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bbsmuts · 7 months ago

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Summer Getaway ft. EVERGLOW Yiren

A/N: This is a pitch I got from a friend outside of Tumblr, and it took me a long time to write since I’ve been working and planning the wedding, sorry about that. I have no doubt that this will become second-to if not more popular than Field Trip. I don’t have a lot to say about it so as not to spoil anything, so here we go.

-상훈

Length: 7.33k

Possible TW: Spanking, dom/sub kink

Tags: Spanking, choking, domination, dom/sub kink, drunk sex, sir kink

It had been a long senior year at Hanyang University. Very, very long.

With a major in psychology, a minor in health studies, and a hopeless career path, classes had been hard. I hadn’t even had my best friend, Yiren, in classes with me.

Yiren and I were more than friends. We had been dating for a little more than nine months, but she was still my best friend. She was not only exactly the type of girl I was interested in, but the exact type of friend I wanted to keep close. It had been with great disappointment that I had found out that my girlfriend would not be in classes with me at the beginning of the year. She would have been the only way psychology would be in any way interesting.

But now the year was over. A buddy of mine had offered me and Yiren his mountain cabin for the summer. He wasn’t going to be using it, he and his family were on vacation, so he would be touring Europe with his parents and sister.

The cabin, we found out when we arrived there, was a palatial, stone brick ch��teau with three stories and a balcony on the second. The balcony overhung the door, two large stone pillars supporting the structure. It had an very antiquated feel to it, though the sound structure still held up. My friend had told me it was over 200 years old, which I believed from the look of it. Whether it was 2 years old or 2000 though, I was happy to be here.

“It looks nice, doesn’t it oppa?” Yiren asked, arms wrapped around my arm, as we stood there and surveyed the cabin.

“Yeah, it does. Old, but very nice.”

“Three stories…wow.” She marveled at the sheer height of the place. “That's more than my house has. Come on, let's go inside.”

I slid the key into the lock and turned it, opening the door to reveal the interior.

It gave a very cozy, log-cabin-ish vibe. The blinds were shut, allowing very little daylight in. The lamps had turned on the moment we entered, dimming slightly once we shut the door. Plush rugs covered just about every square inch of the vast living room, where soft chintz armchairs and smooth leather couches sat, pillows arranged invitingly. The fireplace could have allowed three grown men ample sitting space, and the overhanging limestone mantle was decorated with ornate wood carvings. Mounted on the wall just above the mantle was the biggest TV I had ever seen, at least 85 inches across.

To the left of the fireplace was a bathroom, through the open door of which I caught a glimpse of a gold-rimmed mirror.

The rather titanic kitchen was a chef’s dream; the walls were bedecked with cabinets, drawers, and shelves full of cooking equipment. Two large ovens with stovetops sat alongside a dishwasher, and on top of its counter were a couple of microwave ovens. A kettle, coffee maker, waffle iron, iron griddle, and a shelf of teas, coffees, hot chocolates and various other drink mixes sat along another. Four more long shelves along the opposite wall held just about every kind of alcohol I could have asked for; bottles of whiskey, vodka, rum, gin, various liqueurs (fruit flavors like coconut and orange), tequila, port, Hennessy, and margarita sat assorted on them. Another, smaller shelf held cooking sherry, brandy, and bourbon. A wine rack nearby held several bottles and, I was surprised to see, one bottle each of Petrus 2012 (costs about $30k in real life), Armand Rousseau Chambertin Grand Cru ($19k), Versos Amontillado ($13k) and Vieux Chateau Certan Pomerol ($6k).

“Wow,” I said, taking out the Petrus and examining it. “I guess his family is richer than we thought.”

“What makes you say that?” Yiren asked while looking at the coconut liqueur.

“The fact that they have a bottle of wine in here that costs about thirty thousand dollars, and a few other expensive ones.”

“Huh, make sense.”

After looking into the pantry, which was the size of a walk-in closet and had enough food to feed a small town, we made our way to the staircase to upstairs. Six bedrooms took up this floor. We went straight to the master, which was as large as a neighborhood cul-de-sac.

The bed’s size could be compared to that of a midieval portcullis, with a deluxe king size mattress and nightstands on either side. A few dozen pillows were laid delicately across it, each with its own gold-laced pillowcase. An intricately carved wooden frame with a canopy structure and drapes held up the mattress. A pair of French doors were built in on the opposite wall from the door, which led out to the balcony, which spanned about twenty feet. Gorgeous scenery was what I laid my eyes on when I looked through the doors, a great view of the surrounding mountains and forest. The bathroom was off to the left from the entrance and Yiren made a beeline for it the moment we entered the room.

I followed her inside and was stunned. The same gold-framed mirror stretched across the wall, with three sinks and a vanity under it. White LEDs rimmed it, lighting up the bathroom when Yiren walked in.

“Oooh!” She squealed, looking around excitedly. I knew well by this point that the bathroom was her favorite and most valued part of a house, so it was always what she looked at with the most judgement. But she found nothing to criticize about this one, and looked very pleased to have access to it for the next two months.

“Like it?” I inquired, amused at her expression. “I’d say it’s pretty impressive.”

“Tell your friend I love it!” She said, positively radiating joy and excitement. “This is amazing!”

She ran to me and hugged me, then went to look around again.

I took a look into one of the drawers below the mirror and saw a vast array of hair and skin care products, no wonder my friend had good skin and hair.

Beyond the mirror space, there was the tub, which she was already scrutinizing. It held the same old feel with the weathered stone slabs making up the rim, but the pristinely white jacuzzi tub looked like it had been crafted yesterday. Bordering the bathtub was a large glass shower, with a rainfall showerhead on the ceiling and a nozzle clipped to the wall just below it, with multiple different kinds of shampoo, body wash, shower gel, and conditioner. A closet was off to the left of the door into the room, and after appraising the tub and shower we made our way to it. It was as big as the kitchen downstairs, and that was saying something. Multiple racks full of clothes were set into their pole grooves, and several racks of shoes rested on the floor. They weren’t ours, so we didn’t mess with them.

The floor above that was just one enormous game room. Pool, air hockey, foosball, mini golf, and several others were strewn around. A walled-off area seemed to be designated to archery and airsoft target practice, something I approved of. Another bathroom was at the far end, something I didn’t need to explore again. After looking around for a bit, we went back to my car to unload our baggage.

The cabin was about ten miles from any kind of civilization, which made for a nice and secluded area for a summer getaway, but it would be a bit of a pain in the ass driving back and forth through the unpaved roadway to the nearest town. But we had brought food, and there was food in the house, so we were fine for the time being.

“Oppa?”

I heard Yiren’s voice call from upstairs a while later.

“Yeah?” I called back.

“Are you up for a hike? I hear they have great trails up here.”

“Sure, I’m down.”

I got up off the couch and went up there to see her.

“You did bring the hiking boots, didn’t you?” She asked, seeing me upstairs.

“Yes, of course. We can’t go to a mountain lodge without hiking boots.”

“True. Hold on for a minute, I have to change.”

She disappeared into the master bedroom and the sounds of rustling clothes could be heard from inside. I leaned my head over a bit to see past the doorway and found her raised eyebrows staring back at me while she slipped off her jeans, taking her panties with them.

“Peeping, oppa?” Her playful voice sounded as she turned away to her bag, and I would have challenged a Buckingham Palace guard not to look as she bent over slightly to retrieve her leggings.

I walked slowly into the room where she was rummaging in her suitcase and stopped behind her as she straightened up, leggings in hand, and placed my hands on her waist. She leaned backwards into my touch and sighed as I stroked her hips.

“Oppa, don’t tease me…”

I paid this no attention and moved my hands lower, sliding my palms over her naked thighs.

“Stop it, we’re going to hike, wait until later.”

Reluctantly, I paid her some heed and went to the dresser to get my bag and keys while she got dressed. And thus, a few short minutes of driving later, we arrived at the entrance to the trail.

…

The trail was nice and peaceful, with flat paths and beautiful scenery. It was rather tranquil, with the occasional squirrel or chipmunk darting across the rocky path in front of us. But of course, Yiren couldn’t let me enjoy the little things like that, she had to wear something skintight on both halves, and had to walk in front of me, which distracted me from any of the scenery.

So it was with slightly exerted legs and a straining bulge that I completed the trail, a fact Yiren was perfectly aware of.

Mind almost numb with lust by the time we got back into the care due to her deliberately dropping her phone and bending over to pick it up, I started the engine of my car and drove away toward the cabin.

I was again surprised by its immense size even though I had seen it an hour previously. We walked to the door, unlocked and opened it, and that was as much time as Yiren needed to latch onto me the moment I closed the door.

I turned around from the door and she was instantly there, wrapping her arms around my head and pulling me into a deep kiss. A moan sounded from her as my tongue sought entrance into her mouth, and I pulled her by the hips closer, so she could feel the bulge in my jeans. She started grinding herself against it, still kissing me with intense passion.

I half-carried her up the stairs to the bedroom and set her down on the mattress, where she laid on her back with her legs spread enticingly, eyes glittering with lust.

After shutting the drapes around the bed, I removed my shirt and saw her bite her lip at the sight of me shirtless, a fact I took heed of and tossed my shirt elsewhere, settling my hips between her thighs. I made sure she could acutely feel the tent in my pants against her, and she definitely did feel it.

Her breaths became shorter and more frequent, a sure sign of growing neediness. Her hips started moving of their own accord, grinding up against me. I felt this and got off her.

I hooked my thumbs under the waistbands of my jeans and boxers and pulled them off, finally freeing my cock from its denim prison, while she quickly removed her own clothes in my peripheral vision. She looked at me once I straightened up, bit her lip again, and her hand sneaked along her waist towards her pussy.

I was amazed for the millionth time by the fact that she had a body like a Greek goddess. To verbally describe the intensity of the lust her body induced would have been impossible.

I stepped forward and grabbed her hand, tearing it away from her leaking pussy, replacing the fingers with my tongue.

Her reaction was immediate. Her hands shot to my head and pulled, and she gave a short cry every time my tongue penetrated her. I targeted the spots I knew would pleasure her the most.

“Yes, fuck!” Her mouth was wide open and she was taking shallow breaths, giving short moans and gasps on the exhale. “Yes, don’t stop oppa it feels so good!”

I pressed by thumb to her clit while I continued the circular swiping motion with my tongue, which was quite effective to say the least. Her cries became sharper, her breaths more shallow, all building up to her climax.

“I’m gonna cum oppa, keep going, I’m cumming! AHH!”

How turned on I was could not have been described in words as her juices gushed out, into my mouth, and over my face. Her hands trembled as they clutched at my hair, and she had a small out-of-body experience as the pleasure of a second orgasm briefly took her to another realm of consciousness. I was in heaven right along with her, nothing was more satisfying that pleasuring her to an orgasm.

When she came back to earth I had gotten up, dried my face, and laid down on the bed beside her. The section of sheet under her lower half was soaked, as were her thighs and pussy. Her eyes were unfocused and dreamy, her chest heaved while her extremities still trembled.

“Oppa…”

She had turned her head towards me and I could almost see the hearts in her eyes as she looked at me.

“That was…so good…”

She spoke each phrase between breaths. If she thought what I had just done effortlessly was good, she had yet to feel what would happen when I was pounding her and completely abandoning any restraint.

I turned myself towards her and put my arms around her, though the effect was kind of ruined by my stiff cock poking her in the thigh, which made her giggle. She turned over and maneuvered down between my legs, placing her hands on my thighs as she stared fixedly at my length like a lion looks at its dinner, and I could tell she was about to go to town.

“I’m really hungry oppa,” she purred deviously, each word laced with teasing, while her hands performed slow strokes over my length, “I think I need to be fed, hmm?”

I took the cue and grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her lips down over my cock, and then everything else disappeared. Her lips parted and then slid smoothly over my shaft, a fresh coat of saliva washing over me.

“Fuuuck,” I groaned, unable to contain the immediate pleasure that filled me. “Fuck Yiren, that feels amazing!”

Each bob of her head made its way closer to my base, and she got a little more than three quarters before she started gagging. She moaned, gasped, gagged, and choked, but she didn’t give herself a break, even for a moment. She was hungry, and I was the only thing that could sate her appetite. Hearing my moans, she upped her speed. Her tongue slid over the underside of my cock, stretching out to flick my balls, while she forced her own head further down on me. My entire length was lodged inside her mouth and throat, and I felt myself very quickly nearing a climax.

“You’re going to make me cum,” I panted, getting even more turned on by her moans and small ‘mmm’s of satisfaction. “I’m gonna fucking cum down your throat, keep doing that!”

She took heed of this and slid her head all the way down my cock once more and held there, and with an almighty groan and a bed-rattling thrust of my hips I buried myself in her throat and spurted my load down it, a fact she was very pleased with. She bobbed her head rapidly, throating my cock a final few times and swallowing every single drop. And she couldn’t resist holding her head down on my now hypersensitive rod for another few seconds, simply loving the feeling of having her throat penetrated.

I lost count of the seconds she held herself there, I wasn’t really paying attention. Twenty, thirty, forty, somewhere around forty-five I lost count, and then she pulled up, dislodging me from her mouth and gasping for some much-needed oxygen, though her face showed pure enjoyment.

She dragged herself up the bed and settled next to me, sighing contentedly.

“I love you oppa.”

I drew her closer under the thoroughly stained blanket with one arm, using the other to run my fingers through her hair.

“I love you too, Yiren. Always.”

I could practically hear her purring as the warmth from my body emanated off me, and she snuggled in close, planting a small kiss on my jaw. I turned my head to receive and respond to her second kiss, and put my hand around her head.

Before I knew it, she was on top of me and we were kissing passionately, soft moans leaving her mouth as our tongues met. I found my cock returning to full life, and she most assuredly did, since her already-wet pussy was handily positioned right above it.

I flipped her over and pressed myself down on her. My tip rubbed against her sensitive folds, causing her to give tiny sighs of pleasure.

And then I pushed into her tight warmth. The insane tightness of her walls squeezing every part of my shaft was making me see stars, and there was quite a lot of resistance as I determinedly pushed inside her.

She moaned as I bottomed out inside her, my tip brushing spots inside her that I didn’t even know existed at that depth.

“Fuck me oppa.”

That was my cue to begin my thrusts, quickly increasing the speed and intensity of them. I landed a slap on her jiggling ass and immediately her pussy clenched around me and she cried out. I timed my spanks with each thrust of my hips, and her various obscenities also fell in rhythm.

“Oh - god - fuck - yes!” She said, each word coming out in time with the spanks. “Feels - so - good - fuck!”

I took her ponytail in my hand and pulled back, forcing her face up, her moans becoming higher in pitch at my pulling. Her back bent up so she was almost kneeling as I fucked her, and with my other hand I paused the spanks and reached around to squeeze her breasts, only heightening her arousal. Her hands gripped the hand caressing her chest.

“Please oppa, fuck me harder,” Yiren half-whispered, which I knew to be a sign that she was nearing an orgasm. “Your cock is so deep in me, it feels so good!”

I did as she asked and fucked her harder, abandoning all restraint as I slammed my hips into hers, the sounds of skin on skin getting louder as my hips met her ass. It was becoming difficult to resist the hypnotic jiggle of her ass and the way her pussy was exquisitely gripping my cock, massaging as I pistoned in and out. I was about to cum, as I realized it, and there was nothing I could do about that now.

And then, before I knew it:

“So fucking good, yes! Fuck oppa I’m cumming, FUCK!”

“Shit, I’m cumming as well, fucking take it all!”

We met our orgasms at the same time, sharing that moment of bliss together. Her juices splattered my legs as they sprayed out, accompanied by her scream of pleasure, always reserved for just such a moment of satisfaction. The feeling was pervading up my entire body, immense pleasure before my actual release. Yiren gasped twice and moaned quietly at the deluge of hot cum that flooded her tight pussy. I kept fucking her at a slower pace, now the only things audible were the wet slaps of our skin and her occasional murmured expressions, as she rested somewhere between this bed and heaven itself.

“So good…feels so…feels so good…ohh yes just like that…”

I got the impression from what she was saying that she was very near unconsciousness. It wouldn’t surprise me, since she had just had a very intense orgasm. I pulled out of her with a lewd squelch and a large quantity of cum rushed out of her.

“Ahhh…ohh yes…I love you oppa…”

I settled in front of her as she flopped over onto her side, breathing very heavily. I rubbed her back as she moved close, nimbly stroking all the spots I knew she loved, and she purred into my neck.

“I love you too, baby.”

…

I got up a while later, put on my clothes, and after giving the half-asleep Yiren a kiss, I went up to the kitchen to start preparing dinner. It was a quality that especially attracted her to me, the fact that I could cook, and well. She always said that a man who could cook was a man who wouldn’t have trouble finding women.

Jjajangmyeon was a personal favorite of both of ours, and so it was what I started making. I was nearly finished when the sound of the bedroom door opening sounded behind me and she entered the room wrapped in a blanket, yawning.

“Did you sleep?” I asked, industriously stirring the noodles.

“Yes.” She yawned again. “For a little bit.”

“Good,” I replied, “because you’re not going to be doing much of it tonight.”

She giggled and peered into the pot.

“Jjajangmyeon?”

“Indeed.” I put the spatula down and turned to her. “Just how we both like it.”

She hugged me, the top of her head barely brushing my chin.

“Aww oppa you didn’t have to, I could have done it.”

I put my arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a tighter embrace.

“I know. That’s why I’m doing it.”

Yiren hugged me tighter and buried her face in my shirt, and I could feel her smile against my chest.

“I love it when you do this.”

Her words warmed my heart, and I smiled as well.

“I do it all the time, you’d think some of the novelty would be lost.

She snorted. “Well, it hasn’t.”

I turned back to the wok and stirred my stir fry, my arm still around her shoulders.

“What do you say we pop open some of that Hennessy after dinner?”

“Sounds good to me. That stuff hits hard, though.”

“Precisely.” I said. “We might not even have to use a lot.”

“That looks like it’s done.” She said, nodding at the pot of noodles.

“I’m aware.” I replied. “Would you get out the bowls?”

She got out the bowls and two pairs of chopsticks as I turned off the fire on the stovetop. I dragged the noodles out of the pot and into the bowls and spooned the sauce onto them. She took them to the table and set up two chairs across from each other while I got out a bottle of choice Pinot Noir from the rack along with two glasses.

“Wow, you really are trying to get drunk, aren’t you?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Not really, but I’m not trying not to, if you catch my drift.”

She just smirked, absolutely catching my drift and knowing the outcome. I sat down after pouring the wine and setting the glasses down in our places.

Dinner passed quickly. The bowls had been cleared fairly quickly. I had sipped my wine away already, but Yiren always left hers to sit out for a while, the reason for which I never knew.

By the time she picked her glass back up I had poured myself some water as a beforehand countermeasure to the many measures of Hennessy we would be sharing.

While I was thinking about it I got up and grabbed the bottle of Hennessy, setting it down on the table.

“Cheers,” she said happily, raising her glass. I raised mine and then drank from it as she followed suit.

“Good choice.” She said, after a moment of consideration. “Very nice hints of different flavors.”

“I know,” I said, taking another mouthful of water. “Pinot Noir is always good. But my friend imports his wine from places France and Spain and Italy, places which do wine the right way.”

“Speaking of your friend, where is he on vacation?”

“In Switzerland right now, but in a few days he’ll be somewhere else in Europe, I don’t know. I’d have to ask him.”

She took another small sip of wine before speaking again.

“Well, I can truthfully say that there’s no place I’d rather be then right here with you.”

She leaned across the small table and poked me in the chest, a playful smile gracing her lips. I caught her hand before she could draw it away and pulled her into a kiss. Her body seemed to relax into it, and a slightly muffled sigh was audible. When we broke the kiss off and sat back down, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were alive with desire.

“Damn, we haven’t even started drinking yet and you’re already losing it.”

Yiren blushed harder at my sentence. She said nothing, but something changed in her expression. She got up from her seat, abandoning her wine, and strode around the table to me. The next thing I knew, she was sitting in my lap, hands pulling my face towards hers. She moaned as her lips locked with mine, tongue entering my mouth, meeting with my own.

She pulled away, looking at me with the dim-ish light dancing in her eyes, a deep blush spread across her cheeks.

“How about that Hennessy now, huh?” She said.

I reached for the bottle and unscrewed the top, as she turned to the side. I took a healthy swig of it myself before reaching for the shotglasses. The alcohol burned in my throat as it went down and I took a deep breath in.

We both downed a shot together. She coughed and winced as she swallowed, but nodded when I looked concernedly at her.

"I'm alright."

She reached for her second shot and swallowed it with me.

"How quick does this stuff kick in?" She asked as the glasses were once again refilled.

"Quickly."

After successfully downing three shots and of the liquor, we sat back and waited on the couch. I had made the mistake of impatience while drinking once before, and it was not going to happen again.

And then it hit.

And when it hit, it hit hard.

"Whoa," I slurred as the room started spinning before my eyes, "Yiren, you feeling it?"

She gave a tipsy giggle and fell forward, still laughing.

"I dunno, I've never been drunk bfore..."

Through the haze of drunken stupor I was seeing, I looked down and saw her ass, so sexy and perfectly positioned...she was even bent over my lap, too...I had no chance of resisting the urge.

"Ah!" She yelped as I slapped her ass, then giggled again. "Oppa..."

"More..."

I gladly complied, landing more punishing smacks on her ass. With each spank she tensed and gave a small, cute cry.

Normally my dominant side stayed at a minimum, but I had to admit to myself that in my drunk state it was starting to take over my brain. I found myself increasing the intensity of my smacks and taking pleasure in it, causing her cries to rise in volume quickly.

"Nngh yes, keep spanking me oppa!" She whimpered, swiftly approaching her peak. "Ah! Fuck yes, keep doing that!"

I kept spanking her and reached around to caress her breast with my other hand. Her moans kept building until finally she orgasmed with a squeal, the crotch of her shorts becoming very wet.

Yiren took quick, shallow breaths to calm down after cumming, and when she had sufficiently recovered she rolled over on my legs to face me.

"That was fun oppa, we should go to the bedroom."

I blinked hard. "Shit, I dunno if I can walk."

She scoffed. "Come on, let's go."

I clumsily got up off the couch and weaved my way up the stairs and to the bedroom, stumbling three times on the way there. I dimmed the lights as I entered, then fell forward onto the bed, rolling over and scooting up to let my head rest on the pillow. My shirt was going to be an unnecessary accessory once she got up here, so I removed it and tossed it aside.

She entered the bed and slid the drapes shut behind her, wearing only her soaked shorts, panties, and a bra. I was already hard from the light spanking I had given her, but the mere sight of her sexy, half-naked body was enough to double my stiffness.

She clambered across the bed and straddled me, leaning down to kiss me. I accepted it only for a second, then gripped her hips and rolled over, so I was on top.

I kissed her more aggressively now, pressing my tongue against her lips to gain entry. She eventually gave in, but we both knew she was tantalizing herself by holding out, she wanted me. She gave a tiny sigh of pleasure.

I broke off the kiss and left her blushing and panting, eyes sparkling.

"God, you're so sexy when you're drunk." She murmured to me, holding my face with both hands.

"Really?" I said, locking eyes with her. "Then maybe I should do it more often."

Normally and drunkenly, Yiren's submissive side stayed at a minimum. It balanced with her enjoyment of being in control for a pretty neutral attitude. But I could see in her deep brown eyes a need. Whether she could feel it or not, I could tell that she needed to be dominated, badly.

"Hello?" Her voice said from a long way off, the sound trying desperately to be heard over the pounding of my own heart in my ears. "You gonna do something? Or will I have to do it myself?"

She was baiting me, and I knew it. Trying to spur me into fucking her. But it wasn't going to happen yet.

"Yeah, I'm gonna do something." I growled. "And you're gonna take it, like it or not."

A shudder ran through her at my words, but she maintained her cocky, playful attitude.

"Ooh, he's getting feisty. Someone's a little drunk."

I could feel annoyance rising at her words, which was exactly what she wanted, of course. She observed me with satisfaction.

"Okay, that's it." I got off her, opened the drapes, and stood up, removing my jeans and boxers. She automatically got off the bed and knelt in front of me as I sat on the edge of it, knowing my intention. I wasted no time in grabbing her hair and forming it into a ponytail in my hand, grasping none too lightly. She gasped at my sudden roughness, and I used the opportunity of her mouth already being open to shove my cock into it.

She choked as my tip poked the back of her throat, but didn't resist as I slowly pushed further in, bringing her face to the base. She gagged, and I pulled her head back by the ponytail before slamming my hips into it again, driving my length down her throat. Over and over I brought her face back before plunging it back down, spearing her throat with my cock.

Tears gathered in her eyes when she choked, gagging obscenely on my dick. After a bit she started moving by herself, her neck on autopilot, ramming her face into my crotch. Saliva spilled down her face and dripped off her messy chin to her bra-clad breasts below. Light mascara streaks tracked down her face, joining the mess at her lips.

Yiren brought her head down one more time and held it there for a second, a choking sound resounding, before pulling off, gasping and breathing heavily. She looked at me, panting, and I felt the promise of an orgasm drifting away.

"Why'd you stop?"

"I want you to cum inside me."

I reached forward and lifted her onto the bed, setting her down none too gently on her back. I held my hand on her throat, choking her, not enough to cause damage.

She caught her breath at the rough treatment, clearly turned on. But I wasn't going to hold off on that domination.

"You want?" I breathed into her face, her pupils dilating in arousal. "Maybe you need a reminder of who's in charge."

She said nothing, but I could see a subtle change in her expression. I grabbed the waistband of her shorts and panties and pulled them over her slender legs and off her feet. Her pussy was already soaked and shining with arousal.

Yiren, still keeping up her cocky demeanor, gave a huge fake yawn and smirked cheekily. I narrowed my eyes and then reached up and tore the bra off her, making her yelp. However overweening she was acting, I could see in her face a desire to be dominated. And that was a desire I was more than willing to satisfy.

I crawled forward, lifted her legs up, and sheathed myself to the root inside her tight, wet pussy. "Fuck!" She cried out as I pushed into her. She moaned and gasped when I bottomed out inside her, firmly prodding her cervix. Her quick, high-pitched breaths heightened my arousal.

My brain was far too cloudy to control my desire, so my thrusts were fast and rough. I relentlessly pounded her, not holding back a bit and not sorry at all. I gave her ass quick smacks randomly every few thrusts, making her yelp every single time.

Her brows contracted and turned up, and her mouth stayed slightly open, her face falling into that angelic expression of bliss that never failed to make me shiver in pleasure myself.

"Oh - fuck - yes - harder - please!" She whimpered in time with my strokes. I lowered my face to her ear.

"Now remind me," I growled, her moans filling my own ears, "who's in charge?"

She barely managed to get the words out inbetween her cries. "You oppa! You're in charge! I belong to you!"

I gave her ass a hard slap, somewhat dissatisfied with her answer. "Then say it right, slut."

"I'm yours, sir!" She cried again, "I belong to you only!"

"Good girl." I said in a low voice, and I felt her shiver under me. I slowed my thrusts to a calmer pace, more to tantalize her than anything else. She was near an orgasm, I could tell, so I kept the strokes at a steady pace with a lot of force.

"Sir, please," She begged, her juices leaking out around me, clearly turned on by my dominance, "Fuck me harder, make me cum for you." Cleverly worded so as to make it like this was for me, not for her. I was not, even in my drunk-as-fuck state, going to fall for that.

"Why would I do that?" I said to her dismay, evilly grinning. "You were such a bad girl earlier, why should I reward you?"

"I'm sorry, sir!" She said breathlessly, her eyes full of desperation. "I'm sorry I was bad! Please, sir, fuck me and make me cum!"

I couldn't really help but give in, since my libido was screaming at me. So I picked up the pace and resumed my uncontrolled plowing of her tight cunt, the resistance smoothed somewhat by the enormous amounts of slick she was producing.

With every subsequent thrust, her moans became louder snd her words dirtier as I brought her nearer to her peak.

"Mmhh yes sir, fuck me harder! It's so good, fuck! I'm gonna cum for you sir!"

I pushed myself up from my elbows and held a hand to her neck, pushing down just enough to make her enjoy it. She took a sharp breath and opened her eyes, pupils dilated.

"Shut the fuck up and take it, slut," I said, groaning despite myself.

"Yes, sir," she gasped, moaning, as I pushed deeper. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

She wasn't lying. Her voice died momentarily as her eyes rolled into her head and she bucked her hips up into me, a gush of cum spraying my abdomen. She found her voice after a second, and let out a short, loud "ah", mouth open. Her hips continued their motion seemingly independent of her pleasure-addled brain.

Her moans subsided, and an idea came to me. I reluctantly pulled out of her, a lewd squelch sounding. She lay there, unmoving, eyes open and practically heart-pupiled. I walked to the french doors leading to thr balcony and opened them, a rush of cool night air sweeping over me.

Yiren lifted her head slightly at the sudden cool draft and pushed herself up with slightly trembling arms. I went back to the bed and lifted her off it easily, then set her down on her front on the soft white couch oustide. She gave a tiny gasp as a breeze of cool air moved over her naked pussy.

"Sir...

"Fuck me again..."

I was still rock hard despite the cool air, so I climbed onto the couch with her. Her head was laying sideways towards the dark scenery, her arms were stretched out in front of her, and her ass was sticking up in the air, perfectly positioned for me to fuck.

I slid my cock back into her wet heat, drawing a languid whimper from her mouth and clenching my jaw with a groan. I started off slow, with gentle, even thrusts, Yiren moaning softly beneath me.

"Mmm fuck yes you're so deep in me oppa..."

I kicked the pace up a little and started thrusting faster and harder, quickly turning her moans to cries as I pounded her tight pussy.

"Mmhh fuck! Pound me harder please sir! Pound my little pussy! So good, fuck, yes yes please harder! So fucking big inside me, yes! Nghh oh god yes, use me, fuck!"

Her words flicking every arousal switch in my brain to 'on', I went even faster, giving it everything I had to keep pushing into her. Beads of sweat formed at my hairline at the effort. Yiren was reduced to a mewling, whimpering, moaning mess, unable to form coherent words in her pleasure. I slapped her ass hard and she cried out.

"Please - sir - harder! Oh - yes - slap me - sir!"

I spanked her harder and she arched her back, a small yelp escaping her with every thrust I gave. Pleasure was building in my lower abdomen like resistance from a compressed spring, my abs and obliques tensing in preparation.

"Yes sir, give it to me! Fuck me harder please! Nghh yes, I'm gonna - I'm gonna - fuck, I'm cumming sir!"

"Fuck!" I groaned, as she gave a particularly sexy cry that sent shivers down my spine, "Yiren baby I'm gonna fucking cum!"

"Yes - please - sir!" She managed through her high-pitched whines of bliss. This, combined with her usage of "sir", was all the initiative I needed to cum inside her.

"Oh my god yes, FUCK!" I almost roared, slamming my hips into hers one last time, burying my cock so deep inside her that it touched her cervix again and blasting her insides with hot cum. My release triggered hers, and she orgasmed again with a scream, spraying her cum out onto me.

I rolled over and off her, sliding out to let a large amount of cum come spilling out of her. She gave another soft moan and then rolled over to face me. I pulled her closer and her face and body were very hot despite the 6°C temperature outside.

"So good... oppa I love you..."

"I love you too, baby."

...

I must have fallen asleep, since when I awoke it was about 8 o'clock in the morning, judging by the sun's position. Yiren was snoozing peacefully beside me. As I slowly returned to a waking state I realized that I was stiffer than a wood plank again. Yiren's sleeping body was looking incredibly sexy, and I was entirely unable to control my sudden desire. I pulled her closer to me and pushed into her again, quietly groaning. She gave a soft moan in her sleep. I started very slowly, but even this was enough to stir her from her slumber. She breathed in deeply and shifted slightly, and I continued my thrusts, making her whine faintly. She steadily returned to conciousness, moaning more and tightening around me.

"Oppa?"

"Yes, baby," I groaned through gritted teeth, listening to her soft mewls of satisfaction. "Oh, fuck..."

Her eyes opened partially, looking lazily out at the trees, and then they closed and her eyebrows contracted upwards as I reached around and started rubbing her clit, making her gasp and whimper.

"A-ah...oh yes, k-keep doing that..."

Her head leaned back into my collarbone and I could smell vanilla in her soft hair. I grabbed her hips and slammed mine into them, driving my cock deep inside her and making her cry a loud "ah".

"Ohh yes yes yes, please keep going, I'm gonna fucking cum again, don't stop oppa!"

I reached and put my hand around her slim neck, squeezing lightly, just enough to give her the sensation I knew she liked. Her intonations of pleasure became unintelligible.

"Yes - fuck - harder - oppa - mmm yes - so good!"

"Fuck, you like that baby?" I squeezed her neck harder.

"Ah! Yes, sir! I love it! Fuck my little pussy harder! Use me! Your cock is so big, so deep inside me sir!"

"Yiren, I'm gonna cum baby," I gasped, moaning in her ear, and I felt her shiver in arousal under me.

"Cum inside me, sir," Yiren panted, arching her back into me. Her hands went to her own breasts, squeezing and massaging, pleasuring her to greater heights. Her eyes closed once more and she let out a shriek of pleasure and a long moan as sbe squirted on me again, arms and legs trembling uncontrollably as her mind whited out.

I briefly lost touch with reality as my own mind was flooded with sensation and I released inside her again. My body shuddered in pleasure and I let out a few swears through gritted teeth, thrusting my way through my orgasm. Yiren gasped and moaned throughout it, loving the feeling of warmth pouring into her.

My muscles relaxed, and I slipped out of her as we both settled down again, panting and satisfied. It was a few minutes before she spoke again.

"Oppa?"

"Yiren, baby?"

She sighed contentedly. "I love you."

"I love you too." I replied, planting a row of kisses on her neck.

"You know what I think oppa?"

"What's that, babe?"

She turned over and faced me, a devilish smirk twisting her lips.

"I think it's gonna be a really fun summer."

#kpop smut #yiren smut #everglow smut #yiren #everglow #wang yiren #everglow yiren #wang yiren smut

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satorusugurugurl · 1 month ago

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What’s Your Favorite Scary Movie?

Summary: You get a call from an unknown number, that leads to one of the most erotic moments of your entire life.

Pairing: Ghostface!Geto Suguru X AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Primal play, knife play, language, chasing, role-play, sex, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: Kinktoner day eight! Ghostface! I love the Scream Franchise and it’s my sisters favorite movie ever. Which is funny because no one believes this cute five foot nothing girly girl loves it. She can quote it! Suguru call me and chase me! 🥴

The smell of popcorn flooded the house as you hummed happily in the kitchen, standing on your tiptoes and grabbing a large bowl from the cabinet. October was one of your favorite times of year—changing seasons, scary movies, and getting cozy under a blanket. Tonight was going to be a nice lazy night in.

You pulled the steaming bag of popcorn out of the microwave, slowly opening it carefully so you would not burn yourself when your cell phone started ringing. Thinking it was your boyfriend, you reached into your back pocket, pulled it out, and found an unknown number on the screen. You thought about it for a second before answering the call.

“Hello?” You asked putting it on speaker to allow yourself to empty the contents of the popcorn bag into the bowl.

“Hi.” A smooth came through on the other line.

You blinked, tilting your head to the side as you grinned. “Who is this?” The man laughed, and you could practically hear him smiling from the other line.

“Who is this?”

You laughed, pouring the popcorn into a bowl. “You called me.” The man hummed in response.

“You got a boyfriend?”

“Yeah, I do.” You laughed, carrying the popcorn to the living room and placing it on the coffee table. “Why were you wanting to take me out on a date?”

“Maybe I was.”

You walked around the living room with a smile, twirling some of your hair around a finger and biting your lip in anticipation. Deep down in your gut, you could feel the excitement boiling inside you.

“Well, I’m so sorry. I’m happily taken.” You purred out like your words in itself were a sin. “Have a good night.”

Just before you could hang up, you could hear a creaking sound. One that wasn’t because of your weight. No, this was further down and much too heavy to be your cat. Your heart dropped into your stomach as you tightened your phone grip. You slowly approached the coat closet with a shudder.

“Ooor maybe—I could just take you for myself.”

“W-What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, hand reaching out for the doorknob.

“That I’m going to take you.”

The door to the flung open, and a man towered over you wearing a Ghostface mask and matching flowing black robes. The phone fell from your hand as you inhaled sharply, turning on your heels and running as fast as you could. Ghostface growled from behind you, chasing you down the hall towards your bedroom.

You ran to the opposite side of the bed, trying to open your window to the backyard. Only it was jammed for some ungodly reason. You screamed in pure frustration, trying to open it with all your might. But the sound of footsteps behind you had you abandoning your attempt, causing you to scream in fear as he lunged for you.

You barely managed to get away, falling back on your ass against the wall. Your hands reached for the alarm clock that was sitting there. And you threw it to your assailant, missing him by a long shot. He ducked his head, looking back at the alarm clock that hit a wall before he turned his focus back on you with a snarl.

“You little shit!” His voice was harsh and cold, sending a swarm of butterflies to gather deep inside your stomach. A black gloved hand shot out, grabbing you by your ankle and yanking you towards him. “Bitch!”

“Fuck!” You cried out, your heart drumming inside your ears as you searched for anything and everything to defend yourself. But there were hardly any weapons around that could be useful. “No!” you cried, even though the word held no heat.

He reached into under his robes, pulling out a hunting knife. You choked on a moan. It wasn’t even a scream as he lifted you off the ground, throwing you onto the mattress. Ghostface grabbed a hold of your shirt, ripping it open with the knife. The sound of ripping fabric went straight between your legs as you considered running. However, all those thoughts dissipated like fog in the morning; that cool steel ran over your belly before digging into your shorts. The air was cool as it hit your skin as you lay there completely bare ass side from your strawberry print panties.

“Oooh fuck!” you cried out as he held the knife above your head. But instead of thrusting the blade down into you, it fell to the mattress as those same loved hands that gripped your ankle reached down, undoing the tie to his robes.

He pulled them apart, exposing his well-toned chest. You whimpered as the same loved hands down his body, grabbing his jeans, unbuttoning them, freeing an erection that was throbbing and leaking pre-cum already. Both of your legs were grabbed and draped over the shoulders of the masked man before you as he jerked himself twice before pulling your drenched panties to the side.

“Oooh fuck—fuck!” you grabbed hold of the sheets underneath you. The head of his cock rubbed up and down over your slick folds.

“You want this?” he asked, his head to the side as he pressed his cock harder against you. “You want me to fuck you, Princess?”

That familiar nickname, the way that he grabbed a hold of your hips, and you soaking wet with anticipation. “Oooh fuck!” you cried out, biting down on your bottom lip as Ghostface tilted his head to the other side, waiting for your consent your verbal approval. “Fuck me!!” you begged, and that was the only two words he needed to hear before he was shoving his hard throbbing cock inside of you.

“Fuck!” He hissed out, holding your legs firmly over his shoulders as he dragged your ass further to the edge of the bed as he stood there towering above you. “Fuck yes, Princess!”

The position that you were in allowed him to hit the deepest parts of you. The head of his cock slammed against your cervix so hard you were sure he was going to bruise it. But you welcomed the pain. It only intensified the pleasure that you were feeling with each drag of his cock in and out of your tight wet cunt.

“Fuck yes! Fuck me!” Groans of pure, unfiltered pleasure were stifled by the masked man from above you. “Fuck!” you screamed, watching as his large hands left your hips, moving to grab the tops of your thighs, pressing your legs together as he fucked you harder, making the bed creak underneath so you could join the headboard, slamming against the wall as your home body shock with tremors.

“Nnngh~!” Ghost face yelled, throwing his head back as you rocked your hips up and down in time with his powerful thrusts.

“Harder! Harder!” you begged, feeling his fingers dig into the top of your thighs. “Oooh~! Fuuuck me!!”

Ghostface reaches down, rubbing his thumb in circles around your click in time, and does a deep thrust. “You’re mine, all fucking mine.” His cock moved in and out deeper, faster, harder, coding his cock and your inner thighs with your slick wetness. “Say it,” he commanded. “Tell me you’re mine!”

“I’m yours!” You screamed, not even hesitating or questioning what he wanted you to say. The second, those two words left your mouth much like your consent. He left all convection behind, throwing himself forward, putting you into a meeting press as he slammed into you with the force that rocked your soul out of your body. “Fuckk me! Fuck me! Fuuuck me!!”

Your legs were pressed back as Ghostface fucked you with a purpose. You could hear him grunting and groaning above before he finally reached up, grabbed the mask, and pulled it to the side. Strands of raven hair fell in his face, and violet eyes looked down at you. Both his hands pressed firmly behind your knees, pressing you further back against the mattress. His cheeks were flushed a dusty rose color as he huffed and snarled, losing himself to the scenario you had created together.

“C-Cumming!” you screamed as big tears slow down your cheeks, staining them.“Cumming! Cumming!”

Your masked man’s eyes rolled back into his head as he felt your walls hugging him, pulling him deeper inside of you. “Get pregnant! Get pregnant fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He barked out as his cock throbbed hard inside of you. Warmth filled you as he flooded your pussy and womb with his cum. You were expecting him to breed you. But you gladly welcomed it.

It looks like you weren’t the only one who was in this.

What had started as a lazy day watching horror movies into one of the most erotic experiences of your entire life? And it was the same for your boyfriend, who was sweating as he pulled the rope. He was wearing off, letting it fall to the ground below. You sighed, swallowing hard as the Ghostface mask and your tattered clothing were tossed onto the floor.

“So~,” Your sexy and super supportive boyfriend asked softly as he crawled onto the bed with you, pulling you up to the pillows. “Do I still get to take you out on a date?”

Suguru brushed strands of your hair out of your face as he watched you continue to come down from the intensity of your orgasm. “Fuck Suguru if you fuck me like that again. I would gladly marry you tomorrow.” Geto snickered, pulling you into his chest as he stroked your hair back. “That was so fucking hot.” You whispered, pressing kisses along his chest before you ran your index finger slowly up and down his stomach. “Thanks for doing that for me. For this fulfilling one of my fantasies.”

Suguru hummed a pressing agent kiss to the top of your head. “Next time, let’s take this outside. I want to chase you through the backyard.” He felt you squirm next to him at the idea of this not being a one-time scenario. “Yeah, you like that? I bet that pussy of yours is throbbing, isn’t it?” There was no denying that as you nodded your head. “Good, because I’m gonna make you scream.” You suddenly had more love for the cult, classic movie than you ever had before.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks @lana18918

Kinktober Tag List:

@candy-s72

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risuola · 1 year ago

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MUG CAKE CRISIS — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

Every household has to face a crisis once in a while. Yours came at 2:48am and you had to sweeten your husband's way into peace again.

cw: good old fluff — 0,9k words

Every household has to face some kind of crisis once in a while. Some deal with children – the tantrums or cries that keep the parents awake and as they are forced out of their dreams and expected to face whatever it is that makes their little ones so sad, all of the monsters underneath the beds, the nightmares and fears, they simply take it head on. That’s what makes parents the heroes of their children life’s. Other people deal with partners or the opposite, the loneliness. Sometimes the walls hear things no one else shouldn’t. Arguments, screams and sounds of heated intimacy. There are different types of crises and your house is no foreign to that concept.

You woke up to the soft thuds coming from somewhere in the apartment. The whiney sounds following the, what you figured out to be, furniture noises gave you enough reason to get up from the bed. There was a crisis in your house happening right now, at 2:48am and you couldn’t just let it be, so you wrapped yourself in a blanket, too sleepy to put on clothes on your bare body, slipped into your slippers and padded to the kitchen.

The view that met your eyes was endearing in a way. Gojo Satoru, your husband and a man you love to the extent of infinity, was in the kitchen, wearing only boxers that he probably put on in a rush, because they were turned to the left side, with seams and tag on show. He was frantically ramming through every cabinet, every drawer, every little basket and bowl that could possibly hide something. There was a mess around him, boxes laying around gutted and empty, some doors half-open and most of the things on the countertop moved from their original place creating the overwhelming sense of disorder. But that was a problem for tomorrow, now you had to take care of the man-child strongest sorcerer.

“Satoru, baby,” you called him, but he was too focused on his hunt to even look at you.

“Go back to sleep, love,” he mumbled and you yawned onto the plushy fabric of your blanket. You approached him, wrapping your arms around his middle and nuzzling your face to his bare back.

“No sweets?”, you cooed, knowing perfectly how the one and only addiction of your husband can wake him at night. Satoru doesn’t drink, he doesn’t smoke and he only occasionally takes a sip from your coffee, but one thing he’s unable to give up, is sugar. He consumes so much of it, you’re in awe that he still has all of his teeth and in great health as well, and all of his blood tests normal, because you were sure that if you were the one who ate so much caramel, chocolate and whipped cream, you’d probably be dead before your teeth start to rot.

“Can you believe it?” he whined, audibly trying to force his voice to sound soft and calm, but you knew him better than that. He was tensed, soo annoyed, his heart was beating fast as if he was slowly falling into the state of panic, and you exhaled against his skin, hand smoothing over his stomach as you pressed your lips to his spine.

“Told you we need to go get groceries yesterday.”

“You’re not helping, y/n.”

“Oh, my poor husband. Sit down, I’ll make you something, how does it sound?”

He hummed in defeat, desperate to have anything sweet and so he sat down on the chair, as you quickly combined flour, cocoa, sugar and the one almost dying banana that had been laying there for a little too long. Some milk, vanilla extract and baking powder got mixed into the batter as well, and when the concoction was ready, you put it in the microwave.

Mug cakes became your saving grace for hard times like this one, when your husband would wake up in the middle of the night craving something sweet. Some might say, he’s a grown adult, he can manage without eating chocolate in the middle of the night. Well, no. Satoru is a baby trapped inside the 6’3 tall, muscular body, and he’d definitely throw a tantrum if his needs won’t be fulfilled. There was a time he almost teared up when the realization of his stashes being empty hit him.

Over the hot, steaming cake you scooped the last bits of vanilla ice cream that hid in the back of the freezer, away from his sweet tooth because you kept it for the time your period comes and you even managed to squeeze out a little bit of toffee sauce from the lonely bottle in the fridge. Yawning once again, you presented the masterpiece to your beloved man-child, with a spoon and he gathered you to sit on his lap, making sure you are tucked tightly into the blanket.

“I love you, you know that,” he mumbled against your forehead, before pressing his lips there.

“Love you too,” you smiled and lowered your head to rest it on his shoulder, while he began devouring the dessert you made him. You felt his body relaxing as the sugar saturated his bloodstream and you relaxed too, melting against his warm form and knowing that he’s once again happy.

“’m sorry I woke you up at that hour,” he whispered, when after catering his cravings, he carried you back to the bed.

You smiled, cuddling to his chest just few moments later. Oh, how much you love that man. So much, you were okay with getting up at nearly 3 am only to make him a mug cake.

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moonstruckme · 9 months ago

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Can I request Spencer x anxious, overthinker reader ? Maybe, overwhelmed or stressed, like almost burnout, but not quite. Because this semester at uni had just been way too much in every way. Thank you 💕 🌸

Thanks for requeting love, hope you're able to get a break soon!

cw: academic stress, reader has symptoms of anxiety

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

When Spencer gets home in the middle of the night, you don’t hear him over the sound of sizzling and your own racing thoughts.

“Hi,” he announces himself as he comes in, meeting your little jolt with a bemused look. “I’m surprised you’re still awake.”

“Hey, how was your flight?” You whirl from the stove for the half a second it takes to brush a kiss against his cheek before turning back to keep pushing things around the pan. The momentary distraction is worth it for the emergence of Spencer’s smile, soft and fatigued. “Sorry, I was hoping to have this done before you got home.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says automatically. “The flight was good. I’m happy to be back.” He sets his bag down and rounds the kitchen island to lean against the counter beside the stove, peering at your face. “I hope you’re not making dinner just for me.”

“I’m going to have some too,” you reassure him. “I’m starving.”

Spencer’s expression shifts. You get the sense you’ve confirmed something for him. “It’s pretty late. Why haven’t you eaten yet?”

You wish you could say that you’d wanted to wait and eat with your boyfriend, but there’s never any point in lying to Spencer.

“I just haven’t gotten around to it until now,” you say. “I have a lot of work to do.”

“I know,” he replies. You know he does. You’d started venting about your workload before he left for the case, and he’d been kind about letting you continue to do so during your nightly calls when he was away. “Still, it’s a lot to be up until…” He glances at the microwave clock, unsure of what time it actually is. You can’t say you know, either. “Nearly three-thirty. How long have you been working for?”

You push the vegetables around in the pan, olive oil spitting and burning the skin of your hand. You feel Spencer’s stare narrow on you. “Since I got home, so seven-ish.”

He frowns. “You’re not feeling tired, are you?”

You’re not, though you don’t ask how he can tell. You look tired, you know. Every time you look in the mirror lately, you think of the word unkempt. Messy hair, dull skin, purplish crescent moons stamped under both eyes. But you don’t feel like you could sleep if you tried. There’s an urgency in your blood that gets you up early every morning and propels you to work through the day, like there’s an engine inside of you that’s decided it doesn’t need gas to run. You’re always moving, humming, thinking, certain without reason that if you stop it’ll all fall apart.

You shake your head, and Spencer frowns towards the pan. “What do you have left to do with this?”

You’re surprised to find, upon looking down, that the vegetables look ready. “Um,” you switch the heat off, “I’m just waiting for the timer to finish on the pasta, and then I’m going to mix them together. It shouldn’t be long.”

“Okay.” He takes the spoon from you, moving you out of the way with a careful hand on your shoulder. “I can handle that. You should go sit down.”

“Spence,” you laugh, “I can do it.”

He doesn’t argue with you, necessarily, just utters a quiet, “It’s okay,” and nudges you in the direction of the couch.

You don’t have it in you to protest much, not when he’s just gotten home, so you do, curling up with your feet underneath you and pulling a blanket from over the side of the armrest. You think Spencer is going to want to talk, but he doesn’t, just stirring the pasta and pulling dishes out of the cabinet. Maybe he’s exhausted, too. It is late, and he’s been working on his case the same way you’ve been chipping away at your schoolwork, for days and days with little reprieve.

You thank him when he passes you a bowl, slurping up the noodles the way your mom would chide you if she were here for and comforted by the fact that Spencer’s doing the same. You’re convinced the pasta somehow tastes better than if you’d finished it yourself, your boyfriend’s poor culinary skills supplemented by the love he puts into taking care of you.

“You know,” he says after a minute, “there’s evidence to suggest that consistent sleep loss can lead to loss of brain cells.”

You suck a noodle into your mouth. “I sleep,” you tell him. “I’m just having a late night.”

Spencer gives you a sorry sort of smile. Like he almost wants to apologize for how smart he is, how it keeps you from getting away with anything. “I’ve only been gone for four days,” he says, “but you were texting me after I went to sleep and before I got up every morning.”

“Only psychopaths look at timestamps,” you joke, looking down into your pasta bowl.

He shrugs, quiet.

“What else can I do?” you ask, and you really are asking. “I have deadlines, Spence. Due dates. I can’t just say fuck it and go to sleep at nine every night like I don’t still have work left to do.”

“Which part is overwhelming you?” he asks curiously.

You huff. Not at him. “All of it? It’s like every one of my professors thinks they’re my only class. There’s a bunch of essays and projects all due this week, and no break from the regular stuff to give me time to get it done.” You blink into your pasta bowl, ashamed at the emotion bullying its way into your voice. Blame it on fatigue, you guess. “Every day when I get home from class, I have this impossible list of things to do, and it’s like, if I don’t finish, what’s going to happen? My grades will tank, and I won’t be able to get any of the good internships, and then I won’t get a job, and—”

“It’s okay.” Spencer’s voice is quiet, and you might keep going if not for the hand he sets on your wrist. His thumb strokes once over the delicate skin just below your palm. “It’s okay, just try to breathe for a second. Calm down.”

You do, only because it’s him. When other people tell you to calm down, it’s a demand, a criticism of your display of feeling. When Spencer does it, it's an assurance. That you can relax, because he’s going to make it all right.

“I failed three classes when I was in college,” he tells you.

You imagine your eyes bulging all the way out of your head on cartoon springs, lolling towards the ground. “What?”

He shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “I didn’t like them. I never showed up to class, and eventually I just failed. I didn’t really care.” His mouth slants sheepishly. “I probably should have, but I still don’t, actually. You can get a job either way.”

Your laugh is dry. “Spence, I think it’s a little different for genius prodigies.”

“Not really,” he says, thumb still pressing into your wrist, and you finally realize he’s been taking your pulse. It’s strangely touching, the way he cares for you so quietly. “Even if you did fail these classes because of the assignments this week, the odds are actually pretty good that you could get a job. And you won’t fail, because you’ll still finish and the work will be great. I know you.” His long fingers stretch up your forearm, a caress. “I know you get really nervous about these things, but you’ll do better work if you sleep more. You’ll be more efficient.”

“I can’t,” you admit quietly.

A tiny, sympathetic crease appears between Spencer’s brows. “You can,” he promises. “I’ll make you some nighttime tea and we’ll make sure all the curtains are closed. We should turn off your alarms, too.”

You bite your lip. “I have class in the morning.”

“You can miss one. You have to miss a lot for it to really affect your grade, trust me.” He gives the base of your hand a little squeeze. “I’d know.”

Your laugh is half breath, but Spencer smiles anyway. “Okay.” You’re giving in way too easily, but a morning spent in bed with your boyfriend sounds heavenly. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he says sincerely, releasing your hand to pick up his fork. “We’ll go to bed once we finish this, okay? And I’ll pick up breakfast tacos for breakfast tomorrow. Protein is good for brain function.”

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angelcent · 3 months ago

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𝟑:𝟎𝟏𝐀𝐌

summary. toji comes home late at night from a job. he reflects on his love for you.

tags. established relationship, modern au, hitman!toji, fluff, introspection, toji is in love and can’t believe it, oral sex (f.recieving), suggestive. wc.2k+

note. based on my fic series, but can be read as a standalone. the reader and toji are unofficially engaged. inspired by rainy nights & gymnopedie. re-posted <3

toji regrets passing on the umbrellas strategically placed outside of the 24 hour Family Mart in the pouring rain. the fabric of his worn black jacket practically seeped into into his shoulders, weighing him down. there'd be a storm tonight, no doubt.

his phone died before getting on the last bullet train to tokyo so he hadn’t expected the sudden onslaught of rain. the weather greeted toji like a whirlwind when he stepped out the train—sharp and unforgiving against his sore muscles.

still, he was too preoccupied with getting home, barely giving the umbrella stand a second glance as he made his way through kabukicho. the red light district was busy despite the weather and late hour; people crowding clubs and bars to escape the cold. even the hostess girls and scammers have retreated from the rain.

toji ignored it all, practically dragging himself through the narrow neon lit streets. his shoulders were heavy and sunken with the fatigue of a weeks long job, but toji was solely focused on getting back home.

to you.

he knows this neighborhood more than any other; knows all the restaurants that give shady men like him good discounts and the illegal gambling rooms hidden amongst ordinary establishments. he knows exactly where to pick up women that are eager to give him a good time with no consequences.

all of his past vices are right at his fingertips, so close that he can easily imagine blowing through his entire payment in a few hours. but none of this calls to him anymore, though. there's nothing in these fleeting excitements that draw him in. he's a man with a future now.

the apartment is pitch black when he enters, save for the glow of the small nightlight plugged into the genkan, only ever on when you’re expecting him in the early hours of the night. the soft orange glow greets toji home like the kiss of your loving sunlight—a sweet reminder of your consideration. it softens some of the violence that remains inside of him after a contract that ends, with bloody hands being scrubbed clean inside a motel bathroom.

because a bastard like him somehow found you in the turbulent shitstorm that was his life. toji fushiguro found another kind soul who loved him and kept him close to their heart. you were the angel who healed his wounds with your bright laugh and reminded him that good things were still possible despite all that’s happened. to him, you represented a future that didn’t end in sorrow and bloodshed and loneliness.

the downpour was muted through the building, thumping heavy against the rooftop. the frigid breeze no longer reached him. it was comfortably warm inside.

removing his jacket and shoes, he made his way through your shared shitty 1K—a one room studio apartment with a kitchenette and not much else. one could say this place was his home, but toji’s home was anywhere that you or megumi resided in. in the kitchenette was the sink and a small counter space with a microwave on top. beside it was the fridge and stuck to it with a miffy magnet was a post-it that read:

left some shogayaki for you, it’s in the blue container! the sencha is in the cabinet. drink some to warm you up! wake me when you’re back ♡

cute. actually, the soft kitten snores that reached his ears were even more adorable.

the rain pattered against the balcony door as he stopped by the bed tucked into a corner. this place was too cramped for a man like him, let alone a couple and occasionally a child. toji couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of here, to give you and megumi a home that you deserved. to be done with this shady lifestyle.

you stirred as the bed dipped with his weight. “t’ji?”

“hey babe,” he murmured, softer than he intended. softer than he ever felt capable of. the storm outside continued on, now raging on the streets of tokyo. “just got back.”

i’m home. fuck, when did the tides inside of him calm?

toji's lips curl up as your small hands blindly felt up his arms and chest with a dubious hum. because you don’t fully know just how cutthroat he is when he’s not being your boyfriend. your soon to be husband. “mm. you’re ok? not hurt?”

half asleep and you’re still fussing over him. the devotion and sweetness of your love made his teeth ache sometimes. it took all of his sins and washed them away like the storm just outside the window. now, toji was a softie who turned down risky jobs despite the big paychecks that they promised.

all because he had a girl and a son to come home to.

“who do ya think i am?” toji scoffs, pinching your nose between two thick fingers. he tugged gently, grinning at your lazy swats in retaliation. you reminded him of the kittens at the cat cafe that you had gone to when you first began dating. “hm? have some faith in me. i always get the job done just fine, no big deal.”

smacking his hand away with a grunt, your palm curled over his cold nape to pull him down for a kiss. in the dark of the room with the moonlight blanketed by dark clouds, his lips blindly met the corner of your mouth instead. huffing a soft laugh, you turned slightly to give him a proper kiss.

it’s something you always insist on, to give him a welcoming kiss home no matter what hour he returns. he thought it fuzzy and clingy at first, a testament to your almost decade age difference, but the gesture has grown on him.

toji hums low in the back of his throat, pressing you back against the bed with the weight of his much larger body. his tongue slips into your mouth, tasting the minty mouthwash from the hundred yen store down the street. your body unconsciously adjusts for him, allowing him to pin you down fully the way he's done so many times. his hand settles over the curve of your waist, and the little whimper you let out has him reaching down to unbutton his pants.

before he can do so, you let out a shaky gasp and pushed him away. albeit reluctantly. “wait! go shower first, you stink!”

toji scowled. “tch. no I fuckin’ don’t, you little brat. the motel had a bathroom.”

“yeah, and the stuff there is crap ‘cause I can tell you smoked. you didn’t take the travel kit i made for you! i spent all day in shibuya looking something you wouldn’t hate only for—”

flipping the blanket over your face, toji got up with a groan. he ignored your muffled curses. “fine! i’ll go take one, shit. what a fuckin’ moodkiller.”

dodging the pillow you threw towards his back, he allowed himself to smile at your continued cursing. the kansai accent and slang always slips out when you’re upset and it’s the cutest fucking thing. he doubts you’re even aware of it so it’s just for him to enjoy.

a quick hot shower later, toji wiped at the foggy mirror. looking at his reflection, he allowed himself to settle into the tranquilty of the apartment. the edge of a job released with the sigh he let out. he came to terms with the fact that the blood would never wipe clean from his hands. no matter what, toji was tainted with the death of more than he could count.

he still didn’t care that the lives that he took were worth nothing more than horse races, cigarettes, tokens, cigars, and petty material possessions. it was a life that he felt shackled to—choked down into.

but outside the small bathroom door was his salvation.

emerging from the bathroom in only sweatpants, toji found you standing in the kitchen. your back was faced towards him, taking something out of the microwave to place on your miniscule countertop. the small space smelled of pork and ginger; you had gotten up to heat up his dinner. it wasn’t until he met you that he realized how small gestures could contain so much love.

toji walked towards you, taking a quick glance at the clock against the wall that read 3:01am. is this considered an early breakfast, then?

unable to resist, he wrapped his arms around you from behind, gently pulling you against his broad chest. you didn’t mind this, instead humming contently and settling back against him while you stirred his food. it was all so comfortable and familiar; it’s something he’s done hundreds of times now. toji placed a kiss at your temple, soothed by the scent of your coconut shampoo and jasmine body wash. generic products that countless women in tokyo could be found wearing, yet they were something novel and fresh on you. it was something he couldn’t get enough of.

in fact, he could never get enough of you.

“did ya miss me?” toji crooned into the shell of your ear, taking your lobe between his teeth to suckle on. your responding whimper had his gut tightening in arousal. “'cause i missed you. you’ve got no idea how badly, babe. these long jobs almost aren't worth the fuckin’ money anymore.”

a sigh escaped your lips as you gave him more access to kiss down your jaw and neck, leaving little nips. "mmm, i missed you every single day. i even started missing seeing your dirty clothes all over the place."

"that so?" toji hums in amusement, giving your hips a slow squeeze. the stirring in his gut only grows at your proximity. the softness of your skin, the delicious sounds you make, how small you feel beside him.

perfect girl. his perfect girl.

"mhm, it was lonely without you," a shiver crawls up your spine at toji's big hands caressing you. you mutually find each other irresistable, often unable to stop once you've begun. "but you should eat first...we have all day tomorrow to..."

you trail off when toji licks up your neck, feeling a familiar bulge at your backside.

“I had to listen to you play with that sweet cunt through the shitty burner phone,” he grunts into your ear. back in that motel he had stroked his cock alongside your moans, filling his ears with the sounds of your wet pussy. you were so needy and slutty that night, whining filth into the phone while he was cities away. “c‘mon, baby. all you’ve gotta do is sit on my tongue. lemme taste how much you missed me.”

he's playing with your tits now, kneading the soft flesh in his big rough hands. the way you take your lower lip into your mouth tells him all he needs to know. toji sinks to his knees, pushing your hips to rest against the counter as he pays his respects to your sweet cunt. his hands slide the shirt—his shirt—up to expose more of your soft skin to him. plush thighs begging to be bitten into, cute comfortable underwear, smooth belly and a peek of your bare tits.

the rain outside faded into the background, becoming nothing more than a backdrop. toji absently thought of the people he had seen out in the streets; who were nothing but props in this moment. this moment was suspended in time between your bated breaths. the world blurred around him, leaving only you in his line of sight.

greed has been a companion throughout his life, one that he welcomed with open arms. he's been selfish and quick to give into indulgence, but none hold a candle to you. none had his blood buzzing in his veins the way your body did. that soft and gorgeous body of yours, that cunt that squeezed him so well...

toji smirked, taking notice of the small wet spot over your soft cotton underwear. it made his mouth water, the taste of your cunt ever present in his mind. he rubbed a thumb over your mound, light enough to tease. your breath hitched slightly, sensitive for him as always. “tsk, tsk. don’t know why you try and pretend like you’re not aching for me. look how wet this cunt is, baby.”

he continued on, pressing into your clit until you begin to squirm and beg under your breath. but he wants to get back at you a little for messing with him with that phone call, so he focuses on your clothed pussy. pressing his nose over your mound, toji inhales deeply with a broken groan. when you shyly try to close your thighs, his hands grip around the soft flesh to keep them apart, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder to keep you comfortable.

"smell so fucking good," he whispers, licking up the damp cloth to where your pubic hair would begin. the thin fabric is growing more wet against his mouth, and soft curses are spilling from your lips. "gonna devour you."

when your body begins to sink down against him, that's when toji knows to hook a finger over the side of your underwear and show him what he's been thinking of day and night. your pussy is gleaming wet for him, lips puffy and begging to be kissed.

eating your pussy is the final welcome home after a long job—he spreads your lips apart to spit at your hole before going in and licking your mixed juices back up. makes sure you’re nice and pliant for him before he slides a thick finger in, nice and slow.

your smaller hand fisted in his midnight hair, pulling every time he suckled on your clit. he groaned in response, silently urging you to tug harder. rougher. to pull his hair back only to shove his face back into your cunt.

if it were up to him, he'd suffocate between your soft thighs and die a happy man. his grunts vibrated against your skin, only making you hotter knowing how much he enjoys eating your pussy. the flat of his tongue licks up your twitching hole, gathering your juices before suckling on your puffy clit.

it all felt insignificant inside of this apartment. he was alive and well, much more than someone like him could ask for. because a man who kills for a living never quits counting his days. for so long he was accustomed to rising in the morning, resigned with the fact he may not live to see the sun dip below the horizon.

except that this morning his first thought had been wonder if she got some more razors for me. it was so horrifingly domestic that it gave him vertigo. you had, in fact, gotten him more razors. for toji, life was no longer about surviving—now it was about making it through his hardships and planning a future. and you were always at the center of his thoughts when he envisioned the future. it was your stubborn optimism that made him believe in it, after all.

toji feels your thighs quivering just before you begin grinding over his face frantically. his cock is leaking through his sweats, aching to be touched. but his needs come second to yours, and isn't that fucking wild? the thought still baffles him a year later—the knowledge that he wants you coming all over his tongue before he even takes his dick out.

and when you start mewling and gasping and losing your rhythm, he growls into that heaven and urges you to soak him in your pleasure. his fingers are fucking in and out of your tight hole while he makes out with your clit, knowing the exact moment when you come. your cunt clenches around his fingers before clear liquid comes out in spurts over him, drowning him in your juices.

"fuck, fuck fuck," he moans in between, drinking you up like a man starved. "keep going, baby. give it to me, give it all to me."

up in the clouds, you nod along absently, using his face to ride out your high. without thinking, you allow yourself to slide down the counter because you know that toji always catches you. he already expects your limp arms to wrap around his neck as he hoists you up to take you to bed.

kissing blindly against his throat, you begin gaining your senses. "still not gross, right?"

“pfft, look how fuckin’ hard I am for you.” toji scoffs, settling you down onto the mattress to fully remove your underwear. you whimper when your eyes meet the outline of his drooling cock. “I should kill the asshole that made you think that way, huh?”

you're still insecure about what you've done and it makes no sense to him. he finds it so attractive and exciting to see you unravel like that for him. still, because he's fucking soft, he always reassures you no matter how many times you need. his words are gruff and blunt but you appreciate it. your kindness and acceptance healed his remaining wounds, giving him a place to lay his head.

just as you’ve helped him work through his past, he’d do the same to you.

toji took you apart on your shared bed, your sweet moans and whines muffled by the storm that continued raging on into the early morning. sopping wet and aching to be filled, your cunt opened up for him perfectly. your gasps of toji, toji, toji, made him hazy enough to pray to gods he’s never believed in.

the cash that weighed down his jacket pocket meant nothing to him. it was merely a means to relieve his debt and nothing more. none of that would compare to the feel of your body against his in the dead of night—keeping you warm. the embrace of his future wife tethered toji to the earth. love was a peculiar thing.

#starring: toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji smut #toji fushigro x reader #gojo x reader

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abibliophobiaa · 8 months ago

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the boy is mine (luna’s edition)

i was tagged in @carolmunson’s blurb challenge, and here’s my fluffy little submission. i encourage everyone to join in, and you can find the guidelines here.

summary: an evening in at the trailer park with your boyfriend eddie munson. established relationship, eddie munson x f!reader. little suggestive, but no smut. just fluffy sweetness (1k words)

——

It’s your favorite time of the day. When the sun starts to set across the sky. Pinks, purples, oranges and reds casting light against the new trailer you and Eddie purchased, spilling in through the billowing curtains in the living room. Eddie’s there on the couch, with a cozy cream knitted blanket over his thighs, one of his crew sock covered feet you bought him just last week poking out at the end.

He’s perfectly sun-kissed after a day spent walking in the park together after running errands, your hand in his, both of you simply basking in the springy Saturday sun. Dark hair spills out of a messy ponytail, curly strands tickling his shoulders and cheeks, though it seems he’s too invested in whatever he’s scribbling in his small notebook to care.

Its contents? You’re uncertain, but he’s been working for the past hour as you finished cleaning up an early dinner. Take out pizza, since neither of you were keen on cooking tonight, instead wanting to curl up together with a movie on the couch for a loved up night in. Said movie is calling your name as you drape your dish towel around the refrigerator handle, making sure to pluck two bottles of beer from within.

“Popcorn?” You call out, smiling to yourself when Eddie jumps a little on the couch, head lifting as those umber eyes meet yours.

“Sure, babe,” he says, smiling softly, “I’m almost done.”

“No rush,” you tell him, moving over to a cabinet to pull out a bowl, and a bag of M&Ms. “Candy?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?”

A laugh bubbles up from your lips as you shake your head, opening the microwave to grab the popped treat. “Today was perfect, huh?”

You smile to yourself as he hums in agreement, pouring the popcorn into the plastic bowl. Both are placed down onto your coffee table as you slip into the living area, your knee taking up residence to the left of one of Eddie’s hips, before the other joins on the other side, straddling the man.

“Whatcha writing?” you ask, trying to peer down at the notebook, just as he slams it shut.

Eddie tosses it behind him on the windowsill, head shaking, eyes a little wide and a little breathless at the suddenness of your arrival on his lap. “That’s private.”

You pout. “Private? From the woman you live with? Love with all your heart, soul, and might?”

“Hey,” he chuckles, thumb pressing beneath your bottom lip, wiggling it playfully, “none of that. You know I love you, but some things are personal.”

“Is that what you called shitting while I was in the shower the other da —”

“That was an emergency,” he clarifies, and you snort. Sobering, he adds, “It’s just — not ready yet.”

Fingers thumb at your thighs, shifting upward the sundress draped over his thighs now. Those dark eyes linger on your face, his free hand coming up to brush along your cheek, dragging your face down to meet his, your foreheads brushing. Every breath from his lungs puffs against your bottom lip, that tantalizing feeling of need you don’t think you’ll ever get used to with him making your insides liquify. Then again, it’s always been this way with him. A sense of peace and quiet in your soul. Of home, with his arms as your walls and his heart as a safe place to land.

“It’s a song…if you must know,” he says slowly against your lips, a dimple popping in his cheek, “about a major pain in my ass.”

“You should get that checked out,” you muse, heart pitter-pattering away at the notion he’s written a song about you, “might be serious.”

“It’s a permanent condition,” he sighs dramatically, though it’s tinged with a joyous laugh, “the only cure is constant exposure.”

“Your doctor needs to get their license revoked,” you tease, breaking off with a sigh in the back of your throat as he leans forward and kisses you deeply. Grapples at your hips and rolls you over him, swallowing the moan that bubbles in your throat at the feeling of him already hardening beneath you. “If you don’t stop, we’re going to have a problem.”

He grins up at you, finger pushing at the strap of your dress until it falls down one shoulder. Eddie leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to the bare skin there.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. Distracting me!” You shove at him playfully, wiggling on his lap as deft fingers tickle at your sides, drawing you closer to his frame. A contented exhale spills from you, body leaning into his chest, letting his arms fold you in against a broad chest.

“You really wanna hear it?” he asks at the crown of your head, fingers tangling with yours in your lap.

“Please?”

“It’s rough,” he warns, reaching behind him to grasp the small notebook. “It’s also…not our normal style, so you better not tell the guys.”

You gasp, clapping a hand over your mouth. “Did Eddie Munson write me a love song?”

“Quit it or I won’t play it for you,” he snarks, but there’s no bite there, only love. Always love. So much so, you’re always overflowing with it. “Sit over there — yeah — okay.”

You drop down against the pillows piled high in the corner of your couch, the knitted blanket drawn up and over your thighs. And as the sun continues to set over Hawkins, you watch as the man who holds your heart pulls over his acoustic guitar, flipping the pages of his notebook to where he left off.

Sings in his smoky voice of a girl with sunshine in her hair and the stars in her eyes, of a girl who he calls home, the one his soul longs for, the person he finds rest in. His love.

With your heart in your throat and tears swimming in your eyes, you blurt out a broken, “I love you.”

He tugs you close, his heartbeat under your ear as he whispers back, “I love you most.”

——

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson fluff

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nshmuras · 1 month ago

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YOU LIKE HORROR ?

apart of the spooks-a-lot event!

genre: suggestive, horror

pair : lee heeseung x fem reader

warning: knife mention, heeseung is a sadistic bitch.

- work under the cut -

Halloween for you was the best holiday yet, aside from christmas.

It got chilly in Seoul quickly, leaving you with no choice but to stay inside. but who were you to complain?

Now, you were popping some popcorn. rummaging through the cabinets for anything else to snack on.

At last the sound of the microwave made you leap in excitement and anticipation, immediately opening it up just to smell a waft of butter.

You already could feel your mouth watering.

After gathering your stuff, you trailed over to the couch where your movie was set up.

You were gonna watch the movie scream, your all time favorite.

While watching said movie; you couldn't help but feel a bit of.. unease. as if someone was watching you.

"Maybe thats just the movie catching up to me.." you muttered to yourself as you popped another kernel of popcorn in your mouth.

But the tv suddenly turned off, so did the lights.

Your heart started pounding as you placed the popcorn bowl aside to stand up.

You navigated through the dark house, but it was a feeling. a bad one.

Suddenly, something came from behind you and you felt yourself blackout almost immediately.

Opening your eyes, your head pounded as you looked around.

You were still in your house? didn't someone kidnap you?

Maybe it was just a dre—

"Finally." A voice came from the doorway.

It was a tall man in a cloak and a mask of the famous killer. Ghostface.

He stalked towards you as your heartbeat increased a bunch.

Crouching down to your height, he snickered. "What a pretty little thing.. sitting alone at night watching movies."

His voice made a sense of fear creep up your spine in waves, but all you could do was stay glued to your spot. not like you could move anyway.

"Tell me doll.. you like horror?" His question made you slowly nod.

"Good." He stood up and grabbed a knife and that made your eyes widen, body immediately trying to get out the chair.

"P-please don't kill me!" You screamed out, tears threatening to spill.

Fuck. heeseung could only imagine what you would look like crying over something else.

"Oh i wont kill you.." he crouched again, gliding the knife down your body and stopping at the buttons of your shorts. only then you realize your clothes technically covered nothing.

"Ill use you for what your worth. and maybe if you put on a good little screaming show.." He suddenly trailed off.

He slowly used his other hand and slipped it under your shorts, inching his face closer to yours.

"Your life will be in good hands."

taglist : @wonsdoll @elysianiki @kairoot @mmygnolia

#heeseung fluff #heeseung soft hours #enhypen heeseung #lee heesung x reader #lee heesung smut #heeseung angst #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung #heeseung smut #heeseung hard hours

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gabrielleyueerrrrr · 2 months ago

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Broken (but it's on the mend) - AVA/M

Word count: 6,221

TW/CW:

-Graphic depictions of panic attack

-Mentioning of past child abuse

Characters: Purple, King Orange/Mango Tango, Green, Blue, Yellow, Red, The Second Coming, Navy Blue(mentioned), Orchid/Pink(mentioned), Gold(mentioned)

Relationships: (No romantic pairings) Purple & King Orange/Mango Tango, Purple & Green, Purple & The Colour Gang

Additional tags: Hurt/Comfort, Post AVM Ep 30 "The King" , Purple having self-worth issues, Good parent Mango, Bad parent Navy, the Colour Gang being good friends

Summary: Purple decided to clean up Mango's house while he was away, but made a terrible mistake in the process.

»»———— ❋ ————-««

"Okay, I'm leaving. Remember not to open the door for strangers, if you want to visit Green and the other kids in Minecraft drop me a message first, if I'm not home yet when you come back, don't forget to close the nether portal, also-"

"Sir-MT, I'm not a kid anymore. I've been living by myself for almost 2 years now, you don't have to worry about me." Purple pouted at Mango as the latter reached for his gold scarf, wrapping it around his neck meticulously.

"I know, I know. I have completely faith in your ability to take care of yourself, it's just..." Mango let out a sigh and placed a hand on the door knob, "...old habits die hard."

Purple bit their lip as they watched Mango open the door. The fierce, icy wind of December blew some snow flakes onto the doormat.

"And don't forget to eat your lunch, there's food in the fridge. Don't heat metal containers in the microwave, remember to scoop whatever's inside into a bowl first-"

"MT!"

"Okay okay I'll stop now." Mango laughed and ruffled Purple's hair. "See you in the afternoon."

"See you!"

The door closed with a thud. Purple let out a breath they didn't know they were holding and turned around.

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock...The sound of the wall clock echoed across the living room, the only sound keeping them company.

They were alone, the realisation slowly sank in like a pebble descending down a deep well. Purple hugged themselves absentmindedly, their gaze drifted onto the small framed photograph placed on a low cabinet to their left. In it, a young child sat on their father's shoulders, beaming at them brightly.

Purple responded with a small smile of their own, then withdrew their gaze and straightened their back. No use in standing here like a moron, they scolded themselves, they need to find something to do.

They scanned across the living room and only then did they realise what a mess it still was. The walls were covered with furious scribbles of Mango King Orange's notes and calculations, books and previous iterations of the King's staff were hastily piled up in the corners, the floor was coated by a thick layer of dust.

Purple mentally kicked themselves. It's been two weeks since Mango gave up his title as King Orange and even allowed Purple to live with him in his own house, and they didn't even think of cleaning up said house for him? What kind of child roommate were they?

They'll make the house spotless before Mango came back. Purple's heart leaped as they pictured Mango returning home, pleasantly surprised, and telling them how good it was to have them around. They bounced on their feet a few times in excitement, and immediately set themselves in motion.

An indefinite amount of scrubbing, sweeping, mopping and tidying later, Purple glanced at the wall clock and noticed the minute hand had thrice swept pass the same marking since Mango left. They stretched their sore muscles and admired their work: the once dusty and stained floor now practically gleaming, the walls clean and polished, furnitures and items neatly arranged, a fresh scent of cleaning products filled the air. Several short, joyful notes escaped from Purple’s mouth, they can’t wait for Mango to see this!

Satisfied, they realised how exhausted they were, and decided to take a well deserved break.

A bucket of dirty soap water, coincidentally sitting in Purple's way, was knocked over. Purple stumbled on the slippery floor and lost their balance. They yelped in surprise, flailed their arms and tried to grab hold of something, but failed and fell painfully into the puddle of filthy water with a splash. "Ow..." They mumbled, sitting up and rubbed their aching elbows. "Great, I have to mop the floor all over again..."

Suddenly, they spotted something on the floor. Blood drained from their face.

The photograph of Mango and his child lay submerged in the foul, murky water. A large, ugly crack marred the lovingly polished glass, liquid gradually seeped in through the crack, tainting Gold's wide grin with a greyish stain.

"God, oh no, oh nononononono...." Purple snatched the broken photograph from the ground and desperately wiped away all the disgusting liquid from its surface, but the damage was already done.

"It's okay, it's okay! I-I can fix this!" Purple reassured themselves with trembling voice, knowing perfectly well deep down that there's nothing they could do to reverse the damage. They traced the cracks with cold, numb fingers, the glaring blemish on the photo paper stung their eyes. "Oh god, what have I done..."

Purple recalled the first time they entered Mango's house, everything was carelessly lying around unkempt except for this photograph, which was free from the slightest speckle of dust. When Purple picked up the photograph to have a closer look, Mango snatched the photo away from Purple immediately. Every now and then, Mango would stare at the photo with such tenderness in his eyes that made Purple's heart throb.

A newfound horror dawned upon Purple. What would Mango do when he found out that Purple broke his most cherished possession? The one and only memento of his dearest child?

The mere thought alone made Purple's whole body seize up in fear. Their legs felt like noodles as they sat helplessly in the slowly spreading puddle of dirty water. Purple hugged the broken photograph closely to their chest, their frame trembling with every sharp inhale, wet eyes darting around the room, desperately trying to find a solution.

Then, Purple heard the click of a key inserted into the keyhole, followed by the soft clunk of the bolt retracting.

Their heart stopped.

"I'm home!" Mango's deep, warm voice sounded like death knell to Purple's ears. They suddenly found themselves pinned to the ground, eyes glued to the dark liquid beneath them, unable to move, unable to speak. Their knuckles went white with how tightly they clinched the photograph, heart hammering against their chest.

"Wait no-shoot...wrong house..."

"...Eh? But this is my house?"

"Purple! Kid, did you clean up the whole place while I was gone? Hehe, I didn't even recognise this place!"

"...Purple?"

Footsteps. Mango's voice was right above them. "Purple? Why are you...what's wrong?"

Purple tried to answer, but their vocal cord cannot make a sound.

"Hey, kid-" Purple felt Mango touching their shoulders, they jerked backwards so violently as if being burnt. Purple looked up, and saw Mango towering over them.

A heavy kick from Navy sent Purple slamming into the gravel ground. The friction sent scorching pain across their back. Their father towered over them, looking angry and disappointed. "Get up! Now!" He growled, stomping the ground hard with one foot.

"S-sir! I-" Purple wanted to stand up, but their feet doesn't feel like theirs. Instead they scrambled backwards like a wounded animal.

Mango must have sensed something was wrong. Purple didn't miss how his brows furrowed and how his eyes went sharp and scrutinising. His gaze was like an invisible hand squeezing the air out of Purple's lungs.

"Get up you little-! You think your enemies are just going to let you take your own sweet time?! If you're in a real battle you'd be dead by now!" Navy's mouth was contorted in a snarl, his booming voice rung at Purple's ears. They tried to stand up, but every muscle inside them screamed of pain and exhaustion.

"Purple, I need you to to tell me what's wrong. I promise I won't hurt you." Mango's voice was gentle and steady, but Purple still flinched as if Mango was yelling.

"I...I..." Purple's tongue felt like sandpaper inside their mouth.

Say something! Make something up! Anything! He cannot find out about the photograph!

As if on cue, Mango's piercing gaze locked onto the small rectangular frame in Purple's arms. All was lost.

Time slowed down. Purple watched, frozen in place, as Mango slowly bent down and took away the photograph. Seeing the damage, Mango's body stiffened, lips pressed together tightly. Then, his eyes turned to Purple again.

The floor was spinning. The room was spinning. Purple's chest felt weird. They tasted bile in their throat. Heartbeats were deafening. Needles were pricking their hands and feet. Somewhere in the distance someone was gasping for breath. They were gasping for breath.

"What the hell is wrong with you today?! Stop crying like a wimp! Did you forget everything I taught you? GET. UP!!" This wasn't their father. This couldn't be their father. The being yelling at them was a demon taking form of their father. Purple curled into a fetal position and hid their face, wishing for everything to stop.

No, no, no. They need to calm down, go back normal. Mango's gonna notice and things would get worse. These episodes always make things worse. Stop breathing this fast, NOW!

"Purple, what-" Mango's lips were moving, but Purple cannot register what he was saying. Mango crouched down. Mango lifted their hand towards them.

The first kick landed on Purple's back, knocking the air out of them.

Useless. Thud.

Weak. Thud.

Pathetic. Thud.

Failure. Thud.

Purple's pupils contracted as the hand inched closer to them. No, no, no. This is bad. This's very bad. He's angry. He's going to hurt them. He's going to hurt them like Navy did.

They need to stay away from him, they need to run, they need to get out of here.

Driven by a sudden rush of adrenaline, Purple bolted like a doe startled by a gunshot and dove straight into the trap door leading to the basement. Mango's astonished shout rang behind them, but they didn't dare to look back. They stumbled across the passageway littered with debris, blood pounded in their ears.

Purple activated the nether portal and threw themselves inside.

»»———— ❋ ————-««

Purple stumbled through the jagged terrain between deep ravines filled with flowing lava. The sweltering heat amplified their dizziness, making everything around them swirl and warp. The crimson landscape around them seemed to close in, muffling every sound except their desperate, shallow gasps of breath, and the frantic scream in their mind urging them to run, escape, get away.

They didn't know how long they ran or how far they went, eventually fatigue overtook them, as if molten lead had filled their veins. They staggered to a stop, bending over and gasping for breath. Wetness clung to their face, but they couldn't even tell if it was sweat or tears.

Suddenly, a faint, melodious sound of the flute drifted into Purple's ears, a stark contrast to the incessant grunt and rumble in the Nether. Purple's heart skipped a beat. But it couldn't be who they hoped it was, right? Must have been their ears playing tricks on them.

The sound rang out again, Purple held their breath and lifted their head. Could it be? Could it really be?

"...uuuuurrrrrple......!" Purple gasped. A young, silky voice was calling out their name. The familiarity of that voice nearly made Purple burst into tears in relief. They wanted to shout back, but their throat was too tight to make a sound.

"My dear ol' grape boy!" A blur of vibrant green flashed before their eyes and they were enveloped by a pair of warm, slender arms. They automatically replicated the gesture, suddenly felt so completely drained that they could barely stand. It took all they had not to instantly melt into a sobbing mess.

"-so nice to see you again! How're you and King doing? Are you here by yourself?"

"...Green? How...how'd you..." They croaked weakly. Green seemed to notice something was off.

"Why's your voice so...and oh my Alan-"Green pulled away from the embrace, hands still clutching Purple's shoulders, "-you're shaking like crazy! What happened?!"

"I-uh-" The intensity in those emerald eyes made Purple look away. "I...I'm lost...?"

Green's brow twitched. "Purple, that's the lamest lie I've ever heard, even Red can do better than that." He scanned them from head to toe with concern and barely concealed anger. “Tell me, is it King again? Did he do something to you?!"

"No no h-he didn't, I just-"

"You know you can tell me anything, right? You don't have to worry about anyone, you're safe with me!"

And just like that, the dam collapsed. Purple's knees quietly buckled below them, they hid their face in the crook of Green's neck and started to bawl.

"Cursors!" Green stumbled backward slightly due to Purple's weight but quickly steadied himself. With one arm he cradled Purple firmly, supporting their limp body, with the other he began to rub soothing circles on Purple's back.

"No, no-It-it's not him..." They whispered between sobs,"-It's me...I did something...I did something terrible...I messed up...Oh Green, I messed up so bad!"

"Shh, shh…A-ah, it’s alright Purp, it's alright..." Green replied, with a slight tremble in his voice that Purple did not notice.

“An-and now he must be so mad at me! W-what if he doesn’t want me anymore? What if h-he kick me out?” Purple wailed.

“Don’t say that! King wouldn’t-“

“It-it’s all m-my fault! I’m so u-useless!”

That obviously hit a nerve, because Green’s body immediately went rigid. “Bullshit!” He retorted heatedly. “Look, Purple, forget whatever just happened, right now what you need is plenty of rest. So here’s the plan. You, are going to come to our place and stay here for the night. After that we’ll figure out the situation with the other guys. Deal?”

Purple could only stare at Green blankly, teardrops still on their cheeks.

“Actually, never mind! C'mere!” Without further ado, Green tucked a dumbfounded Purple beneath his arm and started walking towards a Nether Portal.

What happened after that was a blur. Various colours danced around Purple emitting a cacophony of voices, but they barely have the energy to acknowledge each of the Colour Gang's presence. Green kept Purple close to his side and exchanged a few words with the others. Then, Purple was led into a dim and quiet room and lay down on a soft surface. They vaguely registered a small plushie being slid into their arms and felt the comforting pressure of a soft, warm blanket wrapped around them. Purple let out a long sigh of relief and silently thanked the Colour Gang for their consideration. At last, they allowed their weary mind to drift into sweet oblivion.

»»———— ❋ ————-««

Purple was woken up by raised voices outside their room.

"...did you do this time?! Purple ran into the Nether! They weren't even wearing their elytra! You have no idea how bad a state they were in, shaking and crying all that, who knows what would've happened if I haven't found them!" Green was shouting angrily.

Purple's heart raced as they faintly heard Mango's voice outside the door, but his exact words were indecipherable.

"No! What kind of 'accident' are you talking about?! Was mistreating and betraying them in the past also counted as 'accidents'? We won't let you take another step forward unless you tell us exactly what happened!"

"What happened is between Purple and me. Let me talk to them and things would be resolved." Mango's voice increased in volume, his tone was carefully kept neutral, but Purple could detect the seething anger underneath.

"They're terrified of you! Who knows what you'll do to them if we let you through!"

"I won't do anything to them you stupid kid! I already told you it was a misunderstanding!" Great, now Mango was shouting too.

Purple hurriedly untangled themselves from the blankets and stood up. Despite their dread of confronting Mango, they knew they had to intervene before things escalated further. Having two people who mean the most to them fighting over them was the last thing they wanted. They already made enough mistakes.

Purple took a deep breath and opened the door.

Just as they thought, Mango and the Colour Gang were outside. The five teenagers formed a semi-circle around Mango, shielding Purple from the adult stick figure.

"H-hey MT..."

Seeing Purple, Mango's irritated expression was immediately replaced by relief.

"Purple! Thank the internet you’re okay!" He barged his way through the gang, ignoring their indignant yelp, and strode towards Purple, only stopping abruptly at a 2 meters away as if fearing Purple might run away again if he gets too close.

That wasn't right. Shouldn't Mango be furiously yelling at them for damaging his most valuable possession? Or at least gave them "the look" of disappointment like what Navy used to do? But Mango did nothing like that. Instead, he looked at Purple as if they were made out of delicate glass, and when he spoke his voice was soft and cautious.

“Purple, are-are you…is it alright if I talk with you for a moment? In private?”

What was happening?

“S-sure…?” Purple’s answer was more like a question. They never saw Mango like this before. King Orange was always authoritative and commanding, and although he often treated Purple harshly, his demeanour somehow made Purple feel safe. After giving up his title, Mango became calm and gentle. Purple really liked that, even if they were still unsure how to act around him. But right now, Mango looked like he was treading on thin ice, it even reminded Purple of themselves.

“Purple, you sure? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, we’ll deal with him.” Green walked to Purple’s side and whispered. The rest of the gang also looked at Purple with concern.

“Thank you guys, but I want to talk with him. We’ll be okay.” Purple offered the gang a weak but genuine smile.

“…Right. If you say so.” Green reluctantly walked away, throwing Mango a dirty look as he brushed past the tall stick figure. Mango visibly heaved a sigh of relief, and together they entered Purple’s room.

Sitting on their bed, Purple’s heart start pounding again. What if all that was just an act, and Mango was going to unleash all of his anger on them now that they were alone? Purple’s mind drifted back to the broken photograph and trembled. After committing such a horrendous crime, how could they just ran away without a single apology? Indeed, Mango had every right to be furious with them, they deserved every bit of his wrath and disappointment.

But first, they need to apologise to Mango, it was the least they could do.

Purple watched as Mango quietly closed the door and turned to Purple. They cowered and squeezed their eyes shut, took a deep breath, and-

“I-I’m sorry MT!”

“Purple, I’m so sorry.”

Two voices said in unison, both of them froze.

Wait, what? Was Purple's ears playing tricks on them again?

Purple opened their eyes and stared incredulously at Mango. Mango, meanwhile, grabbed a chair and sat down at a comfortable distance away from Purple. Purple saw him shifting in his seat.

"Allow me to start first, alright?" Mango closed his eyes and took a deep breath, suddenly appearing ten years older. Then, he straightened his back, and that fleeting moment of vulnerability was gone.

"I want to apologise to you for overlooking the damage I inflicted upon you as King Orange. I manipulated you, deceived you, oppressed you, forced you to act against your conscience, and I had almost... if not for these kids...I would've..." Mango closed his eyes again, his face twitched as if in pain. "...I should never assume that you were okay. No one would be okay after what you've been through. And due to my ignorance, I caused you much distress today. I scared you, didn't I? You ran away because you were afraid I might hurt you again like before, didn't you?" Mango's eyes were shimmering with tears.

"Oh Purple, I am so, so sorry. For everything." Mango's hand inched forward as if wanting to hold Purple's hand, but quickly gave up when Purple did not replicate the gesture.

This conversation was not at all what Purple anticipated to be. The memories of King Orange were still raw and painful, they didn't want to relate this kind, gentle stick in front of them with the ruthless, intimidating King they remembered. It broke Purple's heart to witness Mango being swallowed by guilt, but at the same time, it felt like an empty, aching part of them was gradually being filled up by something warm and fuzzy. These complicated feelings was not something they experienced before, and it scared them. So instead, they decided to push them away for the time being and ask Mango the question they cared about the most:

"You...you're not mad about me? For ruining the photograph?"

Mango turned his head to the side and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "No, Purple. It was an accident. It was not your fault."

"But I tripped over a bucket and knocked it down! If I were more careful..."

"Everyone makes mistakes, you didn't mean it."

"But that was your only keepsake of Gold! It's so important to you, yet I ruined it! "

"...I am upset about the stain, yes. but what is done is done. Being angry at you doesn't reverse the damage."

"But...!"

"Purple, if there is one thing I learned from my mistakes as King, is not to let my own emotions get the better of me and to inflict unnecessary harm upon others. Especially those that I care about, like you." Mango's voice regained its strength. He looked at Purple with such impeccable sincerity that Purple almost believed him. And Purple wanted to believe him, but a voice inside them just kept screaming wrong wrong wrong.

Mango shouldn't forgive you, he should be mad, he has to be, because you are-

"Although there is something I want to know." Mango's voice interrupted Purple's train of thought, "Why did you cleaned up the house all by yourself? You know you can wait for me to come home so that we can do it together, right?"

"Oh, I'm sorry- you're right," Purple said quickly, "I shouldn't have...if I didn't mess around, I wouldn't have broken the photograph-"

"No, no, I'm not blaming you!" Mango held up his hands in a placating manner, "As a matter of fact, I should thank you. I don't remember the last time the house was so clean and tidy." He chuckled to himself. "I just wanted to know why you decided to do it. It's not an easy task to do after all."

"Be-because, I wanted to be useful for once..." Purple admitted quietly, "It's been two weeks since...well...you let me to stay with you even though you weren't hiring me anymore, and you've been so nice to me all this time, so I thought, cleaning your house is the least I could do to repay you for that..."

Mango inhaled. "Purple, you don't have to repay me for anything. I let you stay because I...because you're a good kid. I'm no longer your superior and you're no longer my lackey, I should never have treated you as one in the first place." Mango moved his chair forward and gently placed a hand on Purple's lap. The warmth in his gaze was reserved for them alone. "I don't expect you to do anything in my favour, because I care about your welfare more than mine. I wish you could do the same for yourself."

Purple took a second to register what Mango said. The elder stick figure's words sent streams of warmth through their torso and into their limbs, as if there was a tiny sun blooming inside Purple's body. Oh stick, Mango really cared about them, maybe even more than they ever dreamed of. Their whole body was warm with joy...

Useless. Weak. Pathetic. Failure.

Navy's voice rang at their ears, and suddenly the warmth was gone, a cold realisation set in. Purple lowered their head and discreetly shifted their legs away from Mango's touch. Mango must have noticed their sudden change in attitude. "...Kid, is something... did I say something wrong?" He inquired gingerly.

"MT...sir," Purple replied softly after a moment of silence, "You don't have to keep this up if you don't want to."

Mango blinked, looking surprised. "Wha-Kid, what are you talking about-"

"Sir, I know you're treating me well like this only because you're guilty of what you did to me in the past. I assure you there is no need for that." Purple looked down at their feet, trying their best to keep their tone levelled.

Mango's response didn't came immediately. When Purple timidly raised their head, it was to their mild surprise too see Mango's lower lip wobbling slightly, his expression was a mixture of shock and hurt. Then, it morphed into indignation. “Nonsense!" Mango raised his voice for the first time since their conversation. "Didn't you hear what I was trying say this whole time? I don't know what has gotten into your head all of a sudden-" Purple gritted their teeth at those words, "-but I certainly did not take you in because of guilt! I truly care about you from the bottom of my-"

"But why should you?! I'm of no use to you anymore!" Purple sprung to their feet, hands shaking.

"This isn't about-"

"I can't even get a single job done without breaking the one thing you value the most!"

"That's not-"

"Why're you still keeping me around? You should know I'm just a waste of space by now!"

"Enough!" Mango finally stood up, his face burning with rage."Why do you keep saying things like this?! What makes you think I would stop caring about you just because of your mistakes?! Can't you see how-"

"Because I'm not good enough!" These words made a daring escape out of Purple's lips before their brain could stop them. Tears obscured their vision, they couldn't see Mango's expression, but they didn't care, they just squeezed their eyes shut and kept on going.

"I-I'm weak, I'm useless, I'm a failure...I can't even g-get up on my feet when my dad ordered me to! "It felt like a cold, unforgiving hand had seized Purple's heart, tightening its grip painfully. But still, words tumbled out of their mouth like water pouring through the floodgates.

"If o-only I was strong enough, if only I was a be-better fighter, dad wouldn't have fed up with me and le-left me and mom behind, and, and if d-dad didn't left, then, then mom might still be alive right now! It's all my fault!" Tears streamed down Purple's cheeks as sobs wrack their body, it was as if they were once again the grief-stricken child standing in front of the freshly dug grave of their mother, helpless, vulnerable, alone.

"If I d-don't try hard en-enough, I'll just le-let everyone d-down, then no-no one would-“

“That’s not true!” A voice interrupted Purple’s lament. Green's arms were strong yet gentle, pulling Purple close with a reassuring steadiness, shielding them from the fierce winds on the top of the snowy mountain. "You don't always do the right thing, and you're not always as strong and capable as you want to be, but that's okay! As long as you are your true self, we would love you just the same."

Purple opened their eyes, the familiar warmth made them realise that Mango was holding them. They were both sitting on the floor, Mango's large, firm hand cradled the back of Purple's head, pressing it gently against his chest. Purple automatically leaned into the embrace, resting their head against Mango's broad and sturdy chest. The deep, steady rhythm of his heart beat thrummed against their ears, spreading through Purple's body like a calming wave. They could hear Mango breathing heavily right above them, with every exhale his breath came out wavering and unsteady.

"M..MT?"

"Please, enough...that's enough." Mango's voice was hardly more than a whisper, quivering with raw emotions.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to tell you all these things..." Purple sniffled, wiping their eyes furiously, their cheeks felt tight after crying so hard.

"No, Purple, I should be sorry, sorry for not connecting the dots earlier. I finally understood, everything makes sense now."

"W-What do you mean?"

Mango slowly and gently pulled away from the hug. Holding Purple's hand, he guided them to rise from the floor and settle on the mattress, himself following suit. Honey brown eyes met amethyst, a tender, sincere gaze that wrapped Purple up like a warm, fluffy blanket. "Purple, you need to know that none of what happened to you in the past was your fault. You shouldn't be burdened by those things."

Purple frowned, "How could you say that? My father left because of me, didn't he?"

"Oh Purple..."Mango sighed,"You're such a kind soul to think that way, but no. Definitely not. Your father set unrealistic expectations on you, and blamed you for not living up to them. This is extremely unfair." There was a noticeable edge to Mango's tone, as if he was struggling to contain his boiling anger.

"Unrealistic expectations?" Purple's head whipped towards Mango,"But I thought all parents wanted their children to be good fighters?"

"Well, yes, but not all of us would be such an a- I mean-"Mango took a deep breath, "-apparently, your father's way did more harm than good. At what age did your father start training you, may I ask?"

"Um...he started sparring with me since I was five."

"Five?!" Mango's hand was gripping the bed sheets so hard that it wrinkled. "Me and Gold still play fight with corn dogs when they were your age!"

A snicker broke the solemnity of the conversation, despite the previous emotional breakdown, Purple couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image."S-sorry, but really?" Purple's shoulders trembled with barely conceived laughter, "The King of the Nether, playing with corn dogs?"

Mango raised his eyebrows, clearly not expecting such a reaction from Purple. But Purple's laughter was contagious, soon, Mango's eyes softened, and his lips curled into a grin.

"If you want we can do it as well someday, I know a guy that makes the best corn dogs."

But then his smile wavered, on the verge of fading, as his gaze grew distant and sorrowful, as if he was lost in a bittersweet memory. Purple knew he was thinking of Gold again.

"MT..." Driven by a newfound strength, they gingerly reached for Mango's hand, offering him a reassuring squeeze. Mango blinked, glancing down at his hand in mild surprise before turning back to Purple with a thankful smile, gently holding their hand in return.

"Purple, You...reminded me of Gold in some ways," He said softly. "You're both enthusiastic, curious, and always seeking my attention. But Purple, you are so much more than these similarities. You have a brilliant tactical mind, able to craft creative strategies that outsmart your opponents, " Mango tighten his grip on Purple's hand, "and what you did just now shows just how incredibly observant and compassionate you are. I'm sorry it took me so long to realise what a wonderful kid I've found, but now that I did, how could I not care about you?"

"But I..."

"Before you say anything, yes, I know you are not perfect, you are a real kid, not an emotionless machine. You are allowed to make mistakes, you are allowed to be vulnerable, and you are allowed to feel the way you do. I'm here to accept every part of you——your mistakes, your flaws, your insecurities and your trauma, and I'll keep supporting and caring for you until you are ready to open up to me. So, Purple, will you give me a chance?"

At that very moment, Purple recalled their mother's tender, sad smile as her frail hand gently touched their face before going limp in their grasp. They wondered if Orchid's spirit was still watching over them, and if it was she who blessed them with such a perfect parental figure, because fate could never be so kind. They tried to summon a response, but what words could possibly convey the depth of the emotions surging through their heart? So instead, Purple did what first came to their mind: they threw themselves towards Mango, wrapping their arms tightly around his neck. And Mango did not hesitate for a second to pull Purple into his arms, enveloping them in a firm but gentle hug only a father could offer. "Heh..." He croaked, "I'll take that as a yes."

Yet, one last question lingered in Purple's mind like a blemish on a smooth, clear surface, and they couldn’t be completely at peace until they got an answer.

"But...what if I start doubting myself again? What if something went wrong and-and I-sorry..." Purple bit their lips, trying to break free from Mango's hold." I...I just couldn't see myself as you see me..."

But Mango only hugged Purple tighter. "It's alright, healing isn’t an overnight process, it's a long journey that requires a lot of patience and support. Whenever doubts cloud your mind, I'll keep reminding you just how wonderful you are, and how much you mean to me, as many times as you need, until you believe it just as I do."

Mango paused, turning his ear towards the door, and smiled mysteriously. "And don't forget-" he released Purple, walked up to the door, and yanked the door open."-you have friends that care about you as well."

"Woah-!"

"What the-!"

"Ow-!"

With surprised yelps, five colourful sticks tumbled to the ground in a tangled heap of limbs.

"What the-!" Purple leaped up from the bed, blood rushing to their cheeks as they sputtered: "Why are- How did- Are you guys eavesdropping?!"

"Red get your fat ass off my- Sorry Purple! I tried to stop them but they just wouldn't listen!" Green explained hurriedly while trying to free himself from the others.

"Hey that not true!" Red shot back, "You were the one eavesdropping in the first place!

"What?!"

Yellow managed to get to his feet first, panting. "How did you know we're behind the door Ki- I mean Mr Tango?" He asked incredulously.

"Eh, I learned from experience." Mango sat back into his chair, a smug smile on his face.

"What does that mean-"

"-Anyway we're really sorry for eavesdropping you guys," Second gave Purple and Mango an apologetic look while helping Blue up, "but we were just worried..."

"Yeah," Blue added, "we heard shouting and we thought-"

"That's not an excuse for eavesdropping us!" Purple stomped the floor in exasperation, face as red as a plum.

"Don't worry!" Red flashed a toothy smile at Purple, "we didn't hear a thing!"

"Well except the part where you screamed you were a waste of space, and the part where-"

"Yellow you're not helping!" The others shouted in unison.

"I...you..!" At this point, Purple just wanted to disappear into thin air and never to be seen again.

"Alright alright," Mango stood up and placed a comforting hand on Purple's shoulder. "I understand you kids are concerned about Purple, but it's improper to listen in on our private conversation."

The five teenagers at least had the courtesy to look ashamed, their eyes fixed to the ground as they mumbled their apologies. Green, in particular, seemed the most uneasy. "Hey uh...Mr Mango? Sorry for talking to you like that earlier... I shouldn't have assumed that you were hurting Purple..." He stepped forward and bowed his head.

"I accept your apology," Mango said, patting Green on the shoulders and gesturing him to lift his head. "Although a bit rash, your protectiveness towards your friend is commendable."

"Yeah, thank you guys for...well...everything. I guess we do owe you an explanation for what happened between me and MT..." Purple scratched the back of their head, suddenly feeling a bit awkward.

"Nah, it's fine, we're just glad that you guys are okay now!" Green gave a dismissive wave of his hand, the others nodded in agreement, smiling at Purple warmly.

Then, Yellow's expression brightened. "Hold on, is this the first time Mr Tango visited the PC?!" Hearing his words, the rest of the gang visibly perked up.

"Oh my gosh you're right! We should totally show him and Purple something cool!" Red chimed in, flapping his arms in excitement.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking-"

"Yes! Sec, grab Alan's pen!"

"On it!" And with that, as swift and sudden as a summer storm, the gang ran off into the desktop.

Green stopped abruptly at the door and turned around, bouncing at the spot and waving at both of them wildly. "Purple! Mr Tango! You gotta come and join us!"

Purple heard Mango chuckle right behind them."These kids..." He sighed fondly before looking down to meet Purple's gaze. "So? What do you think? Want to see what crazy shenanigans they're up to?"

Purple stared into those soft honey-brown eyes, and remembered his words. "Healing isn’t an overnight process, it's a long journey that requires a lot of patience and support." Right now, with Mango by their side and five amazing friends up ahead, Purple know that they will not travel this journey alone.

They smiled. "Of course!"

»»———— ❋ ————-««

Thank you very much for reading this fic! Although Alan gave Mango and Purple a happy ending at the end of AVM Ep.30, I doubt it would be smooth sailing concerning Purple's backstory. This kid really had a rough childhood, years of tryiing and failing the expectations of an overly strict parent and shouldering the weight of another parent's death must have lasting impacts on their mental health. Purple and Mango's relationship was like a thin piece of ice, and it does not take a boulder to break the ice and discover the surging current underneath. But thankfully, both of them have what it takes to strengthen the relationship and to heal from their past trauma: love, understanding, and the support from others.

P.S: I've never played Minecraft before so I apologise for any inaccuracies about the game.

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

#alan becker #animator vs animation #animation vs minecraft #avm fanfic #avm purple #avm king orange #avm mango #avm green #avm blue #avm red #avm yellow #avm the second coming #avm navy blue #avm orchid #avm gold

164 notes · View notes

lovebugism · 11 months ago

Note

66. you’re sick and I feel bad because I’m pretty sure i gave it to you, so I bring you some of my great grandmother’s soup and watch movies with you with Eddie Spaghetti please 🥺

ty for requesting!! — eddie makes you soup (like the angel he is) after accidentally getting you sick (friends in love, fluff, 1.5k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

It’s a virtually impossible thing, you realize, to operate like a normal human being when you’re sick.

You’re reduced to a withering thing on your couch, rotting from the inside and out, and drowning in a sea of crumpled-up tissues. In your fever-induced hysteria, you’re pretty sure you’re dying when a knock sounds at your door.

You shout a hoarse “come in” with all the strength you have left. The last person you expect to walk in is Eddie Munson.

He’s wearing smudged eyeliner and a pink smile when enters your living room. His chestnut hair is more wild than you’re used to, but his eyes are made of a familiar melted chocolate. There’s a plastic bag in his pale, ringed hand, full of stuff you can’t make out.

You think he might be an angel.

“Eddie?” you sigh in a tiny voice, scratchy and quiet.

You look at him like no one’s ever looked at him before. Not like you’re excited to see him. No, it’s more than that — it’s like you’re relieved. Like out of a billion people that could’ve stepped through that doorway, you’re happiest that it’s him.

He cowers under the weight of your twinkling, tired gaze.

“Yeah. Hi. Sorry to, like, come over without calling or anything,” he apologizes, laughing awkwardly as he shifts his weight on his dirty sneakers. “But I felt a little bad about getting you sick at Steve’s the other night. I was gonna stay home, but Dustin wanted me to go. He insisted on it, actually—”

He’s rambling like an idiot, making a total fool of himself. He doesn’t know why you’re smiling so gently at him like you find it all endearing. “It’s not your fault, Eds,” you assure, voice slightly stuffy, as you shake your head at him.

“Well, it kinda is, actually, so…” Another awkward laugh tumbles from his smiling mouth. In his shyness, his gaze flits from yours to the bag in his hand. “I, uh— I wanted to do something nice, you know? Like, make you soup or something. But then I realized I don’t actually know how to cook, so I went to the store and got some of the canned stuff.”

“Oh,” you hum, then sniffle. “Thank you, Eddie. That’s— That’s really nice of you.”

“It’s no problem. Really. I can make it for you if you want. Or microwave it, I guess. So you can, you know, rest of whatever.”

“You don’t have to do that—”

“I want to.”

“I just don’t want you to get sick,” you agonize, face scrunched with a distant worry.

Eddie grins at your concern and shrugs off every ounce of it. “I already had it. So I’m basically immune at this point, right? I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s how the science works, anyway.”

You laugh for the first time in three days. You forget how sick you are until the action makes your chest ache. Your smile is weighed down by exhaustion, but it doesn’t waver once when you look at him. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

Even though your muscles are achy, you manage to walk yourself to the kitchen. You tell Eddie you can put the soup on yourself, but he isn’t having any of it. He walks you back to the couch and warms it up for you — even puts it in a heart-shaped bowl he found in your cabinet, ‘cause he thought it might make you feel a little better.

He tastes it with a separate spoon to make sure it isn’t too hot, then rushes back to your side in record time.

“Thank you,” you murmur when he passes you the newly warmed-up soup. The words come out more scratchy than you mean for them to. You try to clear your throat, but you don’t think it makes it any better.

“Don’t thank me— I’m the reason you’re in this mess,” he laughs and sits on the couch beside you. He keeps a cushion of space between you, lest he get any closer and make you uncomfortable. “So, I’m not, like, above spoon-feeding it to you or anything.”

You try to laugh at his dumb joke. It comes out in a single, hoarse breath that makes your chest sting. “I think I got it from here. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Eddie runs out of stupid things to say and the apartment goes silent.

Your TV plays so low it’s basically on mute, and your neighbors talk on their porch outside — the sound of both gets increasingly louder without either of you talking over them.

He doesn’t know what to say — how to tell you that he’d like to spend more time with you without actually having to say the words. Confessing his schoolboy crush out loud, to the pretty girl he got sick, would be the least metal thing he’s ever done.

“Do you wanna, like, put on a movie or something?” he offers suddenly, rubbing his ringed fingers on his dark jeans to make them feel less clammy. “I can run to Family Video and bother Steve until he lets me take something for free? Unless you’re, like, totally sick of me— which would be totally understandable—”

“No,” you interject with a shake of your head, still trying to smile even though it takes so much energy out of you. “I mean, I’d like that, but…”

“But?” Eddie repeats when you trail off, brows raised behind his fluffy bangs.

You tilt your chin to your chest and peer at him through your lashes. Your eyes are red-rimmed and glassy, still pretty enough to drown in. “Don’t you have a show tonight?” you remind him in a gentle whisper.

His heart would swell at the thought of you knowing his show schedule if it wasn’t already dropping to his ass. He’d nearly forgotten all about it, too worried about you to remember the ten people at The Hideout waiting for him.

“Fuck…” he groans and slumps against the couch. His head tilts back and bears his pretty neck for you. You can see his pale jaw clench and his adam’s apple bob when he swallows. He’s too beautiful for his own good.

“You can go. It’s okay,” you assure gently.

His chocolate eyes melt for you when he opens them again. He looks sincerely apologetic, like leaving you hurts him the most. “I’d totally stay, but—”

“I get it. It’s fine,” you repeat, still grinning ‘cause you don’t know how else to look at him. You duck your sheepish gaze to the bowl in your lap and try to joke. “I’ll survive until tomorrow… I think.”

Eddie sits up again and leans closer to you. You get a better whiff of his musky cologne and the nicotine on his breath. “You better. ‘Cause I’m definitely coming over, and we’re definitely watching a movie, alright? All day until you’re sick of me.”

Your smile grows despite your exhaustion. You feel like this is his way of asking you out — like you’re too sick and he’s too nervous, and he’d love to do it some other way, but this is all he’s got for now. It’s more than enough for you.

“Sure,” you say with a firm nod.

“I can bring you more food, too, if you want! Whatever you feel like— say that word, and you got it.”

You falter for an answer to his sudden question.

He shakes his head. “That’s okay. Call me later if you want. I should be home around ten, if that’s not too late?”

“Okay,” you smile, then clear your throat when the word gets caught there.

“I’ll see you tomorrow— Feel better by then, okay? That’s an order,” he jokes and stands back up again.

He doesn’t know what compels him to kiss you on the cheek — only that it felt right to do it and that he didn’t even realize he was doing it until his lips brushed your warm jaw.

His cinnamon eyes go wide. His rosy mouth falls softly agape. He looks more surprised than you do, but you’re not entirely sure that’s possible. A moment you’ve been thinking about for ages just happened before you could blink.

You don’t think that’s very fair.

Eddie tries to laugh it off. “Forget I just did that… That was— That was really weird. Sorry.”

Your cheeks burn like fire. Not from the fever this time, but from the boy in front of you. From the yearning to feel him close again.

“I’ll talk to you tonight,” you promise, even though your throat still burns. You’re not sure you care too much, anymore. You wanna talk to him until you can’t anymore.

“Yeah,” he sighs, breathless for a reason he can’t name. He walks backwards towards the door. “See you around,” he says finally, before spinning on his sneakers and nearly tripping over your carpet.

You blink, and he’s gone. Again.

Your burning cheek still tingles with the imprint of his mouth. He’d asked you to forget, but you don’t think that’s possible. There’s no forgetting him at all.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: blurbcember

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sugar-coat-it · 3 months ago

Text

Teenage Dream: Firsts

Original fic: Teenage Dream

EEEEEE we’re so back. This is the first part of a little series I’m working on <3

Contains: underage drinking, awkward flirting, teens crushing, seven minutes in heaven, making out in a closet

WC: 5.6k

—————————————-

FIRSTS: the first kiss.

—————————————-

It’s quiet in the house when your phone rings, vibrating on the kitchen island. You were spending your Wednesday evening baking, mostly out of stress over exams. You lean over and squint to see the caller ID on the small screen, your heart almost stopping in your chest when you see the name displayed. You take two deep breaths, one to steady yourself, another to ensure you won’t simply squeak when you pick up instead of saying real words. You press the button to answer, holding the phone up to your ear with bated breath.

“Hey?” you speak into the silence of your kitchen, wiping some of the flower speckled on your hands onto your jeans.

“Hey, it’s Matty,” he says, embarrassingly making a chill of excitement run through you.

“Oh, hi. What’s up?” you answer, attempting your best impression of someone who knows how to be calm.

Your microwave begins to beep, the timer for your brownies counting down to zero. Blindly, you reach behind you, hitting a few buttons before the noise stops, far too focused on the boy on the other end of the line.

“Nothing much, what are you up to?” he asks.

“Just baking… for fun…”

You cradle the phone a little closer to your face as you wait for a response, hearing rustling on the other end. You picture Matty shifting around on his bed to get comfortable, his head leaning back against the covers with his wild hair spread around him.

“Baking?” he echoes, an amused lilt to his voice, “Don’t know many people our age who bake for fun. What are you making?”

You chew at the inside of your mouth, leaning back against the kitchen cabinets, wondering if you should have lied and said you were doing something cooler like… smoking three cigarettes at once.

“Brownies. From scratch, not the boxed stuff.”

“Oh. Yeah, nice one. Homemade are better anyways.”

“Yeah…”

There's a brief moment of silence between you as your brain goes into overdrive, whirring like a laptop with 40 tabs open to try and figure out what to say next. The topic of brownies seems somewhat exhausted, but you can’t seem to think of anything else. None of your trashy magazines that are sat on your bedside table prepared you for this, no matter how many guides to “irresistible flirting” you’d read. This was real.

“Um. Did you ring me for a reason?” you ask softly.

Matty then realized that he’d forgotten to mention the whole reason he’d called you. He’d gotten a little distracted by the sound of your voice, to be fair. He stops picking at his nails and sits up straight, clearing his throat.

“I did, I did,” he answers.

He goes quiet for a moment, trying to build a little suspense as if you’re not overwhelmed with it already, practically drowning in it.

“So?” you laugh softly, anxiously.

“I’m throwing a party on Friday and I want you to come.”

At that very moment, you catch the smell of something off, something… burning. Shit. You’d turned off the timer for the brownies but hadn’t actually taken them out of the oven like you were supposed to.

“Fuck, no!” you yelp, dropping your phone onto the counter to grab your oven mitts.

On the other end, Matty frowns, his eyebrows furrowing as he hears clanging in the background. He waited for a few moments, bewildered by your sudden exclamation. Were you that opposed to going to his party? Did you hate him or something?

“Uh. Hello?” he questions, sounding disheartened.

You mutter out various curses as you look down at the pan. They’re certainly crispy. But likely salvageable. Your ears prick up at the sound of Matty’s faint voice through your phone, rushing to scoop it up in your oven-mitted hands.

“Hello? Matty?” you say, hoping he hadn’t just hung up. You can hardly finish saying his name before he answers.

“Hey? What the fuck happened?”

You sigh, shaking off one of your oven mitts that lands on the ground with a plop, leaning yourself over the counter. The coolness of it feels nice against your skin after such a frazzled moment.

“Nothing. Just almost burned my house down. What did you say before about a party?”

Matty chuckles, finding your response strangely endearing. He could just imagine you running around in your kitchen like a chicken without a head. Meanwhile, you’re reeling over the fact that you’d made him laugh. You made Matty Healy laugh, and oh god, it’s a nice sound.

“I’m having a party on Friday and you should be there,” he repeats.

“Oh, really?” you say, before quickly correcting yourself, “I mean, yeah. That sounds cool. I can probably make it.”

“Just probably?”

Your eyes widen slightly as he echos your word choice, realizing that he’s teasing you. You clear your throat, scuffing your sneakers against the linoleum floor tiles.

“Probably.”

After a pause, he speaks up again. You can hear the smile in his voice and it’s doing terrible things to you.

“So, no guarantee?”

“Do you want a guarantee that I’ll be there? Is it because I have a fake ID, Matty, be honest,” you grin, your cheeks a little warm at the way you’ve slipped into casual banter. This was good, it felt somehow familiar.

“Yeah, that’s it. You caught me,” he sighs playfully, rolling onto his stomach on his bed.

“Damn. You had me feeling special for a moment. Called me up at 9 pm on a Wednesday and everything.”

Matty laughs again, a bright little sound that makes butterflies riot in your stomach. You’re smiling so wide you think your face might crack open. You felt a little stupid for being so smitten, but honestly, you could live with that.

“Calling you up at 9 pm on a Wednesday night. A school night! How dare I?” he mocks, mimicking your tone, causing you to let out a shocked laugh at his teasing.

A few more beats of quiet pass. You pray he can’t somehow hear your heartbeat that’s hammering against your ribs. Matty swallows hard, running a hand through his hair as heat rises at the back of his neck.

“But… really, you should come,” he says.

You could swear there’s a bit of sincere warmth tinting his normally casual tone. Your breath catches in your throat, your heartbeat thumping in your ears. He wanted you at his party.

“I’ll be there.” “Yeah, you’d better be,” he teases, trying to sound confident but his voice cracks.

You shake your head with a beaming smile, biting at your lip at how cute he sounded when his voice cracked, something you definitely shouldn’t find as attractive as you do. Quickly, you decide to leave things off here, better to end on such a high note before potentially saying something dumb.

“I’m gonna finish up these brownies before it gets too late, okay?”

Matty frowns, now turning onto his back, never able to keep still while on the phone. Was it ending so soon? Things felt like they were going so well, it was so comfortable. And you’d agreed to go to his party. At his house. With him there (obviously).

“Yeah, alright. I’ll leave you to it!” he says before immediately pulling a screwed-up face, mentally kicking himself for sounding so dorky.

“Night, Matty,” you say, loving the way it sounds on your tongue. You can’t help but hope this won’t be the last time you get to say it.

“Night,” he answers before speaking your name just as gently.

You pull the phone away from your face with a slightly trembling hand before hanging up. The moment the device is placed safely on the counter, you’re jumping up and down, thrill and anticipation rushing through your veins in amounts that could rival riding a rollercoaster. What the hell were you going to wear?

Meanwhile, Matty lays on his bed, completely still, just staring at his phone before he slowly bursts into a smile, bringing his hands up to his flushed face with a shuddering sigh. He cannot stop smiling. You’d agreed to come. The girl he’s had an eye on for ages. And the way you’d said his name when you said goodnight... he could get used to that.

———————————————

It feels like years have passed before Friday night rolls around. Unbeknownst to either of you, both of you had been endlessly anticipating it, planning out little scenarios in your minds in the middle of class. Matty had invited almost everyone he knew, but there was only one guest he wanted to see walking in through his front door.

By the time you show up at his house, the party has already begun raging, music bumping loud enough that you can hear it from the front lawn. You walk into the front door that was conveniently left open, your bag clutched close to your body, the bottles inside rattling against each other. You’re met with the exact scene you’d expected: kids who can’t handle their liquor, messy couch make-outs, and way too many tube tops. You wander through the large house, your eyes widening as you take in the decor, the winding staircase littered with cans, the hallway lined with primly posed family photos. God knows he was going to be spending the whole night corralling people to keep them from trashing his posh, suburban house. Plus, you’re pretty sure you can hear some guests that have made themselves very comfortable in his parent’s bedroom.

Distracted by the sight of someone passed out cold against the wall (jesus christ, it’s only 10 o’clock), you weren’t paying attention when Matty himself suddenly rounded the corner, nearly crashing into you before you both quickly stumbled backward. The bottles in your canvas bag knock together, making you cringe at the sound of delicate rattling. His eyes instantly brightened at the sight of you, putting his hands out awkwardly before letting them fall at his sides, almost like he’d considered hugging you but just as quickly changed his mind.

“Hey! You made it!” he greets, steadying the beer in his hand that had almost sloshed onto the floor at your encounter.

“Yeah, hi!”

There’s a moment when you’re simply looking at each other and you can practically feel your eyes sparkling. You have to remind yourself to not smile too wide, but you know you’re being so damn obvious anyways. Matty chuckles as he glances over at the guy having a little “nap”, slumped forward on the floor.

“Yeah this is a bit of a mess so far, I’ll have someone check on him, but welcome!” he says lightheartedly, “you uh, look nice.”

His eyes flicker down your body briefly. You looked different than how you looked in school, but a good different. A very welcome kind of different. Honestly, he was internally screaming at the top of his lungs because you looked so beautiful. Well, you always look beautiful to Matty, but tonight, you look more stunning than ever. He has to hold back from letting his gaze linger too long, swallowing hard at the low cut of your shirt. This night just got ten times more difficult.

“Oh, thanks,” you grin, a warmth simmering in your chest at the simple compliment.

You’re fairly sure you would have gotten that feeling no matter what came out of his mouth, but you’ll take “nice” any day of the week. Your gaze shifts to the top of Matty’s head, your brows raising as you eye the furry trapper hat sitting there, the flaps coming down by his ears. Not exactly party attire.

“You do know we’re indoors right? And it’s May?” you mention, pointing to the cap.

Silence.

“...yeah.”

Truthfully, Matty hadn’t planned on wearing a furry winter hat to his party, but his hair was an absolute atrocity when he’d woken up that afternoon, sticking up in all sorts of directions, refusing to cooperate no matter how many times he passed a brush through it. He scoured his closet for something, anything to hide it, coming across this little gem buried under a pile of clothes. He simply shrugs as you wait for a further explanation, muttering a sarcastic “Fashion police, much?” before pointing at your bag.

“What’s, erm… what’s in the bag?” he asks, taking a swig of his beer.

Your eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they wander down his face to his lips, watching them wrap around the opening of the beer bottle, his head tilting back slightly as he takes a sip. You only allow yourself to watch for a fraction of a second.

“Oh, this?” you say, holding open the bag to him so he can peer inside, “Just Smirnoff… I wasn’t sure what your friends would like.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. They’d drink rubbin’ alcohol if that’s what was available,” he snorts, looking down at the various small bottles, “you’re a legend though, thanks for bringing it.”

You laugh, finding it amusing that sometimes he talks to you like you’re one of his mates. It’s not long before Matty is holding your bag for you, leading you into the kitchen. You get a short tour through his house on the way there, seeing the various kinds of debauchery taking place at every corner. He sighs at the sight of cans and bottles laid across the coffee table, already dreading cleaning all of this up later.

Matty adds your bottles to the island of liquor already set up and from there, drinks are poured and clinked. You find yourself nursing some kind of mystery concoction in a red solo cup that Matty promised was his specialty. (It’s about four different sodas and far too much vodka. “You trying to get me drunk, Healy?” you’d joked after taking a sip. “No, no, god, no. I’m just a terrible pour,” he’d sputtered in response, waving his hands around).

While chatting over the blaring music, Matty rolls up his sleeves, your eyes finding the dragon inked on one of his forearms. Whether it was the vodka that sits warmly in your belly or not, you’re not sure, but you found yourself reaching for his arm, picking it up to examine it.

“Mortal Kombat?” you ask, squinting at the design. Of course, he had a tattoo for a video game.

“Yeah– yeah. You play?” he stammers, his eyes widening slightly as he watches you stare at his arm, hyper aware of each of your finger's placement on his skin, deciding at that moment that you were his dream girl.

Matty’s cheeks are slightly flushed when your eyes meet again, the air between you becoming charged, surrounding you in a field of almost palpable electricity. Slowly, you trace your thumb over the path of the ink, feeling goosebumps rise on Matty’s arm. You open your mouth to speak, wanting to tell him what a nerd he is in the most affectionate manner you could muster, but loud, angry-sounding voices cut you off. Matty blinks at you for a moment as the moment is shattered, turning his head in the direction of what sounds like a fight.

“So sorry, if you’ll excuse me– OI! PIPE THE FUCK DOWN!” Matty bellows, his arm being pulled from your grasp as he goes to find the source of the scuffle.

You’re left alone in the kitchen with the terrible drink Matty had made you, looking down at the “cocktail” with a frown. It really felt like something had happened between you there for a moment, but he’d been pulled away to chaperone some idiots before you could know for sure.

Matty is pulled in every which way for the next twenty minutes or so. Standing right where he’d left you, occasionally, you catch a glimpse of him as he’s running around. He shoots you an apologetic look before having to berate someone for almost vomiting in his mother’s porcelain vase. You can’t help but smile a little over the rim of your cup at how hard he’s working to keep his friends in line, promising yourself to get him drink when he’s done.

Eventually, Matty drags himself back into the kitchen with a sigh, sitting at the counter that’s overflowing with red solo cups, half-full and otherwise. No one wants to know what’s in them. He mutters an exasperated “fuck me”, raking his hands over his face, defeated. Wordlessly, you slide a beer over to him across the marble countertop, making him glance up at you through his fingers. He smirks, the sight making tingles ricochet down your spine.

“Hi. Cheers,” he says, holding up the bottle to you before taking a long swig… that quickly turns into him chugging most of it. Classy.

“That bad?”

“I fuckin’ hate hosting,” he mutters, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“So… why do you do it?”

Matty shrugs. He knows exactly why he was so adamant about hosting this party, and it was because he couldn’t get you out of his head, he needed a reason to see you outside of school. But he wasn’t going to tell you that. Instead, he stands up and takes you by the arm, his beer in hand.

“C’mon,” he smiles softly, cocking his head towards the living room, “Can’t have you cooped up in the kitchen the whole night. Plus, I have people you should meet. You’ll like this lot.”

He guides you into a small circle of people sitting on the floor, you recognize a couple of them to be his bandmates. Matty introduces you to the group, the circle opening to allow the two of you to join. He sits cross-legged next to you, so close that your knees brush. It’s ridiculous how even the smallest grazes make your whole body light up.

You watch your classmates banter, occasionally interjecting, but mostly enjoying observing him in his environment, admiring he way his eyes light up when he laughs, how his friends roll their eyes when he makes a stupid joke. Meanwhile, Matty had a plan. If he could somehow casually slip it into conversation…

“You guys wanna play a game?” he suggests, tracing little patterns into the carpet with his fingers.

There are a few nods throughout the group, a party game being an old reliable amongst the young and the bored.

“Ever played seven minutes in heaven?” Matty grins, wagging his eyebrows.

Mixed reactions break out. A few groans, a couple of giggles, and giddy looks were exchanged all at once. Adam withdraws from the circle entirely, saying something about going to find his girlfriend.

“Fuck’s sake. We’re not preteens, Matty,” his close friend George mutters, shaking his head.

“Lighten up, mate. Seven minutes of your life, you’ll be alright,” Matty chuckles, patting him on the shoulder, “Just giving the people what they want. Gotta keep ‘em entertained.”

A lie. He’d been fantasizing about being in a dark, enclosed space with you far too much over the past few weeks. He was convinced that he could get the group on board with the party game because this plan needed to work. You reach for your cup again, deciding another sip (or three) might be in order if you’re going to end up in a closet with a random classmate.

The group dawdles a little but eventually tightens the circle to properly play the game, some looking more enthusiastic than others. Matty trains his face to stay neutral, but he was buzzing with the hope that he’d end up in that coat closet with you. He had to. He’d even resort to praying if it came to that, and that says a lot coming from him.

A bottle is placed in the middle of the circle of about twelve of you in total. A girl with spider lashes so thick that you're not sure how she can see through them goes first. The group all watches the bottle with anticipation as it spun in the center, everyone collectively holding their breaths, even George. An exhale resounds through the circle as it slows down and stops, the bottle neck pointing towards another one of Matty’s friends that you didn’t know the name of, the two of them exchanging curious looks. There are a few boyish wolf whistles, the guy glancing back at the group with an enthusiastic thumbs up as they get up.

Seven minutes tick by and the process starts all over again, the girl returns from the closet complaining about how her partner’s braces had gotten tangled in her hair somehow. You and Matty exchange grimaces, likely both hoping to not have any close encounters with someone’s braces tonight. While people go off into the closet in pairs, you mostly talk with Matty, getting to finish your earlier conversation about Mortal Kombat and finally having the chance to tell him that he’s a nerd. He doesn’t deny it.

Matty’s turn. He leans forward, grasping the neck of the bottle firmly, and spins it. Even though the music pounds and the chatter roars in the background, for a few moments it feels like there’s silence besides the beating of your heart. It goes around so many times from his firm flick of the wrist that there are some grumbles of annoyance. After what feels like weeks, it slows to a stop, pointing right between you and Ross at an angle that looks like dead center. Your eyes narrow as you try to deduce if it's closer to you or his bandmate.

“Uhh…” Ross mumbles, likely trying to decipher the same thing, along with everyone else in the circle.

Matty swears under his breath. He was desperately trying to work out if it was closer to you by sight, but he really couldn’t tell. God, why did the bottle have to land exactly in the middle? He has to physically stop himself from lunging at the egghead kid across from him who shouts “Redo!”. The group is silent, no one can tell who it’s closer to, and he’s sure as hell not going to redo the spin.

“Think it’s closer to her,” George interjects before clearing his throat.

Matty glances back at George, his eyes swimming with gratefulness that the boy had his back. You feel a pang in your heart like being hit with a tonne of bricks when his eyes meet yours, gauging your reaction to the bottle supposedly being closer to you. You take a shaky breath and nod. You weren’t about to argue with that, even if, in all honesty, it was probably a little closer to Ross.

Matty’s heart is pounding when he realizes that you’re waiting for him to do something instead of just staring. He clambers to stand up, reaching out a hand to you politely. He shoots a deadly look at one of the guys snickering.

Your breath catches in your throat as your hands meet, letting him pull you up from the floor. His palm is slightly sweaty against yours, he can’t quite seem to look at you as he leads you to the nearby coat closet. Stepping inside, so close in the cramped space that the tips of your sneakers are nearly touching, you remind yourself to breathe. In and out. In and out and– oh god, it’s even worse with the door closed. The only crack of light available seeps from underneath the closet door, your eyes squinting to adjust to the dark as you slowly let your gaze rise from your feet to his face. Matty’s tongue darts out to lick his lips anxiously. Your cheeks are both flushed but it’s not from the alcohol.

You know that the clock is ticking. Every second counts. Every second wasted is one that could have been spent putting your hands all over him. This is the shit daydreams are made of, but you're not in the middle of math class trying to drown out your teacher’s dull voice. He’s real and he’s right in front of you. And he looks… petrified.

“So… what do you want to do for about 7 minutes?” you ask, your voice low.

Matty feels the hairs at the back of his neck rise at your whisper, suddenly completely stunned by how truly intimate this felt. He’d spent so long planning out how he was going to get you alone but now that it was actually happening, he felt completely stonewalled by his nerves.

“Uhh. I dunno. Up to you, I suppose,” he says, glancing away.

The tension begins to steadily bloom, thickening the air in the cramped space. You let your eyes roam over his face while he’s looking away, noticing new little things about him now that you're this close for the first time. He has a few beauty marks. A few acne scars. His lips are slightly chapped. His lips... his lips are nice. Bitten pink by his nervous habit. Before you realize it, you’re staring at them.

"No ideas? We're gonna get bored," you smile bashfully, inching just a bit closer to him.

He notices your eyes roaming his face, quietly hoping you weren’t judging his every imperfection that he tended to endlessly pick at. Matty swallows thickly, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he watches your gaze linger on his lips. He takes a small, shaky breath in as you inch closer to him, closing some of the distance between you both, not that there was much to begin with. No one has ever had Matty’s full attention the way you do right now. He’s captivated.

“I’m… I’m open to suggestions.”

Open to suggestions. God, he was adorable. All of that confidence and boisterousness he’d been displaying with his friends all night had shrunk into almost nothing, leaving him nervously picking at his nails, barely able to hold eye contact with you. Your stomach is twisted in a tangle of knots as you lift one hand to rest on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric of his shirt. You feel his breath stutter under your palm.

“It’s okay. It’s just us. Just… just tell me what you want,” you whisper, your eyes searching the gentle depths of his brown irises.

Matty swallows again, his eyes flickering down to your lips for just a moment. He knew exactly what he wanted.

“You,” he says, his voice barely audible.

You feel a wave of want wash over you at his answer. He’d only said just one word yet it’s everything you’ve ever wanted to hear. You nod slowly, letting your hand slide up his chest to the back of his neck, feeling sparks flying under your fingertips as they graze his skin. Your eyes are locked on his, anticipation swelling, humming in the air. You feel like you’re not in control of your body, your brain frozen but your hands somehow knowing the way.

The alcohol’s pleasant buzz fizzles in combination with excitement and nerves, your stomach swooping as you inch forward again, your chests almost touching, your warm breaths mingling in the small space between you. Matty’s lips part, his lidded eyes piercing into yours. Oh, this was really happening.

You slowly lean in until your mouths gently meet, your eyes fluttering shut as sensation skitters up your spine, rushing through your veins as soon as his lips slot against your own. Matty’s hands are awkwardly stuck at his sides like they’re foreign appendages as he kisses you back, so stiff and entirely afraid of screwing this up. He was pretty sure at that moment that he had forgotten how to breathe entirely.

The kiss is gingerly and quick, you pull away with butterflies explosively fluttering in your stomach, your eyes lidded, cheeks dusted bright pink. Matty looks dazed and breathless, much like a deer in headlights. You manage a giddy little smile, gently toying with the hair at the back of his neck that peeks out from under his hat. Your eyes are twinkling, you feel so high, much more intoxicated by this boy than the drinks. The air between you feels electrified. There’s a silent understanding that now that you’ve both gotten a taste, you need another and another. Matty’s voice cracks as he speaks.

“Can we do that again?”

You nod quickly, instantly. Your heart hammers in your ribs as this time, you wait for him to make the move, staring with unbridled anticipation. Matty’s lips curled into a tiny smile, dumbstruck with how lucky he was that you seemed eager for his kiss. He honestly believed he was normally a lot more suave than this, but apparently, you had shattered that part of him to pieces. He could hardly keep his cool for the life of him. But he liked it. He liked this feeling.

Matty ducks his head down, his lips finding yours again with a newfound bit of sureness. His hands shakily rest at your waist, holding you delicately, unknowingly making heat seep through your body. You move to wrap both of your arms around his neck, your elbows nearly knocking against the wall as you pull him closer, your frame pressing against his. Admittedly, it was a little clumsy, the cramped space not exactly making this easier. But neither of you seem to mind, too focused on getting drunk on each other.

This kiss feels different than the first, the energy is undeniable as his lips meld against yours, his thumbs rubbing little circles against the fabric of your shirt. You feel a flood of dizziness as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip, stealing your breath from your lungs. You gasp, allowing Matty to slowly push his tongue past your lips, searingly licking into your mouth. It’s all so much in the best way, too overwhelming to be described with words.

Slowly, while your lips continue to lock, you reach up to his head, tugging the trapper hat off. Matty’s eyes snap open, pulling away with swollen, shining lips, stained with your lip gloss.

“Hey!” he protests, his eyes widened.

You grin at the sight of his hat hair. Flattened in some places, unruly in others. You loved it. Matty shudders at the look in your eyes, about to complain some more until you grab him by the front of his shirt, crushing your lips to his. He groans, lashes fluttering as your hands tangle in his thick, dark hair.

“Fuckin’ hell, woman…” he mutters against your lips, pulling you closer by hooking his fingers into your belt loops.

The concept of time is completely forgotten as you make out, warm bodies against each other, unable to think about anything except heat, want, and a little friction. That is, until a knock on the door rips through your shared, dreamy haze, nearly making the both of you jump out of your skin. You swiftly pull away with a string of saliva connecting your lips. Matty mutters a swear at the sight of it.

The moment your eyes meet, you’re both breaking into giggles, both at the way the other looks right now (messy hair, flushed cheeks, disheveled clothes) and because oh my god, you just made out for 7 minutes straight without realizing it. The only words to describe this feeling would be totally fucking giddy.

“Shh, shh, you’re going to give us away,” he whispers, but he’s still laughing himself.

You’re both breathing heavily, lightheaded from barely breaking away for air that whole time, breathing each other’s oxygen instead. Matty looks like he’d happily pull you in for another seven minutes.

“Holy shit. That was wicked…” he chuckles, lovestruck.

“Shut up,” you grin, your whole body swirling with excitement, “We should… we should go back out there.”

“Do we really have to?” he whispers back, “I mean, fuck ‘em, it’s my closet.”

“Matty,” you chide, brushing some of his hair away from his face.

“I know, I know,” he sighs, gazing into your eyes.

After some quick adjustments and Matty’s hat being placed back on his head, the two of you step out of the closet, your knees a little weaker than you would have liked. You pretend you don’t see Matty awkwardly adjusting his pants as you walk back to join the group.

The game continues until everyone gets bored, abandoning the circle to get involved in other teenage bullshit. With George delegated to make sure no one wrecks the house, Matty gets to steal a moment with you before you have to get home, curfew hanging over your head.

You sit on his front porch, watching the occasional car pass by. It’s comfortably quiet as you pass a cigarette back and forth, taking note of how it feels when your fingers brush. He laughs when he notices that your lip gloss had stained the filter a cherry shade of red. It’s nice. It feels like the beginning of something.

“So… you don’t have a boyfriend or anything, yeah?” he asks, stealing a glance as you take a drag. You give him a look.

“I wouldn’t have kissed you that way if I had a boyfriend!”

“Hey, I’m not judging!”

You give him a playful shove on his shoulder. He sways right back with a grin, shifting a little closer to you now.

“Why do you ask?” you whisper, unable to hide the excitement creeping up on your features.

“Well. I was just thinking. It might be cool to like… go out or something.”

You pass the cigarette back to him, exhaling the smoke into the night air, watching it curl upwards. A passing car illuminates Matty’s face for just a moment, letting you catch the glimmer of hope in his eyes. Your heart nearly stops.

“I-if you’d fancy that,” he adds, adorably.

“Yeah. Yeah I really would,” you exhale.

Matty can’t stop the smile that spreads across his lips, unable to properly take a drag of the cigarette.

“Cool.”

#they’re so cutie.#Teenage Dream!Matty #matty healy x you #matty healy x y/n #matty healy fluff #matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #the 1975 x you #the 1975 fic #the 1975 x reader #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut

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yoonkinii · 5 months ago

Text

First date with Sukuna!

Warning(s): Minor cursing. Requests open (only for this AU) Masterlist (Check for more AU content!) Note: I apologize for any errors in my writing. I am the only one writing and editing so I may miss a few things that don't belong. Please let me know if you spot any. <3

“You’ve been staring at your phone for like 20 minutes, just text him already.”

Shoko remarked from your bed, flipping through a fashion magazine she found lying around. She had come over for a study session, but it quickly turned into you telling her about getting Sukuna’s number and having no idea how to proceed.

“I can’t.” You whine, cheek pressed against the surface of your low living room table.

Your studio apartment, though compact, was efficiently designed. The entryway doubled as storage, with hidden closets lining the walls and a discreet door on the left revealing the bathroom. The entry all opened into the main living area, where the lines between living room, bedroom, and dining area blurred. A small sofa sat against one wall, accompanied by a flower-shaped coffee table, with a TV hanging on the opposite wall, perfectly positioned for viewing from either the couch or bed.

The right side of the apartment is occupied by your bed, creating a cozy sleeping nook, partially obscured by a tall bookshelf acting as a makeshift partition. The evening sun filtered through the window above the bed, casting gentle shadows on the floor. Sheer curtains adorned the window, more for decoration than privacy since you lived on the fourth floor.

The kitchen, tucked into one corner, was a masterpiece of compact efficiency. It contained the essentials: a stove, microwave, and small fridge. Wooden cabinets above the counter held a few cooking essentials and acted as a pantry.

“What do you even mean by that? You got his number, just text him,” Shoko counters, sitting up from her position on your bed and making her way over to you. She plops down beside and, with a practiced swipe, unlocked your phone.

You hiss, raising your head from the table and narrowing your gaze at her. “I didn’t give you my phone password so you could just go through it whenever.”

“What else am I going to do with your phone?” She replied nonchalantly.

“You are insufferable.”

She hums, her thumb nail lightly grazing her teeth as she deftly types on your phone’s screen. You realize too late what she was doing and lunge for your phone, snatching it out of her grasp.

You gasp, dread filling your insides. “Why did you do that?” you screech, practically flinging your phone back onto the table as if it had burned your hand. You stood up, running your hands through your hair as you pace around the limited space of your apartment. “You just basically screwed me over by sending that text.”

Shoko rolls her eyes, picking up your phone from where you discarded it. “I did not screw you over.” She insisted. “Look, he’s typing.”

Practically tripping over air, you were by Shoko’s side in an instant, staring at the typing bubbles on the screen. A moment later, your phone dinged with a new message- from Sukuna. Shoko grinned, glazing at you. “See? I helped you out.”

“Holy shit,” you muttered, grabbing the phone and staring at the few simple words on your screen.

Your stomach churned with anxiety.

It had taken hours to get ready for this date, even with Shoko’s help. The fact that Sukuna had chosen a three-star Michelin restaurant didn’t ease your nerves- such a place was beyond your wildest dreams. Miraculously, you found something suitable for the occasion buried deep in your closet.

You wore a sleek, off-the-shoulder black dress that hugged your figure perfectly. The sleeves flared slightly at the wrists, adding a touch of elegance without feeling too constricting. The dress’s hemline was on the shorter side, so you paired it with slightly sheer black tights. Completing the outfit were black pumps and a small purse slung over your shoulder, just big enough to hold your phone, wallet, apartment keys, and a few necessities.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm your jittery stomach. The last thing you needed was a bout of nerves ruining your first date with the man of your dreams. Your inexperience with fancy places gnawed on you. What if there were specific forks you had to use? Or a certain way to speak?

Shaking off your nerves as best as you could, you finally stepped into the restaurant. The smooth sounds of jazz- saxophone and piano- immediately enveloped you, creating an atmosphere of refined elegance. The building was bathed in a dim glow, with soft light illuminating from bulbs hanging down from the veiling, reminiscent of a starlit sky.

A hostess appeared before you, exuding an air of professionalism. Dressed in attire reminiscent of a butler’s uniform, complete with white gloves, she greeted you with a polite smile. When you gave her your name, her demeanor shifted slightly; her back tensed, and her eyes widened fractionally before she quickly regained her composure, making you wonder if you had even imagined it.

As you followed the hostess, you took in the restaurant’s decor. White tablecloths covered the tables, each adorned with a lit candle and a bouquet of roses. Booths lined the walls, their half-circle seats echoing the elegance of the freestanding tables. In the center of the room, a dais hosted the musicians whose performance had captivated you to the point that you nearly collided with the hostess when she abruptly stopped.

Stepping back to create some distance, you meet her gaze. She smiles and tilts her head slightly, motioning for you to ascend the staircase you hadn’t noticed before. It was unusual for a restaurant to have a second story, so you didn’t bother paying much attention towards the ceiling. Now, you see a balcony-like area surrounding the walls of the building, offering a view of the first-floor patrons below. Tables similar to those on the ground floor were placed along the second-story banisters.

Ascending the spiral stairs with the hostess following at a respectful distance, you reached the top and the hostess once again took the lead. She guided you past various tables to a secluded booth in a back corner, partially hidden by a sheer black curtain. The dark lighting made the booth hard to spot, adding an air of exclusivity and intimacy to it.

Even in the dim light, you spotted him immediately, his pink hair unmistakable. His back was to you, giving you a few brief moments to take him in before you had to face him. He wore black slack, with the sleeves of his white button-up shirt rolled up to his forearms, revealing more of his intricate tattoos. Two bands of black ink encircled his wrists, their meaning being a mystery to you. You couldn’t dwell on his tattoos any longer as the hostess parted the curtain, gesturing for you to take a seat opposite of Sukuna.

Your palms were sweaty; in fact, you felt a clammy discomfort all over. Biting your bottom lips, you slid into the booth, surprised by how deeply you sank into the cushion.

A low chuckle from across the table snaps you out of your thoughts. Your head jerks up, and you find yourself staring at Sukuna. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone. Your mind goes blank as you take in the exposed skin of his collarbone and chest, revealing a peak of well sculpted muscles.

“You should see the face you’re making right now,” he says, his voice tinged with amusement. He picks up a glass filled with amber liquid, taking a small sip and setting it back down. “I must say, I was quite surprised by how forward you were over text. No greeting or anything, just straight to business.”

Snapping out of your daze, you laugh nervously, your hands fiddling with the hem of your dress under the table. “Sorry about that.” You couldn’t help but apologize, worried that Shoko might have done more harm than good. You barely even knew Sukuna, having only encountered him twice and even those moments were brief.

He hums, leaning back into his seat, his gaze fixed on you. You stare back, wide-eyed and unsure of what to do. His eyes roamed over your body, and he made no effort to hide what was doing. Your skin felt like it was on fire under his scrutiny. A smirk curled at the corner of his lips.

“I never asked, but,” He pauses, his eyes locking onto yours. “How old are you?”

“I’m 25.”

“Oh?” He leans forward, forearms resting on the table. “That’s quite a big age gap between us.”

You couldn’t help the small pout that forms on your lips, your brows knitting together. “If a seven-year age gap is big for you, then I have a few questions. And I thought I made it clear I didn’t care.”

His eyes lit up with something akin to amusement. “So she does have some bite in her.” Sukuna raises a hand, and almost as if he had summoned them, a waiter appeared. Dressed similarly to the hostess, the waiter bowed slightly as Sukuna made a gesture at them. Without a word, a menu was placed before you.

“Thank you,” you offered the waiter as you opened the menu. Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at the prices listed. Everything was outrageously expensive; even a simple salad cost a small fortune. Your heart sank along with your pride.

Guess I’ll have to work overtime for a while, you thought to yourself, your heart breaking slightly at the mere thought of having to work extra hours.

The waiter returned with a glass of water, taking your order after setting down your drink. You cast a curious glance at Sukuna as the waiter took your menu. He never received one and didn’t even look at yours.

“Are you not ordering?” You questioned once the waiter was far enough, worry lacing your tone.

“They already know what I want,” He replied flatly.

Letting out a soft ‘Ah’ of acknowledgment, you settle back against the booth, taking in your surroundings. It’s not every day you find yourself in such an upscale establishment, so you might as well savor the experience.

“I take it this is your first time at a place like this?” His voice draws your attention back to him. His eyes are fixed on you, a brow arched in curiosity.

“God no,” you laugh softly. “I’m in college right now, so there’s no way I could afford places like this.” You admit sheepishly, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What are you studying?”

“Biology.”

“You want to be a doctor?”

You visibly deflate, your hands cradling the chilled glass of water, fingers gently tapping against its surface. “I used to think so, but the deeper I got into my degree, the more I realized how difficult it is. I think I’ll just become a nurse and work for my friend.”

Shoko is determined to become a doctor, claiming she wants to be her own boss and not have to answer to, in her words, ‘stupid old people.’ You wouldn’t mind working under her as one of her nurses. She’s also said she wouldn’t mind it either, so that’s your current goal.

Sukuna hums, nodding thoughtfully.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you study him, taking in his appearance. He arches a brow at your stare, almost daring you to say something. And you do.

“Your piercing.” You begin, pointing to your own eyebrow to mirror his. “Did it hurt really bad?”

“No.”

“No?” You echo, surprised by his response. Even with a high pain tolerance, it still must’ve hurt a little.

“No,” He affirms. “I was shit face drunk when I got them.”

You blink at him. Once. Twice before a laugh you can’t hold back escapes you. Your hand covers your mouth, slightly surprised by your own reaction. Sukuna tuts his lips, a slight frown pulling on his lips.

“Think that's funny, brat?”

You heave out a breath, sighing away to remnants of your laughter. “Hey, I don’t think that warrants being called a brat.”

“Well you are laughing like an immature brat.” He snarls lowly, lips hovering against the rim of his glass as he takes another sip.

“I’m not sure that I'm the immature one. I wasn’t the one that got drunk and pierced their eyebrow.”

Sukunas eyes narrow on you, lips curling into a half-smile. “Cheeky,” He mumbles more to himself.

Talking to Sukuna felt surprisingly easy. Even when the food arrived, the conversation continued to flow smoothly, with you doing most of the talking. It was clear that Sukuna had a slight temper, evident in the way he grumbled to himself when the waiter made a mistake or how his brows knit together in frustration. Once, when the waiter accidentally brought over a drink neither of you ordered, Sukuna dismissed him with a curt “It’s fine,” but you noticed the way his eyes followed the waiter, as if trying to burn holes in his back.

Despite his temper, his annoyance was never directed at you. He listened intently when you spoke, adding his own bits to the conversation. You learned that he got all his ear piercings at once, with the gauges being the most bothersome to take care of. His tattoos came a few years later, taking longer to complete because his tattoo artist wasn’t comfortable doing such a large project in one sitting.

Sukuna also shared that his “dumbass nephew” lived with him, usually bothering him and rarely ever shutting up. Despite Sukuna’s grimace while talking about his nephew, it was clear he cares deeply for him. He shows you photos of Yuji on his phone, from baby pictures to ones from elementary and middle school, grumbling about how Yuji sucked at math in middle school. You could tell that beneath his gruff exterior, Sukuna had a soft spot for his family. Why else would he have so many photos saved on his phone?

Time flew by in an instant, and before you knew it, the check landed on the table. Acting on impulse, you reached for your purse, intending to retrieve your wallet. But before you could even open your purse, the waiter swiftly whisked away the bill.

“Wait-” You called after the retreating waiter, but he didn’t turn back. Sukuna observed you with a bored depression, his temples resting against his propped-up hand. With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly close your purse.

“We could’ve split the bill.” You suggested, eyeing Sukuna across the table.

“Like you could afford it,” he retorted coolly

Your face flushed, lips pressed into a thin line at his comment. Though it rang true, you still felt a twinge of guilt. Who knew how much this dinner had cost, and whether Sukuna could even afford it without consequences.

“When a man pays for your meal, you should really be thanking them more than complaining.” Sukuna remarked.

You fix Sukuna with a hard stare until he sighs at your stubbornness, relenting. “Fine. You can treat me next time.”

Your heart skips a beat, eyes widening slightly at the implication behind his words. A smile spreads across your face involuntarily. “Really?” you repeat, practically beaming with joy. Sukuna rolls his eyes but he couldn’t hide the half-smile beginning to form on his lips. “If I knew you were going to light up like the damn sun, I might have said otherwise.”

You clicked your tongue, letting out a faux laugh. “Ha ha, too late to take it back now.”

Chuckling softly, Sukuna leans back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, looking at you with a hint of sincerity in his eyes.

“No, I guess I can’t.”

Tag List (open):@kalulakunundrum , @fushipurro

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httpsserene · 6 months ago

Note

Your works are literally my all time favorites 💕 since your requests are open, I was thinking of requesting something with Daniel. I personally wear braces and have always been insecure about them. Since Daniel is known for having a great smile, he notices the reader covers her smile etc. Some reassurances lead to Daniel facefucking the reader and giving her a facial to show her how much her braces turn him on . Him making her smile and taking a picture with his come all over 🙊

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐓𝐰𝐨: 𝐒𝐚𝐲, "𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞!"

Summary: The day she gets her braces off will be the best day of her life. Maybe all the years she dealt with insults, underhanded compliments, and men who wouldn’t date her because of them, would be worth it when she sees her perfectly straight teeth. Of course, it sucks that she has insecurities stemming from her braces; her boyfriend, Daniel, says that they “add to her beauty.” If she believed him, she probably wouldn’t hide her mouth behind her hand when she grins or laughs. Don’t worry—Daniel has an idea of how to make that smile of hers…shine. Pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!poc/black!reader (her skintone is described as brown and she has curly hair) Content Warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. insecure!reader. reader has braces. dom/sub undertones. oral sex (male receiving). face fucking. mention of humilation (very tiny). exhibitionism? illicit photos. facial. no beta we die like men. Word Count: 2.6k words.

Author's Note: writing oral sex is hard. especially for men, i don't know why. anyways, i still think i cooked a little too hard. i feel embarrassed for what y'all are about to read. happy reading xxx

prev 2k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents next ↻

The sound of the dishwasher quietly whirring fills the kitchen, muted by the running faucet as you hand wash a stainless steel pan. The skillet cleans easily and you set it to dry in the dish rack, remembering to shut the faucet off. You shake your hands dry before opening the cabinet beneath the sink to grab the disinfectant spray. Gently, you press the cabinet door shut before spinning around and stepping softly to the microwave mounted above your stovetop. The clock on the microwave reads 4:32 PM. You scrunch your nose in displeasure—you and Daniel were just supposed to take a quick nap after the two of you had brunch, but as usual with naps, four hours passed as soon as you shut your eyes. The late afternoon sunlight had filled your bedroom and roused you from your sleep; you had drawn the blinds open that morning and forgot to shut them, thankfully, or you may have slept well into the evening. Daniel, however, remained asleep. He wasn’t bothered by the warm, hazy sunlight since his face was tucked away in the crook of your neck—and you allowed him to continue sleeping, mindfully pulling the blinds closed before tiptoeing out of the bedroom to clean your kitchen.

You know his sleep hasn’t been the most restful or restorative recently, seeing how disgruntled and groggy he is every morning before he has a sip of coffee. Off-handedly, Daniel had mentioned how he’d been struggling to readjust to timezones recently, and jetlag hadn’t been any kinder to him either. So, you decided to let him sleep a little more, hoping a longer nap might give him a little more energy for the rest of the day—and, with your newfound free time, you could finally deep clean the kitchen without any Daniel Ricciardo-sized distractions. You get halfway through wiping the interior of the microwave clean before you hear your boyfriend start to make his way out of the bedroom to find you.

You shake your head softly as Daniel pauses at the edge of the kitchen, clearly still half-asleep as he pouts at you. He rubs at his eyes, standing there in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants (that you only allow him to wear inside the apartment), that do very little to hide the obvious—not that you were looking, anyway. You laugh and your hand reflexively rises to cover the spread of your smile; you ignore the slight ache of your gums from freshly tightened braces and you press your lips together, schooling them into a closed-mouth smile before beckoning Daniel forward to give you a hug. He buffers for a second, brain still waking, and suddenly starts ambling towards you, pressing a brief kiss to your cheek then moving to wrap his arms around your waist and nuzzling his head into your curls, humming sweetly as he does so. You giggle into his chest, bringing your hands up to scratch along his tanned back gently, loving the feel of his warmed skin against your body.

“Had a nice nap?” You murmur into his chest.

Daniel squeezes you tighter and grumbles, “It would’ve been nicer if you didn’t leave me to clean our kitchen.”

“I wouldn’t have had to get up if you just let me clean it this morning like I was trying to do,” Daniel groans, releasing you as you start to rant, “but, for some reason, you like to interrupt me when I’m trying to be productive—like you’re doing right now.”

“I just woke up! I can’t hug you?”

“That’s not what I’m saying—I’m saying that it’s just really peculiar that this exact same behavior is what interrupted me this morning.”

Daniel pulls away and blinks at you before smirking faintly, “That is so weird.”

You narrow your eyes and purse your lips at him, “Mhm.”

Daniel grins big and wide, batting his eyelashes at you, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at him, “Don’t play cute now–that’s childish. We’ve discussed this before, Danny.”

He shrugs his shoulders and then leans down to press light kisses all across your face, “I’m sorry—can you—forgive me?”

A smile starts to spread across your lips and consequently, your hand moves to cover it–but Daniel catches it with a frown.

“Why do you always hide your smile? In every photo you take; you’re looking away from the camera, or hiding your face, or covering your smile. You never show your teeth when you smile, giggle, or laugh—and I don’t understand why,” Daniel blurts out.

You freeze. You weren’t expecting an analysis of your body language from what seems to be a random outburst, but the points Daniel used…it’s clear he’s been thinking about this for a while.

“Umm, well I just don’t like my smile,” you offer quietly, with a dismissive wave of your hand.

You try to turn around to go back to cleaning, but Daniel grabs your hand, stopping you. He gestures to the Polaroids you guys have hung up on the wall of the kitchen. The two of you bring the same Polaroid camera on every date and take a photo. The bottom of the photos are labeled with the date and what activity you guys were doing or what restaurant you guys were eating at. You’re covering your smile in some of them but, you are not showing your teeth in any of them.

“Even when I make you laugh, you never let me see your smile,” Daniel thinks out loud, his thumb rubbing across the back of your hand soothingly.

“Well, it’s not you,” you start, shifting your hand to squeeze his gently, “If that’s what you’re thinking. It’s just—well I do hate my smile.”

Daniel’s mouth drops open, but you rush to continue.

“It’s not just the smile though. What I really hate, are my braces. I mean—I disliked my gapped and crooked teeth, which people made fun of me for—and then I decided to get braces. And people continue to make fun of me for them. I don’t know, maybe being a grown woman with braces is weird but, I at least thought other adults my age weren’t immature enough to make fun of me for them,” you swallow, shakily.

“I cover my smile and hide my face because it’s easier to not let people see my braces than let them tease me for them, you know. And now, I guess, after a year and a half of having them—it’s just become second nature not to allow anybody to see them,” you finish.

Daniel shakes his head disbelievingly, “I think you are the most attractive woman in the world, with the braces. I will hate the day you get them off because I won’t be able to choose what color your rubber bands are anymore. But; I always ask you to smile for me so I can see them, and you always do it without complaining, though?”

“Yes, Daniel,” you stress, “because you ask me to see them, and I know that you like them. Or at least, you pretend to be a good actor if you don’t.”

He scoffs, “I don’t know, I probably wouldn’t buy you ice cream after every single orthodontist appointment if I hated your braces. It would be a waste of money,” you hit his shoulder in annoyance.

“What?” Daniel exclaims, “Do you know how much richer I would be if I didn’t date you because of your braces.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” you retort, light-heartedly, “You’re a millionaire, get over it.”

Daniel laughs and you consciously make an effort to smile freely, the metal glint of your brackets shimmering under the afternoon Monte Carlo sunlight. He raises his hand to hold your jaw, his thumb brushing along the brown skin of your jawline then ghosting over your bottom lip, and his smile softens at the sight of yours.

“All I see is a really pretty woman, with a really pretty smile, and pretty braces. The light blue looks very pretty on you, baby.”

“Whatever you say, Danny,” you say, your tone impassive.

Daniel cocks his head, bothered, and his smile fades.

“What—you think I’m lying?”

Shifting your weight, you drop your gaze unable to meet the rising intensity in his eyes. You try to move your jaw out of his grasp but his hold tightens—firm. He doesn’t apply any more force than he needs to, it’s enough to have your eyes snapping back to meet his and stutter through an answer.

“I-I didn’t say that,” you murmur, “I meant that I personally don’t think they’re pretty.”

“Ok,” Daniel nods, “Kneel.”

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, “What?”

And then you notice his pupils are dilated, his breathing is heavy—and naturally, you glance downwards. What was previously obviously seen in his gray sweatpants is now unignorable. When you quickly glance back up towards Daniel to see if you’re on the same wavelength, he doesn’t repeat himself. You lick your lips anxiously before delicately dropping to your knees.

Daniel hums in approval and moves his left hand to tuck a stray curl behind your ear.

“Are you going to let me show you how much I like your braces?”

You nod up at him eagerly yet your eyes focus on the bulge in your eyeline. Daniel laughs throatily, his left hand slipping to the nape of your neck, fisting in your hair to tilt your head further back.

His right hand slowly unties the drawstring of his sweatpants, and he coos down at you, “Can you show me your pretty smile first?”

The brown skin of your cheeks flushes, and a tiny wave of embarrassment drifts down your spine but it doesn’t stop the smile from stretching across your lips. One of the bottom brackets scrapes against your inner cheek however the brief flare of pain is easily forgotten as Daniel drags his gray sweats down just enough to expose his dick. Your smile stays present as you lean forward to nuzzle along his length, pressing light kisses and teasingly flicking your tongue across his slit when you reach the head.

Daniel hisses softly, taking the hand that isn’t tangled in the lengths of your hair to press into the curve of your dimples, “Shit—I’m going to fuck your mouth, yeah?”

Humming, you sit back, tucking your feet underneath yourself to rest on them, and you nod, dropping your mouth open to let your tongue roll out as you look up at Daniel with blurred eyes. He bites his bottom lip before grabbing his cock to gently rub it against your tongue, grunting softly at the smooth, wet friction. Eagerly, you rush forward, swallowing him down with ease—you don’t understand why he’s wasting time teasing both him and you; he’s trained the gag reflex out of you for a reason, there’s no need to babysit.

He moans out in shock, letting you get away with a few deep bobs of your head, relishing in the way he can still feel your throat fighting the intrusion. You’re too caught up in making sure your lips stay curled over your teeth ignoring the feeling of your brackets pressing hard along the inside of your mouth along with your aching gums. Still, pain only adds to the pleasure clearly, if the wetness gathering in your panties is an indicator. Then, Daniel reminds you who’s in charge. He finds enough strength to halt the bobbing of your head and uses the grip he has on your scalp to hold you down at the base of his cock.

“Fuck,” he pants out, “I forget how much of a slut you are for something in your mouth every time we do this,” he feels you swallow around him, and moves his hand to trace around the seam of your lips, spreading the spit gathered there across your cheek, “If you want me to stop, pinch my thigh, okay?”

Your verbal assent is muffled but you nod as much as his unyielding grip allows, gently soothing your hands across his thighs to further reassure him. He releases his fist from your hair, to gently brush the curls matted against your forehead out of your face; he knows you hate the feeling of hair getting in your way when giving head. One-handed, he gathers your curls into a ponytail, holding you steady as he shallowly pulls out just enough to allow you to take a shuddering breath before thrusting forward. He feels more than he hears your delighted hum, taking it as a sign to pick up the pace.

Daniel begins to fuck into your mouth in earnest, his cock knocking against the back of your throat repeatedly, your cheeks hollowed in such a manner that it truly feels like you're sucking him down. He’s unable to control his noises and watching you continue to hold eye contact with him as he forcefully uses your mouth is only pushing him closer to the edge quicker than he would like. He’s struggling to keep his own eyes open to look at you as euphoria overwhelms him, but damn, he’d hate to miss a single second of how pretty you look trying to not choke on his cock. Daniel stops pulling completely out of your mouth to switch to making shallow jerks of his hips, focusing on reaching as deep in your throat as he can—he wants you to taste him tomorrow, he wants you to feel the phantom weight of his cock down your throat as you go to work, he wants you to fluster when your coworkers ask if you’re feeling alright when they hear the rasp to your voice and the crackle that sounds every few words you speak. To match the change of his rhythm, you skillfully begin to swallow when he thrusts into your throat, fighting off your gag reflex as best as you can. Daniel laughs choppily at the tears that fall from your waterline and maybe that does mean that he’s a sick man, since that’s what pushes him over the edge.

He abruptly pulls from the cage of your mouth, wrapping his hand around his dick, and orders you breathlessly, “Smile.” You comply without hesitation.

At the sight of the light blue rubber bands Daniel picked out for you to wear, he doesn’t even need to stroke himself to completion. He spills with a groan and a call of your name. His cum paints your teeth along the metal of your braces—there’s enough of it to even hide some of the color—and the last spurt hits across your nose and runs over your cheek to paint your jawline.

He’s orgasmed so hard his legs are shaking but he manages to stumble through a few steps to grab the Polaroid camera resting on the counter. He angles your face so it’s bathed in the late afternoon light, pausing when the sun hits perfectly to make your braces glimmer where they are not covered in his cum.

He grasps your jaw, squeezing at your cheeks making sure your fucked out face (braces, cum, and smile) is the focus of the photo, and that the ‘3’ tattoo on his pinky finger is visible as well from the viewfinder of the camera.

And right as he steadies the camera, he coos down at you, “Say, ‘Cheese!’”

(The photo is labeled “Shiny Smile.” It doesn’t join the photo wall but, it finds a home in your wallet to remind you just how pretty you are with your braces.)

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#f1 x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 smut #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 x black!reader #f1 x female reader #daniel ricciardo x black!reader #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1 x you #formula 1 x black!reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #serene’s chapters.#httpss :// 2k special #♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: dr.

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