#more than i will remember how awkward i felt for a little while | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seonghwaddict · 9 months ago

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save a horse, ride your best friend — song mingi

in which your best friend can’t believe you’ve never ridden a dick before, so he takes it upon himself to teach you.

best friend!song mingi x fem!reader. requested by anon. genre. slight fluff. smut. best friends to friends with benefits. warnings. explicit sexual content mdni, inexperienced!reader, thigh riding, fingering, use of a dildo, big dick!mingi, multiple orgasms, unprotected, creampie, swearing, nicknames (baby, angel, pretty). wc. 4k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. this was requested a while ago but i’ve been putting it off because… i’ve never written anything about toys being used so uh, i was worried about the pacing and stuff. i wasn’t sure if you meant for them to be in an established relationship, so i went for the fwb route. IMPORTANT!!!! i lost access to my google account bc of a stupid mistake, if you sent in a request through my google form and would still like me to see it, please send it as an ask <33 i remember a few of them, but do send yours in just in case!!

listening to. need to know, doja cat // if u think i’m pretty, artemas // moonlight, kali uchis

masterlist.

it was a regular saturday evening. you were on a video call with your best friend, mingi, talking about anything that came to mind as you each ate a bowl of ramen as if you were really in the same room. he really only lived a couple buildings away, a two minute walk at most, but actually joining you in your apartment didn’t cross his mind until something interesting was brought up.

you weren’t sure what led to the conversation, but somehow it steered into the direction of something less innocent as you found yourself talking about an embarrassing date you’d gone on a while ago. recounting the story, laughing together, soon turned into a conversation about what each of you like in bed.

“oh, it’s just amazing,” mingi laughed as he gulped down a mouthful of water, momentarily pausing his rambling about how much he loves it when someone rides his dick. he ran a his hand through his short, washed-out pink hair, “honestly, my favourite thing ever since it probably feels just as good for whoever is, y’know, riding.”

based on everything he’s said so far, you came to the conclusion that he was more into giving than receiving, that he got off on seeing all the pleasure he can give his partner. so, it made sense he’d choose to mention the fact that riding him would feel good. not that you would know.

“can i admit something?”

he looked up from his bowl, sharp eyes looking almost hopeful as he nodded.

you looked around your kitchen jokingly, pretending to make sure no one sense was listened as you leaned closer a whispered, your hand cupping the side of your mouth.

“i’ve never done that before.”

his jaw dropped at that, letting out a small laugh. “you’re kidding.”

“no, really,” you insisted, going back to eating casually as if you were having the most normal conversation in the world with your best friend, “i really haven’t done… much, so i can’t confirm or deny your theory.”

“huh.” he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he thought for a moment. his head tilted and it was then that you felt how warm your cheeks felt, how your thighs were pressed together under the counter. of course, he was well aware of the fact that you had much less experience than him, only knowing about two people you had slept with. but damn. he clicked his tongue and shook his head ever so slightly. “that won’t do.”

furrowing your eyebrows, you opened your mouth to ask him what he had meant by that. he beat you to it before you could get a word out.

“i can… teach you, if you want?”

you blinked at your screen, resting your wrist on your countertop and gripping your chopsticks a little too hard. a silence followed his offer, though it wasn’t awkward. in fact, he could see you genuinely considering it as you thought it over. eventually, you gave him a tiny nod.

“i mean,” you shrugged, shifting your eyes away shyly, “sure, i guess. why not?”

he grinned, trying to hide it as he shoved a mouthful of noodles into his mouth and shoved his bowl aside. he chewed, swallowed then got up and made sure to bring his phone with him. you recognised his hallways then bedroom as he walked through his apartment. “i’ll be there in like 15, i need to buy something on the way. just wait there, and where something comfortable and… um, accessible.”

you nodded, despite your confusion, and he hung up. accessible? you looked down at your clothing—or rather, lack thereof. since you were home and not expecting anyone, you’d settled on wearing just a shirt you stole from mingi that was too large for him and much larger for you, and panties. you lifted the hem of the worn shirt, assessing how much of your dignity you’d lose if he saw your pink hello kitty undergarments that you only wore if you were doing laundry.

you could already hear him giggling at the sight.

groaning and cursing under your breath, you dropped the shirt and sped to your bedroom to dig through your closet in hopes of finding something a little more appealing. after making a mess of one of your closet’s drawers, you finally pulled out a pair of less offensive panties. they were made of soft cotton; a muted light blue with thin white lace trim, the cut shaped more like a bikini than what you call your grandma underwear.

deciding they were flattering enough, you slipped off your hello kitty pair—ignoring the embarrassing amount of wetness creating a wet patch right where it was pressed against your core—and replaced it with the new pair. as you untwisted the waistband and adjusted it to fit properly, your doorbell rang and you froze on the spot before pulling yourself together and heading to open the door.

the walk to the door felt abnormally long as you stumbled over on wobbly knees. admittedly, you were a little nervous. sure, there have been times where you wanted to do some more than friendly activities with mingi, but you never actually thought it was happen. yet here you were, opening the door for him so he could come in and show you what being a cowgirl feels like.

“hey,” he greeted you softly, stepping into your home and closing the door behind him. you noticed a small plastic bag in his hand, eying it curiously as you watched him kick off his shoes and hang up his coat. once that was of the way, he took one of your hands in your free one and pulled you to where he knew your bedroom was.

once there, he set the bag down on your bedside table and dragged you to stand between his knees as he took a seat on the edge of your bed. he looked you over, lingering on the familiar t-shirt.

“so you’re the one that took this shirt, huh?” he quirked an eyebrow, glancing up at you as he released your hand and brought both of his to your hips. his thumbs caressed the curve of your waist over the shirt. “it was my favourite.”

you laughed softly, “clearly you didn’t care enough if i was able to keep it for three years without you noticing.”

“you little thief.” his nose scrunched as he glared at you jokingly, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“if you really want it back, you can always take it.”

“nah, it’s fine, keep it. it looks cuter on you anyway.” he took a breath and gave you another once over, humming appreciatively when he moved his hands up higher, dragging the shirt with it until he caught a glimpse of your panties. you tensed, caught off guard by how close he felt. “i need you to relax a little, how about i help you loosen up, yeah?”

you nodded, averting your gaze but returning it to him when you felt him pull you onto his lap. he slotted one of his legs between yours, easing you down to straddle his thigh. his hands ran up and down your sides and few times before resting on your bare thighs, your breath stuttered and he held back a smile.

“are you still okay with this?” he asked quietly, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his your shirt. “if i do anything that makes you uncomfortable, just tell me and i’ll stop immediately and we can just watch a movie or something, okay?” when you only nodded, he continued, “i need you to say it, please.”

“i’m okay with this,” you muttered in return, resting you hands on his biceps, “and i’ll let you know if i need you to stop.”

“good, now…” without waiting any longer, he leaned forward to attach his lips to your neck, his hands slowly beginning to rock you back and forth on his lap.

you sucked in a sharp breath and clung into his arms a little tighter, your stomach fluttering at the feeling of your clothed cunt on his firm thigh, your panties dragging against your clit with ease thanks to how wet you already were. he lifted you slightly as he pulled you towards him, pushing you down as he pushed, the varying pressure making your lips part in a soft whimper. he nearly groaned at the sound, moving his lips right below your ear.

“you know,” he rasped between the licks and kisses, “i can’t deny that i’ve wanted to fuck you for a long, long time now.”

“r-really?”

mingi chuckled as he pulled back to look at your face, half surprised and half needy. he noticed that if he relaxed his hands, you’d continue grinding against his thigh.

“yeah, really. i mean, look at you,” he glanced down, one of his hands lifting the hem of your shirt to watch you ride his thigh slowly, a dark wet patch forming right where your leaking pussy sat. he bit his lip, “you look so perfect… and i bet you’d feel perfect, too.”

you nearly whined at that, fucking yourself on his thigh just a little faster as he sucked a dark mark right above your collarbone before returning to mutter dirty words into your ear.

“i know practically everything about you and your cute little body, you know. better than anyone else,” one of his hands inched it’s way up your thighs, brushing against the edge of your panties, “i’ll make you feel so good, angel, i promise.”

“mingi?” you whimpered, prompting him to lean back a little to look at you with a curious tilt of his head and a raised brow. “if you don’t shut up and kiss me right now, i might lose my mind so… please.”

his beautifully plump lips stretched into a smile as he wasted no time in practically pouncing forward and smashing his lips against yours. it started a little slow as you got acquainted with each other, despite the fact you could feel a nearing orgasm as a knot in your stomach drew tighter with each roll of your hips, but soon the kiss turned hungry.

he groaned into your mouth as you let his tongue explore, making you let out a quiet moan. mingi knew he wouldn’t be able to kiss anyone ever again. you, his best friend of all people, had the most inviting lips he’s ever felt. so inviting, so perfect and so soft. he thought everything about was soft. his hand slipped just under the edge of your panties as his other one made your grinds slow down.

you didn’t mind the slow pace, knowing just a few more rocks of your hips would have you tipping over the edge. but he evidently had other plans as he finally made your hips still completely. you pulled away from his lips with a pout. if you were trying to make him feel bad, it backfired terribly.

all he could think of as he looks at your swollen, red, wet, pouty lips is how much prettier they’d look wrapped around his cock. but he could save that for another time.

“there’s no need to rush, baby,” he chuckled, wiping some saliva away from your bottom lip.

eventually, when he was sure you had calmed down enough, he lifted you off his lap a little and turned to lay you down on your back, pressed against the comfortable mattress as he kneeled on the edge. he gripped your knees and bent them, pushing them closer to your chest with his eyes zeroed in on where your slick was leaking through your panties.

with one hand keeping your knees together and elevated, he ran his other over the fabric, pressing down on where he knew your clot would be and elicit a sweet little moan as you squirmed beneath him. he thought you were so cute like this, you looked so flustered as he gave you nothing but featherlight touches where you needed him most. for now.

“don’t get all shy on me now,” he cooed as he glanced up and noticed you covering your face with your hands, “let me see you, pretty.”

he didn’t continue his touches until you finally removed your hands, giving him a nice view of your abused lips and round eyes, pupils blown wide with lust in a way that had something stirring in his abdomen. and his pants.

he let down your knees for a moment so both of his hands could slip under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. he actually moaned when he saw the strings of arousal clutching onto the fabric as he dragged it away, snapping when he got too far.

“you’re so pretty, baby,” he murmured, watching your entrance squeeze around nothing, making more slick drip out.

after tossing it aside, he wasted no time in getting your knees back to the previous position and running his fingers through your folds.

“oh, fuck,” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as you let out a moan when he tapped against your clit, “you’re soaked.”

he glanced up at you, wanting to see your face as he slowly pushed in too fingers and catching a glimpse of your hard nipples poking through your shirt. your face contorted for s fraction of s second before relaxing, your head tipping back against the mattress as you let out a whine.

he choked back a moan at the tight walls around his middle and ring fingers, the fingers of his other hand digging into your thighs. “sh-shit… you’re so tight. i’m gonna have to stretch you out first, okay?”

you nodded mindlessly, too distracted by his fingers prodding at your sweet spot to care about any words he may have said. but you furrowed your eyebrows and lifted your head when you felt both his hands leave you, finding him reaching for the bag. your curiosity outweighed your disappointment as he pulled something out.

it was a dildo. about as thick and long as the biggest person you had before, and made of what looked to be transparent silicon. your insides tightened at the sight, somehow the thought of him seemingly buying this just for you turning you on even more.

he returned to kneeling at the edge of your bed, leaning down to loop his arm around your waist and lift you up to place a pillow under your hips before letting lay back down.

“couldn’t find one my size, but this should be fine,” he held the dildo and ran the tip through your pussy, collecting wetness as you shuddered, “my cock will just have to stretch you the rest of the way.”

you breath hitched at the implication of his words. so he was bigger than that? your thighs pressed together at the thought of being completely stuffed by him. he chuckled, separating your knees enough for him to have a clear view of your pussy, pulsing and dripping and begging for his attention.

he began slipping the toy into you, filling you up inch by inch and watching your needy hole stretch around it and swallow it up. the sight had him choking back a moan, biting down on his bottom lip.

the stretch had your back arching and pushing yourself against it desperately, feeling like that alone could get you to finish. it only took a few deep strokes for your pussy to get used to the size, squeezing and writhing around it until you couldn’t handle it anymore. your arousal coated it quickly and seeped out with each stroke, squelching sounds filling the room that shot straight to his dick.

when you finally came, your toes curled and your body twitched as you let out a string of and whines and moans, little curses slipping between. he watched with fascination as you came undone right beneath him, not wanting to wait any longer to be inside you. he shoved the toy deep inside you, leaving it there as he leaned back for a moment to discard his clothes, slipping his hoodie and sweatpants off.

when you were brought back to your senses, you found yourself on his lap again, straddling his hips this time as he sat with his back against your headboard. you felt his erectile straining against his boxers and pressing against your core. you couldn’t help but rock your hips against his slowly.

“do you ever ride your pillow?” he asked suddenly, voice dropped what felt like two octaves lower than his regular tone. your eyes widened at the question but you nodded. he nodded too, his hands finding your ass and helping you grind against his clothes length. “this is a lot like that, except you have something in you… and it’s more of an up and down movement… and i’m obviously not a pillow… still, there’s really no right way to do it, just go slow and you’ll figure out what works and what doesn’t. plus, i’m here to guide you.”

he gave your ass a squeeze as if to punctuate his sentence, massaging the soft flesh in his palms. when you felt ready, you dropped your hands from his shoulders to his boxers, palming his length a few times before hooking your fingers into the fabric and dragging it down until his cock sprung out.

he definitely wasn’t lying when he said it would stretch you more than the already-big dildo. he was definitely a lot bigger than anyone else you’ve been with, well over average. you nearly dropped at the sight, wrapping your hand around him and jerking him off, eyes fixated on the angry red tip leaking precum as you passed your thumb over it.

the muscles of his abs rippled and squeezed as your worked your hands on his cock, his head thrown back against the headboard and letting out stuttering moans. all the sounds he made encourage you to sit up on your knees, guiding him through your folds and whimpering as you finally sank down on him carefully.

the two of you moaned at the same time, him at how well you squeezed around him and you at how well he stretched you. you stopped when you reached just halfway, unsure whether or not you’d be able to fit more. his hips jerked slightly as his hands squeezed your hips.

“come on, baby,” he moaned softly, looking up at you with encouraging eyes, “just a little more… we can make it fit, right? just breathe.”

you nodded and as you took a deep breath, he used his hold on your to sink you further down until he finally bottomed out. he cursed silently, the back of his head finding the headboard again as you whined and dropped yours onto his shoulder.

you felt his tip pushing against your cervix, the new feeling making a lump form in your throat as you blinked back tears. this time it took a while to get used to the stretch before you tried grinding back and forth. it was slow, almost painfully so. he was amazed that despite stretching you with two different things, you were still so unbelievably tight, hugging him in a death grip as your raised your hips an inch before dropping down again.

your soft noises were muffled by his shoulder as your hands rested on his biceps, panting and squeezing gently as every inch of him dragged against the sensitive spongy patch in your walls every time you grinded on him. soon enough you were able to lift yourself to his tip and drop all the way down, your wetness letting him slip in and out with ease.

still, you kept the pace torturously slow, savouring each bounce and grind. his hands had left your hips at some point, exploring your body under your shirt, massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples. he lifted the fabric but kept it on your as he watched your tits bounce temptingly, your puffy pink nipples making his mouth water as he pushed himself forward to take one into his mouth.

your hips stuttered as he sucked and nibbled at your nipples, throwing your head back and arching into his touch as your grinds grew sloppy. he felt your decreasing pace, using the hand that wasn’t teasing your other breast to guide your hips once more. he angled you slightly differently in a way that made your clit press against his pelvis each time he bottomed out, the speed of your grinds picking up quickly as his hips bucked up to meet yours.

his lips detached from your bruised breasts with a popping sound as he leaned up to capture your lips in his once again. it wasn’t much of a kiss, more teeth and tongue and moans and groans than anything else as you swallowed each other’s sounds.

you finished first, pushing yourself down hard and stilling, filling yourself with his throbbing cock and pressing your clit against him. he held you tightly, burying his face in your neck to suck at all the spot he knew would get your to writhe. many tickling fights contributed to his knowledge on all your sensitive spots.

your body twitched as you returned to bouncing on his length, your juices looking at his base. the overstimulation burned a little, making your thighs and knees quiver, but you were determined to get him to finish too. and by the looks of it, it shouldn’t take much longer.

“shit, baby,” he said, halfway between a whimper and a moan, fingertips digging into your hips as he threw his head back in bliss, “‘m so close— fuck, you feel s-so good.”

his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, bottom lip caught between his teeth. his cheeks and the tip of his ears flushed a deep red, his plush lips a few shades darker and coated in your mixed saliva from your kisses. as you adjusted the angle of your hips, something in him snapped, grabbing your hips tighter and taking over. he took over your movements, thrusting his hips up desperately as you fell forward onto his chest with the sudden change in intensity. his tip pushed itself against your g-spot continually, another knot tightening in your stomach.

the wet sounds of your cunt and your skin slapping against his egged him on until finally he felt like he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“baby, p-please— fuck— please, can i cum i-inside you?” he begged through a groan, “i— please, angel, i-i can’t wait any longer.”

you nodded against his chest with a whine, you were on the pill anyway. not a second later, he released into you, filling you up with stuttering hips. he pulled you down, flush against him and keeping you there as he emptied himself with softly muttered curses, his head dropping to press open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder.

it felt new to you, the warmth making you squirm until you came again without warning. it was much weaker this time but still enough to make you shake in his arms, panting softly after letting out a strangled moan against his skin.

after a few long moments of trying to recover from the shared orgasm, he lifted his head, one of his hands cupping your chin to tilt your head to look at him.

“so,” he started, lips stretched into a smile, “how’d that feel?”

“fucking amazing.” you rolled your eyes at how smug he looked after your confession, not protesting as he leaned forward to kiss you.

this one was much softer than the previous kisses you shared, much more tender. it was a lot shorter too, he pulled away first to rest his forehead against yours.

“yeah?” he whispered, kissing the corner of your lips, “just wait until i hit it from the back.”

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

#cromernet #wonderlandnet #cultofdionysusnet #pirateeznet #ateez #ateez x reader #song mingi smut #mingi x reader #mingi reactions #mingi imagines #mingi smut #mingi fluff #mingi angst #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez fluff #ateez smut

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strangerstilinski · 2 months ago

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𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: eddie in blue jeans. eddie leaking in blue jeans. eddie cumming in blue jeans. that's it, that's the fic. [ 2.9k ]

𝗰𝘄: reader with a vagina & breasts, 1 occurrence where reader refers to themselves as a girl, overuse of italics probably, other than that we just have heaping doses of heavy petting, grinding, and kissing. oh! and a certain someone cumming in his pants ofc

��/𝗻: imo the second half of this is where i reaaally shined, ok? there's just... something so *clenches fist* about eddie who's so turned on by you that he's stupid with it. anyway, thank you for reading! xx and remember to reblog to make eddie cum <3

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖𝟏𝟖+ 𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

The curls at the nape of Eddie's neck are damp where they tangle around your fingers. His breath rolls out in hot waves against your tongue, full, split-slick lips moving eagerly against your own. Eddie is kissing you like he thinks he might die without the taste of you, fervent and hungry and seemingly determined to stake some sort of claim on your mouth.

You've only been at it for five minutes but, seriously, how in the hell did normal people ever make it through an entire evening without devouring their date? Either they are far stronger than you, or it's the power of something you'd simply dubbed The Eddie Munson Effect.

Regardless, you're feeling beyond desperate.

Because you'd had to watch every single stumbling step Eddie made throughout the evening as he quite literally tripped over his own feet in a rush to open doors for you. He'd done so with all of his usual awkward charm, arm extended with gentlemanly grandeur — and on one occasion, he'd even bent at the waist into an adorably courteous little bow as he'd waited for you to step through. Each time, his hand found the small of your waist, and while he would linger a second longer than was strictly necessary, his touch always remained polite and comforting, never bleeding into the possessive brand that you'd noticed beneath the hands of men in the past.

Then again, every brush of Eddie's fingers over the course of the evening had sent sparks down your spine.

There'd been one moment, when the wind had caught the hem of your skirt and sent it billowing up — you'd felt the cool air rush all the way up to the sliver of tummy above your underwear — but Eddie's hands had been quick to find your waist, smoothing the fabric back down over your thighs and holding it there for a beat. Thick fingers and clunky silver rings had hesitated on your hips until the breeze died down, and then Eddie's face had gone red in a way that had little to do with the chill in the air, and entirely more to do with the sudden realization of how close you were, how intimate the brush of his pinky was against the warm skin at the back of your thigh.

And you absolutely had to take into account the condition in which he'd showed up on your doorstep. With a crisp white tshirt tucked neatly into the waistband of light-wash jeans. His hair shining lightly with gel, curls coiled in slightly neater than usual ringlets. With his jaw shaved smooth, and his skin smelling sharply of a rich, woodsy aftershave or cologne that gave you butterflies every time you breathed in.

Then there was the way each and every hearty chuckle that he'd let out over the course of the evening had curled in your ears and proceeded to pool pleasantly in your gut. The way every dramatic story retelling had left you fully enraptured right from the start. The way every dimpled grin had practically sucked the air straight from your lungs. And your ever-deepening feelings for him had only solidified with each of his stuttered attempts to accept your compliments.

All evening long, you'd been eager to fast-forward, to get right here. Home, on your couch, thighs splayed wide over the cradle of Eddie's lap, skin flushed with heat, with your skirt rucked up and your sweater steadily slipping down your shoulder.

And now that you're here, Eddie's hands have undertaken the impossible task of clutching at every part of you at once. Ringed fingers rake down your back only to grab ahold of your ass to drag you more heavily into his lap. Your teeth catch on his lower lip when he forces your hips to roll in a staggered rhythm, shaky thrusts driving his own hips up and slotting the bulge in his jeans just where you needed it to relieve some of the pressure between your thighs.

You both gasp into the kiss at the friction that the poorly-synchronized movements are making. The rough chafe of his zipper and denim against the cotton of your panties is only just shy of being too much. It's delicious.

"Y-your roommate-" Eddie pulls away to stutter against your cheek.

"Out." You supply in a rush before your mouths are crashing together again like magnets.

Eddie makes a small noise in the back of his throat, a satisfied sort of drawn-out groan that has your head spinning. You can still taste the lingering traces of the cigarette he'd smoked during the short walk back to his van, and the breath mint that he'd popped into his mouth immediately after. The mingling flavors are enough to give you a headrush. As if the combination of mint and nicotine were absorbing straight into your bloodstream merely from licking it from his mouth. But, maybe that has more to do with the way Eddie is kissing you-

Eddie seems to approach kissing with the same over-abundance of heart and enthusiasm that he does with literally everything else. Plush lips work against your own, smoothly encouraging your mouth open for him every time you dare to draw back for a quick breath. It's a perfect give and take, an intoxicating push and pull that you had zero qualms about getting lost in.

This has always been your favorite part of foreplay. The slow-building desperation. The shared breaths. The wandering hands. The heated teasing that you felt pulsing in your clit and all the way down to your toes. It's something you normally relish in drawing out as long as possible, until your panties are soaked through and your lips are sore, but, fuck-

You can feel how hard Eddie is growing beneath you. The warmth of his cock burns all the way through his jeans until you swear you can feel it against your cunt and inner thighs— Until you swear you can nearly distinguish the sheer heat of the blood swelling his erection from the less-oppressive warmth emanating from his legs. And when his mouth trails down the line of your jaw to kiss and nip at your throat, you can't help but attempt to sneak a peek at the arousal you've drawn out of him.

The sight doesn't disappoint.

His bulge stretches all the way from the bottom of the zip on his jeans and across the crease of his thigh. The obvious curve of his shaft straining against its tight confines stretches across his left thigh and then tapers out at the head of his cock—Jesus, he’s huge—and if you squint, you think you might even be able to make out a small spot, no more than the size of pea, where the light wash denim looks just a bit, well, wet. And, holy shit.

It's drool-worthy. It's so hot. Your mouth might genuinely be watering just looking at it-

Oh, god. You really needed to kiss him just a little longer. You were certainly not about to be the girl who drops to their knees to suck a guy's dick within ten measly minutes of getting through the front door on a first goddamn date. That would be ridiculous.

You'd make it at least twenty, surely — Maybe fifteen.

In the meantime, more kissing. And that would be all too easy with the way Eddie's hands slip lower along the curve of your ass as he finds your mouth again. His fingers burying deeper into your flesh, rings biting with a sharp pinch that makes you keen and release an encouraging moan.

There's a fire building behind your clit with every drag of your hips. You feel deranged beneath the haze of your lust, but Eddie only seems to be matching your need every step of the way.

You've never seen him quite so out of control. So desperate, and God it's a beautiful sight.

Eddie's spine arches forward from the back of the couch to push his chest to your own. Your hips stutter, driving down against the bulge in his jeans. The hard line of his cock wedges neatly at your center, fighting against the oppressive barrier of your underwear and his jeans. Dull as it is, it gives the barest hint as to what it would be like to have him actually pressing into your aching cunt, stretching you out.

Just the thought makes your hips buck, little rolls of your hips re-doubling in effort. The pressure against your entrance has you whining pitifully as Eddie's tongue strokes over yours. One of those gorgeous, wide palms of his moves up to your jaw to hold your face steady as he attempts to swallow up your sounds.

"Eddie." You pant brokenly, a plea. Because you're trying, really, but fuck. If you didn't get him inside of you — in one way or another — in the next few minutes, you very well might lose your mind.

Your fingers wind tighter into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp in that soft way that makes Eddie's cock jump in his pants.

The noises you're making..

They're better than any song Eddie has ever heard in his entire life, high and needy and so fucking hot. Every little sound has Eddie's thighs flexing beneath you in an attempt to keep his erection pressed snug to your cunt, to push the intoxicating ebb and flow that the two of you have going over into something more. Into a constant, blissful friction.

Another minute of the heavy grind of your pussy over his lap has Eddie's cock twitching again, his balls tightening up and his brain growing too foggy to hold back the needy whimpers that rise in his own throat.

“Shit-” Eddie gasps, his voice gone raspy with need.

You murmur something in response that gets muffled by Eddie's lips and tongue. Something about wanting his cock on your tongue but also possibly inside your pussy — The details are unclear. Eddie has no idea which exactly you're angling toward, but he's ready to bust already and you're both still fully-clothed, so. He's just praying to Ozzy that he'll even make it that far.

He probably needs to take a breather, and really he's going to, but then your hips stutter and you let out the sweetest little moan and Eddie kind of goes dumb with it.

He's too far gone to hear the telltale rattle of keys against your front door, or the click of the lock that has your own head snapping up toward the doorway in surprise. You stiffen above him, your ass driving down against his cock as your movements come to a halt and your weight drops heavily into his lap.

And shit, he'd already been fucking throbbing in his jeans. The new pressure on his erection is just too much.

A small noise of shock and pleasure tears from Eddie's throat, a pathetic sounding thing that makes your cunt clench around absolutely nothing and a rush of arousal soak the cotton of your panties. His lips part beneath your own unmoving ones, his jaw gone slack around the broken moan that falls into the heat of your mouth.

Eddie's hips buck up sharply, fingers biting meanly into your hips as warmth floods his briefs, cock twitching and eyes rolling back as he shakes through the quick waves of his orgasm. His brain is pure static, ears ringing with such strength that your nervous laugh and stammered greeting sound far off despite you being pressed so close to him. Everything sounded just a bit like he was underwater.

His head clears a little as you brace your hands on his shoulders and push yourself up, his eyes popping open as the distance between you grows and the warmth of your body disappears altogether. You're smiling awkwardly, laughing despite yourself, with your gaze locked somewhere over his shoulder as you attempt to smooth out the wrinkles in your skirt — and then Eddie finally processes the sound of Robin's voice in the entryway behind him.

Oh. Oh, fuck.

Eddie's heart had already been beating heavily, but suddenly he swears he can feel each and every rhythmic pump of the blood in his veins. The strength of it makes his pulse thump so violently in the hollow of his throat that his eye might've been twitching in time with each beat.

His gaze drops to his lap, where, to his horror, light blue denim is already a few shades darker. His cum is already soaking through his underwear and very, very quickly spreading into a wider, far more noticeable wet patch, and Jesus fucking Christ, this cannot be happening to him-

He tugs at his pant-leg desperately in an attempt to draw the fabric away from where the cum had pooled in the crease of his pelvis and then dripped steadily down the length of his thigh, but it's too late.

He'd come.. so hard. And so much. His pants are stretched too fucking tight because he's sitting and you'd just rung out every last fucking drop of cum from his balls with your pretty pussy rubbing over his lap again and again and-

Robin's muffled curse breaks through his inner-turmoil, followed by the loud thud of something heavy landing on the kitchen counter behind him. Eddie turns sideways in his seat to find Robin with flushed cheeks and sweat beading on her brow, her arms draped limply around a large television set. She's panting exaggeratedly, mouth running a mile a minute as she regales the story of the older couple on the first floor who had upgraded to a 35-inch and offered up their old console for, quote: “Twenty bucks! A goddamn steal, you guys-!”

The two of you are babbling excitedly back and forth, the front door to your apartment still hanging slightly ajar all the while. Eddie realizes, belatedly, that Robin must've carried the behemoth of a thing all the way upstairs by herself — How the hell had she even managed that?

“Eddie, would you mind giving her a hand with that while I clear a spot for it over here?” You delegate gleefully as you flutter back into the living room to do just that.

You rush to the console table against the far wall and quickly begin shuffling things around to make space for your new possession, stacking books and knickknacks and sliding the clunky record player as close to the edge as you can manage.

“Oh, uh..”

Eddie smacks his lips once, eyes dropping from you to the gargantuan fucking wet patch stretched across his thigh. While he's reluctant to dig his own grave, he fears he has no other choice.

“-Well.. To that 'm gonna have'ta say..”

He swallows and gives a nod to himself in resolve, a burst of air pushing past his nose as he snatches his jacket from the floor beside the couch and uses it to shield the focal point of his embarrassment, avoiding looking back toward Robin completely.

“Shit, uh.. Nope. No, sorry."

Your movements falter at his response, an amused little smile tugging at the corners of your eyes as you regard him, “No?”

You laugh, like you're waiting for Eddie to clue you in on the joke.

Of fucking course Eddie had opted to wear a pair of light wash Levis for your date tonight instead of black. Because now? There is no way in hell you and Robin won't see the evidence of his predicament the moment it's no longer hidden behind his leather jacket.

If you see the way he'd shot off in his pants like a horny teenager from nothing but a little bit of kissing, Eddie is certain he'll never get a second date — Not to mention the constant ribbing he'd be destined to get for the rest of his Goddamned life from everyone else.

There's no way that Buckley won’t tell Harrington — with the weird and questionably platonic friendship the two of them had fallen into at some point around the time they'd graduated high school. And Harrington will, of course, inevitably spill the beans to Dustin. And then Dustin's loud mouth would manage to somehow tell absolutely everybody else in Eddie's life.

He is so fucked.

“Yeah, sorry, I gotta bounce, actually-” Eddie fights back a cringe, bounce-? What the fuck is he even saying? “I, uh, I forgot I have a.. A thing.”

He can't quite hold back a wince then, at the sound of his own excuse in his ears. He's usually a lot better on his toes than this, but he's fucking floundering all of a sudden.

It's because of you — it has to be because of you. You and your pretty eyes that are slowly narrowing in confusion and maybe a little bit of hurt. You and your angelic little voice, pushing out with a soft, “Oh.”

But then you're nodding, a weak smile pasting on your lips to cover that flash of sadness he'd seen. You tell Robin you'll be back to help her in a moment and walk Eddie to the door, arms brushing as your gaze remains focussed on the scuffed floorboards.

You're being sweet, because of course you are. You thank him for a wonderful date, tell him you'll call him, even lean in to press a delicate little kiss to his cheek that Eddie definitely doesn't feel like he deserves.

When the door closes behind him, it sends a rush of air hurtling toward Eddie smelling distinctly of you. Like your perfume, and the spice of the candle sitting on your kitchen counter, and the sweetness of your shampoo. The scent makes Eddie's head swim with regret and his cock twitch weakly in his pants.

Yeah, he's definitely fucked.

#why yes i did end this in an unnecessarily ambiguous and slightly angsty way that leaves things open for a potential part two 😁#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #stranger things smut #*

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ugh-yoongi · 4 months ago

Text

ex-conomics | csc

you supported seungcheol through years of being an aspiring athlete, and all you got to show for it was your undergraduate degree and an awkward, stuttered apology when he dumped you to go semi-pro. now he’s back after an injury derailed his career, and there’s only one problem: you’re the only one available to tutor him. you - 0; the universe - 1. talk about no return on investment.

⚽ pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader ⚽ genre: exes to (lite) enemies to lovers; university au; angst, fluff ⚽ rating: while there is nothing explicit in this fic, there are two brief references to smut. while i can't stop anyone from reading this, i would prefer minors do not interact with this or any of my work. ⚽ warnings: cheol is some degree of famous, reader is a grad student/TA, mentions of an injury and coping with the aftermath of it, lots of economics talk that even i do not understand, swearing, one mention of alcohol, some misplaced jealousy, rom-com tropes, dino is kind of a loser but we love him anyway. probably a lot of other things i missed, but this is actually pretty tame for a fic of this length. ⚽ word count: 13.4k ⚽ thank you: a lot of people looked this over for me in the process and i'm sure i will forget some of them so if i do i'm sorry: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, @highvern, and @haologram, who also gave me some wonderful ideas for the vlogs. thank you to MIT for opencourseware existing. i took microeconomics and dropped it, so i couldn't have done this without you. everyone in the discord server for helping me along the way and keeping me motivated. ⚽ author's note: i haven't posted a fic in nearly seven months, so i think it goes without saying that there are parts of this i like and a lot more i'm not 100% happy with. i'd love if this was more fleshed out and 10k longer, but i was able to write anything at all so it's good enough. this was written for the back to school with seventeen collab, hosted by @camandemstudios. thank you both for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories! everyone worked so hard and this collab was a ton of fun to participate in. <3

You look down at the paper. Back up at who handed it to you. Down at the paper again.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

The poor freshman kid laughs, all nerves, and even though the sound is grating, you remember what it’s like to be forced into work study. How far away graduate school seemed; how large your professors loomed over you with all their power and knowledge and credentials; how you constantly felt like the dumbest person in nearly every room you walked into for four straight years.

“Um—”

You sigh, just barely resisting the urge to slam your head onto your desk. “I—it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Your words do little to ease Freshman’s nerves. He’s still hunched over in the doorway of your office, wringing his hands as he shifts his weight back and forth, in for a lifetime of body pain with the way he’s squaring his shoulders. “You’re sure about this, though? Like, I’m really not being set up?”

“I don’t think so?” he offers, slowly starting to turn green right before your eyes. “Dr. Lee ga-gave me the paperwork himself, I don’t think he would’ve messed it up? Oh no, did I mess it up? Should I go back to Student Services and conf—”

Good god, this kid’s anxiety is gonna stink up your office for weeks. “No need!” you interject. “I’ll just…” Sign it, you want to say, but the longer you stare at the sheet of paper the quicker you’re losing your resolve.

TUTORING REQUEST FORM Student Name: Choi Seungcheol Degree: Undergraduate Major: Business Course: ECON04101 Introduction to Microeconomics Instructor: Lee Yeonseok, PhD. Recommended Tutoring: High (3-4 hours per week)

You curse under your breath. Of the two names on the paper, Dr. Lee’s does not come as a surprise. He’s a notorious hard-ass with an infamous attrition rate—most students don’t last more than a week in any of his classes—but he’s also the sole reason you were able to pay for someof your grad school tuition out of pocket with all the tutoring money you made.

That, however, was two years ago.

“Does he know I don’t tutor anymore?” Stupid question. The kid stares blankly back at you, as if to say I don’t know any more than the people in Student Services, let alone Dr. Lee. It is literally my first year here. “I’m Dr. Ahn’s TA this year. I’ve got my hands full with her bullsh… stuff—”

Immediately, you know you’ve said something wrong, because the kid’s eyes light up, all that previous anxiety disappearing like smoke. “Wait, the same Dr. Ahn that teaches the crypto course?”

“No, that one died,” you say quickly. Kid deflates. “Anyway, I don’t really tutor anymore, especially for econ. As you can see”—you gesture vaguely around the cramped four walls of your office—“they’ve upgraded me. They even put my name on a little placard by the door! Go look! They spelled it wrong! If that doesn’t sum up this university I don’t know what does.”

You heave another sigh. Try to school your face and tone into something that exudes professionalism and finality. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you. I tutored Dr. Lee’s students for, like, three years in undergrad so I’m sure they just… forgot that wasn’t my actual job here. Who’s in charge of tutoring these days? I’ll shoot them an email and explain all this.”

Freshman gives you a name, and it takes less than a second to find them in the employee directory. You expect that to be the end of it, but he’s still taking up space in your doorway. You quirk an eyebrow. “Yes?”

The hand-wringing returns, along with an embarrassed flush that disappears beneath the neckline of his school-branded sweatshirt. “I just—um. Maybe you could, uh. Send that now? Before I get back there?”

You blink. “Don’t you have to go all the way back across campus? How slow do you think I type?” He shrugs, and you give up on the idea of getting rid of him. “Fine. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Lee Chan. I’m a sophomore. Do you know that guy?”

“Oh. I thought for sure you were a freshman, but you’re gonna need to be more specific, Lee Chan, Sophomore.”

��The guy they want you to tutor.” You freeze. The guy they want you to tutor is—“Choi Seungcheol,” Chan tacks on, and, yeah, you know—knew, you correct yourself—someone with that name, once upon a time.

But there are a lot of Chois and a lot of Seungcheols. It’s been years since you’ve spoken to the Seungcheol you knew, and that was when he’d broken up with you to—“I heard he’s a football player? Well, used to be, I guess. The girls in the office were freaking out so I guess he’s pretty famous, but I don’t know anything about sports, do you? They said they have photocards of him. I thought they only did that for idols.”

You think about being kids together in Daegu. Think about the exasperated looks you’d share when your parents would drag the two of you to festivals: Palgongsan in the autumn, Biseulsan in the spring; transformation and rebirth. Think about being eight years old and watching your father cram into the small space of the Chois’ living room, standing around the TV with Seungcheol’s dad, shouting at Park Jonghwan. Daegu FC made the FA Cup quarterfinals that year, and you think, of everything, that’s what you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

You think about falling in love slowly. Sixteen and clueless, the pair of you were. Didn’t really know any different, just that you’d look at him and feel butterflies. That you’d hold hands in secret. Text beneath the dinner table. That you’d watch him on the football pitch and be consumed by pride. That the future felt impossibly far away, that life would never catch up to the two of you.

You think about all the football jargon you didn’t understand—the academies, the teams, the implications. You think about, I’m thinking about trying out for the FC Seoul U-18, I just don’t think there’s much more I can do here in Daegu. You think about replying, Oh, I applied to university there.

You remember thinking it must’ve been fate, how easy that had worked out. How easy that first hurdle had been overcome.

You think about how fast everything happened. The try-out, the acceptance, the explosion. Remember being unable to go anywhere those first few months without seeing Seungcheol’s face, touted as the next big thing. Think about applying for scholarships when he was applying for international visas. Think about studying for midterms when Seungcheol was studying English for interviews.

You think about the last few weeks of your relationship, when it felt like you were desperately trying to cling to ghosts. Think about how Seoul had once felt endlessly big, both in opportunity and size, and how it now felt suffocating. You think about, So you’re just giving up? Is that what you’re saying? Think about, I don’t know what else to do. It doesn’t feel fair to you.

You think about all the places you’ve watched him. On countless football pitches; shy glances in school hallways; in the passenger seat, wracked with nerves on the drive to Seoul; poised above you in bed, hairline dotted with sweat as he rolled his hips, telling you how much he loved you.

You think about watching him walk out the door, and how you never watched him again.

So you fire off your email, concise and to the point about why you can’t tutor Choi Seungcheol in Introduction to Microeconomics, and turn to Lee Chan, Sophomore.

“No,” you finally answer. “Never heard of him.”

For all intents and purposes, your rejection should’ve been the end of it.

A few days go by. You hold office hours, attend lectures, work on your thesis when you have both the time and the energy. Try to ignore the feeling of bees beneath your skin, anxiety needling each time you check your email. You were well within your right to decline the tutoring request, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. That someone somehow knows who Seungcheol was to you and will pull you up on it. That those girls who’d gushed about him to Chan are somewhere laughing at your expense.

But you don’t hear anything at all about it… until you do.

Sunday evening. You haven’t moved from your couch in hours, some variety show playing in the background, barely audible over your keyboard clacking. Much to your detriment, you don’t write many papers these days, so you’re out of practice. Feels like you haven’t done anything besides formulas in years, all of your academic knowledge reduced to fucking math, so you’re about ready to toss your laptop out the window long before the email even comes through.

You see, From: Lee Yeonseok. You see, Subject: Choi Seungcheol - Tutoring.

Your stomach plummets to the floor.

You scan the body quickly. You see the words personal favor… friend of his father… urgent matter… and your hands start shaking. Whether it’s from the sheer audacity of this man or anxiety, you aren’t sure, but it’s not like it matters. There aren’t a whole lot of people on campus brave or dumb enough to go up against him twice.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, bitter the only taste in your mouth.

Where did you go wrong to wind up here? You’d followed the script: got the grades, passed the exams, received half of the required education for the Respectable Career, helped a few others along the way chase dreams that may or may not have been their own. You’d fallen in love. Only had a broken heart to show for it, but that’d been in the script, too: The First Love, followed by The First Heartbreak.

The split from Seungcheol was supposed to have been the end of that chapter. You’d planned on never seeing him again, and you never would have, had it been up to you. Apparently the universe has other plans, participation required.

“Did you spill onion dip on the rug again?” You startle, sending your laptop flying. Kaori, your roommate, is perched halfway in between the living room and the kitchen like a cryptid, clearly not expecting your reaction. “Oh. Were you watching porn?”

Face burning, you fetch your laptop from the floor. “In a common area? Kaori, please, I have far more decorum than that.”

She snorts, resuming her trek to the fridge. “See, that’s what I thought, but then I walked out here and you threw your laptop so fast it was like watching my ex get caught watching furry porn all over again.” She pries the lid off a large container of yogurt. “You think this is still good?”

“Dunno. What’s it smell like?”

She sniffs it and pulls it back to check the label. “Vanilla, I think, which is concerning because it’s supposed to be strawberry.”

You shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen, you get extra”—you pause, trying to remember the correct order of things, before giving up entirely—“...biotics?”

“Mm, so close. Care if I just eat this with a spoon?”

Nose scrunched, you wave her off. “Couldn’t pay me to eat yogurt on a good day, let alone if it’s expired. All yours, babe.”

Spoon in hand and a pleased smile on her face, Kaori collapses onto the couch beside you. You try to return your attention to your paper, try to find your momentum again, and it works for all of ten minutes before you’re groaning and slamming the top closed.

You don’t even need to look over to know Kaori’s staring. “What’s up with you?” she asks. Before she can answer: “Wait, is this serious? Because I can’t have a serious conversation in this t-shirt.” You steal a glance sideways. Ask Me About My Hemorrhoid! it says, and you exhale loudly. “Don’t breathe at me, I lost a bet.”

“And continued wearing it?”

She jokingly rolls her eyes. “God forbid a girl has hobbies.” Nudges you with her foot. “C’mon, spill.”

Kaori doesn’t know about you and Seungcheol. Most people don’t, aside from a few old classmates from Daegu who found you on social media and tried befriending you once he started making a name for himself in Seoul. After that, it was just easier to keep things private while you were together. New friends knew you were seeing someone but not their name or how long you’d been together. Any curiosity surrounding why the Choi Seungcheol was following you on Insta had been waved away easily. Our parents are friends, we grew up together. Then you broke up, and there wasn’t any evidence to delete, and he wasn’t following you on Instagram anymore, and it was easier that way.

So, yeah—even though you hadn’t met her until years later, Kaori knows you have an ex. She knows you’ve had a few flings and situationships in the time since, too, and it’s why she’s none the wiser when you ask, “It’s nothing, really. Just—do you follow football at all?”

“Nah, not really. The new guy’s pretty into it and keeps trying to get me to watch the games with him, but it’s so fucking boring? I dunno, I can’t get into it. Not in real life, anyway—I binged all of Captain Tsubasa in an embarrassingly short amount of time, though. Why?”

“Student Services asked me to tutor someone the other day and I had to turn it down. I just don’t have the time, you know? This semester’s already killer, and Dr. Ahn’s been riding my ass nonstop about grades. Turns out it’s some football player, so Dr. Lee emailed me asking me to do it as a personal favor, which means, on top of all the other shit I have to do, I’m now tutoring some football player four hours a week in Microeconomics.”

Her face distorts. “God, that guy’s such a prick. Like wow, you’re good at the economy! Good for you! Who cares! Why don’t you go balance the national debt or something instead of torturing university freshmen!”

You also wrongly assume that’s the last you’ll hear of it from Kaori.

Two days later, after Student Services replies to your email with the days and times you’ll be tutoring Seungcheol, she materializes in the living room to harass you.

“You didn’t tell me your football player was Choi Seungcheol.”

The panic is instant. You know how she means it, but it’s not how your body interprets it. All of a sudden it feels like an interrogation, an accusation, and a whopping serving of guilt takes up residence in the middle of your chest for not being entirely honest.

“Explains this weird text Ken sent me.”

She slides her phone over to you, open to her text thread with her current flavor of the week. Beneath an article about Seungcheol enrolling in classes at your school:

doesn’t ur roomie TA there Why are you calling her “ur roomie” like you don’t know her name?? Rude. Also yes. ask her to get me an autograph No babe pls he was my fav player before he got injured No 🙄 fine. can i come over later? Starting to think you’re using me for my roommate. Get your own job 🙄

You hand her phone back. “I didn’t think you’d know who Choi Seungcheol even is.” It’s the best you can do, even though it just digs you a deeper grave. “You said you’re not into football.”

“I’m not, but unfortunately I am into that stupid man.” She sighs, wistful and longing. “Babe, you have to understand. His dick is so big.”

You hadn’t wanted to stay in Seoul for your graduate degree, let alone the same university you’d gone to for undergrad.

You’d applied to schools all over—Japan, Europe, even a few in the States. Romanticized the hell out of NYU, went window shopping for an overpriced apartment, picked a favorite pizzeria based on nothing but vibes and online reviews. In those few months after graduation, there wasn’t a whole lot tying you to Seoul. Your and Seungcheol’s relationship had been old history by then, your parents split. Your dad stayed in your childhood home and your mother moved a few hours closer to her sister. They’d waited until your brother was old enough to be out of the house.

And it’d just been… a lot. Overwhelming. Some days you could barely shower or feed yourself, let alone move halfway across the world, so you’d stayed in the familiar and tried not to let it feel like failure.

But the good thing about familiarity is you learn its tricks, figure out the hiding spots. Early on, your first or second week of grad school, you laid claim to a study room on a floor of the library everyone else ignored. You write notes on the whiteboard with faded blue markers that are still there days later. The chair on the opposite side of the table is always exactly where you left it, the space between it and the table enough to only accommodate you. Sometimes you leave books—old paperbacks littered with notes in your writing—or papers, just to see if they move.

They never do.

And all of this is why it feels like a punch to the gut when that sanctity is tainted. When you’re halfway through a stack of Dr. Ahn’s exams and the doorknob rattles behind you. When you don’t even need to turn around to know who it is, because he still sounds the same, still has that overwhelming presence. You’ve always sensed him before you felt him.

“There you are,” Dr. Lee says, ambling into the room before you can protest. He, too, is overwhelming, just in different ways. Immaculate posture that anchors his slight frame that’s always dressed impeccably and expensively. Wears a watch that’s triple your tuition. Shoes polished so bright they’re nearly blinding. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

This time it is an accusation.

Well, you found me, you want to say, but just knowing Seungcheol is behind him, lingering in that half-study room, half-hallway space, is enough to keep you quiet. Like if you speak you’ll summon him closer and you’ll no longer be able to pretend this is nothing more than a nightmare.

You plaster on a polite smile. Say, “Ah, here I am, kyosu-nim,” and put all your energy into trying to glue Seungcheol to the floor with your mind.

Which is fruitless, because Dr. Lee moves further into the room. Gestures for Seungcheol to follow him with an impatient huff, and the study room is small, sure, and with three people it feels cramped, but that’s not the reason it feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room.

Seungcheol looks… different. He looks as anxious as you feel, and he sticks close to the wall like he’s trying to disappear. Dr. Lee introduces him with grave importance, unaware of your history, and the forced smile he offers you almost looks embarrassed.

You know Dr. Lee is still hammering away, probably giving you a stern talking-to for rejecting his request the first time, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Seungcheol. Feels like the world around you has reduced to a pinhead, all hyperfocus; feels like your lungs are sucking in stale air one at a time.

“...his father is a very good friend of mine, so I expect…”

You expected to feel nothing. Seungcheol had left to chase his dream—one you’d always been so supportive of that it sometimes felt like your dream, too—and, perhaps naively, you thought the distance and the years would’ve been enough. You expected your heart to have hardened. You expected all those nights you spent crying to hit you at full force. You expected anger, hurt—indifference, at the very least.

“...as many hours per week as you both can manage…”

But you should’ve known better. Should’ve expected the butterflies, the way your palms grow clammy, the way your heart rate spikes. Should’ve expected everything to feel upside-down. You should’ve expected to look at Seungcheol and feel sixteen and in love all over again.

“...you are responsible for his academic progress…”

And that simply will not do. You’ve spent the last few years pulling yourself out of that hole, clawing your way back to something resembling normal. You’ve purged the thought of him from your mind—let his scent fade from your sheets, an old sweatshirt he’d left behind; forgot the way his lips felt against every inch of your skin; forgot the way his entire being lit up when he laughed; forgot the safety he encompassed, the way he whispered all those sweet nothings.

You cannot go there again.

So you roll your shoulders back, smile politely. Say, “Ah, kyosu-nim, Choi Seungcheol-ssi seems very intelligent, I’m sure he is capable of being responsible for his own academic standing, don’t you think?”

Dr. Lee cannot disagree without all but calling Seungcheol an idiot, so he hovers before you in shocked silence. Makes a show of huffing and checking his watch, like he’s all of a sudden remembered he’s late for something and being inconvenienced by this conversation he started, and then he’s halfway out of the library with a terse, “Discuss and figure this out amongst yourselves,” thrown over his shoulder.

You have an entire dramatic exit planned in your head. Gather your things, fake a phone call that makes you sound authoritative and important, and brush past Seungcheol wearing your nicest perfume as if all of this is so far beneath you you can’t even bring yourself to care about it.

Of course, you actually have to brush by him for any of that to happen, and since you’ve already decided you will not go there again, you quickly scribble your email address onto a piece of paper and slide it across the table at Seungcheol, who has steadfastly remained planted just outside the door. “Here’s my email. I don’t have time to discuss this right now.” Seungcheol cocks an eyebrow. You start throwing things into your bag haphazardly. You know you look frantic and affected, but there’s not much you can do about that. “What? Send me a copy of your syllabus and what you want to prioritize. It’ll be easier to get through this if we have a plan instead of winging it.”

He seems to catch on to your distaste because he mirrors it. Scoffs as he rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah, no use spending more time together than we have to,” and if you hadn’t gone years without speaking, you would’ve seen right through it.

But you did, so it stings all the same.

As it typically does, the planet keeps spinning after your run-in with Seungcheol.

You grade Dr. Ahn’s coursework. Try running off your anxiety at the gym, even though it’s pretty good at keeping pace with you these days. You meet Kaori’s maybe-boyfriend sneaking out of your apartment early in the morning and he has the good sense not to mention your ex, but you chalk that up to the mess of hickeys covering his neck and not any sense of social decorum.

Other people’s embarrassment saves you a ton of your own, you’ve come to learn.

Throughout all of this, Seungcheol only emails you once to send you his course syllabus. Doesn’t mention tutoring or provide you with his schedule or ask for yours, so when you’re sitting in a bar with your friends, three or four drinks deep and feeling a little petty, you forward him the original tutoring request and make sure to bold, underline, and highlight the “Recommended Tutoring: High” part for good measure.

He doesn’t take your bait—electronically, at least—but he does show up to your office hours the following Tuesday.

Bag tossed onto the floor, he flops unceremoniously into the chair across from you and says, in lieu of a greeting, “They spelled your name wrong. On the door thing.”

“I know,” you reply, your smile polite and terse. Incredible how he has the ability to raise your blood pressure in milliseconds. “What can I help you with?”

“Depends. How long do you have?”

“Well, considering you’ve shown up to my office hours on time, I’m assuming you already know I’m here every Tuesday and Thursday from four to six. So”—you glance at the clock above the door—“assuming no one comes by who needs my help more than you do, you have approximately one hour and fifty-eight minutes.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment as he takes you in. His stare is weighted; it makes you feel a little green around the edges. Clinical and sharp, so far removed from the way he used to look at you. You clear your throat. “I looked over your syllabus. The good news is there’s only a midterm and a final and the rest is problem sets. The bad news is there’s only a midterm and a final so they’re weighted quite heavily. You really need to know this stuff inside-out to have any hope of passing.”

“That’s why you’re here, right? Dr. Lee specifically requested you.”

You huff a breath through your nose. “I’m here as supplemental help. I can’t take your exams or do your readings for you. What else are you taking this semester?”

He sighs, sinking further into the chair, very much playing the part of the heir who has no interest in any of this. Which… is unlike him, you think, if you’re even allowed to. The Seungcheol you knew years ago took everything so seriously. Never clipped corners or took shortcuts. Anyone else would think him a spoiled, petulant child. “Business Accounting and International Trade.”

“Could be worse,” you note. “At least those three courses are tangentially related.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t taken a fucking math class in years.”

You return it. “You remember how to add and subtract, don’t you?”

“I ruptured my ACL, not my…” He trails off, looking a little embarrassed that he can’t name a part of the—“Brain.”

Whatever you were going to quip back with dies on your tongue. It's the first time Seungcheol has broached the topic of his injury—the first you’re hearing of it at all, actually—and he says it like it’s a joke, like it’s not a thing at all, but the pain is all over his face. The bitterness of the situation he’s found himself in. The unfairness of it all.

And there are so many questions you want to ask that aren’t your place: if it’s fixable, if he’ll ever play again, how he’s coping. But you don’t really need to—you can’t imagine how you’d feel if someone suddenly pulled the rug out from under you. If everything contained within the four walls of your office suddenly disappeared.

Not that the man sitting across from you hadn’t already done that, but.

“Right,” you continue, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You know Seungcheol—know he wouldn’t want you prodding, sticking your fingers in that particular wound. “I want you to take a look at this,” you say, handing over a printout you have saved from your undergrad tutoring days. “Tell me what looks familiar, what doesn’t; what does and doesn’t make sense.”

He looks down at the paper. Back up at you. Down at the paper again. “What the fuck is this?”

“I—what? Cheol, it’s my old notes on recitation. Surely you’ve already covered this—the syllabus says this is week one stuff.” He looks down at the paper again, and it’s so familiar, watching the life drain entirely from someone’s eyes.

You barely resist the urge to slam your face onto your desk a second time.

You meet Seungcheol at the sports center for your next tutoring session.

He likes the humidity and the smell of the chlorine by the pool. He also likes that it’s not the football pitch, so the two of you sit in the bleachers there and go over his lecture notes. Much to your surprise, Seungcheol talks a mile a minute. Has stars in his eyes when he says he finally understands elastic demand curves, supply shock; tells you he spent a whole hour making flashcards.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so excited since your tutoring began—the first glimmer of hope you’ve felt since Dr. Lee cornered you in your library hideaway. None of this surprises you. Seungcheol has always been smart, even when football was his primary (and sometimes only) focus. He has more determination and grit than anyone you’ve ever met, so you’re not surprised he’s doing well, excelling, but you are surprised—

“Can I ask you something?” Seungcheol shrugs, shoves half a protein bar in his mouth and swallows without chewing. “Why are you… uh. Here?”

“At this university?”

“Not exactly. I mean, I am wondering about that, but I guess… why business?”

Seungcheol hums. Tucks his good knee to his chest and stares down at the pool. No one’s using it, and truthfully the two of you probably aren’t even allowed to be here, but you understand why he likes it. It’s nowhere near as secluded as the library and definitely not as air conditioned, but it is peaceful. Calm. The water laps against the coping in quiet, small waves.

“Ah, I don’t know. You know how it goes.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Never, in all the years you’ve known him, has Seungcheol done anything he didn’t want to do. All that grit and determination. “What about your father, then? Dr. Lee mentioned this was a favor to him. He’s a pretty important person to have in your Rolodex of favors.”

Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see what this is: Seungcheol’s father has new money; worked from the bottom up, made some smart investment decisions that finally panned out after Seungcheol left for Seoul. Started doing his own thing, made a name for himself. Last you’d heard from your mother, Seungcheol’s brother was second-in-command. Hell, even your own brother did an internship there.

So you know what this is: a father helping his son after his dream was shattered, life turned upside-down. You can’t blame him, even if you’ve heard the whispers from all the way across campus. That Seungcheol is washed up now, trying to nepo his way into his father’s company because of it; that all he knows is sports and he should’ve stuck to that, what does he know about business, why is he the one Dr. Lee went out of his way to help.

Doesn’t stop any of them from smiling at him, though; doesn’t stop them from asking for autographs or selfies.

But you also know this isn’t something Seungcheol seems willing to discuss, so you crack a joke—“I mean, business. God, who’d wanna go into that?”—and go back to what he was willing to talk about.

You’ve never hated elastic demand curves so much in your life.

Deep in the throes of tutoring—when you can’t tell if it’s week two or week twelve—you make it back to your apartment just before ten, head pounding.

The door flies open just as you’re about to punch in the code, and there stands Ken, looking far more put-off than you’ve ever seen him. Looks defeated, if you’re being honest, like someone mopped up all his emotions and wrung them out like dirty dishwater.

“Oh, hi,” you say hesitantly. The man in front of you seems too much like a caged animal to let your guard down. “Everything okay?”

He aborts a nod halfway. Mutters an apology as he brushes by you and stalks down the hall, disappearing around the corner to the elevators. Usually he’s a talker—you haven’t been able to avoid a Seungcheol-related conversation in weeks—so you’re a little stunned. Stand there stupidly for a while, and that’s where Kaori finds you a moment later.

“You gonna stand out here all night, or…?”

“Oh—yeah, right.”

You follow her inside. Toe off your shoes and put them in the rack. Focus on the sound of the kettle whistling instead of the overbearing tension in the room. Drop your bag off in your room, throw on a sweatshirt three sizes too big and a comfy pair of socks. Rummage through the fridge for leftovers, contemplate what mindless show you’ll watch as you eat, and you do not, under any circumstances, ask Kaori what happened.

You don’t have to. You knew what this was going to be the first time Ken spent the night—the way he looked mortified to be meeting you in the shared kitchen at seven a.m., wearing a look that begged you not to tell your roommate he was sneaking out.

I, uh, have an early class, he’d said. You know how it is.

Maybe you should’ve called him on it then. Issued a warning-but-not-really. She’ll get attached if you don’t tell her. She should know it’s different for you, if it is.

But you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t your place. Kaori wouldn’t want you in her business like that, so you stayed quiet, just nodded before watching him slip his shoes on and close the door behind him so quietly you wouldn’t have known he left at all if you hadn’t been looking. Gone, just like a ghost.

So, yeah, you know exactly why your roommate looks haunted.

“I’m a few episodes behind on this if you want to watch with me,” you offer, pointing at the television with the remote. It’s a lie—you’ve never watched this show a day in your life, which Kaori seems to know—but she contemplates it nonetheless. “Also, my mom mailed us some cookies. I think they’re in the fridge.”

“Why are there cookies in the fridge?”

You huff a laugh. “They were outside the door this morning before I left for campus. I don’t know—just saw who the package was from and was like, oh, this must go in the fridge.”

She nods. Grabs the container and joins you on the couch. Sticks her feet beneath your butt and doesn’t mention a thing.

The closest she comes is a few days later. Catches you right before you head out to campus and asks how tutoring is going.

“Not bad, actually.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes when she says, “That’s good. I’m glad things are going well for you two.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore makes his unexpected return at your office hours on an unsuspecting Tuesday.

“Can I help you?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just helps himself to the seat across from you. “Maybe,” comes his cryptic retort. “I was thinking about signing up for that crypto course next semester.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, you weren’t.”

He sighs. Looks a little panicked, like he can’t believe that didn’t work. “You’re right, you’re right. I, um—I wanted to come say thank you.” He pauses. “You know, for that… email you sent.”

You blink. “No, you didn’t.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore cracks immediately. Thunks his head on your desk and lets loose a pained sound. It nearly sounds like he’s wailing when he says, “I’m sorry! They put me up to it!”

What you’re able to piece together is this: Lee Chan, Sophomore has become a bit of a celebrity in the Student Services department ever since he met you, Choi Seungcheol’s tutor. And, like any smart, previously unpopular university student would do, he took advantage of it. Might’ve stretched the truth a little to make it sound like he knew more than he did, so now here he is, angling for information the girls with the photocards may or may not have paid him to get.

“They want to know about his girlfriend.”

“His what?”

What you’re able to piece together is also this: the Photocard Girls are certain Seungcheol is dating someone, based on little more than vibes. You suspect these vibes are their three degrees of separation, considering there was an abnormal amount of Change of Major files formed after his enrollment, but you tell Lee Chan that you don’t know anything and, even if you did, you wouldn’t put his business out there like that.

But some part of you still has this inexplicable urge to protect Seungcheol, so you match their offer with interest and tell him to say there’s nothing to report—not that you didn’t know, not that he couldn’t get anything out of you. Seungcheol isn’t dating anyone.

You don’t know if it’s true, but you figure that if it isn’t, he still deserves privacy.

Which is a notion you have trouble explaining a few hours later, when Seungcheol strolls into your office with a grease-stained paper bag full of cheese coin bread, offering one to you with a proud smile that drops slowly when you just stare in return.

“What’s wrong?”

Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Nothing comes out, even though it should be simple. Some sophomore kid was just in here angling for information or the Student Services department is taking bets on whether or not you have a girlfriend would both suffice, but you cannot bring yourself to say the words.

What you settle on is, “Sorry, I just… had an interesting meeting before you got here.”

“Oh. Are you okay?”

You sigh. Tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling. “It was about you, actually.”

Seungcheol chokes, starts stuttering over words you can’t make sense of. Says, “Me? Why? I passed my last exam—I mean, barely, but I still passed. And that wasn’t your fault! I didn’t study enough! I’ve been losing my mind over my International Trade class, that shit sucks—”

“It wasn’t about your grades, Cheol.”

“Oh.” Then, slowly, a lopsided, pleased smile overtakes his face. “Haven’t heard you call me Cheol in a while.”

“Seungcheol,” you correct.

He seems to forget all about the meeting. Tries again to offer you a coin bread before he threatens to eat them all himself, so you acquiesce mostly to shut him up, say you’ll bring the extras to Kaori. For some reason, you tell him about how much she’d loved the cookies your mom sent, and the nostalgia sets him off, gets him talking again, asking if they were the yakgwa she used to make when you two were kids.

They were, but you can’t seem to tell him that, either.

Seungcheol: sorry it’s last minute - running late. can you meet me at my place instead?

Seungcheol shared a location with you

You’re halfway to replying—I don’t think that’s appropriate—before you sigh and delete it. Midterms are only a few days away and you don’t have time to argue over where your tutoring sessions will be, so if Seungcheol wants to meet at his apartment that’s where you’ll meet him.

You read over the midterm notes on the train. Once, twice, and then a hundred more times until they’re nearly memorized, all so you can ignore the voice in the back of your head saying what a bad idea this is. That you have no business being on your way to your ex’s swanky part of town or integrating yourself into his life beyond tutoring at all. You shouldn’t know where he lives. Maybe you shouldn’t even have his phone number or answer his texts.

Not that there’s much you can do about it now, two stops away.

Seungcheol greets you warmly, if not a little rushed. Apologizes for the mess once you step inside, although it’s less “mess” and more “haven’t finished unpacking,” but there’s enough clear space to study at the dining table, so that’s where you set up, determined to keep things professional.

“Sorry again about this,” Seungcheol says, placing a can of cola in front of you as he takes the seat across. “I had to meet with my father and lost track of time, I guess.”

“Oh. How’s he doing?”

Seungcheol sighs, leans further back in the chair as runs a hand through his hair. A light brown, now. “Same as he always was, I guess. Talked about the business, about my brother. Can’t get him to shut up about that stuff most of the time.”

“The business is doing good, though.” You cough, clear your throat. “My, uh. My brother interned there during undergrad. I don’t know if your father told you that.”

You don’t know why you say it, because it’s clear from the brief flicker of pain on Seungcheol’s face that he hadn’t known, that no one had told him. And it hurts you too that they felt the need to keep it a secret, to protect Seungcheol from you even in tangential ways.

“He didn’t,” he admits, “but I’m sure he was happy to see him. He was, uh—he was glad to hear you’re my tutor. Said you were always smarter than all of us boys combined.”

You laugh. Hope it sounds casual instead of strained. “Well, no need to prove him right. Come on,” you say, tossing a study guide in his direction, “let’s get to work.”

Everything is alright for a while—nearly an hour at least. He has the formulas memorized and attributed to the correct equations. He can explain supply and demand, preference and utility, but things start to fall apart around budget constraints and constrained choice.

The formulas get mixed up. He grows frustrated when he doesn’t know the answers to your questions right away. Rolls his eyes and gets a little snappy when you correct him, try to explain things differently in a way he understands. At first he’s able to temper it, collect himself before things truly start spiraling out of control, but the longer the two of you sit there the more it all unravels.

He snaps, you snap back, and you can’t figure out why. You’ve survived this long in Seungcheol’s orbit even though you never thought you’d be around him again, and perhaps it was bound to explode eventually, but…

It’s the familiarity, you realize.

You and Seungcheol aren’t friends, though you’ve been playing at it for weeks now: meeting outside of the library or your office, the personal conversations bordering on reminiscing, being in his personal space. You don’t belong here. You don’t want to be his friend—you can’t be, not for real or pretend.

“That’s not what I’m say—”

“Then explain it better,” Seungcheol fires at you, eyebrows creasing. “You’re the tutor here.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? All I meant was—your answer isn’t wrong, but I know Dr. Lee and he’s going to want more than that in a response.”

“Right—not good enough, like I said.”

“I’m just asking you to expand on your answer—”

“And I’m telling you that’s all I’ve got. I’m not like you, all right? I don’t have all this shit just floating around in my head all the time. I’m not smart, I barely have any idea what’s going on half the time, and you sitting here being condescending about it is doing fuck-all to help.”

You inhale sharply, taken aback at the hostility in his voice. Suggest calling it for the night, say neither of you will be productive if you keep going like this, and neither of you bother to apologize.

So much of your relationship with Seungcheol was marred by clichés.

The two of you passing notes back and forth during class. You in the bleachers of all his games, screaming along to the team chants, waving a sign around with his name on it. Not realizing you had a crush on him at all until he liked someone else and it made your stomach hurt. Childhood friends turned lovers.

Another cliché: that it’s starting to feel like that all over again.

Seungcheol sits across from you in the library, econ textbook cracked in half in front of him as he pays no attention. Keeps grabbing his phone each time it vibrates across the table. Can’t fight the smile that forces its way onto his face when he reads whatever’s there.

Stupid, you think—both to do this and to think it’d play out any other way. Seungcheol left years ago. Probably lived ten lifetimes while he was away while you were here in this exact spot doing this exact thing. Barely lived half a life, just stuck your nose in textbooks and forced your way through.

“Cheol,” you say, trying to drag his attention back to the study guide. No use. He’s typing away, presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he responds. “Seungcheol,” you try again.

Also fruitless.

You have no claim here, you remind yourself—not to his time, not to him. He’s only here because someone else mandated it. You’re only here because someone else mandated it, but it stings all the same. Another reminder of what used to be, of what ended regardless of what you wanted. Another reminder that the role you used to play in his life is not the role you play now. That the space you used to take up created a vacancy, and eventually it was going to be filled.

And if this was anyone other than Seungcheol, if you were more emotionally evolved when it came to him, it wouldn’t gnaw at you as much. All of this would roll off your shoulders.

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

“If you’re not going to listen, then—”

“I am listening,” he interjects, but he’s not looking at you. Not looking at his textbook or his study guide. Keeps laughing and smiling at his phone, and it’s sick how bothered you are by it. That it feels like your stomach’s been turned inside-out with jealousy; with annoyance, because you don’t want to be here anyway, don’t want to do this anymore, and you’re wasting your time on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.

Perhaps he never did.

“What are we discussing, then?”

Still not looking up: “Consumer theory.”

You laugh—more a huff of air than anything, grin sardonically out of one corner of your mouth. Seungcheol sees none of it. “Wrong,” you answer, already expecting the way he shrugs it off. “I’m gonna skip ahead a few chapters, though. Consider it a freebie for your business class.”

It must be your tone that finally grabs his attention. Cutting, precise, purposeful. Seungcheol lowers his phone, quirks an eyebrow, wonders where this is going to go. It’s clear he’s pissed you off, that you’re itching for a fight. It’s clear the years of silence are finally coming to a head.

“Let’s talk about ROI. You know what that is?” You barely give him a second. “Return on investment. A performance measure used to evaluate the efficiency of an investment or compare the efficiency of several investments. So, let’s say I make one-hundred-thousand won on a ten-thousand won investment: my ROI is 90%. Are you following?”

He nods.

“Great, now let’s try something a bit more hypothetical.” You suck in a breath. “Let’s say I invest years of my adolescence into someone. A friend at first and then something more. Let’s say I played cheerleader, supported every hope and dream he had—went to every game, cheered him on, helped him practice his English. Held his hand and talked him down when the pressure felt overwhelming, when the only thing that felt inevitable was failure. Now, let’s say all I got in return was a stuttered, awkward apology as he dumped me and walked out the door. Let’s say that guy showed up again after years of silence just to once again waste my fucking time.”

The thing about pain is it’s not linear. What hurt five, ten years ago might not hurt today, but it might tomorrow; what hurt yesterday may never hurt again. The thing about pain is it lets you stick your head in the sand until it can’t anymore, and that’s where you are now: that window of time between Seungcheol walking out the door on the assumption you’d never see him again before he bulldozed his way back into your life has been slammed closed, locked up tight.

So you don’t even notice you’re crying until the room goes deathly silent and you can hear the drip drip drip of tears on paper. Until you watch Seungcheol’s hands flex and unflex in mid-air, stuck in that liminal space, wanting to reach out but knowing he has no right to. Until your chest aches so bad you’re sure you’re either about to break into stardust or cease to exist.

Until you say, “What, Choi Seungcheol, would you say my fucking return on investment was?” and he has nothing to say at all.

Kaori invites you to a party.

Just something small to celebrate the end of midterms and a classmate’s birthday. Nothing out of control or raucous, not even the kind of thing that’d earn a second glance from campus security. I won’t even make fun of you if you leave before eleven, is how she sold it to you, in addition to a small amount of begging and bargaining and a powerful set of puppy-dog eyes.

After everything the two of you have been through, you find it hard to say no.

So here you are, nearly eleven o’clock on a Friday, a cup of cheap beer in hand. A friend of a friend of a friend is wailing into a karaoke machine and although your ears are bleeding, it does feel nice for that to be your greatest worry. You aren’t thinking about your classes or how you’ve been prioritizing everyone else’s academic success. You aren’t thinking about whatever’s going on between Kaori and Ken. You aren’t thinking about Seungcheol.

At least you aren’t, until he walks through the door.

You’re going to continue not thinking about him at all—not about the fact he’s alone or how good he looks in a simple black T-shirt that’s a little taut in the shoulders. You’re not going to think about the way the air shifts, like the universe knows he’s important and is willing to accommodate. You’re not going to think about how Kaori catches your eye across the room, recognizes him from all her internet searches, and the way she mouths oh my god he’s so beefy at you.

You’re not going to think about how guilty you feel that she doesn’t know, because if you do you’re certain it’ll take over.

You watch Seungcheol work the room; watch as he floats between conversations, as strangers fall over themselves at the sight of him. How eager everyone is to give him something and how reluctant he is to take them. You watch as he winds up in the same circle as Kaori and how she must mention you, oh, your tutor is my roommate, because there’s a question in return before he turns and meets your gaze.

You wonder why the distance between you feels more insurmountable now than ever before.

Seungcheol finds you in your office.

It’s not a Tuesday or a Thursday, far later than four to six in the evening, but he doesn’t even bother knocking before he’s barreling in, stifling your space with his bad energy.

You haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks. Not since the party, if that even counts. Hasn’t bothered to reply to any of your texts or emails, and that was just fine by you, if that’s how he wanted to act, but it isn’t until he’s brooding on the other side of your desk that you realize you’re still aggrieved, too. Feels a little too familiar, him leaving you behind and in the dark.

So you don’t mean to—typically have much more professionalism than this—but when he tosses a stapled stack of papers with a barely-passing grade on your desk and says, “This is your fault,” the words come automatically and without forethought.

“Fuck off, Seungcheol.” It’s not your words that take him by surprise; more so the roll of your eyes, the accompanying huff. The impression that all of this is beneath you and nothing more than a mere annoyance. That however affected you were two weeks ago is not how affected you are anymore. ��That’s what happens when you blow off your tutoring for two weeks because you’re a coward.”

He laughs, incredulous; unable to help the sound the tumbles out of his mouth. “I’m a—I’m a coward?”

“Yes,” you reply, tone giving away nothing. All he sees is feigned nonchalance despite the hurricane you feel brewing beneath the surface. “This,” you continue, pinching the corner of the paper between your fingertips and disposing of it in the trashcan beneath your desk, “is all on you, but do please let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to blame me for. I’m all ears.”

You don’t miss it: the way Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide at your ‘I’m all.’ The way he thinks you’re going to punctuate that sentence with yours, and it nearly has bile rising in your throat. Makes you want to scream, rip at your hair. If the last few months have taught you anything, it’s that you are still hopelessly in love with the man across from you—the man that continues to leave before he’s left, always at your expense.

So, yeah—Seungcheol is a coward, but only when it comes to you.

But he doesn’t look much like one now, gripping so hard at the edge of your desk that his knuckles have gone white, baseball cap pulled down low enough his eyes are barely visible. He’s always been overwhelming, always carried himself with an exaggerated arrogance even when it wasn’t warranted, always took everything so seriously, and maybe that’s why you’d thought he’d treat you the same way. Take you seriously. Wouldn’t just throw it all away on a maybe thing, and that’s why it's been years and you still aren’t over it.

Maybe Seungcheol is a coward, and maybe so are you.

Because not once since he’s been back have you been able to say what you mean. Can’t seem to tell him about the anger, the hurt, the heartbreak. Played it all off as petty nonchalance because you foolishly thought that would hurt him, that you��ve been reduced to simmering ash, no hope left for a fire.

“I could never blame you for a goddamn thing,” he says, voice so deep you could drown in it.

You so desperately want to know. You don’t want to know anything at all. You want Seungcheol to explain everything to you in detail and spoil the ending, but only if it’s guaranteed to be happy. Enduring another loss like the first time—you’re not sure you can take it. Not after you two have crossed paths like this, because you’ve never quite believed in fate but you think that has to mean something. That so much time and life had transpired and you two came back together.

Today, though, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any answers.

Seungcheol straightens, looms at full height. Digs into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a thumb drive. Wordlessly, he hands it over, and then he’s gone just as abruptly as he’d arrived.

Again.

Kaori wants to spend the weekend moping, and you can’t come up with a good reason not to join her.

She doesn’t mention Ken once. Not when she’s sobbing over A Silent Voice and Toradora! after that. Not when she keeps glancing at her phone every couple minutes to see if she has any texts. Not when you—only halfway paying attention between grading and your own assignments—suggest ordering something for delivery, maybe that new burger place down the street you heard was good, and Kaori shuts it down so vehemently you can only assume it was Ken’s favorite place.

Kaori just cries over the man with the big dick she never expected to take so seriously, and not even your stonewalling makes her feel ashamed of it.

And there’s respectability in that kind of openness and vulnerability. At least whatever she’s feeling is honest; at least she can admit she’s sad. You think watching Kaori process her breakup might help you process yours too, years too late, so you suck in a breath and ask, “Can I tell you something or is now not a good time?”

Kaori looks over at you. Dabs a soggy tissue at her eyes. “Well, I guess it depends,” is her answer, and she doesn’t shy away from how waterlogged her voice sounds. “If you’re going to tell me you’re a Takasu and Kawashima shipper, maybe, but if it’s anything worse I’m not sure I could take it.”

“I—what? Who even are they?” She gives you a half-hearted thumbs up. You sigh in response, sink further into the couch. “It’s, uh.” Clear your throat. “Do you remember when we met sophomore year? At that party? And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything and you said, and I quote, why not, I have a sixth sense for this kind of thing and I know that guy will have a huge—”

She hides her face behind her hands. “Ew, god, yes I remember that. My dick whisperer era. How embarrassing.”

“Right. And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything because I’d just gotten out of something.”

“Not really by choice, if I remember correctly. I told you if it was quiet it should’ve been loud, and then you never talked about it again.”

You nod. “I—yeah, that sounds like something I would’ve said.” You suck in a deep breath. “Listen, this is probably gonna sound bad considering I did never talk about it again, but—”

“Hey,” Kaori says, nudging you with her foot. Meant to be comforting, somehow. “It’s okay. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, too… most of which I’m not sure you should, actually.”

A laugh forces its way out, gives you a nice reprieve from the anxiety of the conversation you’re about to have. The need to explain it all, the need for advice. Maybe it’s not her—or anyone else’s—business, but you think you’ve kept this to yourself long enough. You and Seungcheol loved each other, once, and it seems foolish that no one knows.

Maybe Kaori had been right. Maybe love should be shouted from the rooftops; exist out in the open. Maybe something hidden in the shadows can never thrive in the light, and you knew it back then, deep down, but now it seems so obvious.

You think back to a few days before the library. Think about how things didn’t feel good but they felt okay. Think about the frustrated crease between Seungcheol’s eyebrows as he stared down at his textbook and how all you’d wanted to do was smooth it. Think about how you’d rolled your lips and tried not to laugh; how you thought it’d take a miracle to help Seungcheol pass this class.

Think about: What is the difference between the short-run and the long-run from the perspective of production theory?

Think about the short-run of your and Seungcheol’s relationship—that you’d burned bright and fast, even though it’d felt like a million years. Hadn’t dared to consider the long-run because anything beyond that bubble felt impossible.

Think about: Which of the following is not a property of isoquants?

Think about the way Seungcheol’s eyes lit up when he knew the answer. That they’re always linear, he said, and you smiled at his enthusiasm, raised your hand to high-five him and dropped it when he hadn’t noticed.

You think about the explanation—isoquants can be linear when inputs are perfectly substitutable—and what those graphs look like. Downward sloping, left to right. Think about how the graphs change when the isoquants are perfect complements.

L-shaped. Less straight as the inputs become poorer substitutes.

You know what your and Seungcheol’s graph would’ve looked like back then.

So it’s easy, almost, to tell Kaori everything. You tell her about growing up in Daegu, about the smell of the azaleas at Biseulsan in the spring. You tell her about how your parents had befriended the neighbors, how they had a kid your age, that that kid was Seungcheol—yes, that Seungcheol.

She’s able to anticipate the rest from there, but you fill in the blanks of what she can’t: being sixteen and falling in love, holding hands, the clandestine notes. All those football matches and how your throat would be hoarse from cheering. How nauseous you’d felt applying to university in Seoul, how excited you were when Seungcheol said he was coming with you. That, after you arrived, it felt like you were living in fast-forward. Barely any time to breathe or adjust; no time to just be you and Seungcheol. You had to be a student, someone responsible; Seungcheol had to be a phenom.

“Could you feel it was going to happen?” Kaori asks, now sat ramrod straight, all her attention on you. “Like, did you know?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Maybe I did? It’s hard to say now, all this time later. I know things definitely felt different, like life was pulling us in opposite directions.” You laugh, bitterness coloring the edges. “You couldn’t go two blocks without seeing him on some billboard, and I was just… normal, you know? I wasn’t some rising star athlete like he was, I just went to my classes. How was I supposed to compete with something like that?”

Your roommate hums, leans back into the pillows as she stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t think you were. Maybe that’s why Seungcheol was worried—maybe he felt like you were losing your own identity feeling like you had to keep up.”

You want to push back, argue that you weren’t, that you didn’t, but the truth is that it’s possible. That the shadows created by Seungcheol’s dreams were so massive you wouldn’t be surprised if they unintentionally swallowed you up. “It still wasn’t his choice to make,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

And Kaori already knows all about your hurt, listened as you explained it all and laid everything bare. So when she says, “Sometimes that’s just how it goes, though, babe,” it doesn’t feel condescending. “We do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time. You can say now it wasn’t Seungcheol’s choice to make, because it’s been almost five years and you’ve made a life for yourself separate from him. But the—god, this is gonna sound so patronizing, I am so sorry—but you guys were so young. No one has it all figured out at that age.”

She snorts, runs a hand through her messy hair. “Shit, I’m nearly halfway to thirty and I still don’t know anything.” Adopts a frown. “What do you want now? Do you want closure? Want to try to fix things and become friends?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, biting at a hangnail. “He actually, um. The other day when he stopped by my office, he left me a USB drive? And before you ask, no I did not already look at it.”

“A USB drive? Who does this guy think he is, James Bond?” A pause. “Are you gonna look at it, though?”

You do.

Not until the silver, midnight light creeps in through your bedroom curtains and you’ve stared at the ceiling long enough; waited long enough for texts that never came, for divine intervention to, well, intervene. It never did—fair enough—so you decide to take fate by the reins. Grab your laptop, instant headache from the screen, stick the drive into the port.

It takes a second for it to load, but when it does: dozens of videos, organized by date. Vlogs, by the look of them—some from before your breakup but the majority of them from after.

You’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this.

You click on the first one: a month and a half before both of you moved to Seoul. A fresh-faced Seungcheol appears on your screen, cheeks still round with adolescence. He’s in his room back in Daegu, can’t get the camera angle right. Nostalgia hits you like a ton of bricks as it pans to the side, to the wall behind his bed, and you see all his old posters. Mostly football players you couldn’t name, some girl group he used to love, a few movies. Just below them are some of the notes you’d written him in school, and they’re all you can focus on as he talks about how excited he is for the move.

The next: a few weeks after you’d started classes. By then, Seungcheol was well into the swing of things with Seoul FC. Already a big fish in a small pond, tryout offers from European teams starting to roll in. You can hear yourself in the background stressing over your first exam, wishing a generational curse upon your calculus professor. In the video, Seungcheol laughs, whispers like he’s telling the camera a secret as he talks about how nervous he is for his future. I don’t know why, he says, but it just feels like everything is about to change.

There’s a long pause between that one and the next. You understand why when you look at the date: three months after your breakup. Your hands hover uselessly above your keyboard. Whatever answers you’ve been looking for the last few years are probably in this video, but you can’t bring yourself to open it. Not right away, at least.

You click on a different one at random. Seungcheol’s somewhere in Europe, judging from the language on the signs behind him. Snow falls quietly—whenever he filmed this, it must’ve been early. No one else is around, and he cracks a joke that it’s a good thing, people would probably think he was crazy if they saw him. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going but he narrates the entire walk: points out a cafe he’s grown to love. The way to get to his practice stadium from where he’s standing. Pauses near a restaurant and laughs ruefully, shakes his head, says, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but one of my teammates set me up on a blind date here and I got stood up. You’d probably think that was funny.

(You do. It also makes your chest ache.)

One from two years ago: Seungcheol in a hotel room, clearly nervous. He raises his hand to wave at the camera and you can see the corners of his nails bitten raw. Dark circles beneath his eyes; cheekbones more pronounced than you’ve ever seen them. On the screen, Seungcheol sighs, rakes a hand through freshly-bleached hair. Sucks in a deep breath as he says, I’m so nervous. I’m so—so fucking nervous and I don’t. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I want to call you because you always knew what to say but that’s so fucking selfish. God, we haven’t spoken in years, and it’s my—that’s my fault, I know, so I brought this all on myself. I just want to hear your voice.

Another from a week after that: the color’s returned to his face, and he’s recording from what looks like a penthouse apartment. Sleek, modern; a small white dog napping on the bed beside him. He smiles, looks like he got his teeth fixed, looks like he’s no longer carrying around the weight of the world. Talks endlessly and excitedly about some tournament. Talks so fast you can barely keep up. Talks around words tinged with languages you don’t understand.

Seungcheol wins a championship. Records a drunk vlog from the same night, hair soaked through with god-knows-what—water, champagne, you don’t know. But he looks radiant. Looks like the culmination of two decades of dreaming. He looks happy, free, at peace. He looks like the reason he let you go, why he had to go away.

You scroll to the bottom of the files. Pause at the last video, dated seven months before the term started.

“Hi,” he says, and you can immediately tell everything is all wrong. Seungcheol’s in the dark, face only visible enough to see the tears tracking on his cheeks. “This is going to be the last one of these I make. I don’t know if you, uh—I’m sure you aren’t paying attention to me—my career—anymore, but. I, um. I got hurt. Ruptured my ACL. They’re not sure I’ll…” A sob escapes him. Has you wanting to climb through the screen to hold him, thumb away his tears, tell him everything is going to be okay. “They don’t know if I’ll ever play again.”

Seungcheol no longer looks happy, free, at peace. “Maybe you’ll be happy to hear that,” he continues. “Maybe it’ll help you to know I threw away our relationship for nothing.”

Cut to black.

The sudden silence is deafening. Has you desperately clicking back to the video you’d skipped, the one from just after your breakup. Seungcheol looks the same in that one, too, like the life has been drained out of him.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like I’ll ever show these to you now, since I…

I’m sure I owe you an explanation. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing, I just—things have been so hard, and I’m still trying to make sense of it all. I feel like my life went from zero to a hundred before I could even blink and now I’m scrambling. I didn’t think it was fair to—to drag you through that. Me being away, moving to an entirely different continent. I have faith we could do it, I just. I don’t know, baby, I don’t…

You deserve to have your own life. Be your own person. I’m so scared that the world will never see you for who you are—so beautiful and intelligent and kind. You don’t deserve to be reduced to my partner. And if you ever see this, I know you’re gonna roll your eyes. Probably call me a mean name because I took the choice away from you, because you think I’m trying to be selfless and heroic, and you’d be right. It’s not fair, and I wish I could tell you I’m sorry.

I wish I could just… pluck out my brain and give it to you, because even if it killed me to do it, at least it makes sense to me. And I don’t—I don’t want you to think I’m not hurting. I’ve been sick to my stomach since I left. I know I’m making a mistake, I know I am, I just—how do I do what I think is right in the long-run when it’s not what I want right now, or ever?

I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want you to get over me, and that’s how you know I’m not acting selflessly, because you should. I want you to always be happy, I just… wish it was with me.

So, I’m going to keep making these. I’m going to take you along for the ride, wherever it takes us, because you should be here but I can only hope you can one day understand why you’re not. I’m so—I’m so sorry, I don’t…

I’m sorry.

I love you.

You fall asleep and dream that you were the one meant to meet him at that restaurant.

The first thing you do is make a call to your mother.

“Could you send another container of yakgwa?”

On the other end of the line, your mother tuts, motherly intuition audibly kicking into overdrive. Is probably wearing that all-knowing, sly grin she always does when you try to be coy and evasive. “What happened to the last container I sent?”

“Ah, you know Kaori loves those. They barely lasted an hour after I told her what was in there.”

She hums an acknowledgement. Sounds like she takes a sip of tea. “I remember someone else being quite fond of those cookies, too.”

“Well, they are the most popular cookies in the country, so.”

After haranguing you into admitting they’re for Seungcheol and not your roommate, your mother promises to send them quickly. A few days at most, which buys you enough time to figure out how you’re going to approach the man in question.

The vlogs have turned your entire world upside-down. Answered questions you hadn’t even known you had. Took all that anger and resentment you’d been holding onto and set it free, and now you’re just left with… a void. Want to mend things, and it makes you wonder if such a thing is even possible, if it’s too late, but you don’t let those thoughts get very far.

Instead, you let them spur you into action. Have you sitting in front of your laptop at your desk, office hours long since over, silence creeping in the more the department empties. The thrum of the airconditioning and the tick-tick-tick of the clock are all the only company you have.

You worry if it’ll show on camera, how out of sorts you feel: sweating from the nerves, dabbing at your hairline; cheeks warm to the touch. But you suck in a breath anyway, steel yourself. Look at your webcam and the daunting red circle…

And start recording.

He hadn’t gotten it at first. Not really.

There’d been a container of yakgwa outside his door with his USB drive taped to the top of it. No note—not that he needed one to know who it was from, but he wasn’t sure what it was. A goodbye? A please fuck off forever and never contact me again?

He’d just taken them inside. Ate too many of the cookies while feeling sorry for himself. Maybe had a glass or two of wine to compound the issue, and never, ever considered contacting you. Didn’t think he could bear it if you never wanted to see him again, but he just…

Well, he was drunk and alone and he missed you, and he’d rewatched all those videos he recorded a million times before when he was like this, so what was a million and one?

It’d been the same as every time before: he smiled at the happy parts, cried at all his old wounds. Wanted to reach through the screen and strangle his past self for including that part about the blind date, because he never wanted to date anyone who wasn’t you, why would he say that, felt mortified at the thought of you watching that—

And then there it was.

All the way at the bottom. A new video. One that hadn’t been recorded by him—

Hi, Cheol, you say, and that’s all it takes to reduce him to a sobbing, yearning mess. I’m not sure what to say here. I don’t really record much—sometimes for lectures when the professors are too busy, but never anything personal like this, but I watched every single one you made for me and I thought I should return the favor.

I wanted to tell you everything I’ve been up to since you left, but it hasn’t been much. I got my degree. Tutored a lot in undergrad—the same thing I’m tutoring you in now, actually. I was good at it and it felt good to have something that was mine, you know? I almost moved for grad school. Thought for a while I was going to wind up in New York, but then my parents divorced and it felt like too much, too scary, so I stayed. Kaori also stayed, so we got an apartment together. It’s not much, definitely not as nice as your place, but it’s good enough.

I don’t think I ever told you, but she was seeing a guy for a bit and he was… obsessed with you, to say the least. Thought you were the coolest person in the world. They aren’t seeing each other anymore. Ended pretty badly, but—speaking of which, maybe steer clear of Student Services for a while, too.

Sometimes it felt like failure that I wound up staying here. That I had scholarships from all these far-away, prestigious places and didn’t take advantage of them. That I gave into my fear. And now… I don’t know. Maybe there’s a reason I stayed behind. Maybe there’s a reason you ended up back here, too.

Whatever happens—I don’t want you to think I still blame you. Kaori says we do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time, and I understand now that’s what you did. Even though it hurt me, you were trying to protect me. I get it now. And I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to go to all these places you didn’t know. To have to deal with your injury, the loss of a dream.

You said in one of your videos that you just want me to be happy, and that’s all I want for you, too, whatever that looks like.

Here’s my address if you ever want to come by to talk.

I love you, too.

—and then he’d been up and out the door, feeling stone cold sober, running to the front of his building to wait for his ride.

Felt like the drive took hours. Must’ve hit every red light between his apartment and yours. Took the steps two at a time just to get to your door faster.

There’s a man already standing outside your door when he gets there. One that looks shocked to see him, stars in his eyes, and when Seungcheol says, “Oh, you must be Kaori’s ex,” he looks more like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. Embarrassed in front of his idol.

He knocks on your door and gets no response. Knocks again, harder this time, and he has to try really hard to stifle his laughter when your voice yells from the inside, “Fuck off, Kenji, I already told you she’s not here!”

“It’s me,” Seungcheol yells back.

There’s quiet again. Just enough time for it to feel like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest and follow Kaori’s ex down the hall.

Then you’re yanking the door open—slowly, so slowly, like you’re scared it’s not actually him. Your eyes are brimming with tears when they meet his own, and he doesn’t let himself think, just goes on instinct, when he grabs for you, hands on your cheeks, and presses his lips to yours.

Somehow you taste the same.

Somehow you taste like redemption.

You taste like home.

Seungcheol kisses you until the tears slow. Kisses you until the universe realigns, until he could map your mouth in the dark. Kisses you until all you’re all he knows again.

When he pulls away, you’re gripping at his sweatshirt, don’t want to let him go. He presses his forehead to yours, offers up a million more apologies, starts talking nonsense. Says he’s going to drop microeconomics, what the hell does he know, he barely has a passing grade anyway, what does it matter, he’s such an idiot—

And then you say, “You came back,” and nothing else matters.

“I always will.”

(Later on, as you’re trying to steady your breathing, slick with sweat, your thigh thrown over Seungcheol’s hip as he stares down at you, dopey smile on his face, you say, “Choi Seungcheol, don’t you dare drop that class. I have worked my ass off to get you to barely-passing.”)

if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading! i am still very new at writing for seventeen, so i hope this was acceptable. i'm now going to throw myself into the warped tour vernon fic and will hopefully not go another 7+ months without posting anything. 😭

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

#seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol angst #seungcheol au #scoups angst #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #jewel writes

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sugarlywhispers · 5 months ago

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viking!b.katsuki x fem!reader

a.n; i wanted to give viking!bakugou a try, and honestly, this is all @imaginationmess fault for feeding me fanarts of bakugou and his dragon🙃 luv you tho🤍

Viking Bakugou Katsuki who rides the biggest and most terrifying dragon that has ever existed.

A legend said that his dragon in particular had been going on for generations in his family, no one willing to risk their life to tame it. Until Katsuki’s uncle, Bakugou Kudo, did it. He had been the first in generations to ride this dragon. Yet he understood that the bond between dragon and riders was not consolidated between them.

When Katsuki was eight, the little shit escaped the hut and went towards where the nests were. Kudo almost had a heart attack when he saw the brat far off and almost there. He sprinted as fast as he could, a tragedy already displaying in his head –the kid being incinerated, turned to ashes, and his sister cutting his dick off for being a sorry ass uncle. Fuck, and he would had deserved it. Because even though he had tamed the beast, it was still very unstable to let anyone close to it; one of his own men had suffered the consequences of trying to get close, more than half his body had been burned. He was no longer part of their battles.

However, Kudo saw in first person how a dragon’s bond was created. Between his terrifying dragon and his little nephew.

It hadn’t looked much from his perspective, yet he felt the magical aura surrounding them. Katsuki laughed as he touched the dragon’s snot like it was a mer pup, happy and excited while climbing its leg with such ease until he was up on its back, right behind the head. The dragon himself helped the kid to reach the place. Kudo noticed then the beast’s eyes shining a very resplendent gold. Yep, that was definitely a bond.The kid was anything but scared, as he caressed the dragon's head, hugging it even.

Kudo smiled, shaking his head, hands over his hips as he took a deep breath, relaxing. The dragon was only letting him ride it because it knew that Katsuki was his bonded rider and Kudo was related by blood to the kid.

As years went by, the bond only became stronger and deeper. Kudo would ride it in battles, but once at home, the brat and the beast were like one. When Katsuki turned eighteen, Kudo retired from battles and settled down with a wife and kids at the village located next to that of where their family originally came from. From that day on, the brat became the dragon’s one and only owner.

Katsuki was the only human being able to control, care for and command this massive dragon, also becoming the nightmare of most villages in the world. Both, dragon and rider were vicious, deadly and feared.

You still remember the day Bakugou Katsuki landed on your lands. The bright blue sky suddenly turned dark, the huge dragon he rode clouding the sun above. Everyone knew what it meant. Destruction and chaos, the end of their peaceful lives.

The Leader of the village, your dad, didn’t waste time in trying to negotiate a truce between them.

And that truce is you.

You are forced to marry him, to leave your family, friends and life there and go with this barbaric man. You are a bit afraid he is some sort of savage. Rumors told how violent he was, how scary he looked with his scars and aggressive attitude towards everyone. Now that you have said man in front of you, you agreed with all of them.

You were expecting him to manhandle you, to treat you like another woman he picked to use for his own pleasure. Yet all you received since you stepped foot in his village, in his home, had been nothing but coldness and distance. He has kept to himself, doing his stuff and trying not to get in your way. Least to say, it has been completely awkward since the ceremony.

When you are getting ready for it, his mom enters his-your hut. She smiles, a sincere feeling in her eyes, “Being the daughter of a Leader sucks, ain’t it?”

You look down, a slight smile on your face that agrees with her but eyes filled with tears you’re holding back. “It does.”

You feel her hand on your shoulder, and the little squish she gives it in reassurance makes the knot in your throat tighter.

“My son is not a charming prince; however, I know the kind of man I raised him to be. You’re gonna be okay.”

You don’t say anything in response. You don’t even look back at her, but you think she didn’t expect it either as she walks out, leaving you alone. As you walk towards the entrance, fully knowing that once you cross it, your soon to be husband will be waiting at the end of the aisle, all you can wish is that Ms. Bakugou is right.

When the ceremony reaches its end, the old lady of his village drawing the symbols of union, love and family in your foreheads, Bakugou extends his hands for you to lay yours over his. You still haven’t looked him in the eyes, but you do what's expected for the ceremony. When your hands touch the skin of his, you can't avoid thinking how warm they feel. Big calloused, rough and strong hands surround yours, and you don't hate the feeling. On the contrary, it’s quite comforting. The old lady ties a beautifully white and gold silk ribbon around your hands, symbolizing the union of the souls.

While everyone cheers, you finally decide to raise your eyes towards him. Deep red eyes collide with yours, making a shudder run your body at their intensity. Surprisingly, it isn’t a bad feeling, but it is something you have never felt before.

A tingly feeling swirls in your stomach as you realize Bakugou Katsuki's face is getting closer and closer to yours, his intent clear. He is going to kiss you. Your first kiss. You close your eyes instinctively and his lips touch yours in a quick and short peck. Yet it feels like all the tingles in your stomach exploded, sending warmth throughout your whole body.

That has been the only close and physical interaction you have had until today.

Bakugou Katsuki decides to give you space to accommodate and get to know his village and people around.

It doesn't mean he doesn't want you. However, he never makes any sort of move towards you.

Until one day…

Bakugou got back that morning to the village after being away for almost four days with the victory of conquering another village, so you decide to bring him some of the sweet bread you have cooked as a welcome back. You have to admit, this time with him since the marriage ceremony hasn’t been bad. Civil, even. Despite his distance and cold attitude, he has never disrespected or forced you to nothing. Not even that first night as husband and wife. He didn’t even try, he simply picked one of the pillows and clothes to make a bed on the floor, closer to the entrance door, and slept there. You have been very confused. Your mum had previously told you everything of what was expected from a woman on the night of the ceremony. You expected even a fight between you two, because of course you didn’t want that to happen with a complete stranger like he was still to you.

Nevertheless, he never hovers over you. But you do feel his eyes on you whenever he’s around. He always makes some sort of sound for you to acknowledge that his presence is close. Katsuki is attentive to your reactions whenever you are both alone and doesn't even raise his voice at you. Ever.

Then again, he is his ruthless self with everyone else.

You tried looking for him around the village, but couldn't find Bakugou anywhere. So you walk towards the woods where you know the dragon's nests are, where they rest. Even though Bakugou has explicitly forbidden you to go near there, due to the danger their dragons were most of the time, even for the riders.

You are confident Katsuki will be there, so probably he will see you from a distance and you wont need to get that close. But when you arrive, you come face to face with the massive beast: Bakugou's dragon, Cweorth.

You have seen it at a distance, but having the beast up close is a completely different experience. Its whole body is red, with golden piercing eyes that feel very much like Bakugou’s itself. Its wings are huge as they spread in a stretching movement up high, almost taller than the big trees that surround the woods. You can even see some flare of gold in its scale that actually looks mesmerizing. Majestic.

Your basket falls to the floor in shock when the beast finally looks down at your small, minuscule being. It watches you intently, with a scowl on its face –like beast, like owner. But far away from feeling scared by it, you feel intrigued. You feel enamored even as you stand there, looking at such majestic creature.

Bakugou is actually several meters away, taking a bath in the lake close to the nests, cleaning all the blood and dirt off his body before going to the hut he shares with you. He has some scratches and cuts from the fights, but nothing deep or worrisome. He is very proud in saying he is the fucking best out there.

When he's walking through the woods back to the nests of their dragons, he sees it.

His whole body freezes. You are standing there, your arm and hand stretched upwards. His own dragon, the one who eats men like candy at Katsuki's own command, the one who has burned villages in seconds with his strong fire, the one who hates anyone’s touch or closeness that isn't Bakugou himself... His dragon has his snot close to you, letting you pet him with its eyes closed, enjoying your affection like a small puppy dog.

And he can not fucking believe what his eyes are seeing.

Of all the women he has had before you, none were brave enough to even look at the beast. They had all been afraid to death.

And there you stand, looking even fascinated by it. Eyes shining and smiling as you feel for the first time what its skin is like under your touch. You look… beautiful. Gorgeous. Heavenly sent. Fuck. You have him in your hands already.

Bakugou Katsuki then decides:

He will fucking kiss the ground you walk. He will give you everything you ask of him.

You want certain clothes to wear? He will search for them for you. You want certain foods? He will fly his dragon to wherever they are made or grown on. You want a land? He will fucking burn every single thing or life it takes to give it to you.

You want him? He will gladly give himself completely to you.

Well, he already is.

#mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #viking!bakugou katsuki #uncle!kudo #mha bakugou x reader #mha bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou katsuki x reader #mha scenario #mha imagines #mha drabble #bnha imagines #bnha drabble #bnha scenarios

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cvntydazai · 6 months ago

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bad arguments

how these bsd characters are after a bad argument

pairing; dazai osamu x fem!reader, chuuya nakahara x fem!reader, ryunosuke akutagawa x fem! reader

word count; 916

content warning; unedited, angst, fluff, arguing, miscommunication

a/n; just something random i wrote while taking a break from my dazai fic!

DAZAI OSAMU:

arguing with dazai was exhausting, this man would rather die a painful death than admit he was in the wrong about anything, it was usually why your fights got more out of hand than they ever needed to be. you hated how he tried to deflect from a situation instead of just owning up to his mistakes.

one particularly heated argument had you so riled up you had to leave your apartment, no longer wanting to look your lover in the eye until he was ready to apologize. he didn’t even spare you a glance as you left, a smug expression on his face.

you make your return to your apartment many hours later, it was now nighttime and much too late to be out, especially alone. the first thing your eye catches when you walk through the door is dazai’s fluffy head of hair resting on the couch. you huff, putting your coat up before walking over to the couch.

“are you ready to apol-“ you stop mid-sentence when you realize dazai’s asleep.

he looked uncomfortable, heavy eyebags and his head resting at an awkward angle on the arm rest. you couldn’t help it, a soft coo leaves your lips and it wakes him instantly. those honey eyes were everything but smug this time around.

“my flower, you’re back.” he mumbles, large hands reaching up to caress your face.

“i am..” you say, he smiles.

you continue to stare into his gaze for just a little longer, the silence draping over the two of you like a warm blanket. he knows that what you’re truly waiting for is his apology, he was more than happy to give it to you.

“i’m sorry, for everything. forgive me?” he says at last in his usual supple tone.

of course you forgave him, you always would.

CHUUYA NAKAHARA:

fights with chuuya usually didn’t last long, you two actually pride yourself on your communication when it comes to your relationship. he would never try to hurt you intentionally, you’re the most important person to him and he makes sure you never forget it.

but this one fight had you both out of control. you don’t remember who started it but no one was willing to end it, anything that came out of either of your mouths was only more fuel for the fire. if you were being honest with yourself, it terrified you. it wasn’t chuuya and his capabilities that had you so scared, you knew he would never bring any harm your way, it was the reality that this fight could be the ending to your relationship.

you didn’t want it to end like this, it couldn’t end like this. he was all you had and you would never forgive yourself if this was how it ends. so caught up in your own frightened mind, you didn’t even notice that chuuya quieted down and was staring into your eyes.

“ey, why are you crying?” he didn’t mean for the question to come out as harsh as it did, he was just so taken aback.

when you didn’t reply he really started to worry, his mind no longer focused on whatever you two were bickering about.

“come on doll, please don’t cry. i’m sorry.” his voice only made more salty tears spill from your eyes, in your opinion you didn’t deserve such tenderness.

he wrapped his arms around your frame, his hand on the back of your head and his face buried in your hair. he let you sob your heart out, even if it made his own heart ache. when you finally calmed down you were ready to speak.

“am i still the most important person in the world to you?” he smiled.

“of course you are.”

RYONUSUKE AKUTAGAWA:

you knew your boyfriend wasn’t good at communicating, a part of you had accepted that wholeheartedly. he made his efforts because of how deeply he cared for you and you felt that was enough most of the time. your arguments were mostly about his carelessness when it came to his own personal safety, his nonchalant attitude to your concerns irritated you down to your core.

“if you’re going to act stupid and put yourself in avoidable danger then i’m leaving, i can’t take this.” you misspoke, his eyes widened.

what you truly meant was that you were leaving for a moment to calm down, not leaving him entirely. you could only stare in shock at what nonsense you just spewed from your mouth, guilt weighed down your body, preventing you from taking even one step towards him. it took seeing the fear in his eyes to finally break you free from your mind.

“i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean it like that i swear.” you tried to mend, now wanting nothing more than to put this whole argument behind you.

he let you pull him into a hug, you held his waist tightly to you. when you felt his hand holding the back of your head you breathed a sigh of relief.

“i know you didn’t mean it that way, but it scared me.” you nodded, understanding.

you mumbled a few more apologies and once you both had calmed down you were able to talk about some of your frustrations. it was mostly you talking and him listening, but it felt good knowing he was listening with such care. he promised to be more careful for you, and you promised to watch your wording when you’re upset.

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader smut #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #akutagawa ryunosuke #akutagawa x reader #ryunosuke akutagawa x reader #bsd x reader angst #bsd angst #bungo stray dogs angst #bungo stray dogs fluff

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i2sunric · 1 month ago

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𝗬𝗢𝗨’𝗥𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗠𝗘 (s.jy)

unrequited love (but is it really?)

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: bestfriend!jake x reader (f)

SUMMARY: you’d loved him quietly for so long, it felt like a part of who you were. but love, when unspoken, had a way of festering. it filled the silences, lingered in the spaces between you, and left you questioning everything.

WARNINGS: heartbreak, too little communication (barely one at all), reader watches from afar, jake is kinda a f boy (but make it romantically, lol), if only they confessed they’d be happy, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 1st December 2024

WC: 2k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @cloud-lyy (project) @whateverhoon @theothernads

NOW PLAYING: You’re losing me (From The Vault) by Taylor Swift

a/n: very low effort, i’m sorry

Middle school had been a maze of awkward hellos and the formation of friendships, but finding Jake had felt like finding your person.

He'd been the boy who shared his snacks with you when you forgot your lunch, sat beside you in class, whispering jokes that got you both in trouble, and the first person you called when something — anything — happened.

“You're stuck with me now," Jake had said that first day, his grin as bright as the summer sun.

His cheeks were round and he was wearing glasses while his brown hair fell onto his forehead, a beautiful mess.

"Lucky me," you teased, rolling your eyes. But deep inside, you had never felt luckier.

You weren't one to make friendships fast, all your attempts at small talks always ended up being awkward and uneasy, usually with you making a fool out of yourself.

You were glad Jake had been extroverted enough to adopt you.

You still remember the middle school science fair, which was supposed to be a showcase of brilliance and innovation—or so your teacher had declared with far too much enthusiasm. To you and Jake, it was more like a recipe for chaos.

The two of you had decided on making a volcano that would erupt using baking soda and vinegar. It seemed simple enough, but it was proving to be anything but.

"Alright, now we try," he gawked excitedly, holding high the plastic bottle that served for your volcano.

The construction-paper casing you had made in arts and crafts sat beside it, drying after unfortunate an incident involving too much paint.

"Wait," I said, looking at his hands where the measuring cup full was held. "How much vinegar did you put?"

"Uh…" He paused, looking suspiciously guilty. "I don't know. A lot?"

"Jake!" you groaned, trying not to laugh. "It's supposed to be precise! What if it explodes everywhere?"

"That's the point, isn't it?" he shot back, grinning mischievously.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide your smile as Jake dramatically tipped the baking soda into the bottle.

For a moment, nothing happened, and the two of you leaned in closer, peering into the bottle like a pair of amateur scientists.

Then it happened.

With a loud whoosh, the vinegar and baking soda reacted with more enthusiasm than either of you had anticipated. The foam burst out of the bottle, spilling onto the desk and splattering onto your hands and clothes.

"Jake!" you shrieked, jumping back as the foam continued to pour out, dripping onto the floor.

Jake was laughing so hard he could barely stand. "It works!" he managed to choke out gasps for air.

“You're impossible," you said, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably as laughter bubbled out of you.

"Admit it," Jake said, wiping his hands on his already-ruined shirt. "This is way cooler than whatever the other kids are doing."

You shook your head, still smiling. "We're definitely getting detention for this."

"Totally worth it," he said, grinning at you.

Through the years, Jake had been your constant— your rock, your safe haven.

Along the way, your feelings changed. It wasn't his laugh that warmed your heart; it was how his hair fell in his eyes when he was focused on something, the way he would hold the door for you without a second thought, and the way he knew how you were feeling without your ever having to say anything.

But you kept those feelings locked away, terrified of what might happen if you said them out loud.

You thought that maybe, with all the high school matters and puberty hitting, Jake would grow distant from you.

You weren't as popular as him; you liked being on your own or with your small circle of friends, especially due to your awkward nature.

But, much to your surprise, your connection only got stronger.

The hallways were never empty, always alive with laughter, chatter, and the occasional sound of lockers slamming shut. You could usually maneuver them with ease, but today was different.

You could feel it— the weight of whispers, eyes darting toward you, and the kind of sharp-edged giggles that made your stomach churn.

You knew they were talking about you. They usually did.

“She's got Jake wrapped around her finger, and I saw her laughing and sweet talking to Sunghoon too. She wants everybody, uh?”

"I know, right? She's so clingy. It's so embarrassing."

The voices were muffled but not small enough, and their words pierced into you like small, jagged pebbles. You continued walking, trying to keep your head high, but it was hard to avoid the way their laughter trailed after you.

As you turned the corner, almost colliding with him, Jake leaned casually against your locker, waiting for you, just like he always did before class.

His smile vanished the instant he saw your face. "Hey," he said quietly, straightening up. "What's wrong?"

“Nothing," you mumbled, fumbling with your combination lock.

Jake's eyebrows furrowed, and he looked down the hall, where the girls were still whispering, their eyes darting between you and Jake. It didn't take him long to put the pieces together.

"Are they bothering you?" he asked, this time sharper.

"No," you said, lying, avoiding his eyes. "It's fine, let's just go to class.

Jake wasn't convinced. He stood there a moment, his jaw clenched, before turning on his heel and walking straight toward the group of girls.

"Jake!" you hissed, grabbing at his arm, but he was already out of reach.

"Hey," he said, his voice even but with a firmness to it as he came to a stop in front of them.

The girls froze; smug expressions faltered under his gaze. "Got something to say about my best friend?"

The hallway grew eerily quiet.

One of the girls, the ringleader of the group, stammered, "W-We weren't talking about her—"

"Right," Jake interrupted her, his tone heavy with sarcasm. "Because I definitely didn't just hear you." he sneered bitterly "Listen, if you've got a problem with her, you've got a problem with me. And trust me, you don't want that."

The girls looked at each other uneasily and then murmured something about needing to get to class, scurrying away.

Jake turned back to you, his expression softening when he saw the mix of embarrassment and gratitude on your face.

"You didn't have to do that," you said quietly as he walked back to you.

"Of course I did," he replied, slinging an arm over your shoulder as if to shield you from the rest of the world. "No one messes with you. Not on my watch."

It was the protectiveness in his voice that warmed your heart, and as the two of you walked to class together, you couldn't help but think that Jake had always been more than just your best friend— he was your safe place, your unwavering ally.

Starting university together had been exciting, a new beginning for the both of you.

New faces, new experiences, and yet the comfort of Jake remained the same. You still would study late into the night together, eat cheap takeout, and walk across campus under the streetlights.

Then Jake started dating.

It wasn't sudden. It began with a girl from his biology class, someone perky and charming.

Then there was a girl in his intramural soccer team, followed by a string of casual dates that never seemed to last long but still stung like tiny pinpricks against your heart.

You told yourself it was fine, that you had no right to feel this way. Jake was your best friend, and he was happy. That was what mattered.

But it's another thing watching him laugh with someone else, watching him give away the pieces of himself you selfishly wanted for yourself— it just hurt in a way no words could describe.

It's one Friday night; Jake convinces you to join him at a party. That wasn't your scene, really, but he had begged, promising it just would not be the same without you.

The music was loud, the laughter even louder, but none of it could drown out the sound of your own thoughts.

You stood by the corner of the room, nursing your drink and pretending not to notice the way Jake's smile lit up the space.

He was in his element: talking, laughing, charming people around him with ease. His dyed blond hair caught the light as he leaned in to hear someone over the noise. And though you tried not to stare, you couldn't help it. He had that effect on you; always had.

You’d loved him quietly for so long, it felt like a part of who you were. But love, when unspoken, had a way of festering.

It filled the silences, lingered in the spaces between you, and left you questioning everything.

“Hey,” Jake’s voice cut through your thoughts, startling you.

You looked up to find him standing in front of you, his signature grin in place. "You've been awfully quiet tonight," he said, tilting his head. "Everything okay?"

You forced a smile, hoping it was convincing. "Yeah, just tired."

Jake studied you for a moment, his gaze softening. "You sure? You've been kind of… distant lately.”

The concern in his voice made your chest tighten. He cared. Of course, he cared. But not in the way you wanted him to.

"I'm fine," you lied, taking a sip of your drink to avoid his piercing gaze.

Jake frowned slightly but didn't push. He never did. It was one of the things you loved about him, his ability to read the room, to know when to give you space.

“Well," he said finally, his voice lightening. "If you need anyone to talk to, you know where to find me."

You nodded, gave him a small smile. "Thanks, Jake."

Yet even as he walked away, your heart was aching, knowing that he'd be there for you but just never in the way you actually needed him to be.

Later that night, after most of the party had cleared out, you found yourself sitting on the back porch, staring up at the stars.

Almost everyone was gone, just a small afterparty happening inside, though you didn't want to be part of any. The chill in the air was a welcome distraction from the turmoil in your chest.

"You okay?" Jake's voice came again, softer this time.

You turned to find him standing in the doorway, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

He stepped outside and sat down beside you, the warmth of his presence seeping into your skin.

"Done cleaning?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head, leaning back against the railing. "I was worried about you," he admitted.

Your heart clenched. "I told you, I'm fine."

Jake let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "You're an awful liar, you know that?" he eyed you up and down "Seriously, you're quiet. more than usual."

The corner of your mouth twitched, but the smile didn't quite reach your eyes. "Maybe I just don't have anything worth saying.

Jake turned to him, his face soft but serious. "You always have something worth saying," he said. "You just don't let people hear it."

It was a comment that hit closer to home than he probably realized, and for a moment, you considered telling him the truth-about how you felt, about how much it hurt to love him from a distance. But fear kept the words locked in your throat.

Instead, you laughed quietly, shaking your head. "You're too good at this, you know?"

"At what?"

"At making people feel seen," you said, glancing over at him. "It's kind of unfair."

Jake chuckled, his gaze softening. "I just care about the people I love," he said simply.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, even though you knew they weren't meant the way you wanted them to be.

"Jake," you started, voice shaking very slightly. "What if—"

But before you could finish, the door behind you creaked open, and someone called his name.

One of his last situationships, asking for him to come inside. To join her.

"Hold that thought," he said, standing up.

You nodded and saw him disappear into the house; his figure grew tiny before tucking into it. It sounded in the air-the speech you wanted to say after he was already out the back door.

And with all that, beneath the vast expanse of star, something struck you - maybe love towards Jake would mostly be experienced in silence: the remembering of moments and convincing you enough even when those weren't.

Because you wanted him, his presence, half of his heart. You knew you would be content, even with a quarter of that.

But nothing would occur if one kept silent, afraid of spoiling all those years of friendship for some fleeting thing.

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lavender-bun · 1 year ago

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Hands Off

REQUEST | protective rafe? like maybe theyre at a party and the reader gets into some trouble? LOVE UR WRITINGG

PAIRING | bf!rafe cameron x kook!fem!reader

WARNINGS | non-con touching (not by rafe ofc), drinking, protective!rafe

A/N | thank you!! I hope this is what you wanted haha 💕

◃◦--------------●--------------◦▹

You were having the time of your life, just dancing and drinking, distracting yourself from the current family drama that was going on at home. Tonight you forbid yourself to think about any of it and Rafe was more than happy to help you out with that.

Right now you were practically grinding against him, your arms reaching up to wrap around his neck to pull him into a heated kiss. When he pulled back you were about to take another sip from your cup, frowning when you realized it was empty.

"I'll be right back." You shouted over the loud music, seeing how he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion so you raised your empty cup to show him.

He then nodded, capturing you lips in another quick kiss, watching you leave the dance floor. He turns to chat with Topper and Kelce to kill the time you weren't pressed against him.

You just finished filling your cup when you felt a hand snake around your waist. Smiling you turned around and were about to tease Rafe for being clingy. What you didn't expect was some random idiot you recognized from school, Ryan, when you remembered correctly.

"You're Y/n, right?" He asked and you nodded taking a step to the side so he wasn't touching you anymore.

You grabbed another empty cup to fill up for Rafe, and to avoid this awkward situation, hoping Ryan would get the message and just leave you alone.

Oh how wrong you were.

"Would you like to dance?" he tested the waters, grabbing the cup from your hands to fill it for you as if you're not capable yourself.

"Sorry, I'm not interested-" You quickly turned him down, reaching out to take the cup back but he held it away from your reach.

Either he's incredibly brave or stupid. You and Rafe were the kook couple from the outer banks. The island prince and princess who attend every event or party hand in hand.

"Come on, just one dance, then I'll leave you alone," he smirked.

You cringed on the inside, looking around for any sign of Rafe, or even Topper, cursing under your breath but still smiling like always and trying not to show how uncomfortable you actually were.

"I have a boyfriend." You said, expecting him to now awkwardly walk away but you're startled when he suddenly pulled you against him.

"I don't see him, you?" he whispered and now you were starting to panic, your heart pounding like crazy.

"You better take your fucking hands off my girl before I'll break them." Rafe's sudden voice had you sighing in relief.

Ryan quickly let go of you and you took a few steps back, bumping into Topper who pulled you behind him.

"What? You were all cocky a few seconds ago, what happened?" Rafe laughed, throwing his arm around Ryan's shoulder. "How about we go outside, hm? Have a nice chat?" he emphasized the word 'nice' with a quick raise of his eyebrows.

"I didn't-" he started to apologize but Rafe just dragged him away and outside with Kelce following right behind them.

You wanted to go after them but Topper stood in front of you, blocking your way out. "Whoa, don't worry about them, they'll be back soon."

"Top, we both know he won't go easy on him. Let me just-" You walked past him and he grabbed your arm, turning you back to face him.

"And he won't go easy on me either when he finds out I let you go and witness it." he reminded you and you rolled your eyes, fixing your dress and trying to brush off the uneasy feeling you have in your chest while Topper eyes you with genuine concern. "You good?"

"Mhm, just a little shaken up. I'm alright," you assured him.

You looked around, seeing Rafe coming back inside rubbing his knuckles while walking towards you. He was breathing heavily, and you reached up to fix a few strains of his hair.

Looking down at his hands you gasped softly, seeing how bruised his knuckles were. "Rafe..."

"Hey, I'm okay, you should see him," he smirked proudly and you hit his chest before burying your face in it.

He wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head before asking. "Are you okay?"

You just nodded against him, holding onto his polo shirt to ground yourself. Rafe looks down at you and knows the night was done for. The only thing you wanted right now was laying in bed with him holding you close.

"Wanna go home?" he asked and the second you nodded he said quick goodbyes to his friends, leading you outside to his truck.

He helps you in and closes the door for you, rushing to get into the driver's side, starting the car, and turning onto the road. He places his hand on your thigh, squeezing it for reassurance.

"I love you." You told him, taking his hand in yours tightly.

"I love you more, baby." he flashed you a smile, kissing the back of your hand and focusing back on the road.

◃◦--------------●--------------◦▹

Taglist

For everything:

@lokigirlszendaya @buckymydarlingangel @superlegend216

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron angst #obx x reader #obx fanfiction #obx fic #outer banks x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x female reader

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wonderjanga · 2 months ago

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I’m Never Going Back to That Farm

Clark was talking to Marvel and he realized the man didn’t have anyone to celebrate Christmas with. So, he invited him over. Cause why not? Might as well spread some Christmas spirit. What he didn’t expect was…

Ma Kent: “Clark, your home!” *hugs her son*

Supes: “It’s good to see you too Ma

Ma Kent: “Oh, and who is your little friend-” *looks over to Marvel before doing a double take* “C.C.?”

Marvel: “Huh?”

Ma Kent: “Oh my God, C.C. is that really you?” *turns around to call Pa Kent* “Honey! Come here and look who Clark brought over!”

Supes and Marvel: *share a look*

Pa Kent: “What’s wrong Martha?” *comes from the kitchen* “Charley!? Is that really is you?” *rubs his eyes and looks again* “God, we thought you died in the plane crash! Also, Jesus, you’ve grown 2 feet.”

Supes: “Your name is Charley?” *looks over to Marvel*

Ma Kent: “Oh no sweetie, it’s Clarence, but this guy thought the name was too boring. So we either called him Charley or C.C.”

Marvel: “Haha… Yeah.” *oozing awkwardness*

Supes: *staring with a hint of betrayal*

As for why Clark felt betrayed? Well, his parents knew about Marvel’s entire secret identity before he even did! But, that betrayal was quickly forgotten when his Ma and Pa decided to go down memory lane and pull out a box Clark had never seen before.

Supes: “What’s all this?”

Ma Kent: “Just some old keepsakes your father and I look back on every now and then.”

Pa Kent: *pulls out a photo* “Oh I remember this one. One of my biggest races.” *shows a photo of Ma and Pa Kent, and C.C. and Marilyn all smiling at the camera while Pa Kent is holding a second place trophy*

Supes: “Are you wearing a leather jacket here? Also who’s that?” *points to Marilyn*

Marvel: “That’s my uh…” *looks to the Ma and Pa Kent before looking back to Clark* “My wife?”

Supes: “Wife?!”

Ma Kent: *ignores him* “Speaking of her, where is Marilyn? Did she not come along? Are you two still married?”

Marvel: *also ignores him* “Oh uhm… She didn’t survive the crash.” *still super awkward*

*silence*

Ma Kent: “Oh Charles… I’m so sorry.”

Pa Kent: “And the kids?”

Supes: “Kids?!”

Marvel: *continues ignoring him* “They’re doing good. Mary and Billy are twelve now.”

Ma Kent: “Oh that’s just wonderful. Say, Clark, isn’t Jon the same age as Charley’s kids?”

Supes: “He’s a year younger.”

Pa Kent: *puts the photo of the four of them back into the box* “You two should set up a little playdate.”

Marvel: “Maybe.” *awkward smile*

So now Clark is completely floored. This man that he’s known for nearly 5 years has had a wife who died??? Not only that, but he has two whole children??? Also Cap knew his parents when they were younger??? He’s definitely going to ask more about that playdate though. Jon should have more superpowered friends his age.

Later during dinner…

Pa Kent: “You know, Charley it surprises me how much you haven’t changed.”

Marvel: “Huh…? Whatdya mean?” *shoveling food in his mouth because it delicious*

Ma Kent: “Well, for starters, you look the exact same.” *little laugh as she puts more food on Marvel’s plate*

Pa Kent: “And when you’re not being super awkward, your personality hasn’t changed all that much either.”

Marvel: “You’ve noticed me being awkward?”

Supes: “It’d be kind of hard not to notice, Cap.”

Billy found out more about his parents from this one Christmas alone than he had in his entire life up until now. That is why he will not be coming back to this farm ever again. He’ll send Christmas cards, he might even send a gift or two, but never again. He doesn’t want these two to realize their friend is actually dead. They’re sweet little old people who don’t deserve that. But other than all that, Billy is super happy to find out he and his dad are very similar in personality. It makes him feel closer to the man.

Also, I went on Wikipedia to learn more about the Kent’s and apparently Pa Kent was a race car driver so in case anybody was confused about the race thing, there’s your explanation.

Also, also, as for how the Batsons and the Kents knew each other? Let’s say that Marilyn grew up in Smallville and met Martha. Then Marilyn moved away to Fawcett, but the two still kept in touch. Then both of the women met their respective husbands and they all got together to be a nice little friend group. And then, you know, the Batsons died.

Also, also, also, after this whole thing, Clark started calling Billy Charley or C.C. which made Billy violently flinch when it first happened. After a while though, he grew used to it because he’d rather be called Charley and have someone think he’s C.C. Batson instead of someone thinking he’s Billy.

Also, also, also, also, (I’m sorry I can’t help but add more) when Clark thought no one was looking, he whipped out his phone and took several pictures of the photo of the Kents and Batsons. Or more accurately, he took photos of the part of the picture with C.C. in a leather jacket. Marvel just didn’t seem like the type so he wanted recorded evidence so he could be sure he wasn’t crazy.

Alright I’m done now. Super duper early Christmas post, yay!

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics #clark kent #superman #ma kent #pa kent #jonathan kent #martha kent

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shy-writer-999 · 2 months ago

Text

Summary: On tonight’s menu is Sanji, pillow humping, instruction, and praise. Enjoy! ~3.2k words.

CW: Afab reader w/gendered pet names (‘pretty girl’), dirty talk, pillow humping, masturbation, praise, instruction, edging, tiny bit of crying, sloppy head and deep throating.

MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

Sanji will never forget the day he walked in on you humping your pillow. The concentration on your face, your flushed cheeks, your ruffled hair—all of it was seared in his brain indefinitely.

That day, you let out a squeak (or was it a screech?) of embarrassment and toppled over, bright red and frozen. He took in the sight with ravenous eyes, saving a mental screenshot. “Fuck. Sorry to barge in, princess. Just wanted to let you know that dinner’s ready.”

He closed the door almost as quickly as he opened it and stalked away to the bathroom. The food could wait for another three minutes. That’s all the time he would need to cum on his fist.

A couple weeks later, he broached the subject.

“I want to see you do it again, my love.” He was initially nervous making a raunchy request like this. He has a general proclivity to making love or letting you use him however you like. But he had been ruminating on this idea for a while and he was insatiable.

“You want me to hump my pillow while you watch?” Puzzled, you weren’t sure you had heard him correctly.

“Mhm. Please? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

“Okay, you can watch.” You smiled and his heart thumped. He was painfully infatuated with you.

Not long thereafter, you hovered over a pillow, poised at the end of your bed. Sanji sat on a chair in front of you. His thighs were spread wide and he had no cigarette—he needed to be as focused as possible.

You looked at him, hesitant and embarrassed. This didn’t need to be awkward, but… he was fully clothed, and you were completely naked. It added to the effect. It’s like you were about to put on a show.

You and Sanji had been seeing each other for a couple months at this point, but it was taking some time to get fully adjusted to Sanji being more than just a crewmate. This added to that feeling of hesitation.

“Don’t be shy, my love. Just do it like you did before.” His voice was soothing and gentle.

“I will but… it’s a little hard to just hump my pillow and get off immediately.”

“Could I talk you through it? Give you instructions?” You weren’t expecting him to say that. Blush creeping up your neck, threatening to take over your face, and you nodded.

“What were you thinking about when I walked in on you last time?”

“You.” You had no idea why you felt so shy and timid right now. Usually, it was you who took the lead in the bedroom. But now you were on full display, vulnerable and on the verge of getting performance anxiety.

“You were thinking about me?” The hint of smugness in his voice accompanied some tenderness as well. “What about me, exactly?”

“That one time when you fucked me really hard a few weeks ago and then came on my face.” The blush took over your face completely now.

“After you squirted?”

“Mhm.” You nodded again, cheeks smarting with heat.

Another soft smile from the handsome chef. “Do you remember how I started to finger you through your panties first? Think about that and start to move your hips slowly.”

You did as he said, albeit apprehensively. You delicately rolled on the smooth fabric while Sanji continued to jog your memory.

“I ran my fingers up and down, then I rubbed little circles on your clit, right? And you started moaning so sweetly. It felt good, didn’t it?”

“Y-yeah,” you answered and maintained Sanji’s blistering eye contact. He broke it every few seconds to stare down at the place where your flesh moved on the pillow.

“What did I do after that?” He prompted.

“You ate me out.” As you gingerly shifted back and forth, pressure built on your clit. It didn’t feel good yet, but something was certainly building.

Sanji continued. “What was the best part of me eating you out?”

With one particularly well-placed grind on your sensitive spot, your hips bucked.

“The best part was when you fucked me with your tongue… and rubbed my clit with your fingers at the same time.”

“Mmmm.” Sanji paused as he savored the memory. “I remember that. You got worked up so fast, it was cute. Keep moving your hips, okay? Just increase the pace a little for me.”

You did as he said, undulating slightly faster. The friction on your clit was turning into small zaps of electricity.

“Does it feel good yet, baby?” He was laser-focused on you. Your blush had subsided by now as you got distracted with mounting pleasure from your tingling core.

You nodded soundlessly. Faint rustling noises of your skin on the fabric filled in the room, barely audible. Sanji was hard and the tent in his pants was showing, large and impressive.

“Keep going like that, sweetheart. You look so pretty right now.”

You smiled at him in between thrusts and his cock twitched.

He prompted you again. He wanted you to narrate the encounter for him, to relive the sex that you had initially masturbated to when he walked in on you. “What happened next?”

“You put your cock in me—fuck—and told me how good I was being for you.” Your voice strained.

“Did you like it when I said that to you, darling?” Sanji’s tone was warm. He could tell by your facial expression that you were starting to buzz with pleasure and fuck, it got him off.

“Yeah, I did—fuck—Sanji.” Hearing his name tumble from your lips made his cock jumped again. He stared intently at the place where you pressed yourself on the pillow.

“Well, if that’s the case, you’re being so good for me right now. Following my instructions so well. Why don’t you go move a little faster?”

Your breath hitched at his suggestion, and you started to rock your hips faster. Arousal seeped out of you and heat simmered in your stomach.

“Are you getting wet yet, baby?” Sanji’s voice was positively oozing with lust. He crept a hand to his aching erection and started palm it.

“Yes, Sanji.” You answered, breathless, becoming aware of just how wet you were. You were soaking the fabric and it allowed you to hump smoother, with more fluidity and ease.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” When you met his eyes, he grazed his palm harder over his cock and groaned softly. “Fuck, you look so good.”

His praise went straight between your thighs and you whimpered. He had to bite his lip to keep in another groan. He didn’t want to get too riled up yet.

Sanji was determined to talk you through the whole tryst. He noticed how your expression was starting to change. As your groove quickened, he observed that your eyes were getting dazed and glossier, your mouth hung open in concentration, and your cheeks were still pink… it was making him feel feral and rabid.

You brushed your clit at the perfect angle and your hips bucked again. That was his cue. Sanji unzipped his pants and tugged the waistband down along with his underwear. His long cock sprang out, red and inflamed around the head, smeared with precum and twitching. He didn’t touch himself yet, though.

“What else did you like about us having sex?” He asked, trying to keep you as present and cognizant as possible. It was far too early for you to get lost in a haze of pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, it feels good Sanji. I—I liked when you played with my clit, fuck, and made me squirt. And when you said those things to me.”

He hummed, content with his progress so far. You sure looked like you were enjoying it. Each thrust looked more desperate than the last.

“How do you feel, gorgeous? Are you making a mess of yourself yet?”

Your back arched at one ecstatic roll. “Feels so good Sanji—’m so wet, fuck, feels even better when you watch.”

He groaned at your last words and brought a hand to his hard length. As he dragged pearls of precum down his shaft, his hips jerked upwards. He pulled his shirt up to run a hand over his abs and happy trail as he lazily started to move his fist up and down.

“Press down harder, my love.” His instructions, once followed, elicited a full-fledged moan from your lips. You dug your hips down forcefully. He could see a sizable stain on the fabric any time you pulled your hips back.

“Fuck Sanji, fuck, fuck.” As you keened his name, he tightened his grip around his cock.

“You look so beautiful. Don’t you want to go faster?” He purred and continued to stare at you rhythmically ride the pillow.

You nodded and whimpered. “Wanna go faster.”

“Mmmm. Needy little thing. Lean forward and brace yourself on your forearms. Now hump faster and look at me.”

As you collapsed forward to rest on your forearms, the angle of your eyes upwards and your position in general made you realize how pathetic and horny you must look, like an animal, rutting away for Sanji to instruct.

“Ah—ah fuck, Sanji, fuck ‘m gonna cum soon,” you keened, feverishly grinding down onto the sopping-wet mound. He was stoking his cock faster now, hips pressing up every few seconds to fuck his fist better. When he heard you say you were about to cum, his tone dropped all warmth. He responded immediately.

“Stay still.” He frowned, tone stern and harsh. “Don’t cum yet. We just started. Be patient for me, okay?”

You whined in protest, ceasing movement, while he continued to fuck his fist. Milky precum leaked out of his slit, smudging with each pass of his fingers.

“Tell me what happened after I made you squirt. Walk me through it.” Sanji held your orgasm at bay while he made you recite.

“Y-you kept fucking me.” Now you were frowning, too. You were fully worked up. It wasn’t very nice of him to tease you.

“In what position, dearest?” He loved to hear you get bratty. It made his heart warm and his cock throb.

“Doggy style with your chest pressed on my back…”

“I was humping you like you’re doing to your pillow, right?” Sanji cooed and you nodded, pouting.

The blonde squeezed the base of his cock and held it there for a second while he looked at you—your cheeks were ruddy, you were panting, a faint sheen of sweat glowed on your skin. His heart skipped a beat as he took in the view.

“Then what?” He prodded. “Keep talking, baby. I want to hear you say it.”

You were getting frustrated. You craved friction. You were about to shamelessly start pleading and begging for it. “Sanji,” you whined. “You rubbed my clit again and then you—fuck, Sanji, can I keep going? I need it, please.”

“Finish your sentence, pretty girl.”

“You rubbed my clit again and then you made me cum.” You choked the words out. You were on the verge of crying. You’d never been teased like this before, let alone from Sanji. Your core was pulsing, screaming for attention.

“C’mon, sweetheart. What else? That’s not all that happened.” His tone was one of pity, with traces of playfulness and admiration.

“Sanji, fuck. I gave you head, and you came on my face while you talked down to me. There, that’s all.” You huffed, extremely put out. The agony of being held at bay like this was infuriating.

“Did you like it?”

“Yes, I loved it, Sanji. Now please, please let me keep moving.”

“One more question, darling. What did you like about it?”

Your thighs tensed, readying to keep fucking your pillow at his command. “It—it felt dirty when you talked down to me. Fuck. Felt dirty when you told me what to do.”

Finally. That was the answer that he was looking for. “There you go. Move your hips for me, baby. Back and forth.”

You practically jumped into action, returning to your previous speed rapidly. Every push downwards was greedy and hurried. Sanji stroked his cock faster and precum spilled over his fingers as he praised you—the clacking sounds of his lubricated fist down echoed in the room, along with the muted, lewd sounds falling from your parted lips.

“You’re doing so well for me. Go a little faster.”

The pleasure that was flooding your body in ripples was about to raise to a final crescendo. You moaned his name and rocked erratically over the fabric, chasing the wave of euphoria that beckoned.

“S-sanji, Sanji, fuck ‘m close, so close, fuck, fuck.”

When he responded, his voice was gravelly, sinful and sugar-coated. “You did such a good job being patient, gorgeous. Now cum all over your pillow for me. But look at me when you cum, okay? I want to see it in your eyes.”

You mewled his name as you pushed down harder, humped faster, and clawed fistfuls of the covers below you. Sanji twisted his hand around the head of his cock, hissing in air between his teeth at the sensation, taking in the view.

He couldn’t wait to watch you squirm for him over the mound of fabric, nasty and desperate, all from his instruction. He wanted to cum on your face, mark you as his, use your throat and treat you with love after.

His pace quickened. He needed you to know how beautiful you were and how good you were being for him. “You look so, so hot, fuck. Do you feel good? Tell me, baby.”

“I—fuck—fuck Sanji, feels so good, I’m c-cumming I’m cumming, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

As you finally reached your breaking point, you spasmed and locked eyes with him, per his request. You basically screamed his name, writhing on shaking thighs. The euphoric wave of pleasure made you see stars.

“Just like that. Keep rocking your hips through your orgasm. It’ll feel good.”

You fell forward onto your face with a sob, jerking uncontrollably as last sparks of climax hit you like a train. It was truly the most dramatic, mind-bending orgasm you’d ever experienced. Absolutely crazy considering it was all from humping a pillow while Sanji watched.

You got a few spare seconds of reprieve before you had to get back to work.

“Look up, honey. You’re not done yet.” The chef smiled and stood up, cock erect and dripping. Bending down to lift you by your chin, he pressed his lips on yours, gently exploring your mouth with his tongue as you let out warm puffs of air in his. You tried to catch your breath but having his tongue swirl around yours made it difficult.

When he spoke again, his voice was husky and low. He was using every shred of self-control to get out his next words.

“Milk my cock with your throat now, sweetheart. I wanna cum all over your gorgeous little face again. That sound ok?”

Still in bliss, you nodded and opened your mouth wide. He quickly shoved his shaft so far into your mouth that you gagged on the first pass.

Sanji’s hands ran through your hair and he let out a deep, satisfied groan. “Mmmm. Fuck that’s good, angel.”

He pushed your head down and controlled the depth and speed of his cock as slid it over your tongue. The pillow below you was wet and damp on your still-pulsing core.

“God, your mouth feels good. Slippery and—ah—hot, just like your pussy, so wet, fuck.”

He pressed his tip on the back of your throat, eliciting another gag. Precum trickled out of the corners of your mouth, messy and creamy. The whole bottom half of your face was wet and shiny.

“Do you want my cum, lovely? Want it all over that pretty face of yours? Look at me.”

You craned your neck upwards with trouble and he when you met his eyes, he grunted and shoved his cock deep in your mouth again. You choked on it, letting out a muffled moan, a plead for air that he ignored.

“Fuuuhhhhccckkk. Suck harder, my love.”

Hollowing your cheeks like he told you, Sanji admired how obedient you were being for him, how your lips wrapped around his shaft, the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and your blown out pupils. He was grunting so loud it could be heard on the other side of the ship.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck, fuck.” His grip on your head tightened. You hummed on his cock one last time, knowing that would push him over the precipice of orgasm. His deep groans turned into whimpers as he bent over, grabbing your head while he grinded his length on your tongue.

“Ahhhhh, th-there you go, fuck you’re so good for me baby, fuck, ‘m cumming.”

Sanji convulsed and shoved his cock in your throat one last time, relishing how you squeezed around his shaft, before he ripped it away from your lips and exploded all over your face.

You caught as much of his sticky cum with your tongue as you could, but rogue stripes graced your cheeks and forehead. There was literally so much cum. The whole time he drained his balls over your face, he groaned the most obscene, filthy noises you’d ever heard.

Standing over you, he panted as his cock dribbled last hot pearls on your tongue. From this angle, with your face covered in his seed and your legs numb, he looked better than usual. He always looked good, but damn, right now he looked good.

You licked your lips, drinking up the slightly salty, mild taste of his orgasm. When he was done stroking himself, Sanji kissed you and petted your hair for a moment before he wiped your face down and slid the pillow out from under you.

Peeling the pillowcase off, he had the gall to suck on the saturated wet spot from your juices. He palmed his cock just a tad, still sensitive from his orgasm, then folded the case and pocketed it. Later, he would inevitably suck on it some more and then wrap it around his hard cock, replaying the evening in his mind.

You couldn’t walk afterwards. Well, you technically could walk, but not well. Your legs were like jello and sore. You didn’t need to walk, though. Sanji carried you around and brought you food anywhere you wanted. He was extremely satisfied with the evening, to say the least.

that’s all for this one~~ i hope you enjoyed it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

here’s my masterlist and here’s my october posting schedule.

i’m posting every day from now until halloween!

finally, trick or treat?

#z's kinktober #someone hand me a pillow rn #sanji smut #op sanji smut #op smut #op x reader #one piece x reader #one piece reader insert #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji x you

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keferon · 20 days ago

Note

Bonus part 1.5 that got lost in drafts. Deadlock and Hot Rod play catch with the brain cell.

———————————————————————

Yep.

Deadlock had lost his mind.

And he knew that for certain because the concept didn’t bother him anymore.

The humans were both out cold by the time earths sun came creeping behind the tree line. Deadlock didn’t quite get back into recharge that night, but he still felt oddly refreshed come morning.

It’d gotten uncomfortably warm (for a cybertronian) inside the hangar so Deadlock slipped out into the cool morning air. Finding a relatively dry spot of pavement to take a seat and watch the sun slink higher.

Speaking of which.

“I know you’re there little squishy.” Deadlock purred in his best Decepticon drawl, the sort of tone that made lesser mechs rethink their current life choices.

The field of mischief that had prickled his back was dampened by disappointment before immediately springing back to happy.

Hot Rod gave up on being sneaky and climbed onto his leg.

“Eh, I’ll get the drop on you again some other day.”

Deadlock opened a palm in offering and grinned at Hot Rods immediate look of glee. He was a lot smaller than Ratchet. More wiry.

“How was your. . . uh,” Deadlock tapped a claw trying to remember the human equivalent word. “Sleep! Stuff.”

Hot Rod snorted while inspecting his claws.

“It was good! Had a nightmare a huge alien was eating the shatterdome at first and I was naked but then Pow Pow!” He punched in between Deadlocks fingers.

“A huuuuge mecha came down and WHAM.” Hot Rod jumped from hand to the other, acting out some sort of wrestling move. “It totally wiped the floor with it. Pretty sure it wasn’t you or me because the paint job was mostly white.” He rolled into a crisscross position.

“And I think I wasn’t naked anymore? At some point I started eating pancakes too.”

“Sounds like a pretty good nightmare.”

Deadlock was lightly bouncing Hot Rod in his hand, getting a feel for the weight, when felt Hot Rods field slowly tighten and loose some shine.

He stopped and Hot Rod looked up at him. “Did anything. . .else happen?”

“Mm, no. Well, yeah.” Roddy waffled, picking at the seam of Deadlocks thumb. “I dreamed I was eating pancakes with my brother.”

Deadlock moved his thumb across Hot Rods lap. Partially because the picking kinda hurt but mostly because for Deadlock, doing came easier than saying the right thing.

He leaned over the offered thumb and relaxed into the feelings of happy and sad. “I miss him.”Rod laughed once, field getting lighter. “He constantly tried to Dutch oven me as kids but-“

Hot Rod suddenly straightened up and looked him dead in the optics, searching.

Before Deadlock could explain himself for messing with his field, or thinking about slapping him across the hangar, or whatever other faux pas his processor could drum up for reasons why Hot Rod was looking at him like that-

Hot Rod dissolved into an absolute fit of manic cackling, slapping a hand against his palm.

“Wha- why are you laughing?” Because Deadlock really needed to fragging know if humans could suddenly read minds or else living with Ratchet was going to get very awkward quickly.

“You- he he,” Hot Rod wheezed, “you both have the same big-ass eyebrows!”

Deadlock stayed stock still. Processor taking a click to catch up. Soon his plating was shaking with the effort of not laughing. Eventually, the assassin comprised for snickering.

Hot Rod recovered quickly, laying flat on his back, humming interspersed with residual giggles.

“Knew there was a reason I liked you.”

Deadlock got a hold of himself and lifted the little pilot to optic level. On a whim, he closed his fist around Hot Rod, as gently as Ratchet taught him, and when he didn’t find any discomfort in his field, turned him upside down.

Hot Rod grinned and wiggled his feet, onboard with whatever game they were now playing.

“Why do you trust me?” Deadlock mumbled, curious.

“Well for starters Ratchet trusts you.” He pointed out the obvious.

“Hmm, he’s a lot more cranky about getting picked up though. And he definitely wouldn’t let me dangle him like this for no reason.” Deadlock tilted his head to look at the human from a more leveled angle.

“Ratchet, let’s you pick him up?” Awe and disbelief radiated outwards.

“Well, yeah?”

“Dude.”

Okay yeah, fair argument.

Deadlock rolled Roddy back upright, releasing him. He made a bowl with both hands which Hot Rod took as invitation to start rocking back and forth.

“Okay, okay. That’s a pretty good reason for you to trust me. But why should I trust that you won’t blab about me to someone who shouldn’t know?”

Hot Rod stood up and leaned against one thumb, leveling a look at Deadlock. “Ask me about the most embarrassing moment of my life.”

Deadlock raised a totally normal sized eyebrow.

“Hoookay. What’s the most embarrassing moment of your life?”

Hot Rod looked him straight in the optics with an unwavering field that exuded pure assuredness.

“It once took me 45 minutes to make non-flavored half-cooked instant noodles.”

Deadlock reset his optics.

“What?”

“Do you believe me?”

“What? I- yes? Why did you tell me that?”

Hot Rod started moving back and forth across his hands, pushing off of his raised thumbs.

“Because! Everyone who ranks above me back at base think they’re smarter than me, so whenever I gotta lie about something I just make up something even stupider than whatever I’m actually doing.”

“So what’s stupider than playing with a giant metal alien you met yesterday?” Deadlock had started raising and lowering his hands to give Hot Rod more momentum.

“Makin’ ramen again.” Hot Rod started adding somersaults into the mix.

“For two days?”

Roddy paused, doing a handstand. “I have a reputation.”

He fell backwards and landed on his feet on Deadlocks other hand.

“I mean, I’m best known for piloting the world’s biggest fire hazard, so ya know.”

Deadlock was thoroughly enjoying his new fidget toy, so much so he almost lost concentration on the conversation.

“Hmm, but your built for that yeah?”

Hot Rod picked up some speed, excited picking up in tandem.

“Oh yeah sure. Now my mechas built for that. But the first time I caught on fire it was by accident and in the middle of a fight.” He paused, grinning at Deadlock with a look a little more wild than usual. “I won by the way.”

The pilot alternated between somersaulting, sliding and swinging back and forth while not breaking conversation.

"So you caught on fire and just kept fighting anyways?"

"Yup! Turned out to be an awesome way to get out of any grapple instant-“ Hot Rod huffed, tucking into another roll, "-taneoulsy!"

———————————————————————

Missing part I wanted to write but hadn’t had the full concept for before. I really love writing for Hot Rod and the constant whiplash he gives everyone around him

Please if you want to laugh so very hard watch this video https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=MWQndxwG7yA

-SSTP

Ah fuck I didn't plan to catch any more feelings today BUT HERE I AM NOW APPARENTLY AHAHAH You are SPOILING US AREN'T YOU

Seriously though. You write them in such a fun way. Your fics are always. Fucking. Literally force my face to smile jajkfkhmhv they are packed with serotonin how dO YOU MANAGE TO DO THAT?? Roddy and his sillyness is literaly contagious. Deadlock is doomed. Me and all of us too. I'M FINE. I'M SO NORMAL ABOUT YOUR FICS SEE??

Also I definitely didn't spend half an hour mentally looking through every character I know trying to see which one of them would be Roddy's brother

#tf mecha universe #mecha writing #mecha dr writing #roddy #deadlock

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authorhjk1 · 6 months ago

Note

In regards to Jihyo's new relationship. Could you write how they met through mutual friend that leads up to them working out together and much more. Gym sex would be great.

(whether using his name or "Y/n" is fine)

My Girlfriend

(Park Jihyo X Male Reader)

The first time you saw her, you thought nothing of it. Yeah, sure. She is a famous singer, an idol. Not just in Korea, but the whole world. A beautiful, talented woman in a whole group of beautiful and talented women. But you never expected all of this to happen.

"I'm taking your silence as a yes, then?"

You blink. Once. Twice.

And you remember that one day. That one day a month ago. When she greeted you with a simple

"Hi."

Park Jihyo gave you a loving smile, although the two of you just met.

"Jihyo, it's a pleasure to meet you."

You stared at her hand a second too long, but you eventually took it

"(Y/n). The pleasure is mine."

Jihyo chuckled. You didn't expect to be greeted this formally. After all, you were just there to celebrate with the father to be. He is a good friend of yours and, as it turns out, a childhood friend of Jihyo's.

"You know her, right?"

You glanced at your friend, before looking back at her. Jihyo looked stunning. Her hair flew down her naked shoulder, her face was decorated with a smile that played around her lips. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement.

"Of course I do!"

That came out more defensive than you thought it would.

It made both of them laugh.

"Well, I did tell her she is your bias."

He seemed to be enjoying your embarrassment.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. You never actually thought you had a chance to meet her. But you dreamed about it more than just once. This wasn't it though. You were supposed to look cool or something. Like, impressive. Maybe wearing a suit, while you walk up to her confidently, asking for her number on the street. Or working out and she would walk in and see you.

Or anything else. But this was just weird. The two of you sitting next to each other at a party in a chicken restaurant. Your friend to your right and his wife opposite from him. Jihyo to your left. And the rest of the chairs were filled with the couple's friends. You knew some. But some were also strangers. Just like Jihyo. Well, not really. You felt like you already knew her.

"And I appreciate that. Thank you very much. It's always great to see a Once."

Jihyo patted your shoulder, while smiling at you. Your embarrassment got replaced by butterflies in your stomach. How can she be so beautiful?

"I-I hope you enjoy yourself tonight."

You groaned internally. What was that? That was really lame. But how were you supposed to answer?

"Thank you, you too."

Jihyo kept her smile on as the two of you raised your glasses.

"Cheers."

You were always a little awkward around women, especially when they were as beautiful as Jihyo. But with a little bit of alcohol and some internal speeches about bravery, you actually did manage to keep talking to her for almost the entirety of the night. You were glad the two of you hit it off and it seemed like Jihyo really enjoyed your kind of humor. As the night progressed, you realized that this might actually turn into more than just a spontaneous one on one fan meet.

"Please. Stop. It hurts."

Jihyo kept giggling and laughing, while you told her a joke or a funny story about yourself. For some reason, she was able to tell when you were actually sincere and when you were exaggerating. At one point, she started to hold her stomach, while you were about to get to the climax of your current story.

"Let's have one last toast, before we all go home."

Both of your smiles faded, when you realized that the party was ending. And with that, also your time together.

After the toast, Jihyo stood up and you did the same, trying to be a gentleman, until the very last moment, you helped her with putting on her jacket, before walking her outside.

"I had a great time today."

Jihyo exclaimed, taking a deep breath of the midnight air. It was a little cold, but still comfortable.

"Me too. The party was nice."

"I'm not talking about the party."

"No?"

You pretended to be confused, looking around.

"If you weren't at the party, where is Jihyo then?"

You made her laugh again.

"Jihyo!"

You yelled, not very loud, in the direction of the restaurant you had just stepped out of.

"Stop it!"

Jihyo laughed, slightly embarrassed, because a couple of people were still walking by.

"You can't just start screaming in the middle of the night!"

The two of you exchanged a short giggle as you felt the energy slowly escape the scene. It's that feeling, when you just left a party or an event and you are kinda excited to go home. That kind of feeling. Jihyo seemed to feel it too, since she slightly turned towards a direction, probably where she came from, to signal you that she wanted you to walk with her.

While the two of you walked side by side through the sleeping city, the two of you barely talked. Jihyo didn't need to ask, if you were going to walk her home. She didn't drink that much, but it was still the middle of the night. And you didn't care that you would had to walk home longer than usual. After all, it gave you more time with Jihyo.

Eventually, the two of you did reach her apartment complex. She seemed reluctant to just say goodbye. Instead, she looked to the ground, before turning towards you.

"You haven't told me how the story ends."

"Hm?"

You zoned out for just a moment. The slight buzz, this gorgeous woman and the night air made you feel like you were walking on clouds.

"The story, remember? Just before we walked home. I really want to hear the end."

It took you a moment. You were just about to tell her right then and there, when you suddenly realize what she was hinting at. Her eyes, big and dark, were looking up at you as if she was asking you for something. To read between the lines.

"Well, the story is quite long. And it's too late to tell you the rest of it now."

You paused for just a second, trying to figure out, if you read her words correctly. But Jihyo only showed you her usual friendly smile.

"Why don't you... Well, why don't you give me your number and we figure something out?"

You spoke a little faster than you wanted to. Jihyo definitely caught onto your nervousness.

"Sure. Why don't we do that?"

Her smile now seemed to tease you a little.

"Great. Just let me get-"

"But maybe you should give me your number. Because of my schedule and stuff."

You nodded hesitantly. Were you reading her wrong? Is that her strategy for people who aren't idols and ask for her number? So she doesn't get bombarded with texts and calls?

"I'm not playing you."

She seemed to have looked through you once more.

"I really did enjoy the party."

Once again, her eyes were telling you that it was in fact, once again, not about the party.

"Alright, then."

You took the phone out of her hand and started to put your number in.

"I'm just letting you know right now, that I'm a very busy man. I barely have time at all. Only during the night. So if you want to hang out then..."

You gave her her phone back with a cheeky grin as you hear her laugh.

"Yeah, sure. Me too. I'm usually available between 11 pm and 2 am."

The two of you looked into each other's eyes for a moment, until Jihyo cleared her throat. Or maybe you were just staring.

"Anyways, I better get home now. Busy schedule tomorrow."

"Yeah, same same. Ton of work to do."

Your exaggerated tone made her shake her head.

"Good night. I will text you soon."

"Sleep tight."

You planned on just waiting for her to enter the building. But instead of leaving, Jihyo suddenly stepped towards you. Before you could react, she was already standing on her tiptoes, giving your right cheek a kiss. Her soft lips seemed to heat up your whole body.

This was the fourth time within the last three weeks that you entered Jihyo's apartment complex, not counting the night you had met. The two of you met up a couple of times by now. Your first date included a cup of coffee and a walk around the park near her company. For the second one, you took Jihyo out to dinner and you were surprised by how good she looked in a long, black backless dress. She ordered ice cream for desert. But while she ate, she was complaining about how she would have to work out more, if she ate so many calories. And that's how the two of you talked about your workouts a little. One thing let to another and here you were. You're not just dating Park Jihyo, you were now also her newly appointed gym buddy.

"You started with out me?"

You walked over to her as you saw Jihyo sitting on the floor in a corner of the studio, trying to catch her breath.

"Just a little. You are late."

You quickly checked your watch.

"I'm not. You're early."

You finally reached her, towering over her.

"Guilty."

She gave you a cheeky smile, wiggling her eyebrows. You leaned down, softly raising her chin with a finger. Closing your eyes, you felt your lips meet. Her warm breath mixed with yours, her scent lingering in the air around you.

Not your first kiss. Not your first kiss with Jihyo. And yet the best you've had so far. Not just with her. But because of her.

A couple of moments later, you helped her off the ground, without missing the opportunity to admire her body.

"Got you something."

Jihyo reached for her bag and you watched as she took something out of it.

"Here. Thought it might help."

"This is a towel."

You said in disbelief. Not because you didn't appreciate it. But because this was completely unexpected.

"Yeah, I know. I bought it for you."

A grin played around her lips, probably because of your dumb look.

"Don't play with me. I saw your commercial two days ago. I'm sure they threw these after you when you went home."

Jihyo rolled her eyes in a playful manner.

"It doesn't work like that, you know? They don't just give me anything, just because I model for them."

For some reason, you were suddenly very aware of the fact that you are dating a famous person. A singer, a dancer, a model and much more. You never expected to hear these kind of words from you girlfriend. Sorry, gym buddy.

"Plus, you should check out the back, before you judge me."

Jihyo suddenly gave you a cute pout, before walking away, leaving you standing.

You turned the towel around and there it was. Your name. She actually had put a lot of thought into this. You had told her, that your towel got stolen while you worked out before.

"Jihyo!"

You chased after her.

Throughout the next two hours, people came and went, while you and Jihyo focused on working out. You were able to resolve the towel debate quickly, knowing that Jihyo doesn't like to stay mad for long.

Eventually, you found yourself lying on a bench, after just having worked on your arms. Jihyo walked over to you, handing you your new towel.

"Thanks."

You mumbled, still breathing heavily as you wiped your face.

"We should work out this later more often."

You looked up at her words, scanning the gym. She was right. Except for you and Jihyo, there was no one here anymore.

"Yeah, it's nice to be alone with you."

Your eyes shot back up at her. Jihyo's eyebrow was raised, a cocky grin on her face.

"I mean, it's nice to work out with you alone, you know? No one disturbing us..."

"Mhm."

Jihyo chuckled, before turning around. She stepped towards a bench nearby. Placing one knee and one hand on it, she grabbed a dumbbell and resumed her workout.

After what had happened, you couldn't help but look at her for a couple of moments longer. And you soon realized that Jihyo was in a quite interesting position. Despite her loose sweat pants, you had quite the view.

There had been more than just a couple of times you thought you had been caught, when you looked at her chest maybe a little too long. The two of you hadn't been intimate with each other, except for kissing. And none of you brought it up so far, but there was definitely tension there. So this almost felt like an invitation, but also like a coincidence at the same time. Jihyo could've faced the other way. She must have known that you could see her butt through her pants. Or maybe she did this on purpose, because otherwise, you would've been able to look directly into her cleavage? But then again, she would have been able to see that. So...

You were over thinking again. This tends to happen, whenever you are with Jihyo. You don't want to mess this up.

"You can touch me, if you want."

Your hart dropped mid beat.

"Huh?"

You were now very aware that the gym's walls are covered with mirrors. Fuck.

Through one of those, Jihyo was looking directly at you. A, what seemed to be naughty smile, played around her lips.

"Don't just stare. Touch."

"Well, I don't want to- I mean, I did-didn't mean to-"

Jihyo rolled her eyes.

"Your part time innocence can be very charming. But right now, I don't want you to be innocent."

Now, she looked at you over her shoulder.

"I want you to touch me."

You quickly looked around, making sure that no one was there. Reaching forward, you felt the soft fabric of her pants and the firmness of her ass. You saw Jihyo biting her lip as you placed your other hand on her cheeks as well.

"That's it."

She sighed, stopping mid work out to enjoy your groping of her butt.

Now that you felt the ass cheeks of one of the most beautiful women on earth in your hands, you decided to push your luck a little. After all, she had told you to not be this innocent.

"The cameras don't do you justice. Usually, your front is the focus."

You saw Jihyo smirk in the mirror. She knee what you are trying to hint at.

"Go on then."

Jihyo turned around and your hands fell off her ass. But the disappointment only lasted for a second, when Jihyo straddled the bench, now fully turned towards you.

"Touch me."

You reached for her chest this time, feeling the fabric of the pink sports bra, before you squeezed her boobs.

"Right there."

Jihyo let out a moan as her head dropped back.

You enjoyed yourself for a while, squeezing and kneading her tits. Eventually you leaned forward and kissed her shoulders. Then, you moved downwards, while you let your thumbs graze over her clothed nipples.

"Oh, god."

Another moan escaped her lips.

Just when you were about to place your lips on the top of her tits for the first time, Jihyo leaned back a little.

"Not so fast."

She reached forward herself, this time. You felt her hand palming your cock over your shorts.

"Ladies first."

You gladly left her tits this time, while Jihyo glid off the bench she was sitting on. Now on her knees, she quickly pulled off your pants. A smile played around her lips as she leaned down to give your clothed cock a kiss.

Your pants and underwear were quickly taken care of and Jihyo was greeted with your cock.

"Nice."

She murmured, before kissing it again.

You couldn't believe that she was actually doing this. Right here. In a public gym. You were getting a blowjob in a public gym. By Park Jihyo. It was still unreal to you, even when she wrapped her lips around your dick.

"Jihyo, I-"

"Shh!"

She let your cock fall out of her mouth and looked up at you.

"Just relax, baby."

You took a shakey breath and watched her resume her work. Her lips glid along the length of your shaft. One hand held your base, while the other stroked your thigh in a soothing motion.

Jihyo was going slow as she lovingly took care of your cock. Her eyes were closed by now, enjoying your dick as she sucked you off.

You sat on the bench, your toes curling. You needed some kind of outlet for your pleasure. You didn't know where to put your hands. Behind you? Or...

You reached forward, placing both of them on Jihyo's head. She moaned around your cock, sending small vibrations through your entire body.

"God."

You sighed as your head rolled back. Jihyo's lips reached her fingers around your base, whenever she moved down. It made your tip graze her throat. Her muscles squeezed your cock.

Eventually, Jihyo let your dick fall out of her mouth.

"I need you."

She quickly straddled your lap, your cock resting against her tummy. As she looked down, she bit her lip, seeing how deep you could go.

"Take these off me."

Jihyo motioned towards her pants and you quickly pulled off her waistband.

"Wait."

You stopped midway, looking up at her.

"Do you have protection?"

Jihyo slowly shook her head, a disappointed look on her face.

Your hands were still on her waist. And you could tell you're only a small tug of her pants away from seeing her pussy.

"But I have some upstairs."

Once she remembered that she had some in her room, her face lit up.

"Hurry."

You lied in Jihyo's bed, catching your breath. She lied next to you, her finger drawing circles on your naked chest. It was quite for a while, except for your breathing. You stared at the ceiling, eyes wide open.

"Wow."

Jihyo laughed, lifting her head off your shoulder.

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know."

You shruged your shoulders.

"I didn't think it would be... You know? This good."

"Is that a compliment?"

A teasing smile greeted you as Jihyo looked up at you.

"Yeah."

She rolled her eyes, her head resting on your shoulder again.

"I liked the workout too."

"Oh, totally. The workout."

You pretended to be oblivious to her raised eyebrow.

"But I liked what happened afterwards way more."

Jihyo scoffed with a smile on her face.

You felt her tits press against your side as she snuggled closer.

"This is great cardio, you know? Maybe we could cut the workouts short from now on."

"Doe's this mean we will do this again?"

You were surprised at Jihyo's suspicious tone. Didn't she trust you?

"Of course. Why wouldn't we?"

"Well, I guess you just experienced what every fan could wish for. I wouldn't be surprised if I never see you again."

"That hurts. Why would you think I would just leave?"

"You won't?"

Jihyo looked up at you again.

"Of course not."

You shook your head.

"I've always liked you. Even before I met you in person. Why would I leave you now?"

"Fine."

You were surprised at how quickly you had just convinced her.

The two of you lied for a while in silence, before you heard Jihyo speak again.

"There is just one more thing."

You watched her as she pointed at her alarm clock on her nightstand.

"Judging by how late it is, you won't be going home tonight."

You were planning on going home, actually. But it seemed like that was not gonna happen now. You didn't expect to be this close to her already. Yes, you just had sex. But sleeping in the same bed? You didn't know each other's sleeping habits and-

"And if you leave my room tomorrow, you will meet at least some of the girls."

You gulped after her words just interrupted your thoughts. Right. The rest of Twice. You could already feel your nervousness rise, just thinking about them. The fact that you were lying with Jihyo in bed, naked, was already a miracle.

"So..."

You heared her hesitate. Her eyes locked on the door as if she was too shy to look at you.

"Should I introduce you as my boyfriend?"

You were stunned. Despite dating Jihyo, you never thought you would get this far with her. Was she really asking you to be her boyfriend? You? The ordinary guy, whom she had met by chance? You are not an idol. You're not rich. You had always thought that this wasn't that serious for Jihyo. You expected every idol to be with a rich guy or at least another idol.

"I'm taking your silence as a yes, then?"

"Oh, god. Keep going."

Jihyo moans into your neck as you sit on the bench you were just working out on, Jihyo in your lap. The hole in her leggings is the product of her earlier advances, which you silenced with a forceful rip of her clothing. It now enables you to hold onto her firm butt, which seems to look and feel even better in her tight leggings, while you lift Jihyo up and down as if you are still working out.

The last couple of weeks, since that first time, have been like this. The two of you meet up to work out together up to six days a week. All of these sessions end with the two of you, going to town on some of the gym's equipment.

But it's not like that's the only thing the two of you do. You spend quality time together, going on dates, hanging out at your place and sometimes even at hers.

You feel Jihyo's hands glide over your biceps as she feels your cock deep inside of her. The both of you are sweaty, your bodies covered with a slim layer of sweat.

You kiss Jihyo, just in case someone comes in, to stop her from moaning too loud. As you keep squeezing her cheeks through her leggings, she bites your lip, making you groan into her mouth.

"Your cock is so deep inside me."

Jihyo whispers against your lips, after the two of you break away for air. The recent workout and this little session are tests for both of your lungs. Her heavy breathing matches yours as the two of you lock eyes.

"Jihyo..."

You want to tell her that you're close already. That you don't have much more inside of you. You're close to your climax and your arms are slowly giving up too. It's a mix of pain and pleasure.

"No! Not yet! I need more, baby."

Another kiss leaves the both of you with even less air. But you can feel yourself getting slower.

"Don't cum yet."

Another kiss. Slower.

Eventually, Jihyo signals you to stop. Your arms burn like fire. Not because she is heavy, but because of your prior workout. You barely manage to lift her off your lap.

"I think we need to give you a little break."

With a knowing smile, Jihyo looks at you while leading you towards the leg press.

The two of you must have defiled every single equipment in this gym by now. And the leg press is no exception. Some of your after workout sessions actually start right there. When Jihyo stands above you, making sure you don't drop your weight. And you have the best view of her nice firm butt, hugged by leggings, which are almost too tight for her.

You lie down, just like you usually do. Jihyo stands above you. But instead of watching your weight, she lowers herself, until she sits on your face. At the same time, you dart your tongue out and taste her pussy. You groan at the familiar taste, sending a shiver up her spine.

"That's a good boy."

Jihyo sighs as she feels your tongue roam her pussy, while your hands hold onto her juicy thighs.

Both of your bodies are marked by your countless hours in the gym. You take health and working out equally seriously. Jihyo's thighs and ass are just a couple of benefits that result from that. And she loves to feel your biceps, or your abs, when you pull her back against your stomach and she feels your hard muscles on her back.

Now, Jihyo moans and sighs on top of you as you eat her out. You know that Jihyo only cums two ways. When you lick every spot in her pussy, or when you fuck her hard and rub her clit at the same time. And your tongue in her pussy aims to finish her by using the first option.

No spot stays untouched as you lap up any of her juices that dribble out of her. As you let your tongue glide along her folds. As you bury it inside of her. It all has only one purpose. And soon, you are witness to the result.

"Oh, god! Baby!"

You feel Jihyo's legs shake around you, your hands still holding onto them. She lowers herself even further, unable to lift her own weight now. Your nose slightly grazes her clit, your tongue invades her pussy as deep as it can. And then, you push Jihyo over the edge.

"Yes! Right there, make me cum!"

Her juices flood your open mouth as your girlfriend orgasms on top of you. Her thighs threaten to squeeze you to death as you try to pull them apart. Her load moans echo through the gym.

A couple of moments later, you've moved on already. Jihyo is now lying on a bench, her legs draped over the barbell above her head. Your short break enables you to fuck her hard and fast, while her eyes roll to the back of her head. Her ripped leggings give you another beautiful view of her beautiful pussy, taking your cock beautifully.

"Baby, baby, baby!"

Jihyo half cries half sings as you make the bench rock back and forth to the rhythm of your thrusts.

You put your white towel underneath her. The one with your name on it. You don't want to make a mess like two weeks ago. You almost had to buy a new leather cover for the bench.

"Oh, god!"

Jihyo's back arches off the bench. She pushes her chest towards you in the process. If she didn't have her top on, you would be all over her. But right now, you are completely fine with just fucking her tight pussy.

You want to feel them though, you realize, as Jihyo keeps arching her back. One of your hands moves towards her chest. Another loud moan escapes her beautiful lips as she feels you, groping her tits through the fabric.

Your other hand reaches between her legs, just above the hole in her leggings. Your thumb brushes over her clit underneath the fabric.

"Right there!"

Jihyo immediately reaches another plateau of pleasure.

"Keep going! Don't stop!"

Her whines make you go faster. Your hips crashing into hers as you bottom out inside of her with every thrust.

Your thumb on her clit and your hand on her tits add to the pleasure your cock is giving her. Your girlfriend eventually succumbs to the overwhelming sensation.

Jihyo can feel her orgasm slowly approaching.

"Oh, baby! Yes! Almost there!"

You keep fucking her as she closes in on her climax. Your thumb on her clit keeps rubbing her. Jihyo's legs seem to push against the barbell as she orgasms.

"Oh, god."

You can't help, but let out a groan yourself as you feel Jihyo's tight pussy squeezing your cock. Her juices start to spill out of her. They cover your cock, your lower body. But most of it lands on your towel underneath her. You watch how the white fabric around your name becomes soaking wet.

The sight of your girlfriend, climaxing around your cock, drives you towards your own orgasm as well.

"Jihyo, I'm gonna-"

"Cum in my mouth, baby. I wanna taste your cum."

It takes a moment to get her legs off the barbell and the rest of her body off the bench underneath it. But eventually, Jihyo does kneel in front of you.

She pulls off your condom as she looks up at you.

"Cum for me, baby."

Her big eyes, pleading for your cum, don't give you much of a choice. As soon as Jihyo sticks her tongue out, it only takes her a couple of strokes, until she makes you climax.

You groan as you watch how your cum hits her tongue and the inside of her mouth. Jihyo takes it all, until your knees are weak and you are completely spend. Using her tongue, she pushes your cum around in her mouth a couple of times, before she swallows.

You watch as her body moves to the rhythm of the song. For a moment, your view is blocked by Sana, but you can soon see Jihyo again.

It's an honor to be able to watch Twice's dance practice live. You just came here to pick up your girlfriend, so you two could have your scheduled date. But you didn't expect traffic to be this good, so you got here early.

You lean your head against the wall behind you as you feel your cock slightly harden. Jihyo's body roll reminds you of how she rides you in bed. The way her hips sway, when she turns around, the way she throws her hair back while dancing. Her smile, her wink towards the mirror, her hand that glides down her body, tracing her curves. All of these things make you shift around on the sofa in the corner of Twice's practice room.

You almost forget the other members. The song moves into the background. For a brief moment, you consider sneaking out and finding a quiet place to let go of your now build up tension. Maybe the men's room...

The music comes to a hold in that very moment.

You let out a deep breath as you see the girls turn towards the mic case that's next to you. You're suddenly very aware that you're still hard. They were practicing for an upcoming performance, so Jihyo's outfit makes matters even worse.

"Stop staring at her."

Sana giggles as she catches you.

Your cheeks flush in embarrassment. The other members grin and giggle as well. Jihyo can't hide a smile.

"Stop teasing him, Sana."

"What?"

The Japanese girl plays innocent.

"He can stare as much as he wants."

To your surprise, Jihyo gracefully takes her seat on your lap.

She usually isn't that fond of skin ship in front of her members. Partially because Sana is unbearable, once she finds a reason to make fun of Jihyo.

"I bet he does."

Sana wiggles her eyebrows, while the other members pack their things.

You involuntarily clear your throat as Jihyo shifts around a little. Her firm cheeks rub against your erection. There is no doubt she must have felt it already.

"As long as you don't make too much noise again tonight..."

A cold shiver runs down your spine as you and Jihyo hear Tzuyu's whisper.

"Yah!"

Jihyo is now embarrassed as well.

Eventually, you and Jihyo are the only ones in the room. The other girls already left. But not without teasing the two of you. If you heard it correctly, Nayeon even offered Tzuyu a pair of earbuds.

"Let's skip the date."

"What? Why?"

Jihyo is still sitting in your lap, your arms around her waist.

"I'm not that hungry yet. I think I'll have to work out a little more."

Her teasing smile makes you smile as well. Until you remember.

"I already reserved a table."

Your girlfriend shrugs her shoulders.

"So?"

"I love this side of you."

Jihyo looks back at you.

"Let's get out of here."

The two of you decided on your place. Especially after all the teasing. But you never made it past your living room.

"Do they feel good?"

Jihyo looks up at you, waiting for an answer.

Your cock is buried inside her cleavage as you sit on your couch, while Jihyo kneels in front of you.

"God, Jihyo."

Why does she even have to ask?

Your girlfriend uses her hands to press her tits together, while she moves up and down. Her soft skin makes your head fall onto the backrest. You see stars, when Jihyo darts her tongue out to lick your tip.

"Wait, don't-"

You're interrupted by another lick.

Your shakey breath makes Jihyo chuckle. You're somewhat embarrassed that she doesn't need to do much for you to orgasm quickly. But she already told you, it's actually a compliment. And, even if you're about to cum early, you can always take a short break and focus on her pleasure.

To be honest, though. Who could blame you? No one would last long with Jihyo.

"Get up here."

A smile plays around her lips as she rises from your carpet and quickly gets onto your lap once again. You feel her ass cheeks rub against your cock, which doesn't help your current state.

Trying to focus on something else, you lean down and take one of her nipples into your mouth.

"Baby..."

Jihyo sighs as she holds your head with one hand, while the other rests on your shoulder. As you keep sucking on both of her tits, she eventually starts grinding against your thigh. Her naked body on top of yours searches for as much pleasure as it can get. You feel her slight wetness on your thigh.

"Keep going..."

Another sigh and you switch sides once more. You hold both of them in your hands, kneading them occasionally.

Jihyo shamelessly pleasures herself with your thigh, while you kiss and lick her tits. Her pussy becomes wetter, the longer she keeps grinding against you.

"Baby, I need you in me. Now."

Your hands move to her waist, giving her a silent approval. Slowly pulling Jihyo off of you, you lie her on the couch.

"Turn around."

Jihyo does as you tell her. She is now lying on her stomach, while you kneel behind her.

You quickly put on the condom, before slowly sliding into her warmth. The both of you moan at the same time as you penetrate her pussy. You ease yourself into Jihyo further.

"Fuck me good."

Your hands grab each a handful of her ass cheeks.

"Trust me. I will."

You give Jihyo one powerful thrust, while holding onto her ass.

Your girlfriend's head sinks into the sofa.

You hear a muffled moan as you start to fuck her properly. As you drive yourself as deep as possible, you notice how deep you can actually go in this position. Your sofa absorbs moan after moan as Jihyo shakes underneath you.

You are unable to play with her clit in this position. Lucky for her though, your thrusts are powerful enough for her to rock back and forth on the couch. The hard fabric does your job for you.

Looking past Jihyo's ass, you notice how the light material underneath her is turning darker.

"Damn, forgot the blanket."

You only hear another moan as response. Her heavy breathing against the sofa echoes through the room. Alongside the clapping of her cheeks against your hips. While holding onto them with both hands, you marvel at how beautiful they are.

You completely forget the blanket as you knead them a little. Who can blame you? In your opinion, everyone doesn't appreciate her ass enough. Jihyo always gets attention for her chest. Rightfully so, no doubts there. But if they could only see what you see right now...

You haven't tried it before, but you suddenly have the urge. Without thinking, you raise a hand and let it drop onto her right cheek. A particularly loud moan encourages you to strike her other cheek. Alternating between both of them, you soon turn Jihyo's skin a light a shade of red.

A couple of moments later, she trembles underneath you. Harder than before. Her hips slightly raise off the sofa, she raises her head to moan your name. And she drenches your sofa in even more of her juices.

Jihyo orgasms while calling out for you. You keep a tight grip on her cheeks as you fuck her through it. When she starts to talk again, it's hard for you to make out what she is trying to say.

"P-Please...."

Another thrust makes her head rock back and forth, like one of those dolls.

"C-Cum..."

Is she asking for another orgasm? Jihyo usually isn't that greedy.

"Back... C-Cum..."

You have to admit that it takes you a while to understand her. To be fair, you're not in the best state of mind yourself, right now.

"C-Cum...on.....my...."

Another particularly deep thrust makes Jihyo shreek, her head dropping onto the couch again.

You hope you heard her correctly, because you don't have time to ask her to repeat it. The wonderful sight of her ass and her tight pussy, its walls stretching around your cock, make it hard to keep back your own orgasm for long.

Trying to hold on longer, you start counting your thrusts. You don't reach ten.

As Jihyo's walls tighten around you further, as you drive yourself as deep into her as you can, as you knead her cheeks, you finally have to pull out.

Throwing your condom behind you just in time, you barely get to aim your cock properly. As you do orgasm, your cum shoots all over Jihyo's back. Her back muscles, which you can see, due to her many workouts. You paint them with your cum.

Both of you catch your breaths as you lean against the backrest, while Jihyo still lies in place.

"That was...."

You can tell that she is looking for the right word, but has trouble finding it.

"Amazing."

You end the sentence for her. Jihyo chuckles at your lack of creativity.

"About that reservation you mentioned earlier..."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Now you're hungry?"

"You aren't?"

Jihyo looks back at you.

"Let me order something."

"Where were you going to take me anyways?"

"Chinese."

"Order that then. I'm gonna take a shower. After practice and this"

Your girlfriend nods towards her cum stained back.

"I really do need a shower."

#ask #anon #kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #male reader #kpop gg #twice jihyo #twice smut #park jihyo #jihyo smut #jihyo

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obxsummer · 3 months ago

Text

overdrive // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: a guaranteed 5k payment turns into a diving mission that gives john b more stress than he needs, jj learns why he needs to take a safety stop, and despite being in the hospital, you're just happy to have some peace and quiet in your boyfriend's arms.

warnings: spoilers for s4 ep2, the usual obx kinda shit

navigation -- series masterlist

“Do you guys know anybody that’s been here, because I don’t?”

“Nope.”

“Sarah, you must know somebody that’s been here, right? I mean like all Kooks, they… they know each other.”

“Are you kidding me?”

You tuned out the rumored conversations of the group as John B drove the boat toward Goat Island, the location of which Genrette asked you all to meet to discuss the possible Blackbeard treasure. While the idea of getting back into this treasure hunt wasn’t one you enjoyed, it felt more normal than you anticipated.

The island looked like any other, but the amount of trees and greenery was in abundance compared to Kildare. You could see an older man waiting on the dock as you all got closer. The lack of upkeep made you shiver, knowing this likely wasn’t going to be very welcoming.

“This place is 200 years old and they still don’t have a road that doesn’t go underwater twice a day.”

You shifted in your seat as Pope and JJ grabbed the ropes to tie off, and your boyfriend greeted the man politely as they stood. Silence followed and the man continued to stare at all of you. “Welcome to Blackstone.”

You all shared awkward glances as he walked away without another word. JJ offered you his hand to climb out of the HMS Pogue, his palm shifting to rest on your back as the group moved forward to follow.

“So uh, what have you been digging?” Your boyfriend attempted to dissolve the awkward tension but wasn’t fairing well.

“Ditches.” The reply was hoarse and simple.

“Ditches,” JJ repeated, “At least it’s not graves.”

“All the same to me.”

You didn’t like the atmosphere that this visit was suddenly bringing and brought JJ’s hand to hold in your own. Something seemed creepy and off as if you were walking straight into a trap.

“Uh, so how long have you been working for Mr. Genrette?” John B continued.

The man you were following came to a pause in his walk, sparing a glance at the group of you over his shoulder. “As long as I can remember.”

Your path eventually went up a flight of stairs to a large white house before the man pointed you in that direction. JJ thanked him and continued to approach, dropping your hand in favor of using the door knocker to announce your arrival.

“Oh, just a little quick FYI, they drug you before they chop you up.”

You smacked JJ’s shoulder in annoyance, hating the way it settled in your spine with goosebumps. “You’re an ass.”

He held his hands up in defense. “I’m just saying, don’t eat or drink anything.”

“Not funny.”

“Yeah, guys. I think I’ve changed my mind about this one. I-I really don’t wanna be here,” Sarah voiced the thoughts that were running through your mind as you nodded in agreement, Kie echoing the statement.

You didn’t get a chance to make a run for it as the locks on the door began to click open, revealing another man in a white button-up with a sweater tied loosely around his neck. “Hi. I’m sorry to keep you waiting. It’s quite a big house and I’m… I’m afraid the servants have all gone. All except, uh, good old Demp. Just can’t seem to get rid of him. Uh, you must be the… the Pogues. The Great Seekers.”

John B tilted his head in skepticism. “Yeah, I.. I don’t know about that.”

“Oh, now, don’t you be modest. I’ve read of your adventures. It’s quite thrilling,” The man disregarded your brother’s hesitance. “Uh, come in, come in. I.. I’m the son-in-law. Chandler Groff. Wes was really, really hoping you’d show. He’s been waiting.”

JJ pulled your hand back in his as he stepped forward, letting you walk ahead of him before he shifted to hide you behind his back in case anyone jumped out. “Yeah, pleasure. JJ.”

The six of you walked into the next room, taking in the dreary scenery. Cobwebs covered every surface in the house, dripping off the lights and walls, making you question what actually went on there. It seemed like a staged haunted house, which honestly was worse than it being a real one.

“This place smells like dead bodies.”

You glared at your brother’s comment, hating that he was right. Nothing in this house eased your fears about this being a bad idea. Chandler led you into another room, this one containing a fireplace and the man you’d come to know as Wes Genrette.

“Come in, please, please. Warm yourselves by the fire,” He greeted and waved you all in the large study. There was no light besides the rays attempting to creep in the windows, casting the room in a cold atmosphere. “I apologize for dragging you all out here, but I… I don’t think I could speak about this in public. I know I mentioned Blackbeard, but I assure you all, my interest is not for treasure.”

The six of you scattered around the various seating options in the room. JJ was seated on the armrest of the chair you occupied; his hand warm on the back of your neck as he rubbed the skin softly. John B and Sarah were on your other side with Pope, Cleo, and Kiara across from you.

“My ancestor, Francis Genrette, was the British officer who caught and killed the notorious pirate.”

Pope shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he turned to face the older man. “Wait. Your… your direct ancestor?”

Wes nodded. “Mhm. Yes, unfortunately. After he’d beheaded Blackbeard, he killed the pirate’s wife, Elizabeth. And since then, for 300 years, generations of Genrettes have been haunted by Elizabeth’s ghost and have died violent deaths. Including my daughter, Larissa. Chandler’s wife.”

You glanced over where the mentioned individual was standing, noticing he seemed unphased by the story being played out. It did strike you oddly that he lived with his father-in-law, figuring that he would’ve had his own home with Larissa for their family.

“My daughter saw Elizabeth a week before she died,” Wes continued as he focused his gaze on the portrait of Larissa that was hung above the fireplace. “Now, I’ve had a visitation. So, I know I don’t have much time.”

John B cleared his throat as he pulled his attention away from the haunting painting. “Right, uh. So, we’re really sorry that happened to you, but what do you want from us?”

Wes nodded in understanding of the skepticism. “Of course. Let’s get down to business. Chandler.”

“We believe that we’ve found a way to break the curse on this family,” Chandler took up the explanation and he pointed to a piece of the painting of Elizabeth that showed a large amulet. “Right before she was murdered, Elizabeth begged Francis to retrieve from her husband’s ship a keepsake that he’d given her. Her most prized possession. An amulet. He denied the request and then murdered her. “

“But if we find that amulet, fulfilling Elizabeth’s last request, I believe it will break the curse that has haunted my family for over 300 years,” Wes said.

You weren’t fully convinced a necklace would magically make this all disappear; the whole situation reminded you too much of Limbrey and her need for the cross to cure her disease. It just didn’t seem feasible.

Kie must’ve been thinking the same as she spoke up, “Okay. Um… I’m sorry, where did you say that necklace thingy is?”

“Blackbeard’s last ship, the Adventure.”

“Perfect,” You mumbled quietly, knowing this was going to fly off the rails quickly, as did every treasure hunt you guys went after. Another underwater search? No thanks.

Chandler continued, “According to all records, the amulet was still on it when it was scuttled right off Goat Island.”

Pope nodded in understanding. “Right, yeah, but the Coast Guard excavated that site years ago,” He explained.

“The excavation team didn’t know what we know,” Mr. Genrette tried to reason. He handed Pope over a book, pointing out something in the tattered pages. “They didn’t have this. There’s a secret lockbox hidden behind the headboard in the captain’s chamber. Do you dive?”

“We dive. All… all of us do,” JJ lied before anyone had a chance to disagree. You pinched his knee softly in warning. “It’s just, we only do it if the price is right.”

Wes didn’t seem upset by the comeback. “Excellent. We are prepared to offer you a premium for your services. Fifty thousand, plus expenses. Five thousand up front. And we would very much like your immediate answer.”

John B thankfully moved before JJ had a chance to open his mouth again. “We just need to think it through. We’ll be right back.” He grabbed the shoulder of your boyfriend’s shirt, nearly dragging him out of his seat to another room with the rest of you quickly following.

“What was that!”

“We have to think.”

“This is weird,” You echoed Kie and Sarah’s statements. “I mean it sounds like Limbrey 2.0, no? I don’t like it. We can just slip out the back.”

John B paced behind the couch. “Are we really going to listen to the guy who should be in a white padded room? Visitations? Curses?”

“He’s a madman!” Cleo agreed.

“Obviously, he’s batshit, but he’s in there crying about his daughter. Like, he needs help,” Sarah tried to reason.

Kie shook her head. “He needs therapy, not a necklace thing. We cannot ignore the fact that there is a ghost and a curse. Y’all aren’t getting weird ass vibes?”

“Okay. Guys.” Cleo pulled the conversation back in. “Let’s just say we take this job. Is it even possible?”

“Yes,” JJ’s voice was monotone as he responded. You shook your head at him, knowing it probably was, but you didn’t want to find out.

“I knew what you would say,” Cleo dismissed him, knowing he was eager to get any and all money. “Everybody else?”

With a soft groan, you ran your hands across your face. “I don’t like it.”

“That ship is probably 80-100 feet down. The currents are probably ripping.”

“Guys,” JJ whispered harshly, “Are we really gonna worry about the details right now?”

A resounding “Yes!” followed his question.

JJ shook his head, looking at all of you as if the answer was obvious. “In our time of need, are we really gonna turn down free money? No! That’s not like us.”

“It’s not free!” You argued back as you made eye contact with him. “Babe-”

“The worst that can happen is we walk out of here with 5 Gs in our pocket. End of discussion.”

“That’s not the worst!

“We could go to jail, we could die, we could-”

JJ seemingly ended the discussion for everyone as he ignored the concerns and walked back to the room where Wes and Chandler were waiting. “Sir, we’ve come to our conclusion, and we’ll do it. We’ll take the job.”

A deep sigh left your mouth, your forehead dropping to Sarah’s shoulder in frustration at JJ’s willingness to throw your group into danger. Pope intercepted JJ’s attempts at taking the initial 5k payment as Wes and Chandler thanked you all graciously.

Chandler reached out to grab JJ’s shoulder. “Hey, JJ. I believe in you.”

You stared at the awkward moment, listening as JJ thanked him before moving back to you, grabbing your hand to lead the group out of the house. You risked looking over your shoulder to see the creepy smile on Chandler Groff’s face as he watched your group disappear from view.

Looking up at your boyfriend as you made it out, you could tell he was a little thrown off guard. “Jayj?”

“I’m fine, baby,” His response was quiet as he tried to convince you before plastering a convincing smile back on his face. “Let’s go, y’all! We got work to do.”

JJ’s whole mood had taken a turn with the five grand in hand, and the plan in place on the dive. What Wes had said was lining up with the information in the captain’s log, to your dismay. You were kind of hoping on the trail to end cold and avoid JJ diving into wreckage in the first place.

While the boys, Kie, and Cleo took the liberty of attempting to find more info on the location of the wreck, you and Sarah managed the store in the meantime. You were restocking and organizing the surrounding items while Sarah took the register.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” A stern voice broke you from your routine as you looked over. You quickly recognized the man as the one who kept going head-to-head with JJ on the auction for the house, and he didn’t look like he was here to be nice. “Y’all remember me?”

“How could we forget?” Your tone was sickly sweet but you let the sarcasm sink in. Walking behind the counter, you stopped next to Sarah and placed your fingers on the switchblade Cleo left under the register in a safety precaution.

The man nodded and slid a paper toward Sarah. “Hmm, like that attitude. No wonder Cameron liked to keep you around. I’ve got something for you here. I can take this place off your hands at any time. For a fair price.”

Sarah chuckled softly. “I don’t think that’s necessary. But can we offer you a keychain? Maybe a… glass bong, a pipe? You look like you need one.”

He looked away to not face the two of you as if he was assessing your work so far. “You know, y’all are gonna lose this place. You might as well sell now.”

You rolled your eyes and motioned toward the dock where he came. “Whatever you said, old man. And you can tell Cameron to kiss my ass if he comes asking.”

Sarah picked up the paper, her eyes moving quickly as she skimmed it before holding it out. You glanced at her expression and took it, instantly clocking the Public Notice, Change of Zoning.

“My dad used to do that all the time. It’s changing the zoning, it’s a way to force owners out of their property.”

You groaned and set it down. “Pope went through hell to get it changed in the first place. How can they change it back?”

“If someone’s got the money to do it, what’s it matter?”

“What are we gonna tell the others?” Your voice dropped to a whisper as you looked at her, the realization sinking in that this would cost more than you could account for, even with the fronted 5k.

She shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t know.”

You read the paper fully, wishing there was some form of hope to find hidden in the language but came up empty-handed. “We’ll tell JB first. He’ll know what to do.”

Sarah didn’t say anything but you could feel her chin rest on your shoulder before you dropped yours to lean against her. This was just another nail in the coffin that the world seemed to be building around your family.

And it was getting really hard to feel like they weren’t winning.

“My lady.”

You laughed as JJ tossed a blanket over your face, his warm body climbing in the hammock next to yours with a rough shove. Pulling the fabric away from your eyes, you were met with his crystal blue ones staring right back.

“Hi.”

It took less than two seconds for him to kiss you, the movement rough and warm. You hummed at his action, loving the way he seemed to know exactly how to hold you and bring butterflies to your stomach every time.

Fingers slipped into his hair, gently pulling the blond strands when he bit down on your lip with a soft gasp, everything heating with each second. JJ’s leg slipped between yours as you leaned up to chase his lips before the hammock moved sharply, threatening to throw the two of you to the ground.

“Okay, okay,” You giggled as he shifted his weight back down, wet kisses on your neck coming shortly after. “They will kill us if they catch us out here again.”

“We need our own place then.”

You huffed, pulling his head awake from your neck where he was starting something he couldn’t finish. “As much as I would love to do this right now, we have to talk about the dive.”

JJ groaned loudly in faux annoyance and dropped his weight on you completely like a slug. “Why can’t we just have sex and figure it out later?”

“Because Sarah already heard us last night and I’m trying to save you from John B if it happens again,” You explained with a smile before kissing his forehead. “Come on. Please.”

“Fine, fine.” He looked up at you with full attention. “What about the dive?”

You studied his face for a second, wondering how after all these years he still looked at you like you put the stars in the sky despite everything the two of you had gone through. “I wanna go with you.”

His response was instant, “No.”

“I wasn’t asking,” You shot back sternly. “You’re not going alone. I won’t let you.”

JJ brushed the hair out of your face gently and shook his head. “Sweetheart, it’s 80 feet down in the dark and moving through structures.”

You smirked at him. “Exactly, and that’s why you’ll need backup and I’m going.”

He sighed and dropped his head to your chest, mumbling something you couldn’t quite hear.

“Hmm?”

“I said your brother is going to kill me.”

A bubble of laughter escaped you at the thought of John B flipping his shit, which he would when you told him. You rubbed JJ’s back gently as the sunset dipped behind the skyline, nighttime beginning to make its appearance. “Come on babe, where you go, I go, remember? Includes bottom of the ocean.”

“Okay, now when you say it like that, it sounds really bad,” He grumbled and took your hand in his, squeezing it lightly. “Yeah, okay. I don’t like it but you’re gonna do it anyway. But if John B says no, I’m not arguing with him.”

You rolled your eyes, “You won’t have to. I’ll handle it. You just gotta look pretty and make sure I don’t get the bends.”

“I’ve bent your ass over before and-”

“JJ!”

The next morning, you made your way out to the shop where Sarah usually drank her morning coffee. The two of you didn’t sleep well with anxiety of the night ahead and you stayed up into the late hours trying to figure out how to deal with the zoning issue.

“Hey,” You whispered as you pulled JJ’s zip up closer over your chest and approached her. The morning chill was starting to set in, causing you to shiver.

Sarah glanced over her shoulder, a Kildare Surf Co. mug held tightly in her grasp to warm her fingers. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shook your head no and leaned on the railing next to her, the two of you soaking up the sunrise and calm water. Times like this were so peaceful and grounding that you appreciated them more than the eye could tell. It was a reminder that each day was a brand new start despite how the last one ended.

“What are you two doing up?” John B found you faster than you anticipated, his Converse quiet on the wood compared to his usual rowdy steps. He still looked half asleep in his long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants, his hair unruly as he gave Sarah a soft greeting kiss.

He moved to you next with a kiss on the forehead and a hug you refused to pull away from. John B always gave the best hugs. They were warm and a safe space for you, more than he had ever been in the previous years. The protectiveness had gotten stronger with the knowledge that your dad really wasn’t coming back and at the end of the day, all you would have is each other.

“You okay?” He asked quietly, palm holding your head to his chest when you tightened your grip after a few moments.

“I’ve gotta talk to you.”

He whistled lowly. “Don’t like the sound of that first thing in the morning.”

Sarah pulled the folded paper out from her hoodie pocket to hold it toward him. John B let go of you to take it, his eyes scanning the words before he let out a soft, “Shit.”

“The guy who tried to outbid us at the auction stopped by yesterday,” Sarah explained as she crossed her arms over her chest, shifting to face the two of you with her back to the railing. “He dropped it off, and said we’ll lose everything.”

John B shook his head and folded the paper back up. “Does anyone else know?”

“Just us. Pope’s going to freak out,” She replied, stepping toward your brother to lean into his side. “I’m sorry, I don’t know-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” John B shushed her and pulled her closer. “We’re gonna figure it out. It’s not the best thing to start the morning with but…”

You kicked your shoes into the wood. “Yeah, I’m about to make it worse. I’m diving with JJ.”

“No, absolutely not.”

You rolled your eyes, repeating what you’d told JJ yesterday. “John B, I’m not asking. I’m telling you.”

“Did he put you up to this?” He tossed his hands out to the side, motioning toward the house. “Because I’ve told him-”

“JB, stop,” You interrupted whatever rude thing was about to come out of his mouth. “No, JJ didn’t put me up to it. He’s not happy about it either, but it’s my decision. I’m not letting him go down there alone.”

John B shook his head in disagreement. “Then I’ll go. Or Pope can, it doesn’t have to be you.”

“Pope knows exactly where the wreckage is and I don’t steer the boat as well as you.”

“Kie, then.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Oh, so Kie’s allowed to but I’m not?”

John B groaned and shoved his hands to his face. “You’re making this really difficult.”

“It’s not your decision. And there may not be anything down there anyway, so quit worrying about it until there’s something to worry about,” You tried your best not to sound angry toward him, knowing he had your interests in mind. “John B, please let me help.”

Sarah placed her hand on his shoulder. “She’ll be fine. If anything, it’s going to keep JJ’s mind on safety, which is a good thing, okay?”

John B kept his eyes on you. You could practically see the thoughts moving behind his eyes, thinking if there was any way to talk you out of it, but he came up empty.

Which led you here, to you and JJ slipping on wetsuits while John B and Pope navigated and Sarah, Cleo, and Kie kept an eye out from land. You hissed as JJ’s fingers skimmed your back to zip up the material, sending shivers down your spine with the coolness.

“Sorry, sorry,” He apologized before helping you lift the BCD and remaining gear on. “Honestly, it’s kind of like surfing the point, you know. We’re upstream, and then the rip is just gonna… take us out.”

Mumbled agreements came from Pope and John B, none of them convincing in the slightest. You glared at the three boys. “You guys are not helping my nerves.”

“Okay, then take the wetsuit off and-”

You smacked John B’s shoulder, knowing he still wasn’t happy about the situation. “If I got JJ to shut up, you can too. Come on.”

“Don’t forget your safety stop,” Pope reminded as JJ loaded the speargun he insisted on taking. “Fifteen feet for three minutes. Hear that, JJ? Fifteen feet, three minutes.”

“Yeah, copy that.” The reply was direct as he pulled his goggles to his forehead. JJ’s attention shifted to you as you got to your feet and he reached out to grab your shoulder. “Hey, you good?”

You tried your best to keep the worry off your face and nodded. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

The water was colder than you expected, and the water was so, so dark. The underwater lights did a little to help but it still was dim unless you were on something. You followed JJ’s lead further down, feeling the pressure begin to set in as the depth increased.

To your shock, the flashlight hit an algae-covered figure that belonged at the front of a pirate ship. You didn’t think you would find it this fast, let alone that it would be real. Your gaze met JJ’s the excitement seeping in as the two of you moved forward to where Pope said would be best to enter.

Fish and sand flew in every direction as you moved water around while swimming, the sight almost beautiful if it wasn’t deadly too. JJ quickly found the door to shift, pushing inside the area that would lead to the Captain’s Quarters where the secret compartment was above the headboard.

You reached forward to push on the stone that had grown over time until you found a soft spot that shifted. Using Cleo’s knife to dig it out, you reached inside to feel for the supposed treasure that was supposed to be there.

JJ called your name and moved his light away, bringing what looked like a fresh set of tools into view. Which could only really mean one thing: someone else was down here.

You didn’t have time to think before the back of your neck was grabbed harshly, pulling you further down in the water and disorienting your entire body. Attempting to scream was nearly impossible with the mouthpiece as you kicked and shoved against the person who had grabbed you and pushed you out of JJ’s view.

The faint sounds of him yelling for you were barely there as you tried to get your bearings back. You caught a glimpse of his flashlight and began to move in that direction when hands grabbed your waist again and yanked backward.

“Let go!” You tried to yell, lashing back with your elbow and Cleo’s knife in an attempt to defend yourself. Things only got worse when your oxygen supply was stolen, the mouthpiece ripping away with the guy’s force as something cut along your arm. You caught sight of him swimming away but were hit with the harsh reality that your source of air was gone, left only with the deep breath you managed to steal.

Panic set in quickly, sending you into survival mode as you did your best to swim to wear JJ was last seen. Noises helped guide and you could make out him using debris to break the worn structure and free himself. Your lungs burned with the lack of oxygen and you were starting to believe you wouldn’t even make it to him before passing out.

“Hey, hey.” His voice was hardly recognizable before he lunged forward, placing the emergency mouthpiece in your grasp for air to flood your lungs. “You okay? We gotta go. We gotta go.”

You caught the faint beeping signal that warned JJ’s air supply was almost out as he started guiding the two of you back to the surface. Your brain was still in survival mode and the only thing you wanted to do was get the hell out of the water as soon as you could.

The second the water broke away, you dropped the mouthpiece JJ had provided and gasped for air. He coughed aggressively behind you, the two of you reaching out for each other in relief that you had made it back.

“Oh my god, shit. Are you okay?” His hands reached out for you in search of immediate injuries.

“Yeah, yeah,” You choked on water and ripped the mask from your head to see him clearly. “Who the hell was that? And where’s John B?”

There was so much fog you couldn’t see and your flashlights had been lost in the fight to escape so JJ yelled out for your brother until you caught sight of the boat. Pope quickly tossed the ladder over as John B reached out for you.

“Hey, hey, hand me your stuff. Where’s your BCD?” He asked as he grabbed your elbows and lifted you out of the water like it was the easiest thing ever.

You hit the floor of the boat relatively hard, still heaving for air in your lungs. “It’s gone.”

“What do you mean it’s gone?”

“I mean it’s gone!” It came out more aggressive than you meant for it to. “There’s a guy that tried to kill us!”

John B immediately tried to pull the remaining gear and wetsuit off you as Pope explained the boat that was up here, confirming your story. Your brother wrapped your shoulders in his lightweight shirt and ran to start the engine, pushing the boat back in the direction of home.

“You guys okay?” Pope asked as he watched JJ collapse down next to you. The only answer he received was a thumbs up from your boyfriend, the two of you still coming down from the adrenaline rush.

The drive back was a blur and thankfully, you were back on land with your friends before you had time to even process what had just happened.

“Someone tried to kill us,” You echoed again when John B repeated his question. You kept your head against the seat, trying to clear the fog from your brain that didn’t seem to go away as you took deep breaths. It had been a good 15 minutes back and you still couldn’t seem to shake it.

“What? Why? That doesn’t make sense. Why would someone try to kill you?”

“Obviously, they were going after the same thing we were, right?”

You groaned as they continued to talk. There was a searing pain making its way through your body and no matter how much you tried to focus on their words, you couldn’t. Sarah’s face was suddenly in front of you, her hands on your cheeks. You could see her mouth moving but couldn’t hear her voice.

John B was quickly next to you, his arms grabbing your waist alongside Sarah before you were being moved without another word. Blurry sights eventually told you that the group was in the Twinkie, and there was so, so much yelling, but you couldn’t catch it enough to ask what was going on.

“Ow, shit,” You groaned and curled into a ball against Kiara’s side, willing the pain to go away if you coiled small enough. Turning to her, you blinked a few times to steady your sight before speaking, “Hey, guess what?”

“Just hold on, we’re almost there,” She pleaded, eyes watching you with concern.

You shifted as much as you could, whimpering with the movement as you managed to get your hand in the swim shorts you’d been wearing to pull out the heavy-weight item in your palm.

“You found it?” Sarah’s voice sounded so loud in your head as she grabbed the balled towel from your grip. “Holy shit.”

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” John B asked as he looked over as best as he could while driving.

You coughed painfully and flipped him off, “Too busy dying, Booker.”

Cleo praised your efforts, calling you a rockstar and every other achievement in the book but you couldn’t hear over the noises that were setting in your skull. Every movement felt like an attack on your skin as your friends lifted you and JJ from the car into what you assumed was the hospital.

John B’s arm was tight around your waist as he and Cleo carried your weighted form. Your brother informed the hospital staff everything you couldn’t hear and the next thing you knew, you were surrounded by red lights and metal with JJ’s body next to you.

A pained whimper left your throat as you collapsed against the mattress that was beneath you, curling into your side again to try and disappear from it all. JJ’s own sounds of distress were hurtful to hear so you forced yourself to turn over to see him. Every muscle in your body felt like it was on fire, but you managed to grab his hand in yours, squeezing it tightly.

“I got you,” You whispered quietly as the room darkened and quieted. It took a few minutes but everything seemed to slow down. Your muscles were still tense and cramping, but you could hear and see better than 15 minutes ago, which was a plus.

JJ’s breathing evened out, and even though you were sure he was sleeping, you refused to take your hand out of his. You caught movement in your peripheral and shifted to see your brother standing in the doorway, watching you carefully.

A coil smile tugged your lips as you flipped him off with your free hand, which was easily returned by him. His mouth moved slow enough for you to read out “I love you, dumbass” before he disappeared from your vision and you fell into the best sleep of your life.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed that you lay there with JJ, the two of you breathing softly. You swore your heart was beating too loud that he could hear it, but you were just relieved to have your body back to yourself.

A nurse had come by not too long ago to explain the effects of the nitrogen in your blood and how the treatment process would go from there. You tried your best to listen, but your head was so heavy and exhausted that it was difficult.

“Babe.”

You hummed in response to JJ’s whisper, your eyes still closed as you rested against his chest. His heartbeat was steady in your ear, a reminder that the two of you were still here together and would be okay.

“You almost died.” You shifted slightly to look at him, twisting your leg between his to get impossibly closer, and pushed up on your hands to see him fully. His eyes were wet, and he looked so, so stressed. “I should’ve never let you go down there.”

A small smile graced your lips as you leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Then who would’ve saved your life?”

“Technically, I saved your life so-“

“Okay,” You laughed quietly and settled back against him, pressing another kiss to his jawline. “We both saved each other, yeah?”

His hands were warm as they curled around your bare shoulder to hold you, the two of you a mess of tangled limbs and love inside the small space you were given. “Would’ve never forgiven myself if you didn’t make it out of there.”

“I told you, where you go, I go,” You mumbled into his chest. “That includes tiny ass hyperbaric chambers, too.”

A small laugh left his lips before he kissed you, humming at the sensation it always gave him when you were soft like this. He loved nothing more than sharing moments so sweet and comforting with you. Like you were a calm in the storm that was always ready to strike.

“You know, we’re in here for twelve hours,” You hinted as you looked up into his gaze. “You got anything to do?”

He followed your insinuation and smiled like he had just won the lottery. “Oh, sweetheart. Have I told you I love you lately?”

Hours passed in heated kisses, soft touches, and shared giggles as you and JJ loved each other back to life. It was easy to tell when he wanted more, but you refused to share that part of him in a shitty hospital of all places, despite how much he pleaded with you.

Nurses spewed hospital talk left and right as you tried to enjoy your last few minutes of peace in JJ’s arms. Your time together was almost up, twelve hours turning into 30 minutes before you knew it and part of you was sad to leave it all. As much as you hated confined spaces and hospitals both, you loved having no distractions between you and JJ. It wasn’t often the two of you had the privacy to be vulnerable with each other, especially in a house with siblings and friends, so this was your slice of heaven for the time you had it.

“Hey,” JJ mumbled, pulling you out of your almost-nap. “Babe, wake up. Hey, look at me.”

You shifted lazily, not expecting to be woken up so suddenly but the panic in his voice snapped you out of it. “What? What’s wrong?”

He was frantic as he leaned above you. “There was a guy in the hall just now. I think it was the guy, the dude from the wreck. He-he had a wound right where I got him underwater with the spear gun-“

“Did he see you?” You attempted to get him to focus, to which he nodded. “Great, so he knows we’re here.”

“We gotta get out.”

You sighed and flopped back against the pillows, “Jayj, we have like 10 minutes. Just don’t make a scene and-“

“Ma’am! Miss!” His hand smacked against the window facing the hallway as he attempted to get someone’s attention.”

“JJ!” You grabbed his arm to stop the loud noise as he tried to tell the nurse who the man was and why you needed out. You managed to shove JJ away from the window that he was prepping to kick out. “Hey! Chill!”

The nurse seemed to notice the two of you were in distress and walked closer to hear better. “Just give me like 90 seconds and we’ll get you out, okay?”

“Hey!” He protested and stumbled back to look at you with a panic in his eyes.

You grabbed his face to focus his attention. “Babe, 90 seconds, okay. If we kick the window out, it’s gonna cause a scene and Shoupe will be on our ass, okay? 90 seconds.”

JJ groaned loudly and leaned against the metal wall behind him. The need to fight had him tense, every muscle in his body telling him to run and take you with him no matter what. You knew it had a lot to do with his dad. The first sign of danger made him anxious and jumpy and the quicker he could get everyone to safety, the better.

What didn’t help was him yelling the second the nurse let you both out, shouting about the man in the room next door who tried to kill the two of you.

“JJ!” You reached after him as he moved toward the hallway, barely giving you time to crawl out.

“I’m going to buy you some time, meet me outside!”

You didn’t have a second to argue as he started yelling at the nurses about being left in the chamber too long. Security moved in quickly after in an attempt to calm him down and you watched, horrified, as they started to take him outside.

“I’m gonna file a formal complaint!” He yelled, managing to make eye contact with you as he did. “Okay? File a formal complaint!”

You caught on to his emphasis and cursed under your breath. In his defense, he managed to make enough of a scene that a few patients spilled into the hallway, one male with a bandage on his arm included which gave you the answer you were looking for.

Moving as unsuspiciously as you could, you slid into the room across from the chamber you’d been in. The first thing you caught sight of was the amount of bloody bandages and you quickly turned away from them to focus on the area of the room that wasn’t contaminated.

“File, file, file,” Your voice was low as you searched for any sign of the paper but came up empty-handed. “Shit.”

Figuring the nurse’s station was the next best bet, you started your path there, trying to look like a visitor in a place you most certainly stood out from in your swim shorts, top, and John B’s floral shirt. Thankfully, JJ was still causing enough trouble that you were able to spot the wound picture from the pile of papers and snatch it from the desk, quickly tucking it into your chest and making your way to the exit.

“Guys!” You caught sight of Heyward’s truck, Cleo and Pope sitting inside expectantly for you and JJ, and started running in their direction.

“What’s the rush, girl? Where’s your man?” Cleo popped her head out the window to get a closer look at you.

You didn’t spare the time to answer and stepped on the back tire to push yourself into the bed of the truck. “JJ’s coming, just drive!”

Pope didn’t hesitate to put the car in gear and take off down the exit road from the hospital. Thankfully, JJ must’ve thought the same idea and was coming out the side entrance, down the hill. He spared no time and braced against the side of the truck to jump in before the vehicle even came to a stop.

“Are you okay?” Your question was left unanswered as he tumbled into the bed with no grace whatsoever. From first glance, he was unharmed, and you hoped that remained true.

“You guys know that guy that was down at the wreck and tried to kill us?” JJ rushed out as he spoke to Cleo and Pope through the open back window. “He was there!”

“At the hospital with you?” Pope questioned as he drove away from the building.

“Yes! He was getting stitched up where I got him in with the harpoon gun!”

You handed the file that you’d taken in for Cleo to read, wanting to spare yourself the images of his wound while knowing she had her head on straight unlike you from the adrenaline rush. She took it and scanned the information written.

“Cheese on bread. You two gonna get yourselves killed!”

navigation -- series masterlist

#outer banks x reader #outer banks #obx4 #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x routledge!reader #routledge!reader #john b x sister!reader #jj maybank series #outer banks series

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arieslost · 10 months ago

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the other papaya | op81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (brief pato o’ward x fem!reader)

summary: something something the first five times you hear the name “oscar piastri” and the one time you say it

wc: 3,165

warnings: mention of covid lockdown, a wee bit o’ angst, drinking

masterlist — join my tag list here!

The first time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it was said in contempt.

You knew your boyfriend didn’t hate him, but you also knew that Pato could practically hear the phone ringing with the offer to drive for McLaren in F1 right up until he found out that the seat was going to someone else. To Oscar Piastri. The “kid,” as he so aptly referred to him.

“He’s only two years younger than you,” you admonished him one night, soon after the announcement was made public.

“Exactly. A kid.”

“I’m two years younger than you.” You said, and that made him wrinkle his nose.

“Point taken.”

You would describe your relationship with Pato O’Ward as puppy love. Things between the two of you escalated a little too quickly, as many things in 2020 did. You went from going on a whopping four dates by the end of 2019 to living together for the foreseeable future when everything went on lockdown. Your mother had voiced her concern about it, but if you didn’t live with him you didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Besides, you liked each other so much that it only made sense that you continued to build your relationship in the comfort of his spacious apartment. The two of you settled into a decent rhythm, and you took the time to learn more about motorsport. When he was finally able to hit the track again, you went to every race you could, decked out in papaya, cheering him on no matter what. And you continued to do so even though he lost his chance at driving in F1 to “the kid.”

The second time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it came from the man himself when you ran into him at the 2024 Australian Grand Prix.

It was the first time you felt rather hesitant about going to a race with your boyfriend. Pato was welcomed to the McLaren F1 team as a reserve driver, and that was how you found yourself feeling extremely out of place in the McLaren garage. You met Oscar’s girlfriend before you met him, and while she was kind enough to get you a pair of headphones and offer to sit with you during the race, the entire interaction had you feeling like you should’ve just stayed back at the hotel. All the other WAGs were dressed to the nines, looking effortlessly beautiful, and you were wearing ripped jeans and a jersey with Pato’s number on it, like you always did, even though he wasn’t racing. With Pato busy in a debrief, you were busy just trying to stay out of the way and not stick out like a sore thumb.

“Excuse me,” someone said, and you assumed you were in the way, so you apologized and started moving when the person grabbed your arm to stop you. “No, sorry, I just– hi. You’re Pato’s girlfriend, yeah?”

Your eyes widened when you recognized the man talking to you. “Um… yes, I am.”

“I’m Oscar. Piastri,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded, accepting his handshake and telling him your name in return. “Are you here to tell me I need to leave?”

“What? No, of course not. Pato told me you were here, so I wanted to come say hi.”

“Oh.” You could feel your face starting to grow hot, because you really weren’t sure what to do in this situation.

Pato lost a chance at a seat to this guy, and you remembered his disappointment well. But you didn’t expect Oscar to come up to you in a million years.

“That’s really nice of you,” you continued, trying to smile without looking too awkward. “Congrats on getting the seat. You must be pretty talented.”

“Ah, thanks.” He looked at you for a moment, and you looked back. “Anyway, I just wanted to say hi.”

You giggled in spite of yourself. “You said that already.”

“Right, yeah. Well, it was nice to meet you,” he said, hesitantly tacking your name onto the end of his sentence. “Thanks for being here.”

“Nice to meet you too, Oscar. Good luck today.”

Two races later, Pato messaged him to congratulate him on his podium, and you mentioned wanting to thank and congratulate him yourself. You got Oscar’s number, and after his quick response, the conversation died out, just as you expected. You didn’t have anything else to say to him anyway, but soon after, you got a follow request from him on Instagram. You accepted without a second thought– just one papaya supporting another.

The third time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it was when a TikTok showed up on your feed talking about the “shocking split” between him and his girlfriend. You were reasonably surprised; his girlfriend was beautiful and kind, and from an outsider’s perspective they seemed quite happy with each other. The video went on to discuss speculation that his girlfriend was the one who had ended the relationship, and there were pictures of him looking visibly upset at the latest race. You closed the app, feeling like you were massively invading his privacy even though the first thing you saw upon opening Instagram was a statement on his story confirming the breakup. You couldn’t imagine what he was going through.

“Ah, so you saw, too,” Pato said, adjusting his workout clothes as he leaned over your shoulder.

“It’s terrible,” you sighed, shutting your phone off. “They seemed so happy together.”

“High school sweethearts, too. That makes it worse.”

You gave him a look. “You can feel bad for him, y’know.”

“I do!” Pato raised his hands with a laugh. “But if he wants to sit out of a race because of this, I won’t be upset.”

“You’re terrible, get out of here.” You shoved him playfully, and he left with a kiss on your forehead.

The last race weekend before summer break brought you a taste of the heartbreak Oscar went through only a couple months prior.

Pato had been in one of the older cars running some tests, and came home a little later than usual. He didn’t even answer your question of how his day was before he was sitting you down on the couch and looking anywhere but at your face.

“Pato, what’s going on? You’re kind of freaking me out,” you laughed nervously.

“I think we should break up.” He said, face stony.

You blinked. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a little while,” he began, “and I think it’s for the best.”

“How long is ‘a while’?” You asked, shifting away from him as you felt your heart begin to pound.

“Ever since I became a reserve driver.” He confessed, and you scoffed.

“Are you serious right now?”

“This is the closest I’ve ever been to a F1 seat.” He said, like that made breaking up logical.

“Yeah, I know. And you know how I know? Because I’ve been around for years.” You hissed, standing up and walking towards the bedroom. “But I guess that means nothing to you.”

“Don’t be like that,” Pato protested, following close behind. “This is my career. I don’t want to risk anything.”

“Right. Of course.” You nodded, moving about the room to collect as much of your stuff as you could with shaking hands.

The rest of the week went by in a blur. You packed up all your things and took the soonest flight to Australia to try and forget about the fact that Pato had just thrown away years of being together for a fleeting chance at driving a stupid race car.

The fourth time you hear Oscar Piastri’s name, it’s on the other end of the phone.

The two weeks following your breakup are uneventful and entirely consist of you, the warm Australian sun, and the spare bedroom in your aunt and uncle’s house. You haven’t deleted any of your IndyCar posts, nor have you posted any more. In fact, you haven’t posted anything since the last time you were in Australia, only a few months ago. Your Instagram has become stagnant; a reflection of your real life. You haven’t told many people about your breakup, so you’re surprised when your phone rings. Even more so when you see who it is.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Oscar. Piastri,” he adds his last name like an afterthought, just like he did when he introduced himself in the garage.

“I know,” you say, pushing yourself into a sitting position on your bed. “Caller ID. Although you’re probably the last person I’d expect a call from.”

“Listen, are you not around anymore?” He asks, evidently not in the mood to beat around the bush. “I haven’t seen you, and you haven’t posted about IndyCar or anything.”

“Ah, um, yeah, no, I’m not.” You clear your throat uncomfortably. “Actually, Pato and I broke up. Well, he broke up with me. So, no reason for me to be around, I guess.”

“Oh,” Oscar says, his loud sigh crackling through the microphone. “I figured something was wrong. Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I’m uh… I’m sorry too. Seemed like you had a good thing going.”

“Thanks. Seemed that way for you, too,” he mumbles. “So… I guess things have really been sucking for both of us lately.”

“Pretty much.” You laugh.

“This is a terrible idea,” he begins after a moment of silence, “but are you in Australia right now?”

You debate lying to him, because it is a terrible idea, and you have a feeling you know what he’s going to say next. You don’t care. “I am.”

“Alright, well, it’s summer break for F1 right now, and to be honest you’re the only person I know that understands what I’ve been going through.”

“Are you asking me to be your wallowing buddy?” You ask.

“Something like that. My plan was pretty much along the lines of drowning our sorrows in alcohol.” You can hear the smile in his voice, and for some reason that does you in.

The fifth time you hear Oscar Piastri’s name, it’s through a cheap karaoke microphone.

You’ve lost count of how many days you’ve spent with him, and you feel like you’re still a little drunk from the night before when he breaks open a bottle of champagne.

“What is this, a celebration?” You ask, stretching your arms and legs out so you look like a starfish where you lay on the living room floor.

“It’s whatever the fuck we want it to be.” He takes two glasses and pours the champagne out.

You giggle at him while he dramatically sets them both down on the coffee table at your side. “You definitely pregamed before you got here.”

“I did not,” he protests, but you shake your head.

“No, no, you say curse words like that when you’re drunk.”

“Like what?”

“Like, ‘oh my God, this champagne is so fucking good.’” You mock him after taking a sip, and he starts laughing too.

“Fine, you caught me.” He throws his hands up. “I pregamed. But, I walked here, so who cares?”

You’re glad that your aunt and uncle are out for the night, because a few hours and countless glasses of champagne later find the both of you in the attic, discovering a karaoke microphone without a machine to match.

“Screw the machine, we don’t need the shitty machine,” Oscar rolls his eyes, watching you put batteries into the microphone. “We’ll just find something on YouTube. Does it work?”

You flip the switch and hold it up to your mouth. “HELLO? It works.”

You regret putting fresh batteries into it as soon as Oscar gets up to sing. You think that he might not be half bad if he’s sober, but drunk, his singing is absolutely insufferable. You would care if you weren’t equally as drunk as him. He pulls up a karaoke video of Last Friday Night by Katy Perry, only after getting you to swear on the lives of your entire family that you won’t tell anyone what you see or hear. You consider secretly recording him, but the second he starts, you’re practically folded in half from laughing so hard at his antics and the fleeting idea is gone.

He’s so dramatic with every lyric, like he’s trying to act all the words out while he’s singing about a stranger in his bed and pink flamingos in his (nonexistent) pool. When he gets to the part of the chorus talking about taking too many shots, he gestures for you to hand him the champagne bottle. You hand it over immediately and watch as he stops singing entirely to take a long drink straight from the bottle, ignoring how attractive he looks the whole while. You actually think that you’d really like to kiss him. You’re drunk, and you’re heartbroken. You just want to laugh and forget about it all. So when he chokes on the champagne for a moment and flounders to find where he’s supposed to be in the song, you do just that.

The song ends both too soon and not soon enough, and you give him a round of applause, chanting, “Encore!” a few times as he takes a bow.

“I’m Oscar Piastri,” he yells, “and I fucking hate relationships!”

You cheer loudly. “Speak on it!”

“Except I have a problem,” he says, all of a sudden dejected as he flops onto the couch beside you, still speaking into the mic. “I have a biiiig, huuuuge problem.”

“Tell the all-knowing, and she shall answer,” you turn onto your side to face him and reach out to… you don’t remember what you wanted to do. Maybe touch his cheek. Or his nose. Or his lips.

Your hand ends up resting on the top of his head, fingers tangled in the soft strands of his hair.

“I think I might really like you,” he whispers, his words muffled by his lips smushing against the top of the mic. “Which is not good. I mean, it’s good, like, I think you’re amazing, but it’s not good, because I broke up and then you broke up, so we both broke up, but not with each other, with other people, and–”

You cut him off by taking the mic from him with your free hand and switching it off.

“Sorry.” He says, blinking at you slowly. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“We do,” you begin, petting his head. “Eventually. But not now. I am way too drunk to talk about this.”

This makes him start giggling, so you start giggling, and then you’re both cackling and clutching your stomachs.

You want to laugh, and forget about it, and you want to do it every single day with Oscar.

The first time you say the name Oscar Piastri, it’s while you’re laying in a hospital bed.

You’ve always been notorious for getting easily bruised, but breaking a bone is a first. Especially when it happens in the public eye.

You were only trying to make a cute, aesthetic TikTok showcasing your first race weekend as Oscar’s official girlfriend when you tripped and fractured your ankle in front of half the McLaren team. Not to mention the throng of fans mere feet away.

The two of you didn’t start dating until half a year after his drunken confession, and when you first started going out you had to be very discreet so fans didn’t expose the both of you before either of you were ready. Most of your dates ended up being at your aunt and uncle’s, which had become your home too once you got a job and started really getting yourself together after your breakup. He flew out to see you all the time, and as soon as he suggested that you come with him to the race of the season, you jumped on the opportunity. You didn’t think you’d ever go to a race again, but here you were. You were both happy, and you were both ready.

And now you’re fuming, mentally cursing yourself as you look down at your boot-covered ankle that has now effectively ruined your entire weekend.

Oscar comes rushing into the room, and you hold up a hand.

“Don’t tell me. Do not even tell me.” You shake your head. “Just tell me if it’s somewhat safe to go online or if I should just throw my phone out.”

“What?”

“I know people are talking about it. Oh, no.” Your eyes widen. “No, no. I’ve become a public embarrassment for you. I knew it. It only took me a few hours.” You cover your face with your hands. “Oh, my God… I am so sorry.”

“Again, what?” He asks, prying your hands away. “Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, aside from that,” you gesture to the boot, glaring at it before your eyes shoot back up to him. “Wait a second, how did quali go? Did you do your media stuff already?”

“I’m starting P5. I came here right after, no media.” He rushes out, pulling up a chair so he can sit right next to you and hold your hand. “They’re letting you go, right?”

“Yeah, just have to do some paperwork and get a prescription– why didn’t you go to the media?”

“Because they told me you got hurt? And you needed to be hospitalized?” He says, like it’s obvious.

“Oz, you get fined for that!” You exclaim. “Oh, no, this is so bad! First I embarrass you– no, not just you, probably the entire team, and now you’re here and not there and you’re going to get in trouble… fuck, what if you get fired?!”

“Baby, baby,” Oscar laughs, grabbing both of your hands now. “I’ll get fined, but I’m not gonna get fired just because I skipped media one time. Zak was fine with it, if that makes you feel better.”

You’re still worried, and he can see it in your eyes.

“What’s got you so worked up about this?” He asks softly.

“I just… don’t want to be a risk towards your career.” You say, feeling ashamed that you can still hear Pato’s words from the day he broke up with you. Oscar knows immediately.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, leaning in and kissing you on the lips, and then your nose. “None of this means anything if I don’t have you.”

You’re still taking it slow, but this is the closest either of you have come to saying “I love you” without saying it, so you pull your hands from his and cup his cheeks to pull him into another kiss.

“Oscar Piastri, you are my whole world.”

Ten minutes later, Lando comes bursting into the room with such aggression that he almost faceplants, and he makes so much noise that a nurse runs into the room looking highly concerned.

So, you laugh, and you forget about it, and you do it with Oscar at your side, where you know he’ll stay for the rest of your lives.

note: this was a bitch to write. also i was gonna make a layout for this but i really wanted to post it tonight so it is sans layout and was edited like a half hour before it’s scheduled to post. all that being said, i hope u enjoyed!!

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever

#request #full fic #op81 week #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fluff #op81 x reader #op81 x you #op81 imagine #op81 fluff #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

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pia-nor481 · 1 year ago

Text

I can do it better

Max verstappen x reader smut 18+

3.6k words

She was sat on their-her bedroom floor trying to recollect herself when a loud knock to the front door broke her out of the state she was in. Her eyes were red and cheeks painted with tears. Hoping that the knocking would stop she continued to stare at herself in the full length mirror opposite her hunched over body. Evidently, it didn't stop, she practically shouted the person behind the door to wait a minute. In the mean time, she stumbled up, pulling a shirt over her body and rushing to the bathroom, in hope of cold water freshening her face up; Although it was hard to look presentable at this given time. She could barely stay up her two feet while walking towards the front door. She didn't know where her things were, phone definitely blowing up with her friends asking how her night went, even if they got a hold of her, she wouldn't answer, they'd had enough of her complaints of her love life.

Once she reached the door handle, she opened it a crack, trying to avoid her body being seen. "Sorry to just turn up but my flight leaves tomorrow and you weren't answering, and need some of my stuff before I go." Max was a pretty observant person, he had to be; so nothing slipped past him. "You open the door like this for all the men who knock?" He joked lightly, knowing she often took what he said in jest. He looked back up to her face when there was no further comment. "No, what's up? I can tell something is wrong." He said letting himself into her flat, placing his keys and phone on the counter next to hers, he saw the ample amount of WhatsApp notifications. "Come on, you can tell me what happened." It was so obvious that max still cared for her. Their relationship was always messy. They fought constantly, it started as little things; the floors not being cleaned properly or a few things left in awkward or annoying places. Both of their friends said it was good that they were fighting about things like that, claiming it was healthy to have small bits of conflict that could be quickly resolved. But it soon became a big problem when carer got involved, he was always traveling whether it be for the actual race, England to help with development of the car, or visiting his home to see his parents or even Monaco to be with his friends, but her job required her to be in one place. They tried hard to make it work, she book flights to come and see some of his races or he would stay until Wednesday night of the race week just to spend time with her, but it just wasn't enough.

There had been a few times were Max had heard her on the phone with her friends trying to convince her to break up with him, but every time she would shut them own. "He's toxic, leave him before it gets worse. There can't be anything that makes it worth the stress and disappointment." She would shake her head before remembering that they couldn't see her that's one thing Max really enjoyed, her tendency to show rather than speak. "If he's toxic, I'll wear a hazmat. You don't get it, I love him." Hearing her say things like that always made him smile. He loved her just as much, if not more. Every time he'd come back he would spend all his time awake comforting her, making her feel secure. She wasn't overly talkative when being asked questions, preferring to just shake her head or even pretend she didn't hear it; but not with max. He tried to make sure she would communicate with him, even when they fought, he'd let her scream and shout at him, he wanted to hear everything she had to say, so he knew how she felt, so he could help, He didn't get the luxury of expression when he was younger and that caused many problems. He learnt from this, he learned how to be better, he learned how to love. Max loved, no, loves her so much; it was hard for him to put it into words sometimes, she knew this, and was okay with him showing his love physically. That may have been a part of the problem, they were never close enough for him to show her how much he loved her. Although he is not the only one to blame, she was stubborn, overly so. She hated being wrong and so did he. So Max tried his hardest to not condescend her when she was wrong, but that wasn't often.

"Come on." He had to bite back the pet names he gave her in the years they spent together. "You can tell me what happened." She also hated voicing her concerns with him. She never worried about cheating, Max would never. It was like she felt neglected, but she couldn't say that, it was selfish, she was the one who said they could make the distance work. As max looked around the room he noticed how empty it was. With all of his things gone it didn't feel like home to her anymore. His house in Monaco didn't feel like home either, not without her. She looked up from her feet to meet his eyes. "It's embarrassing." His shoulders dropped, she was stupid sometimes, she didn't realised how silly that sounded to him. "And I've known you for how long?" He paused walking back towards her, resisting the urge to hold her close, to pull her into his chest and cradle her head. "At least it wasn't someone else's fault." he said slightly relieved, her eyes were still a cause for concern, even now he was prepared to fix any problem she had. The silence was loud, his anger pooled at his fists. "Right?" His eyes scanned over her whole body, making sure she wasn't hurt. "Its stupid, and I'm fine by the way. Can't you just grab your stuff and go?" she asked, almost pleading for him to leave. He was not going to leave her alone, not when she was like this.

Max went against his better judgement and hugged her, she needed it, no matter how many times she wanted to be left completely alone. "Tell me. You always feel better when you say what you're thinking, not just shouting at the mirror." She was almost reduced to tears, not only because of his words, but because she was so embarrassed. "Promise you wont laugh." She whispered through teary eyes. "Promise." He pulled his chest away, so he could look her in the eyes as she spoke. He wanted her to feel listened to, cared for. "So my friends set me up with his guy called Matthew, right." Any remaining anger turned into jealousy. He was fuming that his girl was going on a date with some guy. He pushed his feelings aside briefly, wanting to hear the rest of her story. "Well, we went out to this pretty nice place and it was going well, at least I thought so. Anyway, we came back here and he started kiss me, and you feel me up and stuff." She really didn't want to give her ex-boyfriend the details of her hook up. She paused still embarrassed. "Was he blonde and foreign as well?" Her face became warm as he let out a chuckle, this actually comforted him a bit, to see her go out with guys that reminded her of him. "Glad to see you have a type." She gave him a pointed look as an initial response. "Sorry, go on." Shifting her feet to avoid the shame. Max gave her sweet look, enticing her to speak. "When we, um, went to bed it was, uh, fine to start with but you know, he couldn't make me cum, it didn't seem like he was even trying." Her voice was shaky, her nerves were sky high, but she continued because, for once, Max was right. "So I may or may not have sent him out of the flat." She says with as sigh, looking up at her and grasping his arm for a bit of support ,not physical, but emotional, he was comforting to touch. "I am so glad I was your boyfriend and knew how to actually please you or I don't think we would have lasted as long as we did." He spoke with a crooked smile, ready of a light slap to his chest. "It's not funny Max." defeated, her shoulders slumped slightly as she tried to pull out of his tight grasp. "It is a little bit, oh no, please don't give me that look. I'm sorry I swear."

"So let me get this straight, you wanted to hook up with this guy, Matthew, and he was being a selfish prick, and now you are all desperate and pent up. That I can defiantly work with." Confusion covered her face as Max picked her up by her waist and began walking them towards the bedroom. She hooked her legs around his hips during his venture. She would often scold him for doing things without warning or saying things that he shouldn't. She began to kiss his neck, wanting his attention back on her. She knew it wasn't a good idea, but she would worry about the consequences later. One of his hands slid down her back, giving her ass a nice squeeze, he knew she liked it, not that she'd say so, he had to figure that out for himself.

Once his knees touched the edge of the bed, he placed her on it, immediately pushing her shirt up, "No underwear as well, you really do treat the guys at your door well." He let out with a smirk, before pushing her thighs apart further so he could slot between them. The ghost of his breath had her shuddering, she moaned when his lips finally touched her cunt, tongue licking a long stripe over her slit. Max looked up, not even being able to see her face as her head was thrown back at the slightest amount of pleasure. She really needed to feel him. He began to suck on her clit lightly, not wanting to rush into it and run the risk of ruining her orgasm, it hurt him to make her wait any longer, knowing she had spent so much time dissatisfied. Max shook his head side to side sending waves of bliss through her whole body.

Max got good at eating pussy from practicing on her. There were times where he spent more time between her legs than not. Her moans got louder as max put more pressure on her clit, heightening the sensation. "Could he not do this to you? No? That's what I thought." He breathed against her cunt, making her hips shift towards him. Max pulled her knees over his shoulders as he went back in, the noises that filled the room were quickly becoming pornographic. He could feel her twitching and clenching as he ate her out, Max moaned at the feeling, knowing it would tip her over the edge. "Yes, Max. Please, it feels so good." She barely got out, lungs burning. As she began gasping for air, Max could feel her ankles cross behind his back, squishing his head between her thighs. She came hard, harder than she'd done since the last time they were together. No matter who she slept with, no matter how many times she made herself cum it was never the same. "Did that feel good? Was that better than Matthew? Yeah, I know it is."

She pushed Max back slightly so she could slip off the bed and on to her knees. She undid his belt as quick as her shaky hands would allow her. She squeezed him lightly and ran her hand over his cock a few times before actually pulling it out, she licked a long stripe along the underside, right along the thick vein of his length. Max let out a breathy groan as she took his entire cock in her mouth, reaching down her throat. His hands quickly found her hair and made pace in tangling them. He guided her up and down his cock watching from above with a pleased look on his face. She pulled off with a loud pop, then she tongued the space between the head and shaft, he let out a guttural moan at the feeling, urging her to take him back in her mouth, it felt phenomenal. Once she hollowed her cheeks again it all became too much for max, she made him cum so hard he started to feel almost lightheaded, seeing stars, hunching over at the feeling. "Fuck, you feel so go baby. Always making me feel so good." He praised, not one lie leaving his lips, although he got to cum every time he had sex, it didn't feel as euphoric as it did with her.

"Get up here." he said, pulling her up to her tip toes for a kiss. He slipped his tongue practically down her throat, tasting himself in her mouth. Max never understood how other guys could possibly complain about their girlfriend wanting a kiss after blowing him. If she had no problem kissing him after eating her out, what was the difference? The mix was divine, it sent blood rushing to his cock almost immediately as their lips touched. He let his hands run wild over her body, missing the warm of her skin against his. He missed being able to touch every divot of her body. He missed the control he had over her, and the trust she had in him. He was almost as pent up as she was. Max made a point of picking her up again, just to throw her back down on the bed. He noticed the framed painting was put back up above the bed. When they were together, it was almost exclusively on the floor as they got lazy hunting for it behind the headboard, He was disappointed that it was placed back to its home. Max caged her head between her arms as he kissed his way down her abdomen before he gave her cunt one final kiss. He slid his cock over her clit just to tease, he got the same reaction buy only pushing the head in and out a few times before slowly slipping his whole cock in inch by inch. She was swimming in pleasure with max slowly marking her, her neck covered in bites, a few bleeding slightly, her chest was covered in red marks, he needed to mark her as his again, no one was allowed to touch what was his. Not anymore. "Fuck." Max strained, sounding breathless and choked as he continued to pound into her, just how she always liked. He was too hot not to moan over, so she did, and he indulged her, usually he'd have to cover her mouth with his hand or push her face into the pillows to avoid noise complaints, but tonight he'd let her do anything, all he wanted was her back in his arms. He continued to abuse her walls while she gripped the bedsheets tightly, her knuckles becoming white with the new found strength. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head while the remainder of her make up began to smudge and run. Max was fucking her so well her face was painted with tears of joy, and it was just so hot. Max became impossibly harder seeing her fucked out face. He stared to fuck her deeper, hitting that spot that made her go blind with pleasure. "Oh yes Max, always make me feel so good." Her inability to articulate proper sentences was a tell tale sign she was close. Max learned how to read her like a book and it was so beneficial in times like this.

He quickened his pace, feeling quite close himself. He could she some of this hook up guy's stuff still in her room and it just fuelled the fire. "Matthew didn't make you feel nearly this good did he, sweetheart. You can be honest because I already know." He was interrupted by a thud against the floor. "That's it, good fucking girl for me." he praised her, knowing she would melt from his words, his voice was something she admitted masturbating to when he was gone. She claimed it was mostly because of his accent, but also the tone and the pitch, it just got her so hot and bothered. "Think you can hold on just a little longer?" He asked, feeling her clench around his cock, it made it hard for him to resist. "Only for you, Max." she moaned aware it would edge him on further, fucking her felt exclusive, she was a rare and only he could have her. Perhaps he was a bit possessive, but that didn't matter now that he was with her. One of his hands slid up to her throat, pressing lightly on the sides to only slow the blood flow to her head; his other made way to her clit, rubbing fast circles with just enough pressure to really make it feel good. "Please, just.. just like tha..that." She managed to slur out before her words were cut off by a whine. Her orgasm hit so hard that her head was pushing deep in the mattress and her legs began to spasm and shake. Max only now allowed him self to cum, while she was coming down. He pulled out, shooting plenty of long, thick ropes of cum all over her torso, mainly her perfect tits that her just couldn't resist. They both sighed quietly with small laugh.

Max gave her a chaste kiss before walking leisurely to the bathroom and picking up a towel to clean her up a bit. On his way back he turned the AC on, anticipating that she would ask him to stay; if he was he want to be touching her the entire time, in order to keep her close he needed the room cold. He brushed the towel over she skin as gently as possible, although it still pulled a moan from her. "I know, but I have to, Darling." He threw the towel to the corner of the room, knowing she'd complain about it later. "Were are my clothes?" He asked quietly, looking back at her on the bed with a grin plastered to her face. "Where you left them before moving out." still in the wardrobe would have been an easier answer but she wanted him to know she didn't want him gone. She anticipated him coming back and wanting to stay, as usual she was right. He put his classic black t-shirt on before climbing in bed with her. "I'm not putting that frame back up." was the first thing she said after coming out of her orgasmic haze. He pulled her practically on top of his body and held her close, as if someone was going to take her from him. "I know." was all he said, trying to think of the right words to convey his feelings. "I never stopped loving you." Was all he could say so he coupled it with a tight squeeze. "I know." It was her turn to give a dry reply and kiss his neck sweetly. "This is great pillow talk." Max laughed out quietly and he could feel her smile against his chest. "I'm so sorry, I should have tried harder. I shouldn't have blamed you as much as I did, I'm just as responsible. And I most definitely should not have told you to leave and never come back. I regretted it immediately, you know. As soon as I heard the door shut I lost it. I don't deserve you Max, but I need you so much." His heart ached hearing her confession, feeling her tears wet his shirt slightly. "I shouldn't have walked out. I know what you're like when you get angry. As soon I closed that door I couldn't bring myself to leave. I slept outside that door, your neighbour asked what happened and I started crying to her. I kept in touch with your friends, or at least I tried to. I needed to make sure you were okay, but it doesn't seem like they like me much. So don't say you don't deserve me, you do. We will make it to the end, I promise you. I wont lose you again. I love you too much for that." She wiped her now joyful tears as she kissed his lips again.

There was a loud repeated knock on her door, they tried to ignore it, assuming it was their neighbours complaining about the noise, they normally gave up after a few knocks. But this one persisted. "You stay here and keep warm alright, I'll se who it is." Max got out of the bed a recovered her body in blankets while walking with unnecessary pace towards the door. He swung it open aggressively. "Look I'm sorry about that but can I just get the rest of my clothes and leave, there's no need to-" The guy, who max assumed to me Matthew, stopped upon seeing Max. "Sorry man, but that's not happening. Not while I'm here. I don't think you even deserve it, especially if you can't make such a desperate woman come. Only took me three minutes . So fuck off now will you." Max said before slamming the door, feeling relieved as he reached her again. "I love you so much Max."

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