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prettyinsophie · 2 months ago

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Cum with me…to the gym

3k words

Your visit to the gym with Abby escalates quickly when you find out that a certain area can also be worked on by the adductor machine.

warnings: fingering (reader receiving), oh and the fingering is in public so yeah…

I lowkey hate this but it’s the only thing I’ve managed to finish writing throughout the whole year…sigh. I recently watched Arcane so…maybe I’ll start publishing about Vi or Sevika or both.

“Oh, c’mon! We still have two more exercises to go before finishing with some cardio!” Abby exclaims with a devilish smile across her lips, enjoying seeing you sweating and panting after doing three sets of Bulgarians.

After weeks of your best friend begging you to pay a visit to the gym, you obliged with the condition of getting to see Wicked afterward since Abby’s not a big fan of long movies, let alone musicals, so here you were; hair-sticking to your face, red cheeks, and skin glowing with sweat because Abby’s routine is no joke.

“Two more?! Can we just do one more? Pleaseee?” You beg in a whiny pout, giving her puppy eyes because you feel like you’ll pass out any moment now if you keep going. Of course, you’re being dramatic, but that’s just your zodiac sign being true to itself.

Abby playfully rolls her eyes, suppressing a smirk because she thinks you look adorable like that. She won’t tell you that, though, at least not in a non-mocking tone. “The machines are easier, and you can hit whatever weight you want. Sounds fair?”

You purse your lips, looking at her while she chugs some water down. It’s so unfair how godly she looks right now while you feel like a sticky mess. You nod, defeated more than anything because you might as well complete the routine properly. “Fine…”

The gym is fairly empty, but that doesn’t surprise you since it was one of your conditions to agree to come. And so you walk to the bench press, which was as hard as any other machine even with the lowest weight. You were more of a workout-at-home type of gal, after all, and Abby always mocked you because she’s a gym rat and this is her second home. To each their own, you don’t like being around strangers that much.

“What’s this one for?” You ask with your head tilting to the side, confused but willing to learn all about the stupid machine, eager because it’s the last one you’ll use today and for a while.

“This is the leg adductor, great for toning your legs and inner thighs. I’ll show you how to use it and then you can give it a go, yeah?”

“‘Kay…”

You can’t deny that it’s fun to see her in a trainer-like role, and you decide that it’s not that bad and that the reward will come later when you watch the 190-minute-long film. You watch Abby setting the machine and its weight intently, trying to make mental notes of everything so you won’t need her help for each little thing. And here goes…your eyes definitely find her hands gripping the handles more interesting than the exercise itself, or the way her thunder thighs push the weight inwards almost effortlessly. Phew. She finishes her set and stands from the machine so you can give it a go.

“See? Easy.” She smiles before adjusting the weight so it’s lighter for you.

You hesitate to get on it because it looks silly, and you definitely feel exposed with your legs spread open in your yoga pants.

“Oh wow, didn’t know you could open up this much,” She teases with a quizzical grin and her head cocking to the side, which makes you scoff and roll your eyes.

“Shut up, I do pilates after all, don’t I?” You excuse your almost obscene spreading, and to only make it worse, you’re wearing a thong and you plead that Abby won’t look down because you’re certain she’ll be able to catch a detailed glimpse of your pussy.

“Chill, I’m just fucking with ya. Let me help you…” Abby snorts, amused at how you respond to her mindless teasing. She bends down in your direction to adapt the position so you won’t be opened up like a christmas present, “…and there! Now hold onto these and try to push the weight inwards slowly, if you do it fast you’ll hurt yourself.”

Abby instructs and you do as you’re told. Slowly, you push your legs together, gripping the handles because the weight is definitely challenging, and after the bench press, Bulgarians, and squats, your legs are not the strongest, but you manage to do it.

“How’s the weight? Do you want me to lower it?” Abby asks, leaning on the machine’s weight rack, “Y-Yeah…it’s too heavy.” Your voice quakes tiredly, and the blonde wants to poke fun at you for it but decides to save it because she knows you’re doing your best. So she lowers the weight so it’s more comfortable.

It’s definitely difficult to do it with your wobbly legs, but it’s also fun in its own way. You close and open your legs at a slow pace, breathing deeply as you do each one, and with Abby watching is only making it harder to pretend you’re not struggling as much. Although it hurts, you’re not sure if you’re targeting the right area since you keep clenching your core unconsciously, and it only causes you to breathe heavier and heavier for some reason. Abby’s on her phone since you got the hang of it, and yes, you can do the exercise, but with each push from your legs, your body gets hotter and your breathing gets sharper. The last rep comes, and the pressure is overwhelming even after taking small breaks between each set. The muscles in your lower stomach tighten, and that’s when you feel your pussy clenching around nothing, and you realize…

This fucking exercise is fun because it’s stimulating you, and your friend in front of you probably has no idea of what’s happening since she’s watching instagram reels.

Your back arches ever so slightly from the seat, a familiar reaction from when you pleasure yourself, and the pooling between your thighs only worsens as you get closer to the end of the rep, clenching every muscle because it feels so good. A loud, raspy gasp escapes your lips, and your eyes immediately seek Abby, checking if she’s seeing what’s engaging between you and the machine, but she remains still so you keep going. Your thighs are shaking, begging you to end the exercise but you keep going despite already hitting the fifteenth one.

‘Almost…’ Even the voice in your head is ragged. Your cunt is throbbing, your abs are inhumanly clenching and the band in your stomach’s about to snap. The sweat is running down your face and your neck, but all you can focus on is that aching pooling in the pit of your stomach.

With your chest heaving and your lip caught between your teeth, you close your legs one more time and groan softly at your release, the chemicals in your brain plastering colorful dots in your vision, and you finally let go since your body’s all weak and shaky. You can barely ride out the bliss when it hits you.

You just had an orgasm. At the gym. With Abby two steps away from you.

“Fuck…” A throaty breath catches Abby’s attention, and thank god your yoga pants are black and not pink today.

“You finally done? I know you’re a newbie but it took you long enough.” Abby puts her phone in her pocket and looks down at you with that kind and charming grin of hers, and then there you are, a panting mess.

“I…need to go to the bathroom,” You announce breathily, quickly getting off the machine because you need to take care of the situation in your pants. The blonde frowns and you know she wants to ask if something’s wrong, but she sees you in a rush and simply points at the ladies' room. You almost run, cursing in your head again and again because what the fuck is wrong with you? The bathroom stalls are empty so you enter the last one, immediately banging your head against the door.

“You’re a fucking pervert. You’re pathetic!” You whisper, and your legs threaten to give up once again, which only upsets you further.

You rest your head against the door and look up, battling the tears brewing in your eyes. This is it; the lowest you’ve reached so far. Who knows if one of the few people out there saw you? Shit, shit, shit. You haven’t had time to play with yourself but this definitely wasn’t the solution to that!

Deep breath in and out, but no matter how calm you are now, the wet spot in your pants remains.

“Hey…you in here?” Abby’s voice makes you jump startled, and you curse again in your head.

“Y-Yeah, last stall.” Your voice is weak and raspy, but you manage to get the right tone to not let her know you’re about to cry.

“You okay? You looked…I dunno, weird.”

Abby’s worry makes your heart clench, and guilt showers you like a bucket of cold water. She’s your best friend though; you know every small quirk, have seen each other’s awkward phases, and most importantly, have kept secrets you know aren’t for anyone else to know. So you’ll be fine, you’re adults now so this isn’t a big deal, right?

You open the door and pull her arm so she’ll join you. Rapidly, you close the door again as if the entire bathroom isn’t empty. Abby chuckles, amused by the sudden move from you, but the smirk fades as soon as she sees the sulky look on your face with your lips almost pouting and your eyes glossy. “Hey…what happened?” Her brows meet in a concerned frown, and she reaches for your hand.

The embarrassment is strong enough to block your throat and tighten your chest. You bite your lip, looking up when Abby’s thumb gently rubs the back of your hand.

“I…” How could you even put it into words? No fancy vocabulary would make this any better, “...the pressure of the exercise was really strong, and I…don’t know how but I think I came.”

Abby’s heart dropped to her stomach, and for your sake, she contained as much shock as she could inside her, but the truth is…she found that adorably amusing and even kind of hot…? You look defeated, just like a puppy who knows did something wrong, and she wants to pet your head and cuddle you.

On your side though, you’re certain she’s thinking you’re a freak that should be locked away from society. You look away from her. Your heart thuds in nothing but shame, pumping the blood to your cheeks, painting them a bright red color.

“How bad is the situation?” Her voice is lower than usual, and you assume that is in case someone enters the bathroom.

“My pants are soaked…” You nearly sob, sniffing but holding it in.

Abby hums, taking a step close to your position against the door, and she hesitantly brings her hand to your clothed crotch as if to make sure you’re telling the truth. Your body reacts to that, naturally, and you jump a little, looking at her with your eyes widening because that’s unknown territory.

“Okay…listen, it’s completely normal, yeah? Tons of girls have gone through the same thing so it’s not like you’re the first one.” She soothes you, her voice low and smooth, almost like a lullaby, and her hand moves to your hip, squeezing it lightly to comfort you.

You huff in relief, still embarrassed but that statement definitely took some weight off your back. “Thank god, I feel like a pervert.”

“You probably are, but that’s okay too.” Of course, she pokes fun at you at the first chance, but she manages to make you laugh a little.

The scenario is a little weird. You’ve been in the most insane and random situations together, but this could top any of those other ones. Your back’s against the door, and Abby’s just centimeters away from you; her hand gripping your hipbone rather firmly, causing your hips to jerk unconsciously. Your eyes meet hers, and she has such an indistinct look on her face that you can’t say you’ve seen before.

“You’re still sensitive,” She states huskily, and you catch her licking her lips.

“Well, yeah. I just had an orgasm.” You also state, almost sarcastically because it’s more than obvious why your body is reacting to her grip.

“You know…having multiple orgasms will help you relax your tensed muscles.”

…okay?

She takes the one step that kept you away from each other, and now both hands are on your hips as she glances down at you with her usual crystal-clear blue eyes gone several tones down to navy. You gulp nervously, your arms on your sides as you stand awkwardly.

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

“Lemme help you.” She answers on the spot, with no hesitance or stuttering. And -shockingly- no hint of it being a joke.

You want to say no for the sake of your friendship more than anything, but your body’s been craving release for months, and if your best friend is willing to help you with such devotion then who are you to reject the thoughtful offer?

“Okay…”

Your answer takes Abby by surprise, but she doesn’t press on it because she doesn’t want you to change your mind, not when she’s getting worked up herself.

“Try to keep it down, though.” She winks a snarky smile at you, and before you can tell her to fuck off, she slips her hand down your pants, cupping your aching core.

“Fuck, you are soaked,” Abby whispers surprised, her voice coming out ragged at the realization, and she begins to move her fingers over your folds, spreading them and feeling the slickness of your previous orgasm.

You wanted to be cocky, but one of your hands goes straight to your mouth to muffle the whimper you almost let escape. You know your friend’s anatomy almost as perfectly as her personal traits and her thick fingers were always secretly acknowledged by you, and now they’re spreading your pussy, teasing you better than you’ve ever done it yourself.

“I didn’t know you were a thong girl,” Abby mutters sultrily, obviously noticing the lack of clothing for your cunt. Her fingers find your clit and she starts tracing slow circles, mostly to see your reaction.

Your eyes are fluttering, and your whimpers come out as hums with your hand blocking your lips. Her touch is gentle but firm, and god is it heavenly. It’s definitely better than your own, and you can’t believe you’re doing this in the bathroom of the gym Abby’s attended for the past years. Still, your hips roll in the direction of where she’s touching you, pathetically writhing under her to feel her calloused fingers even more against your throbbing clit.

“You like that?” Oh her voice…is as sweet as honey right now and it sends a shiver down your spine. You nod your head, too scared of being caught, but Abby -being the jerk she is- yanks your hand off your face, letting it rest on your side and very clearly hinting at you that she wants an answer vocalized.

“Y…Yeah,” You manage to gasp under your breath, your head hitting the door when her fingertips rub a little faster, right in that magnificent spot with the right amount of pressure to turn your legs into jelly.

Abby’s having the time of her life. You look angelically sexy, as if you were trying to seduce her with those red lips of yours; parted open and inviting hers to get a taste. She can’t, though, and she won’t…for now. She wants to see every twitch of your brows, every flutter of your lashes when you blink repeatedly, and every bead of sweat that rolls down your forehead and causes your flushed cheeks to glow under the dim light of the bathroom.

“Abs…” It kills her to hear that beloved nickname of hers coming out of your lips in a needy gasp. She purses her full lips, pitying the situation because she wishes you could just whimper her name out loud. Later…she thinks to herself.

Abby calls out your name as well, matching your discreet and low tone, “...yeah? Feels good?”

You nod again, not risking a moan coming out. Your chest heaves, feeling tight because you can barely breathe. It’s almost like a fever dream…or a wet one, in this case. The blood is pumping hot and fast, adrenaline rushing all over you as she sends you to the fucking moon in steady circles. A loud gulp jumps on the walls of the stall, your best attempt at trying to keep quiet.

You feel that familiar pressure in your belly, but Abby whispers your name again. Her eyes are darker, with a loose strand of her blonde hair falling over her face, and she leans down. “I really wanna finger you, ‘s that alright?” She almost begs you, her pretty brows arching in eagerness for what your answer will be.

Your heart’s about to leap out of your chest at this point, feeling like you’re close to suffocating, but you lick your puffy lips and whisper a very needy ‘yes’. And Abby does not waste a single second before guiding one of your legs around her hips and immediately lowering her two digits to your entrance, spreading your arousal so her fingers won’t come in dry. You close your eyes at the weird sensation, but your hips jerk in her direction more aggressively than before.

“So wet for me…I wish I could taste that sweet pussy,” Abby hoarsely mutters in your ear, and before you can react, her middle and ring finger slip inside you oh so smoothly, stretching you open with her thick and long digits.

“Fuck…!” You hiss agitatedly, unconsciously clenching around her from how overwhelming everything is at this point. Abby slips them out and thrusts them until her knuckles become an obstacle, groaning under her breath as well, which only makes it harder for you to keep quiet. Why were you doing this again? Whatever the fuck was the reason, you wish she would’ve brought it up long before today.

Heat’s consuming your body, colored in a passionate red from your cheeks to your chest, probably from holding your breath, or the force Abby’s fingering you with. Either way, it’s all stimulating you in a way you know you shouldn’t be enjoying. Your heavy sighs are getting progressively louder, but the loud beating of your heart in your ears silences them.

Abby’s fingers thrust forcefully, almost abusing your soaking cunt, and squelching sounds filter out, causing the blonde to groan once again in your ear. Seemingly, the pornographic sound of her fingers pumping in and out only encourages her to seek deeper, finding a spongy spot at the very top when she curls both fingers expertly.

“There!” A normal whimper escapes, and as if to punish you, the door of the ladies’ room opens with two voices following as they chat about gains and what to have for lunch in terms of protein goals. Eyes wide as plates, you look at Abby, silently asking her what to do, unsure if it scares you more to keep going or stop.

Abby has her priority clear; you. So the solution is to cover your mouth with her hand and angle her fingers higher and deeper inside you, hitting the spongy wall repeatedly with the two girls chatting in the background, making enough noise to quiet the squelching of her fingering. Abby cages you between her body and the door, and her groans soon become growls, like a hungry animal salivating over its prey.

Tears brimmed in your wide eyes, beginning to tear up as you breathed raggedly through your nose and winced against Abby’s hand. You should’ve stopped, but the adrenaline rush of possibly -hopefully not- getting caught only caused your muscles to clench tighter, and the pooling in the pit of your stomach to swoop like a crashing wave. You’re close, so fucking close that you’re seeing stars this time. Abby’s eyes even shine before your eyes roll back and your body spasms like you’re being electrocuted. Creaming and cumming all over Abby’s fingers and in your yoga pants for the second time today. A loud ringing in your ears almost concerns you and makes you think you passed out, but it only lasts a minute or two before opening your eyes again and seeing your blonde friend looking at you like she just saw a UFO or something.

She keeps her fingers inside until the two girls leave the bathroom, and you can’t say it isn’t awfully awkward to feel the emptiness when she pulls them out and retrieves her hand from your lips as well, letting you pant loudly while you ride out the thunderous orgasm.

Your eyes meet, and Abby’s cheeks seem to get pink, which would’ve been funny in any other situation. “You, uh, you good?”

It’s so awkward that it makes your stomach cringe uncomfortably. “Yeah, just…recovering.”

Abby nods, letting you know that she understands, but you can tell she’s also embarrassed, probably regretting talking to you the way she did…publicly.

“Are we still watching Wicked?” You ask out of the blue, trying to lighten up the mood, and when Abby snorts everything returns to normal.

“Not only are we watching it, you’re getting eaten out afterward,” She taunts you sweetly, licking her dripping fingers clean.

#abby tlou #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby smut #abby anderson x you #abby the last of us #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x y/n

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thelostconsultant · 4 months ago

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Tie it up

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

summary: She's busy picking the perfect paper for the wedding invitations, while Max is busy staring at her.

note: Clingy and smitten Max.

Sometimes Max found himself watching his fiancée with a dreamy smile, especially when they were supposed to discuss certain things about the wedding that required their decisions. Like now, when they were looking at paper samples. For all he cared, they could have just sent an email to their guests, but she was hell-bent on keeping to the traditions. So he played along, sitting next to her by the dining table as she focused her attention on the papers, but he couldn’t think about things like whether they should pick a heavier or a lighter paper. It didn’t matter. It was just paper.

He was too busy admiring her–the delicate curves of her face, that buzzing excitement in her eyes, the smile that made him stare at her lips a little too long. These moments they spent together were his favorites, especially when he could let her take the lead, making decisions for the two of them while he was thinking about how lucky he was to have her in his life.

“Max?”

“Hmm?” he asked, his smile not fading.

She let out a short laugh before she leaned closer to give him a quick kiss on the lips. “I narrowed it down to two options. The final decision is yours,” she said, pushing the two pieces of paper in front of him.

His eyes turned to the table before he picked them up and moved his fingers to feel how thick they were. Like he knew what to look for. Did it even matter? But it was important to her, so he wanted to at least make it look like he was just as invested in this as she was. With a thoughtful hum, he put down the one that was perfectly white, and raised the other that had a creamy tint to it. “This one,” he said with a triumphant grin.

“Great! Next up, the design,” she informed him.

But Max let out a disappointed groan, then even rested his forehead on her shoulder. “Can’t we do that tomorrow? Picking the paper was tiring enough.”

“One, you didn’t really do anything,” she pointed out kindly, a statement that brought a smile to his face again. His beloved, attentive lover, the one who knew perfectly well he didn’t care about the paper, but still appreciated the minimal effort he put into it. “And two, you can drive around a racetrack for an hour and a half at least with no issue, but you don’t have the energy to look at papers and designs while sitting by a table?”

“Please?” he tried.

The young woman let out a sigh as she placed her small hand on the back of his neck, letting her fingers get lost in his hair while she massaged his scalp. “We have to take a look at the guest list too before you leave for the next race,” she said quietly.

“Then come with me and we can continue there.” He leaned back to look her in the eye, silently begging her to let this go for now. But he couldn’t read her expression, that kind smile was only telling him that she loved him, not that she would let him do something else tonight. “Come on, I can’t do this today.”

“What do you want to do then?”

“Sleep.”

With a frown, she looked down at her phone to check the time. “It’s barely eight,” she said with a surprised look.

Max sneaked his arms around her body like he was an octopus, keeping her close while he buried his face into the crook of her neck. “I don’t care. I just want to get in bed and cuddle with you.” Her adorable giggle brought a smile to his face, and he placed a soft kiss on her skin as a token of gratitude, because he knew she was on board with his plan. After all those years together, it was easy to read her like a book. “Thank you,” he murmured.

Her hands rubbed soothing circles into his back, making him purr like his cats. “I love you, Max,” she told him after placing a soft kiss on his head. “Even if you don’t take this wedding preparation seriously,” she added with a small laugh.

Letting out a sigh, he looked at her and went, “It could be an email.”

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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rinhaler · 5 months ago

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just had the crazy thought in the middle of trader joes🫣 bf!ino begging reader to let sukuna fuck her infront of him😵‍💫 i just know sukuna would agree to the idea so fast😭

but anyways i hope you're doing alright❤️

as soon as I read this request I went feral btw I haven't written anything this quickly in a while KGHJFLSGHSKA thank you so much for this nonnie I hope u enjoy and I hope ur doing well 💕

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, dubcon, weed consumption, alcohol consumption, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby, etc.), cucking, cuck!ino, coercion, dry humping, male masturbation, daddy!kink, oral m+f receiving, head pushing, fingering, calls your pussy 'she', overstimulation, vaginal sex, hair pulling, creampie, squirting.

words: 3.9k

He’s waiting.

He’s been waiting since he got to your apartment.

You and Takuma have never been coy around each other, no matter who’s around. What was meant to be a chill movie night with a few drinks and some weed has really just been you and him making out on the couch, dizzied by the alcohol and drugs coursing through your system.

And still, Sukuna has been waiting.

Waiting for his friend to ask what he’s been waiting to ask.

“I love you…” you whisper, or at least you think you do. It’s louder than intended. What was meant to be breathy love language reserved solely for your partner has garnered Sukuna’s attention, too.

And rather than your boyfriend returning your words. He looks at you, no, through you. His pink haired friend looks at him coldly out of the corner of his eye.

Waiting.

You’re bold, though. When he doesn’t speak right away, you grab his face and pinch his cheeks until his lips are puckering. His warm brown eyes gaze down at you, his concentration fully broken from Sukuna, now.

“I said: I love you, Takuma.” you repeat.

“Baby…” he grins and bites his lip before kissing you softly. “You know I love you too.” he assures you, his head lowering to kiss along your jawline. You can’t repress the gentle moan you emit as you feel his hand travel up your baggy t-shirt and hold your side just below your breast, his thumb stroking across your ribs.

“How much?” you wonder, eyes heavy and bloodshot as you wait for a response. He looks at you again, a little puzzled that you’d even ask.

“How much?” he quirks his brow. “How much do you love me, baby? Tell me… Wanna hear ya,” he smirks.

“More than anything… I’d do anything for you, Takuma. I love you s’much.” you say slowly, pridefully. Adoration interspersed with your casual tone makes his cock throb. His eyes are full as he hears you tell him with ease how much you love him.

Before he can say anything, though, Ino’s eyes stray at the sound of his friend stirring in his spot on the couch. He’s hunched over, lighter in one hand and spliff in the other. He lights it, almost too quickly, and he’s soon leaning back again. His red eyes stare daggers at Ino, his expression is unreadable, but Ino knows the intent behind his glare.

He's waiting, but he’s losing patience.

“Maybe we should go to bed early.” you hint to your boyfriend, wiggling your eyebrows at him in hopes he’ll understand your meaning.

He does.

But instead of looking excited, or interested, he looks between you and your friend. Sukuna exhales a hearty plume of smoke into the air, resting the crown of his head back onto the couch as he stares at the ceiling. The movie is of no interest to any of you, now. You want some alone time with Takuma, and Sukuna is considering leaving.

“W-Wait,” he mutters, cupping your face with both hands and searching your loving gaze. “Anything, really? You mean it?”

“… Well… yeah. I- I guess, yeah. Is something wrong?” you wonder, worry and paranoia flooding through you before you know it. You can feel your heart beginning to beat faster, until his thumbs gently rub against your cheeks. You’re instantly soothed, and further relaxed when you feel a gentle press of your boyfriend’s lips against your own.

“No, baby, nothin’. You’re perfect. You’re always so perfect f’me…” he says, kindly, and you can’t stop the cheesy grin that works its way across your face when you hear him. You lean in to kiss him again, but he pulls away suddenly. “There’s… something… I wanna do. Well, I wanna try.” he explains.

You sit up a little as you look at him, curiosity filling you. You briefly look at Sukuna, almost forgetting he's there until you hear him toss his lighter onto the coffee table.

“If you wanna fuck tonight. Maybe we can try it now…” he starts, sheepishly. His words become dry in his throat and lost in the atmosphere. You’re a little embarrassed that he’s proposing something about your sex life in front of your mutual friend, but you try and ignore his presence. You’re all high, it doesn’t really matter.

“What is it, baby?” you whisper. You close the distance between the two of you, kissing his cheek repeatedly as you wrap your arms around his neck. It’s a passionate bid to give him the confidence he needs to tell you what’s on his mind.

There’s no delicate way for him to ask you what he wants to ask. It’s so perverse, so lewd and debauched. He feels guilty for even thinking it. But it’s rotting his brain.

He keeps breathing, his words dissipating on his tongue as he finds and loses the ability to say what’s he’s dying to say.

“C’mon, baby… you can tell me.” you smile. You start to get nervous again as you can tell he’s wrestling with his thoughts. You have no idea what he could be thinking. It’s a worry, though, thinking your boyfriend has some depraved kink he’s about to spill in front of you as well as his friend.

Why is he doing this now?

“I um… fuck. I— babe, I just. I think it would be… f-fun. Uhhhh…”

“Ask her already.” a dark growl reverberates through your body as you’re once again reminded you aren’t alone. Sukuna stands to his feet, bending down to stub out his joint before he moves behind you. You gasp as you feel his fingers on your jaw forcing your head in place as he keeps your eyes on Takuma’s. “Look at your girl and ask her your dirty favour, pussy.”

Ino gulps, eyes flitting between yours and his. And still, even now, he can’t bring himself to ask. Sukuna gives him time. Plenty of time, before ultimately scoffing. You whimper a little as your head jerks to face him. His hand squeezes your face, not to dissimilarly to what you had done to Takuma moments prior. Your lips puckering as he levels his face with your own.

“He has a weird fetish, princess. He wants to see another man fuck the love of his life. Ain’t that strange?” he smirks, darkly.

You think you’ve misheard him. He lets go of your face and you snap your gaze to see Ino. He’s blushing furiously and has seemingly lost the ability to speak. He can barely even look at you. And that is enough proof, but still.

“Really?” you ask, you try your best to stay calm. It’s a little stern, but casual enough to not seem like a big deal.

“… Y-Yeah. AGH!” he yells as your hand slaps across his face, leaving a stinging sensation in its wake. He looks at you, he seemed ready to yell at you until he sees tears welling in your eyes. “B-Baby? Don’t… Don’t hate me, please. I—”

“You— did you invite him here tonight for this? You told him before me… How—”

“Wait, wait. It wasn’t like that!” he stops you. “We were just, ugh, what was it? Oh, porn! We were talking about different categories and I said I’d been watching some, y’know, cuck shit. S’dumb, I’m so sorry. But I just watched it because I was curious and then I started thinking about it everyday and I thought about us trying it ‘n I just said all that shit to him when I was stoned.”

“So?” you respond. “You invited him over ‘n got me drunk and high ‘n thought I’d just say yes?!”

“No. Well… maybe… a little…” he says, voice trailing off as he thinks about the whole thing a little further. “Shit, I was scared to ask. Because it’s fucking weird and I know it’s weird. I feel like a fucking freak for this, baby. What kinda guy wants to see another dude fuck his girl? It’s weird.”

You don’t speak again for a while, letting him simmer in what he’s saying. It’s not that you are outwardly against it, but you’re not intoxicated enough to ignore how wrongly he went about this. And it’s hard to ignore Sukuna’s looming figure beside you, he’s so intimidating without even trying.

“… Please don’t hate me.” he mumbles as he stares down at his feet. “It’s been driving me crazy, y’know. Thinking about how hot you’d look like that.”

“It’s your decision.” Sukuna says, dropping to the balls of his feet to look at you again. “It’s just sex, sweetheart. I can make you feel good, ‘n you’ll make me feel good. And I think it’ll make that perverted boyfriend of yours feel good, too.”

You look into his eyes as he speaks. It’s not like you’ve never thought of it before. He’s a giant, he’s huge and he has the aura of a man who knows how to fuck. You aren’t dissatisfied in your sex life with Takuma in the least. But everyone has fantasies, right? Everyone has thoughts on what they might be missing out on.

“B-Baby? Please. Just once, I just wanna try it once.” Takuma tells you. It’s a little pathetic how desperate he sounds. And for some twisted reason, it turns you on. How he’s begging to see you receive pleasure at the hands of another man.

You’ve somehow managed to romanticise this depravity. Because now, you feel good about this. Whether intentional or not, Takuma Ino has made you feel like a goddess.

And so, dumbly, you find yourself nodding. His eyes light up, confusion, elation, and unadulterated lust flows through him. You’re caught off guard as Sukuna cups your face with one hand, capturing your lips in a searing kiss before grabbing under the bend of your knee and letting it roam up the back of your thigh.

“N-Now?!” you ask in a panic, breaking the kiss before he returns it once more.

“Yes. Now.” Sukuna tells you, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you to the couch he had been sitting on. You’re straddling him, rolling your hips unashamedly as he smirks into your kiss. “You’re soaked, princess.” he says. It’s quiet, but loud enough for Ino to hear.

He palms himself over his sweats as he watches you both, a sultry moan leaves you as you feel rough hands squeeze the fat of your tits over your t-shirt. He tugs at your nipple, licking into your mouth as he pulls away.

“Suck daddy’s cock, baby. Heard you’re a pro.” he grins.

You shuffle off of his lap and between his legs. He goes to undo his belt before you beat him to sit. He interlocks his fingers behind his head as he watches you. He swears if he had blinked he would have missed how quickly you freed his length. Your eyes bulge as it springs out from it’s denim prison and you pull down his jeans and underwear in tandem.

He doesn’t give you any time to marvel at his gargantuan size before he’s lacing his fingers through your hair and guiding his cock to your lips. He’s massive, you feel it as each agonising inch sinks into your mouth and nudges at the back of your throat.

He moans boisterously as you struggle to accommodate him, head rolling back as he looks up at the ceiling above. He chuckles, pushing your head again and again to set a pace for himself, barely considering your lung capacity or pleasure in the least.

His eyes are heavy, lust drunk and purposeful as he looks down at you. Your own are watery and pathetic. You’re overwhelmed and yet you can’t help but chase a desperate desire to please him. You want to impress him, you want him to feel good.

You’re both reminded of your actual boyfriend’s presence when he moans pathetically. Your teeth graze Sukuna’s cock and he hisses at the sensation.

“Focus on me.” he tells you, voice gravelly and intimidating before his eyes move to look at Ino. “Are you really getting off on this? Fucking pervert. Your girlfriend’s choking on my cock and you look like you’re gonna blow your load. Y’think that’s normal?”

“S-Shut up.” he moans softly, the all too familiar sound of sticky, aroused skin fapping fills the room.

You feel your cunt grow wetter by the second. The intense knowledge of everything going on in the room is sending your self esteem into overdrive. You’re doing it for Takuma. And you want to make Sukuna proud.

“Here…” Sukuna grabs his phone. You panic as you see him point it down at you, unwillingly to let him keep video evidence of this twisted transgression. He holds your head down with ease with his free hand, and it’s all you can do to focus on breathing through your nose. You begin to calm as you feel another phone ring behind you. “Answer.” Sukuna instructs.

Ino scrambles to answer the incoming call, moaning further when he sees the perfect first person view of your mouth stuffed full of his best friend’s dick.

“Give him a show baby, he likes it.” Sukuna growls, cupping the crown of your head as he allows you to bob your head at your own pace. “You really are a good little cocksucker. Might have to keep you. Doesn’t she look pretty, Ino?”

“S-So pretty, baby. Fuck, look at ya…” he breathes, slowing down on his own pleasure so he doesn’t cum too fast.

“Look at her squirming, think she’s enjoying all the attention. Is your little pussy dripping ‘cause you’re our pretty star tonight?” he smirks. And at that, you nod. You can’t help yourself. Despite you being the one to please him, you’re completely at his mercy. “Mmm, think I wanna see for myself.” he tells you, yanking you away from his length by your roots.

You gasp, breathless with an aching jaw as you get used to your mouth being your own again. He coos at you, red eyes softening as he admires your drool soaked face.

“Look at what I’ve done to your girl.” Sukuna says as he manhandles you.

He picks you up and turns you so that you’re able to make eye contact with your boyfriend. Ino looks up from his phone so he can observe you with his own eyes. Your eye makeup has streaked beautifully down your cheeks. Your lips are swollen and dampened with slick drool and precum. He has to stop touching himself completely when he looks into your shimmering eyes. They’re filled with water and emotion, the sight of you is better than he ever imagined.

“Say thank you, sweetheart.” Sukuna commands and he firmly grips your jaw. “Gotta say thank you to your boyfriend for letting you have the time of your life with me.”

“T-Thank you, Takuma… thank you.”

“Aw… you’re both a little pathetic, hm? But that’s okay.” Sukuna snarls as he picks you up again, tossing you onto the couch like you’re nothing. You’re a weightless object for him to do with as he pleases. “Let me see you, princess. I want a taste.” he explains. Soon enough, your panties and shorts disappear from your body and he’s face to face with your bare cunt.

He grabs your hand, forcefully shoving his phone into it so you can show your boyfriend what he’s doing.

It’s humiliating.

Your whole body runs hot as he loops his arms around your thighs and buries his face between your legs. A powerful moan rips through you as he gently pulls up the hood of your clit and targets it with a darted tongue.

Tears spill over your eyes as you try to close your legs, much to his dismay, and he pries them apart with ease. He doesn’t let up, your whole body trembling uncontrollably as he continues his assault.

You hold the phone with one hand as the other cards through his pretty pink locks. And at that, he moans. The timbre of his voice vibrates against your skin.

“B-Baby?” Ino speaks, quietly, “Feel good?”

“Fucking. Amazing.” you announce, unashamedly. Your toes curl as you feel two thick fingers delve into your hot cunt. It’s too much. You feel like you might burst as his fingers curl and you try desperately to escape the onslaught. But one muscular bicep around your thigh is more than enough to keep you exactly where he wants you.

“You’re staying right here, sweetheart.” he tells you casually before looking up at you. “You won’t cum if you run away from me.”

“Hnnnng, fuck.” you respond, embarrassingly. All semblance of thought leaves you in the form of slippery slick pooling out of your cunt as he finger fucks you relentlessly. He smirks as he watches, slurping up your juices with obscene satisfaction.

“Pretty little pussy, she’s flutterin’ for me. Just cum for daddy, know you wanna.” he grins.

You’re barely able to think as he immediately swipes his tongue over your throbbing clit. His fingers work in tandem to hammer against your g-spot before you begin to squirm uncontrollably.

“Fu- nngh! D-Daddy! Haah~!” you cry out repeatedly, chanting a slew of daddy’s before you feel your body start to crumble and fall slack. You pant heavily, the phone you were holding a distant memory as the only thing on Ino’s screen is a shot of the ceiling.

He’s holding back, again. Ogling your body as he sees sweat droplets beading on your skin. Your entire body is relaxed, calm. You’re wholly spent and satisfied for the evening, you do nought but watch Sukuna repeatedly pepper kisses on your inner thighs.

“You look happy,” he tells you as he looks up.

“You’re… you’re good at that…” you say, finally feeling shame wash over you as you realise you just came on your boyfriend’s best friend’s face. “That was—”

“Was? Didn’t say we’re done, baby.” he cuts you off. Before you can ask what he means, he’s pulling you onto the ground with him by your wrist. “I didn’t get to cum yet, did you really think we were through here?”

“S-Shit, sorry!” you gasp, utterly powerless as he bends you over the coffee table. Even if your body wasn’t so relaxed, you’d still be a ragdoll to him.

“He needs to see your face while I ruin this beautiful cunt.” he smirks, parting your legs with his muscular thigh. He tuts as he observes your form, grabbing a fistful of your hair. “What is this, baby? I know no one else has made you cum that hard but you need to look pretty when you have an audience.” he explains.

He pulls your hair aggressively until your back is in a beautiful arch. Your fingers grip desperately onto the sides of the coffee table, your tits squashed against the cool glass breaks your body temperature as you’re unsure of whether you’re freezing cold or boiling hot.

Your body soon flushes again as you feel Sukuna guide his heavy tip to your entrance. He teases your hole repeatedly, the sticky tacking sound is the only thing that can be heard; alongside Ino’s self-pleasure.

He grunts as he slams into you with a powerful thrust. Your eyes cross and you feel as though you could pass out from the pressure brewing in your core.

“Fuuuuuuck, tiny princess cunt’s a tight li’l hugger.” he tells you before holding onto your hips with a bruising grip. Your ass and thighs ripple with each brutal deliverance from his desperate humping.

This, now, isn’t for you. If you feel pleasure, that is a bonus. You feel it in the way he savagely pounds into your wet walls, you are his toy that is designed to make him cum.

“You look so pretty, babe. D-Does it feel good? Y’look so fucked out.” Ino smirks, biting his lip as his fist becomes a blur. “Can you— describe it for me, baby.” he requests.

“Unfff, f-fuck. He’s— I feel— him— here.” you tell him before pointing to your throat. He lets out a guttural moan at that, and if your mind wasn’t already so hazy, you’d be amazed that he was truly getting off on this.

“Glad he’s making you feel s’good, babe. Knew he would…” he trails off. “Are you gonna let him fill you up?” he asks, face dropping a little as he hears a scoff from Sukuna.

“Tch. Sick bastard.” he says in response. He bends over, his sweat coated skin presses into your back and he continues to desperately hump into you like a primal animal. He moves your hair aside as he sensually bites and kisses your earlobe. You could just about cum when you feel him lick the skin behind your ear, tangled with an amalgamation of eager, determined moans. “He wants me to breed you like an animal. Would ya like that, princess? Can daddy fill your precious little pussy up?”

You nod, quickly. Your vision blurry as you think you might be genuinely about to pass out from the pleasure. You’re utterly blinded by it. The feeling of his cock bullying itself into you and repeatedly kissing your sweet spot is like no other feeling you’ve experienced before.

And still, even in your cock drunk mind, you can’t help but wonder how you’ll ever be able to live without feeling him inside of you again.

He pulls your body up with his own, wrapping his hand around your throat and squeezing just enough to keep you barely conscious. You’re pointlessly grabbing for anything to grab onto, but there’s nothing. His free hand rubs your clit vigorously, and you know you’re soon to be a goner.

“That’s it, good girl. Good fucking girl, milk daddy’s cock jus’ like that. Juuus’ like that. So tight f’me, mmmpf, so fucking tight for me. Perfect pussy’s not gonna let me go. Gonna cum with me, yeah? Come on, cum on daddy’s cock, make a big mess. Umpf, fuck, fuck, FUCK!”

He practically roars, feeling not an ounce of shame as he fucks his thick, heavy load into you. You’re no better, though, whining pathetically as a waterfall gushes from between your legs for the first time in your life. It arouses Ino more than anything ever has in his entire life, so at that, he finally let’s go. Coating his hand in shimmering white globs as he watches Sukuna forcefully make out with you through your high.

Sukuna pulls you back with him as he sits on the couch with you on his lap, pulling out of your hot, sullied cunt as the mixture of clear liquid and pearlescent sperm drips from your throbbing hole. He slaps his cock against your clit, your entire body jolting with each repeated smack.

“Did you— fuck, baby, that was perfect… Did you have fun?” Ino asks, almost breathlessly as he wipes the mess from his hand on his sweatpants.

Sukuna looks up at your near lifeless body, you don’t even have the energy to look at either of them let alone speak. He smirks, at that, before turning his attention to Ino.

“Don’t think she’s ever been fucked so good in her life,” Sukuna grins. “I don’t think you’re gonna have a girlfriend for much longer.”

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alwaysanundertone · 4 months ago

Text

Day 4: wax play | rosekiller

smut

TW: piv, wax play, multiple orgasms, handcuffs, oral fem receiving

“Hey Gremlin!” You rolled your eyes as Barty made his entrance in your dorm room, Evan trailing behind him.

“You know, I don’t understand why you can’t use some cute nicknames like every other boyfriend”

“Oh, stop complaining, we got you a present” This sparked your attention. You turned on your chair, facing them.

“You’re such a little minx, only paying us attention when we get you presents. Such a spoiled brat”

You stuck your tongue out at Evan. “Stop acting like a little bitch and give me my present, please?” You made puppy eyes at Evan, who handed you the bag.

“You have such an attitude for being so little”

You chose to ignore the blonde guy, reaching inside the bag, and blushing immediately when you saw what it contained, your boyfriends exchanging a devilish smirk.

You held two pairs of pink handcuffs in one hand and a candle in the other, your eyes widened at the sight. “Already loosing your attitude? Thought it would take a little bit more effort” It wasn’t that you were scared about was coming, but more about the fact that you didn’t have a clue about what they had in mind.

“What is the candle for?” They both smirked, Evan reached for your cheek, caressing it softly.

“It’s not a regular candle, baby, it’s a special one. You see, if you were to touch the wax, you’d feel the sting, but you wouldn’t have any medical repercussions, no risk of getting burned or developing infections.”

Suddenly you understood well what was about to come, and the prospect scared you as much as it excited you. The sex between you three had always been rougher than the average vanilla couple, but they didn’t try anything this kinky until now.

“What do you say, baby, do you want to try?” You hummed slightly, still not totally convinced. “If you don’t want to it’s fine, we can do other fun things, you know?”

You shook your head. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just… What if the pain gets overwhelming? Like, how can you tell if I’m just playing the part or if I’m really hurt and I want it to stop?”

Barty took your hand into his, kissing your fingertips. “Love, we were about to say that if we’re trying this, we have to set a safe word” You looked at him confused. “Basically, we’re going to establish a word that you’re going to use only if it gets too much and you want to take a break or stop altogether. You have to choose one and tell us” Now that they were putting it like this, you didn’t have any reason to stop this.

“Okay, I want to try it. I think my safeword could be ‘mango’”

“Perfect love. Now, lay back” You did as you were told, both securing one of your wrists to the bedpost, the fuzzy material tickling the skin of your wrist. Evan placed a soft kiss on your lips, the contact alone making your head spin with need, while Barty started teasing you through your already wet panties.

You saw Evan reaching inside of his pocket for his lighter, his black-coloured thumb lighting it up, the motion somehow sexy. Once the candle was lit, you prepared yourself for the wax, but it didn’t come. Instead, Barty teared apart your panties, sucking your clit gently, making you gasp.

Meanwhile, Evan had started playing with your nipples, pinching them softly, eliciting soft moans from you. It was only when you were already lost in pleasure that you felt the first drop of wax on your flat stomach, you felt your brain short-circuiting, the sharp pain mixed with the intense pleasure made a quite pleasuring combo, you moaned slightly.

“Pass me the candle, Barty” As your pussy was still under attack, Evan poured some drops on the skin of your breasts, making you shiver in both pain and pleasure. You felt Barty’s finger probing your entrance, as he dragged it painfully slow, still sucking in a rapid rhythm your clit.

When Barty curled his finger, caressing your G-spot, you couldn’t help but cum all over his face and fingers. “Already coming for us, pet? You’re being so good for us, such a good girl” You moaned at Barty’s praise. “She tastes so sweet, Evan, come taste her.” And just like that, the two guys were making out just above your head, while they let wax drip in the valley between your breasts, making you whimper slightly.

“How are you feeling, doll?” As you were about to respond, Crouch let some was “accidentally” drip on your mound, making you scream. At this point you couldn’t tell anymore if the sensation was pleasurable or painful. “Words, doll, or we won’t understand”

He kept letting wax drip on your skin, as you force a flebile “good”. Even though you pretended to hate it, you secretly loved when they were acting a little bit sadistic, their faux compassion making you feel helpless. You saw Evan putting on a condom, and after a few seconds he entered you harshly, making you gasp. “Sorry love, you just look so sexy like this.” Barty kept dripping wax on your body, now following a specific pattern you couldn’t make out.

You felt your head being shifted to lay on the blonde’s shoulders, while he picked up a relentless rhythm, his thumb pressing down on your clit, eliciting a few moans from you.

Barty leaned down, kissing your lips softly, then making the wax drip directly on your nipples, his mouth muffling your screams. He tasted like mint and tobacco, the mix always making your head spin.

When he started playing with your nipples you knew you were gone for good. “I’m- Oh my god, Evan, fucking hell” He found that special spot inside of you that made your eyes roll back in your head. “Going to come”

You did, milking his cock, his orgasm following right after yours while Barty released himself all over your tits.

Still blissed out, you felt a flash on your skin, making you open your eyes. You frowned, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at your belly: right on your stomach there was a big “E + B” written in purple was, Barty’s cum covering your breasts right above it.

“Gonna make this my wallpaper AND lockscreen”

“Motherfucker, that was MY idea first”

You decided to not interfere in their bickering, your orgasm lulling you into a deep, peaceful sleep, knowing that they were going to clean you up.

tags: @sxmnc @peterparkerspersonalplaything @riaaavm @iamawkwardandshy @eeviee4 @mysterialee @famouscrusadeluminary @el1smells @rishofkf @mooonyxoxo @happymaeday @yourfiendlyneighbourspiderman @whyshouldihaveanam3 @amazing-bobinsky @barnesandmetal @just-here-for-ff @sammyreid @remussbitch @randomcreator-09

#rosekiller #rosekiller smut #evan rosier #evan rosier x reader #barty crouch jr x you #barty crouch jr x reader #barty crouch jr imagine #barty crouch junior #barty crouch jr #smut #kinktober 2024 #barty crouch jr smut

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stevieschrodinger · 6 months ago

Text

Part One Twelve

Steve wanted everything to be ready and set up for when Eddie got back; Hopper was going to drop him over later in the afternoon.

It didn’t work out like that at all; Steve’s parents left earlier than they said they would. He got Eddie’s things out of the closet, and then was heading to the garage to get the tent, really, truly intending to use this time to get everything right for when Eddie comes back.

Steve lasted twenty minutes in the empty house before he couldn’t take any more. He just missed Eddie too much. He was too excited to see him, to bring him home, way too excited to wait hours.

Especially since every moment now felt so precious, so finite.

So he thought fuck it, slipped on his sneakers and picked up his car keys and headed to the store. He definitely needed fresh groceries ready for Eddie to come home.

It’s a fairly good thing his mother never actually cooks; she might have had questions about all the peas in the freezer. As it is Steve has to rotate between stores, he's started saying, ‘I’m doing this green juice diet thing,’ every time he gets a strange look when he pays. Even that would only fly so far before people started looking at him like he was really weird; it’s not like Hawkins is a big place, there’s not exactly a lot of options.

From the store, Steve heads to the cabin, only to find Eddie sitting on the stoop, his bag ready next to him. He grins so big when Steve pulls up.

Hopper comes out with a steaming mug cupped in his hands and an unlit cigarette sagging between his lips, “you’re as bad as each other, I told him not until four, he’s been packed since half nine. Couldn’t stop him.”

Steve kneels on the step below Eddie so they can give each other a proper hug; he feels Eddie’s chest expand in a massive sigh, and then Eddie relaxes fully against him. Steve can relate; he feels the same.

“Sorry Hop,” Steve says absently.

Hopper makes a noncomittal noise, and Steve hears the rasp of his lighter, “all his things are clean, did a load of laundry last night.”

Steve stands, but finds Eddie’s holding his hand and Steve kind of doesn’t want to ever let go of him anyway, so it kind of works out.

“Thanks so much Hopper, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you doing this.”

Hopper leans on the porch rail, “just laundry, kid.”

“You know what I mean, you’ve, you know, looked after him and I-”

“Hopper,” Eddie says, causing them both to look, “thank you,” and Eddie presents Hopper with a pine cone. It has strands of long grass haphazardly tied to it, little flowers and a couple of smalls leaves. Steve doesn’t look at Hopper’s face; he knows he will laugh if he does.

“Errr...you’re welcome.”

Steve thinks Hopper accepts his gift with grace.

The plan is to spend the whole afternoon on the couch watching movies. Eddie puts his things away; moves things around, spends an hour generally reacquainting himself with the place, Steve asks him if he wants the tent put back today, but Eddie shakes his head, clearly not worried about it. He also doesn’t want to get his shiny things back either; Steve offers to go into his parents room with him but again, Eddie seems disinterested.

He just seems to need to check where everything is before he finally settles, snuggling right up to Steve and settling his head on Steve’s chest, half cradled between Steve’s legs.

Steve knows Eddie’s missed him, Steve has missed him, too.

They don’t even pretend that night. There’s no talk of nightmares, or dark TV, or bad dreams. There’s no excuses about how it’s cold, or talk about Eddie sleeping on the couch; they brush their teeth together, and then Eddie gets into Steve’s bed before Steve does.

Steve sleeps with Eddie’s tail wrapped between and around his legs, and tries not to dwell on how much it’s going to hurt when it’s gone.

Steve walks through the door of Family Video, arms in the air, triumphant, “ayyyyyyyy!”

Robin mimics him from behind the counter, throwing her arms up too, “ayyyyyy...what are we doing?!”

“Celebrating, obviously,” Steve gets his ass up on the counter and shimmies around, dropping down on the other side, “we’re back together. The dream team.”

“The dynamic duo?”

“The perfect pair.”

“The...top twins?”

“That’s weak Steve.”

“I know, I couldn’t come up with anything good that begins with ‘T’ and I wanted to keep this going. Thanks by the way, I think we have two shifts together this week. I do not want to know what you had to do to get that-”

“Gross,” Robin slaps him in the chest with a half eaten red vine.

The bell over the door tinkles, a whole brood of excited kids coming in, looking for Christmas movies, Steve directs the mom to the right section. It’s not long before more come in, “what the hell is going on?” Steve gripes about all the little kids absolutely ruining the displays.

“Last day of school, everyone's out for Christmas,” Robin tells him as she rings someone up.

“No way,” Steve looks at the calendar pinned to the cupboard door behind the counter, “Oh. It is.”

“Yep Dingus, not long now, got all your gifts?”

“Shit Rob, I don’t have any gifts-”

“Terrific!”

“No it’s-”

“No no, terrific! With a ‘T’!”

“Oh...yeah, I suppose that was the obvious option.”

Steve gets home late, these closing shifts really starting to get to him, thinking about what the hell he should get Eddie for Christmas. He has no idea how long the whole...transformation thing…might take. Or how long until it happens. This might be the only Christmas Eddie ever has and…Steve’s going to do his best to make it amazing.

Tomorrow he’s going to drive out and pick up a real tree, get all the decorations down from the attic; Eddie likes shiny things, he should like it. Steve feels better with a plan of action, he always has.

“Eddie,” Steve calls as he closes the front door, stripping off his jacket and gloves. His ears are freezing, he should wear a hat really, but that would be a bit of a crime with his hair.

Steve can smell something; coffee he’s pretty sure, and something cooking, “Stee.”

“Hey Buddy, what are you doing,” Steve finds Eddie on a kitchen chair in front of the stove.

“Stee nine and a half.”

“Yeah, yeah I did say that buddy.”

Eddie’s carefully stirring soup on the stove top; there’s a bowl ready, next to a plate of crackers and randomly shaped cut up lumps of cheese. Well, more like hacked up lumps of cheese, but still.

Steve watches, heart sort of in his mouth, as Eddie carefully, tongue poking out in concentration, lifts the pot and pours the steaming soup into the bowl. He does it slowly, but perfectly fine, “Stee hot, ow.”

“I’ll let it cool down I...just thank you buddy, thank you so much.”

There’s a dirty knife and the empty soup can in the sink, but otherwise Eddie’s tidied up after himself. This must have taken so much effort; Eddie would have to move the chair every time he needed to reach something. Steve can’t help it, he dips, giving Eddie a soft kiss on the cheek.

Part Fourteen

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #ao3 author #pre steddie #mermeddie #mermaid eddie #upside down creature eddie #Fish Guy Eddie #creature eddie munson #creature #getting together

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blondieeu · 9 months ago

Note

Would you be okay writing some sfw & nsfw on what it would be like dating Connie? I know the reader is married, but he just interests me so much. I love how you based him on Rio, he’s my favorite.

i’m so passionate about connie being based off rio too it’s ok i love writing for him

been away. connie (constance) s.

“you good?”

and you’d just look at him. a moment for the two of you to be vulnerable together in a car you had no business being in, about to smoke a blunt you shouldn’t have been smoking, with someone you especially had absolutely no business being with.

“what’s wrong”

“can’t park here, my husband could see.“

he laughed, starting the engine as loud as he could while he looked at you, a bored expression. his eyes were low and his lips almost sparkled in the moonlight from the lip gloss you kissed him hello with.

“your husband mama?”

“yes!”

constance wore a white wife beater and some sweatpants, tattoos and muscles on full display to everyone who say him, but you knew it was only for you.

his prized gold chain laid across his collar bone. said his mother gave it to him when he was little. his car smelled like him too, the car you helped him pick out at the dealership. smelled like the color navy blue, if that made sense.

“yea ok. tell him your real man s’ takin’ you out.”

and he’d pass you the blunt, tattooed fingers grazing against your untouched ones and handing you a lighter before putting the car in drive and pulling off.

constance hated your husband, maybe you did too. he never listened and was always out, giving you the freedom to do the same. you weren’t a monster though, not like you didn’t care for him, just didn’t love him.

you loved constance— or as you knew him, connie. you knew you loved him when you started to worry about him when he told you he was ‘goin to make a play’ in the middle of the night. or at the point where you’d think about him, regardless of you being in a bed with a whole other man, your husband.

“where we going connie?”

“same place we go everytime girl. unless you want me to fuck you in this car.”

you squirmed in the passenger seat at the thought. wouldn’t be the first time but he could never not make you hot at the thought of having sex with him again, always gave you butterflies. made you feel like a virgin again. it wasn’t always about sex with him though, he was real with you.

when you got to his house it was like clockwork, order food, take a shower, put on some of his clothes and eat together. eventually deciding to eat in the living room and watch some bullshit show you’d been obsessed with recently.

so here the two of you sat. you laying with your head in his lap, and him with his hand rubbing on your butt and the other with the remote.

his house was like a second home to you, he said it was your home too. could come whenever you wanted to, move in if you wanted. got you a copy of the house keys, front door and mailbox.

“gotta move if you don’t wan’ fuck right now, you keep rubbin’ onnit.”

and again, like clockwork you’d work his sweatpants and then his boxers off to pull out his lengthy cock. he had a tan shaft with a pretty pink tip. connie always got so hard for you.

you wrapped both your hands around him but it still wasn’t enough to cover the whole thing. starting off you kissed the side of it, making sure to do it on both sides and even on the top before you took him all the way down into your throat.

connie would moan, head rolling and a tatted hand coming to push all of your hair up into the messiest ponytail you’d ever had. your free hand rubbing up connie’s tan stomach, pushing his wife beater up.

“fuck baby”

with your head bobbing at a decent pace, tongue flicking around his pink tip and getting a faint taste of his pre-cum. the sound of your boyfriends moans drowning out the tv show.

“want you to put it in connie”

you whispered as you let your head come down from his cock, still stroking while you looked up at him. his eyes were a little red from the blunt you smoked earlier. the tv illuminating his rough features, like the small scares on his face.

“so take your panties off then mama”

blondieeu xx

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ohbo-ohno · 6 months ago

Note

cuckolding - simon ‘sells his sperms’ to reader and her bf who’s infertile. they can’t afford ivf so the traditional way it is but just the tip and jerking off into her pussy. that’s what was agreed anyway

simon ends up taking whatever he wants from her because how can we fuck if we aren’t properly aroused sweetheart? let’s do a few rounds to increase the chances eh? she’s so desperate for a baby that she complies. she’s secretly into it even. poor reader’s bf :( watching her make out with this stranger and take his cock in her mouth too

hello beloved. im ghoapifying this. pls forgive me

smth about johnny having kinks that he doesn't want to admit to/doesn't recognize... him subconsciously looking for a way to get those needs met...... it's delicious

thinking about you and johnny deciding you want a kid but after months and months of trying with no results, you're starting to lose a bit of hope. the both of you get your fertility checked, and johnny is pretty crushed to learn that he's shooting blanks. makes your relationship a little rocky for a while tbh bc he becomes kinda obsessed with proving his own virility to himself

when you two eventually decide (through a mix of dirty talk, pillow talk, and very emotional conversations) that you want to try ivf, you realize pretty much immediately after that you don't have the thousands upon thousands of dollars necessary just lying around. it's johnny who consoles you when you realize you won't be able to afford the treatment, and it's johnny who decides that he's going to fix the problem himself

(ghost is looking for odd jobs when he spots the listing on craigslist. smth so terribly worded that he almost thinks it's a joke, at first. there's not a single comma used properly, it seems like every other word is misspelled, but the earnestness is clear through the screen. the request was posted five minutes ago, and ghost is the eighth comment - a quick glance at the other accounts shows him that he's the youngest by at least a decade)

soap and ghost message, for a while. soap is pushy as hell, asks for pictures of ghost's face and gets a few of his cock instead. says he's not sure if ghost is the right pick, since he looks nothing like johnny, but keeps messaging him anyway. simon is pushy as hell, asks everyday when they're gonna meet up, gets pissy when johnny keeps pushing it off

(soap sends pictures of you sometimes. they start out innocent enough, pictures of your face from your instagram or your side profile when you won't catch him with his phone up. johnny finds it easy to ignore the guilt he feels when ghost says send me one of what i'll be fucking and johnny does, sends a picture of you fucked out and face down that you had no idea existed. you're limp, slick and come dripping from your hole, and johnny can't help the way he gets hard when ghost's only response is one without your useless spunk inside her. she won't have to put up with it much longer)

when you finally meet ghost, you're unaware of all of this, of course. johnny had just told you he wanted you to meet a friend of his from work, and you'd been excited to go out for a night on the town with him. you'd found simon off-putting, to be honest, but he'd already said he'd be picking up the tab, so you just indulge in a few more shots than you normally would and stay cuddled close to johnny most of the night.

johnny only tells you the real reason he introduced you two when ghost says 'm steppin out for a cigarette, i'll pull the car around for you two and lumbers off, lighter already out.

ye still want a bairn, right? johnny had said, eyes bright as he wrapped his arms around you, kept you pressed close to him. simon can give one to you, to us. he's not even gonna charge us, bonnie, how great is tha'? you'd gaped at him a little, and he'd interpreted your expression as fear. hush, naw, don't worry, lass, i'll be there the whole time. promise i won't let him hurt you, yeah? we can even hold hands, alright?

the time between you sitting in a booth with your legs thrown over your boyfriend's lap and your back flat on your bed is a blur in your mind

simon is heavy over you, both of your wrists held in one of his hands as he ruts against you. you're drunk enough that you can't focus on much but the heat between your thighs and the long kiss simon has kept you locked in. he strips you easily, forcing you high up on the bed so you can rest in the pillows, forcing your legs around his hips so he can pin you

it's only when he pulls back to undo his belt and strip himself that you finally remember johnny is in the room too.

he's bent over the edge of the bed, hardly two feet away, and you can hear the sound slick sound of him fisting his cock, can feel the way the bed shakes just a bit as he fucks his own hand. you sort of whine, reaching out for him, soothed when his free hand links with yours, his own eyes a little wet like they always are when he gets so hard that his thoughts melt away

"eyes here," ghost grunts, big hand covering one half of your face as he forces your gaze away from your boyfriend and back to him. "you don't need to look at him. he's not the one gettin you knocked up, is he?"

you and johnny moan in tandem for that, and your eyes are wide as saucers when you finally look down at the battering ram between ghost's thighs, the ruddy tip of him leaking as he strokes himself.

"you're too big," you manage to gasp, squirming back.

ghost makes a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, lining himself up with your drippy hole and pushing in without warning. you nearly squeal at the stretch, digging your nails into his shoulders and pushing against his thighs with the heels of your feet. your squirming doesn't stop him, and he doesn't give you even a second to adjust as he uses his weight to sink himself to the hilt inside of you

he makes you look in the eye while he fucks you. and he talks a lot - he says more while he's inside you than he did your entire evening in the bar earlier

you feel good, huh? this the first time you ever had a real man fuck you? yeah, the brat humpin' the bed isn't enough for you. bet you always felt empty when he fucked you, but he didn't even need to stretch you out before rutting here. a hand rubbing your clit, making you nearly scream from the added pleasure as he fucks you so hard that the headboards slamming against the wall. bet my seed'll take first try he grunts into your ear, and you hear johnny moan from your left. might even give you more than one, huh? have you fat and round with my babies, make him watch you grow and take care of you, if he can even manage that.

when simon finally comes, he fills you up more than johnny ever had. makes you wait to come until he does first, too, tells you that he googled it while pinching and twisting your clit until you burst beneath him, your cunt squeezing his soft cock as your eyes roll back in your head

(johnny cuddles you, after. he tries to fuck you but ghost won't let him, holds him back by the hips and squeezes his balls until he goes soft, spits i don't want your spunk fucking with mine. you gonna waste my time like that? thought you wanted me to fuck your girl pregnant? were you lying, johnny, or you just so fuckin' desperate that you'll break our deal? and johnny whines and cries but listens, holding you close and pressing his cock against your folds but never inside of you)

((ghost doesn't leave the next morning. doesn't leave the next week, actually. he fucks you every day, even when you insist that you're not ovulating anymore, that he doesn't have to keep trying to get you pregnant. the first time he eventually lets johnny fuck you again, he holds him by the hips and stuffs a few fingers inside you along johnny's cock, says she got used to me, johnny, we'll have to give her a little extra if you want her to let you fuck her again and laughs when johnny whines.))

(((he doesn't even leave when you take your first pregnancy test and get positive results. he rubs your back as johnny scoops you up off the ground, rumbles his own quiet congratulations. a few days later you try to hint that he can leave now, that you and johnny don't need him anymore. he doesn't listen, but that's okay, because you can't quite imagine what you would do if he did leave, how you and johnny would function without his rock steadiness - you're relationship had been a rollercoaster before simon, insane highs and terrible lows, all smoothed out when ghost came into the picture and started playing referee for the two of you)))

((((when you're eight months pregnant, you lounge in a rocking chair as johnny rubs your feet and simon builds a crib.))))

#this accidentally got way longer than i meant it to be #asks and answers #ghoap x reader #bo writes #not to self promo but................ i do in fact have a cuck kink fic......................#you should go read it it's my challengers fic

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maiiuelle · 6 months ago

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“oh, babygirl. that’s horrible.” jj maybank runs his thick fingers down your back, tsking under his breath at the story you’d just told him. he knew rafe was an idiot, but he never imaged he’d fumble you, no matter how much he dreamed about it. yet, here you are, sitting in his lap with tears streaming down your face as you tell him exactly how rafe had ruined everything. “you doin’ alright after all that?”

“i don’t know.” you sniffle, leaning into his touch and setting your head on his shoulder, peering into the crackling fire in front of the two of you. you came to the chateau looking for sarah, your best friend, to give her the details on how things ended with rafe, but instead you ran into jj. he was always the nicest of sarah’s pogue friends, and turns out he’s a great shoulder to cry on. “i just can’t believe he’d do this to me.”

“yeah, well, dude’s a loser — even i could tell you that.” jj mumbles, holding a joint between his lips as he flicks his lighter open over your shoulder. “trust me, he ain’t worth your time.” he lights it and takes a long drag, turning his head to blow the smoke away from you.

“i guess, but he really didn’t seem that way. maybe i’m too gullible.” you dig the heel of your palms into your eyes, the irritation from crying making them red and raw. the blonde shakes his head as you speak.

“nah, nah nah. you didn’t do nothin’ wrong, cupcake. i bet you he’s cryin’ more than you. shit, i would be.” jj takes another hit, flicking the ash into the fire pit. “he doesn’t deserve a sweet girl like you, clearly can’t treat you right.”

you move your hands to look up at the pogue boy. “you’re such a sweet talker, jj. you know just what to say.”

“s’not that, i just know i’m right. i got no clue how you could even deal with that guy. you couldn’t pay me.” he whistles, offering the joint to you. you accept, brushing your fingers over his as you take it, already giving him heart eyes. “you dodged a bullet, sweetheart. maybe literally. he’s a fuckin’ psycho.”

you laugh, assuming he can’t be serious as you put the joint to your lips. the smoke fills your lungs and sends you into a coughing fit. “sorry, it’s from my cousin’s stash — hydroponic.” jj takes the joint back from between your fingers, starting to rub your back again comfortingly.

he lets you cough it out, looking over your pretty face in thought. “y’know.. you should stick ‘round me. promise he’ll steer clear.”

already getting dizzy from the high, you slump back into your spot against his shoulder. “but, i thought you didn’t like kook girls.” you pout, and he scoffs.

“who told you that?” he takes another hit, cursing sarah for trying to cock block him. “doesn’t matter anyways, i like you.”

“i like you too, jj.” you giggle, rubbing on his arm like a cat. you’re too overwhelmed with emotion to worry about embarrassment, and jj’s making you feel so much better already. “thanks for listening, i dunno what i would’ve done if you weren’t here.”

“it’s my pleasure, cupcake. don’t sweat it.” he smiles that charming smile at you, his eyes flickering between yours and your enticing lips. he clears his throat after a few seconds, his eyes lost in yours. “uh—i could think of a few other things we could do to help get your mind off him. if you uh, catch my drift.”

before the moment can go on for too long, the twinkie pulls up the gravel driveway and parks with a squeak. jj peers over his shoulder, putting the joint to his lips one final time as he smacks the side of your leg. “c’mon, sugar. i got just the thing.” he chats as he helps you to stand, immediately meeting john b’s curious gaze when he hops out of the twinkie.

jj jumps to speak first in hopes of avoiding any uncomfortable questioning, he couldn’t risk anything tarnishing the mood he worked so hard to set. “perfect timing — fire’s already lit, so is a joint, if y’all wanna hop on that.” he points to the set up of lawn chairs around the fire pit lazily, far more focused on leading you across the lawn and up the chateau steps, all the while toying with the hem of your tank top. “poor little lady’s havin’ a bad day, needs some one on one time with papa j.”

“ew, oh my god.” sarah scrunches her nose, having predicted jj would try to get with you. as much as she wants to be angry, seeing you all gooey in jj’s arms rather than her psychotic brother’s is a little refreshing — but she would never tell jj that. she just rolls her eyes and looks the other way. john b gives his best friend a proud look behind her back, flashing a silent thumbs up as he ushers you inside.

the second the screen door slams shut behind you, he’s pulling you back onto his lap on the couch, his big hands sprawling over the back pockets of your jean shorts. you giggle, biting your lip nervously as you climb on top of him. “jj.. right here?”

“gotta take care of you, don’t i?” you can hear his smile in his voice, even with his face buried in your neck as he covers it in gentle kisses. you hum at the feeling of his lips, so sensitive it almost tickles. your little whines only make him want to go further, his hands hooking under your legs to lift you and carry you to the bedroom. “yeah, don’t you worry, m’gonna make you feel all better, pretty baby.”

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#my inbox is open! ‧₊˚.#obx #kook!reader ౨ৎ ೃ༄#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x kook!reader #jj maybank drabble #jj maybank headcanon #minors dni

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wolvietxt · 2 months ago

Text

𝓕OR THE 𝓕IRST 𝓣IME …

pairing : dean winchester x female!reader warnings : crying, friends to lovers, fluff, really light angst (squint and you’ll miss it), hunts, food mentions, reader has implied insomnia (self indulgent sorry) wc : 6.1k😈

the gravel crunched under the impala’s tires as dean pulled into the parking lot of yet another roadside diner. the neon sign buzzed faintly overhead, casting flickering hues of blue and pink over the impala’s sleek frame.

“another diner?” you teased, sliding out of the passenger seat. your boots hit the ground with a soft thud. “you know, there are other food groups besides pie.”

dean smirked, locking the car with a flick of his wrist. “and i’m sure you’ll tell me all about them, kid. but i don’t need food advice from someone who orders salad at a steakhouse.”

“first of all, that was only one time,” you shot back, walking alongside him toward the door. “and second, that salad was really really good.”

dean snorted, holding the door open for you. “whatever helps you sleep at night, darlin’.”

the diner was exactly what you expected: vinyl booths, laminate tables, and the comforting hum of an old jukebox in the corner. dean led the way to a booth by the window, sliding in across from you.

“so,” you started, picking up a menu. “are you gonna do that thing where you order half of what’s on the menu? or just pie and coffee?”

“both,” dean said without hesitation, his eyes skimming the options. “you know me. go big or go home.”

the waitress appeared moments later, all smiles and a notepad in hand. dean ordered two burgers and, of course, pie. you went with something lighter, which earned you a raised brow.

“you sure that’s enough?” he asked once the waitress left. “you’re gonna get hungry and start eyeing my fries. i can feel it.”

“i am perfectly capable of ordering my own food, thanks.”

“we’ll see.”

the food arrived faster than expected, and you fell into easy conversation, catching up on the day’s events. the current hunt had been straightforward so far - just a basic salt-and-burn. still, you weren’t exactly looking forward to it. you never where when it came to hunts, they were more dean’s speciality. the looming anxiety and sense of impending doom wasn’t ever remotely enjoyable for you.

“so, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” you asked, grabbing a fry from your plate. “wrap this one up and hit the road?”

“probably,” dean replied between bites. “unless we get more intel on that death omen case. sam thinks there’s a connection between the two.”

“of course he does,” you said with a laugh. “guy can’t take a win without overthinking it.”

“hey, that overthinking saves our asses sometimes,” dean pointed out, though his tone was more fond than annoyed.

“true. but it also gets him hexed.” you grinned. “remember that time with the chickens?”

dean barked out a laugh, nearly choking on his drink. “oh man, that was gold. i think we have a picture of him running from that rooster somewhere.”

“we should frame it,” you said, smirking. “hang it in the bunker’s library for motivation.”

“you’re evil, you know that?” he remarked, his smug grin widening further.

“takes one to know one,” you shot back, plucking the cherry off of his slice of pie and popping it into your mouth.

your conversations were effortless, the kind of back-and-forth that felt like second nature at this point. it wasn’t until dean reached over and grabbed one of your fries that you gave him a look.

“you’ve got two whole plates,” you said, swatting his hand away.

“what can i say?” he replied, popping the fry into his mouth with zero shame. “yours taste better.”

before you could respond, the waitress returned to drop off the check. she hesitated for a second, then smiled warmly.

“you two are such a cute couple,” she said, her voice casual but sincere.

you froze, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“we are not a couple,” you blurted out, at the exact same time dean said, “yeah, never.”

the waitress blinked, clearly taken aback by your synchronized response. “oh, uh, sorry! my mistake.”

she hurried off, and you stared after her, still processing what just happened.

“well, that wasn’t awkward at all,” dean muttered, reaching for his coffee.

“why does this keep happening?” you asked, more to yourself than to him.

“beats me,” dean said with a shrug, though you caught the flicker of something in his expression - amusement, maybe? “guess we just give off the vibe.”

“the vibe?” you echoed.

“you know.” he waved a hand between the two of you. “like… a vibe.”

“that explains nothing.”

“then i guess it can just be one of life’s great mysteries, sweetheart.”

you tried to let it go, but the waitress’s comment lingered in the back of your mind. it wasn’t the first time someone had assumed you and dean were a couple, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. still, it felt… different this time.

you glanced across the table at dean. he was back to his usual self, leaning against the booth with a lazy grin and a smart remark on the tip of his tongue.

he caught you staring and raised an eyebrow. “what?”

“nothing,” you said quickly, looking away. “just thinking.”

“about what?”

“the hunt,” you lied.

he didn’t press, but you could feel his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to the check.

“you ready to hit the road?” he asked, sliding out of the booth.

“yeah,” you said, grabbing your jacket. “let’s go.”

the drive back to the motel was quiet, the hum of the impala’s engine filling the silence. dean had turned on the radio, and metallica’s prince charming filtered through the speakers. you leaned your head against the window, watching the dark countryside blur past.

“why are you being so damn quiet?” dean said after a while. “i know i’m always complaining about it but it really doesn’t feel right when you’re not yapping my ear off.”

“‘m just tired,” you replied, though that wasn’t entirely true. your mind was still replaying the waitress’s words and the way dean had brushed them off so easily.

“well, get some rest,” he said, his voice softer now. “we’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

“okay, dean.” you nodded, letting your eyes drift shut as baby rumbled on.

the next morning, you were back on the road, this time heading toward a small, rundown cemetery. the salt-and-burn had gone smoothly, but the death omen case was proving to be trickier than expected.

“so what are we looking for?” you asked as dean parked the car near the edge of the cemetery, trying to rub your eyes subtly so he wouldn’t notice your fatigue.

“old journal entries mentioned a spirit tied to a cursed locket,” he said, grabbing his duffel bag. “we find the locket, we find the spirit.”

“sounds easy enough,” you said, though you both knew it rarely was.

the two of you spent the next hour combing through the overgrown graves, your flashlights cutting through the dark.

“anything?” dean called out from a few rows over.

“not yet,” you replied, brushing aside some vines. “but this place gives me the creeps.”

“aww, don’t tell me you’re scared, sweetheart,” dean teased, his grin audible even from a distance.

“you wish,” you shot back, though you couldn’t deny the way your nerves prickled.

as you moved to another section of the cemetery, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone - or something - was watching you.

“dean,” you called out, your voice quieter now.

“yeah? you okay, sweetheart?” his voice softer now, a hint of panic sneaking through.

“i think we’ve got company.”

he was at your side in an instant, his flashlight sweeping the area. “stay close,” he said, his tone serious now.

you nodded, your heart pounding as the shadows seemed to close in around you. whatever was out there, you had a feeling this hunt was about to get a whole lot messier.

the night was heavy with an unnatural stillness, the kind that made your skin crawl. somewhere deep in the shadows of the cemetery, you just knew something was watching you.

you stayed close to dean as the two of you scanned the overgrown headstones, flashlights cutting through the darkness.

“you hear that?” you whispered, your voice barely carrying over the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze.

“hear what?” dean replied, his gaze darting around.

then it came again - a low, guttural moan, echoing through the cemetery like a warning.

“that,” you said, gripping the iron crowbar in your hand a little tighter.

dean’s jaw tensed. “stay behind me,” he muttered, pulling out his gun.

“you know i’m not great at staying behind,” you quipped, though your attempt at humor fell flat against the weight of the moment.

“yeah, i noticed,” he said, flashing you a wry grin despite the tension. “but humor me, darlin’. just this once.”

the two of you moved cautiously toward the source of the sound, your flashlights dancing over moss-covered graves and weathered stone angels. the air grew colder the closer you got, your breath puffing out in visible clouds.

then you saw it - a faint, ghostly figure hovering near an old, crumbling mausoleum. its features were obscured, but its presence was anything but subtle.

“that’s gotta be our spirit,” dean said, his voice low.

“looks like it’s guarding something,” you observed, nodding toward the mausoleum door.

“the locket,” dean guessed.

“how do we get past that thing without getting our faces ripped off?”

“i distract it, you grab the locket,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious plan in the world.

“oh, sure,” you said, rolling your eyes. “because splitting up always works so well for us.” when you looked up at, him he finally noticed the twinge of fear in your tired gaze.

“trust me, sweetheart,” dean said, flashing you a soft smile he hoped appeared reassuring. “i’ve got this.”

against your better judgment, you let dean take the lead. he stepped into the spirit’s line of sight, his gun raised.

“hey, casper!” he called out. “over here!”

the ghost turned toward him, its hollow eyes locking onto his figure. it let out an unearthly wail that sent chills down your spine, then began moving toward him with an unnatural speed.

“anytime now!” dean shouted, firing a round of rock salt to slow it down.

you darted toward the mausoleum, shoving the heavy door open with all your strength. inside, the air was damp and musty, the faint smell of decay clinging to the walls.

your flashlight landed on an old wooden box sitting atop a stone altar. you didn’t have time to think - you grabbed the box and pried it open, revealing the cursed locket inside.

“got it!” you called out, stuffing the locket into your pocket and running back toward dean.

the ghost was still focused on him, though it was clearly losing its patience. dean fired another shot of rock salt, sending it reeling.

“move it, kid!” he yelled, glancing back at you.

“i’m coming!” you shouted, skidding to a halt beside him.

together, you pulled out matches and a small jar of accelerant. you didn’t waste a second, dousing the locket and striking a match.

the moment the flames touched the cursed object, the ghost let out a piercing scream, its form disintegrating into a shower of sparks before disappearing entirely.

“well, that was fun,” dean said, lowering his gun.

“yeah, a real blast,” you replied, still catching your breath.

he turned to you, his expression softening slightly. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you said, nodding. “thanks for the save.”

“always,” he said with a small smile, clapping you on the shoulder. “come on, let’s get out of here before something else decides to show up.”

the drive back to the motel was quieter than usual. the adrenaline from the hunt had worn off, leaving you both exhausted.

“you’re really bad at staying behind,” dean said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“and you’re really bad at not playing the hero,” you shot back.

he glanced at you, his expression somewhere between exasperation and fondness. “you’re gonna get yourself killed one day, you know that?”

“not if you’re around to save me,” you said lightly, though there was an edge of truth to your words.

he didn’t reply, but the way his grip on the steering wheel tightened said enough.

back at the motel, you both collapsed onto your respective beds, the exhaustion from the hunt settling into your bones. the cheap, scratchy sheets were far from comfortable, but you barely noticed, too tired to care.

“you want first shower?” dean asked, already kicking off his boots and wincing at the creak of the bed frame beneath him.

“you take it,” you mumbled, waving him off and stifling a yawn. “i’ll just... lie here for a sec.”

he paused, giving you a look. “you good? you’ve been dragging all day.”

“just tired,” you said quickly, forcing a small smile. “nothing a shower and some sleep won’t fix.”

dean didn’t seem convinced. “you sure? you’ve been looking... kinda rough.” his voice was softer now, almost hesitant. “when’s the last time you actually got a decent night’s sleep?”

“i sleep,” you said, avoiding his gaze by focusing on the ceiling.

“yeah, but do you sleep?” he pressed, gesturing vaguely with one hand. “like, real sleep. out cold. no tossing and turning. none of that zombie stuff.”

“i’m fine, dean,” you said firmly, though your voice lacked any real bite.

he lingered for a moment longer, clearly unconvinced but unsure what else to say. eventually, he grabbed a towel and disappeared into the bathroom with a quiet, “if you say so.”

the sound of the shower running filled the silence, but your mind was louder. it wasn’t that you didn’t want to sleep - it was just that you couldn’t. not really. the hunts, the adrenaline, the nightmares - they all tangled together into a mess you couldn’t quite escape.

you stared at the water-stained ceiling, your thoughts drifting back to the hunt and, inevitably, to dean. the way he’d thrown himself between you and that ghost without hesitation, his instincts sharper than anyone you’d ever met. it wasn’t just about the hunt; it was about him.

you sighed, shaking your head at yourself. this wasn’t the time to overthink things.

when dean emerged from the bathroom, steam trailing after him, his hair damp and sticking up at odd angles, you were still lying in the same spot.

“your turn,” he said, tossing a towel onto your bed.

you groaned, forcing yourself to sit up. “if i fall asleep in there, it’s your fault.”

he smirked, stretching out on his bed and crossing his arms behind his head. “just don’t drown, sweetheart.”

rolling your eyes, you dragged yourself into the bathroom, the hot water doing wonders for your sore muscles and the lingering chill from the hunt. by the time you came out, the room was dark, and dean was already passed out, one arm draped over his face.

you stood there for a moment, watching the rise and fall of his chest, his face relaxed in a way you rarely got to see.

“goodnight, dean,” you murmured softly, pulling a blanket over yourself as you sank onto your bed.

as you lay there, the quiet hum of the motel settling around you, you tried to let the exhaustion take over. but your thoughts wouldn’t quiet, your body still on edge despite how tired you were.

at some point, dean shifted, his voice groggy but unmistakable. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you lied, turning onto your side to face the wall.

“you sure?” his voice was softer now, thick with sleep.

“get some rest, dean,” you mumbled, not trusting yourself to say more.

“right back at you,” he muttered, the faintest hint of concern lingering in his tone before his breathing evened out again.

you closed your eyes, willing yourself to follow his lead, even as your thoughts refused to let you.

a storm rolled in by the time you and dean reached the next job. thick, gray clouds churned overhead as rain hammered against the impala's windshield, the wipers working overtime. the cabin in question - a decrepit thing that looked more haunted than it probably was - loomed at the end of a dirt road.

"of course it's in the middle of nowhere," you muttered, peering at it through the rain.

"yeah, because monsters love suburban neighborhoods," dean said, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he parked the car.

you snorted, unbuckling your seatbelt. "remind me again why we couldn’t tackle this in daylight?"

"because the kid who called us swears the thing only shows up at night," he replied, grabbing his shotgun and tossing you a flashlight. "come on, sweetheart. we’ve got work to do."

the inside of the cabin was worse than the outside. peeling wallpaper, creaky floors, and an unsettling number of broken mirrors made up the interior.

"i'm guessing the shattered mirrors aren't just bad decorating choices," you said, shining your flashlight across the room.

"nope," dean said. "sounds like we're dealing with a vengeful spirit. probably tied to one of these." he gestured to the shards of glass littering the floor.

"great," you muttered. "so, we find the mirror, salt it, and burn it. easy enough."

"you say that now," dean said, smirking as he headed toward the stairs. "but nothing's ever that easy, is it?"

you split up to cover more ground - though not without a bit of grumbling on your part. it was horrible hunting without dean, the anxiety looming over you multiplying by a thousand. the cabin had two floors, plus a creepy basement you were hoping to avoid.

"why do i always get stuck with the creepy basements?" you whined after him as he ascended the stairs.

"because you're the rookie," dean shot back, his grin audible even from a distance.

"oh, real mature," you muttered, making your way toward the basement door, sucking in as many deep breaths as you could manage.

the basement was every bit as awful as you’d imagined. damp, dark, and filled with cobwebs. your flashlight flickered as you descended the creaking stairs, and you swore under your breath.

"if this thing jumps out at me, i’m leaving dean to deal with it solo," you muttered to yourself, sweeping the light across the room.

you spotted an old, ornate mirror leaning against the far wall. it was cracked but still intact - a likely candidate for the spirit's anchor.

"dean, i found something," you said into the walkie-talkie dean had insisted you carry.

"copy that," came his reply. "on my way down. don't touch it."

"wasn't planning on it, boss," you said, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you.

dean joined you a minute later, shotgun in hand. he gave the mirror a once-over, his expression hardening.

"yep, that's the one," he said. "you got the salt?"

you nodded, pulling the bag from your backpack.

"good. i'll cover you," he said, positioning himself between you and the dark corners of the basement.

"you know, for someone who calls me a rookie, you sure don’t trust me to handle things on my own," you teased, pouring the salt over the mirror.

"nah, i trust you," he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "just don’t want you getting yourself killed. i'd miss you too much."

the comment caught you off guard, and you glanced at him, trying to gauge if he was serious. but before you could say anything, the temperature in the room plummeted.

a figure materialized behind dean - a translucent woman with hollow eyes and a twisted expression of rage.

"dean!" you shouted, and he spun around just in time to fire a round of rock salt at her. the spirit screeched, vanishing into thin air.

"you okay?" he asked, turning back to you.

"yeah," you said, your heart pounding. "but she’s definitely not gone for good."

"not until we burn this thing," dean said, nodding toward the mirror.

you struck a match, lighting the accelerant you’d poured over the salt. the mirror went up in flames, and another anguished wail echoed through the basement before fading into silence.

back upstairs, you and dean collapsed onto the dusty couch, both of you breathing heavily.

"you know," you said, leaning your head back, "for a rookie, i think i did pretty well tonight."

dean chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "yeah, you didn’t screw up too bad."

"high praise," you said, feeling fatigue spread over you once more.

he glanced at you, his expression softening in that way that always caught you off guard. "i mean it," he said. "you did good, sweetheart."

you couldn’t tell if it was the exhaustion or the way he said it, but something about the moment felt different. heavier.

"thanks," you said softly, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

before either of you could say anything else, the walkie-talkie crackled to life.

"hey, uh, guys?" sam’s voice came through, tinged with static. "you alive down there?"

"barely," dean replied, grabbing the device. "but the spirit's toast. we'll meet you back at the motel."

"got it," sam said.

the drive back was quiet again, but this time, it wasn’t just the exhaustion. something unspoken lingered between you, making the silence feel heavier than usual.

"so," you said finally, breaking the tension. "you think sam's gonna be mad we didn’t wait for him?"

"nah," dean said, though his smirk suggested otherwise. "he’s used to it by now."

you laughed, shaking your head. "poor guy."

"hey, he knew what he was signing up for," dean said. "besides, he’s probably just glad you didn’t burn the whole cabin down."

"oh, so now i’m a fire hazard?"

"just saying, i’ve seen you with matches," he teased, and you couldn’t help but laugh again.

back at the motel, sam was already poring over research for the next hunt.

"how’d it go?" he asked, barely looking up.

"spirit's gone," dean said, flopping onto one of the beds. "but the place was a real fixer-upper."

"great," sam said, clearly not listening.

"you know, you’re a terrible audience," you said, plopping down beside dean.

sam hummed distractedly, still scrolling through his laptop.

"don’t take it personally, sweetheart," dean said, grinning at you. "he’s just jealous he missed all the action."

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. despite the exhaustion, there was a strange warmth settling in your chest, one you weren’t quite ready to examine too closely.

later that night, after sam had gone to bed, you and dean found yourselves sitting outside the motel, the night air cool and refreshing after the storm.

“you still can’t sleep, huh? we really gotta get that checked out.” dean uttered, breaking the silence. “c’mon kid, what’s got your mind going so crazy?”

"you ever think about, you know, taking a break?" you asked, staring up at the stars, surprised with how he could always clock you so quickly.

"from hunting?" dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

"yeah," you said. "just... doing something normal for once."

he snorted. "normal’s overrated."

"come on," you said, nudging him with your elbow. "you’ve never thought about it? not even a little?"

he was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "maybe," he admitted finally. "but normal’s not in the cards for people like us."

"i guess not," you said softly, though you couldn’t help but wish it were different.

the conversation faded into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled.

"you know," dean said after a while, "you’re not half bad at this whole hunting thing."

"high praise," you said, smiling faintly.

"i mean it," he said, his tone more serious than you expected. "you’ve got guts. most people wouldn’t last a week in this life, but you - "

he stopped, shaking his head like he wasn’t sure how to finish the thought.

"but me?" you prompted, your heart pounding for reasons you didn’t quite understand.

"but you’re different," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

you didn’t know what to say to that, so you didn’t say anything. instead, you let the moment hang between you, heavy and unspoken but somehow perfect in its own way.

the next hunt came quicker than expected - barely two days after the cabin job. a string of disappearances in a sleepy town near a dense forest had drawn your attention. while sam was still digging through lore, you and dean decided to scout the area.

"we’ll take the impala and check out the woods," dean had said, tossing you your jacket.

"because that worked so well last time," you quipped, zipping up your coat.

"what can i say?" he said with a smirk. "i like to live dangerously."

the forest was eerily quiet as the two of you trudged along a narrow dirt path. the afternoon sunlight barely filtered through the thick canopy of leaves above, casting the area in a dim, golden haze.

"you know," you said, stepping over a fallen branch, "i don’t think i’ve ever seen you willingly go for a hike. kind of nice to see you in your natural habitat."

dean shot you a look. "i’ll have you know i’m very outdoorsy."

"oh, sure," you said, grinning. "nothing says 'man of the wilderness' like a guy who packs cheeseburgers for every meal."

"hey, those cheeseburgers keep me alive," he said, pretending to be offended. "besides, you’re one to talk. what’s in your backpack right now? candy bars?"

"no comment," you said, giggling as he shook his head.

you reached a clearing after about an hour of walking. the ground was covered in strange markings - symbols carved into the dirt, arranged in an ominous circle.

"well, that’s not creepy at all," you muttered, crouching to get a closer look.

dean knelt beside you, his brow furrowed. "witchcraft, maybe?"

"maybe," you said. "but why the forest? wouldn’t a house or barn make more sense?"

"maybe they like the fresh air," he said, scanning the area with his flashlight. "either way, we need to be careful. whoever’s behind this probably doesn’t want us poking around."

"yeah, no kidding," you said, standing up and brushing dirt off your hands.

the rest of the day was spent investigating the clearing, but the markings didn’t offer many clues. frustrated, you and dean decided to head back to the motel.

"we’ll regroup with sam, see if he’s found anything," dean said as you walked back to the car.

"do you think this one’s human?" you asked, wide eyed with expectation.

he glanced at you, his jaw tight. "maybe. but something about it feels... off. i don’t like it."

you nodded, falling silent. his instincts were rarely wrong, and if dean was uneasy, you knew better than to dismiss it.

back at the motel, sam had made some progress.

"the symbols in the clearing - they’re part of a summoning ritual," he explained, showing you a dusty old book.

"great," dean said, flopping onto the bed. "so, what are we dealing with? demons? spirits? something worse?"

sam hesitated, glancing between the two of you. "it’s a summoning ritual for a wendigo."

your stomach dropped.

"a wendigo?" you repeated. "seriously?"

"yeah," sam said grimly. "and if the markings in that clearing are any indication, they’re close to finishing the ritual."

"perfect," dean muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

the plan was simple: return to the forest, disrupt the ritual, and kill the wendigo if it had already been summoned.

"simple," you said, your tone dry as you loaded your shotgun.

"hey, it’s worked before," dean said, smirking as he handed you a flare gun.

"yeah, and almost got us killed before," you shot back, though you couldn’t help the fearful expression that broke out on your face.

"what can i say?" he said, shrugging. "we’re good at not dying."

the forest felt different this time - heavier, like the air itself was charged with something dark and unnatural.

"stay close," dean said, his voice low.

"i definitely wasn’t planning on wandering off," you replied, gripping your shotgun tightly.

he shot you a quick glance, his expression softer than you expected. "just... stay close, okay?"

"okay," you said quietly, feeling your heart skip a beat.

the clearing was empty when you arrived, but the symbols on the ground glowed faintly, pulsing with an eerie red light.

"that’s new," dean said, his jaw tightening.

"you think the ritual’s already started?" you asked.

"probably," he said, scanning the area. "we need to move fast."

you started disrupting the symbols, kicking dirt over them while dean poured salt and lighter fluid around the edges.

"almost done," you said, glancing over at him.

but before he could respond, a bloodcurdling roar echoed through the forest.

"guess that answers that," dean muttered, raising his shotgun.

the wendigo burst into the clearing, its pale, emaciated form moving with unnatural speed.

"stay back!" dean shouted, firing a shot that barely slowed it down.

you raised your flare gun, aiming for its chest, but the creature was too fast. before you could fire, it lunged at dean, knocking him to the ground.

"dean!" you screamed, panic surging through you.

he rolled out of the way just in time, his shotgun skidding across the ground.

"shoot it!" he shouted, and you didn’t hesitate.

the flare hit the wendigo square in the chest, igniting it in a burst of flames. it screeched, thrashing wildly before collapsing into a smoldering heap.

dean scrambled to his feet, his breathing ragged.

"you okay?" you asked, rushing to his side.

"yeah," he said, wincing as he rolled his shoulder. "you?"

"fine," you said, though your hands were still trembling.

he gave you a once-over, his eyes lingering on yours. "you did good, sweetheart."

the drive back was quiet, the adrenaline slowly fading. when you finally reached the motel, sam was waiting anxiously.

"did you - "

"it’s dead," dean said, cutting him off.

sam sighed in relief, but his attention quickly shifted to the way dean’s hand lingered protectively on your waist as you headed inside.

later that night, as you sat outside the motel again, dean joined you, a beer in hand.

"that was really scary. are you sure you’re okay?” you admitted, breaking the silence.

"‘m fine, sweetheart,” he said, his tone soft.

"i know," you said, glancing at him. "but still."

he met your gaze, something unspoken passing between you. "you know, you’ve got guts," he said, echoing his words from before.

"so you’ve said," you replied, smiling faintly.

he shook his head, his expression turning serious. "i mean it. you’re different. special."

your breath caught, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak.

"dean - "

"just let me say it," he said, cutting you off.

you nodded, your heart pounding.

"i’ve been doing this job a long time," dean said, his voice low, almost like he was thinking out loud. "and i’m not exactly the kind of guy who’s good at this stuff, but… i like you. more than i probably should."

your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat, but you stayed quiet, letting him keep going.

"it’s not just because you’re super fucking cool or because you can keep up with me," he added, a small smirk tugging at his lips before fading. "it’s because you’re the one person who makes all this crap we deal with feel… worth it."

his gaze locked on yours, steady and serious. "i don’t know what that says about me, but i know i don’t want to screw this up."

tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you bit your lip, refusing to let them fall.

"i… i don’t know what to say," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding in your chest.

"you don’t have to say anything," he replied, his lips twitching into a small, nervous smile.

but you did anyway. "i feel the same way, dean," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

his lips quirked into a small smile. "yeah, baby?"

"yeah," you said, and before you could overthink it, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his.

the first kiss had barely ended, and you still felt breathless, the taste of him lingering like honey. you pulled back just enough to meet dean’s eyes, your hands still clutching the front of his jacket as if letting go wasn’t an option. he looked at you with a softness that felt rare, his usual bravado replaced by something raw, unguarded.

"so," you began, trying to find words that didn’t feel ridiculous in a moment like this, "i - "

but dean leaned in again, cutting you off with another kiss, this one slower but somehow even more consuming.

"dean," you mumbled against his lips, trying to catch a breath, but his hands cupped your jaw, tilting your face up toward him as if the conversation could wait - like anything else in the world could matter right now.

"mm-hmm?" he hummed, not pulling back. his mouth moved to the corner of your lips, then your cheek, trailing down to your jaw.

"i’m trying to - " you started again, only to dissolve into laughter as he pressed a kiss to the spot just below your ear, his stubble grazing your skin in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

"nah, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "you’re not trying to do anything but stay right here."

you laughed harder, the sound bright and almost giddy, your chest shaking against his. you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this light, this happy.

"dean," you said again, still giggling, "let me talk!"

"nope," he said, his grin audible even as he kissed the side of your neck. "’m way too busy."

"dean!" you squealed, trying to push him back, but he was relentless, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you close.

"what could possibly be more important than this?" he asked, finally pulling back just enough to look at you. his smile was cocky, but his eyes were warm, filled with a tenderness that made your stomach flip.

you opened your mouth to respond, but instead, a strange mix of a laugh and a sob came out, and suddenly you were crying - just a little, just enough that he noticed.

his face changed immediately, his smile dropping as he cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had escaped.

"hey," he said softly, his brows knitting together. "what’s wrong? fuck… ‘m sorry baby, i - "

you shook your head quickly, the absurdity of the question making you laugh again, even as more tears fell. "no, no, it’s not that. i’m not upset, i swear."

"you’re crying, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and concerned. "that usually means something’s wrong."

"i’m happy, you idiot," you said, laughing through the tears.

he blinked, his hands still holding your face, as if trying to process the words. "happy?"

"yes, happy," you said, your voice cracking a little as he wiped at your cheeks. "like... stupidly, ridiculously happy. i just - i didn’t think this would ever happen."

his expression softened in a way that made your heart ache. "you really thought i wouldn’t want this?"

"i didn’t know," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "i mean, it’s not like you’re exactly forthcoming with your feelings, dean."

he let out a breathy laugh, his forehead pressing gently against yours. "yeah, well, you’re not wrong there."

his hands slid down to your waist, holding you close as he looked at you, his green eyes searching your face like he was trying to commit every detail to memory.

"but for the record," he said, his voice serious now, "this? you? it’s all i’ve wanted for a long time."

your breath caught, and before you could respond, he was kissing you again, his lips soft but insistent, as if he was making up for lost time.

this time, you didn’t try to pull back or say anything. you just let yourself fall into it, your fingers tangling in his hair as his hands slid up your back, holding you like you might disappear if he let go.

when he finally broke the kiss, his lips barely left yours, and he stayed close enough that you could feel his breath against your skin.

"still happy?" he asked, a teasing edge creeping back into his voice.

you laughed, your forehead resting against his. "stupidly, ridiculously happy."

"good," he said, his hands slipping under the hem of your shirt to rest against your waist, his touch warm and grounding. "because i’m not letting you go now, sweetheart."

"bold of you to assume i’d want you to," you teased, smiling up at him.

"damn right," he said, his grin returning as he leaned in for another kiss, and this time, you didn’t even try to stop him.

ᰔ dean winchester : @person-005

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

Hi mae! I love eveything you write!! Kind of in a similar vein to doctor!remus i wanted to request poly!marauders where they are emt’s and they respond to a call where reader is injured and when they arrive to help reader is just super flustered and shy because there are three very sweet and attractive and charming men she doesn’t know taking care of her

Thanks lovely!

part 1 | part 2

Cw: car accident aftermath, concussion, blood, and definitely some smutty implications but nothing that would fluster your grandmother, also maybe don’t read if medical inaccuracies will piss you off because I can almost guarantee this is riddled with them (I am but a girl)

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.7k words

Someone else must have called emergency services, because the first thing you hear is sirens. Your car is smoky—that can’t be safe, can it?—and you ache, and the shaking of your hands makes them frustratingly inefficient at undoing the buckle of your seatbelt.

The sirens get louder and then stop. The ruckus you can hear but not see outside of your smashed windshield increases, and there’s a warm wetness on your face, getting in your eyes. You reach up to swipe at it. The door next to you opens.

“Hi.” A curly mop of hair attached to a smiling face pops in your driver’s door. “How we doing?”

You inhale shakily. “All right.”

His grin goes lopsided, brown eyes skimming over your form. “Well, at least you’ve got a good attitude. We’re gonna get you out of here in just a second, but first can you tell me what’s hurting you?”

You blink. Things seem to be moving oddly slowly. Every inch of you trembles. “Is my car going to blow up?”

The paramedic’s eyebrows raise. You hear something on your opposite side but can’t be bothered to look. “We don’t think so. Are you asking because of the powder?”

He must mean the smoky stuff swirling about your car. You try to nod, but it hurts, and the man puts a gloved hand to your neck to stop you.

“No no, don’t move,” he cautions.

“That’s just powder from the airbags,” a voice on your other side says, and the paramedic makes a small sound of protest when you turn your head to find it. There’s another one leaning in the open door on your passenger side. He’s got fluffy brown hair lighter than the first’s and a large scar on one side of his face which stretches as his eyebrows bunch. “Can you tell us what hurts, please?”

“My head,” you answer, bringing a quivering hand to your breastbone. “A—and my chest.”

“No pain in your neck or back?” The first, darker paramedic asks, and when you confirm he nods approvingly. “Well, some of that might come later, but that’s good enough for now. All right, sweetheart, do you think you can stand?”

“Yeah,” you say, sounding uncertain even to your own ears. He grasps your forearm in one hand while wrapping another around your back, helping you out of your seat.

As soon as you’re through the door there’s another set of gloved hands on your opposite arm. You look up to see a third man, slighter than the others, helping the first carry you a short distance to a gurney.

And daylight is something else. Your head and chest hurt worse than before, but it doesn’t help that you very nearly stop breathing when you take in the sight of the three paramedics who have surrounded you.

“Can you tell us what you remember from the accident?” The second one, the one who’d come through your passenger door—you can see in the sunlight that he has more scars than just the one, though he’s no less beautiful for it—asks. There’s a gentleness to the set of his brows as he frowns at you, pressing something to your forehead.

A policeman makes to approach you, and the curly-headed one turns, taking on a sternness that doesn’t suit him as he wards the other man off with a hand and a few quiet words.

“Hey.” The scarred paramedic brings your attention back to him. “Do you know what happened?”

“I…” Fuck, you can’t tell if you’re woozy from whatever’s happening with your head or just the attention from the three of them. They’re moving you, other people and cars passing in your periphery as they wheel the gurney towards an ambulance. “I wrecked my car?”

The third paramedic laughs, the sound sharp and crisp despite the general fuzziness surrounding you. He’s got longish, inky black hair tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. “It’s not a trick question, dollface. And the state of your car isn’t really what we’re worried about right now.”

“Sirius,” the scarred one chides. You think distantly that Sirius is an odd name. Unique and pretty-sounding. “Do you remember if you fell asleep, love?”

You want to shrink away from his attentive stare, but his hand on your forehead holds you in place. “I’m not sure,” you say. “Was there—are the people in the other car okay?”

“Pretty sure she was just waking up when I got to her,” the first paramedic says, curls bouncing slightly as he stations himself by your feet and helps lift the gurney into the back of the ambulance. “Yeah, sweetheart, everyone else is alright. Might be a bit sore tomorrow, but signing refusals of treatment as we speak. Do you feel sick?”

Actually, maybe it’s the speed of the conversation that’s making you woozy. “No?”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” he jokes. “That’s okay, just let us know if you do.” He flashes you another dazzling smile.

You think you might return it, but then light hits your eyes and you wince instead.

“You’re okay,” the dark haired one—Sirius, you remember—reassures you. “I’m just going to shine this in your eyes really quickly. Try to keep them open for me?”

You do your best, and he works swiftly as promised, flashing the bright white beam into one eye and then the other before clicking it off with a gentle pat to your knee.

“Definitely concussed,” he says to the other two. Excellent.

“Okay, I’m just going to close this up for now,” the scarred one explains, voice low and soothing as he removes whatever he’s been holding to your head. “It looks like you’ll need stitches, but I need to stop the bleeding until we can get those done, yeah? It might feel like little pinches.”

“Okay,” you say, voice embarrassingly shaky from the tender way he’s holding your head in his hands. “Thank you.”

He smiles. The effect is dizzying, scars pulling taut as the severity melts from his features. “You’re welcome, lovely,” he says softly. “How’d this happen, then? Did you hit your head on the steering wheel?”

You try to remember. “I guess so. I’m…not sure.”

“That’s okay,” Sirius promises you. “James, can you check out that chest pain while I get a pulse?”

The first one, who hasn’t seemed to stop smiling despite what you consider a fairly grim circumstance—though you imagine it might be run-of-the-mill in his line of work—steps to your side. The three of them move around each other so fluidly, like they can anticipate the other’s movements. Practice, you suppose. “All right, darling,” he says, the endearment rolling off his tongue with a self-assuredness you can’t relate to, and your face warms in response, “do you mind if I move your top down a bit so I can have a look?”

You feel suddenly lightheaded. You try to nod, but the scarred one tsks at you, holding your head still with lithe fingers as he works on your cut. Thankfully, James seems to catch your meaning anyway. He’s exceedingly gentle as he wraps his fingers around the neckline of your top, pulling it into a V in the center of your chest. You follow it down with your gaze. The red line that stretches diagonally across the flat of your chest feels somewhat anticlimactic considering the deep ache that emanates from it, but James hisses sympathetically.

“Ow,” Sirius agrees. “Yeah, looks like the seatbelt got you.”

You try very, very hard not to think about how they’re all looking at your naked chest, all speaking to you so kindly, all touching you in their different ways. If you think too hard about any of it, you might actually die.

“Tell me if this hurts, alright?” James looks at you before pressing down lightly with his palm.

You start to gasp from the pain but then that hurts even worse, and your face scrunches in agony.

“Sorry, sorry.” He removes his hand hastily, putting your top back in place. “All done with that, love. It hurts when you breathe in, huh?”

“Yeah,” you affirm croakily.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says again, touching your shoulder with an apologetic smile. You’d never been mad, but you go ahead and forgive him anyway for looking at you so sweetly. “I’m going to feel if your ribs are broken, okay? I won’t push down again.”

You don’t have the breath to give an assent and he doesn’t wait for one, slipping a large palm under your shirt—what you wouldn’t give to have that happen under different circumstances—and feeling about your sides tenderly.

The scarred paramedic’s touch lifts from your forehead. “Okay, that’s all set. Let’s get you out of here, hm?”

“You driving, Rem?” Sirius asks, and you notice he’s finished taking your pulse but hasn’t let go of your hand, thumb stroking the inside of your wrist soothingly.

“Mhm,” the scarred one—Rem—replies, putting away some supplies. “Did you confirm she’s in shock?”

“Yup.”

“Start an IV,” Rem instructs, and Sirius scoffs like yeah, I know and waves him off. You almost laugh at the easy familiarity of it.

“Why do you think I’m in shock?” you ask as Rem hops out the back, presumably going to the driver’s side.

Sirius softens. “Your pulse is a riot, pretty girl. Plus, you’re shaking like a leaf and you’ve gone a tiny bit blue” —he taps your lips with his forefinger— “right here.”

You could pass out now. That’d be alright with you.

James straightens, having already run his fingers probingly over both your sides. “Alright, we might have a couple of small fractures, but nothing too dire. Can I see your arm, love?”

You give it to him unthinkingly, but tense when he starts feeling about the soft crook of your elbow with overly kind fingers. You’d think the effect of his touch would have diminished after he’d finished feeling you up underneath your shirt, but evidently not.

“You’re okay.” Sirius mistakes your shyness for nervousness about the IV, wrapping his fingers around your chin and turning you gently to face him. His cupid bow flattens when he gives you a small smile and a shorter piece of his dark hair has slipped free of its confines, brushing his cheekbone. “You’re okay, doll. Jamie’s a pro, yeah? Just keep your eyes on me.”

Well, if he’s gonna insist.

2K notes · View notes

dearlyd3parted · 24 days ago

Text

half agony, half smoke | k. jongseob x reader

syp☆彡: kim jongseob has a problem. well, lots of them actually. his lighters never last long, his friends keep pestering him, he’s recently discovered he’s a lot more of an outsider than he thought he was, and the librarian is doing something strange to his heart.

word count: 14.4k

warnings: delinquent!jongseob (as i have pegged it) x librarian!reader .. 18+, nsfw, does contain smut at the end, minors do not interact! light angst (gets resolved quick dw), mentions of smoking (devils lettuce), drinking, some profanity.

⛓️authors note : debut fic lol !! this is v self indulgent, i love jongseob killing it era and i love books how can you blame me(^_^) havent written fic in forever and used to be an ao3 author, only proofread once so pls be nice!! i hope to open requests in the future :3 hope u love!

🏷️: #p1harmony fanfic #p1harmony smut #kim jongseob #i love this one #pls love it too

“Out of all of us…I think Jongseob’s the worst.”

Is what came out in chuckles from Keeho’s mouth, followed by 4 other snickers and remarks of agreement. Jongseob, in question, was staring at the ceiling in a daze, when the statement made him bring his half lidded gaze back to his friends.

“The worst? How, hyung?” Jongseob said with a growing smirk, his body sunk into the couch as a familiar wave of relaxation took over him.

It was a typical weekday night, at least for Jongseob and his friends it was. They had just finished band practice, which usually consisted of running through a small setlist and messing around in the studio, which was just a small corner with all their necessary equipment in Theo’s basement. Oh, and of course the obligatory blunt (or two…or three) that they passed around after every practice like some sort of closing ritual.

Keeho was sprawled on the floor, joined by Shota, when he propped up on his elbow to stare at Jongseob with the same half lidded eyes. “You’re a total…delinquent.” He began, receiving nods from others. “I mean, we all are, I guess. But you’re like…especially worse.”

Following that statement came sounds of mmmm’s, indicating agreement from the other equally stoned guys in the room. And, well now Jongseob’s entire high was ruined.

He sat up to look around and couldn’t believe his barely opened eyes that these guys were mutually agreeing that he was the most misbehaved out of them all. Not when he’s seen Theo and Intak play a garage show for one of those stupidly large buzz balls. Now he was offended.

“Worse?” He spat with a puzzled look knitted in his eyebrows. “What do you mean? I’m not even in the top three in this room.”

Keeho snickered, joined by Intak who now took responsibility in explaining to Jongseob this twisted agenda that was being spread. “Dude, Come on. You’re the youngest, for starters.” He said as he took a drag, the neatly rolled blunt resting in his fingers. “So automatically you’ve got that edge to you…You were in the back of a cop car once. Theo had to call and pretend to be your dad, remember?”

Jongseob stared at him with thin, offended eyes as the blunt was passed down to soul, and apparently the shit-talk-jongseob baton to Keeho as he took over. “I definitely remember that. You're also addicted to those little pens, even though we tell you those things are bad for you. Let’s see…you fought throughout like all of your freshman and sophomore year. No idea how you graduated, by the way.”

Jongseob scoffed, running his hand through messy hair as he looked at the ceiling. “That was so long ago.”

“Whatever, you still did it.” Keeho retorted, giggling at soul puffing his cheeks with smoke. “What else……..oh! There was also your graffiti phase, too. Although we can’t get on you too much for that one. Sometimes you cuss like a sailor, You’re a little asshole to all of us. Aaaand…You’re failing community college. Even Jiung and Theo, and I have music degrees, man.”

Jongseob was passed the blunt from Shota (not so much passing as Jongseob snatching it) and took a long, hard drag before he shook his head and spoke. “Music degrees, wow. You’re gonna be baristas.”

Theo clicked his tongue and let out an annoyed sound as he looked over at an unbothered Jiung and very bothered Keeho. “See, little asshole.”

Shota, who out of he and Jiung would be most likely to defend Jongseob, finally sighed. “I don’t know Seob, that’s pretty bad.”

Jongseob was just irritated now. Cause honestly, if he began listing everything this bunch has done, himself excluded, they’d be there for an hour. Only because he was the youngest, and maybe a little snarkier, and maybe caring the least for any type of school or employment outside of music, was he named the biggest delinquent. What it was was, “Bullshit. You guys are all on your high horse but I’m really not bad.”

The next pillar who was meant to defend Jongseob came crumbling down, leaving his foundation crumbled and turned to dust as Jiung spoke up. “Jongseob…when was the last time you read a book?”

Jongseob stayed quiet, the question catching him off guard, and just as he was about to answer, Intak cut him off. “No comic books don’t count.”

He made a point to blow smoke in his face as he rebuttled, “Shota literally reads comic books, too.”

Keeho waved him off, a hand patting Shota’s head. “Shota’s just different. Whatever, the point remains. Not like you can help it though. You’re younger than all of us, so you’re going to be less mature. Now pass the blunt, it’s my turn.”

Jongseob shooed away the hand that was reaching for it, leaning back and looking at the ceiling, the blunt following his mouth. “Screw off, roll a new one.”

★彡

It had been maybe a day later when Jongseob found himself holding onto the rail of a train headed to an outer district of the city, known for housing one particular facility.

The library.

He had his headphones on, trying to bob his head to the song he was listening to, but he kept asking himself the same question. It was in only a few short minutes that he decided to grab his go-to dark wash jeans from the floor and any tank top that went with it, and make his way to the train station to go to the library.

But, the question was none other than why?

The truth is, every man has an insatiable ego, and Jongseob was not going to let it be bruised due to “being too much of a delinquent”, all at the fault of the epitome of rebellion themselves. (His dear, dear friends.)

So, he was going to read a book, damnit.

He didn’t care which, truly. Unfortunately, their statements had held true. Jongseob vaguely remembers reading a random chapter book back in his 6th year, but that was the last he had seen of that. Any book that he ever gave the light of day to were in fact comic books, and maybe he’d occasionally read a paragraph or two if one of his favorite artists had a written interview.

He didn’t care what book he read, he just needed to read something. As long as it was profound and complex and pretentious and educational or whatever, it would do the job of rubbing it in his friends face that he was more well rounded than they made him out to be.

That is the goal he was laser focused on as he stepped off the train, walking the short distance through the city and pushing through the heavy doors of the library, despite every bone in his body rejecting the idea.

He took a deep breath as he walked in, fumbling to turn off the music leaking from his headphones as it contradicted the quiet environment. Jongseob made his way to the front desk, suddenly conscious of every noise he made. Did the library require pin silence, or just no talking? Hell if he knew.

The front desk was empty. Momentarily, Jongseob searched for a bell, but realized that would be quite counter productive in this setting.

But, he didn’t have to search for long. He could hear shuffling behind the wall, coming from the room behind the front desk that said “archives” on the plaque. He looked down, and saw the belongings of someone who was there, surely someone was working.

Jongseob cleared his throat after a few seconds, deciding he had no choice but to call out, and so he did. “S’there someone back there?”

The shuffling stopped for a second, and continued, as a female voice could be heard. “Uh, yes! I’ll be out in a moment.”

Jongseob ran a hand over his neck before leaning on the counter. So, apparently it is okay to talk that loud in libraries. He struggled in stifling an annoyed groan as all that ran through his mind was that he didn’t want to be here longer than he needed to. But, alas, he had to see it through.

He lifted his head up from his shoes, staring at the wall that separated him and the librarian. “I just need to know…what uh…what books are the most important, you know? Like, what had the most impact or something.”

A sigh and continued shuffling could be heard as the librarian continued tending to what she was doing. “Oh, so…like the most influential? Um, I personally would say authors like Homer, Tolstoy, Voltaire, Plato, Dostoyevsky, they definitely have some of the most important books written. Something everyone should read.”

The librarian seemed to be fond of the question, but Jongseob wasn’t particularly fond of the answer, considering all of those names already sounded complicated.

A thud could be heard from the back, “But you also can’t forget the women authors that shaped literature. Toni Morrison, Jane Austen, the Brontë sisters…” The librarian rambled.

Jongseob was already discouraged, his head leaning on his hand. He was almost close to walking off, accepting his delinquent and classic stoner title, when the librarian stopped shuffling. Footsteps could be heard and out emerged you.

When Jongseob thought of a librarian, he thought of a middle aged lady, one who needed to desperately get laid and interact with someone other than her cats. Not a girl his age (who looked way too bright), with a sweet smile plastered on her face.

Jongseob stood up straight from where he was leaning, watching as you straightened out your clothes, and pushed up your glasses. You had a look of understanding, like you knew Jongseob was lost and clearly needed some elaboration on every word that had just come out of your mouth.

“Though, all those names can be a lot if you’ve never heard them before…” You said, your hands resting on the counter as Jongseob took in every aspect of you.

Your hair, braided to the side with strands sticking out in a perfect almost intentional way. Your eyes, doe-like and big, as if you could talk about this all day, even with someone like Jongseob. Your clothes, soft and delicate, nothing like Jongseob’s style, yet just so fitting on you. There seemed to be only one thought running rampant in his mind now as he processed all of these micro details.

Damnit, she is so cute.

Jongseob was interrupted from his thoughts as you spoke again. “I would recommend The great gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald to start off, and Animal Farm by George Orwell. Those are always the easiest to digest.”

Jongseob was too entranced to even care about the fact that you already knew he was too stupid to read any of the authors you had stated at first. He was almost too distracted to answer, but he managed to anyway as he swallowed the fluster in his throat. “Uh, okay, yeah. Great Gatsby…Animal Farm. Where can I find those?”

You pushed away from the counter, ducking down and leaving Jongseob’s sight. And strangely, it took everything in him to not lean over the counter to watch, but he didn’t have to as you popped shortly after, startling him into leaning back a little.

“Lucky for you, I haven’t put these back on the shelf. Here,” You said, pushing the books towards him, “You can read the backs!”

Jongseob reached out, picking up The Great Gatsby first, breathing in deeply before he started to read, already worried about seeming like a dumbass.

He began to skim through the paragraph in the back. A skim, because he would read a few words, think about it, and look up at you as sneakily as he could. By the time he remembered what he had to be doing, he had lost his place, and skipped a few words as he repeated this method.

Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald's third book…She’s pretty…Jazz Age…Generations of readers….She’s not doing anything, but she’s pretty…A Story of the fabulously wealthy Jay Gatsby and his love for the beautiful Daisy Buchanan…Can she see me looking?…Lavish parties…"gin was the national drink and sex the national obsession,"…God, I think she saw me stare…Exquisitely crafted tale…1920s….one of the great classics of twentieth-century literature.

As Jongseob started to lower the book from his line of view, you took note, stopping from scanning the barcodes of recently returned books to look at him. “What’d you think?” You asked him enthusiastically, genuinely curious to know.

Jongseob stayed quiet for a few seconds, partly because he was trying to process both what he just read, but also that you were standing in front of him again and he shouldn’t be this nervous. “Uh…so it’s, about parties? And some guy who’s in love with a girl?”

Hearing the extremely simplified yet somehow accurate summarization of the book from Jongseob, you giggled, the back of your hand coming to your mouth momentarily before looking back at him with a smile. Jongseob should NOT have felt so many emotions from a simple laugh. “Pretty much. But, like it said, super fancy parties. Not like the regular house parties we know.”

Jongseob pulled his gaze to the counter, placing it down as his rings made a noise grazing the wooden surface, still recovering from the sound of your laugh. “I don’t go to parties, so…don’t know what they’re like, but I’ll keep that in mind.” Jongseob said, before his eyes darted up to you. Why’d he say that? Was that rude, awkward, or worse, stupid? Why does he want you to know he doesn’t go to parties? I mean, he doesn’t, but is he already trying to convince you he’s not as much of a jackass as he looks?

Either way, you had definitely taken him as the type to go to parties, and that was evident by the way your eyes widened a little. Just subtly enough that if Jongseob wasn’t staring right at them, he might have not noticed. “Ah, I see,” you say through a smile, “I don’t either, but still, you’ll see the difference!”

You pushed the other book towards him, Jongseob watching your every movement. “Read the other! I think this one is the more interesting of the two!”

Jongseob nods, picking up the back of Animal Farm, prying his eyes off of you as he breathes and prepares himself for another synopsis with unnecessarily big words. With an internal sigh, he tries to shake off any surrounding thoughts to get a better grasp on this one.

A farm is taken over by its overworked, mistreated animals. With flaming idealism and stirring slogans, they set out to create a paradise of progress, justice, and equality. Thus the stage is set for one of the most telling satiric fables ever penned—a razor-edged fairy tale for grown-ups that records the evolution from revolution against tyranny to a totalitarianism just as terrible.

Jongseob can just tell his eyebrows are a little contorted. Despite not having an absolute grasp on what exactly tyranny and totalitarianism was, what he got from that was some poorly treated animals took over a farm, and somehow started to run it themselves? He wondered for a second if he was still high from yesterday, before you entered and cleared any confusion.

“Yeah, that one can seem a bit odd,” you said as you walked back over to him. “But, it is in fact about farm animals who take over their farm. Just with the added element of how power corrupts. I swear, it’s interesting once you start it up.”

Jongseob looks down at it, using every part of his brain that was tied to memory as he tried to pick apart the word totalitarianism. “So what, the animals turn into like, Stalin and all those other guys?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Yeah, just like that actually! George Orwell wanted the book to be an allegory, or a…hidden message, that represents the Russian revolution.”

Jongseob nods, a more smug look on his face knowing that he accidentally hit it on the dot. If only keeho could see him right now. It quickly turned into him looking like an idiot however, as not only could he simultaneously not stop looking at you but not holding eye contact, but he also wanted to hear you talk more, with no clue what to say. He was such a loser, why can’t he speak? You were just a girl, after all. What should he say? Does he even say anything? Can you tell that he’s nervous? And again, he shouldn’t be this nervous-

“So, you want to check them out? I can do that for you.” You said as his thoughts whirled, reminding him that he was standing in a public library.

Jongseob rubs the back of his neck and nods as he manages to slow his heart rate. “Yeah, I’ll take them.”

The next few minutes are spent with you and Jongseob going back and forth. Asking if he has a library card, Jongseob says yes, not wanting you to think this is the first time he’s ever been around a book, but he actually doesn’t know. You ask him for his number, put it in the system, and it turns out he doesn’t actually have a card.

Eventually, Jongseob ends up with a library card and Animal Farm and The Great Gatsby checked out under his name. As you slided the books back over to him, telling him he was all set with that stupidly sweet smile, he froze.

“So, how long do you think these will take me to read?”

He doesn’t know why he said anything, when he could’ve just bid you farewell and been on his merry way. Well, actually, he does know. He needed to talk to you more, and blurted the first question to come up in his mind. It’s just embarrassing to admit.

You tilted your head at him, thinking about it with inquisition, “Hm, well they’re both only a little over 100 pages…How long did it take you to read your last book?”

He really should’ve just walked away.

“Maybe…like a week.”

Lies. Such a lie. He could only pray the questions stopped there.

“And how long was it?”

Jongseob paused, pretending to think about it, but in his mind scrambling for any impressive number. Over 200 pages was good right? No, too little. 300? 500?

“Um…I think around, 620…?”

You didn’t have to know 6 represented the number of members in his band, and 20 derived from the number that represents his favorite substance.

But of course, you believed him. Having no reason to doubt, really. Looking pleasantly surprised, you nodded. “That’s pretty good! I think both should definitely take you no more than a week.”

If Jongseob already wasn’t feeling embarrassed, he was now also overwhelmed with annoyance. Less than a week implied a few days, and he had never spent more than 10 minutes reading. Still, he tried his best to feign indifference, nodding his head. “Alright, well, thank you.”

You waved at him as he pushed away from the counter. “Anytime! I look forward to hearing your thoughts!”

Jongseob smiled politely, and turned around to walk away, swearing that he let go of a breath he had been holding since he walked in.

His headphones slipped back on as he recalled everything that had just happened. Not only does he now have two books in his hand that are definitely biting off more than he can chew, he interacted with the prettiest girl who he has seen in a while, but likely made a fool of himself and lied straight to her face.

He shook his head, wishing he could slap himself as he clenched on the books and swearing he would take this to the grave. Only the lord knew if his friends found out it would never die down.

Yeah, he was never coming back. And he certainly wasn’t reading these snoozefests. Jongseob had accepted defeat.

★彡

It had only been four days since he came that the blonde boy was back.

You have always loved reading. For most people, reading was something that they just had to do throughout school. Ever since you remember though, reading was never just a chore.

Since you were old enough, you made it your life’s mission to read whatever you could get your hands on. Prose, Poems, Novels, Biographies, Memoirs, Trilogies, Nonfiction, Fiction, Plays, and everything and anything in between.

If that made you a goody-two-shoes or not, you didn’t care. You were simply too busy immersing yourself in everything the well educated in society had to say, whether it was recent or from 500 years ago.

You always knew you wanted to pursue a type of career where you would somehow be involved in written media, in any way, shape, or form. Therefore, when an internship for a weekday program as an assistant librarian presented itself, you were all over the opportunity.

The job was going well. Afterall, you were getting paid to be surrounded by what you loved most. Sure, there would always be the rather fascinating people that you had to handle, but that came along with any job.

Jongseob, as the name on his file states, was certainly one of them.

It was odd enough that someone was asking for book recommendations with the criteria of being ‘the most important, you know?,’ but to continue to have a roller coaster of a conversation, bouncing from parties to hearing he allegedly read over 600 pages in a week.

You like to believe that literature always found people in life when they needed it. And throughout the time you spent at the library, you had come across many different characters reaching that point of their lives.

But never someone like Jongseob. Someone who looked like he was out of a rock band, throwing or attending the heaviest ragers in town during the weekends, and overall being what society liked to call an outsider. Someone who was pushing through the wooden double doors of the library and making a b-line to the front desk with books in hand you thought you’d never see again.

You smiled up at him from your computer, surely he wouldn’t be here for long if he was back so soon.

“Hello again? Didn’t like the books?” You said, watching him as he leaned against the counter again, taking in his what seemed to be classic dazed appearance adorned with baggy all black and a chain or two. Yeah, surely he was just dropping them off.

“Nah, I finished them…I have…lots of questions, though.”

That, you certainly weren’t expecting.

Regardless of how shocking the news may be, you were ecstatic. Not only that you had helped encourage a new person to read, but this person now had questions. Even someone like him. You beamed as you stood up to stand in front of him eager for this. “I’m sure I have answers.”

Jongseob seemed to ground himself with a sigh as he grabbed ‘Animal Farm’ in his hands. “You were right, this one was interesting when I started. So…was that one pig Napoleon, he really trained those puppies just so he could gain power?”

You nodded as you looked down and back at him, finding the curiosity and questioning in his face pretty…..endearing. “Uh, yeah, seems like it. And also as a way of keeping the rest of the farm scared,” You explained with a smile.

Jongseob nodded in understanding, his eyes narrowing as he searched for his next words. “I don’t get why Boxer was so loyal…I mean, I get he was dumb and all…but even then he couldn’t see what was happening, you know?”

You hummed in understanding, noting the way he waited for your word. “Well…since the book is an allegory to the Russian revolution, Boxer is supposed to be the Russian working class. They weren’t dumb…just tricked into doing work, similar to Boxer.”

This time it was Jongseob’s turn to nod as he looked down at the book, and this time seeming to have a much better grasp on the conversation as the first time he came around. “It was…it was pretty alright. I think it’s cool he did that, the author.” Jongseob began as he looked up, his hands tapping on the counter as he spoke to you with intrigue.

“He made the revolution easy to understand through a story about…pigs. That’s pretty cool, honestly. Cause I definitely didn’t understand any of that in sch-…….” Jongseob was saying before he seemed to freeze, his expression going sheepish as he stopped himself from finishing his sentence. “Um, yeah. Good book.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the save. Clearly, before this book, he hadn’t had a clue what happened during any revolution for that matter. Yet he didn’t want to let you know that. Perhaps from embarrassment, or an attempt to impress you. For some very odd reason, you were hoping it was the latter. You motioned to the second book at the counter, “What about great gatsby?”

Jongseob blinked himself to his default before he put down Animal Farm, switching the subject to the second book he read. “That one was ... .it was…not complicated but…hard to sit though?” He said, looking up to meet your eyes to check if that hadn’t hopefully passed as a ‘it was majorly confusing.’ “It’s about…money, right? Or…how people obsess too much over it and stuff.”

You nodded eagerly in approval, happy that even if he could barely get through it, he at least took away the most important aspect of the book. “Yeah! It played with the ideas of old money and new money, but at the end of the day, money was a major theme.”

Jongseob’s shoulders relaxed as if he had passed a quiz, and he leaned against the counter with a less tense demeanor. “So the Gatsby guy, he threw all those parties for Daisy. But…I don’t know. How could he expect a girl he dated for a month to wait 5 years for him?”

You pondered the question. It typically wasn’t one people asked, but he had a point. “He thought their love was strong enough, I guess. Maybe it was at some point, but not when they met 5 years later.

His face contorted a bit, as his head tilted like a confused animal. “She clearly didn’t love Tom either.” He remarked, and it was amusing how the conversation could pass as two people discussing a cheesy romance novel.

You shrugged and hummed in agreement with him. “No, but, greater than the love she once had for Gatsby, she loved the wealth and status Tom could give her more.”

Jongseob scoffed standing straighter up as both his palms rested on the counter. It was nice to see someone feeling everything that Fitzgerald likely wanted the reader to feel from the book, but somehow comedic to see that Jongseob almost seemed to be taking it personally. “That’s fu-, I mean, that’s messed up. How weird do you have to be to choose that over love? Gatsby was loaded too. And then, letting Gatsby get killed for Myrtle's death, when she was driving? I don’t think she ever loved him, honestly.”

It wasn’t the first time you talked to someone about books like this, but maybe the first that it was to someone your age that looked like this and seemed to be just as into it as you are. That made it all the more exciting. “My favorite part of that book was the last chapter. I think it really ties it all together how Gatsby had all these socialites, luxury, material things around him, but no one came to his funeral. Really makes you think, right?”

Jongseob nodded, a small turn in the corner of his mouth as he looked at you. “Yeah, it really did.” Jongseob said as he slid the books across to you, “I guess I’ll…return these now.” He said with an expression you couldn’t quite place.

You took the books back with a smile, making quick work of scanning them as you spoke. “I hope my picks weren’t too boring, but…in terms of most ‘important’, those are definitely a must.”

He stood with a hand on his neck, staring at you with pursed lips as you finished scanning his books. “Is there…a section where I can find more…?”

Your eyes brightened as you looked up at him, processing his question before feeling a smile come across your face. “More? Ah…well, the classic literature shelf. That’s where these came from.”

If you weren’t reading him so intensely, you wouldn’t have noticed the red tinge of color on his complexion, as he ran a hand through his hair. “Could you show me where?”

It was such a simple request, but it made your body stutter, almost as if you were nervous. When really, this was simply another visitor of the public library who it was your job to help. There was really no need to be nervous. I mean, he was just a guy with a grunge look to him (and not importantly, a flustered mess) that came in looking like a problem, but turned out to be one of the most recipient and easiest people to converse with. Nothing special.

“Yeah! I can show you!” You said as you stood up, going around the counter to motion at Jongseob to follow you.

When he had reached you and you began to lead him, he was taller than you expected, reaching over you only a little, but enough for it to be noticed. But not important. Also unimportantly, he smelled clean with a certain musk to him, in a good way. Again, Unimportant.

Jongseob followed the few feet with his hands in his pockets, stopping abruptly just next to you as you stood in front of the beefy shelf with your hands spread out. “This is it! I can leave you to it.” You said, turning your head right to look at him, hitting ridiculously large brown eyes boring into you. “Or…help you, if you want…”

Jongseob looked at the shelf for a moment, without looking your way, speaking up. “I never got your name.”

That shouldn’t have made your heart momentarily race, but alas, it did. You kept your eyes on him as you answered, your hands hidden behind your back. “Oh…sorry! It’s y/n.”

He kept his eyes scanning over the many options, but it didn’t feel like he was looking at the books. More like he didn't yet want to look at you. He contemplated with himself for a moment, before quietly yet loud enough for you to hear, he spoke. “Y/n….”

“Show me your favorites.”

★彡

The weeks that followed were something of a blur. When Jongseob had returned home from his first visit to the library, he sprawled on the ground, just staring at his books. It was insane to him that he had walked in with the intention to boost his pride, but now that was the last thing on his mind.

All he could think about was a stupid side braid, glasses, and voice that shouldn’t have been running in his head that much.

Sometimes, you meet people who intrigue you so much that you want to talk to them endlessly, about anything and everything. But, that meant having the courage to engage in a conversation of that sort. Jongseob thought he was strong enough to fight past the initial nerves, but after his performance in the library, he clearly was not.

Besides, what would he talk to you about? He doubted you were interested in hearing about his douche band or the stupid thing he and his friends had done recently. Overall, he was certain it was a lost cause.

Jongseob sat up faster than ever when he realized something. Surely, a librarian would love to talk about books. And he had two in his possession that you had just recommended.

Suddenly, it seemed he had the motivation to sit himself down and force his eyes to take in every word of every page of the books you had recommended. And surprisingly, it was….not too bad? Animal Farm was a heck of an allegory (whatever that was) and The Great Gatsby used more big words than he thought was necessary, but managed to intrigue him nonetheless.

Jongseob made a point to b-line for the library as soon as he was finished to report back to you. After a conversation he’d never imagine he would have, he knew he was crazy. And not about the books.

It didn’t seem fair to him that someone could have such a comfortable voice when they spoke about something they liked, a perfect pink color when they seemed flustered, or an addictive crease of their eyes whenever they smiled.

He knew then he was going to be seeing much more of that library. (You.)

He took one recommendation after the next, to Of mice and men, The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, The Metamorphosis, The Stranger, and whatever else he had read that he already lost track of.

With every book, he asked himself why he had always deemed he hated reading, when it’s actually not all that bad. The books were interesting, and even more so when he thought about the effort and creativity into writing one. He figured it wasn’t much different than music or performing (or graffiti art), someone has a vision and sees it through. Books were just an amped up version of that.

He was reading books front to back so often that he was seeing you frequently. So often you could tell it was him by the way the doors closed softer than usual, his clunky shoes and rattling chains echoing before you could even see him. So often he knew what your exact schedule was, when it was the best time to see you. So often that everytime he came, grinning with that snaggletooth, it made your whole face warm in a fuzzy feeling. So often that you’d recommend the shorter books you knew he would fly through easier, so he would come back sooner.

And when reading a whole book and returning it wasn’t frequent enough, he started to come in just to ask you about whatever part he’s read so far. He was hesitant at first, because surely you would know by that point that there was more to it than just expanding his literary knowledge. Yet, when he came in and asked you to explain a chapter of The Metamorphosis, catching you as you were busy stashing books back on their respective shelves, you stared at him blankly for a few seconds.

He was certain you were weirded out to your core, but then that candy pink glow was back, and you smiled down at the floor before looking at him with these stupidly big brown eyes.

“Do you actually have a question, or did you just want to talk to me?”

Jongseob’s breath hitched, and surely he looked pathetic as he clammily fumbled with the book in his hands, his entire body on fire.

“Can’t it be both?”

There was no library big enough to fit all the books he would read just to see your face light up as you talked about the things you loved, which he quickly came to know were more than just books. You also liked listening to music (not the kind his band makes, which totally didn’t hurt his feelings), taking strolls through the city while listening to said music, thrifting for clothes at second hand stores and loving finding pieces that remind you of ‘grandma clothing’, and stargazing. One of your favorite spots being the grassy hill in town that was barely tall enough that if you angled yourself in just the right position, you couldn’t see the bustling streets under it, just the stars that were bright enough to shine.

Although he was hesitant at first, Jongseob opened up to you as well. He told you about his band and their hip-hop/noise music/all-over-the-place style. His love for wearing dark, layered clothes and chains. He told you about how much he likes to rap and write his own, how it’s the way he met his friends in the first place. Speaking of his friends, he let you in on the delinquency that they’re often caught up in, that he claimed he wasn’t that proud of with a smirk on his face.

As he explained to you that being dubbed the “worst” in his friend group was the reason why he picked up reading, he was nervous that you would see him differently. Up until then, although you may have had your speculations, he was just a guy with a much different aesthetic compared to yours that happened to share the same interest in books. But, he felt he knew you well enough to know that you wouldn’t criticize him like that, and he was proven right when you only giggled at the thought.

“That’s impressive, though. Really, there aren’t many people who can recognize that they need to read a little more. I’m glad they teased you for it. After all, how would we have become friends?”

Jongseob needed a long breather after you said that one. For many reasons, the most pressing, the word friends.

It excited him, but discouraged him all the same. He was pleasantly surprised that someone like you would consider him a friend, even knowing everything you got to know about him the past two months or so. He was also discouraged, because it’s exactly what he was to you.

A friend doesn’t inch closer to you as you sit on the table, just so he could take in your warmth and scent a little better. A friend doesn’t have the image of you pushing up your glasses as you talk to him imprinted in his mind. A friend doesn’t find himself zoning out on a conversation about the book he just read, taking dangerously long glances at pink lips, wondering what it would feel like if he just-

No, a friend wouldn’t do any of this. Yet that’s all you were to him.

Jongseob knows he’s not exactly the best at NOT wearing his emotion on his sleeves. You were also the smartest person he had ever known, not an idiot that would miss the psychological clues he can’t hide about how he has the fattest crush on you.

It would be one thing if you made it clear that you weren’t interested, but…you never gave that impression in the slightest. If anything, sometimes he wondered if the way your cheeks would go from shades of red and pink was for everybody, or just him. He wondered if he wasn’t actually seeing things when he swore in the corner of his eye you would stare at him until he looked back up.

These were the thoughts that had been racking his mind, running every scenario, every glance, every desire in dizzying circles. Surely, you had to have at least thought about it before, right? He didn’t know, and he wasn’t going to make a fool of himself and ruin something so great by asking you. So, he decided he would wait for a signal— whatever that was—to let him know he was actually in. In the meantime, he’d have to settle with only being your friend.

Today, he found himself in the narrow space of two tall bookshelves. Jongseob sat against one side with his legs tucked, flicking his pen back and forth through his hands as a beat poured through his headphones. Of course, you sat on the opposite side, your book propped up against your knee with that look of focus that came up every time you read. He tried not to pay attention to the way both of your legs were centimeters from touching, or else probably explode.

The both of you were waiting for the library to clear out as it closed to the public, having made plans to go to a cafe downtown. It had become somewhat of a routine to leave the library and do something fun every week. He didn’t have to wait with you, but he found that you were the type of person that even comfortable silence was enjoyable. It even made him focus better.

So, Jongseob sat engrossed in the notebook in his lap, reading over lyrics that he had written down so far and bobbing his head along. He had made pretty good progress after he finally managed to stop himself from sneaking glances at you. He was too engrossed though, to the point where he hadn’t noticed the library go even more pin silent then it already was as you and him were the only ones left. Or the way you had put your book down and were staring at him after you had called his name twice with no answer.

He noticed when your hand reached out and pulled one of his earbuds out however, and his heart nearly stopped at how gently you did it, and how closely leaned in you were as you smiled at him. “Is the song that good?” You teased.

He held his breath until you backed away, letting out a shaky exhale as the distance he was accustomed to returned, and he could finally return the grin as he took out the other earbud. “Sorry, sorry. I don’t know how I missed you.” He said as he used his ring littered hands to roll up the earbuds and put them in his bag next to him. “It’s not a song…just a beat. We wanna play a new song for the gig I told you about in two weeks but...I’ve been stumped. Couldn’t write a single lyric until now.”

You hummed in understanding, pushing a strand of hair out of your face as you tried to peek at his notebook. “Did you get a lot done?”

Jongseob nodded with a proud grin, his lips slightly pursed, holding up his notebook to show you the lyrics he had written, only his beaming eyes visible behind it.

You nodded with slightly wide eyes leaning in to skim over some of the words, and an endeared smile on your face as you looked at the doodles littered around the writing. “That’s pretty good! 2 verses there at least.” You said with a small clap as Jongseob put his notebook away as well, returning his attention back to you.

“What about you? How was your book?” He asked, tilting his head to try and read the title, which you noted looked a lot like a cat.

You handed your book to him adorned with a black cat bookmark, so he could read it himself. You were reading A Midsummer’s Night Dream. “I like it so far! It’s actually a play, remember I told you William Shakspeare is most famous for those?”

Jongseob hummed, nodding his head as he looked at you intently as you began your rant, “Yeah, the guy who wrote Romeo and Juliet, right?”

You nod as he handed you the book back, flipping through the pages carelessly as you spoke. “That’s the one. One day, we have to work you up to read one of his plays. They really are amazing. If I ever write something, I want it to be so meaningful it’s still important hundreds of years later, you know? That’s always been the dream, to say something in my writing and have so many people listen.”

Jongseob watched as you trailed off into your own thoughts as you stared down at the book, that familiar twinkle in your eye as you thought about your future, your goals, how you knew exactly what you wanted. It was one of the many things he liked about you, and at that moment it brought a strange heart-sinking feeling. He sighed as he shook himself off. “What’s it about?”

You broke out of your trance as you heard the question, perking up as started another passionate conversation. “Well, it’s a comedic play, and it’s got a lot of different themes, like magic…dreams…jealousy…but the main one is love, or how it’s difficult.”

Jongseob is suddenly paying more attention now. “Difficult?”

You nod as you search for your next words. “Mhm! The plot of the story revolves around a love potion, where the characters fall for each other based on their looks and nothing else. A main point though is when love is…out of balance. So, like a romantic relationship that is interfered with by the differences or inequalities of two people.”

Jongseob was listening to what you were saying, but his brain was processing it differently. Dissecting each and every word, and this time his face of adoration and focus on you was laced with something else you were too busy to name.

“Like… these two characters,” you continue as you talk with your hands. “Bottom and Titania. Titania is beautiful and graceful and this enigma, while Bottom is clumsy and ugly, but she still falls in love with him. Well, because of the potion, but still goes to show that imbalance. Listen to this quote, I really liked it,”

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged cupid painted blind.”

Jongseob hates the way he felt, the way that he couldn’t look at you now, but there was a clear thought that invaded his mind and kept eating away at it. He stayed quiet and solemn long enough for you to notice, and as soon as you went to ask him if he was alright, he beat you to it.

“I’m…your friend, right? You like me?”

There was a pin drop silence added to the already dead silent library, but it was loud. All Jongseob could hear was the blood rushing through his head as he looked at your confused and wide eyes.

Your expression twisted slightly in confusion as you looked at him, swallowing before answering. “What? Of…of course I like you. You’re my friend.”

Jongseob’s knuckles went white as he gripped his bag tight. You had seen many emotions on his expressive face, but never this, never one that looked so defeated.

You could barely process what that meant as he stood up, throwing his bag on his back as he looked down at you. “I have to go. Sorry, Y/n.”

He started walking away before you could even register it, sliding your book off your lap as hurriedly stumbled to your feet, staring at his back with nothing but a sinister mixture of confusion and frustration. “Seob, wait! What happened?” You questioned, your voice raising the loudest it ever has in that room.

A part of you wanted to go after him, grill him and insist that he told you what was wrong, what made him feel that way. But Jongseob was already exiting the door, too fast to even consider it, and something told you he wouldn’t tell you anyway.

Since you met Jongseob, all you had been met with was a cheeky smile and a rosy fluster, all your favorite images of him. This time however, the only one that ran through your mind was the way he had just looked at you.

Like he had lost something.

★彡

monday, 8:34pm

y/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶): hi jongseob. i haven’t seen you since sunday. you left pretty upset. if you need to talk, you know you’re always welcome

wednesday, 10:09am

y/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶): good morning seob, please remember my last message. you know what times i’ll be here

friday, 11:08pm

y/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶): at least let me know that you’re alright.

It was a pretty standard Saturday night. Jongseob’s friends in the upstairs of Theo’s home, probably eating pizza or pregaming for a party, Jongseob and Shota sprawled on the bean bag chairs, blasting music.

The only difference might be the big fat book in Jongseob’s hands.

He doesn’t know why he’s still reading, when he had given up on ever having a chance with you. Yet here he was, Sense and Sensibility on its 162nd page, even rejecting Shota’s advances to play Mario Kart instead.

The last time he had seen you, something that he had been trying to avoid so long had dawned on him. He liked you. So much. To the point where sometimes it was debilitating. Likely chances were that you could possibly like him as well.

That wasn’t what he had been avoiding, however. Jongseob was very certain of that fact. He realized why he was only ever going to be your friend. You were just like Tatania—or whatever her name was—smart, goal oriented, knew what you wanted, and god. So, so beautiful.

Meanwhile, Jongseob was just that other guy. Sure, maybe he wasn’t the ugliest, he likes to think he does pretty well for himself. He also wasn’t terribly clumsy like the character from the play.

In real life however, he was a total failure in your light. Getting high on the weekends and drifting around with his friends for the hell of it. Holding onto this false idea of being able to make a band work as a career one day. And although it is a long, complicated, and layered story, he had in fact been in the back of a cop car once.

The both of you were a real life version of a love “out of balance.” Hearing those words verbalized by you without you even realizing it had shattered down all the walls he put up attempting to mask that very truth.

The way you had spoken about love being about the mind was another deafening blow. It would make sense that someone like you would want someone sophisticated, well spoken, mature. No, it was what you deserved.

It had dawned on him that he probably wasn’t any of these things to you.

He had to leave that day. Had he not, he would have broken down on the spot. So he did what he felt was right, and valiantly exited out.

Or at least, he thinks it’s right. He doesn’t know. He’s read your messages, wondered how you must be feeling, and he becomes conflicted all over again.

Like now, when the mere recollection of the events of the past week had caused him to groan and flop back, shutting his book as he looked over at Shota, eyes glued to the TV with a disposable weed pen and the switch controller in his hands.

He sighed as he sat back, staring at the book in his lap. The words were too big anyway, and there was a lot going on that he needed help dissecting. Knowing just the person who could help made it ten times worse

He didn’t know if he had made the right choice. The only thing certain is that he hardly deserved you as a friend. Let alone a lover.

Jongseob sighed before sitting up straighter, putting his book on the table next to him, his arms on his knees. “Shota, let me borrow your pen.”

Shota glanced over at Jongseob quickly, before turning back to the Mario Kart screen to pause it. Then, looking back at Jongseob again with an Incredulous look on his face. He put down his controls, before turning around and cupping his face, screaming, “Steph!!! Come down here!!”

As Shota turned back to Jongseob, Jongseob gave him a look of annoyance and confusion, to which the other boy only shrugged and continued his game.

Keeho came down the stairs mere moments later, scanning the basement until it landed on both boys. “What is it, Sho?”

“Jongseob’s trying to get high out of his mind again.” Shota said, not once taking his eyes off the screen.

Jongseob groaned as Keeho walked up to them, throwing his head back in annoyance. “All of a sudden everyone’s trying to be saints.”

Keeho sighed as he sat on a stool, shaking his head at him. “And you’re trying to be dead. Theo told me you’ve been loitering around down here getting high all damn week with that book.” He said, nodding to Jane Austen’s novel on the table. “Something’s up.”

Jongseob sighed, averting his gaze from Keeho to the Mario Kart screen. “Nothing is up. I just… wanna get high more. That’s all.”

Keeho rolled his eyes, boring them right back into Jongseob. “Last time you felt like that turns out you were sulking over that stupid game you play. Spill.”

Jongseob shook his head in a soft motion, looking down at the floor. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

Keeho stayed quiet for a moment, before speaking up again. “So…it’s a girl.”

Jongseob buried his hands in his face, hearing the game of Mario Kart pause once again as four eyes bored into him now. “God…why do you always jump to the furthest conclusion?”

Keeho scoffed, shaking Jongseob by the shoulders a bit. “But I didn’t this time. It’s a girl. You think we don’t notice how you disappear for hours? Try to dress nicer, wear cologne? Read those books?”

Jongseob rubbed his eyes, looking at the ceiling, sighing in defeat. He had reached a point where he couldn’t deny it even if he tried with the way Shota and Keeho were burning holes into him. Even if he was able to, there was something strangely comforting about his cover being blown. Like he was given the chance to at least get a small weight off his chest.

“Maybe…there is a girl.” Jongseob murmured, his hand tracing down his eyes as they fluttered shut and all he could see was you.

“Don’t leave out anything.” Keeho said, leaning in closer to make sure he heard every word. It was rare that Jongseob was ever this distraught.

Jongseob didn’t even know where to begin, how to cover everything he had felt in the past few months. So, he simply decided to let his thoughts blurt out in whatever order they came in, and go from there. “She…She’s perfect.”

His breath went on shaky as his scramble of words continued. “She works at the library. I only met her because all of you made fun of me, saying I’m the biggest slack and idiot, I needed to prove that wrong. I was only supposed to read one or two books. But…she was there. So smart and nice and god–way too pretty. How could I not like her?”

Jongseob swallowed a lump in his throat as he sat up, his head dangled to the ground. “So I just kept reading so I could talk to her. And it wasn’t bad, I liked it. I liked her more. We became friends eventually, and I kept telling myself…maybe I had a chance. We spent so much time together, got along well, so maybe…she’d like me back one day.”

“I was with her last sunday and I just stormed out. I just…I realized that I can never be more than just her friend. I just can’t.”

Keeho and Shota exchanged glances as they processed his words, with the latter finally speaking as he cleared his throat. “So she rejected you?”

Jongseob shook his head with a frustrated sigh, his emotions whirling faster the more he had to relive this. “No, no. I haven’t even officially told her that I like her.”

The room was quiet a little longer, the silence heavy and brooding as the other two in the room were confused. Keeho breathed in and out before speaking. “So…why can you never be more than her friend?”

If Jongseob had 10% more of a problem with anger issues, or if it was in his nature, he’d get up and yell it in their faces. He didn’t though, and he didn’t have the energy to make it a grand thing either. So, his words could only be described as a pathetic, whiny, ramble.

“You won’t get it. Unless you know her like I do. She’s so kind…even to someone like me. The smartest person I’ve met. She’s got such a drive, determination, and knows what she wants in the future. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. She’s perfect. And me? I smoke and drink and I do stupid shit when I’m with you guys. I’m in a band thinking I’ll make it far in life that way. And even though it’s gotten better now, I must be the dumbest guy on earth. You guys were right, I really had never picked up a book. And as much as I try to match her, I won’t get there. She’s perfect, and I’m not even average. Not even good.”

If he could exit his body and slap himself for laying out all of his insecurities, he would. It was too late now, however. So it wouldn’t hurt anyone for Jongseob to say everything he had been wanting to.

“It’s not that we can’t be anything more than friends. Who knows, maybe we could. It’s just that I don’t deserve to be anything more with her.”

It was all embarrassing for Jongseob. The silence of Keeho and Shota, the way that whole monologue sounded somehow even more pathetic aloud than in his head, the way he couldn’t look anyone in the eye. He thought to himself this is why he didn’t say anything from the beginning.

“All that stuff I said about you being ‘the worst’ of us all, do you really believe it?”

Jongseob looked up from the floor, finding Shota had scooted closer, and Keeho was looking at him with a sincerity he rarely got from his friends as they had always been lighthearted with each other.

“I mean…it makes sense. I kind of am.”

Keeho sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with a shake of his head. “First of all, I was blasted out of my mind when I said that. You know we shouldn’t take any of each other’s words seriously by that point.” Keeho explained with a scolding look in his eye. “Second of all, you are not some lowlife drifter, Seob. Well…maybe on occasion, you are. But you know what you also are? The youngest.”

Jongseob was looking at him with questioning eyes, his lip caught in his teeth as he listened to his older friend speak.

“Jongseob, you’re only 19. I can assure you, Theo and I were doing much worse at that age. Sure, you get into some trouble, enjoy some things you shouldn’t enjoy,” Keeho said, as he looked over to grab the disposable in Shota’s hand and pocket it away. “But that doesn’t take away from the good qualities that landed you five friends that see you as family. You may be rough around the edges, but deep down you’re a good kid. You’re nice when it counts, passionate about the things you like. Total cutie, too. Right, Sho?”

Jongseob searched Keeho’s face for any deceit, finding none. He was only more reassured when he looked over to Shota, finding him nodding eagerly.

“And trust me, you have all the time in the world to grow into that identity and retire that delinquent title. And I know you will when you’re ready.” Keeho said, a small smile on the corner of his lips. “So don’t push what sounds like an amazing girl away because you’re still figuring your shit out. Who knows, she probably sees the same things in you that we do. If she’s as nice and smart as you say she is, she’ll hold her own against a jerk like you if that’s what she wants. You deserve it just as much as any other asshole.”

It was always strange how his friends had the power to turn Jongseob’s mood in a complete 180. Because now he was smiling, and suddenly the cloud of moodiness and a sour mix of emotions hovering over him the past few months had started to clear, and the words Keeho had said made much more sense than Jongseob’s little outburst.

“Shota…Hyung…Thank you. I needed someone to tell me that.” Jongseob said, taking a deep breath as he sat up straight.

Keeho smiled, reaching over to fluff up Jongseob’s blonde hair. “You still have a problem, though. Have you talked to her since sunday?”

The momentarily lifted weight off Jongseob’s shoulders returned once again, and he sighed as he rubbed his eyes. “Fuck. I haven’t. I doubt she wants anything to do with me at this point.”

Keeho shook his head as he stood up, grabbing Jongseob by his shoulders. “No, shut up. You can still fix it, it just has to be now.”

Jongseob looked up at him with his eyebrows in a furrow. “Now? As in…right now?”

Shota took the keys out of his pocket, throwing them over to Jongseob. “Take the car.”

Keeho dragged Jongseob to his feet, throwing a nearby hoodie at him as he grabbed him like a coach talking to his quarterback before the game. “Don’t think about it. Just go. Before it’s too late.”

Jongseob could barely process throwing the hoodie on, his blonde hair messy as he was pushed out of the house by Keeho and Shota, and suddenly he was driving.

Jongseob had a new mindset, but his palms were sweating, sliding around on the steering wheel. He knew he needed to see you, but he wasn’t sure what he would say. He told himself it had to be the truth, and only the truth. It was what you deserved. All he had to do was find you now.

He drove by the library, but as he glanced at the time, it was already 7:30. It had been closed for half an hour, and it looked completely locked up already.

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, asking himself where you could be. His eyes lit up as he remembered something, the car making a quick U-turn as he drove the direction he had just come from.

Mere minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of the local park, making swift work of stumbling out and locking the car behind him. Jongseob started walking towards the back of the park, his legs tiring out as he started slowly going uphill. The city’s best spot for stargazing, the one you loved.

Even though he wasn’t sure you’d be there, he kept going anyway. It was a pretty good guess, and it proved to be right as more stars and less city came into view, and you sat there with your legs close to your chest as you looked up.

As he reached the top, a foot came down too loud, loud enough for it startle you out of your thoughts. You turned around initially anxious, almost immediately standing up, but your face softened once you made it out to be him. “Jongseob? What are you doing here?”

He took a couple quick breaths as he stood in front of you, breathless for many different reasons and taking in the face he had missed seeing. “Looking for you.” He said quietly, his eyes starstruck.

“I haven’t heard from you in a while…what happened? Are you alright?”

Jongseob sighed, nodding his head as he pursed his lips. “I can’t believe I ghosted you for a week and you’re still worried about me. I’m fine, Y/n. I just had to sort through some things.”

“I’m just worried about what happened the last time we saw each other. You left pretty angry, I don’t know if I said or did something.” You said, your hands clammy as you played with them, looking up at him.

Jongseob was just frustrated now, his hands falling to his sides. “No, god, no. You could never do anything wrong.”

Your insistence continued. “It had to have been something. Was it the friend thing? Because I-..” is all you managed to get out, before suddenly a palm was pressed against your mouth.

Jongseob was only left with the option of looking into your eyes, the ones always so big and vibrant and currently weren’t helping the nerves coursing through his body. “You did nothing wrong. I’m the stupid one.”

He slowly pulled his hand back, looking for the courage within himself as he looked at you. Confused, Anxious, probably shivering a bit, wearing a jacket way too light for the time of night. So beautiful. As if you only got prettier the more he looked and if he kept looking he was bound to die a blissful death. He finally took a deep breath, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know, I like you, right? So much. As in way more than a friend?”

Your face flushed red, a tint seen even with how dark it was. You swallowed before answering. “Um…I had…an idea.”

He chuckled as he looked at his shoes quickly looking back up to make his eyes meet yours again. “I have ever since I first met you. I like you so much you made me finish a chapter book for the first time in years.”

“That day, when you were talking about that Shakespeare play, I couldn’t stop thinking about how it sounded just like us. Like we were that one out of balance couple. We’re so…different. It made me think, It could never work.

Jongseob was quiet for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Compared to you, I’m a total doof. I’ve only barely started reading, I like to do dumb things with other dumb people. I skip college to write dumb songs with my friends, and I never figured out what I want to be when I grow up. And to me, you’re so perfect in every way imaginable. My complete polar opposite.”

Jongseob stepped closer, without even realizing it, his eyes big and pleading. “Maybe we are out of balance, maybe every norm or tradition or whatever isn’t in line with this. I realized now that I don’t mind. If you’d let me, I’d do everything to make it work. To show you that no matter how out of balance, it could work. I don’t care if it doesn’t make sense, all the best things never do.”

Your lips quivered a bit, looking at him with your whole body hot. Never in your life did you think you would be living out a love story that you could only fathom reading over and over. And not with the unruly grunge guy that had walked in the library months ago that you had pining for since.

You wiped your sweaty hands on your clothes, swallowing before you started talking. “A midsummer’s night dream was also about…how love looks with the mind, not the eyes.” You began, your voice a little shaky as you tried your best to look him in the eye. “Since I met you…I knew behind the exterior and the stuff you usually get into, you were a good person.”

You smiled as you recalled the first time he came in. “You’re always so expressive, I can read every emotion off your face. You’re curious, always asking questions. Patient, kind, passionate, charismatic. I could keep going, but all this to say,”

“I wouldn’t like you too if I didn’t think we went well together, despite all the differences.”

Jongseob took another step forward, and swears that even if you pinched him, he still wouldn’t believe any of this is real. The way that you looked at him with an adoration and warmth that had always been there. The way the wind slightly rustled your hair and his, proving that the both of you were here. Finally, he spoke softly. “You’re serious?”

You giggled a bit, nodding as you held both of your hands out. “I’m very serious. I like you a lot.”

He took your hands, looking down at them with incredulous brown eyes. They were softer than he could’ve made them out to be in any daydream. Gulping, he asked a question he had been dying to ask since that very first day.

“Y/n…please, can I kiss you?”

His lips were on yours before you knew it. And much to your surprise, it tasted a lot like a fruit punch.

☆彡

It had been a week since you and Jongseob had made up, and consequently a week since you started dating. After he had driven you home, he hurriedly popped the question as he hung out the passenger side window, like if he didn’t ask at that moment, there’d never be another chance. And of course, you agreed.

Today was your first date, which ended up being the show he and his band were playing. You stuck out like a sore thumb in a crowd of people dressed just like your boyfriend and his friends, the best outfit you could muster being a brown sweater and a denim skirt with doc martens.

You had never been to a small local show, but the energy from the crowd and the band, the setlist and the lights, everything tied together into being an enjoyable first experience.

You and Jongseob were now gathered around him and his rowdy friends at the back of the venue. You initially were only there to meet his friends, but it turned into a hangout of sorts. A few drinks and cigarettes caused a cheery conversation as they rode through an after show high.

You and Jongseob sat on a step with you watching as he and Shota played a game of cards. Shota kept beating him, even as you tried to whisper tips in his ear.

After a while, it was getting late, and after sitting for some time, you were a bit tired. Your head leaning on his shoulder as your energy started to dial down. On top of that, you also had to go to the bathroom.

You tapped Jongseob’s hand, whispering in his ear. “Can you come with me to the bathroom?”

Jongseob nodded, handing his cards to Shota as he shot up, giving you a hand. “Course. I’ll be back, guys.”

He took your hand, leading you through the empty venue, all the way to the bathroom, where he waited outside for you to be finished.

He smiled at you as you came out, noting the slightly more tired smile he got back from you. He put his hand out, wanting you to come closer. “I’m sorry. You’re tired. I’m the designated driver for some of these guys, though.”

You took his hands, pulled into a hug as his hands settled on your waist. “It’s okay,” you told him, your hand reaching up to pinch his cheek. “I get it.”

He chuckled at you, his eyes full of love and a completely smitten look. “I never got to tell you that you look really pretty today.”

His compliment sent a shiver down your spine, every word of endearment being so new still. “I didn’t get to tell you that you looked really good on stage tonight.”

It was Jongseob’s turn to be flustered as his cheeks washed pink, and like he had been doing since he first got a feel for them, he couldn’t stop looking at your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

You giggled, your hand already resting on his face in preparation. “I told you, you don’t have to ask.”

He titled his head, leaning closer as he smirked down at you. “Gotta be a gentleman, right?”

His lips came down on yours soft at first, softly molding them onto his as he got a feel for them. You swear he was trying to memorize every crevice and curve. But, as you put your hands over his own that laid on your waist, dragging them up and down in permission to let him feel, the air shifted.

He gasped shakily on your mouth, in such a needy way that shouldn’t have made your body go hot. He took the reigns of letting his hands run up from your sides all the way down to plump skin that drove him crazy being able to touch.

It wasn’t long before both of your tongues had made their way to each other, and suddenly it was evident to both of you there was something entirely different about this kiss. His hands were all over you, and yours tracing patterns on his chest and arms. There was a newfound lust in this one that both of you couldn’t deny

Yeah, this was different. If it wasn’t clear from the way you were pressing into him. And when you pressed too hard, he let out a soft moan in your mouth that shook you to your core.

He pulled away abruptly, his hands on your shoulders as he stared at you breathless, with new pink lips and a need in his eyes.

You wanted to complain about the distance, but before you could, he was fishing for his car keys in his pocket, his other hand intertwining with yours. “Let’s go to my house.”

Your eyebrows contorted, looking him up and down. “Why? You still have to drive your friends home.”

“They’ll figure it out.” He said, finally pulling out his keys and jangling them in front of you. “Besides…,I can’t fuck you here.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he started pulling you out, but you followed him wordlessly. His friends noticed quickly as you both walked out, Jongseob with a mission to get you to his house as soon as he could. One of them called out—Intak if you remember correctly—noting the way he didn’t stop. “Seob! Where are you going? How do we get home?”

“Get an Uber!” He yelled without looking back, as you turned around and mouthed a small ‘Sorry!’ with a wave.

Jongseob wasted no time in opening the door for you and driving off as soon as you were buckled in. The car pulled out of its parking spot and his hand almost instinctively found its way to your thigh, rubbing the exposed skin your skirt showed in a way that he had to know was making you squirm.

The drive was agonizingly slow, his hand kept running down and getting dangerously close to where you were starting to yearn for him. “Are we…almost there?” You asked a little breathless only a few minutes in, although it had felt like hours.

Jongseob glanced over at you quickly, swallowing thickly at the sight of you clearly impatient for what was to come. “Soon, Y/n. Just a little longer, angel.”

He made it a point to go faster, as fast as he could without it being borderline dangerous. When he finally reached his house, the tires quietly screeched with how fast he pulled in, and the car was off and in park before you could blink.

His hand disconnected from your thigh, and already his absence was felt. He barely made it around to open your door as you stumbled out as well.

“My parents are asleep.” Jongseob announced, as he led you to the doorstep. You kept a grab on his jacket as he fumbled with his house keys. The more desperate he got, the harder it was to get them to function.

Eventually, the door opened quietly, and he used the same quietness to lock it behind you. After you had both discarded your shoes, with a swift motion his hand was in yours again as he plopped his keys on the table, leading you to his room.

His room was so unbelievably him. Scattered with posters of his favorite rock and indie bands, the biggest being a ‘Plastic Beach’ by the Gorillaz in the dead center. Messy and dark bedding, his gaming consoled all over. What had caught your eyes first, was the book you had just checked out to him, neatly stacked on his nightstand.

His room—that smelled only a little like weed—was the least of your concern, however. Not when he plopped himself on his bed, immediately pulling you on his lap to straddle on top of him as his lips crashed onto yours.

His hands only had gotten more adventurous, his whines less and less contained as his tongue immediately found yours again.

You felt like you were heaving into the kiss, it was all too much. The way his mouth danced with yours, your hands grabbing onto his neck, his own gripping at your ass in a way that made you question if this was your boyfriend. Too much, yet you wanted so much more.

Jongseob had started tugging at the hem of your sweater, but before he did anything, he pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva between you both. He looked up at you doe-eyed and out of breath, the sight ethereal. “Do you want this? I’ll stop right now if you don’t.”

You couldn’t have nodded faster, your hips starting to move on their own. “Yeah, of course I do. Please, Seob.”

Jongseob didn’t need to hear anything else as his hands started to get rid of your sweater, swiftly throwing off his own shirt afterwards. All you were left in was your bra, but he didn’t so much as glance, he couldn’t until he knew you were fine. “You need to tell me if you ever want to stop, Y/n.”

You nodded as his hands finally went to your back, fumbling with the clasps of your bra for a moment before you reached back, helping him get it off faster.

As it was thrown with the rest of the clothes, his eyes glazed over you, his face hot. Something in his expression that looked like he wanted to consume you. “Fuck…Y/n. You’re perfect. So, so perfect.” Jongseob said breathlessly as his lips found your neck.

Jongseob started peppering kisses wherever his heart desired, his hands reaching up to hesitantly cup your chest. “This okay?” He breathed against you, with you only giving him a shaky ‘yeah’ in response.

His touch felt like a trail of fire, and every kiss, every squeeze, brought a soft moan from your boyfriend, his thoughts spilling out in soft chants. “My Y/n…so perfect…so pretty.”

The kissing, the hickeys, the squeezing, it was all euphoric. But with every bit he gave you, you only needed more. Jongseob was too entranced in feeling your every curve to notice. It was only when your hips rolled into him on their lonesome that he was brought to life, a whine leaving his mouth.

You tried catching your breath before looking him in the eye, your heart beating out of its place. “Jongseob…please…I really…need you.”

If everything hadn’t driven him off the edge by now, your pleading did, and he nodded as he reached down for the zipper of your skirt, wasting no time in fulfilling your wish. “I’m taking these off, okay angel? Lift your hips for me.”

You listened to his requests, your lip caught in your teeth as the both of you worked on getting off your pants and the panties that you had soaked through long ago.

Jongseob looked at you as his hand reached down, placing a soft kiss on your lips as you finally felt his hand on your throbbing cunt. “Let me know if I need to stop. I need to prep you first.”

Your face was buried in the crook of his neck as his hand explored you, and despite not having the most experience, he learned quickly. His thumb found your bundle of nerves, tracing soft circles as he listened and studied your every reaction, his free hand roaming up and down your back. It was only a matter of seconds before he found your entrance, already slick with arousal as he inserted one finger in, pressing and running it against your walls.

“Does that feel good?” He asked softly.

You wondered why he even had to ask, especially when you were practically melting in his arms, your body shivering. “It does.” You said in a pant, your desperate voice going straight in his ear and down to his core.

“I’ll do another.” He announced, inserting a second finger.

He kept his thumb on your clit, continuing those small circles, as he moved his two fingers to press and pump them in and out of you, spreading them wider to loosen you up from time to time. As he did, he continued watching and listening to your quiet moans and sounds of pleasure, sounds that told him he was doing something right.

You were a mess at that point, your body even pressing down into him as he became more rigorous. “Seob…it feels good.”

Jongseob placed a kiss on your head, the sight of you falling apart over him driving him insane. “I know, Y/n. I know, angel. You’re doing good.”

It only took a little longer before your body started to tremble, your walls contracting over his fingers, and Jongseob knew you were close. He pulled his hand away, leaving you whining as you sighed. “Seob…” You begged, “Why’d you stop?”

He leaned in to kiss your forehead, his cheeks red with all the blood rushing through him. “Sorry, angel. I want us to cum together.”

That was a request you couldn’t deny him, and you held onto him tight as he leaned over to open his dresser, pulling out a condom Jiung had given him for ‘emergencies.’ He’d definitely have to explain that to you later.

He held the condom between his teeth as he reached for his belt buckle, pulling it off as you used your knees to hover above him, helping him pull them off. When his dick was finally out, it was leaking at the tip, painfully hard due to everything that had just happened.

Jongseob ripped the condom with his teeth, and you took the rubber to place it on yourself. He gulped at the sight, his breath growing shakier the more excited he got. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Once it was on, you situated yourself just above him, his hands finding your hips. “I told you, Seob. I’m sure.” You said, leaning in to place a soft yet deep kiss on his lips.

You grabbed onto his shoulders as he smiled up at you. “We’ll go as slow as you need.”

You didn’t want to wait anymore, neither of you did. Slowly, you sank down onto him, Jongseob helping guide you all the way. Taking the tip and going further, his sounds growing more and more pathetic as he bottomed out, the both of you stifling moans.

He threw his head back in an overwhelmed state, his chest heaving. “Fuck…You okay?” He asked, noting the way the corner of your eyes pricked with tears.

“I’m okay, Seob. Just give me a minute, s’too much.” You breathed, your hands tugging a little at his hair.

Jongseob nodded, his body trembling for friction as he held you down on him. “God…it’s…you’re….so tight around me.”

A few moments later, the weird pressure had subsided, and all the both of you wanted was to move. Jongseob looked both as if he was nervous to hurt you and the feeling of you was too much. It didn’t stop you from rolling your hips, though, looking at him with a look that told him everything he wanted to know.

Jongseob shuddered at your sudden movement, taking the hint to start moving. He helped lift your hips up and down onto him, all while your body involuntarily rolled into him by itself.

The pace picked up, and so did the pleasure. In this position, every subtle movement had his dick reaching as deep as it could go, making your brain go foggy and your moans threaten to get louder. Jongseob wasn’t any better. Every time he dragged against your gummy walls, every roll of your hips, his mind would go blank, and all he could do was place small kisses on your neck. “Y/n…feels so good…way too good.”

You had to bite down on your lip. Not only was he fucking you right, he was whining all the way through it. Going crazy at the feeling, at the way you made him feel. And it only instilled a desire in you to go even harder as you started to bounce up and down on him.

Jongseob’s breath hitched, and he had to bite down on your neck at your sudden movements. “Sh…Shit. Y/n, you can’t do that.” He said through pants, the sound only fueling your fire.

“Can’t stop.” You moaned a little too loud in his ear.

All inhibitions in the both of you had snapped by then. You kept riding him like it was never enough, Jongseob’s hands and lips touching everywhere, all of you, and he could barely keep the both of you up.

It wasn’t long before that familiar pit bubbled in your stomach, and this time Jongseob felt your walls clench around him. You were close, your movements sloppier and your pants and moans erratic.

Jongseob wasn’t far off himself, and he held onto the smallest part of your back as he helped you get there. “Cum, Y/n, My perfect girl. Do it on me. Please.”

His words and the look of lust on his face was all that you needed to finally get there, stifling your sounds in his neck as your whole body reached an impossible high.

Jongseob reached his own climax as you rode out yours, his hips rolling into yours one last time as you had the pleasure of hearing all of his heightened whines and gasps right in your very ear.

His body gave out, and unable to hold up the both of you, falling onto his bed as he slipped out of you.

As you both came to your senses, catching your breaths and reliving everything that had just happened, you scooted off of him, only your head lying on his chest as you listened to his slowing heartbeat.

Jongseob was the first to break the silence with a giggle.

You sat up a bit, looking at the smirk on his face. “What?”

“Nothing, Y/n. It’s stupid.”

“Just really glad I finally started reading.”

#p1harmony #p1harmony fanfic #p1harmony fluff #p1harmony smut #kim jongseob #fanfic #kpop #jongseob x reader

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