#i think they should all hit the bong together | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lemonsdietcoke · 27 days ago

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Parting Gift - Player 230

Dark!Thanos/Choi Su-bong x Fem!Reader

This is part 2 of my mini series love ridden (you don’t have to read part 1 but it helps you get a deeper understanding of their relationship)

Warnings: Toxic relationship,Emotional manipulation and gaslighting, DUBCON/implied sexual misconduct, power imbalances and coercion,mentions of substance abuse,threats of self-harm, mentions of bruising, vomiting, unreliable memory

Summary: “It ended bad, but I love what we started.” A night out, was supposed to be a distraction, a step to moving on. Instead it leaves you questioning everything. Loosely inspired by Parting gift-Fiona apple

MINORS DNI!

A/n: ahhhh here it is! This is very much a wild ride so be prepared and get comfortable lol. Lmk if yall fw. I love feedback. Lmk what you think!!

……………………..

“Two years.”

It echoes in your head as you stare at your phone. The screen blinks, illuminating the dark, quiet apartment, and your reflection stares back at you. Hollow eyes. Lifeless skin.

You don’t even recognize yourself anymore.

Two years of late nights.

Two years of broken promises.

Two years of fights that always ended the same way — with you apologizing for things you hadn’t even done.

Two years of Su-bong.

The notifications keep coming.

Messages. Missed calls. Voicemails.

You blocked him a week ago. You had to.

Before that, you let the calls go unanswered. You left his texts on read. But after that voicemail, you couldn’t take it anymore.

It wasn’t just the things he said.

It was the way he sounded.

Drunk. High out of his mind. Slurring his words like he could barely get them out.

You’d heard him like that before, of course. Countless times. But this was different.

The shaking breath at the beginning of the message.

The muffled sound of a bottle cap hitting the floor.

The distinct rattle of a pill bottle.

And then his voice —

Low. Rough. Desperate.

“You know, if you don’t fucking answer me…”

There was a pause. You could hear him breathing.

“Maybe I should just end it all.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

The sound of pills being shaken in his hand.

“It’s in your hands now.”

You remember sitting on the floor of your new apartment, the phone clutched in your hands, shaking so hard you thought you might drop it.

That was the breaking point.

You blocked him.

It was hard. Very hard.

What if he was serious?!

What if he did it and it was your fault?!

But it didn’t stop the nightmares.

It’s been a month since the breakup, and you haven’t left your apartment in days.

The dishes are piled up in the sink. Your laundry is overflowing.

You haven’t brushed your hair in three days.

The weight of it all feels suffocating.

You thought leaving him would make you feel free.

Instead, you feel empty.

When your phone buzzes again, you ignore it.

It’s probably Ji-hye.

She’s been trying to get you to go out for weeks.

“You need to live a little,” she said last time you saw her.

But you don’t feel like living.

Still, when your phone buzzes again, you pick it up.

Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗ (9:17 PM): Come out with us tonight. Please?

Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗ (9:18 PM): There’s a new club opening in Itaewon. It’ll be fun.

Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗ (9:19 PM): I’m not taking no for an answer.

You stare at the messages for a long time.

The thought of going to a club makes your stomach turn.

You haven’t been out in two years.

You haven’t been you in two years.

But the apartment feels too small.

Too quiet.

Too empty.

Fuck it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The shower burns your skin.

You scrub until you feel raw, as if you can wash away the last two years.

But no amount of scrubbing erases the bruises —

The ones he left on your heart.

When you step out, you wipe the fogged mirror and stare at your reflection.

Your hair is a tangled mess.

Your eyes are rimmed with dark circles.

You look like someone who’s been barely holding it together.

This isn’t who I am, you tell yourself.

You plug in your hair straightener. You do your makeup.

By the time you’re done, you almost feel like yourself again.

You rifle through your closet, pulling out a black dress you haven’t worn in years. It still fits — snug and short, hugging your body in a way that feels foreign after months of oversized hoodies and leggings.

When you step into your heels, you wobble for a second.

It’s been so long since you’ve worn anything but sneakers.

But when you look in the mirror again —

You see her.

The girl you used to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ji-hye and her friends are already tipsy when you meet them outside the club.

She squeals when she sees you.

“Look at you! You look amazing!”

You try to smile, but it feels forced.

The club is packed.

Neon lights pulse to the beat of the music.

Bodies move together on the dance floor.

Ji-hye hands you a shot as soon as you walk in.

“Drink up!”

You down it quickly, the burn making you wince.

“Another?”

Why not?

By the time you lose count, you’ve had at least six shots.

Maybe more.

You stopped counting after the first round of tequila.

The room spins slightly, but you feel good.

Better than you’ve felt in weeks.

You laugh with Ji-hye.

You dance with strangers.

For the first time in a long time, you feel free.

And then you see him.

At first, you think your eyes are playing tricks on you.

But when you blink, he’s still there.

Su-bong.

He’s standing near the bar, his eyes locked on you.

His hair is messy, his shirt unbuttoned at the top.

He looks the same as he always does —

Rough around the edges, disheveled in that careless way that made you fall for him in the first place.

But there’s something in his eyes —

Something dark.

Your stomach twists.

The room feels too hot.

You grab Ji-hye’s arm.

“Ji-hye. Is he…?”

Her eyes widen.

“Oh shit.”

“What the fuck is he doing here?”

She bites her lip, looking guilty.

“I didn’t know. I swear. But he’s friends with Seung-ho.”

She nods toward one of the guys in their group — a guy you don’t know well.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Your heart pounds in your chest, a wild, frantic beat.

You down another shot, your hands shaking slightly.

Maybe if you ignore him, he’ll go away.

But he doesn’t.

When you look up again, he’s moving toward you.

You see him before he speaks.

The way he weaves through the crowd, his gaze locked on you like he’s on a mission.

You look away.

You try to pretend you didn’t see him.

But it’s too late.

He’s right there.

“Hey.”

His voice cuts through the noise, low and rough.

You don’t turn around.

You keep your eyes on your drink, your knuckles white as you grip the glass.

“I didn’t know you came here.”

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

Your whole body goes stiff.

“Fuck off, Su-bong.”

Your voice is steady, but your heart is pounding.

He doesn’t move.

Instead, he slides into the seat next to you.

Like he belongs there.

Like nothing happened.

“Come on,” he says, his tone light, almost teasing. “You’re really not even going to say hi?”

You turn to him, your eyes flashing.

“Why would I?”

He shrugs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Because you missed me.”

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“Missed you?”

You set your drink down, leaning closer.

“You left me voicemails threatening to fucking kill yourself. Do you know how fucked up that is?”

His expression doesn’t change.

He doesn’t flinch.

Instead, he tilts his head, studying you.

“Did it scare you?”

Your blood runs cold.

“What?”

“Did it scare you?” he repeats, his voice soft.

“Did you think I was going to do it?”

You stare at him, horrified.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

His lips twitch into something that might be a smile — but there’s no warmth in it.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” he says, his tone almost casual.

“And you wouldn’t answer. You wouldn’t talk to me.”

“So you thought threatening to kill yourself was the way to get my attention?”

Your voice is shaking now, anger and fear mixing in your chest.

He doesn’t answer.

Instead, he reaches for your hand.

And you’re too stunned to pull away.

“I missed you,” he says softly.

“I don’t know what to do without you.”

You rip your hand away, standing up so fast your chair scrapes against the floor.

“Don’t fucking do that.”

Your voice is loud now, cutting through the music.

“Don’t pretend you’re some fucking victim.”

His expression hardens.

“I’m not pretending.”

“You are.”

You step closer, your chest heaving.

“You always do this. You always make it about you. Like your fucking pain is the only thing that matters.”

He stands up slowly, towering over you.

“I’m in pain because of you.”

You scoff, shaking your head.

“That’s bullshit.”

“Don’t lie to yourself.”

His voice is low now. Dangerous.

“You love me.”

Your hands tremble at your sides.

“I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

He steps closer.

“I know you do. You wouldn’t be this angry if you didn’t.”

You hate how he gets in your head.

How he twists your words.

“I don’t love you,” you say again, but it sounds weaker this time.

He leans in, his breath brushing against your cheek.

“Then why haven’t you moved on?”

The question hits you like a punch to the gut.

And you don’t have an answer.

“Let’s go outside,” he says.

His voice is softer now, coaxing.

“It’s too loud in here.”

You hesitate.

“Please.”

He reaches for your hand again, and this time, you don’t pull away.

“Just talk to me.”

Your heart is pounding.

Your mind is spinning.

And against your better judgment —

You follow him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The alleyway outside the club smells like cigarette smoke and spilled beer.

You cross your arms over your chest, shivering slightly. The night air feels too cold against your skin, cutting through the warmth of the alcohol.

Su-bong lights a cigarette, his hands shaking slightly as he brings it to his lips.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

Then —

“What do you want from me?”

Your voice cuts through the quiet, sharp and strained.

He exhales a cloud of smoke, his gaze steady on you.

“I just want you.”

You laugh, bitter and harsh.

“Do you even hear yourself? You had me, Su-bong. You had me for two fucking years, and you—”

Your voice cracks.

“You fucking broke me.”

His jaw tightens.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you did.”

Your chest heaves, your breath fogging in the cold air.

“Over and over again.”

“I know.”

He takes a step closer.

“And I’m sorry.”

It’s the softness in his voice that undoes you.

That fucking softness.

Because for a split second —

You almost believe him.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

His words hang in the air between you, soft and deliberate, like he’s trying to carve them into your skin. And you hate how much they make your chest ache.

You hate that it’s him standing here, saying these things. Again.

“You say that like it fucking matters.” Your voice comes out steadier than you feel. “Like it changes anything.”

He exhales smoke, eyes never leaving yours. “It does matter.”

“No, it doesn’t.” You shake your head, your arms tightening around yourself like it’s the only thing holding you together. “You’ve hurt me too many times for it to matter.”

A pause.

A flicker of something in his eyes.

And then, softly —

“I couldn’t stop.”

The words hit you harder than you want them to.

Your chest tightens, your mind flashing back to the nights he stumbled through the door, high and out of it, mumbling half-assed apologies through the haze.

“I don’t know how to stop,” he continues, his voice quiet. “Not without you.”

You close your eyes, willing the tears to stay put.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you whisper. “You can’t keep blaming me for your fucking choices.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what the fuck is this?” You gesture between the two of you, your voice rising. “What do you think you’re doing right now?”

“I’m trying to fix it.”

Your laugh is sharp, bitter. “Fix it? You can’t fix this, Su-bong. You can’t.”

He flinches at the way your voice cracks.

But he doesn’t back down.

“I can try.”

You shake your head, the weight of it all pressing down on you. The months of pain, the sleepless nights, the voicemail that still echoes in your mind.

“You’re fucking selfish.”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t deny it.

“You don’t love me,” you say, and it feels like you’re ripping your own heart out. “You love what I do for you. You love having someone to pick up the pieces when you fall apart. Someone to save you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Your chest heaves. “You only ever show up when you’re desperate. When you need something. And I’m fucking done being that person for you.”

He takes a step closer, the cigarette forgotten between his fingers, burning down to the filter.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

You hate the way your heart twists.

“I want you.”

You shake your head again, but it’s weaker this time.

“I love you.”

And there it is.

Those three fucking words.

The words that used to make your heart explode. The words that used to make you believe in him, in a future that never existed.

“I can’t do this without you,” he says, and his voice breaks, just a little. “I’ve tried, Y/N. I’ve tried to be better, but I’m fucking lost without you.”

Your hands tremble at your sides.

“You’re only lost because you never tried to find yourself,” you whisper. “You’ve always expected me to do it for you.”

His eyes soften, that familiar vulnerability creeping in.

“I’m trying now.”

“No, you’re not.” You take a step back. “You’re trying to pull me back in. That’s all you ever do.”

A beat of silence.

Then —

“I miss you.”

The words cut through the night, soft and raw.

And you feel yourself wavering.

Fuck.

You press your palms to your face, trying to breathe, trying to steady yourself.

“You don’t get it,” you whisper. “You don’t get what you did to me.”

He takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the heat of his body.

“I never stopped loving you.”

Your chest heaves, your heart pounding.

“I don’t want to hear that.”

“You need to.”

“No, I fucking don’t.” Your voice cracks, tears burning at the edges of your eyes. “What I need is to move on.”

His hand reaches out, tentative, trembling.

But when his fingers brush against your arm-

You flinch.

It’s instinctive.

A reaction you couldn’t stop if you tried.

And the look on his face?

It’s devastating.

He pulls his hand back slowly, like he’s been burned.

“I’m not him anymore.”

The words are quiet, almost desperate.

“I’m not the guy who fucked up. I’m not the guy who hurt you.”

“You are.” Your voice is soft, but firm. “You’ll always be that guy, Su-bong.”

His gaze drops to the ground, and for a moment, you think he’s going to give up.

But then he looks up again.

“I just want to talk,” he says. “Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

You hesitate.

The rational part of you — the part that’s spent the last month piecing yourself back together — is screaming at you to walk away.

But your heart?

Your heart is still caught in the web he’s spun around you.

“ we’re already talking…” you slightly slur your words, the alcohol taking full effect.

“Five minutes,” he says again, softer this time. “At my place. Please.”

And against your better judgment —

You nod.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake to the sensation of weight.

Heavy. Suffocating.

An arm draped over your waist. A body pressed too close, warm breath against the back of your neck.

And for one blissful second, you’re still half asleep. Still caught in that hazy space between dreams and reality, your mind fogged over with sleep, soft and pliant.

But then your eyes open.

And everything sharpens.

The bedroom is dark — curtains drawn, faint slivers of morning light sneaking through the cracks. The air is stale, tinged with cigarette smoke and something faintly metallic. It smells familiar.

And the weight around your waist?

It’s Su-bong.

Your stomach lurches.

No. No, no, no.

You squeeze your eyes shut, your heart pounding in your chest, the dull ache between your temples throbbing harder with each beat. Your mind scrambles to piece together how the fuck you ended up here. The last thing you remember clearly is the club — Ji-hye pulling you onto the dance floor, shots of tequila burning your throat, the neon lights swirling around you.

And then —

His voice.

His hands.

And now you’re here. In his bed.

You hold your breath, every muscle in your body going rigid. His arm is still heavy across your waist, his hand curled loosely against your hip, fingers twitching like he’s dreaming.

Carefully — so carefully — you think maybe you can slip out from under him.

Carefully, you reach for his wrist, your fingers trembling as you try to lift his arm off you. The sheet rustles softly, the sound too loud in the suffocating silence. You freeze, your breath hitching.

He stirs.

A small, unconscious noise slips from his throat, his fingers curling slightly against your hip.

Your heart slams against your ribs.

Please don’t wake up.

You stay frozen, your body stiff, your breath shallow. His arm feels impossibly heavy against your waist, like it’s anchoring you to the mattress. Slowly — so slowly — you ease it off you, inch by inch, until it finally falls to the bed.

He murmurs something in his sleep, low and unintelligible.

You freeze again, your pulse roaring in your ears.

He doesn’t wake.

You let out a shaky breath, the sound barely audible, and sit up as quietly as you can. The room tilts slightly as you do, your head pounding with a dull, persistent ache. You press a hand to your temple, blinking against the dizziness.

The sheets are tangled around your legs, the fabric twisted and damp with sweat. You untangle yourself carefully, your fingers trembling, your movements slow and deliberate.

His body shifts slightly behind you, his breathing deepening for a moment before settling back into a steady rhythm.

Move.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, the floor cold against your bare feet. The hem of your dress rides up as you stand, the fabric wrinkled and twisted, clinging to your skin.

You glance back at him, your chest tight.

He’s still asleep.

But his face is turned toward you now, his hair falling into his eyes, his lips parted slightly. He looks softer like this, his usual sharp edges dulled by sleep.

It makes your stomach turn.

Focus.

You force your gaze away, scanning the room for your things.

Your phone.

Your purse.

Where the fuck are they?

The panic sets in slowly, creeping up your spine like cold water, inch by inch. You scan the room, searching for your things, but the room looks almost exactly the same as when you left a month ago.

Cluttered. Messy. The ashtray on the nightstand is overflowing. Empty bottles litter the floor. The same crumpled blankets. The same cigarette burns in the carpet.

Like time stood still.

Like he hasn’t moved on.

Your stomach twists painfully, nausea creeping in at the edges. You stand, your legs unsteady, your head pounding. The ache in your body — between your thighs, in the muscles of your legs — is impossible to ignore.

You take a step toward the bathroom, your hands trembling as you reach for the door handle. You need a moment to breathe. To think.

To figure out what the fuck happened.

The bathroom is as grim as you remember. The light flickers when you turn it on, casting everything in a sickly yellow glow. The mirror is streaked with water stains, the sink cluttered with half-used toiletries.

You close the door behind you, locking it with a shaky hand.

And then you catch your reflection.

Your lipstick is barely there anymore, smudged at the edges. Your mascara streaked under your eyes. Your hair is a tangled mess, the carefully straightened strands now knotted and frizzy.

But it’s the rest of you that makes your breath catch.

The dress you wore last night is twisted around your waist, the hem wrinkled and pulled too high. Your thighs are bare. You pull at the fabric, tugging it down, but your hands freeze when you see the faint bruises.

Finger-shaped bruises.

They’re light, barely there, but you know what they are.

Your stomach drops.

You lift the hem of your dress higher, revealing more bruises along your inner thighs. Some small, faint smudges of blue and purple. Some darker.

You press your fingers to them, your skin flinching under your own touch.

Did I fall?

Did I—

Your mind races, scrambling for an explanation, for anything that makes sense.

And then your eyes flicker lower.

Your underwear is backward.

You stare for a long moment, your brain struggling to catch up with what you’re seeing. The waistband digs awkwardly into your hips, the tag twisted around to the front.

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

Your stomach churns violently.

You lift the toilet lid, falling to your knees as you retch. There’s nothing in your stomach but bile, burning its way up your throat.

When you’re done, you sit back on your heels, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. The bathroom spins around you, your head pounding, your chest heaving with shallow breaths.

You reach for the sink, pulling yourself up slowly, your hands gripping the edge so tightly your knuckles turn white.

Your eyes flicker back to your reflection.

The bruises.

The backward underwear.

The ache between your legs.

Did we—

No.

No, no, no.

You grip the sink harder, your nails digging into the porcelain.

‘I don’t remember.’

That’s the worst part.

You don’t remember anything.

You remember seeing him at the club. You remember yelling at him, calling him out for the voicemail. You remember him pulling you outside, the alley reeking of cigarette smoke and beer.

And then it’s all a blur.

Flashes of his voice. His hand on your arm. The way he looked at you — dark, desperate.

But nothing else.

Your chest tightens painfully.

You want to leave.

You need to leave.

You unlock the bathroom door with shaking hands, your heart pounding in your chest as you step back into the bedroom.

But when you step inside —

He’s awake.

Su-bong is sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers tangled in his hair. He looks up when he hears you, his gaze locking on yours.

And the first thing you notice?

He’s sober.

There’s no haze in his eyes. No slurred speech. No unsteady hands.

He’s completely sober.

Your stomach twists painfully.

“Morning.”

His voice is soft, tentative.

Like he’s testing the waters.

You don’t say anything.

You take a step toward the nightstand, searching for your phone. Your purse. Anything.

But he stands up slowly, blocking your path.

“Hey.”

His voice is softer now, coaxing.

“You don’t have to run.”

Your hands tremble at your sides.

“I don’t remember anything,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “I don’t—”

“I know.” His eyes soften, his brows pulling together in that familiar expression of concern. “You were really drunk.”

Your heart sinks.

“What happened?”

He exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. “You saw me at the club. You… you wanted to come back here.”

You shake your head, your stomach churning.

“I don’t remember that.”

You must’ve been really drunk because from what you remember you weren’t exactly happy too see him. How did you go from fighting with him to begging to be back at his apartment?

“You were drunk,” he says again, like it’s the answer to everything. “It’s okay. I took care of you.”

Your chest tightens painfully.

The bruises.

The backward underwear.

The ache.

“What do you mean, you took care of me?”

His gaze flickers away for a moment, his jaw tightening.

“You wanted to come back,” he says softly. “You told me you missed me. That you wanted to… you know. Talk. Figure things out.”

Your mind spins, scrambling to fill in the blanks.

“I don’t remember,” you whisper again, your voice shaking.

“I know.” He steps closer, his voice low, soothing. “It’s okay. I missed you too.”

He reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours.

You flinch.

But he doesn’t pull back.

“I missed you,” he says again, his voice softening. “I love you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. They only hurt so bad because he was saying them now. After everything.

And for a moment —

You don’t know what to believe.

“You were wasted, Y/N.”

His words come soft, careful, like he’s tiptoeing around something fragile. His body language matches it — slouched shoulders, a furrowed brow, the faintest slump in his posture like he’s weighed down by concern.

Your stomach churns.

“I… I wasn’t that drunk.” The words feel hollow as they leave your mouth. A lie to yourself, as much as to him. You’d lost count at six shots. At least six. Maybe more.

His lips press into a thin line, a faint shake of his head following. “You could barely stand.”

Your hands curl into fists at your sides, knuckles trembling.

“I don’t remember…” You force the words out, hating how small they sound, how they let the power tip toward him.

He exhales slowly, running a hand down his face.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. You were crying. Saying you missed me. That you needed me.” He pauses, eyes meeting yours, steady and unwavering. “What was I supposed to do, huh? Just leave you there?”

The breath punches out of you. Crying? Saying you missed him? Needed him?

That couldn’t be true. That can’t be true.

But your mind betrays you. A flash of his hands steadying you on the dance floor. His voice coaxing you into the alley. The warmth of his hand brushing yours.

Pieces fall together, but the picture is fractured, missing the crucial moments. And that’s what he’s counting on.

“I don’t…” Your voice cracks, a fresh wave of panic rolling through you. “I wouldn’t—”

“You did,” he says firmly. Not loud, but firm enough that it cuts through your protest. “You were falling apart, Y/N. I couldn’t just—” He stops, dragging his hand through his hair like he’s trying to collect himself. “I had to help you.”

Help you.

The bruises on your thighs burn like a brand.

“By bringing me here?” you snap, your voice rising. “By—by—” You stop yourself before the question comes tumbling out: Did you touch me?

His face hardens just slightly, enough to send a shiver skittering down your spine. “I wasn’t going to let you go home alone. Not like that. You don’t even know what could’ve happened.”

“What do you mean what could’ve happened?” Your voice cracks, pitching higher, panic seeping in. “What did happen?”

He holds your gaze, and for a moment, his expression softens again. “Nothing happened.”

The words should feel like a relief. They don’t.

“Nothing?” Your voice is small, but there’s a sharp edge to it.

“Nothing,” he repeats, stepping closer. Too close. “You needed me, Y/N. And I was there for you. Like I always have been.”

Always.

Your mind spirals, reaching for anything concrete, any moment from last night that you can grab onto. But it’s all a haze, smothered by the tequila and the smoke and him.

“I don’t…” You press a hand to your temple, the ache blooming there sharp and relentless. “I don’t remember asking to come back here.”

His hand reaches out, brushing against your arm, and you flinch without meaning to.

His eyes darken at that. “You’re scared of me now?”

You want to say yes. But the word lodges itself in your throat, too big to swallow, too dangerous to spit out.

“I’m not scared of you,” you lie.

“Then why are you acting like this?” His voice is soft, low, almost tender. “I didn’t do anything wrong, Y/N. I just—” He stops, his jaw clenching. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And now you’re looking at me like I’m a fucking monster.”

He steps closer. You step back. The space between you feels like it’s shrinking, suffocating.

“Why am I here, Su-bong?” Your voice is stronger now, the edge of panic sharpening it. “Why the fuck was I in your bed?”

He tilts his head slightly, his brows knitting together like you’ve just said something unreasonable. “You wanted to be here.”

“No.” You shake your head, your chest tightening. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t—” Your voice cracks, the words tangling in your throat. “I don’t even remember coming back with you.”

His expression doesn’t shift. “You were drunk,” he says simply. “You don’t have to make this a big deal.”

You laugh — bitter, sharp. “Not a big deal?” The words tumble out before you can stop them. “Not a big fucking deal? I don’t even know what happened, Su-bong. I don’t—” Your breath hitches, your stomach twisting violently. The next words catch in your throat, almost too heavy to force out. “Did we—”

You can’t say it. You can barely think it.

“Did we have sex?”

He doesn’t react right away. Not outwardly. But you catch it — the faint flicker of tension in his jaw, the way his gaze shifts to the side before finding yours again.

“Why would you ask me that?” His voice is steady, but there’s something too measured about it, like he’s rehearsed this answer in his head a thousand times.

“Because I don’t fucking know,” you snap, your hands trembling. They curl into fists at your sides, shaking with every ragged breath. “My underwear’s on backwards, Su-bong. I have bruises. And you’re acting—” You stop yourself, your throat tightening painfully. “You’re acting like you did something.”

His jaw tightens again, and this time his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. He exhales slowly, dragging his hand through his hair.

“I didn’t do anything you didn’t want,” he says finally, his tone low but clipped.

It’s not an answer.

It’s not a fucking answer.

“What does that mean?” Your voice rises, panic flaring again. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means you wanted to come back with me,” he says, sharper now, a flash of frustration cutting through the veneer of calm. “You were all over me at the club, Y/N. I told you we shouldn’t—” He cuts himself off abruptly, his fingers raking through his hair again, the strands spiking in every direction. “But you wouldn’t let it go.”

Your stomach twists painfully, the nausea creeping back in full force.

“I wouldn’t let it go?” Your voice cracks, disbelief bleeding into every syllable. “You’re blaming me? You’re saying I—”

“I’m not blaming you.” He exhales sharply, his voice softening just slightly, like he’s trying to rein himself back in. “I’m saying you wanted this. You made that clear.”

“I don’t even remember!” Your voice breaks now, raw and jagged, splintering through the room. “How can I want something I can’t fucking remember?”

He steps closer, and this time you’re too stunned, too frozen, to move.

“Y/N.” His voice drops lower, almost pleading, his hand twitching at his side like he wants to reach for you. “You were drunk, yeah. But you weren’t—” He hesitates, his gaze flickering over your face. “You weren’t out of it. You knew what you were doing.”

The words settle over you like a lead weight, pressing down on your chest until it feels impossible to breathe. Your mind scrambles to piece together the night before, to fill in the blanks, but it’s all fog. Hazy flashes of neon lights and pounding music and his hand on your arm.

“I don’t—” Your voice falters, cracking under the weight in your chest. “I don’t know what to believe.”

His expression softens slightly, his shoulders lowering as he steps closer again, closing the gap between you.

“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” he says, his voice coaxing, soothing. He reaches for your hand, brushing his fingers against yours.

You flinch.

The motion is small, instinctive. But he catches it, his gaze darkening for a fraction of a second before he carefully, deliberately pulls his hand back.

“I don’t know what else to say to you,” he murmurs, his tone taking on a faint edge of frustration again. “I tried to do the right thing, Y/N. I could’ve left you at the club. I could’ve let you go home alone. But I didn’t.”

He looks at you, his eyes steady and unwavering, and you hate how much they make your stomach twist.

“I stayed.” He takes another step forward, close enough now that you can smell the faint trace of his cologne, mingling with the smoke and stale alcohol lingering in the room. “Because you needed me.”

You press your back against the wall, your hands gripping the hem of your dress so tightly it crumples in your fists.

“I don’t remember needing you,” you say, your voice small but sharp, each word cutting through the thick tension in the room.

His gaze drops to the floor for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. When he looks up again, there’s something different in his eyes. Something dark.

“Then maybe you should ask yourself why you’re here.”

The question hits like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from your lungs.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

And in the silence that follows, he steps back, his expression shifting to something softer, more familiar.

“I missed you,” he says, his voice low, almost tender. “And I know you missed me too.”

“Just… stay.”

The word hangs in the air between you, heavy and suffocating.

Stay.

You want to run. You want to grab your things and get out of this apartment, out of this nightmare, and never look back. But your legs won’t move. Your feet feel glued to the floor, weighed down by doubt and fear and something else—something softer, something that aches when he looks at you like this.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” you whisper.

His jaw tightens, his hands curling into fists at his sides. But when he speaks, his voice is soft. Vulnerable.

“I know.” His gaze drops to the floor for a moment, then back to you. “I don’t blame you for feeling that way. But I’m not the guy I was before, Y/N. I’m trying. I’m trying to be better.”

You hate how much those words hurt. How much you want to believe them.

“You shouldn’t have brought me here,” you say, your voice trembling. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“You did,” he says firmly. “Maybe you don’t remember, but you did.”

The words cut through you like a blade, sharp and cold. You don’t believe him. You don’t want to believe him.

But the tequila haze clouds everything, blurring the edges of the truth.

“Just give me a chance,” he says, stepping closer again. “Let me prove it to you. Let me—” He stops himself, his voice catching. “Let me fix this.”

Your throat tightens, the weight of his words pressing down on you, crushing.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whisper.

He reaches for your hand again, and this time, you don’t pull away. His fingers are warm, steady, wrapping around yours like they belong there. Like they always have.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he says again. His voice is so soft, so careful. “Just stay. Please.”

Your chest heaves, your breath shallow and uneven.

And then—

Your phone buzzes.

The sound cuts through the tension like a knife, sharp and jarring. You jerk your hand away from his, your heart leaping into your throat as you spin toward the nightstand.

Your phone is lying there, screen glowing faintly in the dim light. Ji-hye’s name flashes across the screen.

Your stomach twists violently.

Su-bong doesn’t move. He stands frozen in place, his gaze fixed on you. You don’t look at him. You don’t want to see whatever’s written on his face.

You grab the phone, your fingers trembling as you swipe to open the message.

Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗(9:04 AM): You good? Please tell me you didn’t go home with him.

Your breath catches, your chest tightening painfully.

“Who is it?” Su-bong’s voice cuts through the silence, low and steady, but there’s an edge to it now.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Instead, you take a shaky step back, clutching the phone like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

“Y/N.” His voice is softer now, coaxing, but there’s a sharpness beneath it, something dark and unyielding. “Who was it?”

“Ji-hye.” The name barely makes it out of your mouth, your voice cracking on the second syllable.

He hums, low and quiet. “What did she say?”

You glance down at the screen again, the words burning into your retinas. You good? Please tell me you didn’t go home with him.

You don’t know what to say.

What can you say?

“Y/N,” he says again, stepping closer. His voice drops lower, quieter, like he’s trying to keep you from bolting. “Talk to me.”

Your chest heaves, your breath coming faster now. “I need to go.”

The words feel weak, hollow, and you hate how they tremble as they leave your lips.

“Go where?” His question is quiet, but there’s a weight to it that makes your stomach turn.

“Away from here.”

The second the words are out, his expression shifts. The softness in his gaze hardens, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“If you walk out that door…” He trails off, his voice cutting off like he’s biting down on the rest of the sentence.

Your heart races, panic rising in your chest. “What?”

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his neck tightening. “If you walk out that door, you’ll never see me again.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from your lungs.

There’s a finality to them, an edge that cuts too deep. You don’t know what he means — if he’s talking about leaving your life or leaving altogether — but it doesn’t matter.

It scares you.

And he knows it.

His gaze stays locked on yours, unflinching, unwavering. “I’m serious, Y/N.”

Your phone buzzes again in your hand, the sound startling you. You glance down at the screen.

Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗(9:06 AM): If you’re with him, just leave. I’ll come get you.

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.

Su-bong takes another step closer. “You don’t have to leave.” His voice drops lower, almost a whisper. “We can talk. We can figure this out. But if you walk away now…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t have to. The threat lingers in the air between you, heavy and suffocating.

Your fingers tighten around your phone, Ji-hye’s message flashing like a lifeline in your palm.

“Y/N.” His voice is softer now, pleading. “Stay.”

You look up at him, your chest heaving, your mind spinning.

And in that moment, you don’t know what scares you more; the thought of staying, or the thought of leaving.

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iactuallykissedsharawheeler · 1 year ago

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⭑⌗ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐇𝐂𝐒 + 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✶ let's go ahead and clear that idea that ellie wouldn't be like. immediately obsessed with you and giving you secret discounts on the weed.

✶ she met you five seconds ago and she was like. why would she ever pay for anything?? she's literally my reason for breathing?? (ok babe 😭) so you're getting that stuff for lowest price she can possibly make it. and if you flirt a little?? she's wondering why she's not just handing you the bag for free.

✶ when you guys get closer, she notices you're kinda into pink so when she sees pink papers???? she's SLAMMING that card, best believe. when you're freaking and like HOWD YOU GET THIS she's trying to pretend to be all cool like oh idk just found 'em and thought it'd be funny but if you like 'em you can have them ... i guess 😒

✶ if you're a little inexperienced with it she's a little protective and is like oh i don't think you should try that this one's way better and gives it to you on the house like?? you're trying to pay for it and she's like noooo it's for you just take it even though that was some of her good weed and she never gives that out. but you're nice and sweet and her bestest customer so who is she to charge you??

✶ when y'all are closer she literally just starts buying shit for you. you're like oh my gosh this bracelet is literally so pretty and next time you come over she's like so.. guess what and there's the bracelet in a box under two pretty pre-rolls (that she's also not letting you pay for btw)

✶ n you're so worried about breaking her bank when she does it but she's literally living lavish because she's everyone's dealer and no one with weed isn't getting it from her. (charismatic queen tbh)

✶ plus if you think this is gonna kill her wallet just wait until you guys start actually dating. she's not even waiting for you to ask for shit, she's telling you to put your cart on public so she can surprise you all the time.

✶ you're like babe how am i gonna pay you back and she's like just .. be pretty for me, yeah? 's not hard for you at all. (just flustered myself give me a minute)

✶ and some random things i just think she'd do:

✶ texting you high out of her mind about dinosaur facts because she just knows too much and needs to get it out immediately (she's such a nerd I love it 😭)

✶ trying to shotgun with you but she sees your face lookin' all pretty n dazed, chokes on the smoke, and just simply never does it after that. (give her a week, she'll be back)

✶ reading a shit ton of sci-fi. she compulsively reads savage starlight all the time but she's actually obsessed with the whole genre n can't exist without it atp (she DEFINITELY owns a few space cowboy books and before meeting you she would always imagine she was the lead guy with the hot love interest who was definitely some kind of alien. don't question it.)

✶ if you're a plushie girlie (me fr) she's ALWAYS buying you plushies. but she always buys one that matches yours for herself so you guys are "always together" or something. idk she's a little bit of a loser.

✶ she's so bad at keeping up with skincare but now she just weaponises that and makes you do it for her. literally rolling her eyes and pouting if you do yours without her, mumbling shit like "oh yeah, just forget about ellie, huh? that's what they all do" until you're like babe what??? 😭

✶ also i know that everyone says this but she really does own some weird ass shirts 😭😭 she'll get high and buy weird shit like that shirt that just says tomatoes it's so wild going through her closet lmaoo

✶ and because of her high shopping she also has some weird ass bongs like. seriously. there's a an astronaut one with octopus legs for sure, i can feel it.

✶ high ellie tweets>> she's actually so out of pocket sometimes 😭 some of her greatest hits would probs be

✶ also she was so nervous around you and wouldn't look you in the eye for too long because she didn't wanna scare you but then she got a little bold when she found out you liked girls and then was just straight up cocky when she realised you liked her, too (that blunt flick when dina said she wanted her to kiss her .. yeah that ellie)

✶ she's just the bestest, silliest, nerdiest girl ever and the best girlfriend literally anyone could ask for 💞💞

hey guys back with another banger hope you guys enjoyed make sure to like follow and subscribe‼️ no but seriously give me opinions because i love hearing you guys have little convos and the reposts are always so wild 😭😭 thank you new jersey, and goodnight (also don't look at the tags im shy) as alwaysss creds to @ cafekitsune bc these dividers are so mf cute

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ansleyyquinn · 11 days ago

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CHOI SU-BONG X FEM!READER(pink is reader,purple is thanos and red is the robot

The last thing I expected was to see him here.

The room buzzed with nervous energy—hundreds of players, all dressed in matching green tracksuits, shifting anxiously under the cold fluorescent lights. Some whispered, some prayed, and others sat in stunned silence, still processing what they had gotten themselves into.I had barely wrapped my head around my own situation when a deep, familiar voice cut through the noise.

“Señsorita?”

My stomach dropped.I turned slowly, already knowing who I would see. And there he was—Thanos.His towering frame loomed over the others, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. He looked… different. His face was sharper, his body leaner, but the biggest change wasn’t physical. It was in his eyes.For a moment, neither of us spoke. The weight of our past hung between us, heavy and unspoken.Then he took a step closer.“Thanos,” I managed to say, my voice steadier than I felt.His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, wasn’t quite a smile. “Didn’t think I’d see you again.” “Same,” I admitted, crossing my arms. “Though I guess it shouldn’t surprise me. You always did have a habit of making reckless choices.”His smirk faded. “And you always had a habit of walking away.”A sharp pang of anger stabbed through me. “I didn’t walk away. You pushed me away. You and those drugs.”Silence. A flicker of something guilt, maybe crossed his face. But before he could respond, a robotic voice crackled through the speakers.“Players, prepare for the first game.”

Our conversation was over. For now.

___________________________________

The first game started, the air was filled with screams.People dropped one by one, their bodies hitting the ground with sickening thuds. I forced myself to block it out, to focus on moving when the doll’s head was turned away.I had almost fallen near the finish line when I felt someone grab my waist to steady me.

Thanos.

His grip was firm but not forceful. His eyes darted around, scanning for danger before locking onto mine.“Stay close to me, señorita,” he murmured.It was the way he said it like a promise, like a plea that made my heart clench. I hated that part of me still responded to him.Against my better judgment, I nodded.And together, we made it across.

_____________________________________

The announcement of the next game sent a wave of murmurs through the players.“Pair up into a group of 5”I barely had time to react before a strong hand wrapped around my wrist.“You’re with me,” Thanos said firmly. It wasn’t a question.I should have said no. I should have found someone else. But deep down, I knew I didn’t want to face this game with anyone but him.“Fine,” I muttered.We found 3 other players to play it with(se-mi,nam-gyu and min-su)(sorry gyeong-su)“I’ll play gonggi” “Sure señorita”

____________________________________ “Mingle” sounded innocent enough—until we realized it was a social elimination game. Alliances were being made left and right.

_____________________________________

Tensions were high. Fights broke out. And then came the worst part—the bathroom fight.Player 333 had a fork,Thanos twisted at the last second. The fork sank into his shoulder instead of his neck. A guttural snarl tore from his throat as he elbowed his attacker, sending them sprawling. Blood soaked his tracksuit, but he didn’t stop moving.I didn’t even know what was happening until the robotic voice started announcing eliminated players in the fight.I froze hoping that thanos was okay.Then i saw him run…Straight to me.I barely had time to register the pain in his face before he grabbed my wrist, his blood smearing onto my skin.gripping his arm to steady him. “You’re bleeding.” “Not the first time,” he muttered. “Won’t be the last.”But despite his words, despite his usual bravado, he didn’t let go of me.

____________________________________

That night, after everything had calmed down, I found him sitting on one of the bunk beds, pressing a makeshift bandage from my jacket to his wound I sat beside him without a word.For a long time, we just sat there, the silence stretching between us. Then, finally, I spoke.“You almost died today.”He let out a slow breath. “Yeah.”I turned to face him fully. “Why did you run to me?”He met my gaze, and for once, there was no arrogance, no deflection. Just honesty.“Because you’re the only thing that still matters,” he admitted. “Even after everything. Even after I screwed up.”My heart twisted. “Thanos…”He reached for my hand, his fingers brushing over mine. “I’m not asking for forgiveness, señorita. Just… let me keep you safe.”I should have walked away. I should have said no.But instead, I squeezed his hand. ”You always were an idiot,” I murmured. He chuckled, then winced. “Yeah. But I’m your idiot.” And for the first time since this nightmare started, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—we could survive this.

Together.

#choi su bong x reader #thanos squid game x reader #player 230 x reader #squid game x reader

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kn-1013 · 3 months ago

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Exploratory Surgery #2

The Sally Face gang plus Travis all get high together.

Rating: T Word Count: ~1800 Pairing: None/Gen Warnings: Drug use and references to child abuse

A/N: this involves two of my very self-indulgent headcannons; that ashley has tourettes, and that sal has POTS. this doesn't change much about the characters but is some needed context.

========

“How’s it feel so far? Good?” Ashley turned her head to him and elbowed him gently, her eyes half-lidded and red. Her ear was pressed to the couch and there was a deeply inebriated grin on her face.

“I can confidently say I have never experienced this feeling before in my life.” Travis felt like he was going to start phasing through the overly soft couch he was planted on. He stared at the ceiling, his hands resting on his stomach, listening to the quiet Spice Girls song playing in the background. Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t typically listen to a lot of contemporary music, or maybe it’s the weed, but right now, Saturday Night Divas was the most beautiful song he’s ever heard.

In this moment, he could feel everything; the fabric of every piece of clothing on his body, the thick and stale air of the Addison Apartments, the softness of the couch and how his weight shifted the stuffing inside, the way Ashley’s body next to him shifted the couch even further, the sensation of his bruised and scraped skin, the weight of his own body, he could even feel the Earth’s axis. But unlike other times this happened, it wasn’t overwhelming. It felt fine. Unifying, even. He could feel the way that everything was connected.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Ashley asked, probing him for symptoms of greening out.

“I have no idea.” Travis looked back to the ceiling. Whether it was good or bad just seemed so insignificant to him right now. Right now, it just was.

Based on the way the others always acted when they were high, he was expecting more of a euphoric feeling when he tried it for the first time, but it didn’t feel quite like that to him. It felt like a relaxed, yet weighted clarity had dawned onto him. He was putting into words concepts he was acutely aware of but never consciously recognized. It was heavy, evocative, thought-provoking, stimulating.

“I think that’s a good sign.” Sal said from his spot on the floor. He’d been laying down on his back on the floor for a while now, since he took a couple of huge hits from the bong and his blood pressure dropped so badly that he nearly passed out just sitting up on the couch. Larry was digging through his kitchen for chicken broth and pickle juice right now.

“Should you even be doing this with your heart thing?” Travis asked, noting the way his heart was pounding in his chest a little bit, but Sal blew raspberries from behind his mask. “It’s fiiiiine, probably. I haven’t had a heart attack yet. I just need a little bit of salt or something, then I’ll be at least half as normal as I usually am.” He snorted.

Travis didn’t really know what that meant, but if Sal knew what he was doing, then he probably shouldn’t argue too much. Travis was acutely aware of how that was a mildly unusual thought process for him to be having, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care all that much. Right now, he just wanted to sit in the moment.

Larry walked back in with a mug of something hot with a straw in it in one hand, and a jar of pickles plus a plastic fork in the other. He kneeled down next to Sal to set them on the ground. Sal raised himself to his elbows to start getting up, but his arms and shoulders were visibly shaking from the effort, and he quickly plopped himself back down on the ground, snorting, and Ash quickly joined in.

“You have to feed me...” Sal said. “You have to feed me pickles like a baby bird.” Larry chortled highly. “Dude, I would do that for you… If you actually needed it.” He opened the jar of pickles and stabbed the fork inside uncoordinatedly a couple of times before pulling one out for Sal.

“Ew?” Ash said.

“But I do need it, Larry, I need it so badly. Feed my- my pickles, Laaaaaaaaaaryyyyyyyyyy-” His voice got progressively louder until Larry grabbed the plastic nose of his prosthetic and shook Sal’s face until he started laughing.

“Shut up, I feed you pickles. I do it every day.” Larry deadpanned, and Sal laughed. Without missing a beat, the blue-haired boy replied, “My beautiful pickle nurse saves me from the brink of death once more.”

Sal unbuckled the bottom straps of his prosthetic face so Larry could attempt to shove a pickle underneath it in what was probably not the most effective way to get this done.

Travis had a feeling that none of what they were saying was true, but he wouldn’t know. Maybe friends did pickle-nurse each other.

“This is proper procedure, right Neil?” Ashley asked, looking over to Neil on her other side. Todd was on the floor in between his knees, letting his boyfriend play with his hair.

“I taught Larry everything he knows about pickle-nursing.” Neil said, not even looking up from the little braids he’d been constructing and deconstructing repeatedly in Todd’s curly, red hair.

Todd seemed to stir for the first time in maybe thirty minutes. He wasn’t asleep, he’d just honked a little too much of that bobo and got himself a bit more blasted than he normally would’ve liked. His voice was quiet and words slurred together in a far-gone kind of fatigue as he asked, “What the fuck are we talking about?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it, baby.” Neil said, petting his head softly. “Okay, I believe you.” Todd said, leaning back into the couch. “I’ll believe anything you tell me.”

“Travis, which is gayer: pickle nursing or hair salon?” Ash asked, gesturing from Sal and Larry to Todd and Neil.

Travis continued staring straight ahead, having absorbed himself in the conversation around him. He felt perfectly content right now, listening to this.

“Hellooooo, Travis?” Ash begun waving a hand in front of his face, and Travis started to snap himself back into reality.

“Huh? Whuh?” Travis sputtered and blinked dumbly, before he processed what had just happened. “Oh my gosh.” He covered his face in embarrassment and began laughing drunkenly, all high-pitched and lacking inhibition. He fell over onto the soft armrest of the couch as his knees lifted themselves up until his feet were off the ground.

“What, whaaat?” Ash asked, grabbing his shoulder and shaking.

Travis peered at Ashley through his fingers, and she could see parts of the stupid, inebriated grin on his face, and his squinted, reddened eyes.

“I thought I was listening to the radio. For like, the past ten minutes.” Travis’s voice was strained from trying not to laugh again, and he failed this fight after he stopped trying to communicate.

Ashley burst out laughing at his stoned-up mistake, and Larry began laughing hard enough that he needed to lean over, his forehead resting his weight over onto Sal’s trunk. Sal himself had spat warm chicken broth all over the inside of his mask, and he quickly turned over on his side, laughing and sputtering wetly on the ground, with Larry on top of him.

In the middle of the childish laughter, a deep and stinging melancholy had struck Travis.

It used to be a lot like this. Him, Larry, Ashley. All wound up in laughter at Travis’s old-fashioned home, or Ashley’s contemporary one. In Larry’s musty, turpentine-smelling basement bedroom. He remembered the smell of that wooden tree house Mr. Johnson had built before he disappeared. He wondered if the some of the glitter he’d spilled in the carpet of Ashley’s bedroom that one time was still there in its minuscule, yet untouchable glory.

Does Larry still have that scar on his elbow from that time he fell down the front steps of Travis’s house?

Travis’s ankle never stopped clicking when he turned it a certain way after he fell on it wrong from falling out of the tire swing in Ashley’s back yard.

Sometimes he still heard Ashley involuntarily repeating something rather mundane he’d said so many years ago with the same tone and inflection as when he’d first said it. It was like a snapshot of that moment existed within her permanently whenever her tics made her say ‘I got peanuts!’

It used to be a lot like this. Easy, fun contentment away from their parents. Away from expectations or prying eyes.

But then they got older. Life started getting complicated. They couldn’t dismiss their parents’ expectations anymore. Grades started becoming important. They had to think about their futures.

They just changed.

…No, that’s not what happened.

Travis changed.

And he didn’t just change out of nowhere, he was made to change, molded into what he was now through closed fists and backhands. Through hair brushes and belts, buckle-side first. Empty locked closets and physical restraint.

All at the hands of his father, spitting verses of the holy book like venom.

His father took him like clay and Travis let him, until he became so deformed by that tireless anger that he couldn’t look his reflection in the eye anymore. Because when he looked into those angry brown irises, he found himself consumed wholly by his father’s.

…And now they were here, where Travis was pausing in the middle of a laugh with people who used to have reasons to care about him, letting that old, empty ache spread further within his heart.

As they continued to laugh, and as the laughter died down back into conversation, he found himself falling quiet again. The way they spoke so naturally without him intervening only served to remind him that he didn’t belong here anymore. Maybe he never did.

Travis’s eyes made their way back to the point where the ceiling met the top of the wall as he leaned back into the couch, letting the soft, old cushions absorb his weight and sink his body in.

Nothing he could say in this conversation would be as funny or as useful as something one of their actual friends had to say, and he knew that. He knew that he was incredibly out of place here, what with all of the inside jokes and referenced memories he was missing. The way that they seemed to stop trying to include him as he got quieter and quieter again.

He internally begged someone outside his head to bring him back, to want him, to even notice him, but he wouldn't ask out loud, and so it never happened.

So he sat back on the couch, feeling the weight of everything on his skin, everything in his body, the unifying feeling of his own gravity, and he tried to be content with what he could get as he quietly listened to the radio.

#sally face #travis phelps #sal fisher #todd morrison #larry johnson #ashley campbell #neil douglas #my fics #exploratory surgery

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cuffsluttt · 1 month ago

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everyone on earth should have an intox kink i think. you're telling me if i have a few drinks I'll get so horny that you can make me cum just by playing with my nipples? you're telling me you wouldn't find it hot if you made me hit the bong one time too many and i end up on my knees trying to figure out how i can beg you to fuck me when im too far gone to even string a basic sentence together?? if a horny girl who couldn't fight back if she tried doesnt make you so horny that you're forced to lose all control and use her however you want... i dont want to talk to u <3

#int0x k!nk #txt

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skelly-words · 1 year ago

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JJK characters at the smoke sesh

SFW

I was smoking so I thought of this, just some little headcanons.

It's kind of reader insert because 'you' being there is implied, but not romantic, or just ignore it if that's not your thing.

also, I'm new to posting my writing on tumblr, so let me know if I'm doing anything wrong and what I should be writing, anyway... HCs

Gojo

Do NOT give him aux, not that his music taste is bad, but he'd purposefully play some wacky bs (think Minecraft remixes and bad SoundCloud rap) just to piss off everyone else.

He gets the giggles when he's high, everything is funny and he's crying a little from how much he laughs.

Gojo's tolerance is so low that he's only in the rotation for the first couple of bowls. (guys I can't roll, but we get creative with the DIY bongs.)

He brings snacks, but they're all sweet and he eats most of them.

Talks the whole group into playing dumb party games (truth or dare, would you rather, 20 questions). And he's fully invested too. Nobody else actually cares and he's standing there scolding you, "no it's important. If you had to pick one of us to go, who would it be, me or Nanami?" Cries when everyone picks him.

Geto

Here's the better music option. I can't say exactly what he'd play because it's different every time. He has a playlist for every mood.

Brings the savory snacks, most of them are spicy. I think he'd also pull up with a tupperware of leftovers too, but just for him. There's never enough for everybody, but maybe you could talk him into giving you a few bites.

He'd start doing random conventional tasks so incredibly wrong. Geto would be baked, and just stand up to start doing laundry. As long as you keep him away from the kitchen, he's fine.

The English language no longer exists. He just makes up words that sound similar to the intended definition. Mixes these in with his long-winded monologues about life or when he's trying to convince you to let him use the stove.

He's a lighter stealer, don't let it out of your sight or it'll disappear. He'll help you look for it too, until someone just offers theirs (which will also be stolen).

Nanami

Quiet. He's just in his own head.

The only one man enough to text the plug (even if he sounds like a fucking cop, he does his best).

Does not condone underage smoking, these are his loose college years. So if you're under 21 (sorry broski) gtfo.

He zones out a lot, just staring at the floor.

Swears up and down that he's not high when he's been counting the floorboards for the past twenty minutes.

You also have to keep him out of the kitchen because Nanami doesn't want cheetos, he needs REAL food. But if you let him cook before he smokes, the munchies are immaculate.

The only time you'll see his hair messy. It's like the hair gel gives up after the first hit.

Shoko

She starts eating the snacks before you've even packed the first bowl. Also stashes her favorites for later before anyone else can get to them.

Funks up the function with her cigarettes too. Everyone groans when she pulls her pack out.

Highest tolerance of the group, or maybe she just keeps it together the best even when she's tripping.

And she never passes that shit either (it's okay 'cause she's pretty). Whoever's next to her is getting straight ash.

Utahime

She's only there when Shoko is so she can have a Satoru buffer.

She'll get all soft and sappy though, complimenting random features and attributes of whoever's shoulder she's leaning on.

Honestly, really nice to be around.

She also likes sweets as munchies, but it kinda works out because she and Gojo only get along when they're stoned.

Gets bullied into getting fast food when the snacks run out.

Mei Mei

She only smokes girl blunts, rolls them herself, and doesn't share.

Probably doesn't even come most of the time.

She doesn't talk to anyone until she's hungry, and then all of a sudden gets friendly as she sneaks a hand into the pretzel bag you're holding.

#jjk #gojo satoru #geto suguru #nanami kento #shoko ieiri #utahime iori #skel procrastinates

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consumeronionbulletin · 2 years ago

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Crash Course in Romance (2023)

Really enjoyed this show. The writing and story felt familiar, but the actors were good enough that it still seems fresh. Could have done with 50% less obsessed crazy stalker people though.

What Worked

The leads were fun to watch both separately and together. The overall relationships were interesting and the drama does a good job of making something that should be rather dull (math class) seem exciting. Even the most detestable people in the show still had some moments of sympathy as well, which makes them seem like real people, and it also makes the show feel safer rather than super stressful.

What Didn't Work

The weird murder plot, but this was less offensive than most and they didn't allow it to take over the show.

The Performances

Jeon Do-yeon as Nam Haeng-seon. I'm not sure if it's groundbreaking to take a character that is super common in romance (the plucky young woman who just wants to take care of her family, but OMG life is terrible) and just age her up 15 years. Sadly, it kind of feels that way. In any case, this actor is great, she's apparently a big deal in K-film and I'm so glad we got to see her here.

Jung Kyung-ho as Choi Chi-yeol. He's not all that different from the character he played in Hospital Playlist (I enjoyed him in that), but his story is different enough that it still seemed interesting. Jung Kyung-ho did a great job as a lead, and I liked all the different character moments the writers put out there for him. Not all of them stuck (for example, the tragic student death that he seems to have forgotten about after five episodes), but overall it was more hits than misses.

Oh Eui-shik as Nam Jae-woo. Every time I see a character in these dramas who is on the Asperger's spectrum, I start to wonder if the writers are ticking a box or something. But as long as they make sure and put in the work to make the character feel real, then I'm okay with it. Oh Eui-shik did the work, and I was okay with it.

Lee Bong-ryun as Kim Young-joo. I enjoyed seeing her in Hometown Cha x 3 and she did a great job here (though her character is a little more one-note here). I felt her romance arc at the end was actually kind of nice.

Roh Yoon-seo as Nam Hae-yi. Really good job by a young actress who was only in her second drama. Hopefully, she'll have a long career, because she was fun to watch and the character was well done as well.

Jang Young-nam as Jang Seo-jin. The only other role I've seen her in was as kind of a bad person in IOK2NBO. She wasn't a great person here, but I had alot more sympathy for her, partly because the actor did a good job of making her relatable even during all the crazy plot stuff. I'm glad the writers left the character in a pretty good place overall.

Kim Mi-kyung as Haeng-seon's mother. I have already raved about how cool this actor is in other places. She was only in two episodes, and her character didn't even get a real name, but it was still just nice to see her on screen.

The High School Kiddos. I think they all did a good job. The writers didn't try and make them too cutesy or turn it into an afterschool special. They were fun to watch when they were on screen, and they all had good moments in the show.

The Gang of Bad Mothers With Money. I kind of enjoyed their antics, even if it felt like the writers were giving them the job of creating pointless drama at times. They were funny when they needed to be, and detestable when they needed to be, but none of them were too memorable.

The Evil Baddie Assistant Guy. Kind of a spoiler though it's not really a huge secret. I think the actor did a decent job of playing subtle with a character that slowly turns into a mustache twirling villain by the end of the series. I didn't need an interesting villain, in fact I'd rather not bother with him at all, but if you have to have a murder spree in your drama, this guy is an acceptable choice.

TL; DR:

Fun little romance / relationship drama with good casting that hit a sweet spot between familiar and fresh. Had some funny moments, and a few genuine feels but you knew going in that you'd end up with a HEA.

#my kdrama notes #crash course in romance #one shot scandal #no more murders in my romance

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coldteaxspilledink · 1 year ago

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Change Partners: Trade Winds Verse

Bruce Miller x Colleen Murphy

"All I ever wanted was to marry him. Make a home and raise a family, have something like my parents did...but he didn't want that with me."

He watched as she carefully took out a large leather-bound scrapbook and passed it to him. A finely manicured nail pointed out a sandy haired tanned and lanky looking fisherman with a large grin spread across his face as he wrapped an arm around a younger and even more tan Colleen who was smiling softly. Going back a few photos, possibly taken a few years apart Bruce noticed that Col's facial expression changed over the years, rather abruptly, but a definite marked changed from the love that shone from her in the first few, he could tell by her clothes and how her hair changed from complicated updos to long and loose.

"I'm not even seeing a ring in any of these."

The snick of a lighter and the rumble of bubbles let him know that she'd pulled out the bong she kept for 'Serious Business' also known as the FUBAR water pipe. This was heavy shit she was going to lay on him, as she should. He'd told her everything about what happened to him over there at 18. She was the only one to relive it with him as he had never told a single soul except those that were with him in the moment. She had busied herself grabbing the stash box and her tiny crane shaped scissors along with a black lacquer tray and began snipping, fluffing and packing as she tried to calm herself.

"Over there on the stereo...A side track one of Stills 2."

He knew that she was a fan of the Eagles as well as Joe Walsh but it was Stephen Stills and his lyrical and musical expertise that had captured Colleen's heart as well as her words. Bruce had heard this one but he'd never heard it especially from a broken hearted woman's point of view.

Please then remember and don't get too close To one special one He will take your defenses and run

"He took everything from me, slowly but steadily over the course of twelve years together I had nothing left to give him. Dave used to work for my Dad and uncle Harvey on a fishing boat my Granddad had. We went to school together so I knew him, he was a clown but for some reason after he started working for the business he had his eye on me. Of course I was flattered...I mean..."

Holding up a high school yearbook photo with something sappy written on it signed 'love Dave' on the back. Bruce had to admit that Dave the Idiot was a decent looking guy. There was another one of them together, a couple photo with another doe eyed curly haired girl and a dude that just all but screamed 'I'm a douchebag punch me'. They were sitting somewhere on a beach by the rocks in the sunshine all carefree and without a scarred heart amongst them.

"So you think..."

Passing him the lighter and the bong she nodded. Bruce shook his head and she took the first hit. The smoke looping and whirling up the looped neck of the bong until she pulled the bowl out and inhaled and held it. Holding out the bong once more she offered it to him and he accepted. Mimicking her motions he nearly burnt his thumb until she leaned over, exhaled over his shoulder away from his face and flicked the lighter for him with a smile.

"That the little weasel never truly loved me and was only using me to make his name known? Yes. When my Dad died I was 16, nearly 17, I had like a month to go and then my world turned to shit but anyways...Dave was off in New York with his buddies from the country club, people I introduced him to, Joel Benson was one that stands out but he's another story entirely, my mother tried calling him twenty times, Helene tried at least a hundred. He'd just pick up the receiver and put it back down..."

A sniffle was heard quietly as she now went about rolling a joint. She always had to be doing something with her hands when she was upset he noted.

"After a while he just left it off the hook. He expected me to help him cover his half of the room service bill he'd had mailed home because why not? When my mom finally told him what happened to my Dad you'd have thought it was his father that had died..."

That was when she finally let the dam break and her tears fall. Shaky hands lit the joint that she'd rolled and she inhaled deeper than he'd ever seen her. He wondered if she had used weed to quit smoking but that was a question for another day.

"Sounds to me like I know I'm playing Santa to Dave this year when we visit for Christmas."

Another hit and she passed it to him with a small quizzical smile.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm knocking his teeth down his throat and as a stocking stuffer he's getting a black eye."

#Trade Winds verse #Bruce x Colleen

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colleenmurphy · 1 year ago

Text

"All I ever wanted was to marry him. Make a home and raise a family, have something like my parents did...but he didn't want that with me."

"I'm not even seeing a ring in any of these."

"Over there on the stereo...A side track one of Stills 2."

Please then remember and don't get too close To one special one He will take your defenses and run

"So you think..."

A sniffle was heard quietly as she now went about rolling a joint. She always had to be doing something with her hands when she was upset he noted.

"Sounds to me like I know I'm playing Santa to Dave this year when we visit for Christmas."

Another hit and she passed it to him with a small quizzical smile.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm knocking his teeth down his throat and as a stocking stuffer he's getting a black eye."

#Trade Winds verse #Bruce Miller x Colleen Murphy

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blackmarketcraftsupply · 2 years ago

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ruminate 808

the first time I ever got high on acid, I went with my best friends and my girlfriend to one of their houses and did it. I had done acid before, but it had never worked for me until that day. I remember a set of things very clearly: lying on the ground by the kitchen watching the sun bounce of the rug, going outside and watching the trees dance in the woods behind the house, taking one of my old sockets to a wrench that I used to smoke gravity bongs with and taking a blowtorch to it until an oil-black residue came spilling out onto the rocks near the campfire. These are the things that I remember about that day when I’m remembering good things about my life. I remember one of my friends losing his mind to an Infected Mushroom song and dancing around to it without abandon.

But that’s also when shit started to really hit the fan in terms of my girlfriend and I. She had cheated on me before with her ex-boyfriend, whom she had kept in her life under the guise of how good her ex’s relationship with her little brother was, who wasn’t doing very well in school. “I have a kink about having sex with ex-boyfriends, as a concept” she had told me before. I thought it really might be just a concept- just a kink that maybe we could roleplay sometime for her. But it wasn’t. She broke up with me temporarily once after I had lymes disease over the course of a family vacation that was an absolute slog to get through. She had been seeing him over the course of the week, and I’m sure she saw him again before we finally got back together. I don’t remember how or when we finally did, but we were together again for me and my friends to take acid. She never asked if I wanted to get together for anything, sexual or otherwise, during the times we were apart or after the conclusion of this story, so I’m pretty sure this wasn’t a concept but just a way for her to normalize continuing to keep a relationship with her ex for whenever she felt like that’s something she wanted, really.

Well, we all took acid, and she didn’t, but one of my best friends that was there was pretty much the closest I had been to anyone besides a romantic partner perhaps. He and I had lived together for a year briefly before this, and I spent more time with him than almost anyone else by my recollection. We used to all get home from high school together and hang out, and then after we were done hanging out it was a common occurrence to go back to our own houses and meet up again virtually to play video games together. He was the one who drove us here. There was a point in the trip where I remember sitting on the floor while both of them were sitting on the couch under a blanket together. “Is there enough room for me over there?” I wanted to sit next to my girlfriend. The answer was no. I was high. There were other people there. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but I have a lot since. This was one of the bigger red flags. I had work the next day, and when it got late, they told me I had to go home. I wanted to stay, I said, but they wouldn’t let me stay. My other friends drove me home. They stayed. They wouldn’t let me stay. I thought a lot about the blanket. What do you want me to say? That I didn’t think that whatever they were planning to do that night, it got exacerbated by them having the privacy of being under the covers?

The next day, I went to see her after work. I brought her a ginger ale and I was ready for us to talk and be happy for a little bit and chalk it all up to the fact that I was being paranoid about it- that this is what acid does to you, and that I really should just let it go because I should trust the girl who I had been dating, I mean, this was one of if not at the time my best friend. They wouldn’t do this to me, right? Well, we didn’t. She told me that she didn’t believe I was responsible enough to do the things that I said I would do. I asked her if I fixed them, If I showed real work on being able to do this, could we stay together? She said no. We broke up. I thought I was going to freak out, so I stormed off. I called and texted her a lot over the course of the week after I had calmed down, but it was no use. Whatever she had decided was not going to budge. I wasn’t even thinking about the night before after that. I was sure it was the acid, sure that it was unrelated to how I was feeling or the things that were happening to me. This was my best friend and my girlfriend. Who the hell else are you supposed to trust in this situation?

Now, everyone else at that party was pretty much there for me. “I know breakups can be hard on the people who are around us” I said. “I don’t want you guys to feel like you have to stop being anyone’s friend over this.” I didn’t want her to get any external flak for breaking up with me, that’s just not how it should work. I got responses from everyone except from him. People came to see me because I was in need of some support during that week that followed, but I couldnt get ex-roommate to come and see me. “I’ve seen everyone but you!” I said. “I got used to seeing you a lot. It would be really normalizing for us to hang out.” I implied. He came over and I put a video game on but he barely played. He barely talked to me. I got high and tried to talk about normal things, but he was just not responding to me like he normally would. He spent the whole time texting someone. I’m sure you can guess who by now.

I was hanging out with someone else from that night, and I think this is where my brain just fogged up the details in my head on exactly how we got to the next part, but I think it went something like this: we drove past her house and saw his car there. We went to the Sheetz convenience store nearby and I asked my friend if he would call ex-roommate for me, because there was obviously something going on here. Asked where he was.

“I’m at Sheetz!” He said.

“Oh, no way us too.” We responded.

“Oh, well I’m not by the one we usually go to. I’m at the one over by [x].” That was the one that we stopped at when we thought we saw his car at her house.

“That’s the one we’re at right now.”

I don’t remember how that call ended, but I asked my friend to drive me over to her house. I just had to see for myself. I had to make sure. I’m fine if someone doesn’t want to reveal where they are to me, but this was something much more specific. We arrived. It was his car. I asked what he was doing here. He told me I needed to leave. I repeated myself, and so did he. Whatever, I’m about to freak out. My friend and I leave, and on the way home, I receive a call from HER mother.

“You can’t come over here and be scaring her friends like that.” Hearing this is like someone just tore up half my book. Her friend? Is that how we are referring to him now?

“Ok.” I responded.

“You just can’t come around her scaring her and her friends, ok? That’s not something that you’re allowed to do.”

“Ok.” The phone hung up. I don’t remember anything else that happened that night, but as the days went on, I was getting more and more depressed. Now, I was already on depression medication, but it certainly didn’t help with any of my thoughts about what had just happened to me. I thought I was going to kill myself. I mean, I really wanted to. I wanted closure from either of these two people whom I had loved and trusted so much. I asked auxiliary friends to contact them, just to ask them if they would speak to me and maybe just really tell me what was going on, but they wouldn’t. I asked them to convey how important this was to me, and that if they cared about me at all as a person, then I would just really like them to at least tell me something, anything at all. That maybe they waited till we were really broken up, that maybe my old best friend felt like this was something he did out of love for her (something I’d at least understand) and not because it was just easier to cut me out of his life, or hers. They responded to this by calling it childish. Telling other friends who asked them for me, who saw how bad I was, to stop asking and to stop mentioning me altogether. I made a post online insinuating that my ex and my best friend were now having sex with each other, and that’s when she made one too.

“We aren’t even having sex.” Cool, alright, well now I fell like I’m invalidated AND like I’m an asshole. I join group therapy because I think I’m going to kill myself. I start to move on just a little bit- just enough to distract myself with dating apps. I meet a girl who I recognize, and we meet up. She was friends with my ex’s sister, something that I wasn’t aware of when we matched initially. She came to pick me up and I got in her car.

She had been over to my ex’s house since then. She had seen my ex-roommate and my ex-girlfriend together. “Oh, but they’re not having sex,” I say. She informs me that this is simply not the case, and that my ex would regularly come down in her underwear, and that she could hear them having sex sometimes.

This was a few years ago. I haven’t seen them yet but every once in a while someone tells me that they saw them again, and after I explain to them that I should not be on the list to be reminded of that, I think of a few things.

1) They’d better fucking make it. They’d better be rally fucking in love or else this shit was all for nothing.

2) Not that I’ve ever thought about it or anything, but he has a cracked sternum, so if you punched him square in the chest with enough force it would probably kill him. Not that I’ve ever thought about it or anything.

Anyway, thanks for being the void I can scream into. Couldn’t sleep tonight.

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p0orbaby · 2 years ago

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High

summary: sharing a joint with Natasha leads to more than just sharing a joint with Natasha

warnings: SMUT 18+, soft sex, oral (Nat receiving), dirty talk? smoking, drugs, weed

a/n: this was sat in my drafts for ages

word count: 1121

“You started without me?”

“Mhm”, Natasha's voice was laced with relaxation as it sounded through the hazy room.

“And you thought that would be a good idea because?”

“Because I said so”

“Ah, is that right?”

“Mhm”

Dropping your bag on the floor and toeing off your shoes, you made your way over to your girlfriend. She was laying down on your bed in just her panties and a white vest top, the joint she was smoking held loosely between her index finger and thumb.

The two of you had been looking forward to this for the last couple of days. Your schedules had gotten hectic and the stress of assignments was becoming almost unbearable. So when Bucky suggested the two of you have a session together, you both jumped at the chance.

You had smoked together before, but never like this. In the past it had been at parties surrounded by your group of friends, or separately and alone in a dark room with a bong. This was the first time it had happened so intimately.

As you got closer, she took another drag making the end glow amber, and blew the smoke out after a beat. It mingled slowly with the clouds already very present in your room. Making it hard to know where the old ones ended and the new ones started.

“Are you gonna share, or are you going to hog it all?”

She didn’t bother passing it to you, she just held out her hand, indicating that you should just pull a drag from the joint as she held it. Always a bossy one, even when high.

“If you didn’t take so long, I wouldn��t have had to start without you” she quipped, stretching to flick ash into the ashtray on your bedside table once you removed your lips from around the end of the roach.

“I was close to finishing the essay, so I thought I’d better stay and get it done. So now we’ve got the whole weekend to not have to think about assignments”

“Wanna see what I’ve mastered while you were on campus?”

You nodded lazily as you let the effects of the drug take over you.

Natasha inhaled once more, then craned her neck to the ceiling. You knew you should be looking at what she was showing you, but all you could look at were the hickies you left her with this morning before you went to class. You had the sudden urge to give her more.

But before you could lean over and fulfill your task, you saw small rings rising from her mouth. You shouldn’t be as amazed as you were at what she was doing, but everything your girlfriend accomplished made your heart swell with pride.

When she had deemed the number of rings she blew out was enough, she looked back at you with a smug smirk and hooded eyes.

“So while I’ve been slaving away on campus, you’ve been learning tricks huh?”

“Had to occupy myself somehow, including you left me here all alone”

“Well, now I’m back, what do you suggest we do?”

Natasha straddled your hips as you laid back against the pillows of your bed. Her hips circling yours in slow movements. You had your hands guiding her as you got lost in the slow kisses she was giving you. Only pulling away to take a hit every so often.

Every time you leant back to look at her, you swear her pupils dilated more each time. It was hard to tell if it was from lust or the drugs. You didn’t care. You just wanted to make her feel good.

Pulling a drag, you exhaled it into Natashas open mouth. Kissing her again when you had exhaled fully. You could feel the smoke dance across your cheek as she let it out through her nose.

The taste of her, and the Class B was a combination you would never tire of. Half sweet, half smoky and fully addicting.

She pulled the joint from your finders and placed it as delicately as she could into the ashtray on your nightstand.

“I wasn’t finished with that you know?” The words were coming out of your mouth drawn, lazy. You made a mental note to thank Bucky for the good weed.

“Well how are you going to eat me out with a joint in your mouth?”

If you weren’t so high, perhaps you would’ve been shocked at her brazenness. But her languid question was met with your delicate attempt of trying to get her off of you and onto her back.

“Has the weed made my girl horny, huh?”

“So horny baby. You gonna sort me out, yeah?”

“Mhm, I sure am. Take off your panties and let me see her”

She raised her hips and with your aid, pulled her lady panties down past her ass and over her smooth legs.

“There she is, my pretty little pussy. She’s all mine. Isn’t she baby?”

“All yours. Please, make her feel good. Make me feel good”

Who were you to deny her? So you settled between her legs and slower licked up her slit with slow, agonising movements. Movements that matched the way the smoke left the joint in a wisp from its place in the ashtray.

“Been too long since I’ve tasted you” you announced between licks and sucks of your girlfriends most sensitive area.

“Hours. You had me a few hours ago”. Natasha’s response was strained as you worked at her. She was always so riled up when she smoked. It was fun at parties when you had to find an empty room to have your way with her in. It was even more fun now as you buried your tongue deep into her hole as she moaned your name.

“Still too long. Was thinking about you when I was nose deep in a book about recidivism. How can you turn me on even when I’m reading about the criminal justice system? You’ve got me wrapped around your pretty little fingers”

She was close, you could tell by the way her hips bucked as the breath from your talking hit her heated skin. It took just a few more licks and one hard suck on her clit to have her falling.

Her body was still shuddering with pleasure when she reached for the joint and pulled from it again.

“It calms the nerves” she states with flushed cheeks and a moist brow when she noticed you looking at her quizzically.

“And what would you have to be nervous about?”

“Oh you know. How hard you’re going to take me from behind once I finish this joint. I’m nervous with anticipation for it”

“You’re a minx. You know that right?”

She nodded. Of course she knew. You wouldn’t have her any other way.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #smut #natasha romanoff fluff #fluff #drabble

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cal-puddies · 3 years ago

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Think of You Later in my Empty Room// Calum Hood

Hello friends! It's been an absolute dream getting to co-write with Crystal again - it's been far too long! There's not much to intro here - as we mentioned, this series originated with us daydreaming about lighting up and getting down with our guys and for Cal, a lazy day at home seemed so natural, and its me so we made it a lil emo for ya.

I hope you checked out @kindahoping4forever's blog for Hit of Dopamine, Higher Than I've Ever Been, which is the Ash installment, and you'll want to go back and check out the verifiably unhinged Luke part tomorrow.

Warnings: Boyfriend!Cal, angsty!girlfriend worried about missing him when he leaves again. significant use of weed, high sex, oral sex, anal play, cum play, dirty talk containing strong language

Word Count: 6260

I Hope You Think Of Me High Series Masterlist

Crystal Masterlist // Cass Masterlist // Ko-Fis linked in our bios

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

It’s a lazy afternoon in bed, in the middle of a lazy day in the midst of a lazy week. Calum’s fingers tangle in your hair as you lay in his lap and you giggle softly as you look up at him, eyes warning him to be careful but also asking him not to stop touching you.

You hum contentedly to the softly playing playlist in the background, feeling your boyfriend’s eyes fixate on you as you stretch out in one of his favorite t-shirts. Your gaze happens upon his packed luggage by the door, a silent reminder of the topic you’ve both been trying to ignore, and you try not to let your face fall but judging by the sigh he lets out, he definitely noticed.

“We can talk about it if you want,” he offers.

“I don’t want,” you say stubbornly. “Anything outside of this room, outside of this bed doesn’t exist to me right now.”

He chuckles, smoothing his hand over the top of your head. “Baby… it’s only gonna be a couple of weeks. And then you’ll be on the road with me.”

You pout, “You just got home.”

“I know, love. And we’ve had a great week together, haven’t we?” You stay quiet, not ready to concede your point, so he continues. “We both knew the schedule when the tour got planned, a week to recharge between legs… knew it wasn’t gonna be easy.”

You sigh, “Cal, I can understand it and accept it and still be sad about it. I’ve just now gotten used to you being here again… I like having you here to talk to, to share things with… just to get a hug when I need one…”

“I miss those things when I’m away, too,” he reminds you, pulling your hands to his lips so he can kiss your wrists. He grins brightly, trying to cheer you up. “But it’s only a couple weeks until you get that time off and you can join me… I’m very glad your passport finally came.”

You can’t help but reach up to caress his raised cheeks. “Yeah… I’m looking forward to it. Really,” you admit, smiling back at him. “So much to do before then, though. Gotta get all my stuff together, all the stuff you’re definitely gonna forget to pack and want me to bring out with me.” You giggle at your own joke and giggle even louder at his pouty reaction to it.

“I know you’re teasing me but we should actually start seeing what all you wanna bring so we know whether or not we need to buy you a bigger suitcase,” he points out.

“So the rest of the week is gonna be busy is what you’re saying.”

“Yes, which is why we’re doing this today,” he says matter of factly, grabbing the bong off the bedside table, gesturing for you to pass him the lighter you’ve been fidgeting with. You toss it to him and sit up against the headboard next to him, watching lovingly as he repacks the bowl from your morning smoke session.

Ever the gentleman, Calum offers it to you first, paying close attention as you position yourself over the mouthpiece, waiting for your cue to light the bowl. You end up taking a pretty good hit and he grins at you as he clears the chamber for himself. You watch his nimble fingers wrap around the bong, gracefully lighting up and tucking the lighter into his palm as he removes the slide, inhaling a large hit and dramatically throwing his head back to blow it out.

You bite your lip, watching him reset for a second hit; his eyes are on you, watching you watch him, noticing your eye line is mostly on his fingers. He inhales and then pulls you in, first to shotgun the hit to you and then to slot your lips together for a kiss after you blow out the smoke. He offers you the bong and when you decline, he uses it once more himself before setting it back on the nightstand.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, patting his thigh. You climb up to straddle him, wrapping your arms around him, nuzzling your face into his neck. You let out a soft sigh as his hands rub up and down your bare thighs, eventually nudging your shirt up over your hips so he can give your ass a tight squeeze. He raises his eyebrows, surprised. “Forgot you’re not wearing panties,” he chuckles.

You smirk and kiss his neck. “What’s the point? You’re just gonna take ‘em off me anyway.”

“I like you naked… I like being naked with you too, is that so wrong?”

“Nah… you know I like our naked bods pressed together too.”

He shrugs. “They don’t even need to be pressed together… I just prefer ya naked.” He tugs the back of your shirt and you lean back, lifting your arms up so he can pull it off. His fingers trail over your skin as he removes your top and you shiver. “Love the way your body responds to my touch… spent weeks getting off to the thought of touching you again.” He drags his fingers across the tops of your breasts, along your collarbone, down your side and across your tummy as he whispers. Your body lets him know how much you love it by raising goosebumps over your skin and your nipples hardening.

You thread your fingers into Cal’s hair as he leans in to kiss on your neck, his stubble prickling your skin. He leans you back to allow himself more access to your body and he immediately takes advantage by wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. He rolls the other between his fingers and palms your breast, and switches, lavishing his tongue over the other side.

You gently scratch at his scalp and he looks up at you, sleepy, red eyes telling you how high he is. He grins before putting his attention back on your tits, sucking marks onto them before pressing a gentle kiss to each one and then kissing back up your neck. He engages you in a slow, sensual make out. His hands feel like they’re everywhere at once, all over your body while yours travel into his boxer to squeeze his ass. He eagerly shimmies them off, sitting up on his knees to toss them aside. “You’re so gorgeous, baby, never get tired of looking at you,” he coos, intertwining your fingers.

“Me? Look at you, bubba,” you sigh, looking him up and down, realizing how hard he is.

He takes your hand in his and moves them both toward his body, cupping his cock with his and your hand. “This is all you baby, you do this. Every damn time,” he explains. You bite your lip, keeping eye contact with him as he moves your hands, swiping his fingertips through your folds. “And I love that I do this to you,” he murmurs, holding up his wet fingers. He sticks them in his mouth and your chilled out brain is still processing that image when he starts moving much quicker than he has all day.

He grabs the super soft blanket from the foot of the bed and quickly shakes it out as he lays next to you again. You both watch, stoned minds fascinated, as the material balloons and flutters back down to cover your bodies, “Your favorite,” he mumbles sweetly, kissing your forehead before turning onto his side so he can drape his arm across your stomach and pull you in close against his chest.

The two of you snuggle together, alternating between whispering sweet nothings to each other and dozing off. Naturally, things eventually evolve into another sweet make out session and you can’t get enough of the slow, unrushed indulgence.

Cal enjoys touching you as much as you enjoy him touching you, which makes everything so much better. He softly moans, appreciating your body’s reactions to him, just like he mentioned. You lean in as he presses gentle kisses to your neck and sigh his name.

“Need you, sweet girl,” he rasps in your ear.

You rub your fingertips against his stubble and nod. “Yeah… need you too, handsome.”

He smooths his hand down your side, pushing his thigh between yours, moving his hand from your hip to your pussy to help him guide his cock in. Your breath hitches in your throat and your jaw falls slack. On a good day, he’s a tight fit, but when you’re high, you feel it extra. “Fuck,” you whimper as he sinks all the way in.

Concern colors his voice as he groans, “You alright, darlin’?” You nod, squeezing your eyes shut, breathing through the stretch. You turn your head towards him, looking for a kiss and his tongue is quickly in your mouth, trying to soothe you. He’s ready to reach for lube when you finally relax into him. “That’s good, baby,” he praises you.

Calum stays unmoving, buried in you, giving you more time to adjust and himself more time to strategize. If he thrusts into you, he knows it’ll feel too good and he’ll have trouble keeping things at a slow pace, which is not only the vibe of the day but something you clearly need. But if you move against him, he knows he’ll cum almost instantly and neither of you will get to enjoy the experience. You’ve been high with him enough times to recognize his dilemma and you offer a simple solution. “Just lay here with me, bubba,” you suggest. You add with a dreamy sigh, “Feel so good inside me.” Your eyelids are heavy as you turn to look at him, nipping at his nose before parting your lips for a kiss. He happily obliges and the two of you are soon caught up in an endless loop of soft open mouth kisses with curious tongues, while your fingers dance across each other’s skin, your bodies still intimately connected.

Your boyfriend is fully entranced with you and he wants more. One hand caresses your thigh while the other gently cups your tits, softly teasing your nipples. He groans softly into your mouth when his fingertips move over to your clit, gently at first. He feels how turned on you are and decides to add a little more pressure,and you moan quietly.

“You’re so wet, little darlin’.”

“How am I not supposed to be?”

He grins as you arch your back into him. “You know I love you this way… open, wet… love you high because everything feels so good to you and with you.”

“Caaaaal… oh… like that… please?”

“F’course darlin’.” He keeps sliding his fingers up and down your clit, varying it with circles every so often. You gasp at the sensations he’s given and your breath shift makes your pussy throb around him. “Ohhh…” Cal moans with you. “Mmm… baby, I think this is working for both of us.”

“It’s definitely working for me,” you pant, moving against him.

“You really like when I do this,” he mutters, sliding his fingers across your clit. “Your cunt squeezes so good…”

You moan at the action and his words, clawing at his arm with one hand, your other covering his at your tits. He lets you intertwine your fingers there and he holds you while he nibbles your neck and sucks your earlobe, all his cock still fills you, his hand working between your legs. He could not be more all over you than he is right now and you’re feeling completely overwhelmed by his attention.

His name spills from your lips over and over, he is the only thing you really know or care to know in this moment. You start pulling at his arm, trying to get him to stop rubbing your clit, even though you can’t put the words together. You turn your head toward him, softly whining, “Please, Cal… feels so good… don’t wanna cum yet.”

He slows his fingers down, speaking softly to you. “Ok, sweet girl, I can be patient if you can.” He holds his wet fingers to your mouth and you clean them, licking and sucking at them. “Sweet, sweet girl,” he murmurs, smiling at you. He wraps his arms around you possessively and the two of you lay cuddled.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes to immerse yourself in all of your senses. Unsurprisingly, they’re being dominated by the love and comfort you find in Cal. You take in his scent, which is always calming to you. His even breathing in your ear, his little loving whispers, his soft lips against your neck. You run your fingertips over his arms, softly humming in response to his presence. Everything seems to be moving slowly in your hazy, lovestruck mind so you’re not sure how long the two of you have been laying here but you wish it could go on forever.

“Calum… bubba,” you sigh quietly. “I love you… I love you and I love being full of you…”

He gently thrusts his hips in response, whispering in your ear, “And I love filling you, darlin’… And I love you. My best girl.”

You reach one hand back and thread your fingers in his hair. “Think I’m ready to cum for you, handsome.”

Calum uses one hand to pull you into a kiss, the other finding its way back to your clit. You immediately arch against him and he takes the opportunity to cover your face, neck and shoulder with wet kisses, groaning into your skin as he goes. Overwhelming you again.

The orgasm shouldn’t be a surprise but it feels like it comes on suddenly and it’s incredibly intense. You whimper and whine as you tighten around him and he’s sensitive enough from the weed that it makes him cum too. “Oh my god, Cal,” you breathe as you feel his cum spilling into you. Your nails dig in anywhere you can reach and you bite his arm where it holds you across your shoulders.

“That’s my sweet girl,” he huffs. “Always so good to me, shoulda known you’d make me cum like that.” He gently nibbles along your jaw.

“So good, love,” you murmur, turning into him for a kiss.

You lay wrapped up in each other for a while but you both get a little restless as the high starts to wear off. “Should get you cleaned up darlin,” he remarks. You clench around him as he pulls out and you close your eyes, giggling at the loud groan he lets out at how good it feels. You expect to feel the bed shift from him getting up to head to the bathroom but it never does and you turn over to see what he’s up to.

You find him digging through the bedside table, finally pulling out a baggie of pre-rolled joints. He lights one and takes one, two puffs before passing it to you. He watches you finish a hit before he’s pushing your thighs apart and settling between them. He leans back up for a quick kiss and to grab the joint from you, taking another hit before placing it back between your lips.

“I love seeing you like this… open… messy, my cum dripping out of you,” he groans. His fingertips slide through your folds and he licks the mess of his release off of them. You moan and put one arm behind you to prop you up so you can enjoy the show. You love when he gets like this. His tongue slicks through your folds, immediately teasing your entrance. “I never get tired of the way we taste together.”

You use one hand to lift the joint to and from your lips, the other stays threaded into Cal’s hair as you watch him noisily eat his cum out of you. After a certain point it’s obvious he’s moved beyond the task of cleaning you and he’s now just enjoying your body. He moans into you, nips at your thighs, holding them tight to leave marks, sucking hickeys as he goes. He sucks a particularly large one onto your hip while his thumb rubs your clit and you hear the pop when he pulls off. You blow out a smoke ring as you feel the stirrings of another potential orgasm and you wonder what you ever did to get this lucky.

Calum uses his head to gesture toward you as one hand is occupied kneading your ass, and the other is still playing with your clit. “Can I get that last hit, baby?” You take the cigarette from your own lips and stick it between his. Looking down at Cal, plump lips glistening, red and swollen from eating you out, killing a joint while still between your legs - you’re confident it’s the most erotic thing you’ve ever seen. You offer him the ashtray from the bedside table and he coolly tosses the finished joint in it before blowing his smoke at your pussy. “You ready to cum for me again?”

“Jesus, Cal… make me cum for you.”

His lips quickly wrap back around your clit and your fingers make a mess of his hair as he holds onto you tightly. His tongue makes quick, precise work of your clit and your reinvigorated high has you feeling overwhelmed once again. All of your senses are screaming Cal and only Cal.

He pulls your thighs over his shoulders, intertwining your fingers as he decides to start working his tongue inside you, instead of just playing with your clit.

“Holy fuck… Cal… please please please.” You whimper, panting out his name over and over.

“That’s my girl,” he hums, grinning against you. He works his tongue back in, as deep as he can and you buck your hips against his face. He teases, “Needy, darlin’?”

You chant his name, hips meeting every flick of his tongue. He’s both amused and turned on based on the giggles and groans he’s filling you with. He starts humming and ultimately that’s what sets you off. You swear you’ve never moaned louder in your life as you crash over the edge, hips grinding wildly against his face. Cal withdraws his tongue but slowly licks over your clit, bringing you down in a slow way. He lets go of your hands and grabs your hip, rubbing his thumb there reassuringly. You reach out, searching for his other hand, but it quickly registers that he’s using it to slowly stroke his cock.

He notices you’ve gone uncharacteristically silent as he quickly licks and cleans your second orgasm and when he pulls back to look up at you, he finds you with your face buried in your hands.

“What’s goin’ on, sweet girl?” He asks softly, gently pulling your wrists so you’ll uncover your face.

You stare at him, pink chubby cheeks all pink and sweaty, plump lips all red and swollen, a sweet look of concern coloring his expression. “Just… overwhelmed, I think,” you admit.

He settles in next to you, leaning down to peck your lips. “Wanna talk about it?”

You tuck a hand in his curls, smiling at him wistfully. “I’m not sure there’s much to talk about, Cal… I just feel so much for you… all this love and the emotion…” You trail off, trying to gather your thoughts, figure out how to articulate the lump in your throat. “Having all of your attention these past couple days… it’s just been so wonderful. You’re so wonderful. Make me feel so safe and loved. Known. And I think… I need to try and figure out how to comprehend… like… that’s all going away in a couple of days. I don’t know if you know, Cal… but I had a really tough time these past couple months without you. And now we’re going right back into that. You weren’t home long enough.”

Calum takes a long, deep breath, holding your gaze. You can tell he feels bad that you’re hurting and that it makes him feel even worse that he’s the cause and there’s nothing he can do about it. Fighting the frown that threatens to cloud his features, he gives you a soft smile and starts pressing kisses to your face. “I agree with you, love… I wish I was able to be here longer too. Feel like we were just getting back in the swing of things and now I have to go away again,” he shrugs. He squeezes your hand reassuringly. “But I promise you, ‘all of this’ isn’t going away baby. We’re gonna be back together again before you know it. And you know I’m always just a phone call or a FaceTime away. Even when we’re apart, I’m always there for you and you’re always there for me. That part doesn’t change.”

You nod, chewing your lip. You almost feel embarrassed at your outburst. It’s not like you didn’t know things would be like this when you started dating him. “I know, bubba… I didn’t mean to make it seem like you’re abandoning me or anything. I know you’d do anything for me, no matter where you are. I’m sorry.”

He does a double take, looking at you incredulously. “Sorry? Sorry for what?”

“I don’t want to make you feel bad about leaving. I want you to go on tour, I want you and the band to be successful enough so that you have to leave like this. You’re just doing what you love and I want that for you.”

He sighs, lifting your hand to his lips. “Baby, I also love you. And you’re just feeling your feelings. And all the feelings you just shared with me are completely valid. This is a lot to process. It’s a hard transition from being together all the time to not getting to see each other, especially since this is new for us.”

You give him a sad smile. “Are you about to tell me it gets easier?”

Calum rubs over your arm, grinning. “Oh, definitely not, darlin’, this part’s always gonna be torture,” he chuckles. “We’ll get better about dealing with it, though, I think. ‘Specially if we keep talking about it like this.”

You squeeze his hand on your arm. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Thank you for being honest. Know it’s hard with me sometimes. But I’m glad you told me how you felt.”

You run your hand through his curls and lean in, needing to feel his lips on yours. He pulls you closer and you feel his still semi hard cock brush your stomach. You stay engaged in the kiss but let your hand wander down his body, wrapping around his length. He hums in response to your touch but after a few strokes, he reaches down to stop you.

“I’m OK, sweet girl. Let’s get up and get some food, maybe some sunshine,” he insists, moving your hand away from his body and interlacing your fingers. Your face must display your confusion because he chuckles as he kisses your knuckles before pushing up off the bed and crossing the room to the dresser. He smiles warmly as he tosses you a clean t-shirt and pulls out a pair of shorts for himself. “You’ve given me so much this week, darlin’, think it’s OK if we say you owe me one.”

You follow Cal into the kitchen where he sets to work making a couple sandwiches and cutting up some fruit; you make yourself useful by pouring two tall glasses of ice water and grabbing the lighter, pipe and weed jar off the kitchen counter to take outside. The two of you set everything up on the table in the shade and just as you’re about to take your seat, you feel his hands around your waist, pulling you into his lap. You relax against him while the two of you eat and you can tell he’s doing his best to comfort you in light of the conversation you just had. His arm rests across your lap, he presses soft kisses to your jaw and cheek, his hands shower you in affection, never leaving your skin.

“Sweet girl?” He murmurs into your ear after the meal is over. You cock your head to indicate you’re paying attention and he brings the jar of weed around to your line of vision, shaking it. “You wanna smoke this with me? Should be a little bit more of a mellow vibe than what we had earlier.”

Mellow definitely sounds good to you right now, so you nod and turn to so you can watch his hands work, carefully packing the bowl. You bite your lip and squeeze your thighs together, enjoying the show. You still feel a bit overwhelmed from earlier but after witnessing how thoughtful and attentive he was in navigating your emotions, how willing he was to talk things out with you, you’ve felt the sadness dissipating and instead be replaced by a need to be close to him, to show him your appreciation.

Calum must be feeling similarly because midway through his task, he turns and quickly draws you into a hungry kiss before nuzzling his nose to yours. “What a perfect way to close out such a lovely day with my girl,” he murmurs, running his hand up your thigh.

You brush his hair back, letting your hand fall to his neck and then chest. You play innocent, though you know exactly what rubbing your thumb over his nipple will do. You watch as his eyes close and his lips part, letting out a soft moan. “You’re so good to me, Cal,” you coo, leaning in to kiss his neck, sucking a mark onto his collarbone. He would typically stop you but it feels too good and he loves you too much right now for him to care.

The pipe lays forgotten on the table as your kisses trail lower, allowing your tongue to poke out and tease his other nipple. His hand comes down to hold the back of your neck as you tease him and you groan against his skin when you feel his cock twitch in his shorts. His fingertips run up your thighs, bunching your t-shirt at your hips as his touch continues the journey up your stomach and ribs, then gently over your breasts and nipples and back again.

After a few more minutes of this, he gently nibbles your earlobe and tugs at the hem of your shirt. “Can I take this off?”

You lean into his ear to whisper, “Can I ask for something in return?”

“Anything.” He says earnestly, tongue sliding over your lips before kissing them.

You look into his eyes. “Fill me?” You ask, reaching down to squeeze the tent forming in his shorts.

He lifts his hips with you still on him, kicking his shorts off and giving himself a few pumps to get fully hard. His fingers run up your thighs, ready to pull off your underwear but he laughs heartily when he realizes there’s nothing there.

“Still no panties?”

“Still no point,” you smirk, turning back around in his lap and lowering yourself down on his cock.

Cal hastily discards your shirt, burying his face in your bare shoulders as you continue to sink down on him. You let out a breathy sigh, wiggling your hips to get him bottomed out and your efforts are met with a low growl from him.

You gently turn his head toward you, giving him a heated kiss, finishing off by sucking his bottom lip. As you turn and press your back into his chest, his hands come around to cup your tits and he plays with your nipples, “I love the way you feel in me,” you sigh.

“I love the way you feel around me, baby. Tight, warm, wet… absolute perfect fit.”

You use his thighs for leverage as you push yourself up until just his tip is at your entrance and then you sink down as slow as you can possibly manage, intending to feel every vein and ridge of his cock. He pulls you back into a sloppy kiss and he’s practically shaking from the sensations you’re giving him.

“You OK, handsome?” You ask, teasing lilt in your voice.

“Do that again.”

You repeat your actions and he chokes on his moan. He settles his hands on your hips and though you expect him to try to get you to move faster, his grip just squeezes your skin as he sits back and lets you control the pace, groaning as he watches you take him over and over again.

“That’s it, baby… just like that,” he praises, head lulling back, closing his eyes to appreciate your slow work.

Your brow furrows in concentration as you move over him, thighs burning from going so slow but it feels so fucking good and he sounds so fucking good, you know the memory will be worth the pain later. You feel him lean in to cup your tits, giving them a nice squeeze before he turns your face towards his again, slotting your lips together.

His hand starts to drift between your legs but you bat it away, groaning, “Cal… let me do this, baby, let me make us feel good.”

He curses under his breath but obliges, leaning back to let you move freely. He goes quiet and you smirk to yourself, knowing he’s probably become hypnotized watching your ass jiggle and bounce as you ride him. You speed up just a little, trying to give him a bit more of a show, and sure enough you hear his breathing get heavier and feel a hand stroke down your skin, making a home for itself on the small of your back, wanting to touch you but also not wanting to obscure his view.

“Goddamn, darlin’...” He breathes, voice raspy and ragged. “Look so fuckin’ good riding me… don’t know why we don’t do it like this more often.”

You toss him a teasing look over your shoulder. “Because you’re a sweet boy who loves to kiss and look into your lover’s eyes… also the combo of staring at my ass and watching your cock disappear usually makes you cum pretty quick.”

Cal laughs loudly, “If you were seeing what I’m seeing, you’d be a lot closer to losing control too, baby.”

He groans loudly as you slow down again, rolling your hips extra slow so he can get a good look at your body engulfing him. “Well, next time we’ll have to make arrangements for that,” you tease, biting your lip as the possibilities run through your mind.

“Lotta things we’ll have to get to next time,” he teases back, letting his hand slide from your back to between your cheeks, fingers grazing your rim. He chuckles darkly at the way your body instinctively responds, how you fall forward, your back arching, your ass making itself more accessible to him. He loves that your body is asking him to continue but he wants to hear you say it so he plays dumb and asks, “Oh?”

“Yeah… please” is all you can manage but it’s all the prompting he needs. He sucks his thumb into his mouth and the wet noises of him coating it in spit, the loud pop when he releases it causing you to shiver in anticipation. You raise your hips, stilling your movements, holding your breath as you feel his hands on your backside again. He squeezes and massages your cheeks before spreading them and pressing his thumb against your hole. “Yesssss… Caaaal,” you sigh, overcome by the contrast of the dull pressure of his finger pushing inside you while his other four offer feather light reassurance just above the intrusion.

He groans as he prods further, getting lost in your breathy reactions and the bliss of watching your body accept even more of him. “Come on, little darlin’,” he rasps, squeezing your hip with his free hand. “Gonna keep movin’ for me?"

You whimper as you resume riding him, doing your best to set a new and effective pace even though you’re feeling completely overwhelmed by the knowledge Calum is filling both of your holes. His noises blend with yours, the two of you moaning together, you reacting to the deliciously full feeling he’s giving you, Cal doing his best to keep in control despite the fact that your ass looks unreal taking everything he’s giving you, that he’s feeling friction from his thumb on his cock and it’s bringing him closer to the edge than he’s ready for.

“Fuck, darlin’... can’t tell you how this looks… feels… gonna be thinkin’ about this every fuckin’ night when I’m gone,” he pants, a sense of relief washing over him when he hears the tone of your whines and recognizes that you’re about to finish as well. “So good… so fucking good, baby.”

You speed up, grabbing your tits, grinding down, chasing your orgasm, undecided whether focusing on the stimulation in your ass or your pussy is going to get you there fastest. Your body makes that call for you, deciding that Cal’s soft groans of encouragement are more than enough reason for you to cum. Your legs shake and you cry his name as your walls pulse around him, your third orgasm of the afternoon hitting you harder than you expected.

Calum thrusts gently up into you, happy to give you recovery time if you need it but also more than ready to follow you over the edge. You feel his hips start to stutter and you know you only have a limited amount of time to direct him. You quickly jut your backside out as much as you can and look behind you to tell him, “Cum on my ass, Cal… give us both something to think about while you’re gone.”

Another strained “Fuck” and a groan of your name are all he has time to respond with because your request has him immediately pulling out and pressing his cock to your cheeks without a second to spare. He struggles to keep his eyes open to take in the sight of his cum spilling onto your ass but as you moan at the feeling of his warmth coating your skin, he has to screw his eyes shut and vocalize with you. He gives himself a squeeze, milking out the last few drops before letting out an exhausted sigh and falling back against the chair.

He reaches over to the table, blindly searching for the napkins from lunch, finally finding them and quickly cleaning your messy skin. He squeezes your ass, massaging it more as he leans forward and presses kisses along your spine before wrapping his arms around your ribs so he can pull you back against him. He presses his face against your neck, still trying to catch his breath.

“You OK, bubba?” You chuckle, squeezing your arms on his.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmurs against your neck, inhaling deeply and pressing a few soft kisses to the back of your neck and shoulders.

“I just give what I get, love.”

The two of you sit quietly, naked and relaxing against each other, basking in the sun and the bond you’re feeling. You can tell your boyfriend is starting to doze off and you know if he goes, you’ll end up nodding off as well. “Let’s go back to bed, bubba,” you suggest. “That soft blanket and mellow weed are calling our names.”

You whine as you stand and stretch, hurting in all the best ways. Calum watches your every move and if you couldn’t feel his eyes on you, when you turn to look at him, the loved up grin on his face gives him away. You grab the pipe while he swipes up the discarded clothes and you wrap your arms around his middle as you walk back inside.

Back in the bedroom, you settle in against the headboard once more. You lean your head on Cal’s shoulder as he lights the pipe, smoke billowing around you. His suitcase is still by the door, staring you down, but it doesn’t seem quite as confrontational as it did a few hours ago.

"I'm gonna miss you," you say plainly. You peck his shoulder as you take the pipe from him. "I think I can be OK with that, though."

"Oh yeah?" He squeezes your thigh, lighting the bowl for you. He jokes, "What changed your mind, all the sex or all the drugs?"

You giggle, elbowing him as you blow your smoke out. "I just think days like today will make all the ones we have to spend apart a little bit easier… gives us something to remember, something to look forward to."

"That's true, that's a good point," Calum agrees, setting the pipe on the table and pulling you into an embrace. "Wouldn't be special if these days happened all the time."

"Yeah…" You agree wistfully. "Still gonna have one of these days when I come visit you though, right?"

Cal nods emphatically. "Baby, you're flying in on a day off and I'll tell you something right now, very first thing, the panties are coming off and not going back on for at least that entire day," he declares with a naughty grin.

You relax against him, missing him already but taking comfort in making plans and sharing jokes. "See, bubba, you're learning," you tease. "What would be the point?"

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skittlesfics · 3 years ago

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name: buzzing pairing: Argyle x Reader wordcount: 1020 summary: Getting high with your good friend and crush content/warnings: sickly sweet, weed use author’s note: I needed some fluff after everything, and I have a weakness for boys with long hair. Thought this guy could use some love. -

“So, like, how do you feel, dude?” Argyle asked, turning his head to glance at where you were sprawled across his messy bed, feet shoved under one of his Hawaiian shirts for warmth.

In truth, you felt like your face was buzzing. Like there was this weird energy and if you didn’t let it out, it was going to overwhelm you completely. When you opened your mouth to say so, you laughed instead.

Argyle laughed with you, not knowing or caring what made you laugh in the first place. What mattered was that you were happy, and that made him happy.

It was your first time smoking a proper bong and Argyle had told you that you should stop after it made you cough, but you took another hit just to prove you could. And now here you were, inches away from your friend on his bed, and your face was buzzing.

“You think I’m a dude, Argyle?” You asked, suddenly serious as his words sank in.

“What? Dude, no. I mean dudette. You’re not, like, a dude. Just… have the dude status, like, you’re cool. You know?”

“No.” You admitted, wrinkling your nose to ward off the buzzing feeling. It was spreading across your face now, even your lips tingling with the strange feeling. “I’m not a dude.”

Argyle sat up and scooted over to where you were sitting, his long hair forming a curtain around his face as he looked down at you. His hair was so pretty. You always wanted to braid it when the two of you hung out. You reached out and grabbed some of the dark strands, twirling them around your fingers.

“I don’t think you’re a dude.” Argyle said seriously, knitting his eyebrows together with concern. “You’re cooler than any dude. You’re—You’re the coolest.”

The coolest. You liked that. You liked Argyle, with his pretty hair and dark eyes. He was so silly. You decided to tell him that.

“You’re silly Argyle.” You declared, still playing with his hair. If it bothered him, he didn’t stop you.

“Silly?”

“Yep.” You popped the ‘p’, looking up from his hair to look at his face. He was closer than you thought he’d be, practically hovering over you, and you had to blink a few times to adjust your vision, “So silly.”

He shook his head, his hair tickling your face as it moved with the motion.

“How’m I silly? You’re the one playing with my hair, silly.” He poked at your hand, the brief contact leaving the spot warm. You let go of his hair, holding your hand up in front of your face to see if his touch had changed it in some way. You were sad when it hadn’t, letting your hand fall back to your chest.

“Didn’t say stop.” He reached for your hand and you let him lift it, giggling when he slid his hair across your palm.

“That’s what I mean, silly. You always let me touch you and be close to you, but you won’t even kiss me yet. Even Jonathan doesn’t get it.” You slid your fingers through his silky hair, missing the way his eyes widened ever so slightly, the way his eyes flickered down to your lips.

“You talk to Jonathan about me?” He asked, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly, “about kissing me?” His voice cracked slightly, but you were too high to notice, too locked into focus on trying to braid his soft hair.

“Mmmm. Yeah, a couple times.”

“A couple?” Argyle felt stone cold sober now, his eyes scanning your face for any sort of dishonesty.

You finally glanced up at him, and the intensity of his gaze made you feel warm. You weren’t embarrassed. This was Argyle, after all, you could tell him anything. In fact, you weren’t sure why you hadn’t told him before. You flashed him a smile that he couldn’t help but return.

“Okay, like every time we hang out without you.” You admitted, with a laugh that made the buzzing start up all over again. It was funny, he was funny.

“You want me to?” He asked, “to kiss you?”

You did. You wanted it so badly you might explode, had for a while. Maybe it would cure the buzzing in your skin. You nodded slowly.

“Duh, silly. Are you listeni-“ Before you could finish, his lips were crashing down on yours. It was an awkward mash of chapped lips and teeth, but his hand was on your face and his mouth was on your mouth and you felt like you were sparkling. You felt like you wanted to laugh, but you just kept kissing him instead, tugging gently on his hair to pull him closer, closer until he was laying half on top of you, kissing you like he needed you to breathe.

“Whoa.” He tried to pull away twice, but found himself coming back for another taste of your lips, and then another, and then another when he pulled away, but you pulled him back down, laughing as you learned how to mold your lips against his, how to follow his movements, how he liked to kiss you back, how he still tasted like the weed you had just smoked together.

When he did manage to pull away, he flopped down next to you and you rolled into his side, resting your head against his chest. There was silence, for a moment, as you listened to his heart hammering away beneath his ribs, and then there was the slight intake of breath as he considered talking, but stopped.

“You okay?” You asked, tilting your head up towards his face. You couldn’t quite make out his expression from below, but you could tell he was looking at you anyway.

“Can we do that again? Often?” He asked. You had never seen Argyle anything but laid back, but now you could’ve sworn he was nervous.

The buzzing was in your chest now, warm and familiar as you pushed yourself up to plant a sweet kiss on his chin.

“As often as you want.” You assured him.

#argyle x reader #argyle reader insert #stranger things reader insert #stranger things imagine #fluff #stranger things fluff #1000 - 1500 #unedited

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atallephoculary · 10 months ago

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He laughed at her plight of being an only child, and Marion felt the bubble of laughter pop up her throat and bust between them- a real laugh. “Naked mud wrestlin’ sounds mighty fun.” Marion sucked in a breath at his words- God- what a miserable existence. They really did believe the apocalypse was upon them. She honestly wasn’t sure how to respond, so she just nods along with what he says. Everyone deserves to have a family- kids- Yeah ‘comforting’ as the thought was, him having at least 4 kids-But it made her stomach and chest hurt to hear about how the ‘family line’ wouldn’t be succeeded by anyone but Joseph- at least, that’s how John sees it, and it forces a new to be shoved in front of her eyes. “I’d want kids too, honestly.” He was just wrapped up in all of this bullshit, just the same as she was- just on the other side of the fence. How much more ridiculous could this get? She was supposed to take him into custody and haul his ass away right now, but instead she’s leading him up the creaky porch steps and under the warm yellow light; opening the door and allowing the darkened house to swallow them whole, leaving nothing but the sound of crickets and toads and humming inscects behind. “But I think you should be able to make that decision for yourself… Not your brother… Just sayin’..”

Her home was clean; but lived in, well enough evidence of a bachelorette who kind of had her shit together strewn all over. A pretty glass bong on the coffee table, her panties laid out over the arm of the couch. It was obvious she lived alone— Marion quickly attempts to shuffle what incriminating items she could into a empty canvas tote that was haphazardly tossed on the table. “I’ll be honest, John, I’m also pretty happy you decided to almost ‘hit’ me with your car.” The words fall out like honey and she can’t help but stifle another giggle at him. He was standing there with his hands in his pockets, observing the living room and what was visible of the kitchen and dining room with an incredulous look on his face; like he was drinking in every available detail of her life that was exposed out in the open like this- it felt like ripping a bandaid off a sore wound and she felt her nerves beginning to sting. Maybe it wasn’t that bad, maybe the house’s story was a plain one and he didn’t like the details. She hoped.

It was a small house, nothing fancy; just a ranch style home that had been there longer than the Seed’s had. The home’s interior was very much stuck in the 80’s, with glass window-bricks separating the kitchen from the living room and the hanging lamp in the corner of the room’s moroccan flare, it really went to show that Marion wasn’t much for change. This house could have looked like this the whole time- a testament to her inability to lay down roots. “Bathroom’s down the hall on the left, towels are in the cabinet in there… Uh..”. Nervous sweat coats her hands now, she hums and wipes them on her jeans, eyes flickering to the floor then back to him with an unreadable expression. “Hungry at all?” It was an honest question, even though they just split that brownie the frozen pizza in the freezer was calling to her like the Green Goblin mask in the closet. If she was going to revert into being a roach around him, the least she could do is offer him some real food.

—- G o s p e l —

[ @extristitiavenit ]

Hope County was truly a beautiful place; the cascading mountains and rolling hills of fertile farmland seemed to stretch for miles and miles, disappearing into lines of thick spring pines that dotted the horizon. It seemed like it was such an idyllic place; Marion often found herself reminiscing about her childhood home in Baton Rouge, Louisiana whilst on her lunch breaks due to the overwhelming amount of very beautiful but very foreign scenery… A swampy transplant into an arid tundra, a fish out of water. Being sent all over the country was hard enough as it was, but never being able to stay in one place long enough to grow some roots was harder. It was always something- a new job, a boyfriend, loss of income— something- something- something… Deputy Fuller had hoped that a change of scenery into the God fearing farmlands would strike down whatever wandering roots that would grab soil. Maybe this could actually be the place she settled down and called it good. Maybe it was the place where she would live and die quietly after she finished with whatever dumb prospect this job was.

The station was quiet, though as usual there was a gentle chatter over the radio between squad cars and her co-workers idle conversations flowing through the air in a gentle hum while the air conditioning unit whirs quietly overhead. As nice as it was to have such down time, it did put a slight alarm through her. Could it be quiet here for longer than a day? Probably not- there was always something happening over the radio, with those Peggies meandering around the valley and mountains- the ‘Eden’s Gate’ project, or whatever.. She really didn’t care. It didn’t affect her life, (well- it did- it did so much she ended up in Hope County, Montana to fill in a position that was, in fact, permanently vacant); and the ways it did affect her were easily written off with a nice blunt and a cold drink at her small cabin after work. Quitting time was always on her mind- her hazy green hues darting over to the white bubble clock that hung over the dirty front door. 5:15 p.m.- another 15 minutes until she could clock out and head home… Outside, a caravan of white vehicles with that stupid cross painted on the sides of them head down the main thoroughfare- honking and blasting their music loud enough to be heard all the way inside the station offices- “Keep your rifle by our side!” The tune hangs high in the air like a flag, and soon the cacophony of tires and engines and guitars fade into the distance until there was nothing left but the gentle clicking of the clock and the hum of the air conditioner. Marion rolled her eyes, stretched her arms up above her head and let off a loud yawn; hands unceremoniously rubbing her face and pushing back her mess of black curly hair. What a boring day. Nothing but paperwork and emails, two phone calls from the F.A.N.G center and one from the Chief to keep an eye out for a package that may or may not show up. Again. What a thrilling job; (Junior) Deputy Sheriff and she may as well have been a fucking secretary.

Another shift, another day completed; clocking out with an actual time punch was always one of the best parts of the job, one of those ‘little things’ her therapist back in Los Angeles told her when she was in her early years of being on the force.. What a lifetime ago, freshly 18 and just wanting to do the right thing— a road to hell paved with the best of intentions.. The old machine reams the paper with a clunk and Marion is out the door with her bag and glasses in hand, headed out to the old Ford truck in the parking lot.. The sun was setting by now, the sky being painted in brilliant chunks of reds and oranges and pinks.. A nice view for the drive home too, tires whirring down the evenly paved road down into Holland Valley. Farm land, for miles and miles. At least, she thought, it didn’t stink like some parts of the country she had stayed in.. These people out here took good care of their livestock and it showed. When the engine of the trucks begun to rattle and almost scream with uncertainty, it made her flicker back to reality and ease off the road and onto the shoulder; smoke flooding from the hood of the car as the lever under her seat was pressed with trepidation and concern for how she was now going to get home.

Standing over the fried engine, lit cigarette between her lips and flashlight in her southpaw, she felt like a real tool standing out there in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, nothing but trees and fields and cars that scooted by almost hurriedly as the night settled into the valley. Marion didn’t blame them- things tended to get sketchy at best when night came.

“Aaaah fuckin’… Ya’ piece of shit, perfect fuckin’ timing to die out on me huh. You juss’ loooooove causing me issues.” The bayou woman scoffed and slammed the hood down after settling on a diagnosis: Fried radiator and snapped belt, transmission broken. Absolute destruction. Leaning now with her back to the warmed metal of the hood, she idly flicks through her phone— no signal— no reach. There was nothing out here, and she wasn’t exactly able to take a radio from the station. That was priorly a write up. So with a scoff and a groan and a few more expletives, Marion cleared the cab of her belongings and shoved them unceremoniously into her leather backpack, turned off the lights and slammed the truck door closed with a thud. There was nothing now but the eerie silence and the air current moving through the trees- if she didn’t like the dark at home, she surely hated it when outside. There was a certain fear that comes with walking alone at night, but hopefully, hopefully, the 13 mile walk in almost pitch darkness wouldn’t be that bad.

#| gospel of baptism — john }#| @extristitiavenit }#(( ambiguously flirting is not working mari go ahead and push the envelope a little bit and just tell him you wanna **** his ***** and ***))#(( Time to plant her /own/ seeds. ;). ))

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