nothing really matters, nothing but this. even if there's things like rent and jobs and a leaky sink. they don't have to matter until later.

then, because you're hopelessly in love, you open your eyes when they start to feel less heavy with sleep and turn to look at sam. there's no slight frown on his lips, no furrow to his pretty brows. he's content, he's safe, he's not so afraid anymore. if you were to count your blessings, his happiness would be the first thing to come to mind.

his body lets him rest without worry. staying up to talk about movies for fun is allowed now. it has no consequence, outside of a yawn or two while washing the dishes. but he gets to sleep in for as long as he'd like today.

maybe it's your staring that finally wakes him. the weight of your gaze, heavy with affection. the first thing he does when roused back into consciousness is smile. soft and sleepy and delighted to see you. then he kisses you. it would be without warning if he weren't moving so slowly. but you're ready for him, happy to have him.

this morning, he is insistent on having you close, so the moment his lips are no longer on yours, his arms are wrapping around your middle and holding you tight. he pulls you into him with a quiet grunt.

"good morning, sweetheart," he rumbles softly, lips brushing over the skin of your temple.

"good morning, love," you murmur back, voice just as sweet as his.

"i love you so much," he tells you, hand rubbing up and down the expanse of your back.

of course, you answer, "i love you, too. so much." his hand slips under your shirt, like you'll never be close enough, and touching your skin will make it better. you huff in protest and arch against him just a bit. his fingers are cold, but only for a moment. then you're melting into him and sighing in contentment.

"the weather's supposed to be nice. like yesterday. we could walk to the park," you whisper.

"later," he answers simply, ducking his head to press his nose to yours, then kiss the skin under your eye. "let's just lay here a while.

you can't help but grin. "okay. later." you kiss his cheek and he smiles back, then closes his eyes again. the smile stays on his face and you think that maybe he's never looked more beautiful than he does now.

"i love you," you say again, because you just have to.

he hums softly and his other hand slips under your shirt, his fingertips pushing gently into the plush of your lower back. "i love you," he echoes.

nothing aches, not right now. there's growing pains and old scars and sores that will never really go away. but in this moment, nothing aches save for the kind of ache that love gives. and it's a lovely sort of ache. the kind that could make your eyes all misty in the happy way. like you're so grateful to be where you are that it almost hurts.

magic is real. so are monsters and gods and demons and angels. but this moment is a miracle in a way that it has nothing to do with that sort of thing. it's simple and normal and maybe you've romanticized it because of the way you lived before. but you don't think that's such a bad thing. living like this with sam… it's natural.

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astars-things · 24 hours ago

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Can I request for Luke please - “i feel safe in your arms” maybe he’s getting hate and it gets to him so he confides in you

It was nearly midnight when I heard the front door click shut. The sound was soft, careful, like whoever was coming in didn’t want to wake me, but I was already awake. I always was when Luke came home late, my mind too busy wondering if he was okay to actually sleep.

I sat up in bed, the soft glow of my bedside lamp filling the room as the door to our bedroom creaked open. Luke stood there, his shoulders slumped, his hoodie pulled up over his messy curls. His eyes were red, like he’d been crying in the car before finally making his way inside.

“Hey,” I said softly, opening my arms without even thinking. That’s all it took. Luke crossed the room in just a few steps, crawling into bed beside me, wrapping his arms around my waist as he buried his face into my neck.

He didn’t say anything at first, and I didn’t push. I just ran my fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp the way I knew calmed him down. His breathing was shaky, his grip on me tight, like if he held on hard enough, the world outside might disappear for a little while.

Finally, after a few minutes, he whispered, “I feel safe in your arms.”

His voice cracked, and my heart shattered on the spot. I’d seen Luke upset before, after a tough game, or when he missed his family, but this was different. This was deeper, heavier.

I pulled back just enough to look at him, cradling his face between my hands. “Talk to me, baby,” I said softly. “What’s going on?”

His eyes fluttered shut, his jaw clenching for a moment before he finally let the words spill out. “It’s just, the hate, Y/N. It’s everywhere. Online, at games, even at the rink sometimes. I try to ignore it, I swear I do, but it’s like no matter what I do, it’s never good enough.” His voice wavered, and he shook his head, frustration and pain mingling in his expression. “I’m just so tired.”

I wiped away a tear that slipped down his cheek, my thumb brushing softly over his skin. “Luke,” I murmured, “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

He nodded, his forehead leaning against mine.

“You are enough,” I said firmly. “You are so much more than the things people say about you. I know it’s hard, and I know it hurts, but none of those people know the real you. The boy who always kisses me goodnight, who gets way too excited about breakfast, who sings off-key in the shower, the boy who’s got the biggest heart I’ve ever known.”

His lips trembled into a small smile, and I kissed him softly, slow and sweet, hoping it would remind him just how loved he was.

“You make me feel safe too,” I whispered. “Because no matter what anyone else says, you’re my Luke, and I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

Luke hugged me tighter, tears still glistening in his eyes, but his breathing was steadier now.

“I love you,” he whispered into my hair.

“I love you more,” I promised

#send in requests #thanks anon!#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fic #luke hughes imagine #nj devils #new jersey devils #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl hockey

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prettygirl-gabi · 2 days ago

Text

A Day in the Life: Dating Azzi Fudd

Paring: Azzi Fudd x !content creator Reader

Fandom: UConn’s women’s basketball

Summary: who doesn’t love a good day in the life.

I wake up to the sound of my phone alarm blaring, vibrating aggressively on my nightstand like it’s mad at me for something. With a groan, I reach out blindly, slapping around until I finally manage to turn it off.

Before I can roll over and go back to sleep, I feel a strong arm tighten around my waist.

“Mm-mm, don’t move,” Azzi mumbles against my neck, her voice raspy with sleep.

I huff out a laugh, attempting to wiggle free. “Azzi, I gotta get up. You know my mornings are busy.”

She just hums, nuzzling closer like she’s trying to merge with me. “Five more minutes.”

“You said that yesterday, and we were late to breakfast,” I remind her, but my voice has already softened.

Azzi lets out a dramatic sigh before finally letting go. “Fine,” she mutters, rolling onto her back. “But I better see you before practice.”

“You will,” I promise, leaning down to kiss her forehead. She smiles, eyes still closed, and I take a moment to admire her before slipping out of bed.

Morning Routine + Content Creation

The first thing I do after brushing my teeth is set up my camera. My fans—my Pookies—need their daily dose of content. I prop my phone up on my tripod and hit record.

“Good morning, Pookies!” I say, flashing a bright smile. “Another day, another grind. Your favorite content creator, cheerleader, and Azzi Fudd’s personal headache is here to give y’all the vibes.”

I turn the camera toward my vanity, showing off my morning setup. “Today, we got a game, so you already know the routine—hair, makeup, and a whole lotta setting spray because I’m not trying to sweat this off during cheers.”

As I chat with my Pookies, I go through my routine, answering some of the questions in the chat from my live stream.

“How’s Azzi?” one comment asks.

I grin. “She’s good! Clingy as ever, but y’all know I love that about her.”

“Is she playing tonight?”

“Of course. Y’all already know my girl doesn’t miss a game.” I glance toward the door. “Matter of fact, if she don’t hurry up and get outta bed, she might miss breakfast, though.”

As if on cue, Azzi peeks her head into the frame, her hair wild from sleep. “Who’s talking about me?”

I laugh. “Pookies wanna know if you’re playing tonight.”

Azzi squints at the screen before waving. “Tell them to pull up. I’m dropping buckets tonight.”

I turn back to the camera. “You heard the lady. Now, let me finish my routine before I end up running late for cheer practice.”

Cheer Practice + Lunch Date

By the time I get to the gym, the rest of the cheer squad is already stretching. I quickly join in, adjusting my UConn cheer uniform as I settle into position.

Practice is the usual mix of high-energy routines, stunts, and nonstop movement. I love it, but by the time we wrap up, my legs are already begging for a break.

As I’m gathering my things, I feel a familiar presence behind me before I even turn around.

“Did I miss anything?” Azzi asks, her hands casually slipping around my waist.

I lean into her. “Just me looking cute as hell in this uniform.”

Azzi chuckles, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “You always do.”

We head to lunch together, grabbing seats at our usual table. I prop my phone up again, going live to let my Pookies in on the chaos.

“Guess who finally decided to wake up on time,” I tease, turning the camera toward Azzi.

She playfully rolls her eyes. “I always wake up on time.”

I give the camera a deadpan look. “Y’all, should I expose her?”

The chat immediately blows up with YES comments.

“Wow,” Azzi mutters, shaking her head. “Y’all just love drama.”

I grin before turning the camera off, deciding to focus on enjoying our lunch. Azzi nudges my plate toward me when she notices me picking at my food.

“You need to eat more,” she says.

I sigh but obey, knowing she won’t let it go. “Yes, ma’am.”

Azzi smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

Game Day Prep + Halftime Show

Back in my dorm, I set up another live. “Alright, Pookies, it’s game day! Y’all already know the drill—outfit check, hair check, and a whole lot of screaming for my girlfriend on the court.”

I show off my cheer fit and do a quick GRWM while hyping up the game. The chat is full of Pookies saying they’ll be watching, which makes me grin.

“Azzi better not make me look bad,” I joke. “I be hyping her up like she’s the GOAT, so she better perform.”

Right before heading out, I get a text from Azzi.

Azzi: You better cheer extra loud for me tonight.

Me: You better give me something to cheer for.

Her response is just a bunch of side-eye emojis.

The game is electric. The crowd is hype, the team is locked in, and from the sideline, I cheer my heart out. Every time Azzi makes a shot, I scream her name louder than anyone else.

At halftime, the squad performs, and I make sure to put my all into the routine. When I glance toward the bench, I catch Azzi watching me, a smirk playing on her lips.

After the game—which UConn wins, obviously—I rush onto the court, dodging people left and right until I reach her.

She wraps an arm around me, pulling me close. “Did I give you something to cheer for?”

I grin. “Barely.”

Azzi gasps, shoving me playfully. “You’re such a hater.”

I laugh, looping my arms around her neck. “You love it, though.”

She shakes her head, but she’s smiling. “Unfortunately.”

Late-Night Wind Down

Back at my dorm, I prop my phone up one last time for a late-night live.

“Pookies, today was a success! UConn won, I didn’t trip during halftime, and my girlfriend decided to show out for y’all.”

Azzi, already in my bed in one of my hoodies, peeks over my shoulder. “Are you still talking about me?”

I smirk. “They love you, girl. You should just start your own channel.”

Azzi shakes her head. “Nah, I’ll stick to basketball. You’re the content queen.”

I blow a kiss to the camera. “And on that note, goodnight, Pookies! Love y’all!”

As soon as I end the live, Azzi tugs me into bed.

“You talk to them more than me,” she teases.

I snuggle into her. “You jealous?”

Azzi rolls her eyes but holds me tighter. “Just a little.”

I grin, pressing a kiss to her jaw. “Lucky for you, you’re my favorite person to bother.”

She hums. “Good. Now go to sleep before I start charging you for cuddles.”

I gasp. “You would never.”

Azzi smirks. “Try me.”

I shake my head, smiling as I close my eyes. Another busy day, another W.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

---

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

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prael · 20 hours ago

Text

Conciliation

ILLIT Moka x Yunah // part 2 to Punishment

words: 6,035 Masterlist

Two weeks have gone by. Two weeks since the incident in their dorm room. For Yunah, it's as though that night never happened. It was just some afterthought that had been shoved down in the deep corners of her memory, as though she would sooner forget and have Moka pretend it was nothing at all.

Moka thinks of nothing else.

She thinks about it in her classes, daydreaming when she should be practising. Rehearsals have become a stop-start procedure, with everyone turning to Moka with the same question: are you okay? She feels so pathetic. Embarrassed at herself, but still thinking, wondering, wishing, that maybe tonight might be that night; that Yunah might snap at some point and give her just a single touch.

She's thought about doing it again, just the same way, touching herself while Yunah is around. Even the mere idea has Moka wet with shame. It would work, surely, it has to work. Then Moka talks herself out of it. Doing it again, trying to instigate a reaction, she may as well just confess, beg, and plead with Yunah. Admit that she likes her. Tell her just how crazy it makes Moka when she walks around the room in only a t-shirt and panties. When she shakes her hair loose out of a ponytail, her brunette hair cascades in the moonlight, looking so soft and thick, and Moka can't get over her.

They're on their way out of the country, for another big show. Another sleepless night spent travelling. Another opportunity for Yunah to glare at Moka when she's obviously not focused or too busy stumbling through her moves. Another opportunity for her to sit there, only her and her dirty, little thoughts.

There's a slight turbulence, enough to make the sleeping Yunah move in her seat, her head rolling to the side. She looks peaceful and beautiful. That same fringe she's so particular about always ends up in her eyes, so naturally, Moka wants to reach up and push it away, but she forces herself back, that's the last thing she wants; to wake her and look suspicious.

"Not sleeping?" A voice from the other side, makes Moka tear her eyes away from Yunah and find Minju. Minju gives a curious look at Yunah before returning her gaze to Moka.

"Can't sleep," Moka confesses with a sigh.

Minju doesn't reply at first, the look she is giving, makes Moka believe she is contemplating whether she should share or not. "Me neither. Keep thinking about tomorrow."

Moka hums a vague affirmative in response. She wants to appear agreeable and that she isn't preoccupied with the thoughts of someone else.

Minju gives her a wry smirk. "What about you? You keep spacing out."

Her question strikes a chord in Moka. For some reason, she can't deny it or lie about what's been going through her head, and even when she should probably deny it, Moka still finds herself talking about her. "Have you ever liked someone who hated your guts? Like so much it physically hurts," Moka can't help the questions slipping past her lips. It's pathetic really. She should know better, and she knows she's saying too much and too openly, but it's not her fault. She just can't handle it all, not for another minute.

"Are you saying there's a guy you like?" Minju asks, which at least offers Moka the reassurance that the others haven't realised what's going on; why else would she ask that? "You know we're not allowed to date anyone, Moka."

"I know, and I'm not going to date anyone, but I can still like someone, right?"

Minju laughs. "Yeah, you can do what you like," she replies while stealing another look at the older girl across from them, sleeping. "So why does he hate your guts then?"

"Well, I—"

Yunah sighs, breaking the conversation as the pair suddenly falls quiet. They freeze like deer caught in the headlights of a car as Yunah, shifts in her seat, adjusting her position before relaxing again. There is a relief between them, letting out a heavy breath at the realisation that their friend is still very much asleep.

"Lucky her," Minju finally says, shaking her head. "I can't wait for us all to be back in our hotel rooms and having some proper sleep." Minju sighs, turning back to Moka. "You were saying?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Don't worry about it, forget I said anything," Moka rambles. She finds herself silently cursing herself. If the truth of her desires slipped and spilt out, there's no telling what kind of trouble she would be in. But Minju looks at her in a strange sort of understanding, nodding and giving her a reassuring smile.

Moka returns the sentiment and lays her head on her friend's shoulder. Her heartbeat starts to slow down, and as time passes, sleep draws in, luring her into its clutches, and at last, her eyelids flutter shut.

It's 4 am and they're shambling into the hotel lobby, weary, eyes burning, muscles tired, with sore shoulders and legs.

"We've booked rooms for you all. We just went with the same arrangement as the dorm," the manager explains, sending Moka's heart crashing. She and Yunah. Of course. She nods weakly and trudges to the lift alongside her members.

Yunah opens the door, and Moka follows. They haven't spoken a word to each other. The moment the hotel door is closed, and Moka drops her bag on the floor, Yunah takes off her jacket, hanging it on a hook. Moka slips her shoes off, trying her hardest not to make eye contact.

"Moka?"

Fuck. Why couldn't she just walk past without saying anything? Moka's cheeks feel hot. Why now? She glances up, and the look she receives from Yunah doesn't give anything away.

"What's gotten into you? Are you sick?" She snaps, walking right up to her. A rough hand takes hold of her chin, forcing her face up and it shocks Moka so much that it knocks her off her axis for a moment.

There she is. Again. So close. It takes a moment, or three, to figure out what she even said. Moka goes to shake her head, but with her face being held so firmly in place, it's impossible. "No, I'm fine." She swallows. "Just a little nervous."

"Why are you lying to me?"

Her face is still gripped, she's forced to keep eye contact with her and she hates it. She hates that her skin prickles as Yunah's beautiful gaze pours down.

"Whatever," Yunah says incredulously, her hand holding Moka's jaw. Moka nods as best as she can and then she's released. She misses her touch the moment Yunah's hand is gone and she's left to drop her head. "We can't have you being distracted tomorrow. Just get it together."

The older girl retreats into the bathroom, closing the door and leaving a disgruntled Moka alone. She could scream, but instead, she swallows down her frustration.

Moka undresses and slips into her shorts and tank top. She flops onto the soft covers and waits. Curses and empty wishes run through her mind; her fist tightens into a frustrated ball and her eyebrows furrow. How is she supposed to do anything like this? How can she think about anything other than her?

Soon, Yunah returns, but all Moka gets from her is silence, nothing, absolutely nothing, and yet here she is, lying and waiting. Pathetic, it's downright fucking pathetic. She takes a deep breath and lets herself turn and stare at her back. "Yunah?"

"What?"

"Why did you make me feel good?"

"You talk about that like it meant something," Yunah responds, turning her attention away from her phone. Her beautiful hair fans out against the pillow.

"Did it?"

Yunah responds with her own question, "Did you want it to?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry." She turns her attention back to her phone, effectively dismissing her and the conversation altogether.

"Please—"

"Goodnight, Moka," Yunah bites. Her tone leaves no more room for discussion. No room for questioning.

Moka clamps her mouth shut, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. What more could she say? How many ways could she plead with her before it becomes demeaning? But the silence in her room makes the ache between her thighs feel unbearable and impossible to ignore.

It's nearly an hour later when Moka gives in, dipping her hands between her legs. She rubs against the front of her shorts and shudders as she teeters on the brink of losing her senses and giving in to her desires. But the bed shifts, the sheets move, and she stops.

Yunah rolls over and she looks at Moka, as though expecting her to do something, anything. The eye contact alone has Moka feeling so small and helpless.

"Do it," Yunah whispers.

"W-what?"

"I know you want to. These past weeks you've been so distracted. I know you're always thinking of it, of what happened, what I did. I see the way you look at me."

"I... I'm sorry."

Yunah rolls her eyes. "Just do it."

"But you hate it. It makes you uncomfortable, I can't—" Yunah cuts Moka off as she moves closer, she slips her fingers past the waistband of Moka's shorts, down to the wet warmth of her cunt. "Yunah," she whimpers. Moka bites her lip to hold in the noises, but it's impossible to stay silent as Yunah runs teasing touches over her lips, threatening to slip between them.

"You can't do it, can you? Not on your own, not since I've touched you." She says it so plainly that Moka can't help but agree. She knows the truth. "But you don't want to ask for my help because you know I'll just say no. So here I am, doing it for you." Yunah's finger slides between Moka's lips and runs up to her clit. It makes Moka gasp. "Think about why that is. Why would I want to help you?" she murmurs as her fingers circle the hard, little nub.

"I don't know." The words are barely audible.

"I think you do," Yunah says and then her fingers go away.

"No, don't stop."

"I know it's hard, Moka," Yunah whispers. Her fingers are back. They're running through the lips of Moka's cunt, sliding easily, making the skin slick and sensitive. Moka can hardly think as the fingers run up and down, stroking and teasing, edging closer to the opening. "But I need you to say it."

"Because," Moka chokes out. Her head is spinning, and she feels so dizzy. She can hardly form a single thought. All she knows is how good she feels, how desperate she is for those fingers. "You like making me feel good. Because you want it just as bad."

"Because I want it, Moka," Yunah whispers, pushing a single finger into Moka's tight entrance. It sinks in so deep and she moans. She's so fucking sensitive. The feeling of the finger as it enters and stretches her, the feeling as it curls inside, the way it moves slowly and deliberately, is enough to have her trembling. Yunah has to lean in and put her mouth by Moka's ear. "I can't get the fucking thought of you out of my head."

"Oh god."

The words have the desired effect and Yunah's hand moves faster, the thrusts come harder and Moka is completely helpless. Her body starts to arch, her back rises off the mattress and her chest is pulled upwards as if offering herself to the other girl. Her little chest rises, her nipples hardening under the material of her top. Yunah looks at her body and smiles. She pushes a second finger inside, her thumb begins to work her clit and Moka's hands are holding tight to the pillow behind her.

Moka doesn't care that she's moaning, or that she can't stop saying her roommate's name. All that she cares about is how her body is starting to clench, how her hips are bucking and how her legs have gone so rigid, and it's just the best feeling, the best thing that she's ever experienced in her life. Moka opens her eyes and finds Yunah staring. Her face is so close; Moka wants her closer.

She has the overwhelming desire to taste Yunah's lips, but not the strength to pull her down, so she settles for the fingers inside of her and the hand that keeps working her cunt until the orgasm comes.

Moka pulls the pillow tight around her head, muffling the sound that spills from her mouth. She feels her walls tightening around Yunah's digits, her entire body clenching and shaking, and her eyes rolling back. She's so close.

Yunah climbs over her, kneeling between her slender thighs and her fingers never leave. They're so deep. The pressure is too intense. She feels the walls inside of her start to tighten, the heat growing inside her. Moka's head turns and buries into the pillow she holds onto for dear life.

"Look at me, Moka," she coos, leaning into her. "I said look at me."

Yunah takes Moka's hand, prying it away from the pillow. Powerless to resist, Moka's arm is pushed above her head, and then the other. They're placed together, held under Yunah's grasp and Moka's head is free and forced to look at the beautiful woman on top of her, forced to see those deep brown eyes and that gorgeous hair, that pretty face with the full lips, the perfect lips, the ones Moka wishes were pressed against her. But that would be too much. Moka would never want anything more ever again. If she kisses her then it's game over, all she would ever need would be right here. Moka could never think about anyone or anything other than her, ever again.

Moka's stomach tightens, and her face contorts. She lies there helplessly as she is overcome, and the climax hits. She can't help it. She's moaning so loudly and she's clenching around Yunah's fingers. Her legs shake and her arms try to pull themselves away, to have something to cling to. But she can't move. All Moka can do is give into the pleasure. It washes over her, the sensation coursing through her body, making her toes curl.

She leaks messily onto Yunah's hand. The sounds of wetness fill her ears, the lewd, squelching noises as the fingers continue to work her pussy, fucking her through the high and prolonging the sensation until her mind blanks, her body convulses and her voice breaks into a pathetic whine. Moka's head thrashes back and forth, and she's crying, sobbing out loud.

She's left panting, chest heaving as she looks at Yunah who's smiling. That beautiful smile, the one she loves to see.

"You're so pretty when you cum, Moka." She says it most sweetly, and her eyes seem so sincere. Moka wants to kiss her more than ever, and she wants Yunah to feel good too, just like she did. But her body feels like jelly and she can barely move. So she can only lay there and try to catch her breath.

Yunah lowers, laying her head on Moka's chest, her ear pressing gently to her heart, as though listening to it. Her body still twitches and shakes and her legs remain spread with Yunah still nestled between them. Moka tries to calm herself, and she can feel Yunah's breathing slow and soften, her weight shifting on top of her.

"I'm sorry, Moka. For ignoring you, but I knew this would happen. I knew that once I gave in, I wouldn't be able to stop," she murmurs. Moka can only manage a hum in reply. She doesn't even understand what Yunah means, not really, she can barely understand her words. Yunah puts her hand on her waist and slips her own pyjama shorts over her hips and down her long legs. She kicks them off and they're left tangled up at the foot of the bed.

It's when Yunah raises her head from Moka's chest that Moka realises what's happening. Yunah slips her fingers into the waistband of her shorts, pulling them down and off of her legs and throwing them aside. Moka feels so exposed. She can't hide the fact she's blushing, that she's so nervous, that this is what she's been waiting for, what she's wanted.

Yunah pulls her own shirt over her head and throws that off the bed too, and now Moka's staring. Tight and toned. Perky. It's like she can't help but let her eyes roam. She's the most perfect girl in the world. Moka's hands reach up to her, running along the curves of Yunah's body, the smoothness of her skin. Her thumbs brush over her nipples, feeling them harden and rise.

Yunah sighs, and Moka wants to make her do that again. She wants to hear all her pretty noises, just like Yunah said she loved hearing hers. So, she sits up and her hands go around Yunah, holding onto her, bringing her closer. She's so tall. Moka's face presses into her chest and she breathes against her, feeling the heat and inhaling the sweet scent of her.

Moka is so nervous. So anxious that she will do something wrong. She has to force herself to lift her head and part her lips, to lean forward and place her mouth over the stiff, little peak on Yunah's breast. She sucks, pulling it in, feeling the way it moves, the way Yunah lets out a breath and the hand that comes up to her hair. Fingers run through her black locks, nails drag along her scalp, and Moka moves her head to the other, repeating the motion, sucking the skin, flicking her tongue over it and pulling it with her lips.

Yunah moans and the grip tightens, she holds her head, and the other arm wraps around Moka. Reassurance in the form of a touch. It tells her she's doing well, that Yunah's liking it. That's all that matters. Moka wants her to like it, she wants to please her, and she wants to know how to make her feel good. She smiles against her smooth skin, placing kisses, licks, and bites all over her. Appreciation for this girl and her beautiful, wonderful body.

Then Moka finds herself lying on her back. Yunah climbs on top of her and Moka's heart thuds hard against her chest. This is everything she's wanted.

"Don't freak out," she whispers, her breath against Moka's face.

"Never."

Yunah shifts her weight and then Moka feels it, the wet heat of Yunah's cunt against hers, and the sensation of her body on hers. Moka looks down at their bodies and can see the point of their connection, where their skin meets. The sight of it alone makes her mouth go dry, her stomach flips, and it takes all her strength to keep herself together. And then Yunah rocks her hips, grinding against Moka, her slick pussy rubbing against Moka's. The sensation of her skin moving, her wetness, it makes Moka's eyes roll back.

"Yunah..." Moka gasps, her body arching, and Yunah pushes her down.

She does it again, and again, sliding against her, pushing her hips hard. Her breathing is growing faster, and heavier, and her moans are so quiet. Sparks ignite in her lower body. The pressure, the heat. It feels so good to have Yunah against her like that.

Yunah leans down and buries her face in the crook of her neck and she kisses and nibbles at her skin there, whispering against the spot. "Why does this feel so good?"

"I don't know," Moka gasps. She's losing her breath already. She's panting and she feels so hot and dizzy, but in the best possible way.

Yunah can't hold back, she can't hide the fact that Moka makes her lose her control. This cute, petite little thing below her; with her innocent, big brown eyes, and her adorable smile, that makes Yunah want to melt, she's her weakness. Moka, who she heard so many times, night after night. Moka, who she's ignored and tried to put from her mind, but can't. And now she has her. She has her little Moka beneath her, squirming and panting and whining, and Yunah's hips can't help but rut down into her.

Yunah can't get enough of it. Moka's pussy feels so soft and warm against her own. The slick mess that grows between them, it's addicting. The sounds are even worse. She wants to make more. She wants Moka to scream.

All the confusion Yunah once felt has vanished, and in its place, a sense of belonging, a feeling that she has to do this. That she's supposed to be in this bed with Moka and no one else. She never understood it. She was scared to admit it. But now there is nothing else she could ever ask for.

Yunah takes Moka's hand, interlocking fingers and squeezing. It's reassuring, and Moka's grip on her hand is strong, it tells Yunah she's feeling the same way.

"Moka."

"Yes," Moka answers.

Yunah looks down at the younger girl. Moka's face is contorted with pleasure, her lips are parted, and she's breathing so hard. She's completely lost to her sensations, and the sight makes Yunah's heart flutter, her skin burns and her body feels weak. "Moka," she whispers again. This time Moka's eyes open, looking straight at her. Their gazes lock and their fingers squeeze. "I like you."

"I like you too." Moka's smile is the most beautiful thing Yunah has ever seen, it triggers an instinct to fuck her harder. Moka's hand snaps to Yunah's hip and holds her tightly. She's moaning louder now. She can't hide it.

The bed creaks, the headboard hitting the wall. The sheets become tangled. They're sweaty and panting, and Moka's moans grow more desperate by the second.

Yunah can't stop herself any longer. Her stomach tenses tight, her body is on the verge of breaking and she can't take much more. "Moka," she calls her name, she's saying it so desperately. "Fuck, I'm going to cum." She can't hold on. Moka feels too good. Everything about this moment is perfect. It feels so right. Yunah can feel her own pussy twitch, she's getting closer to that edge. She can hear Moka whine, she's almost there. She wants Moka to finish. She needs it. "Cum with me."

"I want it, please Yunah. Please make me cum."

Yunah grinds harder. Moka's moans are so pretty. They fill her ears and they're the only sound in the room. They're music, they're the most perfect thing she's ever heard and the best song Moka has ever sung.

Yunah feels Moka's fingers tighten on her hip as she bucks her own up to meet Yunah's thrusts, and the sensation overwhelms them both. They cling to each other, both bodies trembling as the climax washes over them. Moka cries out, and it's loud. She doesn't even try to muffle herself as she squeezes Yunah's hand, and her hips jolt against hers. Yunah's face buries itself in Moka's neck, groaning into the skin, kissing, biting and sucking as the heat consumes her and her mind blanks, the pleasure takes over.

They lay there for what feels like forever, panting, their hearts thumping in their chests, the sound filling their ears.

It's then that Yunah looks up, pulling her head away. She looks down at Moka. Moka, her Moka, staring back up at her with her big eyes. The most gorgeous girl she's ever met. Her skin is so smooth and flawless. Her little nose, her cute lips, and the black, messy hair splayed on the pillow behind her, framing her face like a painting.

"Moka."

"Yunah."

Yunah leans down, pressing their foreheads together and Moka smiles, she can feel it against her face. Their breaths mingle and their hearts are so close, and Moka is holding onto her.

"I shouldn't have," Yunah pants, "shouldn't have lied to myself. Shouldn't have tried to ignore this."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not okay." She can feel Moka's lips brushing against hers. They're so close. It's just a little movement to close the distance between them, but Moka does it. She pushes her head up, and then Yunah's lips part. She kisses her and Yunah can't help but kiss her back, her tongue slipping into her mouth. Their tongues swirl and slide. Moka moans against her lips. The sound sends shivers down her spine. And Yunah wants her. She wants her so bad.

Moka is panting when Yunah breaks the kiss.

"It's okay now," Moka whispers, her breath ghosting over her. Yunah feels so weak. She's completely helpless.

"I think we need to talk about some stuff. But not now, not right now."

"No, not now," Moka replies with a giggle, leaning up and stealing another kiss.

Yunah gives her a lazy smile, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. She rolls onto her back, lying next to Moka, their legs still half-tangled. They lie in a comfortable silence. It feels so natural and normal as if it were always supposed to happen, that they were always meant to end up here. Yunah turns and looks at her, watching Moka stare at the ceiling.

"Is it weird that I want to do it again?" Yunah asks.

"Probably," Moka answers. She looks at her, grinning, "But so do I."

Thirty minutes later and Yunah finds herself mounted over Moka's face.

She's on her knees, straddling the girl, and the tip of her tongue is tracing patterns against her cunt. She's writing out love letters with her tongue. Signs her name on her clit and makes her legs shake.

Yunah braces, flat-palmed against the wall and throws her head back as she cries out Moka's name, grinding her pussy against the tongue. Sensitive and overused, yet still she wants this. She has to. It's not an option at this point. She's going to ride her until she can't possibly take anymore.

There's no coming back from this. There is only this, them, this room. The whole world has fallen away. It doesn't matter.

Moka is all that matters.

The warm tongue pushes past her lips and sinks into the soft heat, tasting her from the inside. She's moaning into Yunah's cunt, sending the most beautiful vibrations against her and Yunah is so fucking sensitive. Her thighs are shaking and she feels weak, she's struggling to hold herself up, but she can't bring herself to get off her.

"Your tongue, fuck," Yunah moans. The wet tongue laps at the mess, licking up her slick. Yunah can feel Moka swallowing, gulping her down, her little noises growing louder as she feasts. She's going to cum all over that pretty face. She's going to ruin Moka's perfect features and make them shine. Yunah is so close. She can't stop herself from thrusting forward. Her pussy is aching for more, throbbing as Moka eats her. She needs this, wants this.

"Moka... I can't stop, please don't stop," Yunah pants, pushing herself back onto her. Moka grips Yunah's thighs and digs her nails into them. "Fuck!" Yunah squeals. Her hips jerk forward. It's happening. It's too much. Moka's tongue won't stop, it swirls inside of her, and Yunah's legs are trembling.

Her thighs close tight around Moka's face, trapping it between her legs and her back arches, her mouth open, her voice hoarse and broken as she cums, and the walls inside of her clench tight.

And Moka is still eating her out. Yunah can feel the hot mess dripping from her pussy. She feels so sensitive. She can barely stand it, and her body twitches and spasms, and her heart pounds so hard. Her mind blanks. She's so tired, her body aching and exhausted, but her pussy still wants more.

"Yunah," Moka calls to her, patting her thigh and bringing her back from the brink of collapse, "Yunah, I can't breathe." Her little, muffled pleas have her snapping back to reality, realising that Moka's face has gone bright red. Yunah shifts, and she watches the way the girl gasps for air.

"Fuck, Moka." Yunah climbs from her and collapses beside her, chest heaving, sweat coating her skin. "Are you alright?"

Moka doesn't respond at first. She lays there, taking a breath and then she's turning, moving and climbing onto Yunah. "More than alright."

Yunah smiles at her, a sleepy smile that makes Moka blush, and she reaches up to push her black hair from her eyes. Her pretty little eyes are half-lidded and glazed, and her cheeks are rosy and flushed. Lips wet, with Yunah's arousal, it might be the hottest thing she's ever seen. "You're so pretty."

Moka giggles, a bashful laugh as she looks away. "Stop it."

"No," Yunah whispers with a smirk that she knows Moka likes. "I won't."

She flips Moka over and the girl lands with a yelp, a surprised and adorable little sound. She takes her liberties, to kiss and to bite, to suck her skin. Yunah is marking her. Deep kisses on her neck, bites that make Moka's body flinch and writhe, and her little noises are like the prettiest melody in the world. "So pretty," she repeats. "All mine."

Yunah moves down her body, her kisses trailing and leaving little bruises. She sucks her nipples into her mouth, swirling her tongue, sucking and nibbling on the stiff peak and making Moka's body buck up. Her mouth goes to the underside of her breasts, to the flat expanse of her stomach. She sinks her teeth in and Moka is whining. Her back is arched, her head pushed back and she's gripping the sheets, and Yunah is getting closer and closer to her destination. "My pretty girl," she murmurs into the smooth skin.

"Yunah," Moka whines and Yunah looks up, finding her staring, biting her lip. Her eyes are wide and desperate, pleading.

She lifts Moka's leg and kisses the back of her thigh. The younger girl is so sensitive. Her skin shivers as Yunah's mouth moves closer to her core. "Once we're home, Moka, I want to fuck you. Like really fuck you, hard, fast. I've seen those videos. What you watch when you're on your own." Moka squeals and her face goes crimson. She covers her head with a pillow. Yunah can't help the smile as she continues, "I want to do those things with you. One of those strap-ons. You'll look so pretty taking it."

Yunah kisses the girl's clit and Moka's entire body flinches. A hand shoots to Yunah's hair and grabs tight, holding onto the locks. She smiles against her, teasing her pussy, her mouth kissing and sucking on the lips of her cunt. "You can do anything you want to me," Moka gasps. Yunah can't help the laugh that slips out, a laugh of amusement and happiness, and Moka is squirming.

"You're gonna have to be more specific than that." Yunah kisses the mess from her lips, and Moka lets out the cutest, most frustrated noise, her hips lifting and her back arching.

"You can use me."

Yunah stops for a second. She raises her head and finds Moka looking at her. There is a blush to her cheeks and she looks embarrassed, and maybe even a little shy, but that glint in her eye is undeniable.

Yunah lowers herself, pressing a soft kiss to Moka's inner thigh. She takes her time, making a show of it, and Moka's breathing is getting heavier, more impatient. "Yeah?" She kisses her again. "Let me bend you over?" Another kiss. "Hold your face down on the bed while I fuck you?"

"Please," Moka whines, "Yes, yes."

"What else?" Yunah's eyes flick up. Moka's chest is rising, falling, rising.

Moka whines again. She throws her head back. Her body trembles. Yunah kisses her cunt. It's a deep kiss. It has Moka's hips bucking against her lips. "You can be rough with me," she finally manages, her voice breathy.

"Rough?" Yunah's eyebrow arches. She dips her tongue past the wet entrance and laps at Moka's heat. The girl's body is writhing against her mouth and Yunah can't help the muffled giggle. She's so cute like this, so easy to tease. Moka is panting. Her face is contorted in a desperate need for more, for release.

"If you want to," she mumbles, and Yunah is so tempted to tease her further. But Yunah is just as eager. She is so desperate for more of her taste, her body, her scent.

"Maybe," she whispers against the wet lips, "maybe, I'd rather be soft with you." Yunah sinks two fingers into her tight, wet hole. Moka gasps, and then moans. Yunah's mouth latches to the little nub of her clit, sucking it and swirling her tongue. The fingers thrust into her and curl. The walls tighten and tremble. "Take my time, fuck you slowly."

Yunah starts a slow rhythm with her fingers. Moka is whimpering, moaning and trying to buck into the fingers. But Yunah is stronger. Her free hand grabs the younger girl's thigh and forces her down, keeping her still and making her accept the pace.

"Slowly," Yunah repeats, "So slow you'll think it's torture. And I won't let you cum, not for a long time, until you can't bear it anymore." She kisses the skin, kisses her pussy, and then looks at Moka who's staring. She's flushed, her eyes wide and needy, her lips parted, and her body is trembling. "Until your little body is begging for release." She pushes another finger into Moka. She can feel the tightness around her digits and the way she throbs.

"Oh fuck," Moka moans.

"Or maybe I'll fuck you hard and fast." Yunah pushes down hard on Moka's thigh, and the pace picks up, the fingers slamming in and out. The lewd, wet sounds that Moka makes are enough to drive her crazy, the sloppy, messy sounds that come with every thrust and the sight of Moka's pussy, spread wide, stretched and accepting everything she's given, it has Yunah's head spinning. She feels delirious, high off of the pleasure she can give this pretty girl. "Hard, fast. Pound your pussy and make your entire body ache. Make you scream, make you beg me to stop because you can't handle anymore."

Moka's throat strains, and her body tenses. "I can't," Moka moans and Yunah can feel her pussy twitching, clenching around the digits inside of her. So easily does she cum against Yunah's fingers, and she's crying out, loud, without restraint. She doesn't even try to hold it back, and she's so wet. Her cum is leaking out, soaking her fingers, and it's the hottest thing Yunah has ever seen. She can't take her eyes away. She can't look anywhere but the way that Moka is cumming against her fingers.

She curls her fingers a little more and moves a little faster. The flow of cum becomes stronger, and Yunah can't stop the groan that leaves her. "Fuck." Moka's body is thrashing, she's whining and whimpering, and then it sprays a little, her cum, squirting from her and soaking her hand, her arm, the sheets. It leaks and sprays, it's the hottest thing she's ever seen, and Moka's body is spasming. Her hips are bucking and the moans sound so pretty.

And then Moka goes limp, she collapses onto the mattress and pants. She's staring up at the ceiling and her body is still trembling and shaking. Cum still leaking out and staining the sheets. All she sees are stars; pretty, beautiful stars.

"I'll never get tired of seeing you do that," Yunah murmurs as she pulls her soaked hand away.

"Shut up." Moka giggles and pulls her hands to her face. She covers her blushing face. "It's so embarrassing," she mumbles into her palms.

Yunah laughs, climbing from between her legs and lying next to her. Moka turns, lying on her side. "It's not," she whispers, "it's hot." Yunah runs her hand up Moka's bare thigh. Her hand slides to her ass and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Really hot."

#illit smut #Moka smut #Yunah smut #male reader #female reader #smut #f reader #m reader #kpop fanfic #Yunah x Moka #Moka x Yunah

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lara-cairncross · 17 hours ago

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my personal sonadow headcanons in no particular order bc im procrastinating on writing a research paper right now and its either do this or throw myself off the roof:

Shadow is a few inches shorter than Sonic, but ONLY if he takes his shoes off. cue many years' worth of shenanigans with Shadow doing everything in his power to avoid going barefoot in Sonic's presence because he knows if Sonic finds out he'll never hear the end of it (hes right)

T4T SONADOW

Sonic was able to get top surgery, but Shadow's body healed itself too quickly for it to work on him. flash forward to when he gets his Black Doom abilities and one of his first orders of business is to fuck around with them until he's able to give HIMSELF top surgery

Sonic hates coffee beans (too bitter) and Shadow hates chili dogs (too heavy/savory). they've broken up over this enough times for Rouge to lose count

Sonic is so good at flirting with everyone EXCEPT SHADOW. HE GETS TOO FLUSTERED. HE TRIES SO HARD AND IT NEVER WORKS BUT SHADOW IS TOO DOWN BAD TO CARE

Shadow grew up on a space station, with no biological reason to eat, and no access to fresh food or a kitchen. Sonic literally raised both himself AND TAILS. Shadow is NOT the cook between the two of them please everyone keeps saying otherwise and i dont understand it you cant convince me shadow knows how to boil a pot of water PLEASE SOMEBODY AGREE WITH ME

Sonic ages. Shadow doesn't. 50 years down the line somebody asks Sonic if Shadow is his son. Shadow immediately gets payback for 50 years of short jokes.

they are both so smart and so capable and so dangerous by themselves but if you put them in the same room in any context outside of a life-or-death situation they become the two dumbest motherfuckers you've ever had the displeasure of engaging in polite conversation with

shadow bottoms what who said that

okay this one might be silly but I feel like they would both be good at chess??? like Sonic is surprisingly well-read and more observant than people give him credit for, and Shadow probably had a lot of strategy training from GUN + played games with Maria on the ARK. idk i just feel like it would be a fun way for them to challenge each other outside of just racing/combat yknow

they both wear jewelry with each others' colors :] i usually make it earrings but i think Sonic having bracelets to mirror Shadow's rings would be really cute too

autistic Shadow and ADHD Sonic yes please yes yes yes

Sonic is the most verbally affectionate and Shadow is the most physically affectionate IM RIGHT YOU CANT ARGUE WITH ME ON THIS ONE IM PUTTING MY FOOT DOWN GOODBYE

they like to beat each other up a little toooooo much and its kinda toxic maybe but also theyre both having fun so like. maybe its just a love language 🫶🫶

Tails is so, SO disappointed with Sonic for his choice in men. like he actively considers holding an intervention when he finds out that Shadow and Sonic started dating

theyre both somewhere on the aromantic and asexual spectrums because uhhhhhh so am i and i can project if i want to

Sonic is a chronic yapper and Shadow is a listener BUT. HEAR ME OUT. IT STARTS TO SWAP AS THEY GET MORE COMFORTABLE WITH EACH OTHER. shadow comes out of his shell and feels more at ease talking, and sonic appreciates having someone who doesnt expect him to be at full energy/optimism 24/7 and lets him be silent when he needs to be

#sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #ramblings

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thjsrots · 18 hours ago

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favorite girl

𖦹⭒°｡⋆ stalker!jinx x fem!reader (part 2)

part 1

; warnings: NSFW, gun, some pain inflicting, strap, messy sex, squirt, fingering, stretching out, some degrading/praise, switch!jinx x switch!reader (i think… fighting for dominance almost)

“You wore those just for me, toots?”

You felt a shockwave travel throughout your body as you heard those words roll out of Jinx’s mouth as she stood behind you. Eyes widening, breath picking up, room spinning a bit from the shock going straight to your head. This feeling wasn’t from fear, or anxiousness, it was from excitement. It was almost as if your fight or flight mode ceased to exist. Your fists balled up, squeezing tightly, little crescent marks beginning to form on your palms. That little seven letter sentence completely sobered you up, focused on nothing but the sound of Jinx’s boots clinking on the ground as she slowly walked around your room. For some reason, you refused to turn around. You were too busy trying to convince yourself that the moment you’d waited on for so fucking long was actually happening.

“Wanna know somethin’?” She asked, her finger grazing along your walls and desk, fiddling with the objects on it. “I’ve been in this room so many times, too many times to count.” Her steps moved closer to you, inches away now, standing right behind you. Her voice was a little rough, but soft, almost a whisper. Your body stiffened up, fists shivering. “But, this time is different. This is the first time I’m in it with you… awake.”

Her breath was hitting the back of your neck, making you gasp sharply. “Are you scared?” Jinx whispered tauntingly in your hear, making you quickly turn around to face her. To face the woman that haunted your life in the best fucking way possible. The woman who knew your every move, killed someone for you, and who could destroy you if she wanted to. There she was, face to face with you, a smirk plastered on her lips. Her eyes gleamed in the dark faintly lit room, pupils blown out. Her hands were behind her back, blue hair in her face, looking innocent yet so guilty.

“Jinx,” You said, voice breathy and quiet.

“That’s me.” She said, inching closer. She was just centimeters away now, so close you felt her body heat radiating off of her. Your heart pounded against your chest loudly, so loud you could hear every beat.

“What… What is it about me? Why me?” You questioned, hesitant but not stuttering. Your mind raced as you finally asked the question that tore you apart. You wondered what she’d say, your eyes darting all across her face, itching for a reaction out of her.

She raised her eyebrow then sneered, like she wasn’t expecting a question. “I could tell you weren’t scared from the start,” She started, walking around you, eyeing your body. “You might be hot, but you aren’t such a good actress. You do know that, right?”

Your eyes rolled at her comment, scoffing a bit. “Well-”

Jinx cut you off with the sudden click of her gun pressed against the back of your head. Your eyes shot open, tensing up against the cold metal. “Yet, you still put on that fucked up petrified face every time I got close to you. Like, like you… wanted to go along with it.” She made her way around you again, gun still cocked on your head, nose to nose with you now as she spoke. “You did that for me, didn’t you? You did that to please me. You… You’re fucking crazy.” Her eyes glared at you, snickers escaping her lips as she spoke.

Your eyebrows furrowed, flush forming on your cheeks. She’d known all along, which irritated you. I mean, if she knew, why hadn’t she done something about it sooner? “Funny, coming from you. Answer my fucking question.”

“C’mon, babe… Don’t you get it?” Jinx leaned in, lips hovering over yours, her other hand gripping on your jaw. “I just fucking did.”

That did it for you. Your lips crashed into hers, a moan escaping your mouth as the two of you melted into one. Her long tongue slithered its way into your mouth, battling for dominance with your own. She threw the gun on your bed, slamming you down on it, tongues still intertwined. Her saliva dripped into your mouth as she groaned against you, hips grinding against your damp panties. You wrapped your arms around her neck, fingertips feeling her skin, something you’d been dreaming to do for so long. She suddenly pulled away from you, sitting up on your thighs, panting as she spoke.

“Do ya wanna know something else I know?” She asked, head tilting as her hand reaching down, fingers trailing against the bottom of your stomach, making the heat build up inside your thighs again. You weren’t sure if you really wanted to know, but you nodded anyway, hoping whatever it was would get her to put her fingers inside you.

“I know about your late night activities,” Jinx said as she leaned over you, hand slowly creeping its way into your panties, making your legs spread. Your cheeks flushed a bright pink, biting down on your lip.

“I memorized the way you’d call out for me every time you came. I mean, seriously, every fucking time. I memorized your face, your body, the certain pitch your moans made right when you were on edge,” Her hand slipped in, grazing over your clit, playing with the wetness dripping out of your hole. You gasped at the sensation, gripping onto the sheets, eyes darting towards her face. You were desperate at this point, skin on fire from her teasing, wanting nothing more than for her to completely wreck you. “Wanna know one more thing?”

You nodded quickly, “Yes, please. Tell me, hurry.”

She giggled, tutting at your pleading. “What a needy thing.” She licked along your ear, nibbling it softly before she whispered, “I memorized the way you fucked yourself while you imagined it was me.”

Her two fingers slipped in, so smoothly, so easily, like you were molded perfectly for her. Like she belonged inside of you. Your back arched, eyes rolling back, moaning loudly. She groaned as she pushed them in as far as they’d go, feeling as you clenched around her. The ear nibble quickly turned into a bite, drawing blood from your ear. She licked it up, pumping in and out of you, curling her fingers just the way you liked it. You yelped at the sudden sharp pain, but quickly forgot about it as your whole body was swallowed by pleasure.

“Jinx!” You called out for her, hands gripping on her shoulders, nails digging into her skin.

She looked at you, eyes full of desire and glow, trying her best to stay composed as she continued. “Jeez, you’re wearin’ out my name, toots.”

“You… You promise you were looking?” You asked, eyes lowered, a smirk rising up on your face.

Jinx scoffed, eyebrows raised. “You’re way worse than my stalking habit, you know that?” She suddenly pulled out, stared into your eyes, and put the fingers that were just inside of you in her mouth. Your eyes widened, jaw dropping slightly, breath hitching.

“Sweet.” Was all she said before she practically tore your panties off, leaving you naked, exposing the stickiness between your thighs as she spread them open and stared into it. “Wow, look at you!Do guns against your head turn you on, doll?” She taunted as she poked at your clit, making your whole body twitch. You suddenly sat up, pulling her towards you, and kissed her again. You slid your tongue in her mouth to taste yourself as you began to tug her pieces of clothing off. One by one they left her body, leaving her just as bare and vulnerable as you.

“There,” You muttered, lips now resting against her neck. “Now we’re even.” You bit down, sucking and swirling your tongue on her pale skin, leaving behind red and purple bruises. You were totally marking her, making sure everyone knew that she belonged to you just as much as you belonged to her. You reached down her stomach, further down, until you reached her sopping cunt. It was practically drooling for you, her head throwing back and a strained moan escaping her lips as your finger gently pressed against her clit. You rubbed in slow circles, hearing her breath hitch as she slowly began to lose control.

“H-Handsy, aren’t ya?” Jinx muttered out, her lanky, cold hands gripping onto your shoulders as her hips bucked on your fingers, like she was asking for more without using words. You grinned softly at her neediness, knowing that in reality, as scary as she wanted to seem, you were the one who had the power. You’d known that all along, too. The two of you were a panting, moaning, needy mess as you continued to tease her. You wanted her to break first, to throw you down and spread you apart, to use you until she was satisfied. You could tell she was close to breaking—her face twisting up every time you’d stop rubbing, nose twitching, moans growing louder and more frustrated. She was so fucking cute.

You were quickly thrown back onto the bed as she got up for a second, rummaging through the bag she had brought.

“What are you—”

“Jeez, give me a second, will ya?” Jinx said as she strapped something on her hips, rolling your eyes at her. “It’s something special.” She turned around, grinning wide as a violet, glowing strap hung off of her. Your eyes widened at her length, looking back up to meet her eyes. “I made this just for you, toots!” She said proudly. “You said I could do whatever I wanted, right?” She questioned, climbing back on the bed, propping you up against the wall.

“Well,” You started, thighs opening up for her. “I did say something like that.” Her face lit up, wasting no time as she positioned the tip of the toy against your drippy hole. “Open wiiiiide!” She said as she pushed your thighs back, pressing them against your chest. You looked away in embarrassment, eyes shutting for a second, before you felt the sharp pain of her palm hitting your cheek. Your eyes shot back open, jaw dropping a bit as you stared at her hardened expression. “Look at me. Don’t close your eyes, got it?” Jinx instructed, holding onto your jaw as she forced your face towards her. “Gods, that look on your face fucking kills me…” She said as she slowly slid her member inside of you.

A slow, loud moan rolled out of your mouth as she did so, eyes rolling back. You gripped onto her back, nails running down against it, leaving red marks all along it. “Shit,” You hissed. “So—So fucking big…" She was stretching you out, making your face twist up as she pushed the toy in deeper.

“Oh, I know, baby. But you can take it, can’t you? I made this special just for you. Don’t ruin it, alright? I believe in you!” She cooed a little mockingly as she forced it in all the way. Jinx knew how to please you. She’d learned how to from afar, taking the time to make the perfect toy for you with the notes she’d taken from her watching you orgasm time and time again. It hit your g-spot just right, grazing against it every time she thrusted, the violet light glowing so brightly, showing how deep inside you she was. She fucked so hard against you that the toy repeatedly slapped against your clit, sending jolts all throughout your body.

“Fuck, s-so deep…” She started, pressing against the bulge the toy created against your skin. Jinx was… messy, to say the least. She would rut into you, thrusts heavy and deep, wanting to fill up every inch of you. The strap of the toy rubbing against her puffy clit every time she did so. Poor thing was so wet, she was moaning louder than you were. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth, drool dripping along your breasts, her chipped nails digging into your waist as she continued. Her makeup was smudged, panting like a dog in heat. She was starving before you, patiently waiting for this moment. Hungry for your warmth. Waiting to make you hers. She looked down at your stretched out hole, slick noises coming from it as she fucked into you. “L-Look at you, taking me so well. So… s’fucking… mmh! Good!”

You knew that last part wasn’t praise, she was moaning out about how good she felt. It sounded like she was the one getting pounded into. She was greedy and desperate, face completely fucked out. You smirked, legs spreading wider, staring deep into her eyes. “Look at—mmh—me? Look at you. Such a mess even though I’m the one getting fucked.”

Jinx whined at your comment, face nuzzling into your neck, tongue grazing along your skin as she savored the salty taste of your sweat. “Been waitin’ on this for so long, I can’t—I can’t help it!” She mewed out, her voice cracking as her speed picked up. “You—You’re gonna fucking kill me, doll!”

Your fingers reached for the gun that laid beside you, wrapping your hand around it as you pointed it to her head. A smirk curled up on your face as Jinx’s eyes met yours, widened and full of shock. You bit your lip at the sight of her face, feeling a tightness growing at the bottom of your stomach, your moans increasingly getting higher.

“Are—Are you—scared?” You mocked, sentence choppy, finger shaking as it rested against the trigger. Jinx groaned out, cackling as she positioned the toy to hit nothing but the spot that made your toes curl. Your back arched, struggling to keep the gun held up, screaming out as she did so.

“Ah, ah, ah! You wanna be oh so big and bad? Keep the fucking gun on me, or I’ll pull out. I can tell you’re close.” She hissed, hand on your cheeks, forcing you to look at nothing but her. She had slobber on her jaw, hair sticking to her sweaty forehead, her whiny moans growing louder as you pressed the gun against her head harder. “You’re mine. You’re all fucking mine. Your—Your hole is mine, your body is mine, your mind is mine. Y-You’re—fucking—mine!”

You could feel your walls tightening around the toy, your body begging for release. Your thighs began to quiver underneath her, eyes watering up. “Everything is y-yours! All of me is yours, Jinx, everything! Please let me come. Let me fucking come, pleasepleaseplease!” You begged, hips bucking against the toy.

“Pull the trigger.” She demanded, trying her best to keep herself together. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, s’close…”

Your eyes widened a bit at her command, hand trembling, eyes darting towards the gun then back to her face as you hesitated. You knew Jinx’s weapons were always loaded, was she really that crazy? Her grip tightened on your face, moaning out in frustration. “Come on, do it for me, my favorite girl. Do it for me, make me come. Be a good girl, yeah? Pull the fucking trigger! Just—”

Click.

Your heart skipped a beat, holding your breath. The second her empty gun clicked, Jinx threw her head back, moaning your name out loudly as spurts of squirt escaped her cunt, the warmness spreading over your pussy. You stared in awe of the view, watching as she came before you. You reached your orgasm soon after, dropping the gun to wrap your arms around her neck and hold her close as cum gushed out of you and onto her strap. You scratched up her shoulders, bit into her skin, teeth sinking deep in her. She moaned out at the pain, making her orgasm ride out longer, fucking you slow and deep to draw yours out as well. She pulled out after, limp body laying on yours, panting as her head rested on your stomach. You laid there motionless, taking deep breaths as you played with her loose hair, staring at the wall in front of you.

You were speechless. You didn’t believe it was real, having sex with Jinx. You’d thought about it for so long, how could you possibly know if this was real or part of your imagination? You looked down at her, eyes closed as her other hand gripped onto your thigh. She’s real, right? You thought to yourself, finger poking at her cheek to get a reaction out of her. She opened one eye, whining at you. “Hey, what the hell?”

“S-Sorry.” You replied, still staring at her. She groaned, sitting up in front of you.

“What, cat got your tongue?” She teased, giggling a bit.

“No! Just…” You started, reaching over to grab onto her hand. “You’re real, right?”

Silence. Her eyes blinked a couple times before she let a cackle out, pulling you in closer to her face. “Oh, you bet I’m real, baby. You’re mine. I’m gonna make your life a living hell.”

You smiled, staring into the same violet eyes you’d fallen for a long time ago. Her response excited you more than the actual sex itself. “You promise?”

#arcane smut #arcane #arcane nsft #arcane jinx #jinx #jinx arcane #jinx x reader #jinx x fem!reader #jinx x you #jinx x y/n #jinx smut #stalker jinx #jinx nsft #jinx x reader nsft #jinx x reader smut

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justarkive · 3 days ago

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TABLE 3 | JJK ch 3

“For good service, and cute waitresses”

pairing: premilitary!jk x secret fuckbuddy! oc

contents: mild language, no smut (yet), fluff, humour, celeb au, very mild angst, slowburn </3

wc: 6k

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

taglist: if anyone wants to join pls comment!!

a/n: this fic is going so much better than id thought it would! i love it and cant wait to progress. Nari’s might also come across as mean, but know its in a best friend way and she truly does love oc. ENJOY MY LOVES <3 p.s, all interactions are much appreciated, pls dont be afraid to let me know what you think:)

masterlist | < previous | next >

You find yourself back at Nari’s apartment. These days, it’s the only place you feel like going to. Your own place feeling like a lost cause- clothes piling up, draped over your desk chair you could’ve sworn you cleaned up last week, dishes in the sink that you could’ve sworn you’d washed yesterday. Work has been exhausting, and when you’re not caught up in the bustle of the diner, you’re busy running errands and keeping up with side hobbies, using them as an excuse to avoid everything else.

At least at Nari’s, things feel a little less overwhelming, and it’s easier to forget everything else.

And Nari doesn’t mind, she’d never mind.

She’s in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a glass of wine, her free hand lazily scrolling through her phone. Her TV hums in the background, playing some trashy reality show neither of you are actually watching. You’re curled up on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, fingers absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on the throw pillow in your lap.

You’ve been quiet for way too long, and though you are a quiet person by nature. It’s never been truly quiet with you around Nari.

And Nari notices. Of course she does.

It’s not past a second before she side eyes you over her glass, pausing mid scroll. “Alright” She says, pushing off the counter. “What’s going on with you?”

You blink up at her. “Huh?”

“You look like you just got caught committing a crime,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Spit it out.”

You shake your head quickly. “It’s nothing.”

Nari stares at you for a second longer, then sighs, putting her phone down on the counter. She’s walking over, the heels of her socks dragging slightly against the floor, and plops down next to you, pressing her shoulder against yours.

You hesitate, fingers tightening around the pillow. The words are there, right at the tip of your tongue, but saying them out loud makes it feel too real.

Nari doesn’t give you the chance to stall any longer. She sets her phone down and walks over, plopping down on the couch next to you. “You’ve been sitting there looking like you’re about to have a breakdown for the past twenty minutes,” she says. “Either you tell me what’s going on, or I start guessing, and you know I have no filter.”

You exhale sharply. “It’s not that serious.”

Nari just stares. “Yeah, okay. So why do you look like you’re about to throw up?”

You press your lips together, debating whether you should even bring it up. It’s stupid. It really is. But the anxiety has been eating away at you since he did it, and if anyone’s going to tell you if you’re being ridiculous, it’s Nari.

You reach into the pocket of your hoodie and pull out a small, crumpled piece of paper. For a second, you just hold it between your fingers, staring at it like it as if that would make it disappear. Then, finally, you place it on the coffee table between you and Nari.

She frowns. “What’s that?”

You swallow. “Jungkook left me his number.”

There’s a beat of silence. Nari blinks. Then she blinks again, leaning forward to get a better look at the paper, like she needs to confirm that you’re not messing with her.

“Wait—Jungkook?”

You nod, heart hammering against your ribs.

“As in the Jungkook?” You nod again, looking at her as if to say: yeah Nari, who else?

Nari lets out a sharp breath, eyes darting between you and the paper. “And you’re telling me this now?” She takes the paper from your hand “Saturday?! Seriously? It’s been 2 days and you’re only telling me now?” She whines, smacking your arm lightly.

You shrug, biting your lip, not trusting yourself to say anything.

Nari stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. “And what exactly is the problem here? Did you text him? Has he shown up to the diner again?”

You bite your lip. “What if it’s a joke?”

Her expression drops into something unimpressed. “What?”

“What if I actually message him, and he laughs in my face? What if this is just some silly game?” You cross your arms, shifting uncomfortably. “Imagine I actually text him, and it turns out he just left it to mess with me.”

Nari looks at you like you just suggested jumping into oncoming traffic for fun. “Are you stupid?”

You blink. “Yes! What- No. Ugh! I dont know?”

“Why the hell would he give you a fake number? Celebrities don’t just do that.” She picks up the paper, waving it in your face. “And Jungkook? He doesn’t seem like the type to waste his time playing games.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” she cuts you off. “I saw the way he was looking at you. That man is not out here giving his number to random women for fun.” She shakes her head. “And even if it was a joke—which it isn’t—you’d at least know. Right now, you’re just sitting here torturing yourself over something you haven’t even done yet.”

You press your lips together, stomach flipping. “I don’t know, Nari.”

“I do know.” She leans back against the couch, arms crossed. “And at the very least, now you can get a heads-up before he randomly shows up again and you dont have to shit your pants every time he does.”

You let out a laugh, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, but you saw what happened last time…”

Nari rolls her eyes. “Listen I get that- Crazy fans and shit? Not it, but you could be missing out on something big here.” She shrugs, taking a slow sip of her wine, like this isn’t making your entire brain short-circuit. “Worst case scenario? He doesn’t respond. Best case scenario? Well.” She smirks. “I don’t think I need to spell it out for you.”

You stare at the number again, nerves buzzing under your skin.

Fuck it.

Your fingers twitch as you pick up your phone, opening your messages. You hesitate, heart in your throat.

The phone sits between you and Nari on the couch, untouched. You haven’t stopped staring at it since she made you unlock it, since she made you pull up Jungkook’s number and prove to her that it’s really there. His name isn’t saved, obviously—you’re not that delusional—but it’s there. Sitting at the top of your recents, right where you left it.

And you hate that it’s there.

Nari sighs. “Alright, I literally can’t take another second of this. Either you text him, or I’m throwing your phone out the fucking window.”

Your body jerks up immediately. “I can’t text him.”

She looks at you like you’ve personally offended her. “Yes, you can.”

“No, I actually can’t.” You grab a pillow and shove your face into it. “You do it.”

A scoff. “What? No.”

“Nari, please.” Your voice is muffled, desperate. “I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.”

“You literally will,” she deadpans. “Probably within the next hour.”

“I’m serious.” You peek at her from over the pillow. “Please, just send the first message.”

“You’re being ridiculous. He wouldn’t have given you his number if he didn’t want you to use it.”

“Or maybe he gave it to me as a joke.”

She groans, standing up and dragging a hand down her face. “Oh my fucking God. What is wrong with you?”

“If I message him, and he laughs at me, I’m never leaving this apartment again.”

She rolls her eyes, dropping back onto the couch beside you. “Yeah, because Jungkook has nothing better to do than sit around and make fun of random girls.”

“Exactly.”

Nari grabs your arm, shaking you. “You’re so stupid.”

You let out a strangled sound as she shakes harder, knocking you against the couch cushions. “Nari, stop—”

“No, because you’re actually so stupid. I saw the way he was looking at you.”

You groan extra loud.

Nari shoves you again, this time hard enough that you almost fall sideways. “You are so dramatic.”

“Okay, then you message him,” you whine, turning back to her with wide, pleading eyes. “Please. Just send one text, and then I’ll take over.”

She groans, leaning her head back against the couch. “Fine. But I’m not doing ‘Hi, this is YN.’ That’s lame.”

You nod immediately. “Yeah, no, that’s boring.”

She thinks for a second, then smirks. “What if we go with, ‘Hey, soldier, miss me?’”

You push her. “Stop.”

Nari just laughs. “Or, ooh!—‘I heard boys like you love discipline, so I waited a respectable amount of time before texting. 😉’”

“Im deleting his number.”

“You love me.”

“I don’t.”

She hums, tapping your phone screen. “Okay, what about this: ‘I promise I’m not a stalker, but I did just spend the past two days debating if this was actually your number.’”

You hesitate. “…Okay- Yeah, that’s actually kinda good.”

“Duh.” She types it out and, before you can stop her, presses send.

Your stomach drops. “Nari, what the fuck.”

She throws the phone onto your lap with a smug grin. “Too late.”

You gape at the screen, heart pounding as the message sits there. And keeps sitting there.

Jungkook doesn’t reply immediately.

Which—of course he doesn’t. He’s busy. He’s literally Jungkook. He’s probably off training or singing or whatever idols do in their free time.

Still.

You groan, throwing your head back. “This was a mistake.”

Beside you, Nari pats your head like a disapproving mother. “No, I made a mistake. I should’ve sent, ‘Hey, kookie~, miss me?’”

You nudge her away. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You kind of do. But now, you’re stuck waiting for a reply.

And it’s already driving you insane.

—

Hours pass.

You and Nari don’t do much of anything—just exist in the same space, like always. The TV plays some random drama you’ve both seen a hundred times before, voices droning on in the background while you scroll through your phone and Nari flips through a magazine she doesn’t actually care about. The comfort of it is familiar, easy. This is why you come here. Why her apartment is the only place you really want to be these days.

But none of it stops your eyes from flicking back to your phone every two minutes.

Still nothing.

Nari notices. Of course, she does.

“Y/n.” She doesn’t even look up from her magazine. “Get it the fuck together.”

You huff. “I am together.”

“No, you’re not.” She turns a page, unimpressed. “You look like you’re waiting for an organ transplant.”

You make a face, shifting to sit on your hands so you physically can’t reach for your phone again. “I just—I don’t get why he hasn’t replied yet.”

“Because he’s Jungkook?” Nari deadpans. “You know, worldwide superstar, busy man, famous guy? Maybe, just maybe, he has other shit to do?”

You grumble, kicking at her leg. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?”

You hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “What if he’s ignoring me?”

Nari groans. “Oh my God. I literally cannot do this with you right now.” She tosses the magazine onto the coffee table and sits up, jabbing a finger at you. “This is what we’re not gonna do, okay? We’re not gonna sit here and spiral. We’re not gonna create insane scenarios in our head. And we’re definitely not gonna act like Jungkook is some high school jock plotting to humiliate you in front of the whole cafeteria.”

You glare at her. “That was a very specific example.”

She shrugs. “I read a lot of Wattpad in my youth.”

“As you should.”

“Anyway.” She leans back, stretching her arms over her head. “Since you clearly can’t function like a normal person right now, I’m declaring a ban on all Jungkook-related thoughts for the next few hours.”

“You can’t ban thoughts.”

“I can in this household.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t argue. Mostly because she’s right—this whole thing is driving you insane, and if you don’t stop obsessing over it, you’re going to lose your mind before Jungkook even gets a chance to reply.

So, you let it go. Or at least, you try to.

The night continues as it always does. You and Nari switch to watching trashy reality TV, taking turns talking shit about people you don’t know. You fight over the last slice of pizza, which Nari wins, but only because she threatens to lock you out of the apartment. You don’t think she’d actually do it, but you’re not willing to take the risk.

Time slips by unnoticed, and before you know it, the sky outside the window has darkened completely.

“You sleeping over?” Nari asks, stretching her legs across the couch.

You blink at her like she’s just asked something stupid. “Of course, I am. What do you think?”

She smirks. “Good. I was gonna make you stay even if you said no.”

You laugh, throwing a pillow at her. She dodges easily, flipping you off in the process.

And then—your phone buzzes.

Your whole body goes still.

Nari notices immediately, eyes snapping to your phone, and then to you.

“Oh my god,” she says slowly. “Tell me that’s who I think it is.”

You don’t answer. Just stare at the screen like it might disappear if you blink.

Another buzz.

Nari lunges forward, but you snatch the phone before she can grab it. Your hands are shaking.

She bounces impatiently beside you. “Well? Open it!”

Swallowing thickly, you finally unlock the screen.

[ iMessage:]

Unknown Number: Took you long enough.

Unknown Number: Was starting to think you weren’t interested.

You just stare. Your stomach does a weird little flip, your heart picking up speed.

Nari, practically vibrating beside you, grabs your arm. “WHAT DOES IT SAY!?”

You lift your head slowly, meeting her gaze with wide, horrified eyes.

“He’s flirting with me-“

Nari screams.

And just like that, everything is chaos again.

Your brain short-circuits.

Your hands tighten around your phone, fingers pressing into the edges like you’re afraid it might jump out of your grasp. Your breathing is uneven, and you’re pretty sure your heart is going to give out right here, on Nari’s couch, before you even get the chance to respond.

Nari grabs your wrist, shaking you violently. “WHAT THE FUCK?! REPLY.”

“I CAN’T.” You clutch the phone to your chest like it’s some kind of secret government file, eyes blown wide in panic. “OH MY GOD, WHAT DO I EVEN SAY?”

Nari looks at you like you’ve just spoken in an ancient language. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHAT DO YOU SAY? YOU SAY SOMETHING BACK. LITERALLY ANYTHING.”

“No, no, no, I—” You shake your head frantically, scrambling up onto your knees as if somehow getting higher up will help you think better. “If I reply too fast, it’s gonna look desperate.”

Nari throws her hands up. “Desperate for what? A conversation? Bitch, this is not high school! We are adults. We do not play fucking mind games over text like we’re waiting for our crush to message us back like we’re 15!”

You press your palms over your face, groaning into them. “Oh my God, what if this is a joke? What if he’s messing with me? What if—”

“WHAT IF HE’S NOT?” Nari yells, shoving at your shoulder. “What if he actually fucking likes you, you absolute dumbass?”

You glare at her, shoving her back. “DON’T CALL ME A DUMBASS, I’M HAVING A CRISIS.”

“IT’S A STUPID CRISIS.”

The two of you wrestle on the couch for a second, limbs flying, before she overpowers you and shoves you back into the cushions. You huff, staring up at the ceiling, trying to steady your heartbeat.

A few deep breaths. Then another. Okay. You’re fine. You’re cool.

You roll your head to the side, looking at Nari. “What do I say?”

She stares at you, completely done. “You say, ‘Hey, this is me responding to your text message.’”

You groan, throwing an arm over your face. “Be serious.”

“I am being serious.” She snatches your phone right out of your grip, dodging your grabby hands as she holds it above her head. “Look. You’re overthinking. You don’t have to send an essay, just flirt back.”

You peek at her through your arm. “How?”

“Oh my God.” She sighs dramatically, shifting so she’s sitting on her knees beside you. “Okay, let’s workshop this. He said, ‘Took you long enough. Was starting to think you weren’t interested.’” She pauses. “Ooh, that’s kinda sexy.”

“SHUT UP.”

“I’m just saying.”

You groan again, kicking your legs in frustration. “I hate this. Why am I like this? I should just block him.”

Nari slaps your thigh so hard you yelp.

“YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING.”

You whimper. “Fine. Just—help me.”

She grins, shuffling closer. “Okay. So, we’re going for playful, yeah? Something that keeps the same energy.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Like, oh? You were waiting for me? That’s kinda cute.”

Your entire body recoils. “EW, no, that sounds so corny.”

She cackles. “Okay, okay. What about, ‘Oh, were you hoping I’d text first? That’s adorable.’”

You blink. “Ugh why are you so good at this?”

“I know.” She flips her hair dramatically. “I am the queen of texting.”

You shake your head, snatching your phone back. “Fine. I’ll say something like that.”

“Good.” She pats your knee. “Now send it.”

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard. Your pulse pounds in your ears. You type the message. Delete it. Type it again. Delete it again. At this point, you’re just spamming letters on your keyboard.

“Nari,” you whisper.

She groans. “What now?”

“…Can you send it for me?”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

You flinch at the volume of her voice. “But—”

“No buts.” She glares at you, unimpressed. “Send it. Now.”

You hesitate for one more agonizing second. And then, taking a deep breath, you hit send.

You both freeze, staring at the screen like it might explode.

The message sits there. Marked as delivered. Silent.

You toss your phone across the couch and bury your face in a pillow.

Nari gasps. “Bitch, what are you doing?”

“I CAN’T LOOK.”

“Oh my God.” She lunges for the phone. “What if he replies? What if he—”

Buzz.

Your whole body seizes up.

Nari screams.

You scream.

Neither of you move.

Buzz.

Another message.

You shoot up so fast your vision goes blurry, scrambling for your phone. Nari practically jumps onto your back, gripping your shoulders as she shrieks into your ear.

You unlock the screen, heart pounding, pulse hammering against your ribs. And then—

[ iMessage:]

Unknown number: Adorable? That’s a new one. You trying to flirt with me?

Your soul leaves your body.

Nari shrieks. “OH MY FUCKING GOD.”

You smack her. She smacks you back. You both devolve into incoherent screaming, kicking your legs and shaking each other like wild animals.

And somewhere in the chaos, it finally sinks in.

Jungkook is flirting back.

This is real.

What the fuck do you do now?

You’re still gripping your phone like it’s a lifeline, staring at Jungkook’s message like the words might rearrange themselves into something less terrifying.

Your brain is malfunctioning. Your hands are clammy. Your heart rate is somewhere near cardiac arrest levels.

“Nari,” you whisper, voice shaky. “What do I say?”

Nari, who has just spent the last five minutes screaming and shaking you like a maraca, suddenly changes tactics. She plops back against the couch, crossing her arms. “Nothing.”

You blink. “What?”

“Nothing,” she repeats, grabbing the remote and flipping through Netflix. “Let him wait.”

Your whole body jolts. “WAIT?”

“Yes.” She leans back smugly. “We’re watching a show. You’ll text him in the morning.”

You gape at her, horrified. “No. No, no, no, please—”

“Yes.”

“Nari, please!” You grab her arm, shaking her dramatically. “I will literally die. My soul will leave my body.”

“Okay, good,” she says, deadpan. “Then I’ll text Jungkook myself and tell him his little admirer died of thirst.”

You let out a strangled noise, throwing yourself back against the couch. “I hate you.”

“You love me.” She pats your knee like you’re a distressed child. “And you asked for my advice, so now you’re gonna take it. No texting until morning. Let him wonder.”

You stare at her, betrayed. “This is evil.”

She shrugs, putting on some random drama. “Welcome to the game, bitch.”

You sulk for a few more minutes, checking your phone every five seconds like a lovesick fool before Nari finally yanks it out of your hands and tosses it across the room.

“BED,” she orders, standing up. “Now.”

You groan but eventually drag yourself to your feet, trudging to her bedroom like a prisoner on death row. When you finally get under the covers, you let out a heavy sigh.

“This is torture.”

Nari snickers, turning off the light. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You highly doubt that.

—

The next morning, you wake up feeling… slightly less insane. Only slightly.

Nari is still dead to the world when you roll out of bed, stretching with a groan. You grab your phone off the nightstand and check your notifications.

No new messages from Jungkook.

You stare at the screen for a moment, heart sinking slightly. Not that you expected him to double-text you or anything, but still.

Shaking off the disappointment, you tiptoe out of Nari’s apartment and head home. It’s a busy day—you’ve got errands to run, places to be, things to do. You get caught up in it all for a while, hopping from one task to the next.

And then—

Buzz.

[ iMessage ]

Unknown number: So, am I getting a response, or did you decide flirting with me was a one-time thing?

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towasdandelion · 3 days ago

Text

Asking Hotarubi, Frostheim and Jabberwock ghouls "Would you punch my face for 100k" to see their reactions

Last part for this oneeee. Nothing like forgetting to save your draft and having to make a whole post from scratch again..

Haku just knows from the start. And he doesn't really take it seriously. You mess with him, he messes with you. He swears he only meant to tease you with the last message but whether you want to trust him on that or not is up to you...

Subaru's heart is thumping in his chest as he reads your messages. He's confused and doesn't really understand what's going on. Are you upset with him? No? That's a relief.

Another one that doesn't really see the appeal of such jokes. But Zenji doesn't mind answering if that's what you really want. Afterwards he's going to make you come over and read his poems to you while enjoying some tea.

Kaito just assumes you're in trouble right away. Why else would you ask something like that? He's been there, he knows. In fact, he still is in trouble, so you might have to help him..

You won't really have any fun with Tohma. He doesn't really let you mess with him much. If you overdo it, he definitely will snitch on you and act nonchalant as if he didn't know anything once Jin summons you. He's a little shit if you can't tell. But that doesn't mean he dislikes you. Quite the opposite.

Jin won't really play around unless he feels like it. He's far too busy for that. So yeah, you better appreciate that one word answer. That's your friend I guess. Oh and don't take too long while he's waiting for you. He'll get grumpy.

Lucas is team confused. He even questions if the one sending it was really you. Once you confirm it, he gets a little worried. Even imagining hurting you in any way pains him. He feels relieved when you say you're just joking around.

At first Towa is confused. But then he gets overprotective. He will deal with anyone who dares to lay a finger on you. He could go quite far too, so reassuring him that you really are fine is for the best..

Little shit #2. Ren's friendship with you is 50/50. One half is chilling together watching movies and playing games, and the other is throwing insults at each other. He knows you too well at this point, so he knows what you're doing. And he doesn't care.

How can you do that to Haru? He needs a moment to figure out what's going on. In the end he misinterprets the situation, thinking maybe you're upset with him. He always feels bad whenever he has to cancel his plans with you. Now go give him a hug and tell him it's okay.

#tokyo debunker #zenji kotodama #subaru kagami #haku kusanagi #jin kamurai #tohma ishibashi #lucas errant #kaito fuji #towa otonashi #haru sagara #ren shiranami

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cryptid-killjoy · 2 days ago

Text

"Thank you." Piper returned noting his charming politeness and ability to notice quite pleased. It was not a talent all men had. It was a refreshingly comfortable feeling. She'd surely friend zoned enough men fawning all over her who spoke of nothing but her beauty, oh her eyes, her eyes, her eyes, and their insatiable need to admire them. She had a big ego but got bored quickly. It was the same with friends, women, too. "I requested it in my tastes. I'm sure you'll be designing your own place soon enough."

He thanked her for the lot. She nodded and waved at the laptop. "I didn't want to order a phone either. I don't know. The phone is personal. It's with you all the time. Thought you might want to pick that yourself too. However, as soon as you get one, I can give you all sorts of contacts. You'll be right back in the swing of things in no time." He said he didn't need a stylist. She loved that he was simplistic. She was not sure. Jumping through time she had met a few Pierre's who were pretty high to-do depending on where they ended up in life. The more he spoke the more she was sure he was the right one. As for the green, "No problem. I remembered how much you and the guys liked it. It'll help you relax."

That's when Zero came in and Piper could only smile. His happiness reassured her that she had selected an appropriate room.

"On it. I'm so it." Zero turned right around to the sound of the metal faucett wasn't far behind. The water splashing and filling was a short second.

Piper moved around and made herself comfortable on the sofa. She crossed her legs and then pulled her own cell phone out. "Okay handsome. I'll tell you what. You go get your relaxation on. I'll be in there in a few minutes. I have a few texts to send so people at the ball don't worry about me tonight and wonder where I went. No one knew what I was going to do. The last thing I need is a search party after me."

She teased not that she really thought her people were that dramatic, but it was Halloween. The veil was thin and there was no telling what conclusions they might jump to. Despite her apparent lack of empathy she did actually notice how Claudius responded.

List of people she planned on texting:

Her Papas

Maddy

Scout

Dale

The Savanne girls

Delta

and Seven's mother Clotho - Just in case he wanted to catch up with them if he was able, the address. The Fate would text back "We Know." The soothsayer made Piper grin when it came in. Of course they knew.

Most were just quick texts letting them know she'd left the ball for the evening and she was so glad to have gotten to see them. She'd put lots of jack-o-lantern, spider, or other Halloween emojis at the end. She hoped that would be enough for most of her closest friends. She wasn't sure about her Papas. But she hoped they were too busy enjoying the ball so she wouldn't be questioned too critically just yet. She planned on making Pierre announements later on after they had a chance to breathe and he had a chance to make some decisions.

Zero would already be down to nothing in the tub by the time Piper was explaining her little plan to Pierre to catch up momentarily. He had nothing lose and no thoughts in his head but the moment unlike Piper. His arms would be outstretched across the back of the big round whirlpool waiting for the water to rise flicking his toes in the shallows as it covered his waist line.

"The only thing that could make this better. Pizza." Zero wasn't a hard boy to please. "Stuffed crust. Tunes. Turn on some tunes before you get in."

Pierre would take that as a promise. After all, why would Piper want to bring him back from the dead if they weren’t going to be spending any time together? This was just going straight to his ego - Piper cared about him so much that she was bending the very natural law to bring him back from the dead, and as a person with a brain - or rather as much of a brain as a Pierre could have. Brought him into this other world where he was safer.

He’d have to catch up later on what this Pierre was like. What about him had been so important that these people wanted him back. Welcomed him back.

“Thanks beautiful,” Pierre would wink at the fate, no matter which one of them had been the one to bring him the blanket, and he wrapped it around his shoulders, letting it dangle just long enough to cover his netherregions.

Of course Zero was going to volunteer. His own Zero had been exactly like this one. It made him feel all at home, all warm and cozy again. “Knew it would be you, pup.”

He was a little disappointed that ‘breaking it in’ wasn’t going to include Seven, but he could accept that. He gave Seven a huge thumbs up. “You’re such a mama’s boy,” He teased his friend. “Enjoy life, man, and I’ll see you later.”

He had one arm around Zero, and the other was reaching for Piper’s. This Pierre had slightly different hands. The fingers were a bit more calloused, for this Pierre took music a bit more seriously than the other. Hey, serenading was always a good way to get the ladies. Bitches loved broody musician types and he could play into the stereotype. But he also gripped onto Piper’s hand, her being his literal ifeline here. The reason he was breathing in this forest air.

Bouncing around made his stomach feel a little bit queasy though.

He wasn’t used to that.

“Beautiful color scheme,” He smirked, looking around. Some things never changed. Piper’s colors didn’t. He was looking at those comfortable pillows like he wanted to just sink into them for a little while. Let his stomach settle. Let everything settle. Come to terms with what had just happened.

“I don’t need a stylist,” He said with a laugh, running his fingers through his hair. The tips were still slightly wet from the bathtub that they had been in. They clung to his neck. “But thanks, I preash. Especially for the green.”

He was going to be needing that alright. And the laptop was a good idea. He wasn’t necessarily the smartest man but he knew enough to do a little bit of research into this world, see what was different. He didn’t even know about the zombies yet. About what happened in Feral. What had happened to New Orleans. He knew the forest, and then the inn, and now this place, wherever it was that they were.

He pulled Piper into him, chest to chest for a second, his dark brown eyes looking into her purple ones. He licked his lips, then the corner of his mouth went up in a smile.

“I’m glad I’m here too.”

He opened his mouth to answer that relaxing was exactly what he wanted to do, and maybe another bath, but Zero was on top of that, making him chuckle and rub the back of his neck.

“Start up the water,” Pierre said, pointing towards Zero. “And Piper, if you could kindly provide us with some groove, I think we’re going to have a beautiful night together.”

#piperxpierre #zeroxpierre

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bingbongsupremacy · 2 days ago

Note

Hey I saw your old post asking which fanfics you should do next. I know it didn’t win but could you please please please do “Tell Me You Love Me Again” with Eddie. Im in dire need of some good angst ❤️

Tell Me You Love Me Again

Sorry this took me so long to write! I have had some massive writer's block. Hopefully, this is okay!

Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x reader

Story Type: Angst

Warning: Y/N use, swearing, Eddie's a bit of a greedy ass ngl

Summary: You've been with Eddie since before he was famous. It used to be a loving relationship. As the years have passed, things have changed. Can you save the dying spark between you?

*Not Proof Read*

□□□□□□□

"Baby, you wanted to talk. Why are we just sitting here in silence?" Eddie asks with a grin. He casually flips through a music magazine, observing all of the new instruments for sale.

I take a deep breath. How do I even start this conversation? He's been so busy launching his band's new line of merch that I doubt this is a great time to talk about our relationship. Who knows when we'll have another opportunity? This is the first time I've been able to see him privately in weeks. I don't know how long I can keep harboring my frustrations.

"We do need to talk...here goes nothing." I sigh. "It's about our relationship."

Eddie pulls his eyes away from his magazine, his smile fading into a serious expression. "What about it?"

"I've been feeling very frustrated lately. I feel like you're never home, and I never get to see you anymore. I miss you." I reply honestly.

Eddie sets the magazine on top of the coffee table that separates us. "I know it's been busy lately, but it's great for us! Now I can take you anywhere you want to go. Name any place, and I can bring you there." Eddie's playful smile returns.

I let out a tired laugh. "Eddie, that's nice and all, but the problem is you don't have the time to take me anywhere I want to go. I just want you to dial it back a bit, please. Spend more time with me, and I'm sure Wayne would love it if you spent some time with him, too."

I'm not even sure if Eddie has time to call Wayne anymore. I might be the only one talking to him regularly.

"I spend plenty of time with Wayne." Eddie's expression is slightly offended.

"It's just the past year; you've rarely been back. Can't you take some time off? Cancel a few tour dates or reschedule some photoshoots?"

"I can't just abandon my career, Y/N. My band has worked so hard for this." Eddie argues. "It wouldn't be fair to the boys."

"What about what's fair to me, Eddie?" I let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm not asking you to abandon anything, Eddie. I just think you should prioritize our relationship a little more. We barely see each other anymore!" My heart pounds. "When you're not on tour, you're constantly doing promotional videos or photoshoots. We haven't gone on a date in almost a month."

My flurry of emotions has caused tears to prick the back of my eyes. Fuck, I can't cry right now.

Eddie's shoulders are tense. His usual animated and playful exterior is replaced with a frustrated and angry one. One I rarely see, especially not when talking to me.

"That's part of the job. I'm a fucking rockstar, Y/N. I can't exactly blow off the world tours and photoshoots. My label and manager expects me to get shit out quickly. You don't understand! The moment I stop making songs and producing new shit, the moment all of this, " He gestures around the room to all of his expensive nicknacks and furniture. "disappears. I'll become irrelevant. My band will become irrelevant. This is my life, Y/N. And you're going to need to learn to accept it."

My frown deepens. "Do you hear yourself? How can you not see how greedy you're becoming? What happened to just loving music? Loving the art of creating, no matter how many people heard. When did this all become about money?" I stand up from my spot on Eddie's couch, needing to put some distance between myself and the man. I avoid making eye contact with him, knowing if I do, I'll burst into tears.

This room suddenly feels so suffocating. "Is this really all you care about? How many shows you can sell out? How deep your pockets can get?"

"For fucks sake, Y/N." Eddie groans as he leans back against his recliner. His head hits the back of the seat, an annoyed expression flashing across his face. "You're being so fucking dramatic."

I shake my head. "This is not what I signed up for. You are not the man I signed up to be with."

Eddie stiffens. Hurt crosses his eyes. His face turns stoic as he looks me dead in the eye. A dark anger replaces his hurt. "Things change. People change. Obviously, I've changed. If you hate me so fucking much, why don't you get the fuck out and find someone new? Someone who better suits your lifestyle since you're not happy with me."

I freeze. My heart drops at his bitter words. He's never spoken to me like this before.

He's so different than the man I fell in love with all those years ago. Life seemed simpler in Hawkins. I'd work the night shift at The Hideout and he'd play with his band. I was able to see him regularly while he was still able to do what he loved. No massive world tours to separate us for months. No partying until early the next day. Just the two of us, supporting each other and doing what we loved.

I feel my cheeks heat from embarrassment and anger. He's right. He's changed, and it's obviously been for the worse. "You know what, you're right."

Eddie's eyes widen slightly in surprise, like he didn't think I'd agree.

"You don't want to work this out like an adult, so I'm going to leave. We're done, Eddie. I can't do this anymore. I deserve someone willing to set aside time for me. I shouldn't be the only one giving 100% to the relationship. I need someone who respects me and what I need. You can't give that to me." I grab my purse from the couch. I pause right before I reach the door. " Eddie, " I turn to look back at the man.

He doesn't meet my gaze. His eyes are trained on his locked hands. He looks like he's in disbelief.

"I hope you find what you're looking for. Just know that you'll never have enough money or fame to please yourself. Materialistic things can only bring you so much happiness. You'll suffer until you realize that. I just hope it isn't too late when you finally do."

With that, I leave the apartment. As soon as the door behind me clicks shut, the tears begin to fall. I lean against the wall near Eddie's door and wrap my arms around myself for some sort of support.

I wish he loved me enough to apologize. I wish he would come out here, tell me he was wrong, and that he was going to try to fix things.

I finally garner the strength to push away from Eddie's wall and make my way downstairs. With every step, I think of new things I wish Eddie would do.

When I take my last step out of the apartment building, disappointment settles in my chest as I realize none of my wishes came true.

Eddie's a rockstar. He'll never love me as much as he loves his lifestyle.

I was stupid to think he'd always be the man I fell in love with in Hawkins, Indiana.

#fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #x you #x female reader #stranger things x reader #xreader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #x yn #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #rockstar eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfiction

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krirebr · 21 hours ago

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More Than This 9

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader

Word Count: ~3k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, explicit language, references to childhood trauma, pregnancy, my own rampant abuse of italics and en dashes, the slooowest burn, - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: We've made it to brighter days, you guys!!! I won't lie to you and say there's no angst at all in this chapter, but we've definitely finally entered the next era of this story. Yay!

Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who fact-checked this for me, and in general is just always available to talk things through.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too! As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You were anxiously pacing around the lower floor when Ransom got home. He stopped in the entryway, watching you carefully. When you stopped moving around, making eye contact with him, he asked, “You ready to go?”

Instead of answering his question, you just said, “You don’t need to come with me. I– I can do this by myself.”

He scoffed. “Like I wouldn’t take advantage of a reason to leave work early.” He held a hand out to you. “Come on,” he said seriously. “Let’s go.”

You nodded silently and grabbed your handbag, letting him lead you out to the car.

“It’s going to be ok,” he murmured as he opened the car door for you. You couldn’t tell if he believed that or not, but you nodded anyway.

You were both silent for the whole drive, news radio murmuring quietly in the background. When he parked in front of the small, upscale clinic, you made no move to get out of the car. You just stared out the window at the building as it loomed in front of you. You took a deep breath, then another, the panic starting to claw its way up your throat. You weren’t ready. You weren’t ready. You weren’t ready. “I’m sorry!” you blurted out.

Ransom’s head whipped to you. “What?”

You shook your head. “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t– It was supposed to take a long time. I never thought it’d happen so fast. That’s why I pushed, I was so scared. But– But then it took no time at all. It was supposed to take a long time.”

Ransom placed a gentle hand on your wrist. “I–” he started then sighed. “We both knew what the goal was, okay? This isn’t anyone’s fault.” He paused and pursed his lips. “And that’s not even–” he sighed again and briefly moved his thumb in soothing circles on your skin. “Listen, we don’t– Let’s just go in and find out where we stand, okay? I’ll– I’ll be with you the whole time.”

He gently squeezed your wrist once and you were surprised by the way his touch grounded you. You took another deep breath and you actually felt the air fill your lungs this time. He came around and opened your door for you, then guided you inside with a hand on your back.

The sanitary paper crinkled under you as you tried to get comfortable on the examination table. You’d already gone through your medical history and how you’d been feeling the last few weeks. The obstetrician seemed nice enough. She was someone Ransom had discreetly gotten a recommendation for from an author he sometimes worked with. Neither of you had gone to your families for that. Steve was still the only one who knew.

“Alright, this might be a little cold,” Dr. Patel said as she squeezed gel over your stomach. You flinched a little as it hit you, and you saw Ransom fidget in his seat right next to the table, up by your head.

She was silent as she moved the wand around, eyes fixed on her screen. Then she paused and smiled. “There it is,” she said. The soft static that had filled the room suddenly switched to a gentle wooshing. “And there’s the heartbeat.”

The heartbeat. Your baby’s heartbeat. Alive inside of you. You jumped a little when you suddenly felt Ransom’s hand wrap around your own. You glanced over at him, But his attention was raptly focused on the screen in front of the doctor. He leaned forward a little. “Wait,” he said, his voice low. “Where is–”

The doctor pointed to a little black splotch on the screen. “Right there,” she said, warmly. “They’re still an embryo now, but they’ll become a fetus in a week or two. Judging by your last period and these measurements, I’d say you're seven weeks along.”

At some point, she turned the ultrasound off. She cleaned off your belly. You heard her talking to you. You heard Ransom respond. But you couldn’t process any of it. All you could focus on, all you could still hear was the steady, hummingbird fast woosh, woosh, woosh of your baby’s heartbeat.

The car ride back was completely silent. Ransom had turned off the radio as soon as he’d turned the key in the ignition. You couldn’t blame him. Your thoughts were loud enough. There was a baby inside of you. It was really happening. It’d been abstract before. A few little symbols on a plastic strip that didn’t actually mean anything. But now they did. Now there was a baby. You’d heard it. You turned your head to Ransom beside you. Now you truly were connected to this man for the rest of your life. The idea, while still a little terrifying, wasn’t nearly as awful now as it would have been just a few weeks before.

As he pulled up to a stop sign, he did more than pause. After a few moments of idling, you ventured a soft “Ransom?”

He turned to you from where he’d been staring unseeing through the windshield. His bright blue eyes pierced you. “We should go get dinner,” he said, out of absolutely nowhere.

“What?”

“Yeah,” he said, his fingers extending to flick on his turn signal. “Let’s go out to eat. I’m starving.”

“I– Okay? Where–”

“I know a great place,” he said, nodding to himself as he turned the car around.

The restaurant he brought you to small, intimate. After turning over the car to the valet, he ushered you inside with a warm hand on your back. The hostess led you to a quiet booth in the corner and you and Ransom settled in on opposite sides of the table.

The waiter appeared just a few moments later to tell you about the specials. Then, they asked, “Have you had a chance to look at the drink menu?”

As Ransom reached for it, you uttered a quiet, “Water’s fine for me, thank you.”

Ransom paused and looked at you. “Oh. Right.” He turned back to the waiter. “For me as well,” he said, and the waiter quickly left you both alone.

“You can drink. I’ll be fine.”

Ransom shrugged. “Who wants to drink alone?”

You didn’t really know what to say to that, so you turned your attention to the menu, which you each perused quietly.

After the waiter returned and you both ordered, Ransom cleared his throat awkwardly. “So,” he said, “we’re really having a baby.”

You choked a little on your water. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“I–” he started, then let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. After a weighted pause, he asked, “How are you feeling about it?”

You looked at him carefully. The last week and a half, after your fight then your detente, and then Steve’s visit, had been so different from the months that had preceded them. You both had been so different. It was very possible that he was becoming a person you could trust. You took a breath and decided to be honest. “I’m really scared. Kind of terrified.”

He just stared at you for a moment, then mumbled “Yeah,” with another head shake. He looked off to the side. “God, I hated being a kid.”

“Yeah?” you asked, so, so quietly.

He looked back at you. “Yeah. I mean, you’ve met my parents. They didn’t– They had me because they needed to. To further the lineage or whatever. But they didn’t really have much interest beyond that. So I was just kind of… there.”

You hated how much you understood that. “When we moved into Joseph’s house, I never felt comfortable there. I was always just an intruder or a nuisance.”

He nodded, then asked, “How old were you?”

“Six. Steve was the best. From the very beginning, he made it livable. But I never felt at home anywhere until I moved out on my own.”

He looked down a little as he hummed in acknowledgment. Then, hesitantly, “What happened to your dad?”

“He died,” you said, plainly. “A heart attack. When I was five.”

He swiped his hand over his mouth. “Shit. That must have been hard. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “I barely remember him. And what I do remember,” you shifted uncomfortably, “he was a very angry man I think. I was always a little scared of him. My mom was too, I know that. But when he died… I don’t remember any relief. Just a mad scramble to find someone else to take care of us, since she’d never given him an heir. So we ended up with Joseph. But… I don’t know. I don’t think I ever really stopped being scared.”

Ransom let out a long sigh. “Yeah,” he said, quietly. “I get that.” He leaned back in his chair. “Fuck. We’re setting quite the precedent, huh?”

Your hand drifted to cover your stomach. “I don’t want them to ever feel like that. Be that scared.”

Ransom’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed uncomfortably. “Me neither,” he said, very quietly.

You both just sat with that thought silently, until another thought jumped into your head. “Oh, god, what are we gonna do about Lola? She doesn’t share attention well.”

He surprised you by laughing. “I can imagine. We’ll figure it out,” he said with a smile. “Make sure she’s ready.”

You matched him with your own grin. “You like her,” you accused.

He rolled his eyes. “She’s alright, I guess.”

“Uh-huh. Sure, Mr. ‘I hate dogs.’”

“It’s possible that I had too small a sample size.” He rolled his eyes again. “Harlan has a couple german shepherds. They’re fucking assholes.”

You felt your eyes light up. “Are you afraid of big dogs, Ransom?” you teased.

“No!” he pointed at you. “No. I just don’t like it when they’re that size and they charge at me. Lola’s manageable. I don’t mind her.”

“Well,” you shrugged. “I’m just glad you never tried to make me get rid of her.”

His eyes softened and he almost looked regretful. “Hey,” he said, softly. “I never would have done that. I just,” he sighed, “say shit sometimes. I’m not used to anyone listening to me.”

He’d said that to you before, but it hadn’t occurred to you until that moment just how sad that was—that he’d always been comfortable saying whatever thought popped into his head because he knew that no matter what he said no one would ever take him seriously. You gave a helpless little shrug as you softly said, “I always listen to you.”

He fixed you with a look that almost took your breath away. Like he actually saw you. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “I know you do.”

That was the moment your food came. The waiter set your plate in front of you, blackened sea bass with a saffron asparagus risotto. You weren’t sure which element exactly was the culprit, but the moment the smell hit your nose, your stomach roiled dangerously. You’d been lucky, so far, that you hadn’t had many issues with morning sickness, but you immediately knew that if you didn’t get that plate away from you, there’d be a major problem. “Shit,” you muttered quietly.

Ransom’s attention snapped to you. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you tried. “It’s just, the smell. I can’t–” You pushed the plate away from you.

“You’re nauseous?” Ransom clarified.

You nodded, breathing through your mouth.

Without another word, he picked up your plate and switched it with his own. “Is that good enough?” he asked. “Or do you need it gone completely?”

You took a few tentative, experimental sniffs. As your stomach seemed to calm, you sighed in relief. “I think I’m ok. Thank you.” But then you looked down at Ransom’s ribeye in front of you now. “Oh, that’s– No, this is what you wanted. I can’t–”

He interrupted you with your name, both fond and firm. “Shut up and eat your steak.”

You did as you were told, relieved to find that not only did it not upset your stomach, but it was delicious. You let out a little happy sigh and closed your eyes at how good it was, opening them as you swallowed to find Ransom watching you. Your face warmed in embarrassment as he quickly looked to his own plate, the tips of his ears turning red.

You searched blindly for something to talk about, anything to shift the focus from how ridiculous you were. “What was your grandmother like?” you blurted out. Just proving your own ridiculousness further, instead of distracting from it. But it was something you’d wondered about, what Harlan’s own marriage had been like, when he was so set on you being a good influence on his grandson.

Ransom looked at you, a little puzzled. “Uh, my grandma? I don’t know. I never really felt like I knew her that well. Harlan’s so big, you know? She always seemed small in comparison. Um,” he looked up thoughtfully, “I remember her caring a lot what other people were up to, like her neighbors or their friends, what they were buying, what their kids were achieving. She and Harlan, I don’t know, they seemed to get along? Better than my parents, at least, but that’s a low bar. Why on earth do you ask?”

“I don’t know. I…” you trailed off as you tried to pull your thoughts together. “He’s always talking about what our marriage should be and how good for you I’m going to be. And he’s kind to me. But the way he looks at me, and the way he talks about me… It makes me feel like me, who I am, doesn’t actually matter. Just the affect I have on you. And it just made me curious about what she was like. What their marriage was like.”

Ransom hummed a little. “Well,” he said. “The first thing you need to know about Harlan is that he’s full of shit. He thinks he’s the one who’s done everything right and he knows everything. I don’t know what their relationship was like, but my guess is that he knew the version of her that he wanted to know and didn’t bother to get to know her any further.”

You let out your own little hum and then asked the question that had been on your mind since that dinner at Harlan’s. “What’s the deal between the two of you, anyhow?”

Ransom sighed heavily. His gaze dropped as he played with the signet ring on his pinky. “When I was a kid, like really little, Harlan was the only person who gave a shit about me. I spent a lot of time at his house. He was safe and warm when home was cold and scary. People always said we were a lot alike. And I loved that. For a while. But when I got older, it turned into ‘You should be just like me.’ All of my choices were suddenly under a microscope and he’d get so disappointed in me if I did anything differently from what he would do. So then I went hard in the opposite direction. And that caused its own problems.” He paused for a moment, not quite meeting your eyes. “But still, when Neal died, Harlan named me as his heir instead of Walt. But that’s just made him more aggressive about letting me know how he thinks I should be living my life.” He let out a long breath. “I understand him making you feel like you who actually are doesn’t matter. That’s just what he does. There’s never any winning with him. He’s rigged the game.”

For the second time that night, you were overcome by just how sad you were for Ransom. He’d been all alone for so long. Impulsively, you reached out and grabbed his hand where it rested on the table across from you. “I’m sorry for both of us, then,” you said quietly.

He took a moment, just staring at the way your hand slotted into his. Then, finally, he brought his thumb up and brushed it across your knuckles. “Yeah, me too,” he whispered.

You got back to the house pleasantly full and much calmer than you’d been earlier in the day. Lola greeted you both like she hadn’t seen you in weeks. You smiled as Ransom immediately picked her up, carrying her to the back door indulgently. As he let her out, you got yourself some water from the fridge.

When they came back in, you smiled down at Lola as you said, “Tonight was really nice. Thank you. I haven’t had a dinner out like that in a long time.”

Ransom took a few steps toward you to close the distance between you. “We should do it more often,” he said lowly.

You weren’t sure what to say next. It almost felt like saying goodbye at the end of a first date, instead of an amicable good night to a man you’d been married to for months. You shook the thought away. You were being silly.

“I’m going to call Steve to tell him how it went today.” Then you added, with a slight grimace. “And then I might go to bed. I know it’s ridiculously early, but I’ve been so exhausted lately.”

He answered you with a soft smile. “That makes sense. You are growing a person inside you.”

You huffed out a small laugh. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

There was another slightly awkward pause. Then Ransom cleared his throat and said, “I’ll probably be in my room, but I’ll be up for a while, if you need anything.”

You smiled at the offer. “Thank you,” you said, and then after a quiet exchange of good nights, you went upstairs to call your step-brother.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x you #knives out #ransom drysdale angst #chris evans fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #arranged marriage au #more than this #kris wrote something

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daredevils-stuffed · 20 hours ago

Text

One Shot - Help a Girl Out

Matt is sick of hearing how you’ve been unable to cum. From men and on your own. So, he takes it into his own hands.

Relationship: Matt Murdock x Reader

Tags: boss/ employee vibes kinda not really. There is an actual like story, not just smut. But, Smut. A little kinky if you squint. He counts your orgasms. Office sex.

•••

Authors note: Happy Daredevil: Born Again Eve to those who celebrate. Very excited for tomorrow.

•••

The first time Matt hears of your issues. It’s early on a Monday morning.

Matt first learned about your issue on his way into the office.

He doesn’t mean to listen—doesn’t want to listen—but the moment your voice filters through the air, he can’t stop himself.

You’re perched on the edge of Karen’s desk, your morning coffee barely making a dent in your exhaustion. It had been a long night, and Karen needs to hear all about it to make yourself feel better.

“So,” you sigh dramatically, “I don’t think he was confident enough to use anything other than his hands. It was like I was his guinea pig. Just kinda laying there pretending to moan, pretending to feel something.”

Karen pouts back at you, understanding your predicament like most women would. “Oof, that is bad. At what point did you call it?”

“When he kept trying to make eye contact with me…from down there, it gave off weird vibes. So, I just patted him on his head and got up.”

“You did not!”

You groan up at the ceiling, covering your face with your hands. “It gets worse…after he left, I tried to help myself -yah know. And nothing.”

“I think you might be cursed.” Karen has already given you all the advice she could. What helped for her, what didn’t, even which brands of lube that might help. But nothing. Literally nothing has helped.

“Yeah, no shit! I’m convinced I’ll never know how it feels to have my own mind blowing, out of this world, orga- “

You stop dead.

The weight of your stare pressing against him even though he can’t see it. He clears his throat, adjusting his glasses as he enters the room.

You quickly shoot a look to Karen who just smirks.

“Morning Matt” you both chime, dripping with innocence.

He grumbles a response not really stopping to interact with you. His mind running a mile a minute. Have you never had an orgasm? Maybe I could help?

Matt doesn’t know why that gets under his skin as much as it does. But it does.

He drops into his chair, flexing his hands at his sides. Your voice is still there, looping in his head, and it shouldn’t be this distracting.

I’m convinced I’ll never know how it feels…mind-blowing, out-of-this-world…

Christ.

He doesn’t need this. He’s had a hell of a week already—barely any sleep, too many cases piling up, and now? Now he’s going to spend the rest of the day haunted by the mental image of you—spread out, breathless, wanting.

Matt knew the dynamic between you went beyond friendly colleagues. There had always been something there, an unspoken tension simmering beneath every playful jab, every stolen glance. But he had never taken it seriously.

That changes now.

He moves before he can stop himself, heading to the office kitchen. Two cups of coffee—one for him, one for you. It’s a rare gesture, but he knows you’ll appreciate it.

“For you.” He grunts shoving a mug towards you. Your fingers brush his as you take it. Matt lingers for a moment longer than necessary. His eyes boring into yours intensely. The telepathic message he’s sending not quite reaching you.

Just when you think he is going to say something his lips smack closed and he’s walking away.

The words I can help lost in his throat. Matt scowls at himself for chickening out. He couldn’t embarrass you like that. It really is none of his business.

All you notice however, is how his fingers are flexing at his side, as if your quick brush has stung him. The gesture of coffee confuses you, but you’re too distracted by his hands. You picture what they can do for you, take you to an edge you’ve never experienced before.

“Well, I don’t get coffee like that” Karen snides from her side of the room. You flush and hide behind your stack of papers. You take a sip and hum. It’s just how you like it, Matt always knows how you like things.

Matt spends the rest of the morning trying—and failing—to focus.

The sound of the office hums around him, phones ringing, papers shuffling, the steady rhythm of keyboards clacking. But all he can hear is you. Your voice, looping in his head, the way you sighed when you talked about last night, the frustration laced in every word.

I’m convinced I’ll never know how it feels…

His fingers twitch against the edge of his desk. He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t want to care.

But he does.

And that’s the problem.

By the time lunch rolls around, he needs space. Needs air. Needs to clear his head before he does something stupid.

Because the last thing he wants is to come off as some arrogant asshole who thinks he has all the answers. The last thing he wants is for you to think he’s just like every other guy who assumes he knows what you need.

Even if, deep down, he’s pretty damn sure he does.

The thought twists in his gut as he heads back to the office, rehearsing ways to make a move that don’t end with him humiliating himself—or worse, pushing you away.

But the moment he steps inside, ready to test the waters, Foggy’s voice cuts through the air.

“…I know he knows what he’s doing.”

Matt stops. Freezes mid-step on the stairs.

He’s on about a blind date.

Someone else.

Someone else touching you. Someone else making you laugh, making you moan. Someone else failing you.

Whilst Matt was out Foggy took the opportunity to swoop in, grinning as he flops into the chair across from you. Getting you to spill all the details from last night.

You skim over the basics—the guy took you to a nice restaurant, knew how to flirt, wasn’t exactly your usual type but still tried. Foggy questioned if you managed to get off, which shocked you. You knew you hadn’t told him, which means Karen must have.

The snap of Matt’s jaw tightening echoes in his ears.

He doesn’t remember moving, doesn’t register the way his fingers crush the takeout bag in his grip, barely even feels the splintering pressure of his cane beneath his palm.

All he knows is that when he speaks, his voice is sharp enough to slice through the air.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, can you please leave our paralegal alone to get on with her work?”

Silence.

He’s standing in the doorway now, Foggy blinking at him in surprise, you stare at him like you’re trying to read him. Like you can feel the heat radiating off of him from across the room.

Matt clenches his jaw, forces himself to move, to breathe. Forces himself to walk away before he does something reckless.

It’s not my problem. It’s none of my damn business.

But the thought of anyone else fixing this for you—that is what has his stomach twisting. That is what has his grip tightening around his cane until he’s sure the wood is about to crack.

I know what I’m doing.

Your pulse, however, is unsteady as you turn back to your desk, your mind is spinning.

Matt never snaps like that—not over you.

And yet, the frustration in his voice, the heat behind it, the way he stormed off like Foggy had just personally offended him—

You swallow hard.

No. No, you must be imagining things. Reading too much into it.

But then some time later, as you return from the bathroom, you pause. Confusion flickers across your face as you spot something on your desk—a plate, half a sandwich, some chips.

You glance around, questioning, until Karen gives you a knowing smirk, tilting her head toward Matt’s office.

He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t acknowledge what he’s done.

•••

It’s late. The office is quiet, save for the occasional rustle of papers and the low hum of Matt’s computer. Everyone has gone, leaving just the two of you in the dimly lit space. You’ve been pretending to focus on paperwork, but your mind has been elsewhere- on the weight of Matt’s presence, on the way he looks in the glow of his screen, his jaw tight with unspoken tension.

Matt, with headphones in, is distracted. He’s thinking about you, like he has been all day. Thinking about the way you might touch yourself when no one is watching. About how much he wants to be the one touching you instead.

The thought takes hold, creeping into his veins like wildfire. His hand drifts lower, pal, pressing over the hardness straining against his slacks. He exhales sharply, his mind flooding with images - your skirt bunched around your waist, your body arching against his, the breathless sound of your moans as he drives you over the edge. His fingers tighten. He’s losing himself in it, lost in the fantasy of you, of having you, of making you his.

He doesn’t hear you approach.

You stop in your tracks, eyes widening at the sight before you - Matt, head tilted back against his chair, chest rising and falling in ragged breaths, his hand gripping himself through his trousers. A bead of sweat slides down his temple. Your name spills from his lips in a quiet, desperate murmur.

Heat coils in your stomach.

You should walk away. Pretend you never saw. But you don’t.

Instead, you step closer.

“Enjoying yourself, Mr Murdock?”

His body goes rid His body goes rigid. His eyes snap open, unfocused but sharp, as if he can feel your presence more than see it. His breath is unsteady, his arousal still evident, straining against the dark fabric of his slacks.

It takes him a moment to speak. "You’ve done this to me," he rasps, voice rough, edged with frustration. "Drove me to this. I haven’t stopped thinking about you all day."

A slow smirk tugs at your lips. You take your time, stepping between his spread legs, savouring the way his breath hitches. You step closer, the air between you electric. His hands clench at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to pull you into his lap and grind against you until you’re just as desperate as he is.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he confesses, voice tight with restraint. “Every look. Every word. You have no idea what you do to me.”

You hum, tilting your head as if considering his words. “And what exactly have I done, Mr. Murdock?”

His jaw tightens. He’s unraveling, restraint slipping through his fingers like sand. You see it in the way his breathing turns ragged, in the way his control—so carefully maintained—is fracturing before you.

“You already know,” he growls.

Your hands brush along the armrests of his chair, caging him in, your body close enough that he can feel your warmth. His fingers twitch, aching to touch.

“You’ve spent all day thinking about me?” you murmur. “Thinking about what you’d do if I let you?”

His control snaps.

One hand grips your waist, dragging you onto his lap in a fluid motion. His other hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head so your lips are a breath away from his.

“Say the word,” he rasps, mouth ghosting over your skin, teasing, tormenting. “Say the word, and I’ll show you exactly what I’ve been thinking about.”

Heat coils in your stomach. His fingers dig into your hips, firm and possessive, as if grounding himself.

“Then show me,” you whisper.

It’s all the permission he needs.

In a blur, your skirt is bunched around your waist, and his mouth is on you—hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing down your neck, each one laced with the promise of what’s to come. His hands roam your thighs, spreading you open, savouring every inch of exposed skin like it’s something sacred.

"You smell incredible," he murmurs against your lips, voice reverent, like he’s memorising every piece of you. His touch is maddening—just enough to make you shiver, but not enough to satisfy the ache burning between your legs.

He lowers himself to his knees pulling you to the edge of the desk. Bringing one of your legs over his shoulder, placing gentle kisses until he reaches your centre.

His breath hitches as he finally—finally—tastes you. A low groan vibrates through his chest as his tongue drags over you, slow and deliberate. You gasp, your fingers threading into his hair, anchoring him there.

“Fuck,” he murmurs against you, voice thick with reverence. “You taste even better than I could ever imagine.”

His tongue moves in long, languid strokes, teasing, savouring, drinking in every sound you make. His grip tightens when your hips jerk against his mouth, an unspoken command to stay still.

But he’s not done teasing you. Not yet.

“You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?” His voice is low, gravelly, sending shivers through you. “Going to do exactly what I say?”

You can barely form words, nodding, breathless.

“Good.”

And then he ruins you.

His tongue works you over with practiced precision—each flick, each stroke designed to drive you higher. Your body trembles, a desperate whimper escaping your lips as pleasure coils tighter, hotter.

“You like this, sweetheart?” he taunts, voice dark and full of promise. “Like knowing how fucking desperate I’ve been for you?”

You moan, back arching, legs trembling as you lose yourself in him. He keeps going—pushing you closer, dragging it out until the pleasure is unbearable. It’s almost a pain mixed with white hot pleasure. You beg for more. For it not to stop. It can’t stop. You grip Matts hair to be sure it doesn’t. He sucks on a spot that makes you want to scream. Or maybe you are. It’s all too much and you need it. And then you reach a point where it is too much, and your eyes squeeze close and your thighs shake.

And then—release.

You shatter, thighs tightening around his head, a strangled cry escaping your lips. He groans against you, lapping up every last tremor, drawing out every aftershock until your entire body is shaking.

And still—he’s not finished.

Before you can catch your breath, he’s pulling you into his lap, large hands tracing slow, grounding patterns along your abdomen. The fabric of his slacks is rough against your oversensitive skin, the hard press of him impossible to ignore.

"That’s one," he murmurs, lips brushing against your temple.

You barely register the words before his fingers are sliding back between your legs—tracing, teasing, pushing inside you with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Your body jolts, oversensitive, but Matt doesn’t stop.

“We’re not done yet, darling.”

You grind against him instinctively, chasing friction, chasing him. His head tips back, jaw clenched, as you roll your hips over him.

"Fuck," he grits out, hands gripping you tighter. "You're going to kill me."

His fingers curl inside you, stroking that perfect spot with devastating accuracy. His breath is hot against your ear, murmuring filth that makes your toes curl, your body tightening once again.

It doesn’t take long until your second orgasm hits like a freight train. "That’s two."

And then he’s standing, lifting you like you weigh nothing, and bending you over the desk.

Your cheek presses against the cool wood, the contrast to his burning heat making you shudder. Light brushes against your shoulder blades as he moves your hair aside, placing slow, reverent kisses down the curve of your neck.

"You have no idea how perfect you are like this," he groans, his hands steadying you, grounding you. "Falling apart for me. Letting me take what I want. You deserve to feel it all."

Your mind is blank—no, not blank, just utterly consumed by him.

"You still with me, sweetheart?" His touch is slow as it glides down your spine, teasing, taunting.

You barely manage a nod.

He chuckles darkly. “Think you can take one more?”

A whimper is all you can offer.

"That's what I thought."

And then he’s inside you.

The stretch is exquisite, overwhelming, a perfect contradiction of pleasure and desperation. He gives you a moment to adjust—to feel every inch of him, to let the sensation take you over.

And then he moves.

Deep, unrelenting strokes, each one angled to wring more from you, to keep you right on that edge where pleasure and pain blur into something devastating.

"So tight," he groans. "So fucking perfect for me."

He fists a hand in your hair and pulls you up, your back flush against his chest. The movement is purposeful—possessive. His free hand finds your throat, not squeezing, just resting there, feeling the way you gasp for him.

You’re babbling, incoherent, barely able to hold yourself together. And Matt loves it.

His rhythm falters, hips stuttering as the pleasure consumes him. "Fuck," he hisses, his grip on you tightening. "You’re going to make me—"

Your body clenches around him, and that’s all it takes.

He groans your name into your neck, the sound raw and wrecked as he tumbles over the edge, heat spilling inside you. His hold on you tightens as he rides it out, dragging you with him, until the only sound in the room is your ragged breaths and the frantic pounding of your hearts.

And still, he doesn’t let you go.

His arms stay wrapped around you, holding you firm against him, his breath still ragged against your ear. His hands, once gripping with desperation, now trace slow, grounding circles over your skin. Neither of you speaks for a moment—just the sound of your heartbeats, the slow rise and fall of your chests in sync.

Then, finally, Matt exhales, pressing a lingering kiss to the curve of your shoulder. His fingers slide down to your waist, squeezing gently, almost reassuringly.

“You okay?” His voice is lower now, softer, a stark contrast to how he had just wrecked you.

You hum, too blissed out to form words. He chuckles, the sound warm and satisfied, and the vibration of it sends a pleasant aftershock through you.

For a while, you just stay like that, his body still pressed against yours, neither of you willing to move just yet. He runs a hand up your spine, then down again, like he’s memorising every dip, every curve, every shiver you give him.

Finally, reluctantly, he pulls back just enough to let you turn in his arms. His face is unreadable, but there’s something intense lingering behind his expression. Something possessive, something tender.

His fingers ghost along your jaw, tilting your chin up. He studies you, like he’s committing this exact moment to memory.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs.

You blink up at him, dazed, still trying to process everything. A small, breathless laugh escapes you, and he grins, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

A beat of silence stretches between you. The weight of everything settles in the air—what just happened, what it means, where it leaves you both.

And then, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

“So…” he murmurs, a teasing edge creeping into his voice. “Still convinced you’ll never know what a mind-blowing orgasm feels like?”

Heat floods your cheeks, and you swat weakly at his chest. “Shut up, Murdock.”

He laughs, catching your wrist, pressing a kiss to your pulse point. “Just making sure you’re keeping count,” he teases. His lips trail down, ghosting along your collarbone, dangerously close to starting something all over again.

You arch a brow at him, trying to feign exasperation, but you already know the truth.

You’ll never be able to get enough of him. From the look in his eyes, he feels the same. And that? That might just be the most dangerous thing of all.

#matt murdock smut #daredevil x reader #daredevil: born again #daredevil smut #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock #daredevil x you #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil #karen page #foggy nelson #no beta we die like foggy Nelson apparently

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songmingisthighs · 1 day ago

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ch. xlvii - whoop my pinky

cursed!jongho × reader

genre : mythology!au, smau

rating : mature; crude jokes and filthy language

wc : 1.8 k

buy me coffee ?

so long i've been here, so long are the stories i've written. of what i gathered and lost, loneliness becomes me and pain refuse to depart from me. i've embraced that which ate me away so when you came along, i had no part of me left to give.

Fuming, you stormed into Mingi's apartment with heavy steps, ready to put him in his place.

"Hi Ms. (y/l/n)! How are-" you cut off the doorman's words, "I'm sorry Mr. Shin, I got some ass whooping to do," you stated. Seeing the look in your eyes (and the deep frown creases between your eyebrows), Mr. Shin simply pursed his lips, nodded and opened the door for you. "You're a real one for that Mr. Shin, I'll get you boba next time!" You yelled out, causing the aging man to duck his head in embarrassment with a tint of amusement.

As you waited for the elevator, you started thinking of all the things you wanted to say to and about Mingi, right to his stupid secretive face to get him to understand your point. You were so deep in your head that you almost missed a figure that came out from the other elevator, only realizing when the door of the elevator you took was about to close. "Is that..." You trailed off, thinking that you might have seen someone you know. But the thought was immediately buried with you opting to refocus on the more impending task.

Once you got off on Mingi's floor (which took too long because he was on the penthouse. Truly, the first time you complained about that ever), you kicked your shoes off and bounded over, trying to look for Mingi.

It was then that you see a familiar face.

"Mr. Song!" you called out, bounding over to him, who seemed startled and even petrified when he saw you. "I heard Mingi's back from the US, is he here now?"

It seemed like the surprise of seeing you rendered him speechless as he stood gaping like a fish out of water. In the years that you have known him, well, see him because you've never really spent time with him as he was always too busy and it wasn't like you were going to force the father of your best friend to spend time with you, you had never seen him so... flustered. You heard stories of his firm hand from Mingi and the man before you didn't seem like he was the man Mingi had talked to you about.

Peering down to his hands, you raised an eyebrow, "What do you have there?" It was only then did you realize that he was wearing an outfit that made him look like a butler of some sort and he was even wearing gloves and holding a tray with letters and tea, something straight out of a chaebol k-drama set up. "Are you wearing a costume?" you asked but the lack of amusement made your question seem heavier.

Finally looking at his guilty face, suspicion grew and you took a step back. "What's going on here?" you asked, "Where's Mingi?" The older man stuttered nervously, "I-I- Miss-" "Miss?" you gawked at the different tone he was using to address you. It dawned upon you that he had never really called you by your name, never really addressed you directly, and while you thought that it might have been his upperclass snootiness in action, the situation made you think otherwise.

Just as "Mr. Song" moved to put the tray on a table next to him, you moved first, heading for the staircase where the study was with "Mr. Song" calling after you to wait.

"-Hyung please, you don't get it!"

Mingi's voice made you stop in your tracks when you were a couple of feet away from the door. You could never imagine that Mingi's voice was capable of sending your heart lurching, but there you were, proving yourself wrong with yet another surprise about your supposed best friend.

"I-I need to tell her man, I can't keep this to myself anymore!"

What was Mingi talking about?

"I'm even avoiding her right now, do you even know how guilty I feel? I had YEARS of a streak with (y/n), a streak of always keeping contact with her no matter what, but now I'm hiding like a criminal!"

You, he was talking about you.

What was he guilty about? What was he keeping to himself? Who was he talking to?

"Are you seriously using your STREAK as an argumentative point here?" the other party answered. The voice was somehow familiar. The cadence, the depth of the voice, where did you hear it from?

"No! God, are you- No!" Mingi retaliated, huffing and shuffling around. You could imagine him frustratedly ruffling his hair, a habit he has that was the basis of your joke that he will go bald before he reaches his 40s. "My point was that this... What I'm doing right now, this, is also a betrayal to (y/n) and I can't just avoid her forever! My guilt is eating me alive and I'm not even living right now, I'm barely surviving with how much I'm hurting from seeing (y/n) hurting. You don't know how hard it is for me to see her that distraught!"

Your eyebrows furrowed at the revelation that Mingi had been keeping tabs on you, perhaps even following you around. Had it not been for your confusion, you would have been totally freaked out or even disgusted with the fact that Mingi had been stalking you all this time. This begs the question of why all of it was necessary in the first place. Why did he feel the need to avoid you to such lengths? Who is that person inside with him that seems to know as much as he does to the point of eating involved?

Curiosity got the better of you and you slowly took steps forward while the people inside maintained their silence. Though Mingi's gigantic build was covering it, you could see that the two men were staring at each other.

"Look," surprised at the sudden voice, you halted your steps, "I get it, okay? It was also hard for me to see her like that knowing what I know, but we can't just blab all we want because of our guilt, Mingi! There are rules in place, you know that!"

You felt as if you had just been punched in the gut. The other guy also knows you; the other guy has seen you before. "You don't get it, you don't get it the way I get it. We're different!" Mingi pointed out, finally stepping aside only to give you one of the biggest shocks of your life.

"Yes, we're different because you didn't have to face Jongho's passive-aggressiveness and for absolutely no reason having to defend yourself. That is ABSOLUTE madness I tell you."

The ground felt like it was shaking because never in a million years would you have guessed that Hongjoong was involved in this. You had to brace yourself by putting a hand on the wall to support your weight, the millions of thoughts rushing through your head as quick as the speed of light was causing your head to spin a little while your eyes stayed open, following the movement of the reaper that you had gotten to know quite well. You didn't know if you wished you would disappear or if Hongjoong would change, morph into an alien of some sort because you couldn't fathom how two people in your life, two people from backgrounds that you thought were completely different and even clashing, could be working together in favour of your pain like this.

Just as you thought that you had received the biggest shock of your life, Mingi scoffed and his next words almost stopped your world completely.

"Oh, boo hoo hyung, having to face some petty guy. Here I am living my life having to deal with the fact that I had gotten (y/n) killed a long time ago. I had to deal with the fact that I hurt not just her, but her family. I had to deal with the burden and the pain knowing that I caused a fatal accident and her mom had to beg me to save her. How's that hyung? Do you want to make comparisons again? Wanna make comparisons about how although we're both gods, you have more freedom as a reape? Because GOD FORBID the fucking tiger guardian god of the west want some fucking vacation after serving god knows how long I could go all day because you don't know how it feels to be living under such a cloud for DECADES."

Hongjoong was about to say something back to Mingi but the creak of the door cut him off, leaving him staring with mouth agape as he gasped.

"What the fuck did you just said?"

Mingi's body froze and he whipped around to see you standing there, staring at him with an unreadable expression but eyes so cold he could practically see the icicles forming.

"(y/n)..." Mingi called out, stepping back as you advanced slowly. "What... The fuck... Did you... Just said?" You repeated yourself, this time your bottom lip quivering.

Mingi stuttered violently, not knowing what to say first or how he was going to convey the truth to you. Hongjoong could only step aside, a sense of despair fell on him as he acknowledged the fact that y08 had heard what Mingi said, you were asking for an explanation, which means that the knowledge of what happened in the past, the knowledge that he and Mingi had tried so hard to keep a lid on had just been spilled all over the expensive rug of Mingi's study, and on top of that, he was going to have to let Seonghwa know that you had just been made aware.

"(y/n), c-can we talk about this, p-please? L-let's go out and-"

Mingi tried reaching out to you but you grabbed a vase that was on the table next to the door and proceeded to smash it into pieces in front of Mingi, showing him that you were creating a physical barrier between the two of you that he should not cross.

With wide, surprised eyes, Mingi stared at you with sorrow and guilt, but you could only return with a gaze that was angry and disappointed.

"I'm asking you once again, and you better tell me the whole fucking truth or else I'm going to fucking leave this place, leave you forever, find my way to the afterlife to go to Yeomra and ask him what the fuck is going on myself and I won't care whether or not I could come back." You were so dead serious and frightening that the two powerful beings were left terrified in their spots, both for your safety and sanity, but also their own survival after you unleashed your full wrath on them.

"What the fuck did you mean that you caused the accident that killed my parents and apparently me, have Hongjoong somehow involved and that you're the tiger god of the west?"

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