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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Someone New 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: why am I so anxious all the time?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

If Peggy’s party promised everything would change, the ‘yes’ you give to Arturo pays on that promise. Almost at once, everything is different. Your boring, orderly life is suddenly thrown into chaos. You have a hundred worries at once and not enough times; passport, visa, packing, flights. Not too mention all that you’re leaving behind; apartment, furniture, and... friends.

It’ll be good. You keep telling yourself that, just like Arturo, just like Sam. They seem more excited than you are. You struggle to see past the grief of saying goodbye to the life you built there; the life you built around Steve and false hopes. It’s foolish and naive but it still hurts.

And you’re scared. Norway. It’s far away. And you’ll be all alone. You survived college because you found Steve; you could stomach the furor of the city for Sam and Bucky, but on your own, what could you do? You’re not brave or bold or anything like that.

It doesn’t matter. You’re going to work. To forget. Focus on the dig, don’t think about everything else.

You’ve already lost so much. Steve’s busy, you are too. Maybe that’s good. You have to condition yourself for the trip. For a new life. A year is a long time. You feel like the newly graduated teen heading off to college, the one who walked into the wrong lecture hall on that fated day, the one he picked out and put firmly in her place; a friend, just a friend.

As you sort through your closet, tossing fabric into one pile or the other, your music stops playing and your phone buzzes loudly against your nightstand. You hurry to pick it up as that noise makes your neck bristle. You hate it.

You pick up without checking the display. You hope it’s the visa office. No, it’s Sam.

“Hey, chicky poo,” he chirps from the other end.

“Chicky poo?” You echo flatly.

“Hm, you’re right, I’ll keep workshopping,” he chuckles, “so you’re leaving in a week?”

“As long as my paperwork shows up,” you sighs and cross your arm over your middle. You sway as you look around at the clutter of your bedroom. “And I can get all this shit out of my place.”

“When’s your flight?” He asks pointedly. He’s not subtle. Men never are. For years, you’d hoped Steve was being subtle and look how that turned out. You know now he was so obviously not into you.

“Thursday, 5am,” you answer.

“Ah, that’s pretty early to be hungover but it will be worth it.”

“Hungover?” You wonder as you slowly sit on your bed, “why?”

“You’re leaving us so obviously, you need a final hurrah,” he insists, “I’m throwing you a going away party. Just the four of us, unless you have any plus ones?”

“Going away party?”

“Neither of the other jerks are gonna do it,” he scoffs, “nothing fancy, promise. Just some drinks.”

“What about Tuesday? Give me a day to recover?”

“Wednesday works. Steve’ll be back by then.”

“Back by then?” You must sound like a parrot.

“Oh, yeah, the lovers went up north to look at venues for the engagement party. Too bad you won’t make it. I’ll have to drink myself into a stupour all by myself,” he intones.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you grumble and pick at a wrinkle in your pants.

“Don’t be sorry. You deserve this. I’m so fucking excited for you,” he chimes, “you have to tell me everything. I want pictures of vikings and castles and stuff. All of it.”

“Sam, I’m just going to be digging,” you mutter.

“And? You can’t just go over there an put your head down. Go sightseeing, go out on the town, have a wild one-night stand--”

“Sam,” you drone.

“You need it,” he cackles, “it’ll be a story to bring home with ya. Make us all jealous with your wild Norwegian adventure. Hey,” he pauses and sucks his teeth, “you’re like Uno reversing a whole country. Vikings used to invade others, this is your chance to go right in there and raise hell.”

“You’re stupid,” you laugh and shake your head.

“Never said otherwise.”

“Hm, fine, Wednesday,” you agree, “if I'm gonna be there, I gotta get all this shit packed.”

“Did I not say if you need anything? I can help,” he offers.

“No, no, I got it,” you say, “really, it’s not that much.”

“Right, well, I should get back to it and let you do the same,” he says in a resigned tone.

You hang up and heave. You put the phone down and drop your head into your hands. You feel like you should cry. You’ve felt that tide of tears pushing on your eyes since the party but they just won’t come. All that tension is driving you mad but you just can’t dislodge the nail driven deep into your chest.

💟

Your life is hectic but you’re not surprised Steve isn’t part of the whirlwind. Why would he be? He has so much going on. A wedding is much more important than what could possibly be the most spontaneous and naive decision of your life. Impulsive more than anything. Cowardly when you think about it. You’re running away because you can’t face the truth. Because it’s just easy to leave your emotions in New York.

Still, you thought you’d hear more than this. More than a thumbs up emoji or hearsay from Sam. Even after your conversation on the balcony and his reassurances, you still feel his discontent. Will he really miss you that much or is he just upset you won’t be there to celebrate the love of his life?

It doesn’t matter, does it?

It’s gone so fast and you hope the next year goes just as quickly. That all this passes. Not just the trip but everything else. The sadness, the pain, the fear. You try to be positive. You thought college was scary and look how that turned out.

Ugh, you’re really doing this. You're leaving is all behind. You’re leaving your friends and your family and your home. You have no one to blame but yourself. You could’ve gotten over Steve Rogers a decade ago. More than that. You couldn’t rip the band-aid off, you had to pull it slow so ever hair rends painfully from the flesh.

The GPS guides you between the shining marquee. You can see the pulsing dot of your destination on the screen. You don’t drive towards it, instead hunting for a parking spot among the cramped lots and lined curbs. You should’ve taken a cab but you’re only having one drink and you’re saving for the inevitable expense of hurling yourself halfway across the world.

You get out and grab your phone, your purse hooked over your elbow. You raise the small screen and get your bearings, squinting as you set yourself in the right direction. Just across and at the end.

As you approach the bar, you stop short. This isn’t exactly the flavour. Well, not for them. You peer up at the neon light in the shape of a martini, a bright pink beacon, under which a large group of women cluster. Whoops and hollers go up as they enter and leave you standing out in the technicolour-tinted night. Did you get the address wrong?

You check your messages with Sam. No, it’s correct. Strange. Maybe he didn’t know.

You pull open the violet-shaded glass door and peer around as you step out of the way of the patrons behind you. You text Sam to check if he’s there already. You can’t seem to keep up with the clock hands these days.

As you wait for a response, you glance around. It’s like a Sex and the City reenactment. The guys always teased you for your rants about Carrie Bradshaw’s selfishness. They weren’t much for the genre. With them, it’s sports bars and beers and what ball game is in season. They never notice your cute new earrings or your efforts to spruce up your work clothes with a flashy belt.

‘Here. You’re looking cute.’ Sam’s response comes.

You narrow your eyes and stand on your toes to look around. He’s sitting at a tall table with Bucky, the two of them looking out of place before the feathered centerpiece and glitzy wall art of high heels. You can’t help a grin. This is absolutely ridiculous.

You weave through the tables and bodies, past the bar of gabbing girl groups and a few men mixed in. You near your friends and claim one of the tall stools around the round table. You use the bottom bar to haul yourself up onto the seat and hang your purse from your knee.

“Hey, this place is... sparkly,” you look around with a dumb smile. You can’t help it! You never get a girls’ night.

“It is,” Bucky agrees in a grit.

You stop short. You look at him then at Sam. You didn’t notice before. They’re wearing bows on their heads. Sam has a head band with a gregariously big pink ribbon, whereas Bucky has a glittering purple bow pinned into his thick locks. You laugh and smother it behind your hands.

“What is this?” You snicker.

“We are your ladies tonight!” Sam announces and shifts to stand, bending under the table, “and you get to be queen bee!” He reaches to the floor and you lean to see the huge tote underneath, “here is your tiara!”

He pulls out the plastic tiara with fake pink gems and white feathers. You giggle again as he places it on your head. This is too much.

“Sam! How—this is so stupid. You didn’t have to do all this.”

“What? It’s about time. Don’t worry about us. It’s all about you,” he snaps his finger and points at you, “we’re going to order girly cocktails and dish on the cute dudes.”

Bucky shakes his head as he fixes the bow in his hair, “I wanted a flower.”

You bring your hands down to your next and wiggle on the seat giddily. This is amazing. Your eyes sting and your throat locks up. You’re going to miss these idiots.

“You guys,” you breathe.

“No crying!” Sam claps his hand, “I already got this guy moping around.”

“I’m not moping,” Bucky sniffs.

“We have to decide who’s who. I know you hate Carrie so we’ll save that for Steve. He is the stuck up blond, after all,” Sam smirks, “I’m definitely Samantha, it’s already in my name. And you,” he points at you, “Miranda. The level-headed one who has to put up with our BS. That means Bucky--”

“Charlotte?” Bucky frowns, “can’t I be Stanford?”

You nearly gasp, “Bucky, are you a stan?”

“I’ve seen some episodes,” he shrugs.

“Well, that’s decided,” Sam checks his watch, “where’s that bozo?”

You frown and look around. You look at your phone. You were just on the cusp but Steve is late. Bucky takes out his cell too and all three of you scroll through your screens.

“Whatever, we don’t have to wait for him, drinks,” Sam blacks the screen and sets down his phone. He reaches for the pink pleather drink menu, “I was looking at the Paradise Punch. Sounds interesting.”

“Mm, I’m just having one,” you state, “I gotta drive home.”

“Pfft, don’t worry about it. You can get your car tomorrow.”

“Sam, I leave at five in the morning.”

“Fine, I’ll take care of the car. You’re storing it, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t expect--”

“Tonight is going to be fun. No arguing,” he points a long finger at you.

The phone jitters and his phone lights up. He picks it up as your cell remains lifeless in a rare moment of peace, though it’s fraught nonetheless. You peek over at the empty fourth stool.

“He’s not coming,” you utter.

Sam huffs and puts his phone down, “he’s not. Peggy has a work dinner and he’s invited.”

“Oh,” you nod and try not to deflate entirely, “that’s... that’s fine. He said he’d come to the airport but I wasn’t counting on that either.”

“Asshole,” Sam sneers.

“Hey, no,” you shake your head, “he’s busy. He has a wedding and all that--”

“You’re going away,” Bucky surprises you with the emotion in his tone, “and he can’t be here.”

“Really, it’s not--”

“It is,” Sam insists. “How long are you gonna let him walk all over you? Isn’t that why you’re leaving?”

“It’s work, it’s nothing to do with Steve.”

“Sure,” Sam accepts hotly, “keep telling yourself that.” He cringes and swallows, “tonight isn’t about him. For once. It’s about you. Us. Having fun. Saying goodbye. It’s gonna be terrible without you. I hope you know that.”

You could laugh at his rebuke. The conflict between celebratory and reproachful is amusing. You exhale and put your hands up.

“Alright, I got it.”

“Buck,” he gestures to the other man, “go.”

You turn to the Bucky and he slides off his stool. He reaches down under the table and brings up a gift bag. Your mouth falls open. Your chest tweaks, a mixture of glee and guilt. You’re happy to have friends with them but you feel so bad for not seeing it earlier. For being so tunnel-visioned that you couldn’t appreciate them fully.

“This is so—you didn’t have to,” you say.

“We did. Obviously,” Sam scoffs, “don’t worry, my gift is the grand finale.”

“Right,” you smile and accept the bag from Bucky. You push through the tissue paper and pull out the heavy shape inside. You reveal it and just as quickly hide it back in the polka dot bag, “Bucky!”

You let go of the taser and retract your hand. Sam guffaws and Bucky gives a confused grimace, “you need it.”

“What?” You hiss.

“You’re going to be all alone over there. You should be safe.”

“I... appreciate the thought but it’s a bit extreme.”

“He’s right,” Sam adds, “you know, going to the land of the vikings, you can never be too safe. I’ve heard they like to carry women off in their boats.”

“You two,” you roll your eyes.

“My turn,” Sam says, “you’ll love this.”

He once more searches under the table and the tote crinkle. He pulls out an envelope and you tilt your head. Really?

“Money?” You wonder.

“What am I? Your grandma?” He snorts, “here.”

You take the envelope and turn it over. You pull the flap open and reveal a pamphlet within, along with a second slip of paper. A reservation...

“I found this place over there. It’s at some coastal castle, there’s a spa and all that. They do like ancient types of treatments, hot rocks or whatever,” he explains, “I made sure you can adjust the dates too if you need. You just have to call.”

“Wow, that’s... Sam, I’m going to be so busy--”

“I told you not to work yourself too hard. That’s a good excuse for you to get your head out of the dirt. Literally. Just think of me when you’re in a mud bath with a glass of champagne.”

You put the envelope next to the gift bag and drop off the stool. You open your arms to them. Sam is up first and Bucky drags himself to his feet. You wrap them in a hug and they do the same in turn. It must be an absolutely ridiculous sight but you don’t care. You tuck your head against Sam’s arm and feel a rumble in Bucky’s chest.

“Sam, that’s my ass,” Bucky snarls.

“I was just making sure you didn’t forget your wallet,” Sam chuckles.

“You’re a moron,” Bucky pulls away and shoves him.

“Peas in a pod, bud,” Sam lets you go as the hug breaks up, “now, I need a drink and you...” he points in your direction, “need a double.”

#steve rogers #thor #thor x reader #steve rogers x reader #someone new #series #au #fic #grayish fic #angst fic #marvel #mcu #avengers #captain america

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wispyxjae · 29 days

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going to a rave or concert with bf!p1harmony member

genre: fluff, nsfw/suggestive below the cut (mdni)

cw: established relationship, female reader, mentions of substance/alcohol use (aged up seobsoul), pda, kissing/making out, groping, possessive piwon, non idol au

a/n: i wrote this at 4am while still intoxicated post-first rave so i hope you enjoy my drunk thoughts. i’ve also been wanting to write this ever since those pictures of intak, keeho, and jongseob in the crowd at gov ball were released.

imagine going to a rave or concert with your boyfriend and he’s just holding you close, hugging you from behind and dancing with you.

you turn around to face him and stare lovingly at him as you both feel the music coursing through your veins. his hands go to cup your face as he presses kisses all over, pulling away to smile at you as he spins you around so you can enjoy the light show the artist puts on for the crowd.

he loooves having you in his arms so close to him and being able to show other guys around you that you’re his and no one else’s to lay hands on or even look at. is definitely possessive in public, especially if either or both of you are under the influence; the pda is coming out and there’s nothing anyone else can do about it. for the most part, keeps it simple and classy with just skinship and kisses. it’s enough to make you feel safe and him feel like the luckiest man on earth.

absolutely makes sure you’re hydrated before, during, and after the outing so you can have a good time. will even take off your makeup and do your skincare routine for you at the end of the night if you’re too gone or tired to do it yourself. loves to take care of you and nurture you because you’re his loving partner who deserves nothing but the best (which is what he is to you).

nsfw/suggestive below the cut! mdni at this point

if he had to be completely honest, your outfit had his head spinning even more than the substances or alcohol. he knew you were planning this outfit for a few weeks now, constantly drooling at the idea of you in less clothing than usual. the moment you got dressed, pulling on the last few accessories to tie the look together, all it took was one look at you for him to drink you in and get drunk on you alone. he admired the bold and sparkly makeup you decided to do, fingers lightly touching the jewels on your face every now and then.

it was nights like this when he couldn’t believe you were his girl. he was obsessed with you (which is nothing new) and couldn’t keep his hands off you the entire night. he tried his hardest to limit the pda to kissing and holding you in front of him, not wanting to ruin your high/trip if he got too handsy. but the moment you turn to look at him with those big doe eyes he’s a goner.

his hands travel from your waist down to your ass, the lack of clothing giving him easy access to squeeze and grope at the flesh. your arms snake up around his neck as he leans down to kiss you, slowly and passionately. time stopped down when the two of you were together, especially intoxicated and in the middle of a huge crowd; it felt like you two were the only ones that existed.

the longer you two kiss, the more handsy he gets, causing you to gasp and allow his tongue to slip into your mouth. you can taste the remnants of alcohol on his tongue, but his touch is even more intoxicating. the thrumming bass drowns out any noises you may make to those around you, but he knows you so well and knows exactly what sounds you’re making just by how desperately you’re kissing him back, panting and scratching at the hair at the nape of his neck.

when you finally pull away after what feels like an eternity, he’s still holding you close to him, one hand around your waist and the other giving your each of your cheeks a light squeeze. you’re both breathless and can’t help but smile at each other as you rest your foreheads against one another. “you make me crazy, y/n,” he shouts over the blaring music, pressing another kiss to your smiling lips. “i love you too,” you nearly scream back, laughing before he turns back around to enjoy the show, but now pulling you even closer than before, with his chin on your shoulder, just so you can feel the affect you have on him digging into your ass.

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queer-n-here · 6 months

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UHM-UHM-

Yeah I have no shame to just not ask anonymously- anyways!

May I please request a 6'1 reader who is stoic, bold, also handsome as Dazai but ain't a womaniser, and is VERY quiet. With Dazai. He works at the ADA with him. He follows Dazai around like literally, he acts and opens up more to Dazai than he does with others, he literally doesn't care if Dazai was In the pm (they met at 14) or abt his crimes, he can read Dazai's emotions And can see through him, they R lovers, he is loyal asf to Dazai. He Also is rich asf and has better fashion tastes! Pls make both a oneshot or hc or ANYTHING ABT THEMMMMM

(I'm very desperate BC of a certain fantasy of mine)

Ah, I gotchu you bruv.

[ Also, let's do a little quiz. What country do y'all think I originate from? Like, based on my language and writing and just... Yeah.]

And yep, I'm double posting today!

Canonically, there are no mentions of Dazai's past before the Port Mafia, so I made stuff up. Hope you like it!

Contents: Uhh...a lot. I got... *winces* I got carried away.

Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, suicide and violence, Dazai's life is sad and so are these hcs.

You and Dazai met when you two were 14 each. It was a chance encounter, really. Both of you were orphans, and both of you were ability users, even though Dazai knew more about his ability than you did yours.

Both of you currently had no one in the world. That was the key factor that brought you two together. Struggling to get by and find a place of your own in the world, you met.

Neither of you opened up at first, cautious and calloused as you both were. It just happened; it didn't happen one particular day, and before you two had realized, you'd become each other's sole support.

You turned fifteen, and three months later Dazai met Mori.

He told you about it later, describing in the sort of detail no one else would get to hear how he'd rescued the Port Mafia leader from an enemy gang, unintentionally impressing him and securing Dazai a place in the Mafia.

You didn't like it. The job was dangerous, and you didn't want Dazai's hands to get stained with blood. When you told him this, he laughed it off, and said that he could handle it. You dropped the matter.

He was wrong.

You watched as Dazai changed, despite his promises and assurances. He grew ruthless, cruel in a way that made you ache as you watched him, silent. He started hating everything, even himself, and sometimes you thought he hated you, too.

He had a beautiful heart, you knew. But Mori was destroying it.

You talked to Mori about it, too. You might not have anything on him, yes, he was richer and way more powerful, but you had your ability, and you were ready to fight to death. Before you could, however, Dazai intervened.

That was the first time you two fought. After that, you went to him and told him you wouldn't care if he didn't want you to. If he wanted to keep going down the path that he'd chosen, you wouldn't stop him.

Sometimes, you look back and wonder if there was something you could have done for him other than what you did. You still can't think of anything.

You opened up a small business after that, and it slowly grew to a scale larger than you had expected.

Then you two turned eighteen. Finally, you were able to register your enterprises under your own name, being a legal adult. You and Dazai got wasted that night, and you watched fondly as he tried and failed to put his coat on so you two could go and meet Ango and Odasaku.

They had probably begun then, your feelings for Dazai. You were only comfortable enough with him to actually talk, and not just say what was absolutely required and then shut up.

He knew you in a way no else did. No one else knew what it looked like when you smiled, or threw your head back and laughed freely. No one else knew what it was like when you cared, when you brought over Dazai's favorite refreshing drink every time you visited him in summer. Or when you helped him change his bandages, touch gentle and careful against his soft skin.

And you knew him the way no else did. No one else knew what it was like when he was genuine, when he'd look up at you with earnest eyes. No one else knew what it was like when he flushed slightly, the red of his skin always starting from the tips of his ears and descending to his cheeks. No one else knew what it was like when Dazai protected, when he offered to use his contacts in the Mafia to get rid of your competitors, even though you declined every time. He had enough blood on his hands without you pitching in.

Eight months after that, he left the Port Mafia. He came to your apartment crying that day. His face was ashen, his shirt was covered in blood and his lips were trembling. The tears that had been collecting in his eyes for who knows how long finally spilled when he saw you, and the only thing you could do for him in that situation was open your arms and let him cling onto you. He kept saying 'Oda's dead... He's dead...'

That night, Dazai changed. Thankfully for the better. That flame in his eyes was gone now, the one that made you worry if he would burn himself and the world.

Dazai slowly stopped hating after that. You and Ango were the only two he trusted, the only two he would be genuine with. He didn't close up in a way that hid his smile, or in a way that made him withdraw from people. Quiet the opposite. He pushed himself outward, adopting a cheery persona that joked around and bewitched everyone.

The only smiles that weren't created but slid across his face on their own were ones that he smiled with you, and Ango.

You couldn't help but feel slightly bittersweet. Dazai was out of that hellhole, that cursed gang that was making his heart black. But Odasaku was dead.

After that, as your twenties arrived, Dazai joined the Armed Detective Agency. You were happy, then.

You two celebrated at a lavish restaurant. Your business had grown to be Japan's No. 1, and the money that spilled in with it was something neither Dazai nor you had expected.

But your hopes for the ADA were too high. Sometimes, Dazai still wanted to leave. He said he wanted to kill himself, and even though he would always laugh it off, you couldn't help but notice that his eyes would always grow hollow when he spoke of it.

And so the only thing you could do was love him. You loved him and tried your best to let him know, buying him unnecessary gifts and putting him on top of your mental priority list. Even your staff knew you loved him; it was apparent and obvious.

Dazai was probably the only one that didn't notice it, that genius dumbass.

And so you tried harder. You had never been good with words, but you tried to be vocal about your feelings, telling him he was cute when you thought so, and saying that he looked good when he did.

Dazai still didn't notice. The day he found out was when you got drunk and blurted it out.

You still don't have a lot of memories from that night, and Dazai says that you passed out soon after confessing. He finds it funny now, even though he didn't back then.

Your confession made Dazai pull up a wall against you. This surprised you, hurt you, and you tried apologizing, tried to get him to just talk to you. You told him that it didn't matter if he didn't return your feelings.

Something was hurting Dazai, you could tell. But he just wouldn't talk to you, going so far as to changing his phone number without telling you.

So you showed up at his workplace. Kunukida knew you by sight; you often came to pick Dazai up from work. You two had a big fight, shouting in one hallway of the agency building, making such a ruckus that Ranpo and the others came over to watch.

It ended with Dazai turning around to leave, and you were planning to let him go. But then you saw a tear glisten at his cheek last moment, and hence gave chase.

You chased him down all the way from Yokohoma to Kawasaki, only stopping when Dazai collapsed in the middle of a street, his frame shaking with sobs as he started hyperventilating. You crouched down beside him and pulled him to your chest, rubbing his back and conducting his breathing, your voice soft as it told him to inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale....

He fell asleep on your shoulder, in the middle of nowhere. You carried him back to your house, and tucked him into a warm bed. The next morning, he wouldn't meet your eye.

Usually, you would have let him; there was hardly anything that Dazai would do that you would disapprove of. But lately, you had been going against his wishes a lot, so you decided to do that one more time.

When he tried to leave, you pinned him to a wall and forced him to look at you. It wasn't difficult, Dazai had never really worked out, even as a part of the Port Mafia. His fighting style was more quick and clean moves than brute strength.

It worked well in your advantage as he tried to struggle against your hold and failed miserably, tears collecting in his eyes and threatening to fall.

"Dazai," You said. "If you want me to disappear from your life, I can do that." He looked up at you, eyes wide and blurred. "But there's one catch. You have to say it. Say it to my face, tell me to leave, and I swear on my own life, I'll vanish. You won't ever see me again." And then the tear that had been collecting in his eye all this time fell, sliding down his cheek and onto the collar of his shirt. His arms went limp in your hold, and he wobbled forwards. You caught him as he fell, and he sobbed into your shoulder again. His hands were clutching at your shirt as if for dear life, and even as you rubbed his back, more tears fell from his eyes. You held Dazai through his breakdown. The next time he spoke to you, he said the words, "I like you too much." It was a silent confession, almost muffled into your shoulder as the post-crying exhaustion overtook. You pulled him closer and pressed a kiss into his temple.

It was alright after that. You asked Dazai why he tried to run away, and the only thing he said was that he got scared. He chose not to explain, and you chose not to push him.

Now, everything is good. Dazai's job at the ADA does worry you sometimes, even if it's for the good, it's dangerous, but you know he loves his job, no matter how many jokes he makes about Fukuzawa's violation of the Labor Laws. And he loves you, that's all you've ever needed.

Being in a relationship with him is not always easy. He still speaks of dying, and the thought of him leaving you makes you panic. Sometimes, you still don't know what to do to make him feel better. But you manage to work through it.

You love Dazai, after all. You have ever since you two were kids.

#dom male reader #top male reader #dom reader #bungou stray dogs #sub bsd x you #sub bsd #bsd x you #sub bungou stray dog x you #sub bungou stray dogs #sub character #sub character x you #sub dazai #sub dazai x you #sub osamu dazai x you #sub osamu dazai

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hamburgerhelpersotherhand · 4 months

Text

Infatuation Rewritten - Chapter 1

Joe Goldberg x Reader (ft. Love Quinn)

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Summary: Love's longtime friend moves back to LA. Fortunately, Joe (Will) never had too much trouble adapting (Season 2).

Warnings: Alcohol consumption (we're all adults here), Joe actually loses his mind a little at the end.

Now for something nobody expected! The long-awaited rewrite for Infatuation... I have 40 pages of this, by the way. I'd like for *some* of them to see the light of day... and so I've told myself: If I wait for it to be perfect, It'll never be posted. I hope you all enjoy, and feel free to share your thoughts! xoxo Ona

My eyes roamed the list of names by the front door of the apartment complex. There were about four total, so finding yours was the easiest part. The hardest step came in the form of mustering up the courage to press the buzzer. But, was it really a trouble with courage? The more I thought, as my finger hovered over the button, the more I began to consider it to be uncertainty.

I pause and reach my other hand into my pocket. My fingers slide across the screen of your phone, and I remind myself why I'm here. Simply put, I’m here to give you your phone back. I found it on the passenger’s seat of my car and almost thought to tell Love… Instantly, a part of me knew she would’ve pried it from my grip to give to you herself – and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity for us to speak again, this time unmonitored by her perceptive gaze and sharp ears… and without the alcohol in your system.

Last night, you clung to Love as she touched you tenderly, playing the role of your dutiful sober saviour. She hosted a dinner and she invited her friends. One of them was you.

“A good friend,” She had called you. The last she’d spoken to you was ten years ago, and I guess I hadn’t realized good friends stay out of reach for a decade at a time. It didn’t matter how much time had split you two apart, though, because Love embraced you with a warm smile and open arms. There wasn’t any malice, no judgement either. She was just happy to have you back in her life. When you got too drunk to take public transportation, Love tried to coax you into staying the night. You wouldn’t budge, even with a slipping tongue, fluttering eyes, and a head too heavy to stay upright. So she compromised: you let her coddle you, sober you up just enough, and I drove you home. It wasn’t even that late, Love just couldn't stop pouring you wine after wine after wine. You seemed like you needed it, though. Tense as you were. Pent up little thing.

“What’s your relationship like with Love?” I asked, feeling rather bold with your inebriated self. The image of her hand resting on your thigh flashed in my mind. I laughed. “She hadn’t mentioned you until you’d moved back to LA. She practically can't shut up about you now.”

You shifted in your seat like a child. No position in my car seemed comfortable for you, and you had made it more than obvious.

“She’s a good friend.” You responded and looked out the window like it meant something. Love had said the same thing — I believed you both — but I felt as though you were withholding something else from the conversation. The annoying bell on your purse jingles as you tuck it closer to your side.

“You two seem close. Should I be concerned?” I then asked teasingly, laughing to fill the awkward tension of a silent car ride. I wanted to spark something in you, but you brushed it off as you curled your arms around your waist.

“I think I had too much to drink…” I glanced at you, and I was suddenly nervous. Your coat was askew, hanging off your shoulders. I knew you were drunk, but your direct announcement sounded to me as a warning.

“Tell me if you need to throw up, okay?” You slowly nodded before slotting your forehead against the cool car window. We remained like that until you got home, choosing to stumble your way for a block to feel a semblance of privacy – but I watched you walk up those steps. I knew your building, and you were still too fucked up to realize.

I pull your phone out of my pocket and look it over one more time. My thumb runs over the plastic case before turning it around and looking at myself in the black reflection.

Your phone is dead. Has been since I found it. None of my chargers fit into the port, unsurprisingly. It’s one of those phones where the keyboard slides out, for Pete's sake. Your phone is more than a few generations old. A brick. I chewed my fingers raw trying anything I could to get it started again – I wanted to pry, really. I’ll be honest with you here, I really wanted this glimpse into your personal affairs.

I wondered, exasperatedly, about what you were hiding behind this screen. Clutching it tighter into my palm, I lift my free hand and press the buzzer.

A few long moments after the sound, I hear a click.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N. It’s Will –” I begin to say, ready to explain myself in the same manner I had rehearsed at home, eating breakfast, in the car, and on my way up the steps. However, you cut me off immediately.

“Do you have my phone?”

My heart skips a beat and I’m momentarily stunned. I blink a few times before speaking.

“Yeah, actually.” I replied. “I found it on the passenger seat this morning, I guess I didn't see it when I got home last night.”

“I’m going to buzz you in.” Perfect.

After hearing the buzzer, the door clicked. I made my way inside. The stairs were wooden and creaky, the walls showing obvious water damage, and the lights hummed obnoxiously. Obviously, none of this was of your doing. Your landlord just didn’t care.

Your door’s paint was chipping off, revealing the cracked wooden layer underneath, but the rusted numbers on your door somehow looked worse. I knocked.

I heard the shuffling of your feet from behind the door before it opened. When your head peeked out, you gave me a smile and extended your hand.

I momentarily look at it, thinking… Right. I drop your phone into your awaiting palm. I almost thought you wanted me to reach out as well. That would’ve been too good, right?

“May I use your bathroom?” I ask.

Your mouth opens momentarily, as you look away and off to the side. There’s nothing there, you’re simply thinking it through and disappearing into your head again.

“Sure.” You then reply, reluctantly scooting back and giving me my first glimpse into your apartment.

If only you knew how ecstatic I was to slip through the crack of your front door. My heart thumps excitedly, as I waste no time looking around. By the door sits a coat hanger with a few pairs of shoes around its feet.

“Should I take off my boots?” I ask.

“Yeah, actually. I’d appreciate it.”

I untie the laces and slip them off my feet. Then, just as I drop them by the coat hanger, you beckon me to follow.

Your apartment is a fair size, with one large space making up both the kitchen and the living room. Right of the front door, a short hallway leads us to a room. As you continue past the door, I slow myself and look to my left. Your hallway has a little louvred closet, and I can’t help but reach out and open it. There’s nothing exciting inside, only white bed sheets.

“The bathroom is over here.” I suddenly hear you say from within the bedroom. I close the closet and hurry along, hesitantly making my way into your room.

I examine the layout of your furniture: your bed is made, your dresser tucked away in the corner, your desk by the window, and your small bookcase right by its side. I take another look toward your window: It overlooks the front of the building, I think. I want to look around more, but I’ve already entered an uncomfortable silence through this simple observation… you’re bound to find it weird. Hell, you’re already finding it weird – my being here – if your reluctance to me using your bathroom is anything to go by.

“Thanks.” I tell you, nodding in your direction and scooting by to enter the bathroom. I peer over my shoulder, however, and take another peek into your bedroom before shutting the door.

In the bathroom, I made my way to the toilet and listened to your shuffling from the other side of the door. I lifted the seat without paying much attention, and stilled when I heard you leave the bedroom entirely. I didn’t really need to go to the bathroom, but I wasn’t lying when I said I needed to use it.

I waited a moment, lowered the toilet seat again, and didn’t bother flushing or washing my hands. The sound could set you off that I was finished, and I definitely wasn’t finished. I needed the opportunity to snoop just a tad bit more. I unlocked and creaked the bathroom door open, observing the quiet room with more attention than I had before.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I leave the door open. My head snaps in the direction of your bedroom door and I pleasantly find it shut from the rest of your apartment. You’re making this too easy. I make my way around quietly, being careful with my steps as I approach your nightstand with a familiar object glinting in the natural sunlight of the room: your phone, on its charger. When I press the button on its side, the logo appears as it powers on.

I take the time needed for the phone to boot up as an excuse to look about your room. The bookcase, which I had only glanced at before, takes shape infront of me. My hand drifts along the spines of the books… and I feel unsatisfied. You have a small selection of kitschy modern romance novels. My judging eyes shift to your dresser, the framed pictures sitting on top catching my attention. I don't recognize anyone, but a weird feeling washes over me. You’re not in any of these pictures. I feel a… disconnection… from the room. My eyes move elsewhere and I catch sight of a few unopened cardboard boxes against the wall near the bedroom door. They’re folded. Unused. I wonder briefly as I look back down to your phone. It’s open.

Unlocking it was easy, no password. You know, the good thing about an older cellphone model is how easy it is to just… get in. I flip your phone over and pop the back right off. I slide the chip out of my pocket and right into place. Once everything is back in its place, I unlock your phone and fully install the hardware. As much as I would like to start snooping about your phone now, I close it and set it back down on your nightstand. I make my way back into the bathroom, pulling my phone out all the while. I open the freshly installed app and bite at my lip as I see the device sync up. Done.

I flush the toilet, wash my hands, and make my way out of the bedroom. When I step back into your living room kitchen, you’re seated at the short island, your back to the small living room.

“Thanks for letting me use your bathroom,” I say, making my way back to the front door. You swivel the chair as I walk by and watch me duck for my boots.

“Thanks for bringing me my phone. I was almost going to head out to Anavrin–”

“Oh, I don’t work Saturdays. You would’ve missed me entirely.” I say all matter-of-factly, like an asshole. You shrink.

“Noted.”

As I loop the laces around, I look up at you. Your brows knit together and you avert your eyes from me. I watch you for another moment, smiling to myself. You’re nervous.

“What’re all the boxes for?” I ask, looking around the apartment. They’re a little sprawled out everywhere, but most of them are still folded up. I chew my cheek as I wonder – are you packing up to leave already? You just got here not even a week ago. Is that what’s gotten you so nervous? Cause I caught you? I bite my tongue and choose to rephrase my thoughts. “Still unpacking?”

“No, It’s… complicated.” You respond.

I nod my head and stand. Your eyes fleet to me for a second before drawing away. Is it me, Y/N? Am I making you nervous?

“Thank you again, for my phone.” You mumble, drifting off somewhere. I smile wide, and huff. You’re not a threat. A pest, likely. But not a threat.

“Yeah, no problem.”

I’m out the door not a moment later, spinning my keys while on the way to my car.

—

Back at my apartment, I notice the door’s unlocked.

I'm cautious as I walk through the threshold, peering ahead only to notice Love behind the counter.

“Love, I didn’t expect you to break into my apartment.” I tease, taking off my boots and shedding my jacket.

“I thought you’d be home,” she whines. “Besides, it’s not breaking in when you’ve got a key.”

I make my way into the kitchen, to her side, and slip my hands around her waist. She turns her head to look at me, a big smile on her face.

“Where were you?” She mumbles, still looking down at the counter.

“I went over to Y/N’s apartment,” I began, rolling the hem of her shirt between my fingers. “She forgot her phone in my car last night.” I kiss her shoulder.

“Mmh,” Love hums. “That was nice of you.”

I look over her shoulder, noticing the restaurant brochures infront of her.

“What were you doing here?”

“Looking for something to order. I don’t really want to cook again tonight.”

I lift my hands off her hips, placing them on either side of the counter. I press forward, and slide one of the menus into view.

“This one seems good.” I whisper, inconsiderate of what I’m pointing to. I’ve got one thing on my mind right now, and it isn’t the brochures.

Catching onto my carelessness, Love turns around and faces me. She tilts her head and observes my face for a moment before sliding her arms around my neck.

“How did it go?” Love suddenly inquires about us again.

“It went well,” I tell her, keeping it short. Still, she pries.

“Tell me more,”

“Well, she showed me to her bathroom,” I look around, as though I was recalling the few minutes I stood in your apartment. I’ll keep the snooping to myself. “Aaand, that’s about it.”

Love thins her lip. She’s pensive for a moment. She thinks, and I watch her grapple with her thoughts as she looks about the kitchen. She clears her throat before speaking.

“Will,” She starts, her hand taps my chest and I watch it circle around. “I wouldn’t be asking you this if it wasn’t important, but… can you do me a huge favour?”

My hands find Love’s face, cupping her cheeks, and pressing her forehead to mine. My eyes search hers, and I pout.

“Anything for you,” I tell her. Anything.

“Forty has this thing tomorrow… I didn’t think ahead, and my plans are jumbled. But, this is really important.”

For a second, my stomach drops. I try not to let the horror show on my face as I’m convinced she’s about to glue me to Forty’s side for a day. But she continues.

“Y/N needs help clearing the apartment,” My eyes narrow, and I nod as I continue to listen. “You see… Will. It isn’t really my place to say this, but I thought you should know her mom passed away a few months ago. She’s been trying to sort through the estate, and they finally gave her the green light to clear out her old apartment. I can’t be there to help.”

Love’s hands slide over mine, cupping my fingers as I cup her cheeks.

“Are you free sometime tomorrow? Would you be able to help her out?”

With this revelation, the framed pictures sitting on the dresser make sense.

“I mean… yeah. I can do that.”

Love lights up at my response, hopping up for an intimate kiss. My hands fall to her ass, but she pulls away too soon. Always too soon.

“Thank you, Will,” She grins, tapping my chest again. “I’ll let her know.”

As Love pulls out her phone, I watch her tap away at the screen.

“You know, that entire complex looks unlivable. The place might have a rodent problem, too.” I say as she hits send.

“I know! I told her she could stay with me,” Love leans her head against my chest with a frustrated huff, slipping her phone onto the counter.

“You both already spend so many afternoons together,” I begin, sliding her head up to look at me. My fingers brush her cheek, and my next words come out hushed. “If she was around any more, I’d never have you to myself.”

Her eyes flutter as my hands brush baby hairs out of her face. I hum, and lean in for another kiss.

“Will,” she starts, pressing her palm into my chest. She pushes me back, and I let her. “I’m not in the mood right now. Is that alright?”

I purse my lips… a little agitated, but I understand. I’m in the mood, but I understand. She doesn’t want to have sex, she wants to talk about you.

“Of course, Love,” I kiss her cheek. “Some other time.”

With a smile, she returns her attention to those stupid brochures. I agree to whatever she wants, whatever she’s in the mood for. I always do.

Once dinner’s sorted, we pair it with a movie on my tv. We cuddle, and it’s nice. During an intimate scene, a quiet one with rustling bedsheets, Love decides to speak.

“I’m glad you’re getting along well with Y/N.” She says with a hum, rubbing her face into my chest. I grunt when her hand squeezes my knee. “She appreciates it too, I know it. She doesn’t know many people in the city anymore.”

I tear my eyes away from the sex on tv to look Love in the eyes.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I have that thing with Forty. Someone seems a little forgetful tonight” I laugh and apologize, scolding myself. Of course… Tomorrow. I did forget. She turns her attention back to the movie. When I reluctantly return my own attention to the screen, I can’t help but scrutinise everything I see. Love seems pleased, watching the protagonist and her girlfriend lounge after what felt like the most drawn-out fucking I’d ever witnessed on tv. She’s probably thinking to herself: what a nice couple, happy, in love, and all tuckered out. But I feel differently. I see something I’m missing. We could be them, Love and I. But, instead of being wrapped in each other with more to do than to SAY, I think about the brick phone, I think about the lunch dates, I think about the selfishness of only reaching out when things became convenient, and I think about YOU. I think about the rust on your door, think about your dead mom, I think about how Love wants me to help you pack her things – like I’m some tool to be borrowed and Love’s the kind neighbour willing to lend – and I think about how Love touches you and I can’t help but wish I could crawl into your skin and rip you up from the inside.

The bell on your bag rings in my ears, jingling as you tap it over, and over again. Should I feel threatened by you? Because I do, even when everything about you proves to me you’re no threat at all. You’re meek, small, pathetic. Despite it all, you’ve stepped into my yard, trampled the very bushes I’ve trimmed and watered to perfection, and made yourself cozy against the love of my life. And, like a call to battle, the bell stirs something in me.

But you’re innocent, I cry in my head. You’re not Peach. You’re no evil mastermind, and stepping into someone else’s yard doesn’t mean much when you’re a helpless rabbit. Your mom is dead, you’re grieving. I think about you, in my car, curled in on yourself, skin exposed. Scared. I grit my teeth at the thought.

When Love departs, just after the movie ends, I spend some time catching up on your messages. That’s all I can really do, actually. With such an old model, your system doesn’t allow access to anything, anywhere, anytime. Just the text messages. I scroll to find your mention of me dropping by earlier.

‘Left my phone in Will’s car. He dropped it off.’

‘He’s the best <3’ Love responded.

About twenty minutes after that, Love let you know I’m replacing her tomorrow.

‘We can reschedule.’ You tried, but Love tells you the plans are already made. You can’t run from this. Neither can I.

I recline on my couch, huffing as I read as far as your messages go. I couldn’t get the older logs but anything you send from here on out, I have access to. When the late hours of the night finally catch up to me, I look out my window at the flickering street lights, and I head to bed.

#joe goldberg x reader #joe goldberg #love quinn #love quinn x reader #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere joe goldberg #Joe Goldberg x Love Quinn

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five-and-dimes · 18 days

Text

Every Hand to Hold

For the Dreaming Bingo prompt: Threesome

Rating: Explicit

Ship: Dream/Hob/Calliope

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: Immortal Throuple, hurt/comfort, miscommunications, Dream's terrible horrible no good self esteem, happy ending

Summary: Inspired by this post from @cuubism (specifically her tags) that my brain then fully ran away with. Dream thinks it's wild that two separate gorgeous brunettes decided to start hooking up with him, but he's not complaining, even if he does get a little more heartbroken than he should when they both stop seeing him within a week of each other.

Read on AO3

It started with Calliope.

Dream had been wandering aimlessly in a small, secondhand bookstore when he had turned the corner and crashed into a woman with her arms so full of books she could barely see over them. Mortified, Dream had apologized and immediately began gathering up the books she had dropped, all of them either poetry collections or textbooks on the history of poetry. He had shyly inquired about her selections, and she had happily spoken at length about all of them, Dream immediately enamored with her passion and intelligence. She said her name was Calliope, and then she had dragged Dream into a small storage closet and pushed him to his knees.

And then a week later, he had met Hob. Dream had been sitting in the park, quietly feeding the birds, when a handsome man had sauntered over and asked if the seat next to him was taken. His boldness was startling, the way he sprawled next to Dream and kept an easy conversation going even as Dream fumbled. He had a warmth about him, a bright laugh that never felt like it was directed at Dream, and it had been a shock when, despite the long list of things Dream knew he had gotten wrong during their interaction, Hob had leaned forward and grinned.

“So. Your place or mine?”

Dream lived closer.

It all seemed to happen so fast. Dream was no stranger to the occasional one night stand, something quick and simple to ease his loneliness for even a moment, but never had he been propositioned by two beautiful people in such quick succession. And he’d certainly never had people want to see him again. He had been so flattered when Calliope had asked for his number, and even more so when she actually used it, asking if they could meet again, preferably in an actual bed this time. Hob had left his own number on Dream’s nightstand, and Dream had felt foolishly optimistic when he texted him to let him know Dream’s number as well, but he was glad he did when Hob texted back a few days later, wanting to fool around again. While he had long given up on the hope of ever being relationship material, he thought he could handle some simple hookups.

Apparently he was wrong.

Dream never had the courage to text either of them first, but at least once a week one of them invited themselves over and Dream would clear his schedule. They were both confident and clear about what they wanted, and Dream felt such relief at how easy they made it for him. He didn’t have to guess and worry about getting it wrong- all he had to do was go where their hands guided him. It was simple. He would bend over backwards to make them happy, give them anything and everything they could possibly want from him, because even if they never stayed long, it was enough that they kept coming back. He just wanted them to keep coming back.

After almost two months, Dream had been typing and retyping a message to Hob, trying to ask if maybe sometime they could grab a drink before going to bed together. Even if Dream wasn’t cut out for a romantic relationship, maybe he could at least convince Hob to a friends-with-benefits situation? He thought maybe he could be good enough to be called a friend. And Hob was so kind to him.

Before he has a chance to hit send though, Hob texts him first.

Hey, I’m sorry, but I don’t think we should meet up anymore. Thanks for all the fun times though!

Dream feels his heart sink.

Is everything alright?

What happened?

What did I do wrong?

Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you

Please

I don’t want to be alone anymore

He types, and deletes, and types, and deletes, and ignores the way his vision blurs.

Okay

He puts his phone on silent, but it doesn’t matter. Hob never responds.

A few days later, he decides that he must be brave quicker this time. So he steels himself, and texts Calliope to ask if she would like to join him at a poetry reading the local library was putting on.

As friends, he is quick to add on. He would not dare to reach for more than that. He does not think he is being unreasonable though. Calliope likes poetry, is a writer herself, and at a reading she will not even have to worry about dealing with Dream’s stilted attempts at conversation. They can simply sit silently together, and enjoy other people’s words, and she can put his mouth to better uses afterwards. It’s perfect.

I don’t think that’s a good idea

Dream wants to cry. He is mid apology, typing rapidly about how he did not mean to overstep, they could just keep their current arrangement, it’s fine, really. But another message comes through before he has a chance to send it.

I don’t think we should see each other at all anymore

He stares at the message for what feels like ages, his own rambling words still sitting uselessly in the text box. Finally, he deletes his reply slowly, typing a new response.

I understand.

He doesn’t though. He really, really, doesn’t.

It’s not like Dream isn’t used to being dumped- most people grew sick of him and his flaws eventually. But he had thought he was at least a good enough lay for them to stick around for a little longer. He had tried so hard not to let too much of his undesirable qualities show during their nights together, and they had always seemed more than satisfied with his performance in bed. So where did he go wrong?

Maybe they could just… tell. Maybe they could sense each time he touched them that he was putting too much of his heart into it, that he was too attached, too desperate, too hungry for more.

He recalls the way his sibling had laughed at him when he had stated that he had given up on dating.

“Please,” they had drawled, “You’ll always be going after someone. You bleed neediness. Sometimes I think you’ll stain my couch with it.”

Maybe they were right. Maybe Calliope and Hob had grown tired of having to wash off his desperation after each encounter. After all, it was just supposed to be casual sex, and here he was, nursing a heart broken twice over, proving them all right. He had no one to blame but himself.

It wasn’t a breakup. He hadn’t been together with either of them, not in any way that truly mattered. He couldn’t tell his sister, or one of his few friends, why he was even more morose than usual. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to explain that he kept checking his phone, didn’t want to make plans or go out just in case one of them changed their mind and contacted him, wanted to be available just in case either of them decided they weren’t done with him yet?

He allowed himself a few weeks to wallow, to mourn, and then, as much as a petulant part of him didn’t want to, Dream knew he had to move on. So when he receives an email informing him of an event at a local bar, he makes plans to attend. Galleria was a favorite of Dream’s, as they displayed pieces from local artists throughout their establishment. It was one of the first places to showcase Dream’s own art, and he has been a regular in their rotation for years now. As such, despite generally avoiding crowds, Dream always made an effort to support the shows of all the artists they featured.

So he would go. He would absorb himself in new artwork, have a few drinks, maybe throw himself into a one night stand that he would make sure actually remained a one night stand. He would distract himself. There wasn’t much else he could do.

It works, at first. The crowd is not overwhelming, but still a good turn out for the young artist greeting people by the door. Dream accepts a postcard with her information and then splurges on a nicer glass of wine to sip on as he meanders through the bar, weaving through tables to take in the newly hung paintings. He waves awkwardly at the managers who luckily know him well enough to simply wave back instead of starting a conversation, and Dream finds himself actually feeling alright for the first time in weeks.

And then he sees Hob and Calliope.

Together.

Not only together, but together. Holding hands and clearly a couple, each with a drink in their free hands as they chatted with another patron, their shoulders brushing as they leaned together to make room for the people moving around them. Dream can see their lips moving, one after the other, probably finishing each others’ sentences with the ease of two people who belonged together.

Dream feels like the scum of the earth. For all the love in his heart, he never wanted to ruin anyone else’s. He never wanted to be a home-wrecker.

He is so frozen in horror that he could barely move, the reality of the situation washing over him like ice water, so when Hob and Calliope finally turn and see him, he is still staring, wide-eyed. They stare back, and then look at each other, and Dream sees their mouths moving rapidly, everything coming to light no doubt, and Dream finally manages to get his body to move, to run. He put his glass on the first flat surface he sees and takes off, desperate to escape. But of course, he can’t even do that right, and he soon realizes that in his panic he has run in the opposite direction of the exit, instead standing pressed against the back wall. Trapped. It feels too risky to turn back, and so instead he flings himself into the thankfully single-person restroom, locking the door before leaning heavily against it.

Everything feels ruined, so much worse than it had felt even just a few hours ago. It had been bad enough losing both of them, feeling thrown away and heartbroken yet again. Now, even the memories are tainted. Seeing Hob and Calliope together had opened his eyes in the worst way. They had looked so right together, both of them so beautiful and shining and bright, glowing smiles and cheerful laughs. Of course Dream wasn’t good enough for either of them. He only hopes that he hasn’t inadvertently destroyed their relationship.

Dream presses his fists against his eyes, fighting back tears. He feels caught between sorrow and rage and shame. They hadn’t told him. He never would have taken either of them up on their offers if they had told him.

A swift series of knocks on the door makes him jump, and he quickly chokes out, “Occupied!” He just needs a little longer to pull himself together.

Unfortunately, a familiar voice calls back, “Dream?”

Hob’s voice is calm, no immediate rage or hatred, but it doesn’t make Dream’s heart pound any less. Especially when another voice joins him.

“Can we talk to you?” Calliope asks gently, “Please?”

She doesn’t sound angry either, but Dream can’t bring himself to trust it. Still. He knows he must face them. Whatever happens, he has been cornered and there is nowhere to go but forward.

His hands shake as he flips the lock, opening the door with resignation. In front of him, the two people he had grown so attached to- the two people who had, within a week of each other, cut him out of their lives- were smiling at him. Hob had an arm around Calliope’s shoulder, and they were both dressed nicely for the event. They were somehow even more beautiful standing together.

Hob grinned, “Fancy meeting you here, stranger,” he said teasingly.

Something about the ease in their posture, their casual smiles, Hob’s joking greeting, ignites a flicker of fury in him.

“Neither of you told me,” he snaps. They both blink, surprised by the outburst, and he struggles to continue, to get it all out before he either loses his nerve or starts crying, “Neither of you said you had a partner. So if- if you’re upset-… do not be upset with me, because I didn’t know.” He wishes he sounded more angry, but he can’t fully conceal his desperation, or the way his hands shake at his sides, “It’s not my fault.”

Please believe me, he doesn’t say, please forgive me.

Hob raised his hands, “Hey, no, Dream, everything is fine,” he smiled sympathetically, “Nobody did anything wrong, I promise. Calliope and I are in an open relationship. It’s all okay.”

Dream blinked in surprise, feeling the adrenaline slowly bleed out of him, “Oh.”

“We did not mean to keep it a secret,” Calliope chimed in, winding an arm around Hob’s waist and looking at him fondly, “we both have a tendency to get caught up in our… excursions. Sometimes we forget that details might be appreciated.”

Looking between the two of them, Dream thinks he finally gets it. Perhaps they had been attracted to the novelty of him at first. His sickly pale skin versus their golden tans. His sharp bonyness when they are both full and soft. But of course that novelty could only last so long, especially if each time they left him they were going home to each other. He never had a chance of comparing.

“I… am glad,” he responds slowly, awkwardly, “When I saw you both… I had been worried…”

“Understandable,” Hob replies, “And we really are sorry. Didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression.”

Dream shifts uncomfortably, “I apologize. For snapping at you.”

“There is no need,” Calliope reassures, waving the apology away, “We caught you off guard, and we should have told you about our situation from the beginning.”

“But, now that we’re all on the same page…” Hob drawls, rocking on his heels as he glances between Dream and Calliope, “I know I- or, both of us, apparently- texted you to call our whole arrangement off, but…”

He trails off, giving Dream a pointed look that Dream doesn’t understand at all. His mouth opens, but he has no idea what Hob is talking about, what he’s supposed to say.

Placing a hand on Hob’s arm, Calliope continues, “But now, the arrangement has changed,” she explains, looking at Dream intently, “Now we know that we both desire you, and our interests are aligned in a way we had not realized before. And so we were wondering if you might be willing to give us another chance. So that we might be with you… together.”

For a long moment, all Dream can do is stare.

“...Together?”

His voice cracks on the word, and Hob and Calliope nod eagerly, looking at him hopefully, and Dream feels lightheaded. He had been resigned to Hob and Calliope not being a part of his life anymore, and after weeks of wishing he could have at least had more time to prepare, now he was being given it. One more night, at the very least.

Surely that’s better than nothing.

“Okay.”

The word is barely out of his mouth when Hob nearly leaps forward to kiss him. Dream thinks he might have fallen to the ground if not for Hob’s hands gripping his hips as he kisses him deeply. It is hungry, biting, impatient. Hob must have been really aching for a threesome if he was this eager already, Dream thinks. When Calliope tugs Hob away to claim Dream’s mouth with her own, he wonders if she had been wanting this for a while, too.

“We don’t live far from here,” Calliope says, breathless, “Just a few blocks. If you’d like to come to ours this time.”

Dream nods obediently, still trying to catch his breath as Calliope takes his hand and Hob wraps an arm around his waist. They guide him out of the bar swiftly and efficiently, letting out little huffs of laughter as they speed down the sidewalk. Hob’s hand drifts down to squeeze his arse and Dream feels inexplicably nauseous.

They really do live quite close, and far too soon Dream is being led up a short flight of stairs, Calliope and Hob giggling at each other playfully as they disentangle just enough to tumble through the door of their apartment. Dream closes the door behind him mechanically, and when he looks, Hob and Calliope are kissing. It is heated, and passionate, and they move together with the practiced ease of two people who have loved each other for a long time. He thinks again of how right they look together. And it suddenly occurs to him how wrong he must look next to them.

And he should be grateful. He knows he should be grateful. He had thought that he had lost them forever, and yet here they were, inviting him into their home for a night of pleasure, a chance to be useful to both of them. He should be honored that out of everyone, out of all the people so much better than him, they chose Dream to be the toy they brought into bed to spice up their relationship.

“I can’t.”

His voice cracks on the words, choked out before he can think better of it. Hob and Calliope part, turning to look at him in confusion. Part of him wishes he hadn’t said anything at all, almost wants to take it back, but he can’t. He had done this before, had tried so hard to be what they wanted. But he couldn’t do this and not get his heart broken again.

“I’m sorry, I…. I thought I could…. I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

His whole body is shaking, and he’s breathless, eyes downcast because he can’t bring himself to face whatever disgust is surely on their faces. His hand fumbles for the doorknob, ready to flee into the night, but soft fingers on his wrist still him. Glancing up through his eyelashes, he finds Hob standing before him, eyes shining with concern.

“Hey, hey… “ he soothes, running his hand up and down Dream’s arm, “It’s alright, dove, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want. But I’m a little uncomfortable letting you run off when you’re clearly so upset.”

Calliope steps forward, taking Dream’s other hand, “Will you talk to us, starlight?”

The pet names make it harder. If he closes his eyes he thinks he could pretend that they actually want him. And that’s exactly why he can’t do this.

“I…like you,” he admits, looking away in shame, “Both of you. And I know I should be happy that you find me good enough to, to even just have sex with you, but… I’m greedy.” All his previous partners had come to hate him for it. For always wanting and wanting and wanting. He was too romantic, too much, too high maintenance, yet somehow also too cold, too awkward, too distant. The best he can hope for now is to leave before they come to truly resent him. “I want… more. More than just sex, and. And I do not think I can do this and just walk away when it’s over.” He doesn’t want to hear them tell him to leave.

He lowers his voice to a whisper, “It is better that I just. Go now.”

There is a long pause, and he waits for them to let him go, perhaps call him stupid or express their annoyance at having brought him all the way here only for him to not deliver. Perhaps they will just shove him out the door and be done with it.

“Oh, Dream…” Hob’s voice is soft, and sorrowful, and he brings Dream’s hand up to clutch it between both of his own. When he glances up, Hob looks… shattered.

“We’re so, so sorry,” Calliope whispers, bringing a hand to rest on Dream’s cheek, “We should have been clearer,” she tugs Dream down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead so he can feel her words against his skin, “We like you too.”

Dream feels his breath catch in his chest. His eyes are wide with disbelief, but as Calliope leans back, Hob nods in agreement, “Apparently we were both being fools,” he smiles self-deprecatingly,“We have an open relationship, yeah, but the reason I called things off with you was because… I was catching feelings,” he admits softly. Then he laughs bashfully, “And I was too chicken to just talk to Calliope about it.”

Calliope shook her head, smiling sadly, “We truly are a pair, because that is the exact reason I put a stop to our trysts as well.”

“So when we saw you, and we realized we’d both been going after the same person, it all came out,” Hob continued. Dream can barely breathe, his mind racing as he thinks back to how Calliope and Hob had looked at Dream, and then each other, how they had leaned in to talk and gesture with each other. “When we said we wanted to be together with you, we meant together. We want you as our partner. We just… didn’t know we could have you like that. Until tonight.”

They want him.

Dream opens his mouth to say something- are you sure, thank you, you won’t regret it, I’ll be good, I promise I’ll be good- but all that comes out is a sob.

“Oh, oh our poor darling,” Calliope cooed, and then her arms are around him, pulling him close and guiding him to lay his head on her shoulder. She pets the hairs at the nape of his neck, her voice heavy with sadness as she whispers against his ear, “You came here with us, and the whole time you thought we were bringing you here to use you?”

Dream wants to rid her voice of the note of guilt he can hear. They did nothing wrong, nothing at all. But before he can get any words out to shift the blame onto himself where it belongs, Hob runs his hands up his back, massaging lightly as he leans in to speak into Dream’s other ear.

“You are far too important for that,” Dream feels his breath hitch, and Hob nuzzles against his neck, “We didn’t bring you here just to fuck you. We want to love you. Will you let us?”

It is everything Dream has ever wanted, and it hardly feels real. He shakes and shivers as he’s held between the two of them, surrounded by their warmth and the soothing sound of their voices as they comfort him.

Eventually, his breath evens, and he is able to pull away slightly, dropping his gaze to the floor. He can feel his face heat with embarrassment. He was making a scene, all because he had misunderstood what was being asked of him, and now as a result he wasn’t giving them anything.

He takes a few shuddering breaths, trying to formulate an apology, something that will convince them that they aren’t making a huge mistake. But before he gets a chance, Hob wraps his arms around his waist from behind.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Hob drawls, his lips pressed to Dream’s neck but his words directed at Calliope, “but when Dream and I had sex, he was always so generous. Only wanted to focus on me and my pleasure, never his own. Got all shy when I tried to return the favor. I get the feeling it might have been similar with you?”

Dream feels himself flush as Calliope hums, running her hands up Dream’s chest languidly, “Hm, yes. So attentive, so eager to please, to do whatever I wanted. Never so much as mentioned his own wants.” Her tone is nearly scolding, and Dream feels lost and frozen.

Then he feels Hob grin, “Well then…” he bites at Dream’s ear, while the tips of his fingers dip beneath the waistband of his jeans, drawing a gasp from Dream’s lips, “sounds like it’s your turn now, Love.”

Calliope tugs at his shirt, stepping backwards as she guides all of them further into the apartment, “Will you let us take care of you? Show you how much we want you?”

Following helplessly, Dream blushes and stutters, so far removed from their confidence and surety. He wonders if this is a joke. They cannot truly want a foolish mess like him.

“Whatever you want,” he croaks, “You can do whatever you want.”

They enter the bedroom, and Hob flicks on some dim lights as Calliope takes Dream’s chin in her hand. She looks sad.

“That,” she states softly, “is not the answer we’re looking for.”

Dream fears he might burst into tears again at her soft chastisement, but luckily Hob steps in, lightly removing Calliope’s hand as he peppers Dream’s face with kisses.

“It’s alright, Love,” he smiles against Dream’s cheek, “we’ll work on it.” There’s a promise in his voice that makes Dream shiver. “For now, just know that what we want,” he cups Dream’s face in one hand to speak against his lips, “is to give you everything you want.”

Swallowing thickly, Dream bites back words about how he doesn’t know what he wants. He just wants them to stay. He wants to be good enough, he wants to be worthwhile enough. He wants them to stay.

But he is distracted from his thoughts when Calliope steals him away from Hob for a kiss of her own. She tilts her head back, offering her mouth for Dream’s tongue to explore shyly as she dips her hands beneath his shirt. Hob walks around her, standing at her back and brushing her hair over her shoulder as he unzips her dress. She moans against Dream’s mouth, biting down gently on his lower lip as Hob kisses between her shoulder blades. The dress falls easily to the floor, allowing her to step out of it gracefully, and even after all the numerous times they have slept together, Dream still finds himself staring in awe at her. Her bra and panties are a muted lavender colored lace, contrasting against her golden skin beautifully. In the dim room he can just make out the soft, dark hairs along her arms and legs, and he cannot resist reaching out to run his fingers along the edge of her panties, where he knows just below is hiding a thatch of dark curls.

Reaching out, Calliope covers Dream’s hands with her own, pressing them more firmly into the soft flesh of her hips. Behind her, Hob unclasps her bra, tossing it to the side as she steps out of her underwear. Once she is naked, she turns to Hob, smiling gently as she unbuttons his shirt.

Dream watches, enamored as Calliope kisses along Hob’s jaw as she unbuckles his belt, Hob nearly ripping his clothes off as soon as every button is undone. They are beautiful together, Calliope leaning up to press her breasts against Hob’s hair covered body as they kiss. He wants to paint them, to try to capture the way their beauty only enhances each other.

Then, they turn to look at him, and Dream feels frozen under the combined weight of their piercing gazes. A part of him wishes he could turn the lights completely off, could hide in the darkness to try to make his lacking less obvious, and he moves his arms jerkily to hug his middle.

And yet, as Calliope and Hob descend on him, their eyes are full of appreciation.

“We haven’t forgotten you, gorgeous,” Hob grins, leaning in to kiss at Dream’s neck as he slides his hands under his shirt. Dream gasps as his fingers ghost over his nipples. Calliope runs her hands along his arms, guiding him to raise them as Hob pulls his shirt over his head. They are so warm, and when he closes his eyes, he forgets for a moment how ridiculous he must look between them, getting lost in the sensation of hands running over his skin reverently. Before, they were always in a hurry. Either coming to Dream before work or an appointment, or at the end of the day before returning home. It was not uncommon for only the minimal amount of undressing necessary to happen, and certainly it was never a drawn out affair.

Neither of them had ever undressed him themselves, never unzipped his jeans like they were unwrapping a present, never smoothed their hands over his exposed skin like he was something to savor.

“Breathe, darling.”

Dream startles at Hob’s gentle reminder, gasping sharply because he had, in fact, been holding his breath. Hob smiles encouragingly, dragging his hands over Dream’s ribs to feel the way they expand with each breath, pulling him close and nuzzling behind his ear and inhaling happily. Hesitantly, Dream wraps his arms around Hob, letting his fingers trace the strong muscles of his back. His grip tightens when he feels Calliope press a kiss to the base of his spine as she slides his jeans and underwear down his legs, gripping his shins as she helps him to step out of them.

Even biting his lip cannot fully stifle the gasp as she stands, the soft swell of her breasts pressing into his back at the same time as he becomes aware of the heat of Hob’s cock sliding against his hip. His own erection is a distant thought, and it feels insignificant in comparison to the scratch of Calliope’s pubic hair against his arse, and the way Hob pulls him in for another kiss.

A soft whine escapes him as Calliope steps away, feeling cold without her warmth to blanket him. Hob hushes him gently, moving them both to follow after her, and when Dream turns to look, he sees Calliope moving onto the bed. She leans against the headboard, legs spread wide, and holds a hand out, beckoning Dream to her. Dream feels a brief sense of relief at the familiarity, moving to crawl between her legs, ready and eager to bring her pleasure. To earn his keep.

But before he can reach her, there is a hand on his arm, twisting him around until he is facing Hob. He grins, and pulls Dream into a heated kiss, his tongue exploring his mouth when Dream gasps. As he deepens the kiss, he presses forward, crowding against Dream until he begins to crawl backwards. Hob continues to guide him back, barely giving him a chance to breathe, and before he knows it his back is pressing against Calliope’s chest. She wastes no time gripping Dream’s waist, tugging him even closer as she mouths at his neck. Her legs bracket his hips, and her tongue is tracing the shell of his ear, and Hob still hasn’t let up his kissing, and Dream feels dizzy on their attention.

When Hob finally leans back, Dream is panting, and Hob has a look of pride at how worked up he’s gotten him. Dream feels overwhelmed, and they’ve barely even done anything.

Hob sits back on his heels, resting his hands on Dream’s ankles and smiling softly, “Will you open up for me, sweetheart?”

Dream didn’t even realize, but his knees were pressed together so hard it was nearly painful. Yet even with the realization he could not bring himself to spread his legs. This felt backwards. No matter what they said, it felt wrong not to be focusing on them. They were already giving him so much.

“You do not need to…” he choked out, pressing his legs together even harder and drawing them towards his chest, so afraid of asking for too much despite not having asked at all. “I… I do not mind- truly, I don’t, I-”

His words are cut off by the feeling of hands running up his thighs, Calliope’s chest pressing against his back as she gently brushed from hip to knee. At the same time, in unison, like the practiced couple they are, Hob drags his hands up Dream’s shins. They meet in the middle, Hob and Calliope lacing their fingers over Dream’s knees. And together, they gently pry his legs apart, until he is left open and exposed in front of them.

“There you are,” Calliope breathes in his ear, her hands slipping back down to stroke at his hip bones. Hob takes advantage of the distraction to slip his torso between Dream’s legs, peppering soft kisses up his leg. Dream shivers at the touch, Hob hooking one leg over his shoulder to stroke his flank as he kisses the inside of his knee.

“I couldn’t help but notice,” Calliope purrs, running a hand through Hob’s hair to get his attention as she smirks down at him, “he always made the prettiest noises when I scratched at his inner thighs.”

Hob looks up, grinning mischievously, and before Dream has a chance to brace himself, he grazes his teeth across his skin and then bites, putting just enough force to leave the slightest indent of teeth. Dream slaps a hand over his mouth as he keens, his toes curling, and when Hob grins he can feel his teeth.

“So sensitive,” he says, clearly delighted, “but I didn’t quite hear you love.”

As he moves to Dream’s other thigh, Calliope takes Dream’s wrist and pulls his hand away from his mouth. She holds both his hands as she wraps her arms around his chest until his arms are crossed. With her gentle restraint, he cannot muffle his sounds as Hob drags his teeth all the way to where his thigh creases.

It is overwhelming, so much sensation all at once. Hob sucks and bites at his thighs, leaving a trail of little love bites behind, and Calliope loosens her hold as she begins to stroke at his nipples, an embarrassing squeak escaping him as she pinches just as Hob bites down. Trembling, Dream can’t help but shrink into himself as much as he can. Head bowed, Calliope’s arms preventing him from curling over as her clever fingers play with his chest, Hob’s body preventing his legs from snapping shut at each graze of teeth. It is so good. It is also so much, and when he feels Calliope raise a hand to his hair he flinches, bracing himself without meaning to.

Hob’s eyes dart up to look at him, and Dream does his best to exhale, to relax, to act normal for once. Pulling back just slightly, Hob rests his head against Dream’s leg, one hand petting his thigh softly. His other hand reaches out to tap Calliope’s knee, drawing her attention as he hums thoughtfully.

“He’d never admit it, but he doesn’t like having his hair pulled.”

Dream feels himself flush, eyes wide with embarrassment and looking at Hob with shock. He has no idea how Hob figured that out, he thought he hid it pretty well, and he feels a stab of betrayal at being called out. He feels Calliope suck in a breath behind him, and just knows she’s thinking of all the times she had gripped his hair harshly, twisting and tugging as Dream pleasured her, his discomfort hidden between her legs.

It was worth it, though. He would do anything for them.

Hob looks at him a little sadly, and Dream wonders how much of his thoughts are written plainly across his face. His eyes move to Calliope, smiling at her as he continues, “But if you just scratch his scalp lightly? He’ll melt under your hands.”

Calliope moves before Dream has a chance to respond, and he can’t hold back a shuddering sigh as he feels her manicured nails run through his hair, just barely grazing his skin. She does it again, and again, and Dream’s eyes close in bliss.

Tears sting at the corner of his eyes, and he swallows thickly as he forces himself to speak, “You… you can pull. If you want to.”

Calliope hums, but makes no move to stop her gentle petting, “I don’t want to, actually, thank you.”

He’s doing this all wrong, but the tears escape despite his best efforts. He feels his chest hitch and he waits for Hob and Calliope’s frustration, their impatience, their jeering mockery. It never comes. Everything seems to slow down for a moment, both of them just petting him, holding him, quietly giving him the chance to catch his breath.

Almost without noticing, he finds himself relaxing. Just as Hob predicted, Dream slowly melts back against Calliope as she continues stroking his hair, sinking against her chest as the rigid tension he had been holding himself with slowly bleeds out of him. His legs fall open a little wider, no longer pressed against Hob’s shoulders with locked muscles. The tears slow, his breath evens, and his eyes drift shut. Calliope presses a kiss to his damp cheek, and Hob nuzzles against his hip bone, and it feels good without feeling like he’s going to drown in it.

“There’s a love,” Hob whispers against his skin, “We’ve got you. No need to rush. We’re more than happy to take our time with you.”

Leaning up, Hob trails kisses up Dream’s stomach and chest, until he finally reaches his mouth and presses against him deeply. Dream sighs against his mouth, letting his head drop back onto Calliope’s shoulder as she claims Hob’s lips next. The overwhelming fire has calmed to a simmering warmth, and when Calliope turns her head to kiss him, Hob’s movement makes him gasp as their cocks briefly brush against each other. He hears Hob whine softly as well.

He is panting again when Calliope moves to suck at his neck, and he feels Hob grin as he places wet, open mouthed kisses across his stomach, chin just barely brushing against his straining cock. With the tension eased out of him, he finds himself unable to hold back the soft, desperate moan as Hob’s hands glide up his inner thighs.

Calliope reaches her hand around and, with practiced ease, grips a fistful of Hob’s hair in her hand, dragging his face firmly against Dream’s groin.

“I think we’ve teased him enough, my love.”

Dream sucks in a breath as he feels Hob’s moan against his skin. It occurs to him now, as he takes in the pleasure on Hob’s face as he’s manhandled, that Calliope probably treated Dream the same way simply out of habit. Her hands moved with confidence and familiarity, Hob’s eyes fluttering with arousal. He feels a sharp stab of guilt for daring to have different preferences than them, for not hiding it well enough, for disrupting their routine.

But whatever half-formed apology was on his lips dies when Hob parts his lips and Calliope guides him to take Dream’s cock. He has to bite his lip to muffle his cries, and his body trembles with effort to not thrust up into the warm, wet cavern of Hob’s mouth.

“I’m surprised he managed to hold himself back so long,” Calliope whispers against Dream’s ear, stroking Hob’s cheek reverently, her fingers tracing his lips where they’re stretched around Dream’s length, “A large part of why we opened our relationship was because he loves sucking cock so much. My strap-on just couldn’t quite satisfy him.”

Dream shudders at the words, whining when Hob hums, glancing up with bright eyes, looking like he would be laughing in agreement if his mouth wasn’t full. Calliope tugs at his hair, and Dream keens at the feeling of Hob’s tongue dragging across his prick as Calliope pulls him off.

Hob grins, licking his lips, “Didn’t want to scare you off,” he admits to Dream, “Didn’t want to push when I wasn’t sure why you wouldn’t let me reciprocate.” His hands move to Dream’s arse, squeezing gently before tugging him forward, sliding him down the bed just slightly until his head is pillowed against Calliope’s breasts and Hob can bury his nose in the crease of Dream’s thigh.

“Nothing to be afraid of now, darling,” Hob says, smiling, “So let go for us.”

He opens his mouth, and does not have to wait long before Calliope has his hair in her grip again, moving him to swallow Dream back down as she sets a gentle pace for them. Dream shudders and moans, his breath hitching when he feels himself barely brush the back of Hob’s throat. He tries to pull away slightly, but as he does Hob looks up at him, and Dream just knows he would be grinning if he could. He hooks his arms under Dream’s knees until his legs are over his shoulders, and ignores Calliope’s guiding hand in favor of pulling Dream close until his nose is pressing against his pelvis and Dream can feel him swallowing around him.

The cry Dream lets out is more like a muffled scream, his whole body going taut as he throws his head back against Calliope’s chest. When she laughs, it is not mean, or mocking. She just sounds happy.

“Someday,” she promises, “I will show you how to really fuck his face exactly how he likes.” Dream shudders at the words, and Calliope allows Hob another moment to choke on Dream’s prick before pulling him off. Hob sucks in a gasping breath, drool running down his chin, smiling and laughing even as Calliope turns her attention to him to chide him fondly, “But for now, we must be gentle with him, my love.” She wipes at the saliva on Hob’s face as she leans to kiss Dream’s cheek, “We have been too careless already.”

Whatever part of Dream’s brain that is still working wants to argue, but before he gets a chance, Hob is placing a kiss at the base of his cock, looking up at him warmly, “No argument here,” and then he is licking up the shaft and returns to the easy pace from before, and all Dream can do is whimper.

Heat curls in the bottom of his stomach as he watches Hob’s head bob steadily. He is so caught up in the sensation, in Hob’s tongue swirling over the head of his dick, and Hob’s hands massaging his arse, and Calliope still idly stroking his nipples, that it takes him a moment to notice that his voice is not the only sound echoing through the room. Blinking dazedly, he realizes that Hob is moaning around him, and his hips are rutting desperately against the mattress, a dark spot spreading on the sheets where his precome is leaking. Behind him, Calliope’s breath is panting by his ear, and he feels the knuckles of her free hand brushing against his lower back rhythmically as she fingers herself.

Hob’s face is flushed, his tempo faltering as he climbs towards his peak, until Calliope has to grip his hair again to keep him steady. As she does, Dream can hear the slick, wet sounds behind him as her hips start canting to fuck herself on her own fingers. Her movements jostle Dream, each thrust of her hips pushing Dream’s into a mirroring thrust into Hob’s mouth. Dream isn’t even doing anything, is simply laying at their mercy and writhing at every pleasure they wring from him, and yet somehow, impossibly, he is surrounded by the evidence of their pleasure as well.

Whining desperately, Dream moves one hand to grip at Calliope’s thigh, the other covering her’s over Hob’s hair, pushing back weakly, “I-... I’m going to-....” he tries to warn.

Calliope only grinds against him harder, her voice breathless as she keeps her hand on Hob’s head, “Go ahead,” she pants, “Let go, let him taste you, let us see you lose yourself with us.”

Hob hums in eager agreement and just like that Dream is coming hard. His fingers tighten on Calliope’s thigh and Hob’s hair, pressing them close as he throws his head back and keens, long and loud. Hob takes him as deep as he can go to swallow around every drop, and just as Dream is starting to come down, Hob lets out a strangled cry and Dream nearly shrieks in overstimulation. Calliope pulls Hob off and Dream realizes that he is coming too, his red, red lips hanging open and drool dripping from his chin as he moans, long stripes of come streaking between his legs. Finally, Calliope buries her face in Dream’s neck, her hand speeding up until Dream feels a puddle of wetness bloom on the mattress where their hips are pressed together.

For a long moment, all three of them simply lay together, panting and boneless. Hob has collapsed forward, uncaring of laying in his own mess, resting his head on Dream’s stomach. Dream feels like a ragdoll, limbs loose and limp as he leans back heavily on Calliope. She in turn is curled forward, forehead pressed against Dream’s shoulder, her hips occasionally twitching with little aftershocks of her orgasm.

Eventually, Calliope shifts, humming in contentment as she stretches an arm out to tug on a strand of Hob’s hair. When she has his attention, she crooks a finger still shiny with her own fluids at him, beckoning him to her. He smiles, and slides up Dream’s body languidly until they are chest to chest and Calliope can draw him into a deep kiss just over Dream’s shoulder. He watches with half-lidded eyes as Calliope licks into Hob’s mouth, and he can feel the way her chest rumbles with a noise of satisfaction.

“Oh, Dream,” she purrs, and Dream blinks in surprise at being addressed as she runs her tongue across Hob’s lips, “you taste divine.”

Dream thinks his face might be on fire, and even as he ducks his head to hide his face in Hob’s chest, he is certain Hob must feel the heat on his skin. But Hob is nice enough not to say anything, petting Dream’s hair softly as Calliope allows him to lick her fingers clean.

Hob runs his tongue over her fingers thoroughly, moaning happily at the taste of both his lovers mingling in his mouth, “Truly, I’m being spoiled tonight,” Hob grinned, his voice rough and rasping in a way that only made Dream blush harder, “I thought this was supposed to be about Dream?”

Shyly, Dream raises his head from Hob’s chest. He knows that Hob is teasing, but he still feels the need to make sure they know, “I am… more than happy with the outcome of this evening,” he whispers.

“Hm, good,” Calliope tilts his head, kissing him softly, nearly chaste, “Tonight was a good start, I think.”

Dream blinked in confusion, “A… start?”

“Of course,” Hob chimed in, placing a finger under Dream’s chin to tilt his face up, “We haven’t even taken you on a date yet.”

It only makes him more confused, even as his heart flutters with something hopeful, “But… you already have me?”

His fondness for romance was something that has long been beaten down in him. When he wanted to do something for his partner, he was too much, he embarrassed them, and it was still never enough to forgive him his flaws. When he wanted something from them, a sign or a gesture or even just time together to make him feel wanted, he was high maintenance, spoiled, unreasonable.

“We’re already dating,” they’d say with rolled eyes, “That shit is for when you’re trying to get someone,” they’d grin meanly, “You’re already got.”

Romance was for his books, not his life. And yet, Hob tilted his head in curiosity “And we would like to keep you,” and he says it so easily, as if he is not the first person to ever express such a thing to Dream. He must see it though, in Dream’s glassy eyes, because his expression softens, and he strokes Dream’s cheek lovingly, “We want to treat you right. Give you all the good things you deserve. And that includes dates, and gifts, and excessive wooing.”

“And it will be excessive,” Calliope warns, “Now that it is allowed, we will both be broken floodgates of affection. You must tell us if it is ever too much.”

Dream shakes his head immediately, “You could never be too much,” he chokes out, lowering his gaze, “You don’t… you don’t have to…”

He jumps when he hears a thud and two yelps, looking up to find Calliope and Hob both holding a hand to their foreheads, having collided in their mutual rush to kiss him.

“Excuse you,” Calliope glares, voice haughty and offended, “it is my turn!”

“It absolutely is not,” Hob pouts.

And whatever feelings were overwhelming Dream even a moment earlier evaporate as he claps a hand over his mouth to stifle his rasping giggles. He loves these two ridiculous people so much and he thinks- hesitantly, tentatively- that he might be allowed to.

This time, Calliope and Hob maneuver carefully around each other, each pressing kisses to Dream’s face and shoulders. When Dream’s laughter has died down and it feels safe to remove his hand from over his mouth, they carefully disentangle from one another.

“Come on, beautiful,” Hob says, and Dream flushes at the endearment, “Let’s get cleaned up. I’ll find some pajamas for you, then we’ll change the sheets and head to bed.”

Despite everything, Dream cannot help the words that bubble up in his chest. He just has to make sure, “I can stay?”

They look a little sad, but still don’t hesitate to both nod. “Of course,” Hob whispers, “We want you to stay.”

Calliope takes his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, “And we will be here with you in the morning. And the day after that, and the day after that.”

“I’ll make you breakfast, because Calliope can’t cook. But she’ll make the coffee, because the machine hates me for some reason. And you can decide what we watch while we eat because neither of us can ever decide on a show and you always have good suggestions.” He turned to raise a teasing eyebrow at Calliope, “Am I wrong?”

To Dream’s relief and delight, Calliope only laughed, “It’s true, I have enjoyed all of his suggestions thus far. And left to our own devices, Hob and I will simply scroll for hours and not watch a single thing.”

Something in Dream’s heart blooms. He hadn’t even realized they’d been listening to him. Before, each time they’d finish, as they were getting dressed and making themselves presentable, Dream would recommend a show or a book or a movie. It was an easy script, something he could easily practice in his head beforehand and recite in the moment with ease. A little filler in the aftermath, a reassurance that Dream could talk like a normal person, a subtle implication that he thought of them outside of sex. Have you seen this show? Have you heard of this story? I think you’d like it.

But he hadn’t really thought they were listening.

Dream does his best to move with them as seamlessly as they do each other, but each time he fumbles and finds himself in their way, they merely take it as an opportunity to ply him with kisses. They wipe each other down with warm washcloths, letting their hands linger longer than strictly necessary simply because they can. Hob and Calliope replace the sheets swiftly while Dream changes into his borrowed pajamas. The oversized tee continuously slips off his shoulder, and when Calliope and Hob see him they immediately begin elbowing at each other in their haste to put their mouths on the exposed skin.

When they finally climb back into bed, they guide Dream into the center, slotting him between them as though he was made to be there. They pet his hair, and kiss him, and lace their fingers together over the dip of his waist. They fall asleep quickly, easily, as though Dream’s presence has not disrupted them at all. He stays awake as long as he can, savoring the feeling of their bodies surrounding him. He places his hand carefully on top of theirs, holding his breath. When they do not stir, he releases it slowly, allowing his eyes to finally drift shut.

Dream falls asleep, three hands tangled together, and thinks he might actually have a place here.

#the sandman #immortal throuple #dream the endless #hob gadling #calliope sandman #my writing #nsft #I have never written a smut scene this long it was a struggle lol #and with three people!! there are so many limbs to keep track of!!#I do want to write more for this universe someday though

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shadowsndaisies · 2 months

Text

the hard deck: slow ride (pt 2)

wc: ~1k

synopsis: a glimpse through Jake's eyes

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: here is part 2!

Look, Jake knew he was a great pilot. He knew it before he got sent to Top Gun; he knew it after. And he knew it before he got invited to this special detachment. In order to be a great pilot, there is a certain level of intelligence involved, so yes, Jake would say he's a smart guy. Which is why he feels confident in saying something has happened between you and Bradley.

You were by far the best person Jake had ever met. Pilot or not, hands-down, you were the best. There was something about you. That was just so innately trustworthy. Something bold and clever. He could put his life in your hands and wouldn't doubt them for a second. It'll be a cold day in hell before he admits it out loud, but Natasha Trace was a close second; it's the only reason he didn't go completely territorial over your friendship, that, and the fact that Phoenix probably would've thrown him overboard if he had even tried.

Since your assignment to the Tophatters, Jake has found himself with plenty of time to get to know you. And while you mentioned some of the people you attended Top Gun with, usually Harvard and Yale, you never once mentioned Rooster. Yet, there was something about the way you were staring at him, the way you watched how he and Natasha interacted; it set off all kinds of alarms in his head. He made a joke with the kiss and tell, and while you denied it, he knew there was something you weren't saying.

He's starting toward the pool table but pauses; whatever the truth was, whatever was going on, Bradley Bradshaw did something that hurt you, that much was clear, and well, if there was one thing Jake excelled at, more than flying, it was pushing all the wrong buttons. He looks back at you, gripping the G&T he'd gotten you, knowing you'd drink a beer but never enjoy it. You're playing with the condensation; he can see how your chest moves with deep breaths. And he decides there's no reason to build a bridge that was on fire from the start.

He turns and walks up to the Juke, scanning the listing and then smirking when he finds what he wants, putting in a quarter and clicking the numbers. Then he turns back to the pool table, "Bradshaw!" he calls, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees you turn. Jake hands the beers off, one to Nat and the other three to Javi for the moment being. "As I live and breathe," he smirks, stealing the pool cue out of Bob's hands.

It's a dick move, he knows, but well, right now, that's who he needed to be.

"Hangman," Rooster greets, a slight head tilt, and his lip quirks. "You look… good," he concedes, and Jake smirks.

"Well, I am good, Rooster," Jake starts, lining up his shot, and like he'd done to you earlier, he makes eye contact with Rooster as he hits the ball. However, there is a distinct rise in testosterone; unfortunately, Rooster is not nearly as fun to flirt with as you are. "I'm very good. In fact, I am too good to be true," Jake smirks again.

"So," Payback calls, and Jake notices how you've begun to inch forward. "Anybody know what this special detachment is all about?"

"No, mission's a mission. They don't confront me," Jake is the first to answer as he lines up his next shot, splitting his vision between the pool table and you. You're still far enough to keep everyone from seeing you but close enough to likely hear what's being said, even over the sounds of the bar. "What I want to know," he continues, "is who's gonna be team leader?" he emphasizes the question while landing another ball in a pocket before standing and looking around the table. "And who's has what it takes to follow me?" Jake doesn't mean to linger on you, but it seems to have an okay reaction because you quirk a smile in challenge, as if asking what makes you think you won't be following me? And honestly, he probably would. He'd follow you anywhere if you asked him to.

"Hangman, the only place you'll lead anyone is an early grave," Rooster says lowly, and every Aviator around the table freezes.

Fanboy lets out a nervous laugh that Jake sure earns him a few glares, but his gaze doesn't move off of you; instead, he watches your shoulders tense, you bite your lip, and then he sees as you uncomfortably force yourself forward. He was a dick, he knew that, but he wasn't about to let you force yourself into this conversation when your feet weren't firmly on the ground.

Jake keeps the cocky smirk on his face and stands up straight before walking over to Rooster, "Well," he begins, looking Rooster up and down. "Anyone who follows you is just going to run out of fuel. But that's just you, ain't it, Rooster?" Jake quips. "You're snug on that perch, waiting for just the right moment… that never comes," Jake takes slow steps, getting in Rooster's face.

The chorus of the song Jake had typed in came on at the perfect time.

Slow ride… take it easy…

Jake smirks, "I love this song!"

Jake had moved to go back to the game. Still, vaguely, he's aware that you're now speaking to another aviator and that Phoenix and Rooster are talking about him.

"Well, he hasn't changed," Phoenix notes, and though she's being quieter, it's not quiet enough.

"Nope, sure hasn't," Rooster affirms.

"Check it out," Fanboy calls, nodding past the table, and everybody's attention shifts, "more patches."

"That's Omaha, Halo, Fritz, and shit, is that Harvard and Yale talking to Athena," Payback notes.

Rooster pauses, "Wait, Athena's here?"

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes

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blue-slxt · 1 year

Text

Marking

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: This is my first time ever publicly posting something I wrote. I hope this reaches the right audience. All characters are aged up.

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: marking, biting, blood, alcohol, masturbation, kinda praise kink?, teasing

Summary: A night of teasing with Neteyam becomes something much more.

You wander around the celebration aimlessly weaving through people as they talked and danced and drank. You find your best friend Kiri across the way and walk over to her wrapping her in a warm hug. “Kiri! I’m so glad you all decided to come out tonight!” Kiri wasn’t really one for parties, but it looks like her brothers managed to drag her out tonight. “Where are your parents and Tuk?” you ask her looking around for them.

“Tuk wasn’t feeling well so our parents stayed behind with her.” She passes you a drink and the alcohol smell burns your nose. You weren’t a big drinker, but you decided to go with it for the night since it was a party after all. You take a sip and the taste is enough to make you want to be sick, but you push through anyways. Without seeing who, you feel an arm wrap around your shoulders and you look up to see Lo’ak. He has clearly already been drinking a lot. He never really was good at holding his liquor, was he? You and Kiri giggle at each other at her brother’s drunken state. “Well, that’s two Sullys down. Where’s Neteyam?” you ask. “Oh, you mean Mr. Stick-in-the-mud?” Lo’ak says rolling his eyes. Kiri teasingly chimes in, “No, she means her boyfriend.” “Not this again. He is not my boyfriend! We’re not like that” you can feel your face getting hot and you’re not sure if it’s from your own embarrassment or the alcohol that you’ve been drinking absentmindedly this whole time. How many sips had you had now? You weren’t quite sure. “Either way, he’s over there being antisocial.” Lo’ak gestures over his shoulder. Your eyes scan the crowd until you land on his tall frame sitting down by himself sipping on a drink. “I’m going to say hello. Cause it’s the polite thing to do” you say excusing yourself from the group. “Since when are you the polite type?” Lo’ak jokes. “Hush!”

You make your way over to where Neteyam is sitting adjusting your outfit on the way. Your loincloth was noticeably shorter than your every day one. And your top showed the very underside of your breasts. Just before you reach him, you take one more big gulp of your drink giving yourself that one last confidence boost you needed. Ugh, this shit is nasty, but it makes you feel bold. You approach Neteyam, “Mind if I join you?” He looks up at you and shoots you a warm smile. “For you? I never mind” he pats his lap jokingly. Neteyam liked to flirt with you and you always thought it was cute because you knew that if you were to ever actually follow through, he would be like putty in your hands. As a matter of fact, let’s test that theory.

“Thanks” you turn around and crouch down and place yourself right in his lap. His eyes are wide with shock and his ears are standing straight up. You pretend to not notice and lean back to rest your back against his chest. You close your eyes enjoying the warmth from the giant bonfire. Neteyam isn’t quite sure what to do with the situation in front of him right now. Any other time he would playfully flirt with you, you would just roll your eyes and giggle. He loved to hear your laugh. But tonight was different. You were actually sitting in his lap. This was completely unexpected for him and he wasn’t prepared for what comes after. He never imagined it would be this difficult for him to control himself. He looks down at your outfit and it revealed so much more of your body than he usually ever saw. He can feel himself twitching under his loincloth and his brain desperately searches for anything to keep him distracted enough to keep it down. You were right on top of it and he could not risk you feeling what you were doing to him.

He clears his throat hoping it will help clear his head too. You can feel how hard his heart is beating on your back and you think it’s adorable how easily flustered he is. You decide to have a little bit more fun with him. You look at the spread of fruit in front of you, “Ooh, I love these!” you lean forward to grab a piece and your ass brushes past his pelvis. You look back at Neteyam with feigned innocence on your face. “Do you want one too?”

Neteyam’s breath hitches in his throat taking in your form. It was bad enough just having you sitting on top of him, but when you moved, it was so much harder to focus. He can’t stop his eyes from wandering up and down your figure and how precariously you were positioned. Ass against his hips, top just barely covering your nipples, and your big round eyes looking back at him with the light of the bonfire bringing shades of warm yellow and orange against your deep blue skin. You literally took his breath away. He gulps and remembers that you asked him a question. “Oh, Uh I am fine. You go ahead.”

You smirk to yourself feeling triumphant and lean back once again against his chest. You pick the small berries off their vine and slowly pop them in your mouth one at a time. You close your eyes and let out a small happy moan. “You are doing this on purpose.” Neteyam says with his lips right next to your ear. Feeling his breath on your skin sends a shiver from your ear straight down in between your legs. You turn your face to look him eye and challenge him. Your faces just mere inches apart. “So what if I am?”

A mischievous grin creeps onto his face still holding burning eye contact with you. He reaches his hand to your face and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear before holding your face. “Oh, ma pretty girl, I’m going to see how far you’ll go.”

You felt your chest tighten at him calling you that. It wasn’t his first time, but it was your first time hearing it in this way. He was so close. Too close, but also not close enough. You wanted to melt into his skin. Nevertheless, you weren’t going to back down from a challenge and he knew that.

You turn back around and lean your head to the side contemplating your next move to break him. Little did you know, He’s intensely staring at your neck. Nobody would guess it, but Neteyam was actually very possessive and seeing your exposed skin free of any bruises or scars made him want to sink his fangs into you and mark you. Leave a big purple mark in the most visible place so that everyone who saw it would know you were his. He bites his lip instead to hold himself back. Each passing minute becomes torture for his painfully hard erection that just is begging to break free.

You think about it for a moment. What would he be expecting and what would he never see coming? You quickly glance around to make sure that nobody is looking in your direction and shimmy your way out of Neteyam’s lap. “Giving up already?” he teases secretly missing your warmth. “You wish.” You say full of determination. You turn around to face him and crawl towards him slowly swishing your tail behind you. He watches you trying to anticipate your next move. You get right up to his face and let your eyes fall to his lips. “What’s wrong Ma’Teyam? You look so nervous” you joke. He licks his lips trying to find the words. You sink your face down to his neck and ever so lightly drag the tip of your tongue from his collarbone up to his earlobe and kiss his ear, nipping at it gently. Neteyam’s stomach is doing gymnastic flips and his tail is straight up at attention. The nip at his ear was what sealed the deal. He couldn’t hide his ever-growing bulge. He can’t stop his body from purring from his deep desire. You pull back surprised at even yourself and sit back on your knees. Neteyam is feebly trying to hide his bulge, but you definitely notice it. It’s pretty hard to miss. You both just stare at each other for what feels like hours and you finally notice how you’re soaking yourself. The blush on your face is evident. “I should probably be getting back home. I just remembered I have some things to take care of.” You stand to excuse yourself, but Neteyam follows suit. “I’ll walk you. It is pretty late and I want to make sure you get home safely.” You knew him better than that, but you accept his escort anyways.

Kiri and Lo’ak notice the two of you across the way leaving together. Kiri shudders at the thought of what might happen tonight while Lo’ak laughs finding your dynamic amusing.

…

You both arrive at your home and pause outside the entrance. “Well thank you for walking me back.” You can feel the confidence from the alcohol draining out of you and you’re suddenly feeling very timid not knowing what he’s thinking. You step backwards, but Neteyam stops you. “Um, I was just wondering…” he clenches his fists at his side silently building up the courage to get his next words out. “Did you need any…help?...With that thing you need to do?” His ears are flat against his head and his tail is anxiously flicking back and forth. You feel your cheeks heat up again understanding what he’s asking you. “Sure, I’d love some help.” Maybe there was still some alcohol influencing you.

You both enter your hut and sit together on your sleep mat. You both look around the walls trying to avoid the awkward between you. Even worse, you’re still soaking wet. You squeeze your thighs together to try and relieve the tension between them. “So what happened to all that nerve you had earlier?” Neteyam coos poking fun at your current state. You turn so that you’re facing each other. Neteyam smirks down at you thinking you’re the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. You had come too far to back down now. You couldn’t let yourself lose your resolve. “Neteyam, could I ask you to do something for me?” you’re almost positive that this is absolutely insane, but it’s something that your body is calling for; one of your deepest fantasies. You can’t pass up this opportunity. “Of course, I said I’d help you out right?” he half jokes. But you look back at him dead serious even if you’re more than a little shy. You take a deep breath and come out with it, “I want…you to m-mark me…”

Neteyam suddenly feels as if all the air has been knocked out of him. There’s no way that he just heard you say what you said. “Mark you? Like as in bite you?” he has to be completely positive that you said it and meant it. He was quietly praying that you were.

You weakly nod your head with your eyes focused on the floor. You hope that your hair covering your face is enough to hide the aggressive blush on your face.

Neteyam’s heart skips a beat. And then another. And yet another. He’s sure he might actually die of hormones. Has that ever happened? There’s a first for everything. And now he knows he’s never been harder in his entire life. “Okay.”

Your head snaps up to look at him and you can tell that he actually means it. “Really?”

He holds your face with one hand, “Anything for you ma pretty girl”. Your whole body shivers. It makes you almost miss the slight tremble of his fingers on your face. Was he just as nervous as you were? You lean your head to the side to expose your neck to him. Neteyam fights to steady his breathing and his vision. His mind is going hazy. He brushes your hair out of the way and leans his face into your neck. The smell of your skin clouds his senses. He wants to devour you, but he uses every ounce of his strength to control himself.

His breathing on your neck is driving you mad while you wait for his bite.

He bares his fangs and sinks them into your skin. “mmh!” you let the sound escape from your mouth. It’s painful of course, but it also feels like lightning. It makes you feel as if you could see Eywa herself.

Your sounds make Neteyam struggle to stay in control of himself. Unknowingly, he starts to stroke himself through his loincloth. Just the thought of marking you drove him mad, but now that he’s here actually doing it, it’s the purest form of euphoria he’s ever experienced. You notice him touching himself, but you’re so close to your own high that you can’t even do anything about it. His body jerks and it makes him bite into you harder. “Neteyam!” you scream out in pleasure. You can feel blood dripping out from the wound and instead of panic, it brings you bliss. The feeling rips your orgasm from your body and you shake and tremble under his touch. Neteyam removes his teeth from you and sees the mark he’s left. “so pretty, ma pretty girl” the sight of the giant bite mark is enough to drive him to his finish. He soaks the inside of his loincloth and his chest heaves up and down to re-steady his breathing.

You both look at each other processing what’s just unfolded. You lift your head straight and feel the sting, but it feels so sweet. “Gonna be pretty tough to hide this” you joke trying to lighten the mood a little. He smirks at you.

“Perfect.”

#avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #avatar fic #awow #neteyam x na'vi!reader #atwow #atwow neteyam #avatar twow #avatar neteyam #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan

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sleepiexx · 4 months

Text

Friday Nights

Valeria Garza x fem!reader

Note: It’s been a while lol, writing has been such a chore lately it’s my passion so I refuse to give up on it. I’m working on a part two to Everything is Falling Apart, but I know it’s going to take a while so here’s this short little piece to tide y’all over until I do get around to finishing, editing, and posting it

Summary: You meet an alluring woman at the club you frequent.

Warnings: alcohol, clubbing, nothing angsty tho

Word count: 1033

The music is loud, the room is bathed in a mix of colorful light and shadows from bodies tightly packed together. A buzz resounds, chatter, laughter, fun. Yeah, this is your scene alright.

You could dance the night away with your friends, and from the moment you put on the outfit which flattered all of your best features, you knew that that was exactly what you intended to do. The smell of sweat and perfume was one you knew well, and as your brow glistened you felt right at home.

The compact feeling of the dance floor could make someone feel claustrophobic, like they were being suffocated by the touching of dozens of bodies against one another. To you, the feeling was a comfort, a grounding touch that was promised at the end of every week no matter how rough. It was a feeling you could only pull yourself away from for one reason.

The effect of the shots you took hours ago began to fade and you couldn’t have that, your night is hardly over. This is what lures you away. You alert one of your friends that you are headed to the bar before slipping your way through the crowd. The bartender knows you well, you frequent and she works Friday nights so she sees you often, often enough to know that you want a little something that’s fruity but strong. She switches it up every time, just like you like. Some part of you used to have a crush on her, but you aren’t naive and you know how to spot a straight woman. A shame, really, you never find anyone cute to go home with at this place.

Maybe your confidence is intimidating, maybe your outfits are too bold, or maybe, just maybe, you have a hard time getting asked out because you spend too much time dancing to talk and you’re always, always with your girls, never alone. Save for the frequent trips you make to the bar for another round.

The bartender places your drink in front of you, and you reach into your purse in search of your wallet. Not one to keep an ongoing tab, you usually opt to pay for each drink individually, that way you don’t go too crazy on the spending. It seems this time you don’t have to worry about that, though, because a hand is placed on your shoulder, stopping you, as a smooth voice says “this one’s on me.”

You see the woman hand the bartender her card and you turn to her, having to hold yourself back from audibly gasping. She’s gorgeous, strong cheekbones and long lashes, framed by dark shoulder length hair. Not to mention her impeccable style, she wears loose black slacks and combat boots, but the main feature that has caught your attention is her shirt. A dark red satin button up, the sleeves rolled up and the buttons so generously undone, giving you a view that you struggle not to stare at. The red looks good against her warm skin tone and you can’t tell which you’d rather touch, the silky shirt, or her smooth skin.

You realize you’ve been staring entirely too long, scolding yourself for half a second before smiling and thanking the woman for the drink.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” you say, desperate to keep the conversation going. You finally have an opportunity to flirt with a stunning woman and by god are you going to take it.

She smiles at you, eyes smug, you can tell she knows she has you hooked and a part of you really likes that idea. “I could say the same.”

You furrow your brows, trying to think if you have ever seen her before. You draw a blank, “I’m here almost every Friday.”

She hums, “I’m here Wednesdays, guess I’ll have to change up my schedule. You come here alone or?”

“With friends,” you point to your girls, “nothing takes the edge off the week quite like dancing the second the weekend starts. What’s got you coming on Wednesdays? Unconventional work schedule?”

She laughs, eyes half lidded, “something like that.”

You bat your lashes at her and she wonders if you know what power you hold with just a blink of your eyes, it prompts her to elaborate

“I own the place,” half of her is just answering your question, the other half is flat out bragging in hopes to impress you.

“Seriously?” The smirk on her face leads you to believe she’s messing with you but she nods. You want to stare slack jawed but you refrain, instead smiling wide and responding, “well then I’d better stay on your good side, it’s a nice establishment you run here.”

“A business is only as nice as the people in it,” her eyes trace your figure from bottom to top, you spot a hungry looking glint, “and, well, if you frequent then I suppose I run the nicest establishment in town.”

The line was cheesy, yet still you find your knees weak along with the feeling of blood rushing to your face.

“You uhm-“ you stumble over your words, hoping to god you don’t sound as anxious and giddy as you feel. Your intense eye contact makes up for it, ensnaring the woman before you, “you like to dance?”

Her smirk grows, shifting into something more like a smile, “I love to, you?”

“Yeah me too.” You cautiously take one of her hands, continuing to hold eye contact as you gently pull her in the direction you’d come from, “I’m y/n, by the way.”

As your feet meet the dance floor, she pulls you close, her hands meeting your hips as they’d been aching to do since she’d seen you standing there at the bar. She can dance well, you can tell before you’ve even started, her stance is impeccable and there’s not a hint of hesitation on her. You know you’ve got a full night ahead of you, and you don’t find yourself complaining, “Valeria.”

You repeat it, tasting her name on your tongue. It sounds good, so very good, “I like it.”

And there it is again, that smirk.

#valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria garza x reader #valeria cod #valeria garza #valeria garza cod #valeria x reader #call of duty valeria #call of duty x reader #valeria x fem!reader #call of duty fanfic

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sofiareidings · 1 year

Text

Drunk Words Are Sober Thoughts Pt. 2

Summary: After kissing your coworker while incredibly drunk. You now have to deal with the consequences.

A/N: @thefoxfromfantasticmrfox suggested a part two to the one-shot from the other day so here it is. Sorry, this post is a little late, btw. Find part one here!

Word Count: 1.2k

Song Suggestions: Back To December (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

Your morning alarm went off and you let out a groan while shutting it off. It’s New Year’s day, why is it you still had to work?

The pounding in your head did not make it any better but you managed to get to work somewhat on time but, incredibly tired. Slumping down at your desk drinking a coffee you can already sense Derek’s chair spinning around.

“Well someone had a little too much fun last night. What got into you?” He laughed to which you replied with an annoyed grunt. “Okay, okay. I get it, someone’s a little grumpy.”

“When I have enough energy I am going to smack you Derek.” You heard some footsteps behind you and turned in your seat to see Spencer walking in. He didn’t drink last night yet he still seemed more unwell then you did. You had a vague memory of him taking you home last night but he seemed strange, he barely looked at you and sat down practically ignoring everyone.

“What’d you do last night pretty boy? I didn’t see you drinking yet you look worse than Y/N here.” You cut in with a little comment before drinking some more coffee. Spencer just nodded to Derek while looking at a book. Something was off for sure. His book had been open to the same page for almost two minutes.

“Spence you okay?” You sat up a little more straight and looked at him a little more seriously. Before he could answer, Hotch motioned everyone to come get briefed for a case.

***

The case was in New York, you and Spencer were told to work on the geo-profile and talk to victims' families. What that meant was you were both crammed into a small room in a police station working together while there was uncomfortable tension between you two.

After almost two hours of him almost completely ignoring you, you decided to speak up. “Did I say something last night? I don’t remember much other than you taking me home. I feel like I did something and you won’t tell me what it is, Spence. I’m sorry if I did something.” He stayed silent for a minute then put down whatever was in his hands.

“You really don’t remember?” The emotions in his face almost seemed…disappointed. “I’m not upset with you. I got home late and couldn't sleep, that's all.” He sighed, almost like he was debating what to say. “If you want me to be honest, all you said last night was just some embarrassing things you did as a kid. I don’t even remember what you said exactly.”

“Oh, okay…” You tried to seem like you believed him. He was obviously lying but he also clearly didn’t want to talk about it. You decided it would be best to go back to working and give him space.

While also trying to figure out whatever you did last night.

***

The team had just presented the profile and finished up what you could do today which meant it was time to go back to the hotel until tomorrow.

You were much more clear-headed now and some things from last night were coming back, but none of them had anything to do with Spencer. You had been thinking about it almost the whole day and now you were honestly concerned about what you did. Spencer was one of your best friends and if you said something to ruin all of that?

Swiping your keycard to open your room something finally clicked and you were shocked.

In a moment of drunken boldness, you wrap your hands around his neck and press your lips against his. He’s shocked and stumbles back a little, not sure what to do. You can feel his arm wrap around your waist tightly. After a couple of seconds, you let go and stagger backwards, smiling. “Happy New Year’s.”

“Oh my god…” Whispering to yourself, you stood in the doorway almost frozen. Not sure what to do. Before your brain could even catch up with what you were doing, you were running down the hall to Spencer’s room. When you started knocking on the door, you panicked because you didn’t even know what you were going to say.

“What is it? Oh…Y/N.” There he stood. Your coworker and best friend. The silence was long, you didn’t know what to say or how to say it but luckily he did it for you. The expression on your face told him that you knew. “You remember, don't you?”

“Yeah, I do. I’m so sorry, Spence. I don't know what came over me and it’s not fair that I did that and you had to deal with it all today. I just…I’m sorry.” He stood there just listening before making way for you to move inside the room and shutting the door behind you. Just in case someone heard. “Can I do anything to make it up to you?”

“Did you mean it?” His question came out blunt and caught you guard.

“What?”

“Did you mean it? Did it mean something to you or were you just drunk and didn’t know any better? I need you to answer me because honestly, I need to know the truth. I’ve spent all day trying to figure out if maybe there were some actual feelings behind what you did and if you don’t tell me…then I don’t know what else to say. I know you were drunk and didn’t know any better but that still doesn’t make up for what it meant to me. I like you, a lot. But if that didn’t mean anything to you I get it. Just tell me, did it mean anything to you?” You were taken aback by his question, not sure how to answer. He must’ve thought your silence meant that you didn’t mean it and his face fell. “Oh…okay. You know what, I’m actually really tired so it’s probably best if you just left…”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“It didn’t mean anything. But it means something to me now. I regret doing that because I didn’t want this to be found out like that. I’m sorry that it’s gone this way. I like you too, a lot. So yeah, it means everything to me.” The words came out desperate, like you needed to say it or else you would never forgive yourself. Because, he meant everything to you. “And I get if what I did ruined everything. I understand if you won’t forgive me because what I didn’t wasn’t fair to you. And I’m sorry I keep saying the same thing over and over-”

Your sentence was cut off by his hands cupping your face and kissing you. You froze before kissing him back. After a couple seconds he stepped back, catching his breath and moving his hands from your face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Shut up.”

“Huh?”

“Just, shut up and kiss me.” Saying that he paused but then listened. Leaning down and kissing you again. The feeling of his hand around your face and your lips against his was what you needed. What you both needed. Everything from last night didn’t matter anymore.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #fanfic #spencer reid #bau #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #fandom #sofiareidings

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alphabetatoes · 8 months

Text

tennesee whiskey (n. kento x reader)

a.n.: this is basically a drawn out version of the prompt i posted earlier. fic title is in reference to the chris stapleton cover song (felt appropriate for the bar theme) (and and also also lets admire how cute the dividers i made in canva are) does this jump around in characterization? yeah maybe. go ahead, call the whimsy police on me! summary: nanami teaches you how to play pool c.w.: reader referred to using she/her pronouns, alcohol (reader is 21+), suggestive themes, smut if you squint, jealous nanami, and the ever-present risk of writing ooc. barely beta read (though what fic of mine is lmao) w.c.: 1.4k

You and Nanami were sent out to the middle of nowhere to exorcise a curse, in hopes of stopping it before it had the chance to propagate into something worse. Even though it was a Grade 3 curse, the higher ups deemed it safest for the two of you to go as a pair.. It was an in-and-out mission, the two of you making quick work to intervene. Soon enough, you were back in the car and headed back to campus. The simple pitter patter of raindrops hitting the windshield brought a strange sense of comfort. But the calm could only last for so long. A barricade of rain began to drop, bringing a swift end to the peace. He drove until the road was unnavigable, pulling off into an empty parking lot. The two of you were stranded. Your options were to either wait out the storm in the car, or attempt to find solace somewhere nearby. You chose to press your luck with the latter.

“Over there.”, he points out, pulling your attention.

Across the street, there was a dive bar still open despite the storm. The flickering neon lights were your own personal Eden. When you enter the bar, you’re immediately hit with warmth. A concoction of body heat and cigarette smoke fill the room. You can’t seem to mind it though. It draws the attention away from your clothes starting to form a second skin on your body.

“Now don’t you two look wonderful.” The bartender jokes. He bears a giant grin, and you can’t help but to feel unsettled by it. “If you got a change of clothes, restrooms are over that way.” Today was one of the days you were grateful for the spare set of clothes you kept on hand. Missions were unpredictable, and you never knew when you’d be stuck somewhere. You seize the opportunity and head to the restroom, eager to remove the soaked clothes. While you change, Nananmi orders two drinks from the bar.

“For you and your girlfriend?” “Hell, if she’s not spoken for, I’ll have to make her mine!” It’s not like he had a claim over you or anything. But as your partner, and even more so as your friend, he made your protection a top priority. It didn’t matter if they were one off comments. Nanami had lost too many to be careless.

“She’s fine.” Nanami’s tone is dry, unimpressed by the barkeep’s boldness. You return from changing, noticing the blond standing closer to you than before. It’s probably just a safety thing. Better to stay close together than apart, right?

“Drink this.” He hands you the other glass of whiskey. “It’ll help warm you up.” The liquor goes down relatively smooth, and you revel in the warmth of it. “How about a game of pool to pass the time?” You nod over at the table in the corner of the bar. The rain wasn’t letting up any time soon, and you figured it was a good way to pass the time. “You’ve played pool?”

“I’ve dabbled in it… online.” He rolls his eyes and hands you a stick. A hint of a smile crosses his face. That stoic exterior he fronts at all times slowly starting to chip away. “We could make it fun. Loser has to do something for the winner?” An opportunity for the adult of all adults to let loose. You were curious to know what was behind that rigid exterior. “If I win, you buy me a drink.”

“And what if I win?” A virtual win does not a professional pool player make, but you weren’t completely oblivious to the game. Even if the odds were stacked against you, you weren’t going down without a fight.

“Given the likelihood of that, I’ll do whatever you want.” He breaks, immediately shooting 3 balls into the pockets. Show-off. “Where’d you learn to play like that?” Of course the man of many secrets would turn out to be a semi-professional. Or he just really wanted a free drink. “Shoko and I used to play all the time when we were younger.”

It’s your time to shine. You step up to the table and ready your shot. “You’re doing it wrong.” Nanami smirks at your rigid form.You’re stiff as a board, awkwardly hovering the stick over the table. “Then show me, Mr. Professional.” Nanami moves from his spot across the table and positions himself right behind you. He places one hand on your stomach, arching your back out to him, and lets the other rest on your waist. “Now place your hands here.” He moves your right hand to grasp the pool stick; your left hand rests on the table forming a hand bridge toward the end of the stick. “Line up the shot and pull back when you’re ready.” He guides you to move, yet never adjusts his position from behind you. Hell, if you moved even an inch back, you’d ram right into him. You couldn’t say you minded though.

Just as instructed, you line up your shot and pull back. Once you release, the pool stick makes perfect contact with the cue ball. It spins for a moment, then promptly hits a striped ball into one of the six pockets. “Good shot.” His breath tickles your ear as he speaks. “Now do that about 8 more times and you’ll win.” You line up your second shot and- “Fuck.” The cue ball bounces off the side of the table and right into one of the pockets. “You’re overthinking it. Try not to be so stiff.” His tone is soft, sickly sweet almost.“Relax yourself.” He gives you a simple smirk as you relax, albeit into him. His strong hands hold on to your shoulders, kneading into them gently. Were you not in the middle of a game, you’d melt into his touch. Right here, right now.“

Easy for you to say. You’ve got like 4 balls left!” You whine, and his smirk grows wider. “Anything could happen.” Cocky. Such an easy claim for the blond to make! He was practically prodding a reaction out of you. And you would give it to him. A slap on the arm that he’d hope would linger for a second longer, but you pull away to align your next shot.

It had to be a fluke. The two of you were tied; it could’ve been anyone's game. But Nanami slipped up, knocking the 8 ball right into one of the pockets a turn early. Meaning you had won. Despite his banter with you about playing, he didn’t seem all that upset about the loss. “Alright, winner. Name your prize.”

“Kiss me?” You test the waters, careful not to scare him off. Be it the adrenaline rush from winning or the liquor, something emboldened your choice of prize. Nanami didn’t seem opposed either. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer to him as you lean in. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, as you lose yourself in the intoxicating taste and feel of him. Nanami is the one to deepen the kiss, pinning you against the table with his thigh. You let your hands fall to his shirt collar, playing with it and pulling him in closer.

As he cast a pointed look towards the bartender across the room, it became clear that Nanami had no intentions of letting anyone encroach on what was rightfully his. His lips trail down your jawline, leaving a trail of wet kisses in their wake, and finally rests against the sweet spot between your neck and shoulders. Nanami nips at the skin, deep enough to leave a mark. You pull away, trying to catch your breath. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you lost on purpose.” You smile, fixing the creases in his shirt collar. Nanami’s bruised lips pull into a cocky grin as he brushes his thumb over your lips. “Don’t doubt your ability. If anything, call it a newfound talent.”

“And what if I wanted to take this celebration somewhere more private?” You raise your brows, desperate to keep going but without prying eyes. Nanami picks up on your request immediately, releasing you from the pool table. Possessive, his grasp pulls you close. It’s firm but gentle, a simple comfort as he leads you. You both shuffle into the small bathroom and lock the door. And right now, more than ever, you’re grateful for the deep drumming of the thunder and the loud pour of the rain.

#this is kind of dialogue heavy but i still hope yall enjoy 😭#x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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lyramundana · 1 year

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Hii, fellow poly Minsung whore activist here🥰 I’m nervous about using my account so I went anon, I hope you don’t mind. I have a little scenario here that I’m probably so wrong for but I’m delulu ash.

Maybe reader (whose a fan or a friend is dragging her along with them) meets Minsung (who’re already in a relationship ofc) in a city they’re having a concert in. Minsung are like “hey ykw she kinda fine, let’s spice things up and bring her back to the hotel.” During their night together, the boys use degradation, praise, grips hard enough to bruise, and soft touches just to make her head spin.

Now I love me some a sprinkle of angst. She has a moment of overthinking after Minsung fall asleep and escapes?? Sort of lol. Minsung do not like this, no no no😔.

That night, she ends up at their concert with some good ass ground floor tickets. While she doubted they would see her and if they did, they probably wouldn’t recognize her (girl like they weren’t giving you the best dicking down of your life the night before), they do in fact see her and you just made this easier for them bbg. They told the other members and security guards to bring her backstage after the show.

Oh babe they mad as hellll. They don’t even wait to get back to the hotel as they drag her to an empty room and destroy her. We’re talking hand prints on her ass, more prominent fingerprint shapes on her hips, arms and neck, tears streaming down her face, the whole 9 yards.

Idk where to go from there tbh. Anyways I hope you enjoyed my delulu thoughts <3

Okay now, honey. First of all, there's no such thing as a "wrong" scenario. Everything that it's discussed in this blog is acceptable and very much not-delulu, so don't brush off your scenarios. Specially when is so FUCKING GOOD AND DELICIOUS like this one. Like, excuse me🥵🥵🥵?? You came up with this masterpiece and brought it to me for free?? Sweetie, you should post it in your own blog and let the world see this jewel of yours. Don't feel nervous of using your account. I always make my horny, unhinged requests displaying my username. This is Tumblr. No one here can judge you for your thoughts

You bet I enjoyed every line of this delulu side of yours.

Reader doesn't really follow the group, but her friend is a Stay and this concert is the lifelong opportunity they've been dreaming off, but they don't want to go alone, so they drag Reader to accompany them. While the friend is resting in the hotel/house, Reader decides to take a stroll around the city and comes across MinSung at some point. Maybe they meet in a shop, where they struck a converstation about common interests, and seeing they get along well MinSung agree and say "fuck it, can we join you?" and that's how they get to know each other better.

Reader doesn't know who they are, but their faces are familiar, and they're just happy to chat with someone like normal people. They've wanted to explore the city a bit before the concert, as the weather looked great for some alone time together, but they encountered the language barrier issue and the lack of knowledge about the place. When Reader appears and helps them out, being so friendly and nice about it, their first instinct is glue themselves to her for the rest of journey. Also, they find her really attractive and can't help but admire her discreetly and exchange appreciative comments that she can't understand. And that's how they spent their day hanging out, just the three of them, while Reader acts like a guide and they start to be bolder with her.

At some point they're sitting in a bar together, drinking a bit, and they have privacy to talk about anything. It's also then whey they begin to make their attraction clear. They've been so fucking stressed with this tour, sex recently hasn't been enough for them, and she's just so gorgeous. So cute. The way she speaks, moves, even the way she dress is driving them mad slowly. It doesn't help that she returns every bold gesture from them. She's not blind. She finds them hot too and it's been a while since she had some "fun".

So, after a while of wandering hands, spicy "jokes" and suggestive comments, the tension feels too thick and they throw the question in.

"We should get going back to our hotel room. Want to come with us and see it?"

She's not drunk enough to miss the intentions behind that question, but she's tipsy enough to accept.

The flirting doesn't stop and when they set a foot in the elevator, the tension snaps. They jump at her like hungry wolves, biting and grabbing every piece of skin they can get their hands on, and Reader welcomes all of it like a submissive lamb, ready to be devoured.

They struggle to open the door, being so occupied feeling her up under her clothes and leaving marks already. Once they're inside, one of them closes the door with a kick without taking his attention from her. They leave a path of clothes behind them that ends up in their bedroom and then she's thrown to the bed. She doesn't have time to recover before they're on her again, exploring every inch of her know naked body with their mouths and hands. Her brain is all mushy from the intense pleasure and adrenaline she's feeling. MinSung unleash all the pent up frustrations and desire they've been dealing with on her.

The entire night was filled with her moans and whimpers while they took her roughly, leaving their hands printed on her hips and inner thighs, as they groaned and cried out of sheer pleasure and relief. Sometimes they went at her at the same time, others they took turns while one watched.

"Such a good girl for us, isn't she, jagi?"

"Damn right she is, so eager to please us, to let us play with her body."

"Look at her, so obedient and cute for us. What a good whore, letting herself be fucked by some men she doesn't even know"

"Go on, use your mouth like the little slut you are. Nice job, kitten"

"We'll fill you up so much it'll be leaking out of you for days"

Her mind turns blank, the world spins, and her body starts to shake uncontrollably and tremble with the amount of orgasm she had. They grab her legs and torso with such force it feels they're trying to press the imprint themselves in it, moving her body as they please to find the right angle. When she cums again, she's half-unconscious and the boys are tired too, finally spent. They clean her up, massage the bruises the left and watch her fall asleep while caressing her face and kissing her skin. They chat for a while before the tiredness consumes them too, Reader safely kept in their arms.

The morning after, she's the first to wake up and doesn't take long to realize what happened. She remembers enough of it and feels her face get warm at the memory, but also gets giddy at it. She stretches a bit, careful to not wake them up, and supress a hiss of pain when she feels the marks they left. She reaches for her phone, reading the messages and calls from her friend, who's worried sick, at which Reader calms them down by giving them a "censored" version of the events. Then the friends reminds her of the concert and sends a photo of one of the promotional posters, featuring all members.

Reader feels her blood freeze inside her body.

She turns around to look at the boys in bed, then at the picture on the phone, then at the bed again, and she feels faint.

Maybe it's the remnants of the alcohol, maybe it's the weight of the revelation, maybe it's the lack of sleep she got, but Reader has to fight off a panic attack and the only thing she can think of at this moment is running away from this situation. So she gets dressed, grabs her stuff, and leaves hurriedly without waking them up and full intention of not looking back. When the boys wake up, they expected to see her in their arms still and maybe get another round, but imagine their shock when they see she's not there. Ohh honey, they're seriously mad. Why the fuck did she run? How could she after they night they had? They try to brush off the anger because they know chances of seeing her again are slim and there's no point.

Meanwhile, Reader's friend notices she's not quite the same since she came back and she's even more reluctant than before in attending the concert. To get her friend off her back, she admits she saw MinSung during her walk and chatted with them "a bit" and now she's embarrased to see them. Her friend, obviously, has a fangirl moment at first and chastises Reader for not telling her first, bombing her with questions, but she avoids the spicy parts of the story. Her friend finally tells her to not worry, that although their seats give a good view of the stage, it'll be very hard for the boys to spot her in the crowd anyway. Reader relents and goes to the concert, having dressed prettily at her friends' insistence because "they have to look their best for the occasion!". When they arrive, Reader feels more at ease with the amount of people surrounding her and thinks her friend said the true.

However, when the group comes to the stage, she feels her heart stop at recognizing the men she had that glorious night of sex with and becomes shifty. They don't make signs of having spoted her, even when Jisung came near their zone, he didn't seemed to notice her, and she allowed herself to enjoy the performance, convinced that they was safe. But she didn't know Jisung had indeed spoted her, hence he aproached their location to confirm. He didn't hesitate in telling Minho, and when they overcame the shock, they former anger came back again and they agreed to a plan. Stays could feel a shift in the boys' performance, they seemed more brutal, harsher.

When the concert ended, Reader was about to leave with her friend until a security guard stopped her and told her she was demanded backstage. Both of them were shocked and confused, and Reader's friend even acted worried, refusing to ler her go in fear she got in trouble for something. Reader calmed her down and asked her to wait in the hotel, since the man told them it wasn't anything bad. While she was leaving, the friend winked at her and exclaimed "tell me all the details when you sign the NDA".

A staff members takes her to an empty dressing room and tells her to wait, leaving her alone there. She's fidgeting, not knowing what to expect but having a small suspicion. Suddenly, the door opens with a slam and she jumps in the place. When she sees the two boys enter and locking the door behind them, she knows she's fucked.

They let her know exactly how pissed off they are, interrogating her and even accusing her of being a fan pretending to not know them just to get her wet dream come true. She argues back and denies it all, returning all their yells, until a hand grabs her painfully by the jaw.

"You don't fucking get to talk back to us, whore. We should've put you in your place from the beginning"

"I think she's a little too high up there, jagiya. Let's remind her exactyl what her place is"

All the gentleness they showed the first night is gone. Her clothes are ripped in shreds and thrown carelessly around the room, as she's pushed forcefully on the ground.

They don't hide their satisfaction and pride at seeing the faint marks they left previously, pressing them enough to make her whine in pain.

"Don't whine, slut. We're about to give you even more of them."

They go at her at the same time, no turns now. They edge her until she's sobbing and screaming, first with their fingers and then with their tongues. She gets spanked by one of their belts, feeling the bruises starting to form in her ass cheeks and thighs. She's then gagged with the same belt because "way too fucking loud, kitten. you're not allowed to make a sound".

When she's spasming, eyes rolling back and begging through the belt for some release, anything, the boys exchange a knowing glance and untie the gag, letting her breathe through her mouth in relief. But her relief doesn't last when they position her in the middle, with both of their dicks inching to her cunt. She knows they're up to something, but her brain is too fucked to guess what. When she feels both of their cocks entering her at once, she's about to scream again but a hand quickly covers her mouth, and they both start moving agressively inside her, leaving their dicks printed in her walls. The feelinf their cocks rubbing against each other and her clenching almost makes them cum again, but they control themselves.

They fucked her back and forth across the room, moving from the ground to the couch to the chairs to the make up tables, etc.

"That's what you fucking deserve for leaving us, baby. What the fuck were you thinking with that dead brain of yours, hm?"

"Look at her, so cockdumb already, acting like a desesperate bitch in heat. Aren't two cocks enough for you?"

"Is this what you wanted? Being fucked by two celebrities to share the experience with your friends? Of course you did. You're nothing but an attention seeking slut, only thinking about having a dick inside you"

"We'll make sure you can't even walk after this. You're not going anywhere this time, darling. Let's see how can you run away then."

She can no longer tell if what she's feeling is pain or pleasure, but when they cum inside her and she feels both of their cocks twitching inside her, it triggers her own orgams and her vision turns white. She faints in their arms, muttering and having spasms. They pause to recover their breaths too, checking on her worriedly and chuckling softly when she replies gibberish. One of them lifts her up bridal style and lay her down in the couch, both caging her with their bodies.

"You were ours from the moment you entered our your bedroom"

Tagging @channieandhisgoonsquad @2chopsticks2eyes @sweetracha because they gave me ideas for this. Feel free to add something or give your own version of it. The more the merrier.

#poly minsung #minsung x reader #lee know/han jisung x reader #lee know x reader x han jisung #skz smut #lee know smut #han jisung smut #requested #skz drabble

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