#moth-mans-girl-friend | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

risuola · 4 months ago

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FEELIN' LUCKY || GETO SUGURU

Suguru has a reputation of a playboy — and rightfully so. He likes to change girls, bedding them as he pleases. He thinks he can have them all. He's a player, a red flag and you show him he's wrong. It's a story about a boy who has everything but craves to have you.

contains: frat boy!suguru x nerdy!reader, pining, maybe a little slowburn-ish, flirting, smut (unprotected sex, some body worship, mentions of hooking up, booty calls, sexting), wc. 9420 ⋯ reader discretion is advised

kinktober '24 masterlist || art in the header: @/chu-cho on tumblr

Suguru knows how to navigate around the campus. He’s tried all the shortcuts, been on all the parties, talked (and fought) with all the teachers. He’s known around — troublemaker, a frat boy, a heartbreaker. It’s no news to anyone that Suguru Geto is a red flag personified; a ladies’ man, playing with every beauty he deems worthy of attention. And he’s lucky too, girls tend to love him, all of them. After all, bad girls love bad boys and good girls, unfortunately, do too. He’s a flame that attracts all the moths, a sin that tempts and renders every heart helpless. He’s a siren song luring women towards their doom. The ultimate playboy, reveling in the attention he gets everywhere he shows up, soaking it up like a cat basking in the sun.

It’s unfair, he jokes sometimes, when he aims to add another notch to his bedpost. Unfair how easy it is for him to have what he wants, how all that meets his gaze is heart-eyes and flushed cheeks. But he likes it, he likes to take, he likes to be wanted and pick from the crowd. It boosts his ego. He is, after all, drop dead gorgeous. He is, truly, with his long, raven hair and purple glint to his eyes, all surrounded by an air of sexy danger coming from his piercings, his clothes and the way he acts.

“Who’s that?” He wonders, mind rushing through the extensive catalogue of female students he knows. “She’s new.” Clearly. He doesn’t know you yet.

You’re pretty, too pretty for him to let you go just like that. You came to the party at the frat house, but you don’t seem to fit right in. Maybe you’re a transfer student? Or a friend of someone? It doesn’t look like you’re someone’s girlfriend. A man that’s sane would not let you wander around such place alone. Not in that dress. You’re gorgeous, breathtaking. You make Suguru’s heart beat a little bit faster, his pulse quickening and he can hear it in his ears, a steady thump echoing over the sound of music. It’s excitement — something he has not felt in a long time.

His friends say something. He’s not listening, eyes laser focused on you and only you. You move with grace, your hips sway from side to side like a pendulum as you find your way through the crowded living room. Your cup is empty, it’s clear from the way you tap it with your fingernail every time someone tries to stop you — you’re pointing on it, gesturing your intentions as you try to speak over the loud music and blurring chatter. You seem polite too, the way you smile brightens the area. He likes how it reaches your eyes, how your nose scrunches a little and the skin near your temples crinkle. Everything about you is hypnotizing, you know what you’re doing. You have to know what you’re doing. You’re magnetic and he wouldn’t be able to resist even if he wanted to.

He doesn’t.

You push through the crowd and Suguru follows, a predator stalking its prey. You are, after all, like a sweet little rabbit tonight. His eyes never leave your back, watching the way your hair sways and bounces with each step you take, how the fabric of your dress hugs your delectable curves. You look soft, he’d love to touch you, to squeeze those plush thighs, to feel the pliable flesh of your rear, to have your chest squeezed against the hard planes of his muscular torso. He wonders how soft your skin is under the fabric, if it’s smooth and warm to touch. He wants to find out, to explore every inch of it until he maps out every mole, scar and birthmark. He licks his lips subconsciously, his tongue swiping over the piercing in his lower lip and he wonders if you’d like it — if the cold metal decorating his mouth would be something you’re into.

He catches you in the kitchen. You’re holding a can of strawberry flavored soda and looking around, and he knows what you’re searching for. “Hey there, beautiful,” he greets smoothly, flashing you a smile that’s known for making girls weak in the knees. “Allow me,” he reaches, taking the cold metal from your hands — his fingers brush against yours as your eyes met, the touch lingering a little longer than necessary but he’s content as he swiftly opens the can for you, earning himself a chuckle.

He’s already got you.

“Thank you,” you smile, taking the drink back and filling your cup with the pinkish liquid. It smells sweet, the delicate aroma of artificial fruit breaking through the typical mixture of sweat and alcohol that fills the room. It’s refreshing, the scent, the look of bubbles dancing at the edges of your cup. You take a sip, tasting the flavor on your tongue and he wants to try it too. From your lips, preferably. Those glistening, cherry-colored lips. Oh, you look delectable.

“I’m Suguru,” he grins again, his eyes scanning your breathtaking features and committing the picture to memory. “I don’t think we’ve met before.” He already envisions you below him.

“I doubt that too,” you nod and you know he’s attracted to you. It’s clear from the way he looks at you, eats you with his eyes only. Obvious from how his gaze lingers on your lips a little longer than he should but you allow him. You introduce himself too and he repeats, testing the name on his tongue.

“What brings a gorgeous woman like you to our little shindig?” He extends his hand out to shake yours, his thumb brushing over your delicate skin as his touch lingers.

“I got invited by one of my friends but I can’t seem to find her in this crowd. I’m sure she’s having fun somewhere though, it’s alright,” you explain, briefly looking over the students crowded in the main area of the house. Most of them are drunk already despite the quite early hour but you don’t mind it. A frat party is exactly what you expected it to be. “I wouldn’t honestly dare to call this a little shindig.”

Suguru chuckles lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Well, I suppose ‘little’ was an understatement,” he grins and sips on his own drink. “How do you like it so far? Do you enjoy the mingling masses and blasting music or maybe I could steal you away? My room is just upstairs.” His eyes flick down to your lips once more before meeting your gaze again, a hint of mischief dancing in their violet depths. One step closer and he’s invading your personal space just slightly. “Because I could show you a good time, if you’d like. Just the two of us, away from all that noise and chaos,” he finishes a little quieter, a little lower. His tone is meant to seduce, to tempt you and he knows it always works. In his mind, he’s already alone with you, he imagines tracing your curves as he trails kisses along your jawline. His touch feels electric against your skin and you have to give him that — he sure does know how to get the attention he wants.

“I appreciate the offer, but I came here for the noise and the chaos,” you reply, smiling as your hand finds his wrist in a gentle caress meant to put some distance between his fingertips and your skin. “It’s not every day I get to attend a party such as this one,” that said, you’re ready to retract when his free hand meets the curve of your hip. You hear a hum and he’s suddenly much closer, you feel his breath on your lips, a mixture of mint and something strongly alcoholic. A little sweet too. A coke, maybe. There’s warmth bouncing off of him, one that you feel tingling on your skin when he leans down to meet your height. The tip of his nose teases yours before it moves to the side, running over the lines of your cheekbone.

“Are you sure?” He asks, smirking as he waits for your resolve to crumble. Not a single girl before you had resisted his charms and you surely are not going to be the first. He enjoys the challenge you present. Most girls would have melted under his touch but you remain composed. He likes that. He likes a woman who knows what she wants. “We could make our own noise, create our own chaos.”

“I’m content with all that’s happening here,” you hum, slipping out of his embrace. “Thank you for the company, Suguru. It was nice to meet you,” and you’re gone.

He stands there, dumbfounded. He stands there, once more looking at your back and he cannot believe what happened. A bunny that slipped from the hands of a wolf, girl that rejected Suguru’s charms, A moth that said no to the flames of his lust. A challenge he’s not going to pass on.

He smirks.

Before, he just wanted to have you.

Now, he has to have you.

And he will do whatever it takes.

Over the next weeks, Suguru has not given up. He hasn’t been able to get you out of his head, his interest in you hasn’t diminished; if anything, it’s grown stronger with each passing day. He’s determined to unravel the enigma that is you, to uncover the secrets hidden behind your captivating eyes and sweet smile. There’s something about you that made him desperate. A mystery he cannot quite unravel, a puzzle he can’t solve. And he thinks of you. He finds himself lost in thoughts of you more often than he’d care to admit. He spots you around campus occasionally, always looking effortlessly stunning and each time, he feels that familiar pull, that undeniable attraction that draws him to you.

Maybe it’s him, who’s the moth.

He doesn’t like this. How you always brush his advances off, how sweetly you smile while doing so. Every time he wants to touch you, you slip right through his fingers. You have tainted him with longing he has never felt before, you ruined him. He doesn’t want other women anymore, the line of booty-calls and flings blocked and removed from his phone. The nights he spends thinking of you, fucking his fist and swearing to all gods above and below to change, asking for a chance to sink his teeth into you. Because he doesn’t want anyone else. And he doesn’t know what you have done to him.

“Fancy seeing you there,” he remarks, settling himself beside you on the bench outside the library. The afternoon is particularly sunny, warmth caressing your skin as you sit comfortably, engrossed in a book. “Mind if I join you?” He asks, but he doesn’t wait for the response, as he leans over to glance at the title of your read. “Ah, philosophy. A deep thinker, huh? I like that.”

“Do you?” You ask, nudging a bookmark between the pages. “You don’t strike me as a philosophical type. You seem to me more of a live-in-the-moment kinda guy.”

He chuckles. “You’d be surprised,” he replies, his tone light and teasing, “there’s more to me than just good looks and undeniable charm. Although, I won’t deny that those are pretty great assets,” he winks playfully. Suguru leans back on the bench, stretching his long legs out in front of him. The ripped, black denim exposes a bit of his thigh, the ink of his tattoos peeking through the dark threads, drawing your attention.

“Oh, the confidence. It’s much more valuable trait than the outside looks,” you hum, leaning against the backrest too.

Geto laughs, a rich, warm sound that carries easily in the quiet outdoor setting. Then, he turns to face you fully, his expression turning serious for a moment. “But you’re right, I’m not usually one for heavy books and deep discussions. I prefer to keep things light and fun.” It’s a confession, he admits to it with a hint of vulnerability that’s quickly pushed behind his typical grin. “Besides, a guy can learn a thing or two from a smart, beautiful woman like yourself.” He flirts, but there’s an underlying sincerity to his words. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Tell me, what’s so captivating about this particular tome? What insights does it hold to have captured your attention so thoroughly?”

“It’s a tale of a man discovering what really matters in modern life, a story of loss and reconciliation. The narrator, whose days are counted due to sudden diagnosis, meets the Devil who offers him an extra day of life in exchange of making one thing in the world disappear,” you explain briefly and he watches your fingers dancing over the front cover of the book, tracing the lines of the simple graphic of a cat. “There comes the question, how do you separate out what you can do without from what you hold dear? I think it’s something we don’t pay much attention to in our lives because we have everything within reach, but what if something just… disappeared? The narrator has to take responsibility for each one of his decisions. There’s no going back, there never will be, once a thing is gone, it’s gone.”

Suguru listens intently, his expression thoughtful as he absorbs your words. “That’s quite… It makes you think, doesn’t it?” He muses, nodding slowly. “It makes you wonder what you’d choose to erase if given a chance to live just a day longer.”

“The question of how to decide what’s okay to remove and what’s not is what makes me think the most,” you look up. The day is beautiful today, fluffy clouds travel sparsely over the azure blue sky, the sun warms your skin with its golden rays and the birds sing, hidden within the crowns of the nearby trees. You hear some chatter, somewhere from the distance where other students pass by, you hear the cars that honk impatiently as they stand in the traffic and you hear a dog barking. There’s a park not far away. “Some things that are insignificant to me might be the entire world to someone else.”

“So you think the burden of consequences might outweigh the price of life itself,” he notes, his eyes studying the lines of your profile. Your eyes, reflecting the blue of the sky, your cheeks flushed from the wind and sunrays. He thinks the color of your scarf makes your complexion looks brighter. “I don’t know if I would be capable of eradicating something from the world permanently. At first, I thought it might be easy, just get rid of something small and simple, but then it made me wonder if things I think are unimportant, truly are so.”

Truth is, Suguru doesn’t think he would dwell much about the topic if not you, but he wonders what if. What if he made a decision that would cause a war? Or someone else’s loss? What if a thing that he picks results in him not meeting you?

“That’s what philosophy does to you,” you chuckle, turning your gaze back to him, just to meet his eyes glued to yourself.

“But maybe that’s what makes life worth living,” he turns to you fully, his eyes wondering as he drops his usual playfulness and mischief. “It’s much easier to pretend we have control over our lives and the world around us rather than confront the harsh truth that we are all just tiny cogs in a vas, unpredictable machine. But maybe it’s the uncertainty, the constant surprises, the knowledge that anything can change in an instant what makes the journey worth the effort.”

“Maybe it is,” you nod, taking a moment to let his words sink in. “I wouldn’t expect you to engage in topics such as this. I apologize,” you offer a smile and he melts.

“You know, most people assume I’m just a pretty face. They don’t expect me to have substance beneath the surface,” he muses, his expression turning thoughtful before he lets out a breathy chuckle. “I guess I do give them the reasons to do so. But I really enjoy talking to you. It’s nice to have conversations that aren’t just surface-level flirting and innuendos. There’s just something about you...” He trails off, reaching out tentatively, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger against your skin for a moment before falling away. “I like how you challenge me, make me think deeper than I usually do. You are a puzzle I can’t wait to solve.” His gaze locks with yours, his expression open and vulnerable in a way you haven’t seen from him before. “Can I see you again? Like this, I mean. Just talking, getting to know each other better.”

The question hangs heavy in the air as you consider it. You will meet him again, one way or another, somewhere around the campus or at another frat party. You will see him again as he targets another girl, flirting his way into another pair of panties. And you exhale, your lips curving upwards slightly as you lean your head on your fist, elbow on your knee.

“Suguru,” you begin, his name slipping over your tongue with ease you enjoy. But you know better than this. You have seen it all too well how he treats women. “I enjoy conversing with you and if it’s just talk that you want from me, then I will find time to meet you again. But I need you to know that I will not allow myself to be another notch on your bedpost. It’s easy to get swayed by your charms, but I know your reputation and I know it for sure that if I had to give up one thing in the world, it would never be self-respect.”

And he knows for sure that if he had to give up romance for the rest of his life just to have you, he wouldn’t think twice about it.

“I don’t want to charm my way between your legs,” he swears, too quickly, too desperate to make himself believable and he groans, annoyed by his own self. He nervously runs his hand through his dark, raven hair. “Just, please, give me a chance. I won’t lie to your face and say that I’m suddenly ready to settle down or that I’m done sowing my wild oats entirely. I know what kind of reputation I have and I can’t deny that I’ve played the field more times than I can count. I’ve earned it fair and square,” he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. All of the lustful nights flashed before his eyes, the nameless girls, the empty promises and unanswered calls afterwards. All the nudes, all the sexts, all the quickies in the locker rooms and dingy bathrooms. Suguru would give them all away if only earned a chance to be with you. “I want to change. I already started to change. You don’t have to believe me right away, but you are different. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew there was something special about you. And I won’t lie that I’m not attracted to you physically. That would be impossible. But there’s more to it than that. Something worth pursuing beyond just a one-night stand.”

“And what change are you talking about?” You quiz. “Because as far as I am concerned, I’ve seen you flirting with some girls just yesterday.”

And he winces, unable to deny your accusation. “You’re right, I did flirt with them. It’s become a second nature to me, a habit I can’t seem to break easily.” He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair once more, frustrated. “But it didn’t go further than talk. I didn’t… I’ve stopped sleeping around. I blocked and removed all the girls’ numbers from my phone, deleted the pictures I had. Fuck, I even declined an invitation for a party with my pals, for the first time since high school. Look,” he leans in, his eyes locked with yours and his hand finds yours. You feel his thumb rubbing soft circles on your knuckles and you wonder if it’s to soothe you or himself. “Being with you, talking to you… it’s opened my eyes to what I have been missing out on. I’ve spent so long chasing meaningless encounters, never allowing myself to form real connections with anyone and now, I’ve tasted something more substantial and realized just how hollow my previous pursuits have been. I want to do better. For you, yes, but also for myself. I want to prove to you that I’m capable of more than just cheap thrills and empty promises.”

It’s true, everything he says. He is ready to drop the player mask, to shed his frat repute just to have a chance at something real, something that makes his heart flutter in his chest and his stomach bubble with butterflies. He is ready to say no to easy sex just to fight for your attention, your touch, your heart.

He is genuine, but you just hum, your expression unreadable as you weigh your next words. You like him desperate. You like how his violet eyes sparkle with puppy-like vulnerability rather than a flirty mischief. And he is beautiful, you cannot deny it — a man of impressive built, clad in ripped jeans and leather, heavy boots and a band tee. He looks like he bites, and you know he does. You take in the sight of his piercings, the large gauges, the snake bites in his lower lip, the piercing across the bridge of his nose, right between his captivating eyes and the one right above his left brow. You wonder what kissing him would feel like. Would the metal come in the way? Or maybe it would add to the experience?

“I’m not sure what to tell you,” you sigh. “I will give you a chance if you think you can change. But you’ll need to prove it. Think about it.”

And he did.

The lonely nights he spends at the frat house, laying in bed instead of partying with his friends, he wonders where the path of his change will lead him. What if it’s him, confronting the devil and having a chance to lose himself just to earn a day with you? He thinks he’d take it. He’s sure he would. He flips on the mattress, his eyes squinting as the lights from his phone blinded him with a new message. An unknown number. He opens it, it’s a picture, a bare body that he recognizes by the butterfly tattoo on the ribcage. A nude from one of his exes. She must have gotten a new number because he remembers vividly how he blocked her. Usually, he wouldn’t think twice about it, he’d reply with something cheeky, possibly send an explicit picture of himself, maybe set up a meeting or invite her over. His fingers typed the message before his brain managed to intervene and once he hit ‘send’, he cursed out loud.

“Fuck, you idiot!”

A pillow flew across the room as he stared at the ceiling. Would it hurt to go once more with no strings attached? It’s been some time since he’s gotten laid and the vision of tension coming off of him was a temptation beyond measure. But what about you? What about a change he had promised?

Is the change even for him?

Suguru stares at his phone screen, the message he sent glowing mockingly back at him, a shameful reminder of his weak self-restraint. The girl already replied, they always reply so fast, and he doesn’t know what to do. He knows he fucked up, he knows he shouldn’t have responded. He shouldn’t have even entertained the idea of hooking up with his ex, or any other girl. It goes against everything he told you, everything he promised.

With a heavy sigh, he tosses his phone aside, despite the notifications flooding his inbox. More pictures, the location, the time — an annoying ding makes his blood boil and he groans, burying his face in his hands. He feels conflicted, torn between his desire for physical release and growing feelings for you. He wants to be better, to be the man you deserve, to be the man that deserves you. He wants to prove to you that he’s serious about changing, but old habits die hard. The temptation is still there, lurking in the shadows of his mind, waiting for a split second of vulnerability.

He tosses and turns in bed. His thoughts race with the pictures of you, his mind replaying every conversation, every shared laugh and stolen touch. He remembers the way your eyes sparkled when you discussed philosophy, the passion in your voice as you told him about the importance of self-respect. He realizes that those moments were more fulfilling than any other fleeting pleasure he’s experienced before.

But he gets up anyway, he pulls up his dark-washed jeans and a hoodie, socks and boots and he’s ready to go. With a jacket grabbed in the hallway and a phone in his hand, he leaves the house. The crisp air of near winter hits him the moment he steps outside, cooling the blood in his veins and clearing his thoughts.

12 unread messages.

He groans again, this time into the nightly silence as he strides through the pavement, legs leading him in the direction of his doom. Suguru slips the earphones in, plays on the music but the melody and lyrics are helpless against the chaos in his mind.

It’s pointless, to resist his own body. He knows it’s pointless, he knows he has control over his legs and deep down he knows he would reject the booty call if he truly wanted. You deserve a better man anyway, not a player that fucks around like it’s a sport. You deserve someone who would worship the ground you walk on, a man of culture and manners with whom you’d engage in long, deep conversations late in the evenings, not a man-boy who cannot control his own dick. But fuck, does he wants you.

He wants you so bad, he wants to be all those things for you. He wants those discussions about philosophy and life, he wants to kiss your knuckles and be the knight in the shining armor, carrying you in his arms and shielding you from the world and assholes such as himself.

He lights up the cigarette, taking a deep breath in and looking up. The night is pretty. Calm. He wonders if you are already sleeping. Or maybe it’s one of those nights that you pull in order to study and secure your grades. The semester just began but he learned it already that you care about your future more than he does about his own. You’re a little nerdy. He thinks it’s cute. He can imagine himself wrapping a blanket around your shoulders when it’s late and carrying you to bed when you’re falling asleep on top of the books and notes. You would fit perfectly in his arms.

“You fucking moron,” he slanders himself quietly, already seeing the motel in front of him. He shouldn’t be there but he moves forward anyway. He knows his ex is already waiting for him, he can tell by the lights in the room they always used to book for the casual encounters. He stops before he enters, giving the smoke few more moments to burn. He can feel it in his lungs, somehow calming as he checks his phone, scrolling through the notifications.

One of the messages is from you.

It’s innocent in the sea of suggestive texts. There’s an apology for the late hour and a book title that you promised to send him a day before. The one you’ve been reading for the last few days and the one that made him rethink his entire life’s choices. There’s not much substance in the message, but it shakes him awake.

The turn he takes is aggressive, it’s resolute. Heavy boots thudding against the concrete panels as he walks away from the motel. ‘Sorry, not coming.’ He sends the message and blocks the number, feeling lighter the second he removes the nude picture and the unwanted contact.

It takes just an hour before he knocks at your door, the dormitory silent in the nightly time so he keeps himself quiet. You open after a long moment, dressed in a make-shift pajama. He likes the way your hair is messy from the pillows, how you smell like vanilla and flowers and coffee. You look so pretty like this, so undone, so unexpecting yet not entirely disappointed to see him. You seem… content?

“Suguru?” His name comes from your mouth and you usher him inside, afraid of someone seeing him. Once the doors shut behind him, your eyes search him for answers.

“Brought you some food, I thought you might need it,” he grinned, showing off the box of pizza and a bottle of soda. “I figured you’re studying tonight and might need some fuel.”

“So thoughtful,” you tease, but the smile that shapes your mouth reaches your eyes, so he knows it’s genuine. He follows you to your bedroom and he’s not surprised seeing the notes all over your bed and scattered on the floor. The papers full of sparsely highlighted knowledge that you want to transfer into your brain take most of the space before you gather them onto a neat pile. He sits right there, on the newly uncovered spot on your mattress. It feels intimate, to be in your room, to rest on your bed, to see you in your pajama. He wonders if you know what the sight of your thighs does to him, the plush, tender flesh begging to be touched, kissed and kneaded. Suguru thinks your skin would look beautiful with bitemarks all over.

“So, pizza,” he clears his throat after letting his eyes linger for way too long on your bare legs. “I took pepperoni, I hope you like it.”

“It’s perfect,” you smile and separate the barely cut pieces for easier access. “I appreciate the thought, really. But there was no need for you to leave the house just to do this.”

“For you, I would do it at every hour,” he says and then sighs deeply. “But truth is, I didn’t plan this.” Suguru feels like he’s inside the confessional. It’s a foreign tension, completely different from the one he felt just hour before. The knot in his stomach has nothing to do with lust and desire and all to do with stress and regret. “I’ve received a booty-call from my ex. That’s why I left the house,” he spats it out quickly, thinking it’ll hurt less if he does it in rush. “I didn’t go there though. I told her I’m not coming, blocked the number and came here instead.”

You stay neutral, chewing on the pizza as your tired eyes size him up. “Old habits die hard, huh?” You mock, slightly amused by his tormented expression. His eyebrow creases before he lets himself drop back onto the mattress, a soft grunt escaping his mouth as he covers his face with his hands.

“I meant it. I want to change and I’m working on it.” He says, his voice quiet and devoid of his usual cheekiness. “I fucked up when I entertained the idea of hooking up with a random person tonight but cut me some slack, I didn’t do it.”

“Good boy,” you mock-praise and he groans again, but then his entire body tenses when you lay next to him. He feels your breath against his cheek, the tip of your nose prodding the flesh. He doesn’t move, too afraid to ruin the moment. “Do you regret it? Not going, I mean. Be honest, don’t say what I want to hear.”

“I don’t,” he replies, his tone resolute. “I don’t regret not meeting my ex and not having sex tonight. I was pent up — fuck me, I still am, and when I replied to her text, I didn’t think much about anything except for my dick. But I don’t regret not going because I didn’t want to go. And I’m grateful that you texted me because you reminded me what really is important. Right now, it’s you.”

It makes you smile. He’s torn inside of his mind but you take it as a win anyway. Before, Suguru wouldn’t second-guess pulling his pants down and now you made him think. Now, you made him reconsider; wonder who he is without the façade of the charismatic ladies’ man. He will have to learn to navigate social situations without relying solely on his charm and wit to get what he wants. But he can do this. For you.

Before he speaks again, you’re asleep already. Sideways on the bed, most likely uncomfortable but right next to him and he doesn’t dare to move a muscle in his body. You’re sleeping, your face just an inch from his own. The soft fragrance of your skin fills in his nostrils and not even the smell of pizza nearby can disturb it. There’s a hair somewhere around his face, he doesn’t know if it’s yours or his own, but it tickles his cheek every time you exhale. It’s fine.

An hour passes and he finally gathers the courage to shift, as carefully as he can, he turns to his side, to face you. You’re a vision he takes in with his eyes wide open, committing the picture of your peaceful expression to memory. He likes everything about you, every hair of your eyebrows, every freckle and beauty mark. He likes the way you look so unbothered, so comfortable next to him. He wants to touch you. Oh, how much he craves to caress your cheek, to thread his fingers through your hair. His heart thumps in his chest, reaching speeds matching those of sprinters. The feeling is foreign. Is this…? It cannot be. Suguru Geto is not about… that. His entire life he believed he’s meant to have fun, no strings attached, no responsibilities. What did you do to him?

You move and he stops breathing. It’s an instinct, he thinks, that you shift closer to him, but he tells himself you want that. And you fit so well against his chest, your head below his chin, your hand around his middle. The room spins and he wraps you in the embrace of his arms.

He feels your heartbeat, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing and suddenly, he calms down. It sinks into his mind that it’s where he wants to be. All the years of empty flings, the mediocre orgasms, the shameless pursuits could never compare to the feeling of you in his arms. That’s what he has been missing on. And he will do everything to be the man deserving of you.

Time passes, and Suguru slowly falls into the rhythm of his newfound resolve. It’s easy to decline hookup invitations when he can spend time with you, but maybe he did feel a little too confident when he decided to attend the big, annual party at the frat house. It’s Halloween, after all, how could he not go there when everyone will come? Quickly he falls into familiar routine of charms and alcohol, nursing a beer from a red plastic cup and chatting playfully with attractive attendees. His friends push him towards temptation, inviting more and more girls to the crowd and Suguru feels drawn to the lively atmosphere, the flirtatious banter comes as easy as breathing.

That is, before a pretty sophomore dressed in a devil costume takes a seat next to him — a seat he has kept for you, because you promised you’ll come, despite the need to study. It’s fine if the girl sits there for a moment or two, he thinks, as he engages in a conversation. He knows, it’s as obvious as day, that the second-year beauty is interested in getting into his pants — her hand on his thigh, the fluttering eyelashes and pouty lips say everything about her intentions. As the night progresses, he finds himself more and more… uncomfortable. Surprisingly.

And so, he feels relieved when he sees you in the crowd, late but looking absolutely adorable in your sweet bunny costume. It’s simple yet makes his pants grow tighter as he takes in the way the plain black dress hugs your curves. The fluffy tail bounces with each step you take through the filled living area and the long, pink-lined ears swing just slightly along with your hair whenever you move your head around, looking for something — for him and his heart skips a beat. In that moment, everything fades away — the raucous laughter, the pulsing music, even the sophomore girl next to him.

Excusing himself from company, he forces a smile as he brushes the invasive hand off his thigh and gets up from the sofa, making his way over to you. “Hey there, cutie,” he greets, pulling you into a hug and you melt into his chest in an instant. “Glad you could make it.” He breathes in your scent, letting it calm his nerves but it does little to calm other things down. Fuck, you look perfect.

“How could I miss my favorite frat boy sporting a vampire costume?” You quiz, backing up a little to take in his attire. He’s wearing all black, a dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, pants that make his legs look even longer than they are. His eyes are smudged with little bit of black eyeliner but it works for him, he looks sexy. “Aren’t you a pretty one. I might consider letting you bite me,” you tease, and he knows you’re joking but it doesn’t stop the blood in his body to travel downwards.

“Careful what you wish for, bunny,” he muses, “I might just take you up on that offer and sink my teeth into that delectable neck of yours.” His fingers intertwine with yours as he lifts your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before he leads your arm up onto his shoulder. “God, I missed you,” he murmurs as he lowers his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

He feels you chuckle, your nails scratching at his scalp as you thread your fingers through his dark locks. Once more you proved him that the change is worth it, because it’s you who’s on the line. “Dance with me?” He asks and you move with him towards the makeshift dancefloor.

Suguru pulls you closer as you enter the rhythm of the music, one hand resting on the small of your back while the other twirls you around gracefully. You’re giggling, amused by the undivided attention he pays you — he’s sweet when he has his eyes on the target, when he has to work for something. He dips you dramatically and your hand tighten on his shoulder, but it’s secure, the way he holds you as if he wished to protect you from all the bad in the world. His eyes lock with yours as he pulls you back up, flush against him. The heat radiating off both your bodies mingles together, creating an intoxicating aura that threatens to consume you whole.

You don’t really listen to what’s playing, a melody mellows in the background as his hands trace patterns along your sides and hips, follow the line of your spine, sometimes teasing the fluffy ball that is your tail. His touch ignites sparks wherever he grazes, leaving trails of fire in its wake. He’s hungry, for you, and you are too. It’s hard to deny it any longer and you think that maybe, just maybe he is ready to commit to something more than just a fleeting romance. It’s been months since he began pursuing you and his attention has been focused solely on you, despite the obstacles and temptations of his life. A reward wouldn’t hurt now, would it?

“I need a drink,” you tell him and he’s quick to react, taking your hand and leading the way towards the kitchen. He knows what you like, snatching a can of strawberry soda from the counter. When you nod in approval, he opens it, too hasty, too eager, that he doesn’t realize the way it bubbles over, spilling over the aluminum container and his fingers. Before he can react, your lips are already on his skin, licking away the sticky trail of pinkish liquid.

Suguru freezes as he feels your tongue glide across his skin, tasting the sweetness of the spilled soda. A shiver runs down his spine at the sensation, his breath hitching in his throat. Desire darkens his eyes, pupils dilate as he watches, transfixed, how you lick the sugary mess from his fingers. The sensation sends jolts of electricity coursing through his veins, pooling in the pit of his stomach. He breathes out your name, but you’re quick to shut him up.

You pull him down, your hand in his hair as you press your lips to his own. He tastes the strawberry sweetness of the soda on your tongue as it dances with his own, the flavor mixing deliciously with the taste of you. The dripping can is soon forgotten on the fake-marble countertop as he scoops you closer, arms wrapping around your waist securely. He can feel the heat of your body through the thin fabric of your costume, the softness of your curves molding perfectly against the hardness of his muscles. He’s eager, he moans lightly into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips. You feel the cold metal rubbing against your face, it’s interesting, it’s addicting. You like it.

“Always wanted to try that,” he pants out when for a moment you pull back. He chases your mouth, hungry for more, desperate.

“The soda?” You ask, pressing soft pecks to his pout.

“You.” He lounges forward once again, unsatiated and you don’t stop him. You don’t hear music anymore, all that’s rumbling in your ear is the sound of your heartbeat. You feel the heat in your veins, the flooding of ecstasy filling your cells one by one. There’s no space left between you, but you take a step forward anyway. You feel his hips rolling, a desperate cry for any sort of friction and when you slip your hand down, palming his groin through his pants, he groans into your mouth as his hips buck involuntarily into your touch. “Please,” he begs, eyes locking with yours as he leans his forehead against your own. He can feel himself throbbing beneath the confines of his pants, straining desperately for more of your attention. “You want me too, please tell me you do. I can’t… It hurts, I crave you so much, it hurts.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you murmur. “Your room is upstairs, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he breathes out. “But I won’t take you there. You deserve better than this place and my filthy bed. Let me take you to my apartment.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer and you follow him anyway, your hand incased in his large one, sticky from the spilled soda but none of you seem to care as you saunter through the dancing crowd of young people. Just to get outside.

The walk is a blur, you don’t remember much of it and so does Suguru. The night air is crisp, sending chills down your spine and the boy teases you about it, promising all the warmth he can produce in just few moments. You laugh with him, unbothered by the cool wind that tousles your hair. “It’s just around the corner,” he promises and you hum, matching his pace as he leads you through the neon-lit streets of Tokyo. The world blur into nothing, all you see is the man that holds your hand, the blue-ish hint to his hair whenever the lights fall on it just right, the sticky heat of his palm. You can still smell the faint strawberry aroma; you can definitely feel it on your tongue even though you didn’t manage to truly take a sip of it.

And you laugh again when he fumbles with the keys to his apartment. “Nervous?” You tease him playfully. “You have no idea,” he replies, smiling sheepishly and the entry finally swings open. He ushers you inside, kicking the door shut behind him and flicking the lights on.

Suguru wastes no time, pulling you flush against him once more as he presses you against the nearest wall, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. His hands roam your body greedily, mapping out every dip and curve, learning the shape of you and you do the same. He shrugs the jacket off and you’re quick to explore the broad lines of his shoulders, the hard muscles of his chest and stomach. You feel him everywhere, the hungry touch devouring every inch of your form. He breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down the column of your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin and you whimper breathily — the sound undeniably similar to his own name.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, guiding him lower as he reaches your chest. His kisses grow more wet and delicate as he meets the soft mounds of your breasts, tightly confined by the neckline of your dress. He breaths in your scent, an intoxicating mixture of sweet and floral. It makes his head spin, it’s addicting. He wants more.

It’s easy to slip the dress off of you — first the straps and then the garment goes down, inch by inch revealing the smooth expanse of your skin to his starved gaze. He drinks in the sight of you, his eyes roaming hungrily over the newly exposed flesh and in that moment he swears he has never seen a more beautiful woman in his entire life. His fingers skim along the edges of your bra, tracing the lace delicately before he leans in again, kissing your lips with softness that speaks more than any words could. He wants you, but he wants to worship you. He doesn’t want to make it all about lust and desire, he wants to make it about you and him. About whatever is this feeling that bubbles between you.

And so, he moves down slowly, lips mapping out the curve of your collarbone and down the path to your sternum. His hands follow your curves with gentleness he doesn’t recognize in himself. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his hot breath meeting the skin of your stomach, “just breathtaking,” he lowers himself to his knees — something he has never done in his entire life, used to have women at his feet.

“Suguru,” you breathe out but he doesn’t listen. Not when the skin of your thighs feels so soft against his cheeks, not when it tastes so delicious as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses along the plush flesh. Your fingernails find a way into his hair and he dives between your legs, encouraging one of them to hook over his shoulder. He savors the scent of you, his nose rubbing against the fabric of your underwear, prodding at the little wet patch. He licks it, his tongue flattening over the cotton, catching a hint of your taste — and that’s enough to make him go crazy for you.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet,” he breathes out, every exhale that meets the wetness of your panties sends jolts of electricity up your spine and back down to your core. He presses his lips to where he thinks your clit is, you feel him sucking gently and it’s enough friction to feel yourself pulsating. You moan quietly, the sound escaping your parted lips easily as your hold on his hair tightens. There’s no denying that you want him just as much as he wants you. He’s desperate but so are you.

Your knee buckle as he continues the torture and he coos sweetly. “Let’s take you to bed, you sweet thing,” his tone is sugary, a melody dripping with honey as he smiles at you in a way that makes you blush. There’s adoration written all over his face, his cheeks are flushed, lips red and glistening. You want to follow him when he stands up, but he swoops you off your feet, carrying you bridal style towards the bedroom. It makes you giggle.

“Practicing already?” You muse and he just smiles.

“Perhaps.”

Your back meets the cold bedspread as he lays you down delicately. No time is wasted before he’s right above you, right on you — you feel the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress. No complains about it. He feels good, his hips rolling in a way that has his bulging erection grind along your panties. You hate the fabrics between you two, you hate how they make you feel less of him.

So you move your hands, slide them between your bodies, fumble with the buttons of his shirt. “Impatient much?” He teases, but helps you, pulling the shirt over his head, saving you trouble of the bottom fasteners. His lips find yours in a kiss that burns and you whimper into it, feeling the warmth spreading all over your body.

You reach down. Button, zipper. Your hands tremble as you push the fabric off his hips and he kicks it down. He helps himself with a hand and soon, his pants are on the ground, along with his socks and your bra, that you impatiently toss away. Suguru’s heart rumbles against his ribcage as he takes in the sight of your bare chest. It’s perfect, you are perfect and he cannot believe the luck he has — after years of chasing simple pleasures and meaningless peaks, he had finally found someone he wants to call his.

He feels your heart underneath his cheek as he leans down, inhaling the scent of your skin — his nose trails patterns over the soft flesh before he presses his lips to it, kissing his way towards one of your nipples. It pebbles beneath his touch, hardening as he latches onto it, sucking and teasing it with teeth, twirling his tongue all around. He matches his ministrations with his fingers, not letting the twin feel left out. Your taste is of pure heaven and the sounds that leave your mouth are ones of an angel.

There’s a patch of wet on his boxers, right where the throbbing head of his cock strains against the fabric — the precum oozing out as he grinds his hips against yours. It makes him insane how you reply with the roll of your own, to match his moves, to cause more of that delicious friction that sends both of you into a spiral of desire.

Unable to wait any longer, you hook your fingers at the waistband of his underwear, tugging it down and Suguru replies with the same — pulling the soaked cotton off of you. He wants to taste you, and he will, but not now. He reaches down, guiding the tip of his cock between the folds of your pussy, the head sliding with ease as your slick mixes with the pearly beads of semen. He loves the way your thighs tremble every time he glides over your sensitive clit, how your breath hitches and eyes close.

“Ready?” The question falls and you nod fervently, your hands finding his shoulders for balance. “Use your words, beautiful.”

“I’m ready,” you assure and then, your back arches off the mattress. He slides in inch by inch, stretching you, filling you so completely, making you go blind for a moment. The pain burns just faintly, losing its flames to the flooding of endorphins and pleasure. He goes in to the hilt, his body shuddering as he drops his head to the crook of your neck.

The feeling overwhelms him. The way your pussy grips him, like a vice that almost pulls him in more and more. It’s delightful. Ecstatic. It’s something he’s never experienced before. Is that what love feels like? He moves, slowly backing his hips until there’s nothing but a tip nestled inside you before he pushes forward again, knocking the air out of your lungs and his own too.

You paw at his arms, his back and chest. You want him closer, you want to feel all of him. Stars are clouding your vision, the world ceases to exist and there’s nothing else in it but you and the man on top of you. He feels so good, like he’s meant to be right there with you and Suguru feels the same. Like he found home, like he belongs there, in the warmth of your embrace, in the tightness of your walls. He loves the way you cling to him, the way your nails dig into his skin and your heels dig into his ass, urging him to go harder, faster. He complies, his hips snapping against yours as the wet sounds of your bodies colliding echo through the room, alongside your moans and gasps.

He changes the angle, shifting his hips to hit that spot inside you that makes the stars glitter before your eyes. He knows he’s found it when your back arches off the bed, your nails scoring down his back and a scream tears from your throat. He loves the sound, he loves the sight. He loves how you come undone, how beautifully blissed out your expression is, how your eyes lock with his even though you see nothing but haze. He grins, a smile lost against your skin as he continues pounding into you relentlessly, chasing his own high. He can feel it already, it threatens to consume him. His balls draw up tight, his heart races in his chest.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his groans and whimpers against your tender flesh as his hand grips your hip tightly. You match him thrust for thrust, nails leaving angry red marks in their wake. You feel the pleasure building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you feel you might explode. Your walls start to flutter around him to the rhythm of your heartbeat and the desire coursing through your veins.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Suguru gasps, his voice strained with exertion. He knows you’re close, it drives him insane. “I’m gonna—” He cuts himself off with a guttural moan as his climax hits him like a freight train. He follows you into the pit of pure delight, headfirst, no thoughts. Just pure, overwhelming bliss.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, as his hips buck forward few more times, riding out your highs with stuttered thrusts. You both lay there, panting and sweating, basking in the afterglow of passion. His softening cock slips out of you, followed by a gush of combined fluids but none of you worries about the mess, too blissed out to care about a thing.

“Wow,” he breathes, nuzzling his face into your neck, finding your pulse with his lips. “That was incredible.”

You giggle softly, carding your fingers through his sweat-dampened locks. They feel like silk, soft and luxurious. “Mm, it certainly was.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he exhales, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms. He presses a tender kiss to your temple, marveling at the intimacy of the moment. It feels new, like an uncharted territory that he wants to explore further. With you. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmurs, his voice barely above whisper and sincere. “I want to be better. To be worthy of you.”

You hum, lifting your head to look at him and all you see in his violet eyes is raw honesty and a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. “I believe you,” you tell him, leaning in to capture his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. There’s no more rush, no more lust — just pure, soft affection. “And I want to help you change. Together, yeah?”

Suguru smiles against our mouth, his heart swelling with love he never knew he was capable of.

Together.

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dreamsteddie · 2 months ago

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Nancy knows what people think when they see her and Steve together these days. People mostly include Robin Buckley who, despite what they both say, Nancy doesn't completely believe isn't carrying some kind of torch for the man.

They aren't dating, but it's obvious to anyone who knows them that's what Nancy is angling for. She's not subtle, and she's not trying to be. Doesn't see any reason why she should be. But she knows what it looks like. Nancy Wheeler, fresh off an amicable but heartbreaking end to her relationship with Johnathan Byers has turned tail for a rebound with former boyfriend Steve Harrington. She's using him. She's leading him on. She's going to break his heart, again.

The truth is that Nancy has always liked Steve, was in love with Steve for a fleeting moment when they were both young and stupid and full of mistakes waiting to be made and in the end they had hurt each other, misunderstood each other, too many times to last through their tumultuous teenage years.

The Nancy and Steve of 1984 couldn't have loved each other right, but Nancy knows in her heart that the Nancy and Steve of 1987 could make something beautiful.

Steve is so different from who he used to be. There's a steadiness in him that he always tried to emulate but never fully embodied until the summer of 1985. He always knew how to make her laugh, how to get her to tap into that adventurous spirit within her and live life, but now he also makes her feel safe.

She wants to hold him the way he used to hold her. Wants to whisk him away to New York and build a life perfectly balanced between her ambition and his steadfastness. So she's putting everything she has into rekindling those embers that have always smoldered between them into a steady fire.

She just has to convince Robin that she's in it for the long haul this time.

------

Robin thinks that before she met Steve Harrington her life was never so much like a soap opera.

Her best friend seems to attract danger, betrayal, and romance to him like the world is full of moths and he's the only flame for miles. It would be funnier if it wasn't so god damn annoying sometimes.

Steve doesn't know it, despite how much he insists on being some kind of love expert, but he's got two very eligible bachelors vying for his hand at the moment. She's pretty sure they both see themselves as tragic heroes in this tale of romance, but from her vantage point, it's more like two ornery cats fighting for the prized spot of their owner's lap.

Nancy and Eddie have made themselves both near-permanent fixtures at the Family Video. Ostensibly, they come in because Hawkins is still in the process of rebuilding and there isn't much to do at the moment outside of wandering the woods, loitering at the convenience store, and watching movies at home. In actuality they're both trying to monopolize as much of Steve's time as possible, each trying to lock down his weekend plans before the other.

The first couple of weeks it was funny just to watch, now the only enjoyment she gets out of the whole circus is ruining their plans. She relishes the pissed-off-priss look she gets from Nancy when she asks Steve to go to the drive-in the next town over and Robin turns it into a group outing instead. It's equally funny to watch Eddie's puffed-up shoulders droop when he can't figure out a way to say no to Robin enthusiastically asking if she can join them at the trailer to smoke up on a Saturday night.

In truth, as much as she enjoys messing with them, Robin knows who she wants to win this war. She knows too much about Steve and Nancy's past and all the ways they weren't good for each other to trust her deceptively fragile best friend in Nancy's capable hands.

Eddie, on the other hand...well she's still going to make him work for it before she throws him a bone.

------

Eddie's never been one to fall in love.

He's had crushes, shared a few kisses with girls and boys alike, and lost his virginity in the same fumbling but meaningful way most teens do.

But love? He's never had that before, wasn't sure what it would even feel like.

It turns out that for Eddie, being in love feels a lot like being an overgrown house plant that's finally been moved into suitably a larger pot.

You see, Eddie knows a lot about growing up on his own. Raising himself and finding ways to survive, if not thrive, with a distinct lack of nurturing. He knows how to grow under someone, to grow under the clumsy guidance of his uncle Wayne who never intended to become a parent. And most of all he knows a hell of a lot about growing despite. Growing under the harsh boot forever trying to push him back into the hard dirt he came from.

It's something else entirely to grow with someone in the way he's been growing with Steve.

Steve who was there when he woke up, almost equally as injured as Eddie himself after a second, world saving round with Vecna. Steve who let Eddie lean on him in the difficult month of physical and emotional recovery that came next. Who helped Eddie come to terms with the new reality he was living under the way Steve wished someone had been there for him after his first encounter with the Upsidedown. Steve, who on paper should have been one of the people pushing him down, always gave Eddie the space to be himself and never tried to force either of them into a box they didn't fit.

Eddie knows he's not The Girl. He's not the one who got away, he's not the stalwart princess in one of his campaigns who saves the day herself but still gets the guy. He's not Nancy Wheeler.

But he's also not a quitter, and even if everything about the world and the narrative arc of their lives says that Steve will never end up with him, Eddie knows he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't put his hat in the ring for the hand of the fair Sir Steve.

------

Steve's not stupid.

He knows that there's something happening between Nancy, Eddie, and himself. Knows that if he chooses to look a little closer, to examine why exactly all his weekends are suddenly booked up and Robin has taken to stealing the Recese's Pieces off the shelf whenever either one of them comes into the store like she's settling in for a show, he would come to the conclusion that two of his best friends are essentially courting him in competition with each other.

But Steve isn't looking closer.

His mom always said that he was just like his father, too stubborn for his own good.

Robin says he's a control freak, pushing non-life-threatening problems off until he knows how to deal with them on his own terms.

The truth is Steve already knows how this will end, and he knows how this should end.

Because in the eyes of society, in the arc of the narrative, Steve and Nancy should already be making plans to move out to New York and start a life together. Steve should be looking at apartments while Nancy finalizes her class schedule. He should be looking into getting a job at his dad's New York office to support his future wife through her college education where they both know she'll breeze through her classes and move onto the world-changing career she was always meant to have, while Steve stays home with their children like a perfect little modern family.

And the thing is, if the story had gone like it was supposed to, if the world had been saved the fourth time around and Eddie Munson had died on the cold, hard ground of the Upsidown, that's probably exactly the future that would have happened and Steve would have never known to not be content with it. But Eddie did make it, and while Steve mourns the future he could have had, he knows it's not the one he's going to choose in the end.

Even though Steve knows exactly what will happen when he allows himself to face the ever-mounting tension between the three of them, it's scary to take that plunge.

Everything about Steve's world up until Robin has told him that what he's going to choose will damn him forever, and even if he's never put much stock into God and the church, he knows that the future in front of them will never be easy. There's a part of him that wants to take the easy way out. He's never been attracted to a man before Eddie, never had to imagine himself loving someone discreetly, and the thought of it makes his heart hurt prematurely. It would be simpler, he knows, to choose the path most taken.

But Steve has always thought more with his heart than his brain, and he knows that after everything they've been through, after all the time they've spent healing together and growing as one that he could never choose anyone but Eddie.

The time is coming for him to make his final decision, he can feel it, but for now he'll let them sit in this liminal space a little longer.

#steddie #stranger things #dreamer speaks #fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #robin buckly #this one is a little different #but it's been floating around my head for a while #lmk what you think!#Edit: 12/22 for spelling and gramatical errors

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coryndoll · 25 days ago

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super rich kids. ( prologue )

rafe cameron x reader ; “super rich kids with nothing but loose ends”

plot ── trapped in a world of money, parties, and nothing real, you spend your nights with your boyfriend and your secrets with rafe who watches, waits, and wonders if the man who holds your hand knows about the one who holds your heart.

content ── heavy inspo from “super rich kids” by frank & “moth to a flame” by shm / the weeknd, bestfriend!rafe, toxic relationships (both romantic & platonic), jealousy & possessiveness, alcohol & substance use, angst & morally gray characters

authors note ── EEEEHEHE ok potential mini-series that might not go past like 3 parts bc everyone knows i cant commit to a full series for the life of me. lmk if ud like to be tagged !

the thing about you and rafe is that no one’s really surprised.

not your friends, not your parents, not even yourself. maybe it’s the money, maybe it’s the recklessness, but from the moment you met him, it was like the universe had already decided that you two would burn bright and fast, beautiful in the way a car crash is beautiful.

but rafe is not your boyfriend. he’s your best friend.

and that’s what makes it worse.

because he watches. he watches as your boyfriend grips your wrist too tight at parties, as he talks down to you like you’re something small and breakable. he watches when your smile falters, when you laugh at things that aren’t funny just to keep the peace. he watches as you excuse every bruise, every raised voice, every night spent crying in the backseat of his car.

and it drives him fucking crazy.

but this is your world. toxic, rich-kid relationships wrapped in luxury, diamonds and daddy’s lawyers, bruises covered by designer sleeves. people like you don’t have real problems. you are young, rich, and beautiful. what else could you possibly need?

but deep down, you crave something more. something real. something that doesn’t feel like drowning.

for now, though, you are here. at rafe’s house, where the party is in full swing.

the backyard is an ocean of bodies, with girls in bikinis, boys in linen shirts, everyone sun-kissed and high off something. the pool glows neon blue, rippling under the soft glow of lanterns strung between palm trees.

inside, the house is just as chaotic, with weed smoke curling in the air, bottles of liquor sweating on marble countertops, someone’s laughter breaking into a scream of delight. the walls are lined with people who don’t care about anything beyond tonight, beyond the next drink, the next line, the next fleeting thrill.

and then there’s rafe.

he is effortless in a way that makes people jealous. clear skin, sharp jawline, blunt dangling between his fingers like it belongs there. he moves through the crowd like he owns it, because, in a way, he does. the eldest cameron, heir to a fortune, the golden boy with a wicked grin and a dangerous temper.

but he isn’t looking at them. he’s looking at you.

watching. waiting. knowing he’s going to have to step in soon.

early tags: @nicholaschavezslut69 @iissza @snowtargaryen @yootvi @ariiwritess @spideysimpossiblegirl @skyslowalking @adribarbie @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @0-tatiana-0 @beebeerockknot @lotuslovers

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on-the-clear-blue · 25 days ago

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So yall know that the League of Assassin's are like, an eco terrorist thing right? Well I just had this idea.

Sam, coming into Danny's room and just face planting on his bed: Ugh...

Danny, who was sleeping, awoken as his friend who had gone missing 6 moths ago flopped onto of him: OH SWEET-NOCTURN IF THIS ISNT REAL I AM GONING TO SOUP YOY SO HARD...

Sam, reaching up and slapping her hand on his mouth:Shhh, less screaming, more sleeping, escaping murder cults takes more energy than I thought.

Sam produces to pass out and sleep for three days straight.

---

Tucker, lookingnup from his PDA: so...you joined what you thought was a peaceful protest and some how ended up in a eco terrorist death cult of assassins? I mean...shit now I have to do something interesting...

Danny, choking on his drink: Nuh uh, your the normal one Tuck, I died and now have a magical girl transformation and Sam got kidnapped by ninjas and somehow even more bad ass, you...you can still get out of this and just be a normal person.

Sam, nodding sadly: Yeah...don't conform to our standards Tucker, be your true, weak little boney self.

Tucker, sniffing:I am so going to not do that.

---

Just the idea that Sam not only got League training but also got out is hilarious to me, like yeah, that is the kinda bs that would happen.

Alsoni can just see her dropping random lore shit.

Sam, bored as the boys study: Did you know thst the Demon Head dunks himself in corrupted ecto? Yeah it's gnarly man, didn't taste good.

Danny, going to speak before pausing and thinking, before sighing:Yeah I would have licked it too.

Tucker, frowning as he finishes his "Evil invention-enator": You both have so many issues.

---

Sam, trying to teach Danny the basic league hand to hand:Come on dude! It's not that hard!

Danny, falling flat on his ass after not even touching Sam: Ow ow ow...fuck yeah it kinda is!

Sam, rolling her eyes: If not only the Demon Heads six year old grandson can learn but also Ellie? You can too.

Danny, mutterinf under his breath before pausing completely:ELLIE? What was she doing with a murder cult? I thought she learnt her lesson after the last one!

Sam, shrugging before putting kicking at Danny on the floor: I don't know she was following a guy around who was catatonic, said something about being angry at him for not answering her pen pal messages or whatever, I was more busy training to really care...like you should be doing!

---

Years later Sam is joining Danny and Tucker in Gotham, Tucker because he was scouted by both WE and Lexcorp, he wanted to choose the evil company because poorer work place regulations and the likely hood of him getting a powerbost was much higher, but was bullied by his friends/partners into choosing WE.

Sam, coming to the R&D labs late one night bringing Tucker dinner so he doesn't starve working a late shift, blinking as she sees a short boy sneaking out of the lab: Biraeam? (Sprout in Arabic) what are you doing here.

Damian, blinking right back, experimental tech Bruce has yet to clear for the field clutched under one arm and the blueprints for a new type of explosive batarang in the other: Manson...I-I could ask you the same.

Sam, raising an eyebrow and staring down Damian: bringing dinner to my husband...who works here...and I can only think that you do not. So I ask that you put those things you have down and tell your bastard of a grandfather not to step back in this place.

Damian, eyes squinting, he hadn't been around his grandfather for ages at this point but still felt offended at her tone: I don't think I will.

---

An epic fight produces where they both try not and spill/destroy the things that they are carrying until either Tucker or Tim find them and explain everything.

The everlasting Trio gets invited over for dinner (mostly because Bruce is a paranoid bastard and dislikes thst one of his employees is dateing/ is partners with an ex-LoA member) and it's a bit of just pointing at each other and shit

Sam, slamming her hands down on the table as she stands: Kindly Mr Wanye, Shut the fuck up, I know your batman, we all fucking know it so if you are going to try and interrogate us at least do it properly!

Danny, sipping his wine: I mean...I-I didn't know but I um...haven't been paying much attention to the bat dude...Rag man is cooler.

Sam, glaring:And you! Fucking Ragman? You can do so much better.

Danny, offended for his hero: Oi! He does good work!

Bruce, frowning as this night has gotten away from him: He kills people.

Sam, waving over at Bruce: Exactly!

Danny, rolling his eyes: Exactly she says, while having a kill count that's still growing, Exactly she says when she was the one that pushed that oil tycoon off the 50th floor.

Sam wincing,: Maybe not in front of batman babe?

Danny, looking over to Bruce that is looking ready to fight: Shit...imma call Tuck and tell him to start packing...

#batman #batfam #danny phantom #dc x dp #dpxdc #damian wayne #sam manson #tucker foley #crack #what if Sam got taken by the LoA instead of Danny #tucker wants to work for an evil group just to because everyone else he is kissing has #thst man is getting serious fomo #ellie is only really rhere in spirt (as she always is)#i think she would be rocking with Jason until he starts murdering people and they have drama but make up after and she is appart of.#the Outlaws #everlasting trio #damian is a little shit #tucker wants to be an evil scientist but his hot goth wife and superhero twink husband wont let him #ragman #i dont have a problem with him at all i just think its funny to habe like all of gotham to just a agree that while he does the work to #save people he is just a bitch to everyone one. he is giving sass and sucking souls. like an old queen that is just done with everyone

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blue-jisungs · 7 months ago

Text

[ 🏡 ] being their girl next door

# author’s note … can’t believe this took me so long bye

# genre … fluffy scenarios of how would bonedo act as your neighbors! some member's parts are shorter, sorry :( non established realtionship, non idol

# word count … 1241, around 200 per member

# net ... @onedoornet

┆彡 JAEHYUN [ 재현 ]

he’s literally like a puppy <\3

the second he heard / saw that someone was moving in, he was planning how to greet his new neighbor!!

calling all his friends to greet you with a small basket of goodies

and his jaw just drops when he sees you open the door, sungho has to nudge him

boy is IN LOVE

he sits on his porch all day and springs to his feet the second he sees you to talk n chat

as i said, puppy.

and his energy is just so contagious that you can’t help but be around him

and before you can realize you’re hanging out with his friends, baking pies with his mom, helping other neighbors…

because he’s *the* boy, everyone in the neighborhood knows him because he says hi to everyone and offers help

so he’ll be at your doorstep 9am sharp on a lazy sunday, dragging you by your arm, to go and help that one older lady with her garden

but you don’t complain, not only you get to hang out with him (and stare at his pretty face~) but also some fresh fruit from the lady once you’re done

┆彡 SUNGHO [ 성호 ]

to be fair he was too shy to go greet you but your cats had other plans

simba snuck out once and sungho started panicking, desperate to find him

so he came knocking at your door, panic all over his face

"oh, so that’s your cat!" you grinned and welcomed him inside and sungho saw simba playing with your cat

and obviously you start talking about them, you offer him something to drink, you take pics of them, you exchange numbers… you learn he’s literally the boy next door

and he’s so shocked when he leaves nearly at midnight, with a small pang in his heart

he uses simba as an excuse to hang out with you more <\\3

and even if he doesn’t come w him he’s like "yeah he was sleeping so i didn’t want to wake him up.. don’t tell him i visited you alone, though"

atp he’s visiting you everyday, you can just tear a wall down bc this man is basically living at your place

┆彡 TAESAN [ 태산 ]

taesan simply acknowledged you, too busy to greet you and then two moths went by so it was too late to greet you in the neighborhood…

he lived on the same floor, practically door to door so you often stumbled upon each other in the mornings while leaving

he knew you and would say hi every time you passed each other or have a small talk in the lift

but once when he invited his friends over and was making some cookies, he ran out of sugar

so he decided to do it the lazy way (and also talk to a pretty girl) and ask you if you could lend him some

and he was so so surprised when you opened the door and he heard the sounds of nirvana in the background

you started chatting about the band and then about music in general

(he didn’t even notice when his friends arrived and saw you two talking in your doorway)

and taesan left, completely forgetting about the sugar

ever since, he found himself hearing faint sound of music - and whenever he heard his favorite, he couldn’t help but go and knock at your door to talk about it

overtime you two exchanged numbers and sent each other playlist

even though he’s still fishing courage for it, he decided he’ll ask you for a date: maybe listening to music together <3

┆彡 LEEHAN [ 이한 ]

ahhh leehan my beloved 😭

donghyun wasn’t really aware that someone moved next to him… yknow, spending his time inside with his fish…

so when one morning his mom nagged him to throw the trash out and he did that in his oversized tshirt with nemo and fish boxers…

and then he heard

"nice outfit, neighbor!"

his body literally froze

he could feel blood rising to his face and he saw you, tanning on the front yard

he quickly connected the dots (especially when his mom said "you should talk to that sweet girl next door")

but he was so embarrassed that he only muttered a hi and ran back inside

and honestly, if it wasn’t for his mom inviting you over all the time… he’d never talk to you

but you stroke a conversation and never mentioned his fishy (lmao) outfit before

and donghyun gradually started opening up to you, growing more attached

he even showed you his fish!! and he runs to you everytime there’s a new member of his small family to show them off to you

(at this point you both wait excitedly for his mail)

and when you asked him to go with you to an aquarium, he thought he’ll faint on spot (and also, quite missed the fact that you asked him on a date but,,, he’s just a little clueless… ^_^)

┆彡 RIWOO [ 리우 ]

riwoo is completely normal about doughnuts right. right…?

so he was absolutely completely normal ordinary acting when in the same day he moved in, there was a cute girl welcoming him…

… and holding a box with donuts

"sorry but i didn’t know what else to grab. welcome to our neighborhood!" you grinned

he was sold.

you chatted for a while, he made you coffee n you exchanged numbers!

and only when you said goodbye, he came up with a good reason to ask you out

so the next day you got a text saying "hey, do you perhaps know good places in town with donuts? do you wanna go with me and test them?"

and obviously you agreed~~~

you obviously couldn’t go to all the places so it became a thing you did at least once a week

or whoever one of you had some left over donuts at home, you’d go visit your neighbor and chat

(by the way he’s always down for the tea like what do you mean that old hag down the hallway yelled at you!!!)

┆彡 WOONHAK [ 운학 ]

woonhak, as the youngest, was sent to invitation duty as soon as the new girl moved in next door

and the moment you opened the door, he was WHIPPED

he greeted you n gave u a basket full of sweets and offered to help you with unpacking

and before you realized he was writing down your number and promising you to show you around

there’s no dull moment with him !!!

because he’s your neighbor you often ignore the loud screams and cheers coming from his apartment

you were a little lonely and jealous of how much fun he and his friends had on daily basis :(

and woonhagi being the angel he is, decided to invite you over one day for a game night

so you met his friends (who exchanged suspicious looks when you n woonhak hugged as a greeting)

you’re basically roommates at this point, he’s always coming by n so are you

or doing sleepless nights you text him that you’ll by at his place in 5

and he already prepares snacks n board games

i wouldn’t be surprised if u exchanged ur house keys atp

you also two often meet for study dates as well

sometimes you hear him singing through your walls lmao 🥹

and whenever you compliment his talent, he’s a shy mess

masterlist <3

taglist. @slytherinshua

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elryuse · 2 months ago

Text

Home Alone With Hanni

Yandere Hanni X Male Reader

Tags : Step sister, Half Sister Hanni, Yandere, Throatfuck, Throatpie, Tease

Words : 2,938 Words

This is A Lovely Commision Piece for My friend @Pizza_anon On Ko-fi, Hope you liked it My Friend

Ever since you were a child, You always wondered what the future holds. Your Father was a strange man, But a Kind one. Your Real mother, was sadly died on a car accident, as the Car that she drove has a problem with its brake. The news was devastating for both your Father and You yourself.

The sudden news, Have made you slowly loosing your mind. Everything seems dark, gloomy. And your Father knew it. He tried his best, to Support you, to Lighten up your mood, and You definitely knew that He tried. You could only smile a little, but Your Father knew better.

And so One day, He suddenly gave you a surprise that you'll never forget.

"Y/n, meet Your new Mother and Sister". He said, as He brings in a Petite looking woman, with An enormous smile on her face.

"You must be Y/n. I'm Lola Pham". She smiles, as She pushed in a small looking girl, besides her.

"And this Is Hanni, Y/n. You're new Sister". Your Father smiled, as he can clearly see a little bit of Smile from your face.

Ever since that night, Your relationship with Ms. Lola and Hanni have been better and better. Even though Ms. Lola could never replace your Real mom, You can't deny that she was very supportive, caring and tried her best to be there for you.

Hanni. Hanni was, Very peculiar. She was unlike anyone you've ever met. She was a bit clingy ever since you were small. And even though she was older about 2 years away from you, She always been the one who act a bit childish. But you can't deny, That she was really pretty and cute.

However all of that changed, When you started to Enter College. Hanni was quickly the one who felt left alone, Encouraging you to please text her and call her always. At the first month or so, You definitely did that. You texted her, and make sure that she's alright, which Hanni really appreciate.

However, Since you have new friends, new people to talk to. You soon forgot a bit about her. Especially since your college life was very busy, with Studies and Parties. Suddenly Hanni was all alone, She felt left behind.

She looked at your Pictures all over Instagram, As she missed you. Longed for you. Wanted you. Hanni always have been in love with you. However she just can't seem to found the right moment to say it. She was afraid if you would hate her, once she said the golden words.

As she scrolls again and again, She found out that you've been around more and more people then what she would like you to be. Those girls filling your stories and post, was definitely not helping either. That day, Hanni cried, as She had missed you very dearly. She just wanted to play around with you again, and Cuddle like old times sake.

Thankfully, She finally found her opportunity. Your parents are planning to go on a Trip to Vietnam, as Ms. Lola wanted Your Father to explore the wonderful scenery in Vietnam. You were asked by your Father to guard the Old house, since you're having a Holiday. And so, You finally pack your necessary items, and went back.

The air smelled faintly of rain, the kind that always reminded you of home. The porch light flickered as you stepped up to the front door, your heart thudding in your chest. It had been months since you last saw Hanni, your adoptive half-sister. Months since you’d felt the weight of her clinginess, her constant need to be near you. And yet, here you were, drawn back to her like a moth to a flame.

The door creaked open before you could knock, and there she was. Hanni. Her small frame was silhouetted by the warm glow of the porch light, her dark eyes shimmering with something you couldn’t quite place. She looked… different. Her hair was longer, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves, and her usual cheerful smile was replaced by something more intense, more… unreadable.

“You’re here,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. Before you could respond, she threw her arms around you, her grip tight, almost desperate. Her face buried into your shoulder, her warm breath tickling your neck as she whispered, “I missed you so much.”

You laughed nervously, patting her back. “I missed you too, Hanni. It’s good to see you again.”

But the hug lingered, and something about it felt… off. The way her fingers combed through your hair was too slow, too deliberate. The way her body pressed against yours felt… intentional. You pulled away gently, trying to mask your unease. “It’s late. We should get inside.”

She nodded, but her eyes didn’t leave you as you stepped into the house. The familiar scent of home wrapped around you, but it felt different now, heavier somehow. Hanni’s presence lingered in every corner, her energy suffocating yet intoxicating.

The next few days passed in a blur. Hanni was everywhere, always just a step behind you. She cooked your favorite meals, cleaned your room, and even offered to do your laundry. Her attentiveness was overwhelming, and her gaze—always on you, always watching—made your skin prickle. But it wasn’t until that night, when you found yourself alone in your childhood bedroom, that the tension finally snapped.

You were sitting on the edge of your bed, trying to calm your racing thoughts, when the door creaked open. Hanni stood there, her oversized shirt hanging loosely on her frame, her hair slightly disheveled. She looked fragile, almost innocent, but the gleam in her eyes told a different story.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she murmured, stepping into the room. Her voice was soft, almost shy, but there was an edge to it that made your heart skip a beat. She sat down beside you, her leg brushing against yours. “I’ve been thinking about you… about us.”

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. “Hanni, you’re acting weird.”

She tilted her head, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile. “Weird? Or honest?” Her fingers reached out, brushing against your cheek. The touch was soft, almost reverent, but it sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m just tired of pretending, of hiding how I feel. I want you, Y/n. All of you.”

Your heart raced, your mind struggling to process her words. “Hanni, this… this isn’t right. We’re—”

“Half-siblings?” she interrupted, her voice sharp. “So what? You think that changes how I feel? How we feel?” She leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. Just us, together. No one else to take you away from me.”

Her words sent a chill down your spine, but before you could respond, her lips were on yours, soft and insistent. Her hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as she deepened the kiss. Your mind screamed at you to pull away, to stop this madness, but your body betrayed you, responding to her touch with a hunger you hadn’t realized you were capable of.

“Hanni,” you gasped, breaking the kiss. “We can’t—”

“We can,” she whispered, her eyes burning with determination. Her fingers trailed down your chest, slowly unbuttoning your shirt. “I’ve waited too long for this. I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever.”

You wanted to protest, to push her away, but your body wasn’t listening. Her touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure through you as she stripped you bare. Her hands roamed over your chest, her nails lightly scratching your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her voice filled with awe. She leaned in, her lips brushing against your neck as her hands worked to unbuckle your belt. “All mine. Finally.”

Your pants hit the floor with a soft thud, and then she was on her knees before you, her dark eyes locking with yours. “Let me show you how much I’ve missed you,” she whispered, her breath hot against your skin. Her hands gripped your thighs, her nails digging in just enough to make you gasp.

And then her mouth was on you, hot and wet, as she took you deep into her throat. Her tongue swirled around you, her lips pressing against you in a way that made your head spin. She moaned around you, the vibration sending shivers down your spine.

“Hanni,” you groaned, your hands tangling in her hair. “You… you don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” she murmured, pulling back just enough to look up at you. Her lips were swollen, her eyes dark with desire. “I want to make you feel good. I want to make you mine.”

Her words sent a jolt of heat straight to your core, and before you could stop yourself, you were thrusting into her mouth, your hips moving on their own. She moaned around you, her throat tightening around you as she took you deeper, her nails digging into your thighs.

“God, Hanni,” you gasped, your vision swimming. “I’m… I’m close—”

She pulled back, her lips leaving you with a soft pop. “Not yet,” she whispered, her voice husky. She stood up, her hands moving to the hem of her shirt. “I want you to feel me. All of me.”

She pulled the shirt over her head, revealing her bare skin. Her breasts were small but perfect, her nipples already hard and begging for attention. She stepped out of her shorts, leaving her completely bare before you.

“Do you want me, Y/n?” she asked, her voice trembling with need. “Do you want me as much as I want you?”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. All you could do was nod, your eyes drinking in the sight of her. She was beautiful, perfect, and in that moment, you didn’t care about the consequences. All you cared about was her.

She climbed onto the bed, straddling your lap, her hands resting on your chest. “Then take me,” she whispered, her eyes locked with yours. “Make me yours.”

You hesitated for a moment, but then she was guiding you into her, her warmth enveloping you completely. She moaned, her head falling back as she began to move, her hips rocking against yours in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“Yes,” she gasped, her nails digging into your shoulders. “Yes, Y/n. Just like that.”

You gripped her hips, thrusting up into her as she rode you, her moans filling the room. Her body was tight around you, her warmth driving you closer and closer to the edge. Her hands moved to yours, intertwining your fingers as she leaned down, her lips brushing against yours.

“I love you,” she whispered against your lips. “I’ll always love you.”

Her words sent a jolt of heat through you, and with a groan, you spilled inside her, your body shuddering with the force of your release. She followed soon after, her body trembling as she cried out your name.

For a moment, you just held each other, your breathing ragged, your hearts pounding in sync. But then she leaned back, her eyes locking with yours, and you knew. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

“This is just the beginning,” she whispered, her voice filled with promise. “You’re mine, Y/n. Forever.”

The room was heavy with the scent of sweat and desire, the air thick with the weight of what had just happened. Hanni’s body was still pressed against yours, her warmth seeping into your skin, but there was no time for you to catch your breath. Her eyes, dark and unrelenting, locked onto yours, and she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your ear.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she whispered, her voice low and teasing. “I want more. All of you.”

You tried to speak, to protest, but the words caught in your throat. Hanni’s fingers traced patterns down your chest, her touch electrifying, making it impossible to think clearly. She shifted her weight, straddling you with a confidence that left you speechless. Her hips pressed down against you, and you could feel how ready she was, how desperate.

“You’re so big,” she murmured, her voice dripping with admiration. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long. About how it would feel to have you inside me. To have you ruin me.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and despite the unease creeping into the corners of your mind, your body responded to her. She could feel it too, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips as she ground her hips against you.

“That’s it,” she cooed, her hands trailing down to your waist. “Let go. Just for me.”

Before you could respond, she slid off of you, her movements slow and deliberate. She kneeled between your legs, her hands resting on your thighs as she looked up at you with those dark, pleading eyes.

“I want to taste you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I want to feel you in my throat. Please.”

Her fingers wrapped around you, and you gasped at the contact. She was already so wet, so eager, but this was something else entirely. Her tongue flicked out, teasing the tip, and you couldn’t help but groan.

“Hanni…” you started, but she didn’t let you finish. She took you into her mouth, her lips closing around you as she began to move. Her tongue swirled around you, her pace slow but deliberate, and you could feel the heat of her mouth, the tightness of her throat.

She took you deeper, her hands gripping your thighs as she worked her way down your length. Her eyes never left yours, and the intensity in them was almost too much to bear. She wanted you to see how much she wanted this, how much she needed it.

“Fuck,” you muttered, your fingers tangling in her hair as she continued. She moaned around you, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through your body. She was taking you deeper now, her throat relaxing as she swallowed you whole.

“Hanni, you don’t have to…” you tried to say, but she pulled back just enough to look up at you.

“I want to,” she insisted, her voice breathless. “I want to feel you cum in my throat. I want you to ruin me.”

Her words were like a spark, igniting something deep inside you. She didn’t give you a chance to respond, taking you back into her mouth, her pace quickening. Her throat tightened around you, and you could feel yourself getting closer, the pressure building with every movement of her lips.

“Hanni...” you groaned, your grip tightening in her hair. She moaned in response, the sound muffled as she took you even deeper. Her hands moved to your hips, pulling you closer, and you could feel her throat contracting around you.

It was too much. With a groan, you spilled into her, your body tensing as you released. Hanni didn’t pull away, swallowing every drop, her throat working around you as she took everything you had to give.

When you finally relaxed, she pulled back, a triumphant smile on her lips. Her face was flushed, her eyes glazed with satisfaction, and she looked up at you with a mix of adoration and hunger.

“See?” she said, her voice hoarse but filled with pride. “I told you I could take it.”

You were still catching your breath, your heart pounding in your chest, but she wasn’t done. She climbed back onto your lap, her hands resting on your shoulders as she straddled you once more.

“Now it’s my turn,” she whispered, her hips grinding against you. “I want to feel all of you. Every. Single. Inch.”

Her words sent a jolt of heat through you, and you could feel yourself hardening again beneath her. She smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she positioned herself above you.

“Hanni, wait…” you started, but she didn’t let you finish. She sank down onto you, her body stretching to accommodate you, and you couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped your lips.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” she murmured, her voice breathless as she began to move. Her hips rolled against you, her pace slow but deliberate, and you could feel every inch of her as she took you deeper.

Her hands moved to your chest, her nails digging lightly into your skin as she rode you. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, her body trembling with pleasure as she moved.

“You’re mine,” she whispered, her voice filled with possessiveness. “All mine.”

Her pace quickened, her hips slamming down against you with a desperation that left you breathless. Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as she leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear.

“Cum inside me,” she begged, her voice trembling with need. “I want to feel you. Please.”

Her words were like a spark, igniting the fire inside you, and with a groan, you spilled into her, your body shuddering with the force of your release. She followed soon after, her body trembling as she cried out your name.

Hanni, Climbs to you. As she hugged you, Her eyes were burning as She forced you to kiss her. Her tounge, Playfully. "You're mine now.. ".

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inkskinned · 11 months ago

Text

you found out today that a phrase you have used before was coined by an abusive man. this felt like getting your teeth taken out. it made you sick and sad and tired, but not surprised.

bad people tell you to be careful when you talk badly of bad men, that it could "ruin" a life. you had your life ruined by a bad man, not that it ever matters to them. your real life having real consequences is not valued as highly as the potential of his future.

this has always been a frustrating little mathematics problem for you. you've missed school and had to call out sick at work and had panic attacks that lasted for weeks. it stole sleep and food and friends from you. you cried in public, fucked your relationships up. and the whole time: your present has never mattered so much as the great what if! of his future. like - one life (your life) is already ruined, should we really ruin two?

so you live with the consequences and he doesn't, and that's just like, something you need therapy for. you once discussed this with one of your friends over coffee. she chewed the wooden stirrer, looked off into the distance. "once i became a victim, everything that happens to me afterward is automatically less interesting in the eyes of the general public. it is always about him. he changed my identity. to survivor. to statistic. meanwhile this whole time - i am a person."

you learned in college that three out of five of your favorite artists and authors were actually abusive assholes. these days, you are no longer surprised. oh, is that what was happening behind closed doors? of course it was, he was a "genius," and she was just a girl. you are talking about him in art history, so obviously his career was absolutely ruined, for eternity. that's what happens, right? they strike your name from the record and refuse to remember you? nobody really knows her name, but hey. that's what you get for being close to celebrity.

you got into an argument about it, which was a bad argument, because it made you cry. he said what, you want us to just ignore all the things this man did because he made a few women uncomfortable? and you'd balled your fists up and choked on it. later, in bed, you agonized over the response you'd been trying to articulate but never found the right moment to deploy: you are ignoring what any person could do if they weren't being fucking abused. maybe her talents far exceeded his and she was just never allowed to fucking use them. maybe we only see genius in white men because they purposefully fucking squash and silence any other people with talent.

but you'd cried about it instead of saying that, because you are the cost. you are the talent and potential that he took. you used to be brave and smart and clever and unafraid. like a lich, he stole years of your life.

quiet on set made you sad and sick and tired, but not surprised. unfortunately, one of the things he said was true: an entire network of people allowed it to continue. this is not news to you, because you have seen entire networks of people make the same fucking excuses when the same thing or-worse happened to you. and your particular story isn't even in hollywood. it was just a guy. it was still difficult getting people to stand up for you.

you and your friend wait in line for your coffee. like a standup joke, one man turns to the other and says "can't wait for every bitch to come crawling out of the woodwork complaining about harassment. it's another metoo." and you think - oh, that's the network. your boss tucks her hair back and whispers that while your skirt is cute, you're giving the boys the wrong idea. that's the network. when you'd told your "friend" about what happened, she'd said oh you must have misunderstood, that would never happen. and that's the network.

you woke up this morning panting, because years later you still have panic attacks. oh, it's not a network, actually, it's a web. and you, little moth: are you still surprised you're caught in it?

#warm up #spilled ink #writeblr

2K notes · View notes

landorris · 4 months ago

Text

melbourne anymore l oscar piatri x ex!reader

summary; where oscar and yn decide break up but they’re not very good at staying friends. part two

fc; madison beer

warnings; english is not my first language, kinda sad but cute, inspired by “kansas anymore” by role model <3

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yourusername oh f1 you’ve been good to me! thank you to @redbullracing for inviting me for the weekend and congratulations @maxverstappen1 on your win, amazing performance! 🦁🧡🏆

user1 first we don’t hear about yn for months, and then when we hear is f1 related AND about max…… WHAT HAPPEN WITH OSCAR

user2 yall i think they broke up

redbullracing thanks for coming queen! hope to see you again soon! our writing’s on the wall tell us you’ll be back 👀💙💙

yourusername 💙💙💙

user3 that last part is kinda sus

user4 what is yn up to

maxverstappen1 thank you yn!! hope to see you again soon!

yourusername hope to see you again soon to max!

user5 this friendship is amazing

yn’s phone

a month later….

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, mclaren and others

oscarpiastri thank you australia for this weekend, felt good to be home! 🇦🇺🦘🐨

user1 yn liking oh man…

user2 the friendship bracelets 💞💞💞

user3 yn is in australia, you think she was there?

user4 great race osc!

yn’s phone, first is the night after the race, second is the morning after

a few weeks later…

f1gossip

liked by user1, user2 and others

f1gossip spotted! oscar piastri walking around the paddock with a new girl! we haven’t seen him with a girl since he broke up with yn, seems like he moved on! we love to see him happy😁😁

user1 im pretty sure that’s norris sister

user2 lando would never let this happen

user3 yeah look at his happy face 😑

landossister that’s me! he was just keeping me company cuz my brother abandoned me, i also happen to have a boyfriend so please confirm everything before you post things like this, thanks!🧡

(ps. do you have any ideia how hard it is to find a photo of this man with lily where he isn’t all smiley and giggling????????? this man is IN love)

yn’s phone

moths later…

yourusername story

replies:

user1 oscar???

user2 who’s the musician guy?👀

yourbestfriend FINALLY

yourusername it’s coming out today i can’t belive

yourusername do you think people will like it?

yourusername what if he gets mad

yourbestfriend they’ll like it

yourbestfriend and he’ll be proud just like i am

yourusername i love you

yourbestfriend i love you too

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, oscarpiastri and others

yourusername heyy!! so i’ve been working on something for a few months now and i am more than proud to announce that my first album just came out!! i actually loved how this turned out and i hope you do to🫧🫧🫧🪽 melbourne anymore is now ours in all streaming plataforms 🤍🤍

yourbestfriend SO SO SO SO PROUD OF YOU

yourusername I LOVE YOU

user1 i didn’t know you could sing wtf

user2 this is amazing

user3 on repeat

user4 track five omg

user5 this is def about him

user6 mom and dad broke up

user7 a breakup album about oscar was not on my 2024 bingo card

user8 they still in love with each other

user9 superglue is so cute😭😭

user10 OSCAR LIKING😭😭😭😭😭😭

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, mclaren and others

oscarpiastri I dreamt of this day as a little kid back in Australia. A trutly unbelivable feeling. Thank you to everyone who helped me and everyone who belived in me. One down too many more to go 🧡🫧🪽

mclaren SHOW THEM HOW IT’S DONE

landonorris proud of you brother

user1 OMG OSCAR WON

user2 NOT HIM WINNING AFTER THE YN ALBUM

user3 the emoji choice😟 '

user4 yn must be so proud

user5 i wonder if he heard the album

yn’s phone

let me know if you liked it, and in case you did vote here to decide the ending, thank you for reading it!💞🪽🫧💘🐨

#formula 1 #f1 #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri angst #oscar piastri fluff #grand prix #cars #moodboard #aesthetic #oscah

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hoseoksluna · 4 months ago

Text

INFINITY | jjk

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.7k

summary: your birthdays have never been happy until jungkook became your boyfriend.

note: IT'S MY BIRTHDAYYYYYY. and i wrote this little light fic in just a day for the occasion. no smut, just pure fluff and cuteness. i want you all to go back and read this fic on your own bday and imagine you have such an amazing bf like jk:( enjoy! i love you guys. MWAH.

He was supposed to be here.

Or at least that’s what your brain kept telling you throughout the longest workday of your life as your fingers tapped away on the keyboard and you used your sweet sing-song voice to talk to customers—something you do five, sometimes six days a week, although today was different.

Today was your birthday.

A pitifully miserable day that celebrates the moment you came into this world, only to realize, fifteen years later, that you don’t fit in—that it doesn’t have a place for you, where you belong and where you can be happy. A wretched day that your mom doesn’t want to celebrate because the preparations stress her out and because she thinks your family doesn’t really like you and she doesn’t want you to get sad, when they buy you gifts that are disappointing.

As if that mattered. As if you didn’t love your family enough that the gifts aren’t what’s important about this day.

This year shall be different, though. For the first time in your life you have a serious boyfriend that you’ve been with for a whole year now. A round but tall and muscular boyfriend. A Harley-Davidson driving, gold Marlboro-smoking boyfriend that you met a day after your birthday that should’ve been special but wasn’t. You spent it in tears because your mom made you feel guilty about wanting to celebrate it with your family, so you went out the following night with your girls to get drunk, go forget and met this man outside the bar that smoked alone and smiled at you a bit too often whenever you felt his gaze and turned around, your arm half-bent in the air, the cigarette smoke of your own swirling around your shivering form from the cold and the dull excitement that you caught the attention of someone so attractive and adorable at the same time.

The way his eyes glinted in the yellow lights, starry and tender, as if they had never seen the ugly in this world—or perhaps they have, but they never accepted it.

The way they rounded even more when you met them with your own, and the way his mouth parted because he seemingly couldn’t believe that you would notice him.

Your friends knew something you did, innerly, as well—that this man was special and that he was yours. Your best friend, the mom of the friend group, stubbed her cigarette and leaned inside the waterfall of your hair and instructed you what to do.

Stay here and have another cig. We’re going inside.

You felt that it was the right thing to do, and so you smiled and you nodded. Your best friend patted your head, smirked to herself and left without any other word.

You lit up another cigarette.

And Jungkook… he was a moth, transfixed by the flame, gravitating towards you and sparking up a conversation about the happy birthday headband you were wearing. And you stayed there with him until your fingers were numb with the iciness of the night and until you ran out of cigarettes.

But you didn’t go back to your friends all empty.

Jungkook slid two Marlboros of his own into your pack, infiltrated hope into your heart by talking to you so gently and so purely—a hope in a better life and a better world and a better birthday, and infused your lungs with poetry by the way he looked at you.

Like you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

And a month later, after many dates, you had a taste of infinity on his lips. The infinity of the universe, of the world, of the love that had been brewing in you for him. The infinity of life that likes you, that had mercy on you and gave you someone like him. You had shared that with him on many occasions, but the first time he heard it, he sobbed into your hands. And just like you knew it then that he was yours, you couldn’t doubt it at that moment.

He was engraved into your veins, written on the page that has your name within the Book of Life.

And now, a year later, you ponder the hope that has not left the chambers of your heart since that fateful night as you enter your dark, deserted apartment that carries his scent but not his presence.

You expected him to be here, waiting for you to come home after your afternoon shift. Your manager let you leave a half an hour early, an information you texted your boyfriend as soon as you received it, but now as you click on your messages with him, you perceive that he hasn’t even seen it.

It hasn’t even been delivered. Only sent.

Your heart cracks. The infinity thins out. You throw your brown leather purse onto the ground and try, with all your might, to keep your emotions at bay. The words of your mother flood your brain and your spine rounds at the heft of its innermore truth, your tiredness due to your long workday helping, breaking your back until you walk upon the debris of your own bones.

So much for having hope. So much for believing that you could be loved by those closest to you. Why is this happening to you? Why do you have to be so eternally sad? Having the wholeness of the world against you as if you were nothing, as if you weren’t a human being deserving of love—

The rapid railroad of your thoughts is halted by the three-seconds long beeping of your passcode being accepted and when you turn around, the world you thought was against you turns to face you, ready to immerse you in its kindness.

Jungkook enters. And it’s not a bouquet of flowers, whose petals graze against his sweaty temple. No, it’s a humongous pot of a white orchid that swallows all light of the room, only to spit it back down your throat when Jungkook crosses the distance and kisses you until your mind gets woozy, spinning around and around.

A hard, alarming kiss that contains many, many questions.

The light mends your heart, the softness of his lips, despite the harshness of the long peck, gluing all those broken parts together, and your lungs bloom with new flowers of poetry that he’s more than capable of taking care of in you. His free hand grips your waist, intensifying the questions in the kiss and when he pulls back, they thump in his big, round eyes that are never brown, but endlessly black.

They thump so vivaciously that they plunge out of his mouth almost immediately.

“Where were you? I waited for you outside of your work. I wanted to pick you up,” he says, panting, so out of breath as if he ran all the way here and broke a sweat. A bead of perspiration trickles down his other temple—and there, behind his ear, you notice a singular cigarette with a brown butt.

Gold Marlboro.

The sight is an electricity that drives life into your heart, making it beat as if it was never broken in the first place.

Your lips are dry, your throat parched, and you think you need another one of his kisses. As a matter of fact, that’s all you want. His kisses, his sweat, his warm presence.

Him.

“My manager let me go home half an hour early,” you explain, gripping the hand that holds you, feeling guilty. Jungkook’s eyes pierce you, paying the utmost attention to you, coaxing your words out of you. You can vividly see that he needs them. “I texted you. I thought you’d be here.”

Jungkook sighs, closing his eyes for a split second. A wave of relief washes over him and he purses his lips before he presses them not against your own, but against your cheek, his free hand migrating to the back of your head. And the warmth of his palm slaughters all of your bad thoughts, makes space for happy thoughts and happy emotions—and the act is so severely profound that you have to hold onto him, grip his waist like he gripped yours, and take the transformation as best as you can.

“I was so scared,” he whispers onto your cheekbone, resting his face against yours, sinking his fingers into your hair. “If it weren’t for your coworker who told me that you left early, I would still be standing there.” He withdraws, looking down at you and pointing your face up at him. “My phone died. I didn’t get your message. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I wanted to surprise you.”

Your heart enlarges, escaping out of your throat and into the pot he’s still holding. You shake your head, thinking he doesn’t need to be sorry for anything, and pucker your lips to ask for another kiss. Jungkook nearly whimpers at the sight, leaning down and obliging, softening the kiss he’s so willing to give you, melting it into a hundred more kisses that make your tummy flutter. And there, there the hope, which he had suffused you with a year ago, comes to a full circle and you comprehend that as long as you have him, you’ll never spend your birthday in despair.

And because of that, you deepen the kiss.

The tears streaming down your cheeks feel so terribly faint owing to the overwhelmingness of your emotions. It is gladness that clutches your whole being, gratitude second, and your expanding love for him in third place. And all those emotions dissolve into his cheeks in the infinity of your kiss and it is when you press your body against his and wrap your arms around his neck that you realize that the orchid pot isn’t the only gift he has for you. Around the same wrist, belonging to his hand that holds the flower, are hung small gift bags that prevent you from fully dissipating into him—and that is the matter that severs the kiss, which holds the entire universe.

And it’s not the contents of the gift bags that makes it collapse.

It’s the red ring box that he fishes out of his pocket.

Jungkook doesn’t get down on his knee. His hands tremble, very much like your heart, your blood system, your muscles, as he opens the box and allows you to see the gift for your very first special birthday. A diamond ring, held up by a gold lining shaped into an infinity sign. The infinity of his kiss, the infinity of your love for him, the little things you observed that made him cry—all made true in a singular ring that flits in his tattooed, trembling hand. The orchid gets placed on the nearby round table and the foreign emotions, which go beyond the ordinary happy emotions you’ve ever felt, suffocate you. So much that you begin to tremble just the same, sobbing as you turn your gaze away from the magnificent ring to the greater, blurry magnificence of his eyes just to catch the same, identical tears drenching his red, red cheeks.

“Jungkook…” you mewl, sniffling, your constricting lungs not letting you say anything else, and you cup his hands like a flower. Perhaps to still their quivering, perhaps to just simply hold them—feel his warmth, feel the vibrancy of his tattoos—because, truth be told, you have no idea what’s happening.

Jungkook calls you by your name in order to have your full attention and you anticipate finding in him the meaning of this all, stability and groundness. And he doesn’t hesitate. Hell, he doesn’t waste a second.

“My little princess,” he starts but pauses momentarily, his bottom lip quivering as he holds his tears and you fall apart. At the pet name, at the unfolding of his emotions that bear nothing but raw beauty you’d readily die for. “This is my promise to you that I am yours for all infinity. Nothing can break it, nothing can stop it, and that defines our life together. I want to spend it with you until we’re the last two people on this Earth. I know our love will keep us alive.” Tears spurt down onto his cheeks against his strong will and you wipe them away as you feel yourself swelling up with love, with something beyond joy, and with utmost, utmost adrenaline. “I love you with everything in me.” His voice breaks and you break in tandem. Jungkook envelops a buff arm around you, burying you into his chest, and for the last part of his speech, he draws close to your ear. “Happy birthday.”

And he kisses that little seashell, kisses the planes of your cheeks until he finds your lips that he seizes, violently, with his until the infinity bursts at the seams, imbuing you with its eternal, yet different energy that promises that everything from now on shall be joyful and beautiful. His sob entangles with yours and, pulling away with a smack, he grins down at you. No piercings, just the flush of his cheeks and the love for you he radiates adorning him—and you love him.

You love him so awfully devastatingly.

And you tell him. You tell him as he takes your left second-last finger and slides the promise ring down that digit. And you tell him again when you meet his eyes, as if for the first time all over again and jump into his arms. The diamond reflects the light, stealing it, hiding it for you and him, the size of the ring fitting so perfectly that another set of tears gush through.

And then he’s patting your bum, telling you to open your gifts and he kneels with you on the floor and goes through each bag he got you. A red lipstick, a perfume, a black silky dress with matching stilettos—all of which he wants you to wear on a Saturday night with him to celebrate. Then, all your favorite ‘you’ things that you love. Face masks, even lip masks, bath bombs, shower gels and body creams. Fluffy socks, pajamas, granny panties. A bottle of red wine and four packs of grape ice vape.

Jungkook leaves you stunned. And you don’t have time to process all those wonderful things because suddenly you’re up on your feet and you’re led into a rhythm of a song he begins to hum, slow dancing with you in your living room. One hand firm on your waist, the other just as firm clasped around your hand, his eyes fixed on you, mouth in that everlasting pout.

And you fade into him. Don’t think about your mother and the hurtful things she said. They cease to exist in the atmosphere of your shared life with him, more now than ever. You focus on the stability of his grip on you, the smoothness of his hand, the tightness you feel on your waist that grounds you, your feet that get on well with his in this dance and your hips that he loves to see moving. You focus on yourself; you focus on him. On the way he dressed up for you, ironed his black shirt and on the way he still smells so good, even though he broke a sweat.

On the way he just committed his life to you.

And then, he’s dressing you in the pajamas he bought you. Baggy and banana-patterned, beige and yellow colored, sitting you down on your couch and lifting your legs, one by one, to keep your feet warm with your matching socks. He’s taking your make-up off, brushing your teeth and smoothing down a face mask on your forehead, cheeks and chin, pecking you sweetly. And you’re straddling him, putting the same one on the planes of his face, and as you’re focusing, he meditates on something within his heart.

And Jungkook shares it with you, all ruffled, sleepy and puffy.

“I love you, my little princess. For all infinity.”

You breathe it in, believing him.

“I love you, Jungkookie. For all infinity.”

You fall asleep like this—on his bare chest with your face mask still on, one that he peels off after the fifteen minute mark. And you dream about what your infinity with him looks like as your age no longer matters and stops here.

Infinitely young, infinitely loved.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @jjk7k , @tkslovechild , @euphoricmyth , @cinmmongirl , @ririkookiemonster , @perfectiondazesworld , @https-mei , @bangtansonyeondanue , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl , @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk , @parkinglot-nights

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doomedmoth · 5 months ago

Text

War is Over

Pairing : Reader x Daniel Ricciardo x Max Verstappen | Poly fem!reader

Warnings : use of y/n, smau, polyamory, queer drivers, reader is around 30

Synopsis : You’re just a mechanic at RedBull, not much more to say. Nothing in your contract says you can’t be friends with drivers, right ? The little lines very clearly says you’re not allowed to show it all though. When your chosen “family” fails you, all you can do is hope your loved ones save themselves too.

Moth’s prophecy💡: Hi cryptids, honestly I have no excuses to give, sorry for the randomness of it all, I just needed to get this out to process with the pain of loosing Daniel. I can only hope he finds happiness away from the shit show that RedBull is becoming. Probably going back to hibernation, see ya !

[Messages] Dumber has sent you a text

*****

[Instagram] yourusername just posted a photo

yourusername : How it started / how it’s going (swipe for my face when I’m not covered in grease). Hello to everyone new here, I’m Y/N, Chief Engine Power Conformity Mechanician at redbullracing ! Based in the never-sunny town of Milton Keynes, but you might see me around the paddock at most races to make sure no one explodes ✌🏻

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F1mech little miss mini boss 🫡

yourusername be glad to have me around to do the dirty work

F1mech Yes ma’am very grateful ma’am 🫡

redbullracing Your work is so crucial and we are happy the world gets to know you more !

redbullracing Also it was sunny last we came to MK ???

yourusername nobody tell admin we take out the fake blue sky windows when he comes by

user1 lmao I live in Milton Keynes and can attest we haven’t seen the sun in weeeeks

user2 never wanted to be a redbull neon sign so bad

user3 I can see why they hide her in the shithole that is Milton Keynes, the whole paddock would go crazy over her

user4 she would make such a cute wag omg !!

user5 bet every girlie is on their man’s back whenever she’s around

user6 she works for RB soooo… d’you think her and checo…? 😳

user7 she already has someone guys !! Though we have never seen his face, but I think she’s more interested in the cars than the ones inside them

user6 checo is married and still it doesn’t stop him lmao

user8 are you part of the pit crew ?? Never seen you before ! /g

yourusername I’m not !! I mainly work on the cars before and after the races and practices to make sure everything is in place, not faulty, and compliant to both Redbull’s and the FIA’s standards of security 🤗 but 60/70% of my work is at the factory, and the paddock parts happens behind close doors, so no worries

maxverstappen1 she makes sure nobody dies

yourusername and god knows y’all make it hard sometimes

danielricciardo yeah this second pic is so much better

yourusername oh don’t start me boy

danielricciardo hihihi 🤭

user9 hello Daniel ???

user10 How can I work at Redbull too pls I beg you I’ll even make coffee and mop the floors

yourusername check our offers on the website honey !! Most jobs require some experience or diploma but we also offer internships and graduate programs if you want to make your way in

user10 thank u 🥹

user10 that’s how you got in ?

yourusername nope, I’ve worked on cars forever and in motorsports for years before getting to F1, but we have plenty of opportunities in non-technical fields too!

user11 pretty, kind, works in f1, not single, lemme just Google how to be like you

user12 you okay dude ? Throat not hurting too much from gagging on her dick

user13 lmaoooo yeah seeing her looks that’s probably a daddy’s girl who got put in exec and pretends to know what she’s talking about

user14 wouldn’t be shocked if her “work behind closed doors” is ordering actual mechs around like minions

danielricciardo is your little ego so hurt by the fact that you’ll never be talented enough to get to her place that you’ve resorted to running your shitty mouth online ? Breath getting stinky mate, careful 🤢

Liked by yourusername

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[Instagram] yourusername just posted a photo

yourusername : Everything’s twice as fun with you

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user15 lover boy lover boy lover boy !

user16 I’m more excited for the face reveal than for my best friend’s wedding

user17 pls get checked wtf

user18 wait isn’t he blonde ? who’s the dark haired one in some pics ? With tattoos ?

user19 you might be new but Y/N always post pics of lover boy randomly, so some pics are old, and he often dyes his hair !

user18 wow damn I need his hairdresser coz this is cleaaaaan

yourbff don’t tell me you let him touch your car

yourusername lmaooo never 💀 tried to teach him to change some parts on his

yourbff and…?

yourusername ended up doing it…

yourbff at least he’s cute !!

yourusername Hey ! That must counts for something !

user20 not them bullying him coz he either doesn’t have socials or is not allowed to answer

yourbff what ? us ?

yourusername Never 😇

user21 oh damn she bagged herself a hottie

user22 HE bagged himself a hottie have you seen her ??

user23 couple goals and we ain’t ever seen his face like

user24 ain’t no need for a face with a body like this

user25 kinda looks like Max on the 6th slide no ??

user26 lmao as if

user27 the man can bag any celebrity doubt he cares for a factory girl

user28 the pic with the RB can lol

yourusername trained him well 😇

*****

[Twitter] f1.driv.updates just posted

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[Messages] Dumb has sent you a text

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[Instagram] maxverstappen1 has added a story

user29 replied to the story :

oh yeah I keep forgetting y’all old money rich rich

user30 replied to the story :

so we all forgetting about Horner’s accusation ?? Truly just RB’s bitch in the end

user31 replied to the story :

Is that y/n ?? Didn’t know the mechs were invited to those events

danielricciardo replied to the story :

man I do take amazing pics when the models look so good

*****

[Instagram] yourusername just posted a photo

yourusername : vitamin sea 🌊⛱️🐚 Australia, you never disappoint

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oscarpiastri wish we could have hung out more 🥺

yourusername we hung out at your house bby!!

user32 BBY ?? SOMEONE CALL LILY COZ THIS BITCH IS OVERSTEPPING

oscarpiastri we didn’t hang out you repaired my mom’s car while Lily and I were drinking WARM BEERS ON THE FLOOR

yourusername SORRY YOU CAN’T APPRECIATE MY CRAFT LIKE YOUR MOTHER DOES also hi to lils 💕🌸🎀

oscarpiastri DON’T BRING MY MOM INTO THIS she said she misses u 🤗💕✨

user32 oh

yourusername yeah

oscarpiastri yeah

nicolepiastri yeah

yourbff you need to turn off work like for reeeaaaal

yourusername how can I when those two are literally glued to my hip

danielricciardo shocked sad disappointed

maxverstappen1 Lover boy will hear about this

yourusername Are those threats ? Remember I literally have power over your life

danielricciardo not mine anymore lol Lover boy WILL HEAR about this

user33 oh so that definitely erases the possibility of Max or Daniel being Lover Boy

user34 as if there had ever been any evidence of that

user35 Lover boy in the Redbull cap ??

yourusername Yep ! Max gave it to him

user35 daaaaamn he is ripped

yourusername hihi 🤭

user36 no one questioning why the fuck is a mechanician hanging so much with drivers ??

user37 *chief mechanician

F1mech oh shit buddy thank you, we weren’t aware we couldn’t be friends with people we spend more than half of the year on the road with

maxverstappen1 cancel your ticket rn mate, you can’t vacation with us

F1mech come on user36, see what you’ve done ?? Maybe if you hadn’t questioned it I could have gone, fucker

*****

[Instagram] yourusername has added a story

user38 has replied to your story :

Not you posting this straight after the checo announcement 💀

yourbff has replied to your story :

just saw the news, is Danny ok ?? Pls call me

maxverstappen1 has replied to your story :

Booked you a table at San Marco at 8, sorry I can’t be there tonight…

it’s okay, I know how it is, I just don’t want him to be alone… thx for the restaurant 💕

[Instagram] yourusername has added a story

user39 has replied to your story :

omg same

user40 has replied to your story :

IS THAT DANIEL ???

user41 has replied to your story :

the tattoos ??? girl we knoooow

redbullracing has replied to your story :

y/n ?

yup yup yup sorry

This story has been deleted.

*****

[Instagram] yourusername has added a story

user41 has replied to your story :

lmao miss thing is piiiissed

yukitsunoda0511 has replied to your story :

i can’t find my controller d’you have one more ? 🥺

yes bby just come before your food gets cold

user42 has replied to your story :

She supports Max’s rights but mostly Max’s wrongs

*****

[Twitter] F1mech just posted

[Instagram] yourusername has added a story

user43 has replied to your story :

preeeaach 🙌🏻

user44 has replied to your story :

all redbull employees protesting the FIA has me going !! Tell Horner to open his mouth too for once

danielricciardo has replied to your story :

I want this pic as my new lockscreen

*****

[Twitter] danyfanclub just posted

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[Instagram] danielricciardo just posted a photo

danielricciardo : l've loved this sport my whole life. It's wild and wonderful and been a journey. To the teams and individuals that have played their part, thank you. To the fans who love the sport sometimes more than me haha thank you. It'll always have its highs and lows but it's been fun and truth be told I wouldn't change it.

Until the next adventure.

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redbullracing 🫶🏻

user45 SHUT UP

user46 the audacity

user47 you promised you would treat him better !!

user48 Daniel > Perez

user49 DTS fan

lewishamilton legend 🫂

user50 game recognize game

user51 tell Mercedes to give him a seat

maxverstappen1 Head up ! Many more beautiful moments to come, somewhere you’ll be recognized and appreciated 💪🏻 our time together isn’t over, but I’m glad for all the racing, the laughs, the nights, for you ❤️

user52 wow hm Max no need to make all of us cry

user53 I feel like I’ve just walked in on something very personal…

user54 maxiel 😭😭😭

user55 he was the best mate you ever had, never should have left RedBull

yourusername Working with you was an honor, but getting to know and appreciate you made my whole life brighter, and I can’t thank you enough for this 🌞 no contracts can bring us apart, see you around honey bee 💛

user56 the little dig at RB’s contracts lmao

user57 why does honey bee feel much more intimate than honey badger ??

user58 we haven’t seen this level of emotion for De Vries, yet you were already working for the “RedBull family” if I’m not mistaken ??

user59 maybe because no one gives two shits about De Vries ??

*****

[Instagram] yourusername just posted a photo

yourusername : Well, there it is. After 15 years of working on cars, the last 10 in motorsports, last five in Formula 1, it’s time for me to take a break. It was just perfect to finish it off in my hometown Austin, and I’m so grateful to my friends and family who made the trip to celebrate together. I remember my first week at Milton Keynes, my whole life in a suitcase. Abu Dhabi 2021, and those stories we’ll keep for our old days. I was so proud to be part of this, the champagne, the fireworks, the love. The day Daniel came back to us. The people I’ve met, the opportunities I’ve had, none would have been possible without you, ‘Bull. It’s been oh so amazing, but oh so tiring. I’ve reached a point in my life where I need my environment to be aligned with what I want, my values and the people I love and care for. So it’s goodbye.

F1, thank you for everything. I’ll miss you, but I gotta go. 💙

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F1mech I solemnly swear to not make anything explode, to always triple check my laces, to never pick Yoshi in Mario Kart because it’s yours, and to forever keep you close to my heart. Thx mini boss, you were amazing 🫡

yourusername Thanks Callum, you’re gonna make me cry now…

user60 US TOO 😭

user61 naaaaah another one leaving RedBull, shit is really going down

user62 where do you think she’s going ? Aston ?

user63 or Ferrari

yourusername Sorry to disappoint but neither ! It’s really a full break, for a while at least, I need to get my head out of the oil and machinery

user64 leaving England then ?? What about lover boy ??

yourusername Lover boy was never British eheh, who told you that ? 🤭

user65 if Lover boy is confirmed to be Daniel I’ll loose my shit

user66 I will always root for Max though…

user67 he has tattoos omg it’s never been Max !!

redbullracing Now it’s pretty sure MK will never see the sun again with you gone 😭

user68 we still hate you

user69 fuck off

yukitsunoda0511 🥺🫶🏻

yourusername 😚🫴🏻💕

yourbff it’ll be hard, but it’ll be good

yourusername thankfully i won’t be alone

yourbff not long to wait

yourusername yeah, soon soon

user70 ???

user71 I have a headache just thinking about everything the soon soon could be about

user72 really doubt Max is staying much longer in RedBull seeing how many engineers are quitting

*****

[Twitter] f1.driv.updates just posted

*****

[Instagram] yourusername has added a story

user73 has replied to your story :

no yeah we get it this looks much better than the factory lmao

user74 has replied to your story :

Honey bee ?? I’ve heard that one before

oscarpiastri has replied to your story :

Mom said you haven’t gone to see her yet ! Meanie !

user75 has replied to your story :

crazy how Max starts winning again since you’re gone

*****

[Instagram] f1 just posted a photo

F1 : BREAKING : Max Verstappen has announced his retirement after winning his 4th World’s Drivers Championship.

Record breaker.

Late braker.

Legend.

#ThankYouMax

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user76 WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

user77 when I tell you I fell to my knees

user78 screaming crying throwing up

user79 I refuse to believe this is true

user80 what the hell was this season

user81 DTS is gonna have a field day with this one

user80 doubt 10 episodes are gonna be enough

redbullracing There aren’t enough words to describe the impact you’ve had on our history, Max. You’ll forever be a pillar of the RedBull family, and an icon of the sport. Tudududu 🧡

lewishamilton Thank you for the challenges, you’ve always pushed us to go harder. Never thought I would have to see you leave, but we’ll keep your legacy running 👑

user82 Alonso when ???

user83 Who’s gonna take his seat ? Honey badger comeback ?

user84 doubt it, he said in the only interview he gave that he had some friends to go see a few continents away, bet he was talking bout Danny

user85 April Fools ?

user86 In December ??

user87 I really don’t understand why, everything was going much better with the car lately

user88 I think he’s just done with the sport, he said multiple time he wouldn’t force it if he didn’t feel like it anymore

*****

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user89 has replied to your story :

wait, if that’s lover boy, who’s the guy you were with lately ??

user90 has replied to your story :

Sydney airport !!

user91 has replied to your story :

OMG I KNEW I SAW MAX IN SYDNEY THIS MORNING WTF I RECOGNIZE HIM

yourbff has replied to your story :

you did it bby, it’s time to rest now

ily, we will 💕

user92 has replied to your story :

The timing with Max quitting RB is so odd I’m seriously questioning my sanity rn

*****

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yourusername, danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 : War is Over.

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*****

[Instagram] danielricciardo has added a story

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*****

[Instagram] danielricciardo just posted a photo

danielricciardo : From sneaking out of restaurants to barricading the doors of our shared hotel rooms, I wish I could have told the world earlier how much I love you. But I’m glad I can now. There’s something magical about finding the one, so when you find the two, you’ll make any radical change necessary to protect them. Think you were right Maxie, the farm life does suit us.

This was the Honey Badger, peace ✌🏻

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[Instagram] maxverstappen1 just posted a photo

maxverstappen1 : Turning off comments coz those two are mine and you can only admire them from afar. I know they’re pretty. They’re mine. And I’ll say it as many times as I want now. Mine mine mine mine mine

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[Instagram] yourusername just posted a photo

yourusername : Oh, I’m sorry, did I say Lover Boy ? I meant Boys 🤭

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user93 WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK

user94 mother is finally letting us out of the cage and none of us can take it

user95 the first pic

user96 I could die

user97 who the fuck even took it

user98 she said “y’all won’t let me post their faces ? I’ll give you the whole sextape”

user99 I knew it I fucking knew it Maxiel nation we won

oscarpiastri so happy for you guys, go be free with the little goats 🥹

yourusername pls try to survive

maxverstappen1 and if RB tries to buy you RUN BACK HOME

user100 oh shit it’s time for no filter Max era

yourusername you’ve had a taste this year, be prepared for the real deal

yukitsunoda0511 finally i can stop pretending to not speak English when asked about you

danielricciardo you were pretending very well if I may say

yukitsunoda0511 thanks !

user101 oh yuki sweet summer child…

user102 don’t tell me in Japan already ??

yourusername you really took a good look at this pic and thought “yeah, those two are straight” ? It’s a you issue honestly

user102 yeah okay fair

user103 7th pic ???

maxverstappen1 Abu Dhabi ‘21

maxverstappen1 tasted better than champagne tbh

user104 oh so y’all are just leaking EVERYTHING now, no fucks given

danielricciardo I had to pay a lot for those pics to not get out back then so yeah kinda

danielricciardo which is a shame when we look so good

user105 sooooo… about the high performance athlete….?

maxverstappen1 yes.

yourusername yes.

danielricciardo 💕

*****

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puckinghischier · 1 month ago

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Jealous Nico

i struggle with this one bc can he get jealous? yes, extremely so. does he often? i wanna say no.

i feel like he’s just so trusting and obsessed with you that the thought doesn’t even cross his mind half the time, because you never pay people any mind. he knows he holds your attention, so why would he ever get jealous?

but sometimes…just sometimes, when you’ve had one too many drinks and your attention starts flitting around the room, looking for anyone who will entertain you to have a conversation with? he wants to scream “i’m right here!!!” at you. but he doesn’t want to be that guy, so he just lets you wander and mingle. never too far, though.

and as much as we wants to, the feeling that settles in his stomach when he sees you laughing with some finance bro over at the bar when you’re getting a refill is something he can’t really ignore.

maybe it’s the way you’re giving him so much excitement, clearly passionate about whatever topic is pouring from your lips. or maybe it’s the way this douche is looking at you, like you’re the brightest light in the room and he’s a moth that can’t escape your glow. whatever it is, it has him walking away from his conversation mid sentence, warm eyes turned dark in dislike of what he was witnessing.

as he makes his way through the crowd towards you, he realizes he can’t even be mad at you, because you’re just being the social butterfly he knows you are. all you want to do is converse and enjoy all the liveliness in the building, you’re not purposefully ignoring him. you were actually trying to talk to him a few minutes ago, but he was trying to listen to what jesper was saying before he got lost in whatever topic you deemed so important. so really, he thinks to himself, this is his fault, and he shouldn’t even be jealous in the first place.

but when you start jumping up and down slightly, clearly excited with whatever response you were just given, and douchebag’s eyes go straight to your chest instead of your ear to ear grin and bright eyes, he realizes yeah…maybe he can be jealous and a little bit of an asshole right now.

“müsli? did you ever get your drink, sweet girl?” he tries the sweet approach, not wanting to be overly gruff in front of you.

his chest puffs out at the way all of your attention is focused on him the second you hear his voice, forgetting all about the stranger in front of you.

“nico! hi! i feel like i haven’t seen you in….in….like…thirty minutes ago!” your words make no sense, a small hiccup making you giggle out an “excuse me” as you turn towards him.

he smiles down at you, your glossy eyes focused on his own, just how it should be.

“oh! frank, this is nico!” you turn back around to the stranger, his gaze raking down your figure, making nico see red all over again. you lean in closer to the man, cupping your hands around your mouth to try and whisper, but failing miserably. “he’s my boyfriend!” you giggle out, acting like a school girl talking about her crush.

turning back to nico, you miss the hard gaze he was throwing your new friend. “nico, frank and i were just talking about how fun it would be if there was a slip’n’slide in here!”

nico’s demeanor involuntarily softens a bit at your enthusiasm over the random topic, amused at how excited you are over the thought of a slip’n’slide in the middle of winter in new jersey.

but when he looks back up at your new friend frank, he can practically see the thoughts running through his head, and why he’s also be enthusiastic about the idea. if it wasn’t him ogling your tits earlier, it was the way he was checking your ass out while nico is standing right there.

“oh yeah?” nico speaks to you but keeps his attention on the man too lost looking at your ass to realize he’s being summoned into the conversation.

“yeah! tell him, frank! tell him what you said about making sure i’d be able to take as many turns as i wanted! that no one else would be allowed on it, because it would be my own special slip’n’slide!”

it’s endearing, really, the ideas you get in that smart head of yours when you’ve been slamming vodka crans all night. nico always loves to find out what theories and plans you come up with everytime you two have nights out. he’s thought about writing them down a time or two, because you never believe him when he tells you about the the next day, always claiming you “would literally never say that,” because you’re “a college educated woman, thank you very much.”

but this one? the one that has frank all but salivating at the thought of seeing you repeatedly have a wet t-shirt contest of one on a theoretical slip’n’slide? this one is just pissing him off.

“hmm?” frank’s attention is finally snapped away from your body and back to the conversation at hand.

“she was just saying how you told her how wonderful her own, special slip’n’slide would be, considering you wouldn’t let anyone else on it,” nico answers, letting his voice lower.

“oh yeah, dude. wouldn’t that be the hottest thing ever?” frank, so stupidly, decided to respond.

nico’s dry chuckle is the only response frank got. and either frank was smarter than nico gave him credit for, or he looks a lot more menacing than he thought, because the sound wiped the smug, disgusting smile right off of his face.

“frank…buddy….just walk away, yeah?” nico suggests, not used to being the scary boyfriend type but hoping it does the trick.

and much to his surprise, it works, frank nodding and walking the other direction, but not before you call out a sweet “bye, frank! it was nice to meet you!”

grabbing your hand, nico leans down to suggest it’s time for the two of you to leave, because he’s “tired of sharing you with everyone tonight, schatz. need my daily dose of hiding you away so i can get all of your attention,” while nipping playfully at your ear.

and, get all of your attention he does, considering you don’t stop talking to him from the time he gets you in the car to drive you home to the time he gets you settled in bed, behind closed doors, soaking up every second of not having to share your sweet voice. he drank it in like you were his own personal oasis in a dry and vast desert, just how he liked it.

#this is the stupidest thing i’ve ever written 😭#i tried to make it funny but failed #also don’t question the slip’n’slide #it was the first thing that came to my brain #but idk i don’t wanna delete it #so here it is i guess #hockey #nhl #nico hischier #new jersey devils #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x you

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ilycosy · 1 year ago

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❝ YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL ❞ | LUKE CASTELLAN

pairing : luke castellan x reader (no parent mentioned)

summary — being the partner of luke castellan was a blessing and a curse, mostly a blessing— you had the best swordsman at camp and he was extremely loyal. a blessing really, but everyone always wanted him too. sometimes you forget that he could feel insecure too.

warnings : insecurities (relationship + scar) , petnames (baby, sweetheart, love) , hurt/comfort , luke is standoffish and implied to be mentally ill but reader loves him anyways , mentions of other ppl flirting w luke !!

aﾉn — i want to smother this man in the biggest kisses ever ... he didn't deserve anything that happened to him & he's innocent !!!! it's never said who readers parent is but they don't reside in hermes cabin :) ,,, also i made the scar worse !!!! i wish it was bigger & more gnarly everyday . enjoy !!!!

you felt burned by the sun everytime he was around, even with his stoic nature and go with the flow personality— he always seemed to burn so bright when you're around. his palms melted you everytime he pulled you into a kiss, his lips hot and slick with spit from his chewing.

his constant even tone (he'll deny when the sass slips through) never bothered you, in fact you quite enjoyed it whenever he spoke. his raspy voice telling you briefly about his day, or talking about a race him and chris had that day, even when he told you not to worry about him.

other people sure seemed to enjoy him too, boys and girls gathered around him like a moth to a flame. his glow always too bright for others not to be drawn, you always saw it— the way girls would giggle and fawn over him, whenever boys lingered around him during activities.

you never told him how it bothered you, because it wasn't really his fault— he was just too perfect.

which is why it shocked you when you began noticing the way he liked keeping the helmet on even after capture the flag, hiding his face until it was deemed inappropriate. the way he favored resting his scarred side in your neck compared to his other, even though he complained of neck pains the day before.

you can't recall when he began doing these little habits, maybe ever since he got the scar, maybe when a younger camper said it made him look scary. you didn't know, but you knew that it wasn't good for him— the way he allowed himself to ache just to hide it.

luke is a great boyfriend, he recognizes when people want something more from him— he's not afraid to distance himself from others when he notices the flirting. it doesn't make him feel good to have that spotlight when you were so much better than him, in every sense of the word.

he never knew how to tell you that he knew. how he knew that the obnoxious flirting hurt you, or how you always backed away when his friends came over.

he would always come in the morning to pick you up from your cabin, hoping that his searing kisses and warm arms could show you that he's yours— even with a disgusting face.

the scar taking up the side of his face made him curl away in disgust whenever he saw it, he completely avoided bathroom mirrors because of it. he hid away from your soft eyes at any chance he could, fearing that you'd realize just how scary it is to date something like him.

the praises eased in slowly, but surely, he almost felt winded the first time he heard it ("baby get your pretty face over here!" you had said, trying to wave him over to your table. he felt lightheaded and nauseous when he walked over.) he didn't know how to handle it.

whenever he tried to ask why you began getting so verbally affectionate, he was waved off with a small wave and shrug. "can't i compliment my boyfriend?" you had asked him with a teasing tone, he hid away under your shirt the rest of the night while he got teased.

you knew that he was confused, but you didn't really care to explain— he'd just shut down and ignore the problem if you did. and you liked complimenting him, especially when he gets flustered like he does.

calling him pretty made his cheeks go red, and he always seemed more spacey after. calling him handsome always got him smiling and hiding his face. cute? he was looking away and blushing. adorable? he scoffed and smiled. gorgeous, he rolled his eyes and flicked you with red ears.

you hadn't called him beautiful yet, waiting for the perfect moment— you'd think you were planning on proposing with how calculated you were with this.

luke hadn't been sleeping well for a while, mumbling in his sleep about nonsense you couldn't understand. stress had clearly taken its toll, and he's chewing again— his lips raw and almost always bloody from his teeth snagging at the skin.

you snuck into hermes' cabin during the night, hoping that he would be up to sneaking out or even finally getting a full night's rest. your boots made him shoot up, sweaty and eyes wide before he realizes its you.

"what're you doing here, love?" he asks in a hushed tone, not yet a whisper but close. you move closer, gently lacing your hand together with his sweaty one. "wanna sneak out?"

the question was whispered, barely audible even. but it made him stand up all the same, sweatpants and cream colored long-sleeved shirt bunched up at the arms, making him look ethereal.

"are you that needy, sweetheart?" he asks as a joke when you've successfully escaped the cabin without waking people. his eyebrows wiggling slightly, his usual stoic facade melting off him like you were a candle and he was wax.

you rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you told him no. tugging him along the camp grounds until you found the picnic blanket, the basket of food right next to it all neatly set up— it took you a whole week to convince people to help you find this stuff, a demeter kid had to weave the basket.

"ta-da!" you said, doing jazz hands as you showed him the comfortable blanket. he didn't say anything, only smiling wide as he laid down on it— he patiently waited for you to get the food out, not feeling any sort of rush as he allowed himself to relax.

you hand fed him strawberries, flicking his nose every time he tried to stick your fingers in his mouth. you admired him in the moonlight, he always looked the best at night. his radiating self was enough light for you anyways.

your fingertips gently brushed his face while he was eating, chewing a piece of cake when he felt them. your fingers making their way to his big scar, tracing the jagged edges of it along with the smooth, raised middle.

"what're you doing?" he says, his voice tight in his throat as he tried to ignore the building pit of fear in his stomach.

you hummed, caressing his face as you looked at him. his eyes focused on your nose to avoid eye contact, "you're beautiful," you whisper.

"extremely beautiful." and his face goes red, his eyes watery as his chest rises up and down in deep breaths. his hands are shaky and pulling you closer, desperate for you and your touch.

it makes you really wonder, how could he ever feel insecure when you're convinced he could be cursed by aphrodite herself, and you'd still see his face when camp visits the gods?

#cosywriting #luke castellan #castellanswrld #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fanfiction #luke castellan fic #luke castellan fluff

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pixiepipedreams · 1 month ago

Text

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — nobody's promised tomorrow // gi-hun x reader

♡ ⁄ pairing: gi-hun x reader ♡ ⁄ warnings & tags: fem!reader, canon-typical violence & death, major character death (reader dies), age gap (reader is 20-22, gi-hun is late 40s, early 50s) season 1 ♡ ⁄ wordcount: 3.1k ♡ ⁄ summary: you and gi-hun had bonded early in the games, his goofy friendliness drawing you in like a moth to the flame. side-by-side, you made it through most of the games. but, finding yourself mortally wounded after glass stepping stones, you realize you won't be making it to the end with him. he used your age gap like a wall to prevent anything more to rise between you, but you know your interest in him is reciprocated. now, it's your last chance to admit to everything you feel for him.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

It was your fault, maybe, for thinking these games were fair at their core. That was the thing that kept you going, through all of it - Red Light Green Light, Tug of War, Honeycomb, even Marbles. Everyone was an equal, here. The one man who cheated was garishly strung up, bloody and horrific, for everyone to see. It had made you feel violently ill, but at the same time, it reassured you. Just like everyone else, you had a fair chance.

Nothing about this is fair.

Quiet guilt eats away at you for keeping your wound a secret through dinner. You made it through the last game in the nick of time, and before you could even celebrate, the glass exploded. Your world became narrowed down to a sharp, blinding pain in your stomach. You didn't have time to look and see, just covering it with a jacket and hoping for the best.

When the three of you returned to the dormitories, you huddled on your bed, watching as Gi-hun and Sang-woo started arguing the way only childhood friends and siblings can. But the foundational moral difference between them is a hurdle that neither can jump, and you wouldn't be able to stop the argument if you tried.

Gi-hun is an optimist, an idealist, who believes in the good in people. So are you, but... you know that Sang-woo is the only reason Gi-hun is alive right now. You don't know if you would have had the stomach to push that guy, but it saved him.

The guards come in, effectively stopping the argument. They're carrying three black boxes with a gift bow on each. "Players, we sincerely congratulate and commend you all for successfully making it through the first five games. The three of you are now the finalists and as such, we have prepared a special gift for each of you. Before we reveal the gift, please take a moment to change into the outfits we have brought."

You're grateful to be the only girl left, getting the bathroom to yourself. You undress carefully, and it takes a moment to will yourself to even look at your stomach.

The glass piece embedded in your stomach was too large to be anything but fatal. Your hands shook as you pulled it out, crying out in pain. You feel weak, head spinning, and it takes all of your willpower to not crumble. You rip up your shirt into strips, each movement making you grit your teeth in pain. Trembling hands wrap each strip tightly around your abdomen, tears stinging your eyes, until you've patched it up enough to maybe stop the bleeding.

You can only hope that it's actually enough.

Your blood stains your hands, even after you wash them - or maybe it's a trick of the eyes, your very soul feeling stained. You splash your face with water, change into the suit from the gift box, and leave the restroom.

The dinner is tense, silent. The food smells delicious, and it's probably expensive, but it makes your stomach turn. You manage to eat half of your plate, knowing that if you survive, you'll need your strength.

Your eyes keep flicking to Gi-hun, watching him as he watches Sang-woo.

Gi-hun had come into this game with such bumbling light that it had been impossible not to be drawn to it. He always seemed to be smiling, or in motion, or trying to make someone laugh. He made everything, even this dire place, brighter.

And if the sparkle in his eyes caused a fluttering in your chest... that's something you couldn't admit to.

Sometimes, you liked to fool yourself into thinking that he looked at you with interest, sometimes. You'd bonded quickly, trying to keep up morale, and sometimes, you'd catch a lingering gaze from him. He was always quick to point out how young you are - too young to be in a place like this, but you've been living on your own as an adult since 18. You know how the world works, the toll it takes on you.

He's old enough to be your father, but he's nowhere near as jaded and cynical as that man is. Gi-hun is all things light and good about the world. He's made mistakes, ones that have piled up, but so have you, haven't you? You wouldn't be in a place like this if you weren't.

So he kept a barrier between the two of you, even as he let you creep closer and closer to him, as he let you cry in his arms one night, or gave you half his share of food. Too young, too young, too young. It felt like more of an excuse, than anything else. And you joked right back, calling him an old man, saying he has too much life experience.

But as the games went on, his smile slowly became less frequent. It took him a moment to laugh, like he'd forgotten it was allowed. Especially after the death of Il-nam.

His gaze became harder. And now, that gaze is focused on Sang-woo.

The steak knife feels like a warning, a bad omen, and you know you wouldn't have the strength to push its sharp edge into someone's body right now, but you take it to your bed, anyways.

It doesn't surprise you that Gi-hun walks over to join you, sitting on the ground beside you and staring across the room at his old friend.

You feel so, so tired. But you're terrified that if you fall asleep, you won't wake up.

Your hand reaches over, touching his shoulder, wishing he'd let you touch him more than that. You want to sink your hand into his full hair, press your forehead to his, curl up in his lap. You want to kiss him, to forget everything - you may as well admit it now, at least to yourself.

"Gi-hun," you murmur, squeezing his shoulder. "Promise me something?"

He doesn't react for a moment, then slowly looks up at you. "What?" Something in his eyes seems to settle, the longer he looks at you, but he's still on edge, wary. Something else, too - protective.

"Whichever one of us gets out... we take care of each other's family. Your mom and daughter, my siblings back home." It's hard to keep the wobble out of your voice, the knowledge that you've been sitting with that you won't make it to morning.

Gi-hun stares up at you, eyes softening at the edges. "Of course, I promise. But it doesn't matter, we're both making it out of here. We just have to outlast him." He turns to look at Sang-woo again, and you can't bear it, how these games have changed him so much. You cup his cheek, turning his head back to look at you.

His eyes go wide with surprise, but he doesn't look away. He just swallows. "Gi-hun," you say, again, like his name alone could save you. "There's... there's so many things I haven't said, I--"

"Why are you saying all this?" he asks, his brows furrowing, concern entering his expression. His hand reaches out to grab your waist, and you stifle a cry of pain.

He almost never reaches out to touch you on his own. You can count on one hand the times his hand has grabbed your arm, or brushed a strand of hair away from your face, or found your own. You don't even need all 5 fingers. His eyes go wide, and he pushes himself up, squatting next to you, his hand pushing aside the suit jacket. Blood seeps through the white button-down, staining you.

You smile weakly. If these games were fair, the glass wouldn't have hit you. You would have been safe, once you made it to the other side. What a dumb way to die, after everything. You didn't even lose the damn game.

"(Y/N)--" he gets out, voice choked, and he tugs up the shirt, a desperate look in his eyes. It would make you blush, if you hadn't already lost so much blood. If this were a different life, and he was pulling up your shirt for any other reason. He stares at your makeshift bandaging, a tremor in his hand as he brushes the blood on the skin of your stomach. "What happened?"

"Glass hit me," you say, eyes searching his expression. You couldn't take your eyes off of him even if you wanted to. "I... I don't think I'll make it to morning," you add, voice hushed, like it's a secret. And, even if you do make it to tomorrow, you definitely won't have enough strength for the final game. Gi-hun can only protect you so much.

Gi-hun's wide eyes instantly flick up to meet yours, his lips slightly parted in a hopeless little look. You want to kiss his sadness away. "Don't say that," he murmurs, his free hand rising up to cup your cheek. You instantly lean into the touch, wishing it could melt everything else away.

You sigh, eyes slightly glazed but focused solely on his face, wondering if it would be peaceful to die in his arms. Comforting.

Gi-hun notices how you stare at him... like he's the last thing you want to see. Your face is pale, even your lips almost colorless, and he knows, deep in his gut, that you're right. The blood has soaked through the fabric of your makeshift bandage, is smeared on his other hand. So many thoughts race through his mind - that you're the last person who deserved this, how nothing in this world is fair, how he wishes... wishes... He gently brushed your hair away from your face as his fingers slowly caress your cheek. He's trying desperately, futilely, to keep a tight lock on his emotions, his heart hammering. But panic is setting in, and something that feels an awful lot like heartbreak - no, scratch that. His heart is shattering.

"Please." His eyes scanned your face, committing every detail to memory. "Don't go."

His shaky words hit you like a large shard of glass to the stomach. Tears slip out of your eyes, tracing a path down your cheeks. You'd stay if I you could. "You've already watched 453 people die, Gi-hun," you say, aiming for a light tone. As if anything about this situation could be light. "What's one more?"

"It's different, you know it is, I--" He cuts himself off, clamping his lips shut, his big sad eyes never leaving your face.

You smile shakily. "What would it have been like, if we met somewhere else, anywhere else? Out in the real world?" It's impossible, now, to keep your feelings for him out of your mind, out of your gaze, out of your words. You need him to know, know that whatever he feels for you - and you know he feels something that he refuses to admit to - you return it tenfold.

Gi-hun's eyebrows draw together, his lips slanting uncertainly. "I don't know..." he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. "You're... you're so young..."

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. Trying to be strong. Brave. His words are an admission to that underlying something, and you can understand that the reality of your age gap might be too much. But you want to live in the fantasy, the impossible world where you would be allowed to act on your feelings. Not the world where you're dying in his arms. "I think... you'd come into the convenience store I worked at. Just every once in a while. but then, you'd start showing up more, and we'd talk." You give a shaky laugh, sniffling, heart aching. "You do love talking, even to people you don't know. Used to be such a chatterbox, when these games started. And I'd look forward to your every late night visit. I'd have such a big crush one you-" You cut yourself off, taking a shaky breath, more tears slipping down your cheeks. "But I would know, even in that world you'd never let yourself want me back. Too young for you."

Gi-hun stares at you with parted lips, his eyes wide in shock. The unspoken thing between you, finally being voiced, it's too much. His eyes are teary, and you still have tears sliding down your cheeks. "Maybe you're right," he whispers. "I'm... so much older than you. I don't think anyone as young as you, so full of life, should end up with someone like me..."

You huff out a breath. You're not exactly full of life, now. Time is running short, the sand falling away to almost nothing. You sigh softly, gripping his bloody hand. "So we're doomed, in every life?" you ask shakily. "I'm dying, Gi-hun. And you still can't let yourself want me back." Your breath catches, and you feel so weak, resting your head on his shoulder. "I wouldn't care, how old you are. Maybe I'd ask you to get a drink with me, one night, if I got off early. And I'd buy us soju, and we'd talk. And when I was tipsy enough, bold enough, courageous enough… I'd try to kiss you." You swallow. "I think you'd let me kiss you, for just a moment. Maybe you'd slip, kiss me back. Just for a moment, a single, perfect moment. But then you'd pull away. And maybe you'd leave, telling me you're too old for me. But I'd want you all the same."

Gi-hun squeezes your hand tightly, and you're grateful you can't see the anguish on his face. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd pull away, after a moment," he replies quietly, but that's an admission too. He would allow the kiss, could see himself kissing back. "I'd walk away. I'd have to."

You can see it so perfectly, the late night in the city, outside a bar. "But I wouldn't want you to. Maybe I'd chase after you. In the street, late at night, the pavement wet from rain that's still falling…. I wouldn't want to let you go." You feel choked, but you can't stop talking, more tears rising and falling. "I'd tell you that I don't care how old you are, that what I feel for you is real. That I'd be happy to be yours. I'd tell you that just because you think you're too old, too fucked up for me, that it doesn't matter. That every day when I saw your goofy face, my life became a little brighter. That you made me so happy, that... that I wanted to be yours. That you deserve happiness. I'd ask... I'd ask if you thought I could make you happy, if I wasn't so much younger than you..." Your throat is too choked up to continue, tears strangling you, your own emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

His voice is raspy and low when he replies. "It doesn't matter. You're too young, too young to want me."

You give a humorless laugh. "See, but then I'd point out that you're not playing the game right. If I wasn't too young for you… do you think you'd be happy, being with me? If you kept insisting I was too young, that's… that's not the same thing as saying you don't want me, my Gi-hun."

His breath stutters, a sob-like sound slipping from his throat, as if you're dismantling every defense he has. "Yes," he whispers, the confession wrenched from him. "I'd be happy. I'd be the happiest man... if I could have you."

Something rattling inside your chest settles, feeling laid to rest. Your body slumps slightly against his, your face burrowing in his neck. "If I kissed you again, right then and there... would you push me away again? Would you let me? Would you kiss me back?"

His breath is ragged, obviously struggling with all the emotions he'd shoved away, and the reality of the situation overrides the fantasy. Still, he replies, his voice quiet and shaky. "I'd kiss you back. I'd... I'd pull you closer... and it would be too late, for me. I'd never let you go."

You sigh, the idea comforting you. Maybe it's all in your head, a shared fantasy, but it's yours. And his. "In that life, I think we'd make each other so happy. We'd be poor, but happy," you whisper.

He cups your cheek, pulling your head away from his neck. His face swims in your vision, and you fight to focus, focus on him and him alone. His other hand squeezes yours. He gazes deep into your eyes, every flicker of emotion obvious on his face. He's fighting his feelings, like he has been for days now, but for once, he's losing the battle. His breath shakes.

You make the first move, like you always seem to. With every last ounce of strength, you lean in and capture his lips with your own. You want this, want everything with him, but you know that all you have is this moment. So you kiss him, with every ounce of yourself that is left.

His breath is ragged, and he kisses you back with the same desperate edge of your own lips. He kisses you like he's starving, like he's trying to remember every last detail. His other hand slips from yours, wrapping around you, careful to not hold you too tight and hurt you further. He makes a small noise as he deepens the kiss, and you can feel the wetness of your cheeks, but you can't tell which one of you is crying.

You press your now free hand to his chest, over his heart. Your own heart is pounding as much as it can, but it's still a weak flutter compared to his. Everything about him tastes alive, and you give a small whimper, trying to forget everything else. You don't know if you believe in heaven, but if this is the closest you'll get, you don't mind.

"Gi-hun," you whisper between kisses, and he moans faintly, his hand sliding into your hair.

He whispers your name, over and over, like a prayer, a desperate plead. You press your forehead to his, trying not to sob. "I-I should have done that so long ago, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry (Y/N)--"

"Yes, you should have," you whisper, trying to infuse some light-heartedness into your tone, your hand stroking his face. "But I love you, even when you're a coward." If it's your last chance to say it, you may as well admit that you love him. "Win, for me. And once you've won, don't forget me. And don't forget yourself. Don't forget how special you are, how kind you are, how you deserve to be happy, to be loved. I would love you for the rest of my life if I could." You smile sadly. "Well. I guess I am, loving you for the rest of my life."

Gi-hun gives a broken noise, clinging to you desperately. You can see the tears falling down his face, mirroring your own. "I could never forget you," he whispers, his eyes wide, filled with anguish. "I--" His voice chokes up, and he kisses your cheeks.

It's okay, that he can't say it back. Your eyes slip shut, and you're so tired, so damn tired. You have nothing left inside you. Everything fades but his touch, the world feeling like a distant dream.

Faintly, you hear him sob, can feel his hands cling to your face, your arm. Your face is pressed against your chest, and even that feels far away, detached, like it's happening to someone else.

The last words you hear - or maybe it's your mind, making up what you want to hear in your final moments - are him whispering your name. "I-I love you too, I love you, (Y/N), please..."

It all slips away, like a dream. Horrible and perfect at the same time.

#gi hun x reader #seong gi hun x reader #456 x reader #squid game fic #squid game fanfic #squid game x reader

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inknopewetrust · 5 months ago

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𝐒𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫, 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞. [𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] [𝐰𝐜: 𝟕𝐤]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐱. 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 [𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠], 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚+ 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧.

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬: 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

You weren’t sure when you started to feel this way.

It ate at you—the sensation. Nipping at the bits of yourself that were far too obvious in a mirror. They rushed through you like you were a lamb for slaughter. It was often you wondered if all of those creatures you sought could feel it too, this vulnerability underneath a tough skin.

And you could see it too. In the mirror, passing a reflecting door or window, in the sunglasses of a friend. Every time your image reflected back to you, a wave of self-doubt washed over you.

It was debilitating and something you never voiced aloud. The thoughts simply ate away at you as the days passed on and the world unraveled with it.

Little help came when your daily return to safety came in the form of a mismatched bunker. In it, the glamorous common sections provided a bit of beauty while the corridors were bland and the rooms much more so. There was nothing there to make you feel pretty—let alone beautiful in such an ugly world.

When the bunker was quiet, those thoughts came alive.

Everyone had gone off for the day. It was one of those strange, sitting duck kind of days where there wasn’t a story to chase or evil lurking around the corner to seize a moment. It was quiet, content with whatever lull had formed for the time being. You were alone in your room flipping through an old book on werewolves that was quickly losing your interest.

For once, you just wanted a break to be normal. To feel normal and be normal without a fear of cosmic retribution for wanting to be someone other than what you had become. This… monster-hunting sidekick chick who feels a bit down and out about the cards life dealt her.

Dean and Sam weren’t on the same wavelength as you, you had imagined. They played off their content with this life as perfectly as anyone could.

A knock at your door interrupted your thoughts abruptly. It startled you. Shaking a little jump from your skin, you approached the door with caution as your knowledge had led you to believe you were alone.

But as you cracked open the door, it was painfully obvious you weren’t.

“Dean?”

He gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I thought you’d be—“

“I told Sam to go on his own,” he clarified. Sam went down to Wichita early that morning and with the roar of Baby, you had assumed Dean had tagged along.

“Oh.”

There was something more stirring in the air around your room. The internal self-loathing was misting and Dean’s presence was billowing. For you, all it took was one glance into his green eyes to fall into an abyss of him. Dean Winchester had girls falling to their knees, praying for a miracle that he’d notice them and fall in love with them and end up with them forever.

He never did but it was too notable to ignore.

He made your heart thump louder. The blood stirring the cauldron of doom inside, building a pool of sweat in your palms and your pupils to grow wider. He was a beautiful man—it was almost embarrassing to think that he’d pay more attention to you than he did.

And there was a scorned inside for the scattered moments he did make you feel something more.

It was on days like this: when everyone was gone and fate had found you alone together when something clicked into place, drawing you together like moths to a flame and touch was a burning relief.

Having sex with Dean was an action that lit up the pitting feelings of doubt.

Every time your shirt came off—hideous.

Every time your pants came undone—ugly.

Every time he gave himself—unworthy.

And every time you let go—pathetic.

You took your bottom lip between your teeth and gnawed at it. Dean leaned against the frame but didn’t push. He never did.

“Why didn’t you go?”

He shrugged his shoulders. In his own bashful way, he looked down at his shoes.

“Didn’t want to, I guess,” he said. “Got better things to do than go see a city I’ve seen a hundred times before.”

There was more to do there. There were more girls there to choose from.

“Well it’s not anymore exciting here,” your eyes gave an unfortunate admission. “Just me.”

“You’re plenty exciting,” Dean lifted his head with a scoff. “I figured if you stayed behind then at least it be worth staying behind for.”

When he said phrases like that, it was so casual. It made you roll your eyes in a shallow disbelief he was flagrant with saying your worth anything. Wichita had more than you could ever offer.

You rested the side of your body on the door and clung to the doorknob on the other side tightly.

“I’m afraid you might be wrong on that one.”

Dean’s eyes flinched in curiosity. They searched your face unabashedly for answers it was unwilling to give.

“Why?” He asked. “We never get any time to ourselves. It’s… nice for a change, yeah?”

“Sure,” you agreed. “I just don’t think I’m worth staying behind for.”

He let out a laugh. No smile, just an amused laugh at the suggestion. You weren’t sure if you should feel miffed or reassured.

“Spend five hours in the car with Sam on a Saturday or spend the day with you? I’d much rather be here.”

His honesty was endearing. It was far different from the man you met so many years ago. He had grown comfortable, willing, in that time and if you thought hard on it, it was generally only around you.

For Dean, being vulnerable was cracking his soul open. It was as debilitating as your inability to see yourself as valuable was. But he was comfortable here, alone, and he was content in letting it bleed from every part of him.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Is there a plan I am unaware of?”

Your day was to be spent flipping through books and taking notes of what resolutions could help you all the most.

Dean shrugged again and kicked his foot out slightly. You knew what he wanted, hell, you wanted it too but you couldn’t feel that inside of you.

“I don’t know,” he played. “That’s really up to you.”

Ball, court.

“There’s no one here,” Dean reassured you. You could be loud. You could do what you wanted. You could take your time.

“I know,” you nodded your head. You twisted the knob on the other side of the door.

“We don’t have to,” he backed up with words. The last thing Dean wanted you to feel for him is resentment for propositioning you. “It’s alright. I can… I can,” he cleared his throat, “take care of myself.”

“No,” you said quicker than you meant to. “No.”

“No?”

“You don’t have to take care of it, Dean.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded at him as the tone shifted. In your hearts, the beating anticipating was in your throats. You could feel it in the jittering movement of your fingers and toes and the insatiable appetite that manifested inside.

The door you were holding on to opened slightly to gain him entry. He took the signal, brushing past you and not feeling cautious when his hand came to rest on your side as he pushed by.

It dawned on you as he entered that you’d never had sex in your room. It was always Dean’s and the one, singular occasion he caught you in the library on a day like this one and ate you out between the bookshelves.

You shut the door behind you as he stepped into the room and took it in differently than before. He’s been in it, sure, but when the circumstances change, everything changes too.

“You remodel?” He joked, pointing around the room that looked identical to all the others. “Looks nice.”

“Thanks,” you smiled. Leaning against the door, you folded your hands behind your back. “It was a real task, you know? All the painting and laying the wood.”

He nodded with a hum. He patrolled the space before shrugging off his flannel that rested atop a t-shirt.

You weren’t sure what he wanted exactly but you were hesitant to approach him.

Sitting, facing your bed from its place on the floor was a mirror. And you’d be fucking damned if you watched yourself fuck Dean Winchester through your reflection.

It might be the death of you.

And you didn’t want to curse Dean with that memory.

He kicked off his shoes without instruction. Pieces of himself began to unshed before you. First the shirt, then the shoes. His hands went to his belt, flicking it open and unraveling itself in swift motions that your own hands had learned to do before.

Dean didn’t look at you, he didn’t ask you to join him.

His hands went to the bottom of his shirt and as he lifted it up and over his head, you weren’t shameful to ogle him. That was why he was here—for you to feel him, touch him, worship him in ways he wouldn’t get elsewhere.

There were plenty of other girls in Wichita.

He tossed his shirt to join the flannel before looking at you. Dean held out his hand to you, beckoning you.

“Come here,” he said softly. It could have been enough for you at one time, but it wasn’t today.

You shook your head.

“You come to me.”

If you knew Dean correctly, he would, and he did.

Even in your doubts, having Dean near you was comfort. His eyes drank you in. Completely encapsulated by you and only you and he felt free in that space. He was giving and grateful.

So, he stood toe to toe with you. One of his hands creeped up your slides and slotted into the space where your hands created an opening to the back of you. He silently begged for you to untangle your hands, taking one of them in his own as he allowed the position to draw himself closer.

He held on to you in two ways: against you, pressing you into the door as his nose knocked your own, and his and your intertwined hands pressing into your back. You used your free one to cup his face. You hummed in agreement. Dean tilted his head, breathing in deeply as the skin of your face grazed his own. He could play a long time. The hand you let linger on his cheek brushed along the sides of his neck, folding itself around his back and gripping onto his opposite shoulder. His skin was hot to the touch. Dean let his fingers detached from yours and he cupped at your ass to pull you closer. There was nowhere closer than him. Flush against his body, feeling everything but the blood rushing through him and he soaked in the staggered breaths of anticipation.

You tipped your head away from his to look in his eyes.

His short stubble was tough under your palm. Nothing, however, could detract you from the way his eyes bore into you. He had lovely lashes, fluttering and romantic compared to his outward appearance of “tough man.” They complimented the way his eyes changed from welcome to conversation to lust.

Maybe it wasn’t love, but it was enough for now.

“How’s this gonna work?” You asked him, breath fanning his face.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” he mumbled. Eyes hooded, trapped on your lips as they wet themselves. “But we’ve got time. We can go slow.

You nodded like he read your mind. Slow, steady, different from other times.

“I don’t need slow,” you murmured. He gripped your ass harder than before, pushing you against him before letting go and running his hand smoothly over the rump.

“But I’ve got too many clothes on.”

“You’re damn right about that, sweetheart.”

Dean needs no true instructions.

Even in your wallowing pitiful despair of self-destruction, as long as you truly couldn’t see yourself everything would be fine. It would be fine. Dean’s hands roamed your body freely with the invitation. Hands large and free, they begged to grip and squeeze what they could but settled on unraveling the fruits of the goal. With every piece of clothes that came undone and piled themselves onto the floor at your feet, you spied Dean’s eyes grow shades of green. Each deeper than before—tantalizing from opportunity and wolfish in a hunt.

His hands met the tops of your bottoms, trading the top of it with his fingers as they grazed the skin of your stomach. You laid your head back against the door, admiring the way he had the smallest sign of a smile on his lips as he looked at you. Something glimmered, something gleamed in his eyes when he looked back. Dean leaned in, planting a light kiss on the edge of your lip but not on them before falling to his knees.

Clad yet in his beltless jeans, Dean ran his hands over the curve of your waist and down your legs. The agony of time made your heart thump. Thump, thump, thump against your ribcage and into your mind and into the place where his head was mere inches from. You loved the way Dean made you feel—you just hated how you felt on your own.

The muscles of his shoulders worked elegantly as he removed your bottoms and re-ran his hands upwards along your skin. Light goosebumps formed along his trail and he smiled, letting out the lightest laugh in admiration.

Dean’s thumbs found themselves on the edges of your underwear and he paused.

“Like I said,” he was gruff, “we’ve got all the time in the world. So, how do you want me?”

There were few men in the world who would offer themselves to a woman. Be freely tasked with whatever she wanted, not he.

But again, you hated decision making. From dinners to motels to books to people, you hated being the shot caller.

“Use your imagination.” You settled on. “I’m all yours, Dean.”

And since he was already on his knees, he supposed he’d start there.

Dean bent an index finger and rested it at the top of your underwear before dragging it downward, slowly watching your eyes and chest as he inched closer and closer to your core. He didn’t stagger as he crossed a threshold of your covered clit and continued further as he wrist turned and his palm rested against the front of you, his fingers pressing into you from above you panties.

He rubbed his hand back and forth, arching his fingers to press inwards but not moving the Fabric away but caressing it into you. Dean shifted his hand upwards and outstretched a finger on your clothed clit to massage small circles on the bundle of nerves. His opposite shoulder knocked into your leg, opening the space for him as on of your hands shot to a dresser top beside the door and the other rested on his head.

He could feel your hand falling with every ministration. He turned his head in the direction of your hand, the heat of your hand on his face pulsing as the blood was rushing.

“Are you gonna keep fingering me like a middle school boy or really make me feel something, Winchester?” You looked down at him.

He stopped moving his finger.

“Well you told me to use my imagination, sweetheart. You gotta be more specific than that.”

“I want you to eat me out,” you clarified. “I want you to use your fingers and then I want you to fuck me before everyone else comes home.”

Dean’s eyes lit up. A smirk, followed by a “yes ma’am” gave him the orders he needed.

In your imagination, you thought it’d be here by the door. He’d eat you out from the floor and then fuck you against the door but for some, god-fucking-awful reason you can’t place, Dean got up from the floor and walked toward the bed.

His reflection of his back toward the bed reminded you of what you didn’t want to see in it—you.

Dean took a second to undo his jeans and remove himself from them. He was strained already against his briefs but didn’t care to take care of himself first or make it the “problem” needing to be fixed.

And like before, he extended his hand out to you.

“Come on,” he called out and it was hard to ignore the order itself.

A wave of nerves washed over you and made you cold. The sudden realization that you were nearly nude, he too, and your brash words of sex were all that was on the table became too much of a reality. His outstretched hand remained cold.

If you hadn’t known better, you could have assumed a poltergeist had appeared in the room. The sudden chill, the bucket of water dropping on reality bursting a bubble of pretend before it was too late. You were self-conscious and it began to leak like a sieve through the floorboards and walls and all it took was for Dean to truly, really look at you to see that something had changed drastically in the minutes it took for him to move, remove his pants, and hold out his hand.

The romance, the lust, or the sex had died in the moment.

Your hand grasped the edge of the dresser tightly and you couldn’t bare to look at Dean. A shameful, whimpering dog-like mentality was embarrassing and you didn’t fathom it would take on this large of a life. It encapsulated your wants and your needs and was now preventing you from finishing a job that you’d become all too familiar with and it should have been easy.

The mirror reflected those thoughts.

“Hey,” Dean closed his hand and his brows furrowed. “Hey.”

He received no response, just a near frozen you. You shook your head no.

“W-what’s wrong?” He questioned in a state of confusion. Things had changed so quickly. You clicked your tongue, shutting your eyes tightly before opening them again and looking anywhere but him and to the left.

“It’s…” you staggered your words. “It’s, I just, I thought that… well…”

You laughed incredulously at yourself. The hand once gripping the dresser flew to your face in embarrassment and over your eyes.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

Dean could only reiterate his “hey” over and over as he approached you calmly. He shushed in reassurance as he tried to remove the hand that covered your eyes.

“No, no, Dean—I’m fine, really, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Dean said quietly. “What’s going on, hm? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you let him move the hand from your eyes yet you couldn’t look at him. “Nothings wrong I just… I just needed a second, that’s all.”

He didn’t believe you.

He never did when times like these flared up. Whether it be about what he knew or didn’t, any time where you, Sam, or anyone else had a sliver of doubt or injury or sadness, Dean would stop his world to help even if it hurt his own.

“Sweetheart, I think we both know that isn’t true.”

“I’m good. Really.”

He studied you for a time. Just looking, watching the way the muscles in your face twitched, the lack of contact you gave back to him. Dean was far from stupid even if he had his moments; he could see through the veil.

“Then come on,” he proposed. “Let’s just sit down and we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” You knew he wouldn’t force you to.

Dean made the slightest move to step backwards and your eyes flashed in the direction of the mirror.

“It’s ok!” Goddamn. How many times were you going to say it?

You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him back. “It’s alright!”

Dean shook his head.

“No, it’s not.”

“We can just do it here,” you suggested. It wasn’t exactly the romantic afternoon he had planned out in his head. “Right here.”

“Against the door?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. Your gaze popped again in the direction of the mirror.

Dean caught it this time.

“The doors fine with me,” you restated assuredly. Dean nodded but didn’t make a move to finish what he started before.

Instead, he lifted one of his hands and cupped your face gently. His green eyes bore into you like lasers, prodding for answers he wasn’t sure he’d get but attempting to discover them nonetheless. There was a slice of pity, a lingering disappointment he couldn’t mask but above all else, Dean wanted you to be truthful to him.

He’d spent forever being lied to. Being told that there was only one path to getting what people needed out of life and listening to the directions of people who didn’t truly care what happened to him nor what he wanted. In a small corner of his own personal heaven, he wanted it to be nothing short of perfect even if perfection could never be attained.

And lies were always the cause of its destruction.

“What’s wrong with the bed, Sweetheart?”

You shook your head.

“This ain’t like a… monster-under-the-bed kind of situation, is it?” Dean joked. You scoffed, a smile cracking itself on your face and he could feel the way it grew underneath his hand.

“No,” you laughed. “There’s nothing in here except you and me.”

“Good,” he said lowly. “Then what’s wrong with that mirror on the wall?”

The smile on your face fell.

“Th-the mirror?”

Dean turned his body slightly to open the pathway to the mirror. Floor length and bolted into the wall sat a mirror across from the bed. It was there when you all arrived at this destination and you had never bothered to move it, only growing to hate its location when you got up, got dressed, and when you met the reflection on accident when you were halfway to self pleasure.

“You keep looking at it like it might come alive.”

“There’s nothing in the mirror.”

No real demons, at least.

“Then come to the bed,” Dean offered again. “I’m not twenty-five anymore.”

The ground was too hard even if the idea enticed him. He’d work you to your orgasm and then need help getting up—one too many throw downs with evil and the world catches up with you.

“We could always go to your room,” you suggested.

Dean’s hand caressed your face. You knew he knew you were avoiding something larger than just a room.

“What’s wrong with the mirror, baby?”

Ah shit. Baby.

“Dean—“ you started in argument against him but he wouldn’t let you. He wasn’t letting this go until it was like all other mysteries in his life and it was solved.

“No,” he argued back. “No, and you know you’re not telling the truth. What’s wrong with the mirror?”

“Nothings wrong with the mirror!”

“Yes there is,” his voice was getting tougher, rough around the edges in frustration with not you, but the thoughts swirling within you.

“No—“

“Yes!”

He let go of your face and grabbed your hand.

“Dean—“

Dean took one step toward the mirror and you broke the façade.

“Fine!” You grunted, tugging your hand out of his grasp. “Fine! It’s the fucking mirror, okay?”

“Well—“

“I don’t like it! It’s at the end of my fucking bed and I can’t stand looking in it.”

Dean’s eyes shifted again to a slight sadness and you wanted to throw a brick at the glass.

“Sw-“

You cut him off. “All I see when I look in that reflection is someone who’s… disgusting. I just… I can’t look at myself anymore and I certainly don’t want to watch myself doing something I don’t deserve to do.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Dean wanted to reset the day. “You’re not disgusting, sweetheart. Why did you say that, wh—“

“You could have gone with Sam and had someone else for the day, Dean. Someone pretty and sexy and fits all the right boxes for you. I don’t know why you didn’t go.”

“I don’t want them” he said your name firmly. “I stayed because I want you. I don’t want them. They don’t know me or what I like and I chose to be here.”

“Because it’s easy or because it’s convenient?”

“Because it’s perfect.”

“It’s not perfect, Dean.”

Dean stood there aloof in his briefs. Across from him, you were the most vulnerable he’d ever seen you and you were beautiful. There was nothing that caused him to feel repulsed or rejected. He was encapsulated by a glow he’d grown fond of and wanted to be held in. You were gorgeous, underwear and all, and nothing you’d say was going to change his mind.

“To me it is.”

Dean’s head tipped to the side in observance again. “I don’t know what you see—I won’t know what you see. But to me, I see someone who checks all my boxes and it takes nothing else.”

“I can’t look at myself.”

“What if I showed you someone else?”

It didn’t sound right to you. Dean could see it on your face as the confusion fizzled the upset and he wanted to walk it back to clarify yet didn’t.

“You’re not ask-“

“No one else is here,” he shook his head as he reproached you. He grasped one of your hands and hesitantly brought you to the mirror.

“But I want to show you someone else.”

You wanted to protest against him so loudly but when he stopped you in front of the mirror and stood behind you, the words died on your lips. You saw the same person.

The vision in front of you was lumpy and frumpy and the choice of underwear was quickly becoming something to regret.

“Who do you see?” Dean asked you. One of his hands rested on your shoulder, digging into the spot where your neck and shoulder met. The other held onto your own and intertwined your fingers gently.

“I have a feeling you won’t like what I say.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I see… an unfortunate woman. She’s not a supermodel and she’s not a celebrity. So… she’s not the standard of beauty. Her hair’s not done and her makeup is well… not ready for the magazines and she chose the wrong day to wear this color bra.”

“Anything else?” Dean listened.

“The man behind her is too handsome for her. He deserve someone who matches what he gives and that’s not the person in the mirror.”

Dean let that sit in the air for a moment. The seconds felt heavy and you wanted to look away from yourself and crawl under the covers and never see the light of day again.

“Can I tell you what I see?” Dean asked you and you shrugged.

“I can’t imagine it’d be any different than me.”

Dean cleared his throat and from his reflection, his eyes crawled along every inch of you that was exposed to him. You were under a microscope and he the scientist.

“I see my best friend,” he started and you knew you were quickly sinking. “I see a woman who is so strong and capable and caring and good. I see pretty hair and pretty eyes and maybe… maybe…the best lips in this bunker. But I may have to take that back when I look at myself.”

You squeezed his hand.

“I see a woman who has the most beautiful body.” He took the hand from your shoulder and slowly ran the backs of his fingers along your spine. “Every part of her distracts me. I catch myself starting at her when she’s not looking and I have to look away before she notices. Every color looks good on her and she looks the prettiest like this.”

“Anything else?” You said quietly.

Dean looked you in the eyes from the reflection. There were a million things he could say.

“How long do we have?” He laughed. The sound bounced off you; his chest vibrating against your back.

“I haven’t always been the best… anything… when it comes to women. But goddamn do you make me want to be someone else, sweetheart. Like maybe I could be a rock star and you can be the most devoted groupie or… or maybe I could be a firefighter and you can be a school teacher who can’t wait for me to get home.”

“I think you’re projecting, Dean,” you chuckled and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you tight against his bare chest.

“The woman I see in this mirror is perfect to me.”

“I wish she could see that for herself,” you said dejectedly.

“Then let me show her how,” he prompted. His mouth at the base of your ear, his breath was hot on the side of your face. “Let me show you how.”

“I do—“

He said your name strongly. “If you don’t face it, you won’t overcome it.”

A half a second you thought he might have read that from his Dad’s journal back in the day. Perhaps it was a statement he had grown up with but no matter that root, he sought the end to the cause.

“What were you thinking?”

“Nothing different from what you had said before,” Dean’s hands began to shift. They curved over your back and to the front of your body. You watched in the mirror was they traced along your sides and over your hips. The slow agony of his glide caught the fabric of your underwear and begged for them to be pulled away, but he let them remain.

“I’m going to eat you out, like you asked,” you caught his eyes in the mirror and blood rushed to your face. Cheeks hot and flustered, you can’t believe how blatant you had been before. “And then I’m going to fuck you like it’s our last night on this fucking earth, alright?”

“And what of the mirror?”

“You’re gonna watch yourself, us, through it from the bed.”

“I don’t know if I can do that, Dean.”

You panicked a little inside. But his hands kept roaming and his eyes were changing their shades again, and in it all, all you could feel was him. His hard body, his rough hands, the breath on your face, and words he spoke overtook the insecurities that plagued you.

“You can,” he assured. His long fingers played at the strap of your bra, inching it away from your shoulder and letting it slip down your arm.

“I know you can because you always listen to me,” he whispered in your ear. “So? What do you say?”

The same fingers that let the strap fall moved under your arm and around to the nearly exposed breast. His hand snaked around your body and up to cup the one breast before squeezing the flesh tightly. You shuddered a breath and he knew he had you.

Dean took your earlobe between his teeth and let go with a small ‘pop.’ His hand squeezed and soothed, the other sitting patiently at your hip. Fingers tugged at the exposed nipple and you watched it harden like magic in the mirror.

“I’m not doing anything until you tell me, baby.”

You met his eyes again.

“Fuck me, Dean.”

And he smiled into your neck.

There was something unexpectedly titillating watching Dean go down on you.

It was daunting at first. Dean had led you to the bed, sitting you on the end and crept up onto the mattress behind you. Your reflection stared back hauntingly—dreading yet curious as to what it may appear as in front of you. It was strange, watching Dean and feeling his touch but not truly looking into his eyes. His hands caressed your body and the seriousness of his need to prove your mind wrong was enough to challenge yourself.

He wanted to prove you wrong. Dean wanted to show you how beautiful you were in the throes of ultimate vulnerability and passion.

“Look,” he positioned your head to look in the mirror across the bed.

“I want you to keep looking, alright? Even when we move or I move you, I need you to keep looking.”

“What if I wa—“ You turned your head to the side to look at him but he took his hand and repositioned your head.

“What if I want to look at you?”

“I’m right here,” Dean looked at himself in the mirror. He puffed out his chest slightly, you biting your lip in his boyish confidence that never seemed to leave him.

You knew, however, how much Dean gave to everyone else. One day, you promised, you’d give Dean something he needed too.

“Now,” he rubbed the sides of your arms before moving out of the way and off the bed. “Lay down.”

“But—“

“I’ll tell you how to do it,” he dismissed.

You shimmed up the bed slightly and leaned back. Your back hit the mattress with the thud and you weren’t sure what to do with your hands, so you just folded them across your stomach. Dean scoffed and looked down at you to which your brows furrowed.

“What?” You questioned.

“You’re acting like you’ve never done this before.”

“Well,” you countered. “In a way I haven’t.”

“Yeah but we’ve done this before,” he made a gesture between the two of you with his finger. “Relax.”

You nodded your head and breathed in deeply. You had done this before. You had. He’s done it a hundred times and if you were counting, he actually liked doing it so it was more than a hundred times over the last few years.

Dean knocked his knee against yours, tipping his head in silent order to open them which you complied obediently with. Now, spread before him, your heart was racing.

“Sit up on your elbows.”

You did.

“When I get down,” Dean warned. “You’re gonna see yourself. And if you get too overwhelmed, you tell me and we stop.”

God, you loved him. You really did.

“Okay,” you said in a quiet nod.

Before you could back down, before he went down, he leaned across to you and kissed you gently on the lips.

“I mean it, yeah?”

You agreed. “Yeah.”

Dean hummed and kneeled on the floor against his better judgement. His hands that rested on your thighs went to your hips, catching the fabric between his palms and slowly, he pulled down your panties and helped remove them from your legs. Above his head, you could see yourself in the mirror—the most private part of you wholly covered by Dean’s head and the expanse of his back took up the rest of the space.

He lifted on your legs off the bed and onto his shoulder. He peppered a few scattered kisses on the inside of your thighs as he repositioned himself for the taking. You were right there, waiting. Dean’s own want was growing by the second and all he wanted to do was taste you.

He hooked his arm around your leg and brought his hand to your core, thumb pressing into you with a jolt. And then he pulled his head inwards. Painting a stripe with his tongue, that was all it took to let the fear escape your body.

Dean was at the alter of you; the reflection emboldened your acceptance of yourself and his actions that formed a deeper well within you. He kept going. His head moving, bobbing for every motion he made. His fingers pulled you open as his tongue painted pictures inside of you.

Each stoke of his tongue, of his fingers along the sides and his thumb pressing into your clit made the blood rush down. You throbbed, burning for something more as you watched nothing but the back of his head and the muscles of his back constrict with his ambition.

Dean watched you watch yourself. He was proud of you—how you didn’t truly watch him or fall to your back instead. You mewled, gasping with a jolt as he prompted himself to use his fingers more. He took it as a sign. Instead of palming himself on the outset of his briefs, he took his other hand and brought it to your pussy that beckoned it.

“You good baby?”

He moved the hand that was already there to your thigh and groped it. You split for a moment from the mirror to look at him. His cheeks were flush, chest laboring with a breathlessness he welcomed.

“Perfect. I’m perfect.”

He ran his tongue over his lips as he smiled and your heart skipped a beat.

“Damn right,” he encouraged.

You anticipated him to continue on with his mouth but he sat back on his knees on the floor. Straining in his briefs, Dean just looked at you before rising with a grunt and kneeling next to you on the bed.

“Sit up,” he pointed to the end of the bed and you did as told again.

“Wha-“

“Shh,” he hushed. He sat sideways next to you with one of his legs tucked under him. Dean’s hand reached out and rested on the space between your stomach and cunt and when you looked up, he clicked his tongue at you.

“Mirror,” he redirect you and suddenly, his fingers were inching lower and lower until they were meeting the wet remnants of his mouths product.

Your mouth fell open in the slightest; a rewarding breath escaped your lips as his finger, then two breeched you and met your warmth in an eager welcome. As he pumped his fingers in and out of you and gathered the wetness that built quickly, Dean’s forehead fell onto the top of your head and his body leaned into you.

With every staggered breath he was more rewarded. His fingers relished the sounds your pussy made as he sped up his wrist faster.

“Oh,” you barely mumbled out. “Fuck, Dean.”

Dean hummed and the rumble went through you. He kept his pace and you wanted to close your eyes, stall the feelings building inside of you but didn’t. You didn’t disobey his wants and efforts of helping you get over this self deprecation that was sealing fate before there was a chance to solve it.

“Dean,” you said again but not worried. He didn’t stop at his name.

His fingers curled inside of you, hitting the spot you ached for him to find without cause. The muscle in your leg jolted and your hand went to his arm, tightly holding on as the other dug into the sheets of your bed and formed new wrinkles in its wake.

The heat was fast in its approach. Screeching from an abyss of darkness to only be awakened by the light of him, your end was near. It was greedy to want it all the time yet Dean was more than willing to give forever if it meant he’d feel this way.

“Come on,” he egged you on as you clenched the two fingers. “Baby come on, I’ve got you.”

“F-fuck, Dean, I-Christ,” you writhed in pleasure. He was leaning against you and his eyes closed let the reflection before you come alive in more ways than one. He was all yours—not a single word or person or thing could change it. Completely and utterly devoted to you and for once, when you looked in the mirror, you felt beautiful.

Your breath hitched in your throat and there was little else you could say as the room was filled with nothing but your heavy breaths and the sick sounds of your pleasure.

Those sounds, the mirror, and Dean’s words were all it would take to send you over a ledge. The burning, bright light of relief was striking. It was blistering in its blaze and entirely too much to send words tumbling out of your lips. All you could do was dig your fingertips into his arm and watch your body twitch at the intensity.

It shook your legs; shoulders twitching with the muscles in your stomach convulsing. Dean slowed his fingers to a stop. He held them inside of you for a second before removing them as carefully as he could and he rested the hand above your knee. Your finish on his fingers wet your skin and brought a coolness that hadn’t been there before.

Dean pushed his head against yours. He opened his eyes and met yours face to face, not in the mirror.

As he hoped, there was something inside of yours that changed. There was no regret and the cruelty of your mind was the past for now—even if the evil crept in the shadows around the gleam that surrounded you now.

You were beautiful. You were perfect.

And if you couldn’t vocalize those words yourself, at least he knew you could see them.

“Did you see what I see?” He asked lowly. He wasn’t done with you yet.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I see it.”

“Good.”

“But I don’t want to look at me anymore.” Your eyes weren’t tortured. “I just want to look at you.”

When he fucked you into the mattress, you did. You took in him and only him and when everyone returned when the sun had long gone down, you felt anew when Dean glanced at you from across the table and that glow of renewal hadn’t left you.

As always, comments and reblogs encourage writers the most! I thank you for reading and I am so thankful you took the time out of your day to read what I’ve put out here. Thank you!

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #supernatural #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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