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folkwhoredoll · 8 months ago

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soothing touch - rafe cameron x fem!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

synopsis: after a tiresome week, your boyfriend knows just how to help

word count: 2.1k

warnings/tags: smut! (f oral, unprotected sex, nipple play), soft bf!rafe

a/n: hi everyone! i don't think i can ever say this enough but thank you for your support! however i might be inactive for the next days or weeks because easter break is over :< but i promise to keep writing whenever i can <3 i hope you'll like this one. happy reading!

masterlist

+*:ꔫ:*﹤

“Baby, come lay with me.” You heard your boyfriend whine from the bed.

“Just a few more minutes, Rafey. I need to finish this essay, or I’ll lose my train of thought.” You replied without looking at him, eyes steady between your laptop screen and keyboard.

Rafe groaned, growing impatient after hearing you use the same excuse for the third time.

It had been over two hours since he laid on the bed and over two hours that you refused to join him. The past weeks have made you busy, considering you were a graduating student. There were deadlines here and there, you have experienced sleepless nights for the past few days, and coffee is probably the only liquid cursing through your veins.

Rafe knew it was coming and made sure to help in any way possible, but it doesn’t mean he was okay with it. He missed taking you out on dates and golfing sessions, but it has been almost a month since he was able to do so.

He came to your house a few hours ago and brought you snacks you felt incredibly grateful for. You welcomed and greeted him, then returned to your room to sit in front of your laptop.

“I’m sorry, babe. I promise I’ll just finish this essay, and then we can cuddle, okay?” You offered to him softly, feeling bad that you’d ignored him.

Rafe, who has a stern exterior towards other people, is always soft towards you. His eyes softened upon hearing your offer, wanting nothing more than for you two to spend the night together.

“Okay. I’ll wait for you.”

You flashed him a smile, your fingers desperately working to finish your essay.

Around half an hour later, you were typing out the last sentence for your draft. You inhaled deeply and stretched your back before shutting down the computer, deciding that you would just do your revisions in the morning.

“Finally.” You heard Rafe’s voice, making you chuckle, and excitedly made your way to the bed where your boyfriend was adorably tucked in the covers. “Hi, baby.”

You crawled in his arms, feeling extremely relaxed now that you were out of your stiff chair. “Hi, Rafey.”

“What do you want to do now?” He asked you sweetly, letting you decide depending on how you were feeling.

You thought momentarily, looking at the time and realizing it was almost midnight. Yet, surprisingly, you didn’t feel an ounce of sleepiness.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I’m not sleepy yet. You?”

“Nah. I’m not sleepy, too.” Rafe shook his head before an idea popped into his mind. “You want me to give you a massage?”

Without hesitation, you agreed, nodding your head quickly. “Yes, please. My back hurts so much.”

Rafe gave you a pitied look. “Aw, baby. I got you; go get ready.”

You positioned yourself on the bed, grabbing a pillow where you can rest your head on. You sat up for a while to remove the thin sweater that hugged your torso. Your bra followed after you skillfully removed the clasps on your back. The amount of times that Rafe had seen you naked has made you shameless in making such gestures in front of him.

Meanwhile, Rafe watched your actions as he positioned himself behind you, hungrily eyeing your bare back before reminding himself that he was supposed to help you relax.

“Lay down on your stomach, pretty girl.” He spoke.

You did as he asked, sighing relief when your front side made contact with your sheets.

Knowing your room like the back of his hand, Rafe grabbed a bottle of lavender oil from your bedside drawer. He squeezed out a small amount, only enough to cover your back. Once satisfied, he warmed up the oil by rubbing it between his palms before putting it on your skin.

You let out a soft moan at the contact; the minty feeling from the oil and the feeling of your boyfriend’s large hands on your back made you instantly relax.

Rafe continued to give you a massage until his hands were dry from the oil, giving your back continuous strokes while you were on the verge of sleeping.

Little do you know, your breathy sighs have awakened something in Rafe.

He cleared his throat after several minutes, leaning down to check if you were sleeping. After seeing your opened eyes, Rafe relaxed and gave you a smile. “You feeling better?”

You mumbled a ‘yes,’ groaning as you slowly turned around on your back. “Thank you, Rafe.”

Rafe replied nothing, instead just lowering his face to yours in order to press a kiss on your lips. You smiled into the kiss, making Rafe go crazy. He wanted nothing more than to go further but hesitated as he thought of your tired body.

Unexpectedly, you were the one who deepened the kiss, your hands subtly moving up to his hair.

“Baby…” Rafe gasped, pulling away slightly. “Are you not tired?”

“Not really.” You said honestly as you looked into his eyes. “Feels good, Rafe. Please.”

Your words were confirmation for Rafe, making him press his lips back to yours. You let out a gasp when your boyfriend’s lips went from your mouth to your neck, kissing and sucking your skin softly.

“Hey, no marks.” You reminded him, remembering the time that your parents almost fainted when they saw Rafe’s love marks on your neck and chest.

“Yes, ma’am.” He cheekily smiled.

Rafe’s attention was suddenly on your breasts. He already had easy access to them after you removed your top. You moaned in surprise when his lips wrapped around your left nipple, your back arching as you tried to catch your breath.

“Rafe.” You heaved when his mouth attached to your other nipple, his fingers now working simultaneously as he toyed with the other one. When he was satisfied with the attention that he gave to your breasts, he straightened up his posture, and you took the opportunity to start removing his shirt.

You quickly get rid of his shirt, throwing it sideways as you focus on his shorts.

“Someone’s excited.” He chuckled.

“It’s been a while.” You pouted.

“I know, sweetheart. We have a lot of time.” Rafe replied softly. He pecked your lips once before crouching down. “Lift your hips slightly, baby. Let me take this off of you.”

You obeyed, pushing yourself up from the bed to allow Rafe to pull down your shorts and underwear. You took a deep breath at the realization that you were fully exposed but paid no attention when you caught Rafe eyeing your pussy while licking his lips.

“Well, what do we have here?” He smirked, his right-hand landing gently on your thigh.

“Rafe…” You whined lowly, feeling frustrated as his fingers teased you by drawing random circles along your skin.

“What do you want, Y/n?” He asked innocently.

You groaned. “Stop teasing me.”

He smirked. Rafe loves nothing more than seeing you surrender to his touches. And right now, he’s enjoying the growing smell and wetness of your arousal.

Removing his hand from your thigh, he pressed a finger against your clit. You jolted forward; the pressure alone is enough to stimulate pleasure to your core. “Fuck.”

Rafe’s finger gently circled your clit, both his cock and smile becoming more prominent at the sight of you. He surprised you by pressing two fingers in, his thumb taking over your clit. He began pumping, enjoying your moans mixed with the sound of your wet folds.

“Fucking hell, Rafe. More.” You demanded through deep breaths, your chest rising and falling.

He didn’t respond, pulling out his fingers after a few moments. Your brows pinched together in confusion, looking at him as he brought his fingers to his mouth.

“You taste amazing, darling.” He smirked and watched as you stared at his lips. After licking his two fingers clean, he lifted his hands and brought his thumb to your face. “Open.”

Without hesitation, you opened your mouth and took his thumb in. You sucked, tasting yourself and letting out a moan while maintaining eye contact.

“Fuck.” Rafe spoke, feeling his cock straining. “I was planning to go soft on you. But you seem more eager than I do.”

After you’re done licking his finger, he pulls down his trousers and underwear. Despite seeing him naked multiple times, you still can’t help but be amazed at his size, your thoughts growing wild with desire.

You watched as Rafe kneeled before you, his eyes on the same level as your folds. He pulled you nearer to him, your lower half almost hanging off the edge of the table as he wrapped your legs around his shoulder.

“You gotta keep quiet, baby. We don’t want to get caught by your parents, do we?”

Without any warning, Rafe pressed his face to your pussy, his tongue expertly slipping inside and sucking on your clit.

“Fuck!” You moaned aloud, instantly forgetting his words as you pressed your weight against the bookshelf behind you.

He slapped your thigh softly. “What did I just say?”

You ignored him, too focused on the pleasure that you’re feeling to control the sounds from your mouth. You squirmed against his lips, grinding your hips upwards to get more. Your boyfriend smiled proudly.

“Yes, yes, Rafe…. Shit.”

He pulled one of his hands away from you, lowering it to pump his manhood. His occasional moans caused vibrations throughout your body, your toes curling and your eyes shutting.

Rafe felt your legs shake, and he started to pull away. He needed you to cum, but not yet.

“W-what?” You asked desperately, almost whining at the loss of contact.

He gently shushed you, pushing himself up and lining his cock directly at your slits. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll finish you right here.”

He pushed himself into you inch by inch, your warm folds wrapping around him perfectly. Rafe groaned at the damp and tight feeling surrounding him, head falling back in pleasure as he settled perfectly within you.

You moaned once more, loudly this time as he started thrusting, his rhythm steady yet forceful. You repeatedly called his name, hands gripping the sheets around you as you shook in pleasure. Rafe looked down to watch himself disappear inside you, eyes filled with lust and pride every time his hips meet yours. He grabbed your thighs and pushed your legs forward, almost keeping them against your chest.

“That’s right, darling. Moan my name.” Sweat started to form on his forehead, his thrusts becoming harsher and quicker in desperate need. “C’mon, Y/n. Let me see you cum.”

“Rafe…” You cried, your cunt clenching and throbbing. The bed was creaking slowly, and you could only hope that your parents were currently deep in slumber.

The pleasure was overwhelming as Rafe focused on every part of you as much as possible. Both of you panting and covered in sweat, his hands working wonders on your clit and nipple while he perfectly filled your cunt.

“R-Rafe, I’m…”

“I know, baby. Cum with me. Come on, pretty girl.” He whispered closely in your ear, maintaining the speed of his thrusts as he rubbed your clit faster.

Your heart rate was increasing, and your body was shaking. But it was Rafe’s direct eye contact and sudden pinch on your clit that pushed you over the edge, eyes rolling at the back of your head as you released.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Rafe moaned at the sight, loving the feeling of your tight walls and warm release around his cock.

It wasn’t long until he pumped several more times before he gave in, releasing his juices inside of you with heavy breaths.

Neither of you moved for a while, still breathless and shaking.

Rafe pulled out of you slowly, making you whine. He cooed at you, pressing kisses on both of your cheeks. “Are you feeling better, baby?”

Unable to form words because you were still catching your breath, you just grinned and nodded, your hand rising to cup and stroke his cheek.

“Let’s get you ready for bed now, sweetheart.”

The rest of the night, you didn’t break any sweat. Rafe took charge of changing your clothes and sheets, even giving you a quick bath to refresh you.

On times like these, you thank the heavens for giving you a boyfriend like Rafe Cameron.

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ajortga · 6 months ago

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i bet on losing dogs

pairing: cairo sweet x fem reader

summary: in which cairo's obsession for mr. miller drifts you two further apart, and you can't do anything about it.

word count: 4.2k+

warnings: angsty (not proud of it) toxic cairo, mentions of sex, mentions of teacher/student relationships

based off request!

Hey... Can I have a request?! Cairo Sweet x Fem!Reader

"I'm done waiting for you, Cairo."

Credits to: urfriendlywriter

Cairo was.. Honestly, you didn’t know how to explain to her. That’s just exactly how to describe her. She was indescribable.

One moment in a day would you be like the teenage girl you are, in love. The beat in your heart would race, fluttering in your chest as she bit the eraser on her pencil, looking at you with eyes that made your legs feel like mush.

Then, another day you would feel hopeless. Helpless. Because the beautiful brown-eyed girl would leave you in the dust.

She would sweep you off your feet, but never care enough to really catch you. Maybe that’s why you kept going back. To feel the thrill, to be loved for just a little moment with the girl you’ll love no matter what happens.

But you had no cure, because she was so contagious. Addictive. She was like a drug that you couldn’t get enough of, yet there was no cure to make you stop. Cairo Sweet. It was in her name. Her genes. She was so syrupy sweet, you just couldn’t help it. You were too blinded to think properly.

The amount of times Cairo swept your feet, you grew tired. Tired of her games, of her love that began to come off as a hoax. As much as you’d want to holler it out loud, you couldn’t say you were tired of her. Never.

The countless moments where you were left in the dust, the rain. No seriously, the rain.

“I’ll be there!” Cairo smiles, your grin wide. “I just need to discuss the essay for my final to Mr. Miller real quick. It should only take 8 minutes max.” The girl assures, rubbing your shoulder as you two e spend our lunch together. You lean into it. A part of you now wishes you could’ve changed it. Maybe you’d feel better not feeling the stabbing pain in your stomach.

“Okay,” you respond softly. “I can’t wait to work on that project with you! I think we’ll amaze her with our studies, then after you can spend the night and we can have ice cream!”

She laughs.

You can’t stop looking at her eyes. Syrupy sweet, not a hint of hesitance. She lifts a cigarette to her mouth, a soft smile on her face. Cairo nods, “We’ll outsmart the whole class with someone as smart as you,” she gives your nose a little boop with her finger before the bell rings.

Quickly, she packs her bags, stopping to look at you from time to time as she stuffs papers in it. Your eyes filled with expression, it comforts her to see the happiness that shines through them. It makes her smile too.

The bell had rang, echoing through the hallways as the doors of classrooms slam open. The empty, hollow hallway is now bustling with everyone chattering and speaking to each other, giggling and laughing.

Winnie is by your side, the wavy hair girl walking with your arm linked to hers. “Cairo seems so into her final for Mr. Miller, don’t you think so?” She has the slightest accent, you slowly nod.

“I guess so. She is a writer after all. Not to mention a talented one.” You go through the exits of Tennessee’s high school, stopping at one of the benches right at the exit. “I’m waiting here for Cairo, we’re going to finish our project, adding all the important stuff.” Winnie nods, handing you a lollipop as you take it. “Thanks.”

“See you, Y/N!”

You give her a small wave, watching her leave.

…

It had been ten minutes since the bell rang, the students slowly beginning to die out. You’d call your mom once Cairo would come, you liked having conversations with her anyway. Chatters of students still quietly linger. You stand up, peeking through the gates, they’re closed.

Thirty minutes pass and a sigh escapes your lips, bored. Maybe Cairo is just having more questions to ask, like she always does. You plop the lollipop that Winnie gave you into your mouth, stuffing the wrapper in your jacket.

It had been officially an hour and four minutes. You don’t even know why you waited this long. As if it couldn’t get any worse, rain begins to drizzle down, damping your hair. For the first time, Cairo left you out there, in the rain. You stare at your phone, gripping it so tightly that your knuckles spread to white. You try to wait for a text, anything so Cairo makes it aware that she’d be a little late, but it never comes.

You call your mom, sniffling as you press your ear to the phone, kicking your feet across a puddle. You wipe your eyes,

By the time your mom honks, waving you with a smile on your face, you weakly give one back, walking up to her. Wet clothes stuck to your figure, drenched and shaking. The look on her face gives it all, your mother sees through you no matter what.

“Hi, honey. Where’s Cairo? Didn’t you say that she was going to come to ours today?”

You stiffen, throwing your soaked backpack in the backseat. Cairo didn’t even live that far. She always walks to school. “She’s busy,” you reply, turning away from her. You look out the window, sinking into your seat. “Like always.”

“But didn’t you two have that project, it’s due tomorrow, no?”

“Well she can’t make it, okay?” You mumble.

“Oh, well maybe she can come over some other time,” she leaves it at that.

The more you think about Cairo, the more you feel sick, the lollipop disintegrated in your mouth.

You can’t help but feel the sweetness of the lollipop leave a new awful taste in your mouth. Your mouth fills with saliva, how it always does whenever you are upset. You swallow it down.

You did almost the whole project by yourself, you were up till 2AM.

So when school arrives the next day, you’re barely awake, turning it in and tired eyes completely avoiding Cairo’s gaze.

“8 minutes my ass,” you mutter while slamming the project into the turn-in basket.

From that day on, it just kept happening.

Like always, you somehow always manage to come back to Cairo. You can’t help it. To turn away those doe-like eyes makes you feel like you just murdered an innocent creature.

Cairo Sweet.

Sourness coats your tongue when her name rolls off of it.

After countless stand-ups and sobbing in bed, even when you forgive her, you can sense that you two are drifting further apart. She’s been snapping at you a little more often, ignoring you sometimes, it makes you feel unloved. You don’t like it. You really don’t like it, yet you can’t stop it.

“It’s that stupid final she’s doing, Winnie. Ever since Mr. Fucking Miller assigned to her, it’s like she hasn’t had time for anything. She only has the time when it comes to him, “ you rant, wiping your mascara stained eyes with your fingers.

Winnie looks thoughtfully at you, a small frown tugging at her lips. She sighs, patting her thighs, “Come here, sweetheart.”

When you crawl in between her and her comforter, she cuddles you. “Sometimes people are like that. They abandon things when they find a new thing to obsess over. Even when the things are the most important to them. It’s like they forget about what the thing did to make them feel so special and go running off to a new one because it makes them feel good.”

She strokes your hair as you sniffle into her neck. From her eyes, you looked so vulnerable. Like how you did when you first got into arguments with your parents. “I’m sure once that final is over, you two will be back into two peas in a pod. Three, including me at times,” she cracks a smile at you.

You don’t respond, looking away, before mumbling, “Winnie, I don’t think it’s that final.”

“Yeah?”

“Cairo was writing about a prompt to answer what love was,” you look up at her, trying to make her understand. “I read some of it, and it was straight up smut, Winnie.”

You couldn’t believe it when you first read it. The way your eyebrows contorted, lips pursing into a tight line. You memorized one of the lines she wrote as you recited it out loud. “His fingers, long and ribbed, glistened with the arousal that gushed out of Alice’s heat like a riverbed-”

“Okay fuck that shit, who’s “he” exactly?”

“That’s the problem. It’s about a student-teacher relationship Winnie. The final isn’t the issue. She’s trying to convince herself that there's some connection between her and Mr. Miller.”

“That man is at least 80 years old-”

“50.”

“Whatever, but if Cairo is trying to experiment how far she can go with her charms. I’m going to be proud to take the trophy for who has the most reasonable crushes.”

“You cannot be talking right now Winnie.”

“Boris is a different story! But like, for anyone else, I’m an equal opportunist. I’d fuck you.”

“I know.”

“See, reasonable crushes.”

You roll your eyes, it doesn’t really make you feel better.

Winnie thinks for a moment, it’s silent, until you almost see a lightbulb flash above her head. “Cairo loves lantern festivals. She wouldn’t miss one for the world, what about this?..”

Your knee bounces up and down, waiting in your usual spot after school for Cairo. It’s the first bench under the tree. As you see her, you’re about to wave, until you see him.

Mr. Miller walking Cairo out of his classroom, patting her shoulder before making eye contact with you briefly. You narrow your eyes as he gives a disgustingly sweet smile to her before turning away. You flip him off, like a fire burning behind your pupils.

Tell your baby that I'm your baby.

“Y/N!” she shouts, grinning as she walks up to you. “Hey!”

“Hi, Cairo.” you greet, offering to take her books, which she thanks.

“I’m almost done with my final essay for Mr. Miller. I think he’ll be able to write my letter of rec for college in the future. Probably going have to meet with him after school on some days.”

“Sounds fine,” you plainly respond, holding her books. “By the way, I was thinking that next Saturday we could spend some time together. Maybe Winnie can come too.”

The writer hums in contentment as you keep going, “I’ve never gone to a lantern festival before, and they’re holding one next week. It’s like 2 hours away and I really wanted to go with you.”

A flutter in your chest erupts as you see your favorite brown eyes shimmer. “Yeah,” she says, “Yes, I’d love to go with you!”

After the slow ticks of the clock and marks on the calendar, getting closer to the countdown, Saturday finally comes.

You hate the way it feels so long when you’re in school, waiting for the weekend, but it dashes by when summer break arrives. You especially hate it when you’re waiting for an event, it makes the time go by even slower.

Winnie kept patting your shoulder and teasing you about it. “Probably because you’re looking a bit too forward with spending time with Cairo.” She’d say. “I mean, I love lantern festivals! But you seem so much more excited than I am.”

An oversized tee gets draped over your figure, pairing it with blue jeans as you try to look decent before dashing out the house.

Your mom drives you, in which you're happily hoping to spend the night in Cairo’s bigger car. She told you she brought blankets and stuffies and everything. When you think about it, you grin through the refreshing breeze that blows in your hair.

“You seem extra happy, Sunshine,” your mom notices, smiling at you. “Just how I love you, always so bright.”

The afternoon sun illuminates through the city as minutes and hours pass, changing into a grassy meadow. You stick your head through the window, feeling alive every time the wind hits your hair. Everytime you close your eyes, you see the picture of endless floating lanterns lighting up the night sky.

Like a scene out of Tangled.

You have to actually turn on the radio and sing your feelings out.

“Now she's here, shining in the starlight, Now she's here, suddenly I know. If she's here, it's crystal clear, I'm where I'm meant to go”

Two hours pass by, and you hop out of your mother’s car. “I’ll stay nearby, okay? Your aunt's house is only 25 minutes away.”

You nod, kissing her cheek goodbye as the clock hits 5:45. The grassy meadow surrounds you, slightly swaying from the breeze and glowing from the setting sun. You see people setting up their tents, so you lay down a towel and send Cairo a text.

y/n: hey! i’m here, i got us a seat. can’t wait to spend the night in your car!

Birds chirp along with the chatter of people around you. It soothes your body a little as you lean back and take a nap, your mind only on the excitement that you get to spend this moment with Cairo Sweet.

You wake up from the sound of fire crackling, your eyes adjusting to the lanterns that people are preparing to let go in about an hour and thirty, when the sun will completely set. The weather is cool, breezy, sunny, and the light blue sky plastered with fluffy clouds. You head to get some floating lanterns, noticing that Cairo isn’t here yet. Maybe it’s traffic.

A nagging feeling tugs in your gut as you hear the giggles of couples decorating the lanterns together.

As you head back with three large lanterns in your hand, you check your phone. No new messages, your shoulders fall to their sides, sighing.

“Y/N!”

You immediately perk up from the call of your name, turning around and seeing Winnie, a bright smile on her face. You wave her over.

“Hi,” you say, looking at her hair that’s put down.

“Hey, cutie, what’s with the sour face?”

The silence is really all she needs as she goes, “Oh. She’s still not here? I thought I was really late.” That made you feel a little worse.

Cairo wouldn’t abandon you, sure she has canceled plans last minute thousands of times, or made you wait longer than usual, but not in the dark. Not in the dark knowing how much you looked forward to this. Your heart tugs again, your breath getting stuck in your throat.

It’s the same feeling your tiny self felt when your childhood best friend moved away, or a thousand times worse than realizing that the tooth fairy wasn’t real.

y/n: where r u? the festival is going to start soon.

Really hoping you’re not going to stand me up again, like the plenty of other times you did. You really wished you could have added that phrase.

6:30 and still no sign of her. You know you’ve cried like a little child because of her, you’ve tried to avoid her in every way possible. Yet no matter what, it always seems that the sweet girl you’ve known comes back to you moments later.

She’s just running late. The tiny voice in your head says, to somehow calm your nerves down. Winnie squeezes your hand, urging you to decorate your lanterns together. So you force the growing lump in your throat with a painful swallow, nodding and beginning to draw flowers that somehow are Cairo’s favorite ones. “It’s going to be okay,” she softly coaxes, and you feel like crying into her arms.

You really thought she wouldn’t do it this time. You really started to believe that she was good at heart for you. Maybe she could be. But you didn’t want to give her the chance anymore, you were officially drained.

The sunset envelopes you and Winnie in its eternal color of the sunshine, though the warm feeling is rather cold. Cold and ugly. You would’ve been used to it, but you drove 2 hours for her. You knew you could count on Winnie, but you traveled so far for Cairo to be able to spend time with her. Now it just seems like she’ll throw you away whenever Mr. Miller is around.

She’ll talk about him almost anytime she can, it makes you feel insecure. Sometimes, you wish you could just shake her brain and tell her, “I’m right here.” You were there all along. You would be there when she needed it, but she was never there when you needed her. A moth to a flame.

Even when your heart cracks more and more, to love is to sacrifice, your broken hand is still holding on. Cairo is the only thing you’d ever know about love.

Even when you tell yourself to get over it, to ignore her, you can’t help the way your heart turns into goo when she smiles at you. I won’t let go yet. You promise to yourself as she crashes her lips to yours, alcohol coating her tongue as you have the need for more.

Take me, your heart sings as Cairo, drunk and wanting, tears the bottom of your blouse, the room filling with your breathy moans.

You need to let go, Your brain pounds against your forehead as you’re left in the dark of the movie theater, an empty seat next to you. A seat that was meant for your hand to hold hers.

Why do you manage to always forgive her? Believe that she’ll be “okay�� this time? Why did you always let her in knowing that she would do the same thing once again?

7:30, the lanterns begin to lift off, your eyes half-lidded with unshed tears as you hold onto your floating lantern. Winnie turns to look at you, but you don’t look back, the small ember glistening against your glossy eyes.

She was just late. She’d come. Your heart grows a little heavy.

“Hey,” she says softly, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “It’s going to be okay. Cairo is just stupid, she’s been stupid ever since Miller. But I don’t want to talk about her right now, okay? Let’s spend the night together and we’ll see what to do when it’s over.”

You still avoid eye contact, can you really just feel okay if someone tells you? That’s never worked for you.

A floating lantern symbolizes the hope of the moments ahead and being able to move on. To mark the start of a new beginning. Your eyes flicker to all the children with their family, smiling happily, the couples who are cuddling together as they prepare to let go of their lanterns. Every time you saw something like that, you thought of Cairo. You wondered if she ever thought of you.

I guess fate brought me here, you tell yourself. When your favorite person turns into a memory of a lesson. Gosh, you hated when you saw quotes like that, even worse now that you understood it with each tear that poured out of your eyes.

You cling onto the lantern like it’s the most important thing of your life as you shut your eyes. You think about Cairo, your best friend, someone that you always told yourself loved you. You hope she still did. Winnie feels your head placed on your shoulder as you finally let it go. Finally let her go as it flies away with the specks of others, lighting up the night sky. It was like a reminder that she was slipping away.

Tonight, you thought it would’ve ended differently as you watch it mix in with the glow of other lanterns, other wishes, other endings.

All those times you look into these eyes, even the ones that aren’t hers, you remember that her eyes that once admired you are gone. You’re watching her watching him.

You’re standing here, waiting for something that you knew for a long time might never come. Love’s a game of heartbreak. The latest you could do is slump down to the blanket and toss your body into Winnie’s, closing your eyelids and letting yourself relax. It was cold, yet you didn't bother to ask for a blanket.

“Y/N, baby. We gotta get going.” A voice, soft and sweet coaxes you awake. You're no longer on Winnie’s shoulder, but a lap that you know all too well. You scramble off of Cairo with your eyes wide, blinking, adjusting, before letting yourself cry.

Cairo hasn’t seen you cry in almost ages. Well you’ve never cried in front of her, but knowing that she stood you up again, arriving almost 3 hours later, it tells her a lot of how much you did when she wasn’t there.

Her eyes look at yours that are closed, sniffle, “Hey, don’t cry. Why are you crying? I’m so sorry I missed this-”

“You’re never sorry!” You hiccup, forcing your shut eyes open, “If you were in all the times past, you wouldn’t have left me here again! I had my mom drive me 2 hours just so I could picture myself wishing you were beside me!”

“I-”

When was the last time she made you feel like she actually loved you?

“It seems like you don’t need me anymore, Cairo. You find something else to obsess over and run away when I need you.”

“I do need you,” she argues, looking at you in disbelief. Yet you can see that a part of her knows that you’re right.

“Only when Mr. Miller isn’t here to make you feel good.”

“T-that’s not true!” She stammers, “You aren’t understanding what you’re saying-”

“I always want you when I'm finally fine, Cairo! That’s the problem with you! I can’t stop crawling my way back to you because my heart can’t beat without your reassurance, even if it’s just a sweet glance. But every time I’m standing here, you’re turning me away. And the only way for me to stop loving you is when I’m here, telling you how I’ve felt every single time you’ve left me in the dark for the attention of a 50 year old man that I’ve given you since the start! I’m not some toy that you need at moments- I-I needed you too.” You murmur, looking down, ashamed with the hot tears leaking out of your eyes.

It takes Cairo a moment to pull you back onto her, “I’m sorry,” she tries, her hand around your cheek. “I just.. I didn’t… He failed me on that final and I just needed to know why and I guess-”

“It’s okay,” you say, finally looking into her eyes while you put your hand away from your face. “I tried thinking that maybe it was that final for Miller, that you needed time to write something amazing for your final, like I knew you’d always do. But instead, you made your assignment obsessing over him.”

Gosh you felt so stupid looking back at your naive self. “To see him in the hallways and talking to him while I stood there waiting for you, forgetting that I was even here in the first place.”

Cairo’s silent, eyes pleading as she tries reaching out for your hand, but you pull away. “I’m done waiting for you Cairo. Maybe you can pursue focusing on him more and don’t have to worry about focusing on me.” You bite back a shiver, your body shaking slightly.

She watches you turn away as Winnie wraps you in a blanket. Disappointment flickers in her best friend’s eyes as she helps you walk away. Cairo wishes, oh so terribly that you would turn back, to look at one more time, but you don’t.

Where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down.

You stop for a brief moment, about to hop into Winnie’s car, before turning to her, looking down at her shoes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough, Cairo. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I’m sorry it ended like this, I never met to hurt you.” She wants to say, but bites her tongue as your body slips away from sight, Winnie starting the engine. It was too late now.

Cairo made you wait, made you see a flicker of hope in her candle and she blew it. She made you wait in the cold.

She really wrote her story on your heart. But was it ever a good one? Maybe there were some that lingered freely in your heart, but her story would’ve never lasted like you wanted.

It was rare, she almost never saw you sitting on the same first bench. There were days where she immediately ran out of Mr. Miller’s classroom to push through the students just to go to that bench, to be reminded that you weren’t there to wait anymore. There was no one to wait for her anymore. The spot was always empty.

You’ll always want her when you are finally fine, even when you’d feel like your heart healed, it never would. Because you always needed her. You can’t heal without her.

Now every time your eyes meet in the hallways, you’re the first one to tear your gaze. Maybe it was just for the best. Tear your eyes away from her pretty ones before she tears your heart apart.

You wish that one day, when you meet her when you two are older, she’ll be the person you once knew. Your Cairo Sweet. The one that didn’t leave the sickening taste on your tongue.

#Spotify #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet x y/n #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #cairo sweet #vada cavell x reader #vada cavell x you #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine

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agi-ppangx · 11 months ago

Text

gentle (kim seungmin x gn!reader)

reader struggles with food, hurt/comfort, please read carefully

an: thats not my best work, but i kinda like it so im posting it nonetheless simply bc i can😋 and to anyone who’s struggling with food now - you are beautiful, you are amazing, you are worthy of love. remember there are people who care about you, don’t be scared to reach for help<3

a loud rumble in your stomach distracted seungmin from studying. he looked at you from over his messy notes, but you seemed unfazed by your body’s noises. your eyes were glued to the screen of your laptop as you were trying to find a suitable article for your final essay.

“hey, i’ll order us something to eat, what would you like?” he said, reaching for his phone, but you only shook your head a little, still focused on the screen.

“’m not hungry,” you mumbled and seungmin raised his eyebrows at that. he stared at you for a long while before scoffing.

“when was the last time you ate something?” he asked. you thought for a moment and shrugged your shoulders without a word. “exactly. i’m gonna order something then.”

“wait, don’t-” you started, finally breaking your gaze from your laptop, but seungmin’s piercing gaze made you stop mid-sentence. you took a deep breath as he sat up, not caring about crumpling his notes as his features suddenly showed worry.

“yn, what’s going on?” he said quietly, taking your laptop from your lap and placing it on the bedside table. he gently took your hand in his, careful not to startle you as he noticed your breathing became more frantic and uneven. you weren’t hungry. you didn’t want to be hungry. “yn?” seungmin repeated your name firmly, squeezing your hand to bring you back to reality.

“i gained weight recently,” you whispered and he tilted his head to the side. “i don’t feel like eating right now,” you added hesitantly, hearing your stomach rumble again. embarrassment flooded you as you hid your face in your hands, feeling your cheeks become warmer.

“that’s why you don’t want to eat? because you gained weight?” he started quietly and you felt him shift on the bed to come even closer to you.

you felt like a failure when you’d noticed a few additional kilograms on the scale the other day. you desperately tried to maintain your weight and you managed to do it for a long time. you weren’t really fond of how you looked, but the steadiness of your weight whenever you stepped on the scale made you feel safe. you were really cautious of what you ate, making sure you weren’t eating too much. the quiet voice in the back of your head praised you every time you ate less than you usually would and you felt proud of yourself whenever you managed to refuse some sweets. you’re doing amazing, the voice would say. you heard that rumble? that’s the sound of victory. i’m so proud of you.

“i feel disgusting,” you mumbled, feeling a lump in your throat. “so i can’t eat anything if i wanna be pretty.” seungmin shook his head at your words, wrapping his arms around your body. he brought your head to his chest, swaying you softly as he tried to gather his thoughts.

“you are… so amazing, yn,” he started and you felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “i don’t know what you’re going through, but i’m here for you and i love you,” he continued and a quiet sob left your body at his words. “but starving yourself won’t solve your problems, honey. we can figure something out, but you have to learn how to be gentle with yourself, okay?” he ran his fingers through your hair, seeing how distraught you were. “i’m gonna order you a smaller portion today if it makes you less scared, but i won’t leave it like this. if you can’t love yourself then it’s my role to do it for both of us.”

taglist !

@lynlyndoll @iyenbread @flooo71 @skz-streamer @inniescandy-01 @hannahhbahng @prettymiye0n @ggsez31 @laylasbunbunny @like-a-diamondinthesky @axel-skz @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @l3visbby @skzhoes @minhosbitterriver @astraystayyh

#skz #stray kids #stray kids headcanons #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #skz au #stray kids fluff #skz angst #skz hurt/comfort #skz seungmin #seungmin x reader #seungmin scenarios #seungmin imagines #seungmin fluff #seungmin angst #seungmin hurt/comfort

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thewritingrowlet · 5 months ago

Text

The Outing Trip pt. 3, ft. tripleS Xinyu, Dahyun, Nakyoung

tags: deepthroat, creampie, squirting, first time anal, anal creampie, cheating (again), FFM, girl-on-girl (just a bit)

word count: ~9k

author's note: this took a bit longer than I had anticipated, but I hope it's satisfactory nonetheless. I plan to write another tripleS fic based on one of the ideas in my inbox, please look forward to it.

You’re ready to send Xinyu back to her room after giving her a shower and making sure that she’s presentable should anyone see her on the way back. “I’m glad I didn’t mark you; it’d be awkward if someone saw you running around with hickeys on your neck”, you comment as you comb her hair. “I mean, I have concealers”, she says, “but I get your point”.

You go in for a quick good night kiss before she leaves. “Can I ask what you’re doing with the video?”, you question her. Xinyu shows you a cheeky smile, “you’ll see soon enough—I promise I won’t leak it, oppa”. You make her do a pinky promise before sending her away, “I love you, baby—we’ll be going over their essays tomorrow morning, okay? Good night”. Xinyu waves at you as she’s leaving the room, “love you more, oppa. Good night”.

You woke up at 4 am, way before your alarm had the chance to buzz. You feel refreshed even though you didn’t sleep as much as you usually do, and you have Xinyu to thank for that; “sex is the best thing to do before sleep, oppa”, she said some time ago. You decide to spend the time by exercising, maybe do a shootaround if you’re lucky. As you enter the resort’s gym, you see a basketball sitting on a rack by its lonesome, and you’re tempted to skip warmup and mess around with it, but you don’t want to risk getting a cramp. You decide to take the ball with you to make sure no one steals it from you.

You start the treadmill at the lowest speed and walk on it for 5 minutes before increasing the speed and repeating it until you reach your walking speed limit to make sure that your body is fully awake before you do anything else. You then get off the treadmill and lift some weights, adding the weight after each two eight-count reps until you reach 80 kg.

“Surely that’s enough warmup; time to have fun now. What do you guys think?”, you ask the empty gym and get no answer, “great minds think alike, hey?”. You feel excited to be able to play basketball after not having played for months; “I hope I don’t miss too much; that’d be embarrassing—not that there’s anyone watching”, you utter. “I’m watching”, a girl says behind you, and you almost pass out from the shock. “What the fuck are you doing, Dahyun-ah?”, you ask her. “I always wake up around this time, oppa—what are you doing?”, she points at you. “Just trying to move my body a bit; we’ve been sitting a lot, haven’t we?”, you shrug, “how did you know I’m here, though?”. “I was on my phone when I heard your door open and close again, so I decided to check and sneakily followed you here”, she says, “please, start doing whatever you came here for”.

You stand on the free throw line and take your first shot, making it go through cleanly with the help of muscle memory. “Whoo!”, Dahyun cheers you, “more, oppa!”. You’d be lying if you said that her cheers don’t excite you, as you’re smiling like a kid after making each shot from the same spot. After consistently making a handful of shots from the line, you move to the top of the key and attempt the first long range shot of the day. Time seemingly slows down as the ball leaves your hand and makes its way to the rim, your eyes locked on to it the whole time. The satisfying sound the nylon nets makes when the ball goes through the rim makes you feel like you’re about to bust, and you’re met with Dahyun’s loud cheer. “My God, you’re such a do-it-all, aren’t you?”, she says.

You pick up the ball and looks at Dahyun with a smile. You see that she has ditched her jacket and undone the first few buttons of her pajama top; her cleavage exposed for you to see. You pretend to not see it, but Dahyun bends backwards just enough to make you drool; “I thought you’ve promised to not do this again ever? Do not betray Xinyu, boy”, the angel on your shoulder warns you. You try your hardest to shake off the thoughts and focus on playing basketball again.

“Oppa, you’re so fucking hot”, Dahyun says as you walk up to her, your T-shirt drenched in sweat. “I smell, though”, you sniff your armpits, “oh, God, that is foul”. Dahyun gets on her tippy toes right in your face, getting dangerously close to you, “I haven’t had your cock in my pussy, oppa; when will you give it to me? Do I not deserve it, oppa?”. You take a deep breath and think about your options. That is, until you hear a familiar voice in your head; “go on, son; give her what she wants”, the devil says, “you don’t want to waste this opportunity, do you?”. You take a few seconds of silence and wait for the angel to make a counter argument, but you hear none—he’s probably busy trying to find the biggest hammer to smack you in the back of the head with; “okay, fine; you want it? Come get it”, you say to Dahyun.

You take off your soaked T-shirt before sitting down on the bench next to Dahyun. She then moves to straddle your lap and comes in for a kiss. “We need to talk as soon as we leave this place, sweetie”, you say to her. “Mmh, sure”, Dahyun says as she moves to kneel between your legs, “give it to me, oppa—please, I can’t wait any more”. You take off your shorts along with your boxers, and your cock jumps out and smacks Dahyun in the face. You mutter a soft “sorry” to her, but she dismisses it, “getting hit in the face with a cock is my favorite pastime”.

Dahyun parts her lips and wrap them around your cock, making you let out a low moan at the first contact. You pet her head softly as she’s busy taking your cock deep, “good job, sweetie; keep going, okay?”. Dahyun, hearing your approval, goes straight down and stuffs her throat with your cock without gagging; an incredible feat, all things considered. “You’re such a good girl, aren’t you, sweetie?”, you say to her between moans. Feeling suffocated, however, Dahyun removes your cock from her throat with a sharp gasp and falls backwards onto her butt. “Holy fuck, oppa”, she says, her chin painted with spit, “I can’t; I’m sorry”. You pull her into your lap and peck her cheek, “it’s okay, sweetie; you tried your best. Let’s catch our breaths for now, okay?”. Dahyun nods and tucks her head under your chin as she tries to compose herself.

“Oppa, can I put it in?”, she asks you after getting herself together. Your heart rate instantly spikes thanks to her question, and you’re not entirely sure if you’ll let her do it. Dahyun, seeing you be unresponsive, asks again, “please, oppa; I’ll make it worthwhile for you”. You look at her right in the eyes and see her genuine desperation, so you agree to her request for sex. “We need to be quick, though, sweetie”, you say to her.

Dahyun lifts her butt off your lap just enough so that she can put your cock in her pussy. She lets out a long moan as she slowly sits down on your cock. “S-so big—ah-ah, fuck”, she says when your shaft is fully inside her. “Come on, sweetie; let’s do this”, you whisper to her ear, and she replies to you with a nod. You hold Dahyun by the waist and thrust up roughly, making her yelp loudly in surprise. “Oppa—ngh, fuck—yes-yes, I love it”, she chants softly into your ears. Dahyun’s ability to control her volume during sex is admirable—Xinyu would just scream as loud as she could if given even the slightest chance.

You keep bouncing Dahyun on your cock until Dahyun calls for a timeout. “Oppa, please—angh-ah—stop for a moment”, she says. “You okay?”, you ask while panting, exhaustion finally catching on. Dahyun pants a few times before answering, “I-I’m so close, oppa”. You’re confused; if she’s so close, why would she want to take a break? Wouldn’t it be better to keep going until she reaches her orgasm? “I want to make sure if you’re close too; I-I want to cum with you”, she says. “Aha, that’s why”, you think to yourself, “if you can keep gripping me like this, I’ll cum soon”.

You stand up from the bench and hook her legs with your arms. “You ready? We’ll cum together, sweetie”, you say to Dahyun. She gives you a nod, thus you start smashing your cock into her pussy roughly to get yourself and Dahyun to the finish line before people start waking up. The rough fucking, combined with the unfavorable position, makes Dahyun scream loudly—you silently wish you had another hand to cover her mouth and stifle her screams with.

“I’M CUMMING!”, Dahyun shrieks before biting her lips to mute the sound. Dahyun’s body starts shaking violently as orgasm takes her to the sky, removing your cock from her pussy in the process. You hear the slosh of her juice hit the wooden floor underneath you. “Do you always squirt, sweetie?”, you ask her. “Ngh, fuck—o-only when I’m with you”, she answers, “I-I don’t squirt when I touch myself”. You free her from your arms and have her stand up next to you so that she doesn’t step in the puddle.

You move her hair that is covering half her face before giving her a peck in the forehead; “I’m glad I can please you”, you say to her. Dahyun smiles in gratitude before coming in for a fleeting kiss. “What about you, oppa? You didn’t cum”, she asks, seemingly concerned about your pleasure. “Don’t worry about me, sweetie; I’ll figure something out. I’ll see you after your team building, okay?”, you say to her. Dahyun tidies her clothes and leaves you alone in the empty gym. You wipe Dahyun’s little puddle with the dry part of your T-shirt; “people should think this is sweat”, you say to yourself.

You text Xinyu as you’re leaving the gym, telling her that you want to have a little bit of morning sexbefore essay review. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be there”, she replies.Xinyu is standing in front of your room when you arrive. Seeing that you’re shirtless, Xinyu bites her bottom lip sensually. “God, you’re so hot, oppa”, she comments as you drag her into your room.

Guilt starts creeping up on you as you watch Xinyu take off her clothes, “I can’t believe I called Xinyu to finish Dahyun’s job—fuck”. You’re lost in the sea of thoughts until Xinyu throws you a lifebuoy, “oppa, are you okay? Thinking about something?”. “I’m sorry, love”, you deflect, “something came to mind—it’s okay, though; it’s not important”. You pull Xinyu into your lap before expressing your love, and you’re trying your hardest to maintain your boner despite the surge of guilt and uncertainty.

“Oppa, you don’t seem to be in the correct state of mind for this”, Xinyu says, “talk to me, please”. You decide to tell her about your relationship with Dahyun without revealing too much detail; “Dahyun-ie has been chasing me around, Xinyu-yah. She’s said multiple times that she likes me, a-and I don’t know how to act”. You close your eyes and brace yourself for a hard slap from Xinyu, but it never lands. “Is that why you cried in front of Professor Kim, oppa? Because you didn’t know how you could please us both at the same time?”, she asks, her tone soft as silk. You answer her question with a nod, “I wasn’t sure if I could talk to you about it, so I kept it to myself. That is, until Dahyun pressed on and proposed to be my side chick, and I didn’t know what to do”. Xinyu holds your head with both hands and kisses you, “we’ll talk about this again soon, okay? Do you still want to have sex?”. You let Xinyu go from your embrace wordlessly, and she starts putting on her clothes again. “There’s nothing to worry about, oppa; I still love you and will continue to love you”, she says.

Xinyu pulls you into bed and lies down on your body, “let’s cuddle until breakfast time, oppa”. She is really doing her best to comfort you and remind you how much she loves you, and despite knowing that she means well, it makes you feel more and more guilty for giving Dahyun even the smallest chance to be with you—cock-in-pussy sex isn’t small, though; let’s be for real for a second. “Oppa, say something, please”, she says while poking your stomach playfully. “I love you, baby”, you say to her, “I love you so much”. Xinyu looks at you and shows you her cute smile, which you adore so much, “I love you too, oppa”.

After having breakfast with everyone at the resort’s restaurant, you head back to your room with Xinyu and invite Nakyoung and the ministers over for essay review. “Welcome, guys”, Xinyu greets them as they enter the room. Aecha immediately hugs Xinyu and starts sobbing, “my brother’s platelet level is dropping, Xinyu-yah, and-and I-I want to go home—let me go home, please”. Xinyu looks at you over her shoulder and you nod to her in approval. “Of course, Aecha-yah. We’ll find you a bus after this, okay?”, Xinyu says.

Everyone sits in a circle on the floor to review project ideas the recruits have come up with yesterday. Aecha says that she has chosen her top 2 and hands them to Nakyoung—Aecha has always been the diligent one, and the fact that Jaehwan is sick motivated her to work faster so that she can leave sooner. Xinyu whispers to you and asks for permission to take Aecha for a walk. “Go on, baby; try and make Aecha feel better, okay?”, you give Xinyu your approval.

After Xinyu and Aecha leave, you and the others start going over the essays on your laptops and tablets, breaking them down one by one and determining if it can be implemented in the future. You hear Nakyoung laugh as she reads an essay. “This one is similar to the project that made Xinyu cry back then”, Nakyoung tells you, “surely you won’t approve, right, oppa?”. “Let’s put that to the side for now; I need to hear Xinyu’s opinion before we can decide if want to throw that into the bin”, you say to her.

Xinyu ended up not returning to the meeting, knocking on your door about an hour after the review had finished. “Hi, oppa”, she says in a low-spirited voice, “Aecha is on the bus heading to the city”. “No wonder you two didn’t return—thanks for taking care of her, baby”, you say to her. Xinyu drags you to the bed and sits on your lap, “Aecha was quite adamant about going home, so I thought I might as well help her go home”. You peck her forehead in praise, “you did very well, baby; I’m proud of you. Did you check on the others, by the way? Are they done with team building?”. “Actually, I talked with Dahyun-ie”, she reveals, “I know about your little romance”. “Ah, fuck”, you say in your head, “I’m so fucking dead”.

“Yah, are you listening or not?”, Xinyu gets off your lap and calls out to you, snapping you out of your silence. You dare not look at her in the eyes, “y-yes, I am, baby”. She slaps you with all her might, and you hear a sob after. “Don’t call me that, Jung Jisung—you fucking lied to me”, she says as tears run down her cheeks, “sightseeing? Really?”. You can’t come up with anything else but an apology, and you know full well that it isn’t enough. “Tell me what happened on the ferry—go on, lie to me again; I fucking dare you”, she threatens. “I, um, I got a blowjob from Dahyun-ie”, you confess, still not looking at her in the eyes. “What happened to your honesty, hm? Did you throw it into the sea or something? Did you send it down to her throat along with your cum?”, she asks in disbelief as she breaks down in tears. You try to approach her slowly, but Xinyu retreats and looks at you in disgust. “Baby, I’m sorry” is the only sentence you managed to come up with. “I don’t want to talk to you; I’m leaving”, Xinyu says as she walks out of the door, leaving you alone to simmer in regret and shame.

You hear some rapid knocks on the door, and you see through the hole that it’s Nakyoung, seemingly mad about something. She slaps you in the cheek forcefully as soon as you open the door. “Fuck you”, she says after the slap, “you broke her heart, you fucking asshole”. If this were any normal situation, you’d be hurt by the manner of her speech, but considering the events prior, you’re more shameful than offended. “I’m sorry”, you say to her. “I don’t want your apology, but I want you to be a man and fix this mess—are we clear?”, she delivers her demand while pressing her index finger on your chest, her eyes fiery. Seeing that you’re not answering, she asks again if you understand her words. “Yes, I understand”, you say, letting out a depressed sigh after.

Nakyoung leaves after delivering her demands, slamming the door as she does. You feel your phone vibrate a few times in your pocket as you’re getting back to bed.

[🍒] I’m sorry I ruined it for you I’m so sorry I’ll leave you two alone from now on I’m sorry for everything

No matter how much Dahyun feels guilty, you’re still the one at fault for falling for the devil’s deception and hurting your beloved girlfriend who, quote, “has been with you through storms and tranquility”. “Ah, fuck, I’m so fucking stupid”, you slap yourself in the forehead, “fuck, Xinyu, I’m so sorry, baby”. “The audacity to call her ‘baby’ after all this bullshit you’ve pulled”, the angel returns with an insult, and you hope that he has found a sledgehammer to smash your head in with.

You muster up the courage and text Professor Kim, hoping that she’ll allow you to talk to her and ask for counsel. She calls you a few minutes after you sent the text. “Hello, president. You want to talk about something?”, she asks. “Hello, professor”, you greet her, “um, Xinyu has found out about my little stunt and now she’s livid—I’ve taken two slaps in the cheeks, professor”. “No hard feelings, Jisung-ah, but I think you deserve it”, she says, almost in a mocking tone—one that you deserve, “I’m guessing you’re now wondering how you can fix this”. You involuntarily shed a tear, “yes, madam, I am; any clues? I’ve apologized, by the way”. The professor sighs over the phone, “well, I suggest letting things run their course for now; I imagine Xinyu needs some time before she’ll allow you to approach her again—what about the other girl?”. You tell Professor Kim that Dahyun has apologized over text and promised to leave you alone, and it presumably satisfies her. “Yeah, just give Xinyu some space for now. That’s all I have to say”, she says. You thank her for letting you call her and hang up the phone after.

You’re now lying in bed, using all your brain cells to come up with a plan to make it up to Xinyu. One brain cell suggests giving her flowers, and as tempting as it sounds, you’re not sure if a bouquet wrapped with a big ribbon saying “I’m sorry” will convey your feelings properly—the last thing you want is for Xinyu to think that you’re taking this lightly, which you are not. You look around the room for ideas, and you see a small piece of paper and a pencil next to it sitting on the table. “Ah, I should try writing a letter to Xinyu”, you say to yourself. You sit at the table and start stringing words together thoughtfully using two of the oldest tools known to man.

“Dear Xinyu

Hello, this is Jung Jisung

Before I begin, please allow me to call you by these names for now as I don’t know if I’ll get to do it again.

I’m sorry for hurting you, sweetheart. I understand that I did such a horrific job of being the man in this relationship; lying to you and hurting you by yearning for something that was never appropriate for me. If you, my love, were willing to forgive me and take me back in your arms, I would be more than grateful—more than mere words can express—but considering how hurt you are because of me, I dare not hope, no matter how much I want to.

I love you, and I’m sorry for hurting you.

I hope this letter finds you well.

Yours always,

Jung Jisung”

After writing the letter, you fold the paper in half and write your signature on the cover and a small heart that you fill in with pencil. You put the letter on your chest and pray that Xinyu can sense the sincerity and honesty in the words. You then start walking out of your room and towards Xinyu and Nakyoung’s on the other side of the corridor.

You slide the letter through the bottom gap and knock a few times. Seeing that you get no response after standing in front of their door for a minute, you turn in the other direction and start walking back towards your room. You’ve taken around a dozen steps when you hear a door swing open behind you and feel someone crash into you and wrap their arms around you while crying. “Oppa”, the quivering voice steals your attention, “I love you—fuck—I love you so much, oppa”. Hearing the familiar voice makes you shed a tear, and you turn around for a hug. “I love you too, Xinyu-yah. I’m so sorry for hurting you, my love”, you say as tears start running down your cheeks. You and Xinyu cry in each other’s arms, showing each other how real the feelings you have for each other are. You finally compose yourself after a few minutes and invite her to your room for privacy. Xinyu agrees to your idea, so you carry her in your arms and rush towards your room.

You sit down in the middle of the bed with Xinyu in your arms, and you fire all the “I love you” and “I’m sorry” bullets in your magazine. “I’ve been waiting for you to knock on the door for so long, oppa; I was sitting behind the door when you slid that letter, you know”, she says, her voice trembling from the emotions. “I’m so sorry, love; I was so busy trying to come up with an apology”, you say to her before pecking her head, “I’m so sorry, baby”. Xinyu bursts out crying again, seemingly overwhelmed with feelings, “please, please don’t hurt me like that again—I’m begging you, oppa; I don’t want to hate you”. “I won’t, baby—cross my heart”, you deliver a promise to her, one that you plan on never breaking as long as you two are alive.

After regaining composure, Xinyu moves to sit on your lap and puts her hands on your shoulders. “Oppa, why did you lie to me? You, of all people, lied to me, oppa—I thought we agreed to be honest to each other?”, she says, her tone heightening in disbelief. “I’m so sorry, love; the only answer I can give you is that I was thinking with my penis and not my brain”, you give Xinyu the frankest answer you can think of. “If-if by any chance you were bored with our sex, oppa, you could’ve just told me and I would’ve come up with something to spice it up. I-I’ll do whatever you want me to, you know that, right?”, she says. You shake your head in denial, “I promise you it was not about sex at all, love; I’m always satisfied and happy with what we usually do. I just happened to let lust fill my head and control my actions, which is never acceptable for a man to do, and for that I sincerely apologize”. Xinyu seems to be satisfied with your answer, as she rewards you with a peck on the lips before tucking her head under your chin. “I love you, oppa. Don’t lie to me again, please; being lied to fucking hurts”, she says.

You ask Xinyu if she wants to go to the restaurant and get some food after she has regained calmness, and in typical Zhou Xinyu fashion, she accepts your offer without thinking twice. You see Nakyoung outside her room as you’re walking towards the restaurant together with Xinyu. “Oh, hey, look at you, holding hands like a happy couple—you’ve sorted out your dissent, haven’t you?”, she comments with a smile of relief. You smile and nod, “yeah, Xinyu was kind enough to forgive me and give me the chance to redeem myself”. “That’s nice to hear”, Nakyoung says, “so where are you going now? I know we have some time to kill before announcing the essay winners”. You tell her that you’re going to the restaurant, and Nakyoung asks if she can tag along. “Like you’ve never done that before, Miss Secretary”, you say in playful mockery, earning a light smack of annoyance from Nakyoung.

Xinyu and Nakyoung say they want to have crispy chicken steak and fries, so you get the same thing as them to save time. “Oh, wow, look at that!”, Xinyu excitedly claps her hands when she sees the waiter set the food on the table. Seeing Xinyu be happy brings joy to your heart and reminds you to stay loyal and honest to her. “Haha, Jisung-oppa is smiling like a dummy”, Nakyoung teases you. Xinyu smiles at you softly while reaching out to hold your hand, “I love you, oppa—please don’t lie to me again”. You know that speaking will make you emotional, so you reply to her with a loving smile and a finger heart.

You head towards the hall with Xinyu after the lunch-dinner—petition to call it “lunner”—while Nakyoung opts to take a walk around the resort. “Oppa, wait”, Xinyu calls out to you while looking at her phone, “Chanwoo just texted me; he said that Jungwoo-oppa just fought someone again”. “Shin Jungwoo?”, you sigh, “we’ll call him later, babe; let him catch his breath for now—did Chanwoo say anything about the other guy, though?”. Xinyu shows you her chat with Chanwoo, “he fought a bully, oppa. Apparently, Professor Bae knows about this as well”.

You sit in the front row with Xinyu next to you, sharing laughs and giggles with her, rejoicing in the mended relationship. You make a joke that Xinyu finds to be exceptionally funny, causing her to laugh out loud while clapping her hands in amusement. As you wait for her laugh to die down, you see Dahyun open the door in the corner of your eyes. You turn your head slightly to make eye contact, but Dahyun evades it and disappears behind the door. It’s unfortunate that it had to end like this, but you’d like to think that this is the best possible outcome as you’re now in Xinyu’s arms again, as self-centered as it sounds. You silently promise to make it right to Dahyun and cut your ties properly—possibly tearily.

Nakyoung takes the stage after everyone has gathered in the hall. “Good evening, everyone. We will be announcing the 3 teams that have come up with the best ideas and those 3 teams will do a presentation right here, right now—we’ve asked you to prepare for a presentation, haven’t we?”, she says, her voice heard through the speakers. Nakyoung then proceeds to announce the top 3 and congratulates each team as they come up to the stage. Nakyoung tells them to do rock-paper-scissors to determine the order of presentation before giving up her spot on the stage and sitting down.

Reading is cool and all, but it doesn’t allow you to hear the rationale behind every word that is written. An idea that might look uninteresting on paper can turn out to be exciting when you know the thought process behind it, as proven by the number 2 team, who has come up with a seemingly mundane idea of visiting an elementary school nearby and participating in teaching 1st and 2nd graders. They had read this journal that spoke of increasing student’s learning stimulus in class and decided that they wanted to try it out themselves. “The university might get positive publicity, but more importantly, we aim to be able to help the teachers and students, since we believe that education—especially in elementary—should not be dull”, the speaker says. The speaker and friends look at you, hoping that you’ll say something positive, and honestly, you’re already sold on the idea. You don’t want to jump the gun and ruin it for the next team, opting to start collective claps with the audience instead.

You’re struggling to focus on the last team since the second one has already managed to steal your heart. “I need you to pay attention on this one, baby; I’m already sold on the previous one”, you whisper to Xinyu. She pinches your thigh in annoyance, “you can’t be biased like that, oppa”. You want to make a counter argument, but Nakyoung pinches your other thigh firmly, forcing you to focus back on the presentation.

Not only does time fly by when it’s spent with your loved ones, but also when you’re not paying attention to your surroundings. One minute you were (loosely) listening to the presentation, next minute you see Nakyoung end the session and send everyone to their rooms. “I swear, initiation trips did not used to go by this quickly”, you say to Xinyu. “Yeah, well, we were the ones doing these assignments back then, and now we’re the ones sitting back—the cycle never ends, oppa”, she says. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. So, what now?”, you ask the two girls in front of you. “You said that we’d call Jungwoo-oppa”, Xinyu reminds you of your promise from earlier. Nakyoung, who used to have a crush on Jungwoo, asked in curious worry as to why you’re calling Jungwoo. “He fought someone earlier, Naky-yah; we need to check up on him”, you explain briefly to her.

The three of you rush to your bedroom and sit on the floor in a circle. You find Jungwoo’s name on your phone and call him, and he picks up after two rings. “Good evening, this is Shin Jungwoo”, he says over the phone. “Good evening to you as well, this is Jung Jisung. Where are you, man?”, you ask him. “I’m at a burger shop with someone—Yooyeon-ie just left, by the way”, he says, “can I help you, president?”. You proceed to ask him about the rumors, and he explains that a group of freshmen has been bullying a fellow freshman and that he fought one of the bullies. “We can’t keep defending you, man”, you say to Jungwoo. Impatient, Nakyoung steals your phone from you and cuts off Jungwoo mid-sentence, “oppa! Oppa, are you okay? Are you hurt? You need to stop fighting people, seriously”. Jungwoo doesn’t recognize Nakyoung’s voice at first, thus making Nakyoung seemingly irritated. Jungwoo then promises to talk about this again when you come back and bring the victim, a girl named Kim Suyeon, along and introduce her to you.

Nakyoung starts letting out tears as soon as Jungwoo ends the call, her old feelings for him resurfacing after being buried for nearly two years. “I’m proud of him for standing up against bullying, but sometimes I wish he wouldn’t let his fists fly so easily”, Nakyoung says as she wipes her tears. Xinyu hugs Nakyoung from the side and offers comfort while you hope that Jungwoo would stop fighting bullies, no matter how big of an example he’s made of these assholes. You also sympathize with Nakyoung, who used to have a crush on Jungwoo and only “leaving” him because she got scared after seeing him knock someone out with her own eyes. “Let’s convince him to become an advocate against bullying instead of a fighter, okay?”, you pat Nakyoung’s shoulder softly to calm her.

Nakyoung jumps off the bed and leaves your room, citing that she needs some fresh air. Xinyu turns to you in confusion, “u-uh, sure; I-I’ll see you later, Naky-yah”. You sigh in exhaustion as one more huge wave crashes into you. “I need to lie down; my head hurts”, you complain. Xinyu climbs your body and sprays your face with kisses, “oh, no, no, no—headache, leave my Jisung-oppa alone!”. You chuckle at her little aegyo, “you’re so cute, baby”. Xinyu covers her cheeks to hide her tomato cheeks, “aw, please don’t say that; I-I’m just trying to help”. You get up to a sitting position with Xinyu on your lap; “I’m so thankful for you, baby. I’m so sorry for hurting you”, you say to her, sounding as sincere as possible. “I was going to forgive you regardless of whether you’d apologize or not”, Xinyu says as she grabs something out of her pocket, “this letter helped me, um, get over it, I guess”.

You put a hand on Xinyu’s nape, and she immediately goes in for a kiss to tell you that she has forgiven you and accepted you in her arms again. “Hurt her again and I’ll smash your penis and balls with this hammer”, the angel delivers an ultimatum, and you dare not ignore it. Xinyu breaks the kiss with a gasp, “fuck, I can’t take it anymore”. You look at her with raised eyebrows, and that is when Xinyu pulls her T-shirt over her head and throws it away, “take me, oppa—please, I’m desperate”. It’s crazy to think how Xinyu relies on you heavily for everything, from assignments to sexual pleasure. You reach behind her back and unlatch her bra quickly before palming her tits.

Xinyu seems to be very impatient, as she humps your crotch even though the both of you still have joggers on. You pinch her nipples in response, “you need to be patient, love”. “O-oppa”, she says, throwing her head back in thirst and frustration, “please, make me yours again”. You lay her down on the bed and take your clothes off swiftly. You grab the waistband of her joggers and see the wet spot on her crotch, “horny much, baby girl?”. She wants to express with words how horny she is, but since her head has been taken over by lust, she only manages to come up with unintelligible sounds.

You get in between her legs after taking off her panties, ready to plunge into her warm cavern. “Baby, I’m going in”, you say to her, and Xinyu closes her eyes in response. As much as you’re tempted to tease her with your fingers, you don’t want to wait any longer, resulting in you diving deep into her right away. “Oppa, kiss me please”, she says, her arms reaching out to hug you. Xinyu uses her long limbs to secure you in place as soon as you lean forward for a hug and a kiss. Despite being stuck in a love lock, you’re still able to move your hips and fuck her at a consistent pace, earning soft bites and moans from Xinyu.

“Oppa, I’ve missed you”, she says between her soft moans, “I’ve missed your cock”. You laugh internally considering that you did in fact had sex with her yesterday, but you don’t want to ruin the mood thus replying to her with a deep groan. “You’re so warm and tight, princess—so fucking good”, you praise her as you start fucking her faster. “Yes-yes—oh, fuck! Please, oppa, fuck me; I’m your good girl”, she says, her voice shaky from your fast thrusts. You gather your strength and use it to fuck her deep and fast, aiming to make her cum in the next few minutes.

Your plan works, as she announces into your ear that she’s about to explode. Xinyu tightens her grip on your cock, squeezing you hard, as if trying to milk your cum out of you. As a result, you blow your load into Xinyu with no prior consent from her. “I came as well; sorry, love”, you say to her. “N-no”, she deflects, ”I—fuck—I’m glad we came together, oppa”. You put your lips on her forehead as the both of you ride the high of orgasm together. “Oppa, my lips are down here”, she says softly with a chuckle. You reply to her chuckle with your own as you move down to kiss her passionately.

Xinyu releases you from her strangling limbs and you immediately fall to the side in exhaustion. “I’m spent, oppa; take care of me, please”, she says as she moves to hug you from the side. “I came inside you without asking, love”, you say to her in an apologetic voice. Xinyu palms your limp cock and strokes it softly, “that means I’m officially yours again, oppa. Thank you for taking me back in your arms”. You peck the top of her head and tell her that it was supposed to be your line. “I love you, oppa—we didn’t catch the cum drip on video, though”, she says. You ask her what she’s doing with that video, but she refuses to answer properly, saying that you “need to be patient” and that you “will find out soon enough”. You’re not entirely satisfied with her answer, but you hope that it won’t end up terribly for you and Xinyu.

You were half asleep when you heard two different voices near you, presumably discussing something. “Are you sure he consents to this?”, one of them says. “I’m 99% sure”, the other says. You slowly open your eyes and see two figures standing side-by-side in front of the bed. “Who are you?”, you say as you rub your eyes. “Why, I’m your girlfriend, of course”, Xinyu says, confirming her presence in the room. The other person greets you, and hearing it sends shock throughout your body. “Kim Nakyoung? What are you—yo, I’m naked; cover your eyes!”, you say, your tone high in disbelief. “Respectfully, oppa, I like the sight—never seen you like this before; damn, you’re so hot”, Nakyoung says, letting out a giggle after.

“Nakyoung-ie has been longing for a man’s touch, oppa”, Xinyu explains, “I figured you could help”. “Are you sure?”, you ask her, “you didn’t forget what had happened earlier, did you?”. “I consent this time”, Xinyu answers, “please, oppa, help a girl out, please”. Xinyu even said “please” twice, probably without realizing it, and you can only let out a sigh. “I’m only doing this because Xinyu consents, just so we’re clear—I’ve hurt her enough”, you say. Xinyu claps her hands in excitement, “you’re the best, oppa!”.

You get off the bed and stand in front of Nakyoung, “what are we thinking?”. Nakyoung takes a few steps back and starts undressing herself. Xinyu, who has always had the image of someone who plays for both sides, proves her “open-mindedness” by kissing Nakyoung’s neck until Nakyoung pushes her away. “Don’t mark me, Xinyu-yah”, Nakyoung says. You pinch Xinyu’s cheek lightly for her clumsiness before turning to Nakyoung to peck her lips. “I need to hear your explicit consent”, you say to her. Nakyoung puts her hand up like she was testifying, “I, with no doubt in my mind, consent to everything we’re about to do tonight”. You chuckle at her words, “everything, hm? Let’s see how far you think ‘everything’ is”.

You hold Nakyoung’s hands and pull her into your lap as you sit on the end of the bed. You see in the corner of your sight that Xinyu has found comfort on the armchair, watching the both of you like a cuckold. Nakyoung takes your hands and guides them to her bare breasts, “what do you think of them, oppa?”. You take her tits in your hands and softly squeeze them, “so soft, Naky-yah; I like it”. Nakyoung looks at Xinyu quickly before looking back at you, “ac-actually, I-I want to be called by pet names, oppa”. Her words sting your heart; you used to call Dahyun by pet names behind Xinyu’s back, and now Nakyoung wants you to do the same in front of Xinyu. You glance at Xinyu and see her nod in approval. “Alright, sweetie”, you comply to her request, “are you ready for this?”.

You lie down in bed after Nakyoung shows you the green light, your cock pointing to the ceiling in front of her stomach. “That’s so fucking big”, she comments as she starts stroking your cock. The softness of her hands makes you think that maybe she has put on some lotion or the sort, “your hands are so soft, sweetie”. Nakyoung smiles shyly, “um, Xinyu gave me a bunch of tips before this, and this is the result”. “Before this? How long have you guys been planning for this?”, you ask, bewildered. “Been a while, actually—the cum video was my idea, by the way”, Nakyoung reveals, her hands still busy stroking your cock. You turn your eyes towards Xinyu, and she winks at you while smiling.

Nakyoung moves her head, hovering centimeters over your cock. “Oppa, look at me, please”, she says. You make and maintain eye contact with her as she parts her lips and slowly go down on your cock, choking halfway to your pelvis. The little mishap causes her to remove your cock from her mouth, gasping sharply as she does. “Fuck, how does Xinyu manage to do this all the time?”, Nakyoung comments. “It took her a few months to get used to me, Naky-yah; I don’t mean to overstep but if you want to be like her, you’ll need a lot of practice”, you say to her. “I can be your side girl, oppa—if Xinyu allows it, that is”, she says, replicating Dahyun’s line from some time ago. You’re stunned; you’re not sure how much Nakyoung and Xinyu know, thus you’re unsure about how to respond aside from a fake groan to deflect her proposal.

Nakyoung returns to the task at hand (literally) and take your cock in her mouth again. She seems to have made it her goal to reach your pelvis, as proven by how she keeps going down, fighting her gag reflex in the process. She finally reaches the bottom of your cock after trying so hard; her spit is leaking everywhere as her jaws are wide open to accommodate your girth, and she’s making this very sensual gurgling sound. “Fuck, that’s a good girl”, you and Xinyu say at the same time, causing the both of you to chuckle. Nakyoung finally goes up after a few seconds, falling backwards onto her butt as she does. “H-how did you two say that at—hah, fuck—at the same time? Great minds think alike or something?”, Nakyoung says as she wipes her mouth. “I say good girl a lot to Xinyu during sex”, you explain, “I guess she’s fond of that line”.

Nakyoung looks at Xinyu and asks for permission to put your cock in her pussy, and Xinyu shows her approval by getting naked, ready to touch herself while watching; “go on; I’ll watch”, Xinyu says. “Oppa, I hope you consent as well”, Nakyoung says as she hovers over your cock. “I do, but can I ask if you’re okay doing it raw?”, you ask. “You’re my third, oppa, and I know that Xinyu was your first so it should be fine—I get tested regularly, by the way”, she says. Nakyoung proceeds to lower herself until your cock touches her entrance, letting out a gasp at the first contact; “I’m about to get ripped in half”, she murmurs.

She lets out a long, pained moan as your cock gradually fills her pussy. “Ngh, fuck—so fucking big”, she says as she feels her muscles stretch to contain your shaft. Nakyoung finally manages to sit squarely on your lap after struggling with your size for a while. She then plants her hands on your abs before she starts fucking herself with your cock. You’ve never seen Nakyoung make this sort of expression before, and you find it to be arousing—Xinyu used to make this face during the early days of your relationship, as she also struggled getting used to your cock. “Go on, Nakyoung-ah; show us what you can do”, you challenge her. She accepts your challenge and starts going up and down on your shaft rapidly while letting out moans which volume is making you concerned. You glance quickly to the left where Xinyu is sitting and see that she has her legs spread and rested on the armrest while her hand is vigorously rubbing her pussy.

Nakyoung has found a decent pace after getting comfortable with the stretch, and you find the sounds of her and Xinyu’s moan to be very arousing. You look at Xinyu again and summon her to you by moving your index finger, and she obliges immediately. Xinyu knows what you want and sits right on your face, her lush thighs serving as noise cancelling headphones. You can’t see what’s happening up there, but since you don’t hear anyone moaning, you assume that they’re tongue wrestling as they ride different parts of your body. You start working on Xinyu’s pussy with your tongue from below, holding her down by her thighs to make sure she doesn’t wiggle around. A light nibble in the clit makes Xinyu jolt but she doesn’t stand a chance against your strong arms that are gripping her firmly.

This threesome of yours has been going on for God-knows-how-long when both girls announce that they’re coming. You feel Nakyoung lift off your cock at the same time as Xinyu leaves your aggressive tongue. They cover their mouths and spray their juice all over your body; “holy fuck, I made them cum at the same time”, you think to yourself. They both fall limp next to you, hugging each other as they savor their high.

You get off the bed and head to the bathroom to wipe their combined juice and your sweat off your body. When you return, you see them kissing while playing with each other’s tits, seemingly busy in their own little world. “Excuse me, girls”, you interrupt them, “which one of you is going to make me cum?”. Xinyu breaks the kiss with a giggle, “I’d like to use my authority as vice president and delegate the secretary but there is a condition”. “That is?”, you ask, trying to figure out where she’s going with this. “Nakyoung-ie will take you in the ass”, Xinyu says, biting her bottom lip naughtily after. You are dumbfounded, “excuse me?”. “T-take my ass, oppa”, Nakyoung says, “take my anal cherry”. You are dumbfounded again, “are you sure? Have you even put anything in your ass before?”. “Y-yes, I-I’ve put a dildo in there some time ago”, Nakyoung shyly confesses.

Nakyoung rolls off Xinyu’s body and onto her back, “please, oppa”. Since she has decided to be naughty, you use this opportunity to match her; “that’s daddy to you, Kim Nakyoung”, you say to her as you get on the bed. You fold Nakyoung’s legs over her body and tell her to hold them. Since you don’t have lube, you decide to use Nakyoung’s pussy juice to coat your cock before entering her ass. You plunge quickly into her pussy for a couple of thrusts before pulling out, stroking your cock after to make sure that it’s coated entirely. “I’m not asking again, Nakyoung-ah”, you warn her. “Take me, daddy; I’m ready”, she says, nervousness clear as day to see.

You put your tip on her rear entrance, and Nakyoung gasps at the first contact. You see that her fingertips have turned white as she tries to hold her legs in place. You then start moving forward and stretch her rectum with the first few centimeters of your cock, forcing Nakyoung to furrow her eyebrows in pain. “Deeper, daddy; I-I can take it”, she says. You keep pushing into her ass until she begs you to stop, “s-stop, daddy; it-it hurts—fuck”. You look down and observe the situation; she has managed to take half of your length in her ass—that’s way more than Xinyu, considering that you’ve never had anal with her.

“Fuck, sweetie, you’re so tight”, you praise her. “Fuck me, please; make it hurt”, she says. You grant her wish and start moving your hips back and forth slowly, impaling her rear with your big cock. “It hurts, it hurts”, she chants, “fuck, it hurts so good”. Noticing that she’s reacting well to your length, you pick up the pace and fuck her harder. “Fuck, such a good girl”, you praise her, “keep gripping me like that”. Nakyoung bites her lip sexily, “Xi-Xinyu doesn’t let you in her ass, does she, daddy?”. Even with your cock in her ass, she still manages to tease—this naughty (and sexy) cat’s mischievousness knows no end. Xinyu seems to be ticked with Nakyoung’s words, and she starts rubbing Nakyoung’s clit rapidly to stimulate her further. “Oh, fuck, you two are going to make me cum again”, Nakyoung says with troubled breaths.

You maintain your pace and depth of your thrusts and notice that Nakyoung’s pain has subsided and been replaced by pleasure. You also notice that your cock isn’t just halfway in her ass, no, no, no; you’re fully lodged in her rear hole now. Xinyu hasn’t let up her work either, still rubbing herself and Nakyoung passionately. Xinyu has a different idea, however, as she dives into Nakyoung’s pussy and starts licking her clit from the side. Nakyoung tries to scream, but she manages to stifle her voice before it leaves her mouth. “Daddy, mommy—fuck, you’re going to make your baby cum”, she says. You’re astounded by how naughty she is in bed, and it fuels the fire of lust in your heart—she even calls Xinyu “mommy”, what the fuck?

“Sweetie, I’m cumming in your ass”, you say to Nakyoung, whose eyes are almost entirely rolled to the back of her head. “Cum in my ass, daddy—fuck, fuck, fuck—please, cum in my ass”, she chants as she savors the sensation of first time anal. You lodge the entirety of your shaft in her ass and blow your load deep into her guts, letting out a very deep groan as you do. Xinyu leaves Nakyoung’s clit and grabs her phone, “pull out, oppa; I’ll get it on camera”. You slowly retreat from the intense tightness of Nakyoung’s ass as Xinyu records from the side while making sure that no one’s face is caught on video. Nakyoung’s asshole struggles to return to its original shape, and Xinyu aims her camera straight at it; “oh my God, look at that gape!”, Xinyu comments with a gasp. You see through Xinyu’s phone and pay attention to how your cum drips out of her anus, “fuck, that’s crazy”.

Xinyu ends the recording after a few seconds and mutes the audio before throwing her phone away. “Take my ass next, daddy”, Xinyu begs. “I’m sorry, love, but I’m spent; I’ve blown a load inside you earlier, remember?”, you try to reason with her. “Ah, you’re right—next time, I guess”, Xinyu says. You free Nakyoung’s legs from her hands and put them down on the bed, “you did so well, Nakyoung-ah. Thank you very much”. Nakyoung’s pussy squirts out another load of juice belatedly, surprising both you and Xinyu. “Fuck, oppa, that was so fucking hot”, Nakyoung says, her pants deep and heavy.

You look over your shoulder to see the time. “It’s 2 am, huh? We’re leaving at 7, aren’t we?”, you ask your girls—yes, your girls. “The-the bus—fuck, I’m tired—the bus will be here at 6:15, oppa”, Nakyoung says. You lie down in bed with Xinyu and Nakyoung on each side, “how was it, Nakyoung-ah? Did it hurt?”, Xinyu asks. “Fuck, my ass was literally on fire, Xinyu-yah—Jisung-oppa is so fucking big, you should be grateful”, Nakyoung answers, “if I were you, Xinyu-yah, I would ask him to fuck my ass at least once a week”.

Xinyu contemplates her choices for a moment before turning to you, “please fuck me in the ass regularly, oppa”. You nod in agreement, “sure, love, but I want your clear consent written on a letter”. Xinyu tells you that she’ll write it on the flip side of your letter and hand it to you next weekend. “Alright, let’s get some z’s before the sun rises, okay?”, you say to the girls, and they each say good night before shutting your eyes. You imagine that both the angel and the devil are scratching their heads in confusion, wondering how you ended up fucking two girls in one night—one of them in the ass—but truthfully, you are as clueless as they are.

#girl group smut #kpop smut #triples smut #smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #male reader smut #male reader

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siddhigirls · 1 year ago

Text

your favourite girl

pairing: cillian!teacher x afab!reader

preface: mr murphy was your english teacher and he loved you, a little too much, but you were a little trouble maker

warnings: age gap, teacher x student relationship, light smut:)

mr. murphys class was your least favourite. you hated it because all he did was just pick on you the entire class, its like he actually did hate you. and not only that his class makes you want to fall asleep. all he did was read some books in those stupid glasses he wears. you walked into last period immediately having no patience for his cheeky attitude, he sat at his desk with his blue button up shirt, his sleeves rolled up showing his slightly veined arms, his hair in a certain way that shows off his jawline, his piercing blue eyes looking directly at you. “alright pull out your books, today you guys should start your essays, but before you start i’ll explain the assignment once again for some of you guys who weren’t there” looking directly at you, you scoffed already having no patience today.

he explained the assignment but all you did was just play on your phone, mr murphy forced you to sit in the front for some reason but it really got on your nerves. you barely heard any of the instructions but it won’t matter cause you’ll ask one of your classmates. “y/n pay attention.” he says in a bossy tone, you rolled your eyes and continued scrolling on instagram, “okay detention after school till 4:30. and we will have a long talk about your attitude” he said walking up taking your phone away from your hands. “give it back. and i won’t stay im busy after school” everyone’s now looking at both of you guys arguing, your blood is boiling but you couldn’t do anything about it. “too bad you’ll miss out on your plans, you’re wasting my time now im wasting yours.” he said and then continuing on whatever he was saying. minutes pass by and the class is silent, you’re doing your work not even looking at him. while the class was working mr murphy was looking through your phone, curious to your private life. he was looking at your texts and came across you and your boyfriends texts.

he was snooping okay, he was looking at the texts between you guys which made him a bit jealous. he scrolled until he saw the texts between you guys last night, he came across to a rather scandalous photo of you, you in a bra and panties, he scrolled up a little more to see a thumbnail video of you taking off your underwear showing off your throbbing wet clit. he immediately turned off your phone feeling guilty of what he just did, but god did it turn him on. he hated the thought of you wanting to fuck another man though, you were his and only his.

class came to an end and you went to mr murphys desk to take your phone back. “can i have my phone back mr murphy” you pleaded, all you wanted to do is just go home and relieve yourself. “no y/n. sit, let’s talk.” he said sternly, but when he looked up at you all he saw was your cleavage in his face which caught him off guard. you sat down in a chair right in front of the white board, he shut the door as he laid back on the board in your sight. “so y/n what’s with the attitude today? i want us to have a good student teacher relationship, believe it or not i actually like you” a little too much he thought to himself, you let out an airy laugh, “you don’t like me.”

your response caught him aback. “why do you think that” he said getting closer to you, now looking down at you. “you always just pick—“ you paused looking up at his piercing blue eyes, his dick was right in front of your face, you’ve never looked at him like this before, fuck he looks so good.

“are you gonna finish the sentence?” he said, slowly getting closer to your face, the tension was so thick. full of hatred and anger, with a thick sexual tension as well. “you just always…” you said getting up getting in his face. now you’re looking up at him, your heart pounding, your pussy quickly getting wet.

“we shouldn’t do this mr. murphy.” you said yet you put your arms around his neck and he places his hands on your waist tugging and hugging it. “but i can’t stop thinking about you..” you admitted getting closer to his face, feeling his icy breath on your lips. your lips lightly touching each other. his hands travelling down your short skirt and sitting you on the desk. “you say the word baby i’ll do whatever you want me to do” he says kissing your neck, “we can’t tell anyone about this my boyfriend will kill me” you said looking into his beautiful eyes and down to his full lips. “and i’ll get fired but fuck you’re just so beautiful. i can’t stop thinking about you riding me. you’re all i think about. i’ll prove to you how little your lame boyfriend will mean to you after this.” he says rubbing his big hands on your thigh. you leaned in closing the gap between you guys immediately swapping saliva, he pulls you closer to his body and you feel how hard he is which turns you on a lot more.

“fuck me mr murphy”

that’s all you had to say. he ripped your black leggings for more access. aggressively kissing your lips and your neck, “we can’t be loud now. don’t fucking make a noise” he said lowly in your ear. let’s just say you guys had a really good time.

!a/n!

if you guys want more comment or privately message me!!

#cillian murphy #oppenheimer #cillian murphy smut #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #oppenheimer cillian #cillian smut #cillian fic #cillian murphy is hot

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lostgirlmuseum · 1 year ago

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Pulse 💗

Summary: Bucky can hear your heartbeat through the wall, and he can tell everything isn’t alright.

Pairing: Bucky x gn!Reader

Words: 600 (exactly 600, holy moly)

Warnings: None really, just mentions of anxiety and adhd. Wrote this within an hour, sorry if its bad

A/N: Self indulgent fic alert! This goes out to all my peeps who struggle with ADHD/anxiety. It sucks, but hang in there!

Divider credit: @saradika

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Come in,” you called, not looking up from the papers on your desk.

A brief second passed, and the door creaked open. A cautious Bucky peeked his head in.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked.

You suddenly became aware of your leg bouncing 70 miles an hour, and forced yourself to stop.

“Yes, why?” You replied, ignoring the urge to get up and walk around.

“Well, I—” he hesitated, and brought his hand to rub the back of his neck, “I was passing by and I heard your heartbeat going really fast—super hearing and all that,” he awkwardly chuckled.

“120,” you stated, glancing at your watch.

“What?”

“My heart rate is 120 right now.”

“That’s pretty high for just sitting,” he responded, having a hard time hiding his concern.

“Well, y’know, anxiety,” you breathily laughed, but it wasn’t that funny.

“What are you anxious about? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Nothing.” You sighed, lowering your pen and facing him. At this point he was now in your room, perched in front of your door.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“Seriously, I’m kinda freaking out over nothing right now.”

“C’mon, you’re always telling me I’m valid for having concerns, you are too.”

“No, I mean there is literally no singular thing I’m anxious about right now—it’s just physical anxiety, the general feeling that I’m going crazy, or dying, I don’t know, both I guess. That sounds so dramatic. I really am fine. I mean, I’m not fine, but I am, yeah?” You rambled on and on, and cursed yourself when you noticed your leg had started bouncing again.

“I don’t think you’re okay, do you want me to bring you to Dr. Cho?”

“That’s sweet of you, but I don’t think there’s much she can do. The worst of this should pass in thirty minutes anyway, it’s just my meds.”

“Oh.”

You could tell Bucky wanted to ask more, but wasn’t sure if it was polite.

“I have ADD. ADHD, whatever you want to call it. So I take medicine so I can focus on certain tasks, like these reports. And it does help me focus, but it’s also a stimulant, so it also gives me a lot of anxiety, which is totally awesome!” You scoffed.

“Why do you keep stopping your leg from bouncing?”

“I don’t know, I don’t want to annoy you.”

“If bouncing your leg makes you feel better, it doesn’t bother me.”

“I feel like I’m embarrassing myself,” you whined.

Beep.

You looked at your watch.

“Oh, look at that, 126!”

“Do you—would…would a hug be something that would help you? Calm you down?” He offered, casually putting his arms out for emphasis.

“Sure, Bucky,” you smiled, and stood up to meet him halfway. You knew it wouldn’t fix it, but it certainly couldn’t hurt.

Bucky wrapped you in a big embrace, and you were shocked by how warm and teddy-like it was. You gave a small sigh, and rested your face in his neck, knowing you weren’t going to be the first to let go.

He held onto you for longer than you expected, just calmly swaying together in your room.

To your dismay, he eventually let go of you. You were about to thank him and return to your work, but he gently grabbed your wrist and brought your watch to his sight.

“107. Good, but I think we can do better than that,” he sweetly smiled, and wrapped you back up into his arms.

“It might take a while.” You mumbled into his shirt.

“As long as it takes.” He cooed.

A/N: Should be either A) studying for a history exam I have tmw, or B) writing my stupid essay that the rough draft is due tmw, but I wrote this instead bc I’m procrastinating HELP ME

#bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky angst #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes blurb #bucky blurb #bucky x gn!reader #bucky barnes x gn!reader

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loveinhawkins · 1 year ago

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Up until recent events, Eddie hasn’t really put much thought into flashlights—save for that time he had to take out the batteries in the T.V remote to get his to work, back when the power went wonky last summer.

But now? Oh, as soon as he’s through with this whole nightmare, Eddie’s gonna find out whichever saint invented the damn things and start a petition to get them a federal holiday. That’s gonna be his whole… raisin something, something—he thinks it’s French, Buckley will know.

Fucking wondrous creations.

… Okay, he might still be a little jittery.

So sue him. It’s either run with his increasingly stupid train of thought or have a thoroughly justified panic about—well, there’s just so much to choose from: the ash in the air, the apparently sentient vines on the ground, how it’s so fucking cold and dark—

Jesus H. Christ, calm down.

It’s not all that dark anyway—or at least, it’s not as dark as it could be. Steve’s lighting the way, flashlight in hand. Honestly, Eddie thinks he should get it preserved, like in one of those glass cabinets in museums, complete with a plaque: This bulb somehow survived a journey from the depths of a lake into an alternate dimension, and all for the low, low price of…

Well, Eddie doesn’t know how much it cost. He’ll workshop the whole plaque thing.

In his reverie, he stumbles carelessly, nearly pitching over right into Hive Mind territory.

“Ah, shit,” he whispers.

Steve’s hand must move because the light drifts over—ends up illuminating much more of Eddie’s path than Steve’s.

“Thanks,” Eddie says—glances sideways to find Steve already looking at him.

“Think I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Steve replies.

His hand flexes, as if he’d gone to twirl the flashlight before catching himself; Eddie has a very faint memory of Steve doing the same with pencils in class and fights a private smile.

“You gave me it,” Steve continues. “I would’ve just… gone right in without thinking.”

It’s said self-deprecatingly, but Eddie would argue that Steve’s impulsivity (his courage) is an admirable character trait, even if it sets his heart pounding.

His own problem is that he thinks too damn much, until the window of opportunity has almost been and gone.

He was the only one to hesitate before diving into the lake: he knows all too well how that could’ve made its way onto the increasingly long list of moments that haunt him.

He could’ve been too late, could’ve not found the Gate at all—and then, would only have been able to pathetically swim back to the kids and tell them that their heroes were gone.

The light skips onwards just a little, encourages Eddie to look up from his feet. He blinks a few times to try and adjust to the darkness looming ahead. There, the indistinct outline of trees, and he’s drawn back to a classroom again, to the soporific noise of chalk on a blackboard, to…

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

“The hell is that from?” Eddie wonders, and he doesn’t realise he’s also said the quote aloud until Steve speaks.

“S’a poem. Robert Frost.”

Eddie clicks his fingers. “See, that’s why you actually passed English.”

Steve rocks his hand back and forth, so-so.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Don’t play coy now, Harrington.”

“I’m not, I passed by the skin of my teeth, dude.” Steve looks into the distance as he walks, like he’s being drawn back to some place, too. “I was meant to, um, submit a portfolio thing, and I just… didn’t.”

“Like stories and shit?”

Steve smiles. “Mm-hmm, and shit. Poems, too.”

“So why didn’t you…?”

Steve just shrugs in reply so Eddie changes tack—rolls his eyes expansively, but only at himself.

“Fucking Frost. Ugh, why can I remember that shit now, but when a paper’s in front of me, it’s just…” Eddie mimes an explosion in the back of his head, gone.

“Well,” Steve says, chuckling, “if the, uh, lovely atmosphere of this place jogs your memory, we’ll make some time, get you to write an essay.” He grins at Eddie, teasing and charming in equal measure. “We’re nothing if not productive.”

“Sure, that’s one word for it.”

Joking aside, Eddie finds that the mention of school calms his heart somewhat: to think of the foreboding sights around him as part of a story. Maybe it’s a control thing, like his campaigns. Dress shit up, put a film on top, then you don’t have to look at it directly.

He suggests as such to Steve in a longwinded ramble, and gets a thoughtful look in response.

“Like the Shire? And Mordor?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Yeah, exactly.”

Steve nods slightly. The movement dislodges some particles in his hair—and yes, it helps, Eddie thinks, to believe it’s just freshly fallen snow.

“Yeah, that sorta never really worked for me?” Steve’s voice goes up at the end, almost apologetically, although for the life of him, Eddie can’t work out what he’s apologising for. “Like, when the kids ran with all the D&D stuff, the uh… analogy? Metaphor?”

Eddie gestures at himself with one hand, I failed English.

Steve laughs. “Yeah, whatever. Dustin and Lucas keep hashing that one out. Anyway, it didn’t exactly… help. Help me, I mean. Just made everything more…”

He sighs heavily.

Eddie thinks he understands. All his bullshit is just a veneer, after all: it doesn’t truly mask the fear.

“Hey, maybe you could give it a shot,” Steve adds. The light dances for a second, like he’s just barely resisted twirling the flashlight again.

“What?”

Steve smirks—juvenile, light-hearted, almost like he’s about to challenge Eddie at the school gym, like, bet you can’t make that shot from center court, Munson.

“You could write a poem. Make sense of…” Steve gestures around them.

“Harrington, as I keep reminding you, I failed English.”

“Yeah, so? I’ve heard Henderson go on about your campaigns, dude, s’not like they come from nothing.” Steve looks Eddie up and down in exaggerated scrutiny. “You look like the kinda guy who loves a theme.”

“Oh, really,” Eddie says flatly. He can’t hide his smile even if he tried.

“That’s what I thought, every time you’d come into class late: oh, here he is. The symbolism.”

“Jesus Christ, Harrington, shut up.” Eddie steps into Steve’s space just to shove him away (just to touch). He thinks that if he were to try his hand at poetry, it’d be horrendously self-indulgent—something about how he might not be the one holding a flashlight right now, but he’s certainly carrying a torch.

“I don’t work for free, Steve. You’ve gotta do one, too.”

“A poem for a poem, huh?” Steve says. “Sure. It’s a deal.”

And yeah, they might just be saying anything to pass the time. But Eddie chooses to believe otherwise; there’s still a pensive flicker in Steve’s eyes that makes him think he might just get lucky, that Steve might even dig up some old stuff from his abandoned portfolio.

It’s a nice thought—something to look forward to, at the end of all this.

He considers Steve, and even though he knows it’s not snow, he can’t help but turn the particles into flakes in his mind again, into something prettier, safe—almost as if Steve’s presence has softened the danger.

He wants to stop here, suddenly. Linger. It doesn’t make sense. But it feels like time is…

A gentle nudge—a warm elbow to his side.

“C’mon, daydreamer,” Steve says. “You can write down whatever you’re thinking later.”

Eddie snaps out of it with a breath of a chuckle, follows Steve’s light again. Keeps moving forward—past the ash, and the vines, and the trees.

The woods won’t be forever.

After all, he’s got promises to keep.

#oh the woods… they could’ve talked about so much #pre steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

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folkloresthings · 1 year ago

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in honour of us both going to uni tomorrow, i have a lil drabble request…fernando with a younger gf doing a degree 🫣 nando is my guilty pleasure ngl

EL ur a genius 🤍 my two fav things. also made her do a journalism degree because i’m doing a journalism degree so what

A WORLD AWAY. ❨ fernando alonso x reader ❩

“how’s your essay going?”

fernando’s soft spanish accent is muffled through the speaker of your phone, his face propped up on your desk next to your laptop. the glow of the screens and your newest candle illuminate your face in the top—right corner, hair scraped back and a large hoodie hanging on your shoulders. fernando still thinks you’re the most beautiful thing.

“not terrible,” you sigh, glancing at the word document that has laid untouched since your phone had rang thirty minutes ago. “need some more sources to fill it out a bit. i’ll probably have to stay up to finish it.”

“not too late,” fernando orders, brows raised. “you need your sleep.”

glancing at the clock, you mentally work out what time it is with him. he’d have only been up for a few hours, morning in singapore while it was night in london.

“yes sir,” you chuckle, sipping your lukewarm tea. “how do you feel for quali?”

the usual updates from your boyfriend pour in, and you know he could talk for hours about his job and the race. frankly, you’d let him. your degree was exhausting at the best of times, but you were in your final year now and with the deadline for your dissertation looming, the stress was piling on. fernando’s calls to rant about work or just dissect a race distracted you from your own responsibilities, even if it was just for a little while.

“go to sleep, mi amor. you look exhausted,” he sweetly worries, head titled adorably in the camera. “you can finish it tomorrow.”

“wanna talk to you, though,” you pout, already shutting your laptop and crawling under the covers of your bed. “i miss you.”

“i miss you too, cariño,” fernando murmurs. while the other wives and girlfriends jetted off to as many races as they could, your degree kept you far too busy to be able to visit fernando as much as you wanted to. you went to as many races as you could — but both of you felt the hardships of the distance.

“but you need to sleep. i’ll speak to you later, okay? i love you.”

“i love you too. goodnight.”

when you did get the chance to visit fernando at work, he was ecstatic. showing you off was his favourite thing to do, bragging about your academic achievements and whatever article you’d written most recently. it made a nice change to people asking, or not so subtly whispering, about the evident age gap.

you were almost twenty—four, fernando eighteen years your senior. it gained a lot of attention when you first went public, and still did two years into your relationship. you’d learned to deal with it, but you could always feel the eyes on you when you entered the paddock.

“don’t worry about them,” kika always told you, walking arm in arm to hospitality for a coffee. she had her own struggles, with her and pierre’s smaller, but still noticeable, age gap. “you love each other. that’s what matters.”

and, god, you did love fernando. watching him race, embedded in his element, he was easy to adore. when, every time he took him helmet off, he found your face in the crowd and sent you a wink.

“i’m so glad you could come,” your boyfriend mumbles in your ear when you hug him after the race, congratulating his impressive P5. it wasn’t podium, but you were proud no matter what. your chest seized as his words flew straight to your heart — you knew how much it meant to fernando to have someone there to support him, even with the tough facade he so often put on. you only wished you could be there more.

“a few more months and i’ll have graduated, then i’ll come to every race,” you tell him happily, lips squished where his hands press to each cheek. lingering forward, his soft lips fall on yours and kiss you adoringly. a thank you, everything he wasn’t very good at vocalising when he wanted to.

“i’m so proud of you,” fernando mumbles against your lips, hands heavy in your hair.

“i’m supposed to be the one telling you that.”

“i mean it, mi amor. you’ve been working so hard, and i know it’s not easy being with me. but i’m glad that you are,” fernando admits. your teeth find your bottom lip, willing it not to wobble as your eyes begin to sting with warmth. no matter what happened with the race, or your degree, or even the scandal of your relationship — you had each other.

#💌 ﹐ writings.#formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #fernando alonso blurb #fernando alonso fluff #fernando alonso drabble #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine

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bu-blegh-ost · 11 months ago

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A short essay about how Caspian is mathematically not a mole (ep. 115 spoilers) (and for the whole series for that matter)

Okay, alright guys, I saw your concerns. I saw it all, and you are right to be worried that your favourite blue wet man's blue and equally wet best friend may turn out to be a traitor. And so am I, trust me. Which is why I went through every single bit of Caspian's past I could dig out to create an unltimate timeline of his entire goddamn life to see it it'd be plausible for him to become a mole at any point in time and ultimately prove his innocence! If that's something you're interested in reading, then buckle up!

"Jay, you come from a division of soliders that were purposely put to infiltrate pirate crews, especially the new and upcoming ones. This is totally seperate from the Black-Ops situation that you learned about in the Stronghold. And you, in this book, can tell that there is a plant on Lizzie's crew."

This, of course is something I need to point out first. Whoever Lizzie's mole might be, they are not a doppelganger. They are not a clone, or Black-Ops, just a solider of the Navy, a person that must have gotten into the Navy via regular recruitment, be trained by them and then put into a spy division. Jay ofc had this entire process sped up, due to her grandma's influence, but no one other than her, especially an Undersea citizen, who would probably have to put in extra effort to be trusted given their shaky political situation few years back, would get the same treatment. What I'm trying to say, Caspian would need time, at least few years of training to become a mole they'd trust to infiltrate a crew, and not just any crew might I add. More on that later. Let's go back to his most early years for now. This is a fragment of episode 84 in which Caspian talks to Gillion abt his early life:

C: We all have family. I consider my life up here, this crew to be my found family. But my previous…tribe with the water genasi in the Undersea, where I was growing up…sort of in a [illegible]... remember me telling you about the outskirts? We um…was very nomadic, quite a, quite a peaceful, tranquil life, but it was always, you know…mixed with this life of poverty and my family wasn’t very…wouldn’t really have much but the water around us, and each other, I suppose, so uh…You know...I mean my mother didn’t make it past old age, and uh…

G: I’m sorry…

C: When my sister left the tribe, my father sort of fell into a depression of sorts and he stopped moving around. And when we stayed in one place, I was 18 or so, maybe 16, it was a while ago, and then…that’s when I left as well. Ventured to the Oversea, and um…and it’s history, so that’s my family. Not sure what they’re up to these days, I mean…I know my sister went to the capital, where you were.

G: Pirating is a pretty lucrative business, maybe if…we managed to find them or run into them, we can give something back, put them in a better situation.

C: …Well um…I mean this was 10-15, 10 to 12 to 15 years ago, quite some, quite some time, so I don’t even know if my father is alive still, I mean I don’t really have the desire to go back to the undersea, Gill.

G: Wha-why not?

C: Because I like my life up here. This is where I’m happy.

So, before we go to what all of that entails, one more quick crazy thing to mention: so, Caspian's sister is an Elder of the Undersea. Like for sure. This is confirmed by this part from ep. 79:

The Triton who you remember as the Elder Odolaf, who looks like he is about to speak, but is cut off by the water genasi, who has been doing a lot of talking thus far, who is Elder Celeste. They stand up and there is a familiarity that you notice now in their face. It’s like you have met them before, but not in the way that you know them because they are the Elder, but in a way that it’s like, they look like somebody you know. And she has sort of these uh, white tied-up like dreads that are tied up in like a bun and they come across the face and then one side is shaved. And there are beads and piercings in her hair, her ears are a little bit more sea elf-like in the way that they are pointed and they kind of like gradient into pink. They all kind of wear the same sort of ornate robes, though hers is more, I guess faded and like cut a bit, look a bit more warriorous, or like tribal, but still very well-made and professional.

Tribal clothing, a water genasi, that looks like someone Gillion saw before in the face. The only water genasi Gillion met after leaving the Undersea is Caspian. Elder Celeste is Caspian's sister. Wild. Anyway, not what we're here for, but I needed to mention that.

The crazier thing is that Caspian left to Oversea when he was 16-18, and it has been 10-15 years since then. That means Caspian is currently 26 at possible youngest, and 33 at his oldest, which was surprising to me, I did not imagine Caspian as a man in his 30s! But that's straight up facts, so holy shit, you know?

Okay, so I'm going to list a lot of small facts that determine a lot of ages in quick succession. I hope it's not gonna be too scary to look at, I'll simplify it all at the end. [Deep inhale]

Right now Gillion is 22. So when Caspian left the Undersea, Gillion was 12-7. Jay is 21 and Ava was 2 years older, same age as Lizzie. So Lizzie is 23 now. When Caspian left the Undersea, she was 13-8. Chip is 19, so Lizzie is 4 years older. Hole in the Sea happened when Chip was 9, so Lizzie was 13. So Caspian left the Undersea around the same time Lizzie crashed on the uninhabited island with Chey after the Hole.

It's a lot, I know, I know. So let me clear this up a little.

Hole in the sea was 10 years ago. Chip was 9, Lizzie was 13. 10 years ago Caspian was in the age between 16 and 23, and he left the Undersea when he was 16 or 18. So roughly at the same time the Black Sea happened, Caspian came to the surface for the first time.

(also pls note that we are talking in estimates, casue in ep. 36 Lizzie says she was 11 when the hole happened, but in ep. 101 she says she was the same age as Ava which by the power of math would put her at 13. Either way, somewhere around that age)

After that, Lizzie spend some time on an uninhabited island with Chey, the Black Rose cook, who sacrificed herself for Liz, so she could survive and died shortly after. We do not know how much time passed, but I assume no longer than few months, and after that she was saved by Captain Shadowbeard where she met Caspian. They were a part of Shadowbeard's crew, Caspian saved her from the massacre where Shadowbeard was killed, and then Lizzie went on to create her own crew, Grandberry Pirates with Caspian never leaving her for a second since he met her. That means that the only time Caspian could have joined the Navy would be RIGHT after he came to the Oversea for the first time, roughly at the same time Lizzie was stranded on an island, and in that short period of time (between Lizzie's crash on the island and her being found by Shadowbeard) he would have to find the time to be trusted and accepted by Navy, get trained specifically for infiltration AND infiltrate not anyones BUT FUCKING SHADOWBEARD'S SHIP. Not a NEW crew. A crew of one of the most legendary pirates on the sea. Cause before Lizzie, Caspian was Sadowbeard's crew member, and since then he never stopped being a pirate, so if he was a solider, he would have had to be one before Shadowbeard. And remeber what Grizzly said in 115: "Jay, you come from a division of soliders that were purposely put to infiltrate pirate crews, especially the new and upcoming ones."

Shadowbeard was not new. Not upcoming. He was dangerous and Navy must have had the balls of steal to send a rookie solider, which Caspian would have been at that point in time, to infiltrate him. The numbers say it's impossible. Guys, the numbers! They don't add up!

Anyway, so basically Caspian could not be a mole. He is not a new pirate, he was not a member of a fresh crew, becaue his pirate journey did not start with Lizzy, it started with Shadowbeard. Grandberry Pirates is a new crew, but Caspian is not a newbie in it. You know who is? Rudith. I mean what kind of doctor lets a bunch of rowdy pirates have a secret base under a place where sick and vulnerable rest??? Like ANY other place would have been better and more respectful! Also you know what's interesting? Gillion could heal these people with lay on hands easily, and yet the only thing Rudith did for them was give them potions that didn't seem to help and look after them on purely non-medical level. Bro didn't do shit. Like, why would you even become a doctor without having access to healing magic? The answer, you are not. You are a Navy solider in disguise.

Okay, okay, I'm done, that's all. If you got this far, you are a hero, thank you for reading this insanely long ramble, but that's kind of the conclusions that I came to, of course, any counter-theories and discussion in general is very much welcome! I'd love to hear your opinions! Love you guys, bye~

#jrwi riptide #just roll with it #jrwi #gillion jrwi #gillion tidestrider #caspian jrwi #jrwi caspian #elizabeth lafayette #lizzie jrwi #riptide spoilers #spoilers #jrwi spoilers

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fish-eat-fish · 1 year ago

Text

⋆ Gwen x f!reader ⋆ Sleep ⋆

request: @hyunslvvr can u pls do one for f!reader x gwen where they have a day in and they just stay in bed:)

tags: fluff, comfort, wlw, cuddling

word count: 2.1k

a/n: im paving away at requests rn, this one had me kicking my feet i LOVE gwen stacy _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR REQUESTING FOR HER, another one for the gays <3

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Un unbelievable stack of homework and two essays due. You couldn’t believe it. The sunlight beamed through your window and shined onto your desk, papers covering its surface as you tiredly scribbled on your assignment papers. Friday night and you had nothing better to do than weekend homework, how miserable. You sighed, tapping mindlessly on your desk when a buzz from your phone interrupted you. Picking it up, you smiled seeing it was Gwen.

It read, “on the way, open ur window!”

You sighed at the words, setting down your pencil and getting up out of your chair to unlock your window. Gwen had a bad habit of breaking in when she wanted to. You’d already assured her your family was okay with her visiting, preferably through the front door. But she always insisted that it was easier this way. Socializing seemed to sometimes stress her out you noticed.

Unlocking your window with a click, you raised it open, taking a nice breather as cold air blew in. The sunset was particularly nice today, and you didn’t quite mind seeing your favorite person right now. Sitting on your bed, you spiffed up your room for Gwen, making the bed and cleaning your cluttered desk. Just as you were about to exit your room to go and grab some snacks, a few knocks on your window sill signaled that your girlfriend had arrived. You turned around and beamed.

“Hey, sorry for the late notice.” She apologized, sitting on your window sill and climbing down from it. Taking off her white mask, Gwen sat down on your bed, crashing down on it. Until she rose up again.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Thank you for remembering.” You teased. Watching her take off her beaten-up shoes, and carefully placing them near the window on the floor. She let out a huff, flopping back onto your bed. Gwen’s suit was a little damaged and scratched. She looked tired.

“I’m not keeping you from anything, am I…?” She asked. It was obvious that she felt guilty about her visit. But you’d reassured her many times before that your room was always available to her whenever she wanted. And so was your company.

Eyeing the homework on your desk, you declared your study session over. It didn’t matter all that much compared to hanging out with her. “Nope. I’m glad you dropped by actually, I was getting bored.” You explained, looking at Gwen as she folded her legs up on your bed. Gwen awkwardly rubbed her arm as she looked around the room.

“So…”

“Yes.”

She raised her eyebrow, “You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

Rolling your eyes, you responded, “Yes you can sleep over. I don’t mind.”

Gwen smiled at you, relieved. You leaned back against your desk, “I’m glad you’re here.”

She smirked, “What, you missed me?”

“Actually I did, yeah.”

Looking at Gwen, you figured that she didn’t have the best day today, being a crime fighting hero and all. Walking up to her and leaning down, you placed a hand on her cheek and gave her face a quick kiss. She chuckled and peered up at you. You held onto her cheek momentarily, “I’m gonna go and get us some snacks. Have you eaten anything today?”

“Oh uh, I haven’t had the chance yet.”

“Gwen.” You said, sternly.

“I just had to go to band practice, then there was some jerk downtown and-” She spoke quietly, her voice dying down as you stared at her, an irritated look on your face. Gwen sighed and grabbed the back of her neck, her hair falling down to hide her guilty expression.

“Sorry…”

You sighed, smiling at her nonetheless, “I’m gonna go make us some food. Stay put Spider.” Gwen grinned at you, watching you walk out of the room. She took a deep breath, lying down as she observed your room like she always did. She loved the comfort you and your space brought her. Your room was decorated with posters and fairy lights.

Gwen looked around, deciding that she should probably change. It was an unspoken ritual for Gwen to pick out something from your closet. You’d let her do it once, for a sleepover. But ever since, she’d found routine in picking out an outfit of yours for her to wear and potentially keep if given permission.

She walked up to your closet, finding a pair of pajama pants and an oversized tee. She slipped it on as she changed out of her spider suit, carefully tucking it away to where it was out of sight. Just in case. Gwen tugged the shirt towards her face, taking in your scent. Her senses were filled with just you, as she felt at ease.

Walking over to your bed, she noticed a new photo in your little collage of Polaroids. It was from your last hangout. “The Mary Janes Concert–October.” In it, Gwen was holding you by the waist, her drumsticks clasped in her hand. Your arm held her cheek for a kiss, whilst the other held up Gwen’s Polaroid camera. Gwen was laughing as she looked in your direction, feeling proud of your praise of her performance.

That night your throat was so raspy from cheering for her, and Gwen felt absolutely ecstatic as you tackled her after the concert. She was happy to introduce you to her band members after, grabbing you by the hand and speaking with pride to announce you as her one and only girlfriend.

Gwen stared at the Polaroid, taking it in. She smiled and reached out, touching the photo. Moments like these felt surreal, and being reminded that someone as amazing as you were willing to stick by her and be in her life, made her woozy. Gwen loved you a lot.

The door cranked open as you walked in, a plate of sandwiches in one hand, and a mug of freshly brewed tea in your other. You set down the food on your nightstand, glancing at Gwen as she took her hand away from the Polaroid hung up above your bed. You observed her, obsessed with the way she looked in your clothes.

“Being nosy again?”

“Just lookin’ around.” She shrugged, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear.

You sat down next to her, the bed shifting under your weight. You held out the plate towards her, to which she gratefully accepted. Gwen dug in right away, mumbling incoherent words as she ate. You laughed at this, “I can’t understand you when your chewing, you know that right?” Gwen swallowed her bite and smiled at you, gesturing to her sandwich.

“This is seriously good. I’ll never get tired of your food.”

“Glad you like it.” You grabbed the mug off of the nightstand, passing it to her as she finished the last bite of her sandwich. Chamomile is Gwen’s favorite. You’d made an effort to always keep it in stock for her since she liked to crash at yours a lot. Gwen took it carefully in her hands, blowing on the tea to cool it down.

You grabbed a pillow off of your bed and hugged it to your chest, just quietly watching Gwen as she drank her tea. You gently smiled, as she seemed a little bit more energized now. Grabbing your own mug from the nightstand, you drank it quickly, uncaring of how cold it had gotten. Putting the mug down, you patted the bed. Gwen looked up at you curiously.

“I’m a little tired today, do you wanna…?”

Her eyes widened as she lowered her mug.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind.” She smiled at your offer, shifting off of the bed, and placing her tea on your nightstand. She lifted the covers off of your bed, carefully moving the pillows and occasional stuffed animals off to the side to make room. As Gwen got into the bed, you turned off your main light, allowing the darkness to consume your room. The sun had set long ago now, and it was time to wind down. You walked up to your fairy lights, switching them on so that only gentle orange light illuminated your room.

Carefully stepping over to your bed, you got in, placing the covers over yourself, noting how you were much colder before. The warmth of your covers had you snuggling into them deeper. You glanced over at Gwen, who looked a little unsure of what to do with herself. You two were still kind of new to the whole cuddling thing. It’d taken a long while for Gwen to be comfortable with physical contact like that on top of that. She let out a small laugh as you snaked your arm around her as you faced her.

“What?” You asked, curious of her amusement.

“I don’t think this position is natural for you.” She teased, noting how awkward your arm felt around her torso. Your body was also pretty stiff. Gwen’s face was gently glowing due to the string lights, her blonde hair fell down into her face as she shifted her body to face towards you. So much for being big spoon tonight.

There was a quick silence between the two of you. Your face was comfortably above the covers, whilst Gwen pulled them up to cover her exposed skin. Her heart was racing, as usual. She’d never gotten used to intimate moments like this, and she’d decided that she’d never get used to it. You made her nervous in all the good ways.

Gwen peered at you, the covers pulled up to half of her face. Nothing was said between the two of you. Leaning in closer, you gently moved her blonde hair out of her eyes. Talking no louder than a whisper, you spoke, “Your hair, I think the pink is fading, you should…”

Gwen shuffled, reaching out and grabbing your collar, pulling you closer to her. Her hair tickled your face as she hovered her face near yours, before carefully connecting her lips with yours. It was quick but intimate. And if not for the dark, Gwen would have definitely taken the opportunity to comment on the rising red on your cheeks. She pulled away, not completely leaving the kiss as her lips brushed over yours. And yet just like that it was over.

She cleared her throat as you lay there speechless, she glanced at your eyes through the dim room, avoiding eye contact as much as possible.

“We should probably sleep now. It’s getting… late.” She blurted. That statement was probably wrong, but you nodded anyways. Gwen’s internal alarms went off, as she criticized her judgment. That took a lot of courage, but she didn’t want you to know. Laying beside her, you stared at Gwen in awe and adoration. You loved this girl so much it was unbelievable.

“Fine.” You sighed. Gwen eyed you questioningly.

“Go on.” You said defeatedly. Gwen laughed at your words, smirking as she saw your expression.

“Finally.” She teased.

Turning over to the other side, you felt her cold hands wrap around your torso, pulling you in closer. Your bodies were snug against each other. Still being wide awake, you hoped Gwen didn’t feel your thumping heart as her hand was placed on your torso. She definitely did notice of course, but she was nervous too, hiding her face in your shirt.

You both lay there, nervous and awkward, as it was usually in the beginning stages of a relationship. You felt her move your fingers, playing with them.

“I think you’re the most amazing girl I know.” She spoke softly, into your back. Your heart fluttered at this. At Gwen’s voice, and the way she gave you affection.

“I love you,” you whispered out.

Gwen only smiled as she planted a soft kiss into your shoulder.

“I love you too.”

Yawning, Gwen mumbled something into your shirt, unable to really keep her eyes open any longer. You hummed, questioning what she said. But she didn’t reply. You’d finally calmed down, letting the comfort of the covers and Gwen’s warmth ease your mind. The city’s ambiance seeped into your room through the open window as you let your mind wander. Gwen’s breathing slowed down, her head placed on your back.

Readjusting yourself and the covers by pulling them up, you froze as Gwen stirred in her sleep. Cautiously, you pulled part of the covers over her. Gwen held onto your torso tighter and moved her face into your neck, her breathing tickling your skin. Holding her hand, you caressed her skin. Her hands were rough and calloused, evidence of her skills as a drummer.

Feeling Gwen twitch in her sleep, she subconsciously intertwined her fingers with yours. The only thing you could remember was Gwen’s touch as you dozed off. Gwen may have needed your comfort and presence the most after every day as Ghost-Spider, but she’d never understand that you needed her more than you let on.

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#across the spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse fanfic #gwen stacy x you #gwen stacy x reader #gwen stacy x y/n #female reader #wlw fanfic #atsv gwen #atsv x reader

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hopelesslys-world · 1 year ago

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50 SHADES OF FUCKED UP | CH. 1

Pairing: Christian Grey x innocent!reader

TRIGGER WARNINGS!: TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, reader is kind of a bimbo, heavily detailed smut, basically porn, loss of virginity, harsh language, anger issues, stalking, obsession, jealousy, controlling behaviour, DOM-SUB themes, BDSM Expand considered to be portrayed with incorrect/poor etiquette, emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse/assault, statutory rape.

Tell me if I missed anything...( As you can see most of the warnings will appear in future chapters. )

I apologize for any grammar mistakes...

Y/M/N: Your Middle Name

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

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*𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙋𝙊𝙑*

┅┅

𝐈 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐈𝐍 the reflection of the mirror. Damn my hair—it just won’t behave! And also damn Isabella Clark for being ill and subjecting me to this ordeal. I should be studying for my final exams, which are next week, yet here I am trying to brush my hair into submission.

I must not sleep with it wet. I must not sleep with it wet. Reciting this mantra several times, I attempt, once more, to bring it under control with the brush. I roll my eyes in exasperation and gaze at my reflection in the mirror, you blow dry your hair into oblivion and with the help of some hairspray you managed to put your soft curls into place.

Now you finally look somewhat presentable.

Bella is my roommate, and she has chosen today of all days to succumb to the flu. Therefore, she cannot attend the interview she’d arranged to do, with some mega-industrialist tycoon I’ve never heard of, for the student newspaper. So I have been volunteered.

I have final exams to cram for, one essay to finish, and I’m supposed to be working this afternoon, but no–today I have to drive a hundred and sixty-five miles to downtown Seattle in order to meet the enigmatic CEO of Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

As an exceptional entrepreneur and major benefactor of our University, his time is extraordinarily precious—much more precious than mine–but he has granted Bella an interview. A real coup, she tells me.

Damn her extra-curricular activities.

Bella is huddled on the couch in the living room. “Y/N, I’m sorry. It took me nine months to get this interview. It will take another six to reschedule, and we’ll both have graduated by then. As the editor, I can’t blow this off. Please,” Bella begs me in her rasping, sore throat voice.

How does she do it? Even ill she looks gamine and gorgeous, strawberry blonde hair in place and green eyes bright, although now red-rimmed and runny. I ignore my pang of unwelcome sympathy.

“Of course I’ll go Bella. You should get back to bed. Would you like some Nyquil or Tylenol?”

“Nyquil, please. Here are the questions and my mini-disc recorder. Just press record here. Make notes, I’ll transcribe it all.”

“I know nothing about him,” I murmur, trying and failing to suppress my rising panic.

“The questions will see you through. Go. It’s a long drive. I don’t want you to be late.”

“Okay, I’m going. Get back to bed. I made you some soup to heat up later.” I stare at her fondly. Only for you, Bella, would I do this.

“I will. Good luck. And thanks Y/N/N – as usual, you’re my lifesaver.”

Gathering my things, I smile wryly at her, then head out the door to the car. I cannot believe I have let Bella talk me into this. But then Bella can talk anyone into anything.

She’ll make an exceptional journalist. She’s articulate, strong, persuasive, argumentative, beautiful – and she’s my dearest, dearest friend.

The roads are clear as I set off from Vancouver, WA toward Portland and the I-5. It’s early, and I don’t have to be in Seattle until two this afternoon. Fortunately, Bella’s lent me her sporty Mercedes CLK.

I’m not sure Wanda, my old VW Beetle, would make the journey in time. Oh, the Mercedes is a fun drive, and the miles slip away as I floor the pedal to the metal.

My destination is the headquarters of Mr. Grey’s global enterprise. It’s a huge twenty-story office building, all curved glass and steel, an architect’s utilitarian fantasy, with Grey House written discreetly in steel over the glass front doors.

It’s a quarter to two when I arrive, greatly relieved that I’m not late as I walk into the enormous – and frankly intimidating – glass, steel, and white sandstone lobby.

Behind the solid sandstone desk, a very attractive, groomed, blonde young woman smiles pleasantly at me. She’s wearing the sharpest charcoal suit jacket and white shirt I have ever seen. She looks immaculate.

“I’m here to see Mr. Grey. Y/N Y/L/N for Isabella Clark.”

“Excuse me one moment, Miss Y/L/N.” She arches her eyebrow slightly as I stand self-consciously before her. I am beginning to wish I’d borrowed one of Bella’s formal blazers.

My outfit definitely didn't suit for something like this, but at the same time I've neve done anything like this.

I love my skirts, basically all of my closet is filled with skirts, dresses, sweaters and the occasional jeans and formal pants.

For me, this is smart. I tuck one of the escaped tendrils of my hair behind my ear as I pretend she doesn’t intimidate me.

“Miss Clark is expected. Please sign in here, Miss Y/L/N. You’ll want the last elevator on the right, press for the twentieth floor.” She smiles kindly at me, amused no doubt, as I sign in.

She hands me a security pass that has VISITOR very firmly stamped on the front. I can’t help my smirk. Surely it’s obvious that I’m just visiting. I don’t fit in here at all. Nothing changes, I inwardly sigh. Thanking her, I walk over to the bank of elevators pastthe two security men who are both far more smartly dressed than I am in their well-cut black suits.

The elevator whisks me with terminal velocity to the twentieth floor. The doors slide open, and I’m in another large lobby – again all glass, steel, and white sandstone. I’m confronted by another desk of sandstone and another young blonde woman dressed impeccably in black and white who rises to greet me.

“Miss Y/L/N, could you wait here, please?” She points to a seated area of white leather chairs.

Behind the leather chairs is a spacious glass-walled meeting room with an equally spacious dark wood table and at least twenty matching chairs around it. Beyond that, there is a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the Seattle skyline that looks out through the city toward the Sound. It’s a stunning vista, and I’m momentarily paralyzed by the view. Wow.

I sit down, fish the questions from my bag, and go through them, inwardly cursing Bella for not providing me with a brief biography. I know nothing about this man I’m about to interview. He could be ninety or he could be thirty.

The uncertainty is galling, and my nerves resurface, making me fidget. I’ve never been comfortable with one-on-one interviews, preferring the anonymity of a group discussion where I can sit inconspicuously at the back of the room. To be honest, I prefer my own company, reading a classic British novel, curled up in a chair in the campus library. Not sitting twitching nervously in a colossal glass and stone edifice.

I roll my eyes at myself. Get a grip, Y/N. Judging from the building, which is too clinical and modern, I guess Grey is in his forties: fit, tanned, and fair-haired to match the rest of the personnel.

Another elegant, flawlessly dressed blonde comes out of a large door to the right. What is it with all the immaculate blondes? It’s like Stepford here.

Taking a deep breath, I stand up.

“Miss Y/L/N?” the latest blonde asks.

“Yes,” I croak, and clear my throat. “Yes.” There, that sounded more confident.

“Mr. Grey will see you in a moment. May I take your coat?”

“Oh please.” I struggle out of the long black coat.

“Have you been offered any refreshment?”

“Um – no.”

Oh dear, is Blonde Number One in trouble?

Blonde Number Two frowns and eyes the young woman at the desk.

“Would you like tea, coffee, water?” she asks, turning her attention back to me.

“A glass of water. Thank you,” I murmur.

“Olivia, please fetch Miss Y/L/N a glass of water.” Her voice is stern. Olivia scoots up immediately and scurries to a door on the other side of the foyer.

“My apologies, Miss Y/L/N, Olivia is our new intern. Please be seated. Mr. Grey will be another five minutes.”

Olivia returns with a glass of iced water.

“Here you go, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Thank you.”

Blonde Number Two marches over to the large desk, her heels clicking and echoing on the sandstone floor. She sits down, and they both continue their work.

Perhaps Mr. Grey insists on all his employees being blonde. I’m wondering idly if that’s legal, when the office door opens and a tall, elegantly dressed, attractive man with short dreads exits. I have definitely worn the wrong clothes.

He turns and says through the door. “Golf, this week, Grey.”

I don’t hear the reply. He turns, sees me, and smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. Olivia has jumped up and called the elevator. She seems to excel at jumping from her seat. She’s more nervous than me!

“Good afternoon ladies,” he says as he departs through the sliding door.

“Mr. Grey will see you now, Miss Y/L/N. Do go through,” Blonde Number Two says.

I stand rather shakily trying to suppress my nerves. Gathering up my bag, I abandon my glass of water and make my way to the partially open door.

“You don’t need to knock – just go in.” She smiles kindly.

I push open the door and stumble through the impressively giant office. I notice a man his face hidden behind the computer. But in a moment he raises his head and approaches me.

That's when I see his face.

Holy Cow, his young nothing like I'd imagined him.

“Miss Clark” He extends a long-fingered hand to me. “I’m Christian Grey.”

So young – and attractive, very attractive. He’s tall, dressed in a fine gray suit, white shirt, and black tie with unruly dark copper colored hair and intense, bright gray eyes that regard me shrewdly. It takes a moment for me to find my voice.

“Um. Actually–” I mutter. If this guy is over thirty then I’m a monkey’s uncle. In a daze, I place my hand in his and we shake. As our fingers touch, I feel an odd exhilarating shiver run through me. I withdraw my hand hastily, embarrassed. Must be static.

I blink rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate. “Miss Clark is indisposed, so she sent me. I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Grey.”

“And you are?” His voice is warm, possibly amused, but it’s difficult to tell from his impassive expression. He looks mildly interested, but above all, polite.

“Y/N Y/L/N. I’m studying English Literature with Bella, um… Isabella… um… Miss Clark at Washington State.”

“I see,” he says simply. I think I see the ghost of a smile in his expression, but I’m not sure.

“Would you like to sit?” He waves me toward a white leather buttoned L-shaped couch.

His office is way too big for just one man. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, there’s a huge modern dark-wood desk that six people could comfortably eat around. It matches the coffee table by the couch. Everything else is white – ceiling, floors, and walls except, on the wall by the door, where a mosaic of small paintings hang, thirty-six of them arranged in a square. They are exquisite – a series of mundane, forgotten objects painted in such precise detail they look like photographs. Displayed together, they are breathtaking.

“A local artist. Trouton,” says Grey when he catches my gaze.

“They’re lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary,” I murmur, distracted both by him and the paintings. He cocks his head to one side and regards me intently.

“I couldn’t agree more, Miss Y/L/N,” he replies, his voice soft and for some inexplicable reason I find myself blushing.

Apart from the paintings, the rest of the office is cold, clean, and clinical. I wonder if it reflects the personality of the person who sinks gracefully into one of the white leather chairs opposite me. I shake my head, disturbed at the direction of my thoughts, and retrieve Bella’s questions from my bag.

Next, I set up the mini-disc recorder and am all fingers and thumbs, dropping it twice on the coffee table in front of me. Mr. Grey says nothing, waiting patiently – I hope – as I become increasingly embarrassed and flustered. When I pluck up the courage to look at him, he’s watching me, one hand relaxed in his lap and the other cupping his chin and trailing his long index finger across his lips. I think he’s trying to suppress a smile.

“Sorry,” I stutter. “I’m not used to this.”

“Take all the time you need, Miss Y/L/N,” he says.

“Do you mind if I record your answers?”

“After you’ve taken so much trouble to set up the recorder – you ask me now?”

I flush. He’s teasing me? I hope. I smile shyly, unsure what to say, and I think he takes pity on me because he relents. “No, I don’t mind.”

“Did Bella, I mean, Miss Clark, explain what the interview was for?”

“Yes. To appear in the graduation issue of the student newspaper as I shall be conferring the degrees at this year’s graduation ceremony.”

Oh! This is news to me, and I’m temporarily pre-occupied by the thought that someone not much older than me – okay, maybe six years or so, and okay, mega successful, but still – is going to present me with my degree.

I frown, dragging my wayward attention back to the task at hand.

“Good,” I swallow nervously. “I have some questions, Mr. Grey.” I smooth a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

“I thought you might,” he says, deadpan. He’s laughing at me. My cheeks heat at the realization, and I sit up and square my shoulders in an attempt to look taller and more intimidating. Pressing the start button on the recorder, I try to look professional.

“You’re very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?” I glance up at him. His smile is rueful, but he looks vaguely disappointed.

“Business is all about people, Miss Y/L/N, and I’m very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn’t, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well.” He pauses and fixes me with his gray stare.

“My belief is to achieve success in any scheme one has to make oneself master of that scheme, know it inside and out, know every detail. I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot and nurture a good solid idea and good people. The bottom line is, it’s always down to good people.”

“Maybe you’re just lucky.” This isn’t on Bella’s list – but he’s so arrogant. His eyes flare momentarily in surprise.

“I don’t subscribe to luck or chance, Miss Y/L/N. The harder I work the more luck I seem to have. It really is all about having the right people on your team and directing theirenergies accordingly. I think it was Harvey Firestone who said ‘the growth and development of people is the highest calling of leadership.’ ”

“You sound like a control freak.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“Oh, I exercise control in all things, Miss Y/L/N,” he says without a trace of humor in his smile. I look at him, and he holds my gaze steadily, impassive. My heartbeat quickens, and my face flushes again.

Why does he have such an unnerving effect on me? His overwhelming good-looks maybe? The way his eyes blaze at me? The way he strokes his index finger against his lower lip? I wish he’d stop doing that.

“Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things,” he continues, his voice soft.

“Do you feel that you have immense power?” Control Freak.

“I employ over forty thousand people Miss Y/L/N. That gives me a certain sense of responsibility – power, if you will. If I were to decide I was no longer interested in the telecommunications business and sell up, twenty thousand people would struggle to make their mortgage payments after a month or so.”

My mouth drops open. I am staggered by his lack of humility. “Don’t you have a board to answer to?” I ask, disgusted.

“I own my company. I don’t have to answer to a board.” He raises an eyebrow at me.

I flush. Of course, I would know this if I had done some research. But holy crap, he’s so arrogant. I change tack.

“And do you have any interests outside your work?”

“I have varied interests, Miss Y/L/N.” A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Very varied.”

And for some reason, I’m confounded and heated by his steady gaze. His eyes are alight with some wicked thought.

“But if you work so hard, what do you do to chill out?”

“Chill out?” He smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. I stop breathing. He really is beautiful. No one should be this good-looking.

“Well, to ‘chill out’ as you put it – I sail, I fly, I indulge in various physical pursuits.”

He shifts in his chair. “I’m a very wealthy man, Miss Y/L/N, and I have expensive and absorbing hobbies.”

I glance quickly at Bella’s questions, wanting to get off this subject.

“You invest in manufacturing. Why, specifically?” I ask. Why does he make me so uncomfortable?

“I like to build things. I like to know how things work: what makes things tick, how to construct and deconstruct. And I have a love of ships. What can I say?”

“That sounds like your heart talking rather than logic and facts.”

His mouth quirks up, and he stares appraisingly at me. “Possibly. Though there are people who’d say I don’t have a heart.”

“Why would they say that?” I ask, intrigued by that information.

“Because they know me well.” His lip curls in a wry smile.

“Would your friends say you’re easy to get to know?” And I regret the question as soon as I say it. It’s not on Bella’s list.

“I’m a very private person, Miss Y/L/N. I go a long way to protect my privacy. I don’t often give interviews,” he trails off.

“Why did you agree to do this one?”

“Because I’m a benefactor of the University, and for all intents and purposes, I couldn’t get Miss Clark off my back. She badgered and badgered my PR people, and I admire that kind of tenacity.”

I know how tenacious Bella can be. That’s why I’m sitting here squirming uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze, when I should be studying for my exams.

“You also invest in farming technologies. Why are you interested in this area?”

“We can’t eat money, Miss Y/L/N, and there are too many people on this planet who don’t have enough to eat.”

“That sounds very philanthropic. Is it something you feel passionately about? Feeding the world’s poor?”

He shrugs, very non-committal. “It’s shrewd business,” he shrugs, though I think he’s being disingenuous. It doesn’t make sense – feeding the world’s poor? I can’t see the financial benefits of this, only the virtue of the ideal. I glance at the next question, confused by his attitude.

“Do you have a philosophy? If so, what is it?”

“I don’t have a philosophy as such. Maybe a guiding principle. I’m very singular, driven. I like control – of myself and those around me.”

“So you want to possess things?” You are a control freak.

“I want to deserve to possess them, but yes, bottom line, I do.”

“You sound like the ultimate consumer.”

“I am.” He smiles, but the smile doesn’t touch his eyes. Again this is at odds with someone who wants to feed the world, so I can’t help thinking that we’re talking about something else, but I’m absolutely mystified as to what it is. I swallow hard. The temperature in the room is rising or maybe it’s just me. I just want this interview to be over.

Surely Bella has enough material now? I glance at the next question.“You were adopted. How far do you think that’s shaped the way you are?”

Oh, this is personal. I stare at him, hoping he’s not offended. His brow furrows. “I have no way of knowing.”

My interest is piqued.

“How old were you when you were adopted?”

“That’s a matter of public record, Miss Y/L/N.” His tone is stern. I flush, again. Crap.

Yes of course – if I’d known I was doing this interview, I would have done some research. I move on quickly.

“You’ve had to sacrifice a family life for your work.”

“That’s not a question.” He’s terse.

“Sorry.” I squirm, and he’s made me feel like an errant child. I try again. “Have you had to sacrifice a family life for your work?”

“I have a family. I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents. I’m not interested in extending my family beyond that.”

“Are you gay, Mr. Grey?”

He inhales sharply, and I cringe, mortified. Shoot. Why didn’t I employ some kind of filter before I read this straight out? How can I tell him I’m just reading the questions?

Damn Bella and her curiosity!

“No Y/N, I’m not.” He raises his eyebrows, a cool gleam in his eyes. He does

not look pleased.

“I apologize. It’s um… written here.” It’s the first time he’s said my name. My heartbeat has accelerated, and my cheeks are heating up again. Nervously, I tuck my loosened hair behind my ear.

He cocks his head to one side.

“These aren’t your own questions?”

The blood drains from my head. Oh no.

“Err… no. Bella – Miss Clark – she compiled the questions.”

“Are you colleagues on the student paper?”

I have nothing to do with the student paper. It’s her extra-curricular activity, not mine. My face is aflame. “No. She’s my roommate.”

He rubs his chin in quiet deliberation, his gray eyes appraising me. “Did you volunteer to do this interview?” he asks, his voice deadly quiet.

Hang on, who’s supposed to be interviewing whom? His eyes burn into me, and I’m compelled to answer with the truth.

“I was drafted. She’s not well.” My voice is weak and apologetic.

“That explains a great deal.”

There’s a knock at the door, and Blonde Number Two enters. “Mr. Grey, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting is in two minutes.”

“We’re not finished here, Andrea. Please cancel my next meeting.”

Andrea hesitates, gaping at him. She’s appears lost. He turns his head slowly to face her and raises his eyebrows. She flushes bright pink. Oh good. It’s not just me.

“Very well, Mr. Grey,” she mutters, then exits. He frowns, and turns his attention back to me.

“Where were we, Miss Y/L/N?”

Oh, we’re back to ‘Miss Y/L/N’ now.

“Please don’t let me keep you from anything.”

“I want to know about you. I think that’s only fair.” His gray eyes are alight with curiosity.

Where’s he going with this? He places his elbows on the arms of the chair and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. His mouth is very… distracting. I swallow.

“There’s not much to know,” I say, flushing again.

“What are your plans after you graduate?”

I shrug, thrown by his interest. Come to Seattle with Bella, find a place, find a job. I haven’t really thought beyond my finals.

“I haven’t made any plans, Mr. Grey. I just need to get through my final exams.”

Which I should be studying for now rather than sitting in your palatial, swanky, sterile office, feeling uncomfortable under your penetrating gaze. “We run an excellent internship program here,” he says quietly.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Is he offering me a job? “Oh. I’ll bear that in mind,” I answer, completely confounded. “Though I’m not sure I’d fit in here.”

Oh no. I’m musing out loud again.

“Why do you say that?” He cocks his head to one side, intrigued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” I’m uncoordinated, scruffy, and I’m not blonde.

“Not to me,” he murmurs. His gaze is intense, all humor gone, and strange muscles deep in my belly clench suddenly. I tear my eyes away from his scrutiny and stare blindly down at my knotted fingers.

What’s going on? I have to go – now. I lean forward to retrieve the recorder.

“Would you like me to show you around?” he asks.

“I’m sure you’re far too busy, Mr. Grey, and I do have a long drive.”

“You’re driving back to WSU in Vancouver?” He sounds surprised, anxious even. He glances out of the window. It’s begun to rain. “Well, you’d better drive carefully.” His tone is stern, authoritative.

Why should he care? “Did you get everything you need?” he adds.

“Yes sir,” I reply, packing the recorder into my bag. His eyes narrow, speculatively.

“Thank you for the interview, Mr. Grey.”

“The pleasure’s been all mine,” he says, polite as ever.

As I rise, he stands and holds out his hand.

“Until we meet again, Miss Y/L/N.” And it sounds like a challenge, or a threat, I’m not sure which. I frown.

When will we ever meet again? I shake his hand once more, astounded that that odd current between us is still there. It must be my nerves.

“Mr. Grey.” I nod at him. Moving with lithe athletic grace to the door, he opens it wide.

“Allow me to escort you outside.” He gives me a small smile.

He's so polite now.

“Sure, Mr. Grey,” I smile, and his smile widens. Together, we walk into the foyer. Andrea and Olivia both look up, equally surprised.

“Did you have a coat?” Grey asks.

“Yes.” Olivia leaps up and retrieves my black, which Grey takes from her before she can hand it to me. He holds it up and, feeling ridiculously self-conscious, I shrug it on.

Grey places his hands for a moment on my shoulders. I gasp at the contact. If he notices my reaction, he gives nothing away. His long index finger presses the button summoning the elevator, and we stand waiting – awkwardly on my part, coolly self-possessed on his.

The doors open, and I hurry in desperate to escape. I really need to get out of here. When I turn to look at him, he’s leaning against the doorway beside the elevator with one hand on the wall. He really is very, very good-looking. It’s distracting. His burning gray eyes gaze at me.

“Y/N,” he says as a farewell.

“Christian,” I reply. And mercifully, the doors close.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[ series masterlist ]

DON'T BE AFRAID TO SPAM WITH LIKES AND COMMENTS. I WOULD ALSO APPRECIATE IT IF YOU COULD REBLOG THIS POST <3

#christian grey x you #christian grey #christian grey x reader #Christian Grey x yn #Christian Grey fanfic #series #jamie dornan #50 shades of gray #smut #christian grey smut

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l0ve-bug-m1les · 1 year ago

Note

Miles Morales x Male reader

When the reader has dyslexia and has trouble with spelling certain words or just forget how to spell the most simplest words ever gets insecure about their learning disability and then falls into a depressive episode (which is just them distancing themselves from other (Miles) for weeks)

First off please let me know if i got some things wrong. I myself don’t have dyslexia, so please correct me on anything. And I hope you’re okay if you’re feeling this way. Sending love and Miles Morales your way! <33 But seriously if you need to talk I’m here, okay? I hope you enjoy!

————

Distence Distance

Miles Morales x Male!Reader

Summary: When it has once again been made apparent spelling isn’t your strong suit, your mind spirals out of your own control.

Warnings: Swearing

Your brow furrowed. Is it tom—orrow? Or tom—morrow? This shouldn’t be this hard. It’s a word. A simple word. But despite your best efforts, you can’t get it. Defeated, you lean over and quietly tap your finger Miles’ arm. He knows about your dyslexia, and helps you whenever things get a little tough. He’s never made fun of you, and has never acted like he was annoyed with you asking him how to spell things. This is quite a common occurrence, but recently, nothing seems to click. It can go from constantly spelling a word wrong, to forgetting how to spell completely. Miles tells you all the time to not worry about it, but what does he know! He doesn’t ask his boyfriend how to spell tomorrow every night!

"Hm? Oh, what’s up?” He looks at you, finishing whatever word he was writing. Your finger drags over to the roadblock on your paper as you mumble a small “Is this right?” Miles takes a look at your paper for a moment before softly shaking his head. “Ah, no, there’s only one m,” your shoulders slump, “but—uh—everything else was right!” His hands wave a little bit, trying to cheer you up. His eyes dart over you, searching for a reaction. A breath escapes your lips as you quietly thank him.

———

A few weeks later, Miles is proofreading your science paper. He’s got a red pen, and is occasionally writing his thoughts or correcting something. That’s to be expected, essays are about trial and error so of course it’s not gonna be perfect on the first try. What you don’t expect, is to find the pages covered with spelling corrections. You can’t even keep up with how many there are on the first page. As you look through, all you can see is what you got wrong. “Replace the i with an e”, “Erosion has one r”, “Con-VEC-tion, there’s a c”, “Don’t forget the—“. You quietly stop reading and get up to grab your things. Your thoughts are cloudy, even as Miles pulls you into a warm embrace to hopefully soothe your anguish. It doesn’t help.

“I gotta go,” you push away, “see you tomorrow..” Your feet lazily carry you out of his dorm room. Miles doesn’t protest. He knows sometimes being practically slapped with how much your disability affects you, doesn’t do you well. So he lets you go, knowing he’d see you tomorrow.

He couldn’t be anymore wrong.

———

Well he wasn’t entirely wrong. He did see you, but you had no intention to see him. Every glance he threw your way went unnoticed. Every time he tried to speak, your headphones went in. He saw your smile wasn’t there, and your usual glow was gone. All of these things worried Miles but he didn’t know what to do. His thoughts were focused around you for the whole day, and how he could help. In the end, he decided it’d be best if he just texted you. Maybe you just didn’t want to speak in person because of yesterday.

Yeah, that’s it. He’ll text you, comfort you, come over to your dorm, and cuddle and comfort you some more. A foolproof plan! Now all that’s left is to get through today.

———

You don’t respond to the first text.

You don’t respond to the second text.

You don’t respond to the third text.

You don’t read any of them. And he knows your read receipts are on.

Miles is frantic now. Where could you have gone? He knows you’d tell him if you were gonna be busy, and he knows he’d catch any signs of you thinking about….No. He wouldn’t let himself think about it. Maybe you just needed some space. It’s normal for a relationship, especially one as new as this. He decided to give it a day or two.

You’d come around eventually.

———

You didn’t come around.

It had been two weeks and Miles still hasn’t heard from you. You were still coming to school, but you arrived before everyone else, and somehow managed to get out before everyone left. If he tried to call you, it’d cut off immediately. If he texted you, it would stay on delivered—read if he was lucky—and if he tried to get into your room, you wouldn’t open the door. Even if your roommate was there, he’d always say: “Oh, [name]? Yeah he’s not here. Sorry.” Then the door would shut. Every day Miles tried. And every day Miles failed.

He’d spend his nights racking his brain for any clue, and reason for you to go a-wall like this. It’s not like you. Whenever something’s troubling you, he’d be the first to hear about it. For the millionth time, he tries to call your phone. And for the millionth time, you pick up. Just like he thought—

Wait what.

Miles sits up and hears quiet sobs on the other end. “H-hello? [Name]? Please answer me.” After a quiet moment you speak up. “Mhm?” Your voice is weak on the other end, but nonetheless, it’s your voice. Miles jumps out of his bed, already putting on a jacket and shoes. “Are you still in the dorms? Where are you?” He opens the window, waving to Ganke who’s woken up. “Please, love.”

“The park. The one we always go to.” Your voice is hoarse and hiccups are breaking through. “Alright. I’ll be there. Wait for me, okay?” He hops out the window and swings through the streets, keeping you on the line. At this point in time, Miles is a great swinger and has almost perfected the art. But tonight, he’s going faster than he’s ever gone before. Faster than his common sense would normally let him go. Even when making an escape, he’s careful to watch his speed just in case. Not tonight though. This is you. He’d risk everything for you.

In a matter of minutes, he’s at the park already looking for you. “[Name]? I’m here,” his eyes dart in every direction, “where exactly are you?” He jogs over to a nearby tree, catching a glimpse of a light from a phone screen. You’re silent for a few more moments as you can tell he’s the cause of those footsteps coming in your direction. So you just keep scrolling on your phone. Miles catches up to you, and before a word can be said, he’s fallen to the ground and pulled you into a hug. Possibly the tightest he’s ever hugged someone. And that’s the crack that sends the dam crumbling.

You break down and sob into his shoulder, clawing the fabric at his sides. The world no longer exists and it’s just you and him. You and the person who cares about you. You and the person who came for you. Miles’ grip tightens around your shoulders as stray tears escape his own eyes. “What happened? Why were you gone for so long?” He asks.

“I was tired of being stupid,” you manage to get out, “tired of being a burden.”

“A burden?!” Miles pulls away and cups your cheeks. “Now who told you that?”

“Don’t you understand, Miles?!” You shout. “I’m probably the dumbest person on this planet!!” He starts to object but you cut him off, “And don’t give me that “Oh but it makes you, you!” Bullshit.” You stand up and begin to pace around. “You can’t possibly wanna deal with me!” Your breath quickens and tears are still falling. “Couldn’t-couldn’t possibly wanna actually spend your life dealing with some who can’t spell for shit. Who’s always asking if he spelled—fucking i don’t know—Wednesday right.” You finally stop and stand in one place, hugging yourself tight. “I fucking hate it.”

Miles makes his way to you and pulls you into another hug. He doesn’t try to convince you otherwise because this isn’t the time. It’s time for you to let it all out, and for him to listen for as long as you need him to. He’s got you back and that’s all he needed. And right now you don’t know, but you needed him just as much if not more.

You two stay in the park and talk for what feels like hours. After two weeks of radio silence you’ve got a lot to say, and best believe your boyfriend is gonna take note of all of it.

🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸

A/n: OMG HOLY SHIT WHY DID THIS TAKE SO LONG OMG. @babyqueen17 HERE YOU GO IT’S DONE!!!

#male reader #miles morales #miles morales x male reader #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv x male reader #dyslexia #comfort #OMG THANK YOU FOR BEING SO PATIENT—

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five-rivers · 8 months ago

Text

Cracked Clay Cup Chapter 3

Short one! @greatbigolhampuckjustforme

She was doing it. She was doing it. She was convincing him. She’d been dubious about the whole endeavor. Dubious about its necessity, dubious about her ability to pull it off, dubious about basically becoming Danny’s parent, everything.

But, well, if it was what needed to be done, it was what she would do.

She’d freaked out at first, of course. Hearing about it. Hearing about how many people wanted to take Danny, who’d take advantage of him like that. Hearing about what she’d need to do to keep that from happening. Maybe she and Danny joked about her raising him, but it really wasn’t true.

But then it was happening, regardless of whether or not Danny or Jazz wanted it to happen. And their parents were… Well, they hadn’t been disqualified, but Jazz knew they took a lot of getting used to. She didn’t have high hopes that they would be Danny’s choice.

Jazz, then, would offer another option. Even if Danny picked randomly, two ‘safe’ choices were better than one. He wouldn’t pick randomly, though. He might be exasperating at times, but he was a decent judge of character. She was sure he could sense her intentions, mentions of mad science labs aside.

Considering those questions, her parents definitely wouldn’t be getting him again. It was fine. It was all for the best, really.

Really. Things would be better. After. After all of this was done.

She smiled at herself in the bathroom mirror. No need to bother Danny with her brooding. He’d been here for a week now, and things were going great.

She walked out, stopped by her study, then swung by her study to pick up a few papers before going to the kitchen. Danny was sitting at the table there, working on schoolwork. It’d do no good if she got custody and everything turned out alright on the Danny custody front only for him to completely fail high school!

Okay, that wasn’t entirely true.

Still. She didn’t want this to set back his education.

“Okay, once you finish the English, I have the social studies.”

Danny looked up at her. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m always going to take your education seriously, Danny. It’s important that you stay on track to graduate.”

“I still think that’s sort of redundant for a ghost.”

“Half ghost.”

“I still haven’t seen any evidence about that by the way.”

“Well you would if you transformed.”

“And I’d do that, if you actually describe how I’m supposed to do that.”

“Well, you sort of just did it.” Danny had never given her a lot of details about what being half ghost felt like, or how it worked mechanically. Even though she’d asked. It was awfully inconvenient of him.

Danny shook his head and looked back at his homework. He tapped his pencil on the table a few times, then looked at the top page of the social studies work.

“A presentation?” he asked.

Jazz nodded. “It can be in poster form if you’d like.”

Danny sucked in his lower lip and nodded. “But this is it, right? This is all you want me to do?”

“Well, that and the English essay you have under here.”

Danny pulled out that sheet of paper and grimaced. “You– That’s really– No. No. Nope. No. This is way too much. You can’t expect me to do all this, this much every day.”

“It’s a totally normal high school workload. Seven classes–”

“Doesn’t that normally include PE? And, like, a study hall? Or something fun? Maybe?” He ran his hands through his hair, which had a really strange and fascinating effect on his ears.

“You have astronomy and science, you like that.”

“But I still need to use my brain for it. I’m talking about things I can turn my brain off for. Or whatever it is that ghosts think with. Whatever it is, it’s making my head hurt. I can’t keep going at this pace. I’ll lose it.”

“Don’t be so down on yourself. You can do this. And you do have a brain.”

“You sound very sure of that.”

She’d walked right into Danny’s mad science paranoia again.

“Humans have brains. It’s common sense.”

Danny’s eyes flicked down Jazz’s carefully formulated English assignment once again, and he shook his head. “No. I can’t do this. Not any longer. It’s been a week.” He dropped the paper. “It’s been a week, and there are six other people to talk to, so, thanks for the cool bedroom and not dissecting me but–”

“Danny, wait–” said Jazz, seeing where this was going a split second before Danny raised his hand to the pocketwatch.

She was too late. Danny clicked the button, and he was gone.

“Well,” said Jazz. She sat down at the kitchen table, feeling heavy. “Crap.”

#danny phantom #phic phight

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coalswriting · 1 year ago

Text

hair holds memories - natalie scatorccio

summary – bleaching natalie’s hair became routine for (y/n), but things became a bit more complicated the day natalie disappeared. (approx. 1.7k words)

a/n – trigger warning for mentions of weight loss + puking!! i wrote this cos i was feeling a lil down and wanted to vent a little. hope y’all enjoy <3

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

your (e/c) orbs glossed over the pages of the novel you were reading while you sipped a cup of tea. you were hunched over your crowded desk, notes scattered around as you picked out comparisons between the novel and wuthering heights. you were given as comparative essay as an assignment for english class, and you had chosen to compare the theme of the role of women within society.

your eyelids began to feel heavy, and you swore that you would fall asleep before you could finish the chapter. peering over towards your alarm, your eyes widened when you noticed that it was nearing 1am. sighing, you knew you’d have trouble waking up for school tomorrow if you stayed up much later, so you flicked your bookmark between the worn pages of the book and shut it, sliding it into your backpack.

you stood up with a stretch, grabbing your hairbrush to tidy yourself up before bed. suddenly, you heard a rhythmic clinking against your window. confused, you processed the sound for a moment before peeking an eye out between your curtains. you deflated from your slight shock when you noticed it was only natalie. pulling the curtains open and pushing the window, you called out to her in a whisper-yell.

“it’s 1am nat, what are you doing? and what’s with that hat??”

natalie, in response, grimaced, pulling her beanie tighter over her head. she looked at you with discomfort before whispering back, “i had an accident and i need your help, can i come in?”

you exhaled heavily but smiled, “one sec.”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

natalie sat on your toilet as you paced back and forth.

“how the hell did you do that?!”

she looked ashamed of herself, her hair practically ginger. “i don’t know, (y/n)! i was trying to go blonde! stop laughing!”

a towel was thrown at you and you damn-near fell over, gripping the sink to steady yourself from your laughter. “okay, okay, hold on,” you chuckled, crouching down to rummage through the drawer under your sink, “I think my mom still has some spare bleach and purple shampoo from the last time she did her hair.”

“i swear to fuck, (y/n), if my hair falls out, i’ll cut all of yours off in your sleep,” your once-brunette-now-ginger friend threatened to ignorant ears.

“yeah, yeah,” you dismissed.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

natalie’s hair had come out perfectly when you did it that time, and since then, you were primarily responsible for bleaching her hair. it became routine, every month, she would come by and sit on your toilet while you would touch up her roots. you both enjoyed it and talked about life whenever it came to that. the last time you did it was the weekend before nationals.

“thanks again,” natalie smiled at you coyly, checking herself out in the mirror. you hugged her from behind, resting your chin on her shoulder. she looked beautiful, the white lighting of your bathroom mirror illuminating each and every strand.

you were engrossed in her as you admired, murmuring, “you look beautiful.”

you swore you could see natalie’s cheeks gain a rosy hue. she cleared her throat, hiding her face with her fist, and you felt butterflies in your chest, tearing your eyes away from her angelic face.

“uh, anyways,” you changed the topic quickly, flustered at what you had said, “good luck at nationals. i’ll be waiting for your return with the trophy.”

natalie elbowed you gently, smirking, “i’ll see you at the after-party, yeah?”

you nodded, “for sure.”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

processing grief was difficult, you came to learn. upon hearing of the plane crash, you didn’t cry. you didn’t scream, you didn’t react in any way. you just lied in bed for days, shackled down by a huge wave of apathy. you lost a lot of weight, nearly puking every time you touched food.

after a few months, you grew hopeful. you knew natalie – you knew she was alive. she was a fighting spirit, and something told you that things would be okay.

when the first winter passed, you finally accepted that natalie was probably dead. the grief hit you in a delayed wave, and your friends held you as you wept in the bathroom that you had routinely done her hair in the past. you tore the polaroids of you and her off your walls, stuffing them into a box under your bed. you didn’t want to see her. you hated her for leaving you alone in this world, and you hated that you had loved her so much.

you despised natalie scatorccio. you despised the way she would laugh with you, joke with you, the way the corners of her mouth gently rose when she was trying to hide her giggles in history class, the way she drew on your arm when she was bored, and the way she always hugged you after practice when she was sweaty and covered in mud, much to your disdain.

you began to move on after a year; well, that was a lie – you knew that you would never move on from the impact she had left on your life, but college was around the corner, and you knew that you would have to step into this new chapter without her. you still had the leather jacket that she had left in your house one time, and you couldn’t bare to lose it, so you took it with you, and boy, did you wear it everywhere. it became a part of you; it protected you.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

it was the spring of your second year of university, studying (whatever lol). you had come back to new jersey to visit your family and earn some money at your part time job at the cinema. you had tuned out most of the world, listening to music in your walkman, dancing around your family-home bedroom.

the girls had been found and returned home safe and sound – well, most of them. but, when you tried to reach out to natalie, you never received a response. it was difficult to contact any of the girls, really, and you decided that it was probably for the best. she had probably forgotten you; she was probably a different person anyways. you were initially extremely upset, but you pushed it down, focusing on your college assignments.

“you’re out of touch, i’m out of time!”, you sang to yourself as you bopped your head to the music. for once, you felt a little happy in life, things were going smoothly, and your friends were lovely. you imagined what they were doing in this moment – probably studying or out partying. you were excited to return to university.

suddenly, you heard a familiar rhythmic clinking against your window. you stiffened up, tears perking in your eyes. it was probably all in your head, and you stared for a moment, slowly taking your headphones off your ears. the tapping sound didn’t stop. you hesitantly shuffled to your window and, like clockwork, peeked your eye out between the curtains, but this time, you ripped them open almost immediately. your eyes began to pour with a wave of what seemed to be grief and joy as none other than natalie scatorccio stood outside, rain dampening her hair.

you nearly tripped as you sprinted down the stairs in your work uniform, and without a care in the world, you ran outside into the downpour. she caught you as you fell into her arms, holding her tight and hiccuping. she felt so, so warm against the coldness of the stormy air, and you knew in that moment that she was real. she was here with you.

… .. .

natalie wiped her hair with a towel as she sat in your bathroom, your tears still pouring. bringing a hand to your face, she wiped your tears with a thumb, smiling gently. “i’m back, for good,” is all she said.

your hands were shaky as you touched her hair. her roots had grown out, but she still looked like the same girl you had seen every day for years; she still looked like the girl you loved with your whole heart – the girl that had changed your life. she leaned into your touch.

“i thought i’d never see you again, nat,” you whispered, voice shaky, and she pulled you into her, arms wrapping around you. she stroked your hair, and you felt your chest constrict.

“what happened out there,” she began, “was traumatising, and i’m not ready to talk about it yet, but i want you to know that the whole time i was out there, i survived for you. i could’ve died and rid myself of this miserable world, but it was you. you kept me going.”

you dipped your head down a little as she spoke. she was enthralling, and you remembered how difficult processing the grief over her had been.

“i love you, nat,” you suddenly confessed, “and i never stopped. i don’t think i could’ve stopped, even if i tried.”

she looked at you, her mouth open in an o shape before she placed her mouth onto yours. the kiss felt bittersweet, and you could feel your worries evaporate. her lips were soft against your own ones and you tasted undertones of cigarette smoke amongst her cherry flavoured lip gloss. it was liberating. layers of grief began to dissolve, and your chest felt as though it was going to burst.

when natalie pulled away, she smiled at you gentler than you had ever seen. it was like you were porcelain and she was afraid to shatter you.

you both caught up a little longer, her hands lingering on yours with soft, endearing looks of admiration from both sides. your love for each other felt unspoken after the initial confession, and it felt as if nothing had ever split you apart from each other; like you had loved naturally the entire time she was gone.

as you both laid in bed looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, her ear against your chest, listening to your heartbeat, you finally mentioned the unspoken.

“do you want me to bleach your hair?”

natalie hummed for a moment before shaking her head, “nah, i think i want to cut it all off and grow out my brown again. what do you think?”

your thoughts lingered in the sentence. “yeah, makes sense,” you replied, “hair holds memories and all. it’d be nice to start fresh again.”

“exactly”, she said, sitting up, “wanna do it now?”

you giggled as she pulled you up by the hand, following her to the bathroom.

“alright.”

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader

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